It was another good day. Yes, I had a lesson plan. Yes, I had objectives for the day. Yes, we pretty much did them. And my students, as always, brought so very much more to the table.
We discovered that when ideas stretch across multiple texts, we call those universal themes: -Greed stinks, gives you tunnel vision -Adults are sightless, kids can change the world (but kids BECOME grown-ups) -People fear change
Students revealed found other moments of truth: -if kids disagree with what their parents say, do, or believe, that can be scary -but it’s necessary, if we want change in the world -kids don’t really get enough credit for what they know -orphan stories let us see kids without grown-up interference -my “signature smiley” is actually made up of my initials
And? My very favorite moment of wisdom and cleverness from the day? When one banana eats another, it’s called bananabalism. If that doesn’t deserve a mic drop, I don’t know what would.
From time to time, folks ask what it’s like teaching a classroom full of gifted-talented children. What does a day in your room look like? This post, I think, says it all. Where it starts, what my intentions are, and where it goes – all of it – puts what I do in a nutshell.
Right now, I sit in my classroom surrounded by a group of fifth graders who are in the midst of their own blogging adventures. It’s a happy space, this.
Here I am…here we are…
Each week, I offer a writing challenge. Kids don’t have to accept; they can continue their own projects. But most of them give it a try, because they like stretching their writing in different directions.
This week’s challenge? To write a poem or journal entry using these sentence prompts: I know… I don’t know… I don’t want to know…
I figure I may as well join in on the fun. It’s important for my students to see me crafting alongside them sometimes.
Except. My post – and my teaching – took a detour. The rest of my writing had to be put on hold until after class. Why?
Because
Kids started talking about semicolons and what they do. So how could I resist a teaching point? Point is, I couldn’t. And then I wound up demonstrating punctuation party tricks to a kid that asked. Which worked pretty well because she’s a kid who… how can I put this?… LOVES a comma, even when it doesn’t belong, so we talked about the beauty of her writing: stark, crisp, clean. We jumped in, replacing commas with periods, cutting words like crazy, marveling at the difference.
So back to my writing it was, but it was time for read-aloud with The Little Prince. The flower was pretty and vain – just like, one student remarked, Estella from Great Expectations, so how could we NOT take the time to talk about archetypes: the witches, the stepmothers, the Prince Charmings, the comic reliefs, the stock characters of the world?
But really, back to my writing. Right after a check-in with a student whose vocabulary is encyclopedic whose writing is florid and elaborate to translate her work to simple language just like we did this week for the Pledge of Allegiance or the prologue for Canterbury Tales, because vast and elusive language is wonderful sometimes, but being clear plain simple allows for depth, connection: shows us the heart of things.
I’ve been teaching a while. Twenty-seven years, in fact. And when you’ve been teaching twenty-seven years, and you keep up with some of your former students, there’s something amazing that happens.
You get to see them grow up.
You get to see them step into their lives, into the world as adults and selves in their own right.
I think about the idea from time to time, but it really hit home for me when one of my former students, who just got her doctorate, posted the scientific article she just got published – as first author.
There’s a doctor. A teacher. An event planner. A member of a band. A painter. An interviewer of celebrities. An actor. An aspiring diplomat. A corporate officer. A photographer. A mechanical engineer. A stuntwoman.
And parents. So many of them are parents, and I get to watch, and smile, and listen to my heart crackle as I see how they are working to raise beautiful, wondrous and wonder-filled humans.
I’m good with words, but I can’t express how grateful I am that I knew all of these people when they were still little, and they were just learning about who they were and what they had to contribute to this big wide world.
And my current loveys? Where will they be in five years? In ten? In twenty?
I guess I’ll just have to keep unwrapping.
See this baby blanket? My kiddos made it for my younger son, who’s now 18. Some of them are parents now…
Here I am for year three of the March Slice of Life writing challenge.
Here I am, ready to write whatever comes my way each day. Every day.
Here I am, ready to bring myself the discipline I need to write each day. Every day.
The way I see it is this: I ask my kids to write all the time. Sometimes they feel like it, sometimes, they don’t. But they show up for me, for themselves, for the classmates – every time.
So this March, my daily writing practice is dedicated to my students, who are some of the best sports I know.
I might write some things I absolutely love.
I might write some things I’m not a great fan of.
But I’ll write, and I’ll put my work out there into the world each day.
Been thinking lately about power structures, and how they are often perceived as a zero-sum game. I’m not sure I’m convinced. So today, I let my Flair pens speak for themselves.
This post is part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Check them out!
