#StoriesinEdu

For several years, I have enjoyed listening to podcasts. I actually began by listening to the Serial podcast, from the creators of This American Life. I was drawn in by the voices, the engaging storyline, and the humanity in the voices that would play through my earbuds. I then briefly dabbled in Mortified, based on the recommendation of my friend, Kate Wood. This podcast introduces you to someone new each show who recounts a most embarrassing moment, usually from their teens or twenties. Isn't that when the very most mortifying things seem to happen to us?! Again, what makes this podcast intriguing is not just the storytelling, but also getting to hear the stories from real voices, with laughter, groans, hesitant pauses and the humanity that is presented throughout the show.

It seems like everyone is jumping on the podcast trend, and as much as I like words and stories, it seemed natural to want to try something like that myself. I'm working on a book, but that can seem so daunting and overwhelming. The episode structure of a podcast lends itself to succinct storytelling and can be a welcome friend on a drive to work, a walk around the neighborhood, or just background as one gets ready for work.

After several Google Hangouts and Twitter DMs, my friends Jason Bretzmann and Kenny Bosch of #personalizedPD fame encouraged Josh Gauthier and I to give it a try. They take care of the technical stuff and I get to jump in on conversations with the most fascinating educators and hear their stories.  It's not particularly glossy or famous, these educators are from rural and urban districts, work with elementary, middle, and high school students, coach teachers toward technology integration and the pursuit of personalized goals, and are one of the reasons that I wake up motivated each day. The #StoriesinEdu podcast gives me the beautiful opportunity to turn up the volume on the voices in education that we should be listening to, the voices of the people with feet on the ground doing the work.

As an instructional coach, my role has changed and that shift hasn't always been easy. In the classroom, I always knew my impact, and even when I felt under-celebrated, I had kids that would validate the importance of the work I was doing. I had love notes, trinkets and treasures, missing-teeth smiles, and lots and lots of hugs. As my role has changed, so to has my mission; I want teachers to feel empowered and celebrated, to be reflective and flexible, and to own the importance of their own impact. The #StoriesinEdu podcast has given me the opportunity to broaden that mission, to expand it outside of the work I do in my own district, and to amplify the stories in education.

If you have a story to tell, reach out to Josh or myself. We'd love to hear from you!

Some other podcasts to check out:
Always a Lesson podcast with Gretchen Bridgers
Cult of Pedagogy podcast with Jennifer Gonzales
Mortified
Serial

Keeping it simple when it's not...

Late October is a really hard time for teachers. The newness of back-to-school has worn off, the crayons aren't quite as pointy, and the reality of the task that lies ahead can seem downright overwhelming. Add on new district and campus initiatives, involvement in your own kids' activities, and all the allergies (I'm in Texas) and it can get just plain brutal.

I was in a team leader meeting this past week and our principal had us take out a notecard and list anything on the card that was a change from last year. "What are you currently dealing with that is new?" Here are just a few things that I scrawled out:

• New administration
• New lesson plan expectations
• New state teacher appraisal system
• New student login information (they had FINALLY learned them!)

Here are a few things my colleagues wrote down:

• New baby
• New teammate
• New levels of accountability
• New system for PLCs
• New math fact fluency guidelines
• New behavior unit on campus

The average number of items on the card was around 15. Fifteen?! No wonder things are feeling a little bit stressful. The task was NOT to list everything you actually do. She only asked us to write down what we do that is NEW. Just as surely as Benjamin Franklin's famous quote about death and taxes, in schools across this country, the only thing I know for sure is that things will change. The curriculum will change, the administrators will change, the current, "best practice," of the day will change. There will be new programs, new initiatives, new technology, and new kids. There will be new leaders, new state standards, new areas of focus, and new high stakes tests. 

As an Instructional Coach, I try desperately to limit the noise for teachers so they can focus on what is truly important. There are times, however, that my coaching colleagues and I feel like when teachers see us, what they really see is more work. A new coaching goal for myself is to keep my mouth shut, listen to what teachers are REALLY saying, and to draw on my knowledge, my experience, and my resources to match educators with whom or what they really need.

