This is Franki’s post from this morning.  When I read it, it became clear to me that while the pull-outs for Tier 3 interventions give my struggling readers support the way instruction at K-2 does, my on- and above-grade readers need greater independence. And – surprise, surprise – every student needs the opportunity to read independently.  That’s something I’ve said all along: Readers can’t grow to be better readers if they never get the opportunity to try out or practice reading on their own. Oddly, I feel validated now – and more determined to make this happen in my classroom.

As an experienced teacher, what Franki shares about learning – and letting go – with intermediate readers really resounded with me.  We struggle at our school with  providing just-right support to the readers who should be able to soar as readers with greater sophistication and skill alongside those who need greater support.  Reading Franki’s article in Choice Literacy this morning made me see things in a new light: in my new 3rd- and soon-to-be 4th-grade classroom, I have two very different groups of readers. The level instruction must be different and will look different.

This appears to fit with what our District reading guidelines.  As a district, we are moving toward book clubs and conferring in Grades 3 and 4. It is a model that I’ve dabbled in with my third graders – and now it will become more frequent. Our struggling readers receive Tier 3 supports through a pull-out program for 30 minutes a day – that will be their “guided reading”.  Thinking of these two models side-by-side helps me to understand how to differentiate the literacy block for all readers.

Teacher has had an aha moment.

Starting last March with our Reading MCAS test, my students have been demonstrating their knowledge of third grade skills.  That’s right, last March, when we were 7 months into our academic year (minus the week of snow days), my students had to demonstrate their end of year proficiency in Reading.  I may not have been the best math student on the planet, but I know that 7 months does not equal an entire school year.

Yesterday, students completed their Mathematics tests. They worked so hard it is easy to forget that they are not taking the SAT or PSAT; they are 8- and 9-year olds performing on tests that take unbelievable amounts of stamina even if you are older.

Kids are kids. While one child finishes a 45-minute test in 20 minutes, another will take twice or three times that time. One student completed the test twice – she literally went back to each question, reworked the answer and then wrote a sentence or two explanation for why her math was correct.  Two and one-half hours later, she finished this 45-minute test. After months of telling kids to “check, check, and double-check” your answers, I certainly was not going to discourage her effort!

We had the usual events out of our control: no glasses…. sick…. Hopefully the impact of those variables won’t be too great; however, my experience with MCAS – and now that it plays a part in my own teacher evaluation this becomes more important – is that it can have an impact and I do need to document just in case. Sad but true, MCAS is not just about student achievement.

So yesterday we put a period at the end of “MCAS 2013″, and today we return to our regular classroom routines. I can’t put a quantifier on it, but the classroom mood sure seems a lot lighter.

I needed a little time to think about that, but not for the reasons you might assume. My hesitation had nothing to do with a repeat year with my students, some of whom have been quite a challenge this year.

You see, I’ve been in my classroom space for the past 6 years; the thought of moving (again) was just depressing. Imagine the amount of treasure I’ve saved in those closets “just in case”. Secondly, not all of our classrooms have been equipped with the projection and MOBI technology that we have been using this year. Would my “new” space – because I would be trading classrooms with a colleague from Grade 4 — have this technology installed?

In the end, of course I said yes. The fourth grade teacher with whom I will share this adventure is similarly excited and we’ve already begun to meet to toss around ideas for making transitioning easy for both of us.

I look at my students differently already. I know I get an opportunity to start a school year with them at an advantage: they already know me (and my limits) and I know them too.

So while I needed a moment to consider this idea, I am excited to start planning and preparing for another year with the same students. And I am looking for advice from teachers who have done this. Do you loop?

What can make a difference in the life of a youth whose behaviors are at once destructive to humanity and self-destructive?

We hope and wait for answers to the “why” of the Marathon tragedy; those answers may never materialize. Why was there such a disconnect to the rest of humankind? Why would creating bombs and firing guns be an answer?

