Ten Things I've Learned From Teaching in My Children's School

I missed going to open house this year. I needed to play teacher that evening. I may have the “inside track” on all sorts of things, but being a teacher in the same school as my child has its benefits and challenges. The benefits outweigh the challenges, and I have only had a few difficult or uncomfortable situations.

Sharing school with my children has made me a better teacher. When I have staff members’ children, I try to have a chat with them during the first month of school. I ask them to be candid with me. I tell them that I am a big boy, and if they have feedback, questions, or observations, they should not hesitate to tell me. They have a unique window into my classroom, and I want to know what they see. I don’t treat their children any differently than any other student. However, the truth is, when their children go home and talk about class, their parents have a far more complex understanding of what is going on. Hearing that view would make me a better teacher for all students.

Here a list of ten things I have learned from being on both sides of the desk

1. Be predictable. It creates enormous anxiety if students cannot figure out teacher’s behavior or choices. Sending homework to students via email at the last minute is nerve racking. Not knowing what will happen in class day to day creates anxiety that interferes with learning.

2. It is not a sign of weakness to bend or change. If you are tempted to say to a child, “If I do this for you, I have to do it for everyone,” then DO IT FOR EVERYONE! That may be a lot of work, but such flexibility is critical. Rigid adherence to rules for their own sake is unfair to everyone.

3. Homework needs to be meaningful. Why are we giving it? What does it teach the kids? Do they know this? Do you go over this in class? Can they see its value? Can you?

4. Homework needs to be reasonable. I have been the biggest offender in this regard. I can imagine some of my former students reading this and rolling their eyes. Check with kids and ask them how long the homework takes. If the homework is meaningful, this issue is not as problematic as when it is busy work. I have been struggling with homework load for a very long time. Students must practice skills outside of class to achieve mastery. Different kids need different amounts and types of practice. Finding the balance is worth the struggle.

5. Whenever children are on the grade bubble, give them the benefit of the doubt and give them the higher grade. This is my rule. I don’t do this for minor quarter grades or progress checks. However, at semester time, no one -  I repeat NO ONE – will miss a grade by a small amount. What is the price of NOT doing this? Does this somehow damage a teacher’s credibility or authority? Are we that certain of our evaluations and systems? The reward here is great. The cost is zero.

6. Take the temperature of your class regularly. One of my children came home and said, “I go to this class to feel stupid.” The teacher was not a bad teacher, but he clearly did not know how students were feeling and all he had to do was ask.

7. How much should speed matter? Unless we are engaged in an athletic endeavor, how important is it that students get things done quickly? My children have encountered with frightening regularity tests that are too long. Over and over, it feels like we are not testing skills or knowledge, but the child’s ability to perform at warp speed. Is that what we want? How important is racing through the assessment?

8. Teachers must rethink their use of points and averaged grading. What is it really for? Here are my thoughts on why point based averaged grades are not a good choice.  Look here for more information on grading.

9. Be kind with finals. Help kids with finals – even older ones. Give them information about finals early to reduce anxiety and facilitate planning. We sometimes get confused about what is done for our benefit and what is done for theirs. Giving finals early gives us more time to grade and more free time at the end of the semester. It makes their end of the quarter a stressful nightmare.

10. Minimize lecture. Some kids love lecture because it asks so little of them. Some kids like lecture because it allows them to go to sleep. Most kids will tell you that a more active classroom is not only more engaging, but more productive. The research is clear and indisputable: it is time to replace lecture with countless other ways to deliver content. Reading, research, video, experiences, and countless other options are far better approaches. Like salt in the soup, a little lecture here and there is fine. A diet of all lectures is deadly.

Do I do all of this all of the time? Of course! Well, of course, I do it most of the time. And even after nearly thirty years, I am still experimenting, and I still make mistakes. The key is that teachers must be open to feedback and then reflect, revise, rework, and try again – just like the kids!

My Wait Problem

I move too quickly. Whether it is making decisions, sending email or, unfortunately, opening my mouth, I frequently find myself wishing I had waited just a few more minutes or even seconds. Patience is a virtue I am trying to cultivate, and it is extremely difficult.

The more I think about it, the more I think patience may be the cardinal virtue, especially for take action people like me. Yes, we must be kind and loving and giving and all that. However, to me, those are easier because I can do them. Not doing is far more difficult.

As I taught my younger child to drive, I realized that patience is the key to good driving and a lack of it causes many of the issues on the road. Remember that wonderful moment in the movie Starman when, after alien Jeff Bridges nearly causes an accident at an intersection, Karen Allen yells at him, “You said you watched me. You said you knew the rules.” His reply may be the mantra for many drivers. He tells her, “Red light stop. Green light go. Yellow light go – very fast.” Waiting may be the key to safety in the car.

