Category Archives: Life in the Classroom

Trauma-Informed Classrooms for All

There is no denying it. Education is changing due to Covid-19. And, to be honest, it needs to. We have been stuck in a rut for a long time, and much needed change is long overdue. This last year I feel like the veil was lifted, and the dark and ugly side of education was laid bare for all to see. We found out what we strived to achieve was all an illusion.

Equity? We did not have it. Some families had the support, the technology, and the safe and secure space to conduct school at home. Many, maybe most, did not. Do any of us believe that it made no difference before the pandemic?

Engagement? How many of us had the illusion that our content was truly engaging blown away when our Zoom meetings were lightly attended and our remote learners opted out of all of our innovative and personalized resources? If they opt out as soon as they are out of our reach, did we really have their attention?

Achievement? Did our grades and test scores measure the important metrics? What good have they been to us this year? Who still cares about standardized tests? Have we all figured out what we are actually teaching yet? (I’ll give you a hint: It’s not standards.)

As we move back to so-called normal, we need to remember that the old normal no longer exists. More than that, we have changed. We have come through a time of collective trauma, and we can only succeed if we create safe and supportive learning environments for students and teachers.

I am a trauma-informed educator. I grew up with trauma of my own, and I have made a study of trauma-informed teaching practices to better serve my students. I believe this has helped me reinvent my teaching practice this year in ways that supported students and created a safe and secure learning environment. I plan to do more.

I remember when I first learned GLAD (Guided Language Acquisition Design) strategies to better serve my English language learners in class. The selling point was that all students would benefit from them. The same must be said of trauma-informed teaching practices. They will make all students feel more supported, more safe, more able to learn and grow with us.

And, let’s face it; aren’t we all a little traumatized this year?

Students who have experienced trauma feel unsafe in most places, including school. They may have little control of their fear response due to trauma, and when they are under this stress they are less able to learn, to focus, or to regulate their emotions. They may be hyper alert or withdrawn. They may have disruptive behaviors. They may struggle socially, academically, emotionally, and even physically.

Here are some gems I collected from my recent research on trauma-informed classrooms:

  • A 2014 study tells us that 45% of students have experienced some form of trauma. What do you think the numbers are now?
  • All students learn best when they feel safe and supported.
  • A safe, caring, and consistent adult is the best intervention for a child affected by trauma.
  • Both students and teachers must feel psychologically safe in the classroom- no bullying, no judgment, no demeaning behaviors.
  • The key to relationship-building is authentic interactions that respect student voice and perspectives.
  • Trauma-informed discipline requires us to acknowledge the role of trauma in behavior and use appropriate consequences that promote healthier reactions in the future (think restorative justice practices).
  • Self-regulation and mindfulness skills are as important as any curriculum.
  • We can offset stressors with messages of empathy and optimism to support healing and resilience in our students.

I’d add to this list that we should do the following as we reinvent education:

  • Create systems for evaluating student work that are more holistic and less demeaning and/or stress-inducing.
  • Demand discipline systems that respect every child and offer support and encouragement over punishment.
  • Encourage creativity, student choice, physical activity, and all other joyful pursuits.

There is an excellent article from the School-Justice Partnership: Trauma-Informed Classrooms. It is very long, but comprehensive.

If your time is limited, here is a short tip sheet from WestEd for Creating Trauma-Informed Learning Environments.

I would love to see more resources in the comments. I hope that educators all over the state will band together to support our students with new and improved practices- trauma-informed classrooms for all.

Media Literacy: 21st Century Critical Thinking

Divided We Fall?

I’m sure there have been many times in history where it seemed like our country was irreconcilably divided. The Civil War is of course the ultimate example, with the Civil Rights movement closely following. But, all year, I have felt the strains of teaching in a cultural climate that seems both at odds with reality and finally aware of grim truths about our collective history.

