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! 

20 years ago

there was a gun backstage
my senior year of high school

we kept it it there, locked in a metal toolbox
I think it was locked

I remember the meeting
my principal, my friend and I,
around a table in the back office
there may have been a few other people there
my memory is hazy

we explained how we needed the gun
it was the only way

it had to be believable
concessions were made
our principal understood

our show must go on
so the gun was disabled
we may have gone through a few different kinds of guns
and suppliers
before the gun
and then the starter pistol 
were allowed to be stored
so our characters could use 
the real deal
and our show could be 
the real deal

can you imagine today?
a student asking their principal for permission
to keep a weapon backstage?

 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! 

Today I am a 6th grade teacher. I plan lessons, I love learning. I attempt to listen to my students more than I talk to them. I enjoy my school day and I try to balance my life as a teacher and a mom.

28 years ago, I was a fifth grader (I think I did that math correctly…) and I did not enjoy school. I was not having a good year. I cried myself to sleep every night.  I missed my best friend, my old house, the way things used to be. I lived middle school in a daze. I moved from classroom to classroom. With so many teachers, I  tried to learn, I think. But learning wasn’t my priority. Practicing math facts and spelling words were things people told me to do, not things I cared about. I had a headache every day. My teachers didn’t believe me. It was not a good year.

Today I sit with a student and his mom, 2 other teachers, and a guidance counselor. We are talking about organization and writing things in the assignment book. We discuss zoning out vs. paying attention to what is being said, and how to know what work needs to be done. It feels respectful, it feels like a team. My student is calm as he answers questions, and he listens as we explain. We tell him things like, “We know it’s hard” and “We’re here to help you.”

28 years ago, I was the student with my mom, in a room with my teachers, counselor and I think my principal too. I don’t remember why we were there exactly — a combination of my poor grades and my headaches that most of the teachers thought I was faking. I do not remember feeling calm. I remember feeling attacked and nervous. I remember my chin shaking as I stuck up for myself. I remember telling them that it wasn’t okay that Mr. R played music while we took quizzes, that I couldn’t concentrate. I remember Mrs. M joining my side, sticking up for me. I remember my mom telling them that I did indeed have headaches, that I was trying my best. I remember her telling me that I did a good job sticking up for myself in front of all of my teachers and the other adults.

Today I sit in a meeting and I find myself transported back to my meeting 28 years ago.

I hope my student feels it,  the reason we are here. I hope he knows that we are trying to help him. I hope he knows this is a team.

As he leaves I say, “You did a great job talking to all of these adults! Thank you.”

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

Last weekend was the Karate test. Both of my “big kids” were up for their second yellow stripe. My husband, my 4 year old and I sat squished among all the other parents watching the test. At first I was mostly just nervous for my kids, hoping they didn’t mess up…wondering what would happen if one of them passed the test and the other didn’t. I reminded myself that the class was testing because their teacher thought they were ready to test.

Then I started noticing the slices of assessment…

Before the test, I saw the Karate Teacher, Master Y kneel next to the group of students and give what I’ll call “The Mistakes Talk.” He told them, “You’ll make mistakes. That’s okay. That’s how you learn. Nobody’s going to fail the test because they make mistakes. Try not to make the same mistake over and over again. The judges will take notes so you can learn from today.” Even though it was a test, they knew it was okay if they made mistakes, and that they should continue to learn.

As the students tested, Master Y gave them reminders about their forms that were direct and to the point. Just because it was a test, their teacher was not silent.  “K’ihaps can be stronger.”  He reminded them.

Master Y told his students what was next. Before he called out directions, he said, “I’ll call them in order so you won’t be confused.” Just because it was a test, it didn’t need to be tricky.  In fact, as some of the students were testing for their yellow belt, Master Y told the watching yellow stripe students, “What you see is what you’ll be doing in your next test –something to aspire to.”

Each student had a judge watching them. Black belts watched as these beginning karate students worked their way through forms and then sparred with them. A person to evaluate each student, give each student personalized advice!  After the first sparring round, Master Y asked the black belts to tell the students a number to redo. They had a chance to redo something they hadn’t done as well on in the first place! 

At the end of the test, the judges and Master Y went to the back room. As he left, he addressed the students: “I’m going back to discuss what I saw. Sit quietly and think about how you did today and what you saw. And think if it inspired you at all.

It inspired me. I have been thinking about what elements of this kind of assessment I have or  can have in my classroom. I don’t teach karate, and I’m certainly not in charge of the capital A Assessments that my students have to take… but what lessons can I learn about testing? Rolling around in my head are thoughts of individualized assessment, conferring, the power of mistake making, helping students with their confidence, choosing specific goals with students, giving students the chance to redo when possible…

I’d love to hear from you, reader. What lessons can you learn from what I noticed at Karate. Or, what assessment lessons have you recently learned?

