Growth Mindset--A Primer for Beginners

How you say things to kids matters. A lot. I've been working on re-framing the challenges we experience in our classroom. There are always obstacles, but looking through second-grade lenses, they can seem much more intimidating and unconquerable.

Almost every day, I hear kids classify work as "easy" or "hard." They want to know ahead of time that the assignment I'm giving isn't too hard, that they can manage it without breaking a sweat. Other times, they take one look at the work and write it off as simple busy work. Either situation breaks my heart. 

You see, there is value in everything we do. 

No matter the task, my second graders have an opportunity to learn. All the time. Not occasionally. All. The. Time. 

For some students, writing paragraphs comes easily. The words flow from their pencils and they are eager to share their thoughts. For them, the challenge is clear--take the concepts and make it your own. For others, the real task lies in commanding their letters, words, and sentences to stay within the tiny confines of the dreaded blue lines on the page. 

Everyone has a challenge, and one is no better or worse than another. 

They need to hear me say this. A lot. Like I said before, second-grade brains think assignments are either easy or hard. One or the other. You either know it or you don't. Sometimes their peeky little eyes can't help but glance sideways at another's work. Am I doing this right? Am I smart? Am I the best? I can only imagine the worries they encounter with such a fixed mindset.

That's why a core group of my teacher-friends from college are sharing and posting like crazy about something called a growth mindset. Seriously, I can't enjoy one night of mindless social media without being inundated with the "growth mindset" posts. Finally, I caved and started reading and watching. Here are a few of my favorite:

Carol Dweck's research is presented as a whole here:

Professor Carol Dweck 'Teaching a growth mindset' at Young Minds 2013

My class watched the Sesame Street video and we refer back to it anytime a student faces a "setback" in our room. They really like it.

I think the growth mindset works easily with the kids that are working hard to build confidence, both academically and socially. We can quickly identify which tasks are difficult for them and use the growth mindset to praise and guide their development.

For the kiddos who excel in one--or all--subjects, the growth mindset still applies, although it is sometimes more difficult to explain and demonstrate. Rather than constantly moving them "vertically" through curriculum, we can encourage, provide, and praise "horizontal" movement using the growth mindset. I like to think of this concept as a ladder versus a rock climbing wall.

With the vertical "ladder" approach, concepts are presented as "rungs," designed for constant acceleration to the next grade level. Students move quickly through material using traditional learning methods, formulas, and algorithms.  

With a horizontal "rock climbing" approach, students stretch their understanding of a concept through different learning modalities. While they do not reach "the top" quite as fast as a ladder climber, they become stronger with lateral movements--demonstrating the same concept with visual, auditory, 

and kinesthetic methods. We can praise their growth as a well-rounded student. 

So here's the bottom line: A Growth Mindset is good for everyone. We can stretch every student, create resiliency, and foster authentic confidence. If you're wanting to learn more, the following book really sealed the deal for me: 

Opening Minds: Using Language to Change Lives

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!**

The Light

I think that a growing mind is like a light bulb. But not in the stereotypical sense. You know, the way most people would describe it--where you're just sitting in class, listening to the teacher talk and....SNAP, your "light bulb" goes on and you just magically know what the teacher's talking about. No way, I do not believe learning is like that kind of light bulb. 

To me, it's much more like those lights that flicker for a minute before they snap on. As a teacher, I see quick glimpses of light as a child learns. There are moments when I think, "Yes! She's got it!" or "Yep, he can do it!" and I'm thrilled--the light bulb is lit. But days later, I'm thinking "What happened?! They knew it two days ago and now, I have to reteach it!" and suddenly I'm not so sure. I convince myself that the light bulb burned out, or maybe I didn't know how to turn it on in the first place. 

However, on glorious days like today, I'm reminded that children's lights flicker first before they truly start to shine. Those moments of darkness, confusion, or uncertainty are only temporary. I shouldn't be discouraged or deterred just because I'm watching a student's light flicker on and off--that flicker precedes a brighter light--one that will never burn out.

One of my college professors told me that confusion is a good thing because it means that understanding is right around the corner. It makes sense, doesn't it? When I'm learning something new, something really difficult, I'm normally confused at the beginning--hence the "flickering." The dissonance, uncertainty, it means that I'm learning something completely new--and it's totally blowing my mind.

