Category: community

When You Know…

~ mandyrobek ~ Leave a comment

Dismissal time comes and goes every day and every day I start to worry a little bit.  Our school procedure is involved.  It requires me to walk with my students through the hallways to various drop of points and then taking my bus riders outside to their individual buses.

I worry about this time of day.  I have a clipboard with daily sheets for our “going home” plans.  Changes happen and I note them with post it notes.  I “lost” a kindergartener once and quickly found her in a different drop off location but I’ll never forget that worry and shutting my classroom door to burst into tears.  I am blessed to spend each day with my students and I think my biggest job is to get each student back home safely to their families.

It was about a month or two into this school year and we were getting organized for dismissal.  The students had their backpacks.  They were sitting at the carpet and I had started to line them up according to the order of their drop off location.  Everything seemed to be in order when I heard, “George come here, she already called your name.  Right here is where bus 51 goes.”

I watched and thought, Bingo; we have a classroom community!  It was such a small moment and one that could be easily over looked.  A student was looking out for a classmate and wanted to make sure he was on the bus with him to go home.  I wish you could have heard his voice; the helping student had a kind and caring inflection.  A nurturing voice with a sense of urgency.

When do you know…what small things can we look for to confirm there is a community in our classroom?  These two boys don’t necessarily share common characteristics or interests besides attending our classroom together but I would add to the dictionary’s definition of community to include – individuals who spend a lot of time together and care about each other; showing acts of kindness.

I Burped In Class Today

~ Scott Jones ~ Leave a comment

The following is a written account of an actual event that occurred in Scott Jones’s fifth grade classroom in October 2016.  Mr. Jones acknowledges that this was not his finest teaching moment. He will also not be making any further comments about this event. Yet, he believes it’s important to share his experience so others can learn from his mistakes…

October 2016

I burped in class today. For real.

Our minilesson got underway as twenty-five eager faces stared at me from the carpet after a very active lunch and recess. Today’s writing learning target was “ Writers learn how to add dialogue to their narrative to move the story forward and to reveal character.”  We were revising our personal narratives, and many students needed help on how to use dialogue properly. I had the perfect mentor text ready to go. I had a nice, organized anchor chart to capture the highlights of this minilesson. I was on a roll.

It was one of those moments that classroom communities have when the stars are aligned and everything is working.  Everyone was focused and alert.  There was an energy in the class that was palpable.  There was no doodling on journal covers, no picking at eraser tops, no playing with shoelaces. I had their full attention. They looked at me. I looked back at them. Our eyes locked with anticipation of the next insightful statement that would float from my mouth and land onto the pages of their writing journals.

As I opened my mouth to share my next pearl of wisdom, it happened. What my students heard next was no pearl of wisdom. More like a nugget of smelly air. It crept up my throat like a foghorn in the dense, morning fog. I was not prepared for this. This had never, ever happened to me before. This burp was supposed to be a private little moment, but it had now been exposed to the world.  Writing coach and author, Ruth Ayres, uses the phrase “going public” when describing how writers publish their work. Surely, she did not mean this.

The five seconds of silence that followed felt like an eternity. They were all looking at me with their heads cocked to the side like a dogs. The expressions on their face asked, Did that just happen?  It did happen. All I could do was own it and share that this had never happened before. The laughter that followed spread around the classroom until it eventually hit me. There was nothing I could do but laugh. I had literally just burped, and burped loudly, in front of my class.

The next day’s learning target: Sometimes writing is like a giant burp. You never know when you’ll be inspired to do it.  Ideas, like a burp, can creep into your mind when you least expect it.

 

Honest Conversations

~ Andrea Smith ~ Leave a comment

Hallway Talk:

“ I cannot believe that I said yes…” I shared with a colleague one busy October morning as we walked our students back to our classrooms after art and music. I explained to my friend about an upcoming presentation I agreed to do at our neighboring middle school.  

“Do you think middle school teachers could really use any ideas I have to share?  I think saying yes to hosting this presentation was a mistake…” I added with a jittery feeling of dread.

“Well you’re not sounding very confident…” came a bubbly voice a few steps behind me.  I pivoted to see the smiling face of Gabby, a charismatic and outgoing student and the source of the unexpected comment.

“Do you want to talk about this with us?” she said with her dark eyes shining while beaming a most genuine smile.  