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

It’s winter cold season around here. My son came home on Friday with a low fever and has been coughing ever since. I started getting the cold on Sunday night, my daughter started getting a sore throat Monday morning, and my youngest started the sniffles last night. I’m a baby about being sick. So, last night I went to bed early, woke up an hour later, tried to steam away my cold in a bath… which ended when my 8 year old woke up coughing. I spent the whole night taking small naps in between waking up to him coughing, giving him water, cough drops, etc. This caused me to stay in bed too long this morning, leave my house at the last possible second, and arrive in my classroom just a step ahead of students.

As I unpacked my laptop, and organized my morning things, students were crowding around me, sitting next to me, talking about how tired they were, how they didn’t feel good, how they had been wishing for a 2-hour delay… (Me too, guys. Me too.) The general feeling of blah was all around the room.

I wished for just a moment that I had some nice (quiet) independent work they could do. A word search! A journal entry! Read to self! But, I knew we needed to gather in our morning circle, so gather we did.

“Wow,” I said. “It seems like maybe I’m not the only one feeling discombobulated this morning… Other people are telling me they are tired and sick, and wishing they were back in bed…”

Students nodded and agreed. So we did our “rose and thorn” activity. Going around the circle, students shared a thing they were not happy about today (thorn) and something they were happy about (rose). As we went around the circle, it became clear that I was right: everyone was tired, or had colds. As one student remarked, “Everyone’s sick! This December sickness is killing us!”

But, listening to the roses was just what I needed. Basketball games, grandparent’s visiting, holidays coming, and my favorite, “But my rose is, I’m alive!”

We ended our circle with a 1-2-3 “clap,” and we were off to math. Some days are better than others, and I can’t wait until all the sniffles and coughs are gone. . . but I plan to try to keep remembering the roses.

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

I’m on bus duty and I’m freezing at the parent pick up area. It’s almost the end of my bus duty weeks, and I’ve been watching.

I watch as kids walk down the path. I see kids in groups, loud and laughing. I see kids arm in arm with  friends, and kids walking alone. I see kids smiling, kids weighted down by backpacks or bags of library books. I see kids looking concerned and kids just concentrating on leaving.

A few of my current 6th graders wave a quick goodbye to me, as they scan for their parents.

I catch the eyes of 7th and 8th graders who used to belong to my classroom, and call them by name as we say goodbye. It feels good to know these kids.

My teacher ears pick up snapshots of conversations that are happening in small groups that assemble around me.

“You should date her.”

“Remember that time…”

“Did you text him?”

“Is your mom coming to pick us up? It’s cold.”

“You’re a loser.”

One group gets loud and obnoxious in an unsettling way: a playful push here, a throwing of leaves, an inappropriate remark that almost crosses the line, but did I really hear it correctly?

I move myself closer, and wonder about the rules.

In school, you can’t call someone a loser. It’s not okay to make inappropriate jokes that make others feel uncomfortable. “Your mama” phrases aren’t tolerated. In my classroom and with the students I interact with, I try to make these learning experiences. I don’t want to bully you into not bullying – I want to help you move towards kindness. On bus duty it feels different. I don’t know these kids – not even their names. I don’t know what norms they have settled on in their 8th grade hallway. I know that it has always seemed looser, as if the 8th grade teachers know to let the 8th graders spread their wings. But unkindness is hard for me to hear without intervention.

In school, you can’t have your cell phone. As soon as the bell rings, students walk out the door, cell phones out. By the time they get down to parent pick up, they have already texted and instagramed, tweeted and occasionally even called, to their hearts content. Groups of middle school students stand with phones out, having conversations with the people next to them and the world at the same time. I am unsettled by this, but is it against the rules? Don’t I tweet and text and read on my phone when I’m bored? Don’t I think think that kids deserve to feel connected? I know so many benefits of connection and technology, but I feel like I’m watching the introduction to a real life Wall-e, where students are connecting only through this device, and not with the people right next to them.

I’m on bus duty, and I’m watching. I am trying to make sure you are safe but I think I may have failed. I see you walking alone, and I see you navigating your friendship groups. I see you telling loud obnoxious jokes, and I see you look at me wondering what right I have to intercede. I should have introduced myself to you and your friends and found some common ground. Instead I reverted to my early teaching days – when I had 8th grade lunch duty and 8th grade study hall. When I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I just became an enforcer.

“That’s not okay.” I say as you throw leaves at the girl next to you.

“She doesn’t mind.” you tell me with the air of defiance playing on your face.

“Well I do. So, stop.” I say. I can tell my eyebrows raise into my teacher face.

And that’s all I’ve got on bus duty: an eyebrow raise and an enforcing “Stop.”  I’m on bus duty and I’m freezing at the parent pick up area. It’s almost the end of my bus duty weeks, and I’ve been watching.