My supervisor recently gave me copies of The Poetry Friday Anthology by Sylvia Vardell and Janet Wong for both my campuses. There are weekly poems inside for grades K-5, along with tips on reading each poem with your class. I've only scanned it briefly so far, but I'm eager to read through several more poems! I thought it might be fun to make videos for teachers to use next year in class with some of the poems -- you guys, if I could stand on my head and recite poetry, and if it would get more poetry into classrooms -- I would do it!
So here is my first attempt! I used a fun app called Tellagami. It's free, and allows you to create a character and either record your voice or use text to speech to animate a 30 second video. You can choose from the backgrounds provided or upload your own image.
This is me reciting Night Comes by Deborah Chandra, which is in the 5th grade section for week 32 and chosen as a poem for noticing metaphor and simile. What do you think?
First: Happy Ides of March! This will be my first time in a few years to not post about the Ides on the 15th, but something has come up that is a little more important than my love of the Ides!
One week ago yesterday, I was running around work like a complete crazy woman, attempting to finish up all the last minute details that needed attending before Spring Break was in full swing.
The Husband was road tripping to Oklahoma to meet up with the amazing people that are responsible for bringing our newest little love into our lives.
At the end of the school day, I made my normal rounds through the computer labs and library to turn off all the computers. My principal and a couple teachers were in talking with me, everyone excited to be headed off for a week of relaxation. The library door opened and in walked The Husband. In his arms was my sweet, big new boy -- Grimm! After many puppy snuggles, I loaded him up in my car and drove him the rest of the way home. He slept the whole way, all curled up like a roly-poly.
My gorgeous guys!
Grimm took no time at all making himself at home. He is headstrong, brave, smart, and always on the go. He is learning how to wait at the door before coming in or out, wait to be told "okay" before eating his meals, and is learning to walk beside me without a leash. It definitely helps that he loves his treats.
He also loves to sleep. In odd positions.
Last night I had my first training "aha" moment with him. A few days ago I started working on shaping with Grimm. I had read that shaping (as opposed to luring or other training methods) is a great way to let your dog think their way through problems, so I figured -- why not? I want to build a strong bond with Grimm, and I think this will be a fun way for us to grow a relationship.
We have three cinderblocks stacked side by side to make a small platform on the porch that we used when we were teaching Lily to stay. I walked over to it and when Grimm followed, I clicked (and treated) that behavior. I repeated this a few times and then the next time we went over to the platform again, I just waited. He put a paw on the blocks, so I "clicked" on that. Then two paws, then four, then he sat - each time I "clicked" on the new behavior. Then I walked around and kept returning to the blocks and each time he followed me around and got up there and sat right away!
Grimm on the run with Lily close at his heels!
I'm not going to lie, I was pretty much thinking -- "Wow, so this shaping thing actually works??" Then he got too smart and when I walked away he didn't follow me, he just stayed right there watching me and waiting for me to come back to him, because obviously I had shown him that if he sat there long enough I would bring him a treat. Smart dog! I should have realized that with each time I left the platform, he stayed there a little longer -- guess he was also working on shaping my behavior!
At this point I realized that I could either click for him staying there and shape our way to a long stay (maybe??) or reset and get him back to hopping up onto the blocks. I clicked and rewarded for how long he stayed, then said okay and he hopped down and trotted over to me. I learned SO many things from this 10 minute session playing this game with him! Number one: time to buy a book on shaping - I know a little, but I need to know so much more! This little guy is going to easily outsmart me at every turn.
So I definitely have a lot to learn, but it's easy to enjoy the process when I'm staring into this precious face.
Yesterday I wrote about a field trip to the Amon Carter Museum, and how two of the experiences there have resonated with me through the years. I failed to share a photograph of the sculpture I referenced yesterday, but it's worth a look:
A Bronc Twister, Charles M. Russell; Amon Carter Museum
The second piece from that field trip that I use often in class is titled Ease, by William Michael Harnett.
Ease, by William Michael Harnett; Amon Carter Museum
Although it may not look it, Ease is a type of self portrait. The subject of this work commissioned the painting to tell a story about his life, without needing to appear in the painting itself. When I was gathered with my young writers at the museum, we stood in front of the painting, making a list of all the objects we could see and brainstorming ideas of what type of life the person owning these objects may have led. They noticed the fine details; some talked about the discoloration in the papers, others were distressed over the lit cigar sitting on top of what appears to be a newspaper. We wondered aloud about the envelope at the center of the portrait, as well as the array of instruments. Afterward, they were given time to write a quick creative story about the person behind the portrait.
