There is no beauty in grief.

Please bear with me as I ramble.

It’s been two months. 

It’s also been almost six years. 

No matter the time gone by, no matter the person, no matter the circumstance, there’s pain.

Two months ago today, my brother-in-law died very unexpectedly.  Fifty one is too young.  Too young when you have a child.....an only child, who already lost her mother.

Almost six years ago I sat at my sister-in-law’s bedside.  I was with her when those unbearable words were spoken: “There’s nothing more we can do”.  I had to call her brother to come, I witnessed her dad, lean from his wheelchair, kiss his only daughter on the cheek and tell her to “kiss your mom for me”.  For days I comforted her as her body slowed, she said her goodbyes, and passed from this world.  But that wasn’t the worst of it - it wasn’t sharing secrets that we had never told anyone, it wasn’t talking about what Heaven would be like, it wasn’t sitting with my brother-in-law, talking him through this tragedy, while she slowly slipped from us........it was sending dear Hubs and a cherished friend to get my niece from school and hearing her innocent footsteps approach the hospital room as my sister-in-law took her final breath.  No twelve year old girl should have to see her mom’s body for the very last time ...... and then, only five years later to witness her dad dying before her eyes. 

And no child, no matter how great or small the world perceives their loss, should EVER have to worry about their return to school.  To worry about telling other people, to worry about how much work they “have to” make up, to worry about .... anything.  We, as educators, bear a massive responsibility in how this is handled.  Inside the walls of our classroom WE ultimately are responsible for what happens – and I’m not talking about the progress students show on paper or the score they receive on a state test or the work they missed.  I’m talking about the responsibility we have in ensuring that every child is emotionally cared for and genuinely knows that and never questions their emotional safety within those walls.  I know I was not the favorite aunt when I showed up at her school – during my sister-in-law’s final weeks or after her passing.  But I didn’t care – it wasn’t about them, it was about ensuring the emotional safety of my niece and all of the kids around her.  And that was my priority, in her classroom and in mine.

I wish I could say that my fierceness in protecting my niece was baseless, but unfortunately nine years ago I was that teacher.  I had a student that year whose sister died very unexpectedly – there was more tragedy around it than you can imagine.  He was out for over a week which gave me lots of time to just spend with my other kids, the “one year family” for this child.  I will never forget, as long as I live, telling my other students about this tragedy.  The staff had “the plan” of what we would say and who would be with me in the room in case they were needed, but we NEVER could have been prepared for the impact on these kids.  This may have been the turning point in my attitude shift in my role as “teacher”. 

I am very aware that I can be an administrator’s nightmare.  You have to be a pretty confident person to be “in charge” of me (dear Hubs, I’m sure, would aggressively shake his head in agreement!).  I don’t march to my own drummer, I have my own unconventional band – yup, I’m one of “those” kinds of girls that make people nervous.  But, most everything I do is backed up with research.  And in all of the research I read on grief, it NEVER said anything about test scores, it NEVER said anything about the urgency of showing progress and in improving data, it NEVER said anything about pounding the pavement with academics, it NEVER mentioned meeting standards, and it NEVER mentioned all the work they “had” to make up. 

It was at that point that I realized that in 10 years this student wouldn’t remember third grade for the score he received on any assessment or how much academic progress he made or the work that he wasn’t able to make up or how quickly he assimilated back into our room the way other people expected him to.   

It was at that point that I realized more than I ever had, that the community I worked tirelessly all year to build would be one of the most important supports for him.

We were prepared to do whatever he needed us to do, but when he returned it was quiet, uneventful. 

He just needed us “to be.......”.

He needed us to be there for him without saying anything.

He needed us to support him by leaving him alone.

He needed us to know we loved him by respecting him enough to let him sit in our class bathtub for almost a week and stare at nothing. 

He needed me to be completely okay with his world stopping.

He needed me to accept the fact that nothing mattered to him except the loss of his beloved sister.

He needed me to be strong enough to fiercely defend my decisions and my actions on his behalf.

He needed us to be okay with him rejoining the team on his own terms.

He needed us to “be” whatever it was that he needed in each moment.

And so it was then that I realized how critical it is that, from day one, we work on the community we choose to have in our classrooms – no matter what our year may bring. 

