Motivated?

      Let’s say you were not living a healthy lifestyle, not exercising, and eating unhealthy foods, convinced that this is just the way you are. People convince you that you need to start eating healthy and exercising.
      So you completely change your diet, making sure you eat the correct number of calories for your body style, as research suggests. You eat a variety of fruits and vegetables, and consult the MyPyramid for nutritional guidance.
      You also begin a rigorous exercise regiment. Your closest friends and family members begin to notice that you’re looking healthier. You are feeling better. It’s beginning to become easier to live a healthy lifestyle. You haven’t quite made it yet, but you have made some big improvements in your life.
      It’s time for your annual checkup, and you find yourself sitting in a small room your doctor’s office. Rather than simply asking you about how you feel and noticing your changes in lifestyle, the doctor has you take a test, developed by a mathematician, where you are timed to see how long you can hold your breath. The test, based upon volumes of research data, suggests that you are unhealthy and should change your lifestyle. The doctor suggests you attend a weekly nutritional counseling program.


Would you continue to feel motivated? Would you think about switching doctors?




      Let’s say a student was a struggling reader and writer, trying to avoid doing any work during reading and writing time, convinced that he isn’t good at school. His teacher convinces him that he needs to start working hard on his reading and writing.
      So he completely changes his writing time. He sets a goal for himself, trying to increase the number of words he writes every day. He meets with his teacher and begins to try to apply what he is learning in mini lessons into his writing, improving the quality.
      He also words hard at his reading, practicing every night. Reading and writing are starting to get a little easier.
      It is testing time of the year, and he finds himself sitting in a small unfamiliar room with a test administrator. Rather than asking how reading and writing has been going and noticing the change in behavior and performance in the classroom, the administrator has him take a test, developed by a researcher, where he has to read as many words as he can in a minute. The test, based upon volumes of research data, suggest that he requires an intensive intervention, and he needs lots of extra help to get better. He is sent to attend a daily intervention program.


Would he continue to feel motivated? Does he have any say in the matter?

Open House Deadline

      My classroom is really coming along, but I’m beginning to feel the pressure of the impending open house. I’m the sort of person who wants everything to be perfect in the room for the open house. Unfortunately, I almost at a point where I can no longer continue working on my room as I have to wait for several other people.

      The rear quarter of my room is still in boxes, and pushed together. I can’t set the corner up, which will host my mini restaurant booths, my math supply center, and the shelves that hold all of the board games. Right now, the teacher computer is tethered to the wall through power cords, audio cords, Ethernet cords, and video cords. The phone is also plugged in. I’m not allowed to unplug anything, and even if I did, when the computer is moved, the tech guys will need access to all of the ports, which eventually will be blocked by the restaurant booths.

      I can’t finish setting up my library as I am waiting for the installation of the window air conditioner. (Due to a few health issues in my room, air conditioning is being installed. Yippee!)  The air conditioner can’t be installed yet because it was ordered and hasn’t come in yet.

      I have several paper globe lights that hang in the classroom. Right now the cords are hanging down. I can’t tuck the cords into the ceiling tiles yet, since the computer guys will need to remove several ceiling tiles while they move the computer.

      I have several bulletin boards and other color print jobs that I can’t print yet because our building was struck by lightning, which of course fried our color printer. The new one hasn’t come in yet. All of the things that need to be printed were designed on 11x17 paper, which only that printer can print.

      I can’t laminate any of the posters I put together, nor can I laminate desk tags, locker tags, or anything else in my classroom. Somebody broke the laminator and the new one hasn’t come in yet.

      It’s frustrating feeling the deadline, but not being able to do anything about it.

A New Class

      A few nights ago I logged into my email, only to find a message from one of my students from this past year. It simply said, "I miss you. I wish you were going to be at our school next year." I couldn't reply since he had used the message form on the website, but it made me realize something important. I don't necessarily lament back-to-school as an ending to my summer vacation. If anything, summer is more busy for me. Back-to-school means having to accept that my class from last year is no longer my class.
      In his book 32 Third Graders and One Class Bunny, Phillip Done discusses what the first day is like for him.

"On the first day of school, kids usually fall in love with their new teacher by first recess. But for me it takes about a week until they are mine. I always miss the old ones. I look at row two, second seat from the end, and I still see Jesse from last year leaning back on his chair. I look at row one, right on the aisle, and I still see Alexandra with her hair in her mouth. I look at row three, middle seat, and I still see Mark surrounded by pencil sharpener shavings. But Mark is sharpening his pencils, Alexandra is eating her hair, and Jesse is falling over in another classroom this year. They all have their new favorite teachers now. And that is how it should be."

