Category Archives: Reflections on teaching

A slice of Before that

August 23, 2016Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

I’m sitting at my (messy) dining room table, with an empty writer’s notebook in front of me. I’ve decided that typing a slice might be more productive.

Before that, I got home from a short dog walk, shortened because something about seeing a police car hanging out around the block made me get uncomfortable in the dark. I’m easily scared of the dark. The police officer in the car looked friendly and happy. It’s not her, it’s me.

Before that, the dog was bite-y

Before that, the dog peed on the rug.

Before that, I was working on random to do list items but without the actual to do list. I was entering students into my classroom library database, and replying to parent emails, and thinking about how I should make an actual to do list.

Before that, the whole family took a year and a half to decide that we should just order pizza for dinner.

Before that, I tried to get L to put ice on her head because she was hit in the head with a basketball.

Before that, I was briefly sitting on the porch with E, listening to the sounds of happy basketball playing.

Before that, I was dropping my bags, and taking off my shoes, drinking water, and hugging my kids.

Before that, I was finally leaving school, with information overload, and too much left to do.

Before that, I was creating class lists, locker lists, labels, maps and presentations for back to school night.

Before that, I was on a tipping ladder, realizing one of the legs was up on the edge of a carpet.

Before that, I was on the floor picking up a hundred magnetic words.

Before that, I was on a ladder, re-positioning a giant question mark, when it suddenly fell and knocked everything off of the top of my bookshelf.

Before that, I was gluing signs.

Before that, I was in a meeting.

Before that, I was in a lunch meeting.

Before that, I was in a meeting.

Before that, I was picking up friends to drive to our opening day meeting.

Before that, I was hurriedly throwing bags in my car, giving giant hugs and watching sad children as I drove away.

Before that I was rushing around wishing I hadn’t turned my first alarm off.

Before that, it was still summer.

The Giant Question Mark, the glued signs….

A slice of a Coaching Memoir

June 15, 2016Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

On my last day as an Instructional Coach, I joked that now I can write a “tell-all memoir” entitled Instructional Coaching: 6 Months on the Inside.

Although, after just 6 months on the job, there are so many things I still don’t know about being an instructional coach.

I don’t know how to open a teacher’s closed classroom door without an invitation – sometimes it’s even hard to knock. I don’t know how to tell for sure if someone is excited to try a new resource, or can’t believe I’ve mentioned one more idea. I’m not sure if now is a time to show my vulnerability too, or if I should show only my confidence. I don’t know if this is the best time for a mentor text suggestion, or if just one more moment of quiet wondering gives the opportunity for a self discovery. I’m not sure when to offer my help, and when to wait for an invitation. Is “help” the wrong word for some because it might make teachers think I think they need help? Should I say “collaborate” or “work together?” I don’t know.

My tell-all memoir would be full of insider information. Like did you know that everyone I worked with at the curriculum office really does put students first? That the work they do is authentically authentic? Did you know that when they ask teachers for information, it’s because they need it to help teachers and kids? The respect for the teachers is palpable and my time with my new lens on the district made me appreciate the work we all do even more than I already did.

I would also have a part of my book that tries to summarize the learning I’ve been lucky to experience in this job. As I planned for reader’s workshop professional development sessions, I had the opportunity to read books, attend conferences, and reflect with colleagues. I would have a section of my tell-all called “Teaching Reading: What research says.” It could be way too long, but I might be able to boil it down to something like: Have your students choose books to read, give them time to read, talk to them about their reading, give them tools to become even better readers, all while helping your class become a community of life-long readers, and being one yourself. Wow. Even boiled down, that’s a tall order. Step away from classroom teaching for even 6 months and your widened lens will remind you how hard teaching is.

I’ve been wearing my”gratitude” bracelet every day, because I believe in the power of gratitude, and I sometimes need to be reminded.

On my last day as an instructional coach, my coaching team gave me a new bracelet. They say it wasn’t because my gratitude bracelet was looking a little worse for wear.

I’ve been thinking about this new word and wondering: How can we inspire each other?