I spend almost two weeks to start the year on team building, community building, relying on others, and emotional safety.  I literally do NOT touch anything academic for 7-10 days.  In my opinion, these lessons, this time spent has been more critical than any math fact, any close reading, any fact or reading fluency rate, any research or learning we do and each year I am prepared to defend my decisions if needed.   It’s the old saying of “start slow to go fast”, but it’s more than that.  Yes, we start slow and move much more quickly with academics as the year goes on, but it’s also giving yourself permission to completely come to a standstill when it’s needed, academically OR emotionally.

Whether it’s a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend, a family pet, a divorce - loss is loss and grief is grief and it’s critical that we honor and respect that – no matter how uncomfortable for us, we need to honor our kids’ emotional well-being.  I’m so fearful that we are quickly moving to a place in education where we don’t stop everything to respect each other’s feelings and emotions, but instead quickly brush it under the rug and shift our focus almost entirely on achievement.  We need to grab hold, dig deep, and put our foot down.  No child can achieve, great or small, without validating their emotions.   

The other day I witnessed the most beautiful thing.  A dear friend and teammate (same band as me!) had a seven year old student whose dog died.  She stopped the world of “school” to wholly focus on his grief, on his pain, on supporting and loving him.  She allowed him to tell the class and be completely okay with what happened next.......through her actions and her incredible love, each student felt safe enough to one by one come to him and hug him.  He cried, she cried, many of the classmates cried .... and they all grieved together.  And it was okay and it was safe because she has worked so hard to create that team, that family in her classroom.

And it hit me this morning....

There is no beauty in grief. 

The beauty lies in the relationships with the people who help you through that grief.

Sausage maker? Not this girl.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”                           

~Nelson Mandela

I believe if you listened carefully enough, you could hear the collective gasp of the world when news was shared that Nelson Mandela had passed.  Such a wise man and this quote, one of my all-time favorites, was so simple, yet incredibly brilliant. 

Funny, with so many recognizing Mandela’s insight on the world, no one ever seems to take note that he never said that robotic teaching with rote, scripted lessons is a powerful weapon; never a mention that test prep simply to improve scores, solely for use against teachers & schools, is the way to go if we are to change the world.  

Recently, I read a letter written by the head of schools at the Montessori school where the children of a certain leader in New York State education attend  (hmmm, thought provoking that the Commissioner believes so much in public education that his children attend a Montessori school).  She spoke of attending a conference where Dr. Yong Zhao, (professor at the College of Education, University of Oregon) spoke and compared schools in China, his native homeland, to schools in the U.S.  Zhao is quoted as saying, “In U.S. schools we attempt to take curiosity, passion and creativity, multiple intelligences, cultural diversity and individual differences and squash them through a “sausage maker” school system, zapping these qualities into what we think will be an employable worker.” 

So, I began to wonder just how we change people’s minds...how do we get people to understand that we are heading into incredibly dangerous territory by providing modules and manuscripts for teachers to spit out at kids, where there’s a right and a wrong, where you just “do” and not think.  We not only do NOT encourage creativity in kids, but it is rare to see in teachers.  Zhao spoke of how China “out tests” the U.S. (for the past 50 years or more) because their kids are trained to take tests (hmmmmm....this is sounding eerily familiar), but how the Chinese are very concerned that the United States puts out more innovators than them, so much so that the Ministry of Education in China has recently taken steps to “reduce the academic burden of primary school students”.

He asked the question, “What is the best way to kill curiosity in students?” Answer: “Give them all of the answers. Cramming and covering vast quantities of information kills curiosity.”  I’m always intrigued when researchers, in education, say these things and yet, no one seems to listen.  I find myself becoming more and more frustrated with education, the mandates, and the “Kool Aid” – where we drink up every bit of propaganda we hear.....I’m floored when I hear people I once respected as innovators in education begin to spew out nonsense, “It’s good that we all do the same thing” or “they have to be ready to take these tests”.  I have never felt more different, as a teacher, than ever – yes, I march to my own dang band, but I feel like I’m living in a foreign land.  Kids begin school as creative little beings, bursting with the gift of discovery, full of wonder, asking “why?” more than any other time in their lives and little by little that joy, the wonder is stripped away.  I’ve seen it with my own kids and it kills me to watch – joy dissipates, burden sets in, disinterest follows, and soon they’re completely disengaged in the ownership of their learning.  Although the “youngers” aren’t able to express this, my son, now a high school graduate, is a master at calling it – like his Momma, he won’t be confined to a box and I am impressed with the degree he understands what is happening in education – because he was the victim of it and I’m sad to say that the other kids experience it too.  Learning is not connected, depth of understanding is out of focus, questioning of ideas doesn't happen; wondering “what if” is obsolete.

