Saturday Sayings: Lead

Today's Saturday Saying comes to you from my cousin, Kevin Roberts. Once upon a time he was my earth science teacher, but he's been one of Meridian Middle School's assistant principals for many years. He's gracious, tender hearted, and abounding in practical wisdom. He dances a mean polka, and he's one of my favorite Father of the Bride speech givers. I always enjoy our educational conversations whether in the kitchen at church camp or via text messages, so I'm especially honored to share this space with him today. Without further ado...

I was reading some Bob and Maria Goff Saturday morning and was reminded of a lesson my friend and mentor Gerald Bell taught me years ago on the dirt track at Meridian Jr. High. It struck me that I used the lesson again yesterday with a student and that I implement it all of the time as a tool in my administrator tool box.

On that day Gerald, a world class athlete and former member of the Canadian Olympic team, watched me run an interval with the boys and in my youthful enthusiasm I pushed hard and crossed the finish line first. Gerald approached me gently and suggested that a better strategy is to push them, but not beat them. Then he modeled the strategy for me and I enjoyed using the strategy with him while running with our team. I discovered that the satisfaction of pushing them and watching them improve was so much greater than having them think I was faster than them.

As an assistant principal part of my job is to help students identify the reason they are spending time with me. But I don’t beat them to the finish line, I lead them to it. Like running intervals, this can be hard work and it may require repetition, but it is rewarding and worth the effort.

Grateful for my teacher, my coach, and my friend. 

Gerald, thanks for pushing me to grow and learn, even after all these years.




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Saturday Sayings: If He Could, He Would

"What's your mantra going to be?" That's what my secretary asked me the day I stood in the office and told my story - the one about a student's perplexing and frustrating behaviors. Haven't we all told that story a time or two? It's usually one that can't easily be resolved, but my secretary's question was the perfect response. She's heard my classroom mantra PD. She knows how strongly I believe in the power of words. And so began a quest for the words that would help me stay the course on behalf of this little person while hopefully preserving my own peace of mind. 

I turned to Kids 1st From Day One by Christine Hertz and Kristine Mraz who have been my guides on the side since day one of my school year. I'm in love with and challenged by the words they share from Katherine Reynolds Lewis. Can't behaving a certain way vs. not wanting to are two very different things. I can say from personal experience that the latter is an easy copout to embrace. 

Hertz and Mraz encourage teachers to believe that if a child could do something, he would. That mindset demands a different approach to challenges. Empathy and grace come to mind and maybe even a sliver of hope - hope that with the right scaffolds and supports, a child can be taught the skills necessary for social and emotional success, just like he can be taught to read or write. 

So my mantra? If he could, he would. 

I've been teaching long enough to know that five words aren't going to magically resolve any issues come Monday morning, but I know they have the power to change my mindset for the better. 

If he could, he would.

Saturday Sayings: Three Questions

This summer I heard pro golfer, Ben Crane, talk about his daily reflective practice on a podcast I listen to. Without fail, he asks himself the following three questions.

1. What went well?
2. What did I learn?
3. What will I do about what I learned?

I couldn't help but make connections to my life as a teacher. I have this bad habit of allowing the tough moments of my day to play over and over in my head on my way home from school. It's amazing how many times I can relive the worst part(s) of my day in 15 minutes and yet find absolutely no peace or solution to my problems. After hearing Ben talk about his three questions, I was convinced his daily reflective practice would be much more productive than mine.  

Question number one forces me to celebrate first. At the end of a tough day, sometimes the last thing I have mental energy for is acknowledging the good. When in actuality, the best thing I can do for myself is reflect on what went well. 

Question two is phrased in a way that forces me to attack issues with a different mindset. What went wrong? vs. What did I learn? are two very different questions that require very different responses. Ben's question offers an opportunity for growth instead of despair.

Question three puts me in solution-mode. I have a plan for what I can do differently heading into the next day. My plan might not be guaranteed to work, but at least I have one. And maybe even more importantly, I have hope. 

So on my way home from school, I've been thinking my way through these questions, followed up by writing my answers in a journal before going to bed. I'll admit day seven's commute was a challenging one. The questions were pushed aside by the competing thoughts in my head. I will though get my answers written before returning to school on Tuesday, because this teacher needs to celebrate, learn, and plan for how to push towards excellence, one day at a time.

What questions are on your list?

Saturday Sayings: In the Margin

School starts in exactly six days, which reflects why I've spent the last week furiously creating a comfortable and welcoming space for 23 new first graders. With that huge task crossed off my list, this morning I found myself ready to ponder lesson plans. As I opened up last year's plans to the first week of school, I was greeted with a list typed in the margin: "Things I Say." Reading through my list left me feeling not only inspired, but greatly satisfied.

