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!

Air Conditioning

      After spending the day working in my classroom, appreciating a day off from the extreme heat we’ve been experiencing this summer, I still felt nauseous. I’m a wimp. I own that. I’m always hot. I spend the entire winter at school constantly pushing the override button on the thermostat that turns off the heat for two hours. I open my windows a crack, even if there is a blizzard outside. But I make do.

      My dad informed me that they are predicting an unusually hot September this year. I don’t know who “they” are, nor how accurate this prediction will be. It is making me realize the inequitable climate control installations between schools and classrooms. In one of my classes this summer, one of my fellow classmates teaches at the High School. Air conditioning came up when we were talking about human performance technology, and he was shocked to find out that there are schools without AC in Western Michigan, much less his own district. From what I know, both of our middle schools, both of our high schools, one of our elementary schools, and the administration building have AC. For the people working in those buildings, they simply don’t realize how miserable the rest of us are. They probably don’t even look at the weather forecast to determine how their week will go.

      It makes me wonder why. Some classrooms have window units when a student’s IEP requires it. It simply seems fair that I should be allowed to spend my own money to have one as well. I’d even be willing to pay to have it installed, and pay a monthly usage fee.

      Following are some anticipated responses:

1. Inequitable learning spaces.

      We already have that. Some schools and some classrooms have AC. Some classrooms are exceptionally hot, while others are able to gain a breeze. My gosh, in my building, there are at least 5 different classroom layouts that I’m aware of. Adding AC doesn’t change that.

2. Security Issue.

      There is another classroom in my building that has a window unit. There are classrooms in other buildings with window units. It’s not fair to claim it’s a security issue sometimes, and not other times. It either is or it isn’t. Besides, there are simple ways to lock the windows. And if that isn’t enough, the building has a motion sensor activated security system. I think we’re OK.

3. Cost.

      Again, I’m willing to pay for the unit, pay for the installation, and pay a monthly usage fee. I’m not asking the district to pay a penny for it. I willing to spend the money for my students’ and my comfort.

4. If you get one, everyone will want one.

      Wouldn’t that be great if every classroom in my building was climate controlled to a point where learning can occur every day, regardless of the outside temperature?

5. The building’s wiring can’t handle it.

      First, I’m only looking at putting an 8,000 BTU unit in the window. I’m not looking for a 65 degree classroom, it’d just be nice to take the edge off the heat. 8,000 BTU is small. Second, maybe it’s time the county comes out and inspects the building. I’m pretty sure having only one electrical outlet per wall (in a 32 ft by 32 ft room) is not up to code.

       In the end, students in my classroom will be able to function at an optimal level, even on the hottest days. Optimal human performance leads to optimal learning, and optimal test takings (i.e. MEAP). If I were allowed to pay out of pocket to improve the learning in my class, I would hope the district would allow it. In a recent study, an independent human performance technology firm did a study on the impact of air conditioning in an office environment. They concluded the amount of money a company saves by installing air conditioning pays itself over and over as human productivity increases dramatically in an air conditioned space.

      I’m a wimp. It’s worth a shot.

Self-Entertainment at the Restaurant

      It's that time of year- the end of summer when families are soaking in the sunshine for the last few times before school starts, when downtown Holland street performers and Hope Summer Theater shows come to an end, and business at the restaurant slows to a crawl. Tonight was no exception. On nights like tonight, it's difficult to stay mentally focused. The irony is, the slower the night, the more likely mistakes will be made. When it gets slow, we get dumb.
      To stave off this mental absenteeism, we often play games. Several weeks ago, it was the ABC game. We decided to keep it more social, we would work in pairs. Each pair had to come up with something in the restaurant (think I-Spy ABC) that starts with a letter from the alphabet. To make it more fun, at the end of the night, the lists were turned into the manager, who served as the judge. She read through the lists, decided which one was the funniest, and declared the winner. Lauren and I won. The prize? A hotdog from Froggy's.
      Tonight was bad. At 5:30 the dining room was 50% full at best, and being fully staffed for a weekend, it meant a lot of standing around. So we decided to create a new game. 84 East BINGO. We made a list of common things that happen, are seen, or are ordered at the restaurant. For example, one space was "Regular Butter." Our bread is served with a homemade garlic butter. Occasionally people will ask for regular butter. If a table in your section asks, you get to cross off that space. We had other spaces such as a beverage with no ice, asking for extra napkins, a screaming crying baby, a guest spilling a beverage, caesar salad with anchovies (yuck), and many others. Of course the "free space" in the center was "Tuxedo chicken, no tomato" (the most commonly ordered item on the menu).
      While the nights actually got progressively slower, we did have a great time. We even brainstormed a LOT more possible spaces for future games. Hopefully next weekend will be better since Hope College is moving in. If not, we're ready to play.

