READING EMERGENCY: An urgent need for reading to relieve boredom, pass time, or to fulfill an assignment
In her new book, READING IN THE WILD, Donalyn Miller discusses "reading emergencies" by reminding her students, "If you don't have a book with you, you can't read even when the time presents itself. If you carry a book with you everywhere you go, you can rack up a lot of reading time during these reading emergencies."
We all know those moments of having "edge times" of waiting for the next thing to begin and wishing that you had something to read. Heck, I got through graduate school mostly by reading during edge times--while waiting for kids to emerge from sports' practices, school, friends' houses... waiting for doctors, dentists, and orthodontists... waiting for games/meets/concerts to begin, etc.
Do your students have edge times that create reading emergencies at school? The most common reading emergency at school probably occurs when a student is an early finisher of other work. Perhaps other reading emergencies present themselves, such as while waiting to enter an art or music class, the gymnasium, recess, or even during stolen moments after eating lunch?
When might reading emergencies occur in a student's life outside of the school day? I am thinking that kids and adults share many of the same reading emergency times.
But is it possible to create reading emergencies for our children?
When I was growing up, my dad would not permit the TV to be turned on until after several things had been accomplished, which included dinner, dishes, homework, and other chores. When TV time did occur, it seemed that the only thing to do was watch the evening news... and then whichever programs my parents chose on our 3 or 4 channels. On weekends and during the summers, watching TV was out of the question, so cold, Midwestern winter days just begged to be filled. Trust me, this created reading emergencies galore!
I would steal off to my room, the dining room table, or any quiet nook in our small farmhouse to read. Because of reading emergencies, I recall begging my siblings to assist me with reading my library books every single week, when new books and old favorites were faithfully carried home under my arm.
Soon, I read on my own. I saved money for books from the Scholastic book club orders, coming to love THE LITTLES and then Beverly Cleary's ELLEN TEBBITS--which led to my discovering a treasure trove of her work in the library. Ahhh, the pleasures of BEEZUS AND RAMONA, HENRY HUGGINS, RIBSY, and even OTIS SPOFFORD!
Eventually, I came to know Lucy, Mr. Tumnus, and the White Witch... never getting enough of Narnia, I read and re-read it countless times before the age of 11, even though our library's copy of THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE had lost its dust jacket and was reduced to a shabby, plain, gray-colored cloth cover.
Soon, even Santa knew my love for books, bringing by Oscar Wilde, Roald Dahl, and more. I bet I've cried for "The Selfish Giant" or the bird in "The Happy Prince" more than most people. And as for Willy Wonka, I could swear that I was as hungry as Charlie until he found that golden ticket... and I'm sure that I've been inside the chocolate factory countless times!
I was that kid who basically welcomed "assigned" readings in high school; as an avid reader, I trusted my teachers to lead me to new texts that I might not choose on my own. And so I read ANIMAL FARM, THE GREAT GATSBY, THE ODYSSEY, NATIVE SON, and A TALE OF TWO CITIES. My teachers created reading emergencies by assigning texts, and my father continued to create them by boring me with his TV viewing habits.
But all the while, I became someone who reads on my own, "in the wild."
This makes me wonder--in the world of technological devices, how do parents unplug and create reading emergencies to develop their own wild readers?
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Writing Emergencies: Writing to Exhale
- WRITING EMERGENCY: An urgent need to record (in written form) something that will matter beyond today...
"It's misleading to think of writers as special creatures, word sorcerers who possess some sort of magical knowledge hidden from everyone else. Writers are ordinary people who like to write. They feel the urge to write, and they scratch that itch every chance they get."
-----Ralph Fletcher
In yesterday's post, I wrote about reading emergencies; but as I so often do nowadays, I've been pondering what this must mean about the inverse--how do reading emergencies relate to writing emergencies.
If reading is like breathing in and writing breathing out, they are inseparable and reciprocal.
Somewhere near the top of my list of "school worries" is that somehow we are discounting writing as the exhale portion of breathing. It seems like writing has become something that we most often assign vs. teach, use to assess vs. explore. Students often write to regurgitate text evidence from stated details or inferences in order to prove that they read closely... or at all.
When writing is used primarily (or exclusively) as a response to reading or to a prompt created by a teacher (or some "educational" supply company), it seems to be reducing our students' abilities to "exhale" to laborious, stilted gasps.
Let's think (metaphorically) about writing as a physiological exhale. Exhale means "to give forth." Are students allowed, indeed encouraged, to "give forth" what they possess in their minds, hearts, and maybe even souls as writers?
A slow exhale can produce a sense of calm, relaxation--even relieve stress, thus providing health benefits. Writers know that picking up the pen (or sitting down at the keyboard) and producing words can also be healing, promoting mental and physical health. Writing about personally meaningful experiences has been shown to improve moods, cause immunizations to work better, and actually promote physical healing of injuries. Writing also supports mental health by helping the writers gain insights and perspectives into their life stories; this, in turn, even resulted in better sleep patterns for many!
Beyond standards and curriculum, building a writing community in your classroom shares the same benefits of building a reading community. Students feel safe, "known," and appreciated. Respect is built, differences honored, the human experience shared. Students learn to pay attention to details as readers, to generously consider one another's contributions. Perhaps, most importantly, writing communities foster interest and compassion for others' experiences, thoughts, and dreams.
"Here's the secret to writing: there is no secret." (Ralph Fletcher)
So often, teachers think that there is a magic formula to "getting" kids to write, want to write, sustain themselves as writers. As Ralph says, "there is no secret." But this IS why I believe in the writing workshop... and that we need to see writing emergencies beyond those that consume us (at least, at times) when preparing for standardized tests.
