It's long, but they're worth it #ncdlc

I was a little apprehensive last weekend. On Monday I would start a four day adventure where I provided professional development to educators all over the eastern side of North Carolina. Hundreds of people at each location, and no idea where each teacher might be in their level of preparedness for our content. Now here comes a selfish moment. I love providing professional development, especially if it is something which I am extremely passionate, so my anxiety was not about standing in front of others. For me I worried, "What if no one wants to attend my sessions?" I had these mental images of me standing around in the hallway, dejected, possibly teary, while everyone else had rooms full of participants. Even with this fear darting in and out of my head occasionally, I was at the ready when the time for the first session came.

My first session each day was on Seesaw, and was designed to display to teachers ways to utilize the platform to have students curate their learning, create portfolios, and connecting with parents in more meaningful ways. I love Seesaw, and not just because I'm an ambassador. I think the versatility of the platform is truly amazing, but I also recognize just how easy it could be to get overwhelmed with all those options. So I was ready to help participants go through the types of activities that involved reflections, tagging posts with learning targets, curating artifacts, and brainstorming ways to incorporate all these things in our classrooms. I get really excited about these processes in Seesaw and their potential, so it's easy to be really eager and animated. And like I said, I was ready.

My music is playing (the usual, Blake Rules Kids Trap). In walked Laura (names changed to protect my poor participants 😉), a kindergarten teacher, and in my head I thought "Yes! Someone is here! This is exciting, I can't wait for the others to come so we can get started!"

Well the others didn't come. I had one participant in my first session, Laura. Though I was so happy to see her, I was a bit crestfallen at the lack of interest in my session. Little did I know that working with Laura in a one-on-one session was going to pave the way for an amazing week. The conversation alone gave me such inspiration on the ways to help all students reflect regardless of age or entry point. See, Laura is a kindergarten teacher. She has to shape all these little teeny ones' minds no matter where they are when they enter. She had already been using Seesaw as a work collector. She saw the benefit of portfolios and wanted to hone in on how to expand the applications and move into parent involvement. Her goals were specific, and since she was the only one in that session, we could flesh out any concerns she had and really try to figure out the best plan of action.

When time was up, I asked Laura if she felt better about trying Seesaw again this year, and she confirmed that she was ready to try to help her kids complete posts more independently, get parents involved, and get them involved early. It was at that moment where I realized that if I only had her for the rest of the day, the experience was so powerful because she gave me insights and perspectives that I had not yet even thought of.

But Laura wasn't the only one that day. My sessions throughout the day had more and more participants, with more and more perspectives. It was awesome. What really surprised me was how many people were interested in my second session about tools that could help with writing instruction. We talked not only about the tools, but about why kids often don't enjoy writing and the things we could do to alleviate those issues. Teachers were so excited with some of the ways the tools could be used, and it was a total rush to lead them through activities and here the "wow" noises. At the end of each session, I asked participants if they felt like they had found something they could use, and I got vigorous head nods and affirmations.

I didn't have another one-person session; my other sessions had at least a small group, and some of them filled a classroom. I was able to reference Laura and our one-on-one session the rest of the week. I met more "Lauras" who had been using tools for a while. But I also got to meet others who were completely unfamiliar with digital tools, and honestly kind of nervous about it. But they were there. In the summer. Out of their comfort zone. Fully participating. Feeling at least a little more empowered to enhance their students' learning experiences. As the week went on, some other folks stood out to me (names still changed):

Melanie came in and asked first about what level of experience she needed. She had not been able to get to the beginner session but wanted to know more about it, though she was afraid it would be over her head. I reassured her, helped her through the session and try some new things, and by the end she had some really reflective artifacts. And here's the kicker... Melanie was in Edenton on Monday, but then I saw her again on Tuesday in Kinston. Y'all that's like two hours of a trip. Two. Hours. I told her she was the real MVP of the NCDLC.

Kendrick came into my session first thing one day and did so quickly. He was one of several who had not heard of Seesaw before but wanted to try it. Kendrick stands out to me because he helped me see that I needed to be a bit more aware in my acknowledgement of entry points. One of the activities had  participants reflecting on digital tools they have used in their classrooms so far. It just so happened that as I said it aloud, I glanced at Kendrick and saw an uneasy look, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had made an assumption that all my participants were at a certain level (which... shame on me because I have preached this to others for so long), and I had to immediately amend the directions and include reassurance to those who were trying new things. I mean it's a pretty big step to show up sometimes, you know? Kendrick participated in all aspects of the session, and even said that he may try using it this year. #win

Carol came into a session and struggled with technology from the get go. I mean the wifi wouldn't work, laptop issues, you name it. It took a while to get her set up, and when she finally was able to post, her words made me all warm and fuzzy on the inside. She mentioned that she was getting closer to retirement, and wanted to be better at digital tools and improve her skillset before then. Even after all the reasons above as to why she should be frustrated and give up, that's what she said.

There are countless others... I just realized I could go on for another ten paragraphs about these wonderful educators. (Like when I finally impressed Rosanna with a tool that she had not yet heard of... Rosanna you know who you are because you hung out with me for half a day😉) I had people come to one of my session and then stay for the other one (apparently I am what some call "entertaining" in my presentations). But the sessions seemed to fly by, as did the days. Before I knew it, I was back home and feeling so hopeful.

Y'all... teachers in our state of North Carolina are amazing. Our licensing requirements changed, prompting the need for new and different CEUs. Some people came because they had to renew their license, while others came to just learn more than they would be able to in their district. We had people drive around and follow us from location to location (again, let me say, two hours per trip one way). And I never had one educator who voiced displeasure or frustration in one of my sessions. Instead they were excited to learn new things, practice new things. Some were just happy to be in an environment with others who want to learn and try new things. It's hard not to feel downtrodden in our state with education. We are underfunded, not just in teacher pay, but for our students. Yes we have technology but some of it is still archaic and we have it because we have to keep up with the rest of the world! Class sizes are monstrous and we sometimes feel as though we are fighting a losing battle. But these teachers gave me an incredible amount of faith that our system will never really fail. Our teachers still love kids. They still want to help students. They still want to get better. They are still magicians. They still deserve your respect and gratitude always. And if you have any concerns about that not being the case, please come talk to me, and I can tell you about some more of my new friends.

#NCDLC

Bam

I saw a post today on Facebook that I just had to share... and comment on... and share some more. Then I figured, I need to share it again on here.

