Timehop - 20 Years Ago

Twenty years ago, I walked into a first grade classroom as a long term sub.  The position was only supposed to last until January, but I ended up there all year.  It's a year I'll never forget. My first few moments were panicked as these sweet little first graders started arriving and I thought, "What am I doing to do with these little kids?!?!"  Panic turned to wonder as these children turned my world upside down with their wonder, amazement and questions.  I learned quickly to follow their lead on questions and build upon their own curiosity.  We ended up building our own rainforest in the hallway outside our door because of questions they asked.  We created videos about the stories we were reading as students acted out favorite characters and scenes.  We moved our desks around to make our work more comfortable or we laid on the floor and stretched out to work.  We read books that had text that was comfortable for us as readers.  We wrote about the things we did in the classroom and I spent a lot of money on photos, actual photos that were pretty and glossy that showed our friends and our experiments and our life together. I remember being physically exhausted but mentally invigorated by the possibilities.  All the possibilities that this group of children possessed and all we were able to accomplish. 

Three years later, I would get my own classroom.  A place to knead and break and make my own for students who would need a home away from home. I would learn that pillows and bean bags and soft lighting make a classroom feel more comfortable. I would learn who Fountas and Pinnell were and how much they would make my teacher life easier with their independent and instructional reading levels.  I would learn that each group of students, each individual student was special and changed the way I approached content.  I would learn that I could not keep my lesson plans because I could never teach the same thing the same way twice.  I would learn to always look to my learners to find out what adventure we would go on each year. I would learn.  And continue to learn. 

The hardest lesson I would learn was that I did not fit the mold of many teachers.  I thought I was a broken model of what I should be.  Never living up to an ideal teacher.  My desk was messy because I didn't really sit there. I just threw papers on it.  I didn't follow a manual (if there was one) to a T because my students never fit it to a T.  I was always thinking of new ways to do things, not necessarily reinventing the wheel, but reinventing how the wheel would be used. And there was constantly glitter on my floor.  Getting reprimanded for being disorganized was crushing, but I learned how to be more organized and got back to what I was good at doing.  Being admonished for not being on the same exact Math Journal page as my colleagues was disappointing but I tried to hide what I was doing a bit more so they wouldn't notice.  And the glitter, well that just followed us around all day and I apologized to our custodial staff whenever it was apparent that the glitter had been out and heavily used.  I could not be like everyone else and as I began to own that, life as a teacher became a bit easier.   

It took me a long time to recognize that it wasn't me that was broken, it was the mold.  The mold felt constraining and restricting, but I never let it stop me from pushing forward to try new things, no matter how hard it got.  And I will keep pushing for my students now and those to come.   I will continue to learn. 


PS. It took me 10 years, but I did finally get rid of my teacher desk and I haven't missed it for one second!

Summer to Fall

Last week I finally  resolved to change my wardrobe over from summer to fall. It is truly the biggest challenge for me every year. I love all of my tank tops, skirts, flowy dresses and flip flops.  This is my favorite time of year.  And then October comes.  I start pulling out the bins of sweaters and pants and socks.  The uncomfortable clothes. It is not a fun activity for me, changing summer to fall.  I stall. I procrastinate. I may even sulk a little bit. I dread it. I’ve been working on it for three weeks now and maybe I will finish this weekend.  Maybe. I don’t want to do it.  My inner two year old self wants to throw a fit and demand that summer not be over.  But my inner mature adult self knows that if I don’t get it done I will be freezing cold and miserable.  This change is inevitable. And even though this happens every year, I still struggle with it. Every. Time.

This year, as I was digging in a bin for socks because I thought my toes might just fall off for how cold they were, I realized that this may be how teachers feel about change in their teaching: bringing in technology to do new things, designing flexible learning space that, flipping their classroom, project based learning. These New things make them feel uncomfortable.  They stall.  They procrastinate. They may even sulk a little bit. They dread it.  They say they don’t know how or why or they have no time.  But this change is inevitable.  Technology is ubiquitous. To our students the devices are always there. Always available to play a game or watch their favorite youtuber. These kids want to be youtubers when they grow up. It's a thing! And we are teaching them the way we were taught because it's what we do. But that's not ok. The weather is changing. The change is inevitable and we need to get moving.

Teachable Moments

I have been reading Innovator's Mindset by George Couros and I have had lofty thoughts of writing these amazing blog posts about what I have been learning.  I have notes everywhere in the book, on stickies, in my iPhone notes and even in a google doc.  I have about three ideas started but not finished and at least three more mulling around inside my thoughts.   This is how my brain works...always thinking of ideas and the next thing I can be doing, yet struggling to tie up loose ends of where I've been.  But instead of posting one of those deep thinking posts, I want to share this conversation with my daughter: 
  

10/21/16

Last night on the way home from a grueling Crossfit class, my 6th grader said, “Mom, wouldn’t it be great if my gym teachers could see what I just did in class?” (She did 434 reps for WOD 15.2 - scaled to 20# Overhead squats and Ring Rows) “I can’t do their tests very good, but I can do great at Crossfit.  Bent arm hang doesn’t show much.  I’m better than one attempt at a bent arm hang.”

My thought process while trying to think of what to say: Wow.  From the mouths of babes.  This is where we are selling our children short in K-12.  Our assessments don’t show much.  They don’t show our children as whole beings with passion and purpose or as learning, growing, progressing students.  And yet they, at least my daughter, feels that the assessment is the only thing seen and/or that the number defines them.

I struggle to know what to say to her as an educator and parent.  But I told her what I’ve told her in other conversations like this, "School is school, what we do outside of school is life. Crossfit teaches you things that will affect your life beyond the box. It builds you up as an athlete and as a person. You can work on your weaknesses and celebrate your strengths. Don't let the bent arm hang test get you down or define you. What you did tonight in 15.2 was amazing!"

All of our children are worth being seen.  How are you doing with seeing the children you work with everyday?