Someday is Today!

For the past several years, I have had a vision of what I want my classroom and my curriculum to look like (within the bounds of what our department has collectively decided to teach).  I keep telling myself that someday, I will do the things that I know I want to do, that I know are best for kids.  Someday, I will take the time to read professional books until I find one that aligns with my teaching beliefs.  Someday, I will take several hundred dollars to buy new seating for my students.  Someday, I WILL do all of these things.

This summer, I had a colleague and mentor tweet a quote that stood out to me: "Would you want to be a student in your own classroom?  Would you look forward to coming to your class each day?"  Wow.  Talk about powerful ways to think about decisions in my classroom.

This got me thinking about a former student of mine named Audra Reed who is now an excellent, outstanding, inspiring librarian in our district.  I had the opportunity to teach her my very first year of teaching, and I taught her ornery, silly, jokester brother named Eli three years later.  It is one of my very favorite memories because she was my senior aide in the same hour that I had her brother in class. Across the classroom, she would "mother" him for not studying for a quiz, or they would hug each other by the windows as Eli messed up her hair. I was blessed to be witness to this, and this has forever changed me because Eli died unexpectedly a few years ago.  It was at this time that Audra posted that her role as a teacher was so important because of the fact that so much of Eli's life was spent in a classroom.  She was thankful for the love he was shown from his teachers and coaches, and she vowed to make sure that her classroom was a safe, fun, loving environment to her students because you never know how short life can be. You never know why that certain student was placed in your class or how they will change you or the world. This rocked me to my core. I reflected and prayed that my class had been a good experience for Eli and for his sister a few years earlier.  This has never left me.

So this year, I decided that SOMEDAY is TODAY. This will be my 14th year of teaching. What the heck am I waiting for? If someday is not today, then when is it going to be? My students deserve someday to be NOW! Not next year. Not when I can truly afford it. Not when I get a raise. Not when my own kids are older. Not when my husband's job slows down a bit. My students deserve NOW because I only get one year with them. I get one year to make a difference in the lives of my students - be it academically or personally. I only get one chance. Do I know what my curriculum will look like? Not exactly. Do I know how flexible seating will work in my classroom - nope, sure don't. I do know, however, that my students are worth the chance, and that if it doesn't work, we will figure it out together because that's what families do.

It's All About Opportunity

Tonight I sat and watched my two sons playing with their trucks in the water.  I am so thankful that they are only three and six, and that we don't have easy access to the news.  I am thankful that for now I can shield them from the events that are flooding the news and my Facebook/Twitter feeds.

Two boys playing - not a care in the world.

But you see, then I think of this sweet kid in the picture below.  Isn't he just the cutest?!? He is my nephew, and sadly, he will most likely know a world that is different than my boys know. He has the most beautiful eyes, and the silliest laugh, and a skin tone that is different from my sons. But do you want to know what is awesome? Not once have my sons ever commented on that difference in skin color, not about my nephew or his dad. Why? Because love doesn't see color -- love flourishes with kindness. When they look at him, they see their cousin. They see a person.

My future's so bright, I gotta wear shades!

With the events unfolding in the news this week, the mother in me is fearful for my children, nieces, and nephews and the world they are growing up in - filled with hate, violence, and a desire to be understood and accepted. I don't know how to respond to posts on social media. I can't seem to find the right words to respond in a tweet. It all seems so surreal, and I know I am a bit naive because it is a world that I do not know, but it is a world that I work to change every year the only way I know how.

The teacher in me is ready to get back into the classroom in a few short weeks. As a teacher my heart breaks when events like this happen, when lives are taken, and when there is no end in sight. But that is when the job of a teacher becomes that much more important. I do not care if you are white, black, Hispanic, or Asian. I do not care if you are straight, lesbian, bisexual, gay, or transgender. I do not care if you are male or female. I do not care if your parents are rich or poor. All I care about is that you are alive, and that I have the opportunity to teach you. I have the opportunity to show you kindness and expect the same from you in return when it comes to your classmates and me. I have the opportunity to share literature with you that allows us to talk about the ugliness we see in the world and how it makes us feel and how we might change it. It's all about opportunity. That is what we must keep fighting for - OPPORTUNITY. Everyone deserves an opportunity, the same opportunity.

