Hope in Our Students

Comments that were made over the past few days by the president have really had me 

thinking. Comments about other humans who just happen to be born into an environment that is poor or full of turmoil. Comments about humans who want better lives in a country known for its opportunities. But most of all, I struggle with these comments because they are about humans.

Politics are touchy, no matter how you try to handle them. I spend my days as school teaching empathy, kindness, responsibility, and right from wrong. I do my best to honor the "oath" I have taken not to impart my view on students. It does not matter if you are a Republican, Democrat, or Independent - we should all be able to agree that wrong is wrong. A wrong should never be justified to prove one person is better than another. Who wins when that happens?

You can support a person and still think that an action, comment, or policy is wrong.

Wrong is wrong is wrong - no matter how you want to spin it.

I do not judge my students if they are black, white, Hispanic, Indian, or Asian. I do not judge them if they are Republican, Democrat, or Independent. I do not judge them if they are male or female. I do not judge them if they are lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, questioning, transgender or straight. I do not judge them if they live in the most expensive house in town or a trailer home or have no home. I do not judge them because I respect them as humans, and it is my job to teach them regardless of any differences they bring to my classroom.

So why do I teach?

• I care that students see injustice when Bob Ewell assumes that Atticus will side with him simply because he is a white man in the novel To Kill a Mockingbird.

• I care that students don't understand why, in Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, Crooks isn't welcome with the other men on the farm simply because he is black.  

• I care when students feel the rudeness that is shown in the short story "Blues Ain't No Mockin' Bird" when two white men walk onto Granny's property without permission, never ask her name, proceed to call her Auntie, and then assume that she must be on food stamps because she is black.

• I care that students were able to research the reason that so many professional athletes are protesting by kneeling during the National Anthem, and I respect that they were about to have a conversation about all three sides to the controversy (those protesting, those against the protest, and what flag etiquette actually says).

• I care that they learned about the Troost divide in Kansas City and why so many neighborhoods are in disrepair.

• I care that some of them shield their eyes when we watch video of the Selma March during the Civil Rights Movements because they can't believe that humans were attacked with dogs and sprayed with fire hoses.

• I care that students are moved when they learn about slave mentality in countries like Mauritania, for it is not a state of being physically held captive that makes a person a slave.

But you see, that is part of my job -- to bring up the hurt and the pain that can be found in 

literature -- in a place that students are safe to "feel". I do this so that students know right 

from wrong when they see it happen on a national level. I care that students, no matter how they label themselves, can stand up and say, "that is not how we treat each other, and it is wrong." Days like today reinforce why I teach; I teach against the hate-filled comments that cover the news. In a world full of division, teachers model kindness, compassion, and integrity. Teachers find hope in our students; that is why we teach.

Your Class is Easy

"Mrs. Neill, thanks for a good semester. Your class is easy, and I really like that I feel successful in English."

True story - this was written in a thank you note from one of my students this year. I read that note, and doubting feelings crept into my heart. "Is my class easy? Am I challenging my students enough? Do I need to assign more homework? Should I plan more tests or quizzes? How do I make sure that my class looks like what a rigorous class should look like?"

And then, I took a deep breath, and I added that note to a list of comments that students have either said to me or written in notes. I come back to these comments when I start to doubt myself as a teacher. Some of those comments read:

• "I love to read again.
• "I finally understand how to connect two sentences correctly."
• "You are always so happy to see us when class begins.
• "You laugh at yourself when you make mistakes, I like that."
• "You interact with us the whole hour. You don't just assign work."
• "Whoa. Class is over? This class always goes by so quickly."
• "I think this is the best paragraph I have ever written."
• "I thought I was going to hate this class, and I did for a few weeks, but it turned into just what I needed."

Years ago, the comment "this class is easy" would send me into a tailspin of doubt. Now, I ask myself two questions: 

1. Are the students engaged in what we are doing - are they thinking critically? 
2. Am I making English useable for them - are they able to use this skill or technique outside of my class? 

I teach white-collar, blue-collar, and no-collar English. I teach future surgeons, soldiers, teachers, welders, and stay-at-home parents. How in the world do I possibly meet all of their needs? I can't. But I do try to make the most of the time that I have with them each day. There is a difference between rigor, difficulty, and complexity. 

