Week 2: So What Do They Really Know?

Guys! I have to tell you that I love this book. (Okay, if you haven't been following along, I'll tell you -- Cris Tovani's So What Do They Really Know? Assessment That Informs Teaching and Learning)

Go check out Book Journey for more reading awesomeness!

I'm finding a good balance between moments when I think, "Yes! Why haven't I thought of that before? I'm doing that tomorrow!" and "Woot! Tovani and I could be teaching BFF's! I do that all the time!"

Okay, I never promised you a well-structured stuffy book review when I said I wanted to use this for a book study. Suffice it to say, when I'm excited about something, it shows!

Chapter 3
Favorite quote:

Whether learners are struggling, gifted, or in between, they all deserve a year's worth of growth.

I think she may have written this quote just for me. This year I have two classes -- my morning class consists mainly of students that struggle in several areas, receive Special Education services, or are somewhere in the middle of the RTI process. My afternoon class has students that are typically high achieving and/or in the Gifted and Talented program. And of coure I have my kiddos that are sitting right in the middle academically but each have their own set of special gifts and skills.

So. Yeah. I wholeheartedly believe they each deserve every ounce of growth I can help them achieve. I work hard to make sure none of our time or efforts are wasted.

I enjoyed the overview of the workshop model -- I mean, sure, I've seen it before. I believe in its effectiveness. But the truth is, as I get busy with meeting timelines and upcoming tests and the system in which we all must live, I often start to veer off-course. This was a good reminder of why I believe in this mode of instruction: the students do the work! It makes sense that when students are the ones working, they are the ones learning! I need to make sure I give them enough time each day to do the hard work of learning.

The curriculum flow map she shares on page 43 was also helpful to me. Since this is my first year as a departmentalized teacher, I'm really struggling to reign in my schedule and routine! I have less than two hours each day with my guys for reading, writing, and social studies. Although the system she has in place for her high school students won't quite work for me in 4th grade, I do want to try making a special bookshelf or area in the room where I can include supplemental texts for students to read and share in a similar way.

So my first goal is to stay on-track with the time to work that I give my students! I'll report back on how I do this week in my next reflection.

Chapter 4
The first thing that popped out at me in Chapter 4 was the learning targets and assessments table. In my school district, we have to post daily objectives and products. The objective is what we will learn together and the product is how the student will show their learning before they leave class. I like doing this because it keeps us all on track, so it was neat to see it in Tovani's book!

I haven't used the inner voice sheets yet, and honestly, I'm not a big fan of making that many copies. We do have reader's notebooks and my students keep notes about their reading, but I call it our reading palette. Whenever I do a read aloud they keep notes, but it looks a little different from the Figure 4.2 on Annotation in Chapter 4. My class creates a table with 4 boxes. Each box is for a different thing, and sometimes I vary what I have them title the boxes, but normally it looks like this:

•  Questions
• Connections
• Predictions/Thoughts on what is happening
• Word Love (a place to capture words, phrases, sentences that their writing ear appreciates)

Alternatively, I tell my kiddos to sketch pictures with captions of what they see in their mind as I read. So I guess we are doing something similar to her inner voice sheet! I go back and forth on having them do this during their own reading, because I really want them in "the reading zone" (gotta throw out a little Atwell love, of course). I felt better about this after I read about her work with Raymond, who didn't want to stop and write while he read. She struck a compromise with him and he writes a little during the last five minutes of reading time. This way he gets to stay in the zone, and she can still get an idea of where he is as a reader. Great balance!

The other part that jumped out at me in this chapter was about debriefing. I am guilty about cutting out the debriefing when we are running short on time. In the future, I'm making a note to myself to try partner debriefing! In the beginning of the year my students hadn't experienced much time working cooperatively with other students, so we have worked very hard to get to a place where we can have conversations about our learning. I think we are ready to try debriefing this way! We also have a Twitter Wall for exit tickets, but I think I need to be a little more deliberate in what I ask them to write each day before they leave. I like Tovani's idea to have students write one question they still have before leaving. Another idea to try this week!

And here's my favorite quote, although it may not seem very important to anyone else!

The evidence I collect isn't very fancy.

This seven word sentence says so much! My evidence is not fancy -- I have sticky notes, pictures, audio clips, scribbled bits of conversations, conversation calendars, conferring notes saved in Evernote -- just bits and pieces of our days, held digitally and on paper. But this is real. Real kids, real moments, real work, real learning.

It doesn't have to be fancy for it to matter. Just keep it real!

Slice of Life Tuesday: A Manifesto Begins

I've learned a lot in the past six weeks, but mostly, I've (re)learned this:

I believe in a reader’s right to choose.

Strike that, I believe in a child’s right to choose.

I believe in a child’s right to be treated like a person, not a statistic. Not a test grade.

Choose how they learn best.

Choose how they represent their learning.

Choose what they want to read.

Choose how they write.

I believe in choice.

The choice to teach in a way that lines up with your beliefs and meets the needs of your students.

I believe in standing firm on your principles.

I believe in change.

I believe when we offer students the opportunity to be great, they amaze us with their excellence.

I believe teaching is about people, not numbers.

I believe we have lost our way.

I believe there is a way back. 

