Labels

My husband is a social worker.  Or rather, he was. Now he does counselling and massage. All three come in handy!  More times than I can count he has listened to me as I've enthused, vented, chaffed at restrictions, showed off, planned and debriefed. He's been incredibly patient and I'm more grateful that he realises.

Tonight, over shredded duck and snow pea stir fry,  he helped me unpack some ideas I have around the way we label children. I'll be honest: I have issues with it. I think we 'other' children with labels, whether that is the intention or not.  There is more than one way to view this. Of course there is. This is just MY thinking, right now.

As a parent, I have seen first hand how this works. Our two oldest children are gifted. They are both enrolled in a gifted programme that runs parallel to the mainstream programme at their high school.  They are segregated classes, have different subjects, and go on alternate camps.  The staff of this programme are largely, but not wholly, specialists in gifted education. The school recognises the need for specialist services for these kids. They are quite clearly 'other'. (Don't get me wrong: we advocated for the boys to be included in this programme; we used the label to get the support they need.)

As a teacher, I see a different side of it.  Children come to me with labels. Sometimes I seek a label for them. Sometimes, I'm chastened to admit, I give them one. And these labels change the way the children engage with school. Sometimes the label means that the children have different expected outcomes. Sometimes they are taken out of the classroom for extra support. Sometimes they have extra support in the classroom. Sometimes they have specialised equipment. Sometimes they have behaviour plans that keep them in particular parts of the playground. Always they end up making it clear to the rest of the class that this child is 'other'. 

My issue is that there is an assumption that there's a problem that needs to be fixed. The deficit model which has us approaching students based on our perception of their weaknesses is pervasive.  And insidious. 

By the end of our stir fry, I was quite worked up. My husband reminded me that whatever else I may or may not do, I do see the child in front of me, rather than the label. I can quote their labels, and learn everything I can about the labels but by the time the child is standing in front of me I'm done with that. I see the child in front of me. He or she is welcomed into our class family and celebrated. Nobody is singled out as special. There are no 'others' in our class. There are just people.

And so is my husband, but right now I might just ask him if I can take advantage of his masseuse label. :)

Feedback On My Feedback

I recently received some feedback about my feedback. Actually, I received two almost polar opposite pieces of feedback about my feedback.  I'm ok with that for reasons that will become apparent.

Before I go into the feedback let me share a little about the feedback to which they're both referring:

Whenever I collect my kiddos' 'learning' (whether it be their reading journal or a glogster draft) I will make a couple of comments about what I've noticed and then suggest a 'next step in learning' (NSL) they could focus on in their next activity. It's NOT a mandate. It's NOT a direction. It's a suggestion. As time passes and my learners become more self-directed I expect them to also identify their own NSLs.

It typically looks something like this.

Most students sign and date it to say they've seen it and more often than not they demonstrate some level of improvement in that area pretty well immediately. I can't tell you how often I've been asked for a mini-lesson based on suggested NSLs. 

The first bit of feedback I received ran something like this: "What are you doing!?!? You don't give that much feedback on everything do you? You're mad! They won't read it anyway. What a waste of time!"

The second bit was: "Thank you so much for the feedback. *** loves it!  The NSLs have been just the push to go harder and further that she's needed." 

It in onerous sometimes, yes, but isn't it what we're meant to do? Give feedback that celebrates what our kiddos are already doing and helps them move forward? Invite them to think about ways they can develop?  

I'm always looking to improve the feedback I give. I know I need to get better at the 'compliment' part of feedback. You might notice in the feedback above that I've tried (not hugely successfully) to notice and name the fact that this student regularly writes persuasively. Yesterday I read a post written by the fabulous Two Writing Teachers about compliment conferences and I'm determined to pull some of their strategies into my practice. Check out their awesome info graphic about it: 

Check out Two Writing Teachers amazing blog at
https://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com

So, you can see why the polarity of the feedback didn't bother me.

How do you give feedback?

This relates to the following Australian Professional Standards for Teachers...
Standard 5 Assess, provide feedback and report on student learning
Standard 6 Engage in professional learning

It's Tough Sometimes!

Teaching the final years of primary school comes with a particular set of challenges. And not all of them olfactory. (Love my kiddos for sure, but sometimes their (pre-) pubescent hormones make my eyes water.)

