It's been a few months since I have sat down to write a blog, and as the time stretched by it became harder and harder to sit down and start writing. When I was consistently writing, it was a part of my routine and it was easy to work it in. When I missed a few weeks, it seems less important to write in any given week, and it is really easy to skip... especially when you have a little puppy distracting you at home (he is literally chewing on my pant leg right now...)
Even though I always enjoy writing, it is difficult for me to motivate myself to start. I know that I will be happy that I took the time to blog, but I still put it off and give myself excuses not to write. It's maddening for me, because I know logically that I should just sit down and write, but my mind can rationalize any number of excuses for why this particular time is not "the right time," and how "I can always just do it tomorrow," or "nobody is really checking up on you, anyway, so what's the point?"
It's the same for me with working out or playing music. When I get home after dealing with middle schoolers all day, it's hard for me to muster the energy to go for a run. I just want to sit on the couch, eat food, and veg out with Cyd and the rest of the furry family. I feel like I don't have the energy to go run or work out, but whenever I do work out it leaves me energized rather than exhausted. It gives me new energy for the next day, and I'm more likely to keep working out.
Working out, writing blogs, and playing music are all examples of the same basic feedback loop in my life. When I work out, I feel energized, so I'm more likely to work out, so I feel more energized. When I write, I gather my thoughts, which helps me realize how I thought and felt about things in my life, which provokes new thoughts, which makes me more likely to write. When I play music I discover new songs and sounds which push me to play more and listen to more music. The loops feed on themselves, but they also can feed in the other direction.
I've found the same pattern exists in teaching: when I teach a good lesson it opens further questions which lead to greater student engagement, which helps me move the lesson along, which makes me more likely to teach a good lesson. When I teach a bad lesson it interrupts the flow of the class which makes students more off task, which frustrates me, and which leads to me teaching a worse lesson. I've had plenty of good lessons and plenty of bad lessons this year, and I've felt both feedback loops happen in my classroom, sometimes even in the same day. 1st period can go well, then 2nd period can be a disaster. It is a very emotionally draining job, day after day.
My mentor teacher gave me some good advice: "We all have good days and bad days. As long as you are having more good days than bad days, you are doing alright." I think that's great advice, but it doesn't address what has been my experience for the majority of the year. What do you do with neutral or mixed feedback? I can't say that any of my days have been good all the way through, and I know that none of my days have been bad all the way through. There is always some frustration during a good day and there is always some positive moments during a bad day. What do you do when the feedback is neutral, or not there at all?
What has struck me this year is how little feedback new teachers actually get from outside observers. From the beginning of the year I've been given complete freedom in my classroom, and I've had very few people come and check up on me. The administration dropped in more frequently at the beginning of the year, but I received very little feedback to help me improve as a teacher. Most of the feedback I have is entirely from my own "sense" of how things went in the classroom. With 5 different classes and 4 preps, it is really hard for me to form any objective opinion of how things went because I just can't remember exactly how it all happened. So I just keep showing up day after day and trying to get these kids to learn some math and science. I try to give my best instruction and be the most supporting teacher I can, even though I have doubts about many of the things I am doing in my classroom.
I'd love it if people comment or ask questions! I'd like to hear what other people do when they don't get any feedback but have to keep showing up day after day. It seems like many people have similar experiences to mine and just keep working away. Thanks!
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Puppy Potty Training
As many of you know, Cyd and I just got a little puppy last Saturday, so the last week has been quite busy. (I think a new puppy is the best excuse for missing a week on my blogging goal. I mean, how could you resist this little guy?)
It's been amazing to have something to look forward to every day when I leave work. Instead of just being excited to finish my work day, I'm excited to start playing with lil Russet. It gives me some extra motivation to get my work done at school efficiently, so I can come home and play tug of war or chase him around. He is getting faster and stronger every day, and I love watching him run around and around in circles. The cutest thing is watching him run around on the hardwood - he has no traction and he wipes out just about every time he makes a turn. Time really does fly when I'm home with the puppy.
I've also cleaned up more dog poop in the last week than in the past 6 years combined. The cute little guy is just figuring everything out, and he is only 13 weeks old, so he has very little bladder control, and he doesn't really know where to go. Cyd and I have focused on keeping our bathroom interactions with him positive, because it never does any good to associate going to the bathroom with negativity. Every time he squats in an inappropriate place, we try to scoop him up quickly and put him on some newspaper or take him outside. When he does go in a good place, we praise him and give him a treat. He jumps in the air when we praise him and is so excited that he did something good, and he has been a lot better about holding in his business.
Within a week he has started going to the newspaper by himself and getting used to the routine of outside bathroom breaks. I'm really happy to see the little guy learning, and the positive reinforcement seems to be working.
I of course shared the arrival of my new puppy with my classes, and used it as a metaphor for teaching in general. Middle schoolers are a lot like little puppies: tons of energy, always starved for interaction, clumsy, impulsive, and messy. They thrive on positive interactions and positive reinforcement, and often don't do well when they are disciplined. I've seen students shut down when I have disciplined them, and I know that they won't accomplish much else in the lesson if I come down too hard on them. On the other hand, if they are distracting other students, I don't have much of a choice to have some negative consequences.
