On the second day I ever walked into my school (the first being days before, for my job interview) I was shown the way to my classroom by the secretary and the custodian. As soon as I saw the pencil sharpener attached to the wall and realized it was MY pencil sharpener, it all became real. In the time it took for that to sink in, I’d been left alone with my desks, my student reading books, my teacher’s manuals, and not much more direction than that about how to begin. Fortunately I was minutes away from being welcomed by the other teachers on my grade level team, all of whom I would come to rely on heavily in many different ways.
It doesn’t seem so long ago when those first unofficial warm-up days of the year at our school were wrapped up in tradition. We used to see several kids from the neighborhood orbiting the school on their bikes as soon as teachers showing up to unload their cars became a familiar sight. Class lists used to be taped in the windows beside the front door, and as soon as the word got out they’d been posted dozens of parents would stop by to see which classes their children were in, usually standing out on the front sidewalk and catching up with each other for a time afterward. They’d politely greet the teachers as we excused our way through the crowd while moving in; often there would be plenty of kids more than willing to help carry in a box or two if it meant they'd get a quick peek at whatever changes had happened inside the school over the summer. Some teachers would come in for short bursts of time to get head starts on the work needed to open the year, sometimes for a day here or there even two weeks early. Some of us had running jokes with the secretary about who was pestering her the earliest about getting a look at our class lists. They were good times, and they helped build a warm anticipation about starting back.
Predictably enough, times have changed since my first year. I saw a lot of relatives at a wedding not long ago, and more than once I was asked how I felt about summer coming to an end and the school year starting soon. My stock response had been, “I’m not dreading it.” Sadly, even if that was as positive of an honest response as I was able to come up with, it still felt like a win.
Now if I want to go in to get a head start on my classroom, I need to wait for a letter or an email from the principal letting me know what days are available, if any, since so many construction projects and summer programs limit the amount of time the custodial staff has to complete their summer work. This year we were given three mornings, which was more than we’ve had in a long time. Instead of relying on manuals and my own creativity to guide the lessons I teach, I have district created materials to follow that have been specifically written to directly address the state education standards the students will be assessed on in the spring, along with spreadsheets listing all of the materials that have been assigned to my classroom (and if they aren’t in my classroom, it usually takes at least a day or two of email chains and legwork to track everything down). If I want an early look at my class lists I can look them up on the district online data hub, but there still aren’t any guarantees. I’ve seen changes happen to my student rosters four times in the past two weeks, and I know better than to consider them final until mid-September. The students find out which classes they’re in from postcards their families receive in late summer, since data privacy prohibits class lists being posted publicly.
If feels to me that the tradition and mystery and anticipation we used to have at the opening of the year has been replaced by something more mechanical. So much of those first weeks is devoted to learning the academic abilities of the students that it could be argued we see them as data variables before we have time to really learn who they are as people. Other parts of their lives are discovered more gradually now, and speaking as someone who has averaged about eighty students a year since 2005, sometimes it takes intentional effort to do that. You can’t let those relationships evolve on their own since you won’t get the time.
Are these changes unavoidable products of our times, or just our best responses to potential worst-case scenarios? I suppose there’s no clear answer to that. I firmly believe that everyone who works in education today is doing all they can in the effort of living up to the credo/platitude of “what’s best for kids.” The tricky part comes when we have varying interpretations of what “best” should mean.
For me, what’s best has always been to create a classroom environment where everyone feels comfortable, safe, and believes they can be successful. Some years I’ve done that better than others. As I officially start back to work tomorrow, my goal will be to help my students be successful in whatever way that would be defined for them. I want to take advantage of the available data that will inform my instruction, and I want the students to be excited about what we do so they engage themselves in their learning. I want them to benefit from the structure of 21st century education and feel happy about doing it.
