Category Archives: Reflections on teaching

Fueled by Love

celebrate-image So happy to Celebrate with Ruth Ayres this weekend! 

I want to celebrate one of my kids today. One of my wonderful children is a little extra unique. He’s smart, creative, comical, helpful, talented, a struggling reader, fidgety, a nonconformist, sensitive and loud. If you haven’t met him, watching this will give you a good idea of him. (If you’re his parent, watching it might make you cry and hope.)

The other day I overheard someone else use the word tricky to describe him. They hadn’t met him yet, but it was my fault because sometimes I have labeled him “tricky” in order to try to describe him to others. But I think I’ve been using the wrong word. It’s not that he’s never mischievous… it’s just that that isn’t what I mean by tricky. The nuance of what I mean is lost in the translation from my brain to others’ ears. I mean unique. I mean not interested in the status quo. I mean challenges you to be a better person.  I mean sensitive but not quiet. 

The other day, Mr. Thought and I were talking about how to make sure our son starts off his new school on the right foot.

“He’s not tricky.” Mr. Thought said. “Well, sometimes he is, but that’s not the point.”

We both thought for a moment. “He’s just fueled by love.” My husband explained, “He needs to know he’s loved.”

I don’t usually speak in hashtags, but come on. This is #truth.

So, I have a new way to talk about my amazing kid. He is fueled by love. He deserves it.

And I think I have new way to talk about all kids, right? Who isn’t fueled by love? Who doesn’t deserve it? What does it mean? It means give every kid the benefit of the doubt, set kind limits, give second chances, again and again. Take a deep breath, let it go. Don’t make compliance your learning goal. Look around at your students and get to know them. Please. They are fueled by love.

 

 

A Slice of just stopping by

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

I was just stopping by, a quick summer visit. Camp was in session. I am not a part of the camp. I was just stopping by. A quick meeting or two.

A boy was wandering the hallway, with a look a teacher can spot from a mile, or at least a hallway or two away. It’s the look of “Maybe I’m doing something I’m not supposed to be doing, but I’m a little lost, I don’t really know. Am I in trouble? I don’t want to be in trouble, and I don’t want to go where I’m supposed to be or do what I’m supposed to do.”

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

A camp counselor came out of a door at the other side of the hallway, and she called out “Mark! Mark! Where are you going?” (Names have been changed, of course.) He said nothing, just wandered further away, closer to the outside doors.

“Get back here, Mark! Where’s your counselor? Where are you supposed to be? Upstairs? Come here. You need to find your teacher. Does she know you are here? You have to come here.”  She kept repeating these kinds of statements, then said something I couldn’t understand, and walked back into her room for a moment.

Mark just kept walking, almost out the door.

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to leave.” I said, and then I called out, “Is he supposed to go out here?” (Sometimes we have to ask obvious questions…)

“No! Are you with him?” the counselor asked me, and I started to wonder… who is with this boy?

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

Mark walked back, as the counselor walked away and up the stairs. I watched him, but he didn’t follow. He walked slowly towards the outside doors down the other hallway. I easily caught up to him.

“Hi.” I introduced myself. “I’m Mrs. Thought. Is there something I can help you with? I’m a teacher, and it looks like you might need some help.”

“I lost my lunchbox.” he sniffed. “I left it outside, but I don’t know which door it was.”

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

We talked a bit, and as I was convincing him to not go outside until he found his counselor, another woman rounded the corner.

“Mark! You can’t just leave like that! You have to stay with me.”

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

“He thinks he lost his lunchbox outside.” I explained.

She looked at me and shook her head, mouthing, “He didn’t lose his lunchbox.” in a way that meant, “This isn’t about a lunchbox. Don’t believe everything this kid tells you.”

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

She walked away with Mark, and I heard her softly say, “Do you want me to go outside with you to look for your lunchbox?”

I’m just stopping by. I’m just here for a couple of meetings. I’m not involved. 

His camp counselors have it covered…

But wow, I would really like to know the rest of this story, the rest of his story, and if there was a lunchbox out on the playground.