Surprised was an understatement describing my immediate reaction to Gabby’s question.  I was not expecting a child to hear, let alone listen and then process my worries. Unexpectedly, Gabby reacted and reached out to offer caring support.  Moving past the idea of looking under-confident to a child, I was intrigued by the possibilities of this learning opportunity.  What would students say when their teacher revealed her nervousness about an upcoming presentation at another school?

“We always talk about characters and the conflicts they face in their stories.  This time we could problem-solve with you and figure out this inside problem.” chirped Gabby, scurrying to walk beside me so we could chat.

Wait…what….???  My eyes must have widened-so Gabby continued her chatter.

“In class we always talk about characters having conflicts that happen on the outside in their world and also the struggles they have on the inside with their feelings.  Well… I can tell you are worried…your eyebrows have that crunched together look and your voice doesn’t have the usual pep.” replied Gabby.  

The life of a teacher is filled with the necessity of being flexible and accepting the spontaneous needs of children.  Ordinarily, I was accustomed to being the one supplying advice or helping students to craft solutions.  Taking a risk and accepting advice were two choices I often encouraged my students to  consider.  What would happen if I showed my students the power of reflection and the acceptance of help?  What did I have to lose?  More importantly, what did my students have to gain?

 

Unexpected Conversations

“Gabby is going to lead a discussion…” I announced to my students as we settled into our classroom’s community area.

“So you can make an oval to chat.”  directed Gabby, finishing my sentence.  Once she had the team’s full attention, she explained why we were gathered and shared her thoughts on the conversation she overheard.

“And I wasn’t really eavesdropping…” she added. “Mrs. Smith was talking about a presentation, which is just like a lesson with us, so I figured it wasn’t a private topic.  I think she would pick a better place to talk about private topics than the hallway.”

(Note to self-always assume someone is listening to you in the hallway.)

“So it seems that Mrs. Smith is worried about talking to a group of teachers for a presentation.” Gabby stated with a serious and confident voice. “I think she needs a conference.  Who would like to start?”

“What are you going to talk about with the teachers?” asked Michael.

I explained how my talk would focus on conferences with students during Reading Workshop.  I would describe how we talk about books and students’ reading lives. I was greeted with smiles and lots of nodding heads.

“Is that all?” asked Steele.

I continued, explaining how I would also show the way we use Google Forms to collect information about readers and then how we use the information to keep growing as readers.

“Why are you worried about sharing?”  added Steele after hearing the additional information.  

I was intrigued by the comfortable conversation hosted by students; their questions peeled away the layers to reveal my question:  Were my worries stemming from my teaching practices or the perceptions of my middle school colleagues?

 

Honest Revelations

“I don’t know my audience very well…so I am wondering if the information I share will matter to them and their teaching.”  I confessed.

“I felt that way when I had my first reading conference with you.  I figured you had already read the book, so what else could I say about it?” answered Tony.

“Yeah…me too.  But you let us talk.” added Sheri.  “You wanted to know what we thought about our books.  Isn’t that what you are going to do?  Share what you think about reading conferences?  So really this presentation is just like a conference.  Instead of one teacher listening, you will just have a bunch of teachers listening…Don’t you think the other teachers want to hear what you have to say?  You always want to know our thinking in a conference.”

“I never thought about it that way before.” I answered.  This conversation was more than a pep-talk.  I was learning about my own classroom community and the bonds created through reading conferences and conversations.

“Are you going to tell those teachers about the Google Forms because they help us?  Are you going to explain how the conference forms lets us feel confident and helps us tell you more about the books we’re reading?” asked Maria.

“The form helps you to feel more confident?” I asked, rather surprised by this news.

“Well of course…when you started conferences at the beginning of the year, you kept the form on the SmartBoard for everyone to see- even if we weren’t having a conference.  We saw and heard what you were doing in a conference. Then we knew what to expect when it was our turn to talk with you.”  Maria added, looking surprised that I had to ask that question.

“Letting us see the form on your laptop during conferences really helps too.   You also have our Book Partner charts nearby to help us with possible topics for our conference talks.  All of this stuff made our conferences easier… and then conferences became fun.  Didn’t you know that?” responded Emma with kind disbelief.  

“So about this talk.  I’m really confused.  Are you worrying about the talking or about whether or not people will listen?”  Gabby finally asked.  