Today's challenge looked like this. Awful isn't it?

The view of Port Noarlunga Beach from Hortas Restaurant
where I sat with a cup of tea, made headway with our spelling
analysis and watched the kiddos.

This week our upper primary classes are doing their yearly aquatics programme at Port Noarlunga beach. Four mornings this week they'll be surfing, wave skiing, snorkelling, kayaking and body boarding under the direct supervision and tutelage of expert water sport educators.

Yep. You read that right. Under someone else's supervision. (I'm many things but water sport educator ain't one of them. Let me assure you.) They are my kiddos though so I retain a kind of duty of care (and a pretty big enormous interest in their wellbeing) so I have to be at the beach too.

It's a challenge, but someone's gotta do it.

#28daysofwriting

I've spent the afternoon with reading journals and WBW reflections (I wrote a post about our Way Back Wednesday programme that you can read here). It's been both inspiring and frustrating:  the usual highs and lows of getting to know the capabilities of a new class.  Now though, 'tis time to turn my mind to something else: the #28daysofwriting challenge.

It's a simple concept: writing for 28 minutes for 28 days.  The brainchild of Tom Barrett @tombarrett and explained succinctly on his blog The Curious Creative it forces encourages participants to just do it. To just sit down and write for 28 minutes. Too easy... I've had longer showers! (OK, not really. Well. Just the once. Shhhh.)

28 minutes is actually a long time if you're not in the habit of writing. Or if, like me, you're not in the habit of single tasking. And so, for me the benefit has been twofold: I'm writing again and I'm retraining myself to focus on one thing at a time.  Both are incredibly welcome gifts.

Let's start with the writing. I mentioned my students' WBW reflections earlier. It's a fascinating process that grew so much bigger than when I wrote that initial blog post. The students loved it as ferociously as I do - often finding it confronting and occasionally a little overwhelming. I've asked many times why this is, and the answer is always the same: the chance to talk openly, think and then reflect on their learning. And for me, that's what this blog is about (minus the talking, although there's plenty of that going on in my head): thinking and reflecting. I feel better about my teaching... My learning... My life really, when I write.

And the focus thing? Ha! My husband likes to joke that he can dangle something shiny in my peripheral vision and I'll turn to it. I do! We all do - especially teachers:  we are masters of splitting our attention in 25 different directions.  I do see the value in focus though and can harness it well when working with children. I'm just not very good at doing it for myself yet. This challenge is helping me get there.

The teacher in my is giving me a 2 minute warning. The writer in my is fretting that I've left myself with no time to revise or proofread. The multitasker in me is ready to move on. So it's a good thing time is nearly up. I'm challenged by this challenge and that's a good thing. Thanks +Tom Barrett

#Socktober Reflection

I just realised that I never gave an update on how the class went with the #Socktober campaign.  In a word: brilliantly.

We collected bags and bags of socks, jocks and toiletries from our community. More than we imagined. More than we hoped! It was humbling and gratifying all at once.

The kids were able to see the power of the social media in a very tangible way: through social media we had one donation of 40 pair of kids' size jocks; and a representative from a local homelessness service offered to come and speak to us.

The incidental learning about social activism and social justice was personal and profound. I could not have designed such an overwhelmingly positive experience.

The afternoon we spent with Kelly Treloar from the homelessness service astounded me. We invited a couple of other classes to join us so we had a pretty packed house but Kelly engaged them all.  She opened all of our eyes about   the experiences of homelessness and then challenged our assumptions about homeless people. The questions she asked were matched by insightful reflections from our young people as they changed their attitudes in front of our very eyes.

We chose to donate our collection to Kelly's service because we learnt that many of her service's clients are families with young children.  Her genuine gratitude was something my students talked about for days after. It's something that still brings a smile to my face.



#Socktober was an amazing experience for my class for a multitude of reasons. I can't wait to do it again this year.  Will you join me?

This relates to the following Australian Professional Standards for Teachers...
Standard 3 Plan for and implement effective teaching and learning.
Standard 4 Create and maintain supportive and safe learning environments.
Standard 7 Engage professionally with colleagues, parents/carers and the community.