I sometimes use this painting with my writers at the beginning of the year or when we're struggling to find ideas for writing. By giving them time to draw, create a collage, or use digital media to create a representation of themselves -- in objects that portray their lives -- each student quickly comes up with a long list of subjects, ideas, memories, and passions that make up the details of his or her life. From there, we're off and running with multiple story ideas. It's a surefire why to kickstart any struggling writer's creativity.
This activity is a favorite of mine for self-reflection, as well. Although I can't pinpoint why this painting resurfaces in my mind over and over again, it has, and each time I find myself thinking about Harnett's work, I take some time to think about what would be found in my own similar portrait. Through the years some things change, of course -- I've traded in stacks of baby diapers for my childrens' college paperwork, for one! But many remain the same: dogeared journals, favorite books, a simple sapphire and diamond ring given to me by my parents on my thirteenth birthday, to name a few.
My newest idea is to take these multiple journal entries from over the years, turn them into poems, add photographs, and create a timeline of my life. As always, I am amazed by how contemplating works of art acts as a catalyst for my creativity as a writer. Ironic, since I know how helpful it is to my students. Perhaps I need to remember that what is good for creativity is always good, no matter the age of the artist.
One of the best field trips I've ever taken a class on was to the Amon Carter Museum of American Art in Fort Worth. It was a writing trip, so as we took a tour through the museum, our guide asked my students questions meant to help them think deeply about the paintings and sculptures they viewed, or to respond creatively to the work.
There are two moments from this trip I think of often and refer back to when working with young writers.
While viewing a bronze sculpture of a cowboy riding a horse, our guide explained how much work the artist put into the creation of the piece. At first glance you see a horse and rider. But when you look closely, truly inspect the sculpture, all the fine lines and intricate detail becomes clear. Without going back and reworking this piece continually, the final product would not be as striking. It's an excellent lesson on revision.
I was at the Kimball Art Museum recently with my two youngest to see the Picasso and Matisse exhibit. We found ourselves in front of Matisse's Bathers by a River.
Bathers By a River, Matisse - Art Institute of Chicago
He began this piece in 1909, completing it in 1917 after years of rethinking his style and reworking the canvas. The final product is actually quite different as he repainted much of the canvas when reworking it.
This has become my favorite painting. I love the message I found in his years of revision; there is meaning there for me as a writer, certainly -- but also as a person. I think we are all a little like Bathers At a River. Starting out as one thing, changing as our knowledge and beliefs evolve, and reworking ourselves to portray the learning we've done through the years.
Tomorrow I'll share my second aha moment from that long ago field trip - and a little more artwork, ask well.
Easter celebrated with family,
A beautiful finished harlequin floor,
Lunch with friends and a reminder to make time for the happy moments,
A phone call that may just lead to a dream job,
Wrote side by side with eager learners,
Shared the power of "believe" with Dos,
Remembered the strength in helping people be their best,
Time with The Husband turning our house into a home,
Stepped out on faith and still trusting the process,
Asked questions of my learners instead of giving them the answers,
Said yes to a possibility that holds infinite rewards,
Found the strength to be honest about where my shame hides,
Enjoyed quiet moments at home with Dos and The Husband,
Thankful for Dos' quick recovery from the surgery that rattled my nerves,
Learned patience and dedication through our work in the house,
Beat my head against the wall over floors that didn't want to be transformed,
Laughed with friends over ridiculous Shakespearean insults,
Stretched my ability to grow comfortable with my soon-to-be 20 year old son,
Grabbed up my old writing self and refuse to let her go,
Connected with the reasons to hold fast to dreams,
Became an experienced floor grinding, concrete sanding, staining expert,
Searched my heart for the path I want to be on,
Reflected on my life as a writer,
Lived through an in-home dust storm,
Cherished my mom on her special day,
Lamented the pains of a boy that I miss every moment,
Sent out a passionate call to action for educators everywhere,
Battled it out with The Husband on the first round of floor tear down,
Finally (finally) chose the right shade of grey for the living room and took action,
Told the truth of my hermit crab mental life,
Made a promise to write without ceasing for thirty-one days.
All in all, I'd call March a success.
My heart is full, my life is energized, my family and friends are healthy.