I was talking to a teacher yesterday whom I wholeheartedly respect. She was talking about how she has had to make a conscious effort to stop reading teacher books now that school has started because she knows it will make her want to change her already successful systems to try the latest new thing. Great teachers are always looking for better ways to reach students, but when we constantly change our approach, sometimes we cannot truly know the effects. I thought it was so brilliant of her to recognize the need to slow down, work on deep implementation as opposed to surface willingness, and to truly focus on the needs of her students and herself.

I recently attended Crucial Conversations training which is designed to help people have productive, valuable conversations when the stakes are high. In teaching, the stakes are always high because children are involved. There are three things that must be present for the conversation to be considered crucial:

1. Differing opinions (Never happens in education, right?!)
2. High stakes 
3. Strong emotions

One of my biggest take-aways from this training is that we often tell ourselves (inaccurate) stories about people and situations that directly influence how we respond when we feel threatened. As I reflected on this training and the recent conversations I have had with teachers, I think the story we are telling ourselves is that we are inadequate. If I am supposed to teach this way now, what does that mean for the kids I taught last year, or the last 20 years? Was I doing it wrong? Are you saying that if I do it this way, I'm now better than I was yesterday? Was that teaching not valuable? Did kids not learn? Do you think I'm not good at what I do?

During another recent conversation with two fourth grade teachers, they were asking about how we can possibly teach the state standards to the depth that is necessary in a workshop model. They were saying they KNOW that it is best for kids, but were struggling with the logistics of different genres, varying reading levels, a fixed timeline, time in text, and RTI expectations. As I listened to their conversation, I was struck with how well they teach. All they could focus on was how they were not doing it right, and all I could focus on was that they were. Even just having the conversation showed that they were honest and reflective, were meeting the needs of a broad range of learners, that they cared about their kids as readers and not just as test scores, and that they wanted to do their job so well. 

I work with some of the most amazing, caring, committed teachers out there. In schools all across this country, teachers are working themselves to the limits of burnout to balance what is being asked of them with what they know is right. In an ocean of ever-changing ideas, research, and initiatives, I want to help teachers identify what their state standards are asking them to do, what timeline their district has given them to do it, and what is best for kids. My daughter happens to be in the class of one of the teachers having the reader's workshop conversation above. I e-mailed her later and hope it resonates with other teachers who are fighting the good fight.

From a parent perspective, you are doing more than, "good things." My daughter is a tough nut to crack and she would take a bullet for you. She's independently motivated to work on reading and math, and is talking about social studies concepts like never before. She talks about experiments, the fun she is having, dance parties, and loves school.

You did that. 

Highly effective teachers always spend more mental energy on what isn't going well, but from my vantage point, and in her eyes, you are the best around.

My kids have been taught by the most caring and committed teachers. I am so fortunate to work with a building full of thinkers, reflectors, and teachers that put kids first. The stakes are high and our emotions are strong. When our viewpoints differ, let us focus on a mutual outcome. 

What is best for kids? 

Growth Mindset Monday

This year, our campus is focusing on Growth Mindset, an idea proposed by Carol Dweck, Stanford professor. In her book Mindsets, she puts forth the idea that the way we approach life can be based on how we view intelligence and learning. People with a fixed mindset generally believe that intelligence and ability are inherent and can't really be developed. Those with a growth mindset believe that hard work, determination, and repeated attempts at learning actually contribute to one's success. This brief video sums it up...

At our school, we have started Growth Mindset Mondays. We show a quick video clip in each classroom, the teachers pose a few discussion questions, and everyone reflects on how our mindsets affect our work. This Monday focus sets the tone for the week, and teachers can refer back to ideas, videos, and discussions as they work with students each day.

Our campus is working on a book study of Mindsets in the Classroom by Mary Cay Ricci. This book explores the idea of mindsets specifically in the education setting. We hope that continuing to explore these ideas will cultivate a culture of endurance and perseverance that we want for our students and ourselves.

 

As we continue to work toward guiding children to have a growth mindset, we hope to have more discussions in various arenas: in classrooms, with families, and with teachers. The goal is not to just simply talk about a growth mindset, but to collectively embrace the ideas of persistence, problem solving, and resolution, and to model those ideas in our own behaviors.

