A Learning Curve

I'm still spinning like a top through campus each day as I learn the ropes at my new school. Some days I look around and wonder how it is even possible that two schools in the same state can be so inherently different. With all new things, however, I know there is a slipper slope learning curve and I've had enough meltdowns tantrums crying fests epitomes in the last two and a half weeks to feel like I'm standing on firmer ground.

My current crisis revolves around two things: scheduling and reading levels.

My past experience is working with students anywhere from two grade levels below reading level up to students comprehending reading material at a high school level. My classroom library, with its shelves upon shelves of books, is tailored to those student's needs. I chose and purchased nearly every book I have. I've always loved the book area in our room, and so have the kids.

I'm just barely into assessing my current student's reading levels, but I'm finding that what once worked will no longer do. This group of kiddos is anywhere from beginning reading to about fifth grade. Most of the books in my room aren't appropriate for them. It's time for a complete overhaul! Luckily, there is a book warehouse nearby that gives away books to teachers. This weekend I will be getting up before the crack of dawn to trek over and haul back as many books as my bags and boxes and helpers can carry! I'll sort through what I have that's just too much of a stretch for my new readers and replace those texts with books that will help them grow. There's just no other option.

The second conundrum is a little more tricky. With the 120 minutes I have with each class, I'm finding it difficult to fit in everything I need to do for my students with the things I am expected to do in the district. One particularly strange thing here is the absence of a spelling program and lack of time to focus on word work. I think these kids would benefit from Words Their Way, so although I'm not quite sure how I'm going to pull it all together along with the required Daily 5 (which I am already heavily modifying) and the necessary time for writing. I have a plan forming, but I won't know how well it will work until after I finish the reading assessments and have time to begin some spelling assessments. I'm hoping to have that up and running by the end of next week, so I'll go into that more then.

I'm learning quickly that teaching in a departmentalized classroom means a lot more structure! Even though I'm only teaching reading, writing, and social studies, there isn't much give in the schedule so I really have to be on my toes. This means spending a lot of time evaluating my teaching and rethinking what I'm doing. Believe it or not, I'm really enjoying all the problem solving involved!

Last week we spent most of our time delving into poetry. I'll take some pictures of the amazing poetic prose they came up with when we learned about where our names came from. For now, it's time for a little sleep before I hop back into the classroom!

And we're off!

So here is how my day breaks down:

I have two classes of students, and about 120 minutes with each of them.  This year, Newbie district requires all ELA classes to use The Daily 5. Not an issue for me, I read the book a few years ago and after also reading The Book Whisperer, found a happy middle ground that uses the concepts from both books without feeling like I am spending too much time trying to perfectly extract the ideas and make them fit with my students. Lucky for me, I also won a free one year subscript to the Daily 5 website during the March Daily Slice of Life event! This resource has been extremely helpful as I prepare for the year.

Because Newbie district wanted everyone starting Daily 5 by mid-week, I really had to organize my time efficiently with both classes to make sure I was able to get in the learning experiences I felt were important while still meeting these expectations. One thing I am really thankful for at my new campus is how organized I am going to have to become in order to survive! This is a skill I really struggle with, but I know it's going to be a huge benefit for me.

Using Daily 5 this year is a little wonky, because although I only have 120 minutes with each class, we also still need to do some Social Studies learning! To make sure poor old Texas history doesn't get avoided, I've added another choice to my Daily 5 (Daily 6??) that I am calling "Reading for Research" -- this will be when they have time to read and write from nonfiction texts, and will consist mostly of Texas history research. I still want to give them time for some project based learning, and somehow I plan to find time to make this work!

We'll call my classes A and B, for simplicity. Last year I was able to do some co-teaching with a teammate, so I'm a little familiar with teaching two different groups of students. But this is my first time to be solely responsible for the progress of more than one class of students from the first day of school to the last! I love how much I have learned about my students in the one week we have shared so far.

Last week I read Young Genius: Brains to both classes, and we spent time discussing why reading and writing is so good for your brain.

This is a must-read for any classroom! They loved learning about how their brain works. :)

We also learned about multiple intelligences and learning styles. I gave all my students surveys to help them know how they learn best. Since brain-based research hasn't been a focus at this campus in the past, it was really interesting to see how they responded to this knowledge! More interesting, though, were the results from both groups. Class A consists of almost all visual right-brained learners while B is mostly kinesthetic (could have told you this before we took the survey!) and the majority of them use both sides of their brain evenly. Having this type of information will help me as I decide what type of lessons to prepare for each class.

When I introduced the Daily 5 "read to self" lesson, I learned that Class A already has much more reading stamina than Class B. In our first attempt at building stamina, A read for 8 minutes while B struggled to stay focused for 2 minutes. I think part of this may also stem from B coming in right after lunch, but they really are a highly kinesthetic group that requires a lot more moving and grooving than A. I'm going to have to work on some strategies to help B focus on their reading stamina for longer amounts of time!

On Friday, we dove into our first piece of writing. The other ELA teacher in 4th grade does something she calls "Summer T-Shirt Tales", which gives the students an opportunity to write about something they did during the summer and design a t-shirt to go with their writing. Unfortunately I forgot to take pictures of their work before I left on Friday, but I was impressed with their effort and their writing! I think we're going to have tons of fun writing together this year.

Next week is only a 4 day week due to Labor Day, but we have so much work to do! Okay, strike that. I have so much I want to do with them! According to Newbie district's objective guide, we'll start learning about poetry on Tuesday. Can you even guess how incredibly tickled I am to leap into poetry in the second week of school? I have several writing opportunities I want to do, but I have to keep reminding myself that although I'm introducing poetry next week, I will be teaching it all year! I don't have to shove everything I love about poetry into their minds all at once. Our school theme this year is "Celebrating the past, present, and future" because our campus has such a vibrant history in the district. Last week I found this fabulous poetry lesson over at WritingFix (so many wonderful writing lessons there!) and think it would be a great way to also talk about this history of our school, and then later move on to writing about our own histories and our family cultures. I love spending time letting them write about where their names came from and I also saw a great lesson on Pinterest called "The Best Part of Me" that will be fun to explore, as well.