I've been working hard to keep in mind the lessons I learn from training my puppy while I am training my classroom. I've started using a simple "class points" system, where the class can earn a point for exhibiting good behavior, and they can cash in those points for some free time at the end of class. I originally set the bar pretty high for students to earn points. I don't want to seem like a pushover, and I'm generally more lenient than other teachers. My principal and I were talking about it, however, and she likened it to training the puppy: whenever he does something good, we give him a kibble. Just like with the puppy, whenever the class is doing something good, I should give them a class point. So I started giving the class specific, measurable goals, and rewarding them with a point if they follow through. It is as simple as saying, "If the whole class can get out their books and open to the correct page in the next 20 seconds, I'll give you a class point." It motivates the students to regulate each other, which is a stronger motivation than the teacher just repeating the page number. I had one class cash in their points this week, and a student said, "Mr. Maurer gave us 5 minutes to talk at the end of class, and it was awesome!" Hopefully we can keep going on that trajectory.
The other half of training is setting limits. You cannot achieve discipline just with positive reinforcement because it is natural for humans (and puppies) to test their limits. When I take Russet outside to use the bathroom, I always put the leash on him, so he knows it isn't play time. If I let him outside with no leash, he would run circles at 100 mph, get lost in the leaves, and get so distracted with playing that he never takes care of business. When I control him with the leash, he knows its not play time, but potty time.
I'm still working on setting good limits for my class. Classroom management is by far the hardest part of teaching for me. It doesn't come naturally to my personality, and I don't normally command people to do anything or directly criticize their behavior. I can't just put a leash on my troublesome students (or can I?), no matter how much I might want to in a given day. My class points system has been producing results for the whole class, but I'm not happy with my individual student behavior management. Does anyone have simple, positive, consistent ideas for dealing with "that one kid?" Something that I can take into the classroom on Monday? I'd really appreciate it.
One more puppy pic, just for good measure
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It's been amazing to have something to look forward to every day when I leave work. Instead of just being excited to finish my work day, I'm excited to start playing with lil Russet. It gives me some extra motivation to get my work done at school efficiently, so I can come home and play tug of war or chase him around. He is getting faster and stronger every day, and I love watching him run around and around in circles. The cutest thing is watching him run around on the hardwood - he has no traction and he wipes out just about every time he makes a turn. Time really does fly when I'm home with the puppy.
I've also cleaned up more dog poop in the last week than in the past 6 years combined. The cute little guy is just figuring everything out, and he is only 13 weeks old, so he has very little bladder control, and he doesn't really know where to go. Cyd and I have focused on keeping our bathroom interactions with him positive, because it never does any good to associate going to the bathroom with negativity. Every time he squats in an inappropriate place, we try to scoop him up quickly and put him on some newspaper or take him outside. When he does go in a good place, we praise him and give him a treat. He jumps in the air when we praise him and is so excited that he did something good, and he has been a lot better about holding in his business.
Within a week he has started going to the newspaper by himself and getting used to the routine of outside bathroom breaks. I'm really happy to see the little guy learning, and the positive reinforcement seems to be working.
I of course shared the arrival of my new puppy with my classes, and used it as a metaphor for teaching in general. Middle schoolers are a lot like little puppies: tons of energy, always starved for interaction, clumsy, impulsive, and messy. They thrive on positive interactions and positive reinforcement, and often don't do well when they are disciplined. I've seen students shut down when I have disciplined them, and I know that they won't accomplish much else in the lesson if I come down too hard on them. On the other hand, if they are distracting other students, I don't have much of a choice to have some negative consequences.
I've been working hard to keep in mind the lessons I learn from training my puppy while I am training my classroom. I've started using a simple "class points" system, where the class can earn a point for exhibiting good behavior, and they can cash in those points for some free time at the end of class. I originally set the bar pretty high for students to earn points. I don't want to seem like a pushover, and I'm generally more lenient than other teachers. My principal and I were talking about it, however, and she likened it to training the puppy: whenever he does something good, we give him a kibble. Just like with the puppy, whenever the class is doing something good, I should give them a class point. So I started giving the class specific, measurable goals, and rewarding them with a point if they follow through. It is as simple as saying, "If the whole class can get out their books and open to the correct page in the next 20 seconds, I'll give you a class point." It motivates the students to regulate each other, which is a stronger motivation than the teacher just repeating the page number. I had one class cash in their points this week, and a student said, "Mr. Maurer gave us 5 minutes to talk at the end of class, and it was awesome!" Hopefully we can keep going on that trajectory.
The other half of training is setting limits. You cannot achieve discipline just with positive reinforcement because it is natural for humans (and puppies) to test their limits. When I take Russet outside to use the bathroom, I always put the leash on him, so he knows it isn't play time. If I let him outside with no leash, he would run circles at 100 mph, get lost in the leaves, and get so distracted with playing that he never takes care of business. When I control him with the leash, he knows its not play time, but potty time.