A slice of getting ready

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

Every time I go to target, I find myself looking at the dollar spot. I look at the cute wooden signs, and the fun mini clips.

“I don’t need any of these things!” I whine to my kids. (Which, Mr. Thought would argue is what I should always say when I think I should get something for my classroom.)

Summer is a weird time for a classroom teacher with no classroom of her own.

Every time I read a blog, a school idea floats through my brain, or I see a great deal on colorful pens, I pause. I wonder a little about my choice to take a break from the classroom and move to an instructional coaching role for awhile.

Seems silly, for sure — that a few mini clothespins with cute pencil tops could make me question my life choices — but I think it speaks to my love of creating a home for my students and me. My mom might raise her eyebrows here — she knows I have a deep love for office supplies that lives alongside my altruistic teaching heart. However, I think my school “nesting” each year is a way for me to ready my brain and my heart for a new year.  The Reggio Emilia approach to education tells us that the environment is the third teacher, so I try for a bright, organized, calm and inspiring space in hopes that it will help students learn and work. (Considering how hard it is for me to concentrate on writing this right now, on the tiny space I’ve carved for myself on my dining room table in the middle of the mess of a new floor installation … I tend to think the environment really does matter!)

Lucky for me, almost every time I’m at Target, I bump into a teacher I get to work with for the next few years! Usually it is one teacher in particular, but I’ve bumped into several. So, even though I might stare longingly at the book bin labels, a few minutes later I will be reminded of how cool this job is! These teachers are amazing!

When it’s almost August, and my teaching year is on the horizon, I like to think about the 50 kids I’ll be spending the year with. I look at the class list, and make conferring forms and checklists. The promise of a blank-slate-school-year always feels exciting. So, I reorganize my classroom library, and get ready for back-to-school night.

But, now it is almost August, and it’s my coaching year on the horizon. So I’m thinking about the teachers I get to spend the year with – the creative, hard working, smart, kind, welcoming, kid-loving teachers! And guess what? Each of those teachers spends their day with 25 kids or so… so the reality is, I get to spend my year with about 35 teachers, and about 875 kids. How lucky can you get?

 

So I’m readying my brain and my heart in a new way. I’m helping a friend set up her classroom – it’s getting those organizing and setting up needs out of my system.  I’m reading a lot of resources, and focusing myself on learning across a breadth of grade levels, I’m working on curriculum writing teams, getting to know the curriculum, and the teachers. I’m turning my brain into my classroom, I guess! (Hey, the analogy works, until you realize that my brain doesn’t have any cute paper clips.)

…I may have also bought some cute ABC and ruler ribbon from Target, just in case I need to wrap up a little mini “Back-To-School” treat for teachers. I couldn’t help myself.

Celebrate change (again)

celebrate-image So happy to Celebrate with Ruth Ayres this weekend! 

I’ve celebrated this before! This week, I accepted the opportunity to leave my classroom for a few years and coach again. 6 months of coaching last year was a great taste, and I’m excited to do it again, for “real” this time! I loved my work with teachers and students last year as a coach. I can only imagine how amazing it will be to build those relationships and learn more about how to best support the work and growth of teachers and students. I’m looking forward to the challenge!

And, it’s still hard to leave my classroom, and my (amazing!) team.

When I told my class that I wouldn’t be back in my room for the next few years, they were more upset than I had predicted.

“What does a coach do?” They asked and then quickly added, “Where will your classroom be?”

“I won’t have a classroom.” I told them.

“What? Where will you put all of this pinteresty stuff?”

“My garage.” I shrugged, imagining the current state of my garage disaster, wondering how on earth all this stuff will fit.

“Oh!” a student shouted. “Set it all up! We will just go there for school.”

I’ll stay! I should stay! I’ll just be your teacher forever! 

Later, another student looked at me with confusion. “You’re going to take down all the stuff from the walls?”

“Yes.”

“All of it? The walls will just be plain? White?”

“Well, mostly. Gray I guess.” I nodded.

“But this is my favorite classroom! You can come in here and just feel peaceful.”

I’ll stay! I should stay! I’ll just be your teacher forever! 