I love the energy that surrounds the first few weeks of school! So many ideas, and I get a little over-psyched and try to do too many things all at once. Tomorrow I will sit down and plan out what I want poetry to look like for at least this 9 weeks. Once I see it on paper, my brain normally settles down.

I'm thankful for this three day weekend to rest and recharge -- and to work on plans and sift through all my spinning thoughts from the first week of school. Here's to a successful year for everyone!

New Year, New World

This was the first week back to school, but with a bit of a twist for me.

I'm in a brand new district (it's HUGE!), at a totally different school (the most diverse student population in the district!), and I'm no longer in a self-contained classroom (Just reading, writing, and social studies from now on, baby!).

(Feel free to throw confetti and bounce about in a mini-celebration for me. I'll wait for you to finish. It's okay, I'm excited too!)

Whew. Talk about change. And if you know anything about me, you know this: I don't do very well with big changes in my life! In fact, even though this job hop sounded perfect for me, it took many many hours of conversation with friends and family before I finally decided to accept the offer. I'm lame, folks. I like a little stability in my old age.

Lucky for me, my husband and I are carpooling the 30 minutes to work each day. My poor husband is doing a fantastic job of listening to me on our drives home from work -- I require lots of reflection time every day!

I knew leaving my school, with its focus on brain research and many freedoms in the classroom would be difficult, but I didn't anticipate how much I would feel like a foreigner in a new country!

Besides the obvious differences -- Newbie district is more than twice the size of Oldie district, my new school recently became a Title I campus, the technology resources are (far) less than ideal, the student population is incredibly diverse, and this district has some pretty stringent ideas on how a classroom should be run -- there are also many interesting nuances that I am adjusting to that create the culture on my new campus.

Although I was obviously excited to embark on this adventure in an ELA classroom, I knew things would be different. I mean, c'mon people. I am used to:

• not wearing shoes in the classroom
• snacks and water bottles all day
• students working in the halls, under tables, anywhere that works for them!
• playing music all day
• narrative report cards
• textbooks gathering cobwebs in the corner
• ample technology resources - 2 computer labs, teacher laptop, Macs in the classroom, Smart Boards, classroom iPod sets...
• freedom to teach how I want with little interference or questions about my methods
• a general belief among coworkers that worksheets are coma-inducing time wasters
• collaborating with a classroom of 1st grade buddies each week
• two different schedules that we flip-flop back and forth from all year
• student led conferences with parents twice a year
• portfolios that go home throughout the year
• and much, much more (including a 10 minute drive to work!)

In many ways, I spent the past 5 years feeling the freedom to try out just about any wacky idea I came up with. Some worked, some didn't, but I always knew I was free to give it a shot. My team was my family and we worked our little educatin' booties off -- including meeting weekly over the summer to continue planning for the upcoming school year. We shared professional development books and ideas and were always there for each other -- no matter what.

It's difficult to walk away from such a close family. I don't think that is something you can find in every school, though I'd like to believe it is possible to grow that type of closeness between teachers.

My new principal is 100% behind my teaching beliefs, although she did raise her eyebrows at my shoeless feet once this week! My students (all 35 of them) are sweet and polite and eager to learn ... even if I think I may befuddle their brains a bit. We're all still figuring each other out, and having a lot of fun doing it! And although my new coworkers may not yet see the sense in my unusual classroom antics, I think we've settled into a comfortable work relationship. This week at lunch, the teacher in the classroom next to mine said, "I think I heard you guys singing or chanting stuff today..." and I laughed and apologized if we were to loud. But he simply replied, "Nope, sounds like my kind of classroom."

And that, my friends, was a very good feeling.

Even though Newbie district is a little more strict in how they want me to organize my teaching time, I still have the freedom to teach what I'm supposed to teach in the way I want. This week, instead of jumping into academics like many of my coworkers, I spent a great deal of time setting up the environment with my new learners. We talked (a LOT) about what we want our room to look and feel like, we learned about how our brain works and what type of learners we are, and I set them loose in our classroom library to play with the different genres they will be reading and writing this year.

There were some moments that, quite literally, rattled my thoughts: arriving to work an hour before sunrise to find two young students seated in the dark front steps of the school, a 10-year-old student tearfully asking me to help him spell his last name before he got to the end of the lunch line, because the lunch lady keeps asking him to spell it and he doesn't know how, among other things.

I'm eager to make this new campus a home, and it's happening day by day. I know I've landed here for a reason, and if I forget amidst the chaos of finding my way in this new world, I have two groups of amazing kiddos that remind me every time we sit down to learn together.

In Search of Something More

When I entered the teaching field, they handed me a binder full of lessons on writing, sent me to a day of professional development, patted me on the back, and said, "Teach."

That first year I tried to live by the pretty white binder. I really did. But it wasn't long before I found myself shaking my head in disbelief.

I knew there had to be something more to teaching literacy.

I threw myself into the pursuit of this "something more."

My ideas were a little strange, I suppose, but my students seemed happier. They wrote more. And I was definitely happier. Our classroom was coming alive.

The binder began to collect dust in the corner.

I did my own lessons. I kept them to myself. Partly, I was afraid I'd get in trouble for not following along. But in all honesty, I was afraid to share. Afraid to put myself out there. I lacked professional confidence.

A few years went by and I found new resources, like Jeff Anderson's amazing books on grammar. A new teacher told me about something she did before moving to Texas, called the Oklahoma Writing Project. A chance trip to the bookstore brought me Donalyn Miller's incredible read, The Book Whisperer, which has forever changed what reading looks like in my classroom.

Somehow I found myself applying to join the Summer Institute at the North Star of Texas Writing Project. I don't know what I was most afraid of: applying and not being accepted, or being accepted and making a fool of myself. But something inside me kept telling me to push forward; I was finally getting closer to that idea of something more.

I entered Summer Institute the first week of June -- barely able to contain my excitement (writing! five days a week! all month!) and scared beyond reason (writing! five days a week! all month!)

