Plan Your Work-Work Your Plan

My high school boyfriend used to quote that. He loved to seem successful even  when we were teenagers. I was never much of a planner back then. I was more of a plunge in and see what happens next kind of person. That actually served me well and I have no regrets, but at my age I have finally experienced the joy of having a plan, experiencing the consequences of executing plans and succeeding in the process. As a teacher, one lesson I've learned is the importance of daily lesson plans. So, here's my advice to you, younger teachers.

Write lesson plans. I mean, really write them. For yourself. I know your administration asks you to submit long-range plans and unit plans and collaboration plans and all sorts of whatever plans. But, there is merit to writing daily lesson plans each week. Even if they aren't "required". Especially for yourself. You are your own audience.

Even though I've been teaching for twelve years in the course of twenty-one years (I just love the 12-21 this year), I still write daily plans for each of my classes. Every Monday, I write the plans. I have a binder where I keep those plans on my "lecture" desk. I can consult on pacing from previous years and remind myself of activities that I may forget with a fresh class.

The key is to revise these plans and to make notes as you go. Lesson plans should be a living document. It is not static. If you don't get through your plan in one bell; you won't. Nothing dire will ever happen when plans change. But, do always plan.

Dynamic teaching is the key to any successful long-term teacher. Hopefully, you still love your content enough to still be researching and keeping as current as possible in  your academic discipline. I love the process of shaping plans. Adding components. Scratching out what absolutely was not necessary or completely failed. It is an art form at the very best and a "laundry" to-do list at the bare minimum.

What's great about writing plans is the ability to prepare well in terms of copies to be made or video clips to cue or any other materials you need to succeed. Perhaps it's just me, but I just don't like racing around at the last minute and you know what else?

I pride myself on my professionalism. It's all in the plan.

Take Heart, New Teachers!

Ah, the night before school. Nothing like it. My classroom is ready. Syllabus printed. Newly sharpened pencils. Anticipation.

And yet, as I enter my twelfth year over the course of twenty-one years since I stepped foot into my first classroom (having taken time off for family)...

I can testify to this. It's so much easier. Meaning, it is so less anxious and more enjoyable. I think about my early days of teaching and smile at the energy. The overwhelmingness of everything. Oh, there's nothing like a first teacher.

They are the best and worst teachers, for sure. Best, in that they are full of ideas, ideas and passion. But, new teachers suffer from such anxiety, angst, worry and self-doubt.

I smile at the copy of Jonathan Kozol's "Letters to a Young Teacher" I once pored over pages; now still keep on my desk as reminder.

A reminder of the young, scrappy, idealistic teacher I once was. Of all the hilarious, embarrassing and stupid things I did. Of all the wonderful, creative and inspired things I produced.

What I could have never anticipated was the reward of watching my students grow up and succeed in life.

What a joy to be surprised by this gift late in my career of teaching.

Philosophical, patient, wise. Those are the feelings with which I fortitude myself tonight as I prepare dinner for my family, weed a bit in my garden and retire to bed early, anticipating a sound night's sleep and an awesome day tomorrow.

First Day of School is a teacher's first best day. Last Day of School is second best. Summer time and Snow Days are lagniappe.

New Teachers, please try to sleep. Tomorrow will be head-spinning at best. Older teachers like me? Enjoy. You know what I mean...

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.