He Can't Read

Sixth graders are so sincere, a fact that surprised me as I have never really taught sixth grade before. So, imagine my delight when little hands waved high to volunteer to read parts for our table read of "Charlotte's Web". What? No offers of grade book credit (and a bag of Jolly Ranchers) needed to cajole participation? Huh and okay. Let's do this, kids.

Now, imagine my dismay to hear one young man literally sounding out words. Not just stumbling on multiple syllable words... all of the words. Red flag. Alarm bells in my head. He can't read. Can't read. In sixth grade and can't read.

I jump into high gear. Research his file to look for IEPs. Call his parents and refer them to our local literacy center for tutoring/help/support. Anything. Everything.

Because my drama class is only a nine week elective, this student rotated to other classes and the school year progressed. Hopefully, I provided the support his family needed. Perhaps the difference between sixth and seventh grade will change this reality and he will be able to read soon.

Not so. In walks this same student, this year a seventh grader. Guess what? He still can't read. I don't assign roles to him for table reads, of course. But, one day I heard him say to a classmate in small group LEGO set design project, "Oh, I can't do that part. I can't read."

This is the voice/phrase/echo that woke me up at four a.m. a week later in a panic. No way. I can't sit by. I will never be able to live with myself knowing that this student can't read. There is just something I am able to do. Something. Anything.

Our school doors open at 8:35 a.m. every day. Some parents drop their children off as early as eight a.m. to wait in the lobby until we launch the day. This student just happens to be dropped off every day. So, I decide that twenty minutes of reading with me every day has got to be better than just doing nothing. Better than leaving him to play video games on his cell phone. Armed with the tried-and-true "Love That Dog", we launch.

Every day. Five days a week. Twenty minutes a day. One hundred minutes a week, he and I stand in the school lobby, our backs against the library windows and we read. We finished "Love That Dog" and launched into "Diary of the Wimpy Kid" books. I loaned him my son's copy of the first book in the series and every day, we launch into the second book together in the lobby.

I would so love to report that after five months, this child is reading fluently. But, that is not true. I've spoke with his mother, his teachers, our administration. Everyone is "on board" to help this child learn to read.

But, when I ask him if HE read twenty minutes every night (alone or with a parent), he has every excuse in the world why he couldn't. We've progressed to the point where he's proud to carry his book with him every where he goes. But, it's still not enough.

I tell him, "Okay, kid. Listen. This is completely up to you. You must decide to read. This MUST be your priority. You are responsible for this."

And it's true. No matter how many accommodations are put into place at school and how worried his mother is or how much money is spent on tutors and literacy programs after school... ultimately, it is up to this child to decide.

Even if he has a learning disability (and he may)... he must decide to overcome barriers to read.

Meanwhile, I drag him out of the kid zone every morning for our mere twenty minutes a day.

At least, I can live with myself knowing that I did something. Perhaps it will eventually inspire HIM to do something.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

Ah, the love of the grindy thirteen year old eighth grade boy who wants nothing... absolutely nothing to do with drama class. Why? Because he'll do anything to avoid attention. He wants to fly under the radar. He's chronically embarrassed by everything. Feels awkward just breathing. He's in middle school.

Monologue? Memorized? Perform on stage? In front of the entire class?

I will give him credit. He never talked back. Didn't refuse. But, oh how he growled quietly during the introduction of the unit, the exemplars of other kids performing, review of the performance guidelines and rehearsals.

And I didn't push him. Didn't force him on stage to workshop. Didn't call him out. Instead, I waited.

Performance day for the grade. Took a deep breath and called his name half-way through class. So, he wasn't first. Wasn't last. Tucked in the middle. Safer.

He steps on stage wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt. I laugh and say, "Extra credit for the t-shirt. Now, lights, camera, action."

And he takes off... learned the monologue so well, he was able to ad-lib, expand, perform... ACT. Gestures, expressions, movement. Like a pro.

My jaw dropped. Beyond what I could have possibly expected. Delighted, I meet his eyes when the class erupts into earnest applause and a smile shyly escapes across his beautiful, pimple-scattered, yet-to-shave-but-almost teenage face.

I walk across the classroom to my desk, cue up the Rolling Stones and blast....

"but if you try sometimes, you just might find. You get what you need."

Zen Moment Consequences

My last post detailed the activity I give for a co-safe referral. It did not, however discuss the consequences of receiving a co-safe. The activity the student will complete during the co-safe minutes are to color a mandala. The consequences are the same if a student has to color or write.

The consequences of receiving this redirection are two-fold. One and most importantly is the dreaded phone call to a parent. In my experience, the best way to redirect a child's behavior is to contact a parent. I'm a notorious parent phone caller. Mostly because I'm a mom and I would prefer to hear from a teacher first if there is a problem before I hear it from my son. But, also... because I'm a middle school teacher, communication with parents is just the best way to ensure success.

The second consequence is the co-safe is recorded in our in-house violation system. Regardless of the activity the student has to complete during the co-safe, if it is assigned, it is recorded. A recorded co-safe violation results in exclusion from the beloved Fun Friday activity our school provides every other week. And if you know anything about kids, you know exclusion is the worst form of punishment.