So here’s the photo:

And now here’s my post:

Oh my goodness. This. This is the point of all the “crazy changes” to education. There were no “benefits” to anyone of the traditional instruction and grading system. I think about all the folks I went to high school with (KMHS fostered some great people through their halls) and I can’t help but wonder what would have happened for us if we didn’t have things like standardized tests and GPAs to remind us of where we were in line. If we are successful in the current educational system, the traditional one, there’s a small part of that due to our skill set, knowledge, etc. But the larger part of it is the game and how ready and willing we were to play it.

Now I am not in the slightest suggesting that teachers we have had aren’t amazing. I mean I’m a teacher now and chose this profession. I still think fondly of teachers like Mrs. Keeter, Mrs. Ellis, Mrs. Kendrick, Mrs. Lattimore, Mrs. Hendricks, and countless others. They knew that relationships with us as students were important to foster. They taught us information and skills and modeled for us how to be good people. They showed us how important we were and how important we would continue to be. But their hands were tied because of this system. 

When I was in 4th grade my Mom got a call from Mrs. London at home. She was calling to tell her that I didn’t pass the writing test that year. Not only did I not pass but I got a 1. I read the prompt incorrectly and wrote an essay on the wrong question. She was calling to tell my Mom because there was a lunch field trip for those who passed the test, and she knew how upset I would be to not pass and not go on out to lunch. And she was right—I was devastated. I mean here I am, 23 years later and still remember the details of it. For years I not only felt scared of writing assignments, but I was also seriously afraid of the next test in 7th grade. I remember thinking that if I didn’t pass it then, I would then officially be a terrible writer. I mean what?! Why should a kid be made to feel this way?! But it is exactly how it is with our testing, our grading, class rank, etc.

We need to be encouraging ALL our students. We need to be showing them all the possible things and then letting them decide how awesome they want to be at them. We need to let go of those averages that are tied to letters that essentially define a student’s worth and potential. It’s arbitrary and silly. We need to stop testing kids all the time on their growth and progress! Telling a kid in 3rd grade that they are not college and career ready because they didn’t pass a test is CRAZY. Of course they aren’t college and career ready... they are 8 years old!

I’m reading a book called Empower by John Spencer and AJ Juliani. One of them, though I can’t remember which, had a teacher named Mrs. Smoot. One day John or AJ was talking with her about creating something for a project, and he was reluctant to do so. And she said to him, “We rob the world of our creativity when we don’t make anything.” 💥 Bam.

How many people have robbed the world and still continue to do so because they didn’t feel like what they had to bring was good enough?

#dobetter #bebetter #empower

#sorrythiswassolong

I could start all over again about this... I could even give other anecdotes from my life about my time “playing the game” and all I actually got out of it. But I’ll refrain. The point is made. We focus on the wrong things. We’ve got to stop it.

As we near the end of the year...

I've been doing some reading, and this common theme has been emerging. And I'm at a point where I need to be delivering a rousing speech on this. But... it's not the right time of year for this... and I'm not a speech giver. So instead I'm going to jot some thoughts down here on it.

I'm currently involved in several book studies. I'm reading Being the Change: Lessons and Strategies to Teach Social Comprehension by Sara K. Ahmed. I'm also slowly progressing through Culturize by Jimmy Casas. One other book I recently read is On Your Mark by Thomas Guskey. I mention all these because they really have all fit into my whirlwind of thoughts on this.

I'll start with Guskey... in his book on grading reform, Thomas Guskey draws attention to a pretty important distinction in what we think we are doing with our instruction and grading, and what we actually are doing. His question: Are we developing talent or are we selecting it? We hear all the time about how teachers mold and shape young minds, that we push students to do and be their very best. But if we are honest, we don't develop as much as we want to think we do. Sure we will push any student we meet that wants to learn, or even those who are really smart but don't put forth the effort we would like them to. But really and truly developing all the talent in our buildings? I don't think so. Don't get me wrong, I've been as guilty of this as anyone else has, but I also recognize that I need to do better, and so it's something I work on a lot, as it can be difficult and take a lot of work. And honestly, in our current state of education, the way we are set up is just not as conducive to developing all students, all talent. There are some movements on the horizon that could help make it easier to do, but right now we are using what we have and doing what we feel like is the best we can. And that best places a heavy emphasis on "selecting" the best by teaching and pushing students, and seeing who comes out on top.

The problem with selecting talent, though, and not developing it, is in the way we recognize, or rather, don't recognize those who aren't selected. Those who don't rise to the challenge, for whatever reason, just don't cut it. And *shudder* we regard them as such, some of us *double shudder* even tell them so. I just read the saddest thing in Culturize by Jimmy Casas, and it stuck out so much to me because I know it still happens now. "I wanted them to hold me to a high standard, not turn away and tell another adult that I wasn't worth it."

Oh. My. Gosh. This happens?! It really happens! It's one of those things where you are shocked at first to even fathom it, but then you start to think about it, and you actually hear comments like these come out of teachers' mouths on occasion, or even regularly. Students have come to school, a place where they are supposed to feel safe, encouraged and challenged. For some school is the most secure constant in their lives, and instead they are given the message that they aren't worth the effort.



Now there are a lot of things that do not go in teachers' favor. Class sizes are huge, supplies are at a minimum, limits are placed on what teachers feel they can do, say or work on. Teaching is definitely a career that has it's massive ups and downs, and we as teachers seem to feel so much that we sometimes can't escape it. But when it gets down to it, we chose this career because we felt as though we could make a difference and teach young people. And we do not get to decide who gets that difference and who doesn't. We may not appreciate the way some students convey their feelings on school, but we should be taking those occasions as a challenge to change their minds, not dismiss them. As Casas says we need to be a "champion for our students," and that means all of them.

This time of year is high stress for everyone. Most of us have state testing that causes us endless worries for our students, as well as the usual end of school year chaos. I don't want to add one more thing to the list, but I do feel like the question is important enough to be at least posed. So if you don't mind, ponder these questions over when you are frustrated at a student or group of:

Are you championing all your students?

Are you ensuring that all your students know they are cared for and encouraged to be the best they can be?

Are you remembering that every student is worth it?

These are just meant to be gentle reminders that even when we think our students don't care about school, or about us, they are still watching to see if we care about them.