It is the still, quiet voice muffled beneath scores and paperwork and meetings and data.

The still, quiet voice that -- years ago -- urged you to become a teacher in the first place.

I believe that voice has a right to be heard.

And I believe we each have the strength to push that muffled voice from a whisper to a shout -- not just for ourselves; not for the weary eyes, aching feet, boggled brains and burnt out souls of all the teachers across the nation.

No, not only for them -- for me, for you.

I believe that voice has a right to be heard because our children deserve better.

They deserve rooms rich with conversation, laughter that rings through the halls, amazement in the pure joy of learning -- which, let’s be honest -- has been lost beneath the bubble sheets and reading passages and leveled books that bore would-be readers and scientists and Nobel Peace Prize winners at such extreme levels that we have shut down their minds.

I believe our children have the right to be allowed to learn.

I believe change is necessary.

And I believe change is impossible, unless we listen closely.

Listen closely to that still, quiet voice – the one that insists there is a better way.

Because there is. There is a way beyond boxed curriculum sets and test preparation. Beyond extrinsic rewards for minimal expectations. A way beyond what we have let education become.

And if you’ve forgotten your voice, if the demands placed on you have become so stringent that your passion for learning is barely a smoldering ember – put down your clipboard, leave the stacks of papers behind, push open that door and walk outside.

Seek out the playground.

Seek out the children digging in the dirt.

Seek out the boys on the basketball court and the girls doing cheers all lined up in the grassy field. (And yes, seek out the girls playing soccer and the boys reading beneath a tree.)

Seek out the Kindergarteners asking, asking, always asking for more.

Seek out the loner. The angry one. The kids poking bugs with sticks.

Seek out the wisdom in each child, the delight in their faces, the yearning for knowledge.

Fill your lungs with it. Smile, if just for a moment, remembering why you are doing this in the first place.

And let your still, quiet voice rumble and roar.

And be heard.

For you, for your students, for our nation.

Be heard.

Slice of Life: You Matter!

After taking a little no-blogging, no-tweeting break (a girl needs some time to herself after 2 months of back to back daily blogging!), I was beyond thrilled with what I found when I popped back out of my cave today.

Corey Dahl had tweeted a TED video of Angela Maiers that is absolutely inspirational. Don't believe me? Watch for yourself:



I've been following Angela since I found her "Habitudes" through the 2010 Reform Symposium (aka most amazing online professional development experience EVER). She is one of those speakers that just gives me chills because of the bold truth in her words. I hope you'll check out her site and follow her on twitter. I promise you'll be every bit as appreciative of her wisdom as I am.
You Matter.
Brilliant. And do you know even one single person that doesn't want to know that they matter? I certainly don't. In fact, I think most of us walk around wanting to matter to someone, in some way. (Wearing that sign, big or small.)
Maybe this feels especially meaningful right now because -- here we are again, the end of another school year -- stress is high, people are busy, frustration thresholds are low.
We need to know we matter. We need to know our genius is appreciated. And I am so thankful I popped back into the twitosphere today to hear Angela's words -- to remember the precious gift I can give each student, teacher, and parent I see, by simply letting them know I see them. By letting them know they matter. (And my family! They need to hear it, too. They need to know they matter.)
I find much hope in the thought of how significantly changed any workplace can be, when focused on finding the genius in one another instead of singling out the unappreciated differences and problems.
Focused on solutions, not problems.
Focused on what matters.
Focused on building each other up.
Focused on delighting in one another's genius.
It's a happy thought to finish this school year with.
So. What's your genius?

The School That Technology Forgot

Today I heard the news for our district's new technology plan. Hold on to your hats, friends, because this one is hard to believe:

1. All teacher laptops to be removed
2. All campuses currently using Mac computers shall have them removed, to be replaced by rented Dell desktops
3. Grades 5 and up will now be allowed to bring in their own technology into the classroom (BYOT?) -- meaning your home home laptops, iPads, whatnot, are finally going to have access to the district Internets (sorry Grade 4 and under - you're on your own!)

I can't even begin to comprehend the thoughts driving this decision or the effects it will have on the students and teachers.

I've been using Macs in the classroom for the past 5 years. The students love them, they're very user friendly, and we absolutely use the software provided on our classroom desktops.

I use my laptop at meeting, training sessions, and at home to do numerous work related tasks.

I was told today that the reason behind the laptop removal is because "teachers only use their laptops to play around on the internet, and that's not a good enough reason to keep them."

The disrespect towards myself and other professionals from this one statement is quite simply -- as Liz Lemmons would say -- a deal breaker.

How do we prepare students for the jobs of the future when we aren't even equipped to handle the technology of today?

At best, it's embarrassing. At worst, it's damaging to students and teachers alike.

And it is definitely guiding my thoughts on who I am as an educator, and where I choose to invest my time.

It's Test-Taking Day!

Each year, same thing: a special meeting to train us to have the wherewithal to undergo the precise measures that must be taken on this very special test-taking day.

Each year, same thing: I wonder what dolt has actually done the things we're being told specifically not to do, unless we'd like to find work in another career path once next school year rolls around. I mean, they wouldn't tell us not to do it unless this had actually happened before, right?