I'm still working on setting good limits for my class. Classroom management is by far the hardest part of teaching for me. It doesn't come naturally to my personality, and I don't normally command people to do anything or directly criticize their behavior. I can't just put a leash on my troublesome students (or can I?), no matter how much I might want to in a given day. My class points system has been producing results for the whole class, but I'm not happy with my individual student behavior management. Does anyone have simple, positive, consistent ideas for dealing with "that one kid?" Something that I can take into the classroom on Monday? I'd really appreciate it.
One more puppy pic, just for good measure
Friday, January 16, 2015
Work Ethic, Stress, and Unexpected Time
There is always so much you can do, and each thing left undone feels like a failure to me. I am accustomed to being successful, and it is difficult for me to cut myself some slack without feeling like I'm slacking off. I can thank my dad for much of my work ethic, and for the belief that work is inherently good. When I was growing up, playing imaginary games in the woods, reading stories, or watching TV, he was pulling weeds, laying bark dust, or performing some other task. He seemed to never stop working, and I wondered where his capacity to work hard came from. I've seen him build his own company up from scratch, tame acres of wilderness, and build a dream house out of nothing. Now he is able to enjoy the success he deserves, but his work ethic is still a fundamental part of him. I don't think he would be able to spend a whole day at home without cleaning or fixing something.
I'm not quite like that, but I'm proud that I work hard. I push myself to take on jobs and challenges that are difficult and time consuming because I want to test my abilities. I don't mean this as a competition with anyone else: the competition is entirely with myself. I have deeply engrained within myself a sense that I have potential to do something, to be someone, and that I need to work to actualize this potential. So I push myself hard, to try to improve, to try to accomplish something. Sometimes this mentality causes me to lose sight of the forest for the trees, however.
It really started on Monday, watching the Ducks play in the national championship game. It was great to watch the game and to celebrate a historic season for Mariota and the rest of the flock, and it naturally included drinking beer and chowing down on pizza. As the game progressed, and it was clear that the Buckeyes were going to win, I kept going back to the fridge for another beer or for another slice of pizza. At the end of the game I was drunk, stuffed, and morose. I just wanted to go to bed.
The next morning I awoke, naturally, with a hangover. The excited atmosphere that had pervaded Meadow View the previous day was gone, replaced with a sort of tired boredom. Five out of the six 7th and 8th grade teachers are U of O alumni, so the loss really affected the entire middle school. We had joked earlier that if the Ducks lost on Monday that we would just take a sick day on Tuesday. Nobody followed through on the joke, so we just muddled through the day and the staff meeting after school. After the meeting I ran from one tutoring appointment to the next, and got home around 7, exhausted.
Ironically, I didn't take the sick day on Tuesday, although that was likely the day that I got sick. My immune system was worsened by the beer from the night before, and one of the little germ factories we call "middle schoolers" must have infected me. I woke up on Wednesday, and I knew that I had caught some little bug, but I knew I could make it through the day. I had to write sub plans for Thursday because of some math meetings, I had a mid year goals meeting with my principal, and I had to prepare for a formal observation on Friday. There seemed to be no way that I could afford to take the day off on Wednesday.
However, pushing myself that hard caused me to feel worse on Thursday than I did on Wednesday. I threw together some more sub plans for today and prepared to take my second sick day of the year. Today I've just been hanging around the home, reading, listening to records, and relaxing. Physically, I'm feeling better than I have all week, although I am still far from 100%. Mentally, I feel better than I have in a few weeks. Although the tasks left unfinished are still waiting for me at school, they feel remote and unimportant compared to the rest of my life. The papers will be graded, and lessons will be planned, and the world will keep on spinning.
You never expect to get sick, although I probably could have foreseen that drinking on a school night is not the best plan. At the end of the day, I am glad that I took the day off. I needed a break from the minutiae that teachers have to deal with every day, and I needed to step back and put the work that I do in perspective. I cannot let stresses about curriculum or testing become more important than taking care of myself and spending time with the ones I love. Students remember their teachers for the people who they are and for the human connection that is forged, not for the quadratic formula or the periodic table. Some students crave that connection and need love and support that they cannot find anywhere else. To them, I am more than just an instructor, but also a mentor, coach, confidant, and counselor. If I allow the stresses of the job to take away from the human that I am, I rob students of the teacher that they deserve. It is not enough to simply teach content. The job is to teach students.
I'm not quite like that, but I'm proud that I work hard. I push myself to take on jobs and challenges that are difficult and time consuming because I want to test my abilities. I don't mean this as a competition with anyone else: the competition is entirely with myself. I have deeply engrained within myself a sense that I have potential to do something, to be someone, and that I need to work to actualize this potential. So I push myself hard, to try to improve, to try to accomplish something. Sometimes this mentality causes me to lose sight of the forest for the trees, however.
It really started on Monday, watching the Ducks play in the national championship game. It was great to watch the game and to celebrate a historic season for Mariota and the rest of the flock, and it naturally included drinking beer and chowing down on pizza. As the game progressed, and it was clear that the Buckeyes were going to win, I kept going back to the fridge for another beer or for another slice of pizza. At the end of the game I was drunk, stuffed, and morose. I just wanted to go to bed.