So this brings me to the final book I'm reading by Sara K. Ahmed, "Being the Change." This book is all about helping students to be more socially aware and cognizant of the importance of our differences as people. We all could benefit from these lessons, and its especially important for us to model them and demonstrate how important this level of awareness is. We also need to recognize the stereotypes we make towards others, including students. I'm not talking just about cultural ones, but ones based upon possible labels or behaviors that students possess. We cannot perpetuate that all students with a certain attribute act in a particular manner. We inadvertently mimic these types of prejudices regularly, and honestly we need to check ourselves. Part of our responsibility as educators is to model appropriate and welcoming interaction to all people, especially our students. If we aren't doing that, we are doing our kids a major disservice.

So yea, this was a bit of a ramble. But as I was reading I started tying things together in my head and I felt like this must. come. out. Our kids deserve better. No matter what time of the year, they always deserve better.

If you're interested in purchasing any of the books (I don't have any affiliate purchase links or anything) the links to them are below. :) They are definitely worth being added to any summer reading list.

On Your Mark, by Thomas Guskey








                                                                               Culturize by Jimmy Casas                                         

Being the Change: Lessons and Strategies to Teach Social Comprehension, by Sara K. Ahmed

That funny feeling

So I'm reading another professional book now about grading. This one, Charting a Course to Standards-Based Grading: What to stop, what to start, and why it matters" by Tim R. Westerberg kind of combines some of Thomas Guskey's sentiments but also talks about the actual process of reforming the grading practices that we have such problems with.

I just read a line that struck me and I needed to stop and reflect on it for just a second.  So here goes:

     "Why do we insist on using an assessment and grading system that yields results that fly in the face of teacher judgement?" (p 31)

About 20 things flew through my mind as that question settled in, and some of my questions are below:

• Why and how do we insist?
• Which of the myriad of grading systems and assessment types yield these results?
• Have we stopped to consider whether we are consistent or not in these face-flying systems we insist upon?

This topic of grading is so...personal for teachers, and it can be hard to even broach the subject. To pose concerns about our assessment systems not only potentially calls into question our professional knowledge base, but it also makes us wonder whether we were even educated the "right" way. I mean, what if all those assumptions we made about how we "turned out" were actually not totally correct? What if we could have done something while pursuing our education that made us even better?

Nope, nope... not even going to go there. And here's where you usually see the conversation end.

But let's go back to that question for a second... the idea of using something that "flies in the face of our judgement"? What judgement is it talking about? This is where my light bulb hit, and I want to share what I think that judgement may be.

So think back to a time where you were calculating final grades. You enter in the missing assignments, save your progress and take look at the numbers. And then you spot that kid... yea that kid. Here are some of the students I'm talking about.

Samantha Student, has 19 absences for the quarter and at one point had about 7 missing assignments. Your team called home so she showed up the last few days and churned out assignments, now passing, but barely.

Timothy Teenager is the most hardworking student you've seen in at least the last 10 years easily. He knows that his reading and writing are a little behind his peers, so he puts in extra time each night to complete assignments. His notebook for class is meticulous, and he's so well behaved but he doesn't really ask questions. Now you've realized that he apparently had some trouble this quarter, and the B that he held last quarter has fallen to a C based on his assessment data.

Lindsey Learner is at school every day, but she never talks to anyone. You worry that something is wrong, and have inquired some but never really gotten any answers. You think back to that one time where you worked with her on a math assignment, and you know she is utterly brilliant. She easily aces assessments most of the time, but occasionally, usually correlated to a bad day, she doesn't even finish a quiz, and those Fs factor in to her average, which is now a C for a mind that probably excels far above her peers.

Stephen Struggler is a student with an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) where he receives support for as many subjects as possible. He is so sweet but his difficulty is absolutely genuine. School doesn't come easily to him. He may improve in his ability to do algebra over the course of a class, but you very seriously doubt that its a skill he will carry with him into a four year university. Stephen is much more suited to a career in a trade. He is so detail oriented that there are a ton of options for him, and with his work ethic and personality you know he'll excel once he begins. But at this moment you are preparing to give him his most recent D- for the quarter.

You may have had one of these, or maybe even all of them at some point. You encounter their grades, think about them as a student, and then you get this feeling of something that just isn't "sitting right" with the grade they receive. Maybe you feel like it's unfair for them to receive such a low grade when they have cognitive deficits. Maybe you feel like it's too fair for them to pass even though they were missing assignments. Or maybe you just feel sad, because you know that even though you're technically "teaching" you aren't really helping them learn, or even be more well-rounded people.

That feeling, the "something isn't right feeling" is 

the part where our teacher judgement flags us. That's where our unspoken "help all children learn" mission is in question due to our own practices, and that feeling of frustration, malaise or concern is our response to it. For those who do not enjoy the approaching grading reform conversation, please understand you are already addressing the issue when you have those responses. It doesn't tell us what we need to do to *fix* these problems, but it does show us that we really do recognize a need to change assessment of our students. The practices and the results don't match, and they don't address what we are really measuring anyway, which is student learning. Maybe we are all a little closer to change than we realized, and we can help each other brace the rocky path towards reform.

The "L-Word" Challenge

This time of year is rough. A lot of us are in the middle of a long stretch of time with no break in sight. We've been at school for a month with no break. And we have another month to go. That's hard, y'all. Plus the spring semester is just so busy, and we know the summer is in sight, but not before we have our end of year tests. The pressure's mounting, and we all feel it. Things that we may have been handling all year now seem so "touchy." A comment we hear from a student all year long suddenly frustrates us beyond measure. I've been there, and I'm sure you have too.

During this time period and other stressful times for that matter, we tend to be a bit blameless and a bit more careless with our thoughts and opinions. This is most often when the "L-Word" rears its ugly head.

"I can't believe these research papers. They are terrible. Why are students so lazy these days?"

"Another Friday, another 12 students who did not turn in their work this week. How do we combat such laziness?"

And the worst... an actual classroom accusation:

"There is no excuse for lazy in this room. You don't have to like it, but you have to do it, so let's get to it."

We throw the "L-Word" around like it means nothing. But it does. If you were, as an adult, called lazy in your job, how would you feel about it? Incensed? Disheartened? Defeated? All of the above, possibly? Being called lazy is not an uplifting experience for anyone, but it's especially detrimental if it is used to describe a child in a classroom who doesn't necessarily have the capacity to use it in a motivational way. So today, I'm issuing a challenge for us all. Let's outlaw the "L-Word" in our schools.