Writing emergencies are really the reasons many of us write:
to reflect - to share
- to notice
- to purge
- to wonder
- to explain
- to ponder
- to remember
- to explore
- to observe
- to evaluate
- to feel
- to analyze
- to question
- to influence
- to inform
Ultimately, we write to become better... better humans, writers, citizens.
Through learning to gather ideas, words, lines, moments... and to explore writing and purposes in notebooks, students will take joy in sharing their experiences and noticings as part of our wondrous world. Students can develop keen minds through closely examining observations and learning to consider all viewpoints. Writers have clarity, as (like exhaling slowly) writers know how to slow down to mindfully and intentionally take it all in. They know what they think and how to articulate those thoughts. They are powerful.
Teach them to carry note taking tools or devices. Let them take delight in all there is to see, taste, touch, feel, hear, experience, believe in, yearn for, laugh or cry about, to consider. Teach them to hear each other and to know that they are heard. Value their real writing.
When students write with purpose for real audiences, they find their voices and their rightful places in the world. They develop caring and compassionate hearts by valuing and connecting to other people and all living things. They develop critical minds, open to considering all facets of complex problems, capable of global thinking for the greater good.
So writing well is an emergency. In our classrooms, in our homes, across our lives.
How will you create a love of writing in your students?
God Bless the Teacher (and the Child)--21st Century Version
Them that's got shall teach
Them that's not shall govern
So NCLB said
and it still is news
Pearson may have,
McGraw-Hill may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got her own
That's got his own
Yes, the rich gets more
While the middle class fade
Fearful that your school
won't make the grade
CCSS may have,
Bill Gates may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got his own
That's got her own
Politicians, you've got lots of “friends”
Crowding round your door
Do what they say,
else the spending ends then
They won't come round no more
Rich corporations may give you
funds for your campaign and such
You can’t help yourself
You just take too much
Obama may have,
Arne Duncan may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got his own
That's got her own
Mike Pence may have,
Tony Bennett may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got his own
That's got her own
She just worry 'bout nothin'
Cause she can stand up and say,
"I've got my own."
based on the classic song by: Billie Holiday & Arthur Herzog Jr.
Them that's not shall govern
So NCLB said
and it still is news
Pearson may have,
McGraw-Hill may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got her own
That's got his own
Yes, the rich gets more
While the middle class fade
Fearful that your school
won't make the grade
CCSS may have,
Bill Gates may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got his own
That's got her own
Politicians, you've got lots of “friends”
Crowding round your door
Do what they say,
else the spending ends then
They won't come round no more
Rich corporations may give you
funds for your campaign and such
You can’t help yourself
You just take too much
Obama may have,
Arne Duncan may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got his own
That's got her own
Mike Pence may have,
Tony Bennett may have
But God bless the teacher
that's got his own
That's got her own
She just worry 'bout nothin'
Cause she can stand up and say,
"I've got my own."
based on the classic song by: Billie Holiday & Arthur Herzog Jr.
Hearts in Our Hands: More Than a Number
In her style of perennial truth and wisdom, Lucy Calkins' (1998) describes a scene of walking into her school's office to find her principal's door closed. Instead of the secretary's usual beckon to, "Go on in," she said instead, "Have a seat." Eventually, someone approached Lucy and whispered, "The scores are out."
She says, "Of course. Now it was clear. They were holed up with the scores."
"They were sitting with their hearts in their hands, learning what the Lord High Executioner had determined."
Calkins goes on to describe the actions... the "quick scan job, the way one's heart leaps and falters to the tune of percentiles." She discusses how numbers are assigned to children (and in 2014 to teachers and schools)... how a student, Jasmine, who was a prolific reader but scored a "71" on THE TEST, reacted, "I'm a 71. My brother, when he was in fifth grade, was a 94. My brother was really smart." This child, now a fifth grader, worried that she would not get into college when she was older.
So Calkins gave Jasmine a practice CTB test and sat back to watch what happened. All indications were that Jasmine should have experienced greater success on THE TEST. So what was going on here?
Finally, another colleague encouraged Lucy to look at the raw scores on THE TEST. Jasmine had responded correctly to 28 questions--but out of how many? Upon closer examination, it was found that Sandra, a classmate of Jasmine's, had answered 29 questions correctly. BUT SANDRA HAD BEEN RATED IN THE 91st percentile!
It was true--one question had made the difference of 20 percentile points!
How was Jasmine's life altered by this one question on one test? How did it change her perception of herself as a reader, a student, as someone with potential?
What can we learn from this story?
Despite collaboration time for and emphasis on data analysis and data walls, do teachers really know how to read into "and underneath and behind" the scores? Calkins says the most truthful words of reason that we could ever think in this situation, "We need to know what a person can and cannot conclude from these scores." If teachers learn to do this, we can be empowered with knowledge, thus regaining our voices to talk back to the critics--these days, that seems to be just about everyone.
Politicians and those behind the power of corporate money/charter schools want us to feel crippled with doubt and hope that the more confusing they make this process of norm-referencing (which innately makes it impossible for everyone to pass), the less likely we will be to speak out. To further ensure our silence (or at least to stifle us), they invent layers of ways to "fail," including assigning "school letter grades" with insidious "consequences" that hide behind an inscrutable formula--thus, who can argue? Check out what happens in Indiana when your school is in need of being "turned around" (by private companies, of course)\--essentially, anyone "authorized" by politicians (including other politicians) can close your school, take it over, take your funding, fire your teachers, and (if you still have a union) further dismantle your rights to collective bargaining.
Fun fact--in the 1990's, Indiana had a law on the books that actually (and rightfully) made it illegal to use norm-referenced tests in this way. I wonder who decided that it was not only legal, but righteous? Not parents, not teachers, not principals, and--most importantly--not children.
