This week in RC training my instructor had us do an imagery exercise I do every year with my kids. She read us a long, image-rich book and when she was done we had to draw 4 images we made from the story. This was the most stressful experience all week! The minute she gave the directions I started stressing... will I remember 4 images? what if I don't? Will someone notice if I copy their images? will everyone learn that I have trouble concentrating on read-alouds?
As she started reading I was almost too stressed to listen to the story. It had no plot and so was hard to focus on images. Plus, I spent the whole time repeating images in my head so when she was done I'd be able to draw 4 images. Needless to say I missed most of the story. And I do not have fond memories of this story either, though I'm sure it was beautiful.
During our 'share with a partner' time I discovered all of the adults in the room had the same feelings. Everyone was whispering under their breath about how hard this was, and how much they disliked the activity. Most striking though was that almost all of us do this activity with our kids.
I've had GREAT results with this activity every year. I had my GMU intern do it this year and she had great results as well. Now that I've been on the other side of this activity I think I can find ways to moderate it to make it enjoyable for the kids as well as the adults. I'd hate to teach them to make mental images while also turning them off to books.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
why i can't go to law school
From where I sit in my class I can see the ropes of the swings swaying up and down. I can't actually see the kids on the swings, just the back and forth rhythm of kids having fun on a summer day. It's enough to make me wish that instead of being around adults that I was around first graders. *sigh*
it's times like this that make me realize i don't stand a chance of working outside of a school.
it's times like this that make me realize i don't stand a chance of working outside of a school.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
magical farts
On a particularly rough day I finally had the class quiet after our 3rd attempt at lining up for music. Every time we talked in line we'd had to sit back down. They sat on the carpet silently, and seemed almost ready. Just as I was about to open my mouth to direct the kids to "try again" my smart cookie let out a 3-tiered fart. It started short and loud, then was long and low, and ended with a high eighth-note.
I had no idea that was possible. none. is this some skill everyone has but me? the ability to not only fart on demand but control them enough to make noises? I've heard of burping the alphabet, but farting musically? It's depth wasn't an accident either. She moved her body to gain control.
Needless to say we didn't make it to music on time that day.
I had no idea that was possible. none. is this some skill everyone has but me? the ability to not only fart on demand but control them enough to make noises? I've heard of burping the alphabet, but farting musically? It's depth wasn't an accident either. She moved her body to gain control.
Needless to say we didn't make it to music on time that day.
listening to our kids
Today in RC I was doing my homework under the table when I read this quote from The Power of Our Words written by Paula Denton.
"When we know students fully we can make better decisions about curriculum, classroom management, and discipline that will fit their needs"
This rings true to my philosophy of teaching and I felt affirmed because knowing my kids is something I perceive as one of my strengths. Then I read
"To be understood is also simply one of the most basic human needs. We all need to feel understood to have a sense of belonging and significance. To be motivated to learn, children need to feel like they belong and are important to the classroom community. "
The reference to our basic human needs made me begin to reflect on my kiddo I previously blogged about, the one who would tell me, "You hurt my heart". I always wondered about this little guy's sense of self because for most of the year he would only draw himself as an animal. Cat, dog, goat, or horse, but never boy. His disabilities limited his communication skills and so despite how hard he tried he never was able to get through to me, and in return, I was never able to really get through to him.
How frustrating that must have been when I knew the other kids so well. When they'd come in the door I'd ask about their moms, little brothers, soccer games, trips to Chuckey Cheese, etc. I'd always greet him when he came in, comment on his new hair cut, shoes, or ask him how his weekend was, but never any deep connections. In the room where everyone else clearly felt significant, important, and that they belonged, he probably felt like an outsider, or perhaps, less than human.
Maybe I asked him too many questions when really I should have been listening and pausing to reflect on the answers he gave. "My dad sick" led me to jump in with "Oh no! Is he in the hospital? Did he go to the doctor? Is he coughing?" and other questions that he couldn't find answers to. Something about his dad was clearly bothering him and maybe I'd have understood it better if I'd just paused instead of probing for the answers. I wanted to have more to listen to, when really I should have listened to the few words he spoke to me.
