Fel 2.0

Authentic and then some... (Collaborative Novels Part III)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 22 Oct 2017 21:09:00 +0000

There's a term that's been bandied about the English teacher community for as long as I've been a part of it (and probably longer): authentic audience. It's the notion that when students write, they should not be writing for an audience of one: namely, their teacher. They should not just be writing in order to get a passing grade and keep their parents off their case. Students should be writing for an authentic audience, an audience that has a legitimate interest or stake in what is being written. This gives purpose and authenticity to the task; it helps students see meaning in their work and it helps transfer their skills to the larger world outside of school.

So, in the last installment of my trilogy of blogposts about my collaborative class novels, I'm happy to report that my students not only had an authentic audience for their novel but had the opportunity to meet and interact with readers, face-to-face.

What exactly happened, you may ask? Last month, my own book club (my off-hours reading self) held its September book club meeting in the auditorium of the high school where I teach. When I'd mentioned our novel writing to my book club last spring, several friends suggested we read it as a book club choice, and the seed for an authentic audience was planted. Four months later, my student authors had the opportunity to meet their readers and hear what community members think of the novels they published. Sophomores now, they were no longer in my class, but most attended anyway (more signs of authenticity).

Our Book Signing event in May

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, here's a nutshell version of the process: The novels, Epoch and First Draft, which were published last spring feature individual chapters written by my 39 Accelerated Freshman English students. We collaborated on this collective novel-writing venture as documented in my initial blogpost and celebrated at our book signing event held in May.

The prospect of having my book club read my class novels and interact with my students admittedly made me a bit anxious, as is always the case when the personal and the professional intersect in my life. However, five minutes into the event, it was apparent that this was the perfect icing on the cake for our novel writing experience. Students were excited to know that members of their own community read and enjoyed the novels they wrote, and community members were overwhelmingly impressed with the depth and quality of the student chapters.

One of my book club friends, a voracious life-long reader, told my students to keep writing, and that some are clearly on their way to becoming professional novelists if that's the path they choose. My students were asked how they came up with their ideas, if their characters were echoes of their own beliefs, if they looked at history and the world differently, having now researched and written about teen's lives in history. The answer was a profound "yes," hitting me in that deep down teacher-satisfaction place. Students asked their readers about the effect of the book's format and its multiple authors, and checked to see if their readers had detected the thematic threads they wove into the story and subtle references they embedded (they had!).

The interactions were rich and....authentic. I allotted one class period, but clearly it could have been two as students reluctantly returned to class when the bell rang (after being given a standing ovation by my book club). I received an email from a book club member that night raving about the experience and admitting that 1) they had ice cream without me 2) over ice cream, they continued talking about the books and what an incredible experience the event had been.

My take-aways?

I feel like I now finally understand what a truly authentic audience is: how dynamic it is, how rare it is, and how valuable it is.
I am reminded (time and again) that anxiety in teaching, for me at least, is always a good sign. It means I'm stretching myself and broadening my students' experiences.
Writing a collaborative class novel was worth the effort. The experience continues to pay dividends for my students; and so, I'll keep doing it.

More information about the novels can be found on our Novel Website.

Change is good, right?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 12 Sep 2017 00:20:00 +0000

Change is good, right?

That’s what they say.

Well, I’m changing…

I’m changing from a teacher-blogger to a teacher-novelist. I am here to announce that I will no longer be blogging directly about educational practices, policies, and trends not because there’s nothing more to say (not even close) and not because I’ve exhausted all the topics (even less close)!

Let me explain. If you will, indulge me in a momentary foray into my personal life: a trip into the biggest single piece of procrastination in my life. I’ve been intending to write a novel...for the last 25+ years.

Sure, I’ve had fits and starts, ideas and sketches, but nothing resembling a novel ever materialized until this July when I sent an email to a friend.

It all started at the beginning of summer. I was on a walk, listening to a podcast. Gretchen Rubin was describing what she calls the 4 tendencies, a framework she uses to describe personality types. I’ve always been a sucker for frameworks and surveys and opportunities to reflect, so I took the survey and discovered that I’m an “Obliger”: that is, I will go to great extremes to meet the expectations others have for me. Outer expectations (degrees, certifications, presentations, committees, and yes, blogs) are dutifully met. Inner expectations (writing that novel, losing that last ten pounds, daily dental flossing---you laugh, but I’m serious) are a different story. Things I want to accomplish just for my own sake take the back seat, every time.

So that day at the start of summer, while I was walking in the woods with my headset on, a caller (I should find this caller and thank her) self-identified as an Obliger and asked Gretchen Rubin for a solution which would allow her to achieve her personal goals. The answer, Rubin explained, is to create outside accountability. Find someone to hold you accountable, she suggests, a spouse, a friend, a coach---someone to answer to when trying to achieve your goal. Obligers will disappoint themselves 9 times out of 10, but rarely will they risk disappointing someone else.

It sounded so simple, but it made so much sense. That was me. And so when I returned from our family vacation, it was time. I drafted an email to my friend. I explained my goal---to finally achieve the habit of daily writing, a habit that would allow me to finally write my novel. I asked if she could help.

Since that email:

We’ve met once per week to strategize, and review, and check in.
I email her daily about my writing progress (outside accountability).
I’ve turned my fits and starts into….THE FIRST THIRD OF MY NOVEL (excuse me for text-screaming, but this has been a long time in the coming).
I’ve simplified my life, bowing out of a number of obligations--- worthwhile groups and activities that I’m confident will continue their worthwhile work without me.
I’ve established and kept the schedule that I’ve wanted for the past 25 years: I write every morning from 5:15-6:15 a.m.; I write every night (usually from 7:00-8:00). Writing now marks the bookends of my day, every day, whether it’s summer, a school day, or a weekend. It’s what I do.

I don’t know why it took me 25 years to reach this point. I don’t know why I heard that podcast on that day. I don’t know why it led me to email that friend (the right person at the right time). I don’t know why my stars have now aligned, and why they hadn’t earlier.

Now, before you accuse me of delusions of grandeur, let me assure you that I am under no illusions of the difficulties that lie ahead. I do not have an agent, I do not have a book deal, I do not have a completed novel, but what I do have is a daily writing habit, what I do have is one third of a completed novel, and what I do know is that THE most essential prerequisite to writing a novel is ACTUALLY WRITING THE NOVEL! And that, I am ecstatic to say, is finally happening.

So what does any of this have to do with this blog, with teaching, and with you, my dear readers?
Well, since I’m changing, so is my blog.

I’ve blogged monthly for the Marquette Educator for 6 years; I’ve blogged on my own a touch longer than that. It’s been a good run. I appreciate the opportunity it's given me to reflect on my field and on my classroom. I love that it’s made some people think more about the state of education. I love that it’s helped family and friends know more about what I do and why I do it. I'm still humbled that on February 9, 2015, my voice made it to the national stage and I learned what it's like to have a blogpost “go viral.”

But, as the adage goes, “change is good,” so as I morph into novelist territory, my blogging will morph into a writer’s reflections on writing.

Of course I am still a teacher (I will always be a teacher) so I my posts will inevitably refer to teaching and learning, particularly teaching and learning about writing, but instead of being the thoughts of a teacher who blogs about education it will be the thoughts of a teacher who writes fiction.

My plan is to reflect on writing----the discipline of doing it, the challenges of teaching it, the frustrations and joys of being immersed in it. So who might want to read this morphed blog? Anyone who writes, anyone who wants to write, anyone who wants their students to write (not just English teachers), and anyone who is mildly curious about the goings on of this writer.

So now, onto part two of my novel and onto part two of my life.

Change is good.

Backwards is Back

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 07 Aug 2017 01:55:00 +0000

I remember back to Homecoming week in high school when we’d have “Backwards Day.” We’d wear our backpacks on our fronts, and our pants inside out (a few of the more daring students wore underwear on the outside of their clothes). We’d also try to walk backwards and say each other's names backwards (I was Aidualc) among other antics. But that was about the extent of our backwardness.

Lately, however, it seems that educational policies have achieved a unprecedented level of backwardness. The past few weeks have yielded three major announcements which I believe to be the complete inversion of decency, goodness, and rationality in terms of our schools and the well being of our country.

Backwards is back:

Siding with the Accused. First, Education Secretary Betsy DeVos is taking pains to reverse progressive policies regarding sexual assault on college campuses. Her supporters feel that the system is rigged against those accused of sexual assault even though according to the FBI, somewhere between 2 and 10 percent of sexual allegations are false while only 12 percent of college rapes are even reported. Regardless, the Department of Education is now using its resources to reverse current policy which sought to make the reporting and prosecution of sexual assault less taxing and traumatic for its victims (1 in 5 women on college campuses). If the goal is to decrease assaults and increase safety, DeVos’s plans are clearly regressive.
Assault on Affirmative Action. Speaking of regressive, Attorney General Jeff Sessions recently announced that the Department of Justice will be investigating discrimination against white students in the college admissions process. This effort stems from lawsuits over the past few years by one litigant, Edward Blum, who recruited numerous students in numerous court cases in his mission to eradicate affirmative action. Now, even though the Supreme Court just last year ruled that racial consideration is constitutional in college admissions to foster diversity and even the playing field, the Department of Justice will now be using funds earmarked for affirmative action to instead showcase white students as victims of affirmative action. Here’s the reality check on college diversity: even with affirmative action in place, African American enrollment in flagship schools is 5% of the student population, a far cry from proportional representation. Nonetheless, instead of continuing to work toward a system that is more equitable, they're working to dismantle it.
Gun Classes in School. Lastly while running errands a few days ago, I heard on the radio (I can’t even get a gallon of milk in peace these days!) that there is currently a bill in the Wisconsin State Assembly to allow on-site gun classes in public schools---from rifles to handguns. The bill would require each superintendent to develop a curriculum for such classes in his/her district. Needless to say, this is a ludicrous and disturbing thought. An uncomfortable reality in schools right now is that we necessarily spend professional development time running school shooting drills, preparing for the most horrific worst case scenario conceivable. So, why on earth would we, then, put guns in students’ hands during school hours? Another contradictory corollary: in recent years, Drivers Ed, a class that clearly aimed at saving lives and making our kids safer, has been removed from public classrooms as a cost-saving measure. So out with Driver’s Ed, in with handguns?

It is with no flippancy intended that I’m saying backwards is back.

A Department of Education siding with the accused over the victims of sexual assault, a Justice Department looking out for white students over minority populations in the college application process, a Wisconsin State Assembly seriously considering mandating gun curriculum in Wisconsin schools: this is our world.

It seems these days that backwards day is every day. I guess the only remaining question is: what happens in the long term if we stop looking forward and keep moving backwards?

Almost a Huge Hypocrite.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 09 Jul 2017 22:38:00 +0000

Almost a Huge Hypocrite.

That’s me. Well, it was almost me.

After reading a recent New York Times article on the notion of “smart failure,” I was ready to start next school year by giving each of my students a “Failure Certificate.” After all, if it’s good enough for Smith College students, it’s good enough for my students. I had learned that these days, students at Smith, receive a “Certificate of Failure” which reads:

“You are hereby authorized to screw up, bomb or fail at one or more relationships, hookups, friendships, texts, exams, extracurriculars or any other choices associated with college … and still be a totally worthy, utterly excellent human.”

How great would that be for my students? What a relief it would be, I reasoned, for these high-strung scholars, many with 4 or 5 AP classes and as many extra curricular activities on their docket---to receive permission to fail. "Brilliant!" I thought...until I gave it some more thought.