Do we really want to raise a generation of test taking minions? Unrelated fact spewers?  Does it really matter most who earns the highest score on a test where norms and numbers and cut scores are changed on a whim from year to year?  Where NOTHING diagnostic comes out of a test that some spend hours, days, weeks, months preparing for?  Are we happy with being so focused on teaching from a module that tells you what to say and when that we miss those teachable moments?  Or do our kids deserve more? 

The head of school ended her letter with a final quote by Zhao, “Test scores are a poor reflection of what our students could be learning and distract teachers from the real work of helping students to discover, be curious, work collaboratively and interact with each other in meaningful ways.”  Perhaps the Commissioner and those "who know best" should take a big dose of Zhao's advice.

I won’t apologize; I have NOT poured my heart, soul, passion, and love into being a sausage maker.

Dear teacher...

Day 9 of a 10 day break from school.....

Coffee in hand, blankets piled around; snow falling, and me getting my fix of my favorite blogs.  Today’s was a bit different.....I almost leaped up cheering for the writer.  One of today’s education posts was a letter from a parent to her child’s beloved teacher, one she fully supports and appreciates......although the teacher may have been surprised by the content.

The letter started off thanking the teacher for all of their hard work, congratulating her on getting the children so far in what is almost the half year mark, but then quickly moved on to explain why her child would NOT be completing the assigned vacation packet chuck full of, what I’m sure was incredibly stimulating (insert immense sarcasm!), rote, test prep work.  The parent went on to explain what real world learning the family had done on the break (making gingerbread houses from scratch using all sorts of fractions and math, vacationing on an island and naming land features they encountered, using imaginative play, reading for nothing more than pleasure) and how much more beneficial the connections and wonders the child made was to him than turning page after page of rote, mundane, unengaging busy work.  In my giddy little mind I jumped up an applauded wildly (all while staying firmly planted in my blankets.....didn’t want to sacrifice the coffee!) – first, that the parent respectfully stood up to the nonsense that education has become in the quest to attain a high test score and second that she was taking such an active role in her child’s learning – providing opportunities and encouraging him to make connections in the real world.  She then very kindly shared this link in the email:    http://www.districtadministration.com/article/homework-or-not-research-question   The letter was very kind and did not slam the teacher or education at all, just gave insight into what is truly valued in that home and I applaud her for her genuine honesty.

Last night I, unexpectedly, caught up with a friend that I haven’t seen in 25 years (gasp!), but it was like we were 17 all over again!  We howled at our own teenage ordeals and laughed at our parenting fiascos and how we deal with our own kids.  She had thought of pursuing teaching and wasn’t surprised that I had become one (or that in my classroom I have a bathtub....or a coffee table.....or an overstuffed chair.....). Our conversation quickly turned to our kids’ school experiences and her son’s terrible third grade one.  Every time I hear a story like this, it just breaks my heart – school shouldn’t be this way; yes learning can be hard (and truthfully should be challenging to some degree for all children), but it’s our job to reroute, to constantly help find a detour, to guide a struggling child, and acknowledge success which wasn’t done for her son.  Similar to mine, her son is also a very bright boy who had been very defeated early in his schooling.  Since her mom and sister are both teachers and she is an incredibly involved mom our conversation turned to what’s so broken in education.  

We both agreed that in our over focused, futile focus on high stakes testing, we are sacrificing true, meaningful, inspiring learning for packets and papers and basals.   My kids have all experienced that mundane, test prep, fill in the blank worksheet, answer rote questions nonsense – t o o    m a n y    t i m e s – where clearly the kids’ only motivation is to get it done, to put anything down to fill the empty black hole, to satisfy the teacher.  They weren’t inspired, they didn’t care, they didn’t learn from it.  In fairness, there were a few teachers who did inspire – my daughter’s passion for Nelson Mandela and the work he did for human kind & to discover more than was required, for my son’s quest to taking the opposing view from his entire class on a major event in history and dig as deeply as he could to prove his case.

