A recent conversation with a couple of dear friends/trusted colleagues has me thinking (again) about the importance of relationships in our professional learning communities.
Of course, as a coach, I know that most of my work hinges on establishing and actively sustaining positive working relationships with staff members. But how important to successful coaching are the relationships between colleagues? I'm thinking they are critical.
My friends pointed out to me that they were able to accept scaffolding to independence with their coaching/new learning because they work directly with supportive colleagues who encouraged them and understood that mistakes are part of learning and becoming even better.
This caused me to pause and think about the inverse; indeed, those who take longer to build independence do seem to lack a support system with trusted colleagues. (I'm hitting myself on the forehead with my palm.) I think the result is, at times, a desire to work together longer so that the coach provides the extra support that leads to independence--support that, in the best or luckiest learning communities, comes from a network of colleagues.
Now I am revisiting my quest of helping teachers find, build, and sustain their own learning communities. This is a process; I think this is especially true because the nature of our day-to-day work involves working in isolation with 20-40 students--no other adults in sight. We are amazing, self-sufficient workers with an intrinsic motivation for work that often requires working alone to do our amazing teaching... Colleagues who are doing the same thing never really see each other in action, not to mention providing intentional feedback and learning from each other.
I have begun facilitating Roundtable discussions, short-term instructional learning and coaching cycles, staff book studies, and other collaborative sessions for large and small groups of teachers. In addition, I continue to offer longer-term coaching cycles for individual teachers with particular instructional goals. I think all of these help with building learning communities for safe risk taking for our educators seeking job-embedded opportunities to practice new teaching strategies.
Now I'm thinking about ways to add colleagues to these coaching opportunities. Perhaps we should add classroom visitations to short and longer-term cycles? Could we get teachers to make professional videos to share with colleagues? Could we Skype into a classroom, watching and listening from another location? What other ideas do you have?
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Beauty... Life
Life really is full of beauty. It's easy to see in the eyes of my children, husband, and dear family and friends who grace my life day in, day out. I have come to believe that there are no coincidences, at least as far as people and relationships go. Though everyone is different in how and when they respond to loving, caring actions and words, it seems like this is the only way to live, the only way to work. If you are consistent in your words and actions, and if they are borne of sincere caring and love, people will notice, appreciate, and often reciprocate--which adds even more beauty to your life because you were just living in the Light, not expecting anything in return.
Literacy coaching has opened my mind as I constantly seek a broader understanding of people's motivations and how to link new learning to what they know, believe, and do well. When I first assumed this role, one of my favorite songs was Amy Grant's "Find What You're Looking For".
"Find What You're Looking For"
Lyrics:
What would they find if they uncovered all my tracks
Of roads I’d snuck down and darkness and never turn back
Well they’d find what they’re looking for
Secrets and so much more
What would they find if they searched for a heart of gold
They’d find sacrifices of time and money never told
Yeah they’d find what they’re looking for
Kindness and so much more
Cause there’s so much good in the worst of us
So much bad in the best of us
It never makes sense for any of us
To criticize the rest of us
We’ll just find what we’re looking for
We’ll find it and so much more
What would I find if I turned back the time on your face
Could I piece together the memories that have made you this way
I might find what I’m looking for
Understanding and so much more
Haven’t we all learned the best life lessons
By falling and falling down hard
If we’re looking for somebody’s failures
We won’t have to look very far...
****
My favorite is the verse that begins, "What would I find if I turned back the time on your face?" I think that piecing together the memories that made someone a certain way does give us "understanding and so much more."
This is true in life and has become an essential part of what I carry in my heart and mind as a literacy coach. I need to understand your teaching memories so that I can understand the beliefs that brought you to this point and then use that understanding--"and so much more"-- to assist you in finding what you're looking for as a teacher. That is the true beauty of my work with teachers.
Indeed, beauty is everywhere, especially in the eyes, hearts, minds, and spirits of teachers.
"Find What You're Looking For"
Literacy coaching has opened my mind as I constantly seek a broader understanding of people's motivations and how to link new learning to what they know, believe, and do well. When I first assumed this role, one of my favorite songs was Amy Grant's "Find What You're Looking For".
"Find What You're Looking For"
Lyrics:
What would they find if they uncovered all my tracks
Of roads I’d snuck down and darkness and never turn back
Well they’d find what they’re looking for
Secrets and so much more
What would they find if they searched for a heart of gold
They’d find sacrifices of time and money never told
Yeah they’d find what they’re looking for
Kindness and so much more
Cause there’s so much good in the worst of us
So much bad in the best of us
It never makes sense for any of us
To criticize the rest of us
We’ll just find what we’re looking for
We’ll find it and so much more
What would I find if I turned back the time on your face
Could I piece together the memories that have made you this way
I might find what I’m looking for
Understanding and so much more
Haven’t we all learned the best life lessons
By falling and falling down hard
If we’re looking for somebody’s failures
We won’t have to look very far...
****
My favorite is the verse that begins, "What would I find if I turned back the time on your face?" I think that piecing together the memories that made someone a certain way does give us "understanding and so much more."
This is true in life and has become an essential part of what I carry in my heart and mind as a literacy coach. I need to understand your teaching memories so that I can understand the beliefs that brought you to this point and then use that understanding--"and so much more"-- to assist you in finding what you're looking for as a teacher. That is the true beauty of my work with teachers.
Indeed, beauty is everywhere, especially in the eyes, hearts, minds, and spirits of teachers.
"Find What You're Looking For"
Teaching: More Than a Prescription
I used to see best practices in instruction as a "one size fits all" prescription for teaching. After 20 years of teaching across grades 1-4, I knew that best practices were so powerful that they were extremely portable; if more teachers believed this, perhaps more might be willing to try teaching different grade levels.
But as a coach, I've come to not only see the uniqueness in each grade level but in each teacher--indeed, in unique circumstances each year. Even when you teach the same grade level, each year is always different from the rest. The obvious reason is that you have different students. Most years are impacted by changes of standards and/or book adoptions that alter the materials primarily used to teach a given content area...some are teacher- and student-friendly while others leave us yearning for something better. Parents are different in how they interact with their children and teachers each year, sometimes supporting us in amazing ways and sometimes moving us to tears or frustration. Even our colleagues change over time. Evaluation procedures change, and ridicule from politicians adds to our stress. But what is constant is the idea that best practices can help us to become more effective while appreciating and addressing the unique learning needs of our students.
Even so, what must remain unique is our implementation of best practices, the human factor in teaching. Even a teaching manual that is chalked full of scripted "best practice" cannot create a lifelong learners; nor can it make anyone into a great teacher. What is unique about those we deem as great teachers? I think it is a combination of attitudes, including:
--A willingness to take risks in instruction, understanding that education IS theory that begs us to use our unique teaching spirits to mold it into what works best in any given class or with certain students. We try new approaches, reflect on what did/did not go well, and then we tweak the next lesson to improve the learning experience--all in the framework of our own unique ways of viewing our teaching, our students, and success. Each teacher's uniqueness in how s/he delivers best practices with any given class or student is what makes a classroom and learning experience joyful and alive. There is no curriculum, no script that can plan or dictate this. Only living, breathing teachers with human minds have the capacity to reach other humans in this way. This is where working with an instructional coach can help: a coach can guide you into seeing ways to keep your instruction true to your unique strengths and beliefs while meeting the pressing demands of day-to-day life at school.
--Being actively engaged with students by planning and delivering instruction that builds on what is known, provides support only as much as needed and at the precise moment that it's needed so that it is timely. We stretch students while planning support that lifts them, enabling them to grow. This is true of instructional coaches, as well; we are there to help teachers stretch while providing timely support and feedback that only another person walking in your shoes can provide.
This leads to another concern: online schools for children. How do computers deliver instruction in a thoughtful, reflective manner, keeping the unique needs of each student in mind? How do computers (or online teachers) note the subtleties of a sigh, the flash of an eye, or a breakthrough moment on an individual's work or response? We know that one major key to learning is timely and specific feedback. Can a computer do that? How unique does our standardized world see our children? Where does quantitative meet qualitative instruction? Teaching more students as cheaply as possible doesn't make for creating an educated, democratic society.
My thinking: only in the uniqueness of instruction that can be provided in a live learning environment with a teacher who can see, hear, and touch each student, breathing the same air in the same physical space as the learning, can each student and teacher recognize how special they are and how much each and every human uniquely brings to our world. Living in a crowded world--or crowded classroom-- doesn't make us less unique; instead, it begs for us to have more appreciation for each other's differences than ever before.
The best teachers know this and uniquely deliver best practices to their students in order to build a love of learning and humanity. That's what our world needs now.
But as a coach, I've come to not only see the uniqueness in each grade level but in each teacher--indeed, in unique circumstances each year. Even when you teach the same grade level, each year is always different from the rest. The obvious reason is that you have different students. Most years are impacted by changes of standards and/or book adoptions that alter the materials primarily used to teach a given content area...some are teacher- and student-friendly while others leave us yearning for something better. Parents are different in how they interact with their children and teachers each year, sometimes supporting us in amazing ways and sometimes moving us to tears or frustration. Even our colleagues change over time. Evaluation procedures change, and ridicule from politicians adds to our stress. But what is constant is the idea that best practices can help us to become more effective while appreciating and addressing the unique learning needs of our students.
Even so, what must remain unique is our implementation of best practices, the human factor in teaching. Even a teaching manual that is chalked full of scripted "best practice" cannot create a lifelong learners; nor can it make anyone into a great teacher. What is unique about those we deem as great teachers? I think it is a combination of attitudes, including:
--A willingness to take risks in instruction, understanding that education IS theory that begs us to use our unique teaching spirits to mold it into what works best in any given class or with certain students. We try new approaches, reflect on what did/did not go well, and then we tweak the next lesson to improve the learning experience--all in the framework of our own unique ways of viewing our teaching, our students, and success. Each teacher's uniqueness in how s/he delivers best practices with any given class or student is what makes a classroom and learning experience joyful and alive. There is no curriculum, no script that can plan or dictate this. Only living, breathing teachers with human minds have the capacity to reach other humans in this way. This is where working with an instructional coach can help: a coach can guide you into seeing ways to keep your instruction true to your unique strengths and beliefs while meeting the pressing demands of day-to-day life at school.
--Being actively engaged with students by planning and delivering instruction that builds on what is known, provides support only as much as needed and at the precise moment that it's needed so that it is timely. We stretch students while planning support that lifts them, enabling them to grow. This is true of instructional coaches, as well; we are there to help teachers stretch while providing timely support and feedback that only another person walking in your shoes can provide.
This leads to another concern: online schools for children. How do computers deliver instruction in a thoughtful, reflective manner, keeping the unique needs of each student in mind? How do computers (or online teachers) note the subtleties of a sigh, the flash of an eye, or a breakthrough moment on an individual's work or response? We know that one major key to learning is timely and specific feedback. Can a computer do that? How unique does our standardized world see our children? Where does quantitative meet qualitative instruction? Teaching more students as cheaply as possible doesn't make for creating an educated, democratic society.
My thinking: only in the uniqueness of instruction that can be provided in a live learning environment with a teacher who can see, hear, and touch each student, breathing the same air in the same physical space as the learning, can each student and teacher recognize how special they are and how much each and every human uniquely brings to our world. Living in a crowded world--or crowded classroom-- doesn't make us less unique; instead, it begs for us to have more appreciation for each other's differences than ever before.
The best teachers know this and uniquely deliver best practices to their students in order to build a love of learning and humanity. That's what our world needs now.
Exercising Learning Muscles
“Exercise the writing muscle every day, even if it is only a letter, notes, a title list, a character sketch, a journal entry. Writers are like dancers, like athletes. Without that exercise, the muscles seize up.” ---Jane Yolen
Just this morning, a colleague and I were thinking about ways to help students to value practicing something that they THINK they already know; how do you help them to see that without practice, most any new skill weakens or becomes obliterated from your capabilities?
I think about what I know about this (as an adult/educator). I know that learners are more willing to work under certain conditions:
· The learning deepens existing areas of expertise through building on competence—starting with where I am/what I know and moving forward quickly
· Activities provide engaging, purposeful (“in the moment”) work that is appropriately challenging with enough time provided to allow me to do it well without time to get bored (brisk but not rigid). Does the learner see the activity or learning as relevant?
· Learning goals are clear
· Opportunities are provided to practice in a variety of contexts
· Feedback is immediate and constructive, perpetually and gradually moving me forward as a learner
· Learning is constructed through use of social relationships
· Choice is provided as often as possible
Interest plays a role and can be encouraged through inquiry and questioning as well as most every aspect of the above list.
There really isn’t such a phenomenon as “overnight success,” is there? Why don’t we talk about “gradual success” or “daily success”? If we learn from our mistakes or misconceptions, this implies that we must take action in order to learn—even if the action is imperfect.
When we are in a hurry—to complete a practice or even to create change—we often wonder why the learner simply doesn’t “just do it.” Wouldn’t that be convenient? J But when we think about what we know about creating conditions for learning, we can probably locate the struggle (beyond arrogance or laziness).
Sometimes the problem is time, understanding, feedback… and sometimes, in a moment, we just don’t see how this activity or learning is relevant to life—we think we’ll practice when we need it or when we feel like it on some other day.
Most of the gains and differences made in life start with baby steps, like choosing a healthy snack while dieting long-term… or jotting for 10 minutes in your writing notebook. These things ultimately make a difference by gradually building different habits in our lives; actions DO make a difference. Bit by bit, day by day, a life is built.