What’s the snag? Doesn’t it make perfect sense? All the en vogue educational experts these days (Carol Dweck’s Mindset research and Angela Duckworth’s work on Grit) seem to be quantifying this wisdom, wisdom which common sense has long purported, namely that we necessarily learn and grow from failure. In order to grow, we must traverse our comfort zones, which often entails failing in order to acquire the kind of experience and first-hand wisdom that ultimately breeds success. We know this.

So then, what’s the problem? Why won’t I be handing out “Certificates of Failure” this fall?
Because the whole thing reeks of hypocrisy. Would Smith, Harvard, and Stanford students have been accepted into these prestigious schools had they lived by this motto? Would they be Ivy Leaguers today had their parents encouraged them to fail? To experiment? To disregard points and grades and test scores in favor of learning?

Is it the very institutions which have perpetuated the need for perfection the ones now hypocritically offering bandaids and ice cream cones to their bleeding victims? The simple answer: yes. The only reason the solution of embracing failure is needed is because we, as educators, created the problem in the first place. The need to teach the value of failure exists precisely because we have created a high-stakes, grade-obsessed, avoid-failure-at-all-costs educational system to which a student stroll through platitude park is not the panacea.

It should be no surprise that the institutions leading the charge to embrace failure (Smith, Harvard, Stanford, Princeton) are the most competitive universities around. The perfectionism, elitism, and cajolery required for acceptance into these schools are precisely the catalysts for the anxiety, depression, stress, and suicide rates which have necessitated the “fail up” movement.

Is it any wonder that it was Harvard and Stanford faculty who coined the term “failure deprived” to describe the students dotting their campuses “students (who) seemed unable to cope with simple struggles.” Through observing their students, they recognized the need to encourage productive failure, a need which arose directly from the game their students were forced to play in order to receive their highly-coveted acceptance letters.

More than a bit of hypocrisy here.

I was having tea with a parent the other day, the mother of lovely and extremely high achieving students. The expectations in their family are very high and very clear. She, too, had read the New York Times article and was pondering giving her children a copy of the “Certificate of Failure.” And again, I couldn’t help but spot a thick coat of hypocrisy in her words. As a parent who expected 4.0’s, could a “Certificate of Failure,” no matter how well-intended, be given in good faith? As an AP English teacher, could I give my students a “Certificate of Failure” knowing that the reason they are in AP English in the first place is because they (and their families) do not subscribe to a “fail to learn” mentality, and that doing so would have likely precluded them from enrollment?

How many of us share our children’s failures as oft as their successes?
How many of us encourage our children to be artists...for a living?
How many of us encourage our children to learn...without grades in mind?
How many of us encourage our students to do what they love even there’s no spot for it on a resume?

The “fail gracefully” sentiment may be bantered about by administrators, teachers, and parents when they happen across an article in the New York Times, but its opposite is clearly expected on a day-to-day basis.

Perpetuating the “fail well” philosophy is sheer hypocrisy. It’s merely handing out band-aids and ice cream cones while ignoring the perpetual bleeding.

Here’s the real message: Maintain your 4.0, do well on ACT and SAT’s (or take them over repeatedly), do what it takes to get into a good college, land a good job, have a responsible life that ensures your economic stability and reflects well upon the rest of us. We can talk all we want about the value of “failing well,” but when our actions speak the opposite, perhaps its time to stop with the band-aids and ice cream cones.

Let’s call a spade a spade.

Unless we’re willing to change the data-driven, high-stakes testing state of child-rearing and educating of which we’re complicit members, we cannot with clear conscience, talk about handing out “Certificates of Failure.”

Celebrate. Get Sleep. Be Proud.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 10 Jun 2017 13:50:00 +0000

Our 4th hour novelists: Epoch

Celebrate. Get Sleep. Be Proud. Anyone who reads my blog with regularity will know that this is worlds away from my previous post: Worry. Lose Sleep. Be Anxious. The simple reason for this 360? We're done with our collaborative novels. Done!

So, how does it feel, this collective exhale? How does it feel to be click-ready published authors on Amazon.com? First, a glance inside, a peek behind the curtains. As you'd expect, we didn't go directly from bile-inducing anxiety to euphoric celebration. There were more than a few bumps along the way.

Our 1st Hour Novelists: First Draft

Our first sizable hurdle was a sobering reality check after first drafts were turned in. Student writing was not at the caliber I had hoped; rather, it was at a caliber, to be truthful, that terrified me. The prospect of getting these chapters from their current state---underdeveloped and error-laden, in other words, fiction written by freshmen in high school---to publication seemed inconceivable. That night, sleep eluded me. Getting from point A to point Z would require much more than wishful thinking.

Mantra time. I opened the next class period by scrawling my favorite writing mantra on my board as students watched: "An author is a writer who didn't give up," a sentence which remained on front board for the duration of the project. I then openly shared my anxiety with them, I shared my sleeplessness with them, I shared my own publishing experiences with them. I explained the level of precision required for publication. I told them that we could get there, but it wouldn't be easy.

After our heart-to-heart, I gave them a survey, asking for their honest feedback. The result (see graphs) is what pushed us ahead. Ninety percent said they felt like with the help of their teacher and editors they could do this. Only three students said they weren't sure (but they'd try); and only one person said they weren't interested. Buy-in was apparent. I knew that if we had the mindset and the work ethic (which we clearly did) we could do this. I could pull in the naysayer and provide a structure that would support my writers and get us across the publication finish line.

Then came the delegation of work. This was a critical step. Yes, I'd be editing each story, but many rounds of editing would have to happen before publication. I needed help. Recruiting student editors would also give my strongest writers a challenge worthy of their skills. However, it would, of course, mean more work for already busy students. Would students be interested in being editors? cover artists? organizers? Again, the stars seemed aligned: my strong writers seemed to naturally self-identify and volunteer to be editors, my artistically-inclined students started working on cover art they'd submit for a class vote. And the momentum began.

Blanket-wrapped editors at a late-night editing session (heat was turned off)

What happened in the two months that followed was writing, revising, mini-lessons, pep talks, Saturday and Spring Break work sessions, and did I mention writing? What did not happen was "point mongering." Not a single student asked "What's my grade?" They were, as educational researcher Alphie Kohn calls it, intrinsically motivated learners. Remarkably, as freshman in high school, they were determined to write stories worthy of publication, to achieve a degree of excellence that transcended grades. And that, I'm deciding right now as I type these words, is the true indicator of authentic learning, the mark that what we're doing is truly worthy of my time and theirs. That is the new standard I will hold myself to.

Now, instead of subjecting you to all of the sordid details of our writing and editing process, I will pass the ball to my students, in their own words. Here's what they wrote in their blogs the day after our book signing event. I asked them to reflect on the unit and offer advice to next year's novelists:

I'm a published author! It's so worth it so look at the experience as a lesson that sometimes you need to do what you find uncomfortable and make it into something fun and worth it in the end.
The biggest thing I learned was I have a vivid imagination that I am really good at putting it on paper. I couldn't stop writing and I won't.
It was amazing to see people reading and buying OUR book. Just seeing it on Amazon was really cool.
I was an editor for my classmate's chapters and I think I learned more editing than I did writing. I already knew how to write decently, however, I had never critiqued and changed other's fictional works before. I learned about writing in different voices than what I write in and how to give positive feedback mixed with critiques.
Here's my advice: Treasure and appreciate extraordinary experiences. This really just sunk in for me. I collaborated with a number of very creative and intelligent people and in the midst of that collaboration we created something awesome.
Some people are really bull-headed, others shy, some just don't like to work with others. People can be difficult. They are difficult because everyone is different. But when making the book we somehow made the book happen. I gained knowledge on how to work with other people and how to deal with things that I really don't agree with.
I am a published novelist! That's right, you read that correctly! Our English class decided to do something a little different. You might have read books, but we wrote one.
It sure was a ton of stress and lots of hard work and many hours spent on this project. I remember how crazy our English teacher sounded when she told our first hour class that WE were going to be writing and publishing a book. A legit, freaking, book!

And my reluctant novelists? The ones who weren't sure they could do it? Here's what they wrote:

Writing a chapter allowed you to stretch your creative muscles and learn something about yourself that you didn't know.
All I can tell you is that it takes work to get there, but it's worth it.

My "not interested" student?

The writing process wasn't my favorite but seeing the connection between stories of completely different people in completely different places in the world was amazing. Overall, I learned a lot from the experience, about myself and about writing. I usually hate the idea of short stories but this story is something I am sort of proud of. Writing is not my dream, but it is definitely be a good skill to have.

Finally, what about me, their "fearless" (a.k.a "fearful") leader? As one of my students duly noted: "I think that this novel really took a toll on our teacher, but it all worked out in the end." Yes, and yes---a worthwhile toll, I would add. None of it was easy, all of it was worthwhile.

And now, through it all, we are bound together for 70 years past my death (copyright law, the great uniter).
Clearly, it's time to celebrate, get sleep, and be proud.

Is it Good for Kids?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 20 May 2017 19:56:00 +0000

Ask any teacher (especially this time of year) how they're doing, and my guess is their response will be "busy" or some synonym thereof. The truth is that "busyness" is pretty much par for the course in this profession, and so this month (a particularly busy one) I thought I'd reflect a bit on how a teacher might best prioritize his/her time. Whether facing a time consuming class project, a district initiative, a stack of papers, a student need, a community event, an administrative request, a building committee, a licensure requirement, (the list goes on and on...) it must all boil down to one question: "Is it good for kids?" It may sound ridiculously reductive, but if that's not ALWAYS the central question, what are we doing here? And so, here's a flow-chart version of how I try to prioritize my time. Feel free to give it a try when your to-do list is seemingly insurmountable:

Worry. Lose Sleep. Be Anxious.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 13 Mar 2017 21:12:00 +0000

Worry. Lose sleep. Be anxious. It means you’re doing something worthwhile.

Lately, I’ve been feeling anxious, I’ve been losing sleep, I’ve had daily, probably hourly misgivings. And yes, I’m a teacher, so this is all a bit par for the course, but I’ve been teaching for 24 years--- I should be well past the nervous, sleepless, anxiety-ridden stage.

So, what’s going on? I’m trying something in my classroom that I’ve never tried before. Something uncertain, something risky, something unpredictable. And I’m in too deep to turn back.

I am writing a “class-sourced” novel with my Freshmen English students. It’s a concept I ran across at a conference in last summer. Jay Rehak, writer and English teacher in Chicago Public Schools, has collaboratively written and published several novels with his high school students.

“He did WHAT?!” I asked myself this past August, scrolling through the list of conference offerings.

After reading his session description, I gathered my laptop and my free Google swag (the second best thing about conferences) and headed for Mr. Rehak’s session, hoping to have my questions answered, namely: How in the world did he motivate his students to write a novel? How did he get a classroom full of teens to create an end product good enough to publish? How was all of this managed in the context of a teacher’s life (at school and home)? I headed to Room 309 of Whitney Young High School, seeking answers.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself back on the conference agenda, scrolling for a different session. I still don’t know what happened to Jay Rehak that day. He didn’t make his first session (full disclosure, he had two more sessions scheduled, but as a presenter myself, I couldn’t attend them). He had, however, provided a link on the conference agenda to his presentation slides which was enough to get me hooked on his idea...a class-sourced novel...and enough to send me, five months later, into my current state of anxiety and sleeplessness: I am writing a “class-sourced” novel with my Freshmen English students.

So how DOES one write a class-sourced novel? In a nutshell, Jay Rehak’s method (generously shared and clearly explained in his How To Write a Class-Source Novel book) begins with the teacher writing the first chapter of a narrative which teens can connect to. Then, each student writes a chapter which can stand on its own as a short story but also contributes to the growth of novel’s larger narrative. Finally, the teacher writes the concluding chapter. And then, the novel is published.

Easy, right? So where’s the anxiety?