So today, without further delay, I give you a day in the test administering life of my imagined version of the teacher that caused all this ruckus in the first place:

I wake up, squinting against the light coming in through the window.  Light? It mustn't be. The clock registers the amusing truth: it's late. Much later than it should be. I guess I had one too many drinks at Al's Drink Emporium last night. Shrugging, I amble through my morning. Let 'em wait, I always say!


When I reach the school, the halls are buzzing with activity. Kids scrambling to class, teachers milling in the hallways drinking coffee and chatting happily about the big day.


Oh that's right, I think to myself. It's test-taking day! I chuckle to myself at having forgotten this important day, and head to class to make sure my little sweethearts have arrived safely. After tossing a few orders out, I head to the office. Time to pick up our tests!


The halls are quiet now, so I slip into the teacher's lounge and rummage around for the coffee. It seems nobody had time to put on a fresh pot this morning, so I figure it's the least I can do to get one started. Once I have a nice steaming cuppa Joe, I check my mailbox. Empty. I head off to grab those tests.


My assistant principal is waiting for me, test packet in hand, toe tapping. He looks like he barely slept at all last night. 


"You were supposed to pick these up thirty minutes ago!" he glowers, "Hurry back to class! It's test-taking day!"


With a smile and a nod, I grab the tests and am on my way.  Eesh, I think, he sure is testy today. I can't help but chuckle at my little joke. I am so witty!


Back in class, I mumble good morning to the kids and start passing out tests. The sooner we start, the sooner it's over. May as well get going.  I have a list of kids that are supposed to have special accommodations, but I forgot to get the right materials, so I say a little prayer that they'll be okay without them. There's also a huge list of instructions I'm supposed to read, but what the heck -- they've seen this stuff before.


"Let's get this show on the road!" 


Pencils go up, booklets open. Heads snap down and begin reading through endless passages meant to measure their knowledge.


I love test-taking day. A nice full day of peace and quiet! I snap open my phone and check my Face Book page. There's a new comment thread on the latest movie, so I send my thoughts. I glance at the clock. Only two minutes have passed. This is going to be a long day. Good thing I brought along a nice, long book. Taking those few extra minutes to myself this morning is definitely going to pay off.


We're supposed to stand and roam the classroom, monitoring student progress. What a bore! I have a seat behind my desk and flip my laptop open. There's a great shoe sale on Target and I really need to update my Pinterest boards. Surely that will kill some time.


A hand pops up in the air. It's little Suzy.


"What is it?" I ask.


She motions for me to come over.


Great. These kids are always interrupting me! With a long sigh, I walk over to her desk.


"What's the problem?"


She tells me she doesn't understand a word in the passage she's reading. I explain what it means, pat her on the head and walk back to my desk. My good deed for the day. Besides, I feel a little bad that I didn't give her the reading overlay she's supposed to have. Oh well, lesson learned!


The rest of the morning passes fairly quickly. My phone rings a few times, but I silence it each time -- I certainly won't take any phone calls during a test! I have snacks and bottles of water set up in the back of the room, so the kids can get up and serve themselves when they need something. Sometimes they stop and chat a bit, which is a nice break for them, I think.


Just before lunch, I decide to order myself a pizza. All this test-taking business has really made me work up an appetite! When the pizza guy arrives, I tell the kids to leave their tests at their tables and grab their lunches. We sit around the room eating our food. On test-taking day, nobody eats in the lunchroom. Too loud. So we chat quietly, discussing the test and offering advice to each other. It's a real brainstorming session! By the time the kids get back to work, I think they feel pretty excited to finish the test.


It feels too quiet now, so I turn on the radio. Nothing like a little heavy metal to really get those brain juices flowing! A few kids look up in alarm, but once they realize it's just some good old fashioned rock and roll, they quickly get back to work.


I open my purse and grab a bottle of bubblegum pink nail polish. May as well use this time wisely! My nails could really use a new coat of color. I set to work applying the polish to my nails, determined not to notice the two kids in the corner whispering to each other.


Another hour passes and I realize I really need a bathroom break. I don't want to stop the kids in the middle of all their hard work, so I slip quietly out the door and head for the bathroom. I don't really like using the bathroom nearest my room -- the light flickers like I'm in a bad horror film -- so I go down to the next hall. I'll only be gone a minute, so I'm sure the kids will be fine.


By the time I get back to class, a few of the kids are all grouped together looking at each other's tests.


"Whoa, guys! What's going on in here?" I ask, surprised that they aren't still working.


They scramble back to their seats without another word.


Bobby, my very brightest student, informs me that he has finished his test. I grab it up and head back to my desk. He starts drawing pictures to pass the time. I glance over his work and see that although he circled all the answers in his test booklet, he hasn't bubbled in all the answers on his answer document. He's had such a long day of testing, I hate to bother him again. I grab a pencil and fill in the rest of the answers for him. Problem solved!


I realize I can use Bobby to help me out. I call him over and tell him that he's earned the special privilege of Official Test Monitor. I even give him a little badge to wear, made out of construction paper. I am really outdoing myself today!  Bobby spends the rest of the afternoon wandering through the class, keeping everybody in line. I think he really enjoys his new responsibility.