When I first put my new bracelet on, I didn’t take my old one off. As I drove home I glanced down to an updated message:

My time as a coach has definitely inspired gratitude in me. I’m so grateful for the time I spent learning, the time I spent with teachers, and the coaching team. It has been a great slice of my professional and learning life. Experts say it takes 49 hours of professional development for you to outgrow your current practice, before you are trying new things that impact students.

I don’t know how many hours my 6 months of coaching has accrued, but I know it’s more than 49. Time will tell what impact it will have on my future students. We will find out after August when I welcome my new class of 6th graders. I’m sure my students will inspire me, as usual.

A slice of Mountains

June 7, 2016Family, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

Notice these mountains.

I used to drive south on my way to teach 2nd grade. It was my first year teaching, and I would marvel each morning about how lucky I was: Best job in the world, best valley to drive through on my 20 minute commute… to the best school in the world. I’d look out and see the fields, the mountains, the sky and I would breathe it all the way in.

I changed schools.

They built a bypass.

I became a mom.

I noticed the mountains just a little less.

I moved 25 minutes away, where I can drive 4 minutes through a very pretty forest neighborhood to get to school. I don’t have time to marvel. I barely have time to transition my brain from mommy to teacher. Sometimes there is time to remind myself how lucky I am to have gained those 20 minutes of commuting time. Sometimes I miss those 20 minutes of quiet, or music, planning or mindfulness.

Early this morning before school, I drove my cat to the vet: north on the road I used to drive south on to get to my first classroom. There must have been something about that early morning mountain fog.

I noticed the mountains.

They were magic in the clouds. The first sunlight hit them perfectly. You know the sight. The green explosion of early summer, muffled perfectly with early morning haze. I remembered those drives to my first classroom. I thought briefly of the early hours (and the late ones too). But mostly I just noticed the mountains. They didn’t have to mean anything, but I loved noticing them– the way they hit the rolling hills, the farmers fields.

Later today my son and I went the same way to pick up my cat.

“I love the mountains.” I mentioned to H.

“I love the rolling hills.” I added.

And we laughed, and sang.

“I love the mountains.
I love the rolling hills.
I love the flowers.
I love the daffodils.
I love the fireside.
When all the lights are low.

Boom dee ah dah. Boom dee ah dah…”

“That’s one of my favorite old camp songs.” I told my son.

“Me too.” H said. “We usually sing it as a round in my class.”

So we did.

And I noticed the mountains, I noticed the joy of the camp song. I noticed my son’s smile as he said “Hey! That was pretty good!”

I noticed the slice, and I promised myself I would write it.

Celebrating Tr. R

June 6, 2016Celebrate, Family, Reflections on teachingonathought


So happy to Celebrate with Ruth Ayres this weekend! 

Thank you, Teacher R

My kid is smart, he understands
thinks of others, helps at any need
He makes us laugh, he makes us proud
He might be just made to lead

and we love him

He doesn't do homework
is often late to school
reads below grade level
wants to make his own rules

and you love him

He engineers in art class
argues during games
speeds ahead when he should slow
and stops if the project is "lame"

and you understand him

He is righteous
thinks way outside any box
impulsively a perfectionist 
who talks, talks, talks, talks, talks

and you teach him

I want to add all sorts of words here
to show off your teacher value
"authentic, smart, kind, fair!
honest eyes, words always true"  

and he loves you

You "get him" and listen
show him how to get himself too
that it's okay to be different
and try things that are new

and he understands you

His future teachers have big shoes to fill
as they try to understand
who my child is, how to help him learn...
They better all be Teacher R fans

Thank you.

A selfish Celebration

April 3, 2016Celebrate, Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teachingonathought

This post is part of Ruth Ayres Celebrate Link up. Thanks, Ruth for this great opportunity to celebrate.

A selfish celebration. 

It’s April
and I’m not getting ready to proctor
state testing

I’m not
covering bulletin boards
reminding students that
testing days are different than normal day
and I won’t be able to help them
there will be no collaboration
no choice. 

I’m not whispering to kids that 
on testing days
I will seem mean, strict, stressed
but I will still love them. 

I don’t have a class. 
I’m not giving any speeches that
“This test 
doesn’t measure
your worth.”