There are not words that can shine bright enough or shout boldly enough to define my NWP experience. The relationships, ideas, and beliefs that have grown from my one month at Summer Institute have taken root in the essence of who I am. Not just as a teacher, but as a person.

I am stronger -- I fight for what I believe in.

I am confident -- I share my ideas and beliefs freely.

I am proud -- my students have grown emotionally and academically because of my confident, positive approach to teaching.

The National Writing Project changed my life, and some might say that one person is a small thing. But I know it is because of NWP that I am able to confidently share resources with teachers. And perhaps more importantly, I know I have changed the lives of my students.

Just ask the boy who came to me in August, grumbling about how much he hated reading and writing. This same boy is currently writing a screenplay about his favorite superheroes. He also wrote me a poem this morning about how camouflage is his favorite color, because you cannot see it.

His poem made me reflect on the nature of the National Writing Project. You may not realize what you are looking at when you walk through the halls of a school. You may not realize how many hands from a writing project site have touched the teachers, sculpted the minds of students, forever changed someone into the person they were always waiting to become.

But we are definitely here. We are working to change lives, we are reinventing the landscape of literacy as we move forward, and we are necessary. Removing the funding for programs that heighten student achievement and bolster teacher leadership is the exact opposite of the kind of progress our country needs.

I finally found the "something more" I knew was out there, if I just kept searching.
And I don't intend to let it go.

My student, my teacher

This week, my students reminded me that I love teaching. Even though they probably don't realize it, they deserve a huge thank you.

Lately, I've let myself get bogged down with data meetings and testing expectations and -- my favorite -- "peer fear." Oh, you know what I mean -- that strange, oozing fear that seems to flow from room to room, spreading like the Blob as state testing time sneaks up on us.

Thankfully, my students always have my back when I start to succumb to the fear. When I swaddle myself with the love I have of learning and share my passion for discoveries with my students, we have amazing days. You will catch us cheering and shouting and bouncing and laughing (laughing!). Stand outside our door and you might wonder if anyone is even in charge. You might have to search to find me, as I'll be on the floor, or huddled in the corner with a small group of students, or possibly, I'll be lying on the floor next to them, reading.

You just never know what kind of learning you'll catch us doing.

Every day is different. Every day a gift. Every student equipped with a lesson to share.

What did you learn this week?

Breaking Away

Are you doing what you love? When you envisioned yourself as a teacher, surrounded by children in a school bursting with new ideas and creative coworkers, did that mental snapshot include high-stakes testing, anxiety inducing data meetings, and teachers whose spark has lost its luster?

I was especially excited when I finally completed my student teaching and accepted a position at my school. For years I had watched the atmosphere at this campus as my son moved from grade to grade. The teachers were energetic, the theory of brain-based teaching was innovative, and my son loved school. I knew this was the place for me. I barely made it through the interview without frothing at the mouth. Finally, I thought, I will be surrounded by people that share my passion for learning.

My first year at that campus was incredibly deflating. How could I have been so easily fooled? What happened to the energy, the passion, the zest for learning that I had seen as a person on the outside looking in?

Once inside, I discovered myself surrounded by teachers that were buckling under the pressure of a system that seemed purposefully constructed to tear down every good thing they were trying to accomplish. Not enough time, constantly changing schedules, and expectations that seemed to dangle always just out of reach resulted in a group of teachers that were worn down to bare knuckles.

Every day I go to work, I find myself hoping I can avoid certain people. I try to slip unnoticed through the halls, hope my principal doesn't highlight accomplishments in my classroom -- I already feel enough animosity from teachers that have been frustrated with my excitement; I don't want any more rolled eyes, hushed whispers, or cold shoulders. I've had enough. Somehow it is seen as bad to rise above, to hope for more, to continually push the bar. Teachers that dare to break away from the group are seen as dissenters, and not to be trusted.

At this point, I simply want to make it through the year. I love my class; love the energy from my kids, the desire for learning they show every day. We have accomplished miraculous things this year, and I am so proud of their hard work. It is only because of their willingness to try new things and motivation to learn that any of my ideas have found success. I am a dreamer, and these kids -- they are definitely the mechanism that fuels my dreams.

When I began teaching, I believed my encouragement and support would come from other teachers. I believed I would find solace surrounded by individuals all moving forward towards a similar goal. Now I am left to wonder if that was a childish fantasy, or if it is simply time for me to move on. Change seems impossible on this campus. Matriarchs of the school have assembled strange cliques and I don't seem to fit into the mold.

For once, I'm actually happy not to fit in. I enjoy my differentness. I am proud of my ideas and my desire for constant growth. I don't care to gossip and needle the weaknesses of others. I don't have enough energy these days to spend any of it on the ugliness that so many people seem capable of. I have accepted that things aren't always as they seem, I am thankful for the small handful of inspirational teachers I have met along the way, and I am ready to shoulder up against the wind and keep pushing forward. Perhaps a few will follow, perhaps not.

Regardless of my hurt feelings and disappointments, one thing remains true: I will stay true to my beliefs and do what is best for each child entrusted to me. Their future depends on me, and every teacher whose life they light up, one rushed year at a time.

We are here, we are learning.

Idiom Day is one of my favorite days of the year. And it's not just because we all get to dress up in fun costumes. Well, okay -- it's a little bit because of the costumes.

Each year after teaching figurative language to our students, they choose an idiom, design a costume to match the idiom's literal meaning, and come to school for a day of rotation through each 4th grade teacher's classroom for games designed to reinforce their learning.

I love seeing the various interpretations they come up with for their idioms. "Caught red handed" showed up today in several versions: with handcuffs, painted hands, gloved hands, or even wrapped in a large net! My favorite "break a leg" wore an xray screen showing a fractured leg, and I think my favorite costume of the day was a simple red t-shirt with a heart drawn on one sleeve. Simple. Perfect.

As for my amazing team, we showed up as "thrown under the bus," having a "green thumb," the "bee's knees," the ever popular classroom idiom "all eyes on me," and "it's all Greek to me." We had a ridiculous amount of fun letting all the other teachers and parents guess what our idioms where.

