I wrote this poem to introduce my classroom to my students.
Now
This…
This is the NOW.
Not the then, not the soon, not the past or the future,
not the could have been or the might still be
This is the NOW.
Who you are right NOW is the reason I am here.
I’m not here to talk about
what you did
how you ranked
who you don’t like
why you don’t care
That’s not why I’m here.
I’m not in the position to decide
who you’ll be
what you’ll become
where your path leads
why you will succeed
That’s not why I’m here.
I’m here for the NOW.
“OK, so…what do we do NOW?” You ask. “What is this all about?”
Well…this is not about YOU
but it’s not about ME either.
This is about US.
It’s about respect; it’s about community; it’s about caring for each other;
It’s about … oh – blah, blah, blah, blah!
You’ve heard this all before!
NOW, we’re gonna own it.
This is about moving forward
not backward, not backsliding, not backpedaling,
not back anything!
This is where we’re
responsible for our actions
AND
accountable for our choices
This is where things make sense;
where nonsense is not welcome.
This is about creating a place that has
what we need
what we want
and what we hope for
THIS IS THE NOW.
So,
let’s do this
let’s be this
let’s become this
Because no one else is gonna do this for us.
This is ME. This is YOU. But…this is really US.
And it’s time to get started.
just…
about…
NOW.
Showing posts with label teaching methods. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching methods. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
What I Learned Today #5 - Tests are like fine art?
While in a workshop today, a conversation started on how reading comprehension is not just how the reader reacts to the text, but what the author's intentions are as well. As I thought over this, it occurred to me that this helps to explain why students have difficulty with testing in ELA; I realize that when a student is responding to a test, they are engaging in a discussion with not only the authors of the pieces that are used, but also the creators of the test questions.
Every test is written by someone or a group of "someones". Those people, as they create the test questions based on the authors' works, are actually initiating a conversation about these works with the test-taker. The creator of the test has (on well-made tests) brought out essential qualities and understandings inherent to the authors' words and is asking the test-taker to join in that discussion by selecting reasonable responses in multiple choice form (though I still think that written response works best - tougher to grade, I guess).
This conversation between test-taker and test-maker should not be overlooked as we work with students. Success on tests (and in class) is not found by simply having a personal reaction to a text, but it’s also not just a matter of “saying what they want you to say”. It’s somewhere in the middle, nested in that space where a teacher is looking for a student to open her or his mind to new ideas and perspectives, but to also bring an element of self to the conversation.
This draws me back to something that I've thought about quite a bit: that reading is more similar to viewing art than we acknowledge. For instance, I can debate with someone the merits of a certain painting and I can describe my feelings about that work, but I also have to take into account that there was a painter, and that painter had an intention. The painter's intention led to the creation, and that is where true understanding lies. I take my own visceral reactions to the work, then combine those feelings with a sincere attempt to understand what the artist is trying to convey.
So, how do we read this way? When I approach a text, I am bound to have a personal reaction to it in some way. However, I am also searching the author's work for clues to her or his intentions - the infamous "author's purpose" test question. Like a painting, I balance my reaction with my analysis to create understanding. If students were taught to do this with text, test-taking would become easier. When coming to a new passage, the student would read it and try to find a personal connection to it, but would then allow the test-maker to engage them in a discussion of elements that might not have been apparent on first glance.
I'm not saying that taking a standardized test is the same as viewing a Picasso, but it pays to note that in both cases there will be reaction that must be balanced against the creator's intentions. And when a student approaches a test this way, he or she is much more likely to be able to engage in the conversation that the test-maker has begun.
Every test is written by someone or a group of "someones". Those people, as they create the test questions based on the authors' works, are actually initiating a conversation about these works with the test-taker. The creator of the test has (on well-made tests) brought out essential qualities and understandings inherent to the authors' words and is asking the test-taker to join in that discussion by selecting reasonable responses in multiple choice form (though I still think that written response works best - tougher to grade, I guess).
This conversation between test-taker and test-maker should not be overlooked as we work with students. Success on tests (and in class) is not found by simply having a personal reaction to a text, but it’s also not just a matter of “saying what they want you to say”. It’s somewhere in the middle, nested in that space where a teacher is looking for a student to open her or his mind to new ideas and perspectives, but to also bring an element of self to the conversation.
This draws me back to something that I've thought about quite a bit: that reading is more similar to viewing art than we acknowledge. For instance, I can debate with someone the merits of a certain painting and I can describe my feelings about that work, but I also have to take into account that there was a painter, and that painter had an intention. The painter's intention led to the creation, and that is where true understanding lies. I take my own visceral reactions to the work, then combine those feelings with a sincere attempt to understand what the artist is trying to convey.