Before I continue, let me say that I am just as guilty of using this in the past as anyone. I also completely understand the need to vent about frustrations that happen with our students and our jobs. But even when we feel we are only casually voicing our frustrations, our comments cannot be unspoken, and we may be delivering more of a message about ourselves as educators than about our students.

Instead of questioning why our students aren't working to their potential, what if we ask ourselves a few questions:

-Are we sure what we are asking is reasonable for our students' current entry points?
-Are we wielding grades as weapons for motivation, or using them to communicate to students where they are and where they are headed?
-What are the possible reasons (besides what we perceive) as to why our students aren't meeting their expectations?
-What have we done to show students the importance and relevance of what they are doing?
-What have we done to show our students how important they and their learning are to us teachers?

If the answers to these don't come easily, then we may need to reassess our approach. We may be creating the circumstances that we are labeling as lethargic. No student wants to be lazy. Even if they call themselves that, they don't mean it. (Think about a time where you've called yourself that in jest. It happens.) Students generally are not as apathetic as we deem them to be. If we haven't reached them, there's more we can try, but we don't get to assume things about their work ethic based on our past experiences. We are inadvertently perpetuating the problem, and that's not fair to them or us.

So back to my challenge.  Can you help me ban the "L-Word" in education? Can we work together to eradicate it from our conversations? From our classrooms? From our school culture?

How productive is your struggle?

   I spent some time today in a classroom working on math with a small group of students.  Math can feel tough for some people (and if it is you've probably heard them say so).  And we didn't even really get started before I noticed the visible frustration on the kids' faces.  Heads were down on the table, they were fussing with each other about silly little things that normally wouldn't bother them much, and they just started trying to copy what I was doing.

   At one point, after one too many frustrated sighs, I had to call a time out.  And we started talking about their frustration.  I talked to them about a conference I attended this summer, which was specifically a math conference, where I learned more about the concept of a productive struggle.  (I should note at this point that these students barely knew me, so you can imagine the looks I received when I started this.). You ever have it happen where you feel like you have "known" something for a long time but also didn't "know" it?  This was me with this productive struggle concept.  I can be particularly tenacious about succeeding in some ways, but I can also waver quite a bit in my resolve with others, depending on all kinds of factors.  In other words, I approach problems in the way that most people approach them; I try until I either figure it out or am done trying.

   Because math has felt easy for me most of the time (except for TRIG... yikes) it has been quite a journey as a teacher over the years.  I think it must be human nature that it's really hard to understand why others don't like what you like.  It's like you have to struggle with it too at first to really feel the frustration or anxiety or whatever emotion.  And honestly it was not as easy for me to work towards empathy rather than sympathy as I would want everyone else to imagine.  And it is work--you have to try, repeatedly, to put yourself in the shoes of others on a consistent basis.  It takes intent and patience.  I had to learn it the hard way for sure.

   So I'm talking to these teenage boys about frustrations and why the process of working through something so difficult is still so important.  Some look at me with no expression (though I can imagine what some of their thoughts were at the time), while others nod, perhaps in agreement, perhaps to get me to leave them alone so they can just finish copying what I'm doing.  We talk and then get back to work.  And there's this one student who has scowled quite a bit through this process, and he chose this moment to voice the source of that scowl.  "This isn't what Ms. Teacher said to do.  I just don't understand this.  I don't get it," in a tone that suggested he was at a fairly high level of stress by this point.

   Earlier in my career I would have let this be the time where I gave him some space to calm down some, not pushing the angst any higher, and honestly probably giving myself an out in the process.  I can see it now, "I mean I don't want to make him feel any worse.  We'll just try again another time *maybe*".  I would have done exactly what this student, who routinely experiences this emotion, wants me to do.

   Or does he?  Does he really and truly want me to just ignore his frustration and leave it be?  I guess it's possible.  But I really doubt it.  He doesn't want to feel this way about math.  He doesn't want to have a struggle that causes him to lash out instead of feel proud.  He probably expected me to ignore it, and wouldn't have been surprised if I did.  But I didn't.  I said, "okay, let's talk about it.  Let's start over and you help me get through this problem."  And I asked questions to him, and I made a point to tune out the others who were eager to try and make a guess or interject.  I asked him what he thought, what happens next, how do we fix that...  and then he answers me, puts his head in his hands, and says "uhhh I'm so dumb!"


   Now it seems like he was saying it because he struggled so much, but actually he had just realized that he did know how to do it.  He knew how to solve this equation, and he had protested its difficulty so much that he felt silly about it now.  And that's what I told him.  "You obviously aren't dumb, and you shouldn't feel that way.  You let your frustration from before cloud your head.  It felt like you couldn't do it, so you shut it out."  And he nodded in assent.  And then this kid, who sat stone-faced for the first two problems, helped me solve the last two.

   I'm not rolling out the teacher of the year carpet here y'all.  This isn't one of those movies where I work diligently to get the kids on my side and everything comes up roses.  These boys still struggle with math, and they perhaps will continue to for a while.  But I was honest with them and tried to help them see the positive of these challenging experiences, and I feel that honesty may help this student not jump to a self-deprecation so quickly next time.  I'm also not so naive as to think this one instance has changed his course or made him a believer in his math abilities.  He did get two more problems correct though than he would have otherwise, so it didn't hurt either.

    I just read this amazing blog post by Josh Parker, an instructional coach and teacher.  You can find it here.  Part of the awesomeness is that he used quotes from a great book, The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, but the best thing about this post is that you can feel yourself in the position of this teacher and the interaction with this student.  It can be so hard to feel your lesson is sliding off the rails, or you have a student that isn't appreciating your effort, and not trying to either.  And the thought of determining the cause of this student's actions runs through your head, but pursuing it seems too difficult to try at this point.  We absolutely need to try anyway.

   We spend a large portion of our day with students who are struggling with some aspect of what we are doing, and that's our job.  I wonder, though, if we couldn't help alleviate what feels like that "burden" by getting students more involved in the process?  If we can get students to recognize the importance of how they approach their problems (all their problems, not just math) and how they prioritize the procedure for solving them, in what ways would that change the look and feel of our learning environments?  Could we have more students feel less frustration during instruction and instead look at the fertility of their effort?  I'd like to think so.  I don't know that it would be a sudden, magical transformation but if we all had a moment or two each day with our students like I had in math, it seems like some pretty hefty changes could occur, and maybe we would all feel a little more productive in our struggles.