In the rotations, the students spent time playing 4 different figurative language games, including Jeopardy with me, where they teamed up to answer questions about idioms, hyperbole, simile, metaphor, and onomatopoeia. They enjoyed finding the figurative language within famous quotes and poetry, and completing popular idioms.

At the end of the day we gave out awards for best in class, funniest, most creative, best overall, best at keeping us guessing, and most over the top. The kids each had a moment in the spotlight to tell who they were and what their idiom was -- everyone clapped and cheered during "the big reveal!"

Next year, I think I'll take it a little further and add a bit of a research element by having my students find out where their idiom originated and sharing that information with our class when they come in costume.

So, yeah. One of my favorites. Love to dress up, love the costumes, the creativity, the laughter, and the months that follow as students run to me with a book in hand shouting, "I found an idiom!" grab a sentence strip, write it down, and post it on the wall -- a symbol to me, to them, to anyone that enters our room -- we are here, we are learning.

Today a wiki, tomorrow the world

They come in loud. A laughing, back-slapping, exclusive all-boys club.  21 hootin', hollerin' boys between the ages of 8 and 11, crashing into the computer lab like a wrecking ball in full swing.  There is no turning back now.

When I first thought of it back in June, I loved the idea of an all-boys club.  Take new collaborative technology, the opportunity to write creatively, and the shared camaraderie of boys becoming a cohesive pack, and see where it takes us.  That was the idea behind my after school club.

The reality was much scarier than the idea, however.  I hadn't actually meant to include 3rd grade, but didn't think to mention that when the forms went home.  I also never considered the fact that there would barely be enough computers for all the boys that wanted to join!  I assumed I'd have a nice, simple group of 10.  12, maybe.  21?  No way.  Third grade.  Did I mention that part?  I'm not sure what scared me more.  A huge group of boys that could easily become an unruly pack of kids that wanted nothing more than to play silly games online, or the fact that some of them were barely out of second grade. 

But there they were  on day one -- all 21 expectant faces asking about websites and online comic creators and blogging.  All eyeballing me with obvious concern.  Did they feel betrayed?  Had no one told them that the all-boys club was going to be led by (gasp) a girl??

How could a woman -- a teacher -- have anything cool to share with them about the Internet?

I probably eyed them with the same concern that day -- how was I going to manage twenty-one rowdy boys on computers at the same time, from three different grade levels?  What had I been thinking?  Why hadn't I planned this better?  Where were my parent helpers?

But I did what I always do when in doubt.  Forge ahead.  If there isn't a path, make one.  And that's what we have done.  Together.

Today was our third meeting.  Three one-hour meetings and the boys no longer look concerned.  In fact, they invite me into their jokes, grab my arm and pull me toward their computers to show me the newest treasure they have uncovered.  As of today, I officially feel like a part of the club.

Five of the boys are from my own classroom and already know how to do some of the things I introduce, so they get to be "experts" during this hour, helping me answer questions, fix problems, and run interference.  They are IT guys in the making.  It's brilliant, because I watch these kids that are typically the awkward, goofy guys in class become leaders.  For one hour a week, they take charge.  I'm eager to see how it changes our regular classroom environment.  I'm eager to see how it changes them.

Today I introduced our club wikispace, and they sank their teeth into it, quickly and repetitively erasing the home page I had created for them before finally figuring out the difference between editing the Home page and editing their own page.  It was a humorously frustrating experience.  Each time it happened we laughed, learned, and moved on.

One of my youngest members sat quietly working in front of his computer.  At the beginning of our meeting, I had asked him to pass out folders, to which he replied, "But I'm just a third grader!"

Now he sat, hunched toward the screen, clicking his way toward discovery.  I watched as he learned how to embed his glog we made a week ago onto his page, save it, and then share it with others.

"I thought you told me you were just a 3rd grader?" I said, grinning at him.

His giant smile was all I needed to see.  And that's a good thing, because a half-second later he was out of his chair and sprinting to a friend to teach them what he had learned.

I can't wait until next Monday.

Lighting the Way

This year my kids are proving to me, over and over again, if I raise the bar they will find a way to scale it. Naturally, this will be followed by a glance back at me with a, "That's all ya got?" smirk. Why not? When I challenge them, they challenge me right back.

Thomas Edison is quoted as saying, "If we all did the things we are really capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves," and I agree completely. I consider it my responsibility to help my students find out what makes them tick, grasp at their passion, and run wildly towards their dreams. They deserve that from me. They deserve a life well lived. I want to help them find that life.

The problem in the classroom (for me, anyway) is finding the way to help all of my students turn their light on. How do we take an uninterested, seemingly unmotivated student and help him or her transform into a child full of wonder? I've spent years searching for that answer, and I assume I'll spend many more -- in truth, if I ever find a solid, concrete answer, I suppose I've lost a little of my own wonder. The minute I stop growing, reaching, searching, and navigating my own maze towards excellence is the exact instant my students have a right to tune me out. I am no longer valid if I am no longer passionate about my pursuits.

I love the delight in their eyes when I show them a new way to look at an old problem. I love the flicker of pride in their eyes when a boy who once hated reading now devours books with a ferocious hunger -- as if making up for lost time. I love when past students bring me books to read because they know I will still read them, and my heart literally jumps when a struggling writer finds words they never knew they had.

This year I am seeing this happen more than ever before. Kids are enjoying what they learn. They are helping one another succeed. They are eager to try new things.

So I have to ask myself ... why? I still teach the same grade in the same school with the same level of excitement that I always have. Why are my kids jumping forward and so eager to challenge themselves now?

A few things have changed -- I went to Summer Institute with the North Star of Texas Writing Project over the summer, I have given them so many technology resources they are giddy to try them all, and thanks to Donalyn Miller's The Book Whisperer, I completely revamped the way I teach reading.

But I think it's more than the sum of these things. I am more confident. I try new things and ask questions later. I step out on a limb and say, "May as well TRY to fly since I'm out here!" more often. I share more resources. I copy less and do more.