The next morning I awoke, naturally, with a hangover. The excited atmosphere that had pervaded Meadow View the previous day was gone, replaced with a sort of tired boredom. Five out of the six 7th and 8th grade teachers are U of O alumni, so the loss really affected the entire middle school. We had joked earlier that if the Ducks lost on Monday that we would just take a sick day on Tuesday. Nobody followed through on the joke, so we just muddled through the day and the staff meeting after school. After the meeting I ran from one tutoring appointment to the next, and got home around 7, exhausted.
Ironically, I didn't take the sick day on Tuesday, although that was likely the day that I got sick. My immune system was worsened by the beer from the night before, and one of the little germ factories we call "middle schoolers" must have infected me. I woke up on Wednesday, and I knew that I had caught some little bug, but I knew I could make it through the day. I had to write sub plans for Thursday because of some math meetings, I had a mid year goals meeting with my principal, and I had to prepare for a formal observation on Friday. There seemed to be no way that I could afford to take the day off on Wednesday.
However, pushing myself that hard caused me to feel worse on Thursday than I did on Wednesday. I threw together some more sub plans for today and prepared to take my second sick day of the year. Today I've just been hanging around the home, reading, listening to records, and relaxing. Physically, I'm feeling better than I have all week, although I am still far from 100%. Mentally, I feel better than I have in a few weeks. Although the tasks left unfinished are still waiting for me at school, they feel remote and unimportant compared to the rest of my life. The papers will be graded, and lessons will be planned, and the world will keep on spinning.
You never expect to get sick, although I probably could have foreseen that drinking on a school night is not the best plan. At the end of the day, I am glad that I took the day off. I needed a break from the minutiae that teachers have to deal with every day, and I needed to step back and put the work that I do in perspective. I cannot let stresses about curriculum or testing become more important than taking care of myself and spending time with the ones I love. Students remember their teachers for the people who they are and for the human connection that is forged, not for the quadratic formula or the periodic table. Some students crave that connection and need love and support that they cannot find anywhere else. To them, I am more than just an instructor, but also a mentor, coach, confidant, and counselor. If I allow the stresses of the job to take away from the human that I am, I rob students of the teacher that they deserve. It is not enough to simply teach content. The job is to teach students.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Happy New Year!
As my first winter break draws to a close, I'm partaking in one of my favorite New Year's traditions: watching "The Twilight Zone" on the SyFy channel. Back in high school, my brother and I discovered "The Twilight Zone" marathon, and I've enjoyed watching it every year since. I remember the first year when my brother and I stayed up for hours, watching every episode on New Years Day, having never really seen the show before. "The Twilight Zone" struck me as being much better than I expected, with stories that are original, characters that are realistic, and satire that is biting.
What I find most interesting about "The Twilight Zone" is that even when the world goes absolutely crazy, the characters remain completely human. Even when supernatural events occur, or when aliens come to Earth to abduct someone, humans act human. This is what makes the satire so biting - supernatural circumstances force out true human nature. Selfish characters remain selfish, brave characters are still brave, and kind characters are kind. The extreme circumstances draw out the extreme manifestations of character.
I think that New Year's resolutions are, in a weird way, similar to "The Twilight Zone" marathon. New Year's resolutions are very telling about what a person's motivations and character are. I make New Year's resolutions every year, and I almost never fully follow through on them. I enjoy making the goals: they keep me motivated and help me improve different aspects of my life. That is part of my personality: I'm obsessive about self-improvement, but I try to be realistic about my aspirations. I always want to be better in every aspect of my life, although I try to cut myself some slack and relax, too. Even if I don't meet the goal that I set, I still have made progress in some part of my life that I wanted to improve. At the end of the day, that's a success.
My goal this first trimester of school was to blog every week about my experience as a first year teacher. There were times when I was excited to blog, and there were other weeks when I had to force myself to write anything down. Some weeks I got too busy to blog at all, which I knew would probably happen. I didn't meet my goal, but I only missed it by 3 weeks. I still think of that as a success. Even though I didn't meet my arbitrary goal, I still wrote more blogs than I would have without the goal. The process of writing was cathartic for me, and it allowed me to process some ideas and feelings I was having. Because the goal caused me to take action, the goal served its purpose.
That is what I love about setting lofty goals for myself: I won't always be successful, but I will at least be striving toward something. Cyd likes to say that the definition of happiness is setting and achieving goals for yourself. Whatever your goals are, achieving them makes you feel happy. The goal can be something as simple as making a pot of coffee. Your goal is to have a tasty cup of joe for yourself, and you can achieve your goal in only a few minutes. That feeling of accomplishment is happiness.
I try to find joy in the process as well as in the product, because I know that many goals which I set for myself have no definite end date. There are some goals that I know I can accomplish, like dunking a basketball. That's a definite act that I can accomplish and have the feeling of accomplishment. There are other goals that I have that are less measurable and definite, like being more organized or playing the piano better. What does it mean to be more organized? How will I know when I am organized well enough? What does it mean to be better at piano? How will I know when I made it?