“I’ll always remember you for you reading Rain Reign, and making us sob, and for your beautiful classroom.” One of my students told me. Another one piped up, “I’ll always remember you for being a good teacher.”

I’ll stay! I should stay! I’ll just be your teacher forever! 

Earlier I had told my team that I was leaving, and they were happy-mad. “I’m happy for you! You’re going to be an awesome” they each said, but their eyes did just a little bit of “I can’t believe you’re leaving us.”

I’ll stay! I should stay! I’ll just be your teammate forever! 

After school this week I started to pack my room. June is always about cleaning my room… but it’s different to pack up all my personal things because I won’t be back for 3 -5 years. I didn’t realize how much of my classroom library I have personally collected. Wow. Crates of books are ready to lug to my van. And the baskets. Oh the baskets. People always make fun of me for my baskets (and borrow them!) but really, I do have a lot of baskets.

I’m not going to lie. It’s a ton of work. This week I told Mr. Thought more than once, “I don’t think I can do it! I can’t pack up this room by the 16th! It’s too much work!”

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I’ll stay! I should stay! I’ll just live in this classroom forever! 

Change is hard, transitions are hard. Saying goodbye, or even see you later is hard. Packing up a classroom is hard. Starting a new job is hard. Filling the shoes of the coaches that are leaving is more than hard. All in all, though, it is a thing to celebrate.

On Friday I had the chance to go to the schools I will be working in. One of the schools is new to me, and the other is one I worked in last year during my 6 month coaching stint.

Friday morning, I got to do math with a third grade class. I watched a master coach and master teacher. I talked about math with kids!  I met teachers I haven’t met before, and got “Welcome back home!” hugs from others.

These are lovely, amazing people I’ll get to learn with, and that is something to celebrate.

I have so much to learn, and that is something to celebrate.

I get to (try to!) rise to a new challenge, and that is something to celebrate.

I am so excited, and that is something to celebrate!

(My boys want to go to my classroom with me this morning to help me clean and pack, and that is also something to celebrate!)

So, here’s to change! (Again!)

Celebrating the Mess

celebrate-image So happy to Celebrate with Ruth Ayres this weekend! 

It’s “Muppet” time in my classroom. Several years ago, my intern and I came up with this project as a way to honor Jim Henson, who she researched for one of her classes. I’ve done the project with each of my classes since then, even though I always try to convince myself to skip a year. The mess! The time! The money! The begging parents to send in supplies and help! The mess! The research! The script-writing and revising! The performance! The microphone technical difficulties! The mess! 

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Just part of the mess. . . 

Yesterday, I walked around helping students thread needles, pin pieces, and attach arms. And, I listened. I tried to collect the reasons why I do this project. There they were, the gems that came from my students’ mouths. Some of them were easy to spot, the students who exclaimed, unbidden, “This is the best project ever!”  Then there were the quieter students. I asked one girl how she thought the project was going. She kept sewing, eyes on her careful stitches and said, “Great. I think this is my favorite project of the whole year.”

Other gems are hidden, hard to capture: the kid looking at his puppet’s face for the first time, after turning it rightside out;  the boys helping each other stitch the mouthplate on; the girls teaching each other hot gluing techniques; the classmates holding each others’ pieces to help with placement; the students who finish a step and then help others;  the students persevering through resewing pieces that were placed incorrectly, and the thread that gets cut too short… There are too many of these moments to count. But, the magic is there during our “Muppet Madness.” The parent volunteers see it too, through the crazy loud mess. They smile and shake their heads with wonder as these 6th graders work through the challenges of creating and they say, “What a great project!”

At the end of the day, I finally sat down. There were just 10 students in my room, not in choir or other activities: 7 boys, 3 girls. They had chosen to work on their muppets, and I watched and listened, and started typing what they were saying. As I listened, I heard students engaged in their project, and having fun with their peers. It sounded like learning, and it felt like camaraderie:

“I wish making puppets was more like photoshop.”
“This is the best project ever!” 
“Wait. I know how to do this. Don’t question me. “
“Who has the scissors that really help cut?”  
“This is going to have giant eyebrows. Giant blue eyebrows.” 
“I need some glitter.” 