I believe effective teachers are well planned. They don't show up on day one or 100 unprepared. They plan spaces, materials, activities, and lessons - all essential tools for a powerful learning environment. But what about words? I'm convinced effective teachers are intentional and strategic planners of words, which I will argue are just as important as all the other areas we plan for.

Words wield a powerful influence, and it's obvious from Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram that they're on the minds of teachers everywhere as they prepare themselves for a new and fresh opportunity to literally transform the lives of students. I might suggest that we find ways to document those words and hold ourselves accountable for saying them...repeatedly. 

With satisfaction, I added "Things I Say" to the margin of this year's first week of plans. I even added a few new things I intend to speak into the atmosphere. I'm bound and determined that my words will make a difference.

What's in your margin? 

Saturday Sayings: Flummoxed by Choice

If you've been around my blog very long, sat through my writing PD, or read my book, Gatekeepers, you know how I feel about writing prompts. Simply put, I'm not a huge fan. So it's no surprise that when I teach teachers about writing, the topic of choice will come up. 

This week I had the opportunity to present my writing PD at a conference in Twin Falls, Idaho. When I shared the fact that my beliefs prevent me from buying a year's worth of writing prompts from TPT, a junior high ELA teacher expressed a valid concern. Her students don't know how to handle choice in writing when she attempts to offer it. I responded by saying that it's very possible her students don't know how to write without prompts, because from their elementary days on, they haven't been in a culture where that is the expectation. In other words, it's not their fault. 

In light of that conversation, I find it interesting that this morning I came across the following expert in 180 Days: Two Teachers and the Quest to Engage and Empower Adolescents by Kelly Gallagher and Penny Kittle. 

I think it's fair to say, Twin Falls is not the only place where students in the secondary classroom are "flummoxed by choice." Fortunately, skilled secondary writing teachers can turn this problem around, but I bet they'd jump for joy if we elementary teachers sent them writers who already knew how to handle choice with both ease and enthusiasm. 

I realize my views about prompts understandably make some writing teachers uncomfortable, especially if prompts were the norm throughout their education and continue to be so in the culture where they teach. I'm not here to bully anyone into abandoning all forms of writing prompts, but I would like to at least inspire teachers to ask, "Why?" and to consider what choice might do for their writers today and in the future. Will they be flummoxed or empowered?




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Saturday Sayings: No Breaks

I woke up Monday morning to an email with news that a good friend from church unexpectedly passed away the night before. Life doesn't give teachers a break, so after many tears and prayers, I headed to school and spent the day teaching 25 first graders with a surprising amount of both patience and energy. 

Even though I managed okay in the classroom throughout the week, I found it difficult to concentrate on any kind of evening schoolwork that needed my attention. In the midst of my struggle, I couldn't help but reflect on my students -- on this generation of students. 

In the past few months I've heard statistics regarding the percentage of students who have experienced trauma. Though I can't recall the number, I remember my reaction. That's way too high. Our students, both young and old, are carrying around a lot of baggage.

If I, with my adult-sized willpower and ability to process, struggles to concentrate on school-ish tasks when in the midst of crisis, how much more of a challenge do our students face when required to physically and mentally inhabit a space that feels trivial compared to the load they bear. As the adult in the room with a long list of tasks to accomplish, I'm guilty of forgetting this and pushing on regardless.

Sometimes if we're paying attention, we'll notice that life sends us the gift of perspective, and more importantly, empathy. That's what my week did for me. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is the real deal as much for me as it is for my students. I'm reminded of the need to investigate, listen, offer some wiggle room for those bad moments or even bad days, because life doesn't give students a break either. 

Dedicated to my friend, Ryan, who always took such great care of the sprinkles on the sound cupcake. You will be both dearly missed and remembered. Know that we'll take good care of Vaness and the boys.

Saturday Sayings: I Can Do Better

Here I am writing the post that's been written a million times over in a million different ways. My own hand has contributed a handful of versions. Yet it won't leave me alone, like a tiny but persistent first-grade finger poking me in the backside. Though I might reply to that six-year-old with, "I talk to boys who don't poke me," I'm surrendering completely to my relentless thoughts and giving them my full attention and mindful energy. 

I can do better. 

These are the words playing on repeat in my mind while walking the halls of my school. They communicate with me on my drive home after a long day. They greet me the following morning. It's a constant refrain, like the song in my head that's playing even when I don't recognize its presence. 

Is my classroom a place where mistakes are safe to make?
I can do better. 

Are my students allowed to have bad days?
I can do better. 

How do I react to those behaviors that make me vibrate?