And it only gets better from here. April is already promising to offer more everyday blessings.
This summer, I followed the Stenhouse Summer Blogstitute. A variety of amazing authors posted on their blog each week and readers were asked to respond in the comments. If the wealth of information shared in the blog posts wasn't enough of a reason to follow, anyone that shared a comment each week was entered into a drawing to win five (5, people!!) Stenhouse titles.
I could not be more pleased with my selection! After reading the first few chapters, I realized I wanted to share what I was reading with some of my teacher friends. And this little bloggy book study was born. This week I reread chapters 1 & 2, highlighting the points that stood out to me.
Chapter One
Here's a favorite quote from the first two chapters (found in chapter one):
"Teachers don't need any more numerical 'data.' What they need is validation to use the data that matters most--like student work and student talk--to help them figure out next steps for the learners in their educational care."
I connect to this book on several levels -- her sour taste for assessment along with the desire to really know her students quickly grabbed my interest. I feel exactly the same way. But I do like that right away she lets the reader know she doesn't feel like assessment deserves all the blame:
"I realized that assessment wasn't the enemy; it was the way it was being used to judge and punish instead of inform and help educators get smarter about teaching and learning."
I also thought her comparison between multiple choice tests and open-ended questions was spot on! Just because a student can ace a multiple choice test does not mean they know the material. I think the same is true in reverse. Who hasn't been completely bewildered or frustrated when a student bombs a test over material they know?
If you know me at all, you've probably seen my eye-rolling sneer when the topic of standardized testing comes up. I abhor the district benchmarks, grumble about the STAAR, and shake my head at any assessment that barely skims the surface of what my students know and the progress they have made from where we began. I really identified with Tovani's thoughts on how she had mostly ignored the assessments she was forced to give, even while feeling it wasn't the best way to handle things. I often feel the same way. Finding a balance between the standardized testing students must take and my personal feelings on assessment is a difficult thing for me!
Chapter one ended with our first challenge -- write and define your definition of assessment. Again, this really challenges my over-analytic brain to make some concrete decisions! But if I have to put it in words, this is my working definition of assessment: any interaction or work example that shows a picture of what a student knows and understands at a given time. This can include what seems like an infinite number of possibilities. Audio clips, video, photographs, written work, blog posts ... really, anything that I can use to inform me on where my student is and what they need from me to grow -- that's assessment.
Chapter Two
You guys! I had a hard time narrowing down my favorite quote from this chapter, but here you go:
"When I know my students well, I am a better teacher."
This chapter involved a lot of fist pumping and excited book waving about in the air. I may have read sections to my husband and then stared at him all doe-eyed expecting him to engage me in deep, meaningful conversation about the importance of getting to know your students.
This did not happen.
Instead, I'll share here, because I know you guys will be much more excited. First of all, you need to know that I have been using the Conversation Calendars for about a month in my classroom. I love them! I started out letting students just write to me about anything they wanted. I was a little nervous, thinking they might not give me much to work with. I mean, I'm no Cris Tovani -- maybe those calendars are magical in her classroom, but in mine they were just going to be extra paper littering my classroom floor.
But wow -- I mean, honestly. Without the calendars, I wouldn't have learned that one of my students blames herself for her parents divorce. I wouldn't know the struggles one of them has every day with a difficult sibling. I wouldn't know many things. And they might not know how much I care. But every Tuesday and Thursday we write back and forth to each other and learn about one another and become a tighter community. It's golden. I just love it. Have I mentioned that already?
A couple weeks ago, I started asking them to write to me about the read aloud we're doing in collaboration with The Global Read Aloud. We're reading The One and Only Ivan and this is a book that practically begs for hours of rich discussion. It doesn't matter how much we discuss in class, everyone always has more to share. So we are sharing through the calendar and I am learning so much about them as people and as readers -- I know who is grasping the deeper themes and who is paying attention to word choice and figurative language. I can tell which of them could benefit from some note taking as I read (sticky notes, sketches, word captures, whatever works) and which do better to just sit and listen. It is a magical thing, but not just in Tovani's room. It's working in mine, too. When we finish this book, I'll have students start responding to their own reading. I'm excited to see where that leads us.
I feel strongly that student-teacher relationships make all the difference in the success of every student. Brain research tells us that all humans need to be enveloped in a safe environment for learning to take place. I work hard to make my students feel secure enough to take risks and explore learning.