It's So Easy to Kill Good Books

"Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read.  One does not love breathing." This is one of my favorite quotes of all time from my favorite novel, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Now let me give you some context. Scout, the main character, had just been reprimanded by her teacher Miss Caroline for knowing how to read -- on her first day of school -- in front of her peers.  She had been punished because her father spent time reading to her; it is the one thing that they do together. She later refers to reading as a "crime" she committed.  This, my friends, cuts me to the core every time I read it.  Have I been a Miss Caroline to a student before?  Have I reacted out of fear and not embraced the differences in my class? Have I unknowingly killed reading for my students? Ouch. It hurts to think about this. I love this book; to me this book is like going home to visit my grandparents.  It is familiar. It is safe. It makes me laugh. It makes me angry. It makes me proud. This same feeling is what I hope my students will get out of this book, too; however, many view it as a ton of work or a book they would never pick out to read by themselves.

Two events this year have caused to me really dive into this idea of life-long reading. First, this fall, a mother shared with me that her son quit reading long books because he missed the due date for his book report because his book was over 300 pages.  From that point on he checked out books in the 120-150 page range. These lowered expectations in hopes of meeting a due date do not build up reading stamina - not when he will be going to college in a few short years and will most likely be assigned HUNDREDS of pages of reading PER WEEK. Second, this spring I had a younger student say to me, "I have to go home and finish my book report.  I haven't read the book yet, but to do what I need I think I know enough about the story to finish this assignment.  But don't worry, I'll read the book later." The odds of that happening once the assignment is over are slim.  These scenarios are exactly what we need to address - lowered reading expecations and fake reading.  How do we foster life-long reading? How do we get students to fall in love with books?  I have no doubt that assignments like this, or 10-questions per chapter, or lists upon lists of vocabulary words, and crossword puzzles kill good books. I also know that I am guilty of doing just that. I was doing the best I knew how to do, and I was teaching reading the way I had been taught because it was all I knew to do - but that isn't good enough. My students deserve more.  They deserve better.

This summer I have been reading a book called Book Love by Penny Kittle. I really think that she is in my brain, listening to all the questions that I have and then simultaneously putting the answers there on the pages of this extraordinary resource to guide me in my classroom.  (Ok, ok, so maybe she is just a dang good teacher who isn't afraid to share her knowledge with others in the hopes of creating readers.) Regardless, a quote from that book has stood out to me.  Kittle states: "I tried to listen to my department chair, but she told me students were lazy and I should give them a reading quiz each day to make them read. Quizzes don't make people read, and besides, teaching isn't police work.  I knew this. I wanted to become a master sorcerer and entice all students into deep reading; she wanted to set traps to catch criminals."

This is when my jaw hit the floor.  She captured my exact thoughts in a book.  This spring I assigned book reports to my students, and because they are good students, they did what I asked with really very little complaining. But we DIDN'T talk about their books. And we DIDN'T  share their themes. And we DIDN'T talk about how characters change and develop. And we DIDN'T  discuss writing styles and what we did or didn't like about them.  It was a one-way, written conversation and I hated it.  Yes, I HATED IT.  Mark my words, I will never assign another book report like that in my classroom. Why you ask?  For three reasons: One, because book reports have never made a student say, "Hey, I love all of this extra work that goes along with any independent reading I do in school, I think I'll check out another book!" Two, because book reports require me to try to catch cheaters - I see a word like "mundane" in a response, and I automatically have to copy and paste the sentence into Google to see if it pulls up an online summary; freshmen and sophomores don't typically use the word mundane.  Three, because I was able to "fake read" through most of my book reports and make an A on them in school, and it was a very hard habit to break in college. I was them; they are me.

There has to be a balance between creating this love of reading and holding students accountable for what and how much they are actually reading. However, I know one thing, we have to work to get to the root of the fake reading problem, and then work to fix it.  Each student's reading story is as unique as they are.  Many can't hear internal voices and picture what they see when they are reading.  Many get so lost in decoding words that they lose meaning.  Many are so over-booked with other activities that they give up reading. Many are paralyzed when we ask them to popcorn read in front of a class. There is always a root to the problem, and it is something that requires time, trust, conversations, and the willingness to try.