Wow.  In one kind but direct sentence, Gabby summarized my worries.  The wisdom of children means you need to be ready to wrestle with some hard truths.  It never dawned on me that it wasn’t the talking that had me worried, but would my audience care enough to listen.  This short “conference” helped me focus on empowering ideas and now I could conquer my concerns as a presenter before a new audience.

 

Lessons Learned

A 10 minute conversation with my students accomplished more than easing my worries about a professional presentation.  Our talk confirmed my beliefs about class conversations and the confidence gained from a powerful literacy environment.  My students reaffirmed how meaningful conversations build the foundation of a supportive classroom community.  This confessional conference reminded me of the following truths:

Be a listener.  

Let students talk so you can discover their perceptions of selected classroom practices, routines, and rituals. By slowing down and letting a child lead the conversation, who knew I could receive reflective and powerful feedback from my students?  By publicizing my worries about an upcoming presentation, I actually discovered how important reading conferences were to my students.  In turn, my students realized that their observations and advice helped me feel more confident; their words helped me realize the necessity of being brave so I could share my ideas with others. Empowerment can be a shared experience.

 

Be vulnerable.  

We all have our worries and baggage that we try to compartmentalize and hide away when we live and work in our communities.  Decide when sharing your concerns and looking vulnerable is worthwhile so you can hear truthful comments from those around you.  Be open to the messages of your colleagues, your school families, and from children.  My unexpected confession to students reinforced the idea that we need one another.  Sometimes we need support.  At times we need to celebrate.  Each of us needs someone to listen.  We all need caring people in our lives to grow.  When students understand they play a role in creating a supportive community, we encourage children to be invested in themselves and in others.

 

Be appreciative.

When our short ten minute conversation came to a close, I was compelled to share my gratitude.  I made sure my students understood that I valued their advice.  I commended their empathy, thanked them for listening and congratulated them on supporting me even when they didn’t quite understand my concerns.  Their ideas shed new light on the powerful possibilities of Reading Workshop conferences. I thanked them for the way they focused on positive elements and solutions, helping me to find my purpose, and in the end my confidence.  I let them know that instead of making me feel silly for speaking my worries, I felt stronger for sharing the truth.

 
Confidence In Our Communities

No matter where you teach, our classrooms hold the potential power of a supportive community.  When we listen to the honest conversations of our students, their words and perspectives reveal perceived roles in our carefully designed community.   How do students value classroom practices, routines, and rituals?  Do students see themselves as contributing members with ideas to share?  Are they confident enough to offer advice?  Do students care about one another, including their teacher?  

As educators, we know our roles as leaders, mentors and guides.  Do our students understand their roles in classrooms?  We need our students’ perspectives and ideas to create thriving communities.  When Gabby asked me:

“Do you want to talk about this with us?”

I never anticipated the empowering feedback I could receive from children.  I learned that our team gatherings and individual conferences were more than instructional practices.  Our classroom communities can be the places we find our people, our voice, and the confidence to speak.  Our communities can help to discover the power of us.

In A Million Words Or Less…

~ Aliza Werner ~ Leave a comment

There are very few things I did in my first year of teaching that I continue to do today.

Ask any veteran teacher. The first year is survival. Thankful to have a shiny new job, wide-eyed and just starting out, we rookies learned routines, deciphered curriculum, wrote late-night lesson plans, navigated new hallways, memorized acronyms, and treaded the proverbial waters of education. Frantically and relentlessly.

Remembering back to the days when spelling tests and whole class novels were expectations of the curriculum, overhead projectors were THE technology standard, and students each had a desk with a nametag on top and a tornado of papers inside, I cringe to think of myself as a teacher in those early years. But we are meant to evolve, as teachers, as humans. When we learn more, we do better. When the excuses for “the way we’ve always done it” become crushed under mountains of research that support something more effective, we take that new path. We appreciate the teacher we were, but look forward to the teacher we can become.

There is one thing, however, I have done every year on the first day of school, from my very first year of teaching until now. It continues to prove to me that it is one of the most robust and authentic ways to get to know my students. It is…The Million Words letter.

On the first day of school, students take home an assignment from me to give to their parents/guardians at home. It contains a brief letter on a mostly blank piece of paper and it reads:

It’s the beginning of an exciting school year in third grade! You can help me be the best teacher I can be for your child if you share with me. So…

In a million words or less, please tell me about your child.

Besides my signature, the rest of the paper remains empty, wide open for a response. There are no extra prompts, explanations, or requirements. Like a blank canvas, it invites parents to fill up the space with a colorful and layered picture of their child. I receive handwritten notes, typed pages, photographs, and timelines.