I want to find a balance between the way things are now and what they used to be.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
On the Verge of Year Twenty-Five
The school year we just finished on the front end of summer was a landmark for me. I’ve referenced this before, but just to remind you: When that school year ended, I had just finished my twenty-fourth year of teaching within weeks of turning forty-eight, which meant I’d spent half of my life as a teacher, and all in the same school. There was a wee bit of controversy over this since the school district tried to reward me for twenty-five years of service last year. Since I would like to think their math and/or record-keeping isn’t that tragically off, I’m assuming they included the year I spent working as a substitute teacher. I won't get into my reasons for not counting that year, but I promise they’re legitimate. I will say that one of my reasons is because twenty-five years of doing something is a landmark number in our society, and I’ve been looking forward to reaching that. I don’t expect parties or parades or any special or even perfunctory recognition, but reaching such a benchmark feels like an accomplishment, and I wanted to earn it in real terms instead of using some asterisk of a shortcut.
Now that I'm about to start that landmark twenty-fifth year, I see a natural opportunity for reflecting on a lot of things. How many students have I worked with in that time? How many of them would say I had any lasting influence in their lives? How many wouldn’t even remember my name anymore? How many did I completely fail?
How many people have I worked with over the years, either as teachers who were on grade level teams with me, or shared students with me in some capacity, or just happened to be members of the same staff at the same time? Did they get anything out of our time together, or did they walk away from whatever degree of collaboration we had glad to be rid of me?
How many of my clever little ideas or plans wound up having the kind of impact on my teaching I hoped they would? How many of them ended up with me doing far more work than was necessary without achieving any noticeable results?
How have the experiences and encounters related to education I’ve had over this quarter century made me into the teacher, and the person, I’m about to be for two new classes in a matter of weeks?
There are issues and topics orbiting education right now that I have strong opinions about. What experiences led to my forming those opinions? Why do I think A, B, and C are so wonderful while I have such abject hatred for D and E? What did I learn from those formative experiences, or what should I have learned, but was too obtuse or stubborn to appreciate at the time?
You can see there are a lot of questions rattling around here.
I’ve had the idea in the back of my mind for a long time that someday I’d write a book that would show teaching as it really is — warts, scars, tear stains and all. I’ve even had incidental conversations with my agent about it. (You didn’t really think I’d make it through a post without mentioning her, did you? And by the way, wouldn’t it be some kind of serendipitous poetry if I finally had a book deal come together in the midst of this landmark twenty-fifth year? Cross your fingers….)
I keep going back and forth on whether that book would be some variety of memoir, or if it would be better to mold all of those experiences into the kind of fictional story that would be much too close to the truth for people outside of the profession to accept as believable. All I know for sure is either one of those would probably involve a LOT of name changes.
I can’t say I’m actively excited about going back to school, but I’m optimistic, and that’s no small thing at this point in the summer. There were a lot of things about last year that left several people in our school eager to put it behind us, but our building-wide Etch-a-Sketch has been given a significant shaking in the past few months, and as a result I feel the upcoming year has a lot of promise. Plus I’m choosing to look at it that way, which I think will make a difference.
As I think about all of this, it feels like Year #25 could be the perfect chance to sort out all of these ideas and reflections. Maybe I’ll work through things thoroughly enough to pin down a book idea, or maybe not. But I think the whole exercise could bring some good clarity to my teaching. So as the school year rolls out, I’m planning to write monthly blog posts specifically reflecting back on my career in education, and seeing how it relates to where I am now. I’m not going to blow the doors off any controversial subjects, but hopefully I’ll stumble across some reflections interesting enough to write about.
For now though, I still have two weeks left of summer. Or thirteen and a half days, to be precise. So excuse me while I go find a way to enjoy the rest of my time off....
Now that I'm about to start that landmark twenty-fifth year, I see a natural opportunity for reflecting on a lot of things. How many students have I worked with in that time? How many of them would say I had any lasting influence in their lives? How many wouldn’t even remember my name anymore? How many did I completely fail?