My job is NOT to keep kids busy at home, ESPECIALLY over a break, and it’s certainly not to send packet after packet and sheet after sheet to complete rote, mundane, non-stimulating busy work home.  I don’t have time to provide feedback on work that I don’t value, that is uninspired or not intrinsically motivating for kids.   I don’t want kids sitting for any time at all filling in papers or providing “the right answer” just to have something scratched in a blank space.  I completely get that some parents either can’t or choose not to engage their kids in learning – but it’s not my place to interfere at home or place judgment on what is or isn’t done and then hold a child accountable for what they can’t control.  My job isn’t to provide blanks to be filled in with the right answer.

My job is to spark intrinsic motivation.

My job is to inspire learning. 

My job is to ignite passion.

My job is to encourage kids to take on challenges. 

My job is to get kids so fired up about learning and questioning and wondering that each day they discover something new.

My job is to get kids asking questions that don’t have clear answers and to be okay with facing such ambiguity. 

My job is to get kids to build things, to figure out how something works. 

My job is to improve on something they believed was “okay” and make it even better.

It’s never too early to inspire and it’s certainly NEVER too late to start, but we MUST think more differently about it than we ever have before.  Worksheets, busy work, fill in the right answers/bubbles, test “prep” work do NOT inspire learning and deeper understanding – ask open questions, ask for an opinion, ask to make something better, ask to improve an old idea, ask simply to discover.

Dear “Mom of the Year”,

Thank you for speaking so beautifully on behalf of your child and in doing so, speaking for all children who don’t have a voice. 

Sincerely,            

children everywhere

The Great Marble Machine Race

You’ve heard it before, there is no box in my classroom – actually, my teammates have quite a great time reminding me that I have no clue there is a box that I’m “supposed” to fit in!  I’m not someone who thinks inside boxes and boundaries (which made my own learning experience horrendously unbearable), but I do respect people who work better within defined parameters.  It’s not that I want to cause panic among “newbies” to my room (well, um, okay, there IS a certain amount of pleasure I get from pushing people to think).   I want to provide a space that is comfortable for ALL learners and if that means it needs to look and feel different, then it will be.  I suppose pillows on the floor around a coffee table doesn’t constitute as a learning space for some!

We recently planned to begin our simple machines unit.  In the past I’ve used a “canned” program (do this “experiment”, with an already determined/expected outcome, first, followed by the second unrelated experiment, wait until the end to barely relate concepts, etc....), but over the past few years I’ve slowly moved into inquiry/project based units.  The biggest challenge I’ve discovered isn’t about budget cuts, or lack of support or supplies, but it’s been kids having difficulty thinking.  I know that sounds crazy, but the way education is turning, kids are used to “just doing worksheets” and not having to think, wonder, or connect learning.  That’s really my biggest goal in my room – kids HAVE TO think and take risks!   It’s not easy, it takes time, it takes coaxing and lots of encouraging.  By 9 they already believe that they’re supposed to give me the “right” answer and wait for a number or an obnoxiously large C placed prominently on their paper, be done with the task and move on to the next – factory style.  Now, they see learning as continuous and connected – we don’t do one thing without it somehow connecting to past or future learning which doesn’t end with a topic......it’s seamless, it’s related.

I started planning from the end – where I wanted them to get to and worked backward to the beginning of the plan.  Once I wrote the project “must dos” I started my “teasers” – I planted pictures on our Twitter feed asking the kids what they thought we were up to next.....first a picture of the pegboard....then of the pegs, no explanations......at that point, many of my kids started guessing and as they guessed I sent them a bonus picture clue of marbles encouraging them to keep thinking or asking questions for them to think about – no answers, no further hints.  They were SO excited that by the time I revealed the project I thought they’d come unglued!  By this point, they were so hooked that the next day that started research, several kids came in armed with things they had printed out or written down that they had already learned at home (have I mentioned how I feel about teacher assigned homework versus a genuine intrinsic motivation to learn outside of the classroom???)!

At the end of the unit I need the kids to understand friction, force and motion, identify simple machines and explain how each works.  The road we choose to get there is where I have the power to make a difference.  This year’s task appeared simple – “The Great Marble Machine Race” (insert collective gasp – it was amazing!) .... and then I introduced the “monkey wrenches”:  the race is based on the slowest machine, your machine must include a minimum of three machines, each team will be provided a peg board (2x4), 16 pegs, and each team member will receive one marble.  Mouths dropped, eyebrows furrowed, sighs were heard.......and then.....like magic.... the kids started turning to their shoulder buddies whispering ideas, asking questions.   