Confidence breeds confidence. My kids spend their day with a strong, energetic, confident, passionate teacher. I like a good challenge, and I certainly don't back down from some healthy competition -- and they know this. This year, my kids are in a classroom full of choice lead by a teacher whose confidence is finally growing.

I think we're going to be good for each other, this group of 21 strong-willed geniuses and me.

Challenge #1: Learn how to use Glogster and share your favorite book:

How do you think they did?

Sharing Matters

Yesterday we partnered with a first grade class to learn about descriptive writing. They had all drawn crazy monsters, and we used their drawings to find out how important it is to include details in our writing.

First, every student grabbed a partner and one of the monster pictures. One student described the monster while the other (without looking) tried to recreate the same monster drawing. Each partner got a turn drawing a monster from verbal descriptions only.

The results were actually pretty good, or in the very least, comical. And we all learned an important lesson about accurate details.

Next, each student took one of the drawings and wrote a description of their monster. These descriptions were going to another class to see if they could match up the correct monster with the written description. The kids were eager to see if they could write something detailed enough for a second grade student to match the drawing to the description.

Well, most of them were. Burt was a little hesitant to get started. He had done a fabulous job verbally describing his monster to his partner earlier, and I reminded him of that. He nodded, uncertain. He said very matter-of-factly, "I just don't know where to start."

We looked at the picture together and I asked him what feature stood out to him the most.

"Well, I guess there are about 5 million spikes on his head."

Progress! I told him to start there and just talk aloud like he was telling a friend.

I moved away, checking on some other students. Typically, I try to check in on him often, but this project required more time for other students as well. Before I knew it, time was up and I hadn't checked in on him again. I was upset with myself -- he rarely completes a task without frequent reminders to keep going.

Suddenly, he was at my side.

"You're not going to believe it," he said, holding his paper tightly to his chest.

He flipped the paper around, revealing a page full of writing.

But that wasn't it. The back page was full also. And the words were fabulous. Completely on his own, Burt had described his monster with vivid detail! I let out a whoop and gave him a big hug. I had to share his succes -- he had to share his success! We went to his previous teacher and shared. We went to the reading specialist and shared. We shared with our class. Kids cheered, teachers hugged, he floated a little bit off the ground for a brief while.

I love the happy moments. They make everything worth it.

Breakthrough Thursday

Little steps. Big victories.

Sometimes the steps feel so tiny I wonder if we're even moving forward. I wonder if I am challenging them enough. But I follow my gut, teaching becoming a strange mix between ESP and science, and eventually all these miniature steps pool together and produce an unbelievably satisfying reward.

One of my boys came to class as a self-professed bad reader. That's a pretty hefty title to have to lug around with you from 4th grade into adulthood, I thought, and so began my search for his Holy Grail of books. His family has a big attachment to superheroes, and much of his conversation in the early days of the school year focused on Superman and all his pals and enemies. Perfect. What do you give a boy that hates to read? Comic books, of course. He sank easily into a world filled with good versus evil, enjoying how quickly he could slip through a story.

After a few quick comics, I offered him a slightly larger graphic novel -- still filled with superheroes, of course. The other boys in class were fascinated that I was allowing him to read these books, and soon there were waiting lists for the books he was reading. He began to lift his head a little higher.

Next, more graphic novels. This time, he read things without the stereotypical superhero. By now, he was asking for time to read. In fact, just the other week he said to me with his crooked, dimpled grin, "I used to think I wasn't a good reader but now I think I like reading. I'm pretty good at it."

I couldn't suppress my excitement. I gave him a huge hug. I tried not to smile so widely as to frighten the poor boy. "You're right. You are definitely a good reader."

Last week I grabbed my copy of The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick. I boldy set it on the table beside him.

"Check this out," I said, "My son read this when he was about your age. I think you might really enjoy it. It's sort of like the graphic novels you've been reading."

He was hooked. The other kids couldn't believe he was reading such a thick book. Everyone wanted to know how many pages it had. He carried it everywhere with him. He begged me to let him read instead of doing math, his favorite subject.

Today, he took it with him to dismissal, finished the last few pages while waiting for his mom, and handed it to me as he walked to his car.

"I did it!" he yelled as he passed the book to me.

His transformation began slowly. For days I felt like a kid watching a chrysalis in hopes of catching the new creation as it emerged. I wasn't certain anything was actually going to happen. But when that spark finally did light? It was fast -- FLASH -- and off he went, a reader.

Still Searching

Thursday. Most of the class is finishing up their "memory basket" writing. Five memories, five items from home attached to those memories, at least one paragraph for each memory, describing it and why the object is important.

In theory, this was a fabulous idea. In practice, it felt forced. Why did I decide on the 'one paragraph per memory' expectation? Why have any expectation beyond, "write about your memories." I wonder what their writing would have looked like. I might have seen poems, comics, narratives, any number of unique recollections could have surfaced.

But no, the organizer in me came forward. The worrier. The controller. "I must prepare them for TAKS. We must write a paragraph. Our thoughts must be coherent." And so, from their individual, personal memories we have 21 very similar sets of paragraphs.

The happy medium. I am still searching for it.

Because we do need to learn about paragraphs and organization and figurative language. If I don't ask them to show what they know, how can I say I am teaching them? The struggle between state standards and organic writing is water against stone.

Maybe I could have let them write about each memory in a different way, as long as one of their memories was shared in the form of a paragraph. Practice alongside creativity. This might be one answer.

The only thing I know for certain is, regardless of how long it takes, I'll keep searching. I'm sure the happy medium is out there somewhere.

The Happy Medium

This year our principal set forth an expectation that every class will publish a piece of writing at the end of each nine week grading period for the purpose of a vertically aligned assessment. This actually fits fairly well with an idea I've been toying around with for a school-wide publication featuring student and teacher created artwork and written pieces. My original plan was a bit larger than life (as all my plans tend to be), requiring parent volunteers, editing committees, and community sponsorship to pay for a professional grade publication.

Yes, I dream big.