I took a class in undergrad that was all about utopia, and we discussed how the idea of hope is central to the human experience. I think that hope, and striving for a better life, is something that is necessary for a happy life. It's nice to have a ritualized time for goal-setting at New Years, although I know I won't meet all the goals I will set. I will try to focus instead on the process of striving, and how working toward my goals is more central to happiness than achieving them. Focusing on the process will make me more likely to achieve the product.
I'll renew my goal to blog once a week, and I'd love your help with meeting that goal. One unexpected part of this winter break was having people ask me about my blog. It really inspired me to continue to write. It is nice to know that other people care about what I write and that I should continue to share my experiences with the world. So please help to keep me honest, and have a happy new year!
What I find most interesting about "The Twilight Zone" is that even when the world goes absolutely crazy, the characters remain completely human. Even when supernatural events occur, or when aliens come to Earth to abduct someone, humans act human. This is what makes the satire so biting - supernatural circumstances force out true human nature. Selfish characters remain selfish, brave characters are still brave, and kind characters are kind. The extreme circumstances draw out the extreme manifestations of character.
I think that New Year's resolutions are, in a weird way, similar to "The Twilight Zone" marathon. New Year's resolutions are very telling about what a person's motivations and character are. I make New Year's resolutions every year, and I almost never fully follow through on them. I enjoy making the goals: they keep me motivated and help me improve different aspects of my life. That is part of my personality: I'm obsessive about self-improvement, but I try to be realistic about my aspirations. I always want to be better in every aspect of my life, although I try to cut myself some slack and relax, too. Even if I don't meet the goal that I set, I still have made progress in some part of my life that I wanted to improve. At the end of the day, that's a success.
My goal this first trimester of school was to blog every week about my experience as a first year teacher. There were times when I was excited to blog, and there were other weeks when I had to force myself to write anything down. Some weeks I got too busy to blog at all, which I knew would probably happen. I didn't meet my goal, but I only missed it by 3 weeks. I still think of that as a success. Even though I didn't meet my arbitrary goal, I still wrote more blogs than I would have without the goal. The process of writing was cathartic for me, and it allowed me to process some ideas and feelings I was having. Because the goal caused me to take action, the goal served its purpose.
That is what I love about setting lofty goals for myself: I won't always be successful, but I will at least be striving toward something. Cyd likes to say that the definition of happiness is setting and achieving goals for yourself. Whatever your goals are, achieving them makes you feel happy. The goal can be something as simple as making a pot of coffee. Your goal is to have a tasty cup of joe for yourself, and you can achieve your goal in only a few minutes. That feeling of accomplishment is happiness.
I try to find joy in the process as well as in the product, because I know that many goals which I set for myself have no definite end date. There are some goals that I know I can accomplish, like dunking a basketball. That's a definite act that I can accomplish and have the feeling of accomplishment. There are other goals that I have that are less measurable and definite, like being more organized or playing the piano better. What does it mean to be more organized? How will I know when I am organized well enough? What does it mean to be better at piano? How will I know when I made it?
I took a class in undergrad that was all about utopia, and we discussed how the idea of hope is central to the human experience. I think that hope, and striving for a better life, is something that is necessary for a happy life. It's nice to have a ritualized time for goal-setting at New Years, although I know I won't meet all the goals I will set. I will try to focus instead on the process of striving, and how working toward my goals is more central to happiness than achieving them. Focusing on the process will make me more likely to achieve the product.
I'll renew my goal to blog once a week, and I'd love your help with meeting that goal. One unexpected part of this winter break was having people ask me about my blog. It really inspired me to continue to write. It is nice to know that other people care about what I write and that I should continue to share my experiences with the world. So please help to keep me honest, and have a happy new year!
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Clean the Gutters, Rake the Leaves, Teach the Kids
When I was younger, I used to hate chores like making the bed. My thinking was, if I'm just going to sleep in my bed and mess it up again, why should I even make it in the first place? I felt like that was a perfectly logical argument to make, but it never seemed convincing to my mom and dad.
As I get older, I realize that putting things in their proper place can actually save you time and effort later on down the road. Even though I still hate making the bed, folding my clothes, or organizing my desk at work, these tasks save me a lot of effort and stress. I'm not perfect and I still slack off on my chores, but it's not a principled stance like the 6-year-old Ian, it's just pure laziness in the moment.
Sunday, Cyd and I spent hours and hours dealing with the onslaught of leaves that have attacked our house. The beautiful oak and maple trees that first drew us to the house have now taken their revenge. There were leaves stacked on top of leaves stacked on top of older, colder, and wetter leaves. The wet leaves resisted the leaf blower, so the majority of the work had to be done the old fashioned way: with a rake.
I was also up on the roof scooping frigid, wet, stinky leaves out of the gutters. My hands were cold, my back hurt, and the job was a pain in the butt. Cleaning out the gutters is never a fun task, but at near freezing conditions on a windy day it was especially terrible. Even though I would have rather been doing something else, the gutters needed to be cleaned.
