Tuesday SOL: Why does it have to be like this?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

We're entering into the tough part of the school year, that time period in the very middle of the year, when so much fatigue has set in. There is so much to do and there simply isn't enough time to get all that needs doing done. I call out a "good morning" to colleagues first thing every day, but we are quick and perfunctory with one another; there is little opportunity to collaborate or share because everyone is so busy with their own never-ending list of must do's.

We had professional development this past week, and I wanted desperately to be working in my own classroom, getting work done. I work alongside a novice teacher, and as she begins to lead more, taking over more of the daily responsibilities, my need for time to meet, plan, review, discuss, and reflect grows exponentially. A short while into the workshop, I had that uncomfortable sensation of not being fully present; I was in two places at once. I challenged myself to listen. I am, typically, a "good student" - usually very much on-task.

Would you believe me if I told you that the speaker was engaging?

As a general rule, I love workshops, I love learning new approaches, hearing about the latest research. However, this just wasn't something I personally would have signed up to do with my time right then, because I am struggling to complete so many other things...I have other priorities. These priorities don't go away or even lessen as a result of this professional development.

I decided to step back and observe a bit, to give the situation a writer's eye. I looked around the room at my colleagues and took notes on what I saw:

- One, furtively scanning her phone, with a furrowed brow, looking tense, worried, or tired, or perhaps all three...

- Another, totally checked out...what I must have looked like just a moment before...eyes glazed, face tilted down, a mile away in his thoughts.

- Two colleagues were whispering together, very, very quietly...probably not about the lecture, right?

- Still another, typing madly on her computer, in the midst of the lecture, clearly not engaging with the material of the professional development, but in all probability getting something done on her to-do list.
- Several colleagues that I had seen earlier in the day were not even in the room...early departure? Doctor's appointments? 

- There's another colleague, feet drumming on the floor, fingers tapping on the table, is she listening to music? I can't see any evidence of earphones...maybe it's one of those wireless sets...hmmm.

Why does professional development have to be like this?
What is it about these sessions that makes them feel so tone deaf much of the time? 

How can so many of us be this detached from the lecture? 

If this were a classroom, wouldn't the teacher realize that the students were off-task and something is not working right?
Why are we learning about this right now?

There is always so much put on teachers, and increasingly little wiggle room or flexibility to think for oneself.

How to grow a school?

I am so delighted to have summer, to have days of quiet and reflection. We traveled last week, to visit my parents in South Carolina, and my husband's extended family in Georgia. Each day, I took time to journal, something I think I do every day of my life, but I saw that there were many days in the hectic pace of this school year in which I did not. So, summer is a time for renewal, reconnecting - both with people and with thoughts.

I find myself reflecting about school and teaching. In this quiet of summer, I have a chance to look both backward and forward, and think about education in general. I am thinking a lot about how to sustain myself, how to keep my eye on the prize - our full vision of a great school.

I fell in love with this school from the first whispers I heard about it.
We have the best of intentions.

In each classroom,

• teaching is founded on students' interests;
• we strive to cultivate and instigate curiosity, inquiry, thirst for more knowledge; and
• students' ideas and voice are obvious and essential.

Our classrooms are joyful places.

As a staff,
we are constantly exploring new ideas,
reflecting on these, and
striving to work together and collaborate.

Perhaps my most favorite element of our school,
we are teaching beginning teachers how to do this.
Each seasoned "master teacher" works alongside a new Teaching Resident,
daring to teach on two levels - to the children, to the beginning teacher.

We are a demonstration school, meaning,
we seek to show all this in process...what it really looks like.
We want visitors to walk in and see this dynamic process in action.



This fall will be year three of our school.
I am still in love with this school, but I am less starry-eyed.

I hope we are done with its infancy, with its toddlerhood - the hectic, non-stop, oh my, we need to do this!, we forgot to do that!, all hands on deck!, we need it now! phase...

What do I mean?

When the school opened,
preschool through grade three, fall 2011,
that first year,
it was as if everyone did everything.
Everything was new, new, new. We were all constantly watching everything at once. Someone's metaphor - "We were building an airplane while flying it." The days were long and the year was, too. At year's end, I said to my husband "Wow! that was something!," to which he promptly replied, "And I don't ever want to go through it again." My supportive spouse was totally drained by the enormity of work and thought and time that went into this new school.


Reality check -
I teach preschool.
I teach three year olds.
It's meant to be joyful, for them and me.


How do you sustain a motivated staff?
What makes teaching doable and enjoyable?

Year two,
preschool through fourth grade, fall 2012,
we made considerable progress in defining roles and responsibilities,
in developing systems.
I set the personal goal of reclaiming my weekends - of observing Friday evening through Sunday afternoon as my personal time, my family time (I have yet to figure out how to avoid Sunday evening planning and preparations for the week ahead). I am really proud to say that I achieved this goal - made it a habit. But there was still enormous work and thought and time spent on the school. A typical day was to leave home at 7 am and return about 6 pm. My son Bryce told one of my friends, who had called one evening and found me not home, "I don't begin to worry about where Mom is until it is 7 pm; she is always working."