We have not had a "test" this year in the majority of my classes. Does that mean my class is not rigorous or complex? My concern is no longer about trivial events in a story - I want more. I want to them to dissect characters' motives and an author's purpose for writing. Yesterday, for example, we had a pretty in-depth discussion about indirect characterization in "Masque of the Red Death" by Poe. Students discussed characters and inferred what traits and emotions were driving their actions. This led to a discussion about theme - how does a story written hundreds of years ago still relate to us to today? The answer: everyone, no matter their race, gender, or socio-economic status will face death someday - so what are we doing with the time we've been given? Next week we will look at how the idea of death is often personified. These activities and conversations tell me more about what they do and don't understand than the multiple choice tests that I used to give.

We have not had much "homework" this year. Does that mean my class is not rigorous or complex? I have asked students to start dedicating 10 minutes a night to independent reading. To this day, they have completed 562 novels. By becoming readers, they are doing so much to improve their understanding of how our language works. Every student has finished at least one book, and most of them will tell you they have read more in the last semester than they ever have. Yesterday, we tied our independent reading into our conversation about indirect characterization. I asked students to find an instance of indirect characterization in their own books, tell me what that quote taught them about the character being discussed, and then asked them to relate it back to a personal experience. We walk through the thinking process step-by-step so that they can do it without me their to guide them someday.

I have not just handed out examples or notes this year. Again, does that mean my class is not rigorous or complex? This year in my technical writing class, I could have just handed them sample resume. Instead, I had them look for what the experts said - what did they need to include in their resume to showcase their best attributes? I want them to walk through the learning process because a few years from now, they will do that - without guidance from a teacher. For some students, this is frustrating because they want to get the work done quickly. However, for most students, this teaches them to think critically, to decipher information, and to apply what they are reading to their own work. 

As a teacher, I rely on this informal "data" - because my class and the learning that takes place does not look like it did in years past. I used to be solely focused on end results - projects, posters, tests, and papers. Now, the learning process holds just as much weight. Students have to be able to identify ways that they have improved when they leave my classroom doors in May - or I have not done my job. They must "own" their learning. These kiddos have to be able to take what we are doing in class and apply it across content areas when they read and write. Students don't always have the words to describe their knowledge or understanding. So when a student says, "this class is easy" - I no longer dive into a tailspin of doubt. That is the phrase that causes me to stop, reflect and have a conversation about the learning taking place in my classroom. I am not perfect. I do not have all of the answers. Every day, I try to do better.

Let's Celebrate What Students CAN Do

Last week a student came bouncing into class and said, "Mrs. Neill, you are going to be so proud of me. I finished a book." And you know what, he was right - I was SO proud of him. We celebrated the fact that he completed a book, he wrote down his title, added a number to the class total and then headed to the library.  The next day in class, we celebrated a young lady who read the largest number of pages in one sitting that she could remember - I told her I was proud of her. Her mom messaged me that night on Facebook to tell me that her daughter was home reading again because of the recognition I gave her for her hard work. I also got to celebrate a student last week in an IEP meeting. This was a meeting that was filled with concerns about his learning - how his plan would follow him to college and how he can utilize resources to be successful. That's when I interjected and shared that he has read two free-verse novels this year. It was so much fun to see the conversation shift and the mother's shoulders raise - from worry about what her son was struggling with in school to what her son has already done this year. I have no doubt that this mom knows I am on her side. I also think that in the middle of that meeting, it dawned on me how much these students need to be celebrated.

When students walk into my classroom, many have already labeled themselves as bad readers and writers. They feel as thought they have spent years being asked to fix what they are doing incorrectly, even though I know that teachers do their best to balance the compliments with the criticism. Last year it dawned on me that I was going about my teaching the wrong way. Instead of pointing out what they were doing wrong, what would happen if we started with what we were doing right? What I wasn't expecting was how difficult that would be for some of my students.

