The Gift of Giving Good News.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!  Bailey's sporting sparkle on her left hand, and a smile as bright as a shining star.  For the full preview, click here...

Anyway, it was back to work today, full of the Christmas spirit, and knowing that even though Bruce was bragging about having finished his Christmas shopping, he now has ONE more family gift to buy, now that Bailey made the list!

Every single minute of the next few weeks will be packed full of preparations, and tying up loose ends before vacation.  (Along with the annual talent show at the high school where the teachers are willing to prove that they are willing to humiliate themselves in the name of entertainment.)  

Good news abounds, and I've taken a page from that good news book and am working to turn frowns upside down wherever I can.

Deadlines, Deadlines, Deadlines...

We all have deadlines, and we all hate them.  (Or, perhaps, they provide the needed sense of accomplishment and list-crossing-off for the left-brained among us.  You know who you are.)  Looming in the coming weeks are major deadlines for the "BIG PAPER" for my 9th grade Information Literacy students.  Five, count'em FIVE pages, with in text citations and a works cited page.  Sounds like nothing, unless you're a freshman, then it sounds like pure hell.  We've been plugging along all semester at a rate that seemed pretty reasonable, and now, suddenly, we can see vacation in our crosshairs.

And the rough drafts, which I had promised them they would have ample time to finish before Christmas break, leaving them empty arms and backpacks for the holiday break, aren't done.

Now, I firmly believe that a five page, double spaced, research paper, WITH QUOTES, I might add, to take up plenty of space,  to support the thesis, should NOT be that big a deal.  And in a couple of years, they'll shrug them off like a good upperclassman would do.  But that's not the case right now.  So, in my current benevolent dictator state, I announced to them that the actual requirement established for this project by the district is THREE to FIVE pages. 

And I'll accept three.

I may not have a sleigh.  I don't know the whereabouts of the missing eight reinDEER.  But I'm pretty high up on the list of at least 27 freshmen with that holiday gift.

Project Based Learning and ENGAGEMENT!!!

My son, Ben, has been involved in the biggest project of his life.  More than a month ago, he began the preparations for tonight, and navigated details that few would even consider -- especially, (cough cough) if you are a guy and don't pay close attention to those girly details.   He'd stalked her Pintrest board, he'd paid attention to the little things, right down to the lilies she loves so much, and he identified his own talent/passion for video as the means for the project.  (Is this sounding educational enough for you all?)

 Tonight, in a movie theater full of friends and family, his movie preview premiered, and ended with flowers, hugs, applause, and a sparkly-eyed Bailey agreeing to join our crazy family.

Project Based Learning and Engagement!!!

Since this is day ONE HUNDRED straight of blogging for me, and I'm a little preoccupied with the events of this evening, please indulge as I both outline the evening and attempt to demonstrate the virtues of Project Based Learning by evaluating the process:

1.  Ben made a decision, and a commitment.
2.  Ben set a timeline.
3.  Ben identified resources and gathered necessary materials.  (With the help of the folks at Koser Jewelers)
4.  Ben evaluated his personal skills, and chose a presentation method that played to his strengths and interests.
5.  Ben thought intrapersonally and considered the wishes of friends, family, and Bailey as he designed the experience.
6.  Ben involved others on many levels.
7.  Ben faced the difficult tasks of talking to administrators. (Err, parents.  Father, Stepfather, and Mother  along with a brother, to boot!)
8.  Ben negotiated with community businesses (Thank you, MoviEtown) to make the presentation/proposal really BIG (screened).
9.  Ben wove together the biggest back story.  (Did you know you could WIN a free movie-showing for a bunch of friends on a Tuesday afternoon?  Well you do now!)
10.  Ben successfully assembled close friends and family who could attend, at the appointed hour.
11.  Ben succeeded in becoming ENGAGED in his project, and....

ENGAGED TO BAILEY!

Bailey's family is darling, and the grandmothers bonded -- at a preview for an R rated movie, no less.  

In a previous blogpost, I told the story  of how my mother chooses to rearrange the photos of her grandchildren on the shelf to celebrate recent accomplishments.  I'm fairly certain Ben is center-shelf this evening.  She might even prop the iphone up to display a picture of the happy couple together!

Squirrel Chasers Unite.

I know I brought this on myself.  I saw the Unicorn Countdown Calendar, and couldn't resist its metaphorical connection to the population of students with whom I interact at the junior high.  (Okay, and the high school....).  I didn't really think through the competitive nature of the gifted kids, and how they would nearly wrestle each other to the ground for the opportunity to add to the emerging tableau.

One could assume -- okay, hope, that such an enthusiastic entrance into my classroom would result in some wonderful bonding time, followed by an intensive work session on independent study projects.  They've been working on these for months, and have a fairly good idea of direction and necessary research to move the projects along in the time necessary for the competitions, in some cases, or personal timelines established in collaboration with me or my co-partner in crime, Mrs. Lawrence.  