Last year, Adrien worked to photograph a wonderful organization working with Lowell area youth. The group, UTEC, (United Teen Equality Center) has the mission to “ignite and nurture the ambition of Lowell’s most disconnected young people to trade violence and poverty for social and economic success”.  

Listen to the stories these young people tell of how they were once disenfranchised and the difference UTEC has made in their lives. The following short video and the story of the project are the results of Adrien’s association with UTEC last summer.

At this time when we are wondering what triggered the Tsarneav brothers to disconnect from humanity, it makes me pause and wonder if there was a moment that might have changed their course as well.  This is, of course, a mammoth leap of speculation.

We may never know that answer to why the Tsarneav brothers did what they did, why their uncle called them “losers”. But we can be thankful for the UTECs of the world who help the disenfranchised become successful members of the world in which they live.

In New England we continue to feel pain. Words fail most of us. So we hug, we cry, we read – and some of us write, or at least try to do so.

Yes, the suspects – or at least the ones who seem directly connected by evidence – of this heinous atrocity seem to be either dead or locked up. But I defy any human not to think of the four victims of Marathon Monday’s bombing without an indelible sadness of 4 lives that were cut short too soon. Or the lives of those people who, simply by going outdoors on a fine April morning, now have the climb of a lifetime ahead of them. Will we ever feel safe again in a crowd?

Yesterday, a priest at St. Irene’s Church in Carlisle gave one of the most powerful homilies about evil and good that I have ever heard. At the end of his talk he read this Facebook posting from Cam Siciliano, which I quote here:

I don’t want to know his name. I don’t want to see his face. I don’t want to know his life’s history, his back-story, who his family is, where he went to school, or what he liked to do in his spare time. I don’t want to know what “cause”, if any, he was fighting for. I don’t want to know why he did it, or may have done it, or what possessed him to carry out his actions. I don’t want to know. Because that’s what he really wants. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give him what he wants.

Put him on trial, but don’t cover it. Tell me when you decide to jail him for three lifetimes – because that number matters. That’s the number of lives he has to now pay for. That’s all I want to know about him. Nothing else.

Instead, tell me about the first responders who ran towards the fray, within seconds, fearless. Tell me about the ones wearing the yellow volunteer jacket, or the neon police vest, or even the ones in the regular everyday t-shirt who became a helper. Tell me the story about the first responder who held gauze over a wound until they made it to the hospital. Tell me the story about the volunteer who held the hand of the injured spectator until they got into the ambulance. In six months, tell me the story of those who lost a limb, who beat the odds, pulled through countless surgeries, and are learning to walk again. Tell me the story about the love, the compassion, and the never-ending support of thousands, millions, of people who support the victims here. Tell me their stories. Tell me everything you can, because they are the ones that matter. Tell me of the good that they have done, are doing, and will continue to do, regardless of… No, not regardless of, in spite of. In spite of that someone who would do them harm. Because that’s what freedom in this country means. It means coming together in the hardest of times, even in the face of unfathomable adversity, to make life better for all those around us.

Tell me the good stories. That’s all I want to hear.

I know that at some point I need to learn about the two alleged perpetrators of this atrocity. If there is something that can be gleaned from their self-destructive path that will help the disenfranchised students that I often-times see, I will need to reflect on that. Maybe there is some connection that can be made, maybe not.

But for now, I too, need to hear about the good, the kind, the compassionate humans who rose above the evil that we have just experienced this past week. Don’t we all?

On the four month anniversary of Sandy Hook, we are reminded that nothing has been done to prevent yet another shooting of this nature.  Listen to the family members of the victims in this tragedy. They live the aftermath of our society’s inability to do something. 60 minutes 4-7-2013

Today, family members of the victims of this tragedy will be in Washington, DC. I implore our representatives in Congress to listen – do not rush by arrogantly and claim you are “all set” as one insensitive Connecticut representative does in the video.  Listen, listen to these people who will live with the aftermath of this tragedy for the rest of their days.