I’m not reminding any 12-year-olds of all the work they’ve done
of how proud I am
of their 
daily
authentic
true
learning.

I’m not in charge of any students
I won’t be pacing my classroom
sending a not-so-subtle message: 
“I used to trust you, but today I’m not allowed to.” 

I haven’t had to roll my closed eyes
or take calming breaths
while listening to reminders to
cover posters
collect scrap paper
never open your computer
put up privacy screens
and a “testing in progress” sign.

I have this testing season “off.” 
No proctoring for me. 
That doesn’t mean I can 
be quiet.

To the teachers in the trenches:
It will be okay.
You have done so much.
Thank you. 

To the students:
It will be okay. 
You have learned so much.
I’m sorry the state is wasting your time.

To the state 
It. Is. Not. Okay.
Please spend your
money 
on something else 
Here are some ideas: 
books
more teachers
healthy food, clothing, shelter for those in need
art supplies, instruments, 
fill in the blank
Did I mention books?

Next year, I’ll be back in the classroom. 
I’ll follow the rules.
I always do. 
I’ll keep speaking out.
I always will.

#sol16 March 30 Find your tribe: A slice

March 30, 2016Family, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

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

The teacher is sincere and she loves my son. “He’ll be fine when he finds his tribe,” she said matter-of-factly at a parent-teacher conference in the fall. I’ve been thinking about that comment ever since. I want him to find his tribe.

Some of his tribe is in this old commercial.

Some of his tribe can be found in picture books biographies about people who were different and made a difference. Albert Einstein in Odd Boy Out by Don Brown is a great example.

Today I read The Inventor’s Secret: What Thomas Edison Told Henry Ford by Suzanne Slade and I can’t wait to read it to my own kids. I’m especially looking forward to sharing it with my son the inventor, who just this morning was mixing vinegar and baking soda on the hallway rug.

In this story, you meet Thomas Edison and Henry Ford as children. They are both curious. They both got in trouble. They both found each other, and others in their “tribe.” They both made a difference.

Image 3.jpg Image 2.jpg

Later in the story, Henry Ford is jealous of Thomas Edison’s success. He wants to know his secret. Finally he finds it out: “Keep at it.” Growth mindset anyone?

The other day, my son had his feelings hurt by people he considers friends at school. It was mean. It will probably forever stay with him and shake his confidence with friendships and kindness. I want to tell you the story, but it’s his slice not mine. So instead I will read him stories, and find ways to support his crazy ideas. I will try to help him keep at it, discover his way, and find his “tribe.”

#sol16 March 21 A Slice of Synthesis

March 21, 2016Family, Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

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

On my way to school my mind was spinning with all of the inspiration from The Saturday Reunion. I was trying to synthesize it all. I was thinking about love and acceptance of my kids, both at school and home. Andrew Solomon’s words resonated with me as soon as he spoke, and then last night we read Michael Hall’s Red.

Have you read this? I hope you have, and if you haven’t – go buy it now. Then buy a copy for every parent and teacher you know. Or, I guess you could lend your copy out… but wouldn’t it be fun to just start handing out this book about love and acceptance and being your true self? Give it to everyone you know who works with children…

Thinking about Red led me to think about Lucy Calkins quoting Maya Angelou.

Which of course made me remember the rest of Lucy’s talk,which is only partially represented in my notes:

I started dreaming of the traditions I can start when I go back to the classroom next year. I reflected on my beliefs about reading and writing and how school needs to be an authentic place for challenge and for joy.

As I walked into school, I smiled dreaming up the toolkits I can make, a la Kate Roberts. I was brainstorming skills, strategies and processes that I can pull together, using the structure that both she and Cornelius Minor demonstrated on Saturday. Cornelius reminded us that teachers have tenacity and we need to take what we do invisibly as readers and make it visible for students. Kate showed us tangible ways to do that with purposeful, practical tools.

I made my way to my office thinking about Carl Anderson’s message that assessment means to “sit beside.”

Then BOOM. On a nearby door, I’m hit with another message:

Oh, Pennsylvania Department of Education… Please go to a Saturday Reunion. Listen to Lucy. Help teachers “build worlds in their classrooms,” where students can find their power as readers, writers and learners. Lead teachers “not with mandating, but with influence – bring out the great talents of your people!”

