Are You Willing to Listen?

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to read one of my favorite stories to a fifth grade class in my school district. I chose to read Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel by Virginia Lee Burton. 

In this story, Mike Mulligan and his beloved steam shovel Mary Anne get themselves into a predicament. They agree to dig a cellar for the new town hall in the town of Popperville. But there's a catch; they must dig the entire cellar in one day or they won't get paid. They dig the cellar so quickly that they forget to leave a way out. It is at this point in time when a little boy - not afraid to speak up for himself - shared a solution.

I love this story for many reasons; however, my fifth-grade audience was easily able to choose the one event that hold so much power. They were quick to explain that the little boy in the story saved Mary Anne. Adults were surrounding this cellar, but it was one little boy whose idea was the solution to the problem. They did not belittle him because he was young. They did not tell him that his idea was stupid or ill-informed. These adults processed what they were hearing and they listened. And you know what? His idea worked.

As a teacher, I will never know a day when school shootings are not common place. My students and my own children practice intruder drills on regular basis. We talk about how to barricade doors. We talk about what to do if a student is in the bathroom if the intruder announcement comes over the PA system. There are so many what-ifs, but we try to talk about them in case the unthinkable happens. And that makes me sad. 

But you know what else makes me sad? We have a generation of students who are tired of going to school in fear. So what did they do last week? Across our nation, they decided it was time to stand up for themselves.  But unlike the little boy in the story, they were not met by adults with open ears. These students have been belittled. They have been called every name in the book. Some have been suspended. Some have been paddled (yes, you are reading this correctly, in 2018 - despite the research against corporal punishment - students were submitted to it at the hands of educators.) 

And sadly, in some communities, these students have received death threats. From. Adults.

Adults are quick to forget that our adolescent years were full of mistakes. Those years were also full of purpose and drive because kids are not jaded, and they are ready to take on the world. Every time I open social media, I see adults verbally bullying kids. I see them telling kids that they should study more history so that they knew what happened to the Jewish citizens under Hitler's reign (trust me, they know). I see them telling kids that they should "walk up" instead of "walk out" (as though it is their fault that they have to deal with the fear of school violence).  These students are doing their best to fix an adult problem. 

Teachers have the privilege to work with teenagers each day, and here's what we know: our students care deeply about others. They care about making an impact on the world. These students walked out because they knew it was up to them to start a conversation that is long overdue. Did every student walk out for the right reasons? No. However, I have no doubt that a majority of students did so for the right reasons. It has been almost 20 years since the massacre at Columbine - and adults have failed to protect these students. It is time that we stop blaming these students for a classmate who did the unthinkable. It is time that adults listen to these students and their ideas and then come to the table willing to act on their behalf. 

Listening is leadership. These kids need us to listen to understand, not to respond, but to truly hear them. They need to share their stories and fears. It costs nothing for them to do this. As adults, it does not change our political stance if we listen. It does not make us more liberal or conservative. It does not take away our credibility if we listen (heck, it might actually add to it). It does not mean we have gone soft if we listen. I believe with all of my heart that the solution lies with the kids. They just need us to listen. Teachers will tell you that if you give kids a chance, their stories will change your hearts and open your eyes. So the real question is: are you willing to listen? 

Imagine If...

Last weekend, I sat in bed talking with my husband. Tears ran down my face. I asked him tough questions. "Tell me about an AR-15. What makes it different than the other guns and rifles? What is a bump stock? Do we need large capacity magazines? Is there a need for a gun like an AR-15 in the hands of a common citizen?" I asked him these questions because I need to hear what the other side has to say. I wanted to listen. I wanted to learn. I come from a family of hunters and soldiers. I have my hunter's safety license. I was trained as a child to safely handle guns. I am not scared of them. I would be lying if I said that I didn't already know how I felt about weapons that are commonly used for mass shootings, but I believe in the importance of civil discourse. If I am going to teach it to my students, I am going to practice it at home, at school, at church, and in public.

