Learning and Unlearning

This video is fascinating. Take the 7 minutes to watch it. It is about the way we learn, how hard it is to unlearn something you thought was immutable (like riding a bike), perception, and bias.

I love this quote from the end:

"Truth is truth, no matter what I think about it. So be very careful how you interpret things, because you're looking at the world with a bias whether you think you are or not." -- Destin at SmarterEveryDay

All kinds of perfect, eh?

Slice of Life -- Hemming

One of the jobs on Mom's to-do list for me last week was to hem a couple of pairs of pants for her.

I should back up to say that my mom was a Master Seamstress in her day, trained under the iron rule of her mother, who was a Home-Ec teacher. (Raise your hand if you even know what Home-Ec is...yeah, I thought so...) When Mom started to teach me to sew, we nearly came to blows. She is a perfectionist. I am a generalist. But she cared enough that I learn to sew that she bought me sewing lessons from a teacher who was a little less like her and a little more like me. I became a functional seamstress.

Teaching Lesson #1 -- If you are not the right teacher for a student, have the humility to find the teacher who can best teach that learner.

After we got the pants measured and pinned, I went to work. I wanted to do a really good job. I wanted to make Mom proud that I'm at least a functional seamstress, and maybe just a little better than that. But I was having problems. The legs of the pants were tapered at the bottom, so the hemming was turning out bunchy. Since I wanted to do a really good job, I asked for help.

Learning Lesson #1 -- If it's not turning out the way you want it to, have the humility to ask for help.

I didn't even have the question out of my mouth before Mom knew what the problem was: the tapering. She came and showed me that if I switched the pins from horizontal to the hem to perpendicular to the hem my work would lay flatter. Then she confirmed my suspicion that it would help to take bigger stitches. Then she left me to it.

Teaching Lesson #2 -- Give just enough help to get the learning going again and then get out of the way.

Hemming the second pair of pants when smoothly. I didn't have to cut any off, the fabric was more considerate, and I was back in the groove of hand-hemming. My stitches were quick and even.

Learning Lesson #2 -- Just because one task is frustrating doesn't mean that every task like that is going to be frustrating. Don't give up. Persevere when things get hard...but also remember to enjoy the feeling when things go smoothly.

Teaching and learning...and hemming pants. Good stuff.

Adjusting to a New Teacher

Flickr Creative Commons Photo by Freefotouk

Our beloved Sunday water aerobics instructor was replaced recently. The class is having a hard time adjusting to the new instructor. She uses a different set of moves and it's hard to hear her instructions. She has dismissed one of my favorite moves, saying that it goes against the guidelines of <insert unknown acronym>.

I've been thinking a lot these past few weeks about what it's like for our students every fall as they adjust to new teachers and what we can do help them start thinking about what to expect and how to deal with the changes. Things we can do this spring while our students are still a part of our close-knit, safe and predictable classroom communities include:

• Talk about changes they've undergone in the past. List the positives of change along with the negatives. 

• Think about what they've learned from favorite teachers. Remind them that when you move from teacher to teacher, you carry them all with you -- you never really leave a favorite teacher behind.

We can encourage our students to

• Be patient. Give the new teacher a chance. 

• Be an independent learner. (For our children, this might mean reinforcing the importance of the learning they do on their own at home after school and on weekends and holidays. For me, it has meant abandoning the water aerobics class in favor of my own self-styled hour of water exercise. It feels good to swim laps again, and to decide for myself what arm, leg, and core exercises I'll do and for how long.)

In the fall...(I can't believe I just wrote that! We have only 6 days of school left before the much-needed summer break, and I'm thinking about next fall!!!)...In the fall, when I greet a new group of students, I'll try to be even more aware of the adjustments they are going through as we figure each other out. I'll try to remember to

• Ask for their input as we establish routines and norms and make the classroom ours. 

• Have them tell me the things they loved about teachers in the past...not that I could make any promises that I would be just like them, but so that we can explore my similarities and differences to their former teachers. 

• Be gentle as I guide them in their learning so that I don't completely contradict or disregard what another teacher taught them, but rather show them how learning is layered, and how the new learning they do with me will be added to, but will not replace their previous learning.