I have read parents’…
detailed observations
hopes and dreams
unfiltered love
anxious worries
confessions

They are…
proud
thoughtful
grateful
awed
hopeful
honest

They tell stories of…
community
family
love
divorce
talent
difference
potential
loss
resilience

When I sit down to read through these pages, I often tear up or feel my breath catch in my throat. The adults who love and care for my students pour their hearts out onto the page, many with refreshing honesty and fierce love. They entrust me with personal stories. The Million Words letter gives a welcoming invitation to share and a sweeping space to lay out all of the complicated and wonderful facets of their children.

At the beginning of the school year I inherit files and documents, cumulative folders and data sheets, running recs and district testing results. But nothing gives me a truer, more meaningful picture of who a child really is than this letter. When parents are empowered to tell the story of this human being they know by heart, and when teachers take the time to read and listen to these stories, students go from a name on an attendance sheet or a statistic on a data wall, to a multi-dimensional individual. I learn about the children who ride the city bus for an hour each morning to get to school. The dearly missed grandparent who recently passed away. The newly blended families. I learn about the yellow belt test in tae kwon do. The weekly visits to the library. The Diwali celebrations at the temple. Students emerge as athletes and artists. Siblings and scientists. Introverts and innovators.

There are very few things I did in my first year of teaching that I continue to do today, but reaching out to say to parents, “tell me the story of your child”, with a mostly blank piece of paper and an open ear was, and always will be, a good decision.

 

*(To be clear, The Million Words letter is not my original idea, but whoever inspired me to do it definitely deserves an extra doughnut for Friday staff treats. Please be inspired to do the same and use this idea now, the beginning of next school year, or whenever you want to know more about your students’ stories.)

Profesional Self-Care

~ mandyrobek ~ 1 Comment

I recently had something happen outside of my classroom community personally and I needed to reach out for some guidance and advice. The guidance and advice I got was helpful. I was feeling more at peace and then a twist came, “make sure you practice some self-care for you. Whether that means going for a run, eating ice cream, watching TV – take time for you, alone.” I was completely caught off guard. I wasn’t seeking guidance and advice for me but someone thought I needed a nudge. This idea of self-care has been on my mind a lot this week personally and trickled over to my professional life.

In the past seven days, I’ve spent three of them in professional communities; physically and not online. These professional communities took me away from my classroom for two days and away from home for half a day. As I wrapped up the second day yesterday, I realized these three days were burst of professional self-care. Not only do I need to take care of myself personally but my professional life needs nurturing too. I’ve been attending workshops outside my school day for years and extending my learning beyond my teaching degrees. I had an administrator ask me once why I like going to conferences and reading so much. I wasn’t prepared for that question and was a bit surprised but now I have an answer. It’s my professional self-care. I learn new things and often my thinking is reaffirmed. I connect with other people and have conversations to help me process my work with students. I get guidance and nudges to push my thinking. This may sound silly – but I feel loved. When people choose to come together the energy in the room is positive and uplifting. The positives of professional self-care make “the hard to make it happen feelings” diminish.

Tips to Make Professional Self-Care Happen

  1. Find a local organization that brings people together from different districts.
  2. Attend a weekend event. Weekends are more relaxing, it feels more enjoyable,     there are no sub plans and hopefully your personal life can support some time                                  away.
  3. Attend with a friend, there’s accountability here to make it happen.
  4. Commit to attending and get it on the calendar.
  5. Find a state organization hosting an event.
  6. Make new connections, often a simple hello is the doorway to more and wear your name badge.
  7. Attend a session out of your comfort zone to stretch yourself.
  8. Find a way to stay connected with people in your professional communities.
  9. Offer to present because sometimes the conference can be free or discounted.
  10. Offer to share your learning with the staff when you return for financial support.

 

Classroom communities nurture learners as a whole and as individuals. Make sure you take some time to step away from your classroom community to nurture your professional side of life. I promise it will give you strength, hope, and fresh thinking to carry on.

 

 

The 7-Minute Debrief

~ Scott Jones ~ 1 Comment

With eight weeks complete in this school year, I can officially declare writing workshop as the favorite time of the day for most of the students. Lately, it seems like this chunk of time is when our class bonds the most. I’m blessed to have a class of passionate and creative writers this year.

