Category Archives: Life in the Classroom

Choice Reading: Create Readers, not Sparknoters

Choice Reading or Bust

Choice reading is the hill I’m willing to die on. I said it my first year of teaching, rather glibly, but I still believe wholeheartedly in the practice. 

Choice reading, SSR (sustained silent reading) or the like, often goes away after middle school, as the pressure of curriculum inevitably mounts. But, I don’t think the pressure to read and analyze Lord of the Flies is alleviated by removing choice reading. 

Students build reading stamina by reading what they want, not by Spark Noting something they have no interest in.

Instead, according to a graduate paper at Bridgewater State University, and what I have seen anecdotally in my own classroom, “When given more choice, students respond more positively, feel motivated to read and are more likely to engage in class discussions and activities.” 

Although I am definitely the kind of English teacher that would like to do away with the canon and textbooks altogether, I also know that as an employed professional, there are many rules I can bend, but a few I probably shouldn’t break altogether. 

Enter, choice reading. 

High-Engagement, Low-Stakes 

Choice reading is definitely not a new concept. The National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) has a statement supporting it, claiming the benefits for reading stamina, language development, and cognitive challenge. 

NCTE explains that, “Student choice in text is essential because it motivates, engages, and reaches a wide variety of readers.” 

Even if I had unlimited funds to buy new books every year, it would still be nearly impossible to choose a few whole class novels that truly fit the “wide variety of readers” in my classroom. 

NCTE goes on to explain that choice reading is meant to “build habitual readers with conscious reading identities” and allow students to “practice reading skills in a high-engagement, low-stakes environment.” 

I take this focus to heart in my classroom.  

We read every Friday, and students don’t need to do anything other than read and answer a quick reflection. I implemented the reflection this year, a simple Google form, as a way to help them track what they read. I also always throw in a question that helps me do an SEL check in (What are you proud of this week? What’s something you’re going to do to take care of yourself this weekend?)  

At the end of the quarter, they need to have finished at least one book. Then, they do a book talk with our librarian. She asks them a few comprehension and interest questions and picks a passage for them to explain. We do these talks in small groups to help students practice speaking in front of peers and normalize talking about what we’re reading. 

And, that’s all the accountability I ask for. I don’t have page number requirements and, yes, graphic novels absolutely count. 

Create Readers, not Sparknoters 

While some of my colleagues argue that reading certain texts shouldn’t necessarily be fun, students just need to learn how to “buckle down” and focus, I’m too much of a realist to agree. I know that “buckling down” might look like Googling a summary, which doesn’t solve anything.

Teaching the canon, and only the canon is a classic (no pun intended) case of pounding a square peg into a round hole. 

Edutopia writes that “the disconnect between the canon and its intended audience has become an epidemic, driven by rapid changes in the composition of American schools and the emergence of always-on digital platforms that vie for kids’ attention. By middle and high school, teachers concede, many of today’s students simply aren’t reading at all.” 

All educators know that these “digital platforms” have increased exponentially since that article was published in 2019. We are constantly vying for our students’ attention, desperate to pull them away from their screens.

So, when a student walks into my room on Friday, pockets their phone and says, “Oh, yeah, it’s choice reading day. Sweet!” I can’t help but call that a win. 

The Joy of Reading 

My goal as an English teacher is to create lifelong readers. They don’t all need to love reading novels or highlighting nonfiction like I do. But, they will all have myriad opportunities to flex their reading muscles in almost every facet of their lives–from job applications to voters pamphlets. I believe the attitudes and practices I foster around reading are critical. 

I’ve been teaching for six years, and every year, I hear so many responses from students like this: 

“I have always hated reading, but I actually like this one.” 

“Ms. Schaake, this is the first book I’ve actually read since like second grade.” 

*laughs during silent reading* “I can’t believe I just laughed. Out loud. To a book.” 


“Reading is like, cool, because you’re sort of making a movie in your head, you know?” 

My favorite so far this year comes from a student who’s very vocal about his ADHD, dislike of reading, and desire to be a Navy Seal. 

“I’ve never really felt empathy for a character in a book before. But, I seriously feel what he’s going through. I can’t put it down.” 

In today’s politically divisive, persistently digital world, we could all definitely also use more empathy, and more time to read. 