Doing those fall chores Sunday put something about teaching in perspective for me. First, it felt really good to get the job done, even though it was difficult to make myself work. While I didn't enjoy raking leaves or cleaning gutters, I did enjoy looking back and seeing the progress I had made. It was tangible and real progress. Every foot of the gutters that I cleaned was a foot that I didn't have to go back and clean again. It felt good to be making progress.
Same thing with raking the leaves into piles. It is satisfying to watch the piles grow and consolidate and to watch the green grass show through on the part you have finished. You can see the unraked areas shrinking and can watch your job inch toward completion. When you start the job it seems like it will take forever, but you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep pulling more and more leaves together until you finally finish.
It's really the same thing with teaching. There are a lot of tasks that are really boring, that you don't want to do, and that take a long time. Even though the tasks are no fun, there is a great sense of accomplishment when you finally finish. There's nothing like when you grade that 30th and final science test and your desk is clear again. I never thought I would be so excited about having a clear desk.
This week was the last week of the trimester and a number of kids were rushing to get their grades up before report cards go home. Students are allowed to retake tests and redo work that they got a bad score on, so a lot of kids were coming in to make up lost work this week. The problem is that the work was from 3, 4, maybe 6 weeks ago, and students struggle to remember information for that long. It is hard enough to get them to remember something for 15 minutes, much less remember crucial information for weeks or months on end. Waiting until the 11th hour is not a smart way to get ready for the ball.
As sad as it was, I saw some kids retake tests multiple times without improving their scores. They simply did not remember the material well enough and did not prepare for the retake. Whatever gaps in understanding they had the first time were still there the second time around. They may be working hard now, but learning requires sustained effort, and there simply wasn't enough effort. It would be like me raking the top layer of leaves on my lawn, but leaving all the wet, cold, and old leaves underneath. That simply doesn't get the job done.
I really dislike grading as a way to assess learning, but it is interesting how motivated some kids are by grades. When it comes down to it, there are a number of kids who will simply slack off without some extrinsic motivator like a grade. I understand that. I wish that these kids were intrinsically motivated to learn - and some are - but there is a large group that needs the carrot and the stick to get moving.
The problem with grades is that they cut off at an arbitrary point in time and only work as motivators in a short time frame. The kids who are only motivated by grades only start to pay attention in the last few weeks of the term, when they realize they are almost out of time. By that point, they have missed so much of the fundamental knowledge that they are usually out of luck. You can't just do chores once a trimester and expect to end up with a clean house.
I don't think that grades provide meaningful and sustained motivation for students, but I don't know that anything would do the trick. I know that I am reaching most of my kids, but there are some students who want to do the bare minimum just to eke by. I hope I can teach them the value of regular practice, but it might be something that has to happen later on in life, when their brains are a bit more developed.
Let's just hope that next trimester they keep up on their chores a bit better.
As I get older, I realize that putting things in their proper place can actually save you time and effort later on down the road. Even though I still hate making the bed, folding my clothes, or organizing my desk at work, these tasks save me a lot of effort and stress. I'm not perfect and I still slack off on my chores, but it's not a principled stance like the 6-year-old Ian, it's just pure laziness in the moment.
Sunday, Cyd and I spent hours and hours dealing with the onslaught of leaves that have attacked our house. The beautiful oak and maple trees that first drew us to the house have now taken their revenge. There were leaves stacked on top of leaves stacked on top of older, colder, and wetter leaves. The wet leaves resisted the leaf blower, so the majority of the work had to be done the old fashioned way: with a rake.
I was also up on the roof scooping frigid, wet, stinky leaves out of the gutters. My hands were cold, my back hurt, and the job was a pain in the butt. Cleaning out the gutters is never a fun task, but at near freezing conditions on a windy day it was especially terrible. Even though I would have rather been doing something else, the gutters needed to be cleaned.
Doing those fall chores Sunday put something about teaching in perspective for me. First, it felt really good to get the job done, even though it was difficult to make myself work. While I didn't enjoy raking leaves or cleaning gutters, I did enjoy looking back and seeing the progress I had made. It was tangible and real progress. Every foot of the gutters that I cleaned was a foot that I didn't have to go back and clean again. It felt good to be making progress.
Same thing with raking the leaves into piles. It is satisfying to watch the piles grow and consolidate and to watch the green grass show through on the part you have finished. You can see the unraked areas shrinking and can watch your job inch toward completion. When you start the job it seems like it will take forever, but you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep pulling more and more leaves together until you finally finish.
It's really the same thing with teaching. There are a lot of tasks that are really boring, that you don't want to do, and that take a long time. Even though the tasks are no fun, there is a great sense of accomplishment when you finally finish. There's nothing like when you grade that 30th and final science test and your desk is clear again. I never thought I would be so excited about having a clear desk.
This week was the last week of the trimester and a number of kids were rushing to get their grades up before report cards go home. Students are allowed to retake tests and redo work that they got a bad score on, so a lot of kids were coming in to make up lost work this week. The problem is that the work was from 3, 4, maybe 6 weeks ago, and students struggle to remember information for that long. It is hard enough to get them to remember something for 15 minutes, much less remember crucial information for weeks or months on end. Waiting until the 11th hour is not a smart way to get ready for the ball.
