Drive Them Crazy

My kids found this envelope hanging from the ceiling on Tuesday.

Dave Burgess would say that mystery and anticipation are effective teaching tools that we should use to hook our students. There's no reason why we can't drive them crazy -- crazy enough that they want to come back for more. That's the effect this envelope had with my kids. It's the kind of stuff they talk about at home. I know, because one of my parents even mentioned it.

So before lunch on Wednesday, I Dave Burgessed the  actual opening of the envelope just to drive them a bit more batty. (And yes, I just turned Dave Burgess into a verb.) Even though I could reach the envelope, I pretended I couldn't. "Sorry...guys...I...can't...reach...it." Reaching, grasping but no luck. (It was a fine performance.) "Stand up straight! Get on your tippy toes!" they called out. So once I miraculously got our envelope, I had to draw out the suspense a bit longer with a few more antics. I just might have silently read the letter inside, letting out a few gasps with a look of astonishment on my face before quietly folding up the letter and sliding it back into the envelope. Yep, I really did that, and their reactions were exactly what I hoped for.

I finally did read the letter out loud. Wednesday was National Eat Outside day, so it let them know we were going outside to eat lunch in the grass. 

I'm searching for more ways to Dave Burgess my days and drive my kids crazy! 

Books are Irresistible

This summer I had the privilege of hearing Dave Burgess speak about teaching like a pirate. I'd already read his book and was a fan, but hearing him in person brought his message to life. If you've ever sat in one of his audiences, you know what I mean. It's quite memorable. 

So this year I'm aiming to teach more and more like a pirate as I think of my students and how to bridge the gap between their motivations, interests and the curriculum. At the same time, I want to ramp up my sales pitch for reading. I always say the prevention of the summer slide starts on day one. 

On the first day of school, my students found a large box in my room with an important sign attached.

I actually didn't hear too much about the box throughout the week, but on Friday morning Kellen's first words to me were about that box. I also heard from some parents that it was a topic of conversation and anticipation at home. Score!

I made a big deal of the reveal. It was practically a Christmas morning moment. After the opening, I read a few titles to wet their appetite, like Dinosaur vs. The Potty or Vegetables in Underwear. (I was very intentional about the types of books I chose for the box.) The kids responded just like I'd hoped with squeals and laughter. I've a feeling there were some who might have been slightly disappointed that there wasn't indeed a kitty inside, but I'm hoping that my sales pitch is having an affect, even if I can't tell yet.

Then I tried some book speed dating with them. Although it wasn't a fail, it didn't go as beautifully as I had envisioned in my head. I cut it short but gathered some good information nonetheless. I definitely got a good feel for who my readers are. I also noticed those whose interest and stamina are weak. 

Next week, I'll begin reading those books for read-aloud. I imagine some of them will become future favorites, and even my reluctant little ones will begin to experience the fact that books are irresistible.

Saturday Sayings: I Am the Teacher

I am the teacher...

who was interviewed on a podcast

who is determined to write a book

who was asked to write a classroom vignette for a book that's been currently published

whose idea was published in the Instructor Magazine 

who posts opinionated thoughts on a blog

who professionally tweets on Twitter

who provides writing PD for other teachers 

who has a solid reputation in her district  

And yet I am the teacher...

who messes up on a fairly regular basis

who reads professional books that have yet to find a way into her practice

who struggles with engaging all her learners

who doesn't stay on top of the newest children's literature

who has the largest range of abilities she's ever experienced and knows she's not reaching everyone

who doesn't handle every conflict in the classroom with grace

who recognizes that she allows the clock too much influence in her room

who is embarrassed to even speak about some of her struggles

And the list goes on.

The bottom half of this list can be so very suffocating at times that it's difficult to even breathe in the possibility that I can be both teachers at the same time.

When I am in a state of feeling overwhelmed about the teacher who still battles with what seems like the most basic concepts, I have difficulty acknowledging all that I have accomplished. 

When others sing my praises, the voice inside whispers, "If you only knew." 

I'm reminding myself, and maybe someone else, to acknowledge and celebrate. Regie Routman says that celebration is at the heart of her best teaching, and maybe it's possible that teachers need to celebrate themselves too. 

