The One Room Schoolhouse Lives!

When I was learning the ropes of teaching, the buzz word we were taught was differentiation. Education, incidentally is full of polysyllabic words, some of which actually show up in spell check. Anyway, the key to differentiation, I learned, was to think of the classroom as a one room school house. Back in the day, as we know, a teacher might be responsible for teaching all the kids in a community, from primary to high school age. The 21st century teacher must echo the ability to reach a classroom filled with a diversity of learning styles and multiple intelligences.

In theory, for most teachers the one room schoolhouse exists as an analogy and ends there. They learn to incorporate art, music, games, group work, peer work, and all sorts of tricks into an ordinary day to cater to their visual, auditory and kinesthetic learners. For many teachers in communities like the Bronx however, the one room schoolhouse exists beyond a metaphor.

We have students of all ages, like my friend with several 13 year-olds in her fifth grade class. In most cases, even if there's not a broad range of ages (in my own classroom thankfully no student is older than 9) there's a huge spectrum of academic abilities. So while you might not be teaching kids age 5 - 17, you might be teaching kids whose reading and math abilities range from kindergarten to fourth.

I say all this not by way of complaining. First of all, I'm very fortunate to have only 19 kids in my class this year. 19! It's an unbelievable number. Secondly, in a strange way I'm excited for the challenge of teaching four kids how to read starting with the ABC's at the same time I'll be challenging my brightest book worm to navigate different types of chapter books. In the end, I just mean to point out that differentiation, like many cornerstones of education (technology, arts integration...), means something very different to different teachers depending on where you teach.

Thank You For Testing

If they ever make a version of Thank You For Smoking based on the testing industry, it will probably be based on Todd Farley's book, Making the Grades: My Misadventures in the Standardized Testing Industry. The NY Times published an op-ed by Farley yesterday about how one major issue with standardized tests is not the tests themselves, but people scoring them without accountability, consistency or any real interest in the outcome.

Farley tells one story of G.U.I. (grading under the influence):

My colleague and I were relaxing at a pool because we believed we’d already finished scoring all of the tens of thousands of student responses. Then a call from the home office informed us that a couple of dozen unscored tests had been discovered.

Because our company’s deadline for returning the tests was that day, my colleague and I had to score them even though we were already well into happy hour. We spent the evening listening to a squeaky-voiced secretary read student answers to us over a scratchy speakerphone line, while we made decisions that could affect somebody’s future.

While I think there's plenty to criticize about the tests themselves, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to point out another problem with standardized testing system in general that we're using to "fix" education in America.

A Great Day for Me, A Sad Day for Rap Music

I've always been told how effective music can be as a teaching tool. Unfortunately, as those who know me can attest, I'm less than musically inclined. I listen to it non-stop, but create it? Not so much.

Enter the scientific method. It's kind of a complicated topic to teach to third graders, especially when most are English Language Learners. Words like observation, hypothesis, conclusion are a bit of a stretch for their vocabularies. Somehow the only logical solution was to compose a rap.

It started with a hook that popped into my head: "The method, the method, the scientific method." I'll admit it's got a kinda old school, Grandmaster Flash vibe to it, but it stuck. Before I knew it I was channeling B-Rabbit and laying down my own 16 bars.

Today was the big day. Picture if you will, a dorky Jewish boy in a tie spitting his rhymes asynchronously. After every verse 19 seven and eight year-olds jump in, "The method, the method! The scientific method! The method, the method! The scientific method!"

I couldn't believe how into it they were! I had made enough copies for partners to share, but they all wanted their own so I'm going to make extras. It was definitely a highlight of the year so far, and possibly one of my favorite lessons of all time. That said, as someone who's first CD purchase ever was Warren G's Regulate...G Funk Era I feel almost guilty about what transpired today. I mean I don't think it's worse for the genre than what Soulja Boy's been doing, but if 2Pac is truly dead, he just might be turning in his grave.

