"What do you do to take time out for yourself?" was TeachThought's Attitude of Gratitude question of the day for November 13th. I'm a day behind. Aack. But it's Friday afternoon, and I've got the weekend ahead of me. Time for a time out!
What's on the menu? A Netflix marathon to catch up on How To Get Away With Murder(I wrote about Professor Kearing's appearance in my class in this post). Also need to catch one episode of American Horror Story: Freak Show. Two guilty pleasures. Working out is a great time out, too, and I'm committing right now to get to the gym tomorrow morning before the day gets away from me. And on Sunday, too. I'm amazed at how much better my day goes when I get to they gym, how it helps to sweat out the stress of the day. I'm much more pleasant when I can get in regular exercise. Can't let too many days go by without exercise, or I lose any inertia I've developed. I'll play on social media to decompress before going to bed. Check out some #reflectiveteacher blog post for inspiration (and mentor texts for my own submissions). Had I less on my plate, I'd read a book. But this time of year, the only reading I can handle is short articles and whatever I need to read for class. My head isn't in the right place for the sustained reading it takes to read a book, even for fun. Perhaps I'll get started on one just for the hell of it. One book, Scent of Apples by Bienvenido Santos, is a collection of short stories. Yeah. That sounds do-able.
I have fallen behind on this challenge! I had all these grandiose ideas about who and what I'd feature in this post - pictures of people and things I appreciate. But as Thanksgiving break barrels our way, I've lost any semblance of "time management" proficiency. Enough excuses. These two pics represent a lot of what I appreciate these days.
The first snap shows where I hunker down with a cup of coffee to get my day started (on my best days - not today!). The twenty minutes or so I reserve for writing, blogging, and plotting my day. My husband, who has a completely different schedule than I do, snoozes behind me. I appreciate quiet alone time, for sure. And I love feeling his presence. So often, I'll be at the computer, and he'll be watching TV; the screen is just to the left of my desk. I used to do my morning ritual and writing in the kitchen, but I cherish being in the same room with my husband, even if we're focused on completely different activities.
The second picture is also about place and companionship. This is the first semester I've had an office. Luckily I get to share with an amazing veteran professor, role-model, colleague. Having a place to hang my hat and store my books is awesome. Refrigerator doesn't hurt, either. Even better? Having company of someone I admire. That's his desk; we sit back to back. If we scoot our chairs even one six inches too far back, we crash into each other. But I'm so, so grateful for the office and the company.
What ties the two pictures together? Being near someone who shares the same values - my husband, my peers. Being in a supportive environment - at home and at work. Being able to focus on my own thing. I guess that speaks to me toggling back and forth between the MBTI's of extraversion and intraversion, the ranges of preferences or tendencies that indicate how we respond to the world. Even though most people would peg me for more on the extraversion side of the "energy range," I actually get energy equally from being in groups and from solitary inspiration. And reading, writing, cogitating - all those skills necessary to be a scholar-type person - definitely requires a dose of intraversion, too.
I read the gratitude blog challenge this morning over a cup of coffee. I have a new morning routine, thanks to the folks at TeachThought. I get up a little bit earlier, get myself together as usual but also reserve a twenty minute chunk of time to eyeball the prompt and read other Reflective Teachers' posts for inspiration. This sets the tone for my day, and more often than not, the blog questions require lots of marination time. But today's question, "What is the most important lesson you want to teach your students?" required much less noodling. The first thing that popped into my mind was I want them to be problem solvers, to have the kind of reasoning skills to help them face the array of problems they will (and already!) encounter. And now, before going to bed, I'll pick up the thread I began following this morning, book ending my day with reflection. As an English teacher, I want students to figure out how to best express themselves in written form, using the conceptual knowledge of rhetoric and composition to guide their decision making process. This problem solving isn't about memorization, which has surprised most of the scholars in my class. Many enter my classes believing that success in English is a matter of mastering rote, mechanistic formulas, sans an authentic voice.