Slowly, all the kids turn in their tests. We're done! I congratulate the kids on their hard work and tell them they can have free time for the rest of the day. Cheers and hoots of celebration ring through the room. I mentally pat myself on the back for being so awesome. And while they're playing, I can give myself that pedicure I've desperately been needing. This is turning out to be one of the best test taking days of all time!


After looking through their work and grading all the tests myself, I hand all the huge bundle of tests and answer sheets to one of my most trustworthy students and ask him to run it down to the office.


Another test taking day successfully completed!

My Yellow Brick Road

World Read Aloud Day was a huge hit yesterday, and our Skype with Navjot Kaur certainly stole the show. After a few minor audio complications, we were off and running! I am so thankful we had the opportunity to trade emails beforehand because Navjot was able to tie in some special connections from her book while talking with my class about things we've been learning. She had them spellbound for nearly an hour, which pretty much makes her magical in my book.

After the read aloud, hands were popping up all across the room -- 21 eager 4th graders ready to ask questions. Everything from "what inspired you to become a writer," to "where do your ideas come from," to "have you ever cried when your book was rejected." I definitely have a class filled with writers!

We ended our conversation with her and had about 5 minutes to reflect on the Skype session before we had to jump up and run off to recess.

And my kids completely shocked me with where the conversation went.

"Soooo, Mrs. Mogk," one of them began, "You have books you've written."

21 heads nodded at me, eyes wide.

"Well, yes," I say, unsure of where they're going.

"But... you haven't even tried to get yours published?"

21 students fold their arms and glare at me accusingly.

(Okay, fine, maybe I'm exaggerating a little.)

"Oh. Well, they aren't quite ready yet..."

"But you have stories! You read them to us all the time! And you finished your NaNoWriMo novel! You told us!"

21 little bodies start bouncing up and down, shouting things at me in rapid succession.

"Navjot Kaur said she kept sending out her book even though she CRIED sometimes when it was rejected!"

"You said you want to have a book published, so you should do it!"

"It would be SO COOL to have a teacher that was an author too!"

"Navjot Kaur said sometimes you have to believe in your story even when no one else does!"

I had a full-blown fist-pumping riot brewing in my room.

I laughed. Partly because I didn't know what to say, partly because they were right.

Thankfully, it was time to line up for recess.

At home, I started browsing publisher sites, submission guidelines, the how-to's of picture book publication. I felt a little dizzy. A little unsure of where I'm headed.

A little like Dorothy on her yellow brick road.

Am I ready for talking trees and flying monkeys and mean ol' witches?

I certainly hope so.

Beginning to Wonder

Today I (finally) picked up a copy of Wonder by R.J. Palacio. There's been such a buzz about it online recently that I've been dying to get to a store and dive in. We've talked about it in class; the kids are super eager to read it and compare it to Out of my Mind. Because of all the hubbub surrounding it, I expected greatness. What I did not expect was to be pulled nearly 30 years into my past, sucking back tears within the first few chapters.

I begin each year with my new batch of fourth grade students the same way -- the story of my very own first day of fourth grade.

Beyond any other year in school, it's my most memorable first day. It stands out above the beginning of middle or high school, and is even more vividly stamped in my brain than the first day of school in Soesterberg, The Netherlands. And being in a brand new country was pretty impressive, so I think that speaks loudly about my 4th grade memories.

Fourth grade was a year of new things: new house, new school, new state (we had just moved from Florida to Nevada); oh yeah, and one other thing -- new face.

Perhaps I left that detail out. On our family road trip that lead us to my dad's new assignment at Nellis Air Force Base, we were in the type of wreck that leaves your car flipped over on the side of the highway, resembling a small burnt-up toaster.

Fortunately, we all lived through it.
Unfortunately, half my face tried to fall off in the process.

So I began my new school as a pale, sickly, stitched up, bald spotted (head injuries are the worst, man), fraidy cat with dark circles under my eyes. I was pretty much a fourth grade zombie. That might be a point in my favor today, but back then zombies weren't exactly in.

This is the image in my head on each first day of school with my own students: staring through the window on the classroom door; one hand poised to grab the doorknob and walk in, one foot ready to tear through the school and run all the way home.

I actually love sharing this story with my students, because I think it tells them a few things about me --

1. I know what it feels like to be different.
2. My first goal every year is to make sure everyone feels safe socially and emotionally. All that other crazy academic stuff will fall into place after that.
3. I'm real.

They always respond the same way -- shocked that other kids were so mean to me, amazed that I look "normal" now, and ready to share their own scary school stories. It's a great way to start -- we get all the first day of school anxiety off our chest and happily move on.

It's an important story to share, and I'm glad there are authors like Sharon Draper and R.J. Palacio willing to write it all down.  I've tinkered with my own kid-sized Frankenstein story through the years, told in various ways, wondering if it's a story worth finishing.

And I think the first few chapters of Wonder have given me my answer.

new test, no fear

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.

it's time for a math revolution

I've had enough.

I've watched too many kids count on their fingers, draw out circles and dots, skip count on paper, and just flat out guess when nothing else works.

In 4th grade, we learn long division and double digit multiplication.

At least, we try.

But it's pretty difficult to remember all the steps to something like long division when you spend more than one minute just trying to figure out what 6x8 is. And another minute for the next fact... and another... how can you even keep track of the actual problem when you don't remember that 7x10 is 70?