      It's hard for me to accept a new class each fall. During the Back-to-School Open House, I always hope to see my students from the previous year. I always have to consciously tell myself to pay my attention to the new students; the purpose of the open house is to allow the new students to acclimate to the classroom, not for old students to catch up with their old teacher.
      But it's hard to think of my students from last year in a new teacher's classroom. I always wonder how they are doing on the first day. I always worry about what the teachers might not know about my old students. It's hard. And mostly, I can't possibly imagine that my new students will ever be able to do what my old students could. But they always do.

A Train-Wreck of a Waiter

      A diet pepsi refill to table 25, along with a bunch more napkins, table 15 needs bread and I need to ring in their order yet. As I carried the two pasta dishes to table 26, the ceramic bowls scorching the fingerprints off my fingers, I continued running through the list of tasks requiring my immediate attention. Waiting tables on a busy night can really be stressful. I walked up to the table, and as I saw the two year old girl sitting in the high chair, I vaguely remembered taking the order. "I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs, and I'd like a salad with cherry vinaigrette. And she'll have the..." She'll have the what? I slowed my approach, but it was too late. They had already seen me delivering the food to their table. I sure hope I left whatever IT is sitting under the heat lamp in the kitchen.
      I nearly dropped the pasta dishes on the table as my fingers screamed in pain. "I'm so sorry, I must have left her food in the kitchen. I'll be right back with that." I hoped there was SOMETHING waiting in the window for me. As I made a beeline to the kitchen, I pulled out my notepad. Sure enough, in my haste to take their order, my writing overlapped with another order I had written on the page, and I missed the kid's chicken tenders.
      I rushed to the end of the line up to the chef. "Pat, may I have a kid's tenders on the fly?"
      "Kid's tender on the fly," he repeated back to me.
      I tucked my notepad back into my apron and rushed out the kitchen doors, to the computer to put the order in. Then I hightailed it back to the kitchen. Whether or not it works, it's common practice at our restaurant to stand and wait at the line when you are in a hurry in an effort to put a little pressure on the kitchen staff. I looked down at the fryer. One basket was down in the oil, no doubt the chicken tenders, but the other basket was still empty, the one where the tater tots would need to be cooked. I started running through all of the things I should have been doing rather than waiting for the stupid chicken tenders, but then I pictured the table where the two parents were quite possibly sitting with two pasta dishes, wondering where I was with their baby's food.
      Pat pulled the basket up, grabbed a chicken tender with the tongs, and bent it over, checking to see if the chicken was done yet. I held my breath. He dropped it back into the basket and dropped the basket back into the oil. Crap. A minute later, he repeated the process, and again dropped the chicken back into the oil.
      I ran back out to the table, squeezing between the other busy servers, panicking. I slowed down as I approached the table, trying to keep my cool. "I'm so sorry guys. It looks like I forgot to hit the button on the computer for the kid's tenders. The kitchen tells me it will be up in one minute. I'll be right out with them."
      After the couple assured me it was no problem, I blew by my other tables, straight into the kitchen, and parked myself right in front of the hot line. By the time the tenders finally came up, what seemed like five minutes had passed. I nearly ran the tenders to the table. At this point, I wasn't even expecting a tip.
      It was at this point that I realized my two other tables were seated, and one of the tables had their menus closed and stacked- a sign that you have taken too long. It's amazing how one little mistake can cause a chain reaction of problems that can lead to a rough night.

Parent Volunteers

      This year I am determined to increase the amount of parent volunteers in the classroom. In the past, parents primarily helped out only for field trips, or occasionally for RIF (Reading Is Fundamental) parties. When I finally come across some last minute parent help need, it can't seem to find any help. Which makes me wonder, why can't I seem to get any help when I need it, yet always get 100% attendance at Parent-Teacher conferences? My hypothesis: 1. Parents sign up for PT Conferences way ahead of time, and have it set on their calendars weeks in advance. 2. Parents believe PT Conferences are important in the education of their child. 3. Parents are expected to sign up and to attend.
      Which begs the question, why can't  I achieve this with in classroom help? For one, when I need help, it's usually a quick note in a newsletter the week before. Also, posting a generic "Give me a call at school if you're interested in helping" isn't very direct. My plan is to get my ducks in a row and set up my parent volunteer opportunities before the school open house next week. That way parents can get it on the calendar. Also, while talking face-to-face with the parents, I might be more direct with getting sign-ups. It would also reassure those parents that don't think they know how to help that they, in fact, are capable.
      So now I need to brainstorm ways to get parents more involved. Here are a few ideas:

1. Writing Groups. (5 parents, once a week on the same day) During the summer institutes at Red Cedar Writing Project, one of the most impactful approaches was that of the writing group. We would meet and workshop pieces, asking for feedback, and building relationships. One thing I know I don't do enough of in writing is peer conferencing. I would like to teach the kids to effectively workshop pieces. I think small groups would be better than partnerships, since putting kids with partners always results in a few pairs that are not effective. Working in a small group, monitored or possibly facilitated by a parent would be helpful.