Let me count the places:

The Newness: Imagine trying something new. Now imagine this something is a very challenging something. Now imagine trying this very challenging something in front of a class of 25 high school students.
The Writing: Writing fiction is itself anxiety-producing, as are many creative acts. Ask any writer about what it’s like to hand your new work over to your first reader. Now, imagine that your first reader is a classroom full of teenagers.
The Release of Control: Writing fiction in English class requires a teacher to relinquish some control and grant a level of freedom that can be a bit unnerving. And then there’s the assessment: How does one quantify creativity? How does one grade a work of fiction? It’s much easier to teach more concrete writing: the research paper or a persuasive essay.
The Uncertainty. Having students write is one thing; having them publish is another. Last week it was time to read all of the 1st drafts of the chapters. Doing so gave me some encouragement, but mainly anxiety. I realized that we have much work to do. The next day, I wrote on the board: “Author: a writer who hasn’t quit.” I shared my anxieties with them and I had them take an anonymous survey. All but one student said they’re excited about the novel and they’ll do what it takes with their editor and with me to get to the point of publication. I can work with that.
The ego. Publish a book with my Freshman English students and there they are, and there I am, for everyone to read and judge.

That anxiety I’m feeling? I'm certain they are feeling it too. Collective stress. But I believe it's eustress, a term from the Greek prefix eu-meaning good, and stress, literally meaning good stress This is not a new concept. Endocrinologist Hans Seyle coined the term in the 1930’s, convincing the scientific community that a manageable amount of stress elicits optimum performance and can lead to personal transformation.

So that’s the story I’m sticking with. This anxiety, this stress, is precisely what will lead us to do our best and most meaningful work.

Rehak himself, in his 2016 TED Talk (yes, he gave a TED Talk, how cool is that?) speaks of a similar end game: “I can’t promise you big dollars or a spot on the New York Times Best Seller List,” he asserts, “but what I will tell you that if you do write a book (with your students)...and you publish it...that the joy that you feel and the community that you create and the pride that you feel will bring joy to you for the rest of your life.”

That sleeplessness? That anxiety? That stress? They are trivial entrance fees into the land of the worthwhile. They are signs that I’m alive and that I’m doing things that matter. I’m not counting the days until retirement. I’m counting the days until my students see their names in print. I'm counting the days until our book signing event. I'm counting the days until they see the connection between struggling with words and communicating worthy ideas with the larger world.

So, fellow teachers, whatever your grade level or content area, I implore you: go to conferences, read professional journals, and seek opportunities to go beyond your comfort zone, to lose sleep and to feel anxious, for it means you’re alive, it means you have purpose, and that your students too will feel alive and have purpose.

That’s worth losing sleep over.

Teach·er ˈtēCHər/: 1. Instigator of Truth. 2. Agitator of Critical Thinking. 3. Provocateur of Free Thought.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 06 Feb 2017 17:32:00 +0000

Ah, predictable me. If you’ve at all been a reader of my blog, you can probably predict my dilemma right now. These days, I suspect I am hardly alone in this quandary. I’ve written about it in the past: the push and pull between the public school teacher me and private citizen me.

SO here’s my (utterly predictable) dilemma: How does one teach in these politically-charged, complicated times when “fake news” masquerades as the truth, when “real news” is labeled “fake news,” when Orwellian terms such as “post truth” and “alternative facts” are no longer the stuff of Dystopian novels, but mainstream discourse?

And to those of you who are about to call me out for bringing politics into my classroom, let me say this: When language itself is being altered and manipulated, when knowledge itself is being distorted and undermined by the highest offices in this country, politics has clearly forced its way into our classrooms, not vice versa.

Let’s take English class, for example. In English class, we talk about words: what they mean, what impact they have, their origins, their connotations. In English, we research and write. We teach students to be skeptical readers, to find reliable sources, to verify facts, to examine multiple sides of an issue or topic. We do this so our students become good readers and critical thinkers capable of making credible arguments and discerning reliable information in their post-secondary studies, in the workplace, and in the larger world. We do it so they become effective communicators and responsible citizens.

Enter “post-truth,” “fake news,” “alternative facts”; enter a presidential administration which openly disputes easily verifiable facts, which calls the media “the opposition party,” which maligns and berates those who question and attempt to fact-check.

If we are truly “teachers" is it not our responsibility to “teach” students to examine, to question, to discern the truth, to navigate through the complex world of politics, the media, the blogosphere, and propaganda?

It seems to me (I’m primarily speaking of English teachers and Social Studies teachers here) we have three options:

Do nothing. (Welcome to the path of least resistance and least responsibility).
Go for it. Lay out the evidence: let videoclips of Spicer, Conway, and Trump speak for themselves (And be prepared for the fall-out).
Navigate somewhere between 1 & 2. (Provide a path for students to investigate this critical topic for themselves).

Last week, I attempted #3. I amended our Debate unit in Freshman English to include a few days examining Fake News and what has become the murkiness surrounding “the truth.”

Full disclosure here: Designing these lessons was cause for much anxiety and reflection. I teach in a predominantly conservative community which, like much of his country, is deeply divided and deliberately silent in public on many critical issues that matter to us all.

Long story short, here’s what I did and why. If you feel so inclined to use any of this in your own classroom, please steal it outright:

Day 1: Students reflected on their own experience with Fake News and examined how its created.

Small groups of students discussed examples of fake news they’ve encountered on social media or elsewhere.
Students shared out with the class.
Assignment: Students researched the concept of “Fake News.”

Day 2: Students participated in a class discussion on the making of Fake News and its impact on Democracy and “Truth.”

Students shared their thoughts about From Headline to Photograph: A Fake News Masterpiece.
Students reflected on (wrote and then discussed) James Madison's quote: “Knowledge will forever govern ignorance; and a people who mean to be their own governors must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives.”
Students then reflected on (wrote and then discussed) Serina Tavernise's quote: “Fake news, and the proliferation of raw opinion that passes for news, is creating confusion, punching holes in what is true, causing a kind of fun-house effect that leaves the reader doubting everything, including real news.” - New York Times

Day 3: I took dictation in a class K-W-L (Know, Want-to-Know, Learn) exploring the terms “Post-Truth” and “Alternative Facts,” and I introduced the “Triple-Washed Facts” process.

With a KWL chart on the Smart Board, I presented the terms “post-truth” and “alternative facts.” For each, I asked what we “Know.” I typed as they spoke. Then I asked what we “Want to Know” and I typed out their questions. Then, I had them use their Chromebooks to answer those questions. I then typed as they told me what they “Learned.”
I introduced the “Triple Wash” Process. This is the process they would use for researching all facts used in this debate unit. 1) Check the Source: reputation, experience, respect 2) Check for “Fishiness": (use your BS detector) Is it too surprising? Too fantastic? Too convenient? 3) Verify it Elsewhere with that “elsewhere” being a separate reliable source.

Over the course of these three days, I never told them what to think. This was very much by design. I orchestrated their own exploration and examination of Fake News and its fallout. I was pleased with the depth of their skepticism, interest, and connection-making. And I was pleased that none of their conclusions came from me.

So now, I’m requiring my students to triple-wash every fact they use in our debate unit and beyond, and I’m imploring them to employ similar rigor to the greater network of information and social media streams in which they live.

In yesterday’s New York Times, Charlie Sykes, former WISN conservative radio host, articulated the necessity of such scrutiny: “The real danger,” he asserted, “is that, inundated with ‘alternative facts,’ many...will simply shrug, asking, ‘What is truth?’ — and not wait for an answer.”

That’s where educators enter the picture. We must be instigators of truth, agitators of critical thinking, provocateurs of free thought.

We must teach students to hold everyone accountable, to relentlessly seek the truth, to look for the larger narrative. As citizens in a democracy, it is our job and theirs to hold none above such scrutiny.

She's the Right Person for the Job if the Job is to Destroy Public Education

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 09 Jan 2017 03:45:00 +0000

This month, I'll cut to the chase: short but not at all sweet---

Betsy DeVos is President Elect Trump’s nominee for United States Secretary of Education.

DeVos is an activist and millionaire donor in national efforts to divert public educational dollars away from public schools and toward for-profit corporations undermining the original intent of charter schools.

This is the woman set to lead public education in this country.

The charters DeVos advocates have little to no oversight as to the quality of the curriculum, credentials of the teachers, and which students they can deny enrollment. They are exempt from evaluation and monitoring requirements of public schools, many are rife with financial corruption, and many significantly underperform academically compared to their public school counterparts.

This is the woman set to lead public education in this country.

As Diane Ravitch, Department of Education appointee for both Presidents Bill Clinton and George Bush, said "If confirmed by the Senate—DeVos will become the most radical, anti-public-school education secretary since the Office of Education was established in 1867."

This is the woman set to lead public education in this country.

DeVos has never attended a public school, nor have her children. She has zero experience in public education as a student, teacher, or an administrator. She has no background or experience in curriculum or pedagogy.

This is the woman set lead public education in this country.

Imagine having a new boss at work. Now imagine that this new boss has no experience in your field whatsoever and this new boss has a track record of defunding and destroying companies she leads. Now imagine this work place is every public school in the country.

This is what we’re dealing with.

SO...

1. Educate yourself about Betsy DeVos:

Washington Post- DeVos in Michigan

Mother Jones - DeVos & Public Schools

Fox 6 Now - Background on voucher school debate

Forbes - 5 ways DeVos Can Transform Public Education

Competition, Creativity & Choice in the Classroom” - DeVos Transcript

The Diane Rehm Show - Educational Policy Under the Trump Administration

2. Act, email, and call your Senators accordingly.

*The confirmation hearing for Betsy DeVos is set to begin January 11, 2017.

Election 2016 and Cinnamon Toast Crunch

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Nov 2016 01:35:00 +0000

How many of us woke up this past week feeling unnerved, fearful, distraught?

If the media (social or otherwise) has any remaining credibility, about 50% of Americans heard the trumpet of doom this past week. Half of this country is experiencing a crisis of consciousness, engaging in some serious soul searching, lumbering through the stages of grief.

I need not state the obvious reasons why because, well, they are obvious...and because regardless of whether you’re on the mourning side of that 50% or the elated side of that 50%, I believe you could benefit from three words:

Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Seriously? What does Cinnamon Toast Crunch have to do with this...or anything?

Everything.

See, a couple weeks ago, I received an unexpected email at school:

Subject Line: Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

It was an email sent by a former student of mine. Let's call her Alison. We hadn't crossed paths for 9 years, yet when I saw the email’s subject line, a smile of recognition snuck across my face. I knew immediately what this was about.

Alison began the email with some context: “You might remember that you once purchased a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for me. You also took the time after school to listen to my paper about my mom's mental health issues since I wasn't comfortable reading it in front of the class.”

She continued, “One day in class I was complaining about being hungry and never being able to eat breakfast since one of my parents always ate all of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Then, I remember coming to class one day and you gave me a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. I was SO grateful, happy, and shocked that someone cared. I know I didn't express much emotion when you did that for me but I cried later that day knowing that someone cared enough about me to do that. Back then I wasn't very good at expressing my emotions and I'm pretty sure I did my best to avoid you from that point on because I just wasn't used to that.

“Years later, especially after I graduated high school, I started to feel regretful about never really thanking you for that act of kindness and there were many times I started writing an email to you but would exit out. However, I couldn't forget that day and how much that impacted me even years later. Thank you so much Mrs. Felske for the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I will never forget that! I went through a lot while in high school and every act of kindness that I received really mattered.”

Okay, THAT’S Part I of this blogpost, and here’s Part II (bear with me, it’ll all tie together, I promise).

A week ago (pre-election Nov. 4th) the Dalai Lama wrote an editorial in the New York Times. He discussed the global anxiety running throughout the US and across Europe, and suggested a solution. He said we must do good for others; we must “be of use.”