Click here 

Click here for the newest book for parents!

All I Really Need to Know, I Learned from Kindergarten Lunch Duty

The first week of school for an Instructional Coach is a bit different. Teachers are working to establish routines and procedures and so I did what most ICs do...plan, attend meetings, help with bus signs, console sad students, console sad mommies, and assist in the cafeteria. 

During lunch time. 
During KINDERGARTEN lunch time. 

I have been an elementary teacher for seventeen years. I have birthed babies and parented school-age children. I have worked in daycares, camps, and every other conceivable childcare field since I was 16 years old. I like kids. I am pretty good with kids. Yet, there is something scary special about kindergartners in the cafeteria during the first week of school. So naturally, I had to reflect on what I learned and find a parallel to my actual life. 

All I really need to know, I learned from Kindergarten Lunch Duty:

1. Assume NOTHING.
I have taught first grade for twelve years. There are things that first graders know how to do that I guess I assumed all children just come to school knowing. Wait your turn. Don't put orange chicken in his ear. Don't stomp on the unopened Cool Ranch Doritos bag. This is a lie. First graders know how to do things because kindergarten teachers are angels sent by God to earth to teach children how to function in a school setting. They also teach letters, sounds, math skills that used to be second grade, how to segment phonemes, how to listen to stories, how to share, how to read, and don't get me started on only getting twenty minutes of recess. They also teach the new kindergarten mommies and daddies how to hold it together while their babies are transitioning into big kids.

2.Don't take things that don't belong to you.
What do you mean, she ate your Oreos? You ate her Oreos? You may never eat someone else's Oreos. You may only eat the food that your family sent for you to eat, or that you bought for your lunch. I'm so sorry she ate your Oreos. I would be crying too if someone ate the Oreos that I was looking forward to eating in my lunch. Also, now I really want to eat Oreos.

3. Just because it's easy for adults, doesn't mean it's easy for kids.
I have school-aged kids, so I get the appeal of prepackaged lunch items. They make it way easier to pack the lunches in the morning. For the ADULT. The average kindergarten lunchbox contains approximately seven prepackaged foods. The average kindergarten child can open zero things independently. Whether it is because of emerging fine motor skills, not-yet-developed muscle tone, unwillingness, the splat factor (what I now call what happens when a five year-old attempts to open the little fruit cup thingys: applesauce, mandarin oranges, pineapple tidbits, fruit cocktail, etc.), it's just not going to happen. Other things I didn't realize needed tutorials: yogurt tubes, applesauce squeezers, milk cartons (someone hold me), any bagged item (chips, Pirate's Booty- hahahahaMrs.Taylorhesaidbootyhahahaha, Ziplock baggies, raisins, and I seem to have lost the will to remind myself of all the things so I'm stopping here). For about twelve minutes, I tried to be all Maria Montessori and teach the kids how to open the things. Yep. I know, I know...I see you laughing.

4.Clean up your own mess.
You would think this would be common knowledge. It is not. Probably because their little arms and hands and fingers are just so tired and sore from trying to open all the food. 

5. Lunchboxes are not weapons, hats, forts, or guns.
Oh, but they are. Sometimes it's on purpose. Sweetheart, put that down. She doesn't seem to like it when you put your lunchbox on her head. Mrs. Taylor, it's OK. I said she could put it on my head. Actually, it's not. Sometimes it's not on purpose. Ouch! When you swing your lunchbox around your head like that and it hits me in the shoulder, I don't like it. Will you hold it the right way so I don't get bumped, please? 

6. Kids are funny.
So funny. So, so, so funny. The kindergartners think I am the PE coach. Not in one hundred million years. They asked if I was the principal. Um, no. They asked my friend (our school counselor) if she was the camp counselor. Yes, kind of. They asked if she was the, "feelings lady." Pretty close. One asked me where I get all my nice forks from. Mrs. Taylor, I'm being so good today. Can I go home?

All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten was originally written by Robert Fulghum over 25 years ago. The main points ring just as true for me now as I begin a new professional journey. The transition from the classroom to the PLC room to the lunchroom will continue to challenge me in unique ways, but as Fulghum stated, "And it is still true, no matter how old you are - when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together." 