All stakeholders need to ask the right questions, thoughtful questions, and expect answers. This has happened in a few places, most recently in Texas. The Dallas News recently printed an article debunking the so-called "school reform" that had occurred in Texas due to testing, testing, testing--known as "The Texas Miracle". That's right--it was all a lie... ah-hem, a mistake.
I already knew that for a plethora of reasons, the first of which came from a friend of mine--who was an excellent teacher. In the late 1990s, she left Indiana and became a teacher in Texas. She lamented about how little her students could do compared to those in the same grade in Indiana, how such low standards/cut scores made it appear as though Texas had a "miracle" in its student achievement, and how her students struggled terribly. And education was all about THE TEST. She was one of first casualties in the war on public education--and students. She left teaching entirely, just a few years later--a sad day for America.
In REIGN OF ERROR, Diane Ravitch describes this as, "...the transfer of public funds to private management and the creation of thousands of deregulated, unsupervised, and unaccountable schools have opened the public coffers to profiteering, fraud, and exploitation by large and small entrepreneurs.”
How can we put a stop to the contagion of testing? How do we regain control of America's education system?
There are people/corporations behind this epidemic that have more money than some countries!
Those of you who understand sociodynamics realize that it will take a "critical mass" of citizens to stand up and express infuriation and informed concerns at this out-of-control pathosis in our society.
We may not have the astronomical funding like that coming from Bill and Melinda Gates, Wal-Mart's Walton family, Rupert Murdoch of News Corp., or Jeff Bezos of Amazon.com and The Washington Post. But we outnumber them--we ARE the critical mass.
Our relentless voices, votes, and outrage are the only things that can turn this Titanic around. What will you do to express your thoughts on this matter?
I close with Barry Lane's rendition of "More Than a Number". If you're a teacher, this will help you remember why you went into teaching in the first place.
MORE THAN A NUMBER (from "Songs for Sane Schools")
Music by Barry Lane & Lyrics by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater (2012)
I am quiet in the classroom.
I don’t always raise my hand.
I don’t always answer questions.
I don’t always understand.
But I always have ideas
when I stare up at the sky.
My sister likes to tease me
for always asking, “Why?”
I am more than a number.
I am more than a grade.
I know the constellations.
Here’s a painting that I made.
I read books in my closet.
I will not be a ‘2’.
I am more than a number.
I’m a person just like you.
I speak one language here
and another in my home.
I daydream in both languages
whenever I’m alone.
I’m good at climbing trees.
Mom’s teaching me to sew.
I am full of secrets
a test can never know.
I am more than a number.
Watch me fold this plane.
I snuggle with my beagle.
There’s music in my brain.
Someday I’ll go to Egypt.
I will never be a ‘2’.
I am more than a number.
I’m a person just like you.
If you think I can be measured
by numbers on a screen…
...if my whole school becomes a test
where will I learn to dream?
I love to do hard problems.
I write stories, and I laugh.
My gifts are so much greater
than the data on your graph.
I’m more than a number.
I invent things when I play.
I collect shells and fossils.
Please hear me when I say
I will not be a ‘1’--
a ‘2’, a ‘3’, or a ‘4’.
I am me. I’m a mystery.
I’m a child – not a score.
She says, "Of course. Now it was clear. They were holed up with the scores."
"They were sitting with their hearts in their hands, learning what the Lord High Executioner had determined."
Calkins goes on to describe the actions... the "quick scan job, the way one's heart leaps and falters to the tune of percentiles." She discusses how numbers are assigned to children (and in 2014 to teachers and schools)... how a student, Jasmine, who was a prolific reader but scored a "71" on THE TEST, reacted, "I'm a 71. My brother, when he was in fifth grade, was a 94. My brother was really smart." This child, now a fifth grader, worried that she would not get into college when she was older.
So Calkins gave Jasmine a practice CTB test and sat back to watch what happened. All indications were that Jasmine should have experienced greater success on THE TEST. So what was going on here?
Finally, another colleague encouraged Lucy to look at the raw scores on THE TEST. Jasmine had responded correctly to 28 questions--but out of how many? Upon closer examination, it was found that Sandra, a classmate of Jasmine's, had answered 29 questions correctly. BUT SANDRA HAD BEEN RATED IN THE 91st percentile!
It was true--one question had made the difference of 20 percentile points!
How was Jasmine's life altered by this one question on one test? How did it change her perception of herself as a reader, a student, as someone with potential?
What can we learn from this story?
Despite collaboration time for and emphasis on data analysis and data walls, do teachers really know how to read into "and underneath and behind" the scores? Calkins says the most truthful words of reason that we could ever think in this situation, "We need to know what a person can and cannot conclude from these scores." If teachers learn to do this, we can be empowered with knowledge, thus regaining our voices to talk back to the critics--these days, that seems to be just about everyone.
Politicians and those behind the power of corporate money/charter schools want us to feel crippled with doubt and hope that the more confusing they make this process of norm-referencing (which innately makes it impossible for everyone to pass), the less likely we will be to speak out. To further ensure our silence (or at least to stifle us), they invent layers of ways to "fail," including assigning "school letter grades" with insidious "consequences" that hide behind an inscrutable formula--thus, who can argue? Check out what happens in Indiana when your school is in need of being "turned around" (by private companies, of course)\--essentially, anyone "authorized" by politicians (including other politicians) can close your school, take it over, take your funding, fire your teachers, and (if you still have a union) further dismantle your rights to collective bargaining.
Fun fact--in the 1990's, Indiana had a law on the books that actually (and rightfully) made it illegal to use norm-referenced tests in this way. I wonder who decided that it was not only legal, but righteous? Not parents, not teachers, not principals, and--most importantly--not children.
All stakeholders need to ask the right questions, thoughtful questions, and expect answers. This has happened in a few places, most recently in Texas. The Dallas News recently printed an article debunking the so-called "school reform" that had occurred in Texas due to testing, testing, testing--known as "The Texas Miracle". That's right--it was all a lie... ah-hem, a mistake.
