Any Questions?

Second graders are full of questions. FULL OF THEM. 

My first few years, I thought that "nice" teachers were patient enough to answer any question from any student. Let me tell you, I wore my poor little 22 year old self out trying to field 120+ questions a day (24 students * 5 questions each). I wanted to be helpful, knowledgeable, and seem like I had it all together. In truth, answering every question was more about my "teacher ego" than doing what was right for kids. It built ME up to know that I had all the answers--not the students. It made them very dependent on me for everything. And isn't that the opposite of what we want for our children? Don't we want them to be independent and confident about their own answers?

One reason we might want to give our children all the answers is guilt. We don't like seeing them struggle, cry, or feel uncomfortable. It's downright painful to watch sometimes. We blame ourselves, shame ourselves into thinking that as adults, we have to rescue our charges by swooping down and saving the day. Now, I know this is heavy, and you could be thinking "What's the big deal about answering a few questions here and there during the day?" Trust me, I answer plenty. But I've been thinking about the bigger picture, here.

For instance, take one of those "interruption questions," when you're talking--or teaching--about something important and a child blurts out "CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM?" or "GUESS  WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT?" and your train of thought runs right off the tracks. My kids get so distracted by those types of questions. I used to think I was mean if I didn't stop and answer. But I've learned that if you start to honor those blurt-outs you will pay for it all year long. Taking a more proactive approach by using silent signals seems to help quell some of the interruptions. Other times, simply ignoring the question until a more appropriate time does the trick, though that's easier said than done.

So what about the tougher questions? The ones that are more academic in nature or stressful for students? I can't tell you how many times a problem arises during the day. Broken pencils, misunderstood directions, a difficult task, you name it. Sure, I do answer a ton of those questions during the day. I know when my kids are pushed to the limit and need a boost from me. But there are so many moments that kids can figure out on their own if I step away and breathe through the guilt.

It's not that I want them to fail. Children are resilient. They learn and grow in spite of us, sometimes. So when the time is right, I look back at them and ask, "What do you think we should do?" I say we to imply that I'm on their team, but they have to take the lead. When they answer back "I don't know," I will nod and show some empathy, as if I'm saying I know the feeling, buddy. I've been there too. Keep trying. I'll turn the questions back on to the student until they find their own answers. Sometimes it's not even the same answer I'd come up with! Usually I'll end with, "Did you solve it on your own?" or "How much thinking did Miss Boyd really have to do for you?" Sometimes they'll smile and say "Oh! None!" Other times, it's an eye-roll and stomp back to their desks. Either way, they've proved themselves capable. They haven't given in to their fears of inadequacy. And I haven't validated my "teacher ego."

Seven years in, I'm breaking away from the know-it-all mentality of teaching. I am not the gate-keeper to knowledge. I don't hold the keys; I only have a faint idea where they are hidden. It's my responsibility to guide my students toward the answers, not deliver them on a silver platter with a side of pride.

Competent Competition

I was a second grader in 1993. I'm guessing that my second grade teacher, Bob (we called our teachers by their first names at the independent school I attended), did things a little differently than I do now as a teacher.

For one, I don't use the colored, leveled-book system of reading in my classroom. I group my students according to their reading level and skill-based needs. For instance, I might have a group of students working prediction strategies that span across three grade-levels of reading. While students still read independently with books on their reading level, we use a common book in the prediction group to highlight the strategy and develop a skill set that works on any reading level.

That certainly wasn't the case when I was a second grader. We all read from a dusty file cabinet of readers, leveled by colors such as goldenrod or turquoise. When you read all the books in one level, you took a test and moved on to the next. The books became either harder by length or vocabulary, and you just kept moving up. No small groups or strategy-based instruction. Nope, just read the book, sound out the words, tell me three things that happened, and you're movin' on up!

Don't get me wrong, I really liked the colored-system as a second grader. My little seven-year-old brain loved the idea of moving higher and higher up the reading program. Yes, I'm a goldenrod now, I'd whisper to myself as Bob pulled open a dingy file folder in our classroom. What was it that I liked so much about the system? Honestly, I really enjoyed comparing myself to others, which is not at all uncommon for seven and eight-year-olds. No one told me that I needed to be the best--it was just a part of my developmental stage.  I thought that if I got to "goldenrod" before any other second grader--and there were only 7 of us--then I'd have proof that I was the best. Being "the best" was really important to me; it was pretty much the motivating factor of my second grade year.

