High stakes testing? No, thanks.

“Standardized testing has swelled and mutated, like a creature in one of those old horror movies, to the point that it now threatens to swallow our schools whole.” Kohn, Education Week, 9/27/00

Imagine that!  Alfie Kohn made this statement FOURTEEN years ago and it may be truer today than it was then.  This is one heated topic right now and I’m not sure if I should go about it as a parent or as a teacher.  I can tell you one thing, no matter which side I come from I can tell you with every fiber of my being, as mom and teacher, my daughter will NOT take part in high stakes testing; E-V-E-R.

I’ll start from “the mom side”.  The hubs and I know our daughter better than anyone; her strengths, her challenges, her gifts and talents, and her downfalls.  There is no “test” on Earth that will ever be able to accurately evaluate her and give me any feedback worth putting her through the testing to begin with.  Although I’m insanely slightly, sorta competitive in nature, I do NOT need to see how high her three digit number is, or if she gets a “perfect” score in order to tell whether or not my daughter will succeed in life – I put more faith in my ability as a mom than that.  Doodle Bug is a pleaser and if she thought for one minute that she wouldn’t do as well as she “should” or she’d let people down or she “should” get them all right, it would greatly affect her and I will NOT put my child through something like that for a worthless score.  I do have to say that my “big kids” DID take state assessments when they weren’t so grueling; what a difference 10 years makes!  Even still, every time the scores were mailed home I promptly fed them to my woodstove......not important and I would NOT let them define who my kids were.  That truly is the value I placed on those tests – NONE.  My child’s life is not up for use in the political posturing, teacher bashing state we’re in – not happening.  But in the end I TRUST the teachers my kids have to teach my kids, to move them forward, to push them as far as they can – to LEARN for life, NOT to prep for a test that is used solely to score teachers, play political games, and “earn money” from the government.    

It hasn’t been a secret that I DESPISE “test prep” and high stakes testing in general.  In my own little, civil disobedience sort of way I hope that my decision, and any other parent who makes this choice, will send the message that the tests are invalid to us and we want our kids to LEARN, not be subject to hours of skill and drill.  Imagine the things teachers could do if they didn’t feel the pressure to “stop teaching and just prep” for weeks before the test – S O O O much quality instructional time is lost and in depth, challenging opportunities are wasted because of the pressures some feel with high stakes testing.

        It was not a decision I took lightly when I devoted the time I did,  earning several degrees in education, and becoming a teacher – it’s something I’m passionate about, have conversations and debates about, and continue to read current research about.  There was never a class in all of my years in college that taught me to beat children down over the course of six days, four hundred twenty minutes to be exact and there is NO WAY to convince me it was for any benefit to my classroom, and certainly not to my students.  I’m the type of person who assesses day in and day out – formal and informal, making kids prove their understanding, pushing them with questioning, and posing situations that force them to grapple with ideas and report back.  Testing is the LAST thing I’d turn to to evaluate my kids’ strengths and struggles.  I always let them know that no grade can define them, that perseverance through difficult situations and their personal best CANNOT be numbered and those qualities are invaluable; it’s what life is about.

        So, during the three days, 210 minutes to be exact, of testing recently, what was the opportunity to learn?  You’ve got me on this one – in my opinion there was none, it was time my kids were robbed of.  What I witnessed over those days was brutal.  We started the week with me playing my “fake cheerleader” role; use strategies you know, do the best you can, you’ve got this, etc – I felt like a fraud.  During the first day, kids looked up at me with doe eyes, tears lurking on the edge of their lashes, but went right back to work trying their best as they were encouraged.  Yes, I was proud of their perseverance, but wanted to rip the tests away from them and tear them to shreds.  The second day the poor kids were so confused with having to answer multiple choice, short answer, and long answers they started to show wear; again I put on the cheerleader persona and did my own best to persevere.  On the third day I just about lost it.  The number of sighs I heard, the number of kids looking at me, eyes screaming, kids crossing out questions because the way they were worded was so baffling.   Even I had to read many questions three times to understand them and there was not a damned thing I could do.  What beat many down even more than the insane testing they had been through was that more than a third couldn’t finish; their body language was devastating and I was FURIOUS. 

NOTHING I could have taught them would have helped them run through this gauntlet, used as the sacrificial cow for teacher bashing and political posturing, in the name of saving education.  And there is NO WAY I will put my daughter in this situation.  Day in and day out I push my kids to work hard, they take on each challenge that is given to them, and beg for just one more minute to dig deeper and research more.  But those same, hardworking kids at the end of the testing said:

• ·         “What kind of teacher makes a test like that?”  (Can I tell you, sweet child, that NO teacher made that test???)
• ·        “I hate the feeling knowing there’s only one right answer & three wrong ones and chances are that I’m probably going to choose a wrong one.”
• ·        “There’s a difference between challenging kids and tricking them.  You challenge us every day and that was trying to trick us. It’s just not nice.”

As someone who has devoted their life to education it is simply sickening, that after a day of high stakes tests, it takes hours to calm the anxiety and encourage the souls of those kids, MY kids.

        Then, there’s the false information that the scores of these high stakes test are used as “feedback to inform instruction”.  Frankly, that’s a crock.  First of all, teachers generally get preliminary scores back in the SUMMER following the testing,   Hmmmm, any of my professors would cringe had I ever suggested that type of effective feedback which has ALWAYS been defined as “immediate and specific”.  Second, when we are given the scores, we are handed the same number as parents; we are NOT given any sort of item analysis to nor a copy of the test to be informed on what areas need work - period; there is absolutely NOTHING diagnostic about getting a three digit number.   If high stakes testing is to see where the kids are at, why don’t we get the scores for weeks after students leave us?  

