Another school year. Another start. And this one, so far, shows signs of being something back to "normal". We have people teaching in positions they are qualified to teach in. We have staff members that want to be a part of the staff. Some of the resentment of the past year seems to be lessening. We are focused now, not on survival, but on student learning and teacher excellence. Yes, things should be getting better.
I find myself back on a team, back in 8th grade math, and back to what I love. So, yes, this feels better, it feels hopeful, and that feels good. Even so, I find myself with a tentative tone. My start feels rocky, I'm already behind in my grand plans for the perfect year. I still see broken pieces around the school- things just a few more staff members could fix. Small holes that can become gaping crevices before a year's end. So, I move forward hopefully, but carefully.
9.04.2013
10.18.2012
What WORKS
I love Hey Girl, Teacher. Recently I found this:
Love it. Except one thing. I think what I do, I think the path I have chosen and the final goal of closing the achievement gap turns out to be more difficult that what Felix accomplished. For one thing, his endeavor was fully funded. So what does that say about education? What does it say that the mission of success and academic growth for ALL students feels more daunting and more audacious than free falling from the stratosphere?
I've hit a turning point in this year. In this broken year of job loss, transfers, confusion, stress and upset. I've reached the point where I can't be upset all the the time anymore. I've reached the point where I need to focus on what works and what I can control instead of looking at the bigger problems each day. The daily challenge of education remains too exciting, too vital, and too real to not be fully engaged in the process. If I truly believe that I come to work each day to increase learning for ALL (and I do) then I no longer have the luxury of focusing much attention on the broken pieces of the system. Maybe at a later point I will... but that day is not today.
So I want to make the posts this year about What Works. Even in all the chaos, good things are happening and I'm learning and discovering new ways to connect math and kids. Right now few resources exist for the Math RTI world and so I'm forging ahead with a trail blazing attitude. And that's exciting. I will have the privileged of working with a wonderful team this year of other math intervention teachers. And i will be thoughtful and reflective about what WORKS to help these students of mine. Because I do believe every child can and will learn math. But to make it happen? To close that gap? It's a bigger jump than even Felix will ever know.
8.26.2012
What will be the new normal?
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Back to school. Back.to.school. Teachers report back and I am full of trepidation. Full of uncertainty. There is an anxious nervousness that I can't get a handle on. I just need tomorrow to come.
This summer. This summer brought with it an unexpected twist. A turning upside down of worlds. A storm, a hurricane, a tsunami, a disaster. Of course, it wasn't all a surprise. We knew positions were cut. We knew we would be serving 60 students more with 6 less bodies. We knew the contract said Reduction in Force would happen according to seniority. We knew... we knew... we knew.
but we didn't know. We never saw this coming. We never knew we could be reduced to just a piece of paper, to just a state assigned license. Just a number being moved about in a jumble puzzle of budget cuts, contract language, and seniority.
It's been about four weeks since I first got the call. Since the news started coming in. The news that my job had changed. That good people were out of jobs. That wonderful people- friends- had been transferred to schools unknown. That I would be left at a school that would have almost 50% new staff (all transfers in). That our art teacher would be teaching 4th grade, that our new 7th grade math teacher came from high school social studies. That our science teacher was bumped to humanities. That our new 8th grade humanities teacher used to teach 1st grade. That. That. That.... the list just keeps going.
Yes, it's been about four weeks. I can only really describe it by comparing it to the way I've observed communities from afar as they go through a large scale natural disaster. That feels almost arrogant, writing that. Almost audacious to compare work turmoil to life changing and destroying events. But that's how it feels. The initial shock. The disbelief. The denial. The paralysis. Frozen in disbelief as the bad news keeps rolling in. How can it get worse? Then it does. People tried to connect- try to find others still standing, still in tact. What pieces (if any) are left of what we knew?
For me I found myself flooded with anger and guilt and frustration. The world was spinning and I had nothing left to hold on to. I looked around at the school I have known and loved for so long and it felt barley recognizable. The careful structures were decimated. The expertise of the people I worked with had been scattered to the four winds- washed away like sand castles in the tide. With that realization everything turned to deep deep hopelessness. I wanted to give up. Pack my bags and leave town. Turn away from it all because it hurt too much to remember what we had. Because we had it good. So many tears.
True hopelessness eats a person from the inside. It's exhausting and scary.
So, I have to let that hopelessness go. I have to release it and begin rebuilding. There has to be something to believe in still. A chance we can still make this work. That we can still build a better school for students, even having less that we ever thought possible. Because I can't be sad any more. Even Mt. St. Helen's regrew the forests after the eruption. In that barren wasteland life took hold and bloomed again.
And so tomorrow it begins.
This summer. This summer brought with it an unexpected twist. A turning upside down of worlds. A storm, a hurricane, a tsunami, a disaster. Of course, it wasn't all a surprise. We knew positions were cut. We knew we would be serving 60 students more with 6 less bodies. We knew the contract said Reduction in Force would happen according to seniority. We knew... we knew... we knew.
but we didn't know. We never saw this coming. We never knew we could be reduced to just a piece of paper, to just a state assigned license. Just a number being moved about in a jumble puzzle of budget cuts, contract language, and seniority.
It's been about four weeks since I first got the call. Since the news started coming in. The news that my job had changed. That good people were out of jobs. That wonderful people- friends- had been transferred to schools unknown. That I would be left at a school that would have almost 50% new staff (all transfers in). That our art teacher would be teaching 4th grade, that our new 7th grade math teacher came from high school social studies. That our science teacher was bumped to humanities. That our new 8th grade humanities teacher used to teach 1st grade. That. That. That.... the list just keeps going.
Yes, it's been about four weeks. I can only really describe it by comparing it to the way I've observed communities from afar as they go through a large scale natural disaster. That feels almost arrogant, writing that. Almost audacious to compare work turmoil to life changing and destroying events. But that's how it feels. The initial shock. The disbelief. The denial. The paralysis. Frozen in disbelief as the bad news keeps rolling in. How can it get worse? Then it does. People tried to connect- try to find others still standing, still in tact. What pieces (if any) are left of what we knew?