A Teacher is a Person Too

      I love seeing students outside of the classroom. It's actually sort of an entertaining pastime. I'll be walking down the isle at Best Buy, turn the corner, and there is one of my students and his mom. It's the strangest phenomenon, but it's true with every student for every teacher. This student might be the boy who during the school day tells you what he had for breakfast, what color his room is, where he went out to eat 3 years ago, and how his sister was grounded. He spends nearly seven hours a day, five days a week with you. He may be that kid in class that can't stop talking for two minutes. Here in the real world, he is like a deer in headlights. He won't say anything. He'll make his mom do all the talking, nodding in agreeance, but maintaining a look of complete shock on his face. When this happens, I'll usually tease the kid (I mean, come on, it's the perfect opportunity). Kids simply don't think of their teachers a people too. It's pretty funny. They think we live at school.
      I remember, a few years ago, when my third grade class was in line in the hallway, stopped as another class passed us. (Sometimes school hallways could use traffic signals.) My class was stopped in front of the entrances to the bathrooms. One of the second grade teachers came out of the bathroom, and LS, who happened to be in that second grade teacher's class the year before, was shocked. "Mrs. Mendels, YOU go to the bathroom?!" She couldn't have been more surprised.
      It's this predictable behavior in kids that helps you, as a teacher, spot a student in a store from three isles away. Teaching in a building with over 600 students, I simply do not know all of the students. But being one of only 30 teachers, most students in the building know me. So you can tell when you run into a student from your school. They have the deer-in-headlights surprised-face look as they stop dead in their tracks. Sometimes the parents might know who you are and talk to you, and other times you simply have to pretend you know exactly who they are. "Oh, hey. How are you doing? Are you having a good summer? Who do you hope you get as a teacher this coming year?" In the end, it doesn't matter what you say. They are just surprised that you go to the grocery store.

My New Nerdy Purchase

I'm very excited to have purchased a refurbished digital projector for my classroom. It's a Nextar XPJ darkroom projector, and I got it for only $100! One thing I really dislike about my class meeting space is the reliance on chart paper. Chart paper is great for modeling, and for having a shared text, but managing all of the different papers is a real pain. I constantly run out of paper. It takes FOREVER to write out a whole poem. It's just one of those little things that for reasons unknown, it bugs the snot out of me. Enter the digital projector. My goal is to replace my chart paper easel with a 4' x 5' dry erase board, mounted landscape. Then the projector will project onto the dry erase board, creating a digital chart paper.

In years past, it has become a regular practice to photograph chart paper writing as well as any class writing or brainstorming on the chalkboard. It makes it very easy to bring the text back up without having to physically save it. For example, rather than having to flip through a bunch of chart papers to find a shared poem, I can simply bring up the digital picture and voilà: we are good to go.

While my classroom is equipped with a very nice digital projector, it is permanently mounted in a part of the room where I don't need it. Hopefully the Nextar will be able to fill that need. The quality of the Nextar isn't very good, and it is a darkroom projector, meaning it projects using a standard overhead projector bulb, which is both good and bad. It's good as replacing the bulb costs $12, compared to most projectors bulbs costing over $300. It's bad since the projector only outputs 300 lumens, compared to the Epson projector mounted in my classroom rated at 2000 lumens. This means the projector literally needs to be used in a dark room. So we'll see how that works out.

Building My Classroom

So it’s that time of year when I need to start working on my classroom. Just as every year in the past, I have to move into a different classroom, and like many of my moves, the physical layout of the room is drastically different than every other room I’ve been in. So what does that mean? It means starting from scratch. Again.

I know where everything goes in my classroom from last year. I know the corner by the window is where my bookshelves go. It’s also where the computers go, as well as the 30 gallon fishtank. I know that four bookshelves fit perfectly against the classroom heater. I know that my hexagon table goes back by the sink, and the booths fit against the south wall.

In my new room, I’m spending a ton of time working with a tape measure and Google Sketchup. You think I’m a nerd? Well I am. But my room is also full of boxes, student desks, my classroom furniture, classroom furniture left by last year’s occupants. The school computers (which we are NOT allowed to move or unplug) aren’t even grouped together, and while I don’t know where I want them yet, I know I don’t want them where they are. So working in a digital space allows me to see where things fit. I can move my three 150 pound booths around the room with the flick of a mouse rather than sweating as I pull it across carpet, weaving in between stacks of boxes.

