True Teaching

A few weeks ago, before the craziness of "remote learning" even entered our minds, I had an experience that brought me back to what I love about teaching. I started to blog about it then, but, as always, got distracted by things that seemed more important at the moment. Well, one blessing of the current #coronaclosure is that all of those "important" things -- running errands, meetings, lesson planning -- are suddenly much less urgent. So, I'm trying to use my new-found free time to re-focus. I woke up leisurely (no alarms!), did a yoga workout in my basement, and now I'm drinking hot coffee on the couch, and spending some time writing. It would be much more relaxing if the world didn't feel like it was falling apart, but I'm trying to enjoy what I can.

So here is the story I started to share weeks ago.  Somehow it feels equally, and maybe even more, relevant now as I think about what teaching may look like in the weeks and months to come...

It was Closing Circle. My students were gathered around the perimeter of our carpet. One of my students had a picture in a frame, ready to share. She began by telling us about her grandmother, the special relationship they had and how much they had in common. Then she shared that she was worried about her grandmother, and her grandfather, because her grandfather was getting a kidney transplant.  Her grandmother was donating the kidney and so they were both having to stay in the hospital for a little while (I should pause here to note that I did not verify these facts with her family, so I'm not actually sure this was a real story, but it was what she shared with our class).

As soon as this student mentioned the hospital and surgery, and her grandfather's failing kidneys, another one of my students began to comment under his breath "Ew! Agh, I don't want to hear this!"  Then he started to make fake-vomit noises. Immediately, I sent to our "Safe Place" to take a break. He groaned and pouted, and stomped away to the Safe Place, while his classmate finished her story and shared the framed picture of herself, as a baby, with her mom, grandmother, and aunts.  When she was ready for questions and comments, some of my other students jumped in to share their concern and well-wishes. Then it was time for everyone to go to Art class. I hustled the other students out the classroom door, while instructing the kiddo in the Safe Place to stay put so we could talk after everyone left.

Once the classroom was quiet, I walked over to the kiddo in the Safe Place. He was still a little pouty, but mostly calm. I started, as I always try to when I send students to "take a break," by asking him if he knew why I'd sent him away from the class. He said, "no." Of course he doesn't, I thought, and I could have just jumped to reprimanding him for being rude while another classmate was speaking. For some reason, though, I took another tactic. "Do you know what kidneys are?" I asked. "Yes," he answered confidently, and pointed to his heel. I stifled a smile, "Nope, that's your achilles."

At this point, I shifted gears and invited him, and another one who had stayed behind from Art class to finish a math assignment, over to my computer.  I pulled up brainpop.com.  Side note: This is one of my favorite websites because I can always count on them to have kid-appropriate videos for nearly any topic that comes up in my classroom. Case in point, within days of COVID-19 outbreaks worldwide, BrainPop had a free video available about coronaviruses, which included tips for avoiding spread, getting information from reliable sources, managing anxiety, and supporting others without judgement.

On this particular day, I searched "kidneys" and, sure enough, found a short video on the urinary tract system. We began to watch and I paused a few times to answer questions or explain further. "Yes, your pee is in your body all the time." "Well, your bladder sends a message to your brain when you need to pee so that you don't have an accident." "Right, your kidneys help filter out the bad stuff from the air we breathe and food we eat."  It was evident, very quickly, that neither of these kiddos had ever learned much about how their bodies work.  They were genuine, curious, and fascinated as the video went on.

At the end, I turned to the little guy who had made fake-vomit noises 20-minutes earlier at the mention of surgery. "Do you understand now why your classmate was feeling scared that her grandfather's kidney weren't working?" He answered quietly, "He could die without kidneys because the bad stuff would be in his body." I nodded, then asked, "Do you understand why it might have been hurtful that you were pretending to get sick while she was sharing about her grandfather's kidney transplant?" He was silent for a long moment. Then he just said, "Oops."

I knew he got it. He didn't need a lecture or punishment. He understood why his behavior had been inappropriate, and that he should try to be more sensitive in the future. It was a beautiful moment.  After that, I walked him to Art class. That was it.

Kids, and adults, often appear rude, unkind, disrespectful, or hurtful, when really they are confused and un-informed. We can tell them to be more thoughtful or empathetic, but that's only part of the solution. We actually need to provide more information, to teach them.

Missing all of this.

This has been a challenging year for me, and I've found myself feeling disconnected and unmotivated more than I'd like, but this experience reminded me what I love about teaching... being able to provide information, ideas, and answers at the time they are needed most.  My favorite moments in teaching have always been when I've been able to follow the interests, questions, or curiosities of my students. I know I haven't been doing this well lately. I've let the pressure of looming state tests, evaluations, and demanding parents push me to plough through content and focus on assessing standards, rather than knowledge. I can do better. We all can.