We cannot afford to be complacent, afraid of controversy, or stubbornly one-sided in these discussions. This is a complicated issues — along with gun control, we can no longer ignore those who face mental challenges, and yet, through stigma and misconception, are outcast from receiving meaningful help and assistance. We cannot allow, as the NRA has suggested, our schools to become armed bastions.

Something needs to change here. It’s not just Sandy Hook – violence impacts families and communities every day. Read, or at the very least, look at the graphic of mass shootings found this article from Mother Jones.

My own students sometimes come to class – third grade – with stories of guns going off in their neighborhood. They know the difference between a car backfiring and the sound of a gun. Is this the kind of childhood we want for our children?

Please contact your own congressional representatives.  I have.

First of all, there was quite a bit of twitter about the fact that the poet of our first selection – Emily Dickenson – has a name that makes immature minds go into hysterics. Because, you know, her name has DICK in it. At that point, I knew this selection would be trouble. I just didn’t know how much trouble I was in for.

Here’s the text of the poem:

AUTUMN
Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.

I anticipated “gayer” would cause a reaction, so I spent some time explaining that “gay” had another meaning when the poet was writing.

Of course the little congregation of 9-year old boys at the back corner of the rug thought “nuts are getting brown” was hysterical. They couldn’t contain their delight — definitely wanted to share their unique perspective with all sitting within earshot.

Maybe now that we have worked out all the vocabulary minefields, we can study this poem as the curriculum developers intended. Or not.

You see, you can sing almost every Emily Dickenson poem to “The Yellow Rose of Texas”. Try it. These folks did: Sing-a-Long-With-Emily. Still not a believer? Here’s another:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

254

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

Emily Dickinson

While it continues to aggravate me that my kids are getting tested as if it were the end of the school year (which, believe me it is not!), the test is here and we need to deal with it. By the way, did I mention the test is scheduled before the second trimester has ended? And that this year the students will have had a week’s less of instruction because of the snow days we’ve piled up here in Massachusetts?

In the end, all I can do is ensure that my students have some strategies under their belts: strategies for decoding those challenging words – especially important for my English Language Learners, strategies for deriving word meaning within context, strategies for understanding what they’re reading, and strategies for making the best out of this testing situation.

I have no idea how my students did on yesterday’s test. I am not allowed (by law!) to even take a look through students’ completed test booklets to see that they haven’t skipped a question. I do know that I saw children who are 8- and 9-years-old diligently reading (read the directions, read the italics, read the questions, THEN read the selection), and underlining, and rereading, and writing.

If effort and persistence were something we were assessing, every single one of my kids would be proficient. And that makes my day.

One of the greatest challenges, in my opinion, is to work with students whose primary language is not English. In my current classroom, the ratio of native English speakers to English Language Learners, or ELLs is about 1:3. Just to be clear, 17 of the 23 students are acquiring English and learning in English simultaneously.

I have a lot of admiration for my ELLs.  First of all, I attempted to learn a foreign (to me) language – and not just as a whim in high school.  After about 30 minutes of the teacher speaking to our group in the new language, in my case Italian, I thought my brain was going to burst. Hanging on to my minimal grasp of Italian and understanding about 10 percent of what was being said is exhausting! By the end of a three-hour class, I could have curled up into the fetal position and never come out.

In a classroom with such a large percentage of ELLs, we accommodate English and English acquisition all of the time. We work with realia, we check in and monitor when vocabulary is incomprehensible, we shelter our students’ learning as they acquire the language in which they are expected to work and perform.

One of the most important things I think I do for my students is insist on speaking. If that seems like a “duh” moment, realize that when managing 23 personalities in group discussion and activity how easy it is to accept a head shake or pointing or some other gesture in place of using words.

I – and we – accept gestures in communication all of the time. The importance of using verbal communication is in learning the constructs of English and in increasing the vocabulary word bank of my ELLs.

Even after so many years in this teaching environment, I catch myself accepting nonverbal communication from my students. It is an easy habit to slip back into – for both of us! But it is one habit that we constantly monitor because the success of my students who are acquiring English as they work in English depend upon it.