When It's Okay To Teach

As someone who loves the rewards of facilitation and open dialogues, this week quickly taught me that direct teaching can be just as rewarding and at moments, more important than an open dialogue. I spent the first half of the week introducing wow words (or more descriptive language) that students could use in their writing. I had (what I thought!) an exciting interactive mini-unit on the use and practice of these words. While the lessons never failed miserably I was forced to think on my feet and often quickly change my original plans. At the beginning of some of the lessons I would ask open-ended questions to the students, which never seemed to guide the class to the purpose of the lesson. For example, during the first lesson where I had written out my weekend story with some “boring” words, I asked students, “What words do you think I used too much?” The students, eager to participate, replied with a list of words that although I had said them a number of times, were not the words I was focusing on for this lesson. In that moment, I changed my teaching style and said clearly, even underlining, the words that I used too much. By the final lesson I had a handful of sentences written on large poster paper where the class decided how to rewrite/replace the boring word (said, good, bad) in the sentence with a wow word. This was much more direct teaching than I had been previously comfortable with, but the students (and I) felt more organized and clear about the expectations and how to use the skill I was teaching them. I know there are times when a facilitation style of teaching is more useful for students or for the objective on a lesson, but recognizing that direct-teaching is actually an essential part of schooling was an important lesson for me to learn.

Parent-teacher conferences were held during the afternoon for three days. I sat in on a handful of these meetings observing how my teacher addresses parent concerns and maneuvers balancing her concerns with honoring the strengths of the child. Sometimes I wondered why concerns that the teacher has expressed to me throughout the day, were not addressed during the meeting. During the meeting with the parents of one of the ELL students, I wondered what the legal obligations of the school are to have translators for the parents. It was clear how much parents want to know what to do to help their son or daughter be successful when the parents of a student with some behavior and academic challenges had their meeting with the teacher.

When I first learned how teachers recognize (and memorize!) the strengths and weakness of each child, through formal and informal assessment, it quickly became one of the skills I was most afraid I would not be able to “do” as a teacher. Throughout my time in classrooms, it becomes clearer how much teachers can learn about their students. I know what to observe, how to observe, and the usefulness of jotting down a few notes about each child at the end of every few days. I know what questions to ask students when they are struggling with a topic or have quickly finished an assignment to assess their real understanding of the situation or problem. After only 3 or so weeks, I feel comfortable talking about the academic and social issues of each of the students in the classroom.

Migration

Due to some complications I'm now in another school--a rural school in a second grade classroom. Instead of driving past tall buildings, malls, hotels---I take long, winding roads pass farmland and trees collecting sap for the syrup-making season. Instead of having 20 + students and teaching in a classroom full of mostly Puerto Rican children, there are 14 students (with now three adults in the classroom) who are mostly white. My cooperating teacher writes a beautiful blog about her classroom and you might even be able to see some photos of me working with kids (http://sunderlandgrade2.blogspot.com/). While there are a few English Language Learners, most of them are born in the U.S. and are highly proficient (academically and socially) in English so instruction looks a lot different than it did in the urban school where many students were literally learning English in school. I make these statements not as judgments, but as observations of differences.

I'm excited to be a teacher for many reasons--but mainly because I think it's brilliant to attempt to understand how the minds of children work--how do they learn to care about the world, how do they learn to become citizens of the world. As part of my student teaching requirements, I am designing (and implementing) an integrated unit. Based on what the kids have already been taught--my unit (which I'll start in a few weeks) is titled "Measuring our stories: using geography and measurement to learn about our location and histories." I am using the Massachusetts Curriculum Frameworks of second grade to combine learning expectations for geography (social studies) and measurement (math). There are definitely ways to integrate literature and writing components. Students will explore their personal histories of migration--by learning about measurement tools (rulers, weights, etc.) and maps to understand key geographic elements of the world. Based on the reading I've done about English Language Learners having units that integrate many similar themes across disciplines helps, especially, ELL students develop the key language in one area (instead of having to learn many different sets of vocabulary for disconnected units). The ELL students in this class, while proficient and can easily "pass" as learning the material, I'm noticing the ways in which they are struggling with understanding (really understanding the content) because learning is so "language-based." I'm sure an integrated unit won't just help the ELL students--often accommodations for one group, is ultimately useful for everyone (it's why having students with different needs, I think, is so helpful as a teacher--it challenges teachers to make sure they are reaching all of their students).