I am so thankful that the brave teachers I work with and those that are teaching in schools all across this country are holding hands and sticking together. And I am so glad they are with me on this messy, exciting adventure.

Who am I, if not a Teacher?

This is first day fake. My desk only looked like that for 13 minutes.

I am a teacher. It is not just what I do, it is who I am. I gather books and resources all summer long, I write student names on desk tags and bulletin boards and folders and notebooks. I read reports, I input grades, I make phone calls, I pour my heart and soul into twenty two lives a year. I carefully watch for what students will not show, I listen closely to what students will not say, and I love. I love on those kids so hard that when our time together is finished, I am emotionally depleted, mentally exhausted, but wholly satisfied that the way I have chosen to spend my days, my months, my years...has mattered.

“You’re such a natural teacher,” people say.

No. It’s not natural. Intentional, maybe. Pre-ordained, possibly. But, in no way is this career choice, “natural.” To choose minds over money. Fulfillment over power. Disrespect over accolades. It is not easy to neglect your own children for those belonging to other people. It is not normal to go to work sick because there are not enough substitutes. It is not natural to spend your own money to buy books or use your vacation money to go to professional training because you know it will benefit your students, but the system does not have the money to send you.

Dave Burgess, author of, “Teach Like a Pirate,” says,

“I’ve worked my butt off to build a class that is outrageously engaging, fun, educationally sound, and dearly loved by students. It wasn’t easy when I started, it wasn’t easy last week, and it won’t be easy next week either. It’s not supposed to be easy–it’s supposed to be worth it. You can build something incredible if you put the effort in on the front end, and then keep putting the effort in until you turn the lights off and close your door for the last time. But it won’t be, “easy.”

So then, what if I have turned the lights off and closed the door for the last time? I have accepted a new position as an instructional coach, which means I will work with teachers, but I will not have my own classroom of kids. I will still have lights. I think I will still have a door. But who am I if I no longer have a class of twenty two babies wearing my name on the back of their class T-shirts? What is my purpose if I am not at my classroom door each morning, welcoming children, asking about baseball games and dance recitals, calming worried parents or consoling kids who had a rough morning? Will my work still matter if I cannot easily point to a moment when I was there the first time a child found a book they loved or used manners when they asked for something, or found a calm way to disagree with a peer? What about on field day during tug-of-war? Somebody hold me.

I mean, seriously.

As I transition into a new position, a new career, a new role, I find myself with more questions than answers. I am more nervous than self-assured. Let’s just be real- I am actually scared to death. Even though teaching has never been, “easy,” it has provided me with things I have come to value: structure, routine, predictability, a reason to buy school supplies…

For now, I am enjoying working with the Central Texas Writing Project at Texas State University, where my summer days are spent in professional development sessions, journal writing, participating in demonstration lessons presented by committed, brave teachers who are putting the needs of themselves and their students at the forefront. I am presenting, reading books, having collegial conversations, eating all kinds of naughty foods, and laughing about this ridiculous job that I love.

Mayson and I (One of my former third graders)

But when August comes, and you see me wandering around in the school supply aisle at Target, or through the halls at Back-to-School night, please avoid direct eye contact. You can smile and shoulder-pat, even ask how my summer went or where the 4th grade hall is located. But, please do not let your gaze linger...because if you really look closely, you will see a teacher without a class who will be desperately searching for her place in this world.

All is Calm (HA!), All is Bright…

OK teacher friends, let us take just a moment to sum up the last few weeks. CRAZY. There’s not much crazier than the last-few-weeks-before-Christmas-vacation-in-an-elementary-school-crazy. There are kids in Santa hats and dress-up days every day. There is hot chocolate in gigantic crock pots and fantastic literature and holiday cheer and multiplication models and end-of-unit assessments and reading assessments and school-wide universal screening assessments. There are potlucks and secret Santas and cookie exchanges and grade deadlines and there is glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. I get tired simply replaying the last few weeks in my head.

Probably because its 11:00am on a Saturday and I’m still in pajamas. I’ve taken the, “…sleep in heavenly peace,” lyric quite literally and it’s so delightful. I’ve read four books. I’ve watched close to seventeen movies. I’m not sure I’ve washed my hair in three days. I’ve played CandyLand with my kiddos, I’ve, “Just Danced 2015” my butt off, and I’ve eaten lots of delicious food.