Learning, like life, is not really about the “big” moments—a wedding, a birth/death, a holiday, an anniversary—it’s about the daily living and choices that we make (and, hopefully celebrate) with each breath of each moment. That’s what defines who we are and who we will become.
In his book, LEADERSHIP GOLD: LESSONS I’VE LEARNED FROM A LIFETIME OF LEADING, John C. Maxwell advises, “Leadership develops daily, not in a day.” Isn’t this true about most everything? Certainly it’s true for writers, scientists, mathematicians, doctors—and, yes, teachers. Even conditions— depression, happiness, joy, weight gain/weight loss, saving money, gaining knowledge, etc., all occur over time.
Maxwell goes on to say, “You don’t need a lot of major breakthroughs to achieve dramatic results.” He contends that the toughest person to lead is YOURSELF.
So what will YOU do today to lead yourself and to define your life?
Just this morning, a colleague and I were thinking about ways to help students to value practicing something that they THINK they already know; how do you help them to see that without practice, most any new skill weakens or becomes obliterated from your capabilities?
I think about what I know about this (as an adult/educator). I know that learners are more willing to work under certain conditions:
· The learning deepens existing areas of expertise through building on competence—starting with where I am/what I know and moving forward quickly
· Activities provide engaging, purposeful (“in the moment”) work that is appropriately challenging with enough time provided to allow me to do it well without time to get bored (brisk but not rigid). Does the learner see the activity or learning as relevant?
· Learning goals are clear
· Opportunities are provided to practice in a variety of contexts
· Feedback is immediate and constructive, perpetually and gradually moving me forward as a learner
· Learning is constructed through use of social relationships
· Choice is provided as often as possible
Interest plays a role and can be encouraged through inquiry and questioning as well as most every aspect of the above list.
There really isn’t such a phenomenon as “overnight success,” is there? Why don’t we talk about “gradual success” or “daily success”? If we learn from our mistakes or misconceptions, this implies that we must take action in order to learn—even if the action is imperfect.
When we are in a hurry—to complete a practice or even to create change—we often wonder why the learner simply doesn’t “just do it.” Wouldn’t that be convenient? J But when we think about what we know about creating conditions for learning, we can probably locate the struggle (beyond arrogance or laziness).
Sometimes the problem is time, understanding, feedback… and sometimes, in a moment, we just don’t see how this activity or learning is relevant to life—we think we’ll practice when we need it or when we feel like it on some other day.
Most of the gains and differences made in life start with baby steps, like choosing a healthy snack while dieting long-term… or jotting for 10 minutes in your writing notebook. These things ultimately make a difference by gradually building different habits in our lives; actions DO make a difference. Bit by bit, day by day, a life is built.
Learning, like life, is not really about the “big” moments—a wedding, a birth/death, a holiday, an anniversary—it’s about the daily living and choices that we make (and, hopefully celebrate) with each breath of each moment. That’s what defines who we are and who we will become.
In his book, LEADERSHIP GOLD: LESSONS I’VE LEARNED FROM A LIFETIME OF LEADING, John C. Maxwell advises, “Leadership develops daily, not in a day.” Isn’t this true about most everything? Certainly it’s true for writers, scientists, mathematicians, doctors—and, yes, teachers. Even conditions— depression, happiness, joy, weight gain/weight loss, saving money, gaining knowledge, etc., all occur over time.
Maxwell goes on to say, “You don’t need a lot of major breakthroughs to achieve dramatic results.” He contends that the toughest person to lead is YOURSELF.
So what will YOU do today to lead yourself and to define your life?
Perseverance--Where Great Work Begins
“Great works are performed, not by strength, but by perseverance.” --Samuel Johnson
For several years, I have enjoyed collecting and thinking about quotes, so the Slice of Life quotes and words of the day appeal to how my linguistic brain works.
Today’s quote (above) appeals to me because I value perseverance as one of the top “mega skills” needed to change our lives for the better... and better... and better. Our best should be constantly evolving; although it might look different day-to-day, over time, bit by bit, we become better.
So today, I would like to share and reflect on some other quotes about perseverance because I find them motivating. A well-timed quote can cause us to take pause and look within ourselves for answers about who we really want to be vs. who we are today. The next step is figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B.
* * * * *
“Successful and unsuccessful people do not vary greatly in their abilities. They vary in their desires to reach their potential.”
― John C. Maxwell
Rick Warren calls this the difference between being successful and significant, saying that you can be successful (make money, have material possessions, be in a marriage, have children, etc.), without understanding the significance of your life. This is why so many people who seemingly “have it all” feel so empty. To reach the highest level of living is to recognize your purpose for being here—then you find significance. He says, “Being successful and fulfilling your life’s purpose are not at all the same thing; You can reach all your personal goals, become a raving success by the world's standard and still miss your purpose in this life.”
To me, this is the difference between how the world views success and reaching your potential. Regardless of the world’s message about success, we must persevere to reach our full potential. We need to find ways (and people) who help us recognize our potential and who will encourage us to find strategies for reaching it.
A blessing as a coach is that it is my job to help you fulfill your potential as a teacher. It’s not that I know more than you—not at all. It’s that I’m available to help you determine your goals, to recognize your potential by linking new strategies to what you know, and to provide support for stretching yourself into reaching them. It’s my job to help you succeed, by being another viewpoint—another brain and caring soul—whose purpose is simply to help.
A couple of teachers recently asked me, "How do I become a 'master teacher'?" Well, I'm not sure we ever master something so complex as teaching, but I do think we have to persevere in our quest to specialize as educators. Things I have found helpful as I persevere include:
* * * * *
“Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less. Humility is thinking more of others. Humble people are so focused on serving others, they don't think of themselves.” --Rick Warren
To me, thinking of others and focusing on their needs embodies what literacy coaching is all about. When I come to work each day (and yes, even in the “off hours”), I am thinking about what teachers need in order to reach their students while attaining their instructional goals.
I never feel comfortable; I never feel secure that any certain strategy will work exactly as planned or that any lesson will be flawless. Instead of seeking or believing that comfort or perfection exist in education, I think, instead, that our jobs are to decide which best practices make the most sense for the task, plan and put them into action, then examine our implementation of them to find where we can do better and to determine why--and then to build on that. The focus is always on the work of teaching and the outcome with students. The work itself is humbling and can only be done with humility…
* * * * *
Don Miguel Ruiz (THE FOUR AGREEMENTS) discusses always doing your best:
“In your everyday moods your best can change from one moment to another, from one hour to the next, from one day to another. Your best will also change over time… Regardless of the quality, keep doing your best--no more and no less than your best. If you try too hard and do more than your best, you will spend more energy than is needed and in the end, your best will not be enough. When you overdo, you deplete your body and go against yourself, and it will take you longer to accomplish your goal.”
He also quotes a Buddhist Master, "You are not here to sacrifice your joy or your life. You are here to live, to be happy, and to love… Do your best, and perhaps you will learn that …you can live, love, and be happy."
I wonder if we sometimes forget that we can live, love, and be happy if we persevere in giving our best every day, knowing that our best might look different depending on circumstances and situations. But if we trust and accept our best, we can live without guilt, self-judgment, regrets, or frustration. For many teachers, that would be the biggest gift they could imagine. As a coach, I can try to help teachers give their best, stretch their best, and imagine even more. If in doing so, their lives become more satisfying, more peaceful—all while becoming more cognizant of their magnificence and significance as teachers—then I will be humbled by the magic of our collaborative relationship… and that is the BEST.
* * * * *
For several years, I have enjoyed collecting and thinking about quotes, so the Slice of Life quotes and words of the day appeal to how my linguistic brain works.
Today’s quote (above) appeals to me because I value perseverance as one of the top “mega skills” needed to change our lives for the better... and better... and better. Our best should be constantly evolving; although it might look different day-to-day, over time, bit by bit, we become better.
So today, I would like to share and reflect on some other quotes about perseverance because I find them motivating. A well-timed quote can cause us to take pause and look within ourselves for answers about who we really want to be vs. who we are today. The next step is figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B.
* * * * *
“Successful and unsuccessful people do not vary greatly in their abilities. They vary in their desires to reach their potential.”
― John C. Maxwell
Rick Warren calls this the difference between being successful and significant, saying that you can be successful (make money, have material possessions, be in a marriage, have children, etc.), without understanding the significance of your life. This is why so many people who seemingly “have it all” feel so empty. To reach the highest level of living is to recognize your purpose for being here—then you find significance. He says, “Being successful and fulfilling your life’s purpose are not at all the same thing; You can reach all your personal goals, become a raving success by the world's standard and still miss your purpose in this life.”
To me, this is the difference between how the world views success and reaching your potential. Regardless of the world’s message about success, we must persevere to reach our full potential. We need to find ways (and people) who help us recognize our potential and who will encourage us to find strategies for reaching it.
A blessing as a coach is that it is my job to help you fulfill your potential as a teacher. It’s not that I know more than you—not at all. It’s that I’m available to help you determine your goals, to recognize your potential by linking new strategies to what you know, and to provide support for stretching yourself into reaching them. It’s my job to help you succeed, by being another viewpoint—another brain and caring soul—whose purpose is simply to help.
A couple of teachers recently asked me, "How do I become a 'master teacher'?" Well, I'm not sure we ever master something so complex as teaching, but I do think we have to persevere in our quest to specialize as educators. Things I have found helpful as I persevere include:
- Reading a lot! I love professional books. (My friends will tell you what a "cool nerd" I am; my daughter says, "You're the only person I know who reads textbooks for fun.") I love all kinds of books, from picture books to "chapter" books to novels to nonfiction on many subjects. I love magazines from People to professional journals. All of these shape my knowledge of literature, informational texts, and best practices.
- Writing a lot! In a world that seldom slows down for reflective practices, writing allows us a moment to make something so intangible--our thinking--visible. It helps us remember who we are and what we believe in any moment. Over time, we can see patterns in our thinking and build on them or work to change them. If we're really lucky, we can even work on the craft of becoming better writers.
- Seeking professional learning opportunities. As a coach, I attend workshops that teach me new things about coaching, literacy, and coaching literacy. I also attend workshops with teachers from my district so that we can mull over learning experiences together, imagining concrete ways to apply new strategies right away, as well as how we might sustain them over time. I work with a team of coaches from NE Indiana; we meet monthly to learn together, discuss challenges, and to celebrate successes. I also have the privilege of offering some PD opportunities for our district's staff, including longer-term coaching cycles, short-term instructional learning and coaching cycles, round table discussions, book studies, and more.
- Joining professional organizations. Our local reading council (Pokagon Reading Council) is a division of the ISRA and IRA. The best part has been getting teachers together from districts that encompass 8 counties and two states to enjoy dinners, fellowship, and learning from fellow educators.
* * * * *
“Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less. Humility is thinking more of others. Humble people are so focused on serving others, they don't think of themselves.” --Rick Warren
To me, thinking of others and focusing on their needs embodies what literacy coaching is all about. When I come to work each day (and yes, even in the “off hours”), I am thinking about what teachers need in order to reach their students while attaining their instructional goals.
I never feel comfortable; I never feel secure that any certain strategy will work exactly as planned or that any lesson will be flawless. Instead of seeking or believing that comfort or perfection exist in education, I think, instead, that our jobs are to decide which best practices make the most sense for the task, plan and put them into action, then examine our implementation of them to find where we can do better and to determine why--and then to build on that. The focus is always on the work of teaching and the outcome with students. The work itself is humbling and can only be done with humility…
* * * * *
Don Miguel Ruiz (THE FOUR AGREEMENTS) discusses always doing your best:
“In your everyday moods your best can change from one moment to another, from one hour to the next, from one day to another. Your best will also change over time… Regardless of the quality, keep doing your best--no more and no less than your best. If you try too hard and do more than your best, you will spend more energy than is needed and in the end, your best will not be enough. When you overdo, you deplete your body and go against yourself, and it will take you longer to accomplish your goal.”
He also quotes a Buddhist Master, "You are not here to sacrifice your joy or your life. You are here to live, to be happy, and to love… Do your best, and perhaps you will learn that …you can live, love, and be happy."
I wonder if we sometimes forget that we can live, love, and be happy if we persevere in giving our best every day, knowing that our best might look different depending on circumstances and situations. But if we trust and accept our best, we can live without guilt, self-judgment, regrets, or frustration. For many teachers, that would be the biggest gift they could imagine. As a coach, I can try to help teachers give their best, stretch their best, and imagine even more. If in doing so, their lives become more satisfying, more peaceful—all while becoming more cognizant of their magnificence and significance as teachers—then I will be humbled by the magic of our collaborative relationship… and that is the BEST.
* * * * *
The Goblin's Literacy Journey
A goblin lives in our house, in our house, in our house,
A goblin lives in our house all the year round.
He Bumps
And he jumps
And he thumps
And he stumps.
He knocks
And he rocks
And he rattles at the locks.
A goblin lives in our house, in our house, in our house,
A goblin lives in our house all the year round.
--Traditional French Rhyme
This poem is so obscure that I doubt very many people recognize it. But I love it, so here it is--and that's the point.
You see, I was the 5th child (of 6) in a working class family, growing up in the 1970s in north central Indiana. Storytelling was a popular pastime among my siblings, as was singing traditional songs.
