I remember Chris Lehmann saying something to the effect of, “You make time in the schedule for what you value.”

That’s probably the idea that got me thinking about our move from Computers teachers to technology facilitators¹ At first, I thought this was a terrific idea. Most of what is in our current Computers curriculum are skills and projects that support what students are doing in core content area classes. I would be floored if that situation made us unique as a school. If that Computers curriculum can be “integrated” into the core classes with the former Computers teachers helping to facilitate, all the better, I thought.

That is what Computers class should be. An opportunity for every student — not just the ones who have the time for an after school club — to experience computing. I don’t mean that creating an app is the height of computing.²

So, what I didn’t make clear in my rant³ is that I think we should have both Computing class and technology facilitators.

As to the technology facilitators, I think that should be a self-destructing position. The goal should be to work oneself out of a job by facilitating one’s colleagues into self-directed learners of technology.

Helping colleagues build the Technology Content Knowledge along with the skills and tools needed to continue building that knowledge so that it is as natural to implement appropriate technology decisions into pedagogical decisions as it currently is to implement Content Knowledge decisions.⁴ A Geometry teacher who has a vast knowledge of Geometry is well-equipped to make pedagogical decisions because he or she can predict where gaps in knowledge will come. Teachers should also have the technological knowledge available to make sound decisions about technology that can positively affect their pedagogical decisions.

Do I think getting rid of Computers class is a good idea? Depends on what was going on in the Computers class. If it’s stuff that can be better learned in-context in a core content class, then maybe that’s where it should be. But, as I tweeted, I don’t think that was really ever a Computers class if it can just be moved into the content areas.

Do I think having technology facilitators is a good idea? If they’re used to help teachers learn and gain independence on technological matters.

Was that rant the other night a good idea? It’s getting people talking. I consider that a good thing.

1. I don’t believe the position has been officially titled yet.
2. The only tweet I have even a twinge of regret on is that one where I threw the kid under the bus that made the Justin Bieber app.
3. which is why it really should have just been a blog post from the start, not a series of tweets
4. If this sounds like the TPACK framework, it should.

One of the questions they were reflecting on:

As I was walking around, some of the answers I saw were, “When I was born,” “When I was two years old,” and “IDK.”

I was confused. They knew their parents loved them when they were born, but obviously they weren’t aware of it at that time. And they maybe realized it at some point while they were two years old, but we’re looking for stories here, people!

We stopped and talked about misconceptions and what I could do to help. “I don’t know the answer,” a few said. “I can’t think of anything,” someone else said, three minutes into the work time.

So, we had a conversation about the difference between questions that are looking for you to react and questions that are looking for you to think. I don’t know if those are the right terms, but here’s what I mean by them.

A question that is looking for you to react is one that you already know the answer to. All it takes to answer it is to react with the right answer. It may not be straight recall, but there’s no reflective thought required. It seems like questions about other people or things not related to the self fall into this category. “What’s 10 times 12?” React: 120. “If solar power is more cost-effective than wind power, why might someone choose wind power instead?” React: Maybe wind power creates more energy.¹

A question that is looking for you to think is one that may take some time come up with an answer. It’s probably something you haven’t thought about before and it’s not something you’ll be recalling, unless you’ve been asked the same question recently.

I’m not unearthing any new ideas here. I’m not the first to say we ask too many recall questions in school. My students’ struggles today are as much my fault as anyone else’s. I know I don’t ask enough questions that make them think, although it is on my mind, so they are exposed to some thinking questions in room 304.

I remember earlier in the year sitting with a small group discussing a story they had all read. I asked, “Do you think the guitar is a character in the story? Can an object be a character?” We chatted about it for a few minutes, some saying it was — “It’s the main character!” — while others said no.

Then one student turned to me and said, “So, what’s the answer? Is it a character?”

They were miffed when I replied that I didn’t know. “I just thought it was an interesting question.”

1. I have no idea if either of those things are true

It sparked a few ideas for me, so I figured I’d capture them here.

The first topic they covered was Grading. They¹ talked about how grades right now are a points-based system where everyone comes in assuming they have an A+ and everything they do wrong drops them down a peg from that standing. In a points/assignments-based system, that rings true. It’s a continual de-motivator. Unless I’m perfect, my grade falls. If I’m perfect, my grade stays where it is. There’s no way to go above what I was when I started (A+). Their suggestion was to turn grades into experience points (XP) that the students earn as they complete assignments. Do well on a test = +10 XP.

At first, I got annoyed. Well that’s not what grades should be. Blah blah blah. I went right into standards-based mode. How does that report learning? How does the student know how they’re doing on each standard?

Then I thought about it some more. First of all, the idea was in the context of “Gamifying Education.” The idea makes complete sense in that context. Secondly, why couldn’t the content-mastery be reported in a standards-based way, and the grades turned into this motivating² experience points system? I don’t know. Like I said, they’ve got me thinking.

The next section they covered was Agency. I’ll admit that I didn’t know what was meant by Agency when the section started. As soon as they explained it, though, my ears perked up. I’ve written previously [here, here, and here] about ideas that are close to “agency” without knowing that’s what it’s called.

The more agency you feel over your life, the better you do and the more ambitious goals you’re willing to set for yourself.

I believe strongly in students having agency in schools. Schools should be for them. I responded to a post by Ryan Bretag recently with this comment:

As I told you on Twitter, I believe there needs to be a companion point that is stated (not justunderstood) to go along with number 2: We need to know what it is we want students to know, to do, to experience, to be

We need to know what it is students want to know, to do, to experience, to be.

I agree that the sentiment should be part of the process, but I do not think it always (or even often) is. It needs to be.

The vide got me thinking. I like that. I don’t know much about gamification and how it could help students learn. I do know that my students love gaming. Just because it’s not something I’m passionate about, doesn’t mean it’s something I can overlook.

1. I’m referring to Penny Arcade as “they” because I think it’s a couple of guys, at least that’s what I’ve always assumed because of the comics, but I really don’t know.
2. Wow. I typed “motifying” before fixing it to motivating. Yikes.

I created this writing prompt² with the interview in mind:

As you may have read, I’ve been thinking about storytelling lately, and especially finding the theme in stories. I’ve been fixated on theme almost all school year, but especially the last month or two. I’ve come to the realization — I think — that my students have trouble telling stories³ because they’re not recognizing the themes that run throughout their lives. Themes illuminated by growing up and “coming of age.” They don’t recognize those themes because they’re in the middle of them. I realize I’m getting somewhat psychoanalytical here,⁴ but I guess my point is that I’m not sure if they’re all developmentally ready to recognize the kind of themes and stories in their lives that I’d like them to recognize.

But.

I think it’s important enough⁵ that we’re going to keep plugging away at it.

On the way to and from different Christmas gatherings over the last week, I’ve been listening to a ton of podcasts. One that I’ve recently re-discovered is This I Believe. As soon as Becky Sun began reading her essay, the idea for this writing project began forming.

So, here’s what I’m thinking — and this is the part I especially want feedback on:

I want to combine writing, storytelling, theme recognition, biography/autobiography/memoir, interviewing, and relationship building into one project. I think the first steps would be for us to read and listen to some example This I Believe essays. We’ll analyze them to figure out what makes them interesting. Find the stories. Find the themes. Then we’ll write our own.

Next, we’ll get into what the prompt was … prompting. I won’t limit it to their parents, but this is where the title of this post comes into play: This They Believe. I’d love to have my students interview someone special to them, then tell their story. What is interviewing besides asking good questions and listening and recording/retelling the answers?

I’m thinking it would be a four-week project:

1. Read/listen/study This I Believe essays
2. Write our own This I Believe essays
3. Create interview questions, practice interviewing, do the interviews
4. Write This They Believe essays

1. “We” being the teachers. I’d like to involve the students in the planning, but it’s tough over break. I’ll be sharing this post to our classes on Edmodo to get their input there before we reconvene in the new year.
2. They’ll get better. I promise.
3. “I don’t have anything worth telling” “What do you mean ‘tell a story from your life’?”
4. or really, “wordy”
5. I should probably dig into this more deeply sometime

In class, I said to my students, “How many of you feel like you write a lot in this class?” A good number of hands went up, so I asked, “And how many of you feel like you are writers?” I saw just a few hands that time.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, this idea of writers and writing, and storytellers and stories. I don’t think those roles — writer and storyteller — are mutually exclusive. There is much overlap. There are also times, in my classroom at least, where my students are writers, but not storytellers. It probably has a lot to do with the type of writing I ask them to do, and I’m sure it has something to do with the culture and mindset of the classroom.

Asking students to “Write a persuasive essay” isn’t the best way to ask them to tell a story.¹ As a teacher, I found myself in a slump with the writing I was asking them to do. I was sitting fastball and swinging at everything coming past me.

I’m extremely grateful for Luke Neff’s writing prompts. Think about the difference between these two prompts, though:

and

While both prompts are gorgeous and thought-provoking,² asking students to write a letter is an inappropriate prompt if I want them to tell a story.³

At the beginning of the year, we worked with Ralph Fletcher’s ideas for building a writer’s notebook. I like his ideas a lot, and with some personalization, I like where it takes our students. What I’m realizing, though, is that while we covered ideas like “Capturing Memories” and “Writing from the Heart,” I didn’t give adequate time or scaffolding for students to learn those skills.

So now, three months later, I’m miffed when my students aren’t telling stories, when all I’ve done this year is tell them what to write. 

We started Thursday with this question on the board:

I had students free write on that question for three minutes. Some bullet-pointed, others wrote a few paragraphs. Then, in their groups, I had them summarize their group’s thoughts into one sentence: A story worth telling is/does/has/etc…

It was a good conversation. We talked about theme and moral, characters and growth.

When the conversation was over, I projected the astronaut prompt and we talked through some things: What story do you see here? What perspective do you see this story from? Are you a cab driver? Someone walking on the street? The astronaut? Is there a metaphor here? Have you ever felt like you were on fire with smoke coming off you to the point that no one wanted to get in your way?

Then, I set a timer⁴ for 10 minutes and we wrote.