Some of that competition is good. There was only one other second grade girl in our 2/3 class--Amelia. She was, by all measures and standards, incredibly bright. I challenged myself to "beat her" on a daily basis, whether it was flipping on the playground bars better than her or making my handwriting neater than hers. I think that type of competition is normal, healthy, and appropriate for a second grader. I mean, competition is a necessary and useful part of life. It's a great way to motivate, grow, and learn.

But this whole leveled reading system, it really affected the way I viewed myself and others in the classroom. I didn't understand what changed from one level to the next. If I was ahead of Amelia, I felt on top of the world. Other weeks, when she zoomed past me, I couldn't have felt lower. You see, I didn't understand how to get to the next color or what skills a reader needed to progress. How could anything as simple as a color define us as readers, anyway? There was so much beyond reading a longer, "harder" book that made me a better reader. What about learning to visualize, predict, use context clues, or question the text? I never knew about those elements until I was in college. I'm happy to report that those skills are all part of the reading curriculum in many schools now days.

I guess my whole point with that story is that sure, competition is good for second graders. Swinging on the monkey bars, racing on the playground, those are normal, necessary parts of second grade competition. But I will never let a reading system negatively influence how my students view themselves as readers. It's not about the number, the color, or the size of the book. I help my students understand that all strategies are available to them at any time. They don't have to "wait until they reach goldenrod" to feel accomplished as a reader. That's why I love mixing different reading levels to teach a new skill. It's fantastic to see students collaborating, learning from one another, and applying the same skill on multiple levels. There's no competition. In reading, EVERYONE WINS, ALWAYS.

Sticky Note Heaven

My new second grade class just blew my mind this week. 

Okay, so at the end of last year, my second grade colleague and I decided that we were going to test out "sticky notes" for reading instruction during the '13-'14 school year. We ordered some for our incoming students and crossed our fingers that we wouldn't regret the decision. 

Well, I can happily report that I absolutely, wholeheartedly do NOT regret the decision. My class is in sticky note heaven. Here's how it went:

I introduced the concept during my CAFE mini-lessons. I take 5-10 minutes to teach a reading strategy that benefits the whole group and then break out into 10-20 minute small group instruction rounds. During the mini-lesson, I read book from the A-Z Mystery series to the class. I showed my class how to use sticky notes to record any thoughts, clues, or questions we had about the story. At this point, I have about 15 sticky notes posted into the 75 page book. At the beginning of a new day, we read all of the sticky notes to remind ourselves of the story and our thoughts about solving the mystery. It's been going pretty well. 

Tuesday, it was time to let students use their own sticky notes during reading groups. That morning, I was a little apprehensive.  Would they remember to use them? Would they write valuable thoughts or questions down, or would they become a distraction? Would the sticky notes become a toy rather than a learning device? Believe me, it's a nerve-wracking process.The last thing you want as a teacher is to introduce a new learning method that completely derails your students' educational process.

I could have never predicted how the students would react to receiving their own set of sticky notes. It was like handing them gold. They were so eager to get started--to read, record their thinking, and share with their peers. As of today, I haven't found any sticky note planes or drawings. They are taking such good care of their "stickies" and are really proud of how many things they've written about their books. I can't wait to read all the notes during small groups.

I must say, as teachers, these are the moments we live for. Our teacher-dreams don't always work out as planned, but when they do, it's such an awesome feeling. 

Be Still, My Writing Heart...

This past weekend I had the opportunity to attend the Reading Reptile's "DNA Lit Fest." (a huge thank you to the parent who made that possible!) On Saturday, I participated in the Writers' Conference at the Kansas City Public Library's Plaza branch. The authors shared their struggles, joys, inspirations, and even gave us a preview of their new books! I was in awe--I mean the authors were all best-selling, Caldecott or Newberry Award-Winners! 

Be still, my writing heart...