He cited research showing that people who feel useful are three times less likely to die prematurely as those who don't. “Americans who prioritize doing good for others are almost twice as likely to say they are very happy about their lives. In Germany, people who seek to serve society are five times likelier to say they are very happy than those who do not view service as important.”

This makes sense to me.

Buying that box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for Alison years ago was a small act. At the time, what she had said in class reminded of the time I received a jar of applesauce for my birthday. Being one of eight children in my family, that jar of applesauce (my favorite food and a whole jar to myself!) was, for me, sheer jubilation. And it was that childhood memory that landed me in the cereal aisle grabbing a box of cereal for Alison, knowing that she’d appreciate it, but not giving it much thought beyond that.

What I now know is how much that box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch meant to Alison. Her email reminded me what all of those seemingly small moments we have with our students can potentially mean to them both in the moment and years later.

It’s what the Dalai Lama calls a “compassionate society” where ‘selflessness and joy are intertwined. The more we are one with the rest of humanity, the better we feel.”

Importantly, he reminds us that this is not a liberal or conservative cause: “What unites us...is not shared politics or the same religion. It is something simpler: a shared belief in compassion, in human dignity, in the intrinsic usefulness of every person to contribute positively for a better and more meaningful world.”

His solution for our anxiety and feelings of disconnectedness? Begin each day by consciously asking ourselves how we can be of use.

Like buying that box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Or one of a million other small acts of kindness there for the doing. For educators, there are countless such opportunities. For all human beings there are countless such opportunities.

The take-away here, pretty obvious. We need to remember the words of the Dalai Lama, to remember Alison’s email, to remember Cinnamon Toast Crunch...as a verb---the antidote to resentment, anxiety, and despair by “being of use” to those we encounter in and out of the classroom.

Now, back to Alison. Perhaps you are wondering what she’s up to these days? She is a Behavioral Health Social Worker, paying it forward, distributing her own metaphorical boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to those in need.

As the Dalai Lama says, “The answer is not systematic; it’s personal.”

Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

GORDIE IS SUCH A FOX!!! (or Why I read my childhood diary out loud in class!)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 Oct 2016 00:46:00 +0000

Last Thursday, I read my childhood journal out loud TO MY STUDENTS!

These were not the “Dear Diary” scrawlings of an eight-year-old in a sparkly pink journal, secured by an adorably tiny lock. This was pure teen angst, an unfiltered look at my high school hangups.

My 15-year old self would have been mortified! In fact, one of my journal entries (November 13, 1985) confirms it: “I TOTALLY FREAKED OUT YESTERDAY!!! I thought this journal was gone! I would totally die if this got out!”

So why, 31 years later, did I (“totally”) betray the confidence of my 15-year-old self? And what legitimate place, you may be wondering, does any of this have in my classroom?

Okay, fair question. My objective that day was to introduce my students to podcasting, as eventually they’ll be recording their own podcasts. And since it was Homecoming week, the plan was to play for them Homecoming Ruined My Life, an episode detailing "The Esoteric Secrets of Adam Ruben” - an entertaining look at the awkward inner and outer life of a high schooler trying to get a date to Homecoming. It was an episode from Mortified, a podcast in which adults share “their most mortifying childhood artifacts (diaries, letters, lyrics, poems, home movies)… in front of total strangers.”

This episode would, I reasoned, serve both as an introduction to podcasting and a direct tie to their lives (a sort of “It gets better” reminder to students on this Homecoming week, a week filled with excitement, rejection, angst, and the whole roller coaster in between).

Duly inspired by Adam Ruben’s confessional, the night before class, I journeyed through some of my own high school journals, earmarking the passages relating to Gordie, my high school crush, and my homecoming disappointments.

And so, in Freshman English, before Adam Ruben read from “The Esoteric Secrets of Adam Ruben,” I read to them from mine:

I recited to my Freshmen confessions of my crush on Gordie, stress over homework and grades, my unhealthy fixation on losing 5 more pounds. As I did, I felt as vulnerable and sophomoric as I did back in 1985, and yes, a bit mortified. A classful of adolescent eyes were raptly fixed on me. There was a palpable mix of curiosity, surprise, and empathy in the air.

Why the intensity? Why were students glued, eyes and ears?

It turns out the private moments of teenage me were universal moments to my students decades later. The word is authenticity.

To learn from us, students first need to see us as real people. When I read from my childhood journal, my students saw me as a real person who was once a self-conscious, conflicted, complicated teenager, not unlike themselves.

As an English teacher, I want words to do for my students what, looking back, they've done for me. I want my students to use words to express themselves, to relate to others, to feel less alone, maybe even to read years from now, as adults looking back with a more gentle understanding of their younger selves and a greater empathy for the teens in their own lives.

Not until my 24th year of teaching did I read my journal aloud in class---perhaps it required precisely that much time and distance for me to be comfortable doing so. What I do know is that taking that risk and stepping into that potentially mortifying moment, childhood journal in-hand, will now be another tool in my teaching repertoire.

Teacher take-aways?

If you have a childhood journal or assignment from when you were in school that you can relate to what your teaching, use it!
It’s tricky to mix the private and the personal in your classroom, but if bring your teenage vulnerabilities into the classroom, your students will respect you for it.
Podcasts are an untapped goldmine for our classrooms across the curriculum. (More on that, I suspect, in a future blogpost).

Great Teachers, Mediocre Shoes

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 12 Sep 2016 11:31:00 +0000

Would you rather have a great teacher with mediocre shoes or a mediocre teacher with great shoes?

I’m thinking (hoping) nearly 100% would choose the former.

Admittedly, the question is not quite fair: it’s not an either/or. One can, after all, be a great teacher with great shoes (I would offer my friend Kristin as a prime example). And, I would like to think that for much of my career, I too was a great teacher with great shoes.

Now, however, as I begin my 24th year in the classroom, I strive to be a great teacher with mediocre shoes. I am no longer in the business of donning spectacular shoes at school.

You see, last year mid-December, I was at an out-of-town conference when my feet retaliated against 22 ½ years of daily heel wearing. For no reason clear to me at the time, by the end of the day, I literally hopped back to my hotel room, my left foot painful to the touch. Anti-inflammatories were my short term cure; sensible shoes have been my long term solution.

: My former workwear (no longer in my life): high heels and low support.

My teaching tip this month? Wear sensible shoes!

Why?

Your feet are your foundation. The average teacher takes 4,726 steps per day at school, the equivalent of climbing the staircase in the Empire State Building three times! The realization that I made that trip, in heels, for 20+ years makes me feel more than a bit foolish.
Girl Power: We know that becoming good at anything is the result of hard work, reflection, and incremental improvement, not great shoes. Let’s model for our female students that we are more than just our footwear. Astonishingly, the American Podiatric Medical Association found that 42% of women say they will wear a shoe they like even if it causes them pain. To that, we must say “Yikes!” and “Never again!”
Be Good to Yourself. We try to drink more water, eat less processed foods, exercise, floss...why not also wear shoes that won’t hurt our long-term mobility?
K.I.S.S.: Keep it Simple Stupid. Throwing on comfortable outfit and sensible shoes in the morning will get you to work fifteen minutes earlier which will make you more effective all day long.
As educators, we are always looking at data to learn about student achievement and student needs. Why aren’t we also “data-driven” about ourselves. Data shows that the angle a high heel nullifies our natural shock absorbing abilities, stiffens our achilles tendons, shortens ankle and calf tendons, and changes our natural gait (Women’s Health). Dr. Sajid Surve of the American Osteopath Association writes “The effects aren’t limited to the feet; it’s not unusual for people who spend lots of time in high heels to have low back, neck and shoulder pain because the shoes disrupt the natural form of the body.” The data is clear: down with high heels, up with arch support.

: My new-and-improved school shoes: low heal, high support.

This is why, educators far and wide, I implore you to be a great teacher with mediocre shoes.

Confessions of a Secret Montessorian

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 22 Aug 2016 15:19:00 +0000

I’ll be sharing a right of passage with my son this year: he’ll be entering high school, and in a few short weeks, I’ll be his teacher. (I suspect you’ll be reading a post or two about how that goes!) He’ll also face another transition as he leaves behind 11 years of Montessori and takes his first step into public education, a slew of new beginnings for mother and son.

Wait, did you catch that? You might want to re-read the previous paragraph because couched among some fairly cliche sentiments about rights of passage was a raw admission. Did you detect the hypocrisy? Did you smell the sacrilege? A public school teacher blogging all this time about public education while sending her own child to a Montessori school! The shame!

I remember the first time I tried to explain it to someone. I was on lunch duty, standing next to a colleague and friend of mine who asked where Eliot would be going to school. He was maybe 5 at the time. “He’ll keep going to Nature’s Classroom Montessori for now,” I remarked, going on to explain how we had never planned on sending him to a private school, but that because Montessori had been such a perfect fit for him, we couldn’t imagine pulling him from a place that had become home. I explained how I felt hypocritical about it as a public school teacher who believes in public education. I added, hoping for redemption, that he would likely be coming to our high school when the time came. She laughed at my very long and defensive answer. “Sounds like the perfect place for him," she said and meant it. I exhaled.

It’s true that Eliot has the questionable fortune of being born to two public school teachers. It’s true that we never planned on going the Montessori route. It’s also true that initially we felt like traders sending him to Montessori over our local school district. See, here’s what happened: when Eliot was 3, counting ceiling tiles when we picked him from daycare, it was clear he was ready for a more challenging environment. When a friend told us about Nature’s Classroom Montessori, we went for an observation and never left.

That day, we observed Miss Erin’s room, which we quickly dubbed “The Zen Room.” It was an amazing sight: 3, 4 and 5-year-olds manipulating objects to learn numeric concepts, tracing and placing alphabetic letters into stories, preparing their own snacks, cleaning their work spaces. The level of independence and engagement was astounding. It was an environment in which Eliot soon thrived.

As parents and as teachers, what we saw that day was what we both had struggled to create in our own classrooms: independent learners fully engaged and invested in their own learning. And what we saw wasn’t the doing of an individual teacher; it was the systemic use of Montessori methods in the Montessori environment. We were in awe.

We watched Eliot’s first class concert later that year. As his classmates proudly belted out their songs, some clapping, some waving to their parents, there stood Eliot, not saying or singing a word. When we talked to his teacher afterwards, she was not at all concerned. He’ll come around when he’s ready, and she was right. And that’s what it his Montessori experience has been like: we’ve watched him grow through the years from a non-singer to concert emcee his final year. This was a school where his social-emotional well being was as important as his academics: through the years we all worked (teacher, parents, and Eliot) on his ability to work in groups, take responsibility for his actions, and organize his work.

How could we pull him from Montessori? We couldn’t, and didn’t. It was simply the best place for him. Maria Montessori said “One test of the correctness of educational procedure is the happiness of the child.” And by that measure, he wasn’t going anywhere.

You may be asking yourself What exactly is Montessori? Here’s a crash course: In the early 1900’s Maria Montessori, an Italian physician studied children who had been deemed non-learners. Through careful observation, she created an environment in which they thrived. Her method, now known as Montessori, provides flexible and carefully constructed work space and materials, utilizing a constructivist philosophy where children engage in “practical play,” learning through discovery with teacher guidance rather than direct teacher instruction.

I asked Eliot today what Montessori did for him. “It made me, me,” he said, with an implied “duh!” (he is 14 after all). Details that stick with him? Journaling in nature. Being farm manager. Playing William Shakespeare. Studying marine biology in the Florida Keys, and indigenous cultures in New Mexico. Explaining the cube of quadrinomials. Historical simulations. Writing and acting in plays. His magnum opus paper.

