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

Summer Turning Point

Summer starts with an exhale 
I hug my students and say goodbye
pack up my classroom
find space in and above cabinets for last minute papers, books, markers, games, dice... 
I throw files into the nearest box
I finish grades
finally
I shred papers and 
sigh as
the accumulated stress and worry knot rises 
almost ready to leave but 
staying still
waiting 
stagnant
I want the knot to
peter out
dwindle
go away
but I wonder
when will I stop feeling behind? 
(Spoiler Alert: Never) 

Summer continues with tired
and people asking me all the time
"Are you enjoying your summer? It must be so nice!" 
"All of that time!"
"I'm sure it's great to have so much time with your kids."
Time.
Yes.
It is nice.
I have time
to read 
and I relax, swim, read, and play more than I do during the school year
I write
in the middle of the day
and I parent all day long
which is (sometimes) lovely  
I feel grateful for all of this
time with my children

Summer
I wonder when the switch will happen 
Now I read curriculum books from my to-read stack
in between fiction and swimming and playmobil 
These teaching books are great
but it feels like work
I want 
to find myself planning 
joyfully for August

Around July 4 I have my first back to school nightmare
I realize how much of my to do list is still left waiting
I force myself to get things done
I plan, I print, I update and organize

Then I make myself chill out

It is a quiet surprise
when the turning point happens

I find myself creating a google doc to organize my thoughts on Reader's Workshop 
I pick up, and reread, leaf through, sticky note, and mark up my favorite teaching books 
I surround myself with inspiration: Donalyn Miller, Penny Kittle, Stephanie Harvey and Franki Sibberson 
I lie in bed and plan wonderopolis, current events, poetry responses and library book chats
I jot teaching notes on my iPhone, and email colleagues random questions and thoughts
I drive home and my mind rearranges classroom bookshelves

Summer will end with an inhale
a blank slate
there are weeks to go 
and I will not rush it
days with my kids are sweet
sometimes they all get along and play 
the weather is perfect for swimming 
there's still some summer left
It took a while for last year's exhale
but now 
I'm looking forward 

But really. 
No rush! 

Back to Slicing! 

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

It’s the “last day of school eve” here. Always a time for reflection. . . What went well this year? What should I have done differently? What will I do differently next year? As I ponder these questions, my end of the year work keeps piling up. Report cards, room cleaning, parent emails, planning for next year, meetings, meetings, meetings. But for me, reflection is one of the ways I close up my year. Tomorrow I will say goodbye to my 2013 – 2014 students and that always highlights what a strange thing time is. 

At field day today one of my math students was at the chalk art station with me.  This math student joined my math class late in the year, and I haven’t had as long to get to know her. I watched her draw a beautiful picture of two horses on the blacktop today.  “That’s beautiful!” I said, as I realized that it was the first time I’ve seen her draw. I realized at that moment how familiar this feeling is, to find out things about my students at the end of the school year. They are always things I wish I had known all year.

Every year, I try to get to know my students. I do community building and Human Bingo. We make playdoh representations of something important to us on the first day of school, and share during morning meetings. We confer during literacy, and spend time throughout the day being ourselves. So today I am asking myself why I had never seen my math student draw a picture before, why I didn’t know she had a love of art.

I wondered today, as I remember wondering last year…. Am I really doing the things I think I am doing when I meet my class each year? This year we spent more time getting to know each other.  We talked about growing our brains, and I remember asking everyone to share the activity they were most successful and passionate about. I remember many of the answers, but I don’t remember all of them. What can I do next year to make sure that I get to know the passions and special talents of my students? How can I make them comfortable enough to truly share in the beginning of the year and beyond?  I have a few ideas, but I’d love to hear yours!

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

Right Now I am:
 
Listening to a robotic voice tell me about value added assessment
Feeling my eyes roll
Watching my colleagues’
Eye Rolls
Mouths open
Shocked stares
Wrinkled noses
As we listen to the robot tell us 
what it means to plan instruction 
verify our roster
have integrity
and take responsibility for the proportion of our instruction based on enrollment but not attendance or weather

I am still:

Wondering why the robot is proud that the assessment system is part of the largest privately held software company in the world. 
Comparing the state of education to the Hunger Games
Assuming I would be the first one killed by the “Peacekeepers” 
Attempting to understand the math 
the point
and how this will help my students
May the odds be ever in our favor*

*My apologies to Suzanne Collins

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

For days. . . 