Once they started working in their teams, they whole heartedly jumped into it.  Kids scrambled to pull up links to begin to generate ideas for the best machine they could.  They are required to keep notes, draw diagrams, and create & continuously redesign their prototypes based on what they have learned.  They quickly began their research and watched what others were up to – which so many would deem as “cheating”......but me? I think of it as being vested, in a genuine desire to improve themselves, as being resourceful - they’re using each other as teachers (with me fulfilling my role as “co-pilot” on this learning trip), and they’re being driven and pushed by their peers.

As they first worked to understand friction and why it was important to their machines, I heard kids talking about using carpet on their run:  “maybe I can ask my dad and use a piece from our basement” or deciding to use something similar to carpet, “but not that scratchy with a little less friction” and “ice would NOT be good because it would be water before we could use it”.  It was pretty amazing to witness – in less than an hour these kids had a pretty strong understanding of friction, some a little more than others, but all without my help - simply relying on themselves, questioning what was read, and apply & making  connections to what they knew in their own lives.

The hardest part of a classroom working on project based/inquiry learning is giving up “teacher control” and being “in charge”.  Many times I want so badly to jump in and guide the kids as to where they should look, but I have to let them grapple with ideas and question each other and ideas in order for them to learn and build confidence in themselves as thinkers.  It’s easy to jump in, it’s easy to spew out an answer, it’s easy to “fix it” for them.  I need to reassure myself that they have parameters, but the rest is up to them to grab hold of and run with.  As we regrouped after that first day of research, the kids asked if they could go off the sides of the board, if they could use tubes, if they could use toy cars, could they bring in carpet pieces......I simply smiled and gave no answer because they knew, they only needed me to encourage & support them.  Some even asked if they could keep researching at home and start gathering supplies......I’m getting good at just smiling.  They are the only ones that can hold themselves back.....but their ingenuity has already been sparked.

And by the way, if you find my box?  Please don’t bring it back – I love my world.

"If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid." – Albert Einstein

Once upon a time in a classroom far, far away.....

Have you ever reflected on what used to be and realize that so many things are still relevant, but you feel like you don’t have time or are under too much stress to take it on to dig it out and reflect? Nope, can’t relate – I’m always composed, never overwhelmed or buried in paper, and easily skip out of the building each day on the heels of the kids.   

We continually have conversations in my classroom about always doing your best no matter what, persevering through tough things, not comparing our learning to others, and learning from a mistake.  I think I have made a huge mistake in the past few years.  I used to read lots of research; it was intriguing, it was inspiring.  Since having had all the free time in the world, with raising three kids, the pressures of the new Common Core, and looming high stakes testing, well.....for several years I’ve fallen away from professional reading.  In the past few months I’m very happy to say that I’ve reconnected with some of my favorites. 

During a recent chat in my classroom an incredibly guarded child matter-of-factly said, “Well, you DO know there’s more than one way someone can be smart.  And, you CAN’T be grade smart”.  This innocent 8 year old made me realize that I have missed Howard Gardner.  The idea of multiple intelligences was one of those things that struck me the first time I read them years ago – it validated who I am and most importantly, who I was.  All of a sudden, it stripped away the labels, the odd glances, and negativity that was always focused on the way I learned best (I’m “art smart” and always “got it” so easily, so quickly when I could think in pictures....only acceptable all alone at home, on my own paper of course).  It was “fingernails on a chalkboard excruciating” for me to sit in a chair, in a row, book in hand, blank paper, graphite ready to scratch an answer in for what seemed to be eternity (can you guess....I’m “body smart” – please DO NOT confuse this with running, for me it has a WHOLE different meaning!). It was my struggle, no truthfully it was a battle, for every year of school after Kindergarten.  I’ve said before I was NOT the best student, as the story of my report card reminds me, throughout all of my years of school; believing that I was dumb, not doing “well” according to tests, being told I was doing things the “wrong” way.  I used to think my Aunt Joy was NUTS when she used to tell my mother that I was “the smartest of all the five of them”.  Unfortunately, Lewy Body dementia has stolen her voice, but I’d give anything to know what she saw in me that the teachers couldn’t.

I am VERY honest with my kids and share stories of when I was in school and the things I had to do to learn and how much trouble I used to get in because I wasn’t doing it “the right way”.  We have talked about how hard I tried but the teachers just weren’t happy with me and the way I thought.  I try and reflect on my classroom as much as I can to make it different for my kids.  Maybe I make myself crazy (may be easier for me since I’m halfway there!) by doing this and changing things for the continually changing needs of my kids, but it’s what I do. 