So on days like this, when the bulb's flickered for days but is now glowing steadily, I sit back and enjoy the light. 

Ron Clark Revelations

This time of the year always gets me thinking about my most memorable teacher experience outside of the the classroom. Two Octobers ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Atlanta, Georgia for the Ron Clark Academy Conference. 

Talk about memorable. 

That conference rocked my socks off. I was completely amazed at the things that this small, independent school was doing! 

I was able to observe numerous teachers instruct their classrooms during the conference. They were dancing on their desks, singing at the top of their lungs, and most importantly, sharing their love for learning with the students every day. Now, I'm a fairly energetic teacher, but Ron Clark and his staff put me to shame. They were "on" the entire duration of the conference...they wore me out just watching them! 

But you know what? It totally made me step my game up as a teacher. After watching the RCA staff at the conference, I knew that this was the kind of teacher I wanted to be--Every. Single. Day. 

So every October, I revisit either my notes, a video, or books I received from the RCA conference to reflect on the commitment of excellence (and energy) I made to my students and to myself...here's my pick for this October--RCA staff puts on a "Step Show" for their students on the first day of school. Enjoy! 

Just Jazzed

We visit the American Jazz and Negro Baseball League Museums tomorrow.

I have NEVER been so excited for a field trip! 

First of all, this trip ties in so well with our social studies curriculum! We've been studying influential figures in Kansas City's history. This is the first year we've focused on a specific time period (1920-1950) and group of people (Jazz musicians and Negro League Baseball players).

I'll be honest, I didn't know much about this part of Kansas City's history before we started this unit. Sure, I've been to 18th and Vine to listen to a friend play at the Blue Room. I've attended performances at the Gem Theater and even danced at the Rhythm & Ribs Festival behind the two museums. But I'd never spent a Saturday afternoon at either museum.

Well, that's just what I decided to do. 

I spent two hours on a Saturday morning at the American Jazz and Negro Baseball League Museums with my teaching partner. We decided to preview the museums to prepare ourselves--and in turn, our students--for the upcoming field trip.

We armed ourselves with notebooks and pens, ready to record all of the information we'd learn along the way. There was so much to see, I couldn't write fast enough. There were so many objects, facts, pictures, and displays to connect to the information we've learned in social studies class. We were practically pressing our noses against the display cases, hoping to absorb as much jazz and baseball as possible. We wore headphones, pressed buttons, and whispered, "Hey, over here! Wouldn't they like this?!" to one another. Partially through our self-guided tour, we wandered into the Blue Room, a traditional-style jazz club that is part of the museum exhibit. We ran into a maintenance staffer--Elliot, I believe, was his name--and he imparted so much knowledge about the Historic 18th and Vine District, I thought I was going to run out of pages in my notebook. I mean, the man lived this history--he was there, he saw it, he knew the very people we'd been studying in class. For goodness' sake, his own sister married the son of one of the baseball players we're studying! Needless to say, this preview trip fired me up about bringing my students to the museums.

As if I needed more of a reason to be excited, my very own mother, a talented artist and poet, will be part of  American Jazz Museum's "Beyond Words: A Fusion of Poetry, Visual Art, and Jazz" exhibit. My students will actually get to see my mom's work at the museum--how's that for a tie-in, eh?

During lunch, we'll walk stop by the Mutual Musicians' Foundation, a spot that I just recently discovered over the summer with some of my musician friends. Talk about history, this place has been around forever and has housed some of the world's most famous musicians. Now, this is still a working establishment, so there's no way I'd bring my kiddos inside, but we'll stand on the steps and just imagine the jazz goin' on in that place.

I swear, just thinking about tomorrow's field trip gives me teacher goosebumps. But you know what, that's because we planned this field trip the right way. We taught the information before the field trip--that way our students will engage in the material on a much deeper level. Because they've heard the stories and studied the facts, they'll have answers--not guesses--to the guide's questions. Their eyes will light up when they see Charlie Parker's plastic saxophone because they know what it's made of and what it's worth. They know to look for the neon signs hung in the museum; they know these signs belonged to just a few of the 50+ jazz clubs that covered a four-block area of the jazz district.