I can do better.

Why are some students struggling to find joy in writing? 
I can do better. 

Are all readers willingly engaging with books? 
I can do better. 

I feel inspired and challenged, a dichotomy of simultaneously feeling energized and overwhelmed. I'm energized by the realization that I'm on an upward trajectory of developing the art of teaching. It's simply impossible to flatline on this path I've chosen. Yet the cognitive work involved can at times feel so daunting. My list of I-can-do-better items is longer than I'd like to admit. 

As I sit here with tears in my eyes, I resist the urge to wallow  and instead challenge myself to accept the hard parts of this job because of my "why." Why did I sign up for not simply this job but for this lifestyle? Because I believe what I do makes a difference in the lives of a young generation who deserves better than the world at times gives them. So...

I can do better.

Saturday Sayings: Heart and Soul

"Writers...show me the colors of your eyes. You've got to hear the poem Noah just wrote. 'Sharks are like a man-eating beast with razor-sharp teeth that tear fish apart. Duh duh duh duuuuuh.' Don't you just love how he used words like 'man-eating beast' and 'razor-sharp teeth?' Oh, and the end. 'Duh duh duh duuuuuh.' It gives me chills! I'm sure you want to be just like Noah and make smart decisions about the words you choose in your poems, too. I know you can. Go for it!"

Regie is right. I do my best teaching when I celebrate students, and Noah's story is one of my favorite celebratory moments to tell. (And I wish you could hear me share it in person. Though it sounds flat on the page, it's actually special to hear what it sounded like to a first grader's ears.) As you can imagine, Noah was on cloud nine when I interrupted writing workshop to share his poem, and the rest of the students were motivated to pick up their pens and try out some of Noah's awesomeness. That kind of celebration can change a writer...forever.

"Celebrate. Celebrate. Celebrate." These are the words typed into the first few weeks of my lesson plans this year. As the Idaho Coaching Network has taught me, there is something special about consistent corporate celebrations, and my goal is to infiltrate my days with more of them.

I'm challenged to "make them all feel famous," as Todd Nesloney and Adam Welcome suggest in Kids Deserve It! The mathematician who taught us a more efficient drawing strategy, the non-writer who demonstrated how to brilliantly think through the pictures in his story, the writer who showed us how much more powerful she is when she uses her new reading skills in her writing, the reluctant reader who told me he could read a book all by himself and then showcased his reading for the whole class. They were famous this last week. I can't help but believe the trajectory of their learning paths was positively affected without much effort on my part. All it took was celebration — my best teaching.

P.S. Have you heard of Gatekeepers: Let's Talk About Teaching? It's my new book. I'd love to share it with you. It's on Amazon.

Saturday Sayings: The Face of Education

If there's a fear of returning merchandise, I have it. 

This week I reluctantly returned my car to a local bodyshop where it had been worked on earlier in the summer. There was a small, overlooked issue that if left as is had the potential to create a problem. 

I took a friend, an advocate who understands cars and was the one who noticed the issue in the first place, and meekly entered the bodyshop office. About 30 minutes later, I exited with an appointment to fix the issue and a fair amount of guilt and frustration. All it takes is a defensive and argumentative employee to remind me why returning merchandise is downright painful. 

My teacher inclinations have been highly sensitive since that experience. I want to help this employee learn, not pay. I wish he knew that he is the face of the bodyshop the minute a customer walks through the doors of the office. He has the power to affect the customer's opinion of the business for good or bad without hardly trying. That is a huge responsibility, and the bodyshop is counting on him to help convince people like me that I should come back for more and encourage my friends to do the same. Yet I'm not so sure I want to. 

Oh but how many times has something similar happened in our schools and classrooms? When patrons, parents, and students walk through the doors of my school, I am the face of education. I have the same power to affect customer opinion as does the employee who belittled my concerns. 

As I'm looking forward to a new year in the classroom, I feel responsible to keep the memory of this experience close to my heart and mind. I have a huge responsibility to represent my profession with excellence in all interactions with my "customers" but especially when they approach me with concerns. Whether they do so with meekness or agitation is immaterial. Regardless, I'm the face of education, and the way I react and treat them will shape their views of school, maybe forever. I'd better do all I can to convince them to come back for more. 


P.S. If you're interested in my recently published book for teachers, look here for information about how to purchase it. I'd love to share it with you!

Saturday Sayings: #imonyourside

#imonyourside

It’s more than just a hashtag. It’s a mantra. It’s the capital letter and the exclamation point, the alpha and omega, the intro and conclusion to all that my cousin Laurie says and does with her students. Inserted at the end of most every classroom tweet, framed on the wall in her class, and repeatedly spoken face-to-face, her mantra says to students that that no matter the situation, both in school and in life, she’s approachable, available, and in their corner.  