“Hashtag glitter!”
“We should all do our own little muppet show.” 

“That is what we are doing.”
“No, I mean,  a muppet movie. Each of us.”
“Who took my scissors?” 
“You shall not pass!” 
“Pins. I need pins.” 
“Is this a sharpener?
“I’ve got glue.” 
“So, how do you control arms with no hinges?”
“You don’t. You use little sticks like this.” 
“There you go. This looks nice. A nice little fabulous shirt!” 
“I laugh when I’m nervous.” 
“I bite my nails when I’m nervous.” 
“Is there glitter anywhere?”
“I sewed one side of my pirate hat. It is going to be beautiful.” 
“Ms. Feinberg? do you like it?”
“Ms. Feinberg, where can I find glitter? My shirt is pretty. “
“Huh!!!! No Glitter?”
“See these stitches on the side of my body?? Those are battle scars!”
“You have to sew through all 4 layers.” 
“Ms. Feinberg, I never realized how hard it would be to cut out fabric letters.”
“Here’s ‘Tinkerbell’ fabric.”
“Ms. Feinberg, this was so cool — I mean watching it go from fabric to a muppet!”

 

A Slice of a Testing Day (A regular slice)

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

Step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…
I weave slowly through the tables. I watch for issues,
I watch for cheating, I watch for problems.
I look carefully but I don’t look too closely.
I’m not allowed to look at the test. Only at the students taking the test.

Step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…
I follow rules, even though I’m not necessarily known as a rule follower.
I read my manual.  I’m prepared.
I picked up my tests by 7:50. I counted them in front of someone. I signed for them. I protected them. I never left them alone.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring a baby blanket to wrap them in, just for extra protection.

Step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…
I place some things on my rolling stand.
The stand flips up, and all the things drop to the floor.
It’s loud enough, in the complete silence.
So, I silently apologize, and wave the kids back to their work.

Step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…
It’s boring. I try a walking meditation, I stretch my neck, my arms. I even do a squat in the corner of the back of the room.
It’s boring.
I wish I could take the test!
That would at least give me something to do.

Step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…
Active Monitoring! Sounds so professional,
feels so gosh golly boring.
A few students finish too early. This is not a good sign.
There’s no way they read passages and questions closely and carefully! No way!

Step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…step…
I wish my dog hadn’t eaten my fitbit. I’ll never know how many steps I’ve taken.
I collect tests when students have finished.
I pile them in alphabetical order to return them, counting them once again in front of someone.
As if I’d want to take one for myself.

 

#sol17 March 31 A slice of the last slice.

Slice of LIfe

 

 I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for bloggingwithstudentsall of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

My students filed in, sat down and started their slices.

“It’s the last day!” Someone said.

Another student’s face fell, in puppy dog sadness. “I’m sad that it’s over.” she said, and then paused, shook her head a bit and added, “Well, sad and also kind of happy too, you know?”

Yep. I know.

#sol17 March 30 A slice of marching

Slice of LIfe

 

 I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for bloggingwithstudentsall of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

 

One of my favorite bulletin boards this year is my “What Would You March For?” board that we made from a collection of the things that my 6th graders think are important issues. This was part of a larger activity from our celebration of Martin Luther King Jr, and watching  Teaching Tolerance’s The Children’s March.

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I love it because the kids were so genuine when they made their signs, and I love that we happened to make the signs on Inauguration Day. I love the memory, even though it broke my heart a little bit that day.  After watching my students write that they would march for LGBTQ rights, The Environment, The Animals, Global Warming, Freedom, etc., I was reading news of White House taking down website pages protecting some of those very same things. But, it gave me hope to see my students thinking about things that were important to them.