Oh, did I mention that in addition to all that, my students will get to participate in a Jazz Storytelling session before their tour? Just go ahead and add it to the list of amazing things we're doing tomorrow.

Multi-Taska

If I could give myself a cookie award, it would be for multi-tasking. And I'm not the only teacher who deserves that award...

                  

Teachers are tremendous multi-taskers.

And truth be told, I never realized it--I always thought of my multi-tasking abilities as normal. That is, until two years ago when I served on jury duty. I spent a full week at the courthouse listening to a trial and boy, was I shocked. Sure, the trial was interesting, but I was more intrigued by the amount of time we spent on breaks and lunch. We started around 8:30 am  and by 10:00 it was time for a 15 minute break. We had an hour for lunch at 12:00 and then another break by 3:00. We wrapped for the day around 5:00 pm. This dragged on and on for a very long week. 

I remember thinking "Um, was that it?" every day as I walked to the car. I couldn't believe that we had two full hours of down-time between a late start, a lunch, and two breaks. I mean, sheesh. Teachers work non-stop! And it's not because we've got someone looming over our shoulders--it's because if we don't, kids don't learn. Nothing lights a fire under your seat like a child's well-being. 

I'd sit through the prosecution's cross examination of the witness, taking notes and discerning the facts of the case (I was thoroughly interested, both as a citizen and a lawyer's daughter). But during the breaks I'd imagine all the things I could do in fifteen minutes at school: 

• Prepare the room for the day
• Take attendance and lunch count
• Greet each student at they come in the door
• Collect homework, forms, and parent notes
• Answer emails from colleagues and parents
• Help students get on the computer, start seat work, spell a word, read a hard word
• Write down a few notes or ideas to improve the day's lessons

Normal? Sure, in a teacher's world. I mean, that's fifteen minutes! Imagine what we do in a day! I think that teachers develop this multi-tasking skill over time--I can remember being overwhelmed as a first year teacher. It was difficult to juggle my daily responsibilities and remain calm. Now, I enjoy the fast-paced gait of my day--it doesn't phase me to do two, three, or ten things at once. Of course, there are days--like in any other profession--that seem to get the best of me, but I understood after the jury duty experience that I enjoy and value splitting my energy, my attention, and my creativity twelve different ways. 

So teachers, if I could bake you all cookie awards for multi-tasking, I would. Cheers! 

If I Had a Dollar...

So, I'm having a normal evening conversation with a dear friend from college--the usual "What'd you do today? How's work? What're you eating for dinner?"--and I mention that the last day of school is right around the corner. Cue the most cliche statement teachers deal with this time of the year:

And then you get 3 whole months off!

Puh-leeze. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard someone say that, I'd have enough to treat you to a fancy dinner and fill up your car at the gas station! Of course, I know that my friend meant well, but it got me thinking about a few of the misconceptions about teachers I've heard over the years: 

Miconception: Teachers have three months of summer vacation time. 

Truth (according to Miss Boyd): Many teachers elect to teach summer school and others attend professional development seminars/conferences over summer vacation. Additionally, teachers may catch up on reading the newest educational book, work a second job, or plan/reconstruct/write curriculum for the upcoming school year. I spend my summers coaching, working on my classroom, retooling my instructional practices, and meeting with colleagues. I think the bottom line here is that teachers work all 12 months. We just have students for 9 of 'em.

Misconception: Teaching the primary grades (K-2) is easy.
Truth (According to Miss Boyd): This is a tricky one for me. Most of my friends say, "Oh, I could never teach a primary grade! I don't know how you do it--I don't have the patience." I'm sure that sounds like they empathize with my job, but I think it makes me sound like a baby-sitter. I've never had a friend or family member ask me, "Wow, so how do you teach the basics to a young student? I bet it's really difficult to help them understand something that seems so simple to an adult." The truth is, teaching a primary grade stretches your mind--not your patience--to the limit. Teaching a small child is like putting pieces of a puzzle together. Each piece gets me closer to creating a picture of how that child thinks, processes, feels, and behaves. While I'm concerned about maintaining a behavioral "status quo," I feel that if you address academic needs first, the behavior often falls into place. Baby-sitting, shmaby-sitting.