While I used to find this part exciting, it’s lost that magic. I frustrated. I really liked my room last year, and I simply cannot replicate it in my current classroom. The stage in which my classroom currently resides, can be equated to that puzzle where you move one piece out of the way so you can move another piece, and so on. I can’t put anything away because I don’t know where it goes, but I can’t figure where things go because I have a hard time moving them around the things that need to be put away.

I’ve set up my teacher desk where I want it, and guess what… no electricity for 15 feet. I put my microwave and refrigerator where I want them. No electricity for 25 feet. My three booths won’t fit on the wall where I want them because booth #3 will block over half of a doorway.

In the end, I know I’ll figure it out. I always do. But I can’t wrap my mind around the actual CONTENT and CURRICULUM for the year until I figure out the physical space. Yuck.

New York

      I had been looking forward to visiting my sister in New York for several months. Now that I finally had arrived, I was excited to have the chance to play "the tourist" and take in all of the excitement of the Big Apple. First on the agenda was the Broadway show "Chicago."
      As we entered the theater, I was a little nervous. "Are you sure there isn't a dress code?" I asked my sister. Wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, I was concerned I would be severely underdressed.
      Carrie, without looking up from her phone, replied flatly, "Yes. The website said proper dress is 'tourist' except on opening night." She handed our tickets to the usher.
      As we found our seats, I breathed a sigh of relief as I noticed several others wearing jeans and t-shirts. I fit right in. We squeezed through the narrow row, brushing past several folded seats, until I saw the bass placard that read 16. I folded down the seat and sat.
      I continued sinking into the seat, until bottoming out on the rigid springs under the cushion. As I continued readjusting, trying to find a more comfortable position, the seat squeaked and groaned loudly. Carrie leaned over. "Hey, I don't think you need to worry about what you're wearing."
      "Why's that?" I asked, causing my seat to again creak.
      "Look." She motioned to the people sitting next to me, wearing t-shirts, shorts, and flipflops, crunching on a bag of potato chips. Broadway sure is a classy place.

The Homework Myth

I just started reading The Homework Myth by Alfie Kohn. While I've had this book on my "to read" list for a long time, I've just never really gotten around to it. To be honest, I've always just had an impression in my mind of what the book was going to say. "Homework is bad because kids practice skills incorrectly." While the premise of the book is that homework, as administered by schools, does not work like it should. But the book isn't saying all homework is bad.

One point that Alfie made that I'm totally guilty of is what homework means. It would be understandable if teachers sent home assignments that were deemed important enough to commit family time to complete. But that's not what happens. In most classrooms (including mine), homework is an abstract concept. Teachers decide ahead of time that children will do something every night. Later on we'll figure out just what it is we will make them do. Many schools even go as far as to set a number of minutes of schoolwork at home. What's incredibly strange is that parents don't only accept it, they even expect it.

There was a quote taken from the American Educational Research Association way back in 1968 that particularly caused me to stop and reflect. "Whenever homework crowds out social experience, outdoor recreation, and creative activities, and whenever it usurps time that should be devoted to sleep, it is not meeting the basic needs of children and adolescents." I so agree with this statement. Alfie goes on to share an official stance on homework at Golden Independent School in Golden, Colorado. The administration believes that 6 and 1/2 hours a day in school is enough. Kids and families need the rest of the days/evenings/weekends/holidays for living- playing, having friends and pets, shopping, solving problems, cooking, eating, doing chores, traveling, playing on sports teams, communicating, finding out about world news, playing musical instruments, reading for pleasure, watching movies, collecting things, etc., etc., etc. The question is, what do we believe childhood should be about?

While I am fully engaged and inspired by this text, I have many questions that I'm hoping will be addressed.
1.  As an adult, I often have tasks that need to be completed by deadlines every day that I don't particularly enjoy. Colleges expect students to study for significant amounts of time. High Schools require assignments. If I weren't to assign any kind of homework, wouldn't I be withholding a very important skill?

2.  Schools have become a customer service industry. Parents have the choice to send their children wherever they want. If my school doesn't assign homework and a neighboring school publicizes the homework as "college preparatory," we could have declining enrollment, which in change could cost me my job. Is there a strong case for ending homework other than it doesn't do that much for kids?

Online Privacy Issues

There have been times when something so epic has happened in my classroom, I can't help but tell other people about it. For example, I'll never forget my first year teaching. I had a student who struggled with anxiety on the mornings when things were rushed at home. She would come to school feeling anxious, which made her physically ill. She'd be fine by late morning. On one memorable morning, she informed me her tummy didn't feel good, opened her desk, and vomited. It's a story I have shared a hundred times.