When schools purchased new textbooks, the old ones were given to students to take home at the end of the year. Many of these were among the first books that I ever saw. Among them were the steadfast "Dick, Jane, and Sally" books-- books that I actually heard read aloud until I could read them independently, which I did quite fluently and with great satisfaction by the age of 5.
There were also a couple of old music textbooks, MAKING MUSIC YOUR OWN. There was a third grade edition that was orange. I l-o-v-e-d it. It contained such classics as "Oh, Susanna", "Polly Wolly Doodle", "Billy Boy", and my favorite song of all: "Don Gato". My siblings and I would often act out "Don Gato" as we sang it, opera style. The same was true of "Skin and Bones".
Most of the songs in MAKING MUSIC YOUR OWN were traditional and already familiar. Before obtaining a copy of the book, I knew many of them by heart, especially the first verses. When this book was discarded by the school and sent home, I quickly "made music my own" (as per the title) by claiming this book as mine! No one seemed to mind.
As I mulled over the familiar lyrics, I discovered that almost all of the songs had multiple verses--some were new to me. Looking back, I realize now that this promoted my reading, as I decoded the lyrics, I already had schema for the rhythms and rhymes, all that was left was to comprehend the meanings of each. I decoded, repeated, sang, repeated, until all of the verses sounded right. Then I practiced singing them often and received feedback from siblings who were willing to model and participate in singing them with me. Talk about building fluency!
On just about any nice weather day, my sister, Lynda, and I were likely to grab that old orange book and sit side-by-side on the front porch and belt out tune after tune--singing every single verse with abandon. When it was cold outside, this activity was moved to an upstairs bedroom (with the door closed so that my parents could have some peace). On especially carefree days, the bedpost would become our microphone. We'd take turns lying on the bed or performing into the bedpost. I even recall singing into the banister at the bottom of the staircase so as to entertain the family when I was particularly smitten with the verses of a new song, such as "Frere Jacques". Who needs "American Idol"?
Even grander was that at the age of 7, my mom made a purchase of a Magnus Chord Organ and a child-sized upright piano with a real maple cabinet. The chord organ required only reading numbers that were assigned to notes while simultaneously changing chords. This was slow going, and my brothers and sisters seldom allowed me to play in their presence, though they gleefully modeled for me--often. And when they were busy with other things, I practiced.
Our only songbooks for the organ were Christmas carols, and the pleasure of learning new verses (and, occasionally, new songs) was alluring, even on hot summer days when Christmas was far away. Again, I read and re-read the words, considered the rhythms, and this time tediously but joyfully banged out the tunes on the organ while singing as slowly and non-rhythmically as my playing ability demanded; this often required holding the deepest, lowest notes for 20-45 seconds until I could find the next key or chord. But I did not care; it was glorious, especially when you didn't have to listen to it... I wonder if THAT'S why my mom was always reminding us to open the windows when playing the organ?
The next challenge was attempting to play the mini-piano. It came with color-codes above the keys, and I suppose there must have been a color-coded book with simple tunes to tap out.
But I wanted to play the Christmas carols. Soon, I figured out the correlation between the keys and the numbers and started to beat them out on my piano... then I realized that I could also figure out how to "play" the songs from my beloved music book.
I'm sure that it was by no small coincidence that the mini-piano was also moved out onto our country porch on hot summer days... sometimes even into the yard underneath a large maple tree.
Now that I had broken TWO codes: the code for reading words AND the code for reading musical notes, there was no stopping me. The tapping out of tunes (which must have sounded a lot like the broom's playing piano in Chris Van Allsburg's THE WIDOW'S BROOM) and singing along with gusto persisted for several more years until the piano was outgrown and records on the new stereo slowly replaced the old chord organ.
Another literary lifelong love developed in those same years: the love of poetry. The music book contained poems, which I often re-read and even tried to set to music on occasion. My favorite was simply titled, "Hallowe'en":
Hallowe'en
by Harry Behn
Tonight is the night
When dead leaves fly
Like witches on switches
Across the sky,
When elf and sprite
Flit through the night
On a moony sheen.
Tonight is the night
When leaves make a sound
Like a gnome in his home
Under the ground,
When spooks and trolls
Creep out of holes
Mossy and green.
Tonight is the night
When pumpkins stare
Through sheaves and leaves
Everywhere,
When ghoul and ghost
And goblin host
Dance round their queen.
It's Hallowe'en!
Prior to this exposure to poetry, I had known nursery rhymes and even owned a nursery rhyme book and coloring book. But poetry like this opened an added dimension to the magical literary world that was rapidly unfolding in my childhood. I took notice of its similarity to lyrics... and marveled.
In the meantime, I had started school. As a first grader, we had a "resting period" that followed lunch and recess. I had a mat, blue on one side, red on the other, that I unfolded on the floor with my classmates. Sometimes, the teacher would read to us, sometimes there would be music, and other times there would be a story that was on a record. At Christmas, we even took turns "napping" near the class's Christmas tree. It was at the end of a 45 rpm recording of GEORGIE (by Robert Bright) that the publishing company had inserted some female voices eerily reading the poem, THE GOBLIN.
Once again, I was in l-o-v-e. The chanting about the goblin that lived in "our house" was just a little bit scary but in an acceptably tingly kind of way. I fell in love with the spine-chilling voices' rhythms and the spookiness of the image of this goblin that was wreaking havoc in someone's home... on dark, rainy days, I wondered if there was a goblin in MY house, but I didn't dwell too long on these childish wanderings.
Then came another life-changing day.
I was in the drugstore with my dad, and he gave me a quarter. (Back then, that would buy you a few things.) I took a walk down the toy aisle and realized that I could buy most any "Elf" or "Golden" book for 25 cents. I chose a lovely, pink copy of BUFFY AND THE NEW GIRL, a book about Buffy on the TV show, "Family Affair", which I had seen in syndication. When I told by dad, who was also a reader, that I wanted to buy the book, he gave me the extra penny or two for sales tax; and, PRESTO, my personal bookshelf and extraordinary reading habit began.
Soon, I started doing chores for my older sisters, often earning more than enough to buy a new book each week. I started planning my purchases, eventually saving a little more to make purchases from the school's book club orders.
The first one I ever bought from Scholastic was THE LITTLES HAVE A WEDDING... a beautiful, white chapter book about a little family that had dog-like tails. Perfect. I read and re-read it again and again. It was cherished.
Another favorite pastime was cutting out paper people from old catalogs. When the new Montgomery Ward, Sears, or Spiegel catalog arrived, my parents would donate the old one to the cause. There were two per year: one for spring/summer and one for fall/winter. Best of all were the bonus Christmas catalogs. These were treasured, descriptions of toys were read over and over, and our imaginations of Christmas morning far exceeded the reality of a few special toys and treats. We didn't mind. And when Christmas was over, that special catalog joined the ranks of those that were chopped into paper dolls for our playing pleasure. One year, we even found a perfect Santa paper person (modeling a Santa suit that was for sale, of course).
We cut out people and sometimes even animals so that our paper dolls could have pets. (I guess this was a predictor of my lifelong love of animals.) We wrote the names of the people (and pets) on the backs of the dolls, in ink, naming them the most lovely names we could think of, such as Elizabeth, Debbie, Lorena, Josie, and Daphne.
We often categorized them into families and placed them in certain areas of a rug or bedspread to indicate the locations of their homes. We played with those paper dolls, creating story lines with a lot of dialogue. They were so precious that we stored our collections in separate shirt-sized boxes, being careful to never bend or tear them. Now I know that this activity helped with storytelling, recalling storylines, characters' names, plots and settings--all excellent for building language and literary skills. It was even handy for understanding family terms, such as aunts, uncles, cousins, great-aunts, etc.
Looking back, it's easy to see how these experiences contributed so significantly to my literacy and, undoubtedly, to the fact that I grew up to be a teacher and literacy coach with a personal library of thousands of books. And, like my paper dolls, I am very sociable.
Despite not having a lot of money or exposure to a lot of literature, I was surrounded by activities that built my literacy--and, more importantly, my lifelong love of literacy.
I think sharing stories such as these about our own literacy acquisition can be powerful for our students to hear. Simple though my story is, so many times I see my students' eyes blazing as they beg to hear more about my little girl self, playing with old textbooks, making meaning of them, and developing as a reader.
They yearn for these opportunities but sometimes just lack the imagination to realize that they are right there, hiding in places they might not suspect, just waiting to be discovered and made into great literacy memories of their own... as a dream keeper, it's up to me to encourage the children to keep looking and to point them in the right direction.
A goblin lives in our house all the year round.
He Bumps
And he jumps
And he thumps
And he stumps.
He knocks
And he rocks
And he rattles at the locks.
A goblin lives in our house, in our house, in our house,
A goblin lives in our house all the year round.
--Traditional French Rhyme
This poem is so obscure that I doubt very many people recognize it. But I love it, so here it is--and that's the point.
You see, I was the 5th child (of 6) in a working class family, growing up in the 1970s in north central Indiana. Storytelling was a popular pastime among my siblings, as was singing traditional songs.
When schools purchased new textbooks, the old ones were given to students to take home at the end of the year. Many of these were among the first books that I ever saw. Among them were the steadfast "Dick, Jane, and Sally" books-- books that I actually heard read aloud until I could read them independently, which I did quite fluently and with great satisfaction by the age of 5.
There were also a couple of old music textbooks, MAKING MUSIC YOUR OWN. There was a third grade edition that was orange. I l-o-v-e-d it. It contained such classics as "Oh, Susanna", "Polly Wolly Doodle", "Billy Boy", and my favorite song of all: "Don Gato". My siblings and I would often act out "Don Gato" as we sang it, opera style. The same was true of "Skin and Bones".
Most of the songs in MAKING MUSIC YOUR OWN were traditional and already familiar. Before obtaining a copy of the book, I knew many of them by heart, especially the first verses. When this book was discarded by the school and sent home, I quickly "made music my own" (as per the title) by claiming this book as mine! No one seemed to mind.
As I mulled over the familiar lyrics, I discovered that almost all of the songs had multiple verses--some were new to me. Looking back, I realize now that this promoted my reading, as I decoded the lyrics, I already had schema for the rhythms and rhymes, all that was left was to comprehend the meanings of each. I decoded, repeated, sang, repeated, until all of the verses sounded right. Then I practiced singing them often and received feedback from siblings who were willing to model and participate in singing them with me. Talk about building fluency!
On just about any nice weather day, my sister, Lynda, and I were likely to grab that old orange book and sit side-by-side on the front porch and belt out tune after tune--singing every single verse with abandon. When it was cold outside, this activity was moved to an upstairs bedroom (with the door closed so that my parents could have some peace). On especially carefree days, the bedpost would become our microphone. We'd take turns lying on the bed or performing into the bedpost. I even recall singing into the banister at the bottom of the staircase so as to entertain the family when I was particularly smitten with the verses of a new song, such as "Frere Jacques". Who needs "American Idol"?
Even grander was that at the age of 7, my mom made a purchase of a Magnus Chord Organ and a child-sized upright piano with a real maple cabinet. The chord organ required only reading numbers that were assigned to notes while simultaneously changing chords. This was slow going, and my brothers and sisters seldom allowed me to play in their presence, though they gleefully modeled for me--often. And when they were busy with other things, I practiced.
Our only songbooks for the organ were Christmas carols, and the pleasure of learning new verses (and, occasionally, new songs) was alluring, even on hot summer days when Christmas was far away. Again, I read and re-read the words, considered the rhythms, and this time tediously but joyfully banged out the tunes on the organ while singing as slowly and non-rhythmically as my playing ability demanded; this often required holding the deepest, lowest notes for 20-45 seconds until I could find the next key or chord. But I did not care; it was glorious, especially when you didn't have to listen to it... I wonder if THAT'S why my mom was always reminding us to open the windows when playing the organ?
The next challenge was attempting to play the mini-piano. It came with color-codes above the keys, and I suppose there must have been a color-coded book with simple tunes to tap out.
But I wanted to play the Christmas carols. Soon, I figured out the correlation between the keys and the numbers and started to beat them out on my piano... then I realized that I could also figure out how to "play" the songs from my beloved music book.
I'm sure that it was by no small coincidence that the mini-piano was also moved out onto our country porch on hot summer days... sometimes even into the yard underneath a large maple tree.
Now that I had broken TWO codes: the code for reading words AND the code for reading musical notes, there was no stopping me. The tapping out of tunes (which must have sounded a lot like the broom's playing piano in Chris Van Allsburg's THE WIDOW'S BROOM) and singing along with gusto persisted for several more years until the piano was outgrown and records on the new stereo slowly replaced the old chord organ.
Another literary lifelong love developed in those same years: the love of poetry. The music book contained poems, which I often re-read and even tried to set to music on occasion. My favorite was simply titled, "Hallowe'en":
Hallowe'en
by Harry Behn
Tonight is the night
When dead leaves fly
Like witches on switches
Across the sky,
When elf and sprite
Flit through the night
On a moony sheen.
Tonight is the night
When leaves make a sound
Like a gnome in his home
Under the ground,
When spooks and trolls
Creep out of holes
Mossy and green.
Tonight is the night
When pumpkins stare
Through sheaves and leaves
Everywhere,
When ghoul and ghost
And goblin host
Dance round their queen.
It's Hallowe'en!
Prior to this exposure to poetry, I had known nursery rhymes and even owned a nursery rhyme book and coloring book. But poetry like this opened an added dimension to the magical literary world that was rapidly unfolding in my childhood. I took notice of its similarity to lyrics... and marveled.