Reality check -
I teach preschool.
I teach three year olds.
It's meant to be joyful, for them and me.



How do you sustain a motivated staff?
What makes teaching doable and enjoyable?

I have no doubt, we will make even bigger strides this next year.

I hope we are done with this infancy and toddlerhood,
and now begin to "settle in"
to "growing" a school.

I love three year olds.
I'm confident I'm going to love this three year old school.

Is there room for the unplanned in your schedule?

It was time for centers.  There were six special activities identified on our sign in board.

One boy had something else in mind.

And an empty round table to work on.

He carried a bin of wooden blocks to the table and worked quietly and determinedly by himself.

Within ten minutes, a couple classmates happen by.
"What are you building?"
 "I am building a city," he explains.

"I want to build with you!"

"Me, too!"

"We need more blocks," he explains.

And the two classmates went to get another bin of blocks.

With the three working so hard together, a city begins to appear.

And many more willing hands. And exclamations.

"We are building a city!"

"We can do it!"

"This is teamwork!"
"Look at this!  My city is growing!"
"It is our city! Our city!"
"It is going to be the biggest!"
"We need some help here!"
"We need more blocks!"

All our wooden blocks are now in play.

"Let's use these!"
The wooden blocks are used up.
The children race to get another bin, the plastic blocks.

And together,
and yet,
separately,
they add details to their own individual parts of the city.

Our entire 40 minute centers' time has been spent on this incredible city.  

Ten children working together at one once-empty round table.

Nearly half my class.

Self-propelled.

I want to let this work continue.

I want to honor it by letting it stay up.

Perhaps we can get back to it later in the day?

After playground? 

After lunch?

Yes, we'll use another table at lunch...

I walk over to the table and whisper,
"This is a fantastic city.  I like the work you are doing.  In a minute, we will put on the clean up song, but I was thinking..."
As if on cue, this table of preschoolers
acts as one
and topples the city,
sending all the blocks careening down,
over the table, onto the floor,
and one declares,
"Time to put them back in the bins! Clean up!"

Wow.  I didn't anticipate that.
I didn't anticipate any part of the entire forty minutes.
It was truly magical.
And these preschoolers
simply knew

they could create their city again.

Slice of Life - the challenge of public preK

My Tuesday morning mentoring is cancelled this beautiful spring day, because that school is on a different spring break schedule than the rest of us. I have a "found" morning - let's write!
Better yet, let's try my hand at the "Slice of Life" challenge...

"Slice of Life" is a weekly writing challenge on the Two Writing Teachers blog, which I have recently discovered and I encourage you to check out, too. These are some inspirational teachers!

They write:
"Each day we read a little and write a slice of life."

So, I'll take my cue from them.

I read in this morning's Washington Post:

"Funding for early-childhood education declined between 2009 and 2010, even as the Obama administration urged states to increase pre-kindergarten programs for 3- and 4-year olds, according to a study released Tuesday.

[Education Secretary Arne] Duncan said yesterday that the cuts present "real challenges to young people who are desperately fighting to enter the mainstream."

Funding challenges aside, teaching 3 and 4 year olds in our public schools is pretty much a given in many locations throughout our nation. (For example, D.C.)

But, I wonder (or, perhaps, I vent)-

Who decides what that education looks like?
What are the differences between private preschools and public ones? What are the similarities? Are there bridges between?
What is the effect of having preschool in an elementary school - does it change the tone of the program?
How do we ensure that learning through play is the foundation of these public programs?
How do we ensure that preschool classrooms reflect the individual children and community within?


I've taught at private preschools for years. I am now mentoring PreK teachers in public schools. I have been reflecting lots about the two worlds.

I've never had to teach a stand-alone math period.
Yet, my teaching is rich with counting, measuring, problem-solving, logic.

I've never had to teach a stand-alone language period.
Yet, my teaching is rich with reading, vocabulary, word play, writing, storytelling.

I've never had a scripted curriculum.

I've never had to give my children tests.

I start with children's interests - the children in my class. The curriculum themes emerge.

I intentionally weave reading, math, social-emotional, music, physical, art, engineering, sensory, and other opportunities into every topic.

Give me your child-centered, playful topic and I will tell you the learning possibilities. I will even provide you with data and documentation.

For me as teacher, this is an exhilarating, dynamic, and intellectual pursuit - I am continually observing, learning, and changing.

Is this approach unique to private preschools?
How might we ensure that it is not?


Strong leadership is essential to secure funding for public preschool.
Strong leadership is also essential for how it is executed - how public preschool plays out, pun intended.

Thoughts to end the month

As the great Southern writer Flannery O’Connor wrote in a letter to a friend,

“You have to push as hard as the age that pushes against you.”

This age is pushing mighty hard against children, against educators, and against the very concept of good education.

Let’s all push back as hard as we can.

-- Diane Ravitch

What do we want education to be?

Public school teachers, schools, and budgets are in the bull's eye right now, the target of unreasonable wrath. Let's shift the discussion.

Tell me, what problems do you imagine today's children will face when they grow up? What kinds of things will they need to figure out? To solve?

Think about this for a moment.

Now consider, as communities, parents, teachers,
What do we want to nurture in our children? What skills will they need?

I've asked these questions at a variety of workshops and classes with educators. The adults quickly brainstorm:

Curiosity
The ability to see many sides of issue
Kindness and compassion
An awareness of outside world
Determination
Communication
Respect for everyone
Inventiveness
Flexibility
Creativity
A fresh outlook
Honesty
Responsibility
Imagination
Considering something from multiple directions
Independence
Risk-taking
Self-confidence
Perseverance

These skills come from a diversity of learning experiences – curriculum that is not “scripted," pre-packaged, identical in every classroom. These skills are nurtured by teachers who are fascinated by each child individually, and who go home at night, unable to stop thinking about the children in their class. Teaching requires daily reflection, daily accounting, daily flexibility – What went right today? Why didn’t that work? What might I try? Teachers are skilled at looking for signs of struggle and helping a child work through these; they are skilled at recognizing the different and important achievements of each of their students.

Such teachers are encouraged by their communities and leaders.

I am so thankful for the leadership of Joanne Busalacchi, a.k.a. "Ms. B," Principal of New Hampshire Estates Elementary School in Silver Spring, Maryland, where my children went to school in the 1990s. She respected and involved teachers, parents, and community in her school. This was a Title One school, with some 85% poverty level. Ms. B embraced the economic and cultural diversity of her school, recognized it as a gift, and celebrated it. I have no doubt that she went home every day, awash in reflection, thinking - What didn't work today? What might I try tomorrow? Consider these snapshots -

- Ms. B at the front door of the school, saying hello to each child by name, as they arrived for school each morning;
- Ms. B taking her staff around the community on a school bus, to meet the children during the summer;
- Ms. B singling out parents and community members with "more" (whether it be time, talent, or money) and asking them to do more for the school.

There were so many signs of the community coming together as one -

- parents visiting and volunteering at the school throughout the day, in a variety of ways,
- local police officers eating lunch with the students in the cafeteria,
- mobile Health Clinics and mobile Public Libraries parked out front at the school, for families and community;
- a vibrant Parent-Child Center in one of the classrooms for those of us with children too young to be enrolled, filled with play activities and parenting advice;

- PTA meetings that met not just at 7pm “white-collar” time but Saturday mornings and unusual times mid-week;
- all community meetings translated into Spanish, Vietnamese, and other languages; and
- a variety of special nights every month, for children and their families, to celebrate learning - math game nights, international nights, Young Author nights.

Ms. B treated her public school like it was the heart of the community - and it was.

She was a staunch advocate for children. She rallied the staff to come together as one, to be respectful. A former parent remembers hearing Ms. B assert to her staff, "There is entirely too much yelling around here. We will not yell at children. Let's talk about this." Her staff was inspired and motivated - one teacher told me that Ms. B never told the staff how to do something, she “moved them towards the light,” and gave them both independence and responsibility. She did the same thing with parents. And this positivism, flexibility, and determination trickled down to the children.

This is exactly what we say we want for our children: for them to have independence, flexibility, responsibility, perseverance, determination.

It seems to me, we cultivate these skills in our children by being this way in our adult daily lives - in the way we interact with each other, in the way we solve today's problems. We must model this. Just as Ms. B and her staff modeled it.

Public school teachers and schools are in the bull's eye right now, the target of unreasonable wrath. Let's shift the discussion.

Teachers, parents, community, leaders – we have such an important role in making a bright future possible for our children. There is no one way. Those of us in the trenches – because we have children in school, or because we are teaching in schools, or because we are visiting schools - we need to speak up and repeat, repeat, repeat:

We are building our future.
Public education is the foundation of our country, the cornerstone of what will come.
We want our schools to continue to be filled with energized, knowledgeable, dedicated, caring, and respected professionals.
Our children deserve no less.

How can we ensure that Ms. B's kind of excellence is the norm of our public schools?
How can we ensure that teachers have the flexibility and autonomy to think about the needs and gifts of the individual child?
How can we ensure that families, even in the toughest circumstances, are welcomed, supported, and elevated by their child's school?

Let’s change the way we talk about teachers and public education.
Let’s envision together.
What do we want education to be?