Tuesday, August 14, 2012
First day... Kinda
Well, today was our first day of our second year together... And it was--by far-- my best first day ever! I say this even though our bus transportation had a million changes, our attendance software was down, I forgot to take lunch count, my sciatica is acting up AND MY PROBOARD IS NOT WORKING...AT ALL! We got right to work! We did some work on our feature article summer assignments in writing workshop, studied a poem by Stafford in poetry workshop, did an affinity quality tool on defining responsibility in our mission statement, and tackled topic 1-1 in math (standard, word, and expanded form of numbers). We were so productive and got along beautifully while we were at it! Several parents have said that their children were more relaxed a out back to school, and I certainly concur.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
T Minus 21 Days
What I'm loving right now about getting ready for school: Data notebooks are already in my room. Making labels for all their stuff means changing just one name (for my one new student) and simply reprinting them. My guided reading binder is ready to go; I left all my old notes in it.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Channeling Sally
My first-ever job was working as a waitress at a diner, and the most significant thing I learned is that I look like Sally Fields. Back when I was 17 this meant the "Gidget" Sally Fields, possibly even the "Smokey and the Bandit" Sally Fields, but definitely not the "Steel Magnolias" Sally Fields. It came as a surprise to me--I really didn't see the resemblance--but after about the millionth customer commented on the likeness, I began to accept it as truth.
Twenty years later, Sally began her role in Brother and Sisters. Boy did she remind me of my mother. I should point out that I look an awful lot like my mom. And really, Sally looks great for a 65 year-old, so I guess that's not a bad outlook for me.
During our final full week of school I sent home a parent survey. The idea was that I'd ask easy-to-answer questions about our 2nd grade experience to improve any problem areas. I asked parents to list three things they liked, 2 things we ought to improve, and a question about 3rd grade. In my mind, all parents would be thrilled to be asked their opinion and would thoughtfully and promptly complete the short survey.
I have 23 students. I got 8 responses. That's a mere 35% of surveys completed. One student told me, "My dad said it was stupid and he's not doing it." Another said, "My dad didn't know what to do with it." A third survey got lost somewhere between mom's and dad's houses.
So what does this failure to respond mean? Well, the Emmy award-winning actress within me hopes they didn't respond because everything about our room is so perfect there's nothing to fix. Every parent is so, so happy with every single thing I do. They didn't respond because parents were too busy organizing the campaign to get me a Golden Apple Teacher award. My inner Sally wants to cry out, "You love me, you really love me!"
But the good teacher part of me, the reflective part, is still pondering this mystery. Was the one-page survey too time-consuming? Was it too close to the end of the year for parents to care? Was it a stupid idea?
I'm wondering if, while my commitment to these particular families is stronger than ever, it might not go both ways. Based on notes and comments I've gotten from parents, it's safe to say they are generally relieved to know their child will have The Flying Nun next year and are pleased that it's not an ogre. Perhaps I need to remember what Sally told Tom: Life is like a box of chocolates. The survey may seem like a caramel to me, but covering a survey in the promise to loop doesn't mask the flavor of homework.
Twenty years later, Sally began her role in Brother and Sisters. Boy did she remind me of my mother. I should point out that I look an awful lot like my mom. And really, Sally looks great for a 65 year-old, so I guess that's not a bad outlook for me.
During our final full week of school I sent home a parent survey. The idea was that I'd ask easy-to-answer questions about our 2nd grade experience to improve any problem areas. I asked parents to list three things they liked, 2 things we ought to improve, and a question about 3rd grade. In my mind, all parents would be thrilled to be asked their opinion and would thoughtfully and promptly complete the short survey.
I have 23 students. I got 8 responses. That's a mere 35% of surveys completed. One student told me, "My dad said it was stupid and he's not doing it." Another said, "My dad didn't know what to do with it." A third survey got lost somewhere between mom's and dad's houses.
So what does this failure to respond mean? Well, the Emmy award-winning actress within me hopes they didn't respond because everything about our room is so perfect there's nothing to fix. Every parent is so, so happy with every single thing I do. They didn't respond because parents were too busy organizing the campaign to get me a Golden Apple Teacher award. My inner Sally wants to cry out, "You love me, you really love me!"