Joy Loss: Diagnose That

Despite the growing pushback against the term “learning loss,” it does not seem to be going away, and that is a problem. We have mandated diagnostic testing to make sure that we are addressing learning loss, meanwhile losing the time where we would be learning in our classrooms to excessive testing. Ironic? Yes, it is.

This obsession at the administrative level seems insane. I mean, no one is arguing that the last two school years were normal. Students lost time in the classroom, and we have not regained a so-called “normal” state in education since the pandemic struck. True. However, “learning loss” ignores two basic truths:

Truth #1: Our kids did not stop learning just because they were not in school. They learned a lot from these crazy times, i.e. how to navigate online learning, how to communicate digitally, how to avoid controversial topics with adults on social media, how to live through a pandemic… So many things.

Truth #2: We have ALWAYS met kids wherever they are academically. Some are at grade level, some beyond and some below. Always. They will still reach their potential. No need to panic. Honest.

Learning has happened, is happening, and will happen. But we HAVE lost many, many other things in the last year and a half- important, invaluable things: laughter, music, art, play, companionship, smiles, theater, dance, hugs, cupcakes…JOY.

Joy loss. Why are we not more concerned with joy loss?

I first saw this term on Twitter. Dr. Gholdy Muhammad tweeted: “The issue with the rhetoric of “learning loss” presumes that students were only at a loss during a pandemic, yet children and uniquely Black children have been at an educational loss (and identity & joy loss) since the inception of this country being colonized.”

Of course, her tweet is equity-focused, and it is devastatingly true. When I read it, I realized two things. First, there are always students who are marginalized, all the more reason to reform our practice. And, the second new learning: identity and joy are essential to success in school, for all children.

I am all in on this ideology. I believe that each child in my classroom needs to feel welcome, safe, acknowledged, valued, and happy. That is the only way that I can ensure that they will learn.

After stumbling on the idea of “joy loss,” I went Googling and found a blog on the ThinkLaw website. ThinkLaw is an organization founded by Colin Seale that creates curriculum to foster critical thinking skills. That was an interesting find on its own, but the blog had some great points. Check it out here.

One of many takeaways from this blog was the idea of a joy mandate. What if we cared so much about how our students felt at school that we mandated their joy? This is not to replace academics, but to enhance learning. What if every classroom was full of happy, engaged, and joyful children? Before you get too skeptical, consider this: Isn’t that just as achievable as every child meeting standard on a state assessment? Therefore, is it not a goal worth pursuing?

If you are unconvinced, if you feel like we need to seriously drill those skills and teach for those tests, think about educators and their joy loss, too. These are tough times for all of us. How will doubling down on testing and measuring learning create better school environments?

Stephen Merrill’s blog on Edutopia, “Too Much Focus on Learning Loss Will Be a Historic Mistake,” speaks so well to the problem. We actually know- according to research- what works best for kids, and we have the opportunity to reinvent public education while it is in this relatively broken state. Why aren’t we reimagining how to create a better way? Read the article here for an in depth discussion of the topic.

The “better way” is a more joyful way, full of student choice, student voice, and student passion. This is evident in my own practice. I teach three grade-levels of English and a drama class. Even with my evolving mindset for a more joyful classroom, I often get stuck in that old rut, teaching the same English lessons as I did years ago. I don’t always respond to the apathy and lack of engagement I am seeing these days as quickly as I should. I am trying to loosen up and let go of the things that don’t matter, but, in a core class, with mandated diagnostics hanging over your head, you tend to clamp down from time to time.

On the other hand, my drama class is a vibrant and playful space. We are creating art on a daily basis and learning and practicing a myriad of skills. One of my new drama students told me the other day that he learns the most in drama. He values the skills he is learning, and he is having a blast at the same time. It brought me back to my thoughts on joy loss. What if my English classes felt like my drama class? What if they were having a blast learning?

Imagine this mandate: Foster joy in your classroom. I know some educators are going to be uncomfortable if we place yet another expectation on them. I also know that it is harder than it sounds. However, wouldn’t some PD and admin support for mandated joy be nice?

We can all choose to suffer under the traditional mandates, or maybe we can ask for a new way, a better way, a joyful way to help our students learn.