How many people have I worked with over the years, either as teachers who were on grade level teams with me, or shared students with me in some capacity, or just happened to be members of the same staff at the same time? Did they get anything out of our time together, or did they walk away from whatever degree of collaboration we had glad to be rid of me?
How many of my clever little ideas or plans wound up having the kind of impact on my teaching I hoped they would? How many of them ended up with me doing far more work than was necessary without achieving any noticeable results?
How have the experiences and encounters related to education I’ve had over this quarter century made me into the teacher, and the person, I’m about to be for two new classes in a matter of weeks?
There are issues and topics orbiting education right now that I have strong opinions about. What experiences led to my forming those opinions? Why do I think A, B, and C are so wonderful while I have such abject hatred for D and E? What did I learn from those formative experiences, or what should I have learned, but was too obtuse or stubborn to appreciate at the time?
You can see there are a lot of questions rattling around here.
I’ve had the idea in the back of my mind for a long time that someday I’d write a book that would show teaching as it really is — warts, scars, tear stains and all. I’ve even had incidental conversations with my agent about it. (You didn’t really think I’d make it through a post without mentioning her, did you? And by the way, wouldn’t it be some kind of serendipitous poetry if I finally had a book deal come together in the midst of this landmark twenty-fifth year? Cross your fingers….)
I keep going back and forth on whether that book would be some variety of memoir, or if it would be better to mold all of those experiences into the kind of fictional story that would be much too close to the truth for people outside of the profession to accept as believable. All I know for sure is either one of those would probably involve a LOT of name changes.
I can’t say I’m actively excited about going back to school, but I’m optimistic, and that’s no small thing at this point in the summer. There were a lot of things about last year that left several people in our school eager to put it behind us, but our building-wide Etch-a-Sketch has been given a significant shaking in the past few months, and as a result I feel the upcoming year has a lot of promise. Plus I’m choosing to look at it that way, which I think will make a difference.
As I think about all of this, it feels like Year #25 could be the perfect chance to sort out all of these ideas and reflections. Maybe I’ll work through things thoroughly enough to pin down a book idea, or maybe not. But I think the whole exercise could bring some good clarity to my teaching. So as the school year rolls out, I’m planning to write monthly blog posts specifically reflecting back on my career in education, and seeing how it relates to where I am now. I’m not going to blow the doors off any controversial subjects, but hopefully I’ll stumble across some reflections interesting enough to write about.
For now though, I still have two weeks left of summer. Or thirteen and a half days, to be precise. So excuse me while I go find a way to enjoy the rest of my time off....
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Pointless Observations: The Rio 2016 Edition
I love watching the Olympics. Summer or winter, doesn't matter. It's the only time I will actually go out of my way to watch sports. To clarify, my problem with sports has little to do with the athletes or the activities themselves. I can admire the intelligence, artistry, and physical control the athletes put into the their respective disciplines, to say nothing of the dedication that had to go into their achieving the level of mastery they've reached. Sports fans, though? I think most professional sports largely exist to give people shared discussion points for meaningless small talk, so they can interact in a way that sidesteps ever having to engage in thoughtful conversation.
But the Olympics are different. They're global and international. They're more about sport and nationalism and individual achievement. So many of the athletes participating have little reasonable chance to ever medal, but the opportunity to just be there is a reward itself, and enough of a reward to be the realization of a lifelong dream. When it comes to the Olympics, I will totally drink up the Kool-Aid.
I didn't see the opening ceremony last night because of a rare night out. I did record it though, and watched it this morning (except for the 45 total minutes of commercial breaks I skipped). Here's my take:
*Bob Costas is overdoing it with the flowery language from the first sentence out of his mouth. I'll give him credit, though -- Costas is really good at taking the facts he's researched and making them sound like stuff he just knows.
*I can't be the only person who saw the name of the stadium and at first misread it as Macarena.