There are better ways to teach reading, and it will make many veteran teachers, myself included, uncomfortable.  It will, however, get those students' cute little noses in a book, or two, or twenty five. I want to try new things, even if I fail, because they old way of doing things is not creating new readers. I think this feeling of being uncomfortable has got to be better than the feeling of knowing that the majority of my students won't or can't read what I am assigning at a level they can understand.  As an adult, I do not create posters or write essays over the books I read for fun - I want to talk about them with others who are just as excited about the books they are reading as I am.  But how do you grade that?  In a world driven by GPAs. Could this be why so many teachers are clinging to the book reports and plot summaries? I know I always struggle with how to grade work like this, but does reading for fun really need a grade?  Shouldn't it be, I don't know, FUN? And fun doesn't have to mean fluff.  Fun means engaged.  Fun means diving into stories we can comprehend and lessons that change us as humans. Who knows, if I step out of my comfort zone a little, students might just fall in love with a character or a book.  It only takes one good book to break a fake reader, and it only takes one teacher who will allow it to happen on his/her watch.  I have no idea what reading will look like in my classroom this year, but I know it will look different. It's too easy to kill a good book; we must give students the time to fall in love with reading -- to snuggle up with a book and let the story take hold of their minds.  And then, we must listen.

Now back to reading about reading...

No, I Wouldn't Hate You

It is so funny when people ask what I do for a living.  It usually goes the same way:

Person: "So what do you do for a living?"

Me: "I am a teacher."

Person: "Oh. Well what grade do you teach?"

Me: "I teach big kids, high school kids."

Person: "Ohhh. What subject?"

Me: "English."​

Person: "Ohhhhhhhh. You're one of those teachers.  You would have hated me as a student. I could never sit still and I talked all of the time.  I was never a good reader or writer."

And then two thoughts enter my mind. #1. I am so sorry that you felt so unappreciated as a student that you would think that any teacher whether they knew you or not would hate you. #2. I like you as an adult, so I am quite sure I would have loved to have you as a student. Students like this are our puzzles - we teachers have to find ways to tap into how their brain works so that we can teach them what they need to know to be successful for the next 2-8 years of high school and college.​ We are not always successful, but we always try.

​And, ​truth be told, I have only taught 3 students who I prefer not to run into at Walmart.  Yes, I will walk the other way if I see them.  THREE students out of TWELVE HUNDRED. And in all three of these cases, our administration put the safety and learning of both myself and my students​ first.  I did not like the chaos those students​ brought to my classroom, but if those students would have shown back up at my classroom door and asked me to help them learn, I would have done it - no questions asked. I'll say it again: three students - only three - out of 1,200.  That is a .25% chance that I would prefer not to have a student in class or walk the other way when I saw him/her in the store.  Those are some pretty good odds. Teachers have too much to do, and we have too many students walk through our doors each year to hold grudges or to hate students. The emotion of hating someone is exhausting, and we teachers are pretty good at being exhausted without feeling hatred toward a student.  

What makes me the most sad is that I had a young man say to me the other day, "You're not going to like it when you have me in class.  I talk and wiggle, and I distract others."  He was shocked when I said, "No, I think you'd fit in just fine in my class - we talk and wiggle a lot." At ten-twelve years of age (sorry, I do not know his exact age), this young man has already established an identity for himself at school. He feels he distracts and causes problems. He has most likely earned himself a permanent spot in the hallway or an island desk in the room with no one around him. I have no doubt that he has had amazing teachers who are kind and loving towards him, but somehow he has felt like he doesn't belong.  I think we just need to figure out how to tap into his genius and let him lead. The more I teach, the more I realize that the "norm" for most students is to not fit the norm. If students fit the norm, we wouldn't need teachers to manage, facilitate and inspire; they could all learn from computers or robots.

As teachers, our words and actions are powerful. They have the power to build up or tear down.  They have the ability to make world-changers or to suck the curiosity out of students' minds. We must tell students they are important to us. We must praise them for learning gains, even if they are small - any improvement is praiseworthy; I try to remind myself that a mole-hill to some is a mountain to others. We must make our classrooms the places students want to take chances.  We need to create lessons that engage them so that they end the hour saying, "Wow, that went by quickly."