In the meantime, I had started school. As a first grader, we had a "resting period" that followed lunch and recess. I had a mat, blue on one side, red on the other, that I unfolded on the floor with my classmates. Sometimes, the teacher would read to us, sometimes there would be music, and other times there would be a story that was on a record. At Christmas, we even took turns "napping" near the class's Christmas tree. It was at the end of a 45 rpm recording of GEORGIE (by Robert Bright) that the publishing company had inserted some female voices eerily reading the poem, THE GOBLIN.
Once again, I was in l-o-v-e. The chanting about the goblin that lived in "our house" was just a little bit scary but in an acceptably tingly kind of way. I fell in love with the spine-chilling voices' rhythms and the spookiness of the image of this goblin that was wreaking havoc in someone's home... on dark, rainy days, I wondered if there was a goblin in MY house, but I didn't dwell too long on these childish wanderings.
Then came another life-changing day.
I was in the drugstore with my dad, and he gave me a quarter. (Back then, that would buy you a few things.) I took a walk down the toy aisle and realized that I could buy most any "Elf" or "Golden" book for 25 cents. I chose a lovely, pink copy of BUFFY AND THE NEW GIRL, a book about Buffy on the TV show, "Family Affair", which I had seen in syndication. When I told by dad, who was also a reader, that I wanted to buy the book, he gave me the extra penny or two for sales tax; and, PRESTO, my personal bookshelf and extraordinary reading habit began.
Soon, I started doing chores for my older sisters, often earning more than enough to buy a new book each week. I started planning my purchases, eventually saving a little more to make purchases from the school's book club orders.
The first one I ever bought from Scholastic was THE LITTLES HAVE A WEDDING... a beautiful, white chapter book about a little family that had dog-like tails. Perfect. I read and re-read it again and again. It was cherished.
Another favorite pastime was cutting out paper people from old catalogs. When the new Montgomery Ward, Sears, or Spiegel catalog arrived, my parents would donate the old one to the cause. There were two per year: one for spring/summer and one for fall/winter. Best of all were the bonus Christmas catalogs. These were treasured, descriptions of toys were read over and over, and our imaginations of Christmas morning far exceeded the reality of a few special toys and treats. We didn't mind. And when Christmas was over, that special catalog joined the ranks of those that were chopped into paper dolls for our playing pleasure. One year, we even found a perfect Santa paper person (modeling a Santa suit that was for sale, of course).
We cut out people and sometimes even animals so that our paper dolls could have pets. (I guess this was a predictor of my lifelong love of animals.) We wrote the names of the people (and pets) on the backs of the dolls, in ink, naming them the most lovely names we could think of, such as Elizabeth, Debbie, Lorena, Josie, and Daphne.
We often categorized them into families and placed them in certain areas of a rug or bedspread to indicate the locations of their homes. We played with those paper dolls, creating story lines with a lot of dialogue. They were so precious that we stored our collections in separate shirt-sized boxes, being careful to never bend or tear them. Now I know that this activity helped with storytelling, recalling storylines, characters' names, plots and settings--all excellent for building language and literary skills. It was even handy for understanding family terms, such as aunts, uncles, cousins, great-aunts, etc.
Looking back, it's easy to see how these experiences contributed so significantly to my literacy and, undoubtedly, to the fact that I grew up to be a teacher and literacy coach with a personal library of thousands of books. And, like my paper dolls, I am very sociable.
Despite not having a lot of money or exposure to a lot of literature, I was surrounded by activities that built my literacy--and, more importantly, my lifelong love of literacy.
I think sharing stories such as these about our own literacy acquisition can be powerful for our students to hear. Simple though my story is, so many times I see my students' eyes blazing as they beg to hear more about my little girl self, playing with old textbooks, making meaning of them, and developing as a reader.
They yearn for these opportunities but sometimes just lack the imagination to realize that they are right there, hiding in places they might not suspect, just waiting to be discovered and made into great literacy memories of their own... as a dream keeper, it's up to me to encourage the children to keep looking and to point them in the right direction.
The Coach's Alphaboxes
Alphaboxes of Reciprocity of Caring in a Coaches’ Relationships—What You Should See or Strive to Accomplish Together
Many teachers I know use alphaboxes in several ways. They can serve as portable word walls, particularly for specific content area vocabulary or research projects. Sometimes these become the words in bolded print in the students’ reports, feature articles, or other projects. They might become a glossary or even mini-dictionaries. They can be a place to collect interesting words for writers’ workshop… and the list goes on and on. Today, I am using alphaboxes as a way to collect my thoughts about the ways that instructional coaches (and teachers, too) can show caring and cultivate the critical culture of trust. What would you add to the list?
A
accessible
affirming
accomplishments
achievement
appreciate
authentic
action
acknowledging
analyzing
assessing
B
books
best practices
beliefs
C
Collaborating
Co-planning
Co-teaching
Communicating
CARING
Collegial
Creating
Changing
Constructive
Comprehending
Conversations
Competent
Considerate
community
Connecting
Challenging
Celebrating
Conferring
Coaching
commitment
D
discussing
demonstrating
diligence
determined
differentiating
dolng
E
encouraging
experiences
effort
explaining
F
friendly
flexible
feedback
G
goals
genres
guiding
gradual release
H
honest
humor
humility
hoping
I
interests
implementing
improving
informing
improvising
imagining
insights
inspiring
invested
ideas
instruction
investigating
J
joyful
K
Knowledgeable
kind
L
learning
listening
laughing
leading
loving
literature
literacy
M
modeling
meeting
mindful
motivating
managing
mentoring
N
needs
note taking
noticing
O
Observant
Organizing
Opportunities
open
P
partnership
present
practical
potential
practicing
promoting
positive
perspective
peers
purpose
problem-solving
personable
prioritizing
possibilities
Q
questioning
quirky
R
reading
re-reading
responding
reflecting
resources
resourceful
representing
relentless
researching
respectful
recognizing
risk taking
S
supporting
scaffolding
studying
sharing
strategies
speaking
sustaining
self-evaluative
strengths
suggesting
seeking
smart
T
trusting
talking
thriving
thinking
time
teaching
team
trying
U
understanding
V
Viewing
Valuing
Voices
W
writing
willing
well-being
XYZ
Many teachers I know use alphaboxes in several ways. They can serve as portable word walls, particularly for specific content area vocabulary or research projects. Sometimes these become the words in bolded print in the students’ reports, feature articles, or other projects. They might become a glossary or even mini-dictionaries. They can be a place to collect interesting words for writers’ workshop… and the list goes on and on. Today, I am using alphaboxes as a way to collect my thoughts about the ways that instructional coaches (and teachers, too) can show caring and cultivate the critical culture of trust. What would you add to the list?
A
accessible
affirming
accomplishments
achievement
appreciate
authentic
action
acknowledging
analyzing
assessing
B
books
best practices
beliefs
C
Collaborating
Co-planning
Co-teaching
Communicating
CARING
Collegial
Creating
Changing
Constructive
Comprehending
Conversations
Competent
Considerate
community
Connecting
Challenging
Celebrating
Conferring
Coaching
commitment
D
discussing
demonstrating
diligence
determined
differentiating
dolng
E
encouraging
experiences
effort
explaining
F
friendly
flexible
feedback
G
goals
genres
guiding
gradual release
H
honest
humor
humility
hoping
I
interests
implementing
improving
informing
improvising
imagining
insights
inspiring
invested
ideas
instruction
investigating
J
joyful
K
Knowledgeable
kind
L
learning
listening
laughing
leading
loving
literature
literacy
M
modeling
meeting
mindful
motivating
managing
mentoring
N
needs
note taking
noticing
O
Observant
Organizing
Opportunities
open
P
partnership
present
practical
potential
practicing
promoting
positive
perspective
peers
purpose
problem-solving
personable
prioritizing
possibilities
Q
questioning
quirky
R
reading
re-reading
responding
reflecting
resources
resourceful
representing
relentless
researching
respectful
recognizing
risk taking
S
supporting
scaffolding
studying
sharing
strategies
speaking
sustaining
self-evaluative
strengths
suggesting
seeking
smart
T
trusting
talking
thriving
thinking
time
teaching
team
trying
U
understanding
V
Viewing
Valuing
Voices
W
writing
willing
well-being
XYZ
Make a Difference--BE Different
“Write About What Makes You Different” --Sandra Cisneros
As an instructional coach, I am literally one-of-a-kind in my district, making a unique difference by being different.
By nature of our work, most teachers have to work alone most of the time. I work alone sometimes, usually when doing some planning, scheduling, or paperwork like mileage reports. But what makes me different is that I must seek and create opportunities to work with others.
Working in isolation is not an option—at all, ever.
Being a literacy coach allows me to thrive; as a friend recently said to me, “If you’re not social, I don’t know who is.” I love teaching and consider it fun to read professional books, share information, try teaching strategies, to look at student work, and to think about how to increase achievement. That has been true for the 25 years that I’ve been a teacher.
What’s newer to me is that fact that I have discovered that collaboration with teachers is deeply joyful, challenging work. It can even be a bonding experience; I can assist with the sometimes daunting task of analyzing student achievement data, help with determining needs and possible strategies for addressing the students’ needs, and then work with the teachers, side by side, to model and assess best practices. I can provide a safe environment for learning and taking risks with instruction—and increase the likelihood of success by providing on-the-spot feedback and support. That makes me different.
My door is always open—I constantly seek collaboration, conversations, and sharing of work. I probably think about my colleagues more than best friends who teach next door to each other. And, like the best friends, I only want what is best for each teacher and classroom of kids. Unlike the best friend next door, I have the time and resources to be present—right there in helping—to make the quest for steady improvement more sustainable as we work together in harmony. That makes me different.
Deb Cale, Director of Teaching and Learning for the Johnson Community School District says, “Research shows that if a person doesn’t have a feedback or coaching component, only about 10 percent of what they’ve learned in professional development will stick with them. But, if the coaches are there to support a teacher in implementing a new practice or instructional method, the learning opportunity goes up to 90 percent.” WOW. I mean W - O - W. That makes my job different.
I have the incredible opportunity to make a big difference for teachers and then exponentially for students who benefit from our collaboration, both directly and indirectly. What I bring to the table is my professionalism, knowledge base about teaching literacy, interpersonal communication skills, and a strong desire to help teachers realize their potential. That, coupled with the opportunities I can seek, create, and provide as to coach, help to energize and sustain our teaching professionals in their ever-challenging, admirable work of educating our nation’s children.
Thank goodness that I am different because the difference that a coach can make is unique and needed.
As an instructional coach, I am literally one-of-a-kind in my district, making a unique difference by being different.
By nature of our work, most teachers have to work alone most of the time. I work alone sometimes, usually when doing some planning, scheduling, or paperwork like mileage reports. But what makes me different is that I must seek and create opportunities to work with others.
Working in isolation is not an option—at all, ever.
Being a literacy coach allows me to thrive; as a friend recently said to me, “If you’re not social, I don’t know who is.” I love teaching and consider it fun to read professional books, share information, try teaching strategies, to look at student work, and to think about how to increase achievement. That has been true for the 25 years that I’ve been a teacher.
What’s newer to me is that fact that I have discovered that collaboration with teachers is deeply joyful, challenging work. It can even be a bonding experience; I can assist with the sometimes daunting task of analyzing student achievement data, help with determining needs and possible strategies for addressing the students’ needs, and then work with the teachers, side by side, to model and assess best practices. I can provide a safe environment for learning and taking risks with instruction—and increase the likelihood of success by providing on-the-spot feedback and support. That makes me different.
My door is always open—I constantly seek collaboration, conversations, and sharing of work. I probably think about my colleagues more than best friends who teach next door to each other. And, like the best friends, I only want what is best for each teacher and classroom of kids. Unlike the best friend next door, I have the time and resources to be present—right there in helping—to make the quest for steady improvement more sustainable as we work together in harmony. That makes me different.
Deb Cale, Director of Teaching and Learning for the Johnson Community School District says, “Research shows that if a person doesn’t have a feedback or coaching component, only about 10 percent of what they’ve learned in professional development will stick with them. But, if the coaches are there to support a teacher in implementing a new practice or instructional method, the learning opportunity goes up to 90 percent.” WOW. I mean W - O - W. That makes my job different.
I have the incredible opportunity to make a big difference for teachers and then exponentially for students who benefit from our collaboration, both directly and indirectly. What I bring to the table is my professionalism, knowledge base about teaching literacy, interpersonal communication skills, and a strong desire to help teachers realize their potential. That, coupled with the opportunities I can seek, create, and provide as to coach, help to energize and sustain our teaching professionals in their ever-challenging, admirable work of educating our nation’s children.
Thank goodness that I am different because the difference that a coach can make is unique and needed.
Where I'm From
Where we are from has EVERYTHING to do with who we are, what we value, and what we seek throughout our lives. Writing about my memories of my developing literacy in another SOL entry, I decided to write my own version of a "Where I'm From" poem, like that by George Ella Lyon. It's definitely a "work in progress" in that it feels like it's not finished or polished... but here it is--so far.
(based on the poem by George Ella Lyon)
I am from electric fences
and fans stirring the curtains in farmhouse windows,
from Mercurochrome for scraped knees,
Burger Dairy ice cream, frozen cokes, and K-Mart blue light specials.
I am from the rich, dark soil of Indiana
endless battles with weeds, gardening
to grow vegetables to sustain our family
and finding Indians’ arrowheads after
the fields were plowed
gathering rocks of all sizes from the land
for one penny each.