But with this new writing requirement, I can actually pilot my idea quite easily. I suggested to my principal that since we will all have a prompt to respond to each nine weeks -- why not make it something all grades could associate with? It might be interesting to see how a Kindergartener and a Fifth Grade student approach the same topic.

I've asked that all teachers give me a piece of writing from their class, and that each grade level choose a teacher to offer a piece for the publication as well. It's a little more formulaic than I'd originally hoped for, but a good place to start.

When I offered this idea to my principal and a few other teachers, a suggestion was made to use character traits as the prompts. Kindergarten might write about accountability, Third Grade tackling Effort, and Fifth Grade could respond to Respect. Something like that.

I believe it's of great value to teach children about character. Children need healthy role models and honest, understandable examples of what it means to have good character. My kids write about character traits and Angela Maiers' Habitudes daily. These are important discussions embedded into our daily routine.

But I don't believe that, at the beginning of the year, you can ask a student to write about what integrity means to them and expect an authentic, substantial piece of writing in return. I'm not entirely happy about having them write to a prompt at all, but if given a prompt, I want something that they can easily identify with.

I wonder though -- am I not giving them a chance? Have I decided too early what they can and cannot do, without offering them an opportunity to shine? I just know that I want them to write about things that are meaningful to them, and I have great difficult seeing Kindergarten and First Grade excited to share about respect through their writing.

This is a yearly struggle for me. Writing for the test vs. writing in the real world. We all have standards to meet, objectives to address, but don't we also have an obligation to protect the heart of a child? To nurture their gifts by allowing them to bloom in the conditions for which they are best suited? We have entire maps and books dedicated to the care and raising of plants, based on their individual needs - from optimum planting seasons to detailed sunlight instructions. Shouldn't our kids have the same opportunity to grow as the individuals they were born to be?

Ode to Sticky Notes

This week I read Wilfrid Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox to my class.  My first experience with this book was in Summer Institute with NWP this year, and I've been excited to share it with my students.
After reading the book, we talked about the different kinds of memories that Wilfrid shared with Miss Nancy and brainstormed our own similar memories.  We've been working on writing a paragraph about each memory and on Friday we'll each bring in our own memory basket to share with the class.

I had no idea what a profound effect this experience would have on my kids!  Although I focused on sharing my warm memory and my memory that is more precious than gold, my kids wanted to share their memories that make them cry.  And they did.  Cry, that is.  I felt a little like a group therapist.  The impressive thing about it was how supportive they were of each other.  They shared connections they had to each others memories, offered encouragement, and generally showed real compassion.  It was an incredibly powerful moment.

Today, a couple of my boys were struggling to come up with memories.  One said woefully, "I have no memories."  I whipped out my handy dandy sticky note pad.  I handed a stack of stickies to the more self-reliant boy and told him to just start thinking of big events in his life and putting one on each sticky note.  "Don't worry about what memory category from the story it fits in," I said, "just make as many as you can."  He immediately set to work.

If you haven't guessed by now, the other boy was Burt.  For him, I put the stack of sticky notes in front of me, grabbed a pencil, and started brainstorming with him.  Another boy was sitting nearby and offered to help.  He started rattling off fun things he had done, and memories he had already written down, and got Burt thinking.  As Burt talked, I wrote down what he said and slapped sticky notes into his journal.  In about 10 minutes, he had two pages full of notes.

"All right," I said, "now it's time to choose something you'd like to write about."

His eyes widened.  He pushed his glasses onto his forehead and pushed his hands into his eyes.

"I really don't know what to write about."

A quote from our reading in The Little Prince floated through my mind: It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

"Okay.  Let's look at the ones you had a lot to say about."

We narrowed it down to two choices.  A time someone stole his stuff at the beach, and the time he rode a roller coaster.  He decided on the beach.  But again, he just stared at the sticky note and at me, and repeated, "I really don't know what to write about."

I showed him how much he had already shared with me, and recounted the details he had told me earlier.

More staring.

I grabbed more sticky notes and put them in front of him.

"Okay Burt.  No writing for now.  I want you to close your eyes for a minute and run this story through your mind like a movie.  Then you're going to draw each scene on a sticky.  We'll add words later."

Like magic, he set to work.  10 minutes later, he had several stick figure drawings of his day on the beach.  By then, it was time to put our journals away.  The sad look was gone, and tomorrow we'll add words to his drawings.  From there, we'll move to paper and add detail.

Baby steps.  We'll get there in baby steps.  Writing is a nearly undefinable process.  What works for one person is completely foreign to another.  But I believe we all have a process that works.  We all have a writer within.  We just have to find it.

I hope I can help Burt find his.

Looking for the 911 Message

Today we landed at chapter 5 in our reading of The Little Prince.  Before we read, I told my class to listen carefully for the "911 message" or main idea of the chapter.  We talked about what kind of information you would give 911 if you had to call them, and I spent several minutes making up fake, over-the-top conversations with 911 operators, as we giggled about how absurd it would be to call for help and never tell the person that could help you what you actually needed!

After much silliness (gasp -- silliness and learning?), we opened the book and began reading about the little prince and the baobab trees.  This chapter is rich with beautiful images.  First, I pointed out favorite quotes to my students, "But seeds are invisible. They sleep deep in the heart of the earth's darkness..." but it wasn't long before they were stopping me to point out things they noticed as well.

"But when it is a bad plant, one must destroy it as soon as possible, the very first instant one recognizes it."

This led to a conversation about how easy it is to let bad thoughts take root in your heart and push out all the good thoughts.  One boy actually said if you let bad thoughts in all the time they can "break you apart with sadness."

Today was a day when all the pieces of the day fit together seamlessly.  During a writing lesson earlier I had shared with the kids how sad I was when my grandmother died, but when I got very sad I could focus on all the good things -- learning to knit with her, making bread, picking strawberries in the garden -- all these good thoughts helped me to let go of the sadness and hold my happy memories in place.

While we talked about good and bad seeds (thoughts), and how bad seeds could take hold and split you in pieces, they brought up my grandmother, and my happy thoughts.  I mentioned the three baobab bushes that the lazy man didn't tend to, and asked what would happen if I let all my bad thoughts take root and grow, forgetting to tend the good thoughts.  The common answer was that we have to protect our heart from evil.  I was genuinely touched by the depth of thought they put into this idea!