So, inspired by the introverted kiddo I dug out my Multiple Intelligence research, blew off the dust, and created a brand new kid friendly survey.  My kids were ecstatic, the excitement was palpable....I felt like we were getting ready for the Travers Race in Saratoga!  We talked about how the survey wasn’t “more is better” when choosing answers and how they may find that they are smart in many areas and some may surprise them.  And then, it was the moment!  The kids grabbed their survey, threw their heads down, pencils moved at break neck speed to complete the survey, they were chomping at the bit to tally their results and find out how smart they really were.  You would have thought it was Christmas morning when they finished – papers flapping in the air, calling out what kinds of smart they were searching for a common “smarty” they could relate to.  I heard things like:  “That’s awesome!”  “Hey, me too!”  “Does that surprise you?” I’m really not sure that many of these kids believed they were smart since a number on a paper is what society reveres as smart.

I think of kids in many traditional experiences now, classrooms that continue to focus on ritual and test prep, modules and worksheets, those where skill and drill outweigh voice and choice. Classrooms where teachers are fearful, administrators are domineering and controlling and learning is done by demand.  My stomach turns and my heart breaks when I think about the kids like me in rooms like that that still exist.  I can’t fathom how as much as things have changed in education many times they really stay the same.  Knowing what we know through research, VALID research, how can we ignore the learning styles of our kids?  Isn’t our job to prep them for LIFE, not focus on a test or rigid, developmentally inappropriate lessons? I truly believe that part of the “real” prep we need to do is to validate each child for the way their brain works.  Can you imagine NOT doing what you love?  Or being forced to do things in a way that you didn’t understand, couldn’t relate to, or were simply painful to get through?

Not surprisingly, the guy who always seems to be “antsy”, continually playing with things, bouncing his leg, doing anything he can to NOT work at his homebase – he was body smart.  The kiddo who just won’t walk away from a challenge, and bites on her pencil feverishly until she figures out a Brain Buster – yup, math smart.  The one who never seems to stop drumming on his legs, humming his favorite tunes – I called that one in week 2, he’s music smart.  The child who always dives to the window seat to snuggle up and soak up the sun – you got it, as nature smart as they come!  It was so awesome to spend the time doing this – I can’t tell you the joy and validation the kids showed.  Most didn’t surprise me; after watching the kids learn over the past 9 weeks it was easy for me to predict, but it was a reassuring surprise and validation for the kids.  It was like high tide - negativity, odd glances, and labels all fell away and insight, self-affirmation, and pride filled in.

As we finished going over the data, one kiddo who is very hesitant and appears almost fearful of making a mistake approached me.  Looking glum, head bowed, almost on the verge of tears, he quietly said, “Mrs. W., this says I’m Math smart and I just don’t understand”.  I explained what “Math smart” really means and what your brain “sees” and interprets as math.  Within nano seconds after I finished with the explanation his head snapped up, face beaming, arms flailing, he cheered, “Well, now this COMPLETELY makes sense!”

Yes buddy, no words could be truer.

How are you defined?

Really, what defines who you are? 

• Your work ethic? 
• Your perseverance? 
• Your character? 
• Your fight for justice?
• Your accomplishments?
• Your success?

And when you decide those things, then how do you know you’re doing well?  What’s your barometer?  What’s your intrinsic motivation?  What helps push you onward to attain more, overcome a challenge by working in a different direction, and persevere to become a better person?  Of course we all have bad days, but most days we do our best putting as much effort, heart, and soul into something and hopefully approve of our work at the end of the day or make a plan to do better the next. 

Can I ask then, how would your image of yourself change if you were graded on it?  A number, a score, a parameter on what you pour yourself into.  You know, each day your principal parades around your room holding up a sheet of card stock with a large, red D stamped on it?  Hour by hour your teammates write on your door window in bold, blue vis-a-vis a bubble letter grade.  It’s so final.  A done deal.  No going up or down, no mention of perseverance or progress.  Pretty absurd, huh?

In posts before I’ve talked about Dear Boy – such a bright kid who has more knowledge of history and world events than anyone I know (other than his grandfather!) and like his Momma he’s been “blessed” with an “out of the box brain”.... well, blessed as long as it didn’t come to grades and school.  I can’t tell you how many ugly scenes have been played out, turning our home into a battle ground, about grades and how they defined him negatively.  His ideas and “design” for learning was very different and was almost never acceptable in the “boxed” parameters of learning which didn’t play out well on daily papers or a report card.  Grades have defined who he believes he is as a learner and truthfully, what he believes couldn’t be farther from the truth.  But day after day, year after year he was defined simply with a number – a standard of how he measured up to 100.  What did that number tell him?  What suggestions for improvement were made through two digits?  How were his accomplishments and small successes acknowledged through two characters that prominently faced him each time he received papers back from teachers?