No wonder he frequently sat under tables refusing to come out. When he tried to communicate with me I pushed him away with my enthusiasm, scaring him with my questions and demanding answers he didn't know. Because of his language I don't even know if he meant to use the word 'sick' to mean physically ill. Maybe he meant mad, sad, or even on a trip.
These quotes made me think about our special ed and ESOL kids who struggle to communicate. As educators we know the importance of listening to our kids but sometimes there has to be other ways of listening besides traditional oral communication. We have to think about the weight behind each word and gesture to fully understand some of our little ones.
"When we know students fully we can make better decisions about curriculum, classroom management, and discipline that will fit their needs"
This rings true to my philosophy of teaching and I felt affirmed because knowing my kids is something I perceive as one of my strengths. Then I read
"To be understood is also simply one of the most basic human needs. We all need to feel understood to have a sense of belonging and significance. To be motivated to learn, children need to feel like they belong and are important to the classroom community. "
The reference to our basic human needs made me begin to reflect on my kiddo I previously blogged about, the one who would tell me, "You hurt my heart". I always wondered about this little guy's sense of self because for most of the year he would only draw himself as an animal. Cat, dog, goat, or horse, but never boy. His disabilities limited his communication skills and so despite how hard he tried he never was able to get through to me, and in return, I was never able to really get through to him.
How frustrating that must have been when I knew the other kids so well. When they'd come in the door I'd ask about their moms, little brothers, soccer games, trips to Chuckey Cheese, etc. I'd always greet him when he came in, comment on his new hair cut, shoes, or ask him how his weekend was, but never any deep connections. In the room where everyone else clearly felt significant, important, and that they belonged, he probably felt like an outsider, or perhaps, less than human.
Maybe I asked him too many questions when really I should have been listening and pausing to reflect on the answers he gave. "My dad sick" led me to jump in with "Oh no! Is he in the hospital? Did he go to the doctor? Is he coughing?" and other questions that he couldn't find answers to. Something about his dad was clearly bothering him and maybe I'd have understood it better if I'd just paused instead of probing for the answers. I wanted to have more to listen to, when really I should have listened to the few words he spoke to me.
No wonder he frequently sat under tables refusing to come out. When he tried to communicate with me I pushed him away with my enthusiasm, scaring him with my questions and demanding answers he didn't know. Because of his language I don't even know if he meant to use the word 'sick' to mean physically ill. Maybe he meant mad, sad, or even on a trip.
These quotes made me think about our special ed and ESOL kids who struggle to communicate. As educators we know the importance of listening to our kids but sometimes there has to be other ways of listening besides traditional oral communication. We have to think about the weight behind each word and gesture to fully understand some of our little ones.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
"You hurt my heart!!"
This year I struggled with a kiddo who frequently told me that I hurt his feelings whenever I redirected him. Even if I was handing out work to each child and called his name he would shout, "Don't yell at me!"
This little one has a lot going on in his life, as well as a lot going on biologically. But he's a great little kid and despite the frequent, "I HATE you!" I enjoyed teaching him.
I never did feel like I broke through with him though and have been left unsettled at how little we accomplished. Sure we learned to read, but we didn't accomplish so many of those social goals I thought we would in the beginning of the year.
Today I saw him at the school summer camp. He came running up to me, happy and excited to see me. He hugged me repeatedly. As I was driving away from the school I looked up to see him running along the sidewalk with my car, waving his arms happily.
maybe I don't have to solve each kid in one year. each kiddo is a work in progress, and we'll keep working together as educators to help set a kid on his path. His happy smile today reminded me that even though I'm not his classroom teacher I can still be a part of his community.
This little one has a lot going on in his life, as well as a lot going on biologically. But he's a great little kid and despite the frequent, "I HATE you!" I enjoyed teaching him.
I never did feel like I broke through with him though and have been left unsettled at how little we accomplished. Sure we learned to read, but we didn't accomplish so many of those social goals I thought we would in the beginning of the year.