Happy ending:

1. Yes, storytelling is a great vehicle for persuading, but saying to a 6th grader, “Persuade me,” opens the door to lists of reasons, not stories that illustrate.
2. and please don’t misconstrue this as me saying that one prompt is “better” than the other
3. Again, it’s possible to tell a story in a letter, but the majority of my sixth graders couldn’t even get there with prodding
4. it is school, after all

My part of the panel was around something we do in our classroom. While I meet with small groups, other students have “work time.” For that time, we’ve put together The List.

Here’s video (~9 minutes long) of my part of the panel. Resources can found here.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Here are the slides in presentation format:

I’m also excited because the other focus of the class is on the Common Core writing standards. As a 6th grade Language Arts PLC, we have spent the last year working to implement the Common Core State Standards into our curriculum. I’m interested in seeing what others think of what we’ve done.

I’m planning to contribute as transparently as possible to the class, so hopefully that means more posting here over the next few months. So there’s that.

I took this picture at the hotel we stayed at this weekend. Seems appropriate for my mindset during this class.

Aside from that, my students are a week or so away from publishing their mystery short stories on their blogs. I’ve also been writing one, which has been fun. It’s stretched me. It has been a while since I wrote any fiction.

I’m immediately taken back to when I was in fifth grade and I had a fort with my two friends Andy and Pat. The fort was just down the hill from the elementary school. If you walked past the fort you’d get to my house; the fort was between my house and the elementary school. The fort was built on top of a little creek that ran through our town. The creek wasn’t wide. We could jump across it without much of a running start. In the winter, the creek was the end to our sledding hill. How did we stumble onto the fort? That I don’t remember. What I do remember is the freeing feeling of spending a full day at the fort.

Now, when I drive around town at the time of day when little me would have been working at our fort, I see 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders playing football. Not football like we used to play – 3 on 3 with an all-time quarterback, working on passing and catching and running, not tackling – but football with pads and helmets and plays and … adults.

I hope that I never forget the feeling of true independence. Not independence with parents there to make sure everything turns out ok, but true independence where we’re actually kids in charge of that moment in time. We had to make the rules and decide on penalties. We had to sort teams and decide on fairness. We came up with the plays and we fixed them when they didn’t work. That kind of independence. The independent kind.

I want my children to experience that.

I hope that I never forget the feeling of true independence.

OK. So how can I help Henry find that? Does my remembering it have any effect on his feeling it? How were my parents able to give that to me? In a world where kids are trusted less and less, how do I make sure that I trust him enough to let him grow? Let’s try:

So how can I help Henry find that? I can trust him. And I can trust this world. I can make sure to get to know our neighbors. I can make sure they know our family.

Does my remembering it have any effect on his feeling it? The more I can keep those feelings in mind, the better chance he gets to feel them, too. I have to consistently remind myself of what this world wants me to do: shut myself in, not trust my family, not trust my neighbors. I can’t let that happen.

How were my parents able to give that to me? We had clear expectations and clear consequences when those expectations were not met. For all that I don’t remember about the fort, what I do remember is when I lost the privilege to go there. I had told my parents that I just needed to run down to grab a tool quick, and when I came back two hours later, it was over. I had shown my true colors: my irresponsibility.

In a world where kids are trusted less and less, how do I make sure that I trust him enough to let him grow? It goes back to trusting him as well as trusting my neighbors and trusting my town.

I’m still a young parent. I have much room to grow. I’m idealistic.

I’m just not sure how I feel about how closed off our world has become.

• Why don’t I need school to learn?
• Is it developmental?
• Is it access?
• Have I figured something out that enables me to own my learning?

These questions aren’t unique to me. Not hardly. It got me thinking about my students, though. So here was today’s post on MrGoerend.com. I’m asking these questions of my students in the hope of setting up the foundation for them to own their learning this year. Instead of me just dumping it on them — “Here. Learn this.” — I want to help them move away from what I see as learned helplessness brought on by school-as-a-system.

I was reading a blog post the other day by Bud Hunt in which he talked about how scary it can be for some teachers to be in charge of their own learning. If you’re interested in learning, I’d suggest reading his post.

It got me to thinking about my students, as usual. There have been times in my teaching career, where I have worked hard to help students “own their learning.” I gave them a standard that needed to be learned and that was about it. In essence, I said, “Here. Learn this. I’ll be here to help with what you need. Then you can show me when you’re done.”

What happened is just as much my “fault” as it is the students.

What happened was nothing.

It can be very overwhelming to be in charge of your own learning when what you’re expected to learn is given to you¹.

I would bet that not many of you struggle with figuring out how to learn when you’re learning about what you want². If you want to get good at video games, you probably figure out how to get good, whether that’s by just playing, watching tutorials online, or reading a gaming magazine. If you want to learn about art, you may practice making art, read about art, or watch videos about making art, among other things.

Help me reflect on what happens when the what has been given to you but the how has not. Leave me some feedback on Edmodo, or reflect in your writer’s notebook.

1. which really means that you’re not completely in charge
2. although, as always, my assumptions could be wrong