For me I found myself flooded with anger and guilt and frustration. The world was spinning and I had nothing left to hold on to. I looked around at the school I have known and loved for so long and it felt barley recognizable. The careful structures were decimated. The expertise of the people I worked with had been scattered to the four winds- washed away like sand castles in the tide. With that realization everything turned to deep deep hopelessness. I wanted to give up. Pack my bags and leave town. Turn away from it all because it hurt too much to remember what we had. Because we had it good. So many tears.
True hopelessness eats a person from the inside. It's exhausting and scary.
So, I have to let that hopelessness go. I have to release it and begin rebuilding. There has to be something to believe in still. A chance we can still make this work. That we can still build a better school for students, even having less that we ever thought possible. Because I can't be sad any more. Even Mt. St. Helen's regrew the forests after the eruption. In that barren wasteland life took hold and bloomed again.
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And so tomorrow it begins.
6.09.2012
Survival of the Brainiest
In 8th grade science, students study adaptations and natural selection as evidence for Darwin's theory of evolution. It's a great unit, very well planned and executed by the 8th grade science team. At one point the students have an assignment to create a "build a beast". This is a made up creature that must have adaptations for survival in a randomly selected environment.
In the spirit of cross curriculum work, I decided to have some fun with this. At the end of a test students had the option of creating a creature specially adapted to survive in a math classroom. The following list represents some of my favorite adaptations:
big brain, for thinking
big eyes that never close
an extra set of ears for listening
calculator built in to tummy
ruler limbs and a slope intercept body
graphite tipped nails for writing
flat butt for sitting all day (HAHA)
powerful Chuck Norris roundhouse to solve fractions
a digestive system that makes it so he never goes to the bathroom (which would interrupt learning)
weak legs, taking away the temptation to do sports, leaving more time to study
a small mouth to prevent the temptation to talk
The pictures students drew were fantastic and the names of creatures where great:
Mathofunious
Mathiamania
Calcurtron
Mathicus
Sometimes teaching is just plain fun.
6.05.2012
Reminder
There are moments. Small ones. Unexpected. Unplanned. Moments when I remember why I got into teaching. I'm talking about the very very first reasons I got in to this job. Before I found a love of teaching Algebra. Before I realized I loved teaching middle school. Before I had a passion for imparting learning. Before all that. Freshman year of college. Picking a major. When I imagined I could make lives better. I could make students happy. I could, if I did this well enough, change the world. It didn't matter what subject I taught or even how I taught it. I just wanted to be a part of education.
It's not that I don't still hope for that. It's just, as I get deeper into the practice of education the focus of my passion has shifted. I think it had to. The hardest truth in teaching is that you can't save every child from the world just by wanting to. Not every student will love my course just because I care about them. The problems outside the classroom are big and so many lives, even in a nicer school like mine, are sad. It can consume me if I don't put a little distance between me and the outside world. So, I focus on what I can control. I can control the math. I can control the instruction. I can control my room. I make my classroom safe and I keep my standards high. And if I do my job well, I can give each student a fair and equitable shot at taking control of his or her life through a better education.
But then.....
one moment, one conversation, one goodbye reminds me that i am still effecting lives.
that i do more than teach math.
i can still give hope to students that feel hopeless.
suddenly the day stops. for just a moment. It gets real. i see a student clearly, really clearly, for the first time.
Then, I pull it together. Wipe away a few tears. Put my head up, put a smile on, and head back in to my classroom.
A moment like that feels so bittersweet. So full of regret, so full of hope. I am so thankful to this student, this unexpected student and this unexpected moment.
It's not that I don't still hope for that. It's just, as I get deeper into the practice of education the focus of my passion has shifted. I think it had to. The hardest truth in teaching is that you can't save every child from the world just by wanting to. Not every student will love my course just because I care about them. The problems outside the classroom are big and so many lives, even in a nicer school like mine, are sad. It can consume me if I don't put a little distance between me and the outside world. So, I focus on what I can control. I can control the math. I can control the instruction. I can control my room. I make my classroom safe and I keep my standards high. And if I do my job well, I can give each student a fair and equitable shot at taking control of his or her life through a better education.
But then.....
one moment, one conversation, one goodbye reminds me that i am still effecting lives.
that i do more than teach math.
i can still give hope to students that feel hopeless.
suddenly the day stops. for just a moment. It gets real. i see a student clearly, really clearly, for the first time.
Then, I pull it together. Wipe away a few tears. Put my head up, put a smile on, and head back in to my classroom.
A moment like that feels so bittersweet. So full of regret, so full of hope. I am so thankful to this student, this unexpected student and this unexpected moment.
5.06.2012
Balance
Everything has changed. It's Sunday morning and I'm getting myself mentally ready for the week. Lessons planned out, papers graded, the continual countdown of days until summer break. But, as I do all this, my baby girl sleeps in my lap. Snoozing on the bed with me on this lazy Sunday. Out of nowhere, five months ago, I became a working mom. For three months I stayed home, nurturing and loving my newborn baby. Someone else took over my classroom (it didn't go well... and I'll leave it at that) and I focused all my love and energy on FAMILY.
Then, in March, I started back in the classroom. It's all the same... but it's all different. I don't have the luxury of long hours any more. And I need them. How do I do what I used to do from 7am to 5:30pm in a time slot of 7:30am to 4pm?
I'm tired. Always. Always. Always. My patience hovers precariously close to nonexistent. Always. My brain moves in and out of focus. Always. I have visions of curling up under my desk and sleeping during lunch time.
I give up 15-30 minutes of my plan time each day so I can pump milk for my daughter. Again, I must find ways to do what I did pre-baby in less time.
I still have to find a way to do it all, because one thing hasn't changed. My devotion to this job. I refuse to be anything less than excellent as an educator. So even with the challenge of finding the balance of work and motherhood, I will find a way to do my job and to do it well. Every day. No excuses. I give my students no free passes- no excuses for late homework because of sports, illness, babysitting, family events. So I don't get one either. They still deserve everything I can give.