Now we are just a few days away from starting our state assessments. All of us at school are trying our best to comply with the rules of what we need to take down and cover up in our classrooms and hallways. Obviously, we can’t have students looking at charts that will help them write Text Dependent Analysis essays, or charts of literary definitions… but not everything is so black and white. I’ve taken to just covering up almost everything with words on it, because the manual says something about covering things that could help students with the test. (Ironically enough, getting my students to use the charts and resources in the room when I WANT them to use them is challenging… thinking of them using it during a high stakes test is laughable. But, I cover everything anyway.) My students, like every year, walk into the classroom after I have slapped colored paper all over and go into mild shock. They ask me why, and I tell them that the PDE wants to make sure they don’t use anything in the classroom to help them, or to cheat. They look confused, asking me “How could we use the sign that says ‘read’ to help us on the test?” I just shrug my shoulders.

Our hallways need to be free of hints as well, so the other day as I passed the “What Would you March For” bulletin board, I stopped to comment to my friend, “Maybe we should just replace all of the protest signs with signs that say “No More High Stakes Testing!”

But, because I like my job, I asked our team para to cover the board instead.

Walking by it today, though, I shuddered.

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Our marchers. Silenced.

Today one of my students looked up at my wall, where I have a little banner that says “THINK.”

“Ms. Feinberg! You better cover that up. It might give us a hint of what we should do during the test.”

I love sixth graders.

 

#sol17 March 26 A slice of Standardized tests… (You knew this post was coming…)

Slice of LIfe

 

 I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for bloggingwithstudentsall of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

 

“I know what the PSSAs really stand for! “Pretty Stupid School Assessments!”

I can’t help but laugh, but I try to hold it together. After all, I’m having a small group teaching some test taking strategies. I shall not let my personal bias show. I shall not let my personal bias show. I shall not let my personal bias show.

Last week my test prep copies arrived, and I stacked them on my desk. I had ordered them because I want to make sure my students have an idea of what kinds of questions they will get on their standardized test, but the sight of them on my desk has caused me and them a fair amount of stress.

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“What are those, Ms. Feinberg?” Students have asked with a grimace on their face.

One of my girls pretended to try to to sneak them off of my desk and into the trash.

When I look at them they seem to mock me. “Think of all the things you haven’t taught yet.” 

I’m supposed to understand that testing is a part of academic life. So, I tell my students that they will be taking tests for much of their academic life, and it’s good to just get used to it. After I say that aloud, I can’t believe myself.  In a recent post on ditchthattexbook.com, Sir Ken Robinson says, “Don’t think someone is the system. You are the system,”

Cornelius Minor at TCRWP’s Saturday Reunion last week said, “Systems don’t change because we know about them. They change because we disrupt them. To not be a thing is to be complicit. You have to be anti-the thing.”  Now, Cornelius wanted us to look at systems in our classrooms that create unequal outcomes… he told us to look at our “Realm of influence, not our larger realm of concern. But, his point is still on my mind today. Standardized tests are in my realm of concern, but I’m not sure they are in my realm of influence. Or are they?

I tell my students, “You can do this. You’ve got this. You’ve learned so much this year!” and I look over at the pile of practice packets, and It mocks me. “Think of all the things you haven’t taught yet.” 

This week, I want to  dive deeper into the nonfiction work we have started. We have just started to scrape the surface of the idea of not believing everything we read. We are using Jennifer Serravallo’s strategy from The Reading Strategy Book, page 245:  Perspective, Position, Power. I don’t think we’ll have time for this important work though. We need to practice Text Dependent Analysis, and closely reading multiple choice questions.

I’m supposed to understand that standardized testing is part of academic life. But, my students are 11 and 12.

I’m supposed to understand how lucky we have it. And, we have it lucky. My district still has art, and music. We are encouraged to work towards big understandings, and test prep isn’t really this huge, mandated thing. It’s just me, wanting to give my students a little bit of a reminder and practice so they feel less stressed about the tests. But I’m not proud of myself when I do it. There are schools, I know, where test prep is all year. Where the time spent on preparing for the tests takes so much away from real learning. But just because I have it better, does that mean I have to be okay with it?

I’m supposed to concede that we need standardized tests. That it’s how we do things. Problem is, I don’t think we need these tests. I think there are better, more authentic, less costly (in money, time, and social justice) ways to assess learning.

I’m supposed to agree that we get good data, that we need the data. That it’s how we do things. Problem isI think there are better, more authentic, less costly kinds of data.