Assessment

One of education's hot topics du jour is assessment. There's too much say many parents. Schools should do more say certain politicians. There are better ways say most teachers.  Teachers don't want to give tests because they just show how poorly they're doing their jobs say talkback radio callers. Assessment causes unnecessary stress and anxiety for our young people say some child development advocates.  I could keep going.  I won't though because at the end of the day the voice that should be loudest is the one that rarely gets considered. Students.

What do they think of assessment?

It's a bit of 'how long is a piece of string' question, but an important one to ask nonetheless.  Have you ever asked? I'll admit that I don't ask very often, but recently I have and the answers were as fascinating as they were varied.

By the middle of last year, my students were very clear that assessment was about OUR understanding. Assessment pieces were typically designed by the class and I with our learning intentions (often the Australian Curriculum) in plain sight. They knew that I was more interested in seeing their growth in understanding than in pretty borders or flash .gifs. (Unless that's what we'd be learning!) AND that I would give them lots of feedback. They also knew that at the end of the day I'm constrained, by the system we're operating in, by assigning a grade and the parameters that imposed.  So. Together we'd come up with an assessment that met all of our needs. Often the process of coming up with the assessment told me a lot of what I needed to find out anyway. These kids enjoyed assessment as a medium for collaborating with me to demonstrate all of our progress - mine included - and identify areas for growth.  They enjoyed it, and saw it as an opportunity for all of us to identify our next steps in learning.

This year has started with the usual round of baseline 'tests'. No one loves these right?  Wrong. A few of my students were excited to sit the Westwood Spelling Test to see if they'd 'kept' everything over the holidays. And even more were just keen to show me where we need to start this year. Our maths fluency tests were the same deal. One particular student who was doing a particular program to help him out last year was 'jump up and down' excited to see his results actually grew over the summer break.  

Discussions after these tests showed me that most kids do hate tests, but they don't hate assessment if they know the purpose of the assessment - even if the purpose seems ridiculous is to help a teacher with some research, or provide baseline data for a study. And so that's my lesson. Or at least part of it.

Student voice is the other part. Authentic student voice changes everything. Even the things they hate, perhaps especially the things they hate. 

This relates to the following Australian Professional Standards for Teachers...
Standard 3 Plan for and implement effective teaching and learning.
Standard 4 Create and maintain supportive and safe learning environments.
Standard 5 Assess, provide feedback and report on student learning

Not Unpleasant, Just Hard

Sometimes teaching is hard work. Not unpleasant, just hard. I'm finding this week hard. I'm tired, the kids are tired. Routines and expectations are still unfamiliar. Things are't quite where I thought they were. We're still learning how to be a cohesive unit. It's hard. Not unpleasant, just hard.

That isn't to say that we're not having those exquisite little moments of delight or progress or peace. We are. Oh. We. Are.

I have one young man in my class who, for a variety of reasons, struggles with self-regulation. Today,  during a break, he had a small social struggle. Like all kids do.  For most kids, this would have rated about 1.5 on the richter scale. For my young man it was more like 6.5 and threatened massive aftershocks.  BUT! BUT... But... My young man allowed me into his space and accepted my (very minimal) help to reframe the issue. He then took a timer into our 'oasis' (an Ikea mosquito net hanging in the corner of our learning space, filled with cushions) and 5 minutes later re-emerged ready to reengage with learning. I openly acknowledged his choices and resilience. No fewer than eight students joined in with their own observations of how impressed they were.  For a young man who doesn't show much social emotion... His smile was so big it hurt!

I have another young man who likes to be heard. He makes some brilliant contributions to class discussions, but often is unaware of the other 24 students eager to participate. A longstanding challenge for this young man it's causes a range of extended social issues for him.  Other kids simply don't want to hear anything he has to say because, well, to be blunt, he never shuts up. This afternoon he asked for my help to become more aware of when and how he does this. He asked! You can't say no to that kind of request.

One young lady in my class brought her mum into our learning space after school. Arriving a couple of days after the year started this young lady is clearly not feeling a lack of belonging or group identity. The pride on her face as she gave the 'royal tour' was delightful.

It's hard sometimes, but that's OK. Sometimes it's the hard parts that make it worthwhile.

This relates to the following Australian Professional Standards for Teachers...
Standard 1 Know students and how they learn
Standard 4 Create and maintain supportive and safe learning environments