We started with reading - we record our pages each day to check our progress. I simply ask students what pages they are on, write down the number they say, and then we start our 10 minutes of reading.   I don't need to see their books to check pages. I trust them, and they respect that. As of now, in 9 weeks, they have read 226 books. I trust them. We preview books. We keep a "to-read" list. We celebrate a 10 page increase from the previous days reading the same way we celebrate a 100 page increase. It costs me noting -- zip, zero, zilch -- to say aloud, "Wow, good job," or "You put in some reading time last night, " or my favorite: "Whoo hoo!" But you know what, taking the time to recognize effort puts smiles on their faces and a willingness in their hearts to keep trying. They now let me know if they don't like a book. They stick around after class to tell me about their book. We celebrate their reading successes in class, and they are beginning to love reading again. It is a beautiful sight.

Sometimes, (just like a mom who sneaks into her children's rooms to watch them sleep) I just stop and look in awe of them and their reading habits. I love these kids to pieces!

I have also changed how I approach writing. True story - I am teaching white collar, blue collar, and no collar English. The majority of my students are not going to be English majors, but they will all have to write throughout their lives. When these kiddos walk out of my classroom, they need to be able to identify the techniques they have learned that have improved their writing. One of the activities we do is we look for "red flag" words, and we learn grammar rules or patterns specific to those words. We drop the grammatically correct terms, and make them useable. As much as it pains this former sentence diagrammer to say it, students do not need to be able to tell me that a coordinating conjunction is joining two independent clauses. One example of how we do this is we look for the word "and" in our sentences; we try to determine if "and" is joining a list of two words, a list of three or more words, or two simple sentences. Once we can determine what the word is doing in a sentence, we know how to punctuate it. When it comes to revising our writing, students now have a game plan. They know to look for those words and determine their function in the sentence. They know check for any punctuation marks surrounding them. So much of writing is a mind-game. It is being able to tell their inner critics to hush-up because they know there are doing a few more things better on this essay than the last. It is a way to know before turning in that you have done everything right that you can -- that is a powerful feeling. In a sense, we celebrate what we are doing right which allows us to be more open about what we need to improve.

These are just two ways the approach to learning in my class is changing. I am constantly asking myself, how can I celebrate the good that students are bringing to my class each day? How can I make students feel appreciated for taking chances in their reading or writing? Energy attracts like energy - this is why I will continue to work each day to establish a classroom environment that attracts risk-taking and celebrating. (And, it is fun!)

How can you celebrate your learners - to meet them where they are at, lift them up, and then watch their learning soar to levels they never knew were possible?

Be Open

Almost two years ago, I had a colleague come to me about a new student in her class. She was concerned that he should be moved into Honors Freshman English because of his love for reading and writing. She was concerned for two reasons: it was already October -- almost half way through the semester, and she was thinking of moving him to an honors class which would take longer for him to get caught up. But she felt the need to advocate for him. To look at all of the options. To push for answers.

In October of 2015, this young man joined my class. He was always the last to leave. He always thanked me for teaching him, and told me to have a good day. There was something about him that was genuine, and I needed to know more.

You see, sometimes as teachers, we have to guard our hearts. If we truly knew every student's story, we may never be able to walk into the classroom and teach because the emotional weight of it all is so much to carry. Our students overcome trauma that would knock the feet out from most adults. But these kids, they are resilient. They are fighters. They are smart, and considerate, and courageous. Nevertheless, we do the best we can to learn about our students. We celebrate their victories, big and small. We hurt when their hearts are hurting. We lie awake concerned, often in prayer, for these students that fill our rooms each day. So I took a chance and let my heart be open to learning his story.

Every day that this student walked out of my classroom, a part of me changed. As I allowed my heart to be open to his story, I learned about a young man who was in foster care, unsure of what would happen to him in an over-loaded system. Each day I learned more about his story, and each day a voice in my head whispered, "You could help him." And then one day, he called. His mother had signed away her rights.

It took many months for me to listen to my gut, to have a conversation with my husband about this young man. To be honest, we were both a little surprised that we so easily agreed to open our home to a teenager. 