Really, it's not just difficult. It's maddening. It's hopeless. No wonder so many kids think they hate math.

And it's not just their multiplication and division facts. These kids are incredibly hit and miss when asked a basic addition or subtraction fact.

In 4th grade.

Somewhere, somehow, we are failing these kids. I don't know where it happens or when it starts, and quite frankly, I don't care. What I do care about is their future.

I know seniors in high school that are still counting on their fingers.

So, I've had enough.  No more pushing forward through multi-step problems and watching kids attempt to enjoy math while counting on their fingers and banging their heads on desks. No more saying, "Well, they can do the problem if they write out all the factors each time, so that'll have to work." No more crutches.

We're going back to basics. I've got the beginning of a plan, a wealth of parents willing to help, and 21 kids that I just won't allow to cling to their "strategies" instead of memorizing these facts. These kids are going to succeed. We're going to learn the why of numbers, not just the how of math.

And we're going to have fun, damn it.

slice of life tuesday: and we're off!

This morning I rushed up the stairs to my classroom, eager to begin the day. It didn't matter that I was a few minutes later than I planned or that I was dangerously close to losing the juggling match with my latte, cellphone, and room key. It didn't matter that the lumpy, oversized bag slung over my shoulder was banging against my hip with each bound towards my room.

I had to get to class.

Rounding the corner I found one of my favorite early birds waiting by my door. She practically bubbled over with giggles when she saw me.

"You're here! We can write! Are you ready?!"

With a quick hug, I stumbled into the room, tossed my cache of goods into a corner of the room, and fell onto the floor with my journal and a pencil.

"Ready," I grinned.

As we opened our notebooks and started comparing ideas, three of my students from last year walked in, waving their journals at me. Without waiting, they grabbed a chair or a spot on the rug and opened their notebooks.

And a few more friends trickled in... and a few more, until there were 10 of us gathered around the room, talking about characters and plots and plans as we wrote and shared and laughed.

I glanced up at the clock to find we'd already spent 25 minutes together. Our time was almost up. Students began filing into my room, preparing for our day. I had to smile as they came in. We had talked about today; I had warned them to be respectful of the writers when they arrived.

They took a few steps into the room, stopped short, nodded as if they had just remembered something important, and silently put their things into their lockers and got to work.

My crew of NaNoWriMo warriors said goodbye and promised to be back tomorrow. We exchanged a few hugs and of course I was obliged to read some of their work before they left. They left, it seems, walking a littler taller than when they came in. All through the rest of the day I heard chatter of novels and listened to the sound of passion taking root.

And tomorrow, I get to do it all over again. Who knows, this may just begin a year long writing club. I can't think of any better way to start each day.

nanowrimo: ready to write

NaNoWriMo is right around the corner, and I find my creative wheels spinning as I rev up for this year's challenge. Last year, I brought my class into the mix by spending November teaching about story development as we worked together to finish our own novels. The energy in the room was contagious -- kids from all over the campus wanted to know more about what we were doing.

So this year I've decided to open my doors to more students. Instead of writing our novels during class time, I'm hosting a before school club just for NaNoWriMo's Young Writer's Program. Every day in November, students are invited to come write from the time school doors open until 5 minutes before the bell rings. This will give us roughly 30 minutes of writing time every day.

I've passed out flyers, given information to be posted on our school FaceBook page, and created a short video teaser that our librarian is showing to all her 4th and 5th grade classes this week. I've visited as many of my students from last year as I could track down and pumped them full of info and excitement as I can. Several of them say they will be there.

I don't know who will show up at my door on November 1st. If I'm lucky, I'll have a classroom crowded with little bodies lying all over the room creating their own stories. My dream version has so many kids show up that we have to overtake the library for our 30 day journey. Of course, I may see just a sprinkling of kids from one day to the next. Either way, the amount of kids that come to write doesn't really matter. Whoever is there is meant to be there, and we will spend our mornings writing, sharing, laughing, and sometimes banging our heads on stories that move more slowly than we like.

I have ideas to try a write-in for the area and a special event for all our writer's to have a reading when we're done. And we can't forget an after-party on December 1!

Regardless of the number of participants or events we celebrate throughout the month, I'll be there writing along side them.

November can't get here soon enough.

revolution by the seat of my pants: today, we learned.

Last night I watched some TED videos. I needed inspiration. I needed to slide back into my teaching sweet spot. I wanted to see something truly innovative.

I found this video:

Watching the video, I was captured by the wonder and intrinsic motivation that seemed to sweep the children away into a new style of learning. But Mitra was working with children that had barely ever seen a computer. My students would yawn at the technology that had enthralled the kids in this study.

So how could I take Mitra's work and make it meaningful to my own students? How do you amaze and dazzle kids that have technology literally at their fingertips 24/7?

Today, during a typical math lesson, I decided to give it a shot.

We've been working on strategies for solving word problems for a while now. Nothing amazing; I introduce a method for working through a problem, they practice it together, then they do some work independently. By now, they are fairly confident when working through a problem, but they still make mistakes and don't really take the time to think about whether or not their answer is reasonable. As long as an answer is found, they seem happy. I rarely witness any true wonder or joyful curiosity.