I hope to always be the teacher who does extraordinary things, but I will also always be the teacher who must grow beyond what I know. 

Today, right now, I strive to be okay with the difference between these two teachers, because they can and do coexist.

Saturday Sayings: What Do You Want to Teach?

This week I experienced my first official day back to school. Like many other teachers around the nation, I spent the first hours of that day in a meeting. I don't think I thought once about my classroom or lengthy to-do list while sitting there though. I actually sat through the morning with a smile on my face. I attribute that marvel to the inspiring new leadership at my building.

My principal began the morning with a Kid President video. It's the one where he asks, "What are you teaching the world?" Immediately after, my principal asked us to consider this question. "What do you want to teach your students this year?" We gathered into small groups and listed our ideas on charts that were then displayed around the room. I don't recall seeing any standards on those charts. Every item was focused on the heart and character of the learner.

What do I want to teach my students this year?

You are full of greatness.

I believe in you.

You can change the world.

You matter.

It's smart and cool to ask questions.

Persevere.

You can't live without books.

Your writing is a powerful tool.

Math is your world.

What do you want to teach your students this year?

Saturday Sayings: Be Great

Sigh 

That's what I wrote next to this quote in my copy of Teach Like a Pirate. Admittedly it's an odd response, but Burgess made me stop and take a breath with that thought. I've been striving for personal greatness in my classroom since I first had one, and yet I'll willingly admit to embarrassing and sometimes haunting shortcomings. Sometimes the even bigger challenge though is wondering how my striving is perceived by others. If I were a coffee drinker, I can imagine the conversation Burgess and I would have in a cozy Starbucks' corner.

Dave: Tammy, your greatness in the classroom doesn't negatively impact or inhibit anyone else's opportunity to be great.

Me: (momentary silence) Yeah. (Insert sigh.) You're right.

He is right. I can pursue greatness without the fear of negatively impacting others. I can, but sometimes it doesn't work that way. I feel the pressure. I worry about comparisons. I wonder if some feel intimidated. As crazy as it may sound, at times I even sense a responsibility for the greatness of others. These are unnecessary burdens and why the Burgess thought brings me to a sigh. 

Instead, may it bring me, and anyone else who understands where Burgess is coming from, peace and perseverance, knowing that if we continue to gracefully aim for the highest of standards our impact will be an inspiring one. Let it go and be great!

P.S. This was a difficult post to write. I don't want to give the wrong impression about how I view myself. I'm far from building myself a pedestal. "Embarrassing and sometimes haunting shortcomings" says it all.

#TLAP

This last year I read Teach Like a Pirate by Dave Burgess. I appreciated the read and thought Burgess made some great points about engagement. I don't believe my job is to entertain my students, but I do believe in engaging them. 

I want to take Burgess into my classroom with me, so I created a document for my lesson plan binder. I included his pirate acronym and some of my favorite quotes from the book. Please grab a copy by clicking on the graphic and then read his book if you haven't already.

Saturday Sayings: Validation

I rarely see commercials, but about a week ago I caught one I wish I hadn't.  Simply put, it told Idaho that I'm not a competent teacher and the children in my classroom are getting a below-parr education.  Fortunately I don't remember specifics or even the name of the organization who sponsored the add or their motivation for spreading this ugly news across my state.  Sadly though, numbers and statistics sound convincing to the listener without proper background knowledge, and too many will most likely believe that indeed the children of this state are doomed.  

I shook it off fairly easily, and that's partly because I think I have a knack for doing what Burgess advises.  I've always kept my nose to the grindstone so to speak when it comes to educational politics.  Those who know me best might even say I keep my head in the sand, and there's much truth to that too.  (My educator family members had to tell me which state superintendent to vote for.)  I don't necessarily recommend my extreme type of ignorance when it comes to what's being said or decisions being made "out there" in regards to education, but I also don't know that the benefits of reading every article, listening to every newscast, or being in the middle of each heated argument about education outweigh the negative residue or unrest that accompanies those situations.  