As sad as it was, I saw some kids retake tests multiple times without improving their scores. They simply did not remember the material well enough and did not prepare for the retake. Whatever gaps in understanding they had the first time were still there the second time around. They may be working hard now, but learning requires sustained effort, and there simply wasn't enough effort. It would be like me raking the top layer of leaves on my lawn, but leaving all the wet, cold, and old leaves underneath. That simply doesn't get the job done.
I really dislike grading as a way to assess learning, but it is interesting how motivated some kids are by grades. When it comes down to it, there are a number of kids who will simply slack off without some extrinsic motivator like a grade. I understand that. I wish that these kids were intrinsically motivated to learn - and some are - but there is a large group that needs the carrot and the stick to get moving.
The problem with grades is that they cut off at an arbitrary point in time and only work as motivators in a short time frame. The kids who are only motivated by grades only start to pay attention in the last few weeks of the term, when they realize they are almost out of time. By that point, they have missed so much of the fundamental knowledge that they are usually out of luck. You can't just do chores once a trimester and expect to end up with a clean house.
I don't think that grades provide meaningful and sustained motivation for students, but I don't know that anything would do the trick. I know that I am reaching most of my kids, but there are some students who want to do the bare minimum just to eke by. I hope I can teach them the value of regular practice, but it might be something that has to happen later on in life, when their brains are a bit more developed.
Let's just hope that next trimester they keep up on their chores a bit better.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Lighting a Light Bulb
The thing is, I'm a smart guy. I have a degree that says that I know how to teach math and science to students. I've read all the books I need to read. I should be able to do simple hands-on activities with ease; however, that's anything but the case.
Luckily, I am not alone. Our nation's best and brightest also suck at hands-on activities, and some of them suck more gloriously than I do. Even though they have learned about electricity in school, they cannot perform the most basic task with electricity. Could you?
The question is simple: with only a D battery, and a piece of wire, can you make a light bulb turn on?
(You really should try it out for yourself. It is surprisingly tricky, yet simple at the same time)
Watch some MIT students struggle with this very simple task.
I posed the same question to my students today. There were tons of materials laid out on the counter: battery holders, extra copper wires, fahnestock clips, masking tape, light bulb holders, and other electrical gear. I told the students that we were going minimalist. They were instructed to grab only one battery, one wire, and one small light bulb.
I told them their task, and I just let them go to work.
My favorite thing as a teacher is seeing which students are successful in which circumstances. Sometimes the "smartest" students are quite inept when it comes to hands on activities. I can relate to these students, having been in their shoes myself when I was growing up. Sometimes those students who are "trouble" kids or who are just plain "lazy" really light up when they have a hands on activity. I saw this happen today.
I have two kids in my afternoon science class who are daily struggles. It takes multiple individual reminders and coaxing to even get them to get out a piece of paper and a pencil, let alone write anything down. I try every day to get them engaged in class, and I rarely succeed. I have seen brief moments of engagement from them, but the majority of their time in class is spent spaced out, slumped down, or off task in some other way.
Today was totally different. While I was giving instructions, other students were being disruptive. I warned the class: "We do not have to do the electricity activity today. It is your choice. If you continue to talk while I'm talking, we simply won't do the activity." For the first time, one student (who normally won't even write his name down) was telling his peers to be quiet. He was actively trying to keep the class attentive so he could get his hands on a battery and a bulb. It was awesome to see him excited about science.
Once the kids had the bulbs in their hand it was great to see my two struggling students happily messing around with the bulbs and the wires. They both figured it out fairly quickly, and were shouting to get my attention: "Mr. Maurer! Mr. Maurer! Look at my light bulb!" I was ecstatic to have some positive feedback to give these kids, especially because they get so little in school.
They had the extra bonus of watching their peers struggle with a task that they were able to complete. A lot of students were asking, "Don't we need a battery holder? Don't we need a light bulb holder? How can we do it without two pieces of wire?" The students who are normally successful in school are often the students who can comply with teacher directions, listen attentively, and ask for help when they need it. Here the task was for them to figure something out for themselves, and they struggled.
I loved turning the tables on my class and seeing my kids light up. I saw light bulbs go off, both literal and figurative, for some of my kids who haven't felt successful all year. There's no other way to describe that scene than awesome.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Candy-Crazed Kiddos and Obvious Rules
I came pretty close this week to not writing a blog post because everything has been so hectic at school. The kids were crazy coming off of the 3 day Halloween weekend, and it was a struggle to get much of anything done this week. Any 3 day weekend is tough, but when you throw in copious amounts of candy it just seems impossible to get through content.
At least I wasn't alone in my struggles this week. Everyone at school was feeling the same thing that I was: disengaged kids, disruptive behaviors, disrespect, and a lack of learning. The teacher next door to me blamed it (at least partially) on the full moon. She said her farm animals are always crazy when the full moon is approaching. If she can't corral her goats and horses during a full moon, what hope is there for teaching middle school students algebra?