Misconception: Young teachers are inexperienced.
Truth (According to Miss Boyd): It's all about how we define "experience." Does experience mean you've taught at least 10 years? Does experience mean you've taught a diverse group of students in a wide variety of schools? Does experience mean you've been trained in an array of methodologies and instructional practices? Or does experience mean you know how to do something cool I don't even know about yet? Personally, I think it's impossible to judge a teacher's experience solely on his or her chronological age. We're always searching for a way to quantify a teacher's experience to reassure ourselves that a teacher knows his or her "stuff." And, of course, I think that the aforementioned criteria is important but points to even more important standards--Does the teacher understand his or her craft? Does he or she adapt well? Can he or she confidently make decisions based on best practices? A definitive "yes" to these questions overrides any doubt about quantitative experience.


...of course these are only a few of the many misconceptions I hear from non-teacher acquaintances, but they are some of the "greatest hits." Happy Summer!  

Teach Me Somethin' Tuesday

This week we begin learning about what I consider to be the "underdog" of math curriculum: probability. Talk about a concept that's often pushed aside, watered down, and forgotten about! It always seems to be the last on the list of math items to teach, it's rarely assessed in standardized tests, and goes little beyond the "colored marbles in a bag" realm. But I'm here to tell you that even though I'm teaching about it in the last part of the year, probability holds the top spot in my math heart!

As a student, I loved probability because it didn't seem as cut and dry as the other math concepts. Numbers and operations, geometry, measurement, they appealed to the kids who were satisfied with applying a formula to arrive at the right answers the first time. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated getting a correct answer just as much as the next kiddo, but there was something so intriguing about probability. I totally dug the idea that while I could predict the most likely outcome, there was a small chance that it (whatever "it" was) would go the other way. For me, probability was the "wild child" or "rogue" of the math world--it appealed to my brain. (Disclaimer: With progressive movements in the educational field, however, I do feel that all mathematical concepts can be just as intriguing with the right instructional approach). 

I still feel the same way about probability as an adult and I don't think I'm the only one. Our culture is crazy about probability. It comes up more frequently in conversation than the other math concepts I teach about. I mean, look at all the hysteria over the Mega-Millions lottery...We couldn't go five minutes without hearing that we were more likely to be struck by lightning than win the lotto. But people still bought tickets, didn't they?

So I thought I'd search the Khan Academy website to polish up on my probability knowledge. Of course, I got hooked on their entire probability section. I've attached the first video from the probability series. It's super easy but the videos start to get reeeeeallly tricky after the first few.

ITBS: I Teach Beyond Standardized (testing)

Let's get one thing straight--I am reminded on a daily basis how lucky I am to be at my current school. But this week I'm grateful on another level: it's ITBS testing week.

Our school chooses to use standardized testing for exactly the reason it was created: to measure specific academic skills and to gain information about students and classes for instructional planning.

Trust me, this is an absolute rarity in the education world. In public schools, standardized tests are required as part of the No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB). Without going into too much detail, NCLB requires that states carry out annual testing for public education and more importantly, that each classroom, school, and district within each state shows "adequate yearly progress" (AYP) toward a proficiency goal.

In Missouri, proficient means scoring an 80% on a standardized test--equivalent to a B grade. Each year the schools are required to meet a certain "goal" of proficiency. Last year it was 75%. Now, here's the rub:

That's not a 75% average, that's 75% of a class/school/district scoring proficient on a test. 

So 75% of my 24 students last year (18 kiddos) needed to earn a "B" grade on the state test. My class score was combined with the other 3 classes in third grade to determine whether we "met" or "didn't meet" our AYP goal.