Now here I am, several years later, and the event came up on my blog. While few people may actually read my blog, the fact is, the story is now public for the world to read, in a semi-permanent state. When telling this story orally to people, I would NEVER mention the name of the student. I never mention the names of my students to anybody when talking about my classroom. For the most part, people simply don't need to know the names. But online brings up a whole new layer. When is it okay to mention student names? Back then, my newsletter was printed and sent home on Fridays, which naturally limited the audience. Now my newsletter is online, and fully public for anybody to view. Pictures of groups of students, with permission are used, and frequently first names are used, separate from any picture. Still, privacy issues are still a big "gray area."

Which leads me to my classroom stories. For fun and for this blog, I have been writing true stories from my classroom. Again, I don't ever use names, I've simply been using two-letter codes simply to replace the name and so I know who I am talking about. The issue is, good writing needs character development. The people in a memoir are in fact characters. Which leads me to my concern: How much information can I give about students? Even without the names, I'm concerned that people may know who I am talking about. Food for thought.

The Sweatshop- continued from yesterday

(Continued from yesterday...)

      I walked over to the overhead cart and grabbed the water spray bottle. “All, right, who needs it?” I asked the class. Twenty of the twenty-two students raised their sweaty hands. I walked up to BB. “OK, assume the position.” His face flushed bright red, and emitting an odor that vaguely reminded me of an old, smelly locker room/wet dog, he pulled his hair off his forehead. I sprayed four squirts of water from the spray bottle. He lowered his head, exposing the back of his neck. I again squirted four sprays from the bottle. “Next.”

      I spent the next five minutes hosing smelly kids down with the spray bottle, as well as avoiding the smell. Really I couldn’t complain, as at that point my own shirt was sticking to my back as if I had been caught in a downpour. I didn’t exactly smell like a rose either.

      After a few rounds with the spray bottle, the math lesson could finally begin. I sat down at the overhead. “All right, who remembers how to find an equivalent fraction for ¾?” Looking around the room, JA had her hand up, an utter look of despair on her face. IS had her forehead down on her desk. CG had a wet paper towel covering his face, with two eye holes torn out. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead and into my eyebrow. For a class that is usually very, shall we say, verbally active, there wasn’t a sound in the room except for the box fans at high speed.

      I uncapped the overhead marker, and proceeded to revisit multiply the numerator and denominator, writing on the overhead glass with the marker, smearing the writing with my damp arm. Most students followed along, unenthusiastically, on their individual dry erase boards.

      “Let’s try another one.” I wrote a different fraction on the overhead. “Try finding an equivalent fraction for 4/5 on your own.” After a few groans, the students began working. A bead of sweat ran down from my eyebrow and into my eye, the salty drop stinging. I quickly rubbed my eye.

      Suddenly, the quiet class erupted into laughter. I looked up, and noticed every pair of eyes was fixed on me. Without skipping a beat, screaming out in a panicked, desperate voice, CS shouted out, “Guys! Stop laughing or he’ll turn off the fans!” The group instantly stopped laughing.

      Curious as to what I did that caused this comatose group to erupt into laughter, I asked CS, “What is everyone laughing about?”

      With a look of concern on his face, CS replied, “Mr. Working, you have marker on your face.”

      I looked down at my hands and saw the overhead marker had broken, and my hands were completely green. I rushed over to the mirror, and saw my entire left eyelid and eyebrow were green.

      While splashing water into my eye at the sink, I announced, “Third graders, find an equivalent fraction for 2/6 on your whiteboards.”

      Now I know what it feels like to be the manager of a sweatshop.

The Sweatshop

      The school I work in was built in 1963, and like many other elementary schools in the area, does not have air conditioning. For several months, this really isn’t a problem, but during the first two months of school and the last month of school, this usually means several weeks of very uncomfortable and unproductive school days.

      This particular week was exceptionally warm. The thermometer at the front of the classroom never went below 82 degrees, and the humidity never dropped below 50 percent. This creates problems when third graders come in from lunch recess, having spent almost a half-hour running in the hot sun.

      The bell rang, and it was time to let the third graders in. I quickly walked out into the hallway, and pushed open the exterior door to see over 90 nine and ten year olds, faces bright red, sweaty foreheads and wet hair, sporting shirts soaked completely through with sweat. Not to let an opportunity pass, I announce, “You guys look gross. Come on in.” I put my hand out as they pass, receiving eighty-nine sweaty, sticky high-fives.

     And then suddenly OC sneak attacked me, like he does most days. Having spent the time off to the side, waiting to be the last in, he was rubbing his hand on his forehead and through his hair, trying to accumulate as much perspiration as possible, ready to gross Mr. Working out.

     Just as I’m ready to close the door, SPLAT! I instantly knew what had happened, and as OC ran into the building, giggling, I shouted after him, “Oh, that’s it! I’m so getting even with you!” I instantly wiped the dripping sweat from my hand, and made a quick beeline to the sink.