So here’s the strange part, where past meets present, alternative meets traditional, mother meets son. Any teacher or administrator in education today will recognize the following buzzwords (causing some perhaps to shudder a bit): personalization, student-centered classroom, problem-based learning, standards-based grading. Open any educational journal or attend any educational conference, and these words will dominate the articles written and the sessions offered. These concepts---here’s the weird part---are and always have been evident, in mastery form, in the Montessori classroom. They are the reasons my husband and I were in awe that day when we observed “The Zen Room.”

The truth is Montessori has much to teach us. As a teacher, It is my hope that as personalization, student-centered classrooms, and problem-based learning continue to be examined, the best of Montessori will trickle into the public school realm. As a mother, it is my hope that they will continue to be part of Eliot’s high school experience in my classroom and others.

Ready or not, Eliot, here we go.

My Not-So-Good Blogpost

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 10 Jul 2016 10:21:00 +0000

Warning: This is not a good blogpost. A few days ago, I was good to go. I had this month’s blogpost in draft form, in need of a little polish, but it was done---it was timely, relevant, I felt pretty good about it-----and then I decided to chuck it.

You see, a few days ago, my life as a blogger, a teacher, a human being was different, all of our lives were different. The deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, and the subsequent deaths of Officers Lorne Abrens, Michael Krol, Michael J. Smith, Brent Thompson and Patrick Zamarripa have changed everything. They have me reeling. They have me recognizing the gross insufficiency of my blogpost, and so I’ve chucked it to make way for my not-so-good blogpost, not so good because the right words to process this tragedy are simply unavailable, and the full-circle format so satisfying in a blogpost (problem and solution, question and answer) won’t happen this time around. No pat answers or easy solutions here.

After all, how do we even talk about this? Gun violence. Racial injustice. It’s an understatement to say that these are difficult issues to talk about. Do you dare talk about them with your extended family, your co-workers, your students? They are mired in layers of history, race, identity, and socioeconomics. I’m certain that I’m not the only one, fingers on keyboard right now, not knowing which keys to tap, what words to use. But the very fact that these subjects are so hard to broach underscores their complexity and the urgency with which they must be tackled.

So, how can we tackle them? Here’s my not-so-good attempt:

First, Get Upset

The easiest thing to do is nothing: do nothing, say nothing. News happens and life goes on. If you do nothing and say nothing, none of your Facebook friends will be offended; no one will be arguing at the dinner table; there will be no weirdness in the break room at work. But doing nothing and saying nothing is akin to accepting the horrors of last week as “the new norm” as US Attorney General Loretta Lynch warned. Doing nothing and saying nothing is complicity. Our membership in the human race requires more of us.

Second: Say Something, Do Something

As a wife and mother, this means taking about it at the dinner table. As a citizen, this means picking up the phone and calling my representatives to voice my concerns about gun legislation (a topic I find tragically tied to these events). As a teacher, this means necessarily complicating my teaching of Huck Finn, Things Fall Apart, To Kill a Mockingbird, Othello---to include the gamut of voices on contemporary race issues (Michael Eric Dyson’s recent “Death in Black and White” and others). It means giving my students the tools and the uncomfortable but important opportunity to process these issues in a safe, rational setting (a complex task, but one sorely needed in our world of increasingly uncivil and unbalanced discourse). As an American, this means being a part of a larger conversation, a larger action. And while I’m not certain what that will look like, I’m committed to being a part of it, as difficult and uncomfortable as it’s sure to be.

As teachers, we have many moments of truth. I’m reminded of one such moment faced by a colleague of mine during our Homecoming Parade several years ago. He stepped into the road, preventing two students in a truck donning a giant confederate flag from joining the tail end of our homecoming parade. Aside from being a physical risk, it was a social and professional one. There he was out in the community in which he taught---no time to consult with the principal, superintendent or lawyers---he decided to step in front of the truck and stop a symbol of oppression and racism from being associated with our school and community.

I’m reminded of another more recent moment of truth by Robert, a former student of mine (how frequently our students become our teachers). Reading his post on Facebook shortly after finishing my original blogpost is what prompted my rewrite. Here are his words:

I don't know what to say about it, and I don't know if I'm qualified to say anything about it. But damn it, staying quiet doesn't feel right: I am 4 times LESS likely to be killed by the cops than any random black person is. This is not an opinion, this is fact. Because I was born with pasty white pigment, I've always felt safe during routine traffic stops. I've never carried a weapon, but I'm sure if I did I would be given credit by many for "exercising my second amendment rights." Of course in a perfect world we should all (no matter our pigment) respect and admire the police. But you do not gain respect and admiration by also being feared. There is no doubt (just look at the stats and our ugly history) black communities have good reason to FEAR the police while white communities largely don't. Now, I'm not saying all (or even most) cops are racist. What I am saying though, is that there is a systemic problem and police killings of black people happen at a disproportionate rate. And it must stop. If you're white and this status makes you uncomfortable, it should do more than that. We all should be in this together to demand better.

I’m proud of his words. I’m proud that he had the courage to struggle with words and contradictions and the complexity of what we cannot allow to become the new norm.

Third: Ask Uncomfortable Questions.

My building principal has a saying that I’ve always found helpful. He says that part of his job is to make people uncomfortable. To change, to improve, to grow, we must be uncomfortable with the status quo. I can think of little that’s more uncomfortable than discussing these ideas in a classroom, but the classroom is a microcosm of the world, and choosing silence means accepting the events of last week the status quo.

We have little choice, then, but to ask uncomfortable questions, and there are many:

What does it mean that President Obama, US District Attorney Loretta Lynch, Dallas Chief of Police David Brown are all African Americans in the highest positions of power in politics, law enforcement and justice, yet our politics and law enforcement and justice systems are mired in racial tensions and disparities?
How do we come to terms with the progress we’ve made and the problems that remain?
What is the relationship between our gun laws and violence? Between patrons bearing arms and police violence perpetrated against them? Between police deaths and gun proliferation?
What is the majority opinion in America regarding background checks and the legality of assault-type weapons? Is this voice being represented by our legislators?
What happens when violence escalates, but conditions don’t change? What have other countries---historically and contemporarily---done to curb gun violence?
What initiatives are in place to examine and improve race relations? What role does segregation play in race relations?
What role/responsibility does social media play in peace-keeping, accountability, and inciting violence? What role/responsibility do television and radio media play?

I want to live in a country where we ask the uncomfortable questions, where we relentlessly strive for social justice, where we respect and protect our institutions of law enforcement and justice, where we do what’s required of us as citizens in a democracy.

That’s why as a blogger, a mother, a teacher, a citizen, and a human being, I was required to write this not-so-good blogpost.

Fel's Regret List: my attempt to live vicariously through my students as they head off to college

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 13 Jun 2016 18:10:00 +0000

The last day of class with my AP English Seniors is always an emotional one. I've come to adore these scholars over the course of their high school careers. As I bid them farewell, I leave them with two final handouts: a reading list: Fel's Kicking and Screaming List and a list of college advice: Fel's Regret List, which is the content of my blogpost this month:

Fel's Regret List: Wisdom in Hindsight from a College Grad

Foreign Language. The more, the better. My do-over would include Latin (for a solid knowledge of roots and etymology). Never again will you have an opportunity to REALLY Learn foreign languages, and doing so will vastly improve your language and vocabulary facility in deep and authentic ways.
Travel. Even though you will inevitably be broke in college, never again will it be as cheap to travel, nor will you ever be able to immerse yourself in a foreign culture for a prolonged period of time as you will if you study abroad in college. Trust me on this one.
Don’t work too much. During the school year, work for petty cash, but not for tuition. College debt is both the best debt you will ever accrue and the best investment you’ll ever make. Dive in head first. Don’t spend all of your time studying and working (see #8 below).
Take some weird, interesting classes, making yourself a little more weird and interesting in the process---consider judo, basic drawing, African literature, art history, Japanese, fencing, music theory, ballroom dancing...you get the idea. And (this is a beautiful thing) you can audit classes, so you can simply enjoy them without the stress of credits or grades.
Cavort with your profs. Use their office hours. Most are pretty brilliant and fascinating creatures who love talking with their students one-on-one. Get help thinking through a paper you’re writing, ask for clarification of a concept in class, or just ask them their views on your latest ponderance about the universe. I have ALWAYS left professors’ offices glad that I had made the effort, and I saw almost all of my prof’s during their office hours at least once.
Set an artificial deadline for your papers (1-2 days before they’re actually due). If you stick to that deadline, allowing yourself a day to polish, you’ll receive a higher grade, and more importantly, your paper will be significantly more focussed and eloquent, cementing the impression that you are a good thinker and an effective communicator.
Pursue a scandalous love affair with your University Library. Need I say that these palaces of wisdom are oozing with morsels of knowledge yet unknown to your noggin? I’m talking about millions of books; thousands of magazines. So rummage around; shake up your thinking: humble your ego; get lost in the stacks! Play Fel by spending a couple hours in the library on Friday afternoons perusing magazines and journals you never knew existed.
Read and heed kiosks. The free-standing bulletin-board-like things with about 10,000 staples in each, located all over campus? They will alert you to the notable, the cool, the quirky---the campus goings on. Carve time out of your life to experience some of these things---never again will there be so much going on around you, and most of it’s free. This is your chance to become even more interesting, cultured, and worldly than you already are: musicians, foreign film festivals, poets, radical thinkers, foreign dignitaries, etc...they show up on college campuses. Take advantage of this phenomenon!
Check out the local arts scene. Repertory theatres, symphonies, art museums, etc...Most have obscenely reduced ticket prices for students. You’ll never have a cheaper opportunity for high culture!
Disco on Fridays, climb a tree and stay there for a while, drop your backpack mid-campus and do a cartwheel, travel via pogo stick, have a stare down with a stranger...you get the idea. A direct correlation between the intellectual and the irreverent makes for a happy, balanced scholar.
Keep a notebook of all the things you want to do, use, or remember (and start now!): striking quotes, “to-read” book titles, irresistible words, phrases, descriptions, facts, jokes, goals, anecdotes, anything, everything. The alternative is to forget many unforgettable things and/or spend countless minutes of your life searching in vain for little scraps of paper you jotted things down on. When you add to your notebook, read what was written before, massaging the dendrites. When you fill one notebook, start another, and keep them all (and use the Evernote App if you’d rather be paper-free).
Socrates says, “Know Thyself”; Fel says, “Challenge Thyself.” Take control of your intellectual destiny. If you’re at a school or in a program that isn’t adequately challenging or beneficial, make a change! You are at the helm of your own boat, dear scholars, steer accordingly!
Lastly, and most importantly: that little voice inside you? Listen to it! Call it what you will---your conscience, your soul, your deep-down gut instinct. It’s there, and if you really listen to it, it will lead you to the right place. Though I sometimes ignored it when convenient, ultimately, I did listen, and it led me to you, oh scholarly ones (a.k.a. a fulfilling career), my husband (the soulmate thing) and other unmentionables (that Fel, so mysterious).

A Teacher’s Reflection on Mother’s Day

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 08 May 2016 23:20:00 +0000

Today was a bizarre day for me – my first Mother’s Day as a mother without my son around. No, he’s not studying abroad; no he doesn’t have a career halfway across the country. Lucky for me, he’s still a teenager and still a member of our household, but he’s on a class trip this week, and Mother’s Day feels more than a bit strange without him. No breakfast-in-bed, no handmade card.

I missed my breakfast-in-bed fruit plate this Mother's Day!

And my Mother’s Day malaise is doubled this year with my husband one day out of ankle surgery, non-ambulatory and sleeping most of the day.