I believe Laurie would agree with me that classroom mantras are not frivolous add-ons. On the contrary, they're valuable and foundational to the health and culture of the class. Dare I even say, they're life changing. I regret to admit that it was several years into my career before I discovered mine: 

You're full of greatness.
Listen to your heart.
Kindness is more important than getting your own way.
It's not always easy, but it's important.

These mantras are applicable to six-year-olds but also have lasting power. Their 45-year-old selves will benefit from these words too, which is why I wish I had found my mantras long ago. I'd like to apologize to those many students who missed out on these messages. If only I could return to those early years, sit the children down, who are actually no longer children, and make a few more worthwhile deposits into their lives.

What are your mantras? Don't wait too long before you know what they are. If need be, borrow from a teacher you trust until they become your own. I believe you'll find them to be powerful and worth repeating and will most likely return to you on the lips of those students in your care, which I believe is one of the highest compliments possible. "I'm on your side, Miss Roberts." I know Laurie's heard that a time or two. 

Be intentional and then consistent. Find your mantras.

P.S. But the way, here's a link to my newly published book for teachers. I'd love to share it with you. Click on the graphic to find out more.

Saturday Sayings: The Human Tunnel

I can't stop thinking about their eyes, wide, bright, and full of "I'm so special," as they walked under our uplifted arms, surrounded by our farewell cheers. The smiles, spread across their faces, were unforgettable, followed by generous hugs from random children. I chuckle at the thought of the boy who hugged his way through our human tunnel, one staff member after the other, zigzagging his way back and forth across the sidewalk. But really, the highlight of the whole experience came from a third grader who was in my class two years ago. Though withdrawn and quiet then, he's hardly made eye contact with me since. Yet as he walked through our staff-made human tunnel on the last day of school on his way to the bus, he stopped when he got to me and gave me a hug.

This moment left me thinking about the power of an emotional experience. All it took was a human tunnel on the last day of school to unlock an atypical response from this young boy, not to mention a slew of other rewarding reactions from every child who walked through our tunnel. It also unlocked new life within me, with my arms in the air and my heart overflowing. "This is the kind of school I want to be at."

How can our schools and classrooms create more moments like this? Our students will remember them. Our staff members will want to be part of them. We all need more of them. These memorable moments connect teachers and students in unique and powerful ways that will keep kids coming back for more, and some of our learners need all the reasons they can climb on to that bus every morning and show up for another day.

I feel challenged to create more emotional experiences for students that leave them believing they're part of something special and more importantly, thinking, "I'm so special."

Saturday Sayings: With Urgency

My kids take an end-of-year state reading test in April. I was recently reminded how easy it would be for a teacher to think her job is finished once students take that test -- to finally breathe deeply and fill up the remaining weeks of school with fluff. This kind of thinking is erroneous. Teaching with a sense of urgency means I will give them my best teaching up until the very last day.

All the countless hours of effort, time, and energy I've dedicated to this year do not culminate in the ten minutes a student spends attempting to prove himself proficient for the state. What a waste of time if that were true. The past seven months of my life do not hinge on a test, and the same can be said for my students. So why would I use a test as an indicator that my job is done? 

Secondly, the end of an official testing period is not the end of my influence. Minus the last few days of school when I wrap things up, I plan to use every last minute to joyfully teach every student. I'm not finished messing with their hearts and minds until they walk out my door on the last day of school,  Then, and only then, will I breathe deeply. 

Saturday Sayings: Learn, Not Pay

Due to my involvement in The Idaho Coaching Network this year, I've had to miss several days of school. I can count on one hand the number of sick days I've had in 23 years of teaching, so being gone once a month is atypical and extremely hard on me. 

I shake my head when I think about what my students will or won't do in my absence. If I were a fly on the wall, I know I'd be disappointed. Maybe that's my ever-present control freak nature. Maybe it's because I teach my students that character is doing what's right even when no one is watching. Likely it's both. Either way, I returned from my most recent absence to hear that the guest teacher and my class had a rough day.

Honestly, the news was immensely frustrating and even hurtful. I'll admit I took is personally. I wanted to apologize on behalf of my people. Yeah, they're only six or seven and far from perfect, but they know better. Doing the right thing when Miss McMorrow isn't watching is not always easy but it's important. (They hear this from me often.) In the early stages of my frustration, growth mindset wasn't on my mind. I came around. 

While scrapping my original plans for the following day and wondering how I was going to fix a moment gone bad, I found inspiration and direction in some words that magically and unexpectedly overtook my thoughts. 