When I began teaching, I worked with two veteran teachers who were like an old, married couple.  I liked them very much as people, but it was hard to be the black sheep that didn’t agree with their VERY traditional ways.  I did the daily tasks because it was “what we do” and I was the rookie.  All the while I writhed watching the kids who didn’t “get it” the first time, or kids who had sensory issues and struggled to function in the typical setting, or the multi-modal learners who were forced to sit still in one chair and complete a task with rigid parameters.  I’ll never forget teaching one of my guys about angles and distance through the layout of a football field (hello?  This is me.... YES, it was painful, but I had to get my guy to learn this!).  He needed multi-modal learning and immediate feedback, but I felt like I was performing some type of taboo ritual just to avoid the other teachers seeing me or discovering what I was up to.  ONE LESSON with “football talk” and the kid got it!  It used to kill me to put the required grades on papers – the kids who did their best, but just didn’t do well on paper were slapped upside the head defeated by their score and the kids who sailed through everything and didn’t care about much else cheered themselves for a grade earned with very little effort.  I watched kids define themselves with a number that I was guilty of placing prominently on the top of each paper.  That number I so easily tossed down became a badge of honor or one of horror.

I’ve said before, but I have to gush again and say I can’t ask for better teammates.  Although we do get down with the overwhelming demands on us, being slammed into high stakes testing and Common Core, other challenges that pull us down, and the increasing needs of our kids, at the heart of teaching our beliefs are the same.   We wrestle each marking period with “putting kids in a box” – it’s just so defining and truthfully at times can be obsessive for children and parents, causing them to lose sight of what was accomplished, overcome, or improved.  We focus on our kids’ strengths and bounce ideas off each other about improving their struggles.  We peer coach and give each other suggestions and feedback; not numbers and scores.  We focus on insight and reflection and ask our kids to do the same.  There are many days when I watch the kids’ faces to see the understanding of and connection to what my notes say with suggestions to make improvement or congratulations on making progress.  It’s a similar to a dancer, an artist or a craftsman – they’d NEVER receive a score, but instead specific, immediate feedback on their craft to become better at what they do.

We’ve spent the past few weeks on owl research; so many topics that have been tackled through this inquiry unit.  I’ve watched some kids take on unbelievably challenging topics and others struggle through the simplest.  But, how I approach either student is what makes the difference.  For me to give one student an A when they reach their minimum is just as much an injustice as writing a D on the student who has reached his/her maximum, but is completing his job and putting his heart and soul into it, doing the absolutely best job he can and being pretty darned successful.  The kids pull out their projects, find a sticky from me (I write directly in journals & learning logs, but not on final projects) with specific feedback and work incredibly hard to improve and make changes or sit back and smile with self-satisfaction knowing they’ve done their best and pushed themselves to do things that didn’t seem possible. 

Just today I asked my kids if they knew how they were doing in third grade.  It was a 50/50 split of who did and didn’t – those who didn’t said it was because they didn’t have grades.  I am heart sick to tell you that at eight years old they equate their learning, their worth to a number.  A long conversation ensued and I told them if they wanted a grade I would give them a Z, an L, or a J or if they’d like a number I’d be happy to assign a 364, a 497, or even a 1,467.  They giggled and started to realize that learning isn’t about a number and in fact how little a number can tell you.  One sweet kiddo said, “You know Mrs. W, learning is about making your best even better.  It has nothing to do with numbers or letters”.  Ah, child.....your wisdom is beyond your years!

Yes, it takes time.  Yes, I often struggle not to spill my lunch on their work while writing notes.  Yes, I get behind.....sometimes VERY behind.  But every student gets the same thing, feedback; some cheering on and specific suggestions for making changes & improvements or a reference to a learning log to look back at previous work and learn from their own work.  They’re at the point now, only 8 weeks in that they crave feedback and look forward to reading the notes – now that is pretty cool.  