Tonight a family member posted on Facebook wanting to hear from teachers who were willing to be armed. My response was, "Not a chance." I do not typically try to engage in this type of discussion online, but I have a great deal of respect for this family member and saw an opportunity to provide my thoughts on the subject. While I could tell that both of us had different opinions, I felt like I could share my side in a respectful way and she could share hers. Another family member joined the conversation and brought up the fact that we are all concerned about the welfare of our children. That is true. This is one fact in which we can agree.

Being prepared to react in a crisis situation is part of my job as a teacher. I walk into a building and see an AED, I take note. I know how to use it, and I may be called upon to do so should someone go into cardiac arrest. When I walk into a store, I look to see where the exit signs are in case I have to use my "teacher voice" to move my children or a crowd to safety. I know how to use an EPIpen. I can check a person's blood sugar. I am CPR/ First Aid certified. I am always watching. I know I have a responsibility in society that does not come with every job. I am always ready to jump in because it is what I do. However, I am not comfortable being armed, in my classroom. I am a teacher.

All of the schools in my county follow the protocol put in place by our local law enforcement officers and sheriff's department. This protocol should allow an armed officer to locate and take down an active shooter in a way that does not put more lives at risk. As hard as it is for me to say this, having an armed person on campus would most likely not stop the initial loss of life. I also know that it takes about a minute for the adults in my school to lock down a 600+ person building. This plan is a "reaction" to an active shooter.  Right now, all schools have a reactionary plan. Do we need legislation on guns? Yes. We need to have tough conversations on background checks, age requirements, and whether or not certain guns should be accessible to the public. But I feel like we are missing something here. We need to look at both sides of this issue. I spend my days teaching my students to think proactively. I ask them to think about how we can prevent situations from happening and not wait to respond once they do. In the discussion about active shooters, we are missing the what ifs.

• What if we had trained mental health professionals working within our buildings who could help our isolated students work through their emotions and give them coping skills that they could use throughout the rest of their lives? I have no doubt that our administrators, counselors and teachers do the best we can with the knowledge we have, but we are not trained mental health workers.

• What if every teacher was trauma-informed and could better meet the needs of students who are struggling in their classes? The needs of our students are changing so drastically. Many educators, myself included, simply cannot identify with the struggles our students bring to class each day. We must be formally trained to identify trauma and how to help students' brains process what is causing them to be in a constant state of distress.

• What if class sizes were smaller so that teachers would be able to better identify students who are struggling? This one seems self-explanatory. I cannot reach a class of 24 the same way I can reach a class of 14.

• What if we used restorative justice practices in our schools rather than decades-old discipline practices that simply do not work? Many schools are already starting this transition - from discipline being solely centered around punishment to discipline that is centered around learning. Teaching students to talk through their struggles and own their emotions in order to improve their actions and behaviors.

• What if instead of suspending for a student for 1-5 days, we had programs in place to put positive mentors in their lives such as local law enforcement, firemen, business owners - just to name a few? I think of how powerful it would be for a student to ride-along with a local police officer or work with a local fireman in a fire station for a morning. I think of how much a student might learn from a local carpenter or businessman. I can only imagine the conversation and soft skills that could be learned from this. It would take a village, but isn't that what our children need?

• What if instead of expelling students and sending them home to fester in anger, we were able to get them into the treatment facilities that they need - be it for anger management, mental health, or substance abuse? This one speaks for itself. I am not condoning bad choices, but most of the time, children do not have the ability or financial means to seek out the treatment they need. And let's be honest, if a student is being expelled from school, issues need to be addressed.