Finally, exclusion from my vibrant Drama classroom is always a consequence. Having to sit in another classroom and miss out on the fun that goes on in a Drama classroom is a consequence of co-safe. I almost always get a hand-written apology from a child who was sent out of my room. Mostly because he/she heard about all of the fun we had in class and nobody likes to feel left out.

However, the co-safe consequence is intended first and foremost to serve the student. Meaning, the student's behavior was so inappropriate, he/she got kicked out of class. But, the reason for that behavior must stem from somewhere... some kind of discontentment or emotional turmoil. Happy kids don't act inappropriately. Sad kids do. So, the zen moment meditation of coloring a mandala serves to allow the child to reflect, calm down and feel accomplished. It is intended to serve the child. Serve. And that is the most important verb all teachers must remember.

What is best to serve the child's need?

Zen Moment Consequences

My last post detailed the activity I give for a co-safe referral. It did not, however discuss the consequences of receiving a co-safe. The activity the student will complete during the co-safe minutes are to color a mandala. The consequences are the same if a student has to color or write.

The consequences of receiving this redirection are two-fold. One and most importantly is the dreaded phone call to a parent. In my experience, the best way to redirect a child's behavior is to contact a parent. I'm a notorious parent phone caller. Mostly because I'm a mom and I would prefer to hear from a teacher first if there is a problem before I hear it from my son. But, also... because I'm a middle school teacher, communication with parents is just the best way to ensure success.

The second consequence is the co-safe is recorded in our in-house violation system. Regardless of the activity the student has to complete during the co-safe, if it is assigned, it is recorded. A recorded co-safe violation results in exclusion from the beloved Fun Friday activity our school provides every other week. And if you know anything about kids, you know exclusion is the worst form of punishment.

Finally, exclusion from my vibrant Drama classroom is always a consequence. Having to sit in another classroom and miss out on the fun that goes on in a Drama classroom is a consequence of co-safe. I almost always get a hand-written apology from a child who was sent out of my room. Mostly because he/she heard about all of the fun we had in class and nobody likes to feel left out.

However, the co-safe consequence is intended first and foremost to serve the student. Meaning, the student's behavior was so inappropriate, he/she got kicked out of class. But, the reason for that behavior must stem from somewhere... some kind of discontentment or emotional turmoil. Happy kids don't act inappropriately. Sad kids do. So, the zen moment meditation of coloring a mandala serves to allow the child to reflect, calm down and feel accomplished. It is intended to serve the child. Serve. And that is the most important verb all teachers must remember.

What is best to serve the child's need?

Zen Moment

If a student has not responded to numerous redirects, but hasn't actually broken any rules to be "sent to the office", our school has what's called "co-safe". We send the student to another teacher's classroom with an assignment for a "time out". It's an effective method that also decreases office referrals which allows for both the student and teacher to take a breather. And when teaching middle school students, sometimes we all need a breather.

However, I was stumped as to what to create for my co-safe assignment. As an English teacher, I obviously don't like to assign writing as "punishment". Rewriting the school rules doesn't seem very productive either. So, when my students showed an interest in mandalas (because our genius Math teachers use mandalas in our school), I was inspired.

I bought a mandala coloring book and copied pages from it. Attached is a little note that reads, "You need what I call a Zen Moment. Take the coloring pencils and spend your time coloring in this mandala. You may return to my classroom tomorrow with a clean slate".

Obviously from the popularity of adult coloring books, the research proves that concentrated time coloring is a great way to calm down, focus energies and rejuvenate. Meditation is a great way of redirection. At the end of the activity, the student can feel a sense of accomplishment. I have yet to meet students who don't enjoy coloring and the purpose of "co-safe" is not punitive, but redirection. I think this co-safe assignment is inventive and productive. Not only that, meditation as a method of redirection is research-based. Proven effective. And a great method to help students learn to concentrate to de-escalate. The goal is for the student to be able to attend the rest of his/her classes productively. Coloring a mandala is an obtainable goal with quick result. At the end of co-safe, the child has something beautiful he/she created and feels a sense of calm.

And I believe that is the goal of disciplinary redirection.

Leestown OUTLOUD

Leestown OUTLOUD performing at TEEN HOWL POETRY SERIES 2016

Hello, Year Two!

It's the start of my second year at this middle school developing a drama program and I could not be more happy. For one, I have established relationships with so many students, discipline and classroom management are just not issues. What's more important? I am delving more deeply into the academic aspect. I'm no longer creating, I have the luxury to tighten and to more sharply focus the lessons.

I am delighted. Wake up every morning so excited to spin magic in the classroom. Lesson plans consume my thoughts and the students inspire more creativity than I ever thought possible.

The spoken word performance poetry group that I organized last year grew from five members to twelve members in just this one year. Eager, beautiful minds delighted by the idea of their words dancing on the page and coming to life on the stage.

I'm grateful to break this blog back open because when I begin rehearsals for the overly ambitious full-length school play I intend to stage... you are going to be privy to all of the delicious drama that comes with daring to reach for the stars.

And why not? What else is there to do in life, really?