I could argue that it's unfair, that our kids were behind one or more grade levels to begin with, or that the testing material was culturally and economically biased, but I'd really like to explore the level of anxiety teachers face about standardized testing:

Everyone, everywhere experiences some level of "on the job anxiety." I think it's just part of being an adult. But these days, many public school teachers fear for their jobs because of the NCLB testing. I remember starting my mandated after-school tutoring for the MAP test (Missouri's standardized test) in October....the test isn't until APRIL! I heard horror stories about teachers fired over the summer after their dismal test scores surfaced. Being the perfectionist that I am, I worried myself sick over the test. I knew that the two weeks in April meant more to keeping my job than the entire rest of the year. And trust me, I'm not the only one. This type of anxiety can make amazing teachers doubt their talents, change their methods of teaching to "fit the testing style," and greatly reduce instructional time for developing skills such as reading fluency and expression, which aren't measured through standardized testing.

That's why I am unbelievably grateful to teach at a place that celebrates real education and learning over a standardized test. Sure, it's a valuable measurement tool we use to gather information about our students. But we care about SO much more here. And truthfully, it shows. Our students are capable of so much more than performing well on a test!

The Power of No

Last school year I sat down for coffee with a parent of one of my most rambunctious students ever. Our conversation started out as a brainstorming session on behavior interventions for this particular student, but soon shifted to a philosophical dialogue on the power of language.

She told me that over the years, her student--often classified as a troublemaker--frequently heard "Don't do this, don't do that, stop it, etc." from teachers, administrators, and even family members. She argued that the word NO "just didn't work" for her student.

She continued on by explaining that as we speak, our brains create mental images to go along with the words we hear. For instance, if you hear, "She went on a bike ride today," your brain would produce an image of a bike, a woman on a bike, a bike trail, etc. When you use the word no (or any type of negative) in a sentence, your brain is unable to create an image of nothing. In essence, your mind goes blank. She explained that when we tell our children what not to do, they have no mental representation for the action. 

It blew my mind! It made total sense...what a simple way to look at classroom management. If I'm telling students "Stop talking, no pushing, or don't run," I'm negatively impacting their ability to carry out those tasks. However, if I replace the negative command with a positive statement, my students are able to create a mental image and carry out the task as they see it in their minds.

This goes beyond putting things into positive terms (which I'm all for, by the way). This means changing the way I think and speak to improve student achievement.

On a related note, I'm interested in reading the book Opening Minds: Using Language to Change Lives. That is, once I finish Awakened and Pedagogy of the Oppressed.

Confession

Let me preface this blog entry (blentry?) by apologizing for the frantic tone--I'm writing this in the last fifteen minutes of my plan time right before the subject of my entry is set to take place. 

I am terrified of symmetry!

There seems to be one or two topics (especially in math) out there that a teacher gets really nervous about teaching. For me, that's symmetry. It's one of those concepts that seems really easy in my head but is mad difficult to explain to an 8-year-old. 

Like a rectangle, for instance. It has the vertical and horizontal line of symmetry, but explaining that a doggone diagonal line doesn't work as a line of symmetry...for me, it's like explaining rocket science. I don't know if I was sick the day my college professors taught "Symmetry: Revealed" or maybe I was just doodling "Miss Boyd," on the back of my notebooks, but somehow, I developed a nervous "tick" when it comes to this subject. Honestly, I think it's that we spent so much time in college talking about students' misconceptions that I worry about setting my students up to misunderstand concepts.  

Four years later I've developed a strong sense of confidence as a teacher, but I think the fear still lingers. It's silly, really, but I think a good educator should admit to weak spots in his or her instructional practices and learn from past mistakes. So in five minutes time, I'm ready to churn out the most rockin' lesson possible and make symmetry shake in its boots. 

Wish me luck! 

Mr. Clean

CLEAN DESKS MATTER! 

We started writing this morning and as I walked around the classroom, I could sense that something was amiss.  Normally, my students are hard workers, but today, it just felt different. They were moving and shaking--their squirming was audible. I thought to myself, "What in tarnation is going on here?" as I paced around the room. 

And then it hit me.

No really. A folder from someone's desk hit my foot on its fall from grace. I stopped to inspect what could have been a scene from Hoarders, Junior Edition. This desk was so overstuffed that my mere presence created enough of a wind current to send its contents flying. I looked around and almost every desk looked the same way. 

Uh, helloooo? Where have I been? 

How could I let these desks get so messy?