To be continued…

30 Days of Writing

So here I am on day 12 of writing every day for a month. It doesn't feel like that big of an accomplishment, but today I'm realizing something. As I went through my day today, I've realized that writing has become a habit. It's just another thing I do every day, along with brushing my teeth and taking a shower. I can't believe how easily this habit formed in less than twelve days.

So what does this mean? I do actually write quite a bit, but writing an assigned piece for a class or writing a structured piece to meet a purpose is just not the same as writing whatever I feel like writing, no strings attached. What's more, I'm finding that knowing I will be writing each day, I'm viewing my life differently. Just a simple 15 minutes of writing a day has dramatically changed the way I view the world. It's crazy. When it comes to time write, I usually already know what I'm going to write about, because whether consciously or not, I've already begun formulating the piece in my head.

This has great implications for me. Whatever the purpose, I really want to develop my Facebook status updates from my school year last year into more developed vignettes while I still remember the details. Writing every day is giving me time to do this, and again has changed the way I view my day. A few days ago I was in Barnes and Noble, and I just dropped by the writing section. A book captured my attention. I don't remember the title or the author, but while flipping through it, I realized what it was I felt like my stories from the classroom were missing. Basically, I'm writing a memoir, and I'm concerned that the stories, while meaningful for me, are boring for someone else to read. I felt like the stories are important to me, but they were missing something.

To get the gist of what I read, the author said something like, "Most aspiring authors make the same mistake when writing their memoirs: They write in small snippets, like an autobiography. A great memoir has a theme underneath that connects the small pieces together." I just read Winter Dance by Gary Paulsen a few weeks ago. This book immediately came to mind. Each chapter in his book is the next segment of time, but each segment purposefully adds to the theme of preparing for the Iditarod. In the end, while racing the Iditarod, the information presented in earlier in the book comes back into play.

So I will keep writing every day, and as I do, I will continue living life as a writer.

NWPM- What I'm Taking Away

As the National Writing Project of Michigan retreat comes to a close, there is one "take-away" I am truly valuing from the experience: Unstructured conversation can be powerful. The entire retreat was envisioned around this concept, from the informal conversation time within the sessions, to the half-hour transition times. It is clear the Troy Hicks and the other event planners value those important conversations that happen in the hallway.

A perfect example of this philosophy lies within the session on oral histories. As I sat in the beautiful conference room in the Central Michigan University Education building, I could immediately feel the difference. Mary Cox, the presenter, wasn't going to step through dozens of PowerPoint slides. Rather, she found out more about the session participants, and we were as much of the presentation as she was. Finding out more about our writing project site, more about our classrooms, the student makeup, and geographic location, she was able to tailor-fit the experience.

After showing us how oral histories worked within the Rodchester area, she then highlighted parts of the project that directly connected to me, helping me frame how this could be adapted for my own community and learners. In fact, the session naturally became more of a workshop where all of the participants helped each individual participant make meaning from the presentation. It was collaboration, and it was good. In the end, Mary suggested several specific sites and founding sources that might work in the Holland area for Spanish speaking families, and even took my email to get me in contact with others she things might be able to support my initiatives.

In all, pretty much all sessions worked similarly to this. This simple, yet powerful model leaves me feeling differently than I do at the end of most conferences. I feel like I had time to process the information as I acquired it, and now I'm ready to answer the question, "Now what?" This structure is a perfect model of constructivism in professional development.

National Writing Project Michigan Retreat- Day 2

Today was an incredible and exhausting day, and having a conference where sessions are heavy on discussion and light on the presentation was amazing! After stopping with the roommates at Starbucks (of course), we arrived at the Education building at Central Michigan just in time for the coffee and doughnuts. I'll have to take pictures of the building- I've never seen anything like it. It was just completed, and is a state-of-the-art facility that is a "green" building, in construction, materials, and design. It's also the most technologically advanced building I've ever seen. (Even the light switches in the room are interactive touch screen displays)

Summer Institute
I started the day in a session discussing what the Summer Institute looks like at different sites. We spent almost two hours just sharing details such as scheduling, digital copies vs. paper copies, orientation, dinners and luncheons, writing requirements, text selection and reflection, credit options, and so much more. It was really interesting to see how differently so many sites approach the summer institute.