Today was different.

After spending about a minute to review steps that can be used to solve a story problem, I placed this problem on my document camera:

Following Mitra's lead, I gave them the following rules:

• Everyone will work in a group.
• If you feel your group isn't working for you, find a new group.
• Feel free to switch groups as often as you like.
• Use whatever resources you have to solve the problem.
• You can look at what other groups are doing, and report back to your group to help each other out.
• You may not work alone.
• Everyone in your group must agree on a final answer and be able to explain in detail why you are 100% confident it is correct.
• Once your group is in agreement, find another group and make sure you agree with them.
• Everyone in the room must agree on the correct answer.

In the beginning, it was quiet. Groups worked together, just like any other day. Within minutes, they started bringing their math journals to me -- as they always do -- seeking affirmation.

"Does everyone agree with your answer, and are you all able to explain why it's correct?" I asked.

I had more than a few angry glares and exhausted sighs as the kids shuffled back off to work.

After a little while, things began to heat up. I roamed the room and watched them work, smiling and encouraging them to keep working. It didn't take long before two major groups formed. They battled wits, arguing about why each group was right.

There were some tears. I stepped in and modeled appropriate and mature debate language. We continued.

Lightbulbs began appearing. Kids abandoned groups. Reformed. Abandoned. Asked questions.

They stopped coming to me.

No, dude, seriously. They stopped coming to me!

Remember, this is all work on one single math problem. After more than an hour of debating, calculating, and rethinking, a single answer started to find its way around the room.

They beamed at me, proud of their work.

"But... how do you know?" I asked.

More glares. More sighs. More shuffling back to work.

They wrote diagrams and tables and all sorts of things. They checked and rechecked. They talked it over with their groups. They checked with other groups.

Meanwhile, I roamed the room snapping pictures and taking short video clips of their work. I won't lie: I was in heaven.

Finally, we were ready to discuss our work.

Someone from each group came to the whiteboard and showed, in implicit detail, how they found their answer. They talked us through it, making sure we all understood every step they took.

Every group had come up with an entirely different method.

Every group found the correct answer.

I am stunned by the ways they solved this problem. Having little to no background knowledge with long division and decimals, they invented color coding systems and charts that were the stuff of genius.

After every group shared, I modeled how to write about what they had done. I told them writing two sentences that they had added or divided or "worked it out" wasn't going to cut it anymore.

With my word processor up on the projector for everyone to see, I talked them through my 2 page explanation of how I solved the problem.

And then they wrote. For minutes and minutes, word after word after word, pages upon pages, they wrote.

I couldn't be more proud of them. Although it was frustrating and uncomfortable, they kept plugging away.

All because of one 17 minute video watched late on Wednesday night.

Today, we learned.

slice of life tuesday: it's about the kids

30 days ago, I was excited to bring a cornucopia of new ideas into this school year. Plans for a new word study program, ideas from writing workshops I attended over the summer, and a commitment to a daily math workshop all acted as catalysts to launch me happily into a new year of experiments to enjoy.

2 weeks ago, I walked through the hall towards my room, smiling to myself at how fortunate I was to spend my days doing something I love. I couldn't imagine doing anything else. The ideas I brought into the classroom were shifting and changing into activities that would work for my students. Although there were bumps along the way, I felt confident.

7 days ago I left a meeting feeling like all my hard work meant nothing, that it was impossible to meet the needs of my students, balance the desires of my principal, and implement the type of instruction I believe in -- all at the same time.

This morning I welcomed my intern and quickly found a way to involve her in the class, focused on my students, laughed at my mistakes, and generally enjoyed the day with my students. I almost recaptured the beginning of year joy, almost let go of the mounting stress.

This afternoon I sat down to a faculty meeting where I listened to a woman encourage us to stay positive and bit my lip through a discussion about testing -- although my mind rattled and the words bubbled up in my throat so fiercely that I thought I would either burst into tears or burst into hysterics if I didn't speak up.

Tonight I'm thinking about the devotion so many teachers have to their students. Not devotion to a test, or an objective, or even a single subject or style of teaching. It's not devotion to a campus, although we do certainly tend to become territorial! We get up early each morning, often shuttling our own children out the door, already thinking about our students. We spend the day at our wit's ends, racking our brains for that one right way to reach each student. After hours each day trying to find the solution of how to fit the monstrous amount of necessary teaching into a schedule that laughs at anything more than the bare minimum, we say goodbye to our students, go back to our rooms, and begin grading, planning, assembling, and plotting all over again.

I'm thinking about how I fill my huge bag each night and drag everything I can fit into it home so I can continue working. I'm thinking about sitting behind my laptop or a book or papers into the late hours of the night, grading and planning and assembling and plotting ways to make sense of the days that are completely beyond all sense.

I'm thinking that it doesn't matter if you call it a TAKS or a STAAR or any other name. It doesn't matter if we teach TEKS or Common Core. It’s not about the data or the numbers or the graphs and the statistics.

It’s about the kids. It’s about the pure, real learning that happens when children and teachers meet each other every day ready to work together. It’s about keeping it real in a school system determined to forget that teaching is not about the numbers – it’s about the kids.