Your Turn: Taboo Topics & Tough Conversations

You have most likely seen a lot of talk on the news or in social media about subjects that some parents and pundits believe should not be taught in school, i.e. Critical Race Theory. Many teachers are being instructed to steer clear of political conversations, an all too common policy.

We asked the Stories From School Bloggers some questions about the work they are doing in their classrooms. 1) How are so-called taboo topics handled by you and your administration? 2) Do you actively avoid controversy? 3) How do you help students learn to have tough conversations in a civil setting?

We start with less volatile, but engaging areas…


Gretchen: Building Critical Thinking Skills First
With hot topics, minds and hearts are already closed. Yelling mouths tends to be the only thing open. For me, there are far more effective ways to reach the same goal of helping students to engage in difficult conversations in a civil manner than hammering on hot spots. I use direct instruction to build critical thinking skills about far less “hot-button” topics with my students. We then apply them to real life.
For example, we do unit about how the Supreme Court decides cases and how every word of the Constitution is examined for historical and current meaning as it applies to the cases. We start with less volatile, but engaging areas -Love the Fourth Amendment!- and really dig into word definitions and logic (or logical fallacies) that may accompany the arguments. We then work our way into the big ones -…the First and Second Amendments!

Denisha: Holding Educators Accountable for the Learning

“…race, equity, and inclusion are just as important as Friday’s algebra lesson.”

The problem is that so many educators have the privilege to ignore the structural racism that is the foundation of the education system, and that continuously contributes to the oppression of the BIPOC community.

With this privilege, students are left to their own devices (social media) to stay current and to vocalize their thoughts on the current social unrest, or to weigh in on discussions around race, or gender identity.

I am fortunate to work in a building where everyone says they are willing and at least wants to learn more about how to engage in “tough conversations.” We have an equity team, we have daily announcements, and weekly lessons around equity, and we have staff  PD’s around race. None of this translates into actual conversations.

Some are doing the lessons, nothing more. Some are not doing the lessons. Some are skimming the lessons. Some are finding the right time to do the lessons. Either way, it’s not enough. If a teacher didn’t offer math lessons, it would be grounds for a low evaluation, and a growth plan would be put into action before termination.

We need to hold districts accountable for teachers engaging in the necessary PD’s to feel confident and competent. SEL and conversations around race, equity, and inclusion are just as important as Friday’s algebra lesson. These conversations will change lives, open minds, and heal hearts!

Jan: Educating Tomorrow’s Citizens

“It’s important for children to understand the good and the bad of history…”

I will be teaching the 20th century in social studies this year, but I started the year by reading a Tribal Acknowledgment; Suquamish Elementary sits on Suquamish land. My class had SO many questions, so the next several days I spent sharing Suquamish history from the earliest human habitation in the region to the Boarding Schools that continued into the 20th century.

While my students were appalled at how badly the Euro-American settlers treated the Suquamish, especially after they had helped them survive the first harsh winters here, they also were able to see that some of the abuses were no longer in effect. For example, the city of Seattle banned all Native Americans from the city limits, but my students said they had been to Native cultural events in the city. Clearly, things had changed.

Again, the stories about the Boarding Schools were heartbreaking. But the Suquamish children now go to Suquamish Elementary.

It’s important for children to understand the good and the bad of history, and it’s important for them to see that things can improve.

Finally, when I asked kids what they learned that was important, one answered, “I learned my country doesn’t always do the right thing.” Learning that our government–even with the best of intentions–still makes mistakes is a valuable lesson. Having an educated electorate means having citizens who pay attention and evaluate what their leaders are doing. The first step is letting kids know they might need to do that.

Lynne: Fostering a Safe Atmosphere for the Tough Topics

We don’t give our young people enough credit for how they can manage discourse…”


I believe that part of our problem as a society is our inability to participate in discourse when multiple viewpoints are present. As educators, we can impact our nation’s future rather directly by facilitating the skills young people need to navigate discourse.

Parents in my district tend to be wary of teachers touching on controversy. Although I am not reckless in my introduction of controversial topics, I do instruct my students on discussion protocol. Then I work diligently to foster a safe atmosphere for students to discuss more and more sensitive topics.

Generally, the students choose the topics, and I provide protocols, guiding questions, and mediation as needed. And, you know what? These kids are amazing! We don’t give our young people enough credit for how well they can manage discourse, like a good Socratic seminar or a debate. However, they are initially very leery of anything political, because they know what it is like on social media, and few kids really want to dive into that mess.