I remember feeling this way at an earlier time in my life: mid-to-late June during my first few years of teaching. After school let out, a certain melancholy took over – life was a little too quiet, too calm, to unharried. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the feeling of not having stacks of essays, tests, and lesson plans looming, but I missed my students: their energy, their goofiness, their joie de vivre.

I can practically hear the response of some reading this (“Are you SERIOUS?! Summer means you survived! It’s the game-winning shot, the final touch down, the hole-in-one!") But yes I am serious, which I suppose, makes me one of two things: a loser ("Get a Life!”) or a person whose identity is deeply tied to teaching, not unlike motherhood to a mother.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that Mother’s Day comes at the tail end of Teacher Appreciation Week as now that I think about it, motherhood and teaching have much in common:

Love. Sit down with a teacher and ask them why they teach. Knowing the formidable challenges in education today, this is a fair question. If it were for money, benefits, status, or respect, we’d have left the profession years ago (and some have). The only logical reason to stay is because we love our students, not unlike the unconditional love celebrated on Mother’s Day. When everything else is stripped away, love of students and love of teaching are what remain.

Heartache. The flip side of love is heartache, and any educator worth his/her salt feels it. I don’t know of any teacher who hasn’t lost sleep worrying about students—their home lives, their challenges, their choices. That sick-to-your-stomach feeling you have at 3 a.m. as a mother? Imagine having 125 kids and you’ll have a sense of how difficult it is to “leave-it-at-work.”

Commitment. No such thing as part-time parenting, right? Welcome to teaching. Students spend more of their waking hours at school than any other place, and so do teachers. We invest our lives in the lives of our students. This commitment bleeds into our nights and weekends. And the commitment of teachers who also advise and coach is exponential as they help students develop a positive future. Sound a bit like parenthood?

Identity: I’ve been asked why I haven’t become an administrator, and the answer is easy: I’m a teacher. As sure as I’m a daughter, sister, wife, and mother, I’m a teacher. And just as I couldn’t drop any of those other titles, I couldn’t simply drop my identity as a teacher. Unthinkable.

Value: We know what happens to kids when parents check out. We know what happens to classrooms when teachers check out. Likewise, we know what happens to kids when parents and teachers and schools are fully invested them. It is an awesome responsibility and honor to play that role in students’ lives.

Interesting that since becoming a mother, my June blues have faded – that withdrawal I felt when school let out? My summers as a mother have enough teaching in them to quell the melancholy.

And when Eliot leaves for college in 5 years, I suspect the reverse will also happen and the fact that I’m still teaching will mitigate my empty nesthood. For what teacher’s nest is ever truly empty?

Henceforth, I shall celebrate Teacher Appreciation Week and Mother’s Day together, a natural pairing.

Being a teacher has made me a better mother, and being a mother has made me a better teacher.

And both have made me a better person and given value to my life.

Double bonus. Lucky me.

Are Teachers Real People? Life Inside and Outside the Classroom

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 11 Apr 2016 21:00:00 +0000

The age old question persists: Are teachers real people?

I remember one morning in high school when Mr. Yach’s wife stopped in to drop off his V8 during Freshman English. I was amazed that he had a wife and that he drank V8! I was dizzy with this insider info: It felt like Teacher TMZ.

Another oft’ repeated story in my family is when one of my sisters saw our kindergarten teacher...wait for it...wait for it...smoking a cigarette!

She was not on school property, she was not at a school event, and it was years after we’d had her as a teacher, but none of that made the bite any less venomous. Mrs. Hintzman was smoking a cigarette! Our blood ran cold, our memories had just been sold. This was at least as bad as J. Geiles discovering the fate of his childhood girlfriend.

And so, becoming a teacher, I was well aware of the importance of reputation and the odd fascination that can surround teachers’ personal lives.

Case in point: I am a resident of the small community in which I teach. So although I’ve lived here almost 20 years, I’ve never stepped foot into the legendary annual ETBT (East Troy Beer Tent) because...I’m a resident of the small town in which I teach.

Those types of decisions are no brainers.

The harder ones involve things that matter more - my beliefs, my opinions, my values.

In my younger years, this was not a problem. I grew up in a family that had dinner-table debates, intense ones which often included the use of dictionaries and encyclopedias and occasionally featured my dad’s fist hitting the table, spilling our glasses of milk. We were raised to speak our minds and to back up our opinions.

High school and college provided similar opportunities. As an editorial writer for The Mustang Express and The Marquette Tribune, I became accustomed to using the written word to speak my peace and to challenge conventional thinking.

However, public education, I discovered, is a slightly more complicated arena.

One of my first years teaching, our local library referendum was overwhelmingly defeated on the same day the US Congress allocated billions of additional funding for the war in Iraq (Part I, that is). My hot little fingers (mimicking my hot little temper) pounded out a letter to the editor singing the injustice of it all.

Version 1 was no holds bar. Then, I had my husband--Mike Felske a.k.a. My Filter--read it and help me tone it down, making my liberalness a tad less flaming. Then, and only then--or so I thought--did I send it off to the East Troy Times.

Not until one of my students, jubilantly quoting me, entered my classroom the next week (one who would regularly don a homemade T-shirt reading “Books Not Bombs!”) did I realize it was the pre-edited version of my letter that had somehow made it to the paper. A deep crimson crawled down my face as I realized my untamed message was now community-wide.

Backlash included a few weeks of ugly gazes (some legit, others just my paranoia, I’m sure) at the grocery store and post office. Soon enough, though, things were back to normal but with a slightly more savvy me.

But back to our question: Are teachers real people? Or, less hyperbolically, as a public school teacher, to what extent can I be true to myself and my beliefs in and outside the classroom?

Enter another teacher story (surprise, surprise). After high school, I learned that one of my favorite teachers held political views diametrically opposed to mine. This surprised me for two reasons: 1) I never would have guessed that she held those particular views 2) Though she taught me history for two years, those views had never surfaced in her classroom.

The lesson I gleaned from all of this was the importance of keeping one’s personal views out of the classroom. I learned so effectively from Mrs. Rice because she didn’t teach me what to think, but how to think. She never risked alienating her students by telling them her views. Teaching them to think for themselves is what was most important.

And so, it has always been my position to keep my political views out of my classroom. Yes, we talk about controversial issues in debate and persuasive writing, in our discussions of nonfiction and fiction alike, but I don’t state my opinions; rather I ask questions, I nudge, I play both pro and con. My mission is to get my students to think, to weigh, to investigate, to support.

Okay, that’s all well and good, but we still haven’t answered the question: Can teachers be authentic and “real” people, true to themselves? I am a teacher, but I am also a citizen, a voter, a human being. Just because I don't express my opinions in my classroom doesn't mean they’re not important to me. The 10 year old at my parents' dinner table still dwells within. The editorial writer in me still has a row of sharpened pencils on her desk.

As a public school teacher and an opinionated human being, here’s my imperfect solution:

I DON’T:

Tell students who I’m voting for
Keep one shred of political affiliation on my body or in my classroom
Take sides on political issues in class

I DO:

Write a monthly blog expressing my views on educational issues
Put bumper stickers on my car when I feel the urge
Attend protests when I am so inclined
Speak when interviewed (as a private citizen, not as a public school teacher)

Though these do’s and don’ts delineate between my public and private spheres, they don’t come without soul searching. Not being 100% myself in the classroom means not being fully authentic while (here comes the hypocrisy) trying to help my students become their fully authentic selves.

Like anything that matters, it’s cloudy, imperfect, and complicated.

A year ago, my do and don’t lists were further tested when I wrote an Open Letter to Governor Walker. What I thought was a routine blogpost on educational issues turned into a public declaration of my political views to the nation. My blogpost went viral (I'm used to a readership of about 30, not 300,000). This was, to say the least, new territory for me.

I don’t regret the letter; I’m proud of the attention it received and the conversations it engendered.

There were SO many lessons it taught me as a writer and as a teacher of writing: the power of words, the intricacies and speed of social media, the “new” layered world of the internet, social media, politics and news, the interconnected web of bloggers, vloggers, and online newsmakers. There were so many practical and ethical facets to that experience. When I stop to think about it, my mind is still reeling.

But here’s the weirdest part: All of those lessons---authentic, real-life, unscripted, powerful lessons about the written word---will never make it into my classroom.

Bringing those “lessons” into my classroom would be crossing the “don’t” line: it would be bringing my politics into my classroom; it would be taking a side; teaching the “what” instead of the “how.” It would be violating the Mrs. Rice Rule.

And so, the whole ordeal will remain The Best Lesson I Can Never Teach.

Meanwhile, both sides of me--the conscientious teacher and the opinionated citizen, though not in complete unity--will coexist imperfectly.

Drop Educator Effectiveness: An Exercise in Common Sense

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 08 Mar 2016 16:25:00 +0000

If you lose 50 pounds, do you buy some new clothes you’ll look great in, or walk around in saggy, baggy old ones?

If you finally pay off your car, do you spend that money elsewhere, or do you keep sending in that $500 check every month?

If your engagement is broken off, do you move on, or do you spend the rest of your life sitting in your wedding dress in front of your uneaten wedding cake, Miss Havisham style?

If you’re driving to Disney for a family vacation, do you stop when you reach Orlando, or do you keep going because there’s still gas in the tank?

If the federal government revokes Educator Effectiveness (an ineffective, time-consuming mandate that makes teachers feel like dogs chasing their own tails) do you revoke it at the state level as well, or do you keep it in place because, well, it’s in place?

So, here’s the thing. As you may have guessed, this last hypothetical is not a hypothetical.

In December, the United States Congress reauthorized No Child Left Behind Act (now called the Every Student Succeeds Act). The re-authorization included revoking the federal mandate for the Educator Effectiveness System. Yet, thanks to Wisconsin legislators, this highly problematic initiative remains law in the State of Wisconsin.

My question (and I believe the question of many Wisconsin educators) is: Why not buy new clothes, stop sending in extra car payments, take the wedding dress off, stop in Orlando, and why not bow out of a failing Educator Effectiveness System, which yields negligible results and diverts enormous amounts of time and resources that could be better spent in Wisconsin schools?

Anything less is nonsense.

Nerve-Racking & Game-Changing: A Flipped PD Experiment

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 10 Feb 2016 02:40:00 +0000

So how was your week, last week? Mine (thanks for asking) was daunting, nerve-racking, stressful, gratifying, energizing, and game-changing.

Here’s the scenario:

Imagine teaching teachers (daunting, yes?). Now imagine you are a peer of those teachers (worse). Now, imagine that you are teaching them the day before grades are due and a new semester starts (a day formerly reserved for grading and planning). Now imagine teaching them on that day and being held accountable for each teacher’s learning on that day.

Okay, deep breaths.

Now, on top of all that, imagine that they are allowed to complete this training...anywhere they want---at home, at Starbucks, in a hotel room at the Kalahari, wherever they choose to be that day.

I can imagine what you're thinking right about now...perhaps a polite “no thanks” or a slightly more frank “Hell no!”

Well, that’s precisely what happened last week in my district, with yours truly at the helm (now you’re beginning to understand the daunting, nerve-racking, stressful part). We designed “PD Anywhere": a full day of Professional Development that teachers could complete, well, anywhere.

Here’s what it looked like:

a Google Hangout to introduce the day.
a self-paced technology skill checklist with hyperlinked tutorials so teachers could teach themselves technology proficiencies.
a “flipped” Eric Mazur’s “Peer Instruction” video (our virtual key note speaker).
a video of our own students engaged in “Peer Instruction.”
four break-out sessions instructing teachers how to use different tools (Google Classroom, Pear Deck, Socrative, and “Unplugged” tools) for “Peer Instruction.”
teacher work time to apply this knowledge to their own classrooms.
accountability pieces throughout the process.