And so, a year ago today, my family changed. On August 29, 2016, our teenager walked into our home for the first time with everything he owned stuffed into trash bags -- we were forevermore a family of five. My two younger sons had an automatic big brother. He now walks them to school, watches Pokemon with them, and takes them fishing. My husband and I gained another son - who has been "all in" from the get-go. We jumped full speed into cell phones, driving, college, and dating. My soon-to-be-adopted son has two parents who treat him as their own. He now has a safe home, with rules, expectations, laughter and love.

This colleague of mine, no doubt, saved his life. She was open to the possibility that there was more we could do as a school to help this student. And she saved his life. As a mom, I will never be able to thank her enough for this - for going the extra mile.

We teachers have the greatest job in the world. We get to walk into a classroom full of students each day, and be open to learning alongside them, open to their stories, and open to the future potential they hold. Little did I know, that by being open, I would gain another son. It makes me curious to see what this year holds. Teachers, love these kids fiercely. Fight for them each day. Be open. It may just change your life. It might just save theirs.

This Is How We've Always Done It

One of the most dangerous phrases in an ever changing world is, "this is the way we've always done it." That phrase does not support innovation. It does not support future-driven thinking. It does take us back to days gone by, when life seemed slower and simpler, but it does little to impact the future. It is deeply rooted in fear -- and fear stifles growth. 

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to learn a writing technique from a former teacher of mine, Mr. Manes. This technique (we call it SEED writing) makes so much sense, and it blends seamlessly into all content areas in our school. I remember commenting, "Where was this when I was in school?" Conversation followed, and my former teacher asked me a question that has not left me to this day. 

He said, "If given the chance, would you want your children to go to the school you went to as a kid, or would you want your children to go to the school in which you currently teach?" 

Without much hesitation, I answered, "Hands down, where I teach." 

This brought on such a juxtaposition of emotions. As a high school student many years ago, I felt success as a writer for the first time in Mr. Manes's class. And, to be honest, as a new teacher, I used many of his techniques in my own classroom. I felt a sense loyalty to the effort and energy that he poured into our class each day - the countless papers he graded, the class discussion that he facilitated, the characters he brought to life, and the corny jokes he played on us. But you see, it was then that I realized if this amazing teacher can continue to change and adapt to meet his students needs -- SO. CAN. I. 

If you ask teachers what inspired them to become a teacher, you will most likely be told about former educators and coaches who changed their lives. I used to think that by teaching the way I was taught, I was paying tribute to the amazing teachers who taught me. My teacher heroes -- Mr. Manes, Mr. Rankin, Ms. Larson, and Mr. Smith -- are a large part of why I became a teacher. As crazy as this sounds, I think a part of me feared that I would somehow let my former teachers down, or even negate the impact they had on my life if I changed the way I taught. I now know this simply is not true.

I believe, with all of my heart, that my former teachers were innovators. I believe that they used the tools and resources at their disposal to teach us the best way they knew how. I also know that the tools and resources that I currently use as a teacher are far surpassing. Because of tools such as Twitter and Voxer, I can learn with colleagues (from all over the world I might add) 24/7, all year long. Because of tools such as Google Docs, my students can collaborate on collective writing assignments while I give real-time feedback; I can also alter assignments as we are working on them to better meet the needs of individual classes and students. Because of websites like Flipgrid, I can raise student voice in my classroom at a time when their voice is being lost to text messaging and digital communication. These tools did not exist when I was in school, but the student in me sure wishes they had. 

When the statement, "this is how we've always done it" is made, I now respond with, "Yes, but is it what's best for kids?" Sometimes the answer is yes. However, for a long time, I let fear drive my decisions - I did what was comfortable. I did not concisely do this. This makes sense if you think about it. I have the honor and privilege of working with people's most prized possessions - their children. The stakes are high, and failure is scary. But to not grow because I am scared, to not take a chance and throw out a lesson plan and replace it with new resources and technology, to not collaborate with other teachers and take a risk with my teaching style - that is educational malpractice. As one of my favorite coaches used to say, I was playing not to lose instead of playing to win. That's no way to play the game, and that's no way to teach a class.

So, I remind myself, to be open to change. I have no idea what each year of teaching will hold for me because every year my students needs are different. Every year my resources change. What I do know is that I must always be able to answer the question, "Is this what's best for kids" with a solid, unwavering, "YES," no matter how uncomfortable that makes me feel. Be open - let your heart be open to a brand new year full of brand new opportunities. 