As a teacher and a parent, I must learn to wait. I want my kids (my own children and my students) to succeed! Yet, learning is messy, complex, and most of all time consuming. It doesn’t happen in an instant. I have to be willing to let go, and allow them figure it out on their own, and I must wait.

Sitting at the gate before a flight, looking at the phone expecting a call, refreshing the email screen over and over can feel like wasting time. Speed is a modern virtue, but it is self-defeating. The faster I go, the faster I want to go. The more I get done, the more time I have to do more and more and more. Stop!

“Wait!” has also become a verbal tick, the new “um” or “like”. My students pepper their speech with "wait!" Perhaps the world is moving too fast for them. As I hear their interjections of, “wait,” I am reminded of small children trailing after their parents. Are kids struggling to keep up, and just begging us to wait?

Recently, my younger child was ill. It was not a serious illness by any means, but I had to stop myself from pestering him with questions about how he felt. I didn’t want to wait for the illness to go away. Waiting feels like powerlessness; I am giving up when I am waiting. Surrendering to my own powerlessness, stepping back and not taking action is far more challenging than calling doctors and administering medicines. The truth is that, when it comes to illness, what I really need is – wait for it – more patience!

One of my most challenging wait problems has another name: listening. Listening is not waiting to talk. Listening is not waiting for my turn. Listening  is being in the moment and not jumping ahead. A speaker at school turned wait into an acronym that stood for “Why Am I Talking”. It’s a good question. Often, it is just better to wait.

Perhaps that is why type A planners like me must learn to wait well – and why it is so difficult. We are always figuring out what comes next, and that may mean we miss now. Now is certainly as important as next. Now is all we really have, and next is just a potentially. Why sacrifice now for something that may not happen?

In one of my favorite books, Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein, the protagonist frequently responds to problems with the statement, “Waiting is…” It is just is. It isn’t doing; it isn’t planning. It just is. And that’s why I struggle with my wait problem.

The Teacher is Still Learning

I am still learning. Yes, I have been teaching for about thirty years, but I’m as far from knowing it all as I was when I began. If I didn't know that on November 20th, I would be keenly aware of it after the National Council of Teachers of English convention last weekend. 

Unlike many other groups that meet in Washington, D.C., this body of people will help me make real changes. I listened, learned, and reflected. Frankly, I spent a bit of time beating myself up. The presenters have it so together that they make me look like a newbie! 

I started the convention with a session about digital tools in the English classroom. I was floored by how these teachers, professors, and researchers engaged students with computer technology. They introduced me to the concept of social collaborative reading and annotating. I have done a big paper exercise where my students re-read some chapters and annotate together. What if they could read the book this way? How powerful and helpful! What a great use of student modeling and independence! We are going to try this in Freshman English! 

But wait! There's more! Another presenter talked about mixing genres and digital forms. He presented his book containing narrative, informational texts, video, audio, poetry, and images mixed together to give a more complete account of the war in Sierra Leon and Liberia. What a great option for senior project! And what a relevant, engaging, and important way for students to make sense of meaningful personal research! 

The next morning, I was introduced to the hackjam! The playful and energetic team from the National Writing Project introduced me to the concept of inviting kids to hack: to repurpose, reorganize, reimagine, and creatively collaborate. We had so much fun! We broke into different groups: one group ran down to the exhibit hall, picked up all the freebies they could, and make a construction with them. A second group tore apart children's books and make new ones out of them. A third group performed flash poetry readings throughout the convention. A fourth group took pipe cleaner like stickies and made poetry on glass surfaces (including a wonderful pun on the window of the lactation room: live feed). My group used HTML teaching tools from Mozilla to hack the NCTE website (well not for real - but we did make our own version of it). 

It is one thing to learn from experts like Troy Hicks and the National Writing Project people, but it is a special joy when the experts are my colleagues. My English department chair, Beth Ahlgrim, and two Deerfield teachers, Kristan Jiggetts and Dana Wahrenbrock presented the fantastic work they are doing with mixed genre research papers in Junior English.

Finally, it was a special privilege to listen to a trio of teachers whose blog I have been reading since I heard them speak at the NCTE convention in Chicago several years ago. The Paper Graders talked about the power of writing with your students and sharing your writing with your students.

Of course, there were other benefits to the convention. I got to spend time with my wonderful Deerfield English colleagues. I had two dinners with my delightful daughter, who goes to college in DC. We had a magnificent tour through the Phillips Collection Museum of Modern Art. 

Was I really only away for three days? 

The next step is to keep these ideas alive. By putting them here, I hope to remind myself (and feel free to remind me as well) to keep experimenting and learning in the classroom. Some of these experiments will fail. Some will help me figure out next steps. Hopefully, they will help my students grow and learn – and me, too!