So Meta

   Real talk: I love my job of helping educators, but I have really really enjoyed some classroom time as of late.  Teachers have been so welcoming of new ideas and have invited me in to model them, so I've been lucky enough to work with students on all kinds of activities, from Math Talks to #booksnaps to even video recording.

   I've always tried to model a "kind transparency" with my students.  If there are strengths or weaknesses, I share them both, but in a way to encourage perseverance, not excuse a lack of effort.  And over the years, I've realized that honesty with students is not only important for your relationship with them, but it's also really beneficial for their own agency.  Somewhere along the way, we as a society formed a pretty solid assumption that students know the importance of their actions without our help, and they can adequately monitor their decisions and thinking without our assistance.  And yea, some of us grew up and were able to pick up what we needed to know through the observation of our family, teachers and other adults.  But it also seems evident that some didn't receive the same opportunities and counsel.  Bottom line is that we cannot wish into our students the importance of knowledge and thought towards their futures.  We have to walk the talk so that they hopefully will too.

    Students don't want to feel foolish or unprepared, and more often than not, they aren't as apathetic as they'd like us to believe either.  So if you show them ways to be better, and encourage that potential, they will respond.  There's a word spreading all over the middle school where I work: metacognition.  I've brought it up in almost every class I've visited, disguising it initially as a way to impress their parents with a large, multisyllabic word.  We talk about the importance of thinking about your thinking.  I show them ways that they didn't even realize they were already using metacognition.  I provide a *very* basic explanation of what the process of metacognition does for your brain, which usually gets me some intrigued but kind of skeptical facial expressions.  (I totally understand their skepticism though; I mean how often does it work that you get physical benefit from essentially doing what you normally do naturally?  It's like losing weight by sleeping just because you roll around and breathe.)  

   After we talk about it we usually do something fun.  If you haven't done a Math Talk before or don't even know what it is, check this book out.  It is still something that I did not do with enough fidelity in my classroom, but any chance for a student to practice explaining their thinking, right or wrong, is productive time.  Plus there are variations of the process you can do that could work in all subject areas, because the goal is just to get kids to consider their processes for thinking and solving problems.  In some language arts classes we have worked on #booksnaps as a way for students to reflect on the effects of reading on their thinking and emotions.  If you want to learn more about it, check out this post by Tara Martin, the teacher that started it all.  

   

   Several years ago the expression "so meta" rose to popularity for a year or two.  I personally can't say it without thinking of That's So Raven (which I didn't even watch--I know, it's weird).  Anyway, it was one of those colloquial phrases that come and go, and when you look it up online today there's still no real agreement on a specific definition.  I never really used it, but I remember hearing it a few times, and at each instance it sounded like it was describing a moment that was "next level cool" or an experience that was relevant or influential on multiple levels.  That was my unofficial definition.  Anyway, this expression has popped up in my head a few times in the last couple months because of the continued use of the word metacognition by myself and others.  I've honestly had to stop myself from trying to "reintroduce" the phrase to the general public.

But I finally get why it was a thing.  There is something so cool about seeing a truly impactful idea or practice take root and grow.  It is absolutely amazing to be able to ask a group of 6th graders what metacognition means and have them immediately answer you, or watch students get excited about reading reflections when they used to outwardly groan.  It is "so meta" to hear students talk about how they realized that voicing their metacognition helps them get better ways to solve problems.  Imagine the "meta" of hearing a learner tell another that the answer isn't as important as the process.  When I think back on those metacognition exercises (see what I did there?), I can't help but feel excited about the places our kids are going.  And I hope that we can continue to help them on their journey too.  That would be "so meta."

What's in a grade?

At my previous school, we started talking about grading a long time ago--several years in fact.  So I guess I have been pondering the idea and necessity of grades for a bit.  To be honest, I was still undecided throughout that debate.  I held a solid anti-process grades position, but past that, I honestly didn't know how I felt about it.  Grades have seemed kind subjective to me as a teacher, though as a student I was obsessed with them.  I mean when I say obsessed I mean I cried when I got my first (of three) Bs in school.  Ridiculous, right?  But that number was so important to me.  And in retrospect, all I can think of is "why?"  At the time it felt that it was my measure of success.

Funny thing is, my success in high school did not transfer over in the same way to college.  Only three Bs in college would have been astonishing.  The set up was different, the rigor was substantial (as it should be), and it was just plain hard.  And I wasn't prepared, not really, even with all my prior success.

Over the summer I read Shift This by Joy Kirr, which I've mentioned several times before.  One of the most memorable chapters in the book was on grading, because it helped me solidify my stance.  Basically, with Joy's help, I realized that numeric grades are completely arbitrary.  What do they even mean?  For some they signify several processes completed successfully mixed with a couple assessments here or there.  For others they may be a quotient of correct responses to available questions that may be related strongly or weakly to curriculum standards.


The point is, the numbers provided aren't standardized in any way, so how can we use that to compare two students in two schools who have received the same grade?

We can't.  We have been and are continuing to use this model, but when we think about it, though it "works," it really doesn't.  Not for everyone.  And our flawed assumption that successful people will just fall in line with our grading arrangement has kept some incredibly bright and gifted people from reaching potentials beyond what we can imagine.  I wonder how many people got Cs and thought they were just ordinary, and so when some inspiration struck them, they just dismissed it because, what could they do about it?


I understand that it's an incredibly hard idea to just stop using numeric grades.  Not only would it involve a ton of new changes that would take planning, preparation and adjustment, but it also has us go against everything we've ever thought about grading in schools.  It's not an easy discussion or decision.  Even those who agree with me on numeric grades disagree with me on how we would implement something more meaningful.  But just because it is hard doesn't mean it's not worth an attempt, or at least a conversation.

When talking to others about this, I've gotten a lot of different protests.  One that comes up repeatedly is what happens to those high school students who use grades to determine class rank, grade point average, and scholarship potential if we do away with numeric grades?  Without those numbers, how can students prove their success or potential worth to universities?  It's another genuinely good question, and it makes me think again back to my experience as a successful high school senior.  What did those numbers provide me?  It helped me get into UNC Chapel Hill, which is awesome.  It did not help me get a vast amount of financial aid, even though I applied for many merit-based scholarships.  It made me feel good because I could do well and get those high numbers.  But looking back on it I feel like in spite of those benefits from numeric grades, I could have shown my worth to my teachers and universities in other ways that didn't require that type of system.  And I also feel like if that system had changed, others may have been able to show their potential too.