What Just Happened??

I was in my classroom on my prep yesterday when my next door neighbor walked in. I'm still getting my bearings at my new school, but I've caught on enough to know she walks the walk and talks the talk.
"I love your classroom. It looks great!"
"Wow, thanks. That means a lot coming from you," I replied. I've been working hard to get my class in shape and this woman's classroom is a colorful picture of perfection, fit for the pages of the Lakeshore catalog.
"Can I just make a suggestion?"
"Of course."
"Do you want this here?" she said pointing to a bookshelf bordering my rug. We moved it back to back with another bookshelf.
"Do you like where you have this?" she pointed to my conferencing table. Minutes later the classroom had a new, open look to it. And I couldn't help but, shake my head and laugh. We're always taught to lead off our feedback to students and parents with a positive. My neighbor had buttered me up perfectly and before I knew it, remodeled my classroom in her image. Oh, she's good, she's very good.

Mini Jekylls and Hydes

For anyone who hasn't spent a lot of time with human beings around the ages 6-12, you'd be amazed how quickly their behavior can change. Even more strange, are the triggers that set off these alterations. You can have a perfectly quiet, diligent classroom of students one moment. Then the phone rings, or a literacy coach enters the room, or a cluster teacher comes in to cover your prep.

Now you no longer have 19 industrious children, showing off their best "star behavior." Instead you have five kids clammering to go to the bathroom at once, three kids moving around aimlessly on the rug, two kids who can't keep their hands to the self and the rest are either tattling (He keeps touching me!) or staring blankly waiting for it all to be over. It's amazing how they can sense that even while you're physically present, they no longer have your full attention. And once they sense this, immediately they take the opportunity to break every rule you've worked so hard to establish.

At least order is quickly restored when I intervene. I'm doing my best to teach them ways to keep busy while I'm dealing with one of the daily interruptions by phone or visitors. As for the cluster teachers and push-in teachers, they'll have to find their own way to coax out the inner Jekylls from my students and not the Hydes.

Here We Go Again

Tomorrow my kids will take the first of what I imagine will be many practice exams. Tomorrow, for those keeping track, is one day short of the two week mark of the school year. Before we've even established what we can do as readers and writers, and what good readers and writers do, my students will be tested on their English Language Arts skills. Which sorta begs the question, why?

The answer is simple, and exposes several of the problems with the standardized tests we're using to provide accountability for students, teachers, principals, and well, pretty much everyone. Why are 19 kids, three of whom barely speak English, taking a practice ELA exam seven months before the real test? In part to gather data, I'm sure, on what the students can and cannot do. But, given my students limited abilities the data's usefulness will be equally constrained. So the primary aim isn't assessment, but exposure to the testing format.

What does this say about the tests were using? If we can improve students' scores just by having them take a test they don't understand, over and over again, how valid can that assessment be? This is especially important in light of the supposed gains that Bloomberg, Klein et all have been crowing over as the centerpiece of Bloomberg's education record. Yes, scores have gone up consistently, but ask around and people point to students' growing familiarity with the tests as a major factor. So what we're testing isn't actually understanding of content, but understanding of the test itself.

I had hoped that I wouldn't spend as much time talking about testing this year. I also hoped I wouldn't spend as much time teaching about testing this year. For the sake of my sanity and keeping this blog interesting though, I promise to keep the test griping to a minimal. Deal? Deal.

Back to School Shopping

Today was a much needed payday (along with Salary Step backpay!). So I made a trip to Staples (aka the 10th circle of Hell) to pick up some essentials for the school year. I made a couple other stops before finally making it home. See if you can catch the item not available through DonorsChoose:

• 2 Tablets of Chart Paper
• 3 Rolls of Scotch Tape
• 2 Packets of Stickers
• 25 Hanging Folders
• 1 3" Binder
• 25 Sheets of Laminate
• 1 Kitchen Timer
• 1 Bottle of Scotch

Ah, yes, I'm finally set for the year.