As we move into a new phase of education, I am hoping that I can make the time, and find more creative ways, to truly teach my students, even if we won't be gathering around the perimeter of the carpet for awhile.

Differentiating in Math

A few years ago, when I started teaching fourth grade, our school's "policy" was that students who scored __% (it varied) on the beginning-of-year math assessments (which also varied), and were deemed "strong in math" by previous teachers, were moved up to the next grade level for math.  The third, fourth, and fifth grade teams had to align our schedules so that math happened at the same time in all classes, so that students could go to which ever math class they were assigned to without missing other subject-areas.  In a lot of ways, this worked for our school -- the kiddos who were moved to the grade-level above felt good about themselves, their families felt good about the "challenging" math instruction their kiddos would receive, and at least some teachers felt good about having all of the students in their math class working on the same grade-level standards. This method of "differentiation" was also pretty easy; we made the decision at the beginning of the year about who was in which math class, and it basically stayed the same all year.

However, it wasn't a perfect system. Other trends started to emerge. Within math classes, the range of abilities was still quite wide, but it was now students working well below their own grade-level mixed with younger students working one or two grade-levels above. The kiddos who were "left back" in their own grade-level math classes started to say that they were "bad at math."  The younger students who were pushed forward consistently out performed the on-grade-level students, often dominating class discussions, but also sticking to themselves during partner or group work.  Families of children who were not pushed forward but felt that they should have been complained that their kids were bored and/or not challenged, which sometimes came to a head when a student would be moved mid-year; although this also led to more questions about what qualified a student to move up and how and when.

Last year, when our school fully departmentalized fourth and fifth grade (and got a new principal), we decided to move away from this system.  We justified the shift for a variety of reasons, including that we had a new curriculum, which was more rigorous than our previous curriculum, and that there was new a district-wide focus on mathematical discourse, which we felt required students to engage with peers at a variety of levels.  We also felt that this change would help us address the culture around math that had developed in our school -- with kids thinking they were "bad" at math if they were working on grade-level.

To ease the shift, we also put in place a few opportunities for students to continue working in more homogeneous math groups within and outside of the math classroom. I held "lunch bunches" with the students who were essentially repeating fourth-grade math to set individual goals and reflect about their math growth. Another teacher pushed into my room two or three times per week to pull a small group of these "high kids" to work on challenge problems. Once a month we held "math seminars" where we split the kids across fourth and fifth grade to work on more critical-thinking problems at different levels.

I learned a lot from these experiences! It turned out (not actually surprisingly) that some students who were good at mathematical computation, and even interpreting basic word problems, really, really struggled with open-ended questions. Other students who had weaker computation skills, were very strong in reasoning. And many students struggled with communicating precisely about their mathematical thinking.  As a result, I introduced more problems that required reasoning, practiced math vocabulary to improve discussions, and looked for more ways to have students demonstrate their understanding about concepts.

Even as I'm typing this, it's hard for me to believe this was all just last year!  Thinking back about all of the questions and challenges we faced last year, I'm realizing how quickly some of the issues resolved themselves, while others we've still barely addressed.  I've come a long way in my own way of thinking about and planning for math instruction and differentiation. This year, I have a completely different group of kiddos, with different strengths and areas of need which has led me in different directions.  As I remember all the things I tried and learned last year, I'm realizing that some practices have already become second nature and many more are still very much a work in progress.

More on this soon 😉

Take Advantage

Teaching isn't easy, but some years are just easier, and I've learned that when I have one of these years, I need to take advantage of it!

If some years are just easier, then naturally some years are just harder (I blogged about one of these years, a few years ago, here) -- sometimes because of particularly needy kiddos, sometimes because of demanding families, sometimes because of new coworkers, and sometimes because of personal life outside of school. Whatever the challenge, some years it takes longer to get into routines, more time to teach new concepts, and it may never feel like you can fully relax in the classroom. This is hard, but it's part of the job. Looking down the hallway, and talking to other teachers, I suspect that the next few years are not going to be so easy. All the more reason to keep pushing myself to be creative and try new things. Of course, it's all made so much easier with the help, encouragement, and support of amazing teammates -- so that's another thing I'm trying not to take for granted! 

Last year, for me, was one of those years.  Looking back, it was a combination of kiddos and coworkers, and some new things for me (like having an intern and using new curricula).  I tried to take advantage of those challenges by pushing myself to be especially reflective and honing my management skills.  It was still a great year in a lot of ways, but truthfully it wasn't too hard to say goodbye. 

This year, on the other hand, has been one of those rare years that, frankly, is just going smoothly (knocking on wood)!  I've got the same team (plus an incredible addition) that I had last year, this is now my third time teaching a full-year of our curricula, and most of our kiddos are pretty easy-going.  This is a crew that can handle open-ended activities without getting too crazy; they can adjust to a flexible schedule without getting overwhelmed. They work together well and can reflect on their own learning without too much structure or encouragement. 