To me it boils down to this... numeric grades are not as helpful and necessary as we (myself included) have always felt they are.  What's better?  Not sure yet, but I do know that we don't need to be afraid of the possibility of something that could be better.

Dog-tired

I had a conversation with a teacher this past week, who experienced a fairly sad epiphany.  This teacher is a truly wonderful and compassionate educator.  She had started working with some developing readers (developing is the word I like to use to replace "struggling"--thank you Donalyn Miller), and she was overwhelmed with what she saw in this small group.  Once she was able to narrow her focus to one student, she really saw the extent of their difficulty, and it really made an impact on her.

If you have never worked with developing readers in a small group or one-on-one situation in your class as an educator, you really, really need to at least once.  We often make assumptions about our students when they come to us, and we do not frequently enough actually seek to know if those assumptions are correct.  Primarily we believe that our students, for the most part, have come to us with a base knowledge built on from their previous years, so they are ready for our content and instruction.

We know that some students may have "gaps" or "holes," which are basically little pockets of content that they may have missed for some reason or another along the way.  And we often can tell which students that we see daily that really experience some significant difficulties, though we don't really know the depth of it.  It's time to strap on some scuba gear though, because we can't continue to make assumptions that are routinely false.

Now I know that teachers have a bazillion things to do, and already don't have enough time to do it in.  So we prioritize based on how we can reach "the most" students, and do our best to help the others in some way, usually by calling in another professional to assist with the ones who need the most help.  We tell ourselves things like "there's just not enough time" or "there will still be a plan for them to be successful in high school," or my least favorite phrase--"they are just going to be passed on anyway."  I absolutely understand that, and have even uttered those phrases myself before.  But saying those things doesn't absolve us from doing everything we can for our students.  Reading is important.  It is the most important.  The ability to read, or lack thereof, can make an extraordinary difference in a child's life and future, and then in their own children's future.  It's not just a skillset.  It's a measure of confidence and real-world savvy.  And hopefully, for most, it's a pleasure.  So when you cannot read at a level comparable to those around you, it can be tough.

Have you ever tried to do something that was new or difficult for you, and when you finished you were just so tired?  I recently taught myself how to type some code into google sheets to get the cells to do things I wanted them to do.  It took a while, and when I finished my eyes and brain and self were just so tired.  We expend so much mental energy learning about challenging or unfamiliar things that we are often unusually fatigued, maybe even exhausted.

We need to think about this idea in terms of students who are developing readers.  If you are unable to read words with more than one syllable, how do you get through a day where you are expected to know and understand a host of them?  If I, as an intelligent, grown educator, get fatigued by reading things when I can actually read them, how does a thirteen-year-old feel who reads on an approximate second grade level?  They are frustrated, exhausted, drained, dog-tired, and not nearly as successful as they, or we, want them to be.

So here are my pleas:

1) Take some time and listen to one of your students read aloud, especially if they are a developing reader.  It is more than worth the time it takes out of your class.  You may even find a way to help them understand your content better.

2) Remember that your developing readers have more obstacles on the path towards comprehension than others, and an entire day fighting what they struggle with is hard.  If you get frustrated in class trying to help them, imagine how they feel.

Rally Caps

So I didn't learn about the concept of a rally cap until I was at least in college, maybe even later.  I understood what rallying behind someone meant, so I kind of understood the central point, but when I saw the baseball players turn their hats inside out and backwards, I was more than a little confused.

Once I figured it out (or was told about it by either my friend Stuart or my husband, can't remember who), I started using the phrase frequently.  I think sometimes it feels more appropriate to talk about rallying from behind rather than "never giving up."  Because sometimes, honestly, we do give up a bit.  Not altogether, hands in the air and bounce, but we tell ourselves that we will get back to that "tomorrow," which often turns into next month, or sometimes, never.  We'd all love to be the one who says they don't have to rally, but we'd also be lying to ourselves.

Teachers, I feel like, experience more trouble with losing steam and having to rally than most.  We get extended breaks from work in between school years and we rest, recuperate and dream of what we are going to do next.  We get so excited about books we've read and changes we want to make.  Some of us even daydream about a period in our "new" classes and all the magical learning that is taking place in our heads.  And we start school with a work-adrenaline that helps us ride high through the first weeks of school, in blissful ignorance of the same old responsibilities that are slowly mounting.

Then it happens.  Our shiny new strategy or activity looks duller.  We can't plan for the next one because of the meetings or paperwork, or other school functions that demand our attention.  We say we'll definitely get back to it because we think it's important.  Then we move its priority down a little bit in our list for the other things we don't enjoy as much.   And there's that week of chaos, of altered school schedules, or a particular class of students who are struggling to get through the content quickly enough.  so so tired.


The inner struggle is real.  The lull that happens in your innovative instruction is real.  Your frustration with your job and all the things you want to do but can't is real.  But it doesn't have to derail your mission. Just put on your rally cap.

Rally caps help you acknowledge that you are slipping some, that things aren't going exactly like you feel like they should be in your room.  Usually it's because of the myriad of things you have employed in your room that the time in the day doesn't allow for.  But the thing I think is important about rally caps is that they show your willingness and drive to come back from being down.  It's one thing to say "woe is me, my class isn't working the way I want it to," but it's quite another to say, "it's not okay right now, but it's going to be."  It reminds me of a conversation many of us in my district had this past Friday about teacher agency.  You are the one in your room with the power to make the changes needed to see your vision come to fruition.  So it's up to you to decide when it's rally time.


Once the cap is firmly in place, backwards and inside out, it's time to prioritize somethings.  Look at all the things you have going on in class, and the reasons why you do them.  Look at the things that conflict and how you can h
elp them conflict less.  Look for how you can decrease the frequency of things you do so that you can continue to do them all, if their "why" is important enough for you.  Look for things that may need to happen now  so your days can flow more smoothly later.  It's okay to invest time early on in something that will make life easier as you go.

The biggest thing about rally caps though, I think, is that it's a reminder, both for others and for yourself, that you aren't giving up.  What you're fighting for is too important to lose heart over or to quit.  So don't let the lack of time, or pressure of other responsibilities take you away from why you're doing it.  It's time to rally like the Cleveland Indians* in 2001, so let's get to it.

*Yes I had to look that up.  In 2001, Cleveland came back from a 12 run deficit to beat Seattle 15-14 in 11 innings.

