Last week I had the opportunity to chaperone a field trip. We walked to the park-n-ride, got some “food” at the gas station, took the Metro downtown, and hiked several blocks to arrive at the Frye Art Museum. We were going to see the Tim Rollins and Kids of Survival show (http://www.artsjournal.com/anotherbb/2010/01/tim-rollins-kos—courage-visi.html), so utterly relevant to this particular group of striving students.

As life often happens, we’d gone a bit out of order, gotten off one stop too late, and had the adventure of trekking 31 adolescents a few blocks further. As they hoofed it up the hill, they were goofy and unaware, though some less so than others. One child announced to a group of friends, “I bet we look like the bad kids on a field trip downtown.” He was deeply aware of how youth are perceived in the community.

I, on the other hand, was concerned about them tromping through unkempt parking strips where needles hide in tall grasses; underpasses where middle-aged men asked them for their change; guarding the kids at the back as they held hands, not noticing the gritty young adults eyeing them from behind. Many of these kids had never spent any time downtown.

One student had accidentally dropped his bus transfer while throwing away some garbage. “Where is it?” I asked. “Over there. Probably in the middle of the street by now.” He answered glumly, pointing across the street. “I’ll go with you.” I said. Suddenly he showed confidence, even if it was borrowed. Together we walked the 50 feet past business people on their lunch breaks.  There, balled up next to the grimy curb was his transfer.  He grabbed it and we were back across the street before the walk signal turned.

Back at the bus stop, I asked another teacher to snap a photo of me with my students. The result is an image I cherish. I will remember their giddiness, their innocent faces, the fact that they shared their peanut butter cups with me, undeniably an exercise in hospitality. No matter how tough these kids may look to people who do not know them, no matter how thick a crusty shell they try to exude, they are just children. And every child needs at least one adult who believes in them so that they can meet their potential. For my part, I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to teach these kids, and to learn along side them too.

We have examined our own gateways into literacy as a group. We have determined how stories, how education has provided us with a window through which to see the world and ourselves. Simultaneously, we have uncovered texts which were a door propelling us forward toward continued learning.

Over the course of the last thirteen weeks, I have had the opportunity to fall flat in terms of classroom management.  No joke. But this is part of the process, the evolution of a professional. And the learning doesn’t stop here. Any life-long learner understands this intimately: setbacks are part of forward movement. Anyone who is a great success has reached that point by being willing to fail again and again.

As such, I urge us to remember this: even if we are in the midst of an economic restructuring, even if our job prospects seem grim, we are only at the mercy of the limits of our own creativity. We are thinkers. If nothing else, like Berle, we can spend the next many years collecting experiences, someday looking back on these times with humorous whimsy.

http://atm.ucdavis.edu/weather/archives.php

I can say with sincerity and confidence that this past week was the worst yet. Any clouds I had been soaring on from previous successes darkened, and I found myself at the center of a cyclone staring outward at chaos. I am coming to understand through a painful process that what we were told is indeed true: a teacher can prepare the most beautiful curriculum, only to see it leveled by a lack of skill in classroom management.

Last week I lost momentum and several days-worth of instruction, trying to get a group of 9^th graders to work. Yes, I said days. In fact, we are so far behind in my instructional plan that my unit needs to be extended two weeks in order to accomplish necessary learning goals. What exactly, you may be thinking, does this devastating chaos look like? Storm-trackers beware!

Students were off-task during the reading mini-lesson and independent reading segments of class. Yet when they self-assessed their need for in-class reading time, the overwhelming majority of students indicated that they absolutely need it. They were defiant. They refused to work. I kept them after class—twice! I confiscated two decks of playing cards. They staged a mini-mutiny in which several kids made known their desire to have their regular teacher back. I could go on, but you get the gist.

For all the times I’ve squinched-up my face at Wong & Wong’s seemingly over-simplified philosophies, I now humbly admit there’s wisdom in their unit on classroom management. Prior to this week, I barely understood their borrowed “Characteristics of a Well-Managed Classroom,” which include: 1) High level of student involvement with work, 2) Clear student expectations, 3) Relatively little wasted time, 4) Work-oriented, relaxed climate (85-86). Now I have learned precisely what these each imply.

Not only am I taking the Wongs to heart, I have pulled my C.M. Charles anthology of classroom discipline philosophies off the shelf. Having blown the dust from those pages, I was still not satisfied with its surface-level introductions. So I rushed to the bookstore, and purchased Fay & Funk’s Teaching with Love and Logic: 400 pages deep. As they say, it is necessary to discover the source of the problem and treat it, rather than continuing to merely treat the symptoms. In this case 35 fourteen-year-olds plus one intern teacher amounted to a NOAA-scale (http://www.weather.gov/) problem.

I think many would agree there’s an art to predicting the weather. There’s an art to perfecting a welcoming, academic classroom too. Now that I’ve got my galoshes wet, I’m hoping for brighter skies in the coming weeks.

REFERENCES

Charles, C.M. (2008). Building Classroom Discipline, 9^th ed. New York: Pearson Allyn & Bacon.  

Fay, J. & Funk, D. (1995). Teaching with Love and Logic: Taking Control of the Classroom. Golden, CO: The Love and Logic Press.