Of course, there were funny moments too -- after talking about what "urgent" means, and explaining the word "necessity", they all started telling me they had an urgent necessity whenever they needed to go to the bathroom!

After we finished chapter 5, we worked to summarize it by listing some details, and finally, tell the "911 message" or main idea.

Here is what they came up with: The little prince warns to tend your rose bushes (good thoughts) and remove all baobabs (bad thoughts) or they will overcome you.

No wonder the narrator begs us: "Watch out for the baobabs!"

Mentor Texts Save the Day

After the craziness that was the great "My Name" experiment of 2010, I went back and simplified the lesson, recreated a template that was easier to follow, and cut the text by at least half.

What I ended up with was a one paragraph excerpt from Sandra Cisneros' The House on Mango Street, which my students could easily use as a mentor text and create their own short poem about themselves.

Hallelujah!  Burt and I had a moment of happy connection!  He wasn't sure what to say about himself or his thoughts on his name, so we sat and talked more about what he likes to do and I was finally able to push through the "I don't know" mine field of doom into a place where Burt actually used sensory details completely on his own to describe playing video games.  He finished his poem in record time -- before some of the other students! And beamed happily when I read it to the class for him.

I love the drawing board.  It is always there waiting, always open to new ideas, always a blank slate, forgiving your past transgressions.

And I was able to send Burt home for the weekend with just one more taste of success.

This is why we experiment.

Wherein I Eat My Words

Not long after my jubilation at Burt's writing success, we hit another major roadblock.  It shouldn't be surprising, I suppose, that this roadblock came in the form of a TAKS style writing prompt.  I could kick myself when looking back.  The problem, however, is that I have to get all these kids prepared to perform well on the test, but in my heart I just want to help them find a way to write that is true to who they are.  This is the great balance of the writing teacher.

This week I asked my class to revisit our writing benchmark.  The prompt was "write about a time something surprising happened" but unfortunately, Burt doesn't feel that anything surprising has actually happened to him.  After much brainstorming, he decided to write about the time his dad surprised him with two hamsters.  When he went to write he couldn't find anything to say.  His story basically consisted of: I got two hamsters. I put them in their cage.  I watched them play.

I have actually not seen Burt get excited about anything, other than the day he proudly finished his "My Name" poem.  He doesn't share much in class, he is a pretty quiet guy, and the things that many of my other students typically get excited about barely seem to register on his happy-meter.  So the fact that recalling the addition of two fuzzy squeaking balls of fluff didn't light him up wasn't a huge shock.

We sat together wrestling verbally over what might be interesting to include in his story.  When I asked him to tell me about getting the hamsters, he put his head in his hands and sighed, "I don't know."  I tried to get him engaged in a conversation:
Me: Tell me about your hamsters.
Burt: I don't have them anymore.
Me: What did you think when you saw them?
Burt: I don't know.  I didn't really think anything.
Me: What did you do?
Burt: Nothing, really.

You get the picture.  Now, I love this dude.  I just can't figure out how to get into his head.  When we talk, it's really just me talking to him.  I haven't found what really gets him energized yet.  It's painful not to be able to connect to him on the level I would really like.  I know I'm missing something.  I have got to figure it out.

I left Burt to check in with some other students, but within minutes he was standing silently behind me, papers in hand, tears on his cheeks.

We sat down on the floor and I asked him what was going on.

"I'm just not good at this.  I don't know what to say."

I asked him what he wanted to say, which was about the dumbest thing I could have asked.  If he knew what he wanted to say he wouldn't be in tears!  His hunched over shoulders and continued tears smacked me right in the forehead.  I tried a new tactic.

"It seems like writing about your hamsters isn't much fun for you." (Duh, what tipped you off, lady?)

I asked him if he was sure that this was a story he wanted to keep writing, explaining that sometimes we try out a story and realize we just don't have as much to say about it as we thought.  He agreed that he felt like it wasn't something he was excited to write about but then just stared at me, which left me feeling horrible because I honestly wasn't sure what to offer him next.  So I asked him if he could start over completely, what else he might enjoy writing about.  He gave me the answer I have come to expect: "I really don't know."

By this time, we needed to end writing time and move on to something else.  I closed his journal and told him that we would put his story away for now and next time we could talk about other things he might be interested in writing.

But I felt like I failed him.  And I wonder if I made him feel like he failed, by telling him he didn't have to write about the hamsters.  To me, if the writing feels like passing a kidney stone, then it might be wise to put it away and try something else.  I can't give him the words to write his story, but I need to be able to help him find the words.

How do you help someone find their words when they seem to have so few words to say?

Reflections on Spelling

I’ve decided to revisit my original spelling idea because:

• Often, my students are not using the correct rule (long a instead of short, etc.)
• I don’t feel that if I introduce the rule on Monday and they turn in a project on Tuesday, they have spent enough time manipulating the sound enough to know it, and I feel that after they turn in their project they feel “done” and quit looking.
• Some of the words they use are so high-level that I have never seen them before.  I know these words are not coming from their reading.
• My original purpose was to combine spelling with vocabulary, and I don’t feel we are building vocabulary in a meaningful way.

Reflections:

• As I read the first 20 pages of The Little Prince over the weekend I collected words for this week’s rule.  I realized that some of the project choices I had already set for the students this week would be painfully difficult to do.  One of the choices would actually be impossible if I only take words from The Little Prince reading.  I want them to use critical thinking skills, but I also need to scaffold that process so they can be successful.
• I realize now that I began this process backwards.  I told them the plan, explained the process and the projects, and let them go.  In any other thing I do with them, I always model first.  There was no modeling with this process.  I only modeled listening for words during our read alouds, but I feel now that was not enough.  I just threw out a big box of toys, and let them go to town.  Granted, they were incredibly excited, but the end result was not what I envisioned.