I already knew that for a plethora of reasons, the first of which came from a friend of mine--who was an excellent teacher. In the late 1990s, she left Indiana and became a teacher in Texas. She lamented about how little her students could do compared to those in the same grade in Indiana, how such low standards/cut scores made it appear as though Texas had a "miracle" in its student achievement, and how her students struggled terribly. And education was all about THE TEST. She was one of first casualties in the war on public education--and students. She left teaching entirely, just a few years later--a sad day for America.
In REIGN OF ERROR, Diane Ravitch describes this as, "...the transfer of public funds to private management and the creation of thousands of deregulated, unsupervised, and unaccountable schools have opened the public coffers to profiteering, fraud, and exploitation by large and small entrepreneurs.”
How can we put a stop to the contagion of testing? How do we regain control of America's education system?
There are people/corporations behind this epidemic that have more money than some countries!
Those of you who understand sociodynamics realize that it will take a "critical mass" of citizens to stand up and express infuriation and informed concerns at this out-of-control pathosis in our society.
We may not have the astronomical funding like that coming from Bill and Melinda Gates, Wal-Mart's Walton family, Rupert Murdoch of News Corp., or Jeff Bezos of Amazon.com and The Washington Post. But we outnumber them--we ARE the critical mass.
Our relentless voices, votes, and outrage are the only things that can turn this Titanic around. What will you do to express your thoughts on this matter?
I close with Barry Lane's rendition of "More Than a Number". If you're a teacher, this will help you remember why you went into teaching in the first place.
MORE THAN A NUMBER (from "Songs for Sane Schools")
Music by Barry Lane & Lyrics by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater (2012)
I am quiet in the classroom.
I don’t always raise my hand.
I don’t always answer questions.
I don’t always understand.
But I always have ideas
when I stare up at the sky.
My sister likes to tease me
for always asking, “Why?”
I am more than a number.
I am more than a grade.
I know the constellations.
Here’s a painting that I made.
I read books in my closet.
I will not be a ‘2’.
I am more than a number.
I’m a person just like you.
I speak one language here
and another in my home.
I daydream in both languages
whenever I’m alone.
I’m good at climbing trees.
Mom’s teaching me to sew.
I am full of secrets
a test can never know.
I am more than a number.
Watch me fold this plane.
I snuggle with my beagle.
There’s music in my brain.
Someday I’ll go to Egypt.
I will never be a ‘2’.
I am more than a number.
I’m a person just like you.
If you think I can be measured
by numbers on a screen…
...if my whole school becomes a test
where will I learn to dream?
I love to do hard problems.
I write stories, and I laugh.
My gifts are so much greater
than the data on your graph.
I’m more than a number.
I invent things when I play.
I collect shells and fossils.
Please hear me when I say
I will not be a ‘1’--
a ‘2’, a ‘3’, or a ‘4’.
I am me. I’m a mystery.
I’m a child – not a score.
One More Word on Testing: "Hallelujah"?!?!?
hal·le·lu·jah [hal-uh-loo-yuh]
interjection
1.
Praise ye the Lord!
noun
2.
an exclamation of “hallelujah!”
3.
a shout of joy, praise, or gratitude.
4.
a musical composition wholly or principally based upon the word “hallelujah.”
Most people know Leonard Cohen's song, "Hallelujah". If you know me well, it will come as no surprise that my favorite rendition of it is actually from MTV's "Unplugged" that featured Bon Jovi. (Click on the purple title at left to see this video.) Someone once asked me why I like Jon Bon Jovi so much (beyond his good looks and radiant smile).
My reply came easily: I love his dedication to living honestly, with exuberance; his humility, and particularly his humanitarian work. He is outspoken enough to try to draw attention to his worries about our world, and he puts money and time into truly making a difference--and he expects those around him, including those accepting assistance, to pay it forward. He is a true philanthropist.
If you want to learn more about this modern-day Robin Hood, check out these links from JBJ's appearance on Oprah's Master Class:
Soul Foundation
Making Connections and Being Your Best, Doing it Your Way
Now what does this have to do with literacy coaching, you ask? (Side note: a couple of my friends have asked me, "Can you link EVERYTHING to Bon Jovi..." Maybe I mistakenly take that as a challenge, not a rhetorical question.)
Get ready for it--
One JBJ quote that applies to my work, my life on a daily basis as a literacy coach, teacher, and human being is,
"Each step along the away is just a life lesson in humility."
No matter how long you work with, teach (or attempt to teach), and care about others, lessons in humility will abound in your life. For this, I am grateful; it keeps me honest, sincere, and always learning. It draws me to a life of service; I love helping others and try to joyfully cope with the diversity of learners (adults and children) with grace. I think that is the crux of Cohen's song and JBJ's message about doing our best with love and humility: "Hallelujah."
This mesage connects to a parody by teachers' hero, Barry Lane. I enjoy his books, his songs, his humor, but most of all--HIS HEART. Which brings me back to the song, "Hallelujah".
Barry has his own school version/parody of "Hallelujah" which is equally wonderful to the Bon Jovi version--not for its musicality or glamorous lead singer--but for its equally heartfelt lyrics depicting the vulnerability and quiet strength of teachers everywhere. (Click on the title in purple to see a video of Barry's singing this at a pro-school rally.)
Hallelujah
I heard there was a secret school,
where teachers make up all the rules,
but you don't really care for teachers do ya?
It runs quite well without a bell,
no one is late,
no one can tell,
and nothing left to sell but,
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Your faith was strong,
but you needed rest,
but then they gave you one more test,
Their madness and their mandates overthrew ya.
They tied you to a scoring guide,
you lost all hope,
you lost all pride,
but somewhere deep inside was
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Baby you've been here before.