*Oh boy, here we go. Matt Lauer, Meredith Viera, and Hoda Kotb seem to be in charge of the Cliff's Notes and Wikipedia entries for tonight. This commentary is going to be all about how entertaining they find each other. I hope they have the occasional presence of mind to just shut up and let the audience enjoy the stagecraft and spectacle of the production without all the Mattsplaining.
*Michael Phelps is interviewed by some NBC talking head before the ceremony begins: "How does it feel to be chosen to carry the flag?" she asks. I have to think it's taking him great effort not to say something like, "Um, were you listening four minutes ago when your network called me the most decorated Olympian ever? Who ELSE would they choose?"
*We get what seems like a short film at first, but it's only introducing the NBC personalities who will be "reporting" throughout the games. This whole thing has the same self-serving ugliness as any of the weekly recurring WCCO personality features, for those of you living in the Cities. I tell ya, every time Chris Shaffer works song title puns into his forecast, a small part of my will to live breaks off, withers, and fades to nothing. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU, REPORTERS.
*The ceremony finally begins thirty-five minutes into coverage with another short film. The bird's eye perspective they're using makes all of these sports look like iPad games.
*I don't remember: Which city first came up with the idea of using a projection screen on the floor during the opening ceremony? Because everyone else since has totally ripped them off.
*This guy playing the national anthem is totally lip syncing, but there are few things in music as beautiful as latin guitar, so I'll allow it.
*A parade of dancers said to be actual descendants of indigenous people just ran right past the camera wearing costumes that exposed most of each of their butts. Every nine-year-old in America just launched into a breathless three-minute laughing fit.
*Now their focusing on immigration. I get that this is a performance, and at least they're acknowledging this as a part of their history, but I think it's a little questionable to dismiss slavery as costumed dance.
*The people jumping around on the projection screen showing the buildings of a growing metropolis as they rise is a pretty cool effect.
*Giselle. Man, does she have a lot of hair. What's she hiding up there? And because she's a famous model, all she has to do is walk across the stadium in a dress made of recycled space blankets?
*They're making a point of saying how the richest elements of Brazilian culture have come from the poorest neighborhoods, and showing this with hip-hop dance and bright colors straight out of the 90s. It's like a Fresh Prince rerun. The floor is now rotating through some kaleidoscopic polygonal structure that looks like an advanced level of Qbert. Either Hoda or Meredith says she wants to get up and dance. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU! Eminent Sociologist Matt Lauer explains how the music has an edge to it now, representing the conflict in Brazilian culture. Ugh....
*Start the party! Woo-hoo! Instead of focusing on the hundreds of costumed leftovers from children's television taking over the floor, they keep cutting back to Giselle rocking out, and they cut to her at least eight times. The camera is never away from Giselle for more than eleven seconds each time. I'm not even kidding -- when I noticed how often they were showing all of that hair flying around, I rewound this section and timed it.
*I applaud the inclusion of a section about climate change, but this information is an elementary school level presentation, which is going to make it all too easy for the climate deniers to dismiss. To their credit though, they enlisted Judi Dench, the British voice-over gravitas equivalent to Morgan Freeman, to help with the narration.
*The parade of nations begins. In most cases, the flag bearers are the only ones who get any backstory anecdote to go with the trivial facts mentioned about their countries.
*Two hours in and the word Zika is finally mentioned.
*Matt is happy golf is back in the Olympics. Hoda's parents are from Egypt. "Is that my cousin?" Ha ha ha IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU.
*Where else, other than the Olympics or summer camp, are you going to hear the phrase "badminton rivalry?"
*Someone representing the Marshall Islands hails from New Hope, Minnesota. She has two Olympic goals: perform at a new personal best and meet Usain Bolt. This is what I love about the Olympics -- people competing to do the best they can regardless of accomplishment, and beyond that looking to take in the experience.
*Oman's flag bearer looks like he could be Freddie Mercury's cousin.
*As I watch this, I think back to watching the hot dog eating contest on Independence day, and now I'm second guessing if ESPN really should have called competitive eaters athletes.