Even I can assemble the puzzle pieces and see that there seems to be a lack of understanding and support for teachers these days, and it's not the best timing either.  With all the curricular changes being made in schools across the nation, a few extra pats on the back might be nice.  I can only control what I can control though, so I hypothetically close my door to all the nonsense and simply teach.  Huddled together with my 23 little ones in the safety and sanctuary of my room is where I find my validation.  

Saturday Sayings: You're Somewhere in the Future

I once heard a pastor say, actually rap, "You're somewhere in the future and you look much better than you do right now."  I was reminded of his words on my way to work yesterday when I was thinking about the future selves of these little people I work with each day.  I am going about the business of shaping their futures.  How will first grade change their lives forever?  The answer to that question is what truthfully determines my impact as their teacher.   

My hope is that because Miss McMorrow gave them daily opportunities to say, "I am full of greatness," that these kids can one day resist the one who approaches with an opportunity to experiment with or do something, that under the guise of being "cool," really only closes life's doors.

My hope is that they won't dream of slipping a hand into the till when the boss isn't looking, because in first grade they learned that character is doing what's right even when no one is watching.

My hope is that they surround their own children with books, because they learned how to love reading like they love breathing in Miss McMorrow's class.  

I have many similar hopes, and none of them hinge on report cards or test scores.  Those scribbles will be quickly forgotten, discarded, and replaced by new ones - leaving hardly an impression on their futures or the generations to come.  What truly matters is what I sew into their lives and how over time beautiful things take bloom.  That's the impact I want to make - the kind that outlives my career.

You're somewhere in the future and you look much better than you do right now.

Saturday Sayings: Rigor - Use Caution

I firmly believe in high expectations.  Heroes of my profession, like Donald Graves and Regie Routman, have made it clear that expectations must be high and are rarely high enough.  Having said that, I'd be willing to bet the farm that both Graves and Routman would echo Burgess' cautionary thought about the word "rigor."  

That word put a bad taste in my mouth from the first moment I heard it used to describe what should take place in my classroom, as well as in thousands of others across the nation.  After reading its definition in Burgess' book, it's no wonder I had that reaction.  Check out these synonyms: strictness, severity, stringency, toughness, harshness, rigidity, inflexibility, intransigence.  Like Burgess points out in his book, the educational world obviously wouldn't intend for rigor to translate into the classroom exactly as it is defined in the dictionary, yet I ask, "What exactly does rigor look like?"  The possibilities for misinterpretation scare me, as do the potential byproducts.

Does rigor simply mean ten times more of the same, resulting in quantity over quality?
Does rigor turn into regurgitation?
Does rigor lead to meaningless busy work or "stuff" about learning instead of real learning?
Does rigor produce a stiff and sterile environment?
Does rigor result in jumping through hoops instead doing what's best for kids?
Does rigor lead to more high stakes testing?
I could go on.

Rigor doesn't have to result in any of the above side effects.  What if rigor invites kids to rise to the challenge due to content that is so relevant and meaningful to their lives and their futures? That's surely something Graves and Routman would most definitely herald.  My worry is that the opposite occurs, and its misinterpretation will cause irreparable damage to our system but more importantly to our clientele.  Use caution.  The ever-present question of "Why?" must keep us grounded.  

Saturday Sayings: Do Not Squander

Speaking of thanking God, I've done a lot of that this year.  I have a dreamy class, and they couldn't have come at a better time.  I've met many a challenge on a yearly basis throughout my career, but last year left me wounded.  It didn't make me call into question whether I was in the right profession, but it did mess with my confidence and enthusiasm.  

Now I have a class that's like no other, but in the best of ways.  It took me until sometime in October to realize that not once had I opened the door at the end of a recess to find complaints and tattles awaiting me.  The first one showed up on Halloween.  I believe that's a career record.

Of course, we have our little bumps in the road.  Like Burgess says, the perfect year doesn't exist.  They make mistakes.  I make them too.  The nice thing is that for the most part, they're responsive to those moments that don't go well.   They're teachable, and we move on.