Sometimes I think the education battle we face today is because of words that were said to people decades ago.  I hear adults talk about the punishments that they used to receive. I hear of them being ridiculed in front of their classes.  I hear so many stories that I hope and pray are stories of the past.  This is why we must tell our stories - to control the narrative.  Most adults know of mimeograph copies and film strip projectors.  They don't now about the world connections we make, the amazing discussion and projects that are happening in our classes each day - maker spaces, blogging, coding.  When we turn on the news, it is not unlikely to hear about a school scandal - one bad egg can ruin it for the other dozen (or thousands and millions of good eggs).  Again, that is why we must tell our stories.  And how do we do that? Through Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.  Through blogging.  Through dinner-time conversations with friends and neighbors. It's actually so easy to do, but it just requires time and the confidence that what we are doing is worthy of being shared with others. Each time someone tells me, I think you would have hated me as a student, I think to myself, "You have no idea what really happens in my classroom or you would never say that." So, I smile and say, "No, I wouldn't hate you." What kills me is that they will never believe it.    

I Choose Laughter

It has become habit, as a teacher, to take time over the summer to reflect.  What were the struggles during the year?  How would I have handed situations with certain students differently? Do I know that my students are better readers and writers after being in my class? Did I prepare them enough for their next year in high school?  But recently, one question has been added to my list: did we laugh enough?

Laughter has become one of the most important aspects in my classroom and my hallway. Years ago, my fellow colleague John Knapp started doing "Friday Funny" videos. And, like any good teacher does, I (and a majority of our department) stole this idea. Friday is one of the most popular days in our hallway because the students know we are going to start every hour with laughter. Of course, there are times that my idea of funny and their idea of funny are not exactly the same, and they remind me that I am 20+ years older than they are, but we still laugh. They dislike when we have a 3-day weekend that starts on Friday, and they beg like crazy to watch our funny on Thursday.

I think about the time a few years ago that my students followed me down the hallway as I had to go talk to a math teacher about a student's grade. I had no idea they were behind me - they were so stealth-like. The math teacher saw them coming, read and understood their signals for him to be quiet, and then continued to have a conversation with me while they hid behind me. Imagine my surprise to turn around and be scared half to death by my entire class. It was hilarious. We laughed about that the rest of the year.

We laughed our tails off during my 5th hour this year, nearly every. single. class. period.  It was unlike any class I had every taught before.  It was class of 13 boys, and 2 very, very quiet girls.  I'll be honest, at the beginning of the year I was quite nervous as to how this class would develop and engage with each other in our learning journey.  It was not always easy.  Some expectations had to be established, but once they were - WE LAUGHED.  These kids knew when and how to crack jokes that were appropriate, well-timed, and fall-out-of-your-chair funny.  Whether it was giving each other a hard time about Chevy trucks (or was it Fords) or making funny sounds as my paras and I walked into class, they were always laughing.  Now that the year is over, I wished that I had written down the shenanigans of this class, but to me, they will always be the class that made me laugh more than any other, yet they had the amazing ability to turn it off and get to work. 

They had no idea what was written on these boards.

This is what they wanted to do after they realized what I wrote.

My department laughs. In the hallway, it is not uncommon to see 2-3 of us dancing between class periods. It is not uncommon to have a rap battle as Greg Froese and I spit the lyrics to Rob Bass's "It Takes Two". It is not uncommon for one of us to start class by entering doing the running man. Okay, so maybe I am the only one doing the running man, but another one of my colleagues often breaks into the cabbage patch (I won't share his name, but his initials are Jason Kohls, I mean J.K.). 

Sometimes as a teacher, things get tough. The weight of planning, grading, emailing, politics can be pretty heavy. So what do we do? We laugh. We may rearrange each other's classrooms from time to time. (His students loved it - they wanted to keep it that way and have class on the floor.)

Proof.