I sit with my computer open to my grading program, and my papers piled on my desk. I have to do lists. I have blog posts to check in and respond to, and reading letters too. I have a small stack of math homework, already corrected during class, but calling my name to be checked in. I have report cards due that need comments (well comment codes which tell so much about my students). I even have 2 bookshelves that need to be built, and a push-pin poetry board to put up.

But I also have ideas. So I push away my to do list and plan instead. I plan a close reading lesson with “Stray” from Cynthia Rylant’s Every Living Thing based on Kate Robert’s presentation at the  #TCRWP saturday reunion and my coach’s help. (We won’t talk about how I asked her for help an hour before I wanted to teach this lesson, because my last-minute inspired planning is a post for a different day!) I plan a follow up investigation into setting after our close reading of Stray because when we really work hard with setting, it becomes obvious that there is more than meets the eye. Also obvious is that my students expect the setting to jump out of the page and into their brain. I read through Nancie Atwell’s Naming the World book to gather some poems we can use for our work with setting. I cry as I read and decide to go within the theme of pets that started us off with the short story “Stray.” Students will need to read closely to find the setting, and I have a feeling they will feel connected to these powerful poems.  I also plan the start of my annual huge “Muppet” project (still so much work to do!)  I plan a lesson on verb continuums based on a pin that linked to this.

Tonight I open my computer, with my same to do list.

So I slice.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too! Check it out here. Thank you,  Two Writing Teachers! 

Last night I drove home in the rain. My brain settled in on thinking about the Slice of Life Challenge, and about how much I’ve enjoyed writing and connecting to others this month. I thought about how, in a way,  I’ve spent my March close reading my days because of this challenge. (Thanks again, Kate Roberts! ) I spend my days noticing slices, snapshots, pieces. This isn’t totally abnormal for me, I’m married to a film editor, but it is new to do it this much and for the purpose of writing. Now small moments become slices in my mind, and sometimes on my page.

When I decided to Slice, I told my friend M, and she said “I’ll slice too, on a google.” And she has. So has my other friend K. It meant a lot to have my real life friends slicing along with me. Not to mention the ones who read my blog, comment, tweet, email and talk to me about my writing in person. I’ve “met” new people online, and read blogs I may not have seen otherwise. It really is a conversation.  Starting this writing habit has been an amazing thing. Not just writing, but blogging. I saw this yesterday (wish I remember where I found it!)

Yesterday I was blown away by the extra views my blog got, the tweeting and retweeting. I went to Fran’s blog to reread her “right now” slice, and noticed other bloggers mentioning my link in her comments. Then, I saw that someone pinned my piece on balance on pinterest. I was so excited about these connections, and it started my mind thinking about how I can help my students get more connections with their writing. More sharing. More commenting. More complimenting.

As soon as I started this challenge, I had fuzzy  thoughts about how beneficial writing daily would be. Ruth Ayres articulated the benefits in this post at Choice Literacy.  I love when thoughts I have swirling around are made lucid by someone. It is affirming. Ruth’s post speaks to me about how important it is to do the things we ask students to do. Learning is messy, and if I’m not learning and thinking about learning while I’m teaching, I think it can be easy to lose sight of what it means to learn. If I hadn’t started writing more, started blogging and started the Slice challenge, I wouldn’t be reflecting about how important sharing is in a writing community. I wouldn’t be thinking about how to fit in more acknowledgement in my Writer’s Workshop. I’ve always known it is important, but I often forget, and I never truly understood.

Years ago I started to take piano lessons again, after having quit my senior year of high school. I was talking to my aunt one day about my trying to create a habit of practicing piano as an adult. She remarked that it must be great for my teaching, to be learning piano. I misunderstood her, and went into a whole speech about how it was so powerful to be learning something while I’m teaching, how it really made me think about how my students learn. She nodded, looked at me quizzically and said, “Oh, I just meant you could have a piano in your classroom to play and sing with your class.”