I have students whose Google ID photos proudly ask to Make America Great Again , and others who display the light pink and blue flag that signifies their transgender identity. While there are always a wide range of opinions in the classroom, these differences between students feel more like cavernous divides.

 There have been several points in the year, particularly around the presidential election,  where I was a little glad I didn’t have students in class. Glad, at least, that I was the only one who had to read the vitriolic message from a student asking why we have to read about the sanctity of Black lives. Glad I could shield my students of color from his anger and unkind words that were rooted in fear, rather than empathy.  

As a teacher, the line between what is political and what’s appropriate in the classroom is blurry at best. And, when we are all bombarded with media from every angle and avenue, it seems impossible to combat disinformation. 

I’ve always found that teaching media literacy and critical consumption of media is important, but this year, among vaccine skepticism, conspiracy theories about stolen elections, and claims of learning loss, these skills felt even more pressing. My job is not to teach my students what to think, but how

So, this year, when I dove into media literacy and argument writing, I strove to bring the real world into the classroom. If I could prime students to at least pause and critically think about what they consumed, I’d call that a win. 

A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words 

One particularly poignant lesson my student teacher created was around the power of images and captions across different media. 

We went over connotation and denotation, and she then presented examples of images with different captions. She asked students to see how the image and their understanding of it changed based on those differences. 

For example, when students saw these two, several swore that she lightened the second photo because they noticed the brightness of the sun and trees, even though nothing but the caption changed. 

While she created the above image for the purposes of our assignment, I saw and remembered myriad examples in the real world. 

This summer, when protests for racial justice broke out across the country, I paid particular attention to Portland and Seattle where headlines diverged wildly. They were called everything from “Antifa mob” and “riot” to “peaceful demonstrations.”  Without being there, it was hard to parse the truth. Some images depicted Portland burning, while others showed a wall of mourners, holding candles. Two wildly different reports of the same story, with two very different connotations, interpretations, and impacts. 

Then, as we were wrapping up our unit, Biden announced his two trillion dollar spending package, and two different news organizations posted very different accompanying photos. One of Biden, the president, and one of Alexandria Occasio Cortez, even though she wasn’t involved in the legislation and openly said that it was “not nearly enough.” Why, then, was she included in the headline? 

These and subsequent lessons on analyzing images helped students realize the persuasive power that lay in small choices that are far from arbitrary. Captions are short, so every word matters. And yes, a picture is worth a thousand words, and our increasingly shrinking collective attention spans, they might be the most important thing a viewer sees.

Read Between the Lines 

While a caption on a forested trail might not be high stakes, the protests over racial injustice and government spending most certainly are. Students, like most media consumers, are so used to the near constant stream of information that they don’t often take a moment to pause and analyze what they’re seeing. 

Honestly, it was only because I was teaching this unit that those different posts about the infrastructure bill caught my eye. We’re so used to being bombarded with content constantly that it’s hard to remember to stop and think. 

After completing this unit, and her research on defining the police, one student told me she realized the issue was much more nuanced than what she had seen on social media. She went into her research against the movement, but ended up doing her project in favor of defunding. 

As with many well meaning, surface level media consumers, she understood the issue to be a false dilemma between police state or mass chaos, and she was actually fairly shocked when she learned more details. 

I don’t want my students to become cynical, but I do want them to recognize when they are being sold a bill of goods. I want them to understand how words and images intentionally play together to convince a specific audience. I hope these lessons at least helped them think twice. 

And, amidst rampant misinformation, fears, and theories around COVID vaccinations, I’d like to run an adult refresher course too, while I’m at it. 

 

Wednesdays

Wednesdays are saving my life right now.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, I deliver in-person instruction for 335 minutes each day (down from 350 minutes per day pre-Covid, mainly because we had to make room for rotating lunch periods, which increased passing time).

During that 335 minutes of face-to-face time, I also work in a varying amount of time to simultaneously zoom with my students who remained fully remote.