We may steal the chairs of teachers who were gone for professional learning, and we may make them find said chairs by completing a scavenger hunt written in limerick form. We may take selfies and hide them in other teachers' classrooms - behind their coffee makers, in their teachers manuals, framed on the wall, or tucked away in books that won't be used until next year. We may move a colleague's clock from the east wall in his room to the west; any educator can tell you about the chaos something as simples as changing the location of a clock or picture can bring. We may have many more jokes and pranks to play on each other, but one thing is for sure -- WE WILL LAUGH. Why? Because it is fun. Because these kids are fun. Because teaching them each day is a true blessing, so why not fill it with laughter.

Our students need to see us happy.  They need to see that we like each other and that we love our jobs.  They need to see us being loud, excited, and positive.  Laughter is a cheap and easy way to do just that. I love my job. I love my colleagues. I love my students. I love how much they make me laugh. I choose laughter. When we laugh, we build relationships; when we build relationships, learning happens.

This is OUR Classroom

Over the past few months, I have had this poster shared on my Facebook wall several times:  

I love it that people know how much I love my students and want to share ideas with me, but this is a poster that would never be allowed in my classroom.  Can you guess which phrase bothers me? It's the phrase, "This is my classroom."  

Several years ago, I read a book by Todd Whitaker called "What Great Teachers Do Differently: 14 Things That Matter Most". (In case you are interested, there is an updated version of the book.  You can buy it here if you'd like to read it.)  A quote in this book shook me to my core.  It has changed everything that I thought I knew about classroom management.  I thought being a teacher commanded respect from my students.  I thought having two degrees and years of experience could get me through any class.  I was wrong.

This.  This quote has changed how I approach classroom management.  I respect my students and they respect me.  I treat them like adults because many of my students are the adults in their households.  Many of my students struggle each day just to get to school.  They do not need me to belittle them.  They do not need to me to point out that I am their teacher. They do not need me to threaten them with consequences.  They know all of these things. There is nothing about the above poster that says, "Welcome, let's learn!"  

What most of them need is love.  They need to feel respected.  They need to feel like their ideas matter.  It is possible to do all of these things and to maintain a classroom environment that requires critical thinking and risk taking; however, in order to do that teachers must make themselves vulnerable.  We must be willing to learn our students stories.  We must try to love them, even when we don't like them.  We must know that our hearts will be broken a million times over.  We must know that for some kids, we are all they've got.  So no, this is not MY classroom.  This is OUR classroom.  This is OUR journey.  We are in this together.  That is how we learn best.  I am so thankful that I had teachers who took me on their journey years ago.  Their classrooms were MY classrooms, too, because I knew I was important to them.

I Refuse To Be a Victim of Learning

This year, I have taken a quote by May Angelou as my motto: "Do the best you can until you know better. Then once you know better, do better."  I love this quote because it reflects so many areas of my life.  Being a wife, a mother, a teacher - I try to do the best I can, and sometimes realizing that I don't know something hits me like a ton of bricks.  This happened to me this year with my view on professional learning.  Do better has become my phrase.  I can always do better.

As a student in the 90's, my teachers were the sole source of knowledge at school.  They knew the dates, background information, and important names associated with the content we were learning.  It was almost like they were part of a secret club of knowledge (ok, so really they were probably the only people in the building to have a copy of Cliff Notes with analysis and a teacher's textbook with possible test questions to add to their vast knowledge of a particular topic).  Even during my first few years of teaching, this was the case.  Students looked to me for answers and insight to the famous stories and poems that we were reading in class.  My notes and handouts were the sole source of information for them.

As a new teacher in 2003, my learning was quite similar.  I waited for my district to provide me with inservice training to fill the contracted time each year.  I was warned about dreaded inservice.  I completed the tasks that were asked of me.  I sometimes presented ideas  that were recommended by my administrators to help improve topics like reading and writing across the curriculum.  I am sure that sometimes I sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher.  In a sense, the notes and handouts from the district office were my sole source of learning.  It was a one-type-fits-all type of learning which allowed many of us to check out, fill the time, complain about how what we were learning had nothing to do with our content, and leave 15 minutes early.  It is no wonder why the uphill battle to change professional learning faces such a steep climb.  Many teachers were subjected to the kind of teaching that we abhor - there's no way we would ever teach like that, but we were learning like that. Ironically, we also know that the biggest factor to improving student learning is the effectiveness of a classroom teacher.  Those two facts just don't seem to correlate.