Today I saw him at the school summer camp. He came running up to me, happy and excited to see me. He hugged me repeatedly. As I was driving away from the school I looked up to see him running along the sidewalk with my car, waving his arms happily.
maybe I don't have to solve each kid in one year. each kiddo is a work in progress, and we'll keep working together as educators to help set a kid on his path. His happy smile today reminded me that even though I'm not his classroom teacher I can still be a part of his community.
Monday, June 25, 2007
story telling vs writing
In RC training today they asked us to reflect on our 'life-line' as a writer and create a time line of our attitude toward writing throughout our lives. As I sat and thought I realized that my writing life had two life-lines.
One started before I even started preschool, when I became a storyteller. I told stories to my dolls, the squirrels in the backyard, the ladybug on my arm, and any adult that would sit still enough to listen. I told my parents stories about the fairies in the backyard and the problems they were having with our golden retriever. My mind was constantly creating stories, developing characters, and finishing it all off with an exciting plot. In church I use to entertain myself by making up lives for the overly dressed up women sitting in front of me. My parents have boxes filled with my journals; pages of hard to read misspellings going back to when I was 6.
My other writing life-line is that of handwriting, spelling, grammar, and all the logistical nightmarish, school-oriented writing. I have always had terrible handwriting. I couldn't spell to save my life, and have never been able to pay attention to grammatical rules long enough to apply them to my writing.
Slowly high school, college, and a love of reading merged the two so that what i write is somewhat spelled correctly and somewhat grammatically correct some of the time. (Thank you for inventing computers.) To be a successful writer I had to learn all of those important rules. But to be a writer, I needed to love the process of story telling.
It makes me realize that we can pull stories out of kids that struggle to put pen to paper. Imaginations are full of stories and telling stories, even oral stories, is another form of writing. It's not always about how it looks, how its spelled, and its grammatical content. the most accurate writing produced by my first graders may not be the most well-written.
One started before I even started preschool, when I became a storyteller. I told stories to my dolls, the squirrels in the backyard, the ladybug on my arm, and any adult that would sit still enough to listen. I told my parents stories about the fairies in the backyard and the problems they were having with our golden retriever. My mind was constantly creating stories, developing characters, and finishing it all off with an exciting plot. In church I use to entertain myself by making up lives for the overly dressed up women sitting in front of me. My parents have boxes filled with my journals; pages of hard to read misspellings going back to when I was 6.
My other writing life-line is that of handwriting, spelling, grammar, and all the logistical nightmarish, school-oriented writing. I have always had terrible handwriting. I couldn't spell to save my life, and have never been able to pay attention to grammatical rules long enough to apply them to my writing.
Slowly high school, college, and a love of reading merged the two so that what i write is somewhat spelled correctly and somewhat grammatically correct some of the time. (Thank you for inventing computers.) To be a successful writer I had to learn all of those important rules. But to be a writer, I needed to love the process of story telling.
It makes me realize that we can pull stories out of kids that struggle to put pen to paper. Imaginations are full of stories and telling stories, even oral stories, is another form of writing. It's not always about how it looks, how its spelled, and its grammatical content. the most accurate writing produced by my first graders may not be the most well-written.
drinking the kool-aide
I admit, I am a responsive classroom groupie. I love their philosophy, their programs, and their workshops. I buy the books, take all of the classes I can, and try hard to impliment their ideas in my own classroom.
This week I am taking 'Responsive Classroom- Literacy' class, as I have already taken RC 1, RC 2, and RC 3 isn't offered this week. There is something inspiring, motivating, and energizing about being in a room for 8 hours with educators passionate about teaching in a way that empowers the kids. They have come from all over the US, some from mexico, to participate in the workshop.
I'll try to share whatever tidbits/broad ideas I get over the next week. Most of today was setting the stage so we'll see where it takes us tomorrow.
This week I am taking 'Responsive Classroom- Literacy' class, as I have already taken RC 1, RC 2, and RC 3 isn't offered this week. There is something inspiring, motivating, and energizing about being in a room for 8 hours with educators passionate about teaching in a way that empowers the kids. They have come from all over the US, some from mexico, to participate in the workshop.
I'll try to share whatever tidbits/broad ideas I get over the next week. Most of today was setting the stage so we'll see where it takes us tomorrow.
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