So There's This Kid...

Every year, my husband can count on me coming home from work at least one time throughout the year and starting a conversation by saying, "So there's this kid at school," and ending it with a comment like: "He needs a new pair of shoes," or "She needs a new backpack," and sometimes even, "I told (insert student's name here) that we have a futon if s/he needs a safe place to sleep tonight." My husband has always been supportive of these requests. But you see, last year my request was a little different. There was "this kid", and he needed a home - a family - and for some crazy reason, I thought our family might just be the right one. 

"This kid" joined my Honors Freshman English class a few weeks into the school year after being placed in foster care. He was a smart, polite, hard working young man. Everyday he was one of the last kids out of the classroom. He always said thank you and told me to have a good day. I didn't know what it was about him, but something deep down told me that he had a future ahead of him IF he had the right adults in his life.  A year ago, on the last day of school, I gave "this kid" my school business card with my phone number on it. I told him to call me and keep me updated on his summer and his status in foster care. 

On July 4th, 2016, he called me. Now this may not seem like a big deal, but I was headed to the lake, in a car loaded with presents, cake, and food for my youngest son, our firecracker baby who was turning three. As I answered the phone, I was greeted by a familiar voice - it was "this kid" who went on to tell me about his summer, to apologize for not getting in touch with me sooner, and to tell me that his mom had terminated her rights as a parent. Back. The. Truck. Up. Here I was, on the phone with a fifteen-year-old boy who was now an orphan. It nearly knocked the wind out of me. It took everything that I had not to turn around and drive back to town to go get him. I was in car full of presents for my son, and on the phone was a boy whose mom walked away from him. I can't imagine how scary it was for him to have a future of so many unknowns.

From that day forth, my husband and I researched what it would take to become foster-parents. We called and added our names to his list of people. We were told that he was in permanent care. Surprisingly, we were a little heart-broken. And then, the day before I went back to work last August, we got a call about "this kid" - were we still interested in helping him? Ten days later, "this kid" was safe and under our roof and the journey began. We talked to family and friends. We attended TIPS-MAPPS classes. We fixed our home so that it could be approved by DCF. We re-certified our CPR/First Aid trainings. We filled out form after form. Nearly six months later, we received our permanent foster-care license. It is all a little foggy now, but we were supported every step of the way from our workers at St. Francis. We accomplished in six months what most families accomplish in over a year. We were tired to our bones, but he was worth it. So there's "this kid" who used to call me Mrs. Neill, but now it's just mom.

Nothing about this really made sense at the time. We had two little boys. We always thought we'd do this after they were grown. We were very involved with our jobs, community, and church. We were busy. But we had a home. We had the income to do it. We had an extra bedroom. We had knowledge about working with kids. We had love to give. It wasn't perfect, and it hasn't always been easy; however, I guarantee that we have given "this kid" -- who will someday be "our kid" with our last name -- a safe place to call home.

So yeah, there's "this kid", and he calls us mom and dad. We get to cheer him on in cross country and track. We get to check his grades and his phone. We get to teach him how to drive. We get to love him as our own. Our two youngest sons have a built-in big brother. I'd say we are all pretty lucky to have found each other.

Never look past "that kid" in your classroom.  You may end up being more than just a teacher to him/her. Someday, "that kid" could become "your kid." For us, that happened on July 4th, 2016, and we are so thankful.

***Update: at 9:55 on July 3rd 2017, we received a call that we were officially approved in the Best Interest Staffing meeting to adopt our son. Yep, God's timing is perfect.  Always.
***In January 2018, our family became an official family of FIVE!

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There are so many ways that educators can help children in foster care, and the need is there. Please call your local agency to inquire if you have questions about how to help "that kid" in your class. If you aren't an educator, but you have the means to help I'd also encourage you to do so. The need for good foster homes is at an all-time high. This doesn't necessarily mean that you have to open your home to foster a child - but going the extra mile for that child could make all the difference in the world. Options such as CASA, respite care, and CarePortals are out there, and every bit helps.  (Feel free to get in touch with me via Twitter @SJNeill13).