On a side note, the staff in our district are specifically forbidden by our administration to discuss the vaccine. No joke. We were told that there were to be absolutely no conversations about the vaccine in our school. One substitute teacher broke that rule, and they are no longer welcome in our district. And, with the sub shortage, you know that is serious!

“…it’s our job to teach critical thinking and dismantle systems that create barriers for students.”



Emma-Kate: Engaging Curiosity for the World around Us

I absolutely believe that teaching is political; it’s our job to teach critical thinking and dismantle systems that create barriers for students. My students read news articles every week, and we read literature outside the canon because I want them to engage with the world around them with curiosity and a critical eye. In many perspectives, what I teach would fall under the (falsely defined) CRT umbrella.

I’m fortunate that my principal believes in equity work, and stands behind me and my teaching philosophy. We’re wrestling with a lot this year: How do we meet our most equity reluctant colleagues where they are? In what ways can we change discipline and MTSS to ensure our system serves all students? How does our instruction center student agency and honor the dignity of our community?

We definitely don’t have answers, but we are constantly asking the right questions.

Your turn:

How is it going in your district? What are you doing to facilitate those tough conversations? Let us know in the comments.

Tornado Alert!

I’ve been through so many drills—and emergencies—in my teaching career.

We’ve had multiple lockdowns. Once a neighbor’s bull got loose and rampaged through the playground. Once police called the school and said an armed suspect was in the area; they asked us to keep all the students inside. Once there was a chemical spill scare. The entire school spent the afternoon in the gym before a custodian figured out a delivery truck driver had parked with the exhaust pipe up against the school’s HVAC intake—and left the engine running.

We’ve had fire alarms result in the entire school outside for an hour or more, waiting for the fire department to clear the building.

Students get excited with these interruptions to their routines, but in short order they get bored with the restrictions to their activities.

As we practiced a lockdown drill for the first time, I answered a host of questions from my students. The idea of someone bringing a gun to school to shoot people was very concerning to them. “What if this happened?” they asked.  “What if this happened?” “What if this happened?” I told them that, as far as they were concerned, the answer was going to be the same no matter what scenario they might present. “Listen to me and follow my directions.” I gave them a couple of specific examples of what I would have them do, but it still came back to that—just listen and follow directions. They calmed down. They were ok with that.

Over the years, I’ve witnessed more dramatic events. A fire alarm went off. Heads snapped up. Then kids noticed the smoke pouring out of the multipurpose room across the courtyard from our class! I sent my students out to the gathering point while I went looking for the fire extinguisher. When I met up with my class later, they had followed the fire drill routine perfectly.

When the Nisqually earthquake struck, I’d just sent my class to recess. Some students were on the playground. Some were on the stairs leading to the playground. Some were in the halls. Some were in the bathrooms. Some were in my classroom. The earthquake roared in, the ground shook, the building swayed. And every student, no matter where they were, did exactly what they were supposed to do.

In every single emergency or drill that I’ve been through with a class, no matter how intense, the emotional response was the same. The students go on high alert. They might be concerned or nervous. But they look to the adults. They follow directions. The routines and practicing of drills gives them a framework for how to respond. They cope brilliantly.

After a major event, they chatter. Everyone has to share their personal experience—where they were, what they saw, how they felt. I let them all speak, let them come down off that emotional high. Then we go right back to a regular school day.

This week, though, was different. As we worked on math, there was the faint sound of sirens. Then a voice on the intercom said teachers were to keep all students in their classrooms. Shortly thereafter, sirens returned, louder. The voice on the intercom said everyone was to duck and cover. There was a tornado alert.

Your Turn: Back to School, 2021

By the end of summer this year, most parents were anxious to see schools open up full time for all students. This was not just a local concern, but a hot topic nationwide. On August 18, President Biden issued a memorandum: Ensuring a Safe Return to In-Person School for the Nation’s Children. This memorandum called for “full-time, in-person school for our nation’s  children.” 

Washington educators answered the call and returned to their classrooms last month with full class sizes and somewhat relaxed safety precautions. We asked the Stories from School bloggers about their thoughts on this return. How are we ensuring the safety of our students and ourselves? Read their thoughts below; then we would love to hear from you in the comments. What is your experience with this year’s back-to-school season?