  

Here's my worry.  I don't want to squander this gift.  This is especially the year to challenge my own version of status quo.    With all my little ducks in a row, I have the perfect opportunity to stretch myself.  I'm pleased to say I've made a few experimental changes that will probably take most of the year to perfect, yet my gut continually sends out warning signals:  Yes, enjoy the moment, but do not let yourself get stuck in contentment.  Don't squander this gift.

Saturday Sayings: It Takes Guts

My cousin Laurie teaches AP Senior Lit.  If I had a senior, I'd want them in her class.  I say she teaches like a pirate.  Imagine a class full of high schoolers in the midst of a Socratic Seminar discussion.  While the inner circle of students is responsible for conversing out loud, the outer circle has out their phones or other electronic devices.  They're responsible for tweeting about the discussion in the circle.  Yes, you heard that right - phones and Twitter in the classroom.  As we all know, high schoolers are all about phones, devices, and social media.  Can you imagine the buzz amongst her students around the school the day of this lesson?  

Inviting this new venue of engagement into her class is brilliant but took some guts.  Consider those who might not understand or find themselves comfortable with such a bold move.  Understandably, it takes a shift in thinking to go where she's gone with this lesson.  Then there's the question of whether it would all turn out like she had imagined it in her head.  She knew she likely wouldn't get it 100% right the first time.  In spite of all this, I've no doubt having guts paid off.

(Laurie explains her lesson here.  You should definitely read it.  You'll find it enlightening and inspiring regardless of your grade level.  Plus, she shares her sound thoughts about technology in the classroom.)  

I've personally and repeatedly found that it does take guts to be a teacher.  After independently pursuing a passionate topic or reading a professional book, my classroom becomes an experiment to discover how the ideas I pursued could translate into my practice.  I've often designated myself as the guinea pig.  It can get a bit messy and sometimes somewhat scary, yet the pursuit of best practices and the guts to try them on for size has much to do with where I am today.  

And I haven't been intimidated to go it alone if need be.  If my cousin Laurie had waited for others to find themselves mentally and physically ready to integrate Twitter into their lessons, she'd likely never experiment with such innovative techniques.  That doesn't mean she doesn't share and collaborate, but taking risks means she's willing to make the leap even if she's the only one.  

Countless times I've done my own searching for best practices and then threw myself into a possible lion's den regardless of what anyone else was doing.  I don't mean this to sound harsh, but in those moments there's no waiting for others.  Plus, I've never felt comfortable pushing anyone into my own version of a deep end.  My passionate topic or practice might not be theirs, yet.  I do believe it's important to share and collaborate, but I also believe in having the guts to blaze the trail.  Sometimes that's all others need in order to make a similar leap of their own. 

When it comes to our students and what engages them, we might not always get it right the first or even the second time and we might be alone in the experimentation process, but having the guts to try what we feel is best for kids can create a buzz amongst our students that will bring them back for more.  That makes having guts all worthwhile.

Saturday Sayings: Failure or Feedback?

I had one of those moments this week of thinking, "Nope, won't do that again."  I thought I had a creative art lesson on my hands, integrating their names with a Pinterest project I found.  There were simply a few pivotal aspects of the morphed product I envisioned in my head that I hadn't taken into consideration before putting it into the hands of first graders.  It was a classic moment of "This is what it looks like on Pinterest," and "This is what it looks like in real life."  I'm happy to say the kiddos were very much engaged and proud of their finished products though.  They reviewed letters, specifically vowels, as well as syllables.  They learned how to properly use glue bottles too, which is a coveted skill in a first grade teacher's life.  It wasn't a complete waste of time.

Failure viewed as feedback comes my way on a fairly consistent basis, but I know how to give myself a break.  This is one of the gifts I've learned to generously grant myself over the years.  Without it, I would have considered myself a failure years ago.  It's a must-have in the classroom.  

I've heard of the teacher who wouldn't have easily recovered from a lesson like the one I described above.  They would have been so engrossed in frustration that they couldn't reflect on what went well or the changes they might make.  Self-critisism is a tough place to grow from though.  It's paralyzing.  