I’m from popsicles, dandelion greens, sun-ripened tomatoes,
and homemade chicken salad chopped in a new-fangled blender;
from the big maple tree in the side yard with strong, beckoning arms
cradling, providing solitude or a quiet place to read,
shading us when we played Barbies on a quilt under its branches.
I’m from Junes of tasting the red-orange bitter-sweetness of cherries
from delicate, gnarled ancient trees on “Sissy’s Dead Hill,”
dreaming about Kentucky vacations
with cousins, grandparents, and endless aunts and uncles
that came soon after.
I’m from fresh cow’s milk and blonde hair
from the Wiremans, Whitakers, and Shepherds
Salt- of- the- Earth,
Hardworking, intelligent, stubborn people
who valued education but didn’t always have it.
From “Bloody Bones” and “Come stand right here and hush, Sissy!”
From time-outs when Walter Cronkite was on in black and white,
learning about Vietnam and Watergate
and worrying about politics by the age of 8.
I’m from the pink Baptist church on a country road
with its children’s classes taught by
grouchy -God-fearing- gray-haired-church ladies-with-cat-eyed-glasses,
with interesting brochures in the back of the sanctuary,
picturing people from less fortunate lands
and cookies with Kool-Aid for sustenance
as we sought God.
From a mother with a lavender coat and a pink leather wallet
Who smelled like Avon’s “Charisma”
And a father who gave me quarters,
Fondly called my “weekend money”
which aided my book collecting
from Key Pharmacy, Goodwill on Bluffton Road, and
St. Vincent dePaul’s on Calhoun Street in the city
or my pleasure of writing on thick, multi-colored pads of paper
or gently correcting mistakes
with triangular erasers with wooden Chinese heads
purchased at G.C. Murphy’s Five and Ten.
I’m from Appalachia, tobacco farms, pinto beans
fried chicken for breakfast,
and Banner sausage from a can--
a spicy, chunky pinkish-brown gravy that oozed over buttermilk biscuits
From the legend of my dad’s car accident,
sideswiped by a drunk--who lost an arm,
From never sticking our own body parts out of a vehicle.
I’m from a mother who tells tales about delivering mail with her mother--
part Indian, maybe Cherokee--
in a precarious Jeep careening around “branches” of rivers,
curvy roads, and toppling into hollers.
Steep, tree-laden, rocky-edged hills
one with a family cemetery on top
and mules and cowbells jangling down the mountainsides
heading in for the night
heavy fog and humidity settling
while the “Blue Moon of Kentucky” kept on shining.
I am from red raspberry bushes in the fence rows,
a small woods with a fresh water spring,
and smiling for the camera with messy hair and
red sunglasses with the lenses popped out.
I’m from loving farm dogs like family members
snuggling baby bunnies,
and reading on blankets spread out in a summer meadow.
I’m from baling hay in the scorching sun,
Carrying jars of ice water to my red-skinned father
With only his cowboy hat to keep him cool.
From looking forward to going to town,
especially to the basements of Harvey’s and G.C. Murphy’s
where we all knew the best toys in the world could be found.
I’m from clotheslines,
a big red barn and a tin shed with tractors,
antiques tossed aside,
sweet hay filled with clover and alfalfa,
cows and an old barn cat named “Puss,”
and riding a friendly pony, Nellie, around the pasture
like a real cowgirl donning a red felt cowboy hat,
cap guns, and even spurs (only for jingling, never for prodding)...
I’m from riding bikes around a circle drive
and swooshing down our country road to the old churchyard
with scary farm dogs chasing us
from fresh Christmas trees from Frank’s or a local nursery
always personally selected by “Daddy and me,”
and Shiny Brite ornaments, paper angels,
a cardboard fireplace, with a winking Santa door panel
and Christmas carols on records
and played on a Magnus chord organ or a portable record player
all year round.
I’m from dancing to records or AM radio
on a battery-powered player
in the shade of the maple trees.
Using the front porch as a schoolhouse,
my toy upright piano with a real maple cabinet
and old schoolbooks, like MAKING MUSIC YOUR OWN,
and siblings as the teacher and fellow students.
I’m from hard work
and hide-and-seek
on rolling farm land,
“getting outside to play” with brothers and sisters,
in a big yard covered with flowers, lilac and snowball bushes,
and from being sheltering trees that touched the sky,
used for bases when we played softball.
and it’s all still there, beckoning, like an old friend
wondering why I don't visit more often.
(based on the poem by George Ella Lyon)
I am from electric fences
and fans stirring the curtains in farmhouse windows,
from Mercurochrome for scraped knees,
Burger Dairy ice cream, frozen cokes, and K-Mart blue light specials.
I am from the rich, dark soil of Indiana
endless battles with weeds, gardening
to grow vegetables to sustain our family
and finding Indians’ arrowheads after
the fields were plowed
gathering rocks of all sizes from the land
for one penny each.
I’m from popsicles, dandelion greens, sun-ripened tomatoes,
and homemade chicken salad chopped in a new-fangled blender;
from the big maple tree in the side yard with strong, beckoning arms
cradling, providing solitude or a quiet place to read,
shading us when we played Barbies on a quilt under its branches.
I’m from Junes of tasting the red-orange bitter-sweetness of cherries
from delicate, gnarled ancient trees on “Sissy’s Dead Hill,”
dreaming about Kentucky vacations
with cousins, grandparents, and endless aunts and uncles
that came soon after.
I’m from fresh cow’s milk and blonde hair
from the Wiremans, Whitakers, and Shepherds
Salt- of- the- Earth,
Hardworking, intelligent, stubborn people
who valued education but didn’t always have it.
From “Bloody Bones” and “Come stand right here and hush, Sissy!”
From time-outs when Walter Cronkite was on in black and white,
learning about Vietnam and Watergate
and worrying about politics by the age of 8.
I’m from the pink Baptist church on a country road
with its children’s classes taught by
grouchy -God-fearing- gray-haired-church ladies-with-cat-eyed-glasses,
with interesting brochures in the back of the sanctuary,
picturing people from less fortunate lands
and cookies with Kool-Aid for sustenance
as we sought God.
From a mother with a lavender coat and a pink leather wallet
Who smelled like Avon’s “Charisma”
And a father who gave me quarters,
Fondly called my “weekend money”
which aided my book collecting
from Key Pharmacy, Goodwill on Bluffton Road, and
St. Vincent dePaul’s on Calhoun Street in the city
or my pleasure of writing on thick, multi-colored pads of paper
or gently correcting mistakes
with triangular erasers with wooden Chinese heads
purchased at G.C. Murphy’s Five and Ten.
I’m from Appalachia, tobacco farms, pinto beans
fried chicken for breakfast,
and Banner sausage from a can--
a spicy, chunky pinkish-brown gravy that oozed over buttermilk biscuits
From the legend of my dad’s car accident,
sideswiped by a drunk--who lost an arm,
From never sticking our own body parts out of a vehicle.
I’m from a mother who tells tales about delivering mail with her mother--
part Indian, maybe Cherokee--
in a precarious Jeep careening around “branches” of rivers,
curvy roads, and toppling into hollers.
Steep, tree-laden, rocky-edged hills
one with a family cemetery on top
and mules and cowbells jangling down the mountainsides
heading in for the night
heavy fog and humidity settling
while the “Blue Moon of Kentucky” kept on shining.
I am from red raspberry bushes in the fence rows,
a small woods with a fresh water spring,
and smiling for the camera with messy hair and
red sunglasses with the lenses popped out.
I’m from loving farm dogs like family members
snuggling baby bunnies,
and reading on blankets spread out in a summer meadow.
I’m from baling hay in the scorching sun,
Carrying jars of ice water to my red-skinned father
With only his cowboy hat to keep him cool.
From looking forward to going to town,
especially to the basements of Harvey’s and G.C. Murphy’s
where we all knew the best toys in the world could be found.
I’m from clotheslines,
a big red barn and a tin shed with tractors,
antiques tossed aside,
sweet hay filled with clover and alfalfa,
cows and an old barn cat named “Puss,”
and riding a friendly pony, Nellie, around the pasture
like a real cowgirl donning a red felt cowboy hat,
cap guns, and even spurs (only for jingling, never for prodding)...
I’m from riding bikes around a circle drive
and swooshing down our country road to the old churchyard
with scary farm dogs chasing us
from fresh Christmas trees from Frank’s or a local nursery
always personally selected by “Daddy and me,”
and Shiny Brite ornaments, paper angels,
a cardboard fireplace, with a winking Santa door panel
and Christmas carols on records
and played on a Magnus chord organ or a portable record player
all year round.
I’m from dancing to records or AM radio
on a battery-powered player
in the shade of the maple trees.
Using the front porch as a schoolhouse,
my toy upright piano with a real maple cabinet
and old schoolbooks, like MAKING MUSIC YOUR OWN,
and siblings as the teacher and fellow students.
I’m from hard work
and hide-and-seek
on rolling farm land,
“getting outside to play” with brothers and sisters,
in a big yard covered with flowers, lilac and snowball bushes,
and from being sheltering trees that touched the sky,
used for bases when we played softball.
and it’s all still there, beckoning, like an old friend
wondering why I don't visit more often.
All A's: Attention, Appreciation, Affection = Happiness
The Kansas Coaching Project at www.instructionalcoach.org, currently defines instructional coaching in this way:
“Instructional coaches are onsite professional developers who teach educators how to use proven teaching methods. They employ a variety of professional development procedures to foster widespread, high-quality implementation of interventions, providing ‘on-the-job learning.’ …they respect teachers’ professionalism and focus their efforts on conversations that lead to creative, practical application of research-based practice.
Instructional coaches see themselves as equal partners with teachers in the complex and richly rewarding work of teaching students. More than anything else, instructional coaches work in partnerships to accelerate teachers’ professional learning through mutually enriching, healthy relationships. Instructional coaches are colleagues, friends, and confidants who listen with care and share valuable information with teachers at the time when teachers most need it.”
I love this definition because it shows that we are professionals with high expectations who truly care about our co-workers.
Coaches should work as partners with teachers; even when left “in charge” during staff development sessions, coaches need to respect the boundaries of partnerships to ensure that everyone is respected and treated professionally and courteously.
I am currently reading Jim Knight’s “Partnership Learning Fieldbook”. (This is free at the link I’ve embedded here.) Knight explains how equality, choice, voice, dialogue, reflection, and praxis are inherent to working together as partners in a coaching relationship. He provides practical applications and thoughtful reflection questions to guide coaches into deeper consideration of whether they are working as partners with their teaching colleagues. He reminds us that if someone dominates, partnership is lost and along with it, learning and coaching opportunities. Knight reminds us, “When you see the world through partnership glasses, you come to understand human relationships in new ways.”
Knight’s work, coupled with that of the Kansas Coaching Project, dovetail with what Deepak Chopra, an Indian-born American physician and spiritual guru, says about creating happiness in any moment:
Knight says, “Facilitators have to listen authentically, empathetically. For Stephen Covey, empathetic listening is ‘listening with intent to understand ... seeking first to understand, really understand … Empathic listening gets inside another person’s frame of reference. You look out through it, you see the world the way they see the world, you understand their paradigm, you understand how they feel…’”
2. Appreciation someone-- NOTICE A STRENGTH
“The more deeply you understand other people, the more you appreciate them, the more reverent you will feel about them. To touch the soul of another human being is to walk on holy ground.” —Stephen Covey
Keep appreciations sincere and specific; I think this can be done through positive, objective feedback.
3. Show affection by TELLING someone that you care
Without a sense of caring, there can be no sense of community.
--Anthony J. D'Angelo
***
Chopra says that if you do these things, those around you will feel happy—and so will you. Maybe that is why I love instructional coaching and feel so happy in my work.
I find Chopra’s list compelling because of the connections conferring strategies in the reading and writing workshops—and, of course, instructional coaching.
In both conferring and coaching, I think many times we omit #3 (telling someone we care). Instead, we substitute an “instructional move” to help guide and stretch the learner, followed by encouragement “have a go” with the new learning. In both teaching and coaching, the person doing the instruction will likely scaffold assistance and feedback to help ensure, sustain, and further stretch the learner.
It stands to reason, though, that we should be more intentional about including Chopra’s third strategy for creating happiness by telling our learners that we care about them. This is helpful in developing and sustaining “mutually enriching, healthy relationships”. So how might this sound in a conferring situation with students?
Can we tell teachers that we care and still remain objective?
I believe we can, as it shows your vestment in their success as a professional—and as a human being who is worthy of being cared for.
So how might this sound in a coaching situation? I think we can be guided particularly by this line from the Kansas Coaching Project’s definition, “Instructional coaches are colleagues, friends, and confidants who listen with care and share valuable information with teachers at the time when teachers most need it.”
I can imagine this sounding like this—with all of the things from Knight’s work, The Kansas Coaching Project’s work, Deepak Chopra’s work, Rick Warren’s work…and many more. Deepak says to TELL people that you care; I would add a plethora of ways to SHOW you care.
To me, showing that I care about co-workers often comes easier than saying it… though many can also fall under the categories of “listening” and “appreciating”:
Work-Focused Caring Words:
What would you add to this?
“Instructional coaches are onsite professional developers who teach educators how to use proven teaching methods. They employ a variety of professional development procedures to foster widespread, high-quality implementation of interventions, providing ‘on-the-job learning.’ …they respect teachers’ professionalism and focus their efforts on conversations that lead to creative, practical application of research-based practice.