Gretchen Kruden: Grateful for the Protocols and Support

Having had two beloveds (one vaccinated and one not) contract Covid this year, I have had a front seat to the turbulence Covid causes in a home. It was awful to have felt such wringing worry for days on end.

That said, I am so grateful our school is following masking and handwashing protocols to a tee. We are also on the spot with kids going home and staying home who have any symptoms of Covid until they test negative. In addition, we will be rolling out an onsite testing program to help ease the financial burden of driving the 50-mile round-trip to get a Covid test for our families. The only additional layer of protection I hope the state will provide is a mandate for health districts to enforce that has schools pivot to distance learning when a certain number of Covid cases/100,000 people are active in the area. 


Emma-Kate Schaake: We All Need to Do Our Part

I feel grateful to be a teacher in Washington. I am friends with teachers in other parts of the country where even the very baseline practice of masking is essentially nonexistent. We’ve already had at least five positive cases in our first eight days of school, so I can’t imagine living and teaching elsewhere. 

That being said, that doesn’t mean our community universally accepts these truths. One of our school board members actually ceded his time with a piece of duct tape over his mouth to protest the mask mandate. 

We’re all pandemic weary, but I’m well aware that it’s a gift to be back to in person learning. I don’t want anything to jeopardize our time together, so we all need to do our part.


Leann Schumacher: Physical Distance with First-graders?

To echo Emma-Kate’s feelings, I feel so fortunate to live in Washington state. It is horrifying that other parts of the country are penalizing schools for trying to keep their teachers and students safe. Truthfully, I was very nervous about starting this school year. The dread was definitely not as intense as Fall 2020, but the anxiety was still there. Working with first graders, it has been a struggle to keep my physical distance as much as I should be. The little ones need proximity for guidance not to mention they struggle to fully comprehend directions as they can’t see my mouth. 

The students themselves are struggling to keep 3 feet of distance and I often see masks below noses. However, in general, my district has good systems in place to help keep staff and students safe but this is far from “normal” and I wish that we would be more open to acknowledging and accepting that fact.


Lynne Olmos: It’s Not Yet Time for Back to Normal

It was a stressful reopening for us in Mossyrock. Our numbers of Covid cases in our area were steadily climbing, and our community has been largely anti-mask and anti-vaccine. There was even a protest across the street from the school on our first day.

It is a struggle to follow the safety precautions when our students and our parents often see us as part of a system that they neither trust nor respect. The very first week, our entire volleyball team was quarantined after a player came down with the virus. This was a stark reminder that we are not over this yet, and we need to be prepared for the same sort of measures that we had to put in place last year, such as the possibility of remote learning or reduced cohort sizes. I am glad to have all my students with me, but this is stressful! Everyone wants it to be “normal,” but it just isn’t, not yet.


Denisha: It’s Worth It to Be Back, Despite the Cost

Teaching remotely was difficult; coming back into the building has been even more challenging. That saying, “be careful what you wish for” is 2021-2022 in a nutshell.

It is nostalgic, saying good morning, having someone respond in real time! Even though I would never ask to be back online, I don’t know that after a year and a half we understood what being back in buildings really meant. 

Shorter attention spans (adults too), kindergarten, first, and second graders with almost zero experience of how to “do school.” First, second, and even third year teachers, still really first year teachers. Modified recess, mask breaks, homesickness, substitute shortages, extended absences, anxiety, and most of all fear.

The issue? Systems. Every neighboring district is doing this version of school differently, which leaves everyone wondering, who is doing it right? 

The tears and anguish displayed daily on both students and teachers would make you wonder, why not go back online? In-person is still the right choice, but the cost is great.


Jan Kragen: Despite the Protocols, Covid Strikes

I’m happy that all the staff at school is fully vaccinated. Of course, I work at an elementary school, so the kids aren’t vaccinated. Yet. 

Everyone is wearing masks, but mask-wearing ranges from kids who double mask to those who–in fifth grade–can’t seem to keep one mask over their nose all day despite multiple reminders.

Our desks are spread out. We use hand sanitizer frequently. There’s a protocol for bathroom use, and kids are spaced out at lunch time.