So today, a grey Monday, with Christmas break looming majestically on the horizon, I entered with great hope.

And found myself surrounded by Squirrel Chasers.

Squirrel Chasers Unite.

For anyone who has taught both high school and junior high school, it is fairly easy to get people to nod in agreement, along with generating a loud and bellowing "NO KIDDING!" or similarly intended, although probably more colorful expletive, when talking about the explicit differences between the two educational levels when it comes to focus, distraction, and on-task behavior.  Junior high level kids are finally free of the clutches of the structured land of elementary school, and encouraged to join student leadership teams, choruses and bands that meet during school time, as well as participate as library volunteers, or a myriad of other clubs and activities.  Gifted kids, in particular, aren't quite sure what to do with this new-found freedom, and usually have lists of activities longer than their arms.  All of which makes for a very difficult time when it comes to prioritizing their time.

For some kids, this prioritization is self-inflicted, for others it's probably genetic.  One of the joys of giftedness is the perpetual nature of teachers of the gifted trying to get those on their caseloads to find others with whom they share quirks, passions, and interests.  This is great if the topic is a particular, identifiable, thing.  It's not so good if the commonality is the ability to chase squirrels.

You know what I mean.  One kid is looking for a lost research binder, searching every shelf and cupboard in the classroom to no avail, and comes upon a business card.  She reads, aloud, the words "DERRY AREA", resulting in something that can only be described as royal fits of laughter from the other tables, previously focused and working well on the aforementioned projects.  Where this card came from, I don't know.  It clearly can go in the trash, for all I care.   But no.  Now it's a trophy.  Lord knows how long we'll be laughing about this poor district with the unfortunate posterior.  Err, name.

"Oh look!  A squirrel!"
" Oh wait!  The buses are arriving?  Why are they not in numerical order?  This bothers me tremendously!"

 Perhaps there is some OCD in the alphabet soup here?

Somehow, they make it through the period, and I feel as if I've been wrestling mythical creatures (unicorns, no doubt) away from their brains to keep them focused.  They congratulate each other on their abilities, sometimes celebrating with the creation of crowns proclaiming their abilities to remain focused.

And yes, I recognize that making crowns seems a bit off task.
But if wearing the crown during the next class keeps everyone travelling down the path towards project completion, then I will make one for every single one of them.

After all, they're royalty in my heart.

Politically Correct is Anything But Correct....

I know I've been away from Sesame Street for more than a few years, but this recent discovery, pictured to the right, left me wondering a bit about sponsorship.

Sure, I get that fans of cookies, and fans of Cookie Monster, might be prompted to try this self-proclaimed "Sweet Treat,"  but I truly believe that if the expectation that they will be similar to other sweet treats craved by Cookie Monster, said fans will be severely disappointed.  

I don't believe that Cookie Monster is a significant contributor to the childhood obesity epidemic, and I always felt he was a fine example of what over-indulgence could do.  Kids understand sarcasm at an early age these days -- and why wouldn't Sesame Street be the place to learn such a skill?

After all, Cookie Monster screaming "Clem-en-tines" doesn't seem to have the same impact as "COOKIES."

Politically Correct is Anything But Correct....

The world is packaging political correctness as the excuse, often overlooking the life-lessons that could be taught by avoiding the sugar-coating (pun intended, here) of the obvious.  This rant is not specifically about the multiple attempts at redefining the food pyramid -- it's much bigger than that.

Several weeks ago, I mentioned the struggles of sophomores in high school to write, in cursive, a simple pledge statement and sign their names on the PSAT.  These kids had been taught to write in cursive, but they haven't used it in so many years that the "practice makes perfect" aspect of the skill was long-forgotten.  There are schools today that are abandoning the teaching of cursive handwriting in favor of 21st century keyboarding skills, at the same time overlooking the brain benefits of writing in longhand.

Recess.  The joke used to be that it was the favorite "subject" of every student in elementary school.  High-stakes testing has resulted in many districts eliminating, or severely shortening, or structuring explicit or implicit instruction during playground time.  Character education, anti-bullying skills, or math skills suddenly embedded in the time on the playground, rather than allowing kids to work on a playground and "learn to play nice in the sandbox" with other kids.  Society has eliminated the opportunity for this basic skill to develop in kids, with adults intervening in small squabbles, or a push or a shove, that would have worked itself out and taught life lessons to all involved.

Transferring those same kids to the classroom, there is little tolerance for difference of opinion, or individual differences.  Elementary teachers are having to adjust their instruction to include character education, negotiation strategies, and skills as simple as taking turns before they teach content, in order to lay the foundation for collaborative educational activities.

