When I first decided to create this blog, I titled it "Thoughts on Education and Other Fun Stuff"; however, to date I have only written about education, and I feel as if "other fun stuff" is starting to feel very much left out--the last person picked for a junior high game of football. So, here is my first post about "other fun stuff."
Not all too many people know that as an 18-year-old entering college, I was actually a vocal music major. I spent my first two-plus years studying to teach and/or perform vocal music for the rest of my life. Inspired by the emotional outlet that music provided, I wanted to share my soul with the world. However, as time went on and this passion turned into a "job", I realized that it was not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. That said, you would be hard pressed to find a day when I am not inspired by music, transformed by its power, and captivated by its passion.
This past weekend, dreams came true in the form of getting tickets to see Garth Brooks...twice. Growing up, there was no artist whose sound I tried to emulate more, spending hours listening and then singing back (failing), and repeating the process for what seemed to be eternity (or until dad would call me to the table for dinner). Ultimately, I realized that my voice wasn't really built for country music, but I, even to this day, thoroughly enjoy lying to myself and pretending it is. However, something even more special happened this weekend, an unexpected walk down a foggy memory lane filled with pathways and tributaries that I didn't know (or clearly forgot) ever existed.
You see, I went to the Garth Books concert filled with child-like joy and anticipation at the thought of hearing my childhood musical idol live, but what happened was a continual and unending barrage of memories triggered by the power of song. I was able to saunter back to my first real unrequited love (who ironically enough was the first person to play for me Garth's "Unanswered Prayers"--can't make that up) and remember all of the painstaking hours I spent trying to persuade her to go out with me. As the songs changed, so did the memories; I was whimsically swept back to my first true love, frantically transported to those summer nights cruising around town with the boys, and serenely carried to a time when life had no worries. Each song carried with it the inherent power to reanimate the past, to make fading and forgotten moments reappear, grabbing my soul's hand and leading it straight to the dance floor.
However, there was a puzzling yet beautiful duality to these surreal nights. While my soul was dancing with moments from the past, my mind, heart and body were literally dancing with my wife (and friends), recording new memories. What wasn't clear, though, was if these new memories were being recorded over or next to the ones from days long gone? And then, as if he knew I was pondering this great mystery, Garth reflectively narrated, as the opening to the next song, "circles have a funny way of completing themselves." Aside from frantically taking out my phone to quickly record this profound aphorism, I realized why I love music so much and why it's so powerful; Music's power to create memories lies in the subtle ways in which a circle completes itself yet continues on forever. And much like circles, music has a way of completing us, connecting the past to the present while dancing us into the future.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
10 Years in the Bank: a reflection to start year 11
As I was driving to work this morning, windows down, a little Zac Brown Band blaring (although I was probably singing more loudly than the radio was playing), it really dawned on me: I am about to start my 11th year in education. Now I fully admit that in the grand scheme of things, that isn't really all that many, and in fact, I have learned more in my last two years than in the previous eight (which puts into preservative just how minimal 10 years really is). However, this realization caused me to stop and think, reflect; I turned the radio off, slowed down just a bit to maximize my time before arriving at work, and (probably to the dismay of any driver's education teachers reading this) let my mind drift, to dance its way through ten years of students, curriculum, meetings, athletic events, smiles, tears, laughter, pain, and most importantly, FUN. So, as I begin my second decade in education (it just sounds so much cooler to say it that way as opposed to year number 11), here is what I have learned. Perhaps you have learned all this already; in fact, my guess is some (or most of you) learned all this much quicker than I. That said, I hope that my time, my journey, can be of value to you as you navigate your way through the twisted and complicated maze that is teaching and learning.
1. We are all the same...because we are all people.
I have worked in four different schools across three different districts representing a geographical stretch of 50 plus miles in the Chicagoland area (thankfully all because of my own choosing), and the one question I would hear the most each time I changed schools or districts was: "so, how different are the students here than your last school?" The question would always, no matter how many times I was asked it, catch me off guard. I would subtly pause, think fondly about all my past students, consider my current group of learners, and say, "I don't know." For some reason that answer frustrated teachers; it was as if they wanted to hear that the kids at the current school, their school were somehow different--smarter, more motivated, better. However, I have learned that kids are kids, and to that end, teachers are teachers. Deep down, regardless of how we go about our day and what we do or don't share with others, we all want to succeed, have dreams of being great, recognized; moreover, we all have our problems--our issues, our fears, our demons. These may vary from kid to kid or teacher to teacher. Some might be fighting depression and others domestic violence, while others are simply trying to deal with the pressures of being "average" in an "exceptional" school. So, I have learned to get to know people, to truly seek out and listen to their stories. Because people are people...and we are all people, students and teachers alike.
2. One cannot do this job alone.
Early in my teaching career, I thought I knew it all. I was young, confident, well-prepared, and...STUPID. I look back at my first few years and I am appalled at how often I worked in isolation (not only worked that way but found ways to avoid collaboration). I used to tell myself that it was because I was busy (teaching, coaching, and working on a master's degree), that this was easier. Sadly, those are years I will never get back--despite how much I wish I could. I am now at the opposite end of that spectrum. I have been lucky enough to develop a national network of colleagues with whom I am blessed to collaborate regularly. People like: Barry Saide (@barrykid1), Lisa Hollenbach (@lisa_hollenbach), Val Brown (@ValeriaBrownEdu), Dorina Sackman (@2014FloridaTOY), Kip Hottman (@kiphottman), Brad Clark (@notbradclark), and SO SO SO many more. These people keep me going, push me to constantly be better, and challenge me to think about education in ways I otherwise wouldn't. Now, I am not saying that you have to go out and try to create a national network (I still cannot believe how blessed I am to have the one I do); however, I have learned that this job is easier, better for students, and flat out more fun when we break out of our silos of isolation, reach out to others, and work critically together, side-by-side, to help ALL students learn.
3. Doing this job right sure isn't easy.
Odds are pretty great that if you are reading this, you are a teacher. So, you don't need me to waste your time explaining this one. Instead, I want to thank you for all you do. The countless hours you put in YEAR ROUND to help your students (each and every one of them) don't get the attention, thanks, congratulations, or love they deserve in the national narrative, and I wish I could do more than this simple paragraph. Alas, thank you--truly from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all you do!
4. A few bad apples don't ruin the bushel.
With the current national narrative littered with stories of horrible teachers and completely incompetent students (who are beyond the help of any teacher), I have learned this lesson number four. I have worked with teachers who clearly shouldn't be in this profession, and I have had my handful of students who, no matter how hard I tried, simply and flat out refused my help; however, the overwhelming majority of teachers and students are great. They work, both groups, tirelessly to improve every day with the goal of learning and sharing knowledge as much as they can. So, I ask this: if you had a few bad apples in your bushel, would you throw all of them out? I hope not, and the same goes for teachers, students, and education.
5. There is nothing I would rather be doing with my life.
I feel like there is a growing sense among educators that if they were just now getting ready to go to college there would be no chance they would go into education knowing the current dynamics of our landscape. This saddens me because, more than anything else this last decade, I have learned that there is absolutely nothing I would rather be doing with my life. Education is amazing; it is this rare balance of intellect and acting, reading and writing, caring and crying, laughing and encouraging. It's the butterflies we still get on the first day of school and the sorrow on the last. It is the challenges thrown our way and the way in which we triumph over them. It is staying up all night before grades are due and going out for a drink with colleagues the next day to celebrate. It is the phone calls home to push those struggling students and the calls home to brag about the rock stars. Simply put, education is the perfect yet simple juxtaposition between frustration and success that, at the end of the day, allows our future to have a future. So, would I go back in time change my path: not a chance!
1. We are all the same...because we are all people.
I have worked in four different schools across three different districts representing a geographical stretch of 50 plus miles in the Chicagoland area (thankfully all because of my own choosing), and the one question I would hear the most each time I changed schools or districts was: "so, how different are the students here than your last school?" The question would always, no matter how many times I was asked it, catch me off guard. I would subtly pause, think fondly about all my past students, consider my current group of learners, and say, "I don't know." For some reason that answer frustrated teachers; it was as if they wanted to hear that the kids at the current school, their school were somehow different--smarter, more motivated, better. However, I have learned that kids are kids, and to that end, teachers are teachers. Deep down, regardless of how we go about our day and what we do or don't share with others, we all want to succeed, have dreams of being great, recognized; moreover, we all have our problems--our issues, our fears, our demons. These may vary from kid to kid or teacher to teacher. Some might be fighting depression and others domestic violence, while others are simply trying to deal with the pressures of being "average" in an "exceptional" school. So, I have learned to get to know people, to truly seek out and listen to their stories. Because people are people...and we are all people, students and teachers alike.