My Non-Negotiables

I buttoned up my suit coat, adjusted my collar, and walked in to teach my first class. It was January 2003 - Ms. South had arrived. By the time the day was over, I had sweat through my shirt and jacket, and I had some of the worst foot cramps I have ever experienced (because somehow I thought that the higher the heels, the more authority I would have over my students. Ha! Isn't that cute?). I was told to set boundaries - keep students in clean rows and keep my desk at the center of attention. I was advised by many veteran educators to start "mean" (I am paraphrasing here) - not to smile too soon in the semester, to be firm with my expectations because it was important to keep things black and white. When it came to my classroom, it was "my way or the highway". I was told that teaching would get easier. I was told to keep my lesson plans in a binder so that I didn't have to reinvent the wheel each year. I believed that a quiet classroom meant that I was doing my job to maintain structure and order. I thought I knew it all. So, I did what I knew, and boy was I ever wrong.

Looking back, it is easy for me to see that Ms. South was scared of her students - scared that she would not teach them well enough, scared that they would hate her class, scared to love them. Ms. South wanted there to be no question as to who was in charge - hence the high heels. Ms. South had a classroom that was designed around her needs - not the needs of her students (I actually remember telling them that certain parts of the room were off-limits). Quite frankly, if Ms. South was going to make it in education - her beliefs and opinions towards school had to change.**

Over the past several years, my teaching beliefs and classroom management have gone through a transformation. I have thrown out my lesson binders. I have given up my teaching desk. I have created a flexible seating classroom that is oftentimes LOUD because students are collaborating and engaged. I do do these things not because they are trends but because I am not the same teacher I was 15 years ago. That makes me proud. If Mrs. Neill met Ms. South in the hallway today, the first thing I would do is march down to the office and ask my principal to be her mentor. If I could go back, I would tell myself to follow my heart and do what is best for kids rather than what is convenient for me. When teachers put kids in the center of the learning, that's when the magic happens. As a young teacher, I did the best I could with what I knew, but thank goodness I never quit learning. I never quit looking for a better way to reach kids and teach the content they need to be successful in life.

So where does this leave me? There are some non-negotiables that define what takes place in my classroom.  It is important that I write them out, but also important that I am willing to edit and change my list as needed - for my school, for my students, and for my own personal learning. I challenge you to think about your Top 5 Non-Negotiables.

1. I will continue being a positive, connected educator who tweets and blogs about her students, philosophies, and colleagues. This is not bragging about what I do - this is a shift in my beliefs that in order to be the best teacher I can be, I must be connected to the best teachers I can find - be it in my hallway, building, district, or online. I will never apologize for sharing my classroom stories or sharing new ideas that may connect me to other like-minded educators.

2. I will never tell a class to shut up or cuss/ degrade/ berate them - NEVER. There is enough negativity and anger outside of the four walls of my classroom - ain't nobody got time for that in room 209. 'Nuff said.

3. I will never create work for students to complete so that I can grade. Not doing it - simple as that. Our time is too short for me to sit and grade, while my class works compliantly on the next task. I may not be the timeliest of graders, but I think you would find a student hard-pressed to say that we aren't working together from bell to bell. Man, those classes go by so quickly. (And that's the goal!)

4. I will continue to develop my love for life-long reading. True story - making time to read has never been a strength of mine, but now I see how important my role is in my students' reading lives. My students and I are more similar than different in this area, but we are improving one book at a time. Reading time is a priority.

5. I will learn and laugh alongside my students. Newsflash: students are smart, and extremely funny. And call me crazy, but it seems the more we laugh, the more we learn. What a crazy correlation!

So I challenge you - what are your Top 5 Non-Negotiables? Take some time to think about it, chew it around, but then act. Make yourself a note, blog about them, tweet them out, discuss them with your colleagues as you start the year - but most importantly, STICK TO 'EM! (And if the new teacher-you is completely different than the old teacher-you, enjoy the ride because it gets better every year!)

**I might add that we tend to be our own harshest critics, which is probably true in this blog post; however, I cannot imagine what my teaching career would have been like if I had continued teaching the same way every year. Oh wait, yeah I can...I'd no longer be a teacher.