So, as always, I look for balance. I leave work at work and come home and let myself be all mom. At school I put up pictures of my daughter and I think of her when things get tough. Because it goes both ways. As much as I will work hard every day for my students, I will give my daughter the best of me as a parent. That will always come first. I guess that's what has changed. I still love my work. I still care about it above almost everything. Almost. That "almost" represents the new part of my life. Because one little girl gets the spot right above my work. From there, I'll find a way to get everything else to fall in to place.
Then, in March, I started back in the classroom. It's all the same... but it's all different. I don't have the luxury of long hours any more. And I need them. How do I do what I used to do from 7am to 5:30pm in a time slot of 7:30am to 4pm?
I'm tired. Always. Always. Always. My patience hovers precariously close to nonexistent. Always. My brain moves in and out of focus. Always. I have visions of curling up under my desk and sleeping during lunch time.
I give up 15-30 minutes of my plan time each day so I can pump milk for my daughter. Again, I must find ways to do what I did pre-baby in less time.
I still have to find a way to do it all, because one thing hasn't changed. My devotion to this job. I refuse to be anything less than excellent as an educator. So even with the challenge of finding the balance of work and motherhood, I will find a way to do my job and to do it well. Every day. No excuses. I give my students no free passes- no excuses for late homework because of sports, illness, babysitting, family events. So I don't get one either. They still deserve everything I can give.
So, as always, I look for balance. I leave work at work and come home and let myself be all mom. At school I put up pictures of my daughter and I think of her when things get tough. Because it goes both ways. As much as I will work hard every day for my students, I will give my daughter the best of me as a parent. That will always come first. I guess that's what has changed. I still love my work. I still care about it above almost everything. Almost. That "almost" represents the new part of my life. Because one little girl gets the spot right above my work. From there, I'll find a way to get everything else to fall in to place.
11.24.2011
Countdown
A chance to breath- Thanksgiving weekend. Four days that every teacher and student desperately needs. Once November hits, the days are dark, the work is hard, and everyone is getting ready to buckle into the next three months of winter. You can feel it in the hallways and classrooms. Sleepy students in the mornings, tired teachers in the afternoons.
I sit this Thanksgiving weekend and prepare for a winter different than I've ever had. In three weeks I say goodbye to my students for three months. In three weeks, my own child will join this world and I will hold her in my arms and love her and begin my own journey as a parent. But it means leaving my classroom, something for which I am terribly nervous and anxious about. I know these students will be fine and they will be in capable hands. It's just..." teacher", as an identity, has been who I am for five years. Yes, I've learned to balance that role with things like friend, daughter, wife, etc. But always, as an overarching theme- teacher. Now, I am going to let "parent" take a front seat. When I return to school in March I will have to find a new balance in my passion and love for this job and for the new role I am about to take on.
I'm excited, nervous, and happy. And oh so Thankful this long weekend is here to allow time to think, rest, reflect, and get ready for my new journey ahead.
I sit this Thanksgiving weekend and prepare for a winter different than I've ever had. In three weeks I say goodbye to my students for three months. In three weeks, my own child will join this world and I will hold her in my arms and love her and begin my own journey as a parent. But it means leaving my classroom, something for which I am terribly nervous and anxious about. I know these students will be fine and they will be in capable hands. It's just..." teacher", as an identity, has been who I am for five years. Yes, I've learned to balance that role with things like friend, daughter, wife, etc. But always, as an overarching theme- teacher. Now, I am going to let "parent" take a front seat. When I return to school in March I will have to find a new balance in my passion and love for this job and for the new role I am about to take on.
I'm excited, nervous, and happy. And oh so Thankful this long weekend is here to allow time to think, rest, reflect, and get ready for my new journey ahead.
11.16.2011
Weekend Work Well Spent
When I started at my middle school four years ago, the school had just taken on the challenge of become a Middle Years Program school under the IB program. At the time, just happy with a job, I thought little of it. I set up my classroom and focused on surviving my first year in the school. I've spent the last three years talking about the program at staff meetings, sharing the stress of authorization, and trying to make sense of all the pieces of such a large program. Still, it didn't feel as though I had figured out what this MYP thing really stood for.
So, when a training made it's way in to town I jumped on it. How could I pass up a chance to get formal training from the IB program, from the people who know it best and understand all the pieces and philosophies? It meant giving up a weekend, but I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
And what a weekend it turned out to be. I really REALLY read the IB mission statement for the first time. Not just a glance as I poured over documents- but a really good look at it:
The International Baccalaureate aims to develop inquiring, knowledgeable and caring young people who help to create a better and more peaceful world through intercultural understanding and respect.
To this end, the organization works with schools, governments and international organizations to develop challenging programmes of international education and rigorous assessment.
These programmes encourage students across the world to become active, compassionate and lifelong learners who understand that other people, with their differences, can also be right.
As our presenter said-- it's unabashedly optimistic. That phrase, "unabashedly optimistic", pretty much sums up my attitude towards public education, and reading the mission statement almost made me feel like I had found a kindred spirit. Suddenly, it hit me. This is not just one teacher I found to talk about how the world can be better through education- this is an entire global connection of educators who not only believe this, but have worked to make it a systematic and implementable thing
So, for three days, I just absorbed. Words I felt like I've just been floating in for the last three years became tangible and real. Ideas that felt unfocused and out of reach in my past MYP work became focused and doable.
I got the energy surge.
The surge. The desire to work, work WORK until I get this right. To go to work early, to stay late, to think, to struggle. The desire that drives me when I know something must be done because I can make things better and brighter for my students. I can make things stronger and learning better- and when I suddenly realize I have the tools and knowledge to do this, I can't rest until I do. How could I?
So, when a training made it's way in to town I jumped on it. How could I pass up a chance to get formal training from the IB program, from the people who know it best and understand all the pieces and philosophies? It meant giving up a weekend, but I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
And what a weekend it turned out to be. I really REALLY read the IB mission statement for the first time. Not just a glance as I poured over documents- but a really good look at it:
The International Baccalaureate aims to develop inquiring, knowledgeable and caring young people who help to create a better and more peaceful world through intercultural understanding and respect.
To this end, the organization works with schools, governments and international organizations to develop challenging programmes of international education and rigorous assessment.