WIDE PATHS
After the first session, I moved to the discussion of the WIDE PATHS institute that was hosted last summer at RCWP. Through the discussion that formed, it was reiterated that digital literacy is not about the tool. It's the thinking and skills necessary to navigate digital environments and media. After discussion the three strands of Visual Literacy, Collaborative Writing, and Social Networking, Andrea Zellner asked us to think about what strands might be of interest if there were to be another WIDE PATHS. A few of us had an interest in game-based learning, which opened up a whole new discussion: When kids are playing video games, they are willing to try and fail multiple times in order to successfully navigate a game. What's more, the genre of video games is interesting as well. So many video games today have a narrative structure. Take, for example, the PBS Kids website. The games have (hilarious) story lines. Kids enjoy these games because they have the opportunity to choose which game to play, and they like the challenge.

When it comes to school, failure takes on a whole different meaning. If kids are failing, they often give up. Andrea brought up the example of Google. It was just announced that Google Wave is being terminated. Google isn't making excuses, because in the eyes of Google, failure just represents an effort to innovate, and innovation is key. It becomes incredibly difficult to have this stance in a school where, "What's on the test is what we teach." Innovation and failure are generally not acceptable within school, and certainly not within No Child Left Behind, where schools are expected to draw from research-based programming (i.e. DO NOT INNOVATE). We need an opportunity to innovate, and give students an opportunity for self-selected problem-based learning.

Oral History
My next session was incredible! The city of Rodchester, Michigan along with Meadow Brook Writing Project, have created an Oral History Project. Through this project, students are interviewing and collecting oral histories from the older population in their community, then posting the interviews as either podcasts in an archive, or creating digital stories to accompany the audio. (http://www.oakland.edu/?id=12627&sid=333 and http://www.youtube.com/user/ROHAProject) I thought this would be an amazing opportunity for my students, since many of the families in my school have immigrated from a different country. There is so much rich history available!

Writing Marathon
At the end of the day, we ended with a mini Writing Marathon in downtown Mount Pleasant. All in all, a good day.

Writing Marathon site: Island Park in Mount Pleasant

National Writing Project Michigan Retreat- Day 1

National Writing Project Michigan Summer Retreat: Day 1

During the keynote address, given by MSU's Danielle Devoss, the concept of writing as digital was presented. As she put it, "Writing IS digital." Through her presentation, Danielle highlighted eight components of what digital is:

1. Digital is networked.

2. Digital is collaborative.

3. Digital is multimodal.

4. Digital is re-mediated.

5. Digital is remixed.

6. Digital is policed.

7. Digital requires critical thinking.

8. Digital can be democratic.

Digital is Networked

Danielle showed us several staggering statistics, including the number of content postings every day on Facebook, Twitter, Flickr, and several other social sites. As she put it, "the innovation isn't the tool, the innovation is in what educators are able to do with the tool." Paul Allison tells us that the networking ability of writing in digital environment amplifies the writing instruction effectiveness.

Digital is Collaborative

My favorite thing Danielle showed us is the Lol Cats Bible Translation Wiki. I'm slightly familiar with the icanhascheezburger LOL cat, but it is hilarious that large teams of people are spending their time translating the Bible into LOL cat language. 

Digital is Remediated

If you look through YouTube, a common thread is the remediation of writing, where a media object is taken and moved into another medium. An amazing example comes from angryalien.com where they take feature films and retell them in 30 seconds, using bunnies.

                              "March of the Penguins in 30 Seconds"

Digital is Remixed
Julian Marsano, a teacher from Brooklyn, creates public service announcements with his students as a way to teach media literacy. By identifying an important message that students want to address, such as global warming, students write a script and determine how to ethically incorporate photographs, music, and other created media with their script to create an effective message. On YouTube, there are several remixed clips, including the Scary Mary Poppins in which clips from the movie are set to the Psycho soundtrack, giving a completely different (and humorous) message.


Digital is Policed
There are several examples of videos from YouTube that have been forcibly removed after copywritten material was reposted. The fact is, authorship is an important struggle with the ease of information. She asked the question, what happens if students use media in the creations for which they do not have permissions? It's important to teach acceptable use policies, similar to blogger BudtheTeacher's policy. The Center for Social Media is a good resource.


Digital Requires Critical Thinking

Click for larger image.

This was my favorite point. Danielle emphasized the need for teaching media and visual literacy. Not everything we see is necessarily true, therefore critical skills are necessary as we consume media. A perfect example is the picture of Faith Hill in the 2007 Redbook magazine. The original image was released, and the differences between the two are staggering. This reminds me of the Dove commercial where they show the process of a photoshoot.


And without giving too much away, check out the website for the new Pomegranate Phone website. 


Digital can be Democratic
There are many great examples of digital media providing a level of democracy to users, as the control lies with the users and not any particular power. A perfect example was during a media blackout in Iran. CNN reporters were told not to leave their office, under penalty of law, yet thousands of Iranians used Twitter to tell the world what was going on. In our own country, voices were given to students during the NWP's Letters to the Next President letter campaign, or the CNN YouTube Debates in which citizens posed questions to Presidential candidates. 