You've taught this class,
You've closed that door.
You used to teach alone
before I knew ya .
Together we'll tear down these walls,
raise up a school of golden halls,
where children's learning all is,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, Hallelujah.
How much gratitude would you feel if you believed that it was "okay" for teachers to use their knowledge about best practices and expertise about what really works for kids to build joyous learning in America's classrooms? Teachers feel extremely vulnerable in this, the Testing Universe of America. (I capitalized it because it's a very real place.)
What if we could, as Barry Lane suggests, reclaim our classrooms, having faith in our abilities, holding onto hope, remembering the 'Hallelujah' of why we became teachers in the first place--we all know it's more than 'a job.'
Why is teaching part of your identity?
Resonating today is the song, "It's My Life" in which Bon Jovi sings, "Like Frankie said, 'I did it my way.'" He says when writing that lyric, he was thinking of Sinatra's song, about working from 'the pure place.' He suggests that this is why that lyric resounds with people.
We all identify with trying to do things our way and value the opportunity to do so.
And this, my friends, leads us back to thinking about Barry Lane's heroic messages to teachers, his relentless battle on the behalf of American children, and how he does it HIS way.
If you could "raise up a school of golden halls where children's learning is a hallelujah," what would it look like?
What is YOUR way?
Yet another link to this idea is Amy Grant's, "Better Than a Hallelujah". (Again, the video is embedded in the purple title, if you want to see it.)
"Better Than A Hallelujah" features these repeating lines:
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
Teachers know each other's miseries, what breaks our hearts--all too well these days. I think the line, "Beautiful, the mess we are," speaks to the humility with which we must approach our work (our lives) each day. No matter how detailed our plans, no matter how educated we are, children will always lead us back to the humility of trying to handle countless human responses in one classroom. But isn't this be beautiful in so many ways?
What is the melody of your teaching that God hears that would be better than a Hallelujah?
Better than simply thinking or saying, "Hallelujah," as a sign of praise or gratitude, how do you practice it in your teaching life?
What's YOUR educator's 'Hallelujah'?
interjection
1.
Praise ye the Lord!
noun
2.
an exclamation of “hallelujah!”
3.
a shout of joy, praise, or gratitude.
4.
a musical composition wholly or principally based upon the word “hallelujah.”
Most people know Leonard Cohen's song, "Hallelujah". If you know me well, it will come as no surprise that my favorite rendition of it is actually from MTV's "Unplugged" that featured Bon Jovi. (Click on the purple title at left to see this video.) Someone once asked me why I like Jon Bon Jovi so much (beyond his good looks and radiant smile).
My reply came easily: I love his dedication to living honestly, with exuberance; his humility, and particularly his humanitarian work. He is outspoken enough to try to draw attention to his worries about our world, and he puts money and time into truly making a difference--and he expects those around him, including those accepting assistance, to pay it forward. He is a true philanthropist.
If you want to learn more about this modern-day Robin Hood, check out these links from JBJ's appearance on Oprah's Master Class:
Soul Foundation
Making Connections and Being Your Best, Doing it Your Way
Now what does this have to do with literacy coaching, you ask? (Side note: a couple of my friends have asked me, "Can you link EVERYTHING to Bon Jovi..." Maybe I mistakenly take that as a challenge, not a rhetorical question.)
Get ready for it--
One JBJ quote that applies to my work, my life on a daily basis as a literacy coach, teacher, and human being is,
"Each step along the away is just a life lesson in humility."
No matter how long you work with, teach (or attempt to teach), and care about others, lessons in humility will abound in your life. For this, I am grateful; it keeps me honest, sincere, and always learning. It draws me to a life of service; I love helping others and try to joyfully cope with the diversity of learners (adults and children) with grace. I think that is the crux of Cohen's song and JBJ's message about doing our best with love and humility: "Hallelujah."
This mesage connects to a parody by teachers' hero, Barry Lane. I enjoy his books, his songs, his humor, but most of all--HIS HEART. Which brings me back to the song, "Hallelujah".
Barry has his own school version/parody of "Hallelujah" which is equally wonderful to the Bon Jovi version--not for its musicality or glamorous lead singer--but for its equally heartfelt lyrics depicting the vulnerability and quiet strength of teachers everywhere. (Click on the title in purple to see a video of Barry's singing this at a pro-school rally.)
Hallelujah
I heard there was a secret school,
where teachers make up all the rules,
but you don't really care for teachers do ya?
It runs quite well without a bell,
no one is late,
no one can tell,
and nothing left to sell but,
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Your faith was strong,
but you needed rest,
but then they gave you one more test,
Their madness and their mandates overthrew ya.
They tied you to a scoring guide,
you lost all hope,
you lost all pride,
but somewhere deep inside was
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Baby you've been here before.
You've taught this class,
You've closed that door.
You used to teach alone
before I knew ya .
Together we'll tear down these walls,
raise up a school of golden halls,
where children's learning all is,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Hallelujah, hallelujah,
hallelujah, Hallelujah.
How much gratitude would you feel if you believed that it was "okay" for teachers to use their knowledge about best practices and expertise about what really works for kids to build joyous learning in America's classrooms? Teachers feel extremely vulnerable in this, the Testing Universe of America. (I capitalized it because it's a very real place.)
What if we could, as Barry Lane suggests, reclaim our classrooms, having faith in our abilities, holding onto hope, remembering the 'Hallelujah' of why we became teachers in the first place--we all know it's more than 'a job.'
Why is teaching part of your identity?
Resonating today is the song, "It's My Life" in which Bon Jovi sings, "Like Frankie said, 'I did it my way.'" He says when writing that lyric, he was thinking of Sinatra's song, about working from 'the pure place.' He suggests that this is why that lyric resounds with people.
