Down With Innovation!

Our school district superintendent is a fan of education writer Mike Schmoker.  I decided to give him a read on the basis of this recommendation and his awesome name.  Mike SCCCHHHHMMMMOOOOOOOKKKERRRRR.  Mike, if you're out there, I want to hang with you.  Can I call you Schmokey?

Anyway, here's a provocative yet surprisingly sensible quote from his book Focus, which I've only just started reading:

" ... the key to success is not innovation; it is "simplicity and diligence" applied with fierce devotion to our highest priorities" (p. 9).

I immediately thought of Ben Franklin and his worship of Almighty Industry (i.e., hard work).

Too often in schools we are caught up in the latest trend, only to discard them soon after.  So many cool things are inefficient at best and total time wasters at worst.  Let's make a list: Edmodo, centers, Reading First, educational board games, online educational games ...

None of these are a substitute for what Schmoker calls "authentic literacy."  Authentic literacy consists of reading, writing, and discussion.  Clicking through some nonsense on Starfall does not teach kids to read, and I will defend that assertion to my dying breath.  Otherwise, just replace us teachers with computers the way Edison thought his film projector would replace us.  The time-sucking nonsense does not teach kids to read and comprehend.  Teachers teach kids to read by teaching kids to read.

Simplicity and diligence.  Dig it, my brothers and sisters.  The Gospel of Schmoker.

Saturday Morning

First, I have been a derelict blogger.  I figured, who wants to read my spiel?  Well, I have now realized, nobody if there's nothing to read.  So I'm back on the job.

This past Saturday I began working a six-week program to teach reading and math for two hours in the morning.

A few observations.

I had a 1st grader, a 2nd grader, a 3rd grader, and a 4th grader.  Never had that sort of mix before.  Surprisingly, my lessons worked at all their levels of development, and I think it enhanced the experience for them - kids are generally sequestered by grade, so a change piques their interest.

Also, having a mere four students - with an excellent volunteer helping me, as well - allowed for the obvious: individualized attention.  We accomplished everything I had planned despite a long snack/bathroom break in the middle of our time, and they all demonstrated mastery of the topics.  What a dream!

Lastly, my boss impressed me tremendously.  She read over my lesson plans in advance, and collected supplies and books she thought I could use (or stated that I needed).  I should be that good!  We all should!

Step back, buddy

So my summer camp students say, "We want to have a talent show."

So I say, "Sure."

And it went superbly well because I stepped back and let them run it.  Oh, yeah, I kept a finger on certain things - I vetoed their attempt to make it a competition with winners and losers, I figured out and operated the lights and audio system in the little auditorium - but mostly I just let them have their show.

When you say "sure" to kids, they have the opportunity to impress you.

One girl scheduled all the acts, went home and typed up an order of events, and then served as MC.

Another girl bought big award stickers and presented them to all participants afterward.

And the kindergarten class came to watch and laugh and cheer.

Then, at the end, someone said, "Let's have a dance party."

I said, "Sure."

And it was fabulously fun.

Stick 'em

Relearned a lesson today.  A truism of sorts, among teachers.

My first day teaching in a summer program, I stuck tightly to the rules.  Like gum under a desk.  As they say, you can always loosen up, but you can't start loose and then get strict.

A good principle.

Walk It Off, Walk It Off

Classic Dad advice to his injured son (e.g., hit by baseball): "Walk it off, walk it off."

Today my son and I ran 65 minutes - probably about 9 miles, a medium-distance run for us - and my son had complaints about halfway through.  Cramps or something.  Itchy bug bites.

He kept wanting to stop, but I made him run through it.

Does that seem cruel?  Well, he thanked me afterward, and was fine.

I guess the genius of fatherhood is knowing when to say or not say, "Walk it off."

It Turns Me Upside-Down

Those of a certain vintage will recognize a song lyric in today's title.  Uh-oh, it's magic ...

For teachers, summer means a time to recoup, reflect, and re-organize for next year.  I had my students write letters telling what they liked and did not like from this past year, and set up an online survey for parents.  I did the same after ChessFest (a chess event I organized).