During those 335 minutes, I say I “deliver in-person instruction,” but I’m a big believer that the person doing the work is the person doing the learning, which means that I work hard to shift the cognitive load to my students… getting them doing, talking, reading, writing.

To shift that load requires deliberate planning and preparation.

And shifting that load means students produce work which deserves feedback and guidance.

When people criticize teachers’ complaints about our workload, I wonder if the public envisions the old school university prof standing in front of the class lecturing. Let me tell you, lecturing is easy. I’m at the stage of my career where I could lecture your ear off for a ninety minute block no problem, no prep on my part required…just give me a topic and a time limit. Plus, the students are just sitting and “listening” so they aren’t generating work that needs feedback or assessment. Is this what people picture when they imagine the work of a teacher?

Anyone with any knowledge of teaching and learning knows what research confirms: that sort of marathon direct instruction, the endless lecture and notes method, is wildly unsuccessful for the massive majority of learners… especially teenage learners compelled by law to attend as opposed to university students paying top dollar to get their college’s name on a resume.

Good teaching requires preparation, intentional design, and feedback (which is sadly, the easiest to let fall to the wayside when time is tight). When I’m at my best, the ratio is easily 2:1, two minutes of preparation, assessment, and feedback for every one minute of student contact.

Add to the whole mix collaboration with colleagues, communication with families, and email…so many emails…and the finite resource of time quickly is exhausted.

Which is why Wednesdays are saving me right now, and why our current Wednesday routine is one I’m hoping we can continue into our post-COVID transition.

Right now, Wednesdays are full-remote days for our student body. Students are off-campus (except for small group intervention or scheduled appointments with staff), and teachers have created independent learning experiences that students continue to engage with. The pressure here is to ensure that the “homework” we design is effective and advances learning… and considers the varied non-school environments that our students may be learning from.

But Wednesday, sans structured student instruction, enables us to make home contacts, collaborate with peers on instructional design, provide feedback on student work, and build more responsive lessons.

Yes, these are things we’d be doing anyway. But now, there is time to do that work within my work day.

I’m still up at 4 or 5 am to read student work or fine tune the day’s lessons.

I’m still at school most days well after my “work day” is over, and grabbing moments to lesson plan or respond to emails while I cook dinner or help my own offspring with homework.

But Wednesdays are saving me because, for the first time in my career, I at least feel like the system actually considers what my real work is… and is giving me time to do that work at work.

Would I rather my work be doable within my work day, not overflowing into the early mornings and late evenings? Of course.

Wednesdays are a start. We have all this talk about shaking up our system post-COVID. The quality of those moments we spend in front of kids is the direct result of the quality of those moments we spend planning to be in front of kids.

We know our system needs to change, and the systemic and predicable inequities of our students’ experience prove that. System change isn’t just about policies or trainings or different curriculum. How we structure teacher time, in my opinion, is the highest leverage change we can make to our system. Without that change to the fundamental structure of our schools, all the other efforts will be for naught.

Critical Thinking… and Q

(original photo source unknown)

I received several emails from my son’s science teacher warning of the upcoming evolution unit, clarifying the goals of the unit, and offering opt-out pathways. I’ve long understood such disclaimers and options as being due to the reality that evolution as it relates to humankind does not mesh well with some religious cosmologies. The concept of the current biological state of humanity being a phase in a billion-year-long slow-and-steady march of natural variation does not match what many people believe.

So what happens when we go to teach current events, American history, civics and government, or other social sciences and students or families want to opt out because it does not match what they believe?

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Behind the Score

Every teacher out there can safely say, “I hate testing!” Yes, it is a part of checking for student growth. Yes, it gives us a baseline and can inform instruction. Yes, in some cases it may be necessary.

In every case, there is always more behind the score.

Testing is a complicated, sore subject. Educators work hard to create the best possible setting for students to excel on these tests. So, what does this mean in the midst of a pandemic, when the testing environment is no longer our classroom? 