It's a mindshift -- and not in a good way.  Technology is not the only culprit in this shift, it's a combination of things.  Kids aren't encouraged to play without explicit supervision of adults, which means that the adults resolve issues before they are issues.  (This past fall, there was a parent in Florida accused of neglect for allowing her nine year old to go to the playground less than a block from home to play with friends.  Compare that to what life was like 20 - 30 years ago, and think of the number of parental accusations or charges that would exist!)  Teenagers who dislike the structure established at home either call, or threaten to call, Children and Youth Services to report parents.

Kids now believe that anything perceived as bullying requires a form to be completed in the guidance office so that an adult can handle what used to be handled between kids at the superficial level.  And while I'm not suggesting that I have actual data the societal handling of bullying has now escalated the acceptable confrontation strategies of peaceful protest from sit-ins to looting and rioting, I certainly am beginning to wonder about where we've gone wrong in educating those who choose to demonstrate their civil rights at the expense of small business owners.

Is it Cookie Monster's fault?  I hardly think so.  In fact, he may have grounds for a bullying form.

Measuring Metamatacognition!

Six weeks ago I waxed poetic about a new word I had developed - metametacognition.  I'm happy report that the continued study of thinking about thinking about thinking continues,and is actually alive and well in my classroom -- even if nobody has actually used the word in my presence since its inception at the end of October. 
Regardless,  (as opposed to irregardless, which ISN'T A WORD, people...) focusing 50 high school students on reflecting about their own thinking, and my subsequent planning to make them think about their thinking and then documenting same for my magical  required by the state SLO, first terrified me.  After all, how do you MEASURE thinking?

Metametacognition Update..

If you talk to most educators, assessment is based upon quantitative observation, usually judged by a rubric or performance average on a written test.  Trying to challenge kids to think about their own thinking AND produce something that indicates that they have been successful at the challenge initially seemed impossible.

After much discussion, (and I mean MUCH discussion -- I chatted with colleagues in the math department to have them clue me in on how to assign numerical values to performance without designing some weird rubric, chatted with dozens of people within the gifted world, and explored some options with some of my friends who teach on the college level), I determined that using yet ANOTHER measurement tool, originally designed to aid teachers in what can only be described as the 21st Century version of Bloom's Taxonomy - Webb's Depth of Knowledge.

Through written reflections by the students on specific independent study projects they were working on, I was able to identify the language they were using to describe their process, and subsequently classify those descriptors in the related "Level" on the DOK chart.  The kids were unaware that I was doing this, which kept the entire evaluation process from September to December something that only I was aware of.  Those that are not particularly strong linguistically were prompted in discussions to describe, in discussions with me, to flesh out and fully explain what had been shared.

Last week, we were once again working on our Da Vinci unit, and focusing on the art of Mind Mapping.    The learners practiced using a simple object -- pizza, a belt, a wonderful memory, Apple products, and let their minds wander, mapping what they were thinking and where they went.  They went further and analyzed similarities, common concepts, etc., and drew conclusions about their thinking.  Are they artists or scientists?  Are they logical or creative in their thinking?

The next step was to apply the same mind mapping concept to their independent projects.  Initially, I had planned for them to use the mind-mapping activity to structure their thinking prior to writing.  And this time I showed them Webb's DOK and shared with them what they'd already accomplished -- as nearly all had moved from Level 1 to Level 3 since starting their projects in September.

But the teacher once again learned from the learner.  The maps were so insightful that there was no reason, in my opinion, to go further.  Their mind-maps showed me exactly where they were, and illustrated to them exactly what they needed to do to complete their projects prior to their final presentations in January.

It's a huge relief to me that I have wandered in the SLO desert and found a way to be able to assess skills of gifted students and demonstrate that learning is taking place through the metacognitive process.  It's exciting to me that the kids seem to see the growth as well, through this visual representation!

The Impending Arrival of the Unicorn

It's probably redundant to start a second blog within three days with a birthday update, and the subsequent feeling of OLD associated with said birthday, but you can't really pick when your kids are born.   (Okay, so maybe you can, but I didn't!)  In 1993, on December 3rd, Kristin was born.  Eight years prior, in 1985, on December 5th, Scott was born.  And while the happy coincidence of the date and the years matching for each of them, (3 in 1993, 5 in 1985), allowing for accurate completion of all sorts of records, including tax forms, over the years, suffice it to say that the beginning of December is always fairly busy in the celebration department around here.  (And a bit sad, in the younger years, for the third child who was born in June.)All of this reminiscing has transcended the mommy/baby memories this week, and gone even further back in history.   

Because Facebook allows for random reminders of days gone by, today there was this gem:

"Remember when there was a live Christmas tree in every classroom at Glenside Weldon?"