Valentine’s Day is a TOUGH day to be a teacher. There’s a certain…shall we say…energy to the day, similar to the morning of Halloween and just shy of the last day before winter break.
It’s a mood.
So no teacher in their right mind would schedule any sort of big-deal instruction on Valentine’s Day. Certainly not in the final minutes leading up to Valentine’s Day parties, right?
But when you’ve got a group of incredibly curious learners, And they’ve been learning big things About the Middle Ages* And Beowulf And Old English And the chance comes For them to interact with someone (Ken Hope, grandpa of a student, middle ages enthusiast, mover-and-shaker on the MacArthur Grants and all around pretty smart and interesting guy) Who’s studied all of it his whole Live-long Life, And that someone can chat with them On Valentine’s Day, You jump At the chance.
It involved some finagling. I had to work out scheduling so my students at both schools could attend the zoom. I collected student questions to guide the conversation. I had to make sure I had someone to supervise the class since cloning is not quite yet a thing. I had to make sure all of the technology did what it was supposed to do when it was supposed to do it.
The magic hour arose. Students at both schools got themselves together after a flurry of greetings, forgotten supplies, and general post-lunch-settlings-in. Our guest was introduced by his granddaughter, who just so happens to love him to pieces.
Friends, he held us spellbound for a solid HOUR. He had taken all of the student questions and expanded them into a slide show, complete with historical maps and pictures from his own travels and experiences in Europe. Students sat rapt as he opined on Medieval literature, history, arts and architecture, culture and religion. Pencils furiously scribbled notes to record all of the new learning taking place.
A reading of Beowulf, in the Old English? Yes, please!We learned that Medieval architecture was serious business. And some of it…not so much! Architects and artists, even back then, had a sense of humor.
This was a lesson for the books. The kids were buzzing with excitement as they left. I can’t wait for later in the week when we come back together to talk about what we’ve learned.
And who knows? Maybe one, or maybe more, of my students will decide that they, too, would like to be a Middle Ages enthusiast. Maybe one, or maybe more, of my students will realize that they, too, can choose something they love and learn about it all through their own live-long life.
A teacher can dream.
*Yes. My kids are learning about the Middle Ages. And trying their hands at Old English, and Beowulf, and Middle English, and Canterbury tales (just the Knight’s tale, friends!), and Shakespeare, and Noah Webster. All of it. Because kids deserve to wrestle with big ideas and difficult stuff. Call it another one of my “soapboxes.”
This slice of life could have been about the daily wrestling match that gets fought at five a.m. between my alarm and my brain,
or about the importance of having workout buddies who look out for me, who expect so much from me, who inspire me to do better,
or about the way time. Slows. Down. with that first morning sip of chai,
or about the new phrase I developed – “joyfully irrelevant,” describing the way I feel sometimes when I’m now out of the loop and I’m just fine with that,
or it could have been about the way plans seem to get made and unmade, made and unmade,
or about seeking happiness from within the confines of an extra bonus planning time.
This slice of life might have been about the excitement of watching kids talk about things they enjoy learning,
or about the way students put effort and heart into their communications with each other,
or about the up-down-all-around ride that’s called “waiting for weekly COVID screening results,”
or about a lunch, barely chewed but still eaten between a meeting and a quick doggo check-in.
This post would have been about the thrill of kids seeing history open up wide,
or about how fun it is to talk when it’s something we’re excited about,
or about the anticipation of what’s for dinner.
No, I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a post where I tell you I’m kind of tired, And my brain is mushy, And there’s nothing happening anyway, And I’m preoccupied with too many things to write a post today.
This post is part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Check them out!
Today, I shared a “grab bag” of writing ideas with my students. It’s a folder they can click on in their Schoology app in case they’re stuck for something to write on. I selected one of the topics at random to demonstrate how to set up a new document, and I figure it’s a fun one to dive into for today!
How often do you talk to yourself (and what do you say)?
Oh heavens. I talk to myself. A LOT.
The most common thing I say to myself out loud? “Okay.” As in…
Okay. (Time to get your lil’ ole self together, Lainie!) Okay. (This is hard, but you’ve got this.) Okay. (All right, what’s the next thing on your list?) Okay. (This might not turn out, but let’s see what happens.) Okay. (You’re on a roll, just…keep…moving…)
My “okay” is combination pep talk, nudging, needling and encouragement, depending on the context. Usually, when I say “okay” out loud, it’s right alongside a big sigh. Which, you can imagine, is SUPER fun for folks around me to be hearing all the time, especially my poor husband. (I promise it’s not you, honey!)