Still, on September 16 I left school feeling sick. The next week I tested positive for Covid. So did enough kids that my whole classroom went into 14 days of quarantine. I haven’t been back to school yet.

Thank God I had a substitute who was able to work ALL the days I was out and who had two daughters in my room in years past. When my lesson plans were sketchy at best, she was able to fill in the blanks.

I’m going to try to teach in the afternoons next week. Here’s hoping I don’t relapse. The truth is, until we can get the kids vaccinated too, all the best protocols really aren’t enough.


What about you, readers? How was the first month of school in your district? Please leave us your comments below.

Being There: Teaching 2021

In a time where every student needs a little more emotional support, we educators are uniquely qualified to fill that need. We are skilled in making the connections that keep kids curious, excited about the world around them, and engaged with their peers.

This is life-saving work these days.

Our children need schools to buoy them up in times of stress. They need to have hope and inspiration of the sort that teachers deal in on a daily basis, through literature, history, science… all areas of discovery and joyous participation. What a gift we teachers can give to the children in our classrooms!

And I see it every day. I see it in the lively classroom chats and the lessons that get kids thinking, talking, and laughing. I see it in the way our staff makes time for kids: a health teacher who gives up her lunch to chat with a shy student who needs a safe place to hang out; a math teacher who comes in early to help kids with homework; a paraprofessional who visits with junior high students in the hall about sports, fashion, celebrities, whatever interests them, even patiently listening to long-winded chats about Fortnite or TikTok celebrities!

Kids need this. After a year and a half of periodic isolation and loneliness, the students in our schools have the adults on high alert. We are vigilant. Are they eating? Do they seem too quiet? Have they stopped turning in work? Did they mention they were moving again? The worry is constant.

This is our most important job- being there for kids. It takes a lot of effort and energy to truly be there for kids, as an educator, a mentor, a caretaker and much more.

But, these days, do we have the time and energy to do that oh-so-important job well? I want to say yes. Yes, because it is important, that is what we will do. But, this is a complicated situation. Educators are feeling the strain. The entire system is strained.

The Absence of COVID-19

The Washington State Department of Health issued guidelines for the 2021-2022 school year in regard to how schools may best mitigate the spread of COVID-19 in their facilities.  This document seems to put a tidy bow on the layered measures school can and should take to ensure student health. And yet, the bow is quickly unraveling through no fault of anyone. 

The state has worked hard to help reduce the number of absences students incur due to COVID-19. This makes sense as absences rates correlate greatly with student success. There are no longer such stringent requirements regarding actions surrounding “close-contacts” and healthy students are able to return more quickly to school if they test negative for COVID-19 during an imposed quarantine time. Many schools are even taking advantage of the Learn to Return program offered that allows for schools themselves to do COVID-19 testing onsite. All of this may have worked beautifully if the Delta variant had not hit and changed the playing field.

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Relationships First

I’m pretty tired of the term “unprecedented.” At this point, I think educators are just ready to expect the unexpected. Our amazing team of custodians has a saying to cope with each new challenge: “well, it’s normal for this year.” 

Unsurprisingly, there was a lot of uncertainty approaching this school year. How will our community respond to the mask and vaccine mandates? Can we continue to push forward our equity work amidst CRT controversy? What will we do about the inevitable positive cases? How will we sustain our personal mental health and energy in order to make this year a success?

Though we can’t have answers to those questions without living through them, there is one thing I was certain of starting the school year: relationships first. 

Steps Toward a Restorative Classroom 

I’ve heard that phrase “relationships first” in educational spaces so much it has almost become cliche. But, that doesn’t make it any less true, especially this year. During this pandemic (past and present), we know our students have experienced trauma, unsafe homes, isolation, and depression. We know they are coming to us carrying those burdens, and they’re doing their best to cope with omnipresent anxiety, on top of the “normal” stresses of being a teenager. 

This year, I really wanted to challenge myself to make my classroom as student focused as possible. I have always been interested in restorative practices and after I attended a zoom training with the International Institute of Restorative Practices last spring, I set a few goals for myself, starting with setting our classroom community from day one. 

Classroom Circles 

I’ve tried a few classroom circles in the past, but never with any sort of regularity or fidelity. So, this year, I decided to start every class with one. Every single class. Every single day. 