Testing environment is one that teachers work so hard to get just right. The right lighting, music, no music, chairs, no chairs, water breaks, snacks, seating charts. It even comes down to what is on the walls. If testing environment plays such a huge factor in student success, how does testing at home correlate?

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One-Hundred Years from Now

How will 2020 be categorized in history books one-hundred years from now? How will teachers then, learn from our mistakes now? The larger more pressing question is how do we, today, give student the opportunity to be educated in a system they will not grow to resent for its oppressive and dismissive policies and curriculum?

By the time students reach high school, many realize that the ways in which they have been taught to view history are centered around the Eurocentric belief system. As Gloria Ladson-Billings (1998) states these curriculums “legitimize white, upper-class males as the standard knowledge students need to know”. This is increasingly problematic. History pertaining to students of color is suppressed, creating a system where they only see themselves as descendants of slaves, and not the descendants of change makers, inventors, doctors, writers, homemakers, scientist…teachers.

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Imagining 2021

Perhaps one of the most powerful of phrases in all of teaching is one embedded deeply in the Washington State K-12 Learning Standards (Common Core State Standards) for English language arts. This phrase is one that I honestly believe could change all of humanity if it were embraced and appreciated fully; lives could be improved, our environment could be stabilized and nations would no longer be at war with one another. Wow—what phrase could possibly have such a powerful impact? Reasoned judgement. In essence, reasoned judgement is the critical thinking skill of being able to objectively analyze and evaluate information such as data, text, and research findings and derive a sound argument. Take it a step further and reasoned thinking can be shared with others in a coherent manner. 

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The Promise of 2021: The Irreplaceable Educator

Hopefulness is evident in celebrations all over the world. There is such hope that the New Year will bring a return to normal, a return to a less complicated time. Of course, we are more pragmatic than this. We know that the normal we once knew has changed, and we will take many of this year’s complications with us far into the future. That is the truth, and, well, that is how progress happens, too.

As educators, this is significant. Most teachers I speak to relate similar feelings. Their jobs have become so different, practically unrecognizable. “This isn’t what we signed up for,” is the common refrain. I’ve said it, too.

No, it is not what we expected, but it is what we have now. And it is a bit scary. There is a real danger of people leaving the education profession. However, change can be leveraged to solve problems. As educators, let’s unite to do this. Let’s make this next year the year we start a revolution in education.

REVOLUTION. Not renaissance, not pivot, not shift. Let’s flip this system.

This is not to be taken lightly. If we sit quietly and wait for normal, the entrepreneurs out there will convince the public that they can create products for online learning that are better than in-person teaching. They will market these miracles to the masses and this will be touted as ethical and equitable. Anyone with access to the internet can learn. Who needs teachers?

You may think, so what? Let them turn to online systems. But, if this year has taught us anything at all, it is the value of human connection. We teachers may be struggling to realize our value as purveyors of knowledge, but we know our true worth. It is obvious that we are invaluable when we are the ones coaching lonely youngsters through their studies, reminding them of their worth, laughing at their antics during Zoom meetings, and consoling them when their practices and games are canceled. That humanity is irreplaceable.

I treasure every moment of connection with my students these days. And I know that I am a better teacher for seeing the value of it. Because of this, there is no going back to normal for me. I don’t even want it to be the way it was. For me, the lifting of the veil revealed that all students need to feel safe, in control of their learning, and valued by their teachers and by the education system. That is the only way to move forward successfully.

For equity, for ethics, we need systems that honor the value of each individual. In light of this, I am reinventing my practice to put students clearly at the center, giving them more power in the process of choosing the learning they will do. I will involve them in the grading process, and I will work every day to ensure that they understand their worth.

I understand mine. And I know that every educator out there needs to see their worth, too. You are the connection. You are the humanity. You are irreplaceable.