These programmes encourage students across the world to become active, compassionate and lifelong learners who understand that other people, with their differences, can also be right.
As our presenter said-- it's unabashedly optimistic. That phrase, "unabashedly optimistic", pretty much sums up my attitude towards public education, and reading the mission statement almost made me feel like I had found a kindred spirit. Suddenly, it hit me. This is not just one teacher I found to talk about how the world can be better through education- this is an entire global connection of educators who not only believe this, but have worked to make it a systematic and implementable thing
So, for three days, I just absorbed. Words I felt like I've just been floating in for the last three years became tangible and real. Ideas that felt unfocused and out of reach in my past MYP work became focused and doable.
I got the energy surge.
The surge. The desire to work, work WORK until I get this right. To go to work early, to stay late, to think, to struggle. The desire that drives me when I know something must be done because I can make things better and brighter for my students. I can make things stronger and learning better- and when I suddenly realize I have the tools and knowledge to do this, I can't rest until I do. How could I?
11.07.2011
never ever ever
Today I remembered why I never ever ever ever let 8th graders pick seats. Seating chart ALWAYS. That doesn't mean I don't sometimes sit kids with friends or what have you. I just never ever ever ever let them pick their own.
Today, because of strange circumstances, I did.
Now my head hurts.
11.04.2011
Saying the same thing all day...
Parent/teacher conferences are over. Whew. All went well. Really well. Until the last hour... why did the crazy family sign up to be the last family of the day. It makes it all the harder to remember that we had 11 other hours of conferences WITHOUT crazy in it.
11.02.2011
spark
The weeks get long through September and October. There are few breaks and by October the honeymoon period passed long ago and we are truly into The Grind. Days end with me sitting in front of a desk covered with stacks of things I just don't want to deal with.
But then, there are these moments. These sparks that keep me going. Right now I'm well into a unit I particularly like. Square roots, Pythagorean Theorem, distance on a coordinate plan... some really wonderful topics that I've come to love teaching. Not only that, I believe I've become really GOOD at teaching this particular unit. I have a groove, a flow, a method to my madness.
So today, as we are working through problems, kids with mini whiteboards and me running around the room offering help, checking in, and having an all around good time, a student says, "It just really seems like you WANT us to learn."
Yeah. That felt good. Suddenly my tired feet were not so tired. Today, I just felt the good vibe in the room- like the students picked up on my desire for them to learn and love math and that vibe moved through them and radiated back to me.
And that's the spark that will get me through these next few dark and rainy weeks. Because, today it was a spark... but tomorrow... who knows?
But then, there are these moments. These sparks that keep me going. Right now I'm well into a unit I particularly like. Square roots, Pythagorean Theorem, distance on a coordinate plan... some really wonderful topics that I've come to love teaching. Not only that, I believe I've become really GOOD at teaching this particular unit. I have a groove, a flow, a method to my madness.
So today, as we are working through problems, kids with mini whiteboards and me running around the room offering help, checking in, and having an all around good time, a student says, "It just really seems like you WANT us to learn."
Yeah. That felt good. Suddenly my tired feet were not so tired. Today, I just felt the good vibe in the room- like the students picked up on my desire for them to learn and love math and that vibe moved through them and radiated back to me.
And that's the spark that will get me through these next few dark and rainy weeks. Because, today it was a spark... but tomorrow... who knows?
10.15.2011
Relaxing today
Relaxing today, because tomorrow I'm going into "the office" for four hours. But it will be worth it. This week marks year two of my equation stations and it promises to be better than every. Differentiation at its finest, and all invented by me. It just takes a LOT of up front work. I will have to post details of it, maybe even snap some pictures of stations in action.
10.11.2011
My Priveledge. NOT my Burden
I am a public educator. I work at a school that has embraced the philosophy that every child can learn and has a right to the highest possible rigor. I am trained in ways to meet the need of each child individually in my classroom. It is my responsibility and my privilege to teach every student in my room regardless of race, gender, socioeconomics, learning needs, sexual orientation, or any thing else under the moon.
You, the parent, have one child to worry about. To take care of. To guide through the crazy world of 8th grade. Leave the other 99 to me. DO NOT make excuses for your child based on the other students who are in my room. DO NOT let your child make excuses for him/herself because of the biases and perceptions he/she has of other students in the room. I guarantee you, those perceptions are wrong. I WILL NOT justify the number of brown kids in my room or the number of kids with and without learning disabilities.
I WILL talk about your child. I will talk about his or her learning needs and if they are being met. I will work with you and your child to ensure learning is happening and support exists in my room for him to be challenged every day... as long as he is willing to take on those challenges.
Do not assume you know my burden. It is not the kids with the IEPs. It is not the kids on TAG plans. It is not a single one of my students. They are my joy and my reason for showing up each day.
And guess what, that kid you son thinks is dumb, that kid with the autism that says funny things in class... yeah, she just kicked his butt on the last test... but I won't tell you that... that information is confidential and it's time for your son to worry about his own learning and his own ability.
You, the parent, have one child to worry about. To take care of. To guide through the crazy world of 8th grade. Leave the other 99 to me. DO NOT make excuses for your child based on the other students who are in my room. DO NOT let your child make excuses for him/herself because of the biases and perceptions he/she has of other students in the room. I guarantee you, those perceptions are wrong. I WILL NOT justify the number of brown kids in my room or the number of kids with and without learning disabilities.
I WILL talk about your child. I will talk about his or her learning needs and if they are being met. I will work with you and your child to ensure learning is happening and support exists in my room for him to be challenged every day... as long as he is willing to take on those challenges.
Do not assume you know my burden. It is not the kids with the IEPs. It is not the kids on TAG plans. It is not a single one of my students. They are my joy and my reason for showing up each day.
And guess what, that kid you son thinks is dumb, that kid with the autism that says funny things in class... yeah, she just kicked his butt on the last test... but I won't tell you that... that information is confidential and it's time for your son to worry about his own learning and his own ability.
9.28.2011
A GOOD day. And a quality lesson.
My group of students this year seems game for just about anything. I feel like I have a willing band of mathematicians at my fingertips- or if not yet full fledged mathematicians, they are willing to listen and see where I'm going with all this.