That's not the kind of scholarship I hope to nurture. I work hard to imagine, devise, and create meaningful learning experiences that compel student to go beyond demonstrating they can define writing concepts. I want them to apply concepts to solve problems that real writers face. So my writing prompts, when I'm at my best, don't ask students to compose the standard five paragraph essay, those decontextualized writing situations that exist nowhere else but in a classroom. So the structure or shape of the assignments students complete have less to do with a formula. Instead, I hope that what they've written demonstrates they've attempted to solve problems the way real writers do, by thinking through the lens of our discipline, and by asking the kinds of questions real writers struggle with as they compose. Who is my audience? What is my purpose? What moves do I need to make to appeal to y readers' hearts and minds? What must I do to appear credible? And how do I maintain my voice throughout the process of crafting my composition? I hope that those kinds of questions find a home in students brains, becoming habits of the mind they can hone and practice long after they leave our classroom. Yet these questions don't necessarily have a right or wrong answer or a black-and-white solution. Solutions fall along a range between unreasonable and highly reasonable approaches. Lots of contingencies will condition their choices. And whatever approach selected should be just that: deliberately selected. I'm not avoiding the idea of a "correct" or "right" answer. Accuracy is an important intellectual standard. But accuracy is only one of many standards, including clarity, relevance, significance, depth, and breadth (I'm basically rehearsing the intellectual standards promoted the Critical Thinking Community, one my major teaching inspirations I wrote about earlier). Indeed, how can we even judge if something is accurate if the expression isn't sufficiently clear? And an accurate statement, if irrelevant to the issue at hand, isn't good reasoning.
I'm getting a little bit ranty here. So let me end by saying I want students to leave my class with sets of questions to help them approach the dilemmas they will (and currently!) face, problems we all encounter. Hooray for problem-solvers!
I'm new convert to Shonda Rhyme's television universe. Grey's Anatomy held no appeal to me. By the time I heard about Scandal, I missed too many episodes to catch up, and my Netflix queue is already packed. So when I heard that one of my favorite actresses, Viola Davis, would star in the latest addition to the Shonda-verse, How To Get Away With Murder, I knew I had to watch. I did. I am hooked. Completely. Admittedly, the plot strains belief, almost cartoonish, The characters tend to stock. But the show is, after all, a gussied-up soap opera, think Larry Hagman's Dallasmeets The Paper Chase. Davis' character, Annalise Keating, knocks me out. She a hard-boiled D.A. and law professor, a huge success in her professional life. But her private life is in shambles I fantasize about being as career savvy as Keating is. And the way she "motivates" her her students . . . ahh, only in my dreams! She's my fantasy teaching alter-ego. The members of her law firm, ice-princess-with-a-secret Bonnie Winterbottom and Lothario Frank Delfino, serve as Keating's teaching assistants, further complicate her grad students' lives. So what does all this have to do with the prompt for today's gratitude blog challenge, the one that asks me to share a humorous story from my classroom or career? I'd like to think the way I incorporated my obsession with How To Get Away With Murder into a rhetorical analysis project assignment is kind of humorous. It made me laugh. And given how tough my audience can be, I'll settle for a self-induced chuckle. So I took my prompt for the rhetorical analysis of The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglassand hacked the characters from HTGAWM into the assignment, setting up a sort of a written role play. I created a scenario: Professor Keating's been asked to help author a book about Frederick Douglass - by someone she "owes". She assigns the research portion of one of the chapters to her grad students (the students in my class), one on Douglass' rhetoric. The grad students/my students must explain to a fictional "design team" how and why Douglass chose to wrote his autobiography they way he did. What was his purpose? What discourses of the time was he writing against? What assumptions can we infer he made about his readers? The design team handles the actual craft of writing; my/grad students only provide the raw material, which adds a layer of inferences my students have to make: how to appeal to then design folks, the team charged with crafting the research into the chapter. I supplemented the written instructions with three "explainer" videos, each addressing a "chunk" of ideas, featuring Professor Keating. Here's the first:
It went over well. The students who are fans of Shonda Rhimes enjoyed it. And other students thought it was kind of clever to have a role-play assignment. But there were a few who felt isolated or left because they weren't in on the inside-joke. Only one student out of three sections felt the clip was patronizing. Not bad. Anything I do is a gamble!
But all the students appreciated the way the visual medium of the clip helped clarified the assignment - and the learning goals embedded in the woexpainers. I plan to continue experimenting with visual iterations of written prompts. Not just to make it clearer for students, but to open up a discussion about what the different media/genres I use says about my assumptions about the readers - an object lesson in content, purpose, and audience.
Here are the links to Explainer #2 and Explainer #3, featuring Winterbottom and Delfino, respectively. I used Powtoon to create the clips.
A concern I do have, and will think about when I revise this assignment, is whether or not I do an injustice to the content, i.e., Douglass' narrative and rhetoric. Am I taking it too lightly? Did I cross a line? Does the HTGAWM conceit detract from Douglass' rhetoric or, perhaps more importantly, from the issue of slavery? I'll pose those questions to students when they get to the meta-commentary/self-evaluation section of the assignment.
I'd appreciate your comments.
I'd also love to read how other people inject pop culture reference or role-playing into their written assignments. I know it isn't my job to entertain students, but it is my job to do my best to hook students, within reason. And if I can leverage another lesson (content/purpose/audience) and have a laugh, why not? Does anyone want to share?