*The Serbian flag bearer, whatever her name was, is officially my first Olympic crush.
*The Tonga flag bearer. Okay. I saw a lot of tweets about this guy during the intermission at the play last night, and I don't know what his sport is, but he is ripped. I can only guess that baby oil must be one of Tonga's primary exports. Or that guy has a sponsorship with Big Baby Oil. Or he's going to have one in a couple of weeks.
*The refugee team enters to a standing ovation. I can only imagine what being on an Olympic team at all must mean to those people.
*With the parade over, some official come out to blah blah blah like the Price-Waterhouse people at the Academy awards. This guy is parking a giant black hole in the middle of the ceremony, as the tepid applause he's receiving indicates.
*The Olympic flag is brought in. I look at the athletes chosen for that honor and think of all they've accomplished, the work they had to do to get there, and the lives they'd led before their Olympics and since. So much human story.
*The samba party Matt Lauer has been physically unable to shut up about finally starts. People dressed in an entire Crayola box of dance costumes comes out, plus there's one little kid on a platform who absolutely thinks everyone in the stadium is staring at him the whole time. The Olympic cauldron is finally lit, then elevated into position. As it settles, something looking like a 3D steampunk sculpture opens up to highlight it. It is super cool.
Finally, because I know you're wondering, here are the commercial break announcment stats for the night:
Still to come: 4 times
Up next: Once
Stick around: Once
Right after this: 8 stinkin' times
We have much more ahead: Once
Continues to unfold: Once
When we come back: Once
Much more to come: Once
Let the games begin.
But the Olympics are different. They're global and international. They're more about sport and nationalism and individual achievement. So many of the athletes participating have little reasonable chance to ever medal, but the opportunity to just be there is a reward itself, and enough of a reward to be the realization of a lifelong dream. When it comes to the Olympics, I will totally drink up the Kool-Aid.
I didn't see the opening ceremony last night because of a rare night out. I did record it though, and watched it this morning (except for the 45 total minutes of commercial breaks I skipped). Here's my take:
*Bob Costas is overdoing it with the flowery language from the first sentence out of his mouth. I'll give him credit, though -- Costas is really good at taking the facts he's researched and making them sound like stuff he just knows.
*I can't be the only person who saw the name of the stadium and at first misread it as Macarena.
*Oh boy, here we go. Matt Lauer, Meredith Viera, and Hoda Kotb seem to be in charge of the Cliff's Notes and Wikipedia entries for tonight. This commentary is going to be all about how entertaining they find each other. I hope they have the occasional presence of mind to just shut up and let the audience enjoy the stagecraft and spectacle of the production without all the Mattsplaining.
*Michael Phelps is interviewed by some NBC talking head before the ceremony begins: "How does it feel to be chosen to carry the flag?" she asks. I have to think it's taking him great effort not to say something like, "Um, were you listening four minutes ago when your network called me the most decorated Olympian ever? Who ELSE would they choose?"
*We get what seems like a short film at first, but it's only introducing the NBC personalities who will be "reporting" throughout the games. This whole thing has the same self-serving ugliness as any of the weekly recurring WCCO personality features, for those of you living in the Cities. I tell ya, every time Chris Shaffer works song title puns into his forecast, a small part of my will to live breaks off, withers, and fades to nothing. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU, REPORTERS.
*The ceremony finally begins thirty-five minutes into coverage with another short film. The bird's eye perspective they're using makes all of these sports look like iPad games.
*I don't remember: Which city first came up with the idea of using a projection screen on the floor during the opening ceremony? Because everyone else since has totally ripped them off.
*This guy playing the national anthem is totally lip syncing, but there are few things in music as beautiful as latin guitar, so I'll allow it.
*A parade of dancers said to be actual descendants of indigenous people just ran right past the camera wearing costumes that exposed most of each of their butts. Every nine-year-old in America just launched into a breathless three-minute laughing fit.