So today I decided to jump into box and whisker plots. I have struggled with the entire statistics unit in the past few years. Stats. Blah. All math books turn it into lists of meaningless numbers or silly "real world" situations. I've struggled to make it mean something ANYTHING to all of us in the room. Which seems crazy, because stats should be the most applicable, the most real world thing I teach them all year.
But slowly, things have been shifting. A few good lessons here, a few "Ah ha!" moments for me, and some extra reading and research has all helped to lend new life to this unit. Lately, my book of choice has been Edward Tufte and I'm suddenly seeing the light as to why we graph anything at all EVER. So anyway, I'm starting to find my own passion for statistics and graphical representations.
Yesterday I did something I don't love to do- I taught something without much context. I threw five number summaries at my students, just wanting to get the vocab, the concept, and the process to the kids. I asked them to take a leap of faith, to trust that this moving around of numbers would lead us somewhere.
So today, we started to connect. We talked about summaries they write in Language Arts, how it is useful to take a large article and summarize it down to the main ideas. We talked about why a five number summary might be more useful than a list of data. We made vocabulary connections.
Then we calculated our age in months. Students wrote it on index cards and we marched outside. At this point, I started to get nervous. I mean, I could do this with a class of maybe 25 students, but how would I keep a line of 35 bodies engaged and listening? But, I decided, what's teaching without some adventure? I refuse to use class size as an excuse not to provide the very best for students.
We lined up from least to greatest. We figured out the student in the middle and he got to hold the "Median" card. Students found the quartiles and the max and min and each person in the five number summary held a card. With students lined up, toes on the edge of the sidewalk, I marked the quartiles and medians with yard sticks. The lower and upper 25% got a piece of yarn to hold (becoming the whisker) The middle quartiles crowded between the yardsticks. Suddenly, we were a box and whisker plot. And for the first time ever, I had students quickly seeing that our data was split into 25% chunks. That the range of the chunks might change, but that each quartile held 25% of the classmates. It was fun, it was visual, it was tactile. And somehow, it worked.
We trouped back inside to get our thoughts on paper. We drew what we had made and talked about what someone could learn about our class from looking at our visuals. Why it might be more useful than a list of numbers. And I think, just maybe, students really understood- not just wrote notes and memorized some vocab- but really understood, in their guts, the what and why of this particular statistical representation.
So tomorrow- how in the WORLD do I top that?
So today I decided to jump into box and whisker plots. I have struggled with the entire statistics unit in the past few years. Stats. Blah. All math books turn it into lists of meaningless numbers or silly "real world" situations. I've struggled to make it mean something ANYTHING to all of us in the room. Which seems crazy, because stats should be the most applicable, the most real world thing I teach them all year.
But slowly, things have been shifting. A few good lessons here, a few "Ah ha!" moments for me, and some extra reading and research has all helped to lend new life to this unit. Lately, my book of choice has been Edward Tufte and I'm suddenly seeing the light as to why we graph anything at all EVER. So anyway, I'm starting to find my own passion for statistics and graphical representations.
Yesterday I did something I don't love to do- I taught something without much context. I threw five number summaries at my students, just wanting to get the vocab, the concept, and the process to the kids. I asked them to take a leap of faith, to trust that this moving around of numbers would lead us somewhere.
So today, we started to connect. We talked about summaries they write in Language Arts, how it is useful to take a large article and summarize it down to the main ideas. We talked about why a five number summary might be more useful than a list of data. We made vocabulary connections.
Then we calculated our age in months. Students wrote it on index cards and we marched outside. At this point, I started to get nervous. I mean, I could do this with a class of maybe 25 students, but how would I keep a line of 35 bodies engaged and listening? But, I decided, what's teaching without some adventure? I refuse to use class size as an excuse not to provide the very best for students.
We lined up from least to greatest. We figured out the student in the middle and he got to hold the "Median" card. Students found the quartiles and the max and min and each person in the five number summary held a card. With students lined up, toes on the edge of the sidewalk, I marked the quartiles and medians with yard sticks. The lower and upper 25% got a piece of yarn to hold (becoming the whisker) The middle quartiles crowded between the yardsticks. Suddenly, we were a box and whisker plot. And for the first time ever, I had students quickly seeing that our data was split into 25% chunks. That the range of the chunks might change, but that each quartile held 25% of the classmates. It was fun, it was visual, it was tactile. And somehow, it worked.
We trouped back inside to get our thoughts on paper. We drew what we had made and talked about what someone could learn about our class from looking at our visuals. Why it might be more useful than a list of numbers. And I think, just maybe, students really understood- not just wrote notes and memorized some vocab- but really understood, in their guts, the what and why of this particular statistical representation.
So tomorrow- how in the WORLD do I top that?
9.14.2011
The swing of things
One week in and the swing of things has started to fall into place. I'm getting to know the personality of the classes. We finally are on the normal school bell schedule. Buses have started coming on time. I'm finding my rhythm in the day.
This year it's going to be about training the students to handle transitions. I have TONS of transitions during a class period. I have the luxury of an 82 minute class period and I use it to the fullest. I try to fit a few different types of learning into one class period- partner work, mini whiteboard time, group discussion, individual practice time. That means about every 15-20 mins I need to give new directions and have students execute them quickly. I've noticed this year's bunch likes to stop and chat along the way and that getting settled back in TAKES SOME TIME. But not too worry, I'll get them trained.
I'm particularly proud of my ability to take a boring worksheet and turn it into an interactive experience- which is usually where many of my transitions come from. For instance, yesterday I wanted to review proportions. I had, in my possession, a math riddle sheet. I have tons of these. Worksheets that, when the right answers are produced, give the answers to funny riddles. Okay, fun and such, but it's just the same old drill and kill with a riddle.
I took the sheet and cut the riddle part off. I then cut the problems in half- making two half sheets (A and B) of problems. As students came into the room, they were instructed to pick up one or the other, based of last names. In theory I had half the class with one sheet and half with the other. Right away, this creates interest. Students start comparing the sheets and figuring out what's different. As they work to finish the problems I have time to walk around and work with a few kids individually.