A Class That Blogs Together…

After almost thirty years, one would think that teaching has become routine. It is the opposite. When I began, I met teachers who ran classes by binder: each unit was carefully scheduled and sequenced. Each year, it went the same way; if this was the third day of the fourth week of the second quarter, then we were studying participles. It was that simple. They had the script down, and the students were merely audience.

I cannot teach that way. Each year is different. Every class is unique. Over the summer, I set up units, lessons, activities, and, yes, schedules. I have tried to be a teacher with a perfect plan, but something always gets in the way. Whether it is because of a new book, a great opportunity, or the most aggravating factor of all, the individual  needs of the students in the class, I end up rewriting, changing, and adapting my summer plans all over again during the year.

A few years ago, I decided to embrace that process. I acknowledge my need to plan, but I am not married to those plans. I also find that experimenting in the classroom is beneficial to everyone. After hearing about a new technique, text, or technology, I will come to my class and we’ll play with it. A year later, I’ll try again a new way. It is messy and challenging, and it is anything but rote and routine.

This year, I started blogging with my students. A few years ago, I began asking seniors to blog as they pursued their individualized research projects in their last quarter of high school. These blogs turned into more than learning logs, but became communication vehicles between the students and the many people helping them on their research journeys. They were also a lot lighter to take home than the manila folders I had used for that purpose in the past.

I am trying to incorporate more and more student autonomy and choice into Senior English. In addition, our “thematic” focus with my seniors this year is finding our passions. It thought it appropriate to give them a public vehicle to express what was important to them.

So my students and I have started our own blog. Several times a week, we publish one to three short entries about topics that are important to us. The topics are as far ranging as the students in the class: we discuss make-up, basketball, fantasy football, food, college, and gender. We give advice, review, and rant.

It is a little frightening; I like to be in charge. I am a little bit of a perfectionist. The blog posts are not always completely polished and they are being written and edited by the students. I read them, but they are not “mine.”

I have also taken the little, yet scary, step of telling my Senior English students about this blog, and I am planning on doing some writing that will appear on both blogs! I want to participate, too!

So I invite you to click over to my students’ new blog, Why So Seniorous. Some entries are serious, some are not. Everything is written by seniors at Deerfield High School – with a little help from their teacher, who is still learning right beside them.

The College Search With Child Number Two: Second Verse, Not Like the First

A friend of mine says that second time parents are the most dangerous: they think they know what they are doing. Perhaps it is similar when children grow up and look for colleges. It seems like everyone is an expert. If you went to college, you are familiar with every college. Even though you applied to college thirty or more years ago, you can advise anyone. You have a child in college? You know it all!

It is evident to me that I do not know it all. I have visited dozens of college campuses, and talked to many admissions representatives. I work very hard to stay current on the college essay process. Yet, I am learning anew as I go through the college selection process with my younger child.

It helps that I am married to a high school guidance counselor, who is an expert on colleges and the planning process. However, the second time around is very different than the first. Our elder child had a clear direction when we began the process (even though that direction changed). She was outspoken about her observations and reactions to what she saw on campuses. Our younger has answered every question with the same three words: "I don't know." 

What do you think you might study? Could you see yourself on this campus? Would you like to be near a city? What is important to have on campus? Would you like to be close to or far from home?

“I don't know.”

I don't know if he just isn't ready to participate in this process or perhaps he is in college denial. So far, we have visited two big state schools, and walked around a third. We have taken tours at a mid-sized state school, a small liberal arts school, and a mid-sized private school - and walked around one more. I'd like the punch line here to be - and my child is only seven years old, but he is almost seventeen! 

Like teaching and parenting, it is critical to tailor the process to the child. What worked for one, may not work for another. While my elder may be have been ready to critically evaluate colleges for fit, the younger has asserted that he thinks he might fit anywhere. 

He might be correct, and a muumuu might work to keep him covered; yet I don't think a big dress would be the best choice for school clothing. Yes, he is not fussy, but this might be because he has not yet developed (or chosen) any preferences. It is my hope that, as he visits schools, some things will become more important to him.

I can hear some of my friends (and perhaps family) saying, "Then back off! He isn't ready! You have time!" He may be a year away from actually applying to college, but I think we'll need that time for him to determine what is important to him.  

Picking a college has weight. When families are not thoughtful about college selection, students often pay the price and encounter problems during their freshman years. Our goal by starting the planning early is to prevent this. The more college experiences our child has, the better able he is to make a choice that is the best possible fit.  Is that my rationale or my rationalization?  

College can be a scary change for students. It is certainly scary for me. I am not ready for my son to go away to school. Fortunately, I, too, have a little while before that happens. For me, this process is about getting ready for that step - and all of us are going to need time to make the transition.