Home "Work"

After reading Making Learning Whole last summer, I really got to thinking about how to make the game of school transparent for my students, and how to honor the work they do at home for fun and personal learning.

Also last summer, when we were doing some cleaning in the basement back home, I ran across this straight line design I made with embroidery floss on black poster board back in middle school, and I remembered doodling endless variations of these designs for hours on end with ruler and well-sharpened pencil. I remembered the sketchbooks full of floor plans that my cousin and I made, as we imagined ourselves becoming architects in the future. I still have the writing journals I filled with adolescent angst, cartoons, poetry and fits and starts of stories.

It's this kind of "work" that I want to honor in my students. I want them to see connections between the learning we do in school and the playful exploration of these ideas that they can give themselves as "assignments" and bring in to share with the class.

Filling the wall around the straight line design which was my long ago home "work" are photos of students and the things they've brought in. One budding car enthusiast brought in the engine he made from a kit during the summer. Several have brought in collections. One girl has made several different tri-o-ramas, following directions she found either online or in a craft book. They have practiced math facts, and made a connection to a read aloud (I got a cupcake in honor of PAULIE PASTRAMI ACHIEVES WORLD PEACE).

When we were studying landforms, they made paper and cardboard and clay models of the landforms we were learning about. Although the landform unit is complete, a student was looking at the wooden M on her wall (one of the letters of her name) and she saw a canyon between the two peaks of the letter. When she shared it with the class, another student saw two plateaus on the flat tops of those points. They have seen that learning and thinking about a topic don't have to end just because they've taken the end of unit assessment.

Last week, when I was exhausted beyond belief and in a value-added/data-induced funk, my student who has inspired girl and boy readers of all abilities with her quest to read every Babymouse book in the series (she and several others have created checklists), brought in the Cupcake Tycoon board game she made.

Because of the way we start our day, I was able to play the game with her in the ten minutes the class and I spend together at tables in the cafeteria before they go to related arts. I played as Wilson and she, as Babymouse, thoroughly whomped me.

The time, energy, detail and thoughtfulness that this student put into her board game, which was an assignment SHE GAVE HERSELF, repaired my funk. My students really are more than just test scores, and I have finally found a way to honor their joyous learning "work" that is more like play, and which they seek out on their very own.

Adding A New Tool To A Writer's Toolbox

On Tuesday, I introduced my fourth graders to compound sentences. First, we brainstormed nouns and verbs and wrote simple sentences. Then, together, we connected two simple sentences with a conjunction (one of the FANBOYS -- for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so). They all gave it a try with two or three sentences on their own.

Tuesday afternoon, in reading workshop, a student came up to me with DIARY OF A WIMPY KID: THE UGLY TRUTH in hand and pointed out a compound sentence in the book.

Yesterday, Wednesday, we started writing workshop by singing the School House Rock classic "Conjunction Junction." Then I challenged them to write at least one compound sentence for their SpellingCity sentences. (SpellingCity is another post for another day.) Eight out of eighteen who finished sentences wrote at least one compound sentence with some kind of success. Two of the eighteen (the one who sighted compounds in Wimpy Kid, and another very capable writer) wrote exclusively in compound sentences.

Every student in my classroom has a new tool in their writer's toolbox: compound sentences.

Some aren't ready to use this tool (and might never be). They are still struggling to put words together into simple sentences and sentences together in paragraphs that make sense.

Some will overuse this tool with partial understanding and create run-on sentences with a conjunction in the middle, causing more problems than it might have been worth.

The thrill in making this tool available to my writers was watching those two who were really ready to try something new in their writing reach out for it and put it right to work, gleefully creating sentences that were more and better than any they'd ever written.

Teaching and Learning

I've been taking a tai chi class at my health club for about 9 months. I am a slow learner, and most of the time, I'm at peace with that. I've been told repeatedly that it can take a lifetime to truly master tai chi.

I am not accustomed to being a slow learner, so I have tried, as much as possible, to study what it feels like from the inside, and "interview" myself to capture those feelings. Here is some of my "research" to date.

Q: You can't seem to learn even the first 20 moves of the form. Why do you keep coming back?