But still- it's just been worksheet time. Kids who already understood the work haven't been challenged. Students who were lost MAYBE got a minute to work with me, but nothing that will keep the math stuck in their heads. At this point, the students got to get up and move. The task was to get into groups with two A half sheets and two B half sheets. Movement- always wakes them up a little. Choice in groups (with some limitations)- always a bonus in middle school. Once they were in groups, I gave them the riddle portion of the sheet I had removed. As a group they worked to fill it in. Automatically, answers are being checked. I hear comparing of strategies. Conversation leads to deeper thinking.
So great, the riddles are worked out, the math is done- but let's take this deeper. Each group now had to come up with one rule or hint to share that would help someone solve a proportion problem. They recorded it on a slip of paper. I then warned them I would be calling on group members to share the strategy AT RANDOM, so they needed to make sure EVERYONE in the group could explain what was written. Cue the more capable kids quickly coaching and teaching the rest of the group how to explain what's on the paper. Beauty. And I did call at random- remember my "No Raised Hands" rule? I pulled names from a jar.
So we shared work, made an "proportions hints board" in class, and BOOM- a boring math worksheet turned into something so much more. It was 50 well spent minutes.
This year it's going to be about training the students to handle transitions. I have TONS of transitions during a class period. I have the luxury of an 82 minute class period and I use it to the fullest. I try to fit a few different types of learning into one class period- partner work, mini whiteboard time, group discussion, individual practice time. That means about every 15-20 mins I need to give new directions and have students execute them quickly. I've noticed this year's bunch likes to stop and chat along the way and that getting settled back in TAKES SOME TIME. But not too worry, I'll get them trained.
I'm particularly proud of my ability to take a boring worksheet and turn it into an interactive experience- which is usually where many of my transitions come from. For instance, yesterday I wanted to review proportions. I had, in my possession, a math riddle sheet. I have tons of these. Worksheets that, when the right answers are produced, give the answers to funny riddles. Okay, fun and such, but it's just the same old drill and kill with a riddle.
I took the sheet and cut the riddle part off. I then cut the problems in half- making two half sheets (A and B) of problems. As students came into the room, they were instructed to pick up one or the other, based of last names. In theory I had half the class with one sheet and half with the other. Right away, this creates interest. Students start comparing the sheets and figuring out what's different. As they work to finish the problems I have time to walk around and work with a few kids individually.
But still- it's just been worksheet time. Kids who already understood the work haven't been challenged. Students who were lost MAYBE got a minute to work with me, but nothing that will keep the math stuck in their heads. At this point, the students got to get up and move. The task was to get into groups with two A half sheets and two B half sheets. Movement- always wakes them up a little. Choice in groups (with some limitations)- always a bonus in middle school. Once they were in groups, I gave them the riddle portion of the sheet I had removed. As a group they worked to fill it in. Automatically, answers are being checked. I hear comparing of strategies. Conversation leads to deeper thinking.
So great, the riddles are worked out, the math is done- but let's take this deeper. Each group now had to come up with one rule or hint to share that would help someone solve a proportion problem. They recorded it on a slip of paper. I then warned them I would be calling on group members to share the strategy AT RANDOM, so they needed to make sure EVERYONE in the group could explain what was written. Cue the more capable kids quickly coaching and teaching the rest of the group how to explain what's on the paper. Beauty. And I did call at random- remember my "No Raised Hands" rule? I pulled names from a jar.
So we shared work, made an "proportions hints board" in class, and BOOM- a boring math worksheet turned into something so much more. It was 50 well spent minutes.
9.11.2011
precious weekend
And suddenly, my weekends are precious again. In summer, weekends drift in and out, simply marking the time when more friends and family are more available to hang out. Suddenly, weekends are again my time to get things back together. The way weekends are for most the working world. Laundry. Dishes. Grocery shopping. Quiet time. Sleep. I actually enjoy getting back into the routine of them. Having a purpose for these hours away from the school.
This first weekend of the school year also allows me some time to process. What happened last week? Did I cover what I needed to? Can I remember any student names? What will come next in my plans for the year? Week one sits as a blur in my head. A blur of students, lockers, rules, procedures, names, and... HEAT. Last week felt stuck at a temperature much too hot to really get anything done. My classroom sat at 85 degrees, and I have one of the cooler rooms. So everything literally has melted in my mind. I hope the cooler temperatures rolling in next week help the students and I adjust to the reality of this new school year. Because this week we get serious. Pretests, homework, 8th grade expectations. Here we go.
This first weekend of the school year also allows me some time to process. What happened last week? Did I cover what I needed to? Can I remember any student names? What will come next in my plans for the year? Week one sits as a blur in my head. A blur of students, lockers, rules, procedures, names, and... HEAT. Last week felt stuck at a temperature much too hot to really get anything done. My classroom sat at 85 degrees, and I have one of the cooler rooms. So everything literally has melted in my mind. I hope the cooler temperatures rolling in next week help the students and I adjust to the reality of this new school year. Because this week we get serious. Pretests, homework, 8th grade expectations. Here we go.
9.06.2011
Remember Mr. Rogers?
Remember Mr. Rogers? Fred Rogers- hero of children's programming, in his quiet unassumming way. Remember how you knew exactly what he would do when he walked in the door singing his song? He would change his jacket, put on the sweater. Zip it all the way up, and then half way down. Change shoes- always tossing the show from one hand to the other. Remember? It took me over 20 years to figure out that his little regular activities may very well have been the key to his success.
After a few years now in this job, I've found the key remains in having a routine. Wait. Strike that. In having routines. Plural. Routines for everything. It's the challenge I'm finding being in a new classroom. What are the routines? I tried to start this morning, even though I didn't have students today.
Walk in. Hang jacket in closet. Set down bag. Turn phone to silent. Turn on computer as I walk by. Go to windows. Open them, turn on fan. Come back to desk. Unload bag- lunch, important items, etc. Put bag in closet. Sit at desk. Check email. Look over to do list from day before. Breath. Start Day.