I just have to say, wow. Danielle is a genius.

Biting my tongue at the restaurant

Every shift at the restaurant usually has at least one conversation with a guest that leaves me having to bite my tongue and try to come up with a customer service driven answer. Here are a few experiences at the restaurant where I truly wished I could have said something differently.

Now, before I make fun of other people, I should point out that I’m right there with them. When I was at a restaurant in San Antonio during the National Writing Project Annual Meeting, we walked into this enormous restaurant. As we wandered around, I became frustrated as I couldn’t figure out where we were supposed to sign in. So when I asked, the lady pointed out the ENORMOUS five foot tall blinking neon sign by the front door with an arrow pointing down at the desk, reading “Sign in here.”

Guest:       Is your Pepsi real, or is it from that syrup?

What I said: Oh, it’s real.

What I wanted to say: Yup, it’s real. It’s fresh squeezed, picked from our Pepsi tree out back just this morning.

---

Guest:       Is the Pork Marsala steak?

What I said:  Well, it’s Pork.

Guest:       Um, do you have any of that sall-man?

What I wanted to say: It’s pork. No, we don’t have either sall-man or salmon. Shall I bring you the children’s menu?

---

Guest:       (Bringing a full martini up to the bar with a little bit of an attitude) Excuse me, this martini is way too strong. It’s supposed to be a lemontini.

Me:           I’m sorry. It is quite strong. Would you like me to add a juice to it?

What I wanted to say: It’s a martini, not a wimpy mixed drink. IT’S PURE VODKA! How could I have made it not as strong? There’s only one ingredient, you know, the ingredient listed on the menu when you ordered it. I’d be happy to make you a Shirley Temple.

---

Guest:       (Standing in the middle of the restaurant, just outside the kitchen doors, on a busy night) Hi, there’s two of us.

What I said: (With a tray of food in my hands) Oh, if you walk right up to the front to the host stand, the hostess will be able to help you out.

What I wanted to say: Really, are there many restaurants that you’ve been to where to open the kitchen door and ask for a table? 

---

What I said:   (Walking up to a table that was just seated.) Hello, how are you two doing today?

Guest: (Without looking up from the menu) Water, extra lemon.

What I said:   I'll be right back with that for you.

What I wanted to say:  I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to bring you a towel, or is it just your tourettes acting up?

---

One of my all-time favorites:

Guest:       (Pointing to the bottom of the wine list, where the house wines are listed. “Cabernet ~ Merlot” and on the next line, “Chardonnay ~ White Zinfindel”)  I’ll have the cab-er-net mer-lot (pronouncing both the “net” and the “lot”).

What I said: I’ll be right back with that. (Poured a glass of merlot thinking it wouldn’t really matter.)

What I wanted to say: Don’t drink a whole lot of wine, do you? I’ll be right back. If you hear any hysterical laughing, it’s not me. (In his defense, he may have thought it was a Cabernet-Merlot blend, but based on pronunciation, I'd be willing to bet that wasn't the case.)

21st Century Skills

This summer I was able to take one of my final Masters classes: Planning and Managing Educational Technology. It was one of those classes that keeps you thinking, even after class is over. For me, this class really addressed an interest of mine in which the last two summers at the Red Cedar Writing Project Summer Institute have addressed: 21^st century skills. What skills are necessary to be a successful 21^st century citizen?

I’ve read several books regarding 21^st century skills, including David Warlick’s book, Raw Materials for the Mind. In this book, Warlick three important categories: collaboration, rich media resources, and contributive expression. In his book, he suggests different ways to address these categories, and different types of tools that work well, but nowhere in his book does he say anything like, “You should use Twitter because Twitter is important for kids to know. It’s the future.” Now Twitter may be an effective tool right now to facilitate collaboration or contributive expression, but Twitter for the sake of using Twitter is not a good reason.

Which leads me to the cliché, “We need to use it because it’s a 21^st century skill,” or “It’s meeting the kids where they are.” As an example, a few years back during a math training, the trainer was using an online whiteboard website in which you could draw polygons. The objective of the math lesson he was trying to show was rotation of polygons. In a complicated and confusing sequence of events, he demonstrated how he would scan an image as a pdf file, convert it to a jpg file, crop it, import it to the site, and demonstrated the trick for rotating the image. When one teacher asked, wouldn’t it be easier to do on a piece of construction paper on the chalkboard, his answer was, “This is a 21^st century skill. This is how kids learn, and we need to meet them where they are.” Really?