Back to the drawing board:

• This week my class is starting The Little Prince with our Global Read Aloud project.
• I’ve read the first 20 pages, which we will read in class this week.  I found 66 words in varying challenge levels that follow this week’s rule.  Considering that they only need 10-20 words, I feel confident that they can find enough from our read aloud time to make their list.  I will tell the students at the beginning of each week how many words I found while reading, and challenge them to find more.
• As I’m reading, the students will have their new* Word Collectorswith them.  I will first model listening for the correct pattern, putting emphasis on the long e sound.  I will add the word to ourWeekly Word Wall, making a big show about checking spelling from the book as I write it on the Wall.  I am considering adding a Power Teaching style technique by having the students shout “E! E! E-E-E!” when they spot a word this week, but I don’t want it to be too distracting.  More than likely, after I model finding a word and stopping to add it to the wall, I will instruct them to quietly get up when they hear a word and go to the wall to add it.
• Students will use the group list we create (which should have many more words than what they need) to begin their own project list by Wednesday when we go to computer lab.
• They must choose 10-20 words from the list.
• 5 words must be challenging vocabulary.
• There must be a word to represent each way of using the rule in their list.  For this week, this means words like peal, because, receive, free, etc.
• Their project must demonstrate correct use of their 5 vocabulary words, and correct spelling of all 10-20 words they use.
• For now, I will continue with the 4 multiple-intelligence based choices, but they will all relate somehow to our reading from the week.  This focus on relating projects to reading will also increase comprehension, making our weekly project combine spelling, vocabulary, writing, comprehension, multiple-intelligences,and creativity.  I may also offer one free choice which is not related to our reading, but they will still be expected to adhere to all other requirements.  They may choose to complete a free choice project once a month.
• Until all students are showing mastery level understanding of this process, projects will be done in class, with time given in computer lab and on Friday to complete their work.  Once all students have mastered the process, they may begin using words from their own personal reading for their projects.  We will then begin having abrief time in class each day to share words and check for understanding of spelling and meaning.
• If students find words throughout the week in their own reading that they believe relates to the rule, they may share it with me and add it to the board if it is correctly spelled and fits the rule.  Alternatively, if it is a vocabulary challenger, they can write the word and definition or word used correctly in a sentence on a sentence strip and post it in the room.  I expect this to begin happening at some point quickly, and the more the students see it happening, the faster it will spread to other students.  This is a part of scaffolding their learning of this process.

Concerns I still have:

• Listening for words will distract from listening for meaning. Possible Solution: I stop often to reflect on meaning, connections, purpose, word choice, etc. whenever doing a read aloud.  This may actually help teach them to be able to hunt for words while analyzing text as they read on their own.  Also, having projects based on our reading will aid with comprehension of what has been read.
• Moving to the wall will cause a break from the story in which they are not focused. I could have students collect words in their Word Collector and at the end of reading students can choose words to add to wall.  The problem with this is I really want to see all words they add right away to check for spelling/correct use, and waiting for 21 kids to add words after reading is time consuming.  Possible Solution: let students add words in Word Collector and at end of reading I will go to the Weekly Word Wall and have students call out their findings.  They will change their spelling to match mine, add words to their page they did not have, and we will tally words daily to see how many we found.

*Word Collector: we will make a small paper booklet in class that they will bring to the rug for read alouds.  Each page will have the rule for the week written on top.  They will collect words as they hear them on that page.

A Little Taste of Success

One of my new students (we'll call him Burt) was described to me last year as a boy who "cries whenever it's time to write."  Of course, I asked to have him placed in my class this year.  There's just something about those little struggling guys that pulls at my heart!

And he is definitely a struggler.  Sweet boy, very willing to work, but has a difficult time organizing his thoughts into meaningful sentences and paragraphs.  Assignments have to be given to him in pieces, or he appears quickly overwhelmed.

This week, we have been doing some pattern writing with the mentor texts "My Name" from The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros and Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon.  I found this particular activity on the EC Ning, and probably should have tested it out a little more thoroughly before jumping into it with my students!  It's a great activity, but there is a template the kids use to complete their poem that is slightly disorganized.  This sent quite a few of my guys into a tailspin.

Naturally, I was worried about Burt.  I checked in on him, and though he was definitely moving along at a slower pace than the norm, he was happily moving forward.  We sat together for awhile and talked about his word choice, and since this writing is mostly about yourself and your family, we shared a little about both our families.  Satisfied that Armageddon was not right around the corner, I left him to work.

A few days later, and several breakdowns from students struggling to fit into this God-forsaken template (honestly, why did I not see this problem before I taught the lesson??), Burt came up to me, wrinkled paper in hand, toothy grin plastered across his face.  He held the treasure up to me, his eyes wide.

"You did it!" I beamed, reading his words out loud and giving him a hug.

"I did," he said quietly, "I finished it."

No tears, no fuss, but a little pride bubbling through his shell.  A little taste of success in what I hope is just the beginning.

Making a Difference

Today we were working on our "all about me" dodecahedrons.  The students write and draw something specific about themselves on each pentagon.  One of the tasks was to write and draw something "you are good at."  Typically, this is an easy one.  Who doesn't like bragging about themselves?

As I walked through the room, I came across one boy that was sitting rigidly bent over that pentagon, pencil unmoving in his hand.

"What's up?" I asked, squatting down beside him.

He quickly, and with a little exasperation, explained that he couldn't draw what he was good at.  This seemed odd, but I thought maybe he was going to be one of my guys that doesn't like to draw.  I asked why he couldn't draw it.

"Because I love to hunt, and we can't draw guns at school," he said.

"Hm," I responded, "why is that?"

His eyebrows popped up and he gave me a look of pure disbelief.

"Well, we're at school.  I thought we couldn't talk about guns at school."

His face was scrunched up like a question mark.

I asked him if he felt like he was good at hunting, and if that was what he truly loved to do.  He gave me a huge smile.

"Heck yeah!" he said, "me and my dad go out huntin' all the time!"

"Then you should draw yourself hunting, even if that means you are drawing and writing about guns."

I think his face lit up so much the room got brighter for a moment.

Is there any better reason to teach?