Having routines for myself, important, yes. It's what keeps piles from building up on my desk. It's what keeps me caught up on grading. It's what ensure I'm not forgetting anything. BUT, even more important, routines for the students. Routines that are sensible, logical, teachable, doable, and easy to maintain.
I think the advantage I have in this point of my career over the myself from the early part of my career is understanding exactly what that last sentence means. It means NEVER assume students will just figure it out. It means NOT changing systems mid year, even when the system in place could be improved- wait until next fall for that change. It means taking the first two weeks to slowly and methodically teach these routines as they organically appear during the lesson.
What do I mean by routines for everything? To name a few: Starting class, turning in work, handing back work, bathroom breaks, sharpening pencils, test taking, group work, daily flow of class, giving of information, ways for students to ask for help, partner work, portfolios.
My goal in planning to first two weeks is to let the oppertunities to teach these routines arise naturally. Going over every routine in the first two days is A) BORING. For the students and me B) POINTLESS. Students won't remember something taught out of context C) A waste of the best few days of school- the days you have the most captive and eager audience. Let's learning something, do some math, get our brains going.
So what I do is put all the routines/rules/classroom details that need to be taught on little post-its. Then, as I look over the lessons I have planned, I see where they will fit. Oh, are we coloring our "Who I am" poster on day two? Stick a post-it in my plan book. What a great time to teach where student supplies are and where they are NOT (Read: don't touch my desk). Turning in our first homework assignment? Stick a post-it in my plan book. Great time to show off the turn in baskets and talk about my crazy homework policies.
So anyway, that's what my brain is full of now. Do I have everything in place? Have I figured out all the bits and pieces that need to be taught? Do the first couple weeks look smooth, interesting, and informative for students? I sure as heck hope so, because I've been thinking so much my brain hurts.
After a few years now in this job, I've found the key remains in having a routine. Wait. Strike that. In having routines. Plural. Routines for everything. It's the challenge I'm finding being in a new classroom. What are the routines? I tried to start this morning, even though I didn't have students today.
Walk in. Hang jacket in closet. Set down bag. Turn phone to silent. Turn on computer as I walk by. Go to windows. Open them, turn on fan. Come back to desk. Unload bag- lunch, important items, etc. Put bag in closet. Sit at desk. Check email. Look over to do list from day before. Breath. Start Day.
Having routines for myself, important, yes. It's what keeps piles from building up on my desk. It's what keeps me caught up on grading. It's what ensure I'm not forgetting anything. BUT, even more important, routines for the students. Routines that are sensible, logical, teachable, doable, and easy to maintain.
I think the advantage I have in this point of my career over the myself from the early part of my career is understanding exactly what that last sentence means. It means NEVER assume students will just figure it out. It means NOT changing systems mid year, even when the system in place could be improved- wait until next fall for that change. It means taking the first two weeks to slowly and methodically teach these routines as they organically appear during the lesson.
What do I mean by routines for everything? To name a few: Starting class, turning in work, handing back work, bathroom breaks, sharpening pencils, test taking, group work, daily flow of class, giving of information, ways for students to ask for help, partner work, portfolios.
My goal in planning to first two weeks is to let the oppertunities to teach these routines arise naturally. Going over every routine in the first two days is A) BORING. For the students and me B) POINTLESS. Students won't remember something taught out of context C) A waste of the best few days of school- the days you have the most captive and eager audience. Let's learning something, do some math, get our brains going.
So what I do is put all the routines/rules/classroom details that need to be taught on little post-its. Then, as I look over the lessons I have planned, I see where they will fit. Oh, are we coloring our "Who I am" poster on day two? Stick a post-it in my plan book. What a great time to teach where student supplies are and where they are NOT (Read: don't touch my desk). Turning in our first homework assignment? Stick a post-it in my plan book. Great time to show off the turn in baskets and talk about my crazy homework policies.
So anyway, that's what my brain is full of now. Do I have everything in place? Have I figured out all the bits and pieces that need to be taught? Do the first couple weeks look smooth, interesting, and informative for students? I sure as heck hope so, because I've been thinking so much my brain hurts.
9.05.2011
A small classroom tour
My classroom is ready. Almost. There is still a ladder the custodians left when the awesomely moved my overhead screen to a new wall... I'm picky about set up. I haven't put out kids names on tables. I still have a few odds and ends around the rooms. I haven't labeled everything. But it will get done. It will. Tomorrow will be busy- but it's 6th grade only, so I have one more day to get the last pieces together. And then... I don't know why, but it doesn't seem real yet.
In the meantime, I thought a tour of my almost finished classroom was in order.
I guess I could have turned some lights on. Or waited until the light was better... but that doesn't meet with my want for pictures NOW. The top picture shows off the big big panels in the room. These can actually be folded back so that my teaching partner and I can open up the rooms into one BIG monster room for team time and such. Awesome. The whole room was an atrocious, eye burning, almost neon blue when I moved in. Instead of dealing with the classic butcher paper or painting, I opted for the cheapest fabric I could find. It should last a long long time. It did end up costing more than I'm going to post here. But still, not bad. Paint wouldn't have been much cheaper.
Okay, on the panels....
First, the board with my latest and greatest classroom guideline. I'm a believer and follower of Dylan Wiliam. Such a great, great man. This article talks about no raised hands a bit: Daily Mail UK- No Raised Hands. I finally did it last year in it's true form (read: when I got tired and cranky I didn't just fall back on letting the kids raise hands and calling on the kid I knew would have the answer). I loved it. I used mini white boards to allow all students to answer. Or I called names at random from Popsicle sticks I drew from a can.
The article that started all this research for simple solutions to engage all students in learning can be found here: Inside the Black Box. I plan on rereading it before the year gets too far on.
Below the sign in my learning target board- right now it's got kitchy start of year goals for kids, but soon it will be filled with our math goals for units. The idea? If kids know what we are trying to learn, they have a lot better chance of getting there.
Next up- my Welsh Pride. My first teaching experience was across the pond at a wonderful school in southern Wales. I still put up my flag every year. Cymru am byth!!