Why did we do it? Certainly not to save time; it took us easily three times longer to prepare. Certainly not to make things easier as the probability of things going awry was exponential. We did it in the hopes of modeling good teaching. After two years of providing tech training for teachers, encouraging them to create lessons that are student-centered, flexible, and personalized, it wasn’t until this inservice that we finally felt that we truly “walked the walk,” demonstrating the practices we’d been advocating.

We were able to leverage technology to personalize the day for each teacher, meeting them “where they are” (just as we strive to do with students). And just as we know the most effective teacher is the “guide on the side,” not the “sage on stage,” we put the onus on the learners while being a call or an email away to help as needed.

We were also able to model courage. Trying out a new technique in front of a room full of teenagers can be unnerving, and more often than not in the case of new technology, things don’t go smoothly the first time around. In designing a full day of professional development where the staff did not need to report to work, where we were banking on all the online tools we were using to work correctly that day, where WIFI had to be alive and well in all the various places our staff would be located that day, we also took a sizable risk, in the hopes that our teachers will be more likely to take risks in their own practices.

How did the teachers respond? Here’s a representative sampling of their survey comments:

In one PD day, I learned many skills that will make me a more polished teacher. It was critical that I could learn the specific skills at my own pace - technology does not come naturally to me, so this was really a useful day!
I'm so happy that we could breeze through stuff we already know rather than being forced to listen to it for 45 minutes during an in-person inservice. It opened up my time to be spent actually trying out the stuff I did learn. This definitely was a much more efficient, productive use of my time.
Thank you for the option of working at home. It felt like a real luxury! I found that I was more focused and more productive working on my own and moving at my own pace than on most inservice days. I also did more planning about how what was being presented (Mazur’s methods) can be applied to my classroom.

All said and done, (stats), only one didn’t turn in all three required components (was working a long time on skills list), and only 2 negative comments on the day (all others were positive).

My take-aways that day? My professional development? My epiphanies?

Helping a few colleagues navigate their way through the morning, I was reminded that teachers, just like students, have different predilections, paces, and styles of learning that we must accommodate.
Hitting a satisfying “lull” midday, I realized that what we had planned was working, no emails, no phone calls. I felt like the director standing in back of the theatre opening night with nothing to do but watch (smiling sigh).
Seeing the lesson links come in from teachers who had time to apply their learning, I realized the practicality of the day, that students would very soon be the beneficiaries of their teacher’s learning.

And so I’ll take the daunting and nerve-racking along with the gratifying and game-changing: the yin yang of teaching and of PD, reminding me to take risks, to practice what I preach, and to remember that what’s good for kids is also good for their teachers.

Lessons in a 4-inch Box

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 11 Jan 2016 17:18:00 +0000

You can take the teacher out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the teacher. It’s Christmas Vacation as I write this, and I have students-on-the-brain.

Case in point: I’m watching my son enjoy his favorite Christmas present, and it’s got me thinking about teaching again.

It’s the loop pedal’s fault. I didn’t even know what a loop pedal was until I gave Eliot’s Christmas List its due attention. And now, not only do I think it’s the best present we could have bought him, but I think it’s a master teacher.

Huh? How can this little contraption (“THIS was $99?” I exclaimed, unimpressed, upon its arrival) be so miraculous? What, even, is it? The loop pedal is a gadget that allows Eliot to make short recordings with his guitar and then play over those recordings, creating loops or layers of music. And because it’s a pedal, the recording part is “hands-free,” making the process of playing, recording, listening, re-recording and layering seamless.

But is this teacher sacrilege? How can I give an inanimate object teaching kudos, especially since singing the praises of Eliot’s real-life guitar teacher, Craig Friemoth? It was just two Christmases ago, when I wrote about Eliot’s gift to me: he had taken my favorite song at the time and created and played an extended, remixed version of it for me on his guitar. I called it “the best present I’d ever received.” It affected me deeply as a mother and as a teacher as I witnessed Eliot’s growth as a musician and I pondered how to elicit such creativity and engagement in my classroom.

The continuing influence of Craig’s teaching on Eliot’s love of music and growth as a musician can’t be overstated. How, then, can I now bow down to the almighty loop pedal as the ultimate teacher?

Here’s how. This is what he’s doing:

: Eliot & loop pedal at play

He’s examining the process of music making and the parts of a song.
He’s perfecting his craft. In any process, there are “cheats” and shortcuts. But a loop recording exposes and amplifies the smallest error. So now there’s an organic motivation for perfection which is fueling extra practice.
His creativity has exploded. His love of playing classic rock riffs continues, but now it’s mixed with loads of experimentation.
His aha moments are many. After he plays a loop, adds another and another, I hear all sorts of “ah,” “no” “okay...”wait”... as he’s discovering the interplay of these sounds and then tweaking them for various effects.
He’s learning the thickness of music. By that I mean he’s experiencing the richness of music as the sum of its parts by deconstructing it and then reconstructing it. It’s like playing in a band while being all the band members.
Perhaps most importantly, he’s getting that all-important feedback loop that we know is critical to learning. The loop pedal doesn’t lie. It plays back what it hears, making him painfully or ecstatically (whichever the case may be) aware of his abilities, providing feedback and motivation for correction.

Make no mistake: without the guidance of Craig, Eliot wouldn't be ready for any of this. A master teacher enables a student to become his own teacher and prepares him for other “teachers” (human and non-human varieties) he’ll meet along the way.

And so, I end with three pats on the back and a question:

First the back pats:

One to Mike and I for heeding the Christmas list.
One to Eliot for creating it.
One to Craig for making him ready for it.

And now, for the perpetual question:

How can we as educators do this? How can we provide for our students the foundation for life-long learning, the readiness to recognize and leverage all the potential teachers they will meet in life?

Dear Cassidy: A Case for Senior Year

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 07 Dec 2015 01:16:00 +0000

Dear Cassidy*

I must admit, when you told me a few weeks back that you want to graduate a year early to get a jump start on college, an immediate and somewhat surprising sadness washed over me. I tried not to show it, but I think you may have noticed.

I’m also pretty sure that when you asked me for a letter of recommendation this isn’t what you had in mind. Fear not, I wrote two letters: one to the Office of Admissions and another (this one) to you.

In the official letter, I praised your academic achievements, your talents as a thespian, musician and athlete. I also recommended your admission into college, since that was your wish.

And while I stand by every laudatory word I wrote in that letter, it was not my complete recommendation. An unadulterated version would include my recommendation that you stay in high school next year, that you don’t live your life in fast forward, that you experience (dare I suggest treasure) your senior year.

Why? Because the thing about senior year is that there’s only one of them.

My fear is that if you don’t experience senior year, you’ll miss out on one of life’s great experiences, like someone who’s never slurped a shave ice at the beach, never made a snow angel, never read a Harry Potter book, and has to go through life wondering what all the nostalgia is about.

There’s so much in senior year that’s celebratory, cumulative, and icing-on-the-cake-ish. It’s a chance to celebrate you and the culmination of 13 years from the moment you walked into kindergarten with your velcro shoes and Little Mermaid backpack when telling time and writing your name were your biggest challenges to the moment you walk out of high school in yoga pants and leg warmers (yes, they’re back) able to quote Shakespeare, explain the double helix, and play Take Five on the saxophone. A journey worth completing, a rite of passage worth celebrating.

Pondering this, I recently recruited the wisdom of Facebook friends, asking their thoughts on senior year and early graduation. Here’s a sampling of their responses:

from recent HS grads:

I feel like if I had needed to go to college after junior year I probably could have done it but senior year gave me time to really be ready to move on. I think it would have been a shock to move to a huge campus setting a year earlier than I did.
Senior year was my favorite year of high school! I got to take classes that I really enjoyed and these classes gave me skills that I'm currently using in college. Besides academics, I felt that my extra curriculars, like theatre and choir, were the most rewarding during my senior year. I'm incredibly thankful I had all of that time to spend with my favorite people.
Being able to graduate and experience those "lasts" of senior year with the people and friends I grew up with from grade school is important, I think. I've always believed that with anything in life the journey is just as important as the destination (as cliche as that might sound), especially when you’re young.

from Adults (friends and colleagues):

I think it's indicative of a problem in our culture, no one lives in the moment, they are constantly looking forward to the next thing. No one enjoys the here and now.

I really became comfortable in my own skin during my senior year. I stopped caring so much about what other people thought of me. I grew out of that teenage funk and sprouted grownup wings.
Senior year is when it all somehow came together for me. Without realizing it, I become a leader and became responsible for myself. And by the end of senior year, I was finally ready to leave it, the perfect confluence of events.

Frontal brain development! No matter how mature or intelligent someone seems, that frontal lobe is just not developed. Only time can do that.
Hurry up and finish high school so you can hurry up and get through college so you can hurry up and work for the rest of your life?! It's about the journey--not about racing to the finish line. And college is a whole lot more expensive - financial aid and scholarships just aren’t there for early grads.
One year at that time in your life is HUGE. I wasn’t ready for the freedom and risks and temptations at college. I probably thought I was, but I wasn’t.

I must also note one of my FB friends who veered from the “pro senior year” camp, wisely pointing out that “not every student has a perfect home life...and moving on is in their best interest.” She also pointed out my central contradiction: that if I didn’t think early graduation was a good idea, perhaps I should consider not writing you a letter of recommendation.

As your teacher, though, I believe it’s my job to teach you, support you, and prepare you for your next step, whatever that may be. It’s my job to write a letter of recommendation that honestly represents you and conveys your abilities. It’s your job to decide what those next steps are.

So now, two letters are complete: one about you as a student, someone who can, if she chooses, face the rigors of college one year early; and one to you as a person, someone I care about, someone whose ultimate decision I will wholly respect.

Best of luck to you, Cassidy.*

With fondness,

Mrs. Felske

*Name has been changed to protect the scholarly.

Just for the Record: I Am Not a Prostitute

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 09 Nov 2015 00:11:00 +0000

So I get this email from ETS (of ACT/SAT/AP super-testing fame) offering me the “opportunity” to score STAAR (State of Texas Assessments of Academic Readiness) exams.

And even more exciting than the prospect of electronically scoring standardized tests in the isolation of my own home is the whopping $13 per hour they are willing to pay me.

At this point, equal parts disbelief, insult, and amusement are frolicking in my head.

$13, seriously?

Just for the record, I am not a prostitute, physically, academically, or otherwise.

This has me thinking, why do we do what we do, and why do we do things for money?

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs (thank you Psychology 101) comes to mind.

Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

Maslow reminds me that if I have my most basic needs met (food, water, shelter) unless I’m a former Olympic runner from Stevens Point, I will not prostitute myself for money. So ETS loses on that count.

Next comes safety and security, and since I have good health and gainful employment, ETS’s $13 per hour fails to lure me on the physiological front.

Love and belonging? Check and check as I count a loving family and wickedly fun friends among my good fortunes. And besides, one can hardly imagine hours of scoring standardized tests providing love and belonging, but rather their opposites.

Next on the Maslow plate is self esteem. You know, confidence, achievement, respect from others? The things that scoring standardized tests would suck from the marrow of my very bones.

Finally, self actualization, the highest level of Maslow’s hierarchy. This is nirvana, flow, purity of soul and spirit, notions known to vaporize in the mere presence of standardized tests.

So, ETS’s job offer pretty much fails on all levels of human needs and desires, leaving one to ask what conscientious and competent educator in their right mind would score standardized tests for $13 per hour?