Wong & Wong (2009). The First Days of School: How to be an Effective Teacher. Mountain View, CA: Harry K. Wong Publications, Inc.

As the video began and I saw the image of myself, my first thought wasn’t actually related to the image, but rather the sound. To whom did that mousy voice belong? Certainly that wasn’t my voice. My supervisor had mentioned something to me previously about my small voice. I probably screwed up my face then too, not understanding exactly what she meant. But here was this image of me, connected to a small voice asking 30 teenagers to arrange themselves for a critical thinking lesson. Hmmm . . . so that actually is how I sound.  

The next thing I noticed was that the lesson didn’t stink quite as much as I had remembered. Though so much seemed to be going wrong in retrospect, the actual document showed a slightly awkward intern teacher joyfully leading a group of mostly amenable kids.

Then a student entered into the frame, a student I see all the time. In fact, I’ve blogged about him, specifically before. Though this child has had difficulty in the recent past, there is nothing about him that strikes me as intimidating. However, there must have been an audible gasp escaping my face when I saw this replayed image of him standing next to me on the video. He is actually quite a lot bigger than I am.

Then the realization—I had no idea I am such a small person. Really. None at all. Sure, I know that I stand 5’2” off the ground, but it’s never really impacted how I perceive myself. In that instant I realized that my stature might affect the way students see me. I’ve coached demure students before, telling them that it doesn’t matter how tall you are; you can make up for just about anything with a big personality.

How right I was. Now I know I truly need to take my own advice. Not only do I have to be “on” at all times in front of the class, but I must actually be larger than life to hold the stage.

When I walked in early to get a seat at the front of the library, I was greeted by the sight of a tall, muscular, elegantly dressed African American woman. “Curious,” I thought to myself. “Who is she?” Still unaware of our agenda, I went on conversing with staff while others filed in and got their seats. As it turned out, this was the singularly most powerful meeting I’ve been at during the whole of my time at this high school.

The woman the district sent to us is Erin Jones, the person at OSPI who is responsible for addressing the “achievement gap” in Washington State (though she shuns the term). Ms. Jones spoke to us from the front of the room, using no visual aides. Yet she held us rapt in her attention, telling us her story for over an hour. I have never been so intensely focused on a speaker before.

Our time together culminated with a powerful visual activity. First, we gave ourselves points related to 40 developmental assets. So, there were 40 points possible. Then we arranged ourselves, standing together in groups depending on our score. I was shocked to find myself at the low end of the scoring range with only a handful of other people. The rest of the staff were squished-in at the high score range. Jones’ point for us was that school is a Middle-class, White institution. But the majority of our students are not White, nor Middle-class. Thus, there is a disconnect between our experiences.

Standing at the low-end of the scale felt uncomfortable for me, looking across the void at all of our school administrators and the majority of teachers and staff. After the shock wore off, and I’d had a good cry, I’m wondering if growing up with less developmental assets can actually be an asset to my own teaching practice. Perhaps I will be a more effective teacher with less effort, simply because I can identify with my students more easily.

For example, I am currently struggling to learn how to give clear, concise instructions, and helping students transition quickly. Once this week I was “on fire,” as one of my mentor teachers told me twice in a day. However, the following day my timing fell apart completely. If I could only harness that fire from the on day and reignite it every day forward. But how? I am in the midst of trying to analyze my shortcomings in this area to pick apart what sparks the fire, how to nurse it, how to stoke it, and when and how to put it out.

Does this sound like a volatile process?

On Friday at the end of an off day, the conclusion to a roller-coaster week, I found myself standing atop a chair amidst a chaotic din of students. Our critical thinking inquiry into Arizona’s new immigration legislation had essentially disintegrated. Instead of continuing on with the lesson as planned, I got their attention—calling loudly from my perch, “What. Just. Happened?!?” And as they replied, my students entered into an authentic discussion, using conversation stems, taking turns, and staying on topic. These are the exact skills we’ve been working on for the last eight weeks. I announced this to them joyously, and then had them reflect on what skills they’d like to work on next. They were on fire, and our timing couldn’t have been better.

Currently, I am at a point of trying to understand how to calm myself, realizing that at some point these hours of preparation are sufficient. This is not to say that a teacher can then sit back with her feet upon the desk and let the students do all of the work—but maybe nearly so. Perhaps what I’m grasping at is the ability to relax, to be confident enough to engage with students in the moment.

This is not unlike parenting. Any modern mother can understand and explain as she sighs, “I enjoy our days so much more when I’m able to focus on my kids in the moment.” Though extremely valuable, this behavior is not so easy to put into practice. When the dishes, or the bills, or other pressures weigh upon one—it is difficult to relax.

At this point in my teaching, I see that while planning is critical, after a certain point, there is nothing more that can be planned. It is at this time that I need to set aside my worry about the lesson plan and get out into the hallway. I need to greet students at the door, confidently, letting them breathe in a relaxed (though still academic) atmosphere, reassured by my assurance: You are welcome here!