Instructional coaches see themselves as equal partners with teachers in the complex and richly rewarding work of teaching students. More than anything else, instructional coaches work in partnerships to accelerate teachers’ professional learning through mutually enriching, healthy relationships. Instructional coaches are colleagues, friends, and confidants who listen with care and share valuable information with teachers at the time when teachers most need it.”
I love this definition because it shows that we are professionals with high expectations who truly care about our co-workers.
Coaches should work as partners with teachers; even when left “in charge” during staff development sessions, coaches need to respect the boundaries of partnerships to ensure that everyone is respected and treated professionally and courteously.
I am currently reading Jim Knight’s “Partnership Learning Fieldbook”. (This is free at the link I’ve embedded here.) Knight explains how equality, choice, voice, dialogue, reflection, and praxis are inherent to working together as partners in a coaching relationship. He provides practical applications and thoughtful reflection questions to guide coaches into deeper consideration of whether they are working as partners with their teaching colleagues. He reminds us that if someone dominates, partnership is lost and along with it, learning and coaching opportunities. Knight reminds us, “When you see the world through partnership glasses, you come to understand human relationships in new ways.”
Knight’s work, coupled with that of the Kansas Coaching Project, dovetail with what Deepak Chopra, an Indian-born American physician and spiritual guru, says about creating happiness in any moment:
- Give someone your attention--LISTEN
Knight says, “Facilitators have to listen authentically, empathetically. For Stephen Covey, empathetic listening is ‘listening with intent to understand ... seeking first to understand, really understand … Empathic listening gets inside another person’s frame of reference. You look out through it, you see the world the way they see the world, you understand their paradigm, you understand how they feel…’”
2. Appreciation someone-- NOTICE A STRENGTH
“The more deeply you understand other people, the more you appreciate them, the more reverent you will feel about them. To touch the soul of another human being is to walk on holy ground.” —Stephen Covey
Keep appreciations sincere and specific; I think this can be done through positive, objective feedback.
3. Show affection by TELLING someone that you care
Without a sense of caring, there can be no sense of community.
--Anthony J. D'Angelo
***
Chopra says that if you do these things, those around you will feel happy—and so will you. Maybe that is why I love instructional coaching and feel so happy in my work.
I find Chopra’s list compelling because of the connections conferring strategies in the reading and writing workshops—and, of course, instructional coaching.
In both conferring and coaching, I think many times we omit #3 (telling someone we care). Instead, we substitute an “instructional move” to help guide and stretch the learner, followed by encouragement “have a go” with the new learning. In both teaching and coaching, the person doing the instruction will likely scaffold assistance and feedback to help ensure, sustain, and further stretch the learner.
It stands to reason, though, that we should be more intentional about including Chopra’s third strategy for creating happiness by telling our learners that we care about them. This is helpful in developing and sustaining “mutually enriching, healthy relationships”. So how might this sound in a conferring situation with students?
- I really care about how you are doing with this. I will be back to check on how this is going before class ends today.
- You are really learning and growing! I am proud of you.
Can we tell teachers that we care and still remain objective?
I believe we can, as it shows your vestment in their success as a professional—and as a human being who is worthy of being cared for.
So how might this sound in a coaching situation? I think we can be guided particularly by this line from the Kansas Coaching Project’s definition, “Instructional coaches are colleagues, friends, and confidants who listen with care and share valuable information with teachers at the time when teachers most need it.”
I can imagine this sounding like this—with all of the things from Knight’s work, The Kansas Coaching Project’s work, Deepak Chopra’s work, Rick Warren’s work…and many more. Deepak says to TELL people that you care; I would add a plethora of ways to SHOW you care.
To me, showing that I care about co-workers often comes easier than saying it… though many can also fall under the categories of “listening” and “appreciating”:
- Co-planning
- Co-teaching
- Providing thoughtful, timely, constructive feedback
- Reflecting
- Sharing resources
- Doing an unexpected kindness, such as bringing a treat or small gift or card
- Giving a handshake, a touch on the arm, (or even a hug) in the right moment
- Work at least as hard as the teachers—maybe harder
- Assume the positive, if anything at all
- Always be on time and respectful of time
- Go out of your way to help in a crisis
- Be thoughtful about holidays, birthdays, weddings, etc.
Work-Focused Caring Words:
- I really care about you and want to help you realize your goals.
- GREET co-workers when you see them; if you’ve greeted them before, you might just look into their eyes, smile, or wish them a good day.
- Ask for and care about their opinions.
- Return calls and emails promptly and thank them for their communication and time.
- Thank people—work with gratitude
- Notice if someone is out of sorts; listen if it’s appropriate.
- Choose calming words, focused on solutions.]\
- NEVER gossip.
What would you add to this?
To Listen is To Love
“To listen is to love.” --Panache Desai
Here is a found poem based on the post, “I Hear You,” on Panache Desai’s website. I realized (after writing it) that it connects with and reflects a lot of my thinking on this blog, particularly in Slice of Life Post #9.
To listen is to love.
Listen
From a space of presence
Give
Your undivided attention
To listen is to give a great gift
To listen is to love.
Words met with spaciousness
Facial expression, body language
S o f t e n
The Speaker is most important
To listen is to communicate
To listen is to love.
Bringing sacred stillness
To everyday interaction
Nothing more powerful
Or more loving
Than being heard
To listen is to validate.
To listen is to love.
Not criticizing
Not judging
Not lecturing
Never invalidated or shamed
What we say matters
To listen is to suspend need for control
To listen is to love
Affirming
Building trust
Facilitating understanding
Lovingly holding space
Express what needs expressed
To listen is to be present
To listen is to love
L o o k F o c u s R e l a x
R E C E I V E
PAY ATTENTION! Be present.
Mirror back and be sincere.
To listen is to seek understanding
To listen is to love
Ask for clarification
Validate
Respond with empathy
Cultivate the practice
of lovingly listening
Listening is connecting with action
To listen is to love.
Here is a found poem based on the post, “I Hear You,” on Panache Desai’s website. I realized (after writing it) that it connects with and reflects a lot of my thinking on this blog, particularly in Slice of Life Post #9.
To listen is to love.
Listen
From a space of presence
Give
Your undivided attention
To listen is to give a great gift
To listen is to love.
Words met with spaciousness
Facial expression, body language
S o f t e n
The Speaker is most important
To listen is to communicate
To listen is to love.
Bringing sacred stillness
To everyday interaction
Nothing more powerful
Or more loving
Than being heard
To listen is to validate.
To listen is to love.
Not criticizing
Not judging
Not lecturing
Never invalidated or shamed
What we say matters
To listen is to suspend need for control
To listen is to love
Affirming
Building trust
Facilitating understanding
Lovingly holding space
Express what needs expressed
To listen is to be present
To listen is to love
L o o k F o c u s R e l a x
R E C E I V E
PAY ATTENTION! Be present.
Mirror back and be sincere.
To listen is to seek understanding
To listen is to love
Ask for clarification
Validate
Respond with empathy
Cultivate the practice
of lovingly listening
Listening is connecting with action
To listen is to love.
The Reading Places
The Reading Places
Home is
where books are
collected
accumulated
stored
squirreled away
piled
hoarded
stockpiled
amassed
read
loved
cherished
kept
Yearning to permeate
mind - spirit’s core
Paradise is
Where books fill
endless libraries
brimming with favorites
Old friends all gathered
Enjoying each other’s company
Whispering secrets,
Imparting knowledge,
compassion, tenderness,
and life - truths
collected
accumulated
stored
squirreled away
piled
hoarded
stockpiled
amassed
read
loved
cherished
kept
Just waiting for you
To set them free
Home is
where books are
collected
accumulated
stored
squirreled away
piled
hoarded
stockpiled
amassed
read
loved
cherished
kept
Yearning to permeate
mind - spirit’s core
Paradise is
Where books fill
endless libraries
brimming with favorites
Old friends all gathered
Enjoying each other’s company
Whispering secrets,
Imparting knowledge,
compassion, tenderness,
and life - truths
collected
accumulated
stored
squirreled away
piled
hoarded
stockpiled
amassed
read
loved
cherished
kept
Just waiting for you
To set them free
Teaching ID
Discovering Your Teaching Identity
"Read an hour every day in your chosen field. This works out to about one book per week, fifty books per year, and will guarantee your success."
--Brian Tracy, Motivational Coach and Author
On occasion, I have heard teachers wonder at the extensive knowledge base of some of their peers. For example, a teacher asked recently said, “I’ve been teaching a long time, but it seems like some teachers are way ahead of me in terms of what they know. How did that happen?”
My reply was to consider several things that we do to learn and grow. Had she attended workshops? Did she read professionally either on her own or with study groups? Did she participate in professional organizations? Did she write reflections or collaborate with peers? What is your “teaching identity?”
Workshops:
In my district, you may take two professional leave days per year (oftentimes, more are granted if needed). So, let’s do the math: if you attended just two professional events per year, over the course of 20 years, you would have accumulated knowledge from 40 workshops! Assuming each is 6 hours in length, that’s 240 hours of professional learning, which is about the same as having nearly seven weeks of classes!
Professional Reading:
I also thought about this quote. If you really did read 50 books about teaching per year, in 20 years you would have read 1000 books! ONE THOUSAND! Think of what that means!
On yesterday’s post, I made a list of my top 15 professional books but gave a nod to many educator-authors who just didn’t quite make the cut.
But if I could have made a list of my top one thousand professional books, I might have actually been able to make an exhaustive list of my favorites. I have definitely read hundreds, surely perused well over a thousand. And then I would have to consider the professional journals and articles that I’ve read. That must be well into the hundreds…
Professional Book Studies:
And then there are professional book studies in which you might participate (or even facilitate). I am trying to recall the books I’ve studied with teams of teachers over the years. I clearly recall the very first one—the one that opened up the world to me as a teacher: INVITATIONS: CHANGING AS TEACHERS AND LEARNERS, K-12 by Regie Routman.
I remember a few of the participants and how I marveled at the information in that book, not to mention how empowering it was to sit down with a group of teachers to share our thinking about the text. Suddenly, I realized that I had discovered the means to continuing my own education in one of the best ways possible—to collaborate with my peers.
I found book after book, many of which appear on yesterday’s list or whose authors I mentioned. Then a new principal came to my school, and she encouraged and even promoted book studies. She shared professional articles, and we often had casual, unplanned discussions about what we had been reading and thinking.
Professional Organizations:
Some teachers from my district (including myself) teamed with some teachers from another district to breathe new life into our local reading council (as division of the ISRA and IRA). We started sharing the expertise of some of our local teachers, eventually moving from after-school meetings in various buildings to larger dinner meetings in area restaurants. Over the years, we have evolved from about 10 members to 80, and one county into seven, and even have a few members who have crossed the state/county line to join us.
Coaching and Collaborating
Sometime around my tenth year as a teacher, a writing coach (part-time) was added to our staff. I had discovered my second literacy love (the first being reading): writing—more specifically, writing workshop. I had attended a week-long training over the summer, and I had discovered such lovely things as touchstone texts, writers’ notebooks, conferring, and the author’s chair. I was anxious to implement everything, immediately! RIGHT NOW. The coach who was new and stretched very thin, helped when she could and patiently looked through artifacts from my workshop. This was enough to sustain my work and to propel me forward, now as a reading teacher AND writing teacher.
Teaching Identity
Over the course of a few years, I quickly moved from being (and feeling like) a novice teacher to living and seeing myself as a true professional. As my learning grew rapidly, so did my excitement for teaching. Teaching went from being my career choice to being part of my identity. I felt as though I had found a large part of my purpose in teaching and in life.
And then, if you are a teacher, you need to read and know even more books. You need to know the literature that is available (or that you want to make available or accessible) to your students.
A natural outcome of my professional reading is the phenomenon that Brian Tracy calls “success” in his quote. As my knowledge base increased, so did my love of learning. In turn, I was increasingly drawn to quality literature and informational texts for children.
My own children were young, so we went to bookstores nearly every week. They would choose a few books, and we would read, read, read. Sometimes the books were not our favorites and would have to go back on the shelf. Sometimes, we read and cherished them immediately. We had to take them home, and they become part of us-- breathing their grace into our minds, whispering their secrets to us, often over and over again.
And, of course, there were trips to the school and public libraries… and to book sales at the Indianapolis Public Library (where I have purchased literally thousands of books over the years). The first time I went into that sale, just two years after reading INVITATIONS, I remember freezing in the doorway and then trembling with exuberance at how many books were there—at my fingertips—just waiting to be lovingly taken home or to my classroom and shared with children.
Whether a book made it to our house or classroom, our knowledge base of literature was ever increasing. We read in the bookstores, libraries, in our home, and in the classroom. Because of our access to such a variety of books, our tastes became increasingly impeccable; quality texts started to show themselves over other texts that were, perhaps, gimmicky or contrived. Favorites emerged.
Love of reading and of learning prevailed over all—this became another knowledge base in my professional life. I loved the books and authors. I remembered their names, their words, and could often quote text. When I needed a book for a certain theme, topic, or moment, I could think of a title without having to search online or the card catalog.
Guaranteed Success?
While “guaranteed success” seems like a surprisingly ambitious word choice, I think that Brian Tracy is right. When I think about what has led me to feel competent in my work, it’s the reading. When I think about what helps me to align instruction to my beliefs—to even know what I believe—it’s the reading. When I think about where I turn when I need answers or clarity—it’s the reading. When I think about what has caused me to continue learn, grow, and flourish—YES, it’s the reading.