So, how do we read this way? When I approach a text, I am bound to have a personal reaction to it in some way. However, I am also searching the author's work for clues to her or his intentions - the infamous "author's purpose" test question. Like a painting, I balance my reaction with my analysis to create understanding. If students were taught to do this with text, test-taking would become easier. When coming to a new passage, the student would read it and try to find a personal connection to it, but would then allow the test-maker to engage them in a discussion of elements that might not have been apparent on first glance.
I'm not saying that taking a standardized test is the same as viewing a Picasso, but it pays to note that in both cases there will be reaction that must be balanced against the creator's intentions. And when a student approaches a test this way, he or she is much more likely to be able to engage in the conversation that the test-maker has begun.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What I Learned Today #4 (What I like might not be what THEY like)
This past weekend I had a chance to go to Boston with my family. We had city passes that allowed us to go to multiple attractions, and we chose the Aquarium, the Children's Museum, and the Museum of Science. We had a blast as a family, and the kids really were excited (in truth, I was excited, too - this was my first time in Boston).
As we went through the various museums and exhibits, something became very clear: if something caught my or my wife's interest, the kids inevitably didn't want to spend time with it; however, the two of them gravitated toward things that we didn't think they would be interested in. This explains why the kids didn't particularly like the electricity room at the museum or want to spend time with the penguins at the aquarium, yet insisted on looking through every exhibit in the mathematics exhibit and wanted to listen to the complete presentation at the top of the giant tank (Don't get me wrong. I'm excited that they were into these things; it was just surprising).
But thinking back over our fun weekend made me consider the fact that this situation might be happening with my students. They might very well not enjoy the activities that I think they will like, and I may be missing activities that my students would really get into just because I don't think they will. In other words, what I've learned is: What's fun for ME might very well not be fun for MY STUDENTS.
Okay, so this is only a minor revelation, but I think that these are the little things that could make me a better educator. How many lessons, activities, and books have I passed over because I thought they wouldn't be fun for the students? How could I have known that for sure? These assumptions might be leading me away from creating an environment where the students are truly enjoying their learning.
This is not to say that I am now planning to have my students plan every task (I don't think that a year solely consisting of vampires, werewolves and Halo 3 would necessarily be valuable) but it's fair to say that I could bring their interests in a bit more often. A small tweak to be sure, but one that could vastly improve the delivery of my lessons.
As we went through the various museums and exhibits, something became very clear: if something caught my or my wife's interest, the kids inevitably didn't want to spend time with it; however, the two of them gravitated toward things that we didn't think they would be interested in. This explains why the kids didn't particularly like the electricity room at the museum or want to spend time with the penguins at the aquarium, yet insisted on looking through every exhibit in the mathematics exhibit and wanted to listen to the complete presentation at the top of the giant tank (Don't get me wrong. I'm excited that they were into these things; it was just surprising).
But thinking back over our fun weekend made me consider the fact that this situation might be happening with my students. They might very well not enjoy the activities that I think they will like, and I may be missing activities that my students would really get into just because I don't think they will. In other words, what I've learned is: What's fun for ME might very well not be fun for MY STUDENTS.
Okay, so this is only a minor revelation, but I think that these are the little things that could make me a better educator. How many lessons, activities, and books have I passed over because I thought they wouldn't be fun for the students? How could I have known that for sure? These assumptions might be leading me away from creating an environment where the students are truly enjoying their learning.
This is not to say that I am now planning to have my students plan every task (I don't think that a year solely consisting of vampires, werewolves and Halo 3 would necessarily be valuable) but it's fair to say that I could bring their interests in a bit more often. A small tweak to be sure, but one that could vastly improve the delivery of my lessons.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
New Blog Series - What I Learned Today
I've been thinking about starting a new series of posts on my blog. I realize that I haven't been a faithful blogger, but somewhere near the end of the school year, I had the idea that what I should really be doing with this blog is "noticing". Noticing things about my classroom, my students, my own children, whatever I stumble across that can help me refine and expand my abilities as an educator. I was always encouraged in college to complete formative and summative assessments of my work, but I was never very good at making that formal step; this series of posts will hopefully help me to be a more reflective educator while also providing anyone who might also read the opportunity to think about a point that has come up naturally in my teaching career. I hope that any readers enjoy these posts (and that they keep me honest about blogging consistently in order to use this tool effectively).