We all identify with trying to do things our way and value the opportunity to do so.
And this, my friends, leads us back to thinking about Barry Lane's heroic messages to teachers, his relentless battle on the behalf of American children, and how he does it HIS way.
If you could "raise up a school of golden halls where children's learning is a hallelujah," what would it look like?
What is YOUR way?
Yet another link to this idea is Amy Grant's, "Better Than a Hallelujah". (Again, the video is embedded in the purple title, if you want to see it.)
"Better Than A Hallelujah" features these repeating lines:
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
Teachers know each other's miseries, what breaks our hearts--all too well these days. I think the line, "Beautiful, the mess we are," speaks to the humility with which we must approach our work (our lives) each day. No matter how detailed our plans, no matter how educated we are, children will always lead us back to the humility of trying to handle countless human responses in one classroom. But isn't this be beautiful in so many ways?
What is the melody of your teaching that God hears that would be better than a Hallelujah?
Better than simply thinking or saying, "Hallelujah," as a sign of praise or gratitude, how do you practice it in your teaching life?
What's YOUR educator's 'Hallelujah'?
Spring Cleaning Your Teaching Repertoire
As spring slowly but surely rolls in (or, at least spring break does), I look at my closet and think, "Man, I need to clean this out!" My biggest problem is tossing out clothes... I was thinking about why this is so hard, and then I realized that the clothes in my closet are there for many, many reasons. There are:
Does this sound familiar? (Don't even get me started on jewelry or shoes!)
Solutions never really seem to come with a full resolve like some people (most men) that I know have: "If you haven't worn it in a year, give it to charity."
Instead, I return to my thinking about each article of clothing (see bullets, above). This leads to countless hours of staring far too long at each item, weighting the regret I might feel about each item--should I actually decide to let it go. Many times, I end up keeping it--just in case. But then my problem of a crowded closet is not solved, and the clothing I really wear ends up jammed into one end while all of that other "stuff" consumes precious space...and, when I revisit clearing it out again in a few weeks or months, my time will again be consumed, as well.
This has me thinking about teaching practices (and don't even get me started on resources and materials--the "stuff" we save).
Is it just as hard to let go of teaching practices as we clean out our mental repertoire of strategies?
Why do we hang onto certain practices?
Teachers might hang on to:
I have never heard anyone say, "If you haven't used a teaching strategy in a year, drop it from your practices."
Since there is no exact rule about which teaching practices to keep and which to abandon, how do we decide?
When I think about my closet, the motivation to clean it out is most often borne of necessity--I'm running out of space, it's hard to quickly locate exactly what I want, and I get frustrated by repeatedly shuffling through items that I know I don't want/need any longer. Could these same things motivate teaching changes?
While I believe in the brain's capacity to remember countless teaching strategies, I know that there are times that some go by the wayside when new ones are emerging/being learned. It's like getting new clothes and forgetting to blend in some of the old favorites--even though there are perfectly good even classics. Then one day, we "rediscover" them when the newness of retail therapy wears off and wonder why we had overlooked them in the first place. This happens with teaching practices, too, especially when they represent something we really enjoyed, believed in, and knew worked effectively.
Do you have those moments of thinking, "Oh, yeah! I used to do that! Why did I let that go?"
Other times, you might think, "Yeah, I have heard of that, but I just don't have time."
So many times, we just get overwhelmed by all there is to do, so we fall back on what we know best... kind of like wearing the same clothes--whether we like them or not, believe that they are beautiful, or have anything to match them...
Sometimes, I do my laundry and wonder where I'm going to put everything; yet, I just can't bring myself to purge some of the old stuff, even if I'm not particularly attached to it any more.
Usually, this has to do with knowing that I will have to expend time and energy to take care of the problem. Honestly, most often, I just do a bit at a time. When there is enough temporary space to satisfy my current needs, I move on with life.
We do this with our teaching practices, too. We expend the time and energy it takes to do something well, including the occasional new practice. We gradually release our old practices that no longer fit our style or meet our needs, usually in small increments, eliminating any yearnings for them. We never chase the Goodwill truck to retrieve our old clothes, nor do we feel particularly sentimental for teaching practices we no longer use/need.
The expertise we build over the years will always win out over "fads" or "quick fixes" because the practices we return to tend to be the best ones, just like the classic pieces in our wardrobe. Our knowledge, know-how, and deep understanding of learning and raising thoughtful citizens is what makes teachers valuable and propel us forward--just like new clothes make even older (but classic) pieces feel fresh again.
But as for those tattered jeans... ahhh... that's another post for another day!
- clothes thought I would like but never wore,
- clothes that I bought because I liked the price,
- clothes that I've loved and pulled to wear over and over (and worn so often that they are worn out--usually "the classics" or basics)
- clothes that I forgot I even had (but they are still pretty new, still fit, and still go with other favorites)
- clothes that don't fit right any longer (if they ever did)
- clothes that I "might need one of these days"
- clothes that I am saving or have worn only on special occasions (and tend to wear only once or twice in a lifetime)
- clothes that I wish would fit and might if I got back to a more ideal weight (and the definition of that varies by the day...month... year)
- clothes that I bought because I liked them and thought I'd make additional purchases so that something would match them (but never did)
- clothes that I keep because replacing them would be expensive
- clothes that have gone out of style but I still like them--even if they make me look more of a fuddy-duddy than classy
- clothes that are fun and easy to wear--like old college sweatshirts, jeans that are laden with holes--things we love to wear when not in public
Does this sound familiar? (Don't even get me started on jewelry or shoes!)
Solutions never really seem to come with a full resolve like some people (most men) that I know have: "If you haven't worn it in a year, give it to charity."