Instead of stopping me in my tracks, feedback has the potential to propel me towards better practices.  In fact, my students and I are continually benefiting from my failed moments of years gone by.  Those experiences have left a positive stamp on my practice.  Honestly, I can think of a few that do make me cringe, and for a second I'm tempted to stop and hover in the moment, but mostly, I try to embrace the thankful thoughts of knowing I've grown from the feedback.  I'm expecting many more nope-won't-do-that-again moments, but knowing they don't equal failure but instead equal movement forward makes them much more bearable.

Saturday Sayings: Good vs. Great

Yesterday Lauren shared her Me in a Bag with us.  After her presentation, I asked her what her audience did well.  She told the class she loved their smiles and the way they were able to appropriately comment at the end.  She also enjoyed the way they consistently nodded.  As a presenter, which is exactly what I called her, she had it easy.  I taught her audience to do all those things she noticed and appreciated.  If only all audiences were as responsive.  

But it's not always the audience's fault.  I've agonized for the presenter who didn't seem to notice they'd lost the crowd.  They obliviously plowed right ahead, dragging everyone else along.  Dave Burgess is right.  Some speakers or teachers, in this instance, have what seems like an innate ability to know when they need to take their audience to a different place.  

I have to be careful when I say this, because I don't want it to be taken the wrong way.  I only say it to make a point.  I've heard classroom observers remark that I make teaching look easy.  What they don't know is that I'm doing about a million things at once.  There's nothing easy about that.  One of the million is simply keeping a crew of little people engaged.  I'm a pretty Even Stephen personality type in real life, but in the classroom I can become someone else.  I can ramp up the enthusiasm for sure.  I'd like to think I've got some of the innate ability that Dave Burgess mentions, yet I guarantee there are moments when I'm simply good at what I do instead of great.  When my audience sends me signals I don't have the energy to attend to, and I plow ahead instead of taking them to a different place, I'm just good.  Dave Burgess claims to be "on" 100% of the time and I believe him.  Some might say that's all pie in the sky and impossible to achieve, but in my book it's a worthwhile goal to shoot for.

Saturday Sayings: Legos, Barbies, and Video Games

There are benefits to teaching little people.  These are the students who repeatedly pester their parents during the late summer days about when the first day of school is.  For the most part, first graders want to come to school, although I've certainly met some who felt differently.  I'm not sure what would happen if we all decided they didn't have to be there but were more than welcome to come if they wanted.  Would I be teaching to an empty room?  It would make for an interesting experiment.  

Dave Burgess' question spurred my own question.  What exactly are the qualities of a classroom that would trump all the other facets of life that beg for our students' attention?  It seems only natural to answer from the standpoint of my own experience as a student.  What would keep me coming back even if I weren't required to?

I feel loved.

I'm important.

I'm noticed.

I feel successful.

I'm interested in the content.

I have a personal connection to the content. 

The content is relevant to my life. 

I have choice.

I have a chance to shine in a way that fits my personality.

There's time to apply and practice what I'm learning.

My attempts and approximations are accepted.

I'm celebrated.

I get to do, move, and take breaks.

My instructor believes in me.

(I could continue.)

The student in me is probably not much different than the 23 students in my class.  This list, although nowhere near exhaustive, sure does make me stop and think about whether my classroom offers my kids the chance to experience something they could not live without.  Would they show up if they didn't have to or would they be overwhelmingly drawn to their Legos, Barbies, and video games?

Saturday Sayings: My Own Version of Status Quo

My cousin Laurie and I recently had an email conversation along the lines of what Dave Burgess is talking about.  I explained to her that I feel like my feet are dangling these days.  Maybe my feet are always in a dangling state, but I'm just now realizing it.  Or maybe they're just dangling more than usual.  My head is consumed, but not in a bad way, with the whirling of questions about my practice.  

How can I make _____ better?  

What does better even look like?  

Should I even be doing _____?  

What would _____ look like in the real world?

How is my passion for literacy obvious in all I do?   

How can I balance immersion with structure and routine?

How is everything I do somehow connected to their interests?

etc.  

At times the questions that pursue me can, in the moment, seem so difficult to wrestle with.  It can be tempting to let them go and move on, especially if my plate is already full.  It's in the wrestling though that I often find myself with the most creative solutions to my questions and the best changes to my practice.  Living in a state of ambiguity is never a waste of time.  I've really no idea where my feet will land.  Neither do I know how I'll eventually get there.  My only worry is that I'll miss the boat and continue on with my own version of status quo.   