Thank goodness for the reading.
"Read an hour every day in your chosen field. This works out to about one book per week, fifty books per year, and will guarantee your success."
--Brian Tracy, Motivational Coach and Author
On occasion, I have heard teachers wonder at the extensive knowledge base of some of their peers. For example, a teacher asked recently said, “I’ve been teaching a long time, but it seems like some teachers are way ahead of me in terms of what they know. How did that happen?”
My reply was to consider several things that we do to learn and grow. Had she attended workshops? Did she read professionally either on her own or with study groups? Did she participate in professional organizations? Did she write reflections or collaborate with peers? What is your “teaching identity?”
Workshops:
In my district, you may take two professional leave days per year (oftentimes, more are granted if needed). So, let’s do the math: if you attended just two professional events per year, over the course of 20 years, you would have accumulated knowledge from 40 workshops! Assuming each is 6 hours in length, that’s 240 hours of professional learning, which is about the same as having nearly seven weeks of classes!
Professional Reading:
I also thought about this quote. If you really did read 50 books about teaching per year, in 20 years you would have read 1000 books! ONE THOUSAND! Think of what that means!
On yesterday’s post, I made a list of my top 15 professional books but gave a nod to many educator-authors who just didn’t quite make the cut.
But if I could have made a list of my top one thousand professional books, I might have actually been able to make an exhaustive list of my favorites. I have definitely read hundreds, surely perused well over a thousand. And then I would have to consider the professional journals and articles that I’ve read. That must be well into the hundreds…
Professional Book Studies:
And then there are professional book studies in which you might participate (or even facilitate). I am trying to recall the books I’ve studied with teams of teachers over the years. I clearly recall the very first one—the one that opened up the world to me as a teacher: INVITATIONS: CHANGING AS TEACHERS AND LEARNERS, K-12 by Regie Routman.
I remember a few of the participants and how I marveled at the information in that book, not to mention how empowering it was to sit down with a group of teachers to share our thinking about the text. Suddenly, I realized that I had discovered the means to continuing my own education in one of the best ways possible—to collaborate with my peers.
I found book after book, many of which appear on yesterday’s list or whose authors I mentioned. Then a new principal came to my school, and she encouraged and even promoted book studies. She shared professional articles, and we often had casual, unplanned discussions about what we had been reading and thinking.
Professional Organizations:
Some teachers from my district (including myself) teamed with some teachers from another district to breathe new life into our local reading council (as division of the ISRA and IRA). We started sharing the expertise of some of our local teachers, eventually moving from after-school meetings in various buildings to larger dinner meetings in area restaurants. Over the years, we have evolved from about 10 members to 80, and one county into seven, and even have a few members who have crossed the state/county line to join us.
Coaching and Collaborating
Sometime around my tenth year as a teacher, a writing coach (part-time) was added to our staff. I had discovered my second literacy love (the first being reading): writing—more specifically, writing workshop. I had attended a week-long training over the summer, and I had discovered such lovely things as touchstone texts, writers’ notebooks, conferring, and the author’s chair. I was anxious to implement everything, immediately! RIGHT NOW. The coach who was new and stretched very thin, helped when she could and patiently looked through artifacts from my workshop. This was enough to sustain my work and to propel me forward, now as a reading teacher AND writing teacher.
Teaching Identity
Over the course of a few years, I quickly moved from being (and feeling like) a novice teacher to living and seeing myself as a true professional. As my learning grew rapidly, so did my excitement for teaching. Teaching went from being my career choice to being part of my identity. I felt as though I had found a large part of my purpose in teaching and in life.
And then, if you are a teacher, you need to read and know even more books. You need to know the literature that is available (or that you want to make available or accessible) to your students.
A natural outcome of my professional reading is the phenomenon that Brian Tracy calls “success” in his quote. As my knowledge base increased, so did my love of learning. In turn, I was increasingly drawn to quality literature and informational texts for children.
My own children were young, so we went to bookstores nearly every week. They would choose a few books, and we would read, read, read. Sometimes the books were not our favorites and would have to go back on the shelf. Sometimes, we read and cherished them immediately. We had to take them home, and they become part of us-- breathing their grace into our minds, whispering their secrets to us, often over and over again.
And, of course, there were trips to the school and public libraries… and to book sales at the Indianapolis Public Library (where I have purchased literally thousands of books over the years). The first time I went into that sale, just two years after reading INVITATIONS, I remember freezing in the doorway and then trembling with exuberance at how many books were there—at my fingertips—just waiting to be lovingly taken home or to my classroom and shared with children.
Whether a book made it to our house or classroom, our knowledge base of literature was ever increasing. We read in the bookstores, libraries, in our home, and in the classroom. Because of our access to such a variety of books, our tastes became increasingly impeccable; quality texts started to show themselves over other texts that were, perhaps, gimmicky or contrived. Favorites emerged.
Love of reading and of learning prevailed over all—this became another knowledge base in my professional life. I loved the books and authors. I remembered their names, their words, and could often quote text. When I needed a book for a certain theme, topic, or moment, I could think of a title without having to search online or the card catalog.
Guaranteed Success?
While “guaranteed success” seems like a surprisingly ambitious word choice, I think that Brian Tracy is right. When I think about what has led me to feel competent in my work, it’s the reading. When I think about what helps me to align instruction to my beliefs—to even know what I believe—it’s the reading. When I think about where I turn when I need answers or clarity—it’s the reading. When I think about what has caused me to continue learn, grow, and flourish—YES, it’s the reading.
Thank goodness for the reading.
A Romantic Novella: Starring Fluency
I have been trying to get a teacher-friend to read a wonderful book called PRACTICAL FLUENCY by Max and Gayle Brand.
Yesterday, she told me that she just couldn't get into it... that if it were a novel, she might be able to read it. This is for her... and anyone else who appreciates silliness and literacy. What a mix.
A Romantic Novella About Fluency:
LEYENDO'S FIERY PASSION FOR FLUENCY
On a dark moonless summer night, with only occasional bolts of heat lightning to relieve the blackness, Fluency stretched her smooth legs as best as she could while driving the rented moving van. All her favorite picture books and juvenile novels were stuffed behind her as she drove the long five hour trip. She turned left onto a gravel road, almost there now, almost to her new home in the country and to her new life in nearby Angola, Indiana.
Off in the distance, an orange, yellow, and red glow flickered on the horizon. A fire! Oh no!
Fluency made a return sweep to the left, pulling into the long winding driveway as flames leaped, dancing in the wind, while devouring the old weathered schoolhouse. With natural prowess, she jumped from the van and effortlessly toward the blaze. That schoolhouse was supposed to be an rural library and headquarters for her new job. Fluency felt like she was watching a funeral pyre for her new life. What kind of sign was this for her new beginning?
The fire, hot as the engine of her van, singed her chocolate hair as she rhythmically ran into the choking cloud of billowing black smoke. She collided into what felt like a brick wall and her knees buckled causing her to pause at just the right moment...
"Whoa….. little seniorita," a voice broke into the darkness. Large gentle hands clasped her shoulders to stop her from falling upon impact, and then guided her back out of the heat. Little did he know, but Fluency would be the best thing that ever happened to him.
Fluency's heart caught at the sound of the deep, rich baritone voice. His ebony eyes locked onto her sapphire ones then widened with surprise. Or was it appreciation? Perhaps the scorching heat was slowing down her rate of thinking?
Something firm pressed against her chest before she realized his brawny arms were filled with books that he was rescuing from the fire! Although glistening with sweat and smudged with charcoal, too sooty to distinguish his features, he seemed like a knight in not-quite shimmering armor. "Who are you?" Fluency whispered.
"I am…. Leyendo." He remembered his manners at the same time as the heavy weights in arms. "Here."
He thrust the bundle of books into her arms before brushing a stray lock of hair from her lovely heart-shaped face. He took a giant step back, as an emergent reader might retreat from a chapter book. Her smooth, fluid form seemed out of reach. Leyendo wondered why no one warned him he would yearn for Fluency so very much.
"You.. must be Fluency, the new reading teacher," he tossed a book over his shoulder as he again moved toward the schoolhouse to save more precious literature. He had many false starts, heading toward the building, stopping for reasons unclear, then strangely backing up and restarting. Fluency wondered if he would ever make it; he seemed so unsure of himself. He seemed to be relying on only one strategy in determining how approach the texts.
Fluency settled with the books on the grass, well away from the blazing schoolhouse, as fire engines roared into the driveway. Firemen hollered out directions to each other, working in harmony with hoses to blast water into flames. Leyendo hauled out Newberys and Caldecotts, handing them, along with three more classics, Fluency, before dashing back for another rescue. He had unsteady movements, yet she sensed his desire for her.
Professionals that they were, the firemen had the inferno down to a smolder in no time. One of the fire fighters led Fluency to a large neighboring ranch house at the end of the lane and told her to store her reading materials and conduct her lessons there for a while.
Although she kept her hands busy by wiping the soot from the books, her mind zoomed from one worry to another with the speed of a reader who thinks that rate is everything.
Oh no. Would her new teaching partner want to rebuild the library? She'd never spoken with him directly. What did the future hold for her?
Fluency sighed deeply. Only two hours ago she was felt like her life was going smoothly with virtually no unnecessary pauses or stops. She thought she was finally going to get to express who she really was and finally be deeply understood.
Despite the schoolhouse in ashes down the lane, again and again, she wondered just WHO precisely was Leyendo? Where had he come from and would she see him again? He wasn't what she would call handsome, covered head to toe in grime, but there was something about him – she sensed he needed her… and she was drawn to him… perhaps she could help him develop his prosody… he seemed so unsure of himself. When his gaze met hers, it was as alluring as eyes on text. If only she could put him at ease, help him build confidence.
Well, Fluency conceded, their head-on collision could have knocked her senses out of whack. She'd simply misread their physical impact. Nah. It wasn't chemistry. He just had to put in so much effort but still seemed stilted, and unsure of himself when he met her. He had to focus all of his attention on getting the books, but he didn’t seem to comprehend the importance of their contents. He could not infer what this meant to her life. She saw all of that in the dewy stare of his eyes when he had dropped the firm, heavy books into her arms. It was as if he had all of the desire and tools but just didn’t know what to do with them. Perhaps… yes, she could teach him. She would start out with easy things to build his confidence, gradually trying harder and harder work.
She no sooner settled the books into a make-shift bed, than she heard the smooth baritone that Fluency recalled from earlier. She turned her head toward its source and her mouth went dry. Surely this wasn't Leyendo? This man was freshly showered, his features no longer smudged and indistinguishable. She inhaled deeply as she detected the pleasant sensation of his desire to read with a hint of the smell of a newly opened book. With his bronzed coloring, salt and pepper hair, and ebony eyes that also held a mixture of uncertainty, particularly when he saw the books spread out on the bed. This was Leyendo-the-book-rescuer, a hero of sorts.
Yet he smiled slowly at her gaping mouth and that rich deep tone rumbled, "You okay… Fluency?"
Wow! Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away from his before her face could betray her thoughts. He looked like a modern-day gladiator with broad shoulders, corded neck, and perfectly sculpted face. He leaned over her and picked up a book.
When she dared another glance, he stared at her for a moment. From the twitching at the corner of his mouth, Fluency guessed he was trying to read again. She wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him now. Instead, she cleared her throat. Twice. "I'm as full of expression and accuracy as ever."
Leyendo leaned his back against the wall and stuck his hands in his belt loops, regarding her with that same forced smile and a look behind his eyes as if he knew he needed to increase his reading performance. Disturbed, Fluency looked away.
Leyendo held out one large hand. "I'm Leyendo No-Fluidez by the way."
When her much smaller hand gripped his in a handshake, Leyendo attempted to regulate his breathing while he tried to find words for what he wanted to say. He kept hesitating. He would start to speak but then stop. He'd prayed for God to smooth his way, to make his path to better reading more obvious. Was Fluency the answer?
Now this woman was fresh-out of places to live until the schoolhouse was reconstructed as the new library. How did you invite a desirable creature like Fluency—something you have never known—into your life without sounding desperate?
He hesitated, then, "Welcome to Angola, Fluency."
She snorted, doubting his willingness to continue their relationship.
Leyendo tried to catch his breath, reminding himself of why he couldn't let himself pay so much attention to Fluency… He had worked so hard just to decode her face, her words. Now would he dare to get closer to her smooth, expressive body?
Yet he reached for her toned, paper-cut fingers. Her touch was smooth, expressive. "Hmm. Start an inferno… is right."
He reluctantly released her hand when she tugged. She nibbled on her bottom lip as her sapphire eyes narrowed on him. Her honey-sweet voice seemed to pick up a little spice when she asked, "How was it that you were there at the fire so quickly?"
"I live here. I… I have been reading… and re-reading… trying to build stamina… Fluency, you see, I am going to work here… in the new school. "
She swallowed hard, then practically squeaked her realization. "YOU … have been building your stamina? Have you tried oral reading? Cloze reading? Partner reading? REPEATED reading?"
It wasn't a question. For the first time, Leyendo wondered if the attraction went both ways. She didn't sound necessarily pleased about it. In fact, her next statement sounded more like an accusation. "YOU are my new partner!"
Leyendo nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Leyendo No-Fluidez at your service. Don't worry. We'll rebuild the library, while you and I build my… reading fluency. You hold the key.”