Cynical as I am, I admit that November's TeachThought's blog challenge is having an effect. I feel gratitude. I have much more patience in class. With traffic. And with the problematic people in my life. Because I've committed to starting the blog post every morning, I get a jump start on a grateful heart. The simple act of listing, outlining, free writing, or chunking (practicing what I preach in the classroom!) sets the tone.
Since the bloggers behind the Attitude of Gratitude challenge (The eLearning Buzz and Middle Management: A Teaching Journey) generously organized this project that feeds my heart, I'm compelled to pay that gratitude forward.
I owe them and TeachThought an obligation of gratitude, what's known in Tagalog as utang na loob, a debt of the heart. Luckily, today's prompt encourages me to pay off that debt: "What is one way you could develop the Attitude of Gratitude at school or in your classroom?"
Following Beth Leidoff's lead, I will pay forward my gratitude by sharing genuine thanks with the folks who are the glue of my campus. We can all think of two or three people who hold the department or school together. I'll name check a few here: Rose, Norma, Larry, Raquel, and Zeidy. Sending them virtual blessings for making school a great place to be!
Just as I do my best to acknowledge with clarity and specificity what students do well, I can find small ways to let the people who make my job possible and pleasant. I commit to sharing something that lets them know how they support learning in my class and how they brighten our campus community.
I'm thinking of those little, random notes I'd get from students that recount something I did or said that touched them. I can do that. Doable.
As for the classroom, I can use the writing warm-up, perhaps with a mentor text or two, for giving thanks. Easy enough.
Can any one point me in the direction of poems or short pieces about gratitude? Or about paying it forward? Any grade level or medium would be appreciated - my students respond to practically anything with heart.
Woo hoo! Over half-way through being half-way through the Attitude of Gratitude Blog Challenge! Today's prompt asks me to share a memorable moment in the classroom and how it reminded me what I love teaching. I'll use this prompt to practice my story telling skills, an experiment in narrative. It went a little long, but it's definitely a decent first draft.
Friday morning's class is typical. I was a few minutes early, but I lost precious prep minutes hunting for the exact key among the half dozen on my key chain. Thankfully, Alonzo offered to hold my bag as Lisa grabbed my water bottle so I could focus on opening the door.
I dashed to the computer/projection podium, hoping the browser had been updated. I planned to demonstrate how to embed a TED Talk on blogger. Students shuffled in with half-drunk cups of coffee, taking their seats. Students greet each other, unpacking backpacks and opening their notebooks, while I scrambled to write the lesson plan on the board.
I've lost three minutes of our fifty-minute hour.
After the a five-minute daily "throat-clearing" routine - goals, updates, announcements - I dove into a new partner activity. Will it work? Have I planned enough? Have I overestimated, or worse, underestimated my students' capacity for "productive confusion"? I took a deep breath, urging myself to trust the students. To trust the process. To trust my instincts and experience.
Steeling myself, I delivered the multi-step instructions. I did three it three ways: on the board, orally, and by asking partners to explain the process to each other. I've learned from making many mistakes that a single iteration of directions DOES NOT WORK. And I know I'd have to check with in with three or four of the pairs to make sure they are clear on the task.
We're now down to forty minutes, forty minutes until student begin to make their exiting noises - keys jangling, zippers zipping, squeaky chairs skidding from beneath tables. Where did the time go?
Students began the process, one partner slowly reading a shared text as the other jots down codes above phrases and sentences for particular strategies the author uses: "A" for action, "DI" for Dialogue, "DE" for Description, and "T" for "Thought Shot." The purpose? To reinforce the basics of narrative writing we've been working on throughout the semester, but in a new way. I hoped students read our daily goal or heard me when I explained the process. I hoped they'd see the relevance and not be bored.
During the first round, I survey room, attempting a nonchalant meander about the room, not wanting to look like a security guard policing student behavior. I'm really gathering information: What does their body language say? Are they simply complying with the task, or are they "into it", working with a sense of purpose?
As I "stroll" between the aisles, I gave my "teacher look" to Ivan, who grinned and got back to work. I answered questions. "What's a thought shot again?" "Can a sentence have more than on code?" Good. The questions are substantive. No one has asked me how many moves they have to find or if they can stop after finding one of each. When I passed Jeanie, we made eye contact and I smiled, placed my hands over my heart, signaling that I'm happy to see her. She's been having a hard time lately, and to make things worse, someone rear-ended her car yesterday. Luis, the budding screenwriter, exclaimed that he could do "code" his scene analysis assignment in his film studies class. I quelled a desire to jump into the pairs. but reminded myself not to hijack their learning. So leaned in to listen in on different pairs, not to commandeer or to police behavior. I wanted to gauge what students are getting. Before, my approach silenced students. They'd flinch, nervous I was judging their thinking or implicitly signaling they are off-task. Or they waited for me to lead their group work. But now, two-thirds into the semester, they are used to my eavesdropping.