High school has changed so much in terms of safety since I was there as a student myself. I notice this especially when reflecting on the fact that we used to have one security guard in charge of parking. In the school where I’m currently interning, there are two armed security and one police officer on duty at all times. I find it extremely valuable to support these professionals on our campus. Together, we contribute to a safe environment in which students can learn.

Additionally, I am in the process of forming bonds with the office manager and the head custodian. I often see these two conversing with our police officer, and have to giggle to myself. This triad, in conversation, represents the three people on campus who know absolutely everything that goes on at the school. They laugh along with me, knowing just how true this is.

P2: Enhanced by reflective, collaborative, professional growth-centered practice

As I have reflected in recent posts, I believe I have made the shift from concerns about what I can teach students, to how I can help them learn particular content. This type of pondering requires constantly asking the question: “Is it working?” When the response to this is “no,” an immediate change is required. I find this type of teaching an interesting challenge. But time and again, I see that the benefits to student learning far outweigh the need to keep a lesson plan or unit undisturbed. At the beginning of my teaching career, I notice that this sort of on the spot improvisation becomes more fluid and effective with practice. 

P3: Informed by legal and ethical responsibilities

Relationships are such a huge part of a positive learning environment, and one aspect of teaching I enjoy immensely. Of course, part of knowing anyone is knowing their joys and strengths as well as their struggles. In the last few months I have had the professional responsibility of escorting youths to security for anger management, notifying school counselors of specific student psychological conditions, and starting professional collaboration around individualized education plans and other medical conditions impacting student learning.

My current teaching experience allows for assessments at each stage of curricular unfolding. I use formative assessments in my daily process by careful observations of student engagement with the material. Summative assessments come in the form of comments I make to students on culminating written work, referencing them to standards on departmental rubrics, and reading and writing capacity matrices. We often use a consens-o-gram (Langford) or other interactive tools to get a snapshot of how the class understands their performance at any given point. Additionally, I put a heavy emphasis on peer evaluation and feedback, which the students use multiple times prior to submitting assignments to me.

T2: Intentionally planned

I am consistently asking my students for feedback and suggestions for what types of learning they want to work toward next, as well as the topics they’d like to use to meet these skills-based goals. When they hand me feedback that says “anything,” “nothing,” or some unhelpful comment, I hand it back to them; I remind them that I am giving them an opportunity to have a voice in their learning. And just prior to big deadlines, I use an emoto-meter (my creation) tool to let them express confidence or worry. This gives me a quick class-wide visual to determine whether they are responding to academic rigor, or whether I have missed a step in my explication of the subject matter.

T3: Influenced by multiple instructional strategies

In everything I teach, I am constantly aware that there are multiple intelligences represented in and by my students. As a visual-kinesthetic learner, I understand that school has not traditionally taught to students with these types of strengths. Having grown through my primary, secondary, and post-secondary education in such a system, I understand deeply what a powerful impact teaching with multiple strategies can have on student learning. In fact, I am building in a short unit for my seniors prior to their graduation where they will explore their own learning styles; my hope is that they will be able to use this knowledge in their future academic and professional endeavors.

T4: Informed by technology

Another thing that is often in my mind is how I can use student strengths in one area to bolster their performance in another area. For example, many students are technologically literate, but struggle with reading. I often incorporate computer work into my reading skills course for this reason. Additionally, I have other students for whom formatting a Word document is a new challenge. In this case, I build in individualized time for step-by-step instruction around technology, thus working to close our still-existing technology gap. As researchers and government officials are well aware, this rift is often expansive along socio-economic lines. Intentionality around this issue is a major piece of critical pedagogy.

Teenagers are at such a complex stage of development; in conversational speak: crazy. This is simple to say, but much more involved to experience on a daily basis. They are no longer children, though still very childlike. They are not yet adults, though they can often share such characteristics.

In my experience thus far, there is a huge gap between the kind of scaffolds required at the freshman and senior years of high school. And of course, there is also every possible maturity nuance between. But students are not only various in their emotional maturity, but also in their cognitive development as well. This complexity is layered upon differences in home cultures and socio-cultural perspectives.

L2: Classroom/school centered

I am just beginning to observe what a benefit it can be to students when their teachers have the opportunity for professional collaboration. Even just a few minutes interaction a day can give us each helpful insight we would not be able to gain alone. This shared information, particularly related to positive strategies specific to individual learners, can hugely aid students’ classroom success across subjects. This type of benefit is not limited to professionals within the classroom, however.

L3: Family/neighborhood centered

Collaboration between family members and teachers is not only possible, but also critical. I have one student currently who is just getting back on track after some time in jail. Fortunately, this student’s sibling is also a student of mine in another class. The rapport I have with each of them, paired with their mutual support of one another has been instrumental in the successes of this first student.

L4: Contextual community centered

I find myself consistently pausing the teaching of curriculum (the text) to address the many sub-texts that my students bring into the classroom. In the positive, racial, ethnic, socio-economic, religious, gender, and individual differences are explored and celebrated as appropriate. In the negative, this philosophy requires corrective pauses in instruction to clearly explain why various slurs and epithets are not acceptable in our learning environment. As I teach my subject-area lessons, I incorporate respect in all we do. My classroom is a safe place to learn.