She tossed her hands in the air before hitching a thumb back toward the lane. "I can't exactly live in that moving van while the library—and your reading fluency--are under construction."
Leyendo took a step toward her and closed the gap. He watched her breathing speed up. "You can live with me until then. There's lots of rooms to choose from. I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship. We can read books together… we can cloze read, partner read, choral read, and re-read over and over again. I promise to improve my stamina and my overall performance.”
She shook her head, flipping chocolate hair back over her shoulder, then tipped her stubborn chin in the air. "That's partnership, mister. Not relationship. I can read you like a sight word."
"Yes," Leyendo agreed. "It takes an equal partnership for any relationship to work. Just like reading rate and accuracy work together to build prosody. I know that I need automaticity with sight words, too. After you interviewed for the job, the teacher you're replacing told me you're sweet, big-hearted, and a smooth reader. He failed, however, to mention how beautiful you are and how much meaning you could bring to my… reading."
She grumbled, "He failed to mention my future partner could double for a male model if he needed a change of employment… and that he would need to put some work into understanding that he cannot just race through a text and think he will have Fluency."
She whipped her eyes off his form-fitting t-shirt toward a treasured copy of FIFTY SHADES OF GREY... she silently wondered if this text would firm up his desire for the work that needed done; but she knew she would have to provide a lot of extra tutoring. Perhaps she'd start with having him track text with his fingers... perhaps she could even find his Lexile level. How "lexy."
Leyendo shook his head. Oh yes, this would be interesting. She was definitely interested in him whether she wished it so or not. God had definitely handed Leyendo a blessing when He sent Fluency. The schoolhouse’s burning down was like a flashing neon sign for Leyendo's life, sending Fluency into more than his business, sending her into his reading as well.
Leyendo motioned toward the hallway. "Pick a room, any room, for your stay. Then I'll help you carry in your suitcases so you can shower away the smoke and soot from the fire. In the morning, I'll help you unload the books from the moving van."
He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Welcome home, Dr. Fluency Importante." He seemed to accept that he needed to spend more time with Fluency.
Relieved, Fluency spun around and with a sweeping movement from left to right, headed toward the hallway. She looked over her shoulder and smiled, “We will start tomorrow morning, first thing with Cloze reading. I will need to cover text and keep you engaged. It will be fun.”
Leyendo smiled after her. Feisty. Dang but if he didn't like that about her too. He would have to work for her. He knew that she would never use the difference in their reading abilities to cause him embarrassment or confusion. He would learn to instantaneously recognize sight words and move into building his stamina across phrases… and longer, harder sentences. He pictured long hours of tenderly cradling her books in his longing hands, listening to her smooth, expressive lips model prosody for him. She might even have to direct him at first. And then he would practice with her… over and over… until it felt natural and comfortable, which is what he desperately needed. He would bring meaning to his work, opening up new worlds.
And then one day, he would possess Fluency. Yes, Fluency would be HIS.
Yesterday, she told me that she just couldn't get into it... that if it were a novel, she might be able to read it. This is for her... and anyone else who appreciates silliness and literacy. What a mix.
A Romantic Novella About Fluency:
LEYENDO'S FIERY PASSION FOR FLUENCY
On a dark moonless summer night, with only occasional bolts of heat lightning to relieve the blackness, Fluency stretched her smooth legs as best as she could while driving the rented moving van. All her favorite picture books and juvenile novels were stuffed behind her as she drove the long five hour trip. She turned left onto a gravel road, almost there now, almost to her new home in the country and to her new life in nearby Angola, Indiana.
Off in the distance, an orange, yellow, and red glow flickered on the horizon. A fire! Oh no!
Fluency made a return sweep to the left, pulling into the long winding driveway as flames leaped, dancing in the wind, while devouring the old weathered schoolhouse. With natural prowess, she jumped from the van and effortlessly toward the blaze. That schoolhouse was supposed to be an rural library and headquarters for her new job. Fluency felt like she was watching a funeral pyre for her new life. What kind of sign was this for her new beginning?
The fire, hot as the engine of her van, singed her chocolate hair as she rhythmically ran into the choking cloud of billowing black smoke. She collided into what felt like a brick wall and her knees buckled causing her to pause at just the right moment...
"Whoa….. little seniorita," a voice broke into the darkness. Large gentle hands clasped her shoulders to stop her from falling upon impact, and then guided her back out of the heat. Little did he know, but Fluency would be the best thing that ever happened to him.
Fluency's heart caught at the sound of the deep, rich baritone voice. His ebony eyes locked onto her sapphire ones then widened with surprise. Or was it appreciation? Perhaps the scorching heat was slowing down her rate of thinking?
Something firm pressed against her chest before she realized his brawny arms were filled with books that he was rescuing from the fire! Although glistening with sweat and smudged with charcoal, too sooty to distinguish his features, he seemed like a knight in not-quite shimmering armor. "Who are you?" Fluency whispered.
"I am…. Leyendo." He remembered his manners at the same time as the heavy weights in arms. "Here."
He thrust the bundle of books into her arms before brushing a stray lock of hair from her lovely heart-shaped face. He took a giant step back, as an emergent reader might retreat from a chapter book. Her smooth, fluid form seemed out of reach. Leyendo wondered why no one warned him he would yearn for Fluency so very much.
"You.. must be Fluency, the new reading teacher," he tossed a book over his shoulder as he again moved toward the schoolhouse to save more precious literature. He had many false starts, heading toward the building, stopping for reasons unclear, then strangely backing up and restarting. Fluency wondered if he would ever make it; he seemed so unsure of himself. He seemed to be relying on only one strategy in determining how approach the texts.
Fluency settled with the books on the grass, well away from the blazing schoolhouse, as fire engines roared into the driveway. Firemen hollered out directions to each other, working in harmony with hoses to blast water into flames. Leyendo hauled out Newberys and Caldecotts, handing them, along with three more classics, Fluency, before dashing back for another rescue. He had unsteady movements, yet she sensed his desire for her.
Professionals that they were, the firemen had the inferno down to a smolder in no time. One of the fire fighters led Fluency to a large neighboring ranch house at the end of the lane and told her to store her reading materials and conduct her lessons there for a while.
Although she kept her hands busy by wiping the soot from the books, her mind zoomed from one worry to another with the speed of a reader who thinks that rate is everything.
Oh no. Would her new teaching partner want to rebuild the library? She'd never spoken with him directly. What did the future hold for her?
Fluency sighed deeply. Only two hours ago she was felt like her life was going smoothly with virtually no unnecessary pauses or stops. She thought she was finally going to get to express who she really was and finally be deeply understood.
Despite the schoolhouse in ashes down the lane, again and again, she wondered just WHO precisely was Leyendo? Where had he come from and would she see him again? He wasn't what she would call handsome, covered head to toe in grime, but there was something about him – she sensed he needed her… and she was drawn to him… perhaps she could help him develop his prosody… he seemed so unsure of himself. When his gaze met hers, it was as alluring as eyes on text. If only she could put him at ease, help him build confidence.
Well, Fluency conceded, their head-on collision could have knocked her senses out of whack. She'd simply misread their physical impact. Nah. It wasn't chemistry. He just had to put in so much effort but still seemed stilted, and unsure of himself when he met her. He had to focus all of his attention on getting the books, but he didn’t seem to comprehend the importance of their contents. He could not infer what this meant to her life. She saw all of that in the dewy stare of his eyes when he had dropped the firm, heavy books into her arms. It was as if he had all of the desire and tools but just didn’t know what to do with them. Perhaps… yes, she could teach him. She would start out with easy things to build his confidence, gradually trying harder and harder work.
She no sooner settled the books into a make-shift bed, than she heard the smooth baritone that Fluency recalled from earlier. She turned her head toward its source and her mouth went dry. Surely this wasn't Leyendo? This man was freshly showered, his features no longer smudged and indistinguishable. She inhaled deeply as she detected the pleasant sensation of his desire to read with a hint of the smell of a newly opened book. With his bronzed coloring, salt and pepper hair, and ebony eyes that also held a mixture of uncertainty, particularly when he saw the books spread out on the bed. This was Leyendo-the-book-rescuer, a hero of sorts.
Yet he smiled slowly at her gaping mouth and that rich deep tone rumbled, "You okay… Fluency?"
Wow! Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away from his before her face could betray her thoughts. He looked like a modern-day gladiator with broad shoulders, corded neck, and perfectly sculpted face. He leaned over her and picked up a book.
When she dared another glance, he stared at her for a moment. From the twitching at the corner of his mouth, Fluency guessed he was trying to read again. She wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him now. Instead, she cleared her throat. Twice. "I'm as full of expression and accuracy as ever."
Leyendo leaned his back against the wall and stuck his hands in his belt loops, regarding her with that same forced smile and a look behind his eyes as if he knew he needed to increase his reading performance. Disturbed, Fluency looked away.
Leyendo held out one large hand. "I'm Leyendo No-Fluidez by the way."
When her much smaller hand gripped his in a handshake, Leyendo attempted to regulate his breathing while he tried to find words for what he wanted to say. He kept hesitating. He would start to speak but then stop. He'd prayed for God to smooth his way, to make his path to better reading more obvious. Was Fluency the answer?
Now this woman was fresh-out of places to live until the schoolhouse was reconstructed as the new library. How did you invite a desirable creature like Fluency—something you have never known—into your life without sounding desperate?
He hesitated, then, "Welcome to Angola, Fluency."
She snorted, doubting his willingness to continue their relationship.
Leyendo tried to catch his breath, reminding himself of why he couldn't let himself pay so much attention to Fluency… He had worked so hard just to decode her face, her words. Now would he dare to get closer to her smooth, expressive body?
Yet he reached for her toned, paper-cut fingers. Her touch was smooth, expressive. "Hmm. Start an inferno… is right."
He reluctantly released her hand when she tugged. She nibbled on her bottom lip as her sapphire eyes narrowed on him. Her honey-sweet voice seemed to pick up a little spice when she asked, "How was it that you were there at the fire so quickly?"
"I live here. I… I have been reading… and re-reading… trying to build stamina… Fluency, you see, I am going to work here… in the new school. "
She swallowed hard, then practically squeaked her realization. "YOU … have been building your stamina? Have you tried oral reading? Cloze reading? Partner reading? REPEATED reading?"
It wasn't a question. For the first time, Leyendo wondered if the attraction went both ways. She didn't sound necessarily pleased about it. In fact, her next statement sounded more like an accusation. "YOU are my new partner!"
Leyendo nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Leyendo No-Fluidez at your service. Don't worry. We'll rebuild the library, while you and I build my… reading fluency. You hold the key.”
She tossed her hands in the air before hitching a thumb back toward the lane. "I can't exactly live in that moving van while the library—and your reading fluency--are under construction."
Leyendo took a step toward her and closed the gap. He watched her breathing speed up. "You can live with me until then. There's lots of rooms to choose from. I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship. We can read books together… we can cloze read, partner read, choral read, and re-read over and over again. I promise to improve my stamina and my overall performance.”
She shook her head, flipping chocolate hair back over her shoulder, then tipped her stubborn chin in the air. "That's partnership, mister. Not relationship. I can read you like a sight word."
"Yes," Leyendo agreed. "It takes an equal partnership for any relationship to work. Just like reading rate and accuracy work together to build prosody. I know that I need automaticity with sight words, too. After you interviewed for the job, the teacher you're replacing told me you're sweet, big-hearted, and a smooth reader. He failed, however, to mention how beautiful you are and how much meaning you could bring to my… reading."
She grumbled, "He failed to mention my future partner could double for a male model if he needed a change of employment… and that he would need to put some work into understanding that he cannot just race through a text and think he will have Fluency."
She whipped her eyes off his form-fitting t-shirt toward a treasured copy of FIFTY SHADES OF GREY... she silently wondered if this text would firm up his desire for the work that needed done; but she knew she would have to provide a lot of extra tutoring. Perhaps she'd start with having him track text with his fingers... perhaps she could even find his Lexile level. How "lexy."
Leyendo shook his head. Oh yes, this would be interesting. She was definitely interested in him whether she wished it so or not. God had definitely handed Leyendo a blessing when He sent Fluency. The schoolhouse’s burning down was like a flashing neon sign for Leyendo's life, sending Fluency into more than his business, sending her into his reading as well.
Leyendo motioned toward the hallway. "Pick a room, any room, for your stay. Then I'll help you carry in your suitcases so you can shower away the smoke and soot from the fire. In the morning, I'll help you unload the books from the moving van."
He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Welcome home, Dr. Fluency Importante." He seemed to accept that he needed to spend more time with Fluency.
Relieved, Fluency spun around and with a sweeping movement from left to right, headed toward the hallway. She looked over her shoulder and smiled, “We will start tomorrow morning, first thing with Cloze reading. I will need to cover text and keep you engaged. It will be fun.”
Leyendo smiled after her. Feisty. Dang but if he didn't like that about her too. He would have to work for her. He knew that she would never use the difference in their reading abilities to cause him embarrassment or confusion. He would learn to instantaneously recognize sight words and move into building his stamina across phrases… and longer, harder sentences. He pictured long hours of tenderly cradling her books in his longing hands, listening to her smooth, expressive lips model prosody for him. She might even have to direct him at first. And then he would practice with her… over and over… until it felt natural and comfortable, which is what he desperately needed. He would bring meaning to his work, opening up new worlds.
And then one day, he would possess Fluency. Yes, Fluency would be HIS.
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