Seeing Arturo and Douglas fiddle with their cell phones, I make the decision to let it slide. Ditto with Candace and Justin who are chatting this week's episode of Freakshow. Will I ever get them to focus on the task at hand? I wonder, am I giving up? Or is it about letting them make their own choices? Admitting they weren't bothering anyone else, I circled the border of the class, offering help as needed,
The process took three rounds. The second round, "readers" and "coders" switched roles. The third, partners together reviewed the passage they read and coded, checking each others work, revising initial answers.
After each successive round, it's more difficult to get students on to the next step. That's a good sign. Eyes focused on the texts and each other, students are actually engaged in the process - exceptions noted above. Good. Great! Instructions were clear enough. The challenge wasn't too difficult, nor too easy. And the conversation during the third round sounds . . .meaty, meaningful. Quelle relief!
As the rounds progressed, my "stroll" (reconnaissance?) became less purposeful. No one looked like they needed me. Even the cell-phone users and the side-talkers looked involved. Finally. Did they just need more time to warm up to the task? Or was it the effect of the whole community working that got them focused? I seem detached while I scan the room, but my mind darted back and forth between thinking about students' engagement level, whether the lesson is working, and how to transition into the next chunk of time, if there would be any time left!
I drift about the room, eventually leaning against the counter, two thirds of the way from the front of the class. Watching them lean into their work, I had time to snap a couple pictures to post on our private Facebook page and to readjust the time for the TED Talk introduction. Do they need more time? Will I have enough time?
I glanced at the clock. Time on task without me talking? Thirty minutes. Excellent. Fifteen minutes of direction instruction, double that for student-to-student discussion. I can live with that ratio. But I didn't have enough time to demo embedding a TED Talk. And I didn't have enough time to fully debrief the exercise. The minutes tick by while I mentally improvise.
I patch together an online reflection assignment, one that asks students to discuss the use value of the activity and to evaluate the effectiveness of working in pairs. Students began closing their notebooks and packing their backpacks as I make the final announcements and finally dismiss the class, less than a minute left on the clock. One student, Noel, commented as he left, "Wow, that class flew by!"
I'm one of those "professional development junkies," happy to comply with professional development regulations. I show up at practically everything. The snacks don't hurt, either. And, after listening to so many PD horror stories from colleagues from other schools and grade levels, I know I'm luck that wherever I've taught, they've had great PD offerings. So answering today's challenge, "What new learning has inspired you in your career?" means having to select from so many wonderful professional development activities I've attended. Rather than pick one, I'll share what I've read for (or as a result of) PD programs:
Growth Mindset: Since I first read excerpts from Carol Dweck's Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, I was hooked. It's helped me tremendously to motivate and encourage students who believe they don't have the skill or talent to succeed. At least once a week, I bump into an article or blog post that references Dweck's theory that it's more about practice than talent. And I've slowly found ways encourage that kind of thinking in my classes. Slowly.
Digitally Enhanced Teaching: It's taken be several years of a gradual growth curve to feel comfortable with technology. The most important points along that curve were realizing the difference between adding a cool shiny digital layer to an assignment vs. leveraging technology to actually promotes and enhances the writing process. The two catalysts? Troy Hicks' Crafting Digital Writing and Jose Antonio Bowen's Teaching Naked. The first got me to revise the way I use blogging in the classroom. The second helped me to rethink my views on social media and cell phones. I don't fully implement all their suggestions (wish I could!), but by degree, I'm getting more and more naked.
Critical Thinking: Many years ago, the dean of our college introduced me to Linda Elder and Richard Paul's Critical Thinking Community, formerly known as the Foundation for Critical Thinking. The website it full of resources regarding the elements of thinking and standards we can use to evaluate our reasoning - for all grade levels. I've been incorporating their way of thinking about reasoning into all my classes, little by little. I refer to their starter booklet The Miniature Guide to Critical Thinking practically every week. Love. It.
One thing these inspirations have in common is that i didn't "fully convert" overnight. The "aha moments" were intense, for sure. But It took a semester or two of marinating over their ideas, experimenting with one or two easy, doable changes at a time. Some mindsets and practices were easy to immediately modify for my setting. Others took longer to digest and modify, for instance, allowing students to keep their cell phones on their desk.
A big take-away for me is I don't have to change all at once. When I decide to follow an inspiration, I can be selective. I can take my time, deliberating on what changes might work. After implementing changes, I can reflect on what students learned to make thoughtful, relevant revisions. Big ups to my workplace and the San Diego Writing Projectfor offering these meaningful,useful learning opportunities. Their gifts continue to shape my teaching philosophy and practice.