Praise for Impressive Parents!

Let’s start with the cold fact: parents, your children’s teachers are judging you. There, I said it because it’s true. I remember hearing an elementary school principal tell his kindergarten parents, “We’ll only believe half of what your kids tell us about you, if you believe only half of what they you about us.”  I wanted to raise my hand and ask, “Which half?”

The bad half. Most of the time, it is the negative that stands out.  There are plenty of articles about over-parenting and how it is creating helpless children. As is often the case, I have interactions with a small percentage of my students’ parents, and most of these interactions are related to problems. I get a glimpse at a few more because I live in the district and see parents at events and around town.

And while I could fill fifty blogs with stories about poor parenting, it is the impressive parents who stand out. My colleagues and I cherish our encounters with impressive parents. Although it is infrequent (impressive parents are far less likely to call the school than unimpressive parents), it is refreshing and rejuvenating. After a phone call with one of these parents, I want to sing their praises. These parents make me a better teacher, parent, and person. These parents renew my faith in people and the process of parenting.

So what is so impressive? What makes a parent stand out?

Impressive parents let their kids speak and act for themselves. “We” didn’t have homework – the student did. It should be the student who sends the email, arranges the meeting, or solves the problem. Impressive parents do not act on their children’s behalf unless their children have exhausted their resources. They coach their children to be their own agents! This is one reason we don’t have contact with impressive parents as much as unimpressive parents; their kids are doing the talking!

Impressive parents hold their children accountable for their choices. They teach their children to live up to their obligations. Impressive parents don’t make excuses for their children or rush to their children’s rescue when there are difficulties.

Impressive parents help their children rise to challenges and empower them to solve problems independently. They assist their kids in finding ways to deal with uncomfortable, frustrating, and challenging situations. They help their kids develop “grit:” strength of character!

Impressive parents set clear boundaries that their children understand. They say, “no” and have the backbone enough to mean it. Children of impressive parents often know what their parents will allow or do long before talking with them – and they are correct!

Impressive parents are coaches on the sidelines of their children’s social lives. They do not get entangled with notions of the in-crowd or the popularity hierarchy. They get to know their child’s friends and model fostering strong and healthy relationships. They do not keep their child’s social calendar and it does not direct their own.

Impressive parents clearly demonstrate to the children (and the teachers and others sitting in the audience) what is important. And yes, it is the impressive parent – and the impressive child – who is often the one to say, “thank you”.

Ask a teacher about children who took up way more than their fair share of time and effort, I’ll bet you anything, those are not children of impressive parents. Most of the time, they are the other kind.

Summer Is Over and That's Okay

Getting back to school is difficult. The allure of summer is strong. At the end of summer, I am in mourning for my freedom. I still have stacks of books to read, errands to run, and tons of tasks to accomplish. I am not ready to pick up the pace and leave my leisure.

Yet somehow, I drag myself into school, and set up my classroom. I put posters on the wall, and plan lessons. I go to meetings with colleagues,  and realize I have missed them.

Then the kids arrive. First, it is only the seniors who assist in the theatre classes. Then it is the big freshman orientation program. Finally, it’s the first day. And instead of summer, I am focused on my new students. I am calling their counselors and parents. I am redesigning all the plans I made at the end of the summer because Julie reads at a fifth grade level, and Steven needs will do better with a different topic!

By the end of the first week, I know their names and faces well enough to want to know more. We have exchanged letters and laughs, and we are ready to start the learning in earnest. Summer lingers over the Labor Day weekend, but it no longer has a hold on me. Give me a few months and I will long for winter break, but I am in the honeymoon now, and I want to see what we can learn together.

It is not as if summer is never coming back. Summer has taken a nine-month holiday, and when it returns we will all be different people. Being a teacher means embracing these cycles. Fighting them is a losing battle anyway.

At one of the many meals that sandwich our meetings, another teacher commented that, since the kids are always the same age, so are we. When you work with teenagers, you experience the illusion that time is standing still. I see my older students around town, at social gatherings, and on Facebook. Then I see their younger versions sitting eagerly in the classroom – and it does feel like time has not passed at all. My former students are teachers in our building, and parents in our community. They are better and bigger versions of the children I met many years ago – and so I am.

It is a special spiral. I am not teaching the same children nor the same subject each year. It appears that way, but that is an illusion. New technology, books, or tests are not what change the plans. It is all about the new students in front of me, meeting their needs, and bringing the learning to them. No class, lesson, or child is ever the same from one year (or sometimes from one day) to the next.

That is why this job never gets old. I may lose my hair, eyesight, and waistline, but I will never lose my love for learning with these kids. Summer is over; bring on the school year!