  

Saturday Sayings: The Business of Selling

  

I've never had any sales or marketing experience, and I'm not sure I'd be all that great at it.  I'd probably feel bad about convincing or encouraging people to buy things they might not really need or can afford.  I've realized over the years that I really am in sales though.  It's not something I necessarily understood at the start of my career.  It took some time to fully realize and take on the persona of a salesman, but it's something that has become part of my classroom culture.  In fact, it's part of my job description, and I feel no guilt whatsoever.

When I first came to the quote above by Dave Burgess, I began thinking of all the ways I turn into a salesman during the first few weeks of school, since that's where I currently am.  The beginning of the year is especially like one big sales pitch in my room, and my audience hears many of my pitches over and over again.  

"Did you know that Mrs. Snyder sends me the best kids in the whole school?"

"I'm surrounded by greatness."

"You're all full of greatness."

"What are you full of?"  They all say, "Greatness!"

"I loved you before I even met you."

"I'm so glad that you are all can-doers.  I know none of you would dream of throwing your pencil on the floor, crossing your arms, and crying like a baby."  (A demonstration that evokes laughter always accompanies these words.  I say them often when we're about to do something that will require some risk-taking.  I rarely get tears anymore.) 

"Mrs. Palmer, it is your lucky day.  The best kids in the school have finally arrived.  You're the luckiest librarian on the planet."  (The music and PE teachers hear the same speech.)

"I know you all love it when you get to work on another challenging math problem."

"Reading is one of my all-time favorite things to do."

"Have I mentioned that I love to read?"

"I don't know if I told you this before, but I really love to read."

"I know you guys have been dying for another book."

"Why does reading make you feel good?"  (I use "Why" instead of "Does.")

"That's when you say, 'Ugh!'"  (When I ring the chimes to bring writing workshop or read to self to a close, I say these words, training them to dislike the fact that writing and reading  have to stop for the moment.)

Reading the Burgess quote and making this list heightened my awareness of the ways I sell my product.  More importantly, it sparked a conscious need for other sales avenues in my practice.  What part of my product line needs better promotion?  How can I sell these products even more successfully?  Simply put, I'm in the business of selling, and this is the most important product any of these kids will ever invest in. 

Saturday Sayings: Find a Connection

Yesterday I pulled Jake's name out of the hat.  His name, the most important word in the world to our friend, became our teacher.  Their names are powerful.  Anytime I'm wise enough to connect our learning to them, engagement unquestionably increases.  Here's a list of a few of the things his name taught us.

• Use complete sentences when answering questions and when writing.
• Writers return sweep when they run out of space.
• Names are made out of letters, not words or sentences.
• Names begin with a capital letter.
• Words are made of tall, small, and descending letters.
• Words are made of claps, soon to be called syllables.
• Rhymers are good readers.
• Words can be pulled slowly out of the mouth.
• The letters in a word can't be mixed up.  That word will always be spelled the same.
• The letter e at the end of a word is silent and can make the other vowel say its name.

This week I introduced writing workshop.  Writing is always centered around their lives, stories, interests, and topics.  All their abilities are different, but they're all engaged.  I can't imagine the frustration of convincing little people to become writers if daily writing consistently revolved around my interests, prompts, or topics.

A few days ago we used our math journals for the first time. "There are 10 boys, 13 girls, and 1 teacher in our class.  How many people are there?  Solve it in a way that makes sense to you."  They instantly began crunching numbers and solving in various ways.  Every problem we tackle in those journals this year will be about them.

There's another side to this story though.  I can also envision the times when I've worked way too hard to drag some interest out of them.  I've witnessed the glazed over looks.  I know what it's like to lose them and then try to teach, while putting out small but frustrating behavioral fires.  I suppose there are several factors to consider and analyze when situations like this arise, but maybe much of it could be avoided and time saved if I had thought through their interests first.  Here's what I want to keep in mind for the next nine months.  If there's a connection to be made, start there.  If there's not, look harder.  Find one.