The challenges in this chapter really stuck with me. It's so important that we show our students that we see them -- not just that they are a body in our classroom, but that we acknowledge their importance in the universe, and we respond to it.
Tovani's student surveys seem like a great way to let students know that you are invested in their success. Next week I plan to ask my students what they believe their role is as a reader. What do they think about all the reading we do? What importance do they put in it? I'm interested in those answers.
The challenge at the end of chapter two also included asking readers to make a list of student needs and to-do's. In my Evernote app, each student has a notebook with a list like this (created after my first read of this chapter). I love having this in the app, because anytime I learn something new about a student I can use my phone to enter new info into their note. Before reading about this, I always thought getting to know my students was something I was pretty good at. But having this ongoing list keeps it at the front of my mind, and I find I'm learning more about my students than ever before.
Next Week
For next week, read chapters three and four and be ready to share some more reflections!
As a follow up to the lesson we did in class Monday, today I talked to my students about having a clear mind. I'd love to take credit for this fabulous visual representation of what happens in our mind when we get all jumbly-bumbly from the stresses around us, but all props must go to Susan Kaiser Greenland, author of The Mindful Child and the Inner Kids program, which teaches mindfulness through games and activities. Check it out!
But in the meantime, here's Susan using a jar of water and baking soda to show kids how breath awareness can help us calm our minds when life gets crazy.
I did the same activity with my class today, which was especially fitting as we had a science test that they were a little worried about. Before adding the baking soda to the water we talked about how we feel when we are calm, taking time to notice where we feel "calmness" in our body. We also talked about what it feels like when things around us start to bug us. I brought up our hula hoop experience, so we were able to add in a discussion about how it feels when people get in our personal space or when we allow others to start making choices for us. My students impressed me with their ability to define how and where they feel their frustrations -- in their chest, their stomachs, their head, and one student even said in his fist! As we talked about that, I added in baking soda and had them call out all the things that bother them -- the room got louder and louder as the water turned into a thick white cloud.
And then I asked them to take a moment and just breathe. I told them that when I need to get control of myself, I sometimes image that there is a string attached to my head that is pulling my body straight and tall, and then I take a nice, long deep breathe. So we all did that together. One of my kids quietly commented that the water was beginning to clear up.
We talked about how nice it is to have a way to let the frustrations that come into our mind sink away and focus on ourselves instead.
Throughout the day they brought up the jar, which I left sitting on my desk all day. They also wrote about their experience and how they thought they could use picturing the jar in their mind along with taking three deep breaths to help destress. At the end of the day, a few of my students even said they used this technique during our test and were looking forward to trying it at home when their brothers or sisters started bugging them!
Here's one example of their writing today:
I'm excited to check in with them tomorrow to see how it went!
Last week I spent three days in San Francisco at the 31st Learning and the Brain Conference. I had the privilege of listening to powerful presentations from Dr. Dan Siegel, Susan Kaiser Greenland, and Michael Posner, among several other researchers and authors in the field of neuroscience and education . A common theme throughout the conference centered on attention, self control, and mindfulness. In fact, I had the good fortune to be there at the same time that Jon Kabat-Zinn was speaking at a benefit for Mindful Schools, and enjoyed an evening at Berkeley gleaning a stronger understanding of the need for mindfulness education in our schools.
Seventeen hours packed full of statistics, graphs, anecdotes, research, and practical application is a lot to try to synthesize back into one cohesive framework to take back to the classroom, so last night I was tossing and turning while visions of attentive, well-rounded children danced in my head. I came up with a couple ideas on how to use simple methods to begin teaching my class the benefit of executive function and mindfulness.
First, a quick definition: executive function sounds super fancy, but it is really a simple concept -- think about a game of Simon Says. When playing Simon Says, a child must suppress the urge to perform the action they hear when the speaker leaves out the trigger words "Simon says..." Executive function is all about impulse control, attentiveness, and self-regulation. Mindfulness in a school setting is used to help students learn to focus attention and concentration, build their social-emotional skills, and reduce stress.
My class this year has struggled with self-control, social cues, and boundaries. I wanted desperately to find a way to use all these new tools to help my kiddos learn to bring some balance to their life.
And suddenly, it came to me.
Hula Hoops.