None, I think, and here’s why:

Teachers are busy, very busy. Show me a teacher who doesn’t do school work at night and on weekends, and I will, with great disbelief, ask you to prove it.
Teachers who love being teachers love the kids, love the content, love the teaching itself, but rue the stacks of papers and tests. Correcting is the bane not the allure of the profession.
Teachers are human beings. In the little down time we have, grabbing a book, touching base with our spouses, getting to know our own kids, taking a lap at the gym—these are things we aspire to do, not assessing standardized tests.
Standardized tests (as I’ve written repeatedly) only work on standardized kids. Our students are dynamic individuals who develop at different rates and have different aptitudes and abilities. This is why we need to teach them as individuals and not judge them in a standardized, meaningless way.
Finally, $13 per hour is inordinately insulting. If standardized tests are to be given, they must be scored in a valid, reliable manner by qualified experienced educators. $13 per hour is in no way commensurate with the task, and will in no way attract qualified experienced educators. You get what you pay for, and while ETS will find people to score the STAAR exams, they will be inexperienced unqualified non-educators who determine the outcomes of these high-stakes exams which have enormous consequences for students and schools. And that, ETS, is simply disgraceful.

So, for all the reasons mentioned above, to borrow the timeless lyric of Johnny Paycheck, “Take this job [ETS] and shove it.”

And remember, just for the record, I am not a prostitute.

The Frogs are Boiling

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 12 Oct 2015 00:11:00 +0000

Something inhumane and downright repulsive is happening in school districts across the country. Frogs are slowly being boiled to death, en masse. And once more, no one seems to be noticing, least of all the frogs.

You may have heard the story that if you put a frog into a boiling pot of water, it will leap out to escape certain death. But if you put a frog into a kettle at room temperature, and gradually heat the water to boiling, the frog will stay for the duration, facing death without so much as a splash.

This is what’s happening in education today: the slow and systematic boiling of frogs.

Case in point: my school district.

This past spring, I heard a devastating piece of news---Forensics, an extracurricular speech and performance program---was on the chopping block. I expected (or at least hoped) for some vocal opposition, but there was nothing, no letters to the editor, no outraged parents, students, or coaches at school board meetings. Not a croak of a frog or a chirp of a cricket to be heard. And so, the Forensics program quietly disappeared.

Since I’m no longer a Forensics coach (I resigned when I realized that teaching, coaching, and parenting would render me inept at all three) I cannot make a direct plea for the reinstatement of my Forensics program, but I can go on record about what Forensics and extra curriculars in general mean to students.

My dozen plus years in Forensics as a coach, judge, and participant were defining moments in my life, taking me from a quivery-voiced freshman to a confident orator when I was in high school, and allowing me a deep connection with my students as I coached them through similar experiences.

When we weren’t dispelling the misconceptions about Forensics (no, it does not involve dissecting cadavers) we were reciting, orating, storytelling, demonstrating, impromptu speaking, broadcasting, and acting. (Fun fact: "Forensics" is a tradition rooted in Ancient Greek speaking competitions, a skill they deemed central to democracy).

In Forensics, aside from collecting state medals and power round trophies, students gain confidence as speakers, develop their voices, ideas, and identities in authentic ways, no longer needing to rely on the “imagine your audience in their underwear” mantra in order to survive and thrive in public speaking situations.

And, as is the case in so many extracurriculars, far more important than the tangible take aways are the incidental ones. I suspect many on my Forensics team will remember the following phenomena as much if not more than their trophy-winning performances:

the lengthy “thank you” speeches by every team member on the bus ride home
the “Golden Pizza Award” given for the most slices consumed at the Pizza Hut buffet
Kevin reciting all the US Presidents and their birthdays by memory at each meet
The Least-Need-for-Caffeine Award (Gwen!)
Andrea, our probing videographer, collecting sordid interviews and season highlights
Emily floating down the halls at meets, flapping her “wings” like a butterfly
Kopp’s meets (“no cheeseburgers!”)
Fel and Scott dancing the tango across the awards stage
the improbably coupling of Henry and Leah
Jason’s infamous “Capitalism, Sweet Capitalism” speech
Jesse, Ian & Brett as the typing monkeys
Our Austin Powers themed home meet

and so many more...

Together, we were supportive, hilarious, melodramatic, ridiculous, inappropriate, serious, proud, accomplished, protective, defeated, victorious, nervous, ecstatic, goofy. Priceless stuff in the life of a teenager.

And such moments, while specific to our team, will feel familiar to anyone who has been involved in an extra-curricular activity. While teams provide a constructive use of time and a structured opportunity to improve skills, perhaps more importantly, they provide a sense of belonging and confidence and happiness that many students don’t necessarily find elsewhere.

Studies confirm that extra curriculars increase student self-esteem, collaboration, positive relationships, and positive feelings about school; they decrease unexcused absences, academic failure, and bullying behaviors. Research shows that 68% of students who participate in extracurriculars are likely to earn a Bachelor’s degree or higher compared to 48% of those who don’t.

What we also know is that our student body is diverse. Not everyone is interested in football or soccer or FBLA, or Science Club, or Forensics, or Band, but the hope is that the more diverse our offerings are, the more likely it is that each student can find one activity which interests him/her, one way to connect with peers, build confidence, and develop a sense of belonging at school; and if they do, the relatively small cost of extra curriculars more than pays for itself in the long-term social-emotional well being of that student and in the civic and socio-economic well being of our larger society.

My fear is that we are so accustomed to cuts and losses in education these days that, like the frog in the kettle, we have become desensitized the imminent danger that lies ahead. Cutting one more program is akin to cranking the temperature up five more degrees on the stove, all too easy to slip by unnoticed while the frog slowly dies on our watch.

I think about what I would have missed out on without having Forensics. I think of Stacey, Tiffany, the Gwens, Scott, Karen, Alan, Andrea, Jason, Anna, Ian, Laura, Jesse, Brett, Kristin, Jackie, Katrina, Josie, Henry, Alicia, Jillian, Tara, Margaret, Cheri, Brian, Molly, Jenni, Joe, Vicki, Leah, Alicia, Kevin, and so many others.

If we don't speak up, we're all complicit in the death of this frog.

Save our Frogs.

Save our Kids.

There Are No Rules and All the Rules Have Changed

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Sep 2015 14:00:00 +0000

A great man once said (actually it was Tom Brokaw last week on Meet the Press): “There are no rules and all the rules have changed.” He was talking about the trumpification of politics, but he might as well been talking about the state of education since it’s become clear that all the rules in education have indeed changed.

Incidentally, the alternative title for this blogpost was “I Just Lost my Two Best Friends.” The two titles are, in essence, one: I lost my two best friends because all the rules have changed.

We three began our teaching careers together, same year, same high school. The year was 1993---she, the beautiful new French teacher, he the handsome guy smiley of the math department, and me somewhere in between. Over the next 22 years, we became best friends, our social lives and families deeply intertwined. Naturally, I assumed we'd also share a retirement banquet decades later.

Now, somehow that dynamic French teacher and that gifted math teacher are no longer in the classrooms down the hall, no longer at my lunch table, no longer in the faculty lot when I arrive in the morning or leave after school. And I'm heartbroken, as are many of their students. It just doesn't feel right. It feels like someone broke the rules because there were rules after all, unwritten as they were.

Broken Rule #1: Loyalty is a two-way street. Our school district was good to us; and in turn, we were

good to our school district. Teaching in a small rural school, we were immune to many problems faced by larger districts. We knew this, and we were grateful for it. We educated generations of students, and we knew our students, our curriculum, and our community inside and out. This was a win for our students, our district, and for us. We could also rely on predictable pay scales with a clear path to increased salaries over the long haul. For all of these reasons, we stayed put. Whenever someone left, it was for one of three reasons: retirement, a serious health issue, or a change of vocation altogether. Teachers didn’t leave in order to teach somewhere else. They just didn't. We were “Lifers,” and many town residents had the same teachers as their parents: classroom stories were passed down generation to generation like sacred folklore.

Compare that with our current reality: three of our teachers recently left to teach at other high schools, two left within two weeks of the new school year. And this is hardly an anomaly; it’s happening on a much larger scale in districts across the state. Act 10 and decreased state funding (the “tools” Governor Walker gave localities) have forced many districts to freeze or decrease their payscales. This has led many teachers, with mortgages and college tuitions looming, to surf the job market. Talk to any superintendent or principal in Wisconsin and you'll hear the same story: I spoke recently with a principal who'd lost 14% of his staff the month before school started. Imagine the long term consequences here: wealthy districts landing the most qualified teachers and poor districts, the least. The gentrification of teaching. Hardly the ingredients of free and equitable public education.

Broken Rule #2: Faculty is family. As cliche as it might sound, faculty was family. The shared goal of providing an excellent education to our students fostered a “we're in this together” attitude among teachers, an attitude often absent in private industry. Teachers weren't looking over their shoulders at other teachers or other districts. The new paradigm? Frozen pay scales, lack of bargaining rights, privatization (vouchers and charters) have all contributed to suspicion in the faculty lounge, decreased collegiality, and a greater tendency to view co-workers as transitory acquaintances rather than lifelong friends. All of this has greatly affected morale and job satisfaction.

Broken Rule #3: Kids first. It’s all about the kids, right? While you would be hard pressed to find a single teacher or administrator who would utter anything to the contrary, the reality of education in Wisconsin sings a different song. When hundreds of classrooms across the state began this school year with a substitute teacher instead of a qualified, content certified teacher, clearly it’s not all about the kids. It’s the learners who are the biggest losers here, not the teachers, administrators or taxpayers. Increasingly viewed as widgets and data points by politicians, textbook and testing agencies (Pearson & the College Board leading the way), and the larger powers that be (ALEC), kids are treated by many as dollar signs instead of the pillars of our future. It's clearly not all about the kids.

Brokaw was right.

There are no rules, and all the rules have changed.

Where Comedy Meets Tragedy

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 09 Aug 2015 20:30:00 +0000

It’s official: Ruby Ruhf, “Star English Teacher” is the top pick in the National High School Draft will receive $80 million over 6 years with $40 million in incentives.

No wonder this Key & Peele comedy sketch, “Teaching Center” has received over 4 million youtube views in a few weeks:

Hilarious, right?

Here’s the hilarious part: Imagine if teachers received the fanfare and hero worship akin to our sports figures. Imagine money thrown at them in a no-holds-bar draft in the hopes of landing the best in your child’s school. Imagine national play-by-play analysis of master teaching. Imagine fawning fans, screaming crowds, signing bonuses, hype, excitement, and RESPECT.

Therein lies the humor. The sheer ridiculousness of it! It is so laughable, so inconceivable, so counter to all things logical and realistic that TEACHING would held up as the vocation to be admired, emulated, and valued at our society's the highest levels---that we can’t stop laughing about it.

There’s much pain in humor.

The departing Jon Stewart comes to mind as he was perhaps the modern day example of comedy-wrapped tragedy. The Daily Show was the prefered source of news for millennials: today’s big events stripped down to its dirty underpants. Stewart and his brilliant writers exposed the hypocrisies of the media and of politicians, causing us to laugh, but it was a bitter, cynical laugh. This wasn't Benny Hill chasing a busty woman to a vaudeville beat. It was a painful, reality-laced laugh at things that matter: politics, public health, the economy, the environment, education. Stewart's humor made palatable the viewing of the profane.

Arne Duncan with The Daily Show's Jon Stewart

Key & Peele and The Daily Show: these are satires meant to shock us into realizing our ugly truths. Parody is a succinct rendering of how screwed up our values are. It’s hilarious and it’s tragic. The Key & Peele "Teaching Center" video is hilarious because it’s so far from our reality, and tragic because if we were a principled society, it would be our reality.

Here’s the greater tragedy: while a free and open democracy in the 21st century is more dependent on an educated citizenry than ever we are clearly moving in the opposite direction.

So watch the video and have a laugh...and then a cry.

For what is humor but an acknowledgement of the garish degrees of human folly?