Okay back to the unit. I ultimately want students to know that there are specific measurement tools that are helpful when creating relationships between one thing and another thing (this is what we call the "big idea") and I root some of this in immigration stories (the other part of the unit involves creating maps of their school/classroom and exploring ways to use measurement tools). Students will share their immigration stories--but I'm struggling with this. I want students to understand that some people find the U.S. home--and have always found it as home--even if they have moved within the U.S. (or been forced to moved). I want students to understand that even though the label might imply migration from one continent to another place (i.e. African American) some folks don't feel any connection to the "original home" and thus that place might not be "home" at all. I want student to understand that migration is still happening. I want students to understand that some people don't know where their biological families "came from," but that doesn't mean they don't have a history. I want to present the idea of disabled folks leaving nursing homes and into their communities as migration, too. (If you have any thoughts on good children's literature that might address some of these questions--please let me know). I want students to know that stories of immigration are fluid and there is no "right" way to answer these questions, but it's important to explore our personal histories to get a sense of how we got to where we are now. I think it's a tangible way to give second graders a sense of history and time.

I hope ultimately there is a respectful balance between giving students time to share their stories (and learn about key geographical features from these continents and using map keys to measure distance!) and exposing them to other stories of migration. By holding multiple stories, I hope students learn who is "not" in their classroom and community, but who is present in the world. I hope students learn to think critically about why this might be and whether it's good or bad or just is. And this is why teaching is so exciting for me.

Real Strategies

This week was filled with ample examples of how teaching requires the implementation of well thought out plans that often use proven strategies (or best practices). While sometimes using a strategy I pull out of my pocket can be effective---I'm really learn that there are concrete skills and strategies to teaching. Previously during the daily math practice and mini-lessons with the first and second graders (at separate times) I felt like I was just using random strategies to review their 5-problem daily warm-ups. I would often feel overwhelmed and ineffective. The range of abilities and understandings, particularly among the first graders, was challenging and I felt like I was forcing students to understand a concept when they weren’t ready to learn it (or had the right foundation to actually learn it).

Thanks to a meeting with my professor, things began to change. One child, who did not seem to understand the abstractness of addition when a problem was written down, began to use teddy bear counters (I mean who wouldn't like math if you could count plastic multicolored teddy bears!). I noticed that I had simply been verbally introducing directions or following up with students without modeling what it should look like or taking the necessary time to make sure everyone knew what to do. With this particular child, I sat down with her first thing in the morning and we went through the first 4 problems together. I had colored the first addend blue and the second addend red so that she would know exactly which teddy bears to use for which number. Then I watched her do a problem or two on her own and eventually left her to do the rest of the problems by herself. It took her almost an entire hour to do the 30 problems (and I’m still not sure if doing 30 problems was necessary). When she walked over to me holding the finished worked, she had a smile that could have lit up an entire city. She was clearly proud. As a girl who rarely speaks or participates in class, this was wonderful to see. The rest of the day she contributed to class discussions. Next week, I need to continue to modify assignments for her because it seems clear that when she feels like she can do it, she becomes a more vibrant part of the classroom community. Finding ways for kids to be successful is important.

Many of the children were struggling with the one or two story problems—how to know what it’s asking (addition/subtraction). I began to first simplify the story problems by using single digit numbers and using more practical scenarios (using their names instead of the given names in the problem). The students quickly seemed more engaged. Toward the end of the week some of the students even wanted to start sharing their own problems. The strategy is working, but the students still seem to need lots of practice. I am struggling with how much I should use the story problems as an opportunity for them to practice their reading skills and how much I should just use the story problems to allow them to simply focus on their math skills. There is one girl in particular who has advanced math skills, but struggles with reading (so much she just skips the story problems). Right now, I’ve decided that kids, with my support, will read through the problem at least (following along with their finger) and then I’ll reread it and paraphrase it so that I can really see who understands the math concepts and who is just getting bogged down by the words. I’m not sure if this is right, though.