Of course I do.   With paper chains and handmade decorations made, GASP, during school hours, presumably preempting some other curricular activity.  There was a ton of tinsel on those trees -- and kids like me who had tinseless trees (because we had glass beads, and they were glittery enough, I was told), would find fascination in winding the tinsel around our fingers to cut off the blood to our fingertips, or pretend we were wearing beautiful rings. 

You'd better believe that there isn't a live tree in a classroom anywhere near you these days -- if for only the fire safety implications.  But there are other issues that keep classrooms from the festive-ness of years gone by.  Namely, the recognition of a (presumably pagan) evergreen tree as a symbol of religion, and has no place in a public school.

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are the most difficult days of the year for teachers.  (Possibly rivaled by the last week before summer vacation, but by then the high stakes tests are history and there is some breathing room....)  Kids are up late, must-see Christmas specials are broadcast, holiday concerts are happening, families engage in traditions that "interrupt" the time available to complete, catch up, or accomplish all those assignments we're hoping to have turned in prior to the arrival of the jolly man himself.  The dreams of filled gradebooks dance in our heads....

This doesn't mean that we don't find our own ways to provide some countdown attempts to the holidays.  It does mean that teachers seek "approved" celebratory decorations.  (I can't have my small USB powered Christmas tree hooked to my computer unless I find a menorah that lights?  Okay.....)  There are Elves on Shelves, paper chain countdowns, and, in my room -- the land of original students who truly believe in unicorns, the best holiday countdown calendar, EVER.

This year, I have middle schoolers vying for the privilege of opening a paper door and assembling a piece of our magical land.  Come "December 24th," the unicorn joins the fairies in the land we're creating. Fortunately for us, we've created a schedule that allows for the celebratory unicorn arrival on Monday, December 22nd.

Am I excited?  You betcha.  It's not ever teacher that gets to choreograph a dance for the arrival of the Unicorn. 

Stay tuned.  It's going to be epic.

Older, Wiser, and Looking Ahead.

Yesterday was my youngest child's birthday - she turned 21.  So now I am officially one of those old people with adult children.  

I am amused  to report that she was carded, only to order WATER as her beverage for the evening.  I am not foolish enough to believe this will be the beverage of choice once winter break begins next week.  But for now, it was nice to spend an evening with Kristin and her roommate, Chelsea, celebrating the wonderful, funny, and talented people they have become.  

Oh, and eating meatballs the size of (fill in your guess here!).

Back to the Future - 1999

If you had told me 21 years ago that I would be teaching high school, I would have either made a snide comment or laughed in your face.  I had wanted to be an elementary school teacher since I was a child --- I was principal of my own school at age 11.  (If you can count someone who charges 50 cents a week for tuition to attend a summer camp for neighborhood preschoolers a principal, but you get the idea...)  My undergraduate degree is in Elementary Education with a concentration in history, so it makes perfect sense that I am teaching English and advising Gifted kids in a high school today.

My first year of teaching was Kristin's kindergarten year.  We both went to school half time, and spent the other half of the day with each other.  I had been blessed to have been able to stay at home with her brothers while they were preschoolers, and the timing of this was perfect.

During that first year, I taught in seven different places in four elementary schools.  For a short stint of two months, I taught on the stage of the cafegymatorium DURING LUNCH with the curtains open.  My entire class was the stage show for lunch for a bunch of first through fifth graders.  Other educational spaces included the student TV studio, a music closet, the back of the library (while library instruction was happening at the other end of the room, so SHHHHH!), a hallway outside of the office, and the custodian's office.  Flexibility was the name of the game.

The one thing that Special Education has going for it, is that there are all sorts of regulations in place on the state and federal levels governing environment -- square footage, etc. for that population.  The same can not be said for gifted.  My total number of teaching spaces is somewhere near 30, the weirdest being a "glass office" between two sets of doors of an emergency exit and a maintenance shed on a floodplain. 

To be honest, I miss that shed.  It was me, the gifted kids, a kiln, a bathroom, and, in the spring, a portapotty outside the window.  (Since we overlooked the girls' softball field.)  Aside from needing to put plastic milkcrates anchored with rocks in the parking lot when it rained to serve as lilypad stepping stones for my students to keep from walking through six inches of water, that space was heaven.

A lot has happened in the last sixteen years, but the flexibility required in my life as a parent, and as a teacher, continues to be what makes life interesting. 

My classroom now is gorgeous.  And boring.  Aside from the stack of blankets in the closet (to counteract the random cold snaps from the ever so efficient heating system) and the (sadly now departed) radio controlled helium filled shark that I tried to use to keep the motion sensors from shutting off the lights every 90 seconds, it pretty much looks like every other classroom.

But you and I know that the ORDINARY stops right there.  And as long as that's the case, I can feel younger than I am, invent and dream with the best and the brightest, and share it all with my biological kids -- no matter where they go.