I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut. That’s how we do things. Problem is, I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut. I have a hard time with doing things just because that’s how we do things. 

Lucy Calkins asked us last Saturday, “What would you teach with just one (year/month/day) left?”

With just one year left, I’ll tell you what I wouldn’t teach. I wouldn’t spend even one minute on standardized tests.

 

 

 

#sol17 March 22 A slice of A Kate Roberts TCRWP session

Slice of LIfe

 

 I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for bloggingwithstudentsall of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

 

Kate Roberts. If you’ve been to Teacher’s College, and you’ve seen her sessions, you know what I’m talking about. You don’t even need to read my slice, because you just know.

She’s our “must see.” On Friday night we start planning our sessions. We circle our first and second choices, and my friend Kris and I can be heard saying things like, “Well, as long as we see Kate Roberts.”

Today, facebook reminded me of the first time I met Kate. I wrote about my first TCRWP session here.

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How can you not go to a session called “Differentiating when you have a million students?” How can you not want to listen to a presenter who starts by reflecting, “How am I going to get my arms wrapped around these kids?” 

“How am I going to get my arms wrapped around these kids?” 

In teaching literacy, there are things I’ve wondered, and  things I know but don’t think about, or know but don’t know I know, or know and ignore… I can count on Kate to present about all of these and more. I leave her presentations shaking my head and saying, “of course!” to myself, and my friends. My friends, the ones who have to listen to me say “Well, Kate Roberts said…” over and over. (After the Summer Reading Institute, I trained myself to say, “At the Teacher’s College they had this idea…” just to stop myself from constantly saying “Well, Kate Roberts said…”) (Good friends usually give me a look and I admit, “Fine, it was Kate Roberts.)

Writing about  a Kate Roberts session feels a little weird. I can give you the soundbites:

“How can I set kids on a trajectory of learning that is matched to them and still meet the needs of the whole class?”  

“Accept that it is going to be a struggle. It will always be messy. Accept the mess.”

“Believe in differentiating? Keep your mini lessons short.”  AKA,  Just Shut Up!

But I don’t think that captures it quite like being there, watching her honesty.

When she suggested giving kids main missions (whole class work) and side missions (individual responsibilities) I just looked at Kris and raised my shoulders. “Duh!” Why have I been calling them “class goals” and “independent goals.” That’s not inspiring!

When she suggested having students color code their missions by using different color post-its or pens, I just couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. We use post its all the time. We color code so many things! Duh!

When she talked about giving the kids high fives, I reminded myself to be more encouraging. When she talked about her over the shoulder observation assessments, I made a note to myself to start doing those again. She showed a quick way to collect data: Draw a quadrant on a piece of paper, write the skills in each section, and record student names where they are ready to work. I have these notes from the summer. I’ve done this a handful of times, but it isn’t a habit. Yet.

When she told us to just do small groups — that doing a bad small group is better than doing no small group, I nodded my head: She’s right.

You leave Kate’s session ready to bring new life to your worksop.

Yesterday, I collected my students literary essay introductions. As I read them and commented on them, I wrote names on a little grid with headings like structure, missing theme, elaborate, and  too much information.  Last night, I created a micro-progression for introductory paragraphs. And then, I went to bed. Nothing I had worked on was perfect. But, it was past my bedtime.

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Kate said,”Embrace your mediocrity! The alternative is no differentiating.”

So, this morning during writing, I timed myself. I did my mini lesson with my micro-progression in less than 10 minutes. Then, I started calling groups over. I’m not saying these groups would have been full of great teaching to observe. I have no idea how much I helped my writers. But I did meet with them. I had a focus. I shared some strategies, I coached a little. I basically said “Here’s what you are ready for – here are some things to try.”

Is it hope I feel when I try just one or two things that Kate talks about?

I think it is. It’s a reminder that I can embrace the imperfection. It’s a reminder that I will keep growing, that there are always more things to learn. It feels like hope: Next lesson, next day, next week, next year… I’ll be a better teacher. 

Thanks, Kate!

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