2. One cannot do this job alone.
Early in my teaching career, I thought I knew it all. I was young, confident, well-prepared, and...STUPID. I look back at my first few years and I am appalled at how often I worked in isolation (not only worked that way but found ways to avoid collaboration). I used to tell myself that it was because I was busy (teaching, coaching, and working on a master's degree), that this was easier. Sadly, those are years I will never get back--despite how much I wish I could. I am now at the opposite end of that spectrum. I have been lucky enough to develop a national network of colleagues with whom I am blessed to collaborate regularly. People like: Barry Saide (@barrykid1), Lisa Hollenbach (@lisa_hollenbach), Val Brown (@ValeriaBrownEdu), Dorina Sackman (@2014FloridaTOY), Kip Hottman (@kiphottman), Brad Clark (@notbradclark), and SO SO SO many more. These people keep me going, push me to constantly be better, and challenge me to think about education in ways I otherwise wouldn't. Now, I am not saying that you have to go out and try to create a national network (I still cannot believe how blessed I am to have the one I do); however, I have learned that this job is easier, better for students, and flat out more fun when we break out of our silos of isolation, reach out to others, and work critically together, side-by-side, to help ALL students learn.
3. Doing this job right sure isn't easy.
Odds are pretty great that if you are reading this, you are a teacher. So, you don't need me to waste your time explaining this one. Instead, I want to thank you for all you do. The countless hours you put in YEAR ROUND to help your students (each and every one of them) don't get the attention, thanks, congratulations, or love they deserve in the national narrative, and I wish I could do more than this simple paragraph. Alas, thank you--truly from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all you do!
4. A few bad apples don't ruin the bushel.
With the current national narrative littered with stories of horrible teachers and completely incompetent students (who are beyond the help of any teacher), I have learned this lesson number four. I have worked with teachers who clearly shouldn't be in this profession, and I have had my handful of students who, no matter how hard I tried, simply and flat out refused my help; however, the overwhelming majority of teachers and students are great. They work, both groups, tirelessly to improve every day with the goal of learning and sharing knowledge as much as they can. So, I ask this: if you had a few bad apples in your bushel, would you throw all of them out? I hope not, and the same goes for teachers, students, and education.
5. There is nothing I would rather be doing with my life.
I feel like there is a growing sense among educators that if they were just now getting ready to go to college there would be no chance they would go into education knowing the current dynamics of our landscape. This saddens me because, more than anything else this last decade, I have learned that there is absolutely nothing I would rather be doing with my life. Education is amazing; it is this rare balance of intellect and acting, reading and writing, caring and crying, laughing and encouraging. It's the butterflies we still get on the first day of school and the sorrow on the last. It is the challenges thrown our way and the way in which we triumph over them. It is staying up all night before grades are due and going out for a drink with colleagues the next day to celebrate. It is the phone calls home to push those struggling students and the calls home to brag about the rock stars. Simply put, education is the perfect yet simple juxtaposition between frustration and success that, at the end of the day, allows our future to have a future. So, would I go back in time change my path: not a chance!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Tips to a Terrific Year
"I think there is a profound and enduring beauty in simplicity; in clarity, in efficiency. True simplicity is derived from so much more than just the absence of clutter and ornamentation. It's about bringing order to complexity" (J. Ive, Apple Designer)
I recently stumbled upon this quote, and while I would say that most of my blog posts don't necessarily fit into the mold of this philosophy, Ive's words have inspired me to post my most simple post yet. So, here are my Five Tips to a Terrific Year (just in time for the start of school) because let's be honest, having a terrific year should be simple!
1. Go in with a plan...and be prepared to blow it up after the first week.
It is almost comical; we spend all summer, grinding away reading new books, exploring pedagogical shifts, researching technological additions, and planning the year...only for that plan to be blown up within the first week. I am not saying don't plan; however, this is your friendly reminder that you can't really know if your plan is going to work until you know your students and dynamic of the class(es). So, don't get upset or frustrated when you need to adjust your plan. Instead, view it as a chance to be constantly reinventing yourself in real-time as the best teacher possible for each of your students.
2. Let your students ask you questions, too.
So often we start the school year by asking our students lots of questions (their interests, passions, dislikes, family dynamics, etc.); however, not often enough do we let them ask similar questions of us. I firmly believe that, while teaches are dying to get to know their students, our students are dying to get to know us even more. Want to be their guide to understanding as opposed to their "teacher", then let them get to know you; let your students ask you questions, too.
3. Reach out to a colleague you haven't collaborated with before
It is very easy for us to do one of two things: continue to collaborate with those whom we always have, or not collaborate at all because we never have and it has "worked" for us. My challenge is this: reach out to a colleague with whom you have never before collaborated and ask if you can do so this year. It doesn't even have to be someone from your grade-level or even your department. But go seek someone out with whom you can and will spend 50 min. a week (one prep period) or even every other week talking about teaching. Share your journey with that person and listen closely to his or hers. It will do nothing but make both of you better!
4. Find a passion-based project for the year
I feel very strongly about this and have begun to encourage the teachers in my department to do it. We all have areas in education about which we are super passionate. For some that might be union leadership/policy work, for others it could be educational research. For me, it has become developing and collaborating with my PLN via Twitter and my blog. Whatever it is, having this passion-based project in your work life will give you something to pick you up when the chaos of education has knocked you down. When I am having "one of those days", I know I can turn to Twitter for encouragement or advice or even clear my head through writing on my blog. So, find that project for yourself and invest in it: you will be a better teacher for it.
5. Have fun
If you have read any of my blog posts before, you probably aren't surprised to see this one listed. I FIRMLY believe that we must have fun. We must take risks, we must embrace our failures with a smile and open mind, we must cry when things get really tough, we must laugh when things are funny...but we must do all of this WHILE HAVING FUN. Teaching is more than a job or a profession, it is a way of life; in fact, it consumes our lives (who out there doesn't struggle with work/life balance). So, if that is the case, we might as well have fun doing it. So, no matter what else, I challenge you...no I encourage you...no I IMPLORE you to have fun this year.
If you have read any of my blog posts before, you probably aren't surprised to see this one listed. I FIRMLY believe that we must have fun. We must take risks, we must embrace our failures with a smile and open mind, we must cry when things get really tough, we must laugh when things are funny...but we must do all of this WHILE HAVING FUN. Teaching is more than a job or a profession, it is a way of life; in fact, it consumes our lives (who out there doesn't struggle with work/life balance). So, if that is the case, we might as well have fun doing it. So, no matter what else, I challenge you...no I encourage you...no I IMPLORE you to have fun this year.
Friday, July 25, 2014
The Old Man and the Sea: why a veteran teacher is changing the way he teaches
I stood there. Still. Basking in the early morning sun as the salty water calmly rushed over my ankles with its rhythmic persuasion. I observed...drawn in by the magnitude of the ocean. I saw waves fighting, racing to be the first to tackle the packed-down shoreline; others in no hurry to reach their destination. There were some, even, that appeared to be yearning to collaborate with other waves, jaunting sideways and defying the logic of the current to find their partner. Regardless of their pace and process, each wave left its mark, it's stamp on the land. These marks, like the waves, were distinct and unique, forming a tapestry of individuality that was both beautiful and inspiring. Before I knew it, an hour had passed, and I had done nothing but stand and observe, peacefully enveloped by nature and my own thoughts, realizing that these waves were all around me, reaching the horizon as far as I could see: beyond my reach yet right there for me to hold, to support, to encourage.
Not that I ever needed the ocean to convince me that differentiated instruction is the best way to help all students learn, but the realizations, lessons from the ocean, now washed over me with the force of a thousand PD books on DI or standards based learning--in fact, greater than that force. You see, for some time now, I have been thinking about re-imagining the way I teach, putting the standards at the core and the skills at the forefront. I have been conceptualizing what it would look like to create a structure in which the first month of school is a skills boot camp dedicated to teaching all the major skills that, traditionally, my students would develop slowly over the course of the year. It's sort of the "learning how to swim by just jumping in" philosophy. My frustration over the last few years has been that all of these skills (close reading, academic writing in response to text without a prompt from the teacher, presentation, developing personal voice in student writing, etc.) are so intertwined that I really struggled teaching them in isolation, and, despite my best efforts to keep all of these skills married via my instruction, I feel as if I often times failed--that the traditional model of slowly presenting new skills over the course of the school year made it challenging for me to show students how all of these skills are connected and even overlapping.
Thanks to the ocean's mesmerizing uniqueness, I now see why I have struggled so greatly. In the model in which I slowly present new skills over the course of time, the arbitrary nature of the school's calendar is what dictates the progression of skill instruction, and while we all do our best to differentiate in that model, the calendar still is the foundation for that plan with the skills and students being the next level of consideration. Yet, these waves know no calendar. They are beholden to nothing but their uniqueness and desires. So, if I were to give my students all the skills they will need up front (providing all the discipline-specific terms, strategies, and maneuvers) and make the rigor and difficulty of the text and task the elements that slowly change over the course of the year, each individual student would be free to follow the path of his or her own wave in meeting the standards. Assignments and time with the material will vary by student based on where he or she is in relation to mastery of each skill. Let's be honest, the discipline of English has a wide-range of skills, and, for the most part, each student is inherently strong in some and weaker in others. This model will allow each student to spend the time needed developing their weakest skills without "wasting" time on skills they have already mastered.