As a kid, I can remember getting work back and feeling the largest kick in the gut, stomach in knots as I was about to lay eyes on my grade, that defining moment, the badge of horror, being put in a box that I had little choice about.  It’s not what happens in my room.  The hours I pour into writing feedback, it’s worth it.  Explaining to parents why I won’t focus on a number, it’s worth it.  I’ve seen a huge change in the effort my kids put into their work and the pride they take in it. There has been a different level of learning in my room because the kids are always pushing themselves toward being better – not a better grade, number, or score, but a better self.  They ask each other for suggestions or give each other rave reviews or specific critiques; they’re in this for the learning, NOT for the number.

Yes, it is AWFULLY hard to have to think about putting a number, in a box, on a paper, concretely defining each student, knocking down any belief in themselves as a learner, in a few weeks – I’d love nothing more than to accidently drop them all in the burn pile, but I’d even settle to X out each grade and pour myself into hours of narrative notes.  I’ve had MANY conversations with my teammates and principal about how much I dislike report cards (did I mention that one time I didn’t read Beezie’s for two months?!).  Thankfully, we are having Student-led, parent conferences so the students can proudly define who they are, address the struggles they are working to overcome, and celebrate their strengths and achievements.  The report cards will, unfortunately, come later after our conference.  It’s my hope that they don’t extinguish the pride the kids have in themselves as learners; the belief they have that they are achievers.

All the time, all of the extras, all of the piles of notebooks are worth it to me; I need no affirmation other than the looks on the faces, the seven/eight year old comments, questions, and smiles, the drive for more and for better.  These little people are counting on me to move them forward and push them to reach for something they never dreamed of reaching. 

They really do believe the stars are waiting...

My weekly post will be up tomorrow, but for today I’d be remiss to not stop, pause, and say thank you. To the men and women who have served over the years, thank you for your selfless time serving our country.

To my former students, you will always be my kids. So when you went off to Afghanistan and Iraq I silently grieved.  When you returned I quietly celebrated.  Thank you for selflessly serving, I’m still so proud of you.

It wasn’t until a conversation with a colleague this week that I realized that my own children have never known a world where the U.S. was not involved in conflict or war around the world.  It was so sad to me.  It was at that moment that I’ve never been more grateful for the service of my family and my freedom.

My dad has traced our family history to every battle and conflict that America has ever seen, thankfully ending in the World War II era.  Great-grandfathers and their fathers, grandfathers, great uncles, father-in-law, and my father have all served.

More personally, I’ve been told and retold stories of our family heroes:

For my Uncle Dominick, who served in the North African invasion and later was moved to the Normandy invasion, thank you “Micky”.  This handsome young man paid the ultimate price with his life after a fierce enemy encounter.  A brave man, who was the ultimate hero to his platoon – giving his life so they could return home and keep theirs.  A silver star, a bronze star, and the Purple Heart will never replace the grief that the family went through in losing you.

For my grandfather who, two days after Uncle Dominick was killed, was “slightly wounded” (ahem, amputation - I’m always amazed by the words the government uses) in France, thank you Poppy.  His injury and sacrifice would live with him for the next 34 years.  His distinctive gait that I remember was the ultimate reminder of the sacrifice he made on that day.  Every little girl has a hero in her life and my Poppy was mine – tall, strong, brave, proud, and protective.  The war, his injuries, and the battle never really left him - my hero succumb to cancer related to war and my world came crashing down on my 10^th birthday. 

My maternal grandfather saw plenty of action himself.  On his ship in the Pacific, for some reason his life was spared from the Kamikaze pilot whose plane blasted into the ship where he was to be the gunner on duty that day.  Unfortunately, the sailor in his place died, and my grandfather returned home to his wife and his infant daughter.  I never knew of the battle he had seen or life on a ship that was continuously under attack with no way to retreat, until the day he died and we were writing his obituary.  Thanks Bepa for your silent service.

To my dad, the one who taught us to be proud of our military men and women.  The one who has so much pride in our service and shares that pride with my kids in our family’s story and kept the memory of my uncle and grandfather alive.  From jumping out of airplanes, to maneuvering tanks, to being spit on & being threatened by anti-war protesters in the airport on his way home to see my mom and sister, he certainly paid his price.  Although my kids believed his tales for years, that he fought at the Alamo with Davey Crockett and jumped out of a plane to single handedly save the president, he is what every child deserves - their hero. Thanks for your service dad. 

To each veteran, near and far, to those serving right now on the front lines to protect our freedom and the freedom of others, my family and I thank you.