So what have I been doing new this year? Let's see... we started the year with a collaborative growth-mindset oriented math challenge. We've done an "Escape Classroom" at the end of each of our math modules. We have had open-ended math lessons, launched from read-alouds and inquiry questions.  We've have had free-writing afternoons and "class-keeping" (i.e. "housekeeping") chore charts. 

These activities have been great for the kiddos and I definitely want to do them in the future, even if I have a less adaptable group.  Fortunately, now that I've had some success (and learned from some of the less successful experiences), I'll feel more confident trying these activities again. Some teachers are comfortable with a fair amount of chaos and uncertainty in their classrooms, but try as I might, I am not one of those teachers. 😬

Me by the Numbers

Of course, at the beginning of each year we always start with those obligatory "getting to know you" activities. Now that we are departmentalized, I wanted to do those general "meeting and greeting" activities with my homeroom, but I also wanted to do some more math-specific activities with each of my three math classes.  We did not rotate classes for the first two days of school so that we could have a little more time to bond with our new homerooms, and then on day three we did a "practice rotation" with slightly shorter periods and extra time for reviewing expectations. Our math activity on this day was something I called "Me by the Numbers."

This activity was particularly important for this year because, for the first time in a few years, I had never taught any of my students before.  Because I've moved grades a few times, I've had quite a few classes where I've actually already taught at least half of my kiddos. Even when I hadn't taught a particular kiddos, I had known all of the students in the grade reasonably well and could often remember anecdotes or details about them from their previous teachers. This year, though, I had never taught this cohort -- I'd moved to fourth grade by the time they were in first.

The connections I build with my students and their families is one of the things I value most, and it's a huge contributor to my classroom management approach.  So this year I was really nervous about how I would connect and bond with so many (58!) new kids and families. Granted, I'm still at the same school, so there were a few kiddos in this crew who I had known as babies when I taught their older brothers or sisters, but for the most part, we were all new to each other.

As it turned out, I had no reason to worry because these kiddos are such loves! They wanted to know everything about me as much as I wanted to know everything about them. I shared my own "Me by the Numbers" and added in some stories about my pets, where I went to school, and how long I'd been teaching. They were so into it!

Then, while the kiddos were working, I got to walk around, ask questions, make connections, and learn more about each them -- how many siblings do you have? what are your hobbies? how long have you lived in the neighborhood?  Instead of sending these home after we completed them, I held onto them so I could refer back to them during the first few week as I tried to put names and faces with personal details. I've found it really helps to know who likes sports, who loves to travel, who has pets, and who is an only child.  I don't necessarily use these facts all the time, but when I want to write a meaningful word problem or share a great book, I know who I can turn to!

 

Book Buddies

When I was in fourth grade, my class was "Book Buddies" with my brother's Kindergarten class. Reading with our Book Buddies was one my favorite activities!  I still remember how exciting it was to go down to the Kindergarten room, picture books in hand, and get to be the "big kid" reading to the "little kids."  My brother and one of his friends would sit on either side of me as I read to them.  I remember practicing how to remind them to sit quietly, listen, look at the pictures, point to sight words on the page... I guess I was a teacher even back then. 😂

Book Buddies is still one my favorite activities and now my fourth graders are the "big kids." Every other week, or so, we traipse down three flights of stairs to our little Book Buddies' classroom.  My wonderful colleague typically has her little guys spread out around the room so that it's easy for the buddies to find each other. Then the magic begins!

It's so fun to watch the kiddos bond over books; see the little kids look up to the bigger ones, and watch the big ones practice all their best reading and teaching skills. As the year progresses, we add other activities to our Book Buddy time, like reading outside, making crafts, Book Buddy Morning Meetings, picnics, and even field trips to the park.

Not every Book Buddy match is an ideal one, but it's been surprising how many of our Buddy pairs turn out to be perfect for each other -- patient, understanding, similarly quirky, and adorable. Taking advantage of these strong bonds, I frequently remind my fourth graders that the younger students are looking up to them and their choices.  When one of my kiddos is having a tough time, visiting their Book Buddy can be the best motivator. And for the younger set, they always have great cheerleaders in their Big Buddies -- whether they are sharing their newest drawing or showing off a new skill on the playground.

I'm so glad that my school encourages this type of cross-grade-level interaction. Through Book Buddies, I've seen some of my most reluctant readers gain confidence as they read to a younger student; and I know that even my most impulsive kiddos can show great empathy and tolerance when working with a struggling Pre-Ker. Year and year, I know that Book Buddies is one our kiddos' favorite activities. We may even have some future teachers in this group...