A: For one thing, it is very relaxing to simply concentrate on moving my body rather than on the million of things that demand my attention and concentration every day in the classroom. Also, I suppose I imagine someday being the kind of person who does tai chi in the park in the early morning. The main reason I keep coming back, though, is that I am getting to know the people in the class and the instructors and I like spending a little time every week with them!

ANALYSIS: The main hook for the struggling learners in my classroom is likely the social piece as well. I need to remember to capitalize on that. It's also good to keep the end vision in sight -- to remember that the work we do in school is aimed well beyond standards and testing and AYP. Our goal is competently (independently) functioning members of our society.

Q: Which of the four instructors' styles works best for you?

A: Well, I can tell you for sure which one works the WORST -- that would be the guy who points out to the whole class that I'm the newest and least capable and I'm the one for whom he has the lowest expectations. (Not in so many words, but just about.) He also spends much of the class talking about tai chi rather than teaching us/leading us in practice of the moves in the form. I usually leave his classes cranky rather than relaxed. If he were the teacher every week, I wouldn't go back.

In third place is the instructor who is not such a great teacher, but he takes a personal interest in every member of the class. He knows my name and a little about me. He spends a little bit too much time talking during class, but I've been able to tell him that I'd rather spend more time practicing the moves and less time listening. And he was grateful (or at least polite) about the feedback.

The top two instructors are the ones who spend the whole class leading us through parts of the form. They pick a series of moves and we do them over and over again. They give the experienced members of the class tips about subtle ways to move their hands and bodies that go right over my head, but they never make the less experienced members of the class feel stupid.

ANALYSIS: Never make learners feel stupid. Totally counterproductive. Enough said.

Repetitive practice of essential skills is not necessarily a bad thing. Hard work on the pieces and parts can make the whole feel stronger. Success on a piece of a big skill fuels the desire to master the entire big skill. Drill of the parts should NEVER constitute ALL of the instruction, or the vision of the big picture will be lost.

Q: Do you practice lots outside of class?

A: For the longest time, I was only invested enough in the class to show up twice a week. Gradually, I built the desire to make more progress than I was able to in class (mostly because I wanted to please the instructor and the class members -- there's that social piece again). The thing that keeps me from practicing lots at home is that I don't know enough yet to practice independently!

ANALYSIS: Assigning homework is tricky. Yes, we want our students to practice what we work on in the classroom, but unless they are independent or close to being independent, that practice might not be attempted or might be a clumsy approximation (not a bad thing, just something to keep in mind). It's more important to make every minute of classroom instruction count than it is to create elaborate homework assignments that come loaded with unrealistic expectations for some of the learners in our classrooms.

Life Long Learning

I had two experiences during spring break last week that have interesting implications for the classroom.

1. I started learning Tai Chi. The way the instructor explained it, I will never be finished learning Tai Chi! This form of exercise or mind/body practice is clearly an example of PROCESS vs. PRODUCT. I am at the stage right now where I have no idea what I'm doing, but when I watch the more experienced members of the class going through the forms, I know what I'm aiming for. I just need to relax and learn at my own speed. I ask my students to do this all the time -- be at peace with their learning -- and now I will be able to give them an example where I am in exactly the same place they are. (This poem from The Writer's Almanac resonates with this idea in interesting ways, although it's more about going with the flow...)

2. I had my swimming stroke videotaped and analyzed. Here's an example of AUTHENTIC ASSESSMENT. I chose to be "tested." I wanted to learn what I am doing well and what I need to work on. Lots of the time, we don't have a choice about our testing (school, driver's license, doctor's orders for a colonoscopy). When we do, we are far more invested in success and learning from the results. I am going to offer my students the chance to sign up to have their reading (fluency, individual conference, literature circle conversations) videotaped and analyzed. I wonder how that offer will change my students' outlook on being tested. I wonder what other types of videotaped assessments they'll come up with. (Interesting link related to this topic at Moving at the Speed of Creativity.)

What's an example of learning or assessment from your life that you can share with your students?

Poetry Friday -- Back to School

One of the books I reread almost every year in August to get myself jived up again for the new school year is Educating Esme by Esme Raji Codell.