Whether students and their teachers know it or not, America is in the middle of an education revolution.  In my classroom, I am no longer the sole source of knowledge.  However, I am the only person who has teaching experience.  I am the only person who knows how to create a learning environment that is respectful and student-centered.  I am the only person who has completed high school and college.  I am the only person who is a mom and a wife. I am all of these things, but I am not the only person responsible for learning in my classroom.  Because of 1:1 laptops, my students have access to nearly every site I could possible use to create my lessons.  If they don't know how to use a colon correctly to introduce a list, they can look it up.  If they aren't sure how to spell a word, they can look that up, too.  Heck, they can even Youtube how to create something on Google Docs if I don't have the answer how to do it.  You see, in my classroom, we learn together.  It is okay for me to say, "I don't know the answer to that" because I have allowed myself to be part of the learning.  In class last week, I played Merle Haggard (a type of audio literacy, right?) after he passed away.  I went out to the hallway during passing period, and when I returned, a student had written his full name, his birthplace, his birthdate, and his final day on earth.  I didn't ask him to do that, but it sure helped in the discussion of who Merle Haggard was, the impact he had on music, and the fact that he has passed away the day before.  It was so cool that a student took the initiative to look that information up on his phone before class began because we all learned from it.

As a teacher, Websites like Twitter and apps like Voxer are connecting educators from across the country.  Now that I know I can connect with other educators (we call them Ts in the Twitter world), I have an endless amount of resources.  For example, the other day, I had a question about a website that allows a group of people to collaboratively create word clouds.  I tweeted out my question, and within 5 minutes I had the answer I was looking for tweeted back to me. IT WAS FANTASTIC (and the answer was a website called govote.at) A few years ago, I would not have felt comfortable doing that.  I probably would have asked my department, but there is no way I would have posted it on the internet for people to see because even then I felt like I should have those answers somewhere in my playbook.  Now that I know better, I no longer have to wait for my district to tell me what I should learn and from whom I should learn it.  I have made a choice to continue to better myself and my teaching strategies because that betters the learning that takes place for my students. 

This battle between "old learning" vs. "new learning" exists because many students and teachers alike easily approach learning as victim learners.  While no definition exists, victim learning sounds like this: "I have to be here.  I have to learn this.  I have to..." as though there is not a choice.  Being a victim of a crime or abuse is a very real and true thing, and victims deserve all the help and support that we can offer. I have no doubt that many students and teachers (myself included) have suffered through mind-numbing classes and presentations; they have been the victims of the clock, filling time until the hour or day is over. 

However, the choice now lies within us.  Each day we have a choice to try to better ourselves whether we are 15 or 55 years old.  It is no one else's choice but our own.  Many teachers are working to change this mindset in our classrooms and in our schools.  When "have to" becomes "get to" or "might", then we start taking chances and changing those thoughts.  Educators are trying to get students to take ownership of their learning and the opportunities that are presented to them by well-educated, compassionate, and driven teachers. We are trying to engage them, inspire them, and introduce them to ideas they never knew existed.  We are trying to uncross their arms and open their eyes to the fact that learning is something that no one can ever take from them. We are trying to show them their potential, but more importantly get them to realize themselves that their potential is opening up endless doors for future success.

Many teachers are also trying to change this mindset within their schools and districts.  It is okay to be positive.  It is okay to love teaching, or as I like to say, "geek out over it"!  Teaching, for me, is like being a coach.  My classroom is the field or court that I can use to make a difference in my students' reading and writing.  So, yeah, I am pretty "geeked out" about what I do each day.  It is no different than the passion I see from our band teacher, art teacher, or our head football coach - that kind of passion results in excellence.  I have a choice, and I choose not to be a victim of bad learning; it's MY choice. Not every teacher is comfortable sharing what they do online, but the choice to be positive and innovative starts in our classrooms and in our hallways.  If you want to know more about Twitter, Voxer, or the other ways that educators are networking, just ask someone who uses it.  I guarantee that they will be excited to show you a world that you never knew existed.  It is positive.  It is learning driven.  It is a choice you will never regret.