During the final presentations in my class, there was a presentation on the potential for using Blackberry smartphones in the classroom as a 1:1 initiative.

During the presentation, he continued using the phrase, “Kids are gaining skills to be 21^st century citizens,” and “it’s meeting kids where they are.” He continued on giving examples for usage, such as using the calculator on the device, reading online textbooks, and checking grades. One of my colleagues recently informed me that I am a tech snob. I guess it’s true. And I guess using technology to accommodate what we already do in the classroom is fine. It’s great. But the voice in the back of my head is still asking, "Is using a cell phone calculator and checking grades online really a 21st century skill?"

If we are truly trying to prepare our students to be successful 21^st century citizens, shouldn’t we strive for transformative uses of technologies- thinking about how we can help learners collaborate locally and globally, how to effectively and ethically use rich media resources, and develop contributive expression with an awareness of audience and purpose? And if a tool helps you do that, that’s great. But at least use it for the right reason.

P.J. Hoffmaster State Park continued further

(Continued from yesterday...)     At the bottom of the hill I noticed the first group of boys were already halfway back up the hill. IS was lying amongst several large groups of beach grass, laughing. The entire left side of JM’s face was covered in sand. OC proudly came up to me and pointed out the blood on his shirt from his bloody nose as well as the sand stuck in his teeth. All in all, it was an exciting activity.

     After the DNR woman rounded us up and led us back to the learning center, we had a few minutes to explore the learning museum. Half of the class immediately ran over to the exhibit of the enormous beetle, made of cast iron, almost 24 inches long.

     As I made my way through the exhibit, I came around the corner to find BB looking through a microscope with his shoes off. Thinking it odd, I quickly approached.

     The exhibit, designed to identify the different types of dune sand, had several premade plastic slides hanging from the exhibit, attached by thin chains.

     As I looked closer, I noticed BB was looking through the microscope at a pile of sand. My heart skipped a beat. “Hey BB, what’s going on?” I nervously asked.

     “I’m looking at sand,” and answered innocently.

     I hesitated, afraid to ask. “Where did the sand come from?”

     “Oh, I had a lot in my shoe.”

     I swallowed hard. “Did the DNR lady say it was OK to look at sand from your shoe?”

     “She said this was for looking at sand.”

     I quickly spotted the woman pointing to a stuffed bird, speaking to a small group of girls. I politely interrupted.

     “Did you say it was OK to look at sand from their shoes?”

     The look on her face answered my question.

     As we were leaving the exhibit, I again apologized profusely to the woman as she was carefully vacuuming the exhibit. “Again, I am so sorry. He really didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

     Without looking at me, and without any expression, she simply said, “Uh-huh.”

P.J. Hoffmaster State Park continued

(Continued from yesterday...)

     "That's right! The dust is actually a metal called iron.” The lady began to hand out bar magnets to all of the students, and continued to talk about the makeup of Michigan dune sand. At least I think that’s what she was talking about. I was otherwise occupied.

     I rushed over to CT, who was eagerly digging a hole in the sand, quickly scooping sand between his legs, looking like a dog about to bury a bone. “C., please don’t bury your magnet. They’re going to need that back.” I look around at the class. They were having the time of their lives, burying the magnets. The poor DNR lady was trying to get their attention. She was very nice, but clearly not a teacher. A teacher would know: never give a group of 3^rd graders any kind of exciting object, such as magnets, or any other object for that matter, until AFTER you have delivered your message.

     After the poor DNR woman had recollected and dug up all of the bar magnets, it was time for us to run the big dune. Feeling the same level of excitement my third graders were feeling, I quickly started the long hike up the massive dune. The sweat started rolling down my forehead almost immediately as hot sand began working its way into my shoes and under my socks. After what felt like 10 minutes and 9,000 calories burned, I had finally reached the top, just in time to catch OC. as he was about to run down the dune. The dune consisted of a narrow pathway between large clumps of beach grass. The problem was, the pathway was still heavily populated with more than half of the class trying to climb up.    

     I took a minute to explain to several disappointed boys why we had to wait until the pathway was clear before running down the dune, and lined the boys up. It felt rather similar to pulling a slingshot back as far as possible, and then waiting. At last the pathway became clear (enough). “OC, you are cleared for takeoff.”

     In a flash a blob of third graders rocketed down the dune, running into and tripping over each other. Within the first few seconds, several had already tripped face-first into the sand. One by one, they each crashed and burned, losing shoes along the way. The side of the dune looked like the set of a war movie, with bodies strewn everywhere, moaning. After first catching my breath from laughing so hard, then asking if they were ok, I declared, “Look out below!” and I was off.

(To be continued…)