Related Readings (Or, Why Is Lynne All Riled Up?):

Engaging with Students Long-Distance

For the last month, the number one topic in our staff meetings has been student engagement.

Meanwhile, I have a 10-year-old student who wrote a personal narrative about how he got his first car, a 1971 VW Beetle. He plans to convert it to an electric car. He said, “I want my Bug to be the first car of my old car electric conversion shop. My next car is going to be for my dad. He wants a 1966 Chevrolet Corvette with a big electric engine.” He explained that his current car, the Bug, needs work on its transmission.

Transmission? Student engagement? Same idea, right?

If the transmission isn’t working, the gears aren’t meshing. They aren’t connecting properly. The engine can have all the power in the world, but the car won’t go anywhere.

It’s the same for us.

  • If teachers aren’t connecting with students, or students aren’t connecting with teachers …
  • If schools aren’t connecting with parents, or parents aren’t connecting with schools …
  • If districts aren’t connecting with families, or families aren’t connecting with districts …

… then we can have all the skills and experience in the world, but we can’t drive our class anywhere.

Teachers at my school monitor students as they work through our district’s 100% online curriculum. We have weekly Class Connect Sessions (CCS—similar to Zoom) where we focus on the social and emotional side of school.

As far as academics go, we have students who come to CCS and do their work independently. They need an occasional check in about a lesson. Other students come to CCS regularly but don’t do their work. Or vice versa. Or they do well in one or two classes and skip others. There are students who come to about half the CCS. They struggle with the coursework. They are often behind. They occasionally come to help sessions set up by teachers, but often they don’t. Then there are the students who don’t come to CCS, who don’t do the work, who skip most of the lessons. They aren’t making progress. They don’t come to any help sessions.

We are used to having a captive audience in our classrooms. If a child won’t come to our desk, we can go to theirs. We can kneel down to their level. We can connect face to face.

The first question we wanted to solve was, How? How do we fix the problems in front of us?

Instead, the first question we asked ourselves was, Why? What makes the students (and families) less engaged?

There were several reasons why kids might not come to CCS (or Zoom):​

  • ​They have high anxiety about being on video (even if they can turn off video)​
  • ​They have speech impediments and are embarrassed (even if they can turn off audio)​
  • ​It’s one of the only things in their week that happens at a scheduled time, and they forget​

There are several reasons why students may struggle with work. Kids lack the organizational skills to tackle online learning without an adult at home to help them during the day. There are kids with ADD/ADHD, and there are so many more distractions at home than in the classroom; again, there is often no adult at home to consistently redirect them. Keep in mind, many parents work full time. Even if they are at home, parents may have up to five school-age kids, which taxes their ability to monitor them all.

Some parents and kids may not trust us yet.​ And it can be hard to reach students and families. Phone calls, emails, texts. Sometimes nothing seems to work.  

It can be daunting! Here are some ideas to help.

The Pivot

We are pivoting, again.

Pivot? I keep hearing this word, and the famous phrase from The Princess Bride keeps running through my head: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

In the dictionary, pivot (v.) means to turn in place, as if on a point. Synonyms include rotate, revolve, and swivel. I get it, because what it means in a staff meeting is that yesterday may have been an in-person hybrid day, but now we are pivoting to fully remote teaching temporarily, due to a rise in cases of Covid-19 in our district. We are swiveling, changing direction, quickly without pause. We have done it three times this year, and it looks like we need to be prepared to pivot in the future. This is the new normal in education, shifting to meet the immediate needs of our students. Not a bad thing, in general.

However, I don’t want to merely pivot, at least the swivel variety of pivot. In business, a pivot is a true change of course. The product is not selling, so change the product or get a new one to sell. I’m feeling more like that. Students are failing in record numbers. Teachers and students are struggling with engagement and isolation. Not only is this a problem in itself, but it has also revealed and highlighted some troubling pre-existing conditions in education. (There are many, so I will leave you to imagine your favorites.)

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