There’s no way my piano skills are up to that, but my learning has always informed my teaching. Thanks to Slice of Life, I will be taking many awesome learning and writing lessons back to my classroom.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too! Check it out here. Thank you,  Two Writing Teachers! 

Last Saturday at #TCRWP, we had a lot of choices to make about sessions. During the drive to New York City, my friends and I spent time reading through the session descriptions and coming up with our priority list. So many amazing presenters were going to be there! It was difficult to prioritize. For me, there were a few musts. I wasn’t leaving New York City until I saw Diane Ravitch and Kate Roberts.  The last session of the day was the session we agreed on to see Kate Roberts: Falling in Love with Close Reading. 

Dear Kate Roberts,

We were lucky to arrive in time to get great seats. As soon as you walked in, the energy level went up.

Earlier this year I read Falling in Love with Close Reading: Lessons for Analyzing Texts–and Life.  I had heard so many people talk about and I had read so many things about “close reading” that seemed, well… boring, and non-authentic. But I started to see tweets, and then I read some blogs, including A Day in the Life of a Close Reader. Soon I was reading your book, and well, I fell in love! The passion that surrounds the book and your presentation last Saturday about close reading is contagious.

You reminded me that…

• As humans we already know how to come back to something look at the details that we love
• Students know how to close read because they do it with the things they love in this world
• We need close reading structure and ritual
• We should be reaching for happiness,  engagement and independence
• Close reading is part of a balanced reading instruction

Thank you for taking us through a close read of “Let it Go.” You inspired us with your energy. I loved how you walked around recording what we were saying and used that information to continue the close read. The ritual and structure were there, and it was fluid; the way you showed us how to go from first read, to finding evidence to finding patterns to finding understanding.

All too quickly,  your session was over, and my friend K said: Go! She knew I wanted to meet you.

It’s not my normal personality to jump up and go introduce myself to someone I admire. I had a flashback to years ago (pre-kids) when my husband and I went to a Tori Amos concert at a small venue, right at the time when she was really outgrowing small venues. I remember sitting next to my husband about halfway back as the concert began. When Tori came out on stage, we all got up and I quickly noticed that a lot of people were running towards the stage. I left my husband in the dust, of course, and went closer. I was nervous that I’d get in trouble. If I had more confidence, I could have easily gotten right up to the stage. I stopped pretty close though – and there I stood for the whole concert. We also stood in a small crowd near the stage door and waited for Tori to come out, which she did. She spoke to some fans who were confident enough to push their way into a conversation, and I’ll always regret not pushing my way in to say hello and thank you.

I don’t know if I’m comparing you to Tori Amos here, or not… but I was determined last Saturday to not leave with regret about not pushing my way in to tell you that I so admire your work and your ideas.  So I did. I jumped out of my chair, and pretended it was my normal personality to introduce myself.

Thank you for acting like it was a totally normal thing for me. Thank you for shaking my hand, asking my name, asking if I was on twitter, and agreeing to a picture. Thanks for letting my friend K sneak around the table to join the picture.

When I came back to school this week, I was fired up about close reading. I had been rolling around an idea of having the kids choose songs, videos, etc. to practice the ritual of close reading more independently, so that’s what we’ve been working on this week.

Today students sat happily engaged. They independently close read songs and you tube videos.

My intern and I walked around and listened in to their thinking. We discussed and scaffolded. We were impressed… and jealous! We both wanted to do the activity too!

Then, one of my students blurted out: “This if fun! We should do this over and over again!”

Thank you, Kate Roberts!

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too! Check it out here. Thank you,  Two Writing Teachers! 

Scene 1: SLO (Student Learning Objectives – Part of the new Teacher Evaluation) Faculty Meeting

My team and I sit and we listen, and we try to understand.

I feel like an idiot, honestly because I don’t truly understand all the rules and percentages, and most of all, I don’t understand the why. SLO, Value Added….  I don’t know much, but know this is busy work for teachers:  Select students, create objectives, fill out paperwork, assess students before and after… Our ability to show student growth will be used (how, I’m not sure) as part of the complicated matrix of our evaluation. Obviously, I already assess my students to inform my teaching.  By all accounts, this won’t be difficult. The teachers who piloted it said we just follow a step by step process.

I blurt out to my team, “I don’t care if this will be easy. It’s stupid.” This is not my most eloquent reflection, but other teachers are annoyed as well and they echo my thoughts: “I don’t have time for one more thing.” “How does the state have the resources to read through our paperwork? They don’t.”  I want to spend my time teaching my students, planning for my students (not to mention some time with my family).

Do I want my students to grow as the year progresses? Of course I do. Do I want to assess my students? Of course I do. I don’t want to do busy work. I don’t want to calculate percentages of instructional responsibility with my math co-teacher. My team wonders a lot. We wonder for instance how our amazing Learning Support teacher (my math co-teacher)  will survive this current “Value Added Measurement” system. One of my colleagues says “She’s not. She will fail forever until they cure learning disabilities.” Her sarcasm makes her point.

My administrator and the others who shared the information with us truly did their best to explain how this will all work. Now I’d like to hear from the Department of Education about why.

While I wait for that answer, I reflect on Saturday’s learning.

Scene 2: TCRWP Saturday Reunion. . . 

We rush up 4 flights of stairs, M gets to the top first (of course) and yells down “It’s full!” So we rush down to the other session we had circled on our program, “Using Media to Strengthen Students’ Critical and Close Reading.”   Cornelius Minor (@MisterMinor) engages immediately, and his content resonates with us. We are immediately grateful for the closed session that made us come downstairs for this.  His fast pace is perfect: He moves around the room and inspires by listening to us and showing us amazing new ideas. This is my kind of professional development – completely full of concepts, rituals and lessons that I can take back to the classroom, reminders of things I know and forget mixed with new ideas that I can’t wait to try with my students. “Play!” he tells us.  “You don’t own vocabulary by writing it down. You have to play around with saying it.” I immediately tweet that.  He reminds us of the importance of skill isolation. All too often we forget this and wonder why students are forgetting things they usually know as they are trying out new skills. Practice skills with media, and then you can replace the media with written text. He tells us that engagement means that kids are ready to fail and get back up to try again, that critical thinking is a ritual. 

I learned so much, and I brought it back to my classroom for my kids immediately. 

I don’t even need to wonder about which kind of experiences I want to spend my time with: SLOs or planning for engaging my students in close reading and critical thinking. One helps children, one pretends to help the state. When I have the chance to decide how to best spend my time,  I will choose helping children. Every time.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too! Check it out here. Thank you,  Two Writing Teachers! 

A Slice on the Keynote Address by Diane Ravitch at #TCRWP Saturday Reunion:

My alarm woke me at 6:50 on Saturday morning. My eyes popped open as I reached up to pull on the bedside light chain. Angry sleepy friends, M and K made fun of me for this for the rest of the weekend, but we had places to go! We were ready quickly and headed, map in hand on a walk to Riverside Church.  We stopped for some Starbucks, and to take a quick picture of the “real” Seinfeld restaurant… (We weren’t sure, but I looked it up…) We arrived with half an hour to spare.

M and K knew how much I was looking forward to hearing Diane Ravitch at the keynote, so we hurried in, passing a woman with a clipboard and a name tag that said “Diane Ravitch: Guest.” I felt a slight tug in my brain to just sit down next to that woman so I could introduce myself when Diane Ravitch came, and tell her how much I respect how she is speaking up and defending public eduction. But, that isn’t really my personality, so we went in and found great seats, front and center.

Lucy Caulkins came out to speak to us before the start of the keynote. I had never “seen Lucy” before. (That’s how people seem to refer to this, as in “Have you seen Lucy? Are you going to see Lucy?”) and I was struck by how comfortable she seemed talking to this huge crowd. She was such a teacher, using her hands to tell us directions and some rules. (“Don’t get hit by a car!”) She then went on to say that she was involved in working on a new website to collect transparent data about common core testing: testtalk.org, she believes it will be called.  She wants us all to contribute, with our names attached. She talked about feeling afraid sometimes to speak up, and how Diane Ravitch is an inspiration for telling the truth, speaking out and taking action.