Slice of Life Tuesday: my cup runneth over

This school year marks the fifth anniversary of my move from private school director to public school teacher.

After five years you'd think I would have a stockpile of lessons I've perfected. You'd think I would be well into an established routine, drifting easily from one year to the next.

I know plenty of teachers that teach the same thing each year. They have files for each unit, plans ready to go, and waltz into each new year unfrazzled and organized. Sure, they modify to meet the needs of their new students, but for the most part the big stuff stays the same.

I am not that teacher. Sometimes this makes me feel I chose the wrong profession. Each year I am unsettled with the results of the previous year, and spend my summer searching for new ways to teach the skills my kids need to learn. If anything, I'm getting better at scrutinizing the worth of a lesson. But still, I worry that my constant hunt and experimentation does more harm than good. 

Last year I uprooted my writing. The things I learned at Summer Institute with the North Star of Texas Writing Project confirmed my beliefs and I knew it was the right thing to do. I also attempted a new spelling and vocabulary program, because the standard 20 word study and weekly test just doesn't mesh with my beliefs. I learned a lot about what not to do, feel that I was more successful than I had been in previous years, but still felt I had a long way to go.

This year, spelling gets another facelift, writing has been modified to better meet the needs of the students, and just to keep things interesting, I decided to add math to the mix of modifications. I wanted to switch to a workshop based style of teaching math before and wasn't able to get it up and running. So now it's up and sort of shuffling along more than running. But it's progress.

At least, I hope it's progress. With so many new things juggled above my head, I have to wonder why I can't just stick with what I've done in the past. It would certainly be easier.

But I have to believe, as I keep tossing more plates up to join the mix, that although I haven't perfected my lesson plans, I am constantly growing. I've always believed if you're not growing, you're dying. So maybe that means I am on the right track afterall.

My Week in Pictures: Back to School!

With the first week of school behind me, I feel a little more at ease and a little more anxious to move on to the big stuff! Funny how that works. As usual, I took a plethora of photographic evidence this week. So here is what was going on in my side of the world:

This was actually last week. I'm cheating, ha! But here's what the room looked like when I got back to school!

I was without air conditioning in my classroom for 3 days! 3 days!

First step: spruce up my desk!

Found a great scrapbook paper tree idea on pinterest, and got right to work!

Had to make time to search for the perfect Meet the Teacher outfit, or course.

Hung out in Glitter World for a while with my amazing teacher-in-crime and friend!

C'mon, you know this is awesome!

Nearly finished reading area.

Word Work space, with an almost finished Boggle Board!

Just thought I should let my students know...

Meet the Teacher Night sign-in station with a calendar to capture birthdays!

Another pinterest find that a teacher friend scribbled down for me...

My door, with fancy nameplate and wishlist!

I bedazzled that myself, yo.

A mind jar! See how it sparkles and shines??

Love letters from new students! They are SO fabulous!

We made our own "FaceBook Profiles" to post each other notes on!

This was a great first day activity!

First one goes up on the lockers. :)

How sweet is this? A cookie from one of my new girls.

Can't start a new year without decorating our writing journals!

And the dodecahedrons are always a big hit! Can't wait to hang these around the room.

Before we left on Friday, I showed off the new Cootie Catcher Multiplication Games. They didn't want to leave!

I went home last night and immediately started working on lesson plans and new stuff to add to the room, of course!

No wonder it feels like naptime!!

All in all, a very successful week! I love my kids, all the new ideas floating around, and of course -- the weekend!!

Slice of Life Tuesday: my scrambled august

Two Writing Teachers

It's August.
August is a scrambled month.
The last swirls of summer tug at me, begging me to swim, play, and laze about.
The first hint of school rolls in, urging me to plan and schedule and prepare.
I'm busy reading and writing; there is little time to finish up the last bits of professional development I wanted to do, but I begin to feel greedy with my time -- I want to hold fast to these precious moments.

Today I spent time at the pool with my nieces and nephews and my own two littles. They splashed and played while I watched, journal in hand, working on my current work in progress. Their giggles and screeches were warm and rich. You'd think a morning at the pool with six children that can't swim on their own might be stressful. But it wasn't. It was one of the last breaths of summer, and it was divine.

This afternoon I met with a student I'm tutoring. We worked on math facts and problem solving. It was quiet, just the two of us with heads bent over the table, talking and working together. Her hair was wet; she had come straight from her new pool. My skin still smelled of sunblock. We sat suspended between two worlds, both unsure which we preferred.

August is a scrambled month.
A good month.
A oh-this-is-living kind of month.
And I'm glad it's here.

Slice of Life Tuesday: Rejecting the Rat Race

Somewhere after midnight Saturday but before the sun popped up with its bright hello on Sunday morning, we put down our bags and laid down our heads and uttered silent thank you's to our beds for still being here to greet us.

It's good to be home.

But home comes with many invitations, and I find myself hypersensitive to the pull of the never-slowing hamster wheel of activity our society has created.

There are birthdays to plan and school supplies to buy and lessons to prepare. Dogs need walking and clothes need washing and I need exercising! Children want dinner. Bills must be paid. And did I mention lessons must be written?

I tend to throw myself in every direction at once, like one of those crazy amusement park octopus rides with arms flying everywhere, spinning wildly out of control.