The most amazing part of the experience is that it renewed my faith as a writing teacher. I mean here are some truly successful people who've made writing and illustrating books their livelihood, and they're talking about stuff I teach to my second graders! Take the Writer's Notebook, for example. Jack Gantos, creator of the Rotten Ralph series--a childhood favorite of mine--shared his notebook with us. 

He shared that he's been keeping journals and notebooks since the fifth grade. These journals became his prized possession and allowed him to record ideas for decades--ideas that he's turned into a multitude of published pieces, such as the Jack Henry series or his latest novel, Dead End in Norvelt. This is what we're trying to do in the second grade--engage our students in authentic experiences that shape their lives, just like Jack Gantos. Their writing notebooks are just like Jack's. They contain ideas, scribbles, notes, diagrams, lists, and colors that evolve into published pieces.

Jack Gantos also discussed the importance of story structure. He told us that many of his early works were rejected because he wrote complicated, messy plots. When he showed us his recipe for successful writing, my heart skipped a beat. Characters, setting, problem, solution...these are the elements we teach in second grade reading and writing, and here they are in a successful writer's toolbox!

That moment when you just know you're on the right track? Yep. For me, it was the DNA Lit Fest. I walked out of that library on a cloud. 

The Rules

I've been thinking a lot about rules lately. I've got two in my room: Work hard. Be nice. At the start of every year, my students argue with me that there's should be more than two rules. "What about no pushing? Or put your name on your paper? What about raise your hand to talk?" They usually rattle off about ten more before I challenge that all of their examples can fit under one of my two rules. We organize their ideas into the two categories--raising your hand to talk fits under Be nice. Writing your name at the top of your paper? That's definitely a Work hard. After a while, my students get the hang of it.

I don't think there's a wrong or right answer to how many rules a teacher should have in his or her classroom. For me, I like having two. It's easy to remember and funnel any action or conversation into a lesson about working hard or being nice. I got the idea from a second grade teacher at my old school. She had the rules posted right in the front of her class in big block letters--no exclamation points, just periods at the end. Work hard. Be nice. I remember walking by her class on the first day of school and thinking, She's summed it up in two short sentences. What else is there? I mean, really. The simplicity of these two rules just makes sense in a classroom setting, where you're learning a million different things at once.

I do, however, include a million and one expectations in my room. Expectations are different from rules because they don't deal with right and wrong. They are there to ensure efficiency and growth in the classroom. And yes, a sense of order as well. Some expectations even go beyond classroom management. Expectations serve as teaching tools for manners, character, and citizenship. 

One of the best books I've ever read about rules and expectations is called The Essential 55 by Ron Clark. He's a personal hero of mine (see Ron Clark Revelations or Hit 'Em with the Old Song and Dance) and I've had the pleasure of not only meeting him but observing him teach in his classroom as well. Mr. Clark wrote The Essential 55 using the term "rules," but I'd argue that many of them are really "expectations." He explains his reasoning for each and every one, proving that his rules are meant for more than classroom management. He began his teaching career in Harlem but is now running a non-profit school in Atlanta, Georgia, called the Ron Clark Academy. His rules, or expectations, aren't just for the students in the inner city--they apply to us all! I highly suggest reading it--it made me straighten up in my chair and shape up some of my own bad habits! 

Ribsy for Read-Aloud

So we started a new read aloud today--Ribsy, by Beverly Cleary. Boy, I can't even begin to tell you what a good read aloud does for a student.

For one, it hasn't been made into a movie yet (see Tuesday Rant for further information) and so my students don't know what to expect. Second, it doesn't have a single television, cartoon, iPad/iTouch, or Nintendo DS reference--woo hoo for the imagination!. And last of all--this may be the greatest argument for a good ol' fashioned book--it doesn't have a snarky, sarcastic narrator and dialogue that I have to stop and explain to the kids. Don't get me wrong--Junie B. Jones, Judy Moody, Amber Brown--they're a kick to read, but in whole group setting, things can get a little dicey. You end up explaining a lot of the quick-witted dialogue to younger students.