I know it’s just a little yellow sign. But it made me wonder if there is an emergency TCRWP hotline. Kate Roberts? Cornelius Minor? The departments of education in this country could use a little shaking up. I’m not afraid of working hard, and I expect my students to do the same. “There’s no easy in being an effective teacher.” Kate said it. I agree.

So, tonight as H drew a superman sketch, E practiced drawing cubes and Mr. Thought challenged L to draw different emotions, I started taking some more notes on my Saturday Reunion learning.

I know I’ll learn more as I synthesize, and I also know that I’ll never ever get the markers back in order. That’s okay. Learning is messy.

Then before bed, E read me Little Quack. As I listened, I realized Mama Duck has been to the Saturday Reunion. She loves and accepts all of her children. She is in the water with them. She knows her ducklings, and her content. She breaks down the skill and encourages them to jump in, to just start. She even has a mini lesson. (Look closely, and you’ll find some math too.)

I decided that this was the perfect way to synthesize my day, because a book and a bedtime snuggle might be the best tradition of all.

#sol16 March 20 Slice: Select All. Delete.

March 20, 2016Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

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

Type type type type type type type

Select All.

Delete.

I’m inspired. But, I have to sleep.

Oh – I want to tell you about New York. I want to tell you about my Beyoncé day, my friends, my sessions, my learning. But my thoughts are still scattered in my notebook, my iPad photos, and the google docs my friends have shared with me. So, I type type type type type. Select All. Delete.

I’m so tired. But, I have a slice called “Left! Curb!” One called “The bad french fries.” and even one I like to call, “The Cupcake Engagement.” Plus, I know you can’t wait to hear me gush about Kate Roberts and Cornelius Minor – and I even have pictures that illustrate how they are my new BFFs.

But every time I type a slice, it doesn’t work. So I type type type type type. Select All. Delete.

I have to sleep. But I have good stories to tell! Like, last night,when we couldn’t seem to find a bathroom even though it was desperately needed. I want you to help me count the Starbucks that we tried, and tell me why I can get coffee in my hometown late at night but in NYC Starbucks closes at 6:00.

It’s a good story, but after I type type type type type, I just select all, delete.

I’d love to slice about how I almost got out of the city but veered the wrong way, so we drove back in. But you know… select all, delete.

#sol16 March 18 A slice of Ready to Learn: TCRWP Saturday Reunion

March 18, 2016Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

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

TCRWP Saturday Reunion is tomorrow!
bags packed
snacks packed
iPad charged
pens ready
car washed
car vacuumed, mostly
maps printed 
yes, printed 
(better safe than sorry) 
TCRWP app downloaded
(there's a schedule on there!)
slice written

#sol16 March 15: 30 second slices

March 15, 2016Family, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

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

30 Second Slices

30 seconds at home before school…

I run down the stairs, find my boots, slip them on. Zip them up. But where’s my phone? Find my phone. Grab the coffee. (Thanks, Mr. thought!) Kisses and hugs. And time to move ’em out!

“Did you pack E’s inhaler? Did they load their backpacks?”

Make everyone drink some grape juice (wards off the stomach bug, knock on wood) and it’s “Van time! Come on! Get in! Strap in! Let’s Go! We’re late!”

(Later I will notice that they all forgot their jackets.)

30 seconds in middle school…

Students wave and call my name. Some ignore me. I walk into a mindfulness class with a few students I know, some I don’t. We settle in and the visiting mindfulness teacher tells us that mindfulness is about paying attention. “Ask yourself: What do you notice? What do you need?”

30 seconds in the primary hall…

A girl swings her purple jacket around, she’s dancing a little jig – her jacket hits me, but not hard. I smile, and her teacher scrunches her face in an “I’m sorry.” I assure her that it’s okay, no big deal. We should all dance a few more jigs going down the hall.

A boy walks towards me, says something in the way of a hello, and gives me a great big hug. I don’t know him, and think he might be mistaking me for someone else. . . but when a first grader gives you a hug. . . you just hug them back.