        Of course we can bring up the battle about teacher evaluation.  I’m evaluated continually; through my own reflection (and happen to be my own worst critic), through peer coaching, through the students, parents and administration.  To use a developmentally inappropriate test, with absurd questions and time on task and put my kids under that kind of stress only to determine if I’m effective is LUDICROUS!  Last year, on state measures only two of my students passed ELA and two passed Math state assessments.  However, looking at district measures (non-invasive, brief assessments) that are not only continual throughout the year, but are scored and feedback returned to me almost immediately,very thoroughly & diagnostically, all BUT two of my students met proficiency or higher in BOTH ELA and Math.  Hmmmm, too much of a disconnect on MANY levels for me.   

        Bottom line:

        ~My child is NOT FOR SALE.     

        ~My child is worth more to me than an irrelevant score.

        ~My child has more to offer than being held to the standard of superficial learning.

To read more from Kohn on testing:  Standardized Testing and Its Victims : Kohn, Education Week 9/27/00 http://www.alfiekohn.org/teaching/edweek/staiv.htm

Silver Lining

I apologize that I’ve been “missing”.........public education is under attack and frankly it has dried me out.  I’m not sure people understand what is happening and how children are being used as the sacrificial cow. 

I’d like to think I am the kind of person that tries desperately to find the silver lining or the “what’s meant to be” in things.  And so it was, this past week, the biggest test, not of standards, but something much more important in life; a test of my core beliefs.  As I found myself getting angrier and angrier as the test went on, almost to the point of being physically ill, I realized I had to own that last of three grueling days, not let them be robbed from us any longer, and choose the way I looked at things. 

I roamed the classroom, feeling like I had stepped foot in a foreign land; dividers separating learners, three perfectly sharpened pencils placed carefully in front of each student, completely silent except for the frantic page turning drowning out the classical music playing softly in the background.  Certainly not the usual collaboration or communication, it was obviously void of the questioning and challenges from teammates, missing the wondering and digging for answers, absent of the awe I’m in most days from the kids who have become so intrinsically motivated to learn, to discover, to better themselves.  Motivation was replaced by terror and feeling defeated, questioning and digging for answers swapped with a prescribed expectation for an answer.   As I felt myself begin to boil that our learning space, our community of teammates, the love of learning had been stolen from us – completely out of our control, I did what I could do to get through and not show my anger; I shifted my focus on to my kiddos.

The first one I spotted from across the room; the one who has come so far out of their shell – anxiety and stress are gone replaced with joy of life and learning shining through; I’m beaming with pride.  I turn to stare at the child who has had so much sadness and has been a classic symbol of strength and endurance; each day I’m in awe.  Another little person who has worked so hard to push through adversity, just discovered a new strategy for multiplying four digit numbers by one in their head - teaching them self twice to make the pieces of learning come together - that smile, that pride; I’m amazed by the daily perseverance.  There’s that child who wouldn’t say a word, often rolled eyes when I tried to be funny – now funnier than me and can’t wait to find humor in random places; makes me giggle every single day.  Still roaming I find that sweet child who struggles with every breath of their being, but has worked so hard and simply beams when they makes progress or understands a really tough concept; that face makes me want to cry with joy.  Standing back I spot that child who each day seems disengaged in so many things, but always manages to amaze me with the understanding, knowledge, and connections that are shared; I silently apologize for underestimating what’s tucked away inside that sweet little head.  It wasn’t until I turn around from my lengthy trip down “Proud Teacher Lane” that I discover my little kiddo who just yesterday multiplied four digits by one, holding their head, hands placed gently on their temples.  My eyes drop to the paper below that precious face to see a perfectly round, wet dimple on the page.  At that moment I am slapped across the face, as hard as they were, by the reality of what’s being done to our kids.  I knew, that instead of rescuing that child and ripping that book to shreds, I had to walk away and for a few minutes abandon this trip of progress and pride, do what I had to do to finish those endless minutes of the gauntlet my kids were forced to run - one that will NEVER be able to truly assess the progress and abilities of my kids. 

After finishing we regrouped and debriefed.  I reassured the kids that I know they tried their personal best and I’m proud of how they persevered through something that was so grueling, but it was time to take back what was ours; wonder, learning, excitement, questioning, grappling, digging, and most important - pride. 

Although it may not have been my best choice, before setting them off on an intense inquiry in Science I asked, “Anything else?”.....It took every ounce of strength in my being to stay strong for the next three seconds of a question I never saw coming. 

The most revealing look into what these little heads were focused on and were consumed with:  “Mrs. W.?  Will you get fired if I didn’t do well?”

I quickly reassured, “That is NOT your worry because I only care that you did your personal best and you did.  And besides, if I do, I’ll go work at Wal-Mart and we can see each other all the time!”

Learning space: reclaimed.

Joy in learning and in making each day better: regained.

Understanding that a mistake is a chance to improve ourselves: salvaged.

Feelings of being defeated: destroyed.

And we all move on knowing that every single one of us has improved and made progress this year. 

Giggles abound.......and the silver lining comes busting through the dark once again.  

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.