Another favorite on my self-talk-out-loud greatest hits collection? “We’ll see what happens.”
I say this out loud any time I’m about to try something new, different, or perhaps equal parts brave and foolish. Which means you’ll hear this come out of my mouth OFTEN when I’m at the gym.
As for the rest of my self-talk, much of that happens in my own head, sometimes quietly, sometimes forcefully. I’ve been working on this one a LOT, trying to replace negative or self-defeating patterns with positive and encouraging ones.
That’s a lifelong conversation.
It’s disheartening on the surface to know that the problem doesn’t just magically disappear when we become grown-ups. But for me, there is comfort in knowing that. That relieves the pressure to have it all solved or figured out. And, as a teacher, if the pressure is off of ME to have it all figured out, then I can assure my kids it’s okay that everything isn’t all figured out.
“Okay…”
This post is part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Check them out!
Between one purpose and another, I probably spent 8-10 hours with my fingers on these keys. All of it was good, and writing in that great a volume has me wondering if I should be expecting more of myself or not. That line between grace and tough love is a fine one, my friends.
It’s funny. In my early years of teaching, I spent a lot of time teaching (yes, Capital Letter) The Writing Process. I even remember the cute bulletin board I made illustrating each of the phases of the writing process as part of the life cycle of the butterfly: from the prewriting egg… to the drafting caterpillar… to the editing BIGGER caterpillar… to the revising chrysalis… to the WOW! published butterfly. We’d move from phase to phase, mostly in order. Every so often I’d congratulate myself for letting students march through the phases at their own pace.
Now, here’s the thing. I don’t regret being that teacher. I don’t regret sticking to the curriculum that was given to me. I won’t judge the teacher I was back then. I taught writing with joy, and that still goes a long way towards instilling love for writing. Even though I’ve learned better models in the years since, I’m grateful for what I learned about writing as an early teacher.
I’m also grateful that I’ve become a writer myself. I’m just now at the point now where I’m truly beginning to consider how much being a writer has done for me as a teacher of writing. What it’s done for my students as young writers. I’m just now at the point where I’m discovering the magic, the limitless potential of leaning into that idea.
I’ve also thought back to those days of the 5-step plan for writing, and I remember them with a smile. The process of writing, in real life, for real people, has turned out to be a lot…MESSIER than I ever gave it credit for. When my kids ask me about the best writing process, I think my response should be to tell them to develop their own, with instruction and support. (Maybe it’ll be their weekly writing challenge – hint, hint, kids!) And then, I’ll share my own approach with them. I’d like to say it’s tongue-in-cheek, but there’s much more reality to this than I might want to admit.
MY WRITING PROCESS
Prethinking Thinking Mentally crafting Writing Taking out words Trying not to open other tabs on my desktop Overthinking Reworking Taking out more words Tweaking Re-reading Taking out more words Re-tweaking Re-over-Thinking
Letting things sit
Rereading Re-re-tweaking Taking out more words
LETTING THE THING GO ALREADY
Thinking about my life choices
people of the jury, I give you…exhibit A
This post is part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Check them out!
Last week, I talked about creating space for myself as part of my One Little Word challenge for the year.
Funny how that works.
Let me explain.
Yesterday, in my third-grade class, our lesson went completely, totally, 100% around the corner and off the tracks. We were supposed to spend our time reading Greek mythology, learning about the Olympian gods and goddesses. We were supposed to be going through the stories and taking notes on what we’re learning, questions we have and what we want to share.
And then someone started a conversation about Hades. And then I mentioned Hades’s Roman name was given to the planet Pluto, that cold, dark unknown place. And then we started talking about the other planet names. And then we started talking about one culture taking over another. And then we started talking about astronomy, and planets, and discovery. And then we started in on how knowledge has built up over thousands and thousands of years, from the ancients right on up. And then we talked about how our knowledge – ALL of our knowledge – stands on the shoulders of those who came before us. And then we started in on the idea, often attributed to Aristotle: “the more you know, the more you know you DON’T know.” And we used the example of sitting, then standing, or standing on the roof, or on a mountain top, as a way to gather more sight, more perspective. And that led us to Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s “The Most Astounding Fact.“ And that led us to Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot.“ And that led us to the revised video of the Eames’s “Powers of Ten.“
And friends, their third-grade minds have been stretched, and pulled, and blown.
Space. We discussed LITERAL space, spacetime. And together, we held the space and took the time to allow this conversation to occur.
And I regret none of it.
Some questions left over from today
This post is part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Check them out!
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 