I was nervous the first time, but I was pleasantly surprised by how my students came along with me.  

I have my tables arranged so we can stand in a circle, facing one another, and we pass a little stuffed unicorn (because, why not?) The first time we go around, we say our names and answer the question, without explanation. Then, in round two, they have a chance to expand on their answer. I’ve found this gives students who might not have a quick answer time to think and they can also borrow from their peers if something they said resonates. Saying, “yeah, what Brayden said” is a sneaky clue that they’re practicing active listening and building connections with one another. 

It’s early, but so far, no one has refused to participate (though I did have a teacher anxiety dream where they all stormed out!). Sometimes, students say “I don’t know” and I make sure they know that’s okay. Not every question will resonate with every person, but I try to cover a wide range of interests. 

We then do one last whip around with a quick either/or question before settling back into our seats. 

I have questions ranging from the surface, but very controversial, pancakes or waffles to some that are slightly more revealing like “When you were little, what did you want to be when you grow up?” We’ve also done one word check-ins that can take the temperature of the room in seconds.  

It’s fascinating to watch their personalities come out, even in just the first few weeks. You can tell so much about them not just by what they answer, but how. Does this student give one word answers every time? Does that one want to take over conversation and share their life story? Some of the best answers come from an introverted student who takes us all by surprise with a perfectly insightful answer that makes us all laugh. 

As we start our first unit this week, I am also going to use these circles as a sort of anticipation guide, relating our questions to our content. 

So Far So Good 

I had my first observation of the year Monday morning and in his notes, my administrator highlighted how the classroom feels inclusive, energetic, and comfortable. I greeted students at the door to check in before class started, as I always do. And when the bell rang, they eagerly jumped into the circle before I could even finish sharing our word of the day (indigenous). 

My admin noticed that all students shared in our circle, listened to one another, and showed they felt at ease in my room. He said, “They were all engaged in the lesson, and they were having fun doing it.” 

I feel like that’s about the best I can hope for to start this year. Plus, it’s a solid data point to remind me, later on when schedule pressures feel hectic, that meeting students where they are and caring about them as human beings are all that really matters. 

Hello/Good-by

This week we celebrated fifth grade graduation. We had a drive-through event at the office building for our 100% on-line school. At the top of the driveway families turned in laptops and all the curriculum materials.

Then, with music playing and the bubble machine blowing, cars drove down the hill to the cheering teachers. We passed out balloons filled with confetti, bags of treats, and wristbands that read “I 100% survived 100% online school!”

For each student we also handed out a graduation certificate. One line read, “You have successfully completed fifth grade.” I read that with each student and told them, “You are officially done with school. You don’t need to log into the system anymore.” That announcement led to a happy dance every time, the child in the car, me outside. “Freedom!” “Escape!” (in Finding Nemo fashion). “Hallelujah!”

Some students had their picture taken at the “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” photo backdrop. Some said no thanks.

There were lots of smiles and even a few hugs.

I also spoke to every parent. Each time I said, “You did a great job.” The most common, instant reaction was physical. Shoulders fell. Heads dropped. Then the parent would say, “I thought I wasn’t doing well at all.” “I thought I was messing up.” “I thought I was failing.”

“No!” I said. “You were amazing! And you made it through this year. You did an awesome job.”

They straightened up then and starting talking about how hard it was.

“Yes. It was hard for everyone. I can’t imagine how you did it—

  • you, with three other kids at home.”
  • you, with a new baby.”
  • you, with your husband deployed.”

Side note here—I had been telling parents all year what a terrific job they were doing. On that last day of school it was clear that they read my notes as general and applying to  everyone else. Not to them. Individually, they each felt they were not doing well at all. Clearly, even phone calls hadn’t worked. All my encouragement during the year went nowhere. It wasn’t until I saw them face-to-face and spoke to them one-on-one that they actually believed me. Sigh.

Graduation was a thoroughly weird experience for all of us. It was the first time all year we got to see each other outside of Zoom. How strange was it? I didn’t recognize one of the other fifth grade teachers when I saw her in 3-D! She and I had met for PLCs nearly every day all year, but she looked different when she wasn’t flat.

One of the best things I heard that day was from one student’s mom who said it felt like I had reached through the computer and touched them. I told her it was mutual—we made a real connection in spite of the distance learning.

