Category Archives: Elementary

Encouraging Dis-Comfort

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Current Affairs, Education Policy, Elementary, Life in the Classroom, Mathematics, Social Issues

At the beginning of this year, in the middle of a math lesson, one of my most advanced students, Caren,  suddenly said, “I don’t get it.”

Another student immediately spoke up to offer help. “Let me show you how to do it!”

I stopped the second student, saying, “That’s ok. Let her struggle.”

Caren’s face went bright red. She wasn’t used to struggling at anything. But I let her sit in that discomfort. I let her struggle. Eventually she said, “Oh, I see what I did wrong.” She was able to explain how she made her mistake on the problem.

After school, in the parking lot, I talked with her father and told him what I had done. He laughed and said he agreed with my strategy.

On March 14 I showed my class a SlideShow of pie charts during math for Pi Day. They were all jokes. My class had a wonderful time laughing at all the visual puns.

Toward the end I put up the following slide.

Pie Charts Are Hard

One of my students, Edgar, said, “I don’t get it.”

Kids tried to explain, but I just said, “Look at the title.”

Edgar said, “There’s no red!”

I said, “Look at the title.”

He said, “There’s no red anywhere!”

I repeated, “Look at the title.”

Finally, he said, “The title, what? The title … I don’t get it … I don’t … oh. Now I understand.”

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Critical Thinking for Research?—My Teaching Needs to Expand

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Elementary

Last week I introduced the year’s big research project to my class. My students are so excited!

In addition to learning about a conflict in the 20th century, individuals and teams will analyze causes and short- and long-term effects of their conflict.

The first step was to pick a topic that fit within the parameters. It also needed to be a manageable topic: for example, the Bus Boycotts instead of the Civil Rights Movement.

The second step was to find good resources, both print and online.

We talked about where to find good books: in my room, in the school library, in the public library. One student shared a couple of books her team had found in the school library for their topic—the Tet Offensive. We used the index in each, and in one book we found not just a section about the Tet Offensive, but also information in following sections about consequences of the offensive. My student’s eyes got big, and she said, “We really lucked out on this book!”

As we talked about finding online sources, I said to focus on .gov and .edu and sometimes .org sites and, even more importantly, to look for who sponsored the site—NASA, Johns Hopkins, the American Medical Association. “You want to know who is standing behind the person saying you can trust that they are an expert.” I also explain about “gateway” sites. For example, our local library provides links to vetted sites for students to use. So does the Smithsonian.

(“Is Google.com a good source?” “Google isn’t like a book or an article. It’s a collection of a trillion or more books or articles! Saying “I found my information in Google.com” is like saying “I found my information in the library.”)

I told my class to avoid most .com sites, explaining that “.com stands for commercial.” (It was originally the designation for business sites, which doesn’t necessarily mean bad content, it’s just not usually academic or educational content.) I added that a student had come to me once asking if a site was legit. The World War II information looked good, but he couldn’t find the sponsor for the site. I went to the home page. Turns out the site was for a used car dealership, which my students found hilarious. Apparently, the owner of the dealership was a bit of a history buff, but we all agreed we wouldn’t use his site as a trusted source.

Having students read and take notes on books before they go to online sources gives them a good cross-check for information, too.

That’s a quick snapshot of how I teach students to evaluate sources.

It’s not enough, anymore.

I’ve been teaching in a world of the library and the internet.  

Now that more and more people are turning to social media for information, I need to start teaching about social media.

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Perfectionism in the Highly Capable Classroom

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Elementary | , , , ,

In a Vox article giving reasons why kids are anxious, one significant reason was, “The constant pressure to optimize their futures.”

I admit, I’ve talked college with my elementary students for 40 years. I try to keep some perspective, though.

I loved one conversation with a gifted eighth-grade student. Filling out her high school paperwork, she struggled to tell what she wanted to be when she graduated.

She wanted to major in English, Spanish, French. Math and science. History. Art.

She looked at me, distraught. “How am I supposed to know what I want to be when I graduate?” I looked at her page and offered, “A well-educated adult?”

“Yes!” she chortled and wrote that.

Highly-Capable kids can be gifted in more than one area. I have students in my HC class who also play team sports. Or participate in the local theater group. Or take music lessons. Or do everything!

Such children can feel overwhelmed with all the things they have on their plate. Add to that the expectation that they will excel in every endeavor. Otherwise, how will they get into that top college and achieve that career success that everyone expects?

Here are some ways my kids agreed with points made about perfectionism in an article I had them read.

  • I agree that trying to be perfect stresses me out.
  • Perfectionism is not quite the best idea.
  • Mental health comes first.
  • We shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves.

Perfectionism robs students of the joy of their accomplishments. A student in my middle school social studies class for gifted students was an outstanding artist and used her talent in a class project. After her oral presentation, students lavishly praised her artwork. She deflected all the compliments, telling everyone her art wasn’t good and pointing out all the mistakes.

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Joy Loss: Diagnose That

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Assessment, Education, Education Policy, Elementary, Equity, High School, Life in the Classroom, Middle School, Professional Development, Social Issues, Teacher Leadership, Uncategorized

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.

Tornado Alert!

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Current Affairs, Elementary, Life in the Classroom

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.

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The Absence of COVID-19

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Current Affairs, Education, Education Policy, Elementary, Equity, High School, Life in the Classroom, Middle School, Online Teaching

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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Hello/Good-by

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Current Affairs, Distance Learning, Elementary, Life in the Classroom, Online Teaching, Parent Involvment

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

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Distance Learning, Education, Education Policy, Elementary, Life in the Classroom, Online Teaching |

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.

Good-Bye ELPA21

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Education, Education Policy, Elementary, Equity, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , ,

Standardized testing.

This phrase stirs up a lot of emotions in the world of teaching. If you work in a public school, you probably experienced some sort of instinctual reaction yourself. Did you remember the long, monotonous stretches of time spent monitoring students? Or the pressure from administration for students to perform?

I am not sure how you personally responded, but I am willing to guess the thought of standardized tests failed to put a smile on your face.

When most elementary school teachers think of standardized tests in our state, they think of the Smarter Balanced Assessment Consortium (SBAC). However, I am an English Language (EL) Specialist, so standardized testing makes me think of ELPA21.

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An Immigrant Story

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Current Affairs, Education, Elementary, Equity, High School, Middle School, Social Issues, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , ,

I moved to the United States in the late 90’s during a wave of Slavic immigration to Washington State. The Soviet Union fell apart and the Eastern European countries under communist control were (and still are) filled with corruption as a result of the socialist dictatorship, offering few opportunities for economic advancement. In Ukraine people today buy test scores and degrees, bribe doctors to receive care despite having nationalized healthcare, and pay off the mafia to operate businesses. Last year my cousin was killed over two dollars. No wonder my parents decided to abandon everything they knew to seek new opportunities in the United States. Like thousands of other Slavs, my family moved to Washington State with nothing to their name.

You’re probably wondering how my personal story relates to school and school policy. For the past few years my district promoted trainings in diversity and equity, challenging staff members to examine their thinking and biases. The trainings coupled with personal experiences and anecdotes from other Slavic teachers and students made me realize that these trainings are often approached from a solely Americanized perspective often not accounting for the immigrant experience.

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