2. Book Clubs. (5 parents, once a week, staggered across the week) When I was student teaching, there was a weekly book club. There were 5 parents that came in on Monday mornings, took their group of kids around the building to read from their "book club book" and have discussions. It was very simple, but the kids absolutely looked forward to it every week.

3. Math assistant. (several parents, scheduled Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays) It would be nice to have a parent come in during math to help manage partner activities while I work with a small group.

I'm going to try to think of some more.

Professional Learning Community

      In my district, every year there is some new initiative that is the newest best thing. A few years ago it was the new MEAP toolkits, and we had several trainings on how to best implement these units in the month before the MEAP test. After that came the RTI (Response to Intervention) push where every school would benchmark students and provide targeted instruction. In most cases, the general idea behind the push is actually decent. The problem lies not only in the lack of follow-up as the district usually plans “one and then done” trainings, but the way in which the training is implemented. In my educational technology classes, we talk about the ineffective ways of initiating change and diffusing ideas, and what is deemed the worst of the worst is top-down mandates, a favorite method of my district.

      Last year the push was Professional Learning Communities. When this was introduced, we all rolled our eyes. PLCs have been around our district forever, just maybe not in the same capacity as what the district was planning. This district was hoping for a standardized streamlined network. How odd.

      Today I had a tough time finding bulletin board borders. The store where I usually do my room setup shopping went out of business, and many other common stores don’t carry bulletin board supplies. I simply sent one email to the distribution list at school, and mentioned my difficulty on Facebook. Within an hour I had over 20 replies, including a half-dozen offers for donations. When I returned to my classroom after working at the restaurant, I found several different stacks of borders on my desk. I would say I have a strong professional learning community. Now, will this exchange directly impact my students’ learning? No. But this demonstrates the power of my own personal professional learning community- the community that I chose.

      What’s even more impressive is the range of feedback I received. I did receive several suggestions from teachers within my building, but I also received suggestions from teachers from other buildings, a substitute teacher who used to work at Debby and Company (the teacher store), several ex-teachers, and a few people who are just simply resourceful and crafty. Imagine how well I could use this network, a network more broadly informed than a narrow weekly meeting with a scripted protocol, as suggested by the district training.

      I feel incredibly lucky to be supported in this way by my PLC, and I wish I could express the possibilities beyond the “weekly meeting” to my district.

A Day Spent at School

      Wow. I smell, and I'm covered in hot glue "spider webs". After spending all day at school, lifting, moving, and generally being physically active, I smell (and in some ways feel) like I just finished running a marathon. It was one of those days where you just bang it out and make huge progress. And bang I did. My neck and feet hurt.
      After removing the 13 extra desks beyond the three extras I left in my room, and getting rid of all the old teachers' furniture, suddenly the room feels about twice as big. Some of the heavy lifting included a steel teacher desk, two 6 foot long tables, two tall file cabinets, and the 13 extra desks. I set up the student desks, my desk, and all of the extra tables. But what really made the difference was simply getting the blue background on all of the bulletin boards. I also put up many of the basic posters on the walls.
      Sitting at my desk, trying to ignore my smelly armpits, today was the first time I really started to feel good about the room. I have my head wrapped around what this room will be. I now know where everything goes. I know where the math supplies are stored. I know where the lunch choice board will be. I've reached the point where the room turned from just room 103 into my classroom, and it feels good. I also am excited that my room is as far as it is with still a week to go. I'm not sure I've ever been this ahead of the game.
      Now I am up to the point where I have to wait for other people. I don't like waiting. I have to wait for the teacher computer, printer, and telephone to be moved before I can set up the back corner of the room. I have to wait for the custodians to finish the tile part of the room before I can set up that part of the room. The biggest frustration is that I have to wait until office hours to print in color, since the office is locked. I still think that's weird, as back at Waukazoo teachers had keys to the office, and where welcome to come in at night and on the weekend to print and make copies.
      Now I'm rambling, so it's time for a shower, and then bed. The good news is, no teacher nightmares tonight. I'm feeling good about my room!