Soliciting feedback results in hurt feelings.  How could someone say that my clubs were a total waste of time?  But, once we get over it, we can improve.

Maybe today, ask somebody how you're doing.  You wife, husband, kids, boss, customers ... How am I doing?  And then fix something.

Not Another Dilbert Meeting

How many Dilbert meetings have you sat through?  Or, even better, trainings?  You know, the ones that make you want to ask someone to pull on your tie until you stop breathing?

A student yesterday was freaking out because he could not take another minute of being forced to suffer through an endless meeting of sorts.  I was called upon to calm him.  And send him back to continue suffering.

But I really sympathized with him.  I hate that.  When people value you so little that they'll waste a slice of your life boring you senseless.  Or just be so lazy or clueless or whatever that they don't realize how useless and dull their endless droning is.

Tonight, on the other hand, I went to a meeting at church.  Just three of us, assembled for a specific purpose.  We accomplished what we came together for without wasting time, but without hurrying either. We joked a bit, considered several options on each question, assigned tasks, and said good night.

One way to escape Dilbert meetings is to go to the bathroom.  For a long time.  Heh-heh.

Jane Says

Heard Jane Fishman read from her book and speak on guerrilla gardening tonight.

Lessons: be abnormal, take risks, do something marginally illegal and positive for the thrill of doing good.  Also, cooking broccoli is easy (hot water, strain, salt & pepper - eat).

Kids need more Garden and less Cafeteria.  Amen, and amen.

Create and learn, hm?

To create something is to learn something.  Let's go do that right now.  See you there.

Here's where I said that.

Gardening to the Standards

Here's a short video on using gardening to teach. Enjoy!

How does your garden grow?

Today I finished up a Prezi on how gardening connects to science, math, and reading standards.

It was a lot of work.

Suffice it to say that you could teach much of what you need to teach in these subjects out in the garden.  Plenty of exceptions, sure, but most of the life science and earth science standards are out there.  The mistake we teachers make (me included, I confess) is teaching exclusively from textbooks and forsaking the hands-on experiences that make learning real.

Don't get me wrong - I'm an avid reader.  For example, I'm on a Bob Marley/reggae kick right now, and I've already consumed six books on the subject.  But I also learned a few Marley songs on guitar, and even tried my hand at writing a reggae tune of my own.

So I wouldn't say "Learn not from books," but rather, "Learn not from books alone!"

My Other Students

Sometimes I'm so caught up in my work teaching that I forget who my real students are.

Who are the children I teach with every word, act, and omission?  Who hears me in the car and from the other side of the bathroom door?

Yep.  My kids.  So today I took the three of them out to the Forsyth Farmers' Market, then out to lunch, and then the SCAD Mini-Comics Expo.  We ran some errands, and then went to mass.  They learned a lot, and I remembered that DAD is more important than my BA or MAT or even my cherished TOTY.



Key: BA - undergrad degree; MAT - "Master of the Arts in Teaching," my graduate degree; TOTY - Teacher of the Year, which I earned this year, big fancy pants that I am.

Audition time

Today I held the second round of auditions for the school talent show.  This round was for all who were somewhat or totally unprepared for the first round - more a second chance than a second round.  What brutal realities.

Common exchange:

• Me: So, are you ready to audition now?
• Student: Yeah.
• Me: You have the music for your song now?
• Student:  No.
• Me: What song are you singing?
• Student:  Hm ... maybe ... um ...
• Me: (Slaps own head.)

Which reminds me of how much we HUMANS want but are unwilling to do for what we want.  At least these kids have the excuse: I'm a kid.  What's my excuse?

The one time I'm never patient with my students is when we're working on a dramatic production.  This week we've been working on an important acting skill: shutting up and paying attention when you're offstage.

Really, it's not like me.  My classroom is one of the noisiest in the school, though they're always productively noisy.  But when you're rehearsing ... it's different.  I think.

Hey, the play is next week.  And I have a wicked "IT'S GOTTA BE PERFECT" disability syndrome disorder going on (as usual).  But sometimes my behavior approaches that of the evil teacher I portray in the play.

The play's next Thursday, 31 May 2012, if you're in the Savannah area and ... you know.