This morning I gave each student in my class a hula hoop. We held our hoops around our bodies and I instructed each of them to drop their hoops. I asked them if they had enough space to sit, stand, hop, do jumping jacks, and numerous other stunts. Laughing, they all agreed they had plenty of room to do just about everything they needed to do, and could still talk to each other without difficulty.
We held our hoops again and held them up above our heads. I told them to look up through the hoop at the sky and imagine that the space around their hoop extended all the way up to the clouds and beyond. This was their space. This was the area that they could control. I asked them if it was possible for them to control anyone else's hoops while they were focused on holding up their own. They decided quickly that they could only focus on their hoop. I demonstrated walking around them without touching their hoops, without overlapping or bumping into anyone and asked if they thought it would be easy or difficult. Naturally, they all replied that it would be easy. So I gave them a few minutes to jump, run, skip, and hop around each other -- but the one rule was that their hoop needed to touch only their hands and not run into anyone else's space. Afterward, we regrouped and they reported back it was as simple as they thought it would be.
Next, I asked them to form a big circle around me with their hoops. Immediately they began telling each other what to do. A loud chorus of, "Hey, you need to move! No, go there!" and many other comments were exchanged. A completely ill-formed shape spread out around me, resembling something more akin to the blob than a circle. I reminded them that they had all agreed earlier that they could only control their own hoops, so to form the circle they needed to focus on just their hoop and let everyone else do the same. Very quickly an almost perfect circle had surrounded me.
"Wow!" I practically shouted, "That was fast! Why do you think it worked so well?"
Everyone was bubbling with answers about how much easier it was to work together when they focused on what they needed to do, rather than telling other people how to do the job.
So of course, I walked around the circle and removed every other hoop. I asked each hoopless child to step into a hoop with another person. I asked them to do everything they had done before -- still not touching the person next to them. They tried to sit, stand, hop, and even do jumping jacks. They were not happy. I asked them to pick up their shared hoop and walk, run, skip, and hop around the playground. This resulted in at least one group tumbling to the ground and a few arguments. I asked them to come back to make a new, smaller circle. This almost never happened.
I asked what happened. Why did they seem to have so many problems this time?
Unanimously they decided it was much easier to take care of their own needs when they were in complete control of their own space.
We put the hula hoops away, went back to class and talked for a few minutes about what we noticed, and then I asked them to write without stopping for ten minutes about their experience with the hoops, what they thought it meant about self-control, and how they could keep the hula hoop image in their mind to help them think about coming back to their own space and making thoughtful choices.
I was amazed at their insight, the lessons they learned that I hadn't even anticipated, and the way it changed their mindset for the rest of the day.
This is just the first step, the introduction, the tiniest spark to get them rolling in a direction that I hope will serve to set them on a course of mindful awareness that will last their lifetime.
This year I keep hearing the same things over again: Standards have changed! The new STAAR test is more rigorous! Writing must happen across the curriculum! There's no time for the fluff writing that used to happen! FEAR! BLAME! GUILT! WORRY!
Uh, okay... so my 4th grade students have the unique experience of being the first to take this new, highly rigorous writing assessment at the end of the year.
So they are expected to write two short pieces instead of one longer piece.
And one of these compositions will be an expository piece.
Oh, and don't forget the stamp across every thing we're told this year, "No. Fantasy. Writing. At. All. Period. No. Matter. What."
At district meetings, there is nail biting and fretting and eyes filled with horror.
At faculty meetings we look at graphs and bullet points and pie charts on the importance of rigor and excellence and content area writing.
And at each meeting, I grit my teeth and swallow down the words I want to say. No, let's amend that. I swallow down the words I want to scream:
Who cares?!
I mean, in all seriousness, why should this test alter what we've already been doing? My students write what they want, how they want, and whenever they want. Along the way I offer them learning experiences that hone their skills and broaden their craft.
The point is, if you lead your students to love learning, it doesn't matter what tests get thrown at them. A master learner has no reason to fear being asked to show what they know. We're delighted to share our knowledge.
We have already been writing expository pieces, to explain our learning across the curriculum, persuasive pieces, letters, poems, narratives, and God forbid, the poor stepchild of the 2011 writing year, fantasy. When they have free time, they'd rather write than read or even draw. When I offer writing opportunities outside of school, many of them jump at the chance to participate.
If we are already doing what is best for students, the introduction of a new rigorous state test is not a reason to freak out and board the windows against the demons of free thought.
Let the STAAR come, I say, and we'll show it what we're made of.