Well, for starters, it isn't always high on my list of priorities. We move so fast and cover so much each day that we don't always have time to keep things organized and neat in our desks. Also, I'm not too strict on desk organization--if they know where items are and can located them quickly, I'm okay with that. 

But TODAY was another story. I stopped the entire class and called for an emergency desk intervention. We spent 15 minutes purging our desks, ridding them of unwanted scraps, graded papers that should have gone home weeks ago, and god-awful pencil shavings.  

I tell you what, after those 15 minutes of organized chaos, it felt so different in my classroom. We got back to work--you could have heard a pin drop. 

Never underestimate the power of cleaning. 

Agent of Change

I came across this article today:

Judge rules Paterson, N.J. teacher Jennifer O'Brien can be fired for Facebook comments

Before I dig in, I have a small problem with O'Brien posting negative things about her school/students/career on a social media site. Next time she should write it down in her journal instead of assaulting my eyeballs with her negative viewpoints about our noble profession.

Now to the BIG point:

At first, I was indignant about her comment that she was a "warden for future criminals." I thought, How could she limit her students like that? But honestly, after I got to thinking about it, I realized the only person she was limiting was herself. I almost feel sorry for teachers with that mindset.

And trust me, I came across my fair share of teachers (during my first year of teaching) who think the same way as Ms. O'Brien. It's not exactly an isolated opinion.

I mean, just think about it. How pointless would your job seem if you believed that your students' futures were already decided? You couldn't be an agent of change. I've felt like an agent of change in every single school and classroom I've taught in, no matter the demographic. But that's because I believe in the students. I trust that they have an exciting and unexpected journey ahead of them. Of course, it's fun to guess their future profession (I once imagined that one of my first graders would be a t.v. meteorologist--he was such a snappy dresser), but I leave it at that.

I was pleased to learn--in later reports--that the aforementioned teacher was dismissed from her position as a first grade teacher.

Give me an A!

Okay, here's the down and dirty truth:

I loathe grading. 

EEEEEEK! I can just hear the over-achievers (especially those that attended MU with me) start to stir and cry: 

"But [insert my first name here], you're supposed to love grading so much that you brag about how late you stay up each night marking your students' work with precise and constructive feedback!"

Well, dear friends, that's just not the case. I've developed an anecdotal record-keeping system that helps me assess my students' progress, determine what my next instructional steps will be, and assign grades for each quarter. Personally, I think the formative assessment style is much more effective when it comes to student growth. Using anecdotal notes, I can identify a weakness and attack the academic problem long before it becomes a poor habit (i.e. only using the beginning sounds to decode a word). 

The problem I have with grading is that by the time I sit down to grade something, the student already moved on to something else and already forgot about the assignment I'm grading. Many times it's my fault--I wait too long to grade something. Hours, days, weeks, they just move so quickly when I have a stack of ungraded papers on my desk. I'll pick one up and think: "YIKES! How did I let an entire week pass and I haven't even touched these with a red pen yet?" Other times, the assignment was completely snooze-worthy and no one--not me, not my students--are chomping at the bit to assign or receive a grade. 

Now, before you mentally assign me a "horrible teacher" grade because of this particular post, hear me out. 

Over the years, I'm realizing a few things about grading: 

• Summative assessments (the kind you receive grades or written feedback over) are important and useful. They can help you assess your students as well as your performance as a teacher. 
• Grading is more effective and timely when your assignment comes with a scoring guide. Your students  can approach the assignment with more direction and you can be more deliberate and focused with your grading. 
• When you spend your time creating interesting assignments (and corresponding scoring guides), you won't mind grading them quite as much. Create assignments that allow for your students' personalities and talents to shine through--you might even look forward to assessing the final product!

Okay, so my suggestions are totally cliche and expected, but here's the final (and most important) piece: 

• Start small. Think about the one assignment that gives you trouble each week. (For me, it was the weekly book report. Totally snooze-worthy after 5 months of the same format.) Change up the format of the assignment. Create a rubric. Make the assignment more open-ended but then place higher/stricter expectations so it doesn't backfire. 

Ultimately, my goal is to have a nice balance between summative and formative assessments in the the classroom. My new book report assignment and scoring guide, which I started today--is just a step in the right direction.