So this book, Ribsy, it's a joy to read aloud. The main character, a dog thinks like a person but can't communicate with his owners. The kids really find the humor in that. The story is somewhat predictable, so it's fun to watch students gasp and nod when they realize what will happen now that Ribsy is roaming a mall parking lot without his leash--he's doomed. They smirk and whisper, "Yep, I totally saw that coming," to one another.

I know the temptation is there to read all the newest, most popular, or attention-grabbing books out there, but it's really nice to sit down and read an oldie once in a while. Beverly Cleary wrote Ramona Quimby, Age 8, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, and Dear Mr. Henshaw, to name a few. She's awesome. Her stories are timeless--sibling rivalries, animal characters dealing with the pains of adolescence, elementary school dramas.  My mother read the stories as a child and could share in my excitement as I read them throughout the primary grades. In fact, the copy I'm currently reading to my class is an old, tatty copy that my mom shoved into my purse the last time I came over for a family dinner.

Sure, the book is old, the illustrations are few and far between, and some of the 1964 references (i.e. the milkman delivering milk to the Huggins family) might need a little explaining, but the story is wonderful. It will definitely be on my second grade read aloud list for a long time.

Quest for the Perfect Pencil

Few things torment me more than a stubborn wooden pencil. 

I'm serious. I consider the standard #2 wooden pencil to be my adversary, my arch nemesis, the villain in my superhero teaching story. It interrupts my class, assaults our ears with the help of its trusty sidekick, the electric sharpener. It taunts me with promises of unbounded lead, only to break said promise at the slightest pressure. 

But I've not yet given up on the noble quest for the perfect pencil. I've met many worthy opponents over the years. Let's take a look at some of them, shall we? 

The Scratcher

This specimen starts out as a regular pencil. Perhaps you didn't select it on your own but it looks just fine at first glance. You touch lead to paper and start to write. You think Wow, things are really looking up for me today. But after a few short minutes, you hear the wretched sound of wood on paper and you know that the jig is up. You've been duped by "The Scratcher." The point is half-lead and half-wood, genetically engineered to ruin your day. 

The Underachiever

There was never a hope with this particular breed of pencil. You knew from the start that it's never going to work, so there's no real let-down. Sure, with the right amount of guidance, this pencil could have turned out okay. But let's face it, you were in a hurry. You wanted the sharpener to do the work and so you didn't apply the right amount of pressure, you didn't feed it into the sharpener the way the instruction manual suggests. Deep down, you know it's your fault. That's why you--like me--tear the wooden part off and use it anyway. 

The Heartbreaker

I find this to be the most offensive pencil of all. Fresh out of the sharpener, The Heartbreaker appears to be the whole package. Walking back to your seat, you daydream about the wonderful things it will create. (Your handwriting will be neater, your ideas will sparkle, your paper will become the answer key, etc.) You decide that this is your favorite pencil. This pencil has promised you the world. You take a deep breath and--SNAP--the lead breaks out and onto your desk before the fairy tale can even begin. No happily ever after for you!

The Lovely Bones

The pencil bucket in my room is a graveyard of sorts. There resides all the "pencil bones" from fruitless attempts to create the perfect pencil. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't throw them away. I share a special camaraderie with these little guys. One of my former first graders used to hoard "pencil bones." She'd wrap them up in a tissue and call them her babies. Pretty imaginative, if you ask me. 

So, what's the perfect pencil look like?

My quest for the perfect pencil today took somewhere between 24-30 attempts with three different sharpeners. Sharp, works under pressure, wasn't reduced to a stub during the sharpening process--this one's the winner. I'm not ashamed to admit that a pencil like this can change my world. 

Is this seriously what you do with your day, Miss Boyd? 

Yes. This is what I do with my day.

I can't begin to explain to you just how important one perfect pencil is, let alone twelve. The perfect pencil reduces interruptions, prevents students from becoming distracted or sidetracked, and--just like in my case--creates a sense of magic about the writing process. 

One more thing...

In my obsession to find the perfect pencil today, I've been confronted with the argument that my beef is really with the sharpener, not the pencil. Maybe so. I'll save that for another day. 

**Thank you Coach Speer, for taking AMAZING pencil pictures for me today!**