Turn and face the strange... ch ch changes

    Over the last year or two, I really stepped up my game in professional development attendance.  I wanted to get involved more in the process of change, because I had felt for a long time that some changes were necessary for our students to start experiencing more successes.  And in all the sessions I've attended on changing our vision of education, all the conversations with like-minded or semi-like-minded individuals, I often don't hear one point that I feel is pivotal--control.

    It is a fact that life is never certain.  It feels especially unpredictable right now, which causes us as humans to desire something concrete and tangible, something stable.  For teachers, it is most definitely their classroom.  No matter what is happening around the world, or what we or our students may be facing once they leave our building, when they are with us, we run the show and provide their education.  We need that structure.  And we tell ourselves that our students need that structure too.  They come from all kinds of situations, some of which are absolutely heartbreaking or tumultuous, and so they need the constancy of coming into our class and following a routine.



   And there is something to be said about students--children--needing structure.  We know that helps when they are learning how to interact socially with peers or understand the demands in a learning environment.  A routine can be helpful for them all through their years in education and beyond.  And goodness knows it helps us as well, because, real talk, "adulting" is hard y'all.  So it's totally understandable that teachers would want to ensure a solid and somewhat rigid framework is involved in their educational practice.  Even if you don't agree with the way education has been in the past, it is hard to compel yourself to change, when the underpinnings of the system were established for what we felt like was the good of the kids.

   The thing is, it is possible to do a great many more student-centered things in your classroom while maintaining organization for your kids.  We don't have to view student choice and classroom structure as mutually exclusive.  Students can feel safe and secure in your room, even if it sometimes feels noisy and disheveled.  But coming to this realization and accepting it is tough because it feels so backwards from what we are used to.  It's always difficult to change a mindset.  Something emotionally, mentally, or physically demanding often precedes a massive shift.  Many times, though, even through the struggle, we feel some sort of fulfillment with our new outlook.

     But you know what?  Not one of us has time for a huge, daunting, possibly terrifying change of ethos.  We have too many students, too many meetings, too much paperwork.  In homage to Elaine on Seinfeld, we "haven't a square to spare" of our time on something like student choice, especially when we as educators know our content better than students.  I mean, they're children, amiright?

    They are just kids, but I swear they are some smart and creative cookies.  They are resilient, funny, and full of initiative to make things around them better and brighter.  They want to make positive change, and any assumption to the contrary is our fault.  To be honest, I think we need to be more like them in some ways.  And we as teachers, definitely, at the very least, need to give them a chance to show us their capability.

   When we talk about students needing structure, we really just mean that they need clear instructions, goals, and parameters.  We do not have to be the "all-brilliant giver of knowledge."  Frankly we could ask them just about any question under the sun and they could get an answer for us.  (Their resourcefulness and access to knowledge via technology is downright impressive.)  So why not help them harness that talent, and do so in a way that does not make us feel like we are losing all authority of our classroom?

   You can experiment with all types of student-centered and student-driven learning ideas.  Project based learning, Genius Hour, self-monitoring, interest-based learning, there are so many ways to go.  But there is one checklist-type question that should be addressed with every one: do you have in place expectations for your classroom that are consistently adhered to by all, yourself included?  If you have clear procedures in your room that are continuously monitored, then the activities types don't really matter, because you students will value those expectations just like you do.

   Now I am not preaching here.  It is incredibly hard to relinquish freedom to students.  We are filled with "what ifs" about it.  What if it turns into chaos?  What if the lesson or project goes wrong?  What if my colleagues get upset with noise levels?  What if parents complain?  What if my Principal comes in and sees what he/she thinks is chaos?  The truth is those are real, though unlikely, possibilities.  Even if they did, though, a change like this is in the best interest of students.  You are making them better learners, better people, and that's an argument that no one could refute.

  I really don't know if I've made a case for you or not.  I hope I have given you enough reassurance to try something.  It is truly an amazing thing watching a student take charge of some aspect of their learning.  Their pride fills me with pride.  Education is not a bed of roses, but it's worth it for moments like that.
     

Help Lassie, Reading's in trouble!

     Where's Lassie?  We need her help!  Reading fell down a well!

     I recently finished a book that has rocked my world!  It's called Disrupting Thinking and it's by Kylene Beers and Robert E. Probst.  I went through what felt like an abridged stages of grief while reading this book.

     I'm not going to give away big chunks of the book, because I don't want to rob you of the experience of reading it yourself (which you absolutely need to do asap).  But there are a couple ideas from it that I'm going to mention broadly, because they describe my transition through this journey to the post I'm currently writing.

Denial
Surely it's not me that did this, my book projects were fun!  My novel studies seemed engaging; the kids participated.

Depression
I totally was a part of this.  All those kids that have been through my classes, and I contributed to this problem, even though my intentions were noble.

Acceptance
I helped maim reading in school.  But I don't have to keep helping.

     Once I finally hit acceptance, I was ready.  And since then I've been brainstorming, generating, and sharing resources and plans at a furious pace because of this book.  And I've been encouraging others to do the same, because to me, this matter has become urgent.

     You know those groans?  Those visible displays of anguish that you see when you mention comprehension questions or novel studies?  Well as this book so accurately explains, we caused that.  Our students' hate of reading is on us.  We can try to blame it on other factors--lack of books, lack of time, state standards, "lazy" students, anything we want.  But we own a pretty big stake in the culpability of this one.  Our job is to teach students to read, to learn, to acquire and retain knowledge. That is our task.  So if we have in some way contributed to the opposite of that, the lack of learning, or even the lack of desire to learn, then the onus is on us.  (See what I did there?)  And by draining the joy from reading with our activities and assignments, we have seriously injured our students' love of learning.  Allow me to explain.

    Firstly, when children are young, they enjoy reading.  They love hearing stories, watching us read books to them, looking at pictures.  They are also naturally curious and want to learn things and know things, which makes them more interested in books for that purpose.  But as they get older and start progressing through school, the purpose of reading changes to them.  When you ask them why they read or if they even like it, you get some fairly disheartening answers.  Can you imagine a student saying they read so they can find evidence?  What?!  Evidence for what?!  The ideals they start with begin to fade away.  And from where do you think they heard about supporting your ideas with "evidence" from the text?

     The next idea that was huge for me asks us what we do when we read for pleasure as adults?  We may enjoy reading or not.  We may devour fiction, peer reviewed journals, or even the magazines we see in line at the grocery store that talk about Bigfoot sightings.  But when we do finish reading something that we particularly have enjoyed, what do we do about it?  Do we do any of the activities that we assign to students to do?  Do we give ourselves unit tests or write summaries for practice?  Do we rewrite the story from a different character's point of view?  No.  We don't.  And why don't we?  ... You can say it.  We don't because that is boring.  Who wants to do that?  Not us, and not our students.