A funny thing happened this week, and I think it was a huge learning moment for me as a middle school teacher. In my class, just like in every single other class, the rule is that you don't talk when someone else is talking. It seems like it is the most simple rule, but you would be surprised at the number of times students need to be reminded of it. I was giving directions to my science students on a simple project we were going to do, and they needed to get out a piece of paper to write some things down. While I was giving instruction, a group of boys in the middle of the room (the usual suspects) were talking. I asked them several times to not talk while I was talking.
After I was finished giving instructions, I went over to the group to have a conversation about their behavior. I asked them if they are supposed to talk while I am in the front of the room giving directions. It went something like this:
"But I was just asking for a piece of paper!"
"But you were talking, right?"
"Yeah, but I was just asking for a piece of paper to write down the directions!"
"But you aren't supposed to talk when other people are talking. When I am giving directions, nobody should talk."
"But how am I supposed to write down the directions without a piece of paper?"
"You could wait until I am done giving directions, or you could raise your hand and ask me for some paper."
"Ohhhh!! I should wait until after you are done talking until I ask for paper."
I could almost see the lightbulb turning on above his head. It was as if this particular kid had never thought that he could wait until I was done talking to ask his question. As soon as he had a thought, he would just blurt it out. It seemed like a completely novel idea that he could wait, hold his thought, and say something when I had finished.
I think that teaching the why behind the rule is so much more important than teaching the what. I explained to the kid that if he talks while I am talking, he will miss some instructions. Not only that, his talking might cause somebody else to miss some instruction, too. He seemed receptive to this conversation, and I think he got the idea that his talking can cause problems for other people, too.
This particular kid will still have trouble talking out of turn, it's pretty much part of his personality. I'm not going to fool myself by thinking that this one conversation will fix all his behavior problems. I'm also not going to fool myself and think that explaining why we have rules will work for every kid. Another kid at the same table group continued to argue with me about the rule, even after I had this mini breakthrough with the other kid.
I know that I am going to have to reinforce the rule over and over again, but I will try to keep this little incident in mind. Most kids will behave if they understand how they are expected to behave and why they are expected to behave that way.
Teaching middle school is about so much more than teaching content. I'm trying to make these fragile, distracted, immature, wonderful little people into productive members of society. Sometimes you just need to explain the (seemingly) obvious.
At least I wasn't alone in my struggles this week. Everyone at school was feeling the same thing that I was: disengaged kids, disruptive behaviors, disrespect, and a lack of learning. The teacher next door to me blamed it (at least partially) on the full moon. She said her farm animals are always crazy when the full moon is approaching. If she can't corral her goats and horses during a full moon, what hope is there for teaching middle school students algebra?
A funny thing happened this week, and I think it was a huge learning moment for me as a middle school teacher. In my class, just like in every single other class, the rule is that you don't talk when someone else is talking. It seems like it is the most simple rule, but you would be surprised at the number of times students need to be reminded of it. I was giving directions to my science students on a simple project we were going to do, and they needed to get out a piece of paper to write some things down. While I was giving instruction, a group of boys in the middle of the room (the usual suspects) were talking. I asked them several times to not talk while I was talking.
After I was finished giving instructions, I went over to the group to have a conversation about their behavior. I asked them if they are supposed to talk while I am in the front of the room giving directions. It went something like this:
"But I was just asking for a piece of paper!"
"But you were talking, right?"
"Yeah, but I was just asking for a piece of paper to write down the directions!"
"But you aren't supposed to talk when other people are talking. When I am giving directions, nobody should talk."
"But how am I supposed to write down the directions without a piece of paper?"
"You could wait until I am done giving directions, or you could raise your hand and ask me for some paper."
"Ohhhh!! I should wait until after you are done talking until I ask for paper."
I could almost see the lightbulb turning on above his head. It was as if this particular kid had never thought that he could wait until I was done talking to ask his question. As soon as he had a thought, he would just blurt it out. It seemed like a completely novel idea that he could wait, hold his thought, and say something when I had finished.
I think that teaching the why behind the rule is so much more important than teaching the what. I explained to the kid that if he talks while I am talking, he will miss some instructions. Not only that, his talking might cause somebody else to miss some instruction, too. He seemed receptive to this conversation, and I think he got the idea that his talking can cause problems for other people, too.
This particular kid will still have trouble talking out of turn, it's pretty much part of his personality. I'm not going to fool myself by thinking that this one conversation will fix all his behavior problems. I'm also not going to fool myself and think that explaining why we have rules will work for every kid. Another kid at the same table group continued to argue with me about the rule, even after I had this mini breakthrough with the other kid.
I know that I am going to have to reinforce the rule over and over again, but I will try to keep this little incident in mind. Most kids will behave if they understand how they are expected to behave and why they are expected to behave that way.
Teaching middle school is about so much more than teaching content. I'm trying to make these fragile, distracted, immature, wonderful little people into productive members of society. Sometimes you just need to explain the (seemingly) obvious.
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