And yes, when 9:00 came, Diane Ravitch inspired just that. 

I couldn’t take notes fast enough.

She painted a sobering picture of what is happening to schools right now, and her facts called me to speak up too. She didn’t hem and haw or measure her words to make them more comfortable and less than the truth. Children are different, she told us, even if taught exactly the same standardized curriculum. “It’s called humanity….Teaching can not be standardized. Children are not appliances…..” She called the situation right now a hoax, and totally insane.

I decided something listening to her. I decided that I do need to speak up. I decided this even though I have it good. I teach in a district that is measured in its approach to the common core, and thoughtful.  But, I need to speak up because the way the common core was developed was not ethical, and in many places, it isn’t being approached in a measured or thoughtful manner. I haven’t been told to teach to the test. But, I need to speak up because there are too many teachers who must do just that. My district puts in a splendid effort to put kids first, and empower teachers. But I need to speak up because there are so many kids who aren’t put first in this country, and so many teachers who have been vilified.  I have worked on unpacking some of the Common Core with my curriculum office, and found many parts to be solid and good practice. But, I need to speak up because there are plenty of developmentally inappropriate parts as well, and children are being pushed too hard. Sometimes, it’s okay to stand on principle and speak up.  Thank you, Diane Ravitch for reigniting me. I will speak up. (Shh…. I did have a whole different  last paragraph that I erased… I was speaking up just a little too loudly…. balance, Ona, balance.) 

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too! Check it out here. Thank you,  Two Writing Teachers! 

I am staring at a sign in my classroom: “Sorry about the mess, but we are learning here.” It rings true in my classroom for sure.  Peek into my room,  and you will see an elementary eruption. When we are creating our muppets,  fleece scraps are slumped on desk tops, chair tops, and our own tops. Sometimes liquid watercolor is drying on paintings, waiting to be cleaned up on the counter and still in use by some kids. Supply baskets are full and ready to go. (Truth be told, we often lose track of time, so cleaning up is left until later.)

My mess sign is deeper than that though. The mind is messy: jumbled up while the light bulb starts to flicker, before we’ve been able to file our knowledge in the appropriate mind folder. I imagine it looks like my desk in the summer, when I have all my paperwork out in order to organize, de-clutter, and get ready for the next school year. Who am I kidding? That’s what my desk looks like right now. Yikes!

I should probably edit my sign to say: “Sorry about the mess and the noise, but we are learning here.”  In my classroom we value and practice the art of a silent reading, writing and work time. But we aren’t always quiet (just ask my teacher neighbors…). Our learning squawks and giggles, hoots and stomps it’s feet.  We collaborate, debate, articulate and create our own understanding.  I am proud of my students. They take responsibility for gathering information when they need it. They ask questions, and question answers. I facilitate. I guide, scaffold, correct, help, ask and answer along with them. I am proud of our learning environment – walls of student work and helpful charts. We spend almost all day together in this classroom, it may as well be fun and comfortable.

“Sorry about the mess, the noise, and the colorful clutter. . . but we are learning here.”   

But not today, not the rest of this week. This week I need a new sign: “Today we aren’t learning.” These mornings will be silent. All the colorful charts and helpful strategies have been covered. Students are not permitted to ask me for help. I am not empowered to guide them. (I know, I know, I’m still allowed to help by encouragement.)

They are taking their standardized tests you see – and these tests have very little to do with learning.

I know what you want me to say, reader. You want me to say that of course we need some kind of standardized assessment. But I won’t. Because I don’t think we do. It isn’t information that helps me enough to warrant the stress, the time, or the cost. So I’ll keep giving the test this year, and forever more. I’ll follow the rules and regulations. I’ll cover my posters, count and sign for my tests, silence my class, read the directions and monitor my students. I’ll collect the tests, return the tests, sign that I returned the tests. And tomorrow I’ll start again. But I won’t say we need to do this. Because I don’t think we do.