I don't want them to pay. I want them to learn.

I don't believe I've ever specifically thought about this before, and I mourned for the times when I've subconsciously led with a you-will-pay-for-this mindset. I don't recall ever intentionally doing this, but at some point in my career, I've no doubt had a moment, or several, when paying took priority over learning or paying was disguised as learning. I think it's so easy to unintentionally slip into this mode.

So I went into the day with a plan -- a plan to learn, not pay. Every conversation and activity would send a clear message about who we want to be, intertwined with these and other similar words: "Remember on the first day of school when I said I loved you before you even showed up? That's still true and nothing can change that."  

Saturday Sayings: The Right Thing the Wrong Way

This week I received some peer feedback on a unit I wrote that has me thinking about the feedback I give my students, as well as the kind I might give to colleagues. My experience begs the question: 

How often have I said the right thing the wrong way? 

First off, I don't believe the feedback I received was entirely correct. I think the reviewer overlooked some vital information. Secondly, and more importantly, at times the tone felt patronizing and judgmental, as if my teaching abilities were under a microscope instead of the unit I created, which no doubt was not her intent. As a result though, the tone compromised my emotional ability to receive what the reviewer had to offer. I was too caught up in the reviewer's approach to consider her viewpoint. 

As a teacher I give feedback daily, all day long. I nudge my writers. I confer with readers. I meet with mathematicians. I talk with students about behavior. I even give feedback byway of facial expressions, body language, and physical touch. I wish my feedback were always on target, but I know at times I judge too quickly without seeing the whole picture and get it wrong. Negotiating recess drama is a perfect example. 

Then there are the times when I'm right but my approach misses the mark. At that point, growth is compromised, because the student can't hear what I have to say. Just this week, in the midst of literally being sick and tired, one of my students responded to directions in a way I wish he hadn't. I showed no outward anger, but my approach didn't offer him a strategy for growth either. I said the right thing in the wrong way.  


Today I plan to tackle my reviewer's feedback. I owe it to my unit and my students to look passed the tone and mine out the parts that could raise the quality of my work. And in the future, as I give feedback to both students and colleagues, I must remember that even if the feedback is right, the wrong tone can sabotage everything.

Saturday Sayings: The Language We Use

Teacher lingo is a real thing. It's a language all of our own, filled with buzz words, acronyms, and teacher-friendly terms. IEP, IRI, SBAC, formative assessments, pedagogy, etc. It's a foreign language to the world outside of education. In fact, I've often worried during IEP meetings whether the parents could understand half of what was being said. Sometimes it's easier to smile and nod.

I'm convinced that we speak this language without hardly thinking about it, because it's our culture. And if we did stop to think about it, maybe we'd find opportunities to revise our language, like in these examples: 

He's a low reader. 

She's in the low math group. 

Haven't we all said something similar about a student at one point or another and hardly thought twice about it? We're culturized to describe them that way. I understand that it's simply a descriptor, not used with any malicious intent. I've been using the word "low" most of my career, and I've never used it offensively. Yet it's been causing me some angst of late, because I stopped to think about how it sounds when it's attached to the name of someone who's in my care. And because it's on my radar, I notice how often we teachers use it to describe our students. A lot. 

Some might argue that it's merely a matter of semantics. Will a different adjective fix the problems these students face or how we go about helping them? Maybe not, but is there a better word we could use? I've got a few in mind. Maybe I'll never find a replacement that I'm completely comfortable with, but on behalf of my students who struggle academically, I'd like to use my words concerning them more carefully regardless of the fact they'll never hear me describe them that way.

Saturday Sayings: It's Not Always Easy

It's not always easy, but it's important. 

I mysteriously created this saying this year. I decided it was smart enough to repeat, so my students hear it often. In reflection, I'm realizing that maybe in the past I've given my students the wrong impression. 

Have I inadvertenly caused them to believe that working with others is easy? 

Doing the right thing when no one is watching is a piece of cake? 

Listening to their heart will always feel natural? 

These are huge misconceptions, based alone on the fact we adults manage to struggle with these same issues.

Yet I'm not letting them off the hook. I'm still going to teach my students about integrity, cooperation, character, mindset, and numerous other qualities. I'm raising the bar high, helping them exercise and develop the right muscles for doing the right thing even when it's not convenient. Though a few already make it look kind of easy, I know life will challenge them all and hand them all sorts of opportunities and reasons to not do the right thing. It will take years of practice to get this right, so we'd better start now. 

But I'd better let them know something and repeat it often.

It's not always easy, but it's important.

P.S. If you'd like some new Christmas music, check out the CD my cousin and I have recently released here.