For many of us, the best moment of writing workshop is when it ends.  In other words, the last few minutes of workshop time when my students and I gather on the carpet for what we call “workshop debriefing.” This 5-10 minute conversation between writers is a quick way to build relationships as a writing community. I try to keep this debriefing focused on the writing product as well as the writing process. I usually facilitate our debriefing with three questions:

  • What went well today?
  • What are you heading as a writer next?
  • What did you work on today that we can learn from?

I view this as an opportunity to teach and to assess. I always look forward to this discussion because it provides me with teaching points for the coming days. Plus, the students and I get to hear what everyone is working on. I am noticing that my students are starting to become very helpful to one another as they are always willing to offer feedback.

This past Wednesday was like any other day. It was the end of writing workshop, and my stomach was growling as lunchtime was just a few moments away. I started out the debriefing session by asking each writer to share where they are in their writing process. As they made their way around the circle, I noticed that I had stopped writing down teaching points and “next steps” on my Status Of The Class page.  Instead, I was amazed at how these 10 and 11-year old students were speaking to one another.  They were talking like…writers.

I quickly started jotting down what these young authors were saying.  Here is a sample of what I observed:

  • Josh shared that he was planning out a story with lots of suspense. He had a basic idea for a plot, but he needed to fill in some plot holes.  Nathaniel, who is Josh’s peer editor, suggested looking at Jon Scieszka’s Guys Read: Thriller anthology.  Another boy ran over to his desk and pulled out Ralph Fletcher’s Guy Write: What Every Guy Writer Needs To Know and gave it to Josh.
  • Abby shared that she was working on some poetry as she held up a few mentor texts I had suggested including poems by Robert Frost and Langston Hughes.
  • Chris announced that he had started writing the third episode of “Monkey Attack.”  This announcement was met with a few fist pumps and shouts of “Finally!” from about half of the class. “Looks like you have some fans, Chris,” I said as he shyly chuckled.
  • Hannah shared that she started writing workshop with nothing to write about, so she used Rory’s Story Cubes for some inspiration.  Three other students asked if they could borrow those tomorrow.
  • Ella mentioned how she was mulling over the idea of starting a graphic novel about ferrets.  I steered her towards a book in our classroom library that was about how to design comics, paying particular attention to the pages about when to use wide-angles and close ups.
  • Ahmed, a very reluctant writer, explained how he was writing a script for a book trailer he was going to make for a story he was creating.  A few students offered him help for writing the draft, as they had just finished creating a book trailer themselves.
  • Donya announced that she had finished typing up her biography of Margaret Peterson Haddix, and was starting a poem inspired by the book RUMP: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin by Liesl Shurtliff.

All this occurred in about seven minutes. What I had just witnessed was a community of writers helping each other, offering feedback, giving advice, sharing their failures, planning out their writing and asking questions.  For a few moments in the day, these young writers were cherishing this time to share, comment and connect.  Even some of my most reluctant writers had found a topic, audience or genre to pursue.  These seven minutes were special to me because I saw the power of our writing culture.  The writing customs, routines and behaviors we’d worked so hard to develop were on full display.  This group of writers had connected around an appreciation for the writing process.  Yet, none of these young writers had noticed recess had started 4 minutes ago.

Bleeding Scream

~ Brian Wyzlic ~ Leave a comment

I am in a new role this year, one that means I am removed from classroom teaching. It’s been an adjustment, but one that is going fairly smoothly. That said, any time I have a chance to be in a school, I get excited and can barely contain myself. Even if it means I’m giving a short presentation to teachers about how they can use their new laptops in their classrooms.

As I’m also new to my school division, some of the building leaders have given me short little tours the first times I’ve been in their schools. The first building I was in was a K-8 building that was a modified open-classroom building. Most rooms didn’t have doors, and many walls were “missing” as well. The result was a really powerful experience as I would walk by “classrooms” and hear bits and pieces of the learning going on around me.

When I walked by one of the grade 5/6 areas, I saw the students all looking at their teacher, and I heard him say two words: “Bleeding Scream.”

I had to stop the person giving the tour, to make sure I heard that correctly. Sure enough, I did not miss those words. He was about to read a chapter of Wonder. For those who know the book, that is the chapter. The chapter when Jack Will says those words.

Wonder
Do you know the book? One of my favourite read-alouds.

I didn’t want to distract the students from that moment, so I continued on.