The Danger of "Cute"

As I've mentioned, the size and immaturity of my third graders has been a shock to my system. They're surprisingly small, squirmy, and just a bit misshapen. It's amazing how much development takes place in just a year, and how different 7 and 8 year-olds can seem from 8 and 9 year-olds. Hell, I may be a grown man, but I'm not afraid to drop a c-bomb. These kids are just plain cute.

But that puts me in a bit of a predicament. Can I chalk up some of their misbehavior to their age and shrug it off? This seems a risky move. By several accounts I have a "tough" class and I've been advised to stay on top of them. But to discipline them just as strictly as my 4th graders in pursuit of order seems almost inappropriate.

Case in point: Yesterday we are talking about communities. "What is a community?" I ask, and everyone's taking turns sharing their thoughts. We're talking about the things that make up a community and the different types of communities - neighborhoods, cities, classrooms - when one girl I'll dub Pepita Long Stalking raises her hand. "Yes?" "The other day I was at the park and I was nice to a squirrel." With a tone that was perhaps unintentionally harsh I respond, "What does that have to do with communities?" A blank stare is all I get. I try to dial it back and ask as non-judgmentally as possible, "Does your story have to do with communities or did you just want to share your story?" Silence.

These are the new challenges I'm facing to my teaching this year. I'm used to dealing with a fair amount of attitude and relatively "mature" behavioral problems. With my third graders I'm encountering a new set of problems that don't seem at all rooted in disrespect. I imagine I'll start to figure out which behaviors I need to firmly correct and which are just quirks of my new age group. In the mean time I expect more awkwardness will ensue.

Time Warp

It's hard to believe that tomorrow will only be the 3rd day of school this year. This feels like the longest short school week of my life. Perhaps it's just the harsh, back to reality face-plant like feeling of waking up at 6:15 once again, but I am totally exhausted. The good news is that having adjusted my expectations and approach, today went much more smoothly. It might have been tedious at times rehearsing getting up, sitting down, lining up, sitting down... But the benefits were clear as the kids got compliments everywhere they walked in the building and I got a compliment of my own on my management. I'm hoping the stage is being set for a great year.

Shake it Off

It's a given that there are many days that won't go as planned for a teacher. I didn't expect today to be one of them, but I guess I should have since I'm starting a new school and new grade. As Forrest Gump's mama might have said about new students, you never know what you're gonna get. Even though I spent the first week and a half of my teaching career as a 3rd grade teacher, I was still surprised by the smallness of my students. I'd forgotten the shock I felt when I was abruptly switched to the 4th grade and my students seemed to have doubled in size (and attitude).

Their size and immaturity caught me somewhat off guard, and turned some of the seemingly simple rules and procedures activities I'd planned into a struggle. Adding to that struggle was the realization that almost all of my students are ELL's including at least three students who speak no English. So, if my lessons weren't already too tough, the fact that they didn't know what I was saying probably made the whole day plenty challenging.

Still, as the title of this post suggests, if I've learned anything from the past two years (and a day) you need to be able to shake it off when things don't go as expected. Tomorrow is only Day 2, which means there is plenty of time to reteach, rehearse and reinforce the rules, routines and procedures of my classroom. That is priority number one, and while it's not the most exciting experience ever, hopefully it will lay the groundwork for a great year.

Year 3

In just a bit more than 8 hours I'll be embarking on my third year of teaching. I'm utterly in a state of disbelief with regard to this fact, but oddly (and thankfully) I'm free from the feeling of panic I had in my gut just yesterday. Strangely, I've got the feeling I've got things under control. I'm hoping for a decent night's sleep, if such a thing exists the night before the first day of school, and then before I know it I'll be packing those rugrats up and sending 'em home. New school, new grade. Looking forward to another year packed with challenges and excitement. Still, I need to say it: Goodbye summer, I'll miss you.