How cute are they?!

Answering Their Questions

"What will happen if Donald Trump starts a war with the Mexicans?"

This question was left on a Post-it on my desk by two fourth graders back in October, following a discussion about the impending presidential election between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. Although it was easy, among my liberal friends, to bemoan the fact that ten-year-olds were worrying about such a thing as a war with Mexico, I recognize now that this was an incredibly important question for them to be asking -- regardless of the specifics around this particularly polarizing election.

Being a citizen, we teach young people, means questioning our leaders, and considering the ramifications of policy decisions, and making choices. Yet too often, I think, we shut down exactly these types of questions from our students because they make us, the adults, uncomfortable. We don't want to upset parents or administrators; we don't want to get stuck in a political debate; we don't really know the answer ourselves.

Or we answer glibly or sarcastically, or with forced reassurance that everything will be okay. The danger of this is that our kiddos can't always tell the difference between sarcasm and honesty.  They learn that these questions have fast, firm answers --

"What will happen if...?"
"Nothing."
"It can't really happen."
"We won't let it happen."
"Don't worry."

The truth is there are no simple answers to this type of deep question. The truth is, also, that it's not a simple question. When I answered this specific question, in a conversation with my class later, I tried to explain that there is a process for declaring war -- that our military would take action and other countries would respond, that it could be scary and dangerous and people would die. I also explained that while our country has been in wars in the past, it's hard to know how another war would go, which is why it is a big deal to suggest that any country take this route to solve the problems it has with other countries.

It is difficult to find answers to questions about public policy without layering on my own political views and values -- and admittedly, I'm not always successful -- but I try. I try because I think my students deserve to hear an answer, even if it's imperfect. I try because I want them to know that I'm thinking about these things too. I try because if they never get an answer, they may stop asking. And we need our kids to keep asking questions.

We need to raise children who want to know what will happen if -- if we start a war, or if we cut healthcare, or if we raise taxes. We also need to raise children who aren't quick to decide if war is right or wrong, or healthcare is all or nothing, or taxes are fair or unfair. We need to raise the next generation to ask difficult questions of themselves and of their leaders. Then we need them to be able to ponder and petition, to concede and to compromise, to conclude and resolve, and then to reconsider.

And it starts with answering their questions.

Why Math Games?

When I first started utilizing math games (as part of the Investigations Math Curriculum), I was rather skeptical about their efficacy.  For one, it was hard to tell if my kiddos were really doing any math while they were playing with dice and cards.  Secondly, even if they were doing math, they weren't producing any "evidence" that could be checked or graded so I couldn't know if they were correct.

As I learned more about how to instruct students to communicate while playing math games, I became more confident that my kiddos were actually doing math.  I also found ways to have them record their responses, like keeping score in other games, so I could confirm that they had done the math correctly.  In addition, I became more adept in matching students to partners who could provide appropriate challenge and support while playing together.

Nevertheless, I wasn't really convinced that all math classes should include math games until I switched to a school that did not use games at all.  I was initially looking forward to trying a direct-instruction approach to teaching math. I expected that my students would be better able to comprehend difficult concepts like "counting on" when they were explicitly taught.  I also thought that management during a direct-instruction lesson would be easier.

Here's what I realized... math is challenging no matter how it is taught and, just like other skills, like reading or riding a bike, kiddos need to have lots practice doing math to really get it.  After I taught a direct-instruction lesson, I noticed that my kiddos would solve a few problems and then get bored and tired. Management became more difficult when they felt overwhelmed by a packet of worksheets.

Despite the direct instruction approach my new school was using, I started introducing a few math games to my first graders.  I realized that there were many other benefits to math games that I'd previously taken for granted. Specifically, math games are fun!  Teaching a lesson on how to "count on" was only one part of having students understand and be able to use this strategy.  Playing math games, like "Roll and Record" with a number cube and a dot cube, gave my kiddos sufficient practice thinking of a number and counting up the dots in a fun way. Unlike simply completing more worksheets, math games also provided just enough variation to keep kiddos actively thinking about the new strategy they were using.

I'm now back at my previous school, teaching a new grade, and learning new math games.  Recently, two of my kiddos came over in the middle of a debate about a math game I'd just taught them -- a decimal version of the card game War.  One kiddo said that his card (0.81) had won and the other disagreed (he had 0.9).  As I listened to each of them explain his side, I heard them using the math language I'd taught them: hundredths, tenths, decimal, and equivalent.  Before I even had a chance to weigh in, the kiddo who had insisted he'd won said, "Oh yeah! You're right: 0.9 is greater! Okay, let's keep going!" and off they went to keep playing!  I feel confident that conversations like this, where kids are teaching each other and having new realizations, would not have surfaced had they been working independently to solve the same problem on a worksheet.