But those kids stuck with me. I’ve never read the book with that age level before. How did they react? What did they think? Were they surprised? Did any of them feel sick to their stomachs, as I did when I first read that scene?

Fortunately, the answer was but an email away.

I asked the teacher those very questions. His response was better than I had hoped. Sure, he let me know their thoughts. But he also invited me to come talk with them myself.

So yesterday, I had the opportunity to put on my teacher hat and read a section of Wonder to a group of students who were so invested in every word, I could have read with them for hours.

Some incredible things happened as a result of that experience:

  1. I was able to connect with my teacher self a little more deeply, feeding that fire.
  2. The classroom teacher got to a) have a well-deserved break and b) see his work validated by a colleague.
  3. The students got to see that this practice — reading a book and talking about it — is not something limited to them and their teacher. It’s something adults do because it’s a good practice.

As administrators, sometimes we can lose sight of the impact our actions can have. We get caught up in what we see as important, forgetting that the most important thing is the students in our care. Though they might not be directly in our care most of the time, they are still the only thing that matters in this profession.

The look on their faces, seeing someone from the division office (perhaps capitalized Division Office in their minds) step in and do what their teacher does with them every day, was one of wonderful realization. This isn’t just their teacher doing something good. This is something of value beyond their learning space. This is something that matters. They are someone who matters.

Some will say the time spent with these students could have been better spent. I suppose I could have worked some more on the database of instructional videos I’m creating. I could have met with my team members on a project we are working on. I could have done some more professional reading.

But that stuff will happen. That’s a required part of my job. What’s important are the things that aren’t required. For 30 minutes at the end of the work week, I chose to be with students and bring some validation to a teacher and his practice.

I can’t think of a better use of my time.

I don’t want to sit here and put a false air of importance on myself. But it is important that those of us on the administration side of things realize the “official” nature of our presence, whether we want it or not. How are we using it to validate and appreciate those around us? Worse yet, how are we using it to invalidate or depreciate those around us?

Let’s use the little bit of power we have for good, as often as possible. Because those students? The looks on their faces? I’ll never forget it.

Of course, doing a one-time visit is nice. But it is that much better when we can repeat these things. When we can really show the students how important they are. The students recognized that. They asked me to come back as I was leaving. And sure, that felt nice. As much as I validate their work, those words of theirs validated mine.

But to come back. To show them that yes, they are important. Yes, they matter. That is key. They are worth my time, no matter how busy I may be.

Can You Dab?

~ Aliza Werner ~ 2 Comments

IMG_1451

“Can you dab?”

A fourth grade boy sitting twenty-some rows back from the front of the auditorium asks. Eyes sparkling, face beaming, perched on the edge of his seat, he waits.

“Can I dab?!” grins award-winning author Jason Reynolds, wearing a knowing expression that humorously reads ‘how-old-do-you-think-I-am?’

“Yeah! Can you dab?!” the young boy repeats.

Jason walks up the aisle, dragging the microphone cord, as middle school heads whip around to follow his every move. He is dressed head to toe in black, his dreads tumbling over each other. Reaching the boy’s row, Jason looks over to him. This fourth grade boy, now standing, is
enraptured
engaged
enthralled.

This fourth grade boy, who is black, gazes up at this adult black man who says:

“Yeah, I can dab.”

One heartbeat flutters. One breath exhales. One boy wonders…

He need not ask for proof. Jason bows his head into his elbow. He dabs. The crowd goes wild. Clapping. Smiling. Cheering. Dabbing back. It’s a response, a conversation, between 450 middle school students and a man who, through one seemingly simple question, let them know that they were
seen
heard
acknowledged.

* * * * *

For several months, I had been co-organizing an author visit to our school district with Jason Reynolds. We were lucky beyond measure to get the opportunity to host him. If you’re not familiar with Jason, visit his website, read his poetry, hear his story. His literary accolades and honors are stickered across the covers of his books for young people:
Coretta Scott King
National Book Award
NAACP Image Award
Kirkus Prize
Schneider Family Award

Jason’s good fortune as an author of children’s literature was a long time coming before it was finally realized. Way before the awards, the book tours, and the bestselling novels, there was his childhood in Washington, D.C. A childhood that drives him to create authentic characters, stories, and voices for his books, putting the “real” in realistic fiction. He stood in front of our students and told them stories, his true stories about
eating ramen noodles and generic peanut butter
dying hair with kool-aid
popping cassette tapes into Walkmans
playing basketball

And then there were stories that made us gasp, laugh, sigh…think.

