On Monday morning, I sat at the kitchen counter — my usual spot. With my coffee and a book. Before heading out to work.
Three weeks ago, I read Nicholas Fair Nowak’s story , “Teachers on Medium Assemble,” where I learned about Neuro Teach.
A few days later, it arrived.
Monday morning.
I took something I read, something clearly meant for high schoolers, and went with it.
“We have found that there is a brief, fragile, fleeting moment of honesty and vulnerability immediately after an assessment (activity) that we can tap into — provided the earnest trust of the teacher is there — when many students will reflect on their learning with a remarkable level of insight and honesty. As teachers, we find that taking the time to read these (to talk with students) and reply back very promptly goes a long way to helping forge these important ongoing discussions between the student and teacher about his or her learning” (Whitman, Kelleher, 2016, p. 55).
I read this over and over again.
I replaced assessment with activity, and I replaced to read these with to talk with students.
I bookmarked the page, closed the book, and headed off to work.
I was going to do this — today.
I walked into the office to do my Check My Mailbox on Monday Mornings and came face-to-face with one of our assistant principals who informed me that I needed to sub for a second grade teacher on my team.
I usually see this class on Fridays from 8:30–9:00 to support a Writing Workshop, but this past Friday, I had taken off, to spend time with Hannah who was home for Spring Break.
So this was perfect.
I would now get to see these second graders that I didn’t get to see on Friday. Because this absence wasn’t planned, there weren’t lesson plans, my favorite way to sub.
I looked at the schedule and found a spot for me to fit in the missed Writing Workshop.
I sat at the Guided Reading table, and for the first time, I had my laptop open to my left, ready to ask, “What did you learn today?”
Ready to try out the advice I got this morning at my kitchen counter.
And wow. There really is this “fleeting moment of honesty and vulnerability,” and with a casual turn of my body I quickly typed their exact words.
They were aware I was typing, but maybe, because they have seen me capture their words on paper before, they didn’t seem to find it strange. Instead of it becoming a deterrent, it seemed to ignite confidence.
Like what they were saying mattered. Because I was typing it out.
- That I should always put an uppercase I. This student came to me for editing. “You don’t need to know this yet. I just want to point it out. I am going to change your lower case i to an uppercase I because when we write I alone it is uppercase.” I say that because I want to help change their mindset. Sometimes they are so caught up in right and wrong. They are often so quick to say they made a mistake or they knew that and forgot.
- We have to put hair on the persons. When I lead a Writing Workshop, I have students make mini wordless picture books to guide their stories and organize their thoughts. In this case, I asked the student to go back and add details. I talk to my second graders about thinking about how things look.
- I’m going to draw myself. I am going to color my pants. I am going to make the spaghetti. I am going to color the spaghetti yellow. I am going to color my hair. I just want to clarify. This student came up with the coloring spaghetti yellow. Smile. It was because they came to me and hadn’t colored anything. I asked them to go back and think about how the things they drew look. To add color.
- You have to know what kind of Barbies I am going to make when I grow up. I can make sentences short. This student ended their story by saying they were going to make Barbies when they grew up. So I asked what kind? Smile. And while editing, when we got rid of some words, the student told me that the sentence was now short. I said that short sentences were good too.
- That I should put threw. I have to put the ew instead of the ough and I should put an r in nervous. And I should put an uppercase when I say somebody’s name. I was so taken aback when this student remembered all of this.
Some didn’t say anything. And that was okay. It was so good for me to see that those students need me to say something more to them. Maybe they didn’t learn anything, and I needed to know that too.
Tuesday at 8:00 am.
On this day, I go to the second grade gifted/high achieving class.
Please understand that I do have concerns about gifted/high achieving classes even though I was our school’s primary gifted teacher for many years, and I was also a gifted resource teacher at another school I worked at. This can be a topic for a future story, but for now, I felt the need to point this out. Some readers may feel that these second group of responses seem different than the previous class’s responses, and that’s why I am including this information. I thought about the fact that some of you might not see a difference, or not attribute it to the fact that these students are labeled a certain way. Either way, being informed is always a good thing so I am informing you.