I’ve enjoyed watching my friends post pictures of their vacations. Playing in the snow, drinking coffee by the light of the Christmas tree, enjoying their families…This, my friends, is the very true meaning of the word, VACATION. We all needed it. We all benefit from it. And we all deserve it.

It is so easy to get stressed. It is so easy to work hard for things we don’t really care about. We look around and realize we are expending time, energy, and effort on things we do not truly value and it is taking us away from those things we care about the very, very most. A vacation is the perfect time to reconnect with our true passions, reevaluate how we spend our time, and restructure the boundaries that we need to put in place to stave off the nonsense that prevents us from really, truly living.

From my house to yours and from my classroom to yours, I hope with my whole heart that you are surrounded by laughter and crazy and love. I hope you are reading books and enjoying family and watching funny movies and drinking pepperminty coffee (If you like that). I hope that you are snuggled up with your people and I pray that your 2015 is filled with pleasure, adventure, and passion.

The Magic of a Meltdown

Well people…it’s time.

My mom says, “You’re in transition.” My husband says, “Here we go again. What dinner should I bring home?” My non-teacher friends say, “Just don’t go to work! It’s still summer!”

My teacher friends say, “Let’s go eat queso; I had mine yesterday. Or five minutes ago. Or both.”

This will come as no shock to those who know me well, but I have emotional, um, freak-outs tendencies. I’m a crier. I feel things deeply and then the depth of all the feelings about SEEMINGLY DUMB THINGS make me bawl. Maybe it’s in a Hobby Lobby. Maybe it’s when a song comes on in my car. Maybe it’s when I’m standing in the middle of my classroom or in the shower or in my kitchen or ANYWHERE I AM EVER STANDING.  It’s who I am. It’s what I do. And I have finally decided to be OK with it.

Here’s why.

A meltdown means it matters.

I’ve melted-down (yes, that is now a verb) at my kitchen table filling out ADD paperwork for my son. In a staffing with administrators and other teachers over a student that was struggling with his place in the world. In my car when my best friend of 16 years drove back to her new home to her new school in her new town to be with teachers each day that ARE NOT ME. And last year…sweet mercy. Suffice it to say a grade level change shouldn't seem like a huge deal, but I pretty much cried my way through the entire school year because it was important and hard and scary.

The upside, if there is one, is that an emotional release can be cathartic. My dictionary app even said, “psychological relief.” Yes, please. I always feel better after I cry. I look like I’ve been stung by bees on my face, but I feel better on the inside.

I’ve decided it’s OK to be emotional. I’ve battled with this one for most of my adult life. My personality could be described as passionate at best…manic at worst, but I’m not going to apologize anymore for always getting so, “worked up.” One friend of mine calls it being, “emotionally present.” Isn’t that FANTASTIC?!

I have also determined to really look deeper from now on. People that don’t know me well are usually confused when I’m doing the Lamaze breathing-shelf tears-quick blinking-trying-not-to-cry-thing because there is seemingly no clear reason for the emotion. But, it’s not the paperwork, it’s the feeling of inadequacy that maybe I didn’t do enough to help my son. It’s not the meeting that’s making me cry, but the feeling of helplessness that there may be a student or a situation that I just cannot help. It’s not that I’m not THRILLED for my sweet friend and her new adventures, but the selfish feeling that I will miss her being the only one that can recognize my post-meltdown state. “You have cry-eyes…tell me what happened.” It’s not the song on the radio, but what it reminds me of…

I have decided to embrace the meltdown. I have decided to surround myself with people I love and that I know love me. To eat queso and have girls’ nights and binge-watch Pretty Little Liars. To listen to music that I know will make me cry and then to play music that is SURE to make me feel better. (Please download All About That Bass by Meghan Trainor and your life will be better. You’re welcome.) To teach my kids that it’s OK to be, “emotionally present” if you can learn from the feelings and use them to help others.

To all my friends who need to have the meltdown…I hereby grant you permission. Then, please call me and I’ll take you out for queso.