Here is one of her poems from the book:



HOW TO TEACH LEARNING

Sing it
Seal it in an envelope
Twist it under a bottle cap
"You are a winner!"
Tie it to the leg of a carrier pigeon
and let it soar
Hoard it greedily, with your back turned
Then share it with magnanimous grin
and glittering eyes
Make it a surprise
shining like a quarter
under a pillow
Whisper it
like the tow of summer's breath
through the willow
Or
Hide it
just between the tart skin and sweet flesh
of an apple
Make it forbidden
Make it delicious
Then
let the children
bite


Used with the blessing of Esme Raji Codell.
Used with apologies for Blogger's erasure of line indents. (Has anyone figured out how to get around this?)

Big A, little a has the roundup this week.

Blogging Continuum of Skills

Here's a perfect example of my spot on the continuum of blogging skills that exist in the blogosphere:

Alkelda the Gleeful, at Saints and Spinners, has become an iTunes affiliate site. (That's cool and new -- I had only ever heard of Amazon affiliates.)

She's going to use the money she earns to buy a goat through Heifer International. (Barbara Kingsolver would approve!)

She has this little linky thing on her blog that takes you right to iTunes. (Another linky thing on her blog, the one where we got to vote for the patron saint of potty training, gave me the idea for the surveys for our 5 Things Meme.)

But wait! Look at this! When you go to iTunes, you find a playlist that Alkelda herself has put together and which you can buy in part or in whole! Hand-picked tunes! (The purchase of which helps buy a goat!)

I'm in awe. I'm in heaven: I'm learning!

(The July Carnival of Children's Literature will be at Saints and Spinners. Something makes me believe that it will be accompanied by fireworks! And music for sure!)

Welcome Katie!

We are pleased to announce the birth of a new blog, Creative Literacy, authored by Katie, a primary teacher at Franki's school. Katie is also the mother of three boys, known on her blog as Mo, Larry and Curly. Her blog's mission is "Nurturing the lives of primary readers and writers while searching for my own reading and writing identity."

Last Saturday morning, Franki and I met Katie at Caribou Coffee to answer some of her blogging start-up questions. Because I am just a little ahead of Franki on the technology end of blogging, that makes me the "blogging guru" in her eyes. But the thing I love about blogging is that there is a huge continuum of blogging skills/abilities/tricks. I'm nowhere NEAR the high end of the continuum with my skills. (Just ask Tricia, who this week taught me to make a link in comments using html code!) But it is enough for me that I am even ON the continuum. I know that what we do with our blog is an approximation of what could be done, but right now, I can do most everything I want to, and when I need to know how to do more, I know where to go for help. (In teacher lingo: scaffoding.)

Katie was bemoaning the amount of time she already found herself devoting to her blog, and to finding and reading other blogs. In my eyes, this is not wasted time. It may not yield a product as visible as a weeded garden, a clean house, or a knitted sweater, but it is time spend MAKING something, rather than just consuming -- watching TV, shopping, etc. And invariably, blogging leads to LEARNING as well.

I think as teachers, we must MUST MUST keep ourselves on some kind of learning curve. It doesn't matter what we are learning to do, we need to keep learning. The craft of our teaching will automatically improve if we can share with our students not just the memory of, but the real and present joy of learning.

Welcome to the party, Katie!

The Story Behind the Poetry Friday Quiz

I was taking an English course as an independent study in my sophomore or junior year of college. I don't remember why and I don't remember the prof's name. I do remember what it felt like to be substantially behind my peers in the honors program who had earned their honored positions by graduating at the top of competitive urban private and public high schools. I was salutatorian without trying very hard (and without learning very much) in a small rural high school.

By the time I took that independent study, I was well aware of my deficiencies. The professor rubbed salt in those wounds by having me read a paper that Dave Von Goldenboy had written so that I could see an example of GOOD writing.

And then he recited NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY and he asked me if the poem is pessimistic or optimistic. I figured the right answer was probably "pessimistic." Sinking to grief? Dawn going down to day? The gold not staying? But since there was no way I could ever live up to the Dave Von Goldenboy standard, I took the plunge: I said the poem was optimistic, and then I made up my reasons why right there on the spot.

Thanks to all of you who left comments which vindicate my stance. However, I'm realizing as I write this that that moment in my life as a learner was monumental not because of my stubborn, youthful perversity, but because it marks the moment when I started thinking for myself and not just giving the answers I thought the teacher wanted.