The other best thing was from a student who wrote in a card about how much she learned this year and added, “This year could have been so awful, but you made it close to wonderful!”

You know, I’ll take that. Close to wonderful is about the best I could hope for this year.

My take-away from all of this is that we must keep encouraging each other.

Encourage literally means put courage in.

  • Put courage in students.
  • Put courage in parents.
  • Put courage in each other as teachers and staff.

Courage comes from cour, which means heart.

Discourage literally means to rip the heart out of someone.

Our job is to put heart in. So let me start.

It was a ridiculously hard year. You maybe felt like you were failing. You maybe felt like you couldn’t do it. You maybe felt like you were never going to make it.

But look at you. You are here!

And you learned things. Like how to persevere. Like how to stay engaged with people even when you can’t be with them physically. Like how to use more and more and more technology. (Right???)

And you  made it.

You all did a great job this year.

Leap Year

It was the spring of my first year teaching, and I was walking hurriedly through the hallway on the way to pick up my class. I saw our music teacher in the hallway, and she asked me how I was and how things were going. Her concern was genuine, and I told her how tired and overwhelmed I was.

She smiled at me and said, “Let me give you my best piece of advice. They say in your first year you sleep; in your second year, you creep; and in your third year, you leap”.

Admittedly, her words have been rattling around in my brain for the last three years. The statement felt too simple to be good advice, but now that my third year is coming to a close, I’ve found she was absolutely right. 

In the fall of my second year, I wrote about how the rating of “Basic” on my evaluation affected my perception of myself as an educator.  

Looking back, I realized I was unable to see the ways in which I had grown because I was far too fixated on the rating my evaluator was giving me. In the months following that observation, I worked tirelessly to improve my teaching. With the help of an instructional coach, I built solid structures for managing my classroom and facilitating my instruction. I was proud of my hard work and asked my evaluator to visit my classroom to see firsthand all that I had worked to improve. 

Then, the pandemic hit, and the classroom visit never happened. 

As my third year of teaching comes to a close, I can’t help but feel robbed of experiences and opportunities for growth. I was assigned to a fully remote position this school year, which means I have been out of my classroom for essentially as long as I was ever in it. My foundation of classroom skills lies with a version of myself I’m having a hard time recognizing.  

However, despite all of this, I did leap.

I learned what I am truly capable of as an educator and grew in ways I didn’t think I would. Things I could never quite get a firm grasp on in the physical classroom became second nature in my virtual space. In a year with so much uncertainty, I adapted to everything thrown at me. 

In the end, I was finally marked proficient on this year’s evaluation. Truthfully, it didn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would. It was always just a label and never a true reflection of how I perceived myself or my teaching abilities. 

When you’re a new teacher, the evaluation process can feel daunting. It carries with it the weight of something that is the end all, be all to your teaching career. I’m here to tell you that it is definitely not, and share my big takeaways from my first three years:

Your teaching is not binary

Nothing in life is black and white, and neither is your teaching. Yes, there is such a thing as “good” teaching and “bad” teaching, but nothing is 100% all of the time. Some days are good, and some lessons are bad, or maybe it’s the opposite. Or it’s both at once. Either way it doesn’t matter because teaching will always be fluid and messy. Give yourself a little room to breathe, good things take time. 

You are more than your teaching abilities

Being an educator is just one facet of our identity; it is not everything. Your value as a human being does not hinge on your teaching abilities. Truthfully, I often still struggle with this one. 

Openness to feedback and other perspectives is key

To hear feedback, you must allow yourself to be vulnerable. Someone pointing out the things we are not excelling at never feels great, but it’s necessary for growth. However, another person can only offer what they see on the outside and how others see you is rarely the same as how we see ourselves. Others cannot view you through the lens of your past experiences, traumas, and projections. For better or for worse, feedback is just a mirror. It only reflects the surface. It can show you what’s happening on the outside, so that you can begin the work on the inside.   

Observations are never as bad as they feel

After every observation, I’ve thought it went horribly (and honestly, sometimes it did go horribly) but most of the time, it was just the nature of teaching. I know those moments where you feel like the train is two seconds away from leaping off the tracks, but if that’s how it feels, it’s because you care. It means despite everything you perceive to be going wrong, you are doing your very best, and it’s enough.