He told them that he didn’t read until he was 18 years old. Our reading workshop trained, book loving kids were horrified. This was unthinkable. Why, they asked. WHY didn’t you read?! Because the only books that were available to kids like me were “classics” like Moby Dick…and I couldn’t relate, because there weren’t any whales living in my neighborhood, he explained.

He told them that one of the first cassette tapes he ever bought was a rap album by Queen Latifah, and it changed his life. The more he listened to her, the closer he grew to realizing that her words, her raps, were poetry. This epiphany began a daily practice of writing poetry, as he told himself, “I’m going to be Queen Latifah when I grow up!”

He told them that he moved to New York to pursue his writing dreams.

He told them that he was living in his car a handful of years ago.

He told them that he was working in a clothing store a couple of years ago.

He told them that through all of this, he was writing. Two pages a day. Squeezing in time to write in the edges of his days.

He told them that he was on the verge of giving up his writerly dreams, but was prompted to start writing stories and characters who
looked like him
talked like him
acted like him
lived like him

He wrote through a lens of “everyday diversity”, showcasing characters with authentic
voices
families
challenges
interests
stories,
creating books to read about black people outside the oeuvre of “boycotts, bondage, and basketball”, because “black kids do more than play basketball”, Jason told them. He knew children of all kinds needed to be able to hold up a book as a mirror and see themselves in it. And he was determined to tell those stories.

* * * * *

“Curry or Jordan?” another black student asks Jason, challenging him to name the greatest basketball player of all time.

“Ooooh, you’re asking me difficult questions,” Jason plays along.

After a long pause…

“Jordan.”

And the crowd goes wild.

* * * * *

While Jason was presenting, I was kid watching. Scanning the faces of our very diverse district, I saw one face after another light up, engage, and connect. That was when I realized the profound impact this author visit was having on our children.

When our student raised his hand to ask if Jason could dab, he wasn’t really asking “Can you dab?” He was wondering
Do you see me?
Do you hear me?
Do you know that I have stories, too?

And Jason, a man who mirrors him in many ways, wordlessly responded, in one gesture
I see you.
I hear you.
I am writing my stories for you.
(Jason Reynolds is the author of When I Was The Greatest, The Boy in The Black Suit, All American Boys, As Brave As You, The Track Series (Ghost, Patina), Miles Morales: Spider-Man, and forthcoming Long Way Down.)

Where Are We Going?: Creating a class mission statement

~ Scott Jones ~ 2 Comments

The Flock is about to finish its fourth week of school.  Our classroom is up and running.  Our daily routines are mostly established. Beginning of the year assessments are nearly complete. Most importantly, our classroom community is continuing to grow and get stronger each day. Spending a great deal of time in the first weeks discussing “Lessons From The Geese” is proving to pay off. My students and I have discussed why we are called The Flock. We’ve discussed how we need to work together, learn from each other, and treat each other as partners on this learning adventure. We are on our way traveling as a community of learners. However, the MOST critical part of our journey can be explained by answer this one very simple question.

Where are we going?

My students and I had spoken a great deal about this learning journey, but it was time to establish a destination.  What is our purpose? What is our goal? I wanted to make sure that my students knew why we come to our classroom every day, other than, “My parents make me” or “because I’m legally obligated to be here.”

I have found that creating a mission statement plays a crucial role in building my classroom community. Bringing students into the creation process empowers them to take more ownership of their learning. A class mission statement can also:

  • Ensure a common language for all students
  • Provide students with a purpose for each lesson and assignment
  • Encourage goal-setting and growth mindset
  • Bring a sense of pride to the classroom

Before we wrote our mission statement, I felt it was important for us to know what a mission statement is, as well as look at examples of mission statements. After clarifying that a mission statement is not when the video game states your new mission on the next level of Call Of Duty, we determined that it is simply a statement of purpose and focus. I shared mission statements from well-known corporations like Apple, Facebook, Amazon and McDonalds. Together we noticed that most mission statements answer these questions: What do the company do? How is the company helping their customers? Why is our company important? I asked students to think at home about how we could answer these same questions for our classroom.

The following day, we gathered on the carpet and one student started our conversation by saying, “we are our own customers. We learn for ourselves.”  Students seemed very impressed with this insight, so I asked them to brainstorm a list of answers to these four questions:

  • Who are we?
  • What do we want to accomplish?
  • How are we going to accomplish it?
  • Why is it important to accomplish this?