Below, calculators. In a clear shoe holder. This way, it's easy for me to see if they are all back at the end of class. Oh yes, this is not my first time around the block. Things leave the class so easily. Not because 8th graders are out to steal things, but because they are SO SPACEY they will simply pack my supplies up with their own and walk out. I often get it all back at the end of the year when locker clean outs happen.
A panel of this and that. Posters I like.
Quotes about math.
A painting I've always loved.
You know. The random stuff in every classroom that reveals a bit about the teacher. The stuff to make the classroom interesting and in hopes that when the students space away from my lessons (because, let's face it, it's math class. I'm going to lose them from time to time) they have something interesting and worthwhile at which to look.
My whiteboard. You can see brackets above it... that's where the overhead screen used to be. But see, it covered my whiteboard, diminishing space for awesome math scribbles and figurings. So my fantastic custodians moved it for me. You will also see three computers I begged, borrowed, and stole from around the building. Two crash at regular intervals. Oh well. We'll get something better someday, in the mean time, this counts as my technology station.
Okay, some of my favorite posters. When I first started teaching I found these about to be thrown out. They are from the Apple "Think Different" Campaign. I wish I could get more- but apparently they have become collectors items for Apple Nerds. I found the quotes and typed them up and added them. I also have a Miles Davis, not pictured here. They ALWAYS lead to great discussion at some point in the year.
There's more to the room. The posters by my pencil sharpener (I figure, hey, they are standing there, sharpening their pencils, may as well give them something interesting to read). My wall of victory. The homework board. The bookcases. But maybe another day. In the meantime, time to travel into the future and get this school year started.
In the meantime, I thought a tour of my almost finished classroom was in order.
 |
| Entering the room... to the left |
 |
| Entering room... to the right. My desk shows in the corner |
Okay, on the panels....
First, the board with my latest and greatest classroom guideline. I'm a believer and follower of Dylan Wiliam. Such a great, great man. This article talks about no raised hands a bit: Daily Mail UK- No Raised Hands. I finally did it last year in it's true form (read: when I got tired and cranky I didn't just fall back on letting the kids raise hands and calling on the kid I knew would have the answer). I loved it. I used mini white boards to allow all students to answer. Or I called names at random from Popsicle sticks I drew from a can.
The article that started all this research for simple solutions to engage all students in learning can be found here: Inside the Black Box. I plan on rereading it before the year gets too far on.
Below the sign in my learning target board- right now it's got kitchy start of year goals for kids, but soon it will be filled with our math goals for units. The idea? If kids know what we are trying to learn, they have a lot better chance of getting there.
Below, calculators. In a clear shoe holder. This way, it's easy for me to see if they are all back at the end of class. Oh yes, this is not my first time around the block. Things leave the class so easily. Not because 8th graders are out to steal things, but because they are SO SPACEY they will simply pack my supplies up with their own and walk out. I often get it all back at the end of the year when locker clean outs happen.
Quotes about math.
A painting I've always loved.
You know. The random stuff in every classroom that reveals a bit about the teacher. The stuff to make the classroom interesting and in hopes that when the students space away from my lessons (because, let's face it, it's math class. I'm going to lose them from time to time) they have something interesting and worthwhile at which to look.
My whiteboard. You can see brackets above it... that's where the overhead screen used to be. But see, it covered my whiteboard, diminishing space for awesome math scribbles and figurings. So my fantastic custodians moved it for me. You will also see three computers I begged, borrowed, and stole from around the building. Two crash at regular intervals. Oh well. We'll get something better someday, in the mean time, this counts as my technology station.
Okay, some of my favorite posters. When I first started teaching I found these about to be thrown out. They are from the Apple "Think Different" Campaign. I wish I could get more- but apparently they have become collectors items for Apple Nerds. I found the quotes and typed them up and added them. I also have a Miles Davis, not pictured here. They ALWAYS lead to great discussion at some point in the year.
There's more to the room. The posters by my pencil sharpener (I figure, hey, they are standing there, sharpening their pencils, may as well give them something interesting to read). My wall of victory. The homework board. The bookcases. But maybe another day. In the meantime, time to travel into the future and get this school year started.
To work
Sitting in bed. Cup of tea. Sleeping cat. Quiet holiday Monday. Somehow I have to work up the energy to get myself into school. I promised myself I would go in today. Staple up that last bulletin board. Clean the last clutter off the counters. Bring a plant in the brighten the room. (I can have a plant! I have windows! Glory glory glory!) Maybe make some copies. Fully plan the first few weeks- weeks full of get to know you, name learning, rule giving, pretesting, and general observation of who these new students are.
Anyway... I guess it's time to leave this cozy day and get my mind around SCHOOL. School tomorrow.
Anyway... I guess it's time to leave this cozy day and get my mind around SCHOOL. School tomorrow.
8.30.2011
meetings
Sitting in the media center (library) for hours at a time remains, with out a doubt, the hardest part of the week back to school. The stuffy, windowless media center just seems to suck Suck SUCK the energy out of me and turn me into a cranky, eye rolling participant. And the thing is, the things we are being told are important. The team building we do matters. The personality survey actually gave me insight to myself and my coworkers. It's just sitting and counting down the minutes to get into my classroom, to sort through things, to plan the exciting first week. That's the hard part. Knowing a classroom waits for you on the other side of professional development.
So, I survived a morning of presentations. A morning of what our vision is at our school, what the vision is of the District. How we will continue the work we were doing last year. How we will move forward with amazing work in education, even as the budget shrinks and our class sizes grow.
I can do this. I feel strong as a teacher this year. I am strong. I'm a freakin' 5th year teacher. I'm not the new gal any more. I have more materials than I know what to do with. I have a tool box of ideas. I have sound, strong philosophies and a good idea how to put them to practical use in my classroom.
So the morning, as painful as sitting and listening and staying focused was... it did get my brain on track. It got the vocabulary back in my head (MYP, standards based learning, formative assessment, assessment for learning, individual student growth, rigor for all, etc, etc etc). I made my way back to my classroom after lunch and got to work. I cleaned, I filed, I hung posters and I THOUGHT. I thought about the first week. The first month. The first unit. The foundations for the year. Because there are just a couple more days to get it all in order. Then BOOM. We begin.
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