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Meaning of "Uniform" in School
As the first online homework assignment for my class this year, I had the students read an article about uniforms for public schools. The school uniform debate is always a good conversation starter, and the kids enjoyed responding to the pros and cons of the issue. As you might expect, there was a flurry of "personal expression" arguments. The kids were smart about how they presented their views, though. They understood why one might say that uniforms could improve self-esteem, decrease negative peer interaction, and remove gang and clique cultures from the school. They understood those arguments; they just didn't believe them. They countered (and most research shows) that those anticipated effects really don't take place, and that bullying and grouping and low self-esteem happens with or without uniforms.
And so we wrapped up the debate (leaving a few loose ends), and I moved on through the week. A few days later, though, I realized that I was participating in a different "uniform" debate, and it had nothing to do with what my students were wearing. I found myself in multiple conversations about the school's literacy program and ELA curriculum. I began to notice that the arguments being made in favor of certain methods (and the curriculum at large) were very similar to those used in the dress code debate. I found myself at odds with the notion that there is a way to teach language arts in a uniform manner, conforming to the terminology and processes of a certain method and ensuring that all students have a common experience in class.
I keep trying my best to see the need for this uniformity in curriculum. I know that no district wants to explain why certain teachers won't follow along with a given program. It looks like disrespect and dissent, and it reflects poorly on the district at large. At the same time, I continue to see language arts as an area in flux; the digital age has started a transition that is effecting what language is and how it is used. I believe that there are positive aspects to most programs and methods, but I also believe that a teacher needs to be free to find the best avenues of work with his own students and their specific needs. Beyond that, each teacher develops his or her own teaching style, and not all programs mesh perfectly with all styles.
An acting professor of mine was once discussing the art of acting and creating a character. I asked him which method was "best": the popular Method created by Stanislavsky, or the variation on that theme by Sanford Meisner, or perhaps something else entirely. And his answer still resonates: he told me to immerse myself in all of the various processes, and then to take what was best from each of them to create something personal that worked for me. I now find myself in a similar scenario with the curricula and practices being used in education. Rather than ascribing completely to one method of doing things, I prefer to learn about all the various programs and take from them what's best for me and my students. In effect, it's the "personal expression" argument from a different perspective.
My hope is that this will not look as though I refuse to "buy in" to a given system that the school is supposed to be doing; I don't intend to dismiss any educator's work as wrong or irrelevant. However, I also know that when it comes to actual teaching in the classroom, I will always choose the freedom to experiment, develop, and explore different ways of doing things that will best help my students succeed.
And so we wrapped up the debate (leaving a few loose ends), and I moved on through the week. A few days later, though, I realized that I was participating in a different "uniform" debate, and it had nothing to do with what my students were wearing. I found myself in multiple conversations about the school's literacy program and ELA curriculum. I began to notice that the arguments being made in favor of certain methods (and the curriculum at large) were very similar to those used in the dress code debate. I found myself at odds with the notion that there is a way to teach language arts in a uniform manner, conforming to the terminology and processes of a certain method and ensuring that all students have a common experience in class.
I keep trying my best to see the need for this uniformity in curriculum. I know that no district wants to explain why certain teachers won't follow along with a given program. It looks like disrespect and dissent, and it reflects poorly on the district at large. At the same time, I continue to see language arts as an area in flux; the digital age has started a transition that is effecting what language is and how it is used. I believe that there are positive aspects to most programs and methods, but I also believe that a teacher needs to be free to find the best avenues of work with his own students and their specific needs. Beyond that, each teacher develops his or her own teaching style, and not all programs mesh perfectly with all styles.
An acting professor of mine was once discussing the art of acting and creating a character. I asked him which method was "best": the popular Method created by Stanislavsky, or the variation on that theme by Sanford Meisner, or perhaps something else entirely. And his answer still resonates: he told me to immerse myself in all of the various processes, and then to take what was best from each of them to create something personal that worked for me. I now find myself in a similar scenario with the curricula and practices being used in education. Rather than ascribing completely to one method of doing things, I prefer to learn about all the various programs and take from them what's best for me and my students. In effect, it's the "personal expression" argument from a different perspective.
My hope is that this will not look as though I refuse to "buy in" to a given system that the school is supposed to be doing; I don't intend to dismiss any educator's work as wrong or irrelevant. However, I also know that when it comes to actual teaching in the classroom, I will always choose the freedom to experiment, develop, and explore different ways of doing things that will best help my students succeed.
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