     And yes some could say "but school isn't all about fun" or "we did things this way when I was in school and it was okay."  However I would respond with, "false."  I went through school like that too, and I don't think it is "okay."  I stopped reading for pleasure from grade six up past college, and when I think about why, it's because I was told what books to read by people who felt that reading them would be good for me.  And I was too busy dragging myself through those forced texts to read anything else voluntarily.  That's why this point hit me especially hard.  If you had asked me during that time of my life why we read, I probably would have responded just like the other students.  I'm embarrassed that I didn't make this connection and do anything more to fix it in the last ten years.  How many kids have I helped hate reading?



     I can assure of one thing though, and this brings me to the last big point of the book that I'm going to mention.  I am going to do everything in my power to help save reading now.  There is so much to love about it, and I'm going to help teachers show that to students.  To help remove the negative stigma from reading, we have to stop associating it with all the cold, unfeeling tasks that we have continuously relied on in the past.  We have to show students that the feelings they have by watching news, talking with friends, and the like, they can have by reading.  We have to make the content meaningful for them, and often it's not just about choosing specific texts, but more about showing them how to make connections from the text to themselves.  We all know that students are more engaged and excited about things that interest them, and helping them recognize their own personal reactions to text is how we can build that interest in our classroom.



    I've read this book as a part of an informal book study/club with several educators from my county and other parts of the country.  When we started talking about the framework that this book mentions, one teacher from Pennsylvania, Leigh Anne Geib (https://leighanneteaches.blogspot.com/) mentioned a way that she was going to tweak the framework for her older students, and it hooked me.  So I took her idea and ran with it to start making some visuals that I can share with teachers as they read the book and want to start making changes in their classroom.  With the help of some free background images from http://melstampz.blogspot.com I am on my way to making an arsenal of these posters with all types of themes.  Here are a couple I've started with:

             

    My hope is that as more teachers of all subject areas see this framework and want to apply it in their classes somehow, I'll have resources for them to use.  If a whole hallway or a vertical subject level could get on board with a framework like this, and students were tapping into their feelings from text regularly, we could see some major change.

   I'm excited about this book and the changes it could bring for education.  But I'm also afraid that we are running short on time.  We have spent so long disfiguring reading in education, and we need every  available minute now to help bring it back to life.  With that being said, if you have ways in your class or school where you've begun helping students love reading again, please please comment and share.  Because with a problem this size, we need all the Lassies we can get.

Thirty-eight flaming torches...

I'm sitting here, exhausted, at 8:36pm.  I know that the majority of this is temporary.  This is my first full week back to work, and it's an emotional and mentally exhausting thing, going to a new school and meeting new people.  Plus, there's my kids.  Three years old and five months old.  So yea.

Point is, I want to sleep.  I want to sleep very badly.  But I'm still sitting here, because I feel like it's important to document my recent thoughts...and attempts... and failures.  (But if there's a typo, I apologize.  Please don't tell me about it until tomorrow.) 😉

Yesterday in our county we had an amazing showing of support and encouragement for the new school year.  Our employees (almost 5,000) of them, showed up together at a stadium for a convocation, representing our schools and voicing our excitement for the school year.  Curtis Zimmerman came (bless his heart, he was in a suit in a bazillion degree weather, but that suit was sharp!) and spoke to us.  He said my new favorite quote.  And when I say new favorite, I mean I've already started making a canvas of it that is going in my office!  Anyway, he said: "Failure is an event, not a person."

I don't know that I have strictly associated failure as an event or a person, but I feel like I probably have associated more with the person than the event over time.  I hadn't really thought about it until hearing that.  And when I say associate, I don't mean blame, because I don't really think of failure with a negative connotation.  I just feel like when I've talked about things failing in years past, I've always thought more of who was doing it than what was done.  And I have a feeling that is fairly "normal"--as in many people do that same thing.



No wonder we have to work on growth mindset, amiright?  So back to why I'm writing about my failure.  I have what you call the "dreamer's disease."  I love thinking of all these new and cool ideas and ways to get things done.  And one of my big pushes has been to make a channel on Youtube.  I feel like it's so easy to create videos now that smartphones are everywhere, and this ubiquitous app can help us reach a new level of communication and involvement.  So I've been hocking this suggestion to anyone that mentions talking with parents.  But then I realized that in my dreaming I haven't worked on the logistics of a Youtube channel myself.  I'm preaching like it's the best thing since sliced bread and I haven't even tried it.  So I did.

And it was challenging.  I don't want to say hard, because it wasn't beyond my or any other novice's skill level.  But I had a vision of how I wanted it to look, and for the life of me today, I couldn't get it right.  My tester friends would see one video and not the other, and eventually I decided to take a break from it and come back later.  I did some research and played around with it for quite a while.

But I fixed it.  I did it.  It now looks just like I want it to when you first arrive to the channel.(https://www.youtube.com/user/treehrgrove for all your Anxious Annies out there who are dying to see it lol). I could have totally seen myself give up on this and just stop talking about it.  Stop advertising it.  But I couldn't let go of this idea and this process because I believe in the possibility of it, the potential of it SO much.  And I believe that teachers would feel so accomplished from it.  And I think students and parents would benefit from it.  And if I'm going to feel so strongly about it, I am going to make sure that I can help a teacher that wants to try it.

This whole little mini-journey I took with Youtube today reminds me of teachers who want to try something totally different in their class.  They usually see something that just captivates them and they get so excited about it and its possibility.  And then life happens.  School happens with the meetings and PLCs and paperwork, and that bulb starts to fade.  It's sad, and it happens to so many wonderful educators.  Teachers deserve to get to experiment and be excited about new things!

I felt so accomplished today with my Youtube channel.  I feel like I'm on the brink of something great, and I'm anxious to continue it.  But I had to persist past that initial hurdle... and then the few after it.  But it was completely worth it to see and feel that success.  And isn't that true for teachers with their students?  The kids deserve it.  They deserve every little bit of innovation and excitement and energy and passion that we can squeeze out each day.

So teachers, as you juggle the thirty-seven flaming torches this school year and you want to add one more, I encourage you to do it.  Because if you push past the setbacks and failures, you may discover a feeling and intensity that you never knew existed.