As long as I keep everything neatly packaged and spinning perfectly, as long as everyone is having fun -- well, there's no harm in that, right?

Perhaps. At least, that's what I used to believe.

But a new thought has been tapping my shoulder and begging to be noticed. A quieter, less juggle-minded, calmer thought.

What if, instead of attending to every invitation, every idea, every request -- what if -- I carefully choose how I spend my time? What if instead of spinning and whirling and juggling, I simply relax and let life flow. I can choose how I spend my time and define my own priorities instead of allowing them to be defined for me.

This year I will regard the many invitations to join the rat race very carefully. This year I refuse to let another person or idea dictate what is important for me and my family. This year, when stress levels rise and anxiety begins to creep inside my classroom, my home, or my mind, I am prepared to sweep them away with these words:

1. First, do no harm. (Positive thoughts about myself and others)
2. Breathe and be in this moment only.
3. Do something kind every day, for myself and others.

More on these three concepts later. For now, it's time to cuddle up with a good book. The dishes can wait.

Celebrate Your Muchness.

I finished the draft of the (rockin awesome) proposal to my principal in hopes of inspiring her to let me teach a boys writing class twice a week this year.  Dude, that's a really long, terrible sentence, but I am tired and that's just how it's going to stay.  My apologies.  Sort of.

Writing this letter brought up so many hopes and fears for the upcoming school year.  Being a part of the National Writing Project has (drumroll for the oncoming cliche, please!) been a life changing experience.  Like, clouds parting, sunbeams streaming down, Hallelujah angels singing, and all that jazz.

I'm stoked.

We're toppling into July, I haven't had one summer-ish day in all of June, and all I can think about is the many exciting new things I'm eager to try out in my classroom come August.

I want to take all this knowledge, all this affirmation, all this ALLNESS from the past month and wear it like armor into the oncoming school year.

Because, although annoyingly optimistic, I'm not stupid.

I know what is likely to happen upon settling back into my classroom.  I can hear the, "You want to do what??" and "Why are you causing so much extra work for yourself?" and all the other darts that will be thrown my way, popping little holes in my puffed up "But this is how it's supposed to be!" perfect world dreamland.

And sure, I've always been the one to head upstream, vigilantly shouting, "Let's try it this way!" when everyone is staring at me like I'm wearing the Emperor's New Clothes.  I get it.  I'm the girl with the crazy ideas that are sure to fail...

Only, they don't fail.  And when they do, I revamp, and come at it from a new direction.  My excitement makes my kids excited.  They can't even help themselves.  They're uber-peppy by association.  I love to read, they love to read.  I love to write, they love to write.  I love to do jumping jacks, they spring out of their seats and cheer like I just announced we're going to Disney World.

It's an interesting thing, attitude.

So I'll cling to my realization that --wow-- there are so many other teachers out there that think the way I do, and I'll stand firm on my belief that what kids need is a teacher dedicated to toughing out the hard parts with them and cheering with them in every victorious moment --no matter how small-- and sometimes, just sometimes, when I'm verging on forgetting what's important, in the face of TAKS tests and standards and assessments and paperwork and meetings and insane schedules and seemingly impossible and annoyingly unnecessary hurdles, I'll close my eyes and remember 16 women writing quietly together every morning, sharing through tears, learning new ways to climb mountains, and above all, celebrating in each other's "muchness".

(How's THAT for long and rambling sentences that spread out before you like a road untravelled?)

Life

It isn't surprising, I suppose, that I haven't had much to say I have been been so quiet in the past month.

Not surprising, but still disappointing.

When I write, I feel most sure of myself.  When I write, I work out all the problems that keep me up at night, bouncing around my head as if I were an all-night racquetball court, begging for players to come in and tromp around the courts for a while.

When I write, the chameleon slinks away, and I stand alone with myself, and I am not afraid.

Sadly, life rarely cares much for whether or not I have time to write.  Even sadder, the more stressed I am, the less time I tend to make myself take for things like, shall we say, staying sane through daily writing.

The past few weeks have been like a roller coaster with a side of crack.  Way too much sensory overload, not enough time to digest my circumstances before the next bend, dip, loop, or terrific twist comes my way.

Did I mention the TAKS for reading and math are next week?  Next. Week.

Or that my principal may honestly die from disappointment if we don't make exemplary for the 4th consecutive year?  No lie.

How about the fact that I'm still waiting to hear back about grad school?  Seriously.  How hard is it to get one university to transfer information to another university??

Then there's the maddeningly happy fact that I get to be a part of NWP's summer institute this year!  Still dorkily excited for summer to arrive.

Oh, and I'm packing up my big seven person family and moving to a new area in a house that seems impossibly large?  Who's going to clean that beast??

Then there is that resume I need to finish if I actually hope to have a shot at applying for that new position... oh sweet momma, have I lost my mind??

Not to mention: Dos' school has decided I absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt simply must turn in paperwork proving he's an Aspie if I would like his 504 to remain in place?  EARTH TO SCHOOL -- have you met my kid??  Paperwork should not be necessary here!

Among other, less interesting tidbits of life from the past month, I'm actually surprised I've held tight without any major interruption in my regularly scheduled moments tiptoeing through the world of the sane.