Here is the catch: I don't know if this will work or not. But I do know that the traditional model of instruction could use a face lift--at least in my class. I plan on working hard to ensure all my students have the best learning experience possible, and that is no different than every year I have ever taught. However, this year, the calendar will not be the foundation of that learning experience, their learning will be! I am sure I will fail. I am sure I will learn a ton. I am sure I will have a great time along the way. But most importantly, I am sure that in trying new things, I will become a better teacher. So I ask: what new things will you try this year?
Not that I ever needed the ocean to convince me that differentiated instruction is the best way to help all students learn, but the realizations, lessons from the ocean, now washed over me with the force of a thousand PD books on DI or standards based learning--in fact, greater than that force. You see, for some time now, I have been thinking about re-imagining the way I teach, putting the standards at the core and the skills at the forefront. I have been conceptualizing what it would look like to create a structure in which the first month of school is a skills boot camp dedicated to teaching all the major skills that, traditionally, my students would develop slowly over the course of the year. It's sort of the "learning how to swim by just jumping in" philosophy. My frustration over the last few years has been that all of these skills (close reading, academic writing in response to text without a prompt from the teacher, presentation, developing personal voice in student writing, etc.) are so intertwined that I really struggled teaching them in isolation, and, despite my best efforts to keep all of these skills married via my instruction, I feel as if I often times failed--that the traditional model of slowly presenting new skills over the course of the school year made it challenging for me to show students how all of these skills are connected and even overlapping.
Thanks to the ocean's mesmerizing uniqueness, I now see why I have struggled so greatly. In the model in which I slowly present new skills over the course of time, the arbitrary nature of the school's calendar is what dictates the progression of skill instruction, and while we all do our best to differentiate in that model, the calendar still is the foundation for that plan with the skills and students being the next level of consideration. Yet, these waves know no calendar. They are beholden to nothing but their uniqueness and desires. So, if I were to give my students all the skills they will need up front (providing all the discipline-specific terms, strategies, and maneuvers) and make the rigor and difficulty of the text and task the elements that slowly change over the course of the year, each individual student would be free to follow the path of his or her own wave in meeting the standards. Assignments and time with the material will vary by student based on where he or she is in relation to mastery of each skill. Let's be honest, the discipline of English has a wide-range of skills, and, for the most part, each student is inherently strong in some and weaker in others. This model will allow each student to spend the time needed developing their weakest skills without "wasting" time on skills they have already mastered.
Here is the catch: I don't know if this will work or not. But I do know that the traditional model of instruction could use a face lift--at least in my class. I plan on working hard to ensure all my students have the best learning experience possible, and that is no different than every year I have ever taught. However, this year, the calendar will not be the foundation of that learning experience, their learning will be! I am sure I will fail. I am sure I will learn a ton. I am sure I will have a great time along the way. But most importantly, I am sure that in trying new things, I will become a better teacher. So I ask: what new things will you try this year?
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Teaching Literacy in 140 Characters: part II
Last November, after returning from the NCTE and CEL National Conventions, I wrote a piece called Teaching Literacy in 140 Characters. In it I argued that we, as educators, must start to teach writing in the Twitter space, and, if we don't, we are not only ignoring the future but actually ignoring the present reality of our students and world. However, when I wrote that piece, I had not fully immersed my students and class in the digital world that is Twitter, but now over a year later, I am here to share all that I learned from actually teaching my students to write for Twitter and using it on a daily basis for my class (check us out at #bronke2nd) each student had his/her own Twitter account for class). So, here are my top five takeaways. I hope that they can be helpful to you on your journey to getting your students (or even just yourself) to write in the Twitter world.
1. Twitter = the F word:
No, it is not what you think. While there were times when I wanted to curse technology for not working, that is not the F word to which I am referring here. The F word to which I am referring here is even better: FORMATIVE assessment. Let's be honest, collecting this sort of data in a fast, easy manner on a daily basis is something for which we all yearn (especially about student reading of text). Well, Twitter did it for me. Each night the class had a reading assignment, they also had to Tweet out what they would normally text-mark in their books (most did both--marked it in text and tweeted it). We called it "Tweet-marking." I quickly realized that if I started my day by reviewing all that they Tweet-marked the night before, I had my lesson plan for the day. I knew the parts of that reading that they clearly did understand and those that needed clarification (without having to collect all their books or give a reading quiz). I knew the parts of the chapter that they really enjoyed and wanted to discuss, and I knew the parts of that didn't really excite them. I knew which students needed help with each specific learning goal for our reading, and I could create my base groups for that day based on that data. IT TOTALLY CHANGED HOW I LESSON PLANNED. Every lesson plan was now adapted based on real-time formative data. I must now be honest: when I first got my class into the Twitter space, I had not thought about this benefit; however, I now cannot imagine teaching without having my students Tweet-mark and getting that formative data daily.
2. Writing in 140 characters isn't easy:
We struggled, together...a lot. Learning how to capture deeply intellectual thoughts about rigorous and challenging texts wasn't easy. For me the challenge was making sure that Tweet-marking didn't push students away from making direct reference to the text (obviously a major goal of all English classes). So, we had to get creative. Students started taking pictures of the quote from the book on which they wanted to comment. Then they could post that picture and still have 140 characters to comment on it. This became a very valuable tool. But the reality is, like with any sort of writing, the more we did it, the better we got at it. Students really did become quite skilled at talking, in a very deeply discipline-specific ways, about literature in 140 characters; however, it didn't happen overnight. So, my advice here: stay the course and help them fight through the frustration. It will be worth it. And, if you help them see the parallels, you will also see your students become more succinct (and less needlessly verbose) in their own "regular writing" (whatever that means in the 21st century--as if writing for Twitter isn't regular to the students or society today).
3. Students enjoying reading? What???:
Regardless of your view on the balance between student choice vs. assigned core novels, the goal (and probably biggest challenge for English teachers) is to get students to enjoy reading, to become, hopefully, life-long readers. Well, I cannot sit here and say that all students enjoyed every reading assignment or that I know for sure that I helped produce 28 new life-long readers, what I can say is that, by and large, it was clear that students enjoyed the reading because of Twitter. When reading became a social act (and let's be honest, isn't that why the concept of the book club still plays such a prominent role in society today?), students found much greater joy in the task. The ability to "talk" with others while reading--ask questions, challenge one another, or just share a favorite passage--opened up a new enjoyment that many students had not previously had with reading.
4. Engagement = classroom management
"Oh my...but you can't have students with their cell phones out in class; all they will do is check their fantasy football lineups, text their boy/girl friends, or be searching Facebook." I get that thought/fear--I do, but we are not a 1:1 school, yet. So, I had no choice if I wanted Twitter in my class. And the reality is, that fear is just not valid. When used in meaningful ways that allowed things like having students from different base groups interact, or allowing the outer circle of a fishbowl discussion to chat, or surveying my entire PLN on a specific English topic/questions, students were engaged, on task, and super productive. In fact, as I reflect back on it, the times they were not engaged with Twitter via their cell phones in class were the times when I didn't structure the day's activity in a purposeful enough way thereby basically inviting them to check out other content on their phone. So, if you have concerns about the classroom management piece, reflect on your lesson plan and the purpose of Twitter during the class first. It will work great if you have a targeted and specific use that helps bring discussions and content to life in ways that aren't possible without it.
5. Learning and fun...say it isn't so:
I know that there is a school of thought out there about the use of technology in the classroom that, loosely summed up, believes that technology should never be used simply because it is fun--that if it just to add bells and whistles, don't do it. While I don't totally agree or disagree with that, I can say that I learned that Twitter made class more fun. It made homework more fun. It made discussions more fun. It made learning more fun. I don't know about you, but I like having fun. Whether or not it directly impacted actual student learning, I don't know (however I would strongly argue that it did--just don't have the data to prove it yet); however, I do know that fun is good and that, all too often, there isn't enough fun in learning. So, I challenge you to add some more fun into your students' learning experience...add Twitter to your class.
1. Twitter = the F word:
No, it is not what you think. While there were times when I wanted to curse technology for not working, that is not the F word to which I am referring here. The F word to which I am referring here is even better: FORMATIVE assessment. Let's be honest, collecting this sort of data in a fast, easy manner on a daily basis is something for which we all yearn (especially about student reading of text). Well, Twitter did it for me. Each night the class had a reading assignment, they also had to Tweet out what they would normally text-mark in their books (most did both--marked it in text and tweeted it). We called it "Tweet-marking." I quickly realized that if I started my day by reviewing all that they Tweet-marked the night before, I had my lesson plan for the day. I knew the parts of that reading that they clearly did understand and those that needed clarification (without having to collect all their books or give a reading quiz). I knew the parts of the chapter that they really enjoyed and wanted to discuss, and I knew the parts of that didn't really excite them. I knew which students needed help with each specific learning goal for our reading, and I could create my base groups for that day based on that data. IT TOTALLY CHANGED HOW I LESSON PLANNED. Every lesson plan was now adapted based on real-time formative data. I must now be honest: when I first got my class into the Twitter space, I had not thought about this benefit; however, I now cannot imagine teaching without having my students Tweet-mark and getting that formative data daily.