There are so many what ifs, and there is no simple answer. Every answer that will take a large amount of resources to sustain. These answers cannot just happen after a mass shooting, but sadly that is what drives this conversation. This is not a one-size-fits-all solution. No two communities are the same. No two schools are the same. This is an adaptive problem that will not be solved overnight; however, we cannot afford the loss of another student life. We need adults from all walks of life who are willing to sit down at the table and listen to each other. Truly listen. A few weeks ago, I was reminded that listening is leadership. Our students deserve better than adults yelling at each other through social media. Our students deserve adults sitting around a table saying, "Imagine if," and then ours students deserve action. 

Taking Ownership in Each Other

When I was in my second year of teaching, I almost hung it up. I had a class of kids who were tough. I naively thought that they would be so excited to have a new, young teacher leading them each day that they would buy in to what it is we were learning in class. Wasn't I cute? 

They didn't buy into learning. They didn't buy in to that new, young teacher. And they sure didn't buy into each other. It was after this class, that I realized the problem did not lie solely with them - I was part of the problem. I didn't know how to fix our classroom problems. From that point on, a safe, respectful learning environment has been my most important goal each year.

I try my best to get to know my students, to foster a language of respect, to create a classroom that thrives on collaboration and conversation. But Friday, I realized that I still had work to do in one of my classes. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn't think that this hour felt the same about coming to my class as other hours. So I asked them, "What word or phrase comes to mind when you think about coming to class." I asked them to be honest. They were.

Their responses: 

• Relaxed
• What are we going to do with the research paper today? 
• I hope classmates don't yell.
• I can't focus. 
• Rats - I have English.
• Reading
• Hard working
• A little bit scared of some of my classmates
• Work
• Long
• Oh boy
• AND ugh - everyone I sit with is going to be loud.

Talk about a gut check. But I'll be honest, it wasn't anything that I didn't already know. I just didn't know how to fix it. Over the past few weeks, I have spent a lot of time on the road traveling as Kansas Teacher of the Year. This particular hour has never been far from my mind. I have a new teacher in my classroom who is doing an amazing job getting to know these students and make this class her own - and she was having the same concerns that I did. These students had taken ownership of what makes our class different - flexible seating, 10 minutes of independent reading a day - just to name a few. It dawned on me Friday that I had forgotten one thing: THEY HAD NOT TAKEN OWNERSHIP OF EACH OTHER.

It was so clear to me. They had not bought into this class as a family. They had not bought into the fact that we are better together. And then, I had an idea. I showed this video: 

Every time I watch it, I am amazed at how the magic in this room just happens. Hugh Jackman doesn't have to ask anyone to start singing - they let it happen. The young lady isn't self-conscious about raising her hand while she sings - she just does it. The young man in the hoodie doesn't ask to stand on a chair - he lets the energy in the room take over. No one tells them to clap their hands. No one tells them to laugh or smile. These singers have taken 100% ownership of what they are doing because they believe in each other and are working toward a common goal.

This is what my class was missing. Ownership. So, I asked them to buy in. They got in groups with individuals that they don't normally work with. I asked them three questions:

1. What actions can no longer take place for this to be the type of class we want it to be.
2. How will you show respect to others and what will you do if we get off track?
3. At the end of the year, how will you know that you have successfully changed our classroom culture? What does a healthy, successful classroom environment look like?

You see, it dawned on me that I have done almost all that I can to create a safe learning environment - the real work is up to them. So this has become our new class goal. We are going to purposefully lift each other up. We are going to keep our goal of being part of a respectful positive learning environment as our #1 goal. If that happens, we will do amazing things in room 209.

Before they left on Friday, I asked them to share affirmations with each other. I started; I shared an affirmation with a student who moved in the middle of the year. She chose another student. He chose another student. One student affirmed the new teacher in my classroom and thanked her for the job she has done while I have been gone. We made our way around the room - sharing one compliment at a time. No one left class without a smile on his or her face. I'd say that is more important than any grammar lesson or short story that I could have planned. So Monday, they will keep building trust and respect. Monday they will get back to English. I can't wait to see what happens as they take ownership of our classroom culture. It will be so awesome to watch them lead.

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.