But the good teacher part of me, the reflective part, is still pondering this mystery. Was the one-page survey too time-consuming? Was it too close to the end of the year for parents to care? Was it a stupid idea?
I'm wondering if, while my commitment to these particular families is stronger than ever, it might not go both ways. Based on notes and comments I've gotten from parents, it's safe to say they are generally relieved to know their child will have The Flying Nun next year and are pleased that it's not an ogre. Perhaps I need to remember what Sally told Tom: Life is like a box of chocolates. The survey may seem like a caramel to me, but covering a survey in the promise to loop doesn't mask the flavor of homework.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
A second journey begins...
After Model Schools last summer, I was very interested in looping. Certainly there is a lot of documented research full of benefits to students... But honestly, it is a selfish reason which is paramount for me. Relationships are something I thrive on-- personal, social, and within my career. My favorite part of Rome City School was when I moved from 5th grade to middle school language arts. I had some of my 5th grade kids for four years! Talk about heaven for me! I love getting to know the kids and their families--think about how well I knew that bunch!? Even today, I write scholarship applications, proof essays, and keep in touch with this special group of kids. The growth I have seen is AMAZING! They have become remarkable young adults full of pride! And now, I will get that chance again!
And what a group to begin this journey with! I look forward to the classroom community part of looping...having these same kids in the same community. Structures and processes and even simple terminology--we all created it and will continue it.
And the journey has already begun! My benchmarking this spring is so much more meaningful! Already I'm creating strategy groups and guided reading group changes. I am annotating at the bottom of the record sheets in such a specific way. And the matrix we plan to try next year? Already trying it!!! Instead of easing out of 4th grade, we are easing into 5th grade. Behavior is fabulous...work is rigorous, and no one is giving up. I've never had an end of the year like this. Heck, I'm not sure how many days we have left!:)
The Journey Continues...for Most of Us
A month ago I started telling my students, "We have 35 days left to be ready for 3rd grade. After that I kick you out. Let's not waste one moment."
Two weeks ago I announced that, rather than kicking them out, we'll all be going to 3rd grade together. This news was met with cheers, smiles, and applause. Their reactions nearly brought me to tears.
Parents were given the option of keeping their children in my room or moving them to a new class. It's interesting how many students were allowed to choose for themselves (according to the kids anyway). Only one of my 23 students will be moving on to another room next year. This young man joined us in January. His mother says he just "wants a change." She says there are a few students in our class who accuse him of running in the hall, which causes him to worry about getting into trouble.
Seriously? That's the reason? We've discussed it and I've offered to bring it up in our class meeting, but his decision is firm. When we talked about the new books I've already purchased for our room, when we discussed incentives for doing homework this summer, when we realized that there's no need to send paint shirts home...each time a sad look has flashed across his face. And despite this, his mind is unchanged.
Neither he nor I have explained his reason to the other students. At first they expressed sadness and outrage, feeling rejected I suppose. They quickly accepted the news however, and except for the occasional, innocent reference to his impending absence, nobody seems bothered anymore. Nobody, that is, but the one with the sad face. Whose paint shirt is missing from our crate.
Jane
Two weeks ago I announced that, rather than kicking them out, we'll all be going to 3rd grade together. This news was met with cheers, smiles, and applause. Their reactions nearly brought me to tears.
Parents were given the option of keeping their children in my room or moving them to a new class. It's interesting how many students were allowed to choose for themselves (according to the kids anyway). Only one of my 23 students will be moving on to another room next year. This young man joined us in January. His mother says he just "wants a change." She says there are a few students in our class who accuse him of running in the hall, which causes him to worry about getting into trouble.
Seriously? That's the reason? We've discussed it and I've offered to bring it up in our class meeting, but his decision is firm. When we talked about the new books I've already purchased for our room, when we discussed incentives for doing homework this summer, when we realized that there's no need to send paint shirts home...each time a sad look has flashed across his face. And despite this, his mind is unchanged.
Neither he nor I have explained his reason to the other students. At first they expressed sadness and outrage, feeling rejected I suppose. They quickly accepted the news however, and except for the occasional, innocent reference to his impending absence, nobody seems bothered anymore. Nobody, that is, but the one with the sad face. Whose paint shirt is missing from our crate.
Jane
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)