Instead, I return to my thinking about each article of clothing (see bullets, above). This leads to countless hours of staring far too long at each item, weighting the regret I might feel about each item--should I actually decide to let it go. Many times, I end up keeping it--just in case. But then my problem of a crowded closet is not solved, and the clothing I really wear ends up jammed into one end while all of that other "stuff" consumes precious space...and, when I revisit clearing it out again in a few weeks or months, my time will again be consumed, as well.
This has me thinking about teaching practices (and don't even get me started on resources and materials--the "stuff" we save).
Is it just as hard to let go of teaching practices as we clean out our mental repertoire of strategies?
Why do we hang onto certain practices?
Teachers might hang on to:
- practices we have heard about but never tried,
- practices that we thought we would like because we saw another teacher doing them,
- practices that we've loved and used over and over (they are the "tried and true" most reliable pieces of our teaching repertoire)
- practices that we once valued but abandoned for something else, thinking that we would come back to them... but then forgot... but we still find them appealing and think we could fit them in once more
- practices that just don't fit with our teaching philosophy but we hope that we will one day figure out a way to use them effectively
- practices that we "might need one of these days" if we mentor, talk to the principal, write a book, have a student teacher, etc.
- practices that we are saving for or use only on special occasions (like holidays or parent events)
- practices that we wish would fit our style and might... if we ever reached our goal of being a "perfect teacher" (and the definition of that varies by the day...month... year)
- practices that someone told us that we should try but that we have never been able to fit in
- practices that we keep doing because replacing them would take a lot of time and energy or more planning time than we can expend right now
- practices that have gone out of style but we still like them--even if they make me look more of a fuddy-duddy than classy
- practices that are just fun or easy to implement
I have never heard anyone say, "If you haven't used a teaching strategy in a year, drop it from your practices."
Since there is no exact rule about which teaching practices to keep and which to abandon, how do we decide?
When I think about my closet, the motivation to clean it out is most often borne of necessity--I'm running out of space, it's hard to quickly locate exactly what I want, and I get frustrated by repeatedly shuffling through items that I know I don't want/need any longer. Could these same things motivate teaching changes?
While I believe in the brain's capacity to remember countless teaching strategies, I know that there are times that some go by the wayside when new ones are emerging/being learned. It's like getting new clothes and forgetting to blend in some of the old favorites--even though there are perfectly good even classics. Then one day, we "rediscover" them when the newness of retail therapy wears off and wonder why we had overlooked them in the first place. This happens with teaching practices, too, especially when they represent something we really enjoyed, believed in, and knew worked effectively.
Do you have those moments of thinking, "Oh, yeah! I used to do that! Why did I let that go?"
Other times, you might think, "Yeah, I have heard of that, but I just don't have time."
So many times, we just get overwhelmed by all there is to do, so we fall back on what we know best... kind of like wearing the same clothes--whether we like them or not, believe that they are beautiful, or have anything to match them...
Sometimes, I do my laundry and wonder where I'm going to put everything; yet, I just can't bring myself to purge some of the old stuff, even if I'm not particularly attached to it any more.
Usually, this has to do with knowing that I will have to expend time and energy to take care of the problem. Honestly, most often, I just do a bit at a time. When there is enough temporary space to satisfy my current needs, I move on with life.
We do this with our teaching practices, too. We expend the time and energy it takes to do something well, including the occasional new practice. We gradually release our old practices that no longer fit our style or meet our needs, usually in small increments, eliminating any yearnings for them. We never chase the Goodwill truck to retrieve our old clothes, nor do we feel particularly sentimental for teaching practices we no longer use/need.
The expertise we build over the years will always win out over "fads" or "quick fixes" because the practices we return to tend to be the best ones, just like the classic pieces in our wardrobe. Our knowledge, know-how, and deep understanding of learning and raising thoughtful citizens is what makes teachers valuable and propel us forward--just like new clothes make even older (but classic) pieces feel fresh again.
But as for those tattered jeans... ahhh... that's another post for another day!
Curating Your Classroom Library
Last summer, my husband and I faced buying yet another bookcase or having a "clear-out" to make space for those books in the "waiting to be read" and "favorites" stacks. We opted for the clear-out; easy for him, challenging for me! I theorize that he has an easier time because he mostly reads books only once and tends to read mysteries and fantasy. After all, with mysteries, where's the joy in re-reading when you know how it is gong to turn out?
So why do I have such a hard time parting with books? This is probably directly related to my earlier post, "Spring Cleaning...")
And then yesterday...
While pulling texts for a coaching client, I noticed a very old, yellowed, falling-apart copy of a favorite from my teenage years: WHERE THE LILIES BLOOM, gasping for its last breath on my bookcase. Staring at it--and simultaneously noticing a newer copy right beside it--I wondered...
Why do we keep certain things, especially books?
After some thinking, I would respond that I keep books because:
Did you detect my sublime, yet emotional response to books? :)
Years ago, I learned to choose select, touchstone texts for teaching writing--quality texts from which students could learn multiple writing crafts, structures, purposes, and/or strategies. Though many work across grade levels, as a coach I have found that most teachers prefer texts that are new to the students for their own grade level's work. So I have had to build my knowledge base as well as my collection of touchstone texts to encompass the needs of grades K-5.
Now I also encounter the need for touchstone texts in teaching reading strategies/skills. (As a matter of fact, I am planning to write a post very soon on the topic of using shorter texts to teach the literary signposts from Kylene Beers and Robert Probst's Notice and Note.) Again, teachers request different books from year-to-year, many of which are not readily available in their school/classroom libraries. As so the collection grows.
Many other books in my personal collection were added during my 20 years of teaching grades 1-4 in a self-contained classroom. As I learned about reading workshop, leveling texts/text complexity, and students' interests and needs as readers, the classroom library grew. As I changed grade levels and even looped from first to second grade and then eventually from second to third grade, the needs of the classroom library changed and demanded a greater number of titles. This was particularly true when I looped, as I wanted enough books to keep 20-25 students' book baskets fresh and differentiated for TWO CONSECUTIVE YEARS. At times, I also needed to add sets of books for guided reading or book club groups, as well. And so the collection grew.