Students returned after 10 minutes, and I recorded their answers to each question using Google Docs. After much debate, I asked students to vote for their top two answers for each question.  These top two answers for each question would be used to create our final mission statement.  You can see our brainstorming list and voting process here.

Once voting was complete, our final mission statement was written by simply combining what the students selected.  Here is what we came up with:

IMG_3877

Creating the mission statement was only the first step. Now, it is our job as a community to live by this and make sure that everything we do is an example of our shared mission. I have posted this in our classroom, as well as outside of our classroom door.  Students know that I’ve put a copy of this mission statement into my guest teacher folder, so when I am out of the classroom any substitute teacher will know what we stand for. I have challenged students to always ask themselves how every assignment and project fits with our mission statement. If they can’t see a connection, I encourage them to ask me.

One thing that my students have heard me say is “the nine months of fifth grade is a just one part of your learning journey.”  Our life as a learner is a long, gradual adventure with many stops along the way. Perhaps that’s why “The Flock” metaphor has become the cornerstone of my classroom community. We’re all going to be in the classroom together every day for nine months. So we might as well go on this learning journey together with a common destination. I hope that our mission statement inspires a community mindset and empowers students to support each other along the way.

A New Reading Community

~ Lea Kelley ~ Leave a comment
For blog
He was reading to find new ways to describe how awesome he is at basketball.

This year I’ll be leading four sections of what I’m going to call Reading for students who need additional time and support in that subject. Our school is committed to 30 minutes of independent reading in school every day and an additional 30 minutes outside of school, but the school reading is a challenge in our 45-60 minute class periods, and outside-of-school reading is a work in progress. So this year, for the first time, students with the highest need will have an extra period devoted just to independent reading and expert coaching.

Personally, I would have loved nothing better than to have an entire period devoted to reading when I was a student, but I worry about how some students who already dislike reading will react to an extra period of reading. And no matter how hard I try to sell the class as a way to grow more quickly as a reader, many students will view placement in this class as reinforcement that they are not good at reading, or at school in general. So even as I organize books and track down intervention materials and debate how to set up the classroom furniture, I know that two things will have to happen before they can embrace this class.

One, I will need to build strong relationships with my students. Many students will be new to me this year since I’ll be teaching a wider range of grades than I did last year. Some of them have spent the majority of their time in school struggling with reading (and thus with every class that requires reading), and I’m going to be asking them to read a lot. I’m going to be asking them to get better when they may have spent years thinking, or even being told, that they’re just not good at reading.

Which brings me to two, mindset. It’s going to be tremendously important that my students believe that they can get better at reading, that reading isn’t some magical power that you either have or you don’t. If no one taught you that “-ch” makes a “-k” sound in the word “stomach”, then a lot of the reading that you try to do in middle and high school is a lot like when I try to read extremely basic French. I recognize a few of the words, but the rest is a mystery.

So how will I begin?

Our school is Pre-K to 12, and our reading curriculum emphasizes that at the earliest reading level, Read-to-Me, students need to have a background of 500+ books read to them. So my reading classes will spend as much time as we can reading to our kindergartners in September. Reading is reading, so even time spent reading a simple book of sight words will build confidence and fluency in my older readers (and build relationships with our youngest learners).

We will also build reading relationships between students in our class. Even though the class is primarily independent work (at this point, no one is reading the same book), we will be sharing and talking at the end of our reading sessions. I’ll use academic scripts and sentence frames to help my students to turn and talk about their book. Since our classroom reading environment will depend on cooperation among students, building confidence and trust will be key.

I loved Andrea’s post “What Are You Superpowers?” on Saturday. I immediately wanted school to start so that I could find out all of my student’s superpowers. To apply my reading teacher lens, I wonder who will be my experts on certain books or subjects? Who will know the backstory for every Marvel comic? Who will be the best at getting the quietest kindergartener to read with them?

Most of all, I’ll build our community with a lot of kindness. This is a scary course for students. I’m going to be asking them to get better at something that is currently very hard for many of them. They may not have had a lot of success with reading, or it’s not something they like. This is not a class for tough love or rigid behavior expectations. I’ll feed them. We’ll celebrate birthdays, and reading milestones. We’ll grow together.

I’ll keep my eyes on the prize: Reading community for all.