Get off the train, Mindi!

Photo via Creative Commons. Attribution here.

I am about to start my third week of school.  As I sat at my desk at school yesterday (yes, I went in on Sunday), surrounded by my teacher's editions and unit plans, I began to feel a twinge of familiar anxiety - how am I going to get everything done that I need to get done so that my kids learn as much as possible during their third grade year?  How much more quickly can I move through the math chapters so that I cover all of the important concepts before PARCC testing?  How are we going to finish this social studies unit before we switch over to science?  Chug...chug...chug....

This feeling of faster...faster...chug...chug... is a familiar one for teachers.  Pacing guides, teacher's editions, and the publishing of test scores underscore this need to move and move quickly.  And to be honest, we want to make sure our kids are learning and growing as much as they can in their 180 days in our care.  We want to be effective.  We want to do our jobs well.

But here's the thing.  Getting on the curriculum train doesn't help our kids.  "Coverage" of content does not guarantee a student is deeply learning.  I have to constantly remind myself to slow down, to allow time for my kids to think about what they're reading, writing, and learning, to encourage them to explore the aspects of our curriculum that they are especially interested in, and to allow them time to research their own passions and then share their learning with the class.

I've seen for myself the difference in learning when I make myself slow down and let the kids show me what they need and when they're ready to move on.  When I ask the class what they're interested in learning about and then let them go, I find that they usually hit the learning targets the district has set out for the unit and much more.  They are also learning other skills... how to develop a research question, how to seek out and synthesize information, how to present that information in a way that is interesting and compelling.  And more importantly, they are engaged in their learning and excited about it.  THIS is what will make a difference in their retention of new knowledge.

To be honest, this has been easier for me to do in my literacy block and science and social studies  periods than it has been in math.  I think this is mostly because I lack the deep understanding of mathematical practices that I have in literacy.  I've written about this before, and the work of learning the "why" behind math is work I continue to do.  The pacing guide in math also contributes to this as well.  It's a much tighter progression through the units than we have in the other subjects.  Luckily, I have colleagues who can help me work through how to make the math learning deep and meaningful rather than just surface knowledge that is easily forgotten.

So here I am, at the beginning of my third week of school, reminding myself to get off of the train, to listen to my heart and my kids, to take a deep breath and dig in to the work that matters.

The Decisions Series: Knowing When to Turn Off the Light and Shut the Door

Today at 5pm, I turned off my classroom lights and shut my door.  This was the last thing I saw as I left my room:

I felt a sense of satisfaction as I walked through the door.  I GOT the job done, and now I get to enjoy my last weekend of summer before I meet my new students on Monday during Meet the Teacher and then on Tuesday when classes start.

I won't lie... I spent a LONG time getting my room ready for 2017-2018.  Since early August, I have spent an hour or two (or three) almost every day unpacking Rubbermaid bins, reorganizing and refurbishing my classroom library, arranging furniture, making my classroom decorations, pumping yoga balls, making lists, and making plans.  I met with my new classroom assistant (whose kids I had when I taught 7th grade) and met with the preservice teacher who will be joining me for her fall semester clinical.

But there comes a time when you have to decide you're finished - or at least finished enough.  Teaching is a profession that can easily consume you if you let it.  There is always that pressure to do one more thing, read one more book, complete one more form, grade one more paper.  I had to learn early in my career that it didn't do me any good to stay at school until 9:00 at night.  And once I had kids, I had no choice; I had to leave in time to pick them up from daycare, get them fed, and get them to bed.  I had to learn what I could reasonably do in the time I had and just be okay with leaving things unfinished.

People talk about work-life balance.  I'm not sure such a thing is ever truly possible, at least not for me.  When I'm at home, I'm thinking about school, and when I'm at school, I'm thinking about all of the things I need to do at home or all of the places I have to drive my daughters.  If I'm caught up at school, then my house is a mess and vice versa.  When I see people who seem to have it all together, I wonder how much is real and how much is a great cover, put on because of pressure to be perfect.

So here's how I come as close to balanced as I get:

• My house is tidy (mostly) but not perfect.  I have help every other week with my heavy cleaning.  This was my gift to myself when I returned to work after Abby was born. I do not feel guilty about not being a great housekeeper.
• I try to do as much of my planning and grading as I can during the school day.  This can be difficult, especially on days when meetings are scheduled during my daily plan time.  I find that I am more productive in the morning, so I try to get to school as early as I can.  My goal for this year is to have plans and copies made before I leave on Friday.
• I no longer do my daughters' laundry.  They are 13 and almost-16.  They can use a washer and dryer.
• I make a plan for meals for the following week and my grocery list on Friday night (I know.. exciting) and then Dan and I do the shopping on Saturday or Sunday morning.  Making the plan helps me spend less at the grocery, and we're less tempted to go out to dinner during the week.  I'm also more likely to cook healthy meals.

Ever since Molly was in Kindergarten, I have taken the Friday before school started and we've done something together.  When the kids were little, that meant heading downtown to the American Girl store and having brunch in the restaurant followed by some shopping.  Now that they've moved past dolls, we go to a museum or head to Woodfield to finish up our back to school shopping.  It doesn't matter what we do; it matters that we're together.  This is non-negotiable.

So is EVERYTHING finished for my first week of school?  Mostly.  I have a few things I'll do this weekend, but they're small.  Do I feel ready?  Mostly.  I've never in my career felt completely ready for the first day.  Is my classroom done enough?

