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.

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.

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.

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.

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…)

P.J. Hoffmaster State Park

A few of my students on our trip.

      Hidden among several enormous natural sand dunes on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, P.J. Hoffmaster State Park is a popular field trip destination for schools in West Michigan. Operated by the DNR, the learning center at the park offers amazing programming relevant to the third grade science and social studies curriculum in Michigan. It is for this reason we decided to make the 45 minute bus trip to the park on a beautiful warm sunny day in May.

      I knew it was going to be an interesting trip when we had to leave without J.’s mom, one of my chaperones. “But she had to run a few errands. She is going to be here,” J. kept saying over and over, but as it was, the bus had 30 minutes to make the 45 minute trip to the park, so we had to leave.

      After we had arrived at the state park and watched the introduction video in the learning center theater, my class headed out on the guided tour through the hiking trails. Things seemed to be going well. The kids were enjoying looking for animals, excitedly pointing out birds, and bugs, and wild mushrooms, and what two apparently in-love teenagers had carved into the fallen tree. JS. came running up to me, barely able to contain his excitement. “Mr. Working!” he was shouting as several other boys came running from the wooden rail overlooking the backdune. “I just saw a woodchucker! Come look!” He quickly pointed to a nearby tree, and sure enough, there was a chipmunk.

      The hiking trail ended at the top of a dune on the edge of the lake. The DNR guide had the class sit on the dune. “Boys and girls, how many of you know what is special about the dune sand in Michigan?” C. had already moved down the dune out of hearing range. D. and I. had removed their shoes and were busy burying their feet in the sand. “Boys and girls, if I could have your attention, I want to show you what happens when you slide a magnet through the dune sand.” She pulled a bar magnet out of her bag, and began to gently drag it across the hot sand. “What do you notice about the magnet?” A handful of boys pushed their way in to see while I tried to round up my beach explorers.

      “There’s dust or something sticking to it!” JL. announced with excitement.

To be continued…

(Taking a cue from Sarah Parker’s blog… 15 minutes a day goes quickly)

Year-Round School

Tonight in the class I am taking we had technology implementation presentations. The assignment was simple: take a broad technology (whether device-based, software-based, or process-based) and come up with a plan for diffusing the technology through your district or organization. A big focus was on systemic change and including the community stakeholders in the process. My presentation was on the need for digital citizenship and online ethics in the elementary grades.

One classmate did a presentation on year-round school. (Year-round school is considered a technology because it is based upon improving human performance through research and changes in practice.) I've heard of year-round school, and in the back of my head I know it is probably what is best for kids. We all talk about summer-loss. It comes up A LOT in the fall when we see kids reading levels drop by one or two grade levels or more. We all talk about how kids no longer know basic math facts after summer, and how getting into the grove of writing is challenging. The first month of school is getting back into the swing of things. I also have a gut feeling that down the road it is something that might become mandated.

I also can't help but feel selfish when I think of my summer vacation. During the school year, my personal needs take a backseat to the needs of my students and the needs of my district. This usually comes at a cost of sleep, social events, and frequently even eating and using the restroom. Teachers don't always get to eat lunch during lunch. But summer is different. Summer is when I take classes I'm interested in. The past few years I have had the opportunity to participate in the summer invitational at Red Cedar Writing Project where I live the life of a writer for four weeks. Summer is when I get to catch up on much needed sleep, start working on my pile of "to-read" books, and actually get to plan ahead for my teaching. Most importantly, summer is when I get to spend my days in air conditioned comfort when it gets really hot, a luxury I don't have on hot days at my non-air conditioned school.

But her presentation surprised me. She had taught at a year-round school, and had been reassigned to a traditional school. I couldn't believe what she was hearing: the traditional school was too exhausting! In Caledonia where she teaches, the year-round school still has the same number of school days that I do. However, those days are spread across the calendar year. My big concern of needing a summer vacation to recharge? They still get one. And it's surprisingly long! They still have traditional vacations: Christmas break, a two week spring break, and the summer vacation. But they also have two "intercessions:" the entire week of Thanksgiving, and a whole week in the middle of February. Her biggest rationale: with year-round school, January and February are very exciting months of the year because kids are fresh from Christmas break, the snow outside is still pretty exciting, and they look forward to Valentine's day followed by a winter intercession. In the traditional school year, January and February are the longest, bleakest, most depressing months of the year. Isn't that the truth...

Now I'm thinking that if my school had air conditioning installed, I'm all for it!