- A conclusion is about telling the person how it is a good game. I thought this was pretty insightful.
- That saying lots of stuff is not a good way to say it. We had crossed out a lot of unnecessary words that day. They have to agree the words are unnecessary. I always confer with them before making changes.
- That I can’t keep saying that I can’t play Call of Duty with players and I can’t keep saying that I can play with players during Fortnite. The student repeated himself. I said, “You said that already.” Smile. Oh. And please don’t judge me for letting him write about Call of Duty. There was a time I didn’t. Then, I changed my thinking. This is his story. Not mine. And my job is not to judge if a second grader is allowed to play this game. This student is playing this game. You don’t have to agree with me. I get it. I sometimes don’t know if I agree with me either.
- I learned how to do opinion and how to describe the lion. When I lead a Writing Workshop, I allow students to write nonfiction, either personal narratives or informational, where they can teach me about something they know well. This class was ready for opinion. This student wanted to write about how lions are legit (look at me using that word). I learned a lot that day. Smile. Also, I know that fiction is so important. They can always write fiction, during class time when their teachers allow it and at home. They can show their writing to me and share it with the class or they can give it to me and I will type it up and turn it into a book for them.
- I learned about planning the who and the where and how to describe.
- That I don’t need to use so many words in a conclusion.
- I learned that conclusions are very hard and you have to talk about yourself.
I returned to my portable at 8:30. I hadn’t seen my students since Thursday. We reconnected and I read aloud chapter 8 of Peep! They were so excited to be back with the gardener and his chickens. I read it aloud five times that morning and each time I read it, I saw something new. A reminder that that is how we become stronger readers. I told my students that.
Wednesday. I walked into my portable. It was hot and smelled smoky. At 7:50, I texted the teacher I see on Wednesday mornings and apologetically canceled. I had thirty minutes to move into the furniture graveyard, portable 1492. It could be weeks before my air conditioner was fixed.
I grabbed bins of read-alouds, set up a few tables and walked out to find my second graders. For the next seven hours, I channeled Marie Kondo, and the multitasking mother in me, and was able to drag, stack, wipe, sweep, sort, flip, climb…and be a teacher at the very same time.
That afternoon, I was supposed to attend the PLC I joined at the beginning of the year. I didn’t want to go. So I didn’t. I didn’t let anyone know. I didn’t feel like explaining myself. I was tired.
On Thursday, my students told me that they liked our new space, and by Thursday afternoon, things were starting to get back to normal.
Friday was perfect.
I guided a Writing Workshop at 8:00am, in the same class I subbed in on Monday. I asked the students what they learned, but this time, I did not have my laptop with me. This time, I faced them and listened and nodded my head.
At 8:30, I told my LLI students that I was not going to administer a reading protocol to a student that day. They were so happy. They like when I am with them. These students need that. And when I am administering a protocol, they are on their own. These students need my attention. They are reading so many levels below grade level. I asked them to write what they learned from yesterday’s story Play Ball. And boy, did I learn a lot. I learned that this one student did not belong in this group. I started taking notes.
At 9:00, I listened to students read. This group needed to work on their fluency. I knelt beside them and listened to them read a page until they started hearing the difference. I told them that it really hadn’t been that long. About two minutes. I told them that they don’t have to move on until it feels right.
9:30. Phonics. We made lots and lots of word families.
10:00. 10:30. By the time I left for my 11:00 Writing Workshop, I knew that I needed to rearrange my reading groups.
11:30 I raced back to my portable and contacted teachers to ask if it was okay if I moved students to other times. All said yes. I changed my schedule, printed it out and left a copy on my literacy coach’s desk.
12:00 I picked up a class from the cafeteria to bring them back to their class for Writing Workshop and 12:30–1:30 An Extra Dose of Number Sense.
1:30 I headed over to the book room. It had been a good day.
I learned a lot this week.
I really do love being a teacher.
I love these kids.
I love learning.
What I don’t love is not having a voice.