You bet.

The Decisions Series: Part 2 - The Teacher Desk

Many teachers, both in my school and in my extended network, have decided to get rid of their teacher desks.  Their reasons vary:  some of them have very small classrooms and want to maximize space for students; some of them prefer to sit at a classroom table to plan; some of them had really old desks that should have been retired ten years ago.  Whatever the reason, the teachers I know who have moved away from having a teacher desk are very happy with their choice.

I have decided to keep my desk.

There are some things I know about myself as a worker.  I need a space that is mine.  I need to have my materials around me, and I need to know where everything is.  I need to have a bright light, which helps me read without tiring my eyes.  I need a comfortable chair so that I can focus on getting my work done without my back aching.

So yes... I still have my desk.

But notice where my desk is... it's in a corner of my classroom away from my windows.  It's pushed up against the wall.  This is not a place to sit while students are in the room (unless they are having Spanish class, which means I have a plan period).  That little corner is the only place in the classroom that is truly mine.  Everything else is for the kids.

I know there are people who think I should get that mammoth desk out of the room and make the space available for my students.  And I get it... I do!  I could make another cozy reading nook there or I could fit two or three more bookshelves.  But I also know that the work I do planning for instruction is important as well.  If I am going to spend time carefully planning my whole- and small-group instruction, reading exit slips and other written assignments, considering formative assessments that will tell me what each student needs the next day, I need a place to do it.  If I am going to do this work in a timely manner that allows me to get home in time to drive my daughters to dance class and cook dinner for my family, I need a space where all of my materials are handy.  Just as I allow my students to find a "just right" place to do their work, I need such a space for mine.

For a while, I felt guilty about keeping my desk.  But after I spent time thinking about why I felt I needed to keep it, that guilt went away.  I strive every day to be the very best teacher I can be.  If having a few square feet of classroom space for my work helps me reach that goal, well... I'm okay with that.

Today I Crossed the Threshold

It's July 20, 2016.  School starts in roughly a month and two days, but my brain has been spinning since the moment this spring when I decided to make the leap to third grade.  If I'm being honest, I've spent a whole lot of time thinking about the things that are firmly in my comfort zone:  classroom decor, my classroom library, my literacy studio.  What I haven't thought about?  Math.  Science.  Classroom procedures.  Desk arrangements.

Today I was able to go into my new classroom for the first time.  My boxes had been moved over from the Junior High (huge THANK YOU to the District 28 custodial staff for that), and I had a van full of more that I had at home.  Walking through that door with my name on the sign was a surreal experience.

And this was my first thought:

This is Chicago-in-July hair.  I made three trips out to my van to carry everything in! :-)

This is what I looked at:

Right now I'm a bit overwhelmed at all I have to do in just four short weeks.  But I also know from years of experience that it will get done.  The bulletin boards will get covered and prepped to showcase student work.  The desks will get arranged.  The classroom library will get organized - or not... I'm considering letting the kids organize it.  Maybe.

I also know that I can't do any real planning until that environment is set.  Once I have that, I can begin envisioning the kids who will share my space and consider how we will go from twenty-something strangers to a community of learners who are willing to take risks on a daily basis.  I will be ready to meet with my teammates and begin collaborating on lesson plans and unit plans that will engage and excite our third graders.

It's funny, even just writing all of this down is making me feel better.  It's reminding me that I know what I have to do and that I always manage to get it done before my students arrive.

It's all good.  Right?

Right?

Onward to a New Adventure!

This year has been a difficult one - a year full of soul searching and deciding where I want to go in my career.  I've spent 22 years teaching in a junior high; 18 years teaching seventh grade language arts and (part of the time) social studies and 4 years as a literacy coach.  My work has been fulfilling, and I've always felt that seventh grade was the perfect grade for me.  I loved the kids.  I loved the books.  I loved my school.

The four years I spent as a coach were also fulfilling, but in a different way.  But more than that, I found coaching to be lonely and isolating.  As the only instructional coach in my building, I missed the collaborative work I did with my grade-level job-alikes.  I often felt like because I had a foot in teaching and a foot in the administrative side of the school, I wasn't part of either group.  I decided this year that I needed to return to the classroom.  I needed to be in the company of children.

So in the fall, I am moving schools within my school district.  I will be teaching third grade at the elementary school my daughters attended.  I am excited and a little bit terrified.

I'm excited to be part of a team again.
I'm excited to have my own classroom again.
I'm excited to only be responsible for my own teaching again.
I'm excited to be with children again.
I'm excited to plan units again.
I'm excited to be creative again.

I'm terrified of third graders.
I'm terrified of teaching math.
I'm terrified I won't know how to talk to third graders without making them cry.
I'm terrified of making new friends.
I'm terrified I won't remember how to teach.
I'm terrified I won't be a good teacher.

Those sibling feelings of terror and excitement are actually a good thing.  They mean I care about the work I will be doing and the community I'll be a part of.  I know I'll have teammates who will be there to help me and support me, and I'll be able to do the same for them.  As a former literacy coach, I'll have tools in my toolbox that I didn't have before, and I have the benefit of having additional training in some of our district initiatives.  I know I'll be fine.

Watch this space over the summer as I document my thinking about this big change.  You'll see some reviews of professional books and sneak peeks of some of the things I'll be working on.  I might just even float some ideas about classroom management and questions I have about the differences between third graders and middle schoolers.

It's going to be a wild ride, for sure.