*Now their focusing on immigration. I get that this is a performance, and at least they're acknowledging this as a part of their history, but I think it's a little questionable to dismiss slavery as costumed dance.
*The people jumping around on the projection screen showing the buildings of a growing metropolis as they rise is a pretty cool effect.
*Giselle. Man, does she have a lot of hair. What's she hiding up there? And because she's a famous model, all she has to do is walk across the stadium in a dress made of recycled space blankets?
*They're making a point of saying how the richest elements of Brazilian culture have come from the poorest neighborhoods, and showing this with hip-hop dance and bright colors straight out of the 90s. It's like a Fresh Prince rerun. The floor is now rotating through some kaleidoscopic polygonal structure that looks like an advanced level of Qbert. Either Hoda or Meredith says she wants to get up and dance. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU! Eminent Sociologist Matt Lauer explains how the music has an edge to it now, representing the conflict in Brazilian culture. Ugh....
*Start the party! Woo-hoo! Instead of focusing on the hundreds of costumed leftovers from children's television taking over the floor, they keep cutting back to Giselle rocking out, and they cut to her at least eight times. The camera is never away from Giselle for more than eleven seconds each time. I'm not even kidding -- when I noticed how often they were showing all of that hair flying around, I rewound this section and timed it.
*I applaud the inclusion of a section about climate change, but this information is an elementary school level presentation, which is going to make it all too easy for the climate deniers to dismiss. To their credit though, they enlisted Judi Dench, the British voice-over gravitas equivalent to Morgan Freeman, to help with the narration.
*The parade of nations begins. In most cases, the flag bearers are the only ones who get any backstory anecdote to go with the trivial facts mentioned about their countries.
*Two hours in and the word Zika is finally mentioned.
*Matt is happy golf is back in the Olympics. Hoda's parents are from Egypt. "Is that my cousin?" Ha ha ha IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU.
*Where else, other than the Olympics or summer camp, are you going to hear the phrase "badminton rivalry?"
*Someone representing the Marshall Islands hails from New Hope, Minnesota. She has two Olympic goals: perform at a new personal best and meet Usain Bolt. This is what I love about the Olympics -- people competing to do the best they can regardless of accomplishment, and beyond that looking to take in the experience.
*Oman's flag bearer looks like he could be Freddie Mercury's cousin.
*As I watch this, I think back to watching the hot dog eating contest on Independence day, and now I'm second guessing if ESPN really should have called competitive eaters athletes.
*The Serbian flag bearer, whatever her name was, is officially my first Olympic crush.
*The Tonga flag bearer. Okay. I saw a lot of tweets about this guy during the intermission at the play last night, and I don't know what his sport is, but he is ripped. I can only guess that baby oil must be one of Tonga's primary exports. Or that guy has a sponsorship with Big Baby Oil. Or he's going to have one in a couple of weeks.
*The refugee team enters to a standing ovation. I can only imagine what being on an Olympic team at all must mean to those people.
*With the parade over, some official come out to blah blah blah like the Price-Waterhouse people at the Academy awards. This guy is parking a giant black hole in the middle of the ceremony, as the tepid applause he's receiving indicates.
*The Olympic flag is brought in. I look at the athletes chosen for that honor and think of all they've accomplished, the work they had to do to get there, and the lives they'd led before their Olympics and since. So much human story.
*The samba party Matt Lauer has been physically unable to shut up about finally starts. People dressed in an entire Crayola box of dance costumes comes out, plus there's one little kid on a platform who absolutely thinks everyone in the stadium is staring at him the whole time. The Olympic cauldron is finally lit, then elevated into position. As it settles, something looking like a 3D steampunk sculpture opens up to highlight it. It is super cool.
Finally, because I know you're wondering, here are the commercial break announcment stats for the night:
Still to come: 4 times
Up next: Once
Stick around: Once
Right after this: 8 stinkin' times
We have much more ahead: Once
Continues to unfold: Once
When we come back: Once
Much more to come: Once
Let the games begin.
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