Methods to "curate" your classroom library, maintaining an organized and fresh selection are described in In Tony Stead's, Good Choice, as well as in Donalyn Miller's Reading in the Wild: The Book Whisperer's Keys to Cultivating Lifelong Reading Habits.
Both of these famous educators, along with blogs and various websites, recommend discarding the following, at least once each year:
The one that is most challenging for me, by far, is the last item on the list. So many times, a copy of a book might be available in a school library but is checked out. Tony Stead recommends always having one copy available for children's hands and another that is for the teacher's use only--if it is a text that is important to have on-hand for instructional purposes. I like to think of the library's copy as the one for the children (though I make it available if I read my copy), and my copy of the touchstone text as the one that I need for instruction. When books are checked out and only one copy is available, I do make mine available to the students--which is always a risk, but one that I deem "worth it." As Tony Stead says, if you read a book that the kids aren't allowed to touch, it's like showing them cool toys but not allowing them to play with them. We need to take this to heart!
Curating my classroom library at least once each year is going to be a priority.
With the guidelines stated (above), I should be able to keep my library current, organized, and relevant. How about you?
So why do I have such a hard time parting with books? This is probably directly related to my earlier post, "Spring Cleaning...")
And then yesterday...
While pulling texts for a coaching client, I noticed a very old, yellowed, falling-apart copy of a favorite from my teenage years: WHERE THE LILIES BLOOM, gasping for its last breath on my bookcase. Staring at it--and simultaneously noticing a newer copy right beside it--I wondered...
Why do we keep certain things, especially books?
After some thinking, I would respond that I keep books because:
- I love them.
- I can think of teachers/students who currently use them to supplement their school or classroom libraries.
- Teachers and students who might want/need to use them in the future.
- I currently use them with classes.
- I love them.
- They are written by some of my favorite authors.
- They are written about some of my favorite topics.
- They are one of my favorite genres (poetry is especially difficult for me to part with... as a matter of fact, I don't think I have ever parted with a book of poetry, unless it was damaged beyond repair).
- I love them.
- They make me feel something--although the books that I tend to cherish most are those that connect to my soul in a pleasing way (generating positive feelings/thoughts)
- They have beautiful illustrations.
- But most often, I love them.
- I've enjoyed them since my youth.
- I associate special memories with them (such as reading them to/with my own kids, etc.).
Did you detect my sublime, yet emotional response to books? :)
Years ago, I learned to choose select, touchstone texts for teaching writing--quality texts from which students could learn multiple writing crafts, structures, purposes, and/or strategies. Though many work across grade levels, as a coach I have found that most teachers prefer texts that are new to the students for their own grade level's work. So I have had to build my knowledge base as well as my collection of touchstone texts to encompass the needs of grades K-5.
Now I also encounter the need for touchstone texts in teaching reading strategies/skills. (As a matter of fact, I am planning to write a post very soon on the topic of using shorter texts to teach the literary signposts from Kylene Beers and Robert Probst's Notice and Note.) Again, teachers request different books from year-to-year, many of which are not readily available in their school/classroom libraries. As so the collection grows.
Many other books in my personal collection were added during my 20 years of teaching grades 1-4 in a self-contained classroom. As I learned about reading workshop, leveling texts/text complexity, and students' interests and needs as readers, the classroom library grew. As I changed grade levels and even looped from first to second grade and then eventually from second to third grade, the needs of the classroom library changed and demanded a greater number of titles. This was particularly true when I looped, as I wanted enough books to keep 20-25 students' book baskets fresh and differentiated for TWO CONSECUTIVE YEARS. At times, I also needed to add sets of books for guided reading or book club groups, as well. And so the collection grew.
Methods to "curate" your classroom library, maintaining an organized and fresh selection are described in In Tony Stead's, Good Choice, as well as in Donalyn Miller's Reading in the Wild: The Book Whisperer's Keys to Cultivating Lifelong Reading Habits.
Both of these famous educators, along with blogs and various websites, recommend discarding the following, at least once each year:
- books that are beyond repair with age or damage.
- books that are out of date, like books based on movies (aka, "Space Jam") that are no longer trendy (or even recognized) by students
- books that were once "hot" of which you acquired multiple copies; now that the interest in them has cooled, perhaps keep only one (making it the one in the best condition)
- check for nonfiction books that are factually incorrect--although Tony Stead does advocate teaching students to check contradictions in nonfiction via copyright dates, so that they start to understanding that information is always expanding and changing... so maybe it depends on the age/reading savvy of students as well as the value of the rest of the information in a given text
- books without literary merit (although, particularly in the lower grades, it is necessary at times to have numerous "easy readers" available in order to satiate emerging readers with ample texts at early reading levels)
- books that can be easily found in your school or public library
The one that is most challenging for me, by far, is the last item on the list. So many times, a copy of a book might be available in a school library but is checked out. Tony Stead recommends always having one copy available for children's hands and another that is for the teacher's use only--if it is a text that is important to have on-hand for instructional purposes. I like to think of the library's copy as the one for the children (though I make it available if I read my copy), and my copy of the touchstone text as the one that I need for instruction. When books are checked out and only one copy is available, I do make mine available to the students--which is always a risk, but one that I deem "worth it." As Tony Stead says, if you read a book that the kids aren't allowed to touch, it's like showing them cool toys but not allowing them to play with them. We need to take this to heart!
Curating my classroom library at least once each year is going to be a priority.
With the guidelines stated (above), I should be able to keep my library current, organized, and relevant. How about you?
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