My final modification this week was learning the importance of introducing key vocabulary before a read aloud. Although it was beneficial for everyone, it was particularly noticeable for the English Language Learners. A student, who previous to this strategy left my read aloud to pick a book she knew, now quickly became engaged in my read aloud. I even gave a handful of students the job to remind me when we read the key words in the story. This brought kids who were previously less invested, more responsibility to pay attention. While making changes within the moment are important, reviewing and implementing best practices I’ve learned throughout my courses at MHC and within my pre-practicum placements makes me feel like this is actually teaching and not a remedial or tutoring session.

The other side

Individualized Education Plan or IEP was not an unfamiliar term for me when my cooperating teacher asked me if I wanted to join her for one of her student’s IEP meetings. However, being on the educator side was definitely new for me. My brother who has an intellectual disability was often know as one of the first students to start attending and presenting at his own IEP meetings, along with baking his famous “IEP brownies,” when he was in middle and high school. My mom has written and spoken widely about being the “parent” at these meetings—often saying that it wasn’t that she really wanted to be mean to teachers (often she was the “hated parent”), it was that she was terribly afraid and worried about what the meeting would mean for her son and his future.

When I sat down at this meeting, I was carrying a lot with me. I was constantly assessing the situation for all of those in the room: the parent, the various therapists, the coordinator, and the special education and the general education teachers. I was troubled by the lack of input the general educator was able to contribute (or asked to contribute especially because the child is with this teacher 90% of the time) and the strong emphasis on following a medicalized prescribed pattern, instead of more relaxed and warm atmosphere. The meeting started by announcing what we were there to attend: The meeting of child X to discuss her X disability. It seemed so formal. The range of emotions that the parents must have been experiencing seemed irrelevant. It just felt so nervous. Most progress was only recorded or deemed acceptable evidence by any formal testing (district assessments, etc.) that had been done, as opposed to observations or other forms of evaluation.

I appreciated how, during a few instances, one of the educators or therapists would try to make a more personalized connection with the parent—remarking how she sends her kids to the same doctor as the mother. I understand that IEP meetings can be helpful for informing the parent and the child’s support team on the child’s progress and the necessary areas for improvement or more support. It was useful for me—just getting to know this child—how to be helpful, what sorts of verbal cues are useful for her, and what areas I should watch out for that may trigger a certain reaction in her. But I wonder what are the other ways that IEP meetings can be held...how could educators make parents and caregivers feel supported and safe? How should disability be talked about so that families and educators learn how students with disabilities learn to see themselves and their disability as not a deficiency, but a source of pride, an identity with a deep history and culture? How do families and educators hold multiple feelings during these meetings: fear for what's next, excitement and pride of accomplishments...? How do we hold the accomplishments as not "overcoming" or "hero"-like but challenges that student faced and grew from? How does the support circle for the child with the disability create a child that can eventually advocate for him or herself? What would this look like? How would this work? What changes should we all be making?

As my kindergarten placement came to an end, I felt as if I gained some concrete skills that will be useful when I return from break to start the next placement (in a multi-grade, 1st to 3rd grade classroom). I know the pattern that is helpful for me in learning how to run the classroom—observe—try it—observe again—try again. I found this most useful in concentrating the second time on picking up some of the more subtle transitions or key wording that I didn’t observe or do the first time. I am becoming more comfortable finding what I like about the Montessori method and what structures or activities I would want to modify. I am recognizing the importance of stopping, even in the middle of chaos or during a lesson, to assess what is happening and what is most important to convey at this moment. (For example, when I was transitioning the kids from lunch to their read aloud one day, instead of lecturing to them on how they entered the classroom in a disruptive manner; I decided to just start reading the book. They immediately sat down and became fully immersed in the story.--this was such a good lesson for me to learn!) I am feeling more comfortable using a teacher presence that balances both a firm and respectful tone.