2. Writing in 140 characters isn't easy:
We struggled, together...a lot. Learning how to capture deeply intellectual thoughts about rigorous and challenging texts wasn't easy. For me the challenge was making sure that Tweet-marking didn't push students away from making direct reference to the text (obviously a major goal of all English classes). So, we had to get creative. Students started taking pictures of the quote from the book on which they wanted to comment. Then they could post that picture and still have 140 characters to comment on it. This became a very valuable tool. But the reality is, like with any sort of writing, the more we did it, the better we got at it. Students really did become quite skilled at talking, in a very deeply discipline-specific ways, about literature in 140 characters; however, it didn't happen overnight. So, my advice here: stay the course and help them fight through the frustration. It will be worth it. And, if you help them see the parallels, you will also see your students become more succinct (and less needlessly verbose) in their own "regular writing" (whatever that means in the 21st century--as if writing for Twitter isn't regular to the students or society today).
3. Students enjoying reading? What???:
Regardless of your view on the balance between student choice vs. assigned core novels, the goal (and probably biggest challenge for English teachers) is to get students to enjoy reading, to become, hopefully, life-long readers. Well, I cannot sit here and say that all students enjoyed every reading assignment or that I know for sure that I helped produce 28 new life-long readers, what I can say is that, by and large, it was clear that students enjoyed the reading because of Twitter. When reading became a social act (and let's be honest, isn't that why the concept of the book club still plays such a prominent role in society today?), students found much greater joy in the task. The ability to "talk" with others while reading--ask questions, challenge one another, or just share a favorite passage--opened up a new enjoyment that many students had not previously had with reading.
4. Engagement = classroom management
"Oh my...but you can't have students with their cell phones out in class; all they will do is check their fantasy football lineups, text their boy/girl friends, or be searching Facebook." I get that thought/fear--I do, but we are not a 1:1 school, yet. So, I had no choice if I wanted Twitter in my class. And the reality is, that fear is just not valid. When used in meaningful ways that allowed things like having students from different base groups interact, or allowing the outer circle of a fishbowl discussion to chat, or surveying my entire PLN on a specific English topic/questions, students were engaged, on task, and super productive. In fact, as I reflect back on it, the times they were not engaged with Twitter via their cell phones in class were the times when I didn't structure the day's activity in a purposeful enough way thereby basically inviting them to check out other content on their phone. So, if you have concerns about the classroom management piece, reflect on your lesson plan and the purpose of Twitter during the class first. It will work great if you have a targeted and specific use that helps bring discussions and content to life in ways that aren't possible without it.
5. Learning and fun...say it isn't so:
I know that there is a school of thought out there about the use of technology in the classroom that, loosely summed up, believes that technology should never be used simply because it is fun--that if it just to add bells and whistles, don't do it. While I don't totally agree or disagree with that, I can say that I learned that Twitter made class more fun. It made homework more fun. It made discussions more fun. It made learning more fun. I don't know about you, but I like having fun. Whether or not it directly impacted actual student learning, I don't know (however I would strongly argue that it did--just don't have the data to prove it yet); however, I do know that fun is good and that, all too often, there isn't enough fun in learning. So, I challenge you to add some more fun into your students' learning experience...add Twitter to your class.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Year-End Reflection: what I really learned this year
As I sit here writing this, the end of the school year is a mere two days away. All the end-of-the-year drama is slowly coming to a close, finals are being graded, students are cleaning out lockers, and summer vacations are so close we can taste them. If you are at all like me, that also means that the time for self-reflection is upon us. The end-of-the year brings with it the opportunity for us to honestly reflect back upon the year in an effort to celebrate our successes and identify our areas for growth for next year. Recently, I asked my students to write a blog post (follow the class and individual student blogs through the hashtag #bronke3rdhour) on what they REALLY learned during 9th grade. So, I decided that I should go through the same exercise. Below are the top five lessons (in no specific order) I learned this year.
This year I experimented with taking away prompts for end-of-novel essays, refrained from being the one to provide the focus for reading (teaching students how to create their own focus instead), assigned a wider range of writing tasks than I have ever, allowed students to consistently interact with technology to enhance learning, and even allowed students to craft their own writing assignment and then write them. All of this led me to realize that given the correct circumstances and conditions, all students can thrive in their own, unique (but academic) ways.
True and mutually productive collaboration is a journey of frustration created by cognitive dissonance. It is a group of teachers, regardless how similar or dissimilar their beliefs are, working together to solve a problem, to achieve greatness. It is challenging one another's views on the matter at hand and listening openly to all points of view regardless of how they may or many not mesh with one's own. It is so much more than e-mailing some materials for a common prep or sharing revisions to a common final exam. Many people call their departments, classrooms, or schools places of collaboration, but are they?
This has been my first year writing a blog, and it has been one of the best decisions of my professional life. Between this blog and other blogs to which I have contributed, I have published around 10-15 pieces this year; however, I have written (started, finished, and/or dabbled around) nearly 40. And all 40 of these writing experiences have helped guide me to new understandings (about myself, my job, and education). I encourage you all to write...write a lot...
1. ALL student really can thrive if we provide them the conditions and opportunities to do so.
This year I experimented with taking away prompts for end-of-novel essays, refrained from being the one to provide the focus for reading (teaching students how to create their own focus instead), assigned a wider range of writing tasks than I have ever, allowed students to consistently interact with technology to enhance learning, and even allowed students to craft their own writing assignment and then write them. All of this led me to realize that given the correct circumstances and conditions, all students can thrive in their own, unique (but academic) ways.
2. Collaboration is WAY more than simply getting along and sharing materials.
True and mutually productive collaboration is a journey of frustration created by cognitive dissonance. It is a group of teachers, regardless how similar or dissimilar their beliefs are, working together to solve a problem, to achieve greatness. It is challenging one another's views on the matter at hand and listening openly to all points of view regardless of how they may or many not mesh with one's own. It is so much more than e-mailing some materials for a common prep or sharing revisions to a common final exam. Many people call their departments, classrooms, or schools places of collaboration, but are they?
3. Writing is powerful.
This has been my first year writing a blog, and it has been one of the best decisions of my professional life. Between this blog and other blogs to which I have contributed, I have published around 10-15 pieces this year; however, I have written (started, finished, and/or dabbled around) nearly 40. And all 40 of these writing experiences have helped guide me to new understandings (about myself, my job, and education). I encourage you all to write...write a lot...
4. It's okay to admit you need help
I wrote a blog about this earlier in the year, but I want to come back to it now because this became very personal for me at the end of this year. For some reason, I have always been someone who just would "figure it out on my own." I didn't let stress get to me, kept my head down, and just kept grinding (like I could work my way out of my own stress). However, this year stress got the best of me. I got to a point where it was really hard to focus on my work because I was too worried I would never get it all done (a feeling I really had never had before); however, thanks to the help of great friends and wonderful mentors, I was able to admit that was how I was feeling and allow them into my world to help get me refocused. This was a huge realization for me, and I thank my friends and mentors for their support.
5. I am lucky
I know that most all teachers will say this about their jobs, but I really am so very blessed and lucky. I get to work, each and every day, with 21 of the best teachers around. Each of them, on a regular basis, teaches me so much about teaching, kids, and life. They do amazing work with kids and for one another. Furthermore, I got to spend the year with the amazing #bronke3rdhour class. These 27 students took risks, challenged one another, embraced frustration and failure, and had fun doing it. I couldn't have asked for a better class, and I thank my lucky stars every day for the opportunity to work with the teachers in my department.
So, as your school year comes to an end, I challenge you to ask yourself, what did YOU REALLY learn this year...and, if you have time, write about it. We can all learn from one another.
Monday, May 12, 2014
I Need Help: three words educators must be more comfortable saying
This past Friday (May 9, 2014) was one of the most enjoyable, open, honest, caring, warm, and productive professional development experiences of my career, and I want to start by thanking the District 99 Literacy Coaching Team (Dana Briggs, Jennifer Hernandez, Barb Mazzolini, Kathleen Skinner, Kathy Smith, Elaine Simos, Amy Stoops, and Marjorie Thomas) for allowing me to be a part of this special day. Each and every one of you helped make me a better teacher, leader, and coach through your open and honest dialogue.
You see, the literacy coaching program in District 99 is well-established, has presented on multiple occasions at several local and national conventions, and is staffed by eight brilliant and well-seasoned coaches. As such, each coach could easily rest on her laurels, close the door and do her thing, and work in isolation all the while continuing to provide high-level literacy coaching to the district. In fact, that is, sadly, how so much of education currently functions; however, that was no the case on May 9th. Each coach was asked to come prepared to share a major challenge/struggle from the year with the rest of the team. I don't know about you, but I have been in education for ten years now, and I have never been asked to admit my struggles in front of a room of brilliant and successful peers, not to mention my direct supervisors. And yet...that is exactly what we were asking them to do, and they did it with grace, compassion, and skill.
What resulted was a two-hour session (and a lunch afterwards) in which, in small groups, the literacy coaches shared their struggles with coaching and then processed them with their peers, looking for support and help. The conversations were real, raw, honest, and pointed. On many occasions phrases like "so, I am not really sure what to do" or "I could really use some help" were expressed openly and without fear of judgment. Furthermore, coaches could be heard saying, "oh I LOVE that idea; that will really work here", or "thank you! I hadn't thought of that; I cannot wait to try it."
So, what did I learn as a result of all this. Well, let me share:
1. If these eight, amazing, talented, and skilled coaches could open up and admit that they could use help, can't we all? Ask yourself, with what do I need help and then go seek it out; it will only make you better!
2. Greatness requires two things: failure and risk-taking. Without these, one cannot become great. I am blessed to work with coaches who embrace both.
3. Schools MUST find the time to allow teachers to have these sorts of conversations. I understand that it is a two-way street in that teachers have to feel safe and want to share in these sorts of conversations. However, if schools don't carve out the time for these conversations to happen, they never will, and genuine opportunities for authentic growth will be lost.
4. Trust and honesty take time and building them is hard work; however, it is well worth it. You see, this sort of open sharing of challenges did not just happen over night. In fact, this District 99 Literacy Coaching Team had been meeting for two years before having these sorts of conversations. That said, it was two years of team-building that was well worth it.
5. Difficult conversations about challenges and areas for growth can be fun. What made this day so special was that these conversations were filled with laughter and smiles all while being focused, open, honest, and challenging. In short, we had fun and grew personally and professionally; not a bad way to spend a Friday in May.
So, regardless of your role in education ask yourself, when was the last time you said, "I need help?" As the literacy coached proved, it is much more a sign of strength than it is of weakness.
You see, the literacy coaching program in District 99 is well-established, has presented on multiple occasions at several local and national conventions, and is staffed by eight brilliant and well-seasoned coaches. As such, each coach could easily rest on her laurels, close the door and do her thing, and work in isolation all the while continuing to provide high-level literacy coaching to the district. In fact, that is, sadly, how so much of education currently functions; however, that was no the case on May 9th. Each coach was asked to come prepared to share a major challenge/struggle from the year with the rest of the team. I don't know about you, but I have been in education for ten years now, and I have never been asked to admit my struggles in front of a room of brilliant and successful peers, not to mention my direct supervisors. And yet...that is exactly what we were asking them to do, and they did it with grace, compassion, and skill.
What resulted was a two-hour session (and a lunch afterwards) in which, in small groups, the literacy coaches shared their struggles with coaching and then processed them with their peers, looking for support and help. The conversations were real, raw, honest, and pointed. On many occasions phrases like "so, I am not really sure what to do" or "I could really use some help" were expressed openly and without fear of judgment. Furthermore, coaches could be heard saying, "oh I LOVE that idea; that will really work here", or "thank you! I hadn't thought of that; I cannot wait to try it."
So, what did I learn as a result of all this. Well, let me share:
1. If these eight, amazing, talented, and skilled coaches could open up and admit that they could use help, can't we all? Ask yourself, with what do I need help and then go seek it out; it will only make you better!
2. Greatness requires two things: failure and risk-taking. Without these, one cannot become great. I am blessed to work with coaches who embrace both.
3. Schools MUST find the time to allow teachers to have these sorts of conversations. I understand that it is a two-way street in that teachers have to feel safe and want to share in these sorts of conversations. However, if schools don't carve out the time for these conversations to happen, they never will, and genuine opportunities for authentic growth will be lost.
4. Trust and honesty take time and building them is hard work; however, it is well worth it. You see, this sort of open sharing of challenges did not just happen over night. In fact, this District 99 Literacy Coaching Team had been meeting for two years before having these sorts of conversations. That said, it was two years of team-building that was well worth it.
5. Difficult conversations about challenges and areas for growth can be fun. What made this day so special was that these conversations were filled with laughter and smiles all while being focused, open, honest, and challenging. In short, we had fun and grew personally and professionally; not a bad way to spend a Friday in May.
So, regardless of your role in education ask yourself, when was the last time you said, "I need help?" As the literacy coached proved, it is much more a sign of strength than it is of weakness.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Where the Wind Blows: my journey in literacy instruction
“He who loves practice without theory is like the sailor who boards ship without a rudder and compass and never knows where he may cast” (DaVinci). The ship of literacy in my life has been blown about my many forces. The winds of pedagogical trends have taken me from the “strategy of the week” to reading instruction as deliberate test prep; from content-area literacy and now finally to critically examining the language of my discipline, the reading practices inherent within, and thinking about the ways in which I can get my students to not only buy into reading and writing in such a manner but individually embrace the intellectual challenges of this task because of the intrinsic value within. Students want to read; they want to write; and they want to be good at both. My job is to give them the tools, materials, instruction, and TIME: time to practice and more importantly time to play--to play with language, their own and others. Students must be given consistent opportunities to agonize over specific word choices; intellectually spar with authors; be taken on a gut-wrenching journey through time and space; and explore their biggest fears, joys, successes, and failures through passionate, and often times painfully honest writing. I must teach students HOW and WHY to be critical readers, lovers of great literature, and develop their ability to express themselves through written and spoken word. The tangled braid of reading and writing must be embraced as a messy pair of Yin and Yang to best assist students on this sea voyage of literacy development, but we mustn't forget that the love for and success in one can be the inherent key to unlocking the hidden joys of the other, and it’s my job to help each student navigate her own rough literacy waters in order to land upon this blissful self-discovery. It’s not easy. It’s not fast. And it never ends. But it is beautifully rewarding, and it’s this journey that is constantly shaping who I am more so than the destination itself. For that, I am blessed.
Friday, March 28, 2014
It's Okay to Sound like a Fool: just learn from it!
I sound like a fool a lot; make no mistake about that. I say things that, in my head, seem to make perfect sense to me, but upon vocalizing them and/or seeing others' responses to my statements, I quickly realize the ignorance in my words. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to nor do I try to sound like a fool. I am not intentionally trying to offend anyone, but the reality to my, and everyone's, life is that we do not--no CANNOT--know everything. But we can learn from one another and those who do know things we don't. You see, for that very reason, I often times seek out situations and conversations in which I KNOW I will sound like a fool not because I want to sound like a fool but because I want to learn from those who don't sound like fools on that given topic.
Whether most teachers realize it or not, they probably agree with the overall sentiment of that first paragraph. They are generally willing to take a risk and enter into conversations about an instructional strategy they have never tried, a text they have never read, or a policy about which they don't know anything simply as a means of learning. The general idea being that through talking, listening, and getting feedback on their own underdeveloped thoughts, they can and will grow in an area in which they don't currently know much. So, why does this strategy of using conversations to grow our understandings tend to stop when the topic of race comes up? Schools, as a whole, tend to avoid these conversations for the fear of a teacher saying something "wrong" or sounding "foolish"; however, with almost all other topics, this same strategy is at the center of how we grow.
While I am FAR from an expert on race, I do know one thing: I love having conversations about it (even if it means that I unintentionally say something stupid or perhaps offend someone) because I know that through talking about race I can learn about race. Through reading about race (I am currently reading and loving Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Tatum), I can learn things about myself and others that I didn't even know I needed to learn.
However, none of this can happen by avoiding the conversations on race--by refusing to explore my own prejudices and others' reactions to those prejudices. I am proud to admit that I have been in conversations about race and said things that were so narrow-minded that others were offended; however, because they knew that my narrow mindedness was coming from a place of ignorance and not hatred, they were able to coach me through my thoughts and help me making meaning of situations in society I otherwise couldn't understand. I have asked questions about race and about being black that made me sound like a complete fool, but as a result and because I was coming from a place of ignorance, I grew to more deeply understand race and racism than I ever could by simply thinking I am colorblind and life is great or ignoring it all together.
So, I challenge you (as I continually challenge myself) to seek out difficult and uncomfortable conversations on race, participate openly and honestly (even if you say something "stupid"), embrace your ignorance as a means of growth, and listen critically to what others are saying. I promise you, the personal growth will be well worth it.
Whether most teachers realize it or not, they probably agree with the overall sentiment of that first paragraph. They are generally willing to take a risk and enter into conversations about an instructional strategy they have never tried, a text they have never read, or a policy about which they don't know anything simply as a means of learning. The general idea being that through talking, listening, and getting feedback on their own underdeveloped thoughts, they can and will grow in an area in which they don't currently know much. So, why does this strategy of using conversations to grow our understandings tend to stop when the topic of race comes up? Schools, as a whole, tend to avoid these conversations for the fear of a teacher saying something "wrong" or sounding "foolish"; however, with almost all other topics, this same strategy is at the center of how we grow.
While I am FAR from an expert on race, I do know one thing: I love having conversations about it (even if it means that I unintentionally say something stupid or perhaps offend someone) because I know that through talking about race I can learn about race. Through reading about race (I am currently reading and loving Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Tatum), I can learn things about myself and others that I didn't even know I needed to learn.
However, none of this can happen by avoiding the conversations on race--by refusing to explore my own prejudices and others' reactions to those prejudices. I am proud to admit that I have been in conversations about race and said things that were so narrow-minded that others were offended; however, because they knew that my narrow mindedness was coming from a place of ignorance and not hatred, they were able to coach me through my thoughts and help me making meaning of situations in society I otherwise couldn't understand. I have asked questions about race and about being black that made me sound like a complete fool, but as a result and because I was coming from a place of ignorance, I grew to more deeply understand race and racism than I ever could by simply thinking I am colorblind and life is great or ignoring it all together.
So, I challenge you (as I continually challenge myself) to seek out difficult and uncomfortable conversations on race, participate openly and honestly (even if you say something "stupid"), embrace your ignorance as a means of growth, and listen critically to what others are saying. I promise you, the personal growth will be well worth it.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
When the Student Becomes the Teacher...
As teachers, we often talk about how we hope to learn from our students. If you are anything like me, you start your year by telling students how excited you are to have them in your class, and that you know, without a doubt, as the year goes on they will teach you as much or more than you could ever teach them. And it's true; I have no doubts that any teacher who says this means it--after all, for most of us, this is why we got into education: to continue learning. That said, with all of "the something" going around in education today ( a few colleagues and I recently defined "the something" as being all those things thrown at teachers on a regular basis: CCSS, teacher evaluation, budget cuts, curriculum changes, etc.), often times learning from our students gets blurred away by the bureaucracy.
Enter Mary Fleming. She came to my class like so many other freshmen; shy yet inquisitive; intelligent but nervous; passionate while pensive. As the year went on, she found many ways to quietly stand out. She played on the freshman volleyball team, came in for extra help on papers, and was a quiet leader in the classroom. In short, she did her best to excel while passively working not to stand out, like so many freshmen do. Now, let me introduce you to the Mary Fleming that North High School has known since March 12th:
Enter Mary Fleming. She came to my class like so many other freshmen; shy yet inquisitive; intelligent but nervous; passionate while pensive. As the year went on, she found many ways to quietly stand out. She played on the freshman volleyball team, came in for extra help on papers, and was a quiet leader in the classroom. In short, she did her best to excel while passively working not to stand out, like so many freshmen do. Now, let me introduce you to the Mary Fleming that North High School has known since March 12th:
Mary decided to take a risk. She shaved her head for the St. Baldrick's Fundraiser, raising over $1,300 for child cancer research. She didn't do this because she wanted to stand out; she did this because she wanted to help--to do something to care for those less fortunate than she.
Several days have now passed since Mary's selfless act of courage, and two things have come to light:
1. She now knows what it means to "stand out", to be different from others. This, more than anything else, is a lesson that she will carry with her for the rest of her life. Sure, there are those who know why her hair is gone, but there are also many who don't. Those people stare with unstated questions and unfair judgments. Why? Because they don't know how to deal with something that is "different", those things that don't conform to their idea of "normal." To those people I say stare away. Because they are right, they are not looking at someone that is "normal", they are looking at someone who is exceptional--someone who inspires. Someone who cares more about helping others than fitting into what society dictates is "normal." To that I say, Mary, I am so proud of you for being okay with being exceptional...who needs "normal" anyway.
2. Mary is the definition of courage. I think back to my time in high school, and sadly, I will admit that I didn't even attend the homecoming football game as a freshman because of rumors that the freshmen get picked on/beat up. And here is a freshman girl who is willing to endure awkward glances, quiet laughter, and judgmental stares because she is that committed to helping others. At a time when reputation, image, and self-worth are beyond paramount to high school happiness, Mary was able to realize that her self-worth comes not from what others think of her but rather from what she can do for others. Her courage manifested itself in action, action that might go to help save someone's life. For that, Mary, all I can do is thank you. Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of courage, and I only hope that through telling your story in this blog others are as inspired by your actions as well.
You see, I am one of those teachers who starts every year by saying, "I hope to learn as much from you as you do from me...maybe more", and I do believe that this happens on a daily basis; however, this year it became something more. It became a life lesson in the power of giving back, of helping others because you can and want to, and of the true meaning of courage. So I leave you with this: have the courage to be yourself; have the courage to give back; have the courage to be different; and have the courage to inspire others. Mary did, and that is how my student became the teacher! Thank you, Mary; thank you for your inspiration, and thank you for teaching me about courage.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
#ECET2: Thank you for your story!
"This is a simple story but not an easy one to tell. Like a fable, there is sorrow...and, like a fable, it is full of wonder and happiness." While I wish I could take credit for this heart-warming confession, I must humbly acknowledge that it is from the stunning Italian film, Life is Beautiful; however, it might as well have been the guiding theme of this year Gates Foundation "Elevating and Celebrating Teachers and Teaching (ECET2) Convening. You see, while each of us was invited because of what we bring to the classroom, it became the stories we passionately shared that left us all knowing we can change the world. The inherent power of the narrative we wove together is much more far-reaching, much more powerful, and much more long-lasting than any flawed piece of educational legislation, district mandate, or misguided piece of media coverage that may not so subtlety and yet tragically creep its way into our profession.
I have long felt that people, inherently, learn best through the power of the story. So, it is my hope that you can learn as much as I did at #ECET2 through the stories that forever changed me as a person and professional. These are the real, honest, and heart-warming narratives that helped make me a better teacher, deeper thinker, and overall more passionate and caring person. I know this isn't a short blog post, but let's be honest, what good story is. So, first I want to thank each of you for sharing your story with me; it will not be forgotten. Second...sit back, relax, and enjoy the life-changing power of STORY.
Story 1: The Courage Within-- We all know what it is like to be frustrated in our job; after all, my guess is that the vast majority of my audience to this blog (or the probably non-existent, yet in-my-mind huge audience) is teachers. I don't know about you, but I often feel as if they could rename our job to "frustrated ones." Well, let me share with you the story of someone who has every right to be frustrated. This is Joseph Bolz (@josephbolz). This guy defines courage. He has the will, desire, and internal values to ask the difficult questions about gate-keeping (academically and racially) in his district. For Joe, ignoring the problem, making the data say things it really isn't, nor saying we are "ok" just isn't good enough. He inherently believes that ALL students can learn, and he is willing to put his neck out there to do whatever he can to ensure that is the case. Joe, thank you for showing me what true courage in education is. You have helped me see there are fights I need to go fight, and you have given me the courage to do so!
Story 2: Humor Wins-- Take any undergrad class in education and some high-flatulent professor will unequivocally announce that humor and sarcasm have NO PLACE in the classroom. I have spent most of my teaching career troubled by this edict, and so I was ecstatic to hear the story of Dan Ryder (@wickeddecent). This guy could make a 95 year-old, depressed patient in the lock-jaw ward of a hospital laugh like he was sitting front row at a Chris Rock show. So, Dan's story has showed me two things: 1. this guy is WICKED funny and 2. damn, I wish I were a student in his class. Let's be real for a second: learning should be fun...very fun. And the reality is it just doesn't get much more fun than Dan's humor. So Dan, on behalf of your students, thank you for being funny. And, from me, thank you for showing me it is okay to laugh...to laugh with others, to laugh at ourselves, and to laugh at all life can and will throw at us.
Story 3: Be a Parent-- I don't have kids; to be honest, at this point in my life, I don't want them either. However, I have heard several times in my life that you will "understand" when you become a parent. Well, let me share with you Julia Wilson's story (@juliawwilson). She isn't a mom; in fact, she has only been married for a few years, but if you met her and heard her talk about her kindergartners, showing pictures of each of them (yes EACH AND EVERY KID), you would want go back to whomever told you that you will "understand" once you become a parent and punch them out. Her maternal instincts, unapologetic passion for her students, and overall compassion as a person would make anyone feel as if they were the most important person around. So, thank you, Julia. You taught me just how much one doesn't need to be a parent to be a passionate teacher. The love you show your students is true, pure, and at the core of who you are as a person, and because of that, I am blessed to say I know you!
Story 4: Keep Your Promises: What's in a promise? For most of us, it is a word we toss around loosely because it sounds good and/or is easier than admitting the truth. Let's be honest, we have all been on both sides of the failed promise (making one we don't keep or being burned by one not kept). Well, let me share with you Jon Spencer's (@jonspencer4) story. You see, this guy has INTEGRITY! As a teacher in R.E.A.L ville (don't ask...just know it's an amazing title for a classroom), Jon made a promise to a troubled elementary-school student that when she finally found her way to the high school graduation stage, he would joyfully be there to watch her proudly walk across that stage...little did he know that said stage would be over 1,200 miles away due to the fact that this student moved out of state. For so many of us it would just have been easier to not go, ignore the invites, or make up some simple lie that was just good enough to pass as a reason to not be there. But not for Jon. He made the trip, he made the graduation, and he made her feel like she matters...because SHE DID. So, thank you, Jon. You have reminded me that all students matter, all promises matter, and that we are only as good as our word. Keep it R.E.A.L (ville), Jon!
Story 5: Be Cultured-- It is so easy in today's society to raise a child on pop-culture (or at least I assume, since I don't have one). The ability to access bad TV, even worse movies, and "literature" that should make an educated person want to throw up is basically omnipresent. That doesn't even get into all the mindless ways social media have been used to promote an societal agenda in which education and academia are little more than an afterthought. So, let me tell you Jennifer Orr's (@jenorr) story. This isn't a story of her role as a teacher (at least not formally...and if it were it would be amazing because she is as a teacher) but rather her role as a mom. It was so heart-warming to hear about all the ways she has brought culture to her daughters' lives. Be it the texts she reads, the music she plays, the museums she visits, or the websites she creates, I was left saying to myself, "damn, I wish I were Jen's daughter" (ya, I know...you figure that one out). Jen, thank you! You restored my faith in our society that there is a value in arts; culture; and what sadly most would call, high-brow endeavors. Your belief in true culture makes you an amazing mom and your daughters so super lucky to have you as such!
Story 6: Let Your Emotions Show-- For some reason, we live in a society in which showing your true, unfiltered emotions isn't okay. It's a sign of weakness--one who lacks strength and coping mechanisms. Well let me tell you, that is just a giant load of crap, and allow me to share Jessica Wright's (@jessicampitts) story. Life is hard; it's beautiful; it's painful; but mostly, it's emotional. Jessica understands and embraces that. While she may believe her emotions are a weakness of hers, she is SO GREATLY mistaken. I sat next to Jessica on a bus while she teared up reading students' tweets that demonstrated their skills with close reading and their passion with the text. I was at the same table with her when her soul couldn't navigate the horrific statistics about foster children in the US, and the only sensible reaction was tears (a reaction that mirrored mine at the very same moment). When I really think about Jessica's story, it is one of being YOU. She is so greatly assured in who she is as a person that she can allow her true emotions to come forth. Her ability to unharness her emotions allows her to listen openly, think critically, and embrace those moments that are worth caring about. Jessica thank you for helping to give me the strength to let my emotions show, for without my emotions, I have realized, thanks to you, I have nothing.
Story 7: Care for your Kids-- I strongly believe that there is a sadly perpetuated belief in education that all teachers are doing what is best for kids. Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe that the vast majority of teachers are doing what's best for kids; however, it is over-simplistic and bordering on insulting to those who are to say that every teacher is. And that said, let me tell you Emily Land's (@eland1682) story. When she says she cares for kids, it isn't because she is supposed to say it nor is because the media is watching (even though she is brilliant enough to where that has been the case several times in her recent career) it is because, at her core, she knows absolutely nothing else but doing what is best for kids. To try to tell you the story of just how amazing of an educator she is here in these short paragraphs would be an insult to her and the work she has done; however, I am tasked (thankfully--and so very unofficially) with the role of sharing her story, and that is what I will try to do. You see, for Emily it isn't about the fact that the principal or assistant principal are around and trying to have a conversation with her, or that the teacher in the room next to her is not so secretly begrudging the work she does, it is about truly, at the humble core of the statement, doing what is best for kids. And that is what she does, not because its "sexy", trendy, or popular, but because it is the damned right thing to do. So Emily, thank you for being you. Thank you for having the courage to stand up to those who are not doing what is right for kids; thank you for going out of your way to make sure that you are; and thank you for helping me see the true power and meaning behind "doing what is best for kids."
Story 8: Be Yourself-- I walked into the ECET2 Convening knowing no one, and yet I walked out of there with friends for life. I walked into this conference with an uncertainty of why I was even there and an even bigger fear in the fact that I wasn't sure I should be. And yet, whether he knew it or not, Dr. Irvin Scott (@iscott4) took a chance on me. On Tuesday morning, he spoke out to one of my tweets and so kindly asked me if I would deliver one of the closing remarks. So, this isn't his story as I could never do that justice, but this is my story. I went into ECET2 with a new mindset for a conference. For the first time I wasn't going to work to impress people; I wasn't going to try to get noticed (sadly, that had been my approach at previous conferences). I was going to BE ME. I was going to say what was true to me, listen as much as possible, and do all I could to leave there knowing I stayed true to what I believed and who I was. The result...well, the story speaks for itself. So, Dr. Scott, thank you for taking a chance on me as a closing speaker, and ECET2, thank you for accepting me for ME.
I want to close this blog (I know, I know...it's long enough already...it's fine...feel free to stop reading) by saying two things:
1. THANK YOU...the above stories aren't mine and yet, somehow, I am the lucky one to tell them. So, to everyone above, thank you for letting me tell your story. And to every amazing story I heard but didn't tell, share your story!
2. Never underestimate the power of the story and of YOUR story. And, because I have the ability to actually look up the quote (and not just pull it out of my memory for a speech), let me leave you with these lines from the song "For Good" from the musical "Wicked."
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us must to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
I have long felt that people, inherently, learn best through the power of the story. So, it is my hope that you can learn as much as I did at #ECET2 through the stories that forever changed me as a person and professional. These are the real, honest, and heart-warming narratives that helped make me a better teacher, deeper thinker, and overall more passionate and caring person. I know this isn't a short blog post, but let's be honest, what good story is. So, first I want to thank each of you for sharing your story with me; it will not be forgotten. Second...sit back, relax, and enjoy the life-changing power of STORY.
Story 1: The Courage Within-- We all know what it is like to be frustrated in our job; after all, my guess is that the vast majority of my audience to this blog (or the probably non-existent, yet in-my-mind huge audience) is teachers. I don't know about you, but I often feel as if they could rename our job to "frustrated ones." Well, let me share with you the story of someone who has every right to be frustrated. This is Joseph Bolz (@josephbolz). This guy defines courage. He has the will, desire, and internal values to ask the difficult questions about gate-keeping (academically and racially) in his district. For Joe, ignoring the problem, making the data say things it really isn't, nor saying we are "ok" just isn't good enough. He inherently believes that ALL students can learn, and he is willing to put his neck out there to do whatever he can to ensure that is the case. Joe, thank you for showing me what true courage in education is. You have helped me see there are fights I need to go fight, and you have given me the courage to do so!
Story 2: Humor Wins-- Take any undergrad class in education and some high-flatulent professor will unequivocally announce that humor and sarcasm have NO PLACE in the classroom. I have spent most of my teaching career troubled by this edict, and so I was ecstatic to hear the story of Dan Ryder (@wickeddecent). This guy could make a 95 year-old, depressed patient in the lock-jaw ward of a hospital laugh like he was sitting front row at a Chris Rock show. So, Dan's story has showed me two things: 1. this guy is WICKED funny and 2. damn, I wish I were a student in his class. Let's be real for a second: learning should be fun...very fun. And the reality is it just doesn't get much more fun than Dan's humor. So Dan, on behalf of your students, thank you for being funny. And, from me, thank you for showing me it is okay to laugh...to laugh with others, to laugh at ourselves, and to laugh at all life can and will throw at us.
Story 3: Be a Parent-- I don't have kids; to be honest, at this point in my life, I don't want them either. However, I have heard several times in my life that you will "understand" when you become a parent. Well, let me share with you Julia Wilson's story (@juliawwilson). She isn't a mom; in fact, she has only been married for a few years, but if you met her and heard her talk about her kindergartners, showing pictures of each of them (yes EACH AND EVERY KID), you would want go back to whomever told you that you will "understand" once you become a parent and punch them out. Her maternal instincts, unapologetic passion for her students, and overall compassion as a person would make anyone feel as if they were the most important person around. So, thank you, Julia. You taught me just how much one doesn't need to be a parent to be a passionate teacher. The love you show your students is true, pure, and at the core of who you are as a person, and because of that, I am blessed to say I know you!
Story 4: Keep Your Promises: What's in a promise? For most of us, it is a word we toss around loosely because it sounds good and/or is easier than admitting the truth. Let's be honest, we have all been on both sides of the failed promise (making one we don't keep or being burned by one not kept). Well, let me share with you Jon Spencer's (@jonspencer4) story. You see, this guy has INTEGRITY! As a teacher in R.E.A.L ville (don't ask...just know it's an amazing title for a classroom), Jon made a promise to a troubled elementary-school student that when she finally found her way to the high school graduation stage, he would joyfully be there to watch her proudly walk across that stage...little did he know that said stage would be over 1,200 miles away due to the fact that this student moved out of state. For so many of us it would just have been easier to not go, ignore the invites, or make up some simple lie that was just good enough to pass as a reason to not be there. But not for Jon. He made the trip, he made the graduation, and he made her feel like she matters...because SHE DID. So, thank you, Jon. You have reminded me that all students matter, all promises matter, and that we are only as good as our word. Keep it R.E.A.L (ville), Jon!
Story 5: Be Cultured-- It is so easy in today's society to raise a child on pop-culture (or at least I assume, since I don't have one). The ability to access bad TV, even worse movies, and "literature" that should make an educated person want to throw up is basically omnipresent. That doesn't even get into all the mindless ways social media have been used to promote an societal agenda in which education and academia are little more than an afterthought. So, let me tell you Jennifer Orr's (@jenorr) story. This isn't a story of her role as a teacher (at least not formally...and if it were it would be amazing because she is as a teacher) but rather her role as a mom. It was so heart-warming to hear about all the ways she has brought culture to her daughters' lives. Be it the texts she reads, the music she plays, the museums she visits, or the websites she creates, I was left saying to myself, "damn, I wish I were Jen's daughter" (ya, I know...you figure that one out). Jen, thank you! You restored my faith in our society that there is a value in arts; culture; and what sadly most would call, high-brow endeavors. Your belief in true culture makes you an amazing mom and your daughters so super lucky to have you as such!
Story 6: Let Your Emotions Show-- For some reason, we live in a society in which showing your true, unfiltered emotions isn't okay. It's a sign of weakness--one who lacks strength and coping mechanisms. Well let me tell you, that is just a giant load of crap, and allow me to share Jessica Wright's (@jessicampitts) story. Life is hard; it's beautiful; it's painful; but mostly, it's emotional. Jessica understands and embraces that. While she may believe her emotions are a weakness of hers, she is SO GREATLY mistaken. I sat next to Jessica on a bus while she teared up reading students' tweets that demonstrated their skills with close reading and their passion with the text. I was at the same table with her when her soul couldn't navigate the horrific statistics about foster children in the US, and the only sensible reaction was tears (a reaction that mirrored mine at the very same moment). When I really think about Jessica's story, it is one of being YOU. She is so greatly assured in who she is as a person that she can allow her true emotions to come forth. Her ability to unharness her emotions allows her to listen openly, think critically, and embrace those moments that are worth caring about. Jessica thank you for helping to give me the strength to let my emotions show, for without my emotions, I have realized, thanks to you, I have nothing.
Story 7: Care for your Kids-- I strongly believe that there is a sadly perpetuated belief in education that all teachers are doing what is best for kids. Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe that the vast majority of teachers are doing what's best for kids; however, it is over-simplistic and bordering on insulting to those who are to say that every teacher is. And that said, let me tell you Emily Land's (@eland1682) story. When she says she cares for kids, it isn't because she is supposed to say it nor is because the media is watching (even though she is brilliant enough to where that has been the case several times in her recent career) it is because, at her core, she knows absolutely nothing else but doing what is best for kids. To try to tell you the story of just how amazing of an educator she is here in these short paragraphs would be an insult to her and the work she has done; however, I am tasked (thankfully--and so very unofficially) with the role of sharing her story, and that is what I will try to do. You see, for Emily it isn't about the fact that the principal or assistant principal are around and trying to have a conversation with her, or that the teacher in the room next to her is not so secretly begrudging the work she does, it is about truly, at the humble core of the statement, doing what is best for kids. And that is what she does, not because its "sexy", trendy, or popular, but because it is the damned right thing to do. So Emily, thank you for being you. Thank you for having the courage to stand up to those who are not doing what is right for kids; thank you for going out of your way to make sure that you are; and thank you for helping me see the true power and meaning behind "doing what is best for kids."
Story 8: Be Yourself-- I walked into the ECET2 Convening knowing no one, and yet I walked out of there with friends for life. I walked into this conference with an uncertainty of why I was even there and an even bigger fear in the fact that I wasn't sure I should be. And yet, whether he knew it or not, Dr. Irvin Scott (@iscott4) took a chance on me. On Tuesday morning, he spoke out to one of my tweets and so kindly asked me if I would deliver one of the closing remarks. So, this isn't his story as I could never do that justice, but this is my story. I went into ECET2 with a new mindset for a conference. For the first time I wasn't going to work to impress people; I wasn't going to try to get noticed (sadly, that had been my approach at previous conferences). I was going to BE ME. I was going to say what was true to me, listen as much as possible, and do all I could to leave there knowing I stayed true to what I believed and who I was. The result...well, the story speaks for itself. So, Dr. Scott, thank you for taking a chance on me as a closing speaker, and ECET2, thank you for accepting me for ME.
I want to close this blog (I know, I know...it's long enough already...it's fine...feel free to stop reading) by saying two things:
1. THANK YOU...the above stories aren't mine and yet, somehow, I am the lucky one to tell them. So, to everyone above, thank you for letting me tell your story. And to every amazing story I heard but didn't tell, share your story!
2. Never underestimate the power of the story and of YOUR story. And, because I have the ability to actually look up the quote (and not just pull it out of my memory for a speech), let me leave you with these lines from the song "For Good" from the musical "Wicked."
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us must to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
Thank you to ALL of ECET2 for being my FRIEND!!! SHOUT OUT!!!
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
No Wineing in Literature...but perhaps there should be.
As I sit here and write this, it is a warm (compared to the -15s we have had) 16 degrees out, and there is probably a solid 14 inches of snow devouring the ground. However, I am transported whimsically back to this past summer. A panoramic of greenery and subtly rolling hills covered in the mid-day California sun as the light breeze dances across the patio, my slightly sweating brow, and my thoughts. It is a memory that is permanently splashed across my mental canvass, and one that I desperately hope to repaint many, many more times: wine country.
I have always liked wine. I can think back to my first few years of teaching, sharing a glass with colleagues as we shared on how our classes were going. It was good. I cannot tell you what, specifically, I had or why I thought it was good--just that it was wine and it was good.
However, over the last five or six years wine has become a research passion of mine. It is something I read about and research on a regular basis. I have developed an insatiable thirst for the terms, the regions, the vineyards and all the complexities of this hobby. Since that time, I could tell you great details about most of the wine I have tried, what I thought about them and why--down to the most minute detail. I can discuss their noses, palates, growing conditions, fermentation processes, aging containers, and many other details. And, the more I have those conversations with that sort of depth, the more I love talking about it and reading about it. However, what is really worth noting is that virtually all of these conversations (especially those with trained wine experts who do this for a living) started, after tasting the wine, with a simple, "what did you think?" No one ever asked pointed (and therefore guiding) questions like "tell me what you thought about the wine's nose and why the wine maker went that direction?" Always a simple, "what did you think?"
And yet, until very recently, that is EXACTLY how I have approached teaching literature. We would read the class novel, discussing all of it's complexities (with me guiding them along the way). Students would have a chance to learn from one another, take quizzes over specific passages that I would provide them because I knew they are important ones, and eventually, they would be given a collection of two or three possible essay topics about which they could write to truly demonstrate their understanding of the text.
Let me stop for a second and interject that I do not think that this is bad teaching. In fact, it is the sort of instruction going on in most English classes I have been around, and it works for what it is. Let's be honest, it is much better than simplistic, plot-recall quizzes and/or fill-in-the blank assessments on literature. However, I have seen the light.
Here is what that model doesn't allow; it doesn't allow the student to talk about the specific parts of the book that spoke to him or her (unless it is by chance). Much like with literature, there could be a vast array of reasons why a specific wine is someone's favorite. Within that one wine, one person may be completely enamored with the depth of flavors and others in love with the tannic structure. Yet, if the question either of them got after having a sip was about the wine's nose, they might really struggle to discuss it with the sort of depth and insight they could have displayed if allowed to discuss other aspects about which they ARE passionate. In fact, their responses could even be perceived as not liking the wine or being disinterested in it (even though they LOVED parts of it). So, by that same logic, if the reason a student loved Of Mice and Men was because of the characterization (say he/she was fascinated with the lack of name for Curley's wife) yet the end-of-the text essay was about the development of the settings (the repetition with alteration), that student might not produce the sort of quality of writing he or she otherwise could if simply asked to talk about the book in a scholarly/academic way. And the teacher might be left thinking that the student didn't like the book and/or didn't read it at all.
Recently, thanks to the help of Chris Lehman and Kate Roberts (via their book Falling in Love with Close Reading: Lessons for Analyzing Text--and Life) as well as Kylene Beers and Robert Probst (via Notice & Note), I have ventured out of my comfort zone when teaching literature, armed my students with the skills to know when important moments are happening in the text (as opposed to me point those out or giving them those passages), taught them the language to talk about those moments (discipline-specific literacy), and provided the freedom to do so at their own will (no essay prompt). I was BLOWN AWAY. It has been a long time since I have enjoyed grading reading quizzes and student writing as much as I have been. Each paper is so uniquely different from the next, a beautiful tapestry of the author and the student making meaning together. Here are a few examples of student thoughts that they have posted to Twitter (follow our class conversation via the hashtag #bronke3rdhour):
"LOVE the contrast of sadness and bitterness of tears with the freshness and lightness associated with morning dew" (@ttka0696)
"Did anybody wonder why Shakespeare wrote the opening scene of a love story as a fight scene? It's kind of ironic" (@dwy1310)
"The way the Nurse takes care of Juliet reminds me of the way Calpurnia takes care of Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird" (@mmau1838)
"lines just jump out and say 'read me again'. going to look further into them" (@kleg3059)
The assignment given that produced these great and wide-ranging comments was to go home, re-read material from class, and "Tweet-Mark" (since the whole class is on Twitter, we are doing our text-marking digitally and calling it "Tweet-Marking"). There was no prompt, no "requirements." It was the "what did you think" sort of question.
Now, if you are intrigued at this switch but unsure what to do next, I suggest you consult the experts (Lehman, Roberts, Beers, and Probst...and many others) of which I am certainly not one. However, I can and will challenge you to this question: does your current method for teaching literature have students responding to you or responding to the text?
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