Loving Each Child

I was getting pulled into the disciplinarian role. It seemed like I spent most of my day reminding kids to “show me what you should be doing,” and constantly monitoring their behavior. The teachers who I work with also spend a great deal of their energy on monitoring students’ behavior. But when I reflect on what kind of teacher I want to be—rarely does the image of me correcting a child’s behavior appear (especially when working with three to five year olds—who I fundamentally believe should not be disciplined for moving their bodies. Bodies moving at five years old seem very age appropriate and necessary!). There is a balance I must find during student teacher of respecting the routine and expectations in the classroom where I am working and the values that I hold.

After attending the education seminar on Tuesday, I was reminded to find “what is lovable in each child.” I was forced to reflect on the past two weeks of student teaching and quickly come to the realization that I had forgotten to give positive encouragement and affirmations to each child. When children would come up to show me work they have completed (looking for my, “Okay, you can put this away and start your next work”), I would first jump to the mistakes on their work.

I went into my student teaching the next day with a commitment to giving affirmations and connecting in more positive ways with each child. I really do want to love, respect, and admire the children who I work with everyday. When children showed me their work, I made sure to find something that was wonderful and tell them this, before I asked them to double check their work. When a student struggled with her reading, I made a more conscious effort to congratulate her on her reading progress, before focusing on isolating the first sound in the difficult word (and then giving her praise after she finished reading the tricky word). The emphasis on affirming positive behaviors in each child was extraordinary. It seemed as if the teachers became happier and more excited and supportive of their students. The drive home after school became less frustrating and more upbeat. I saw more kids laugh with me (it's so much fun to laugh with kids!) and they smiled to one another more frequently. Maybe all of this was already happening and now I was just open to seeing it. Or maybe an emphasis on affirmations made everyone feel more welcomed in the classroom. Maybe both.

Patience

Last week I started my student teaching in an urban public school that is dotted with certain classes that practice the Montessori Method. As an early-childhood candidate, I'll spend 3 weeks in the Children's House (a Montessori term for a classroom with 3 to 5 year olds) and then 10 weeks in the E-1 setting (1st to 3rd grade). Eventually more and more responsibilities will be given to me, but the first few weeks will be filled with lots of opportunities to observe and practice. I specifically wanted to learn more about the Montessori method--as its emphasis on independence, multi-age and varied-ability classrooms, and peace and global education--seemed to resonate with the type of teaching/learning I'd like to do. Although Montessori was initially intended for those deemed "ineducable" (particularly those in poor and urban areas, and children with disabilities) it slowly became part of the education for wealthy people. I appreciated the idea that I could learn Montessori in the environment where it was initially intended.

Patience was the teaching trait I was reminded of this week. It seems particularly fitting as this is a trait that I believe is a key to teaching and learning. On the first day, I was working one-on-one with a student during the literacy block. She was initially quieter with me, so as she sat with her book I was unsure how to intervene when she did not seem to know the word on the page. After waiting a bit, I decided to ask her some guiding questions about ways to approach the difficult word. She eventually figured it out, but when the word came up on the next page she did not recognize it. I sat again and eventually asked more guiding questions. But there was no luck again. This time I whispered the word into her ear, thinking that she just need a bit of prompting. She quickly turned to me and said, “Hey! Don’t tell me!” I smiled and replied, “You’re right. Thanks for telling me that.” It was the greatest gift she could give me on the first day. When there are other students I want to get to in the classroom, I also need to respect the dedication and time that each student is putting into their learning and somehow balance waiting, observing and knowing when and how to prompt. During the rest of my first day and on Friday, I spent more time telling students, “I’m going to come back and check-in.” I was able to check-in with more students and see their progress at their pace, which I hopes help them realize that this is truly a learning environment. And I definitely didn't do it perfectly...when one of the teacher's step out of the classroom...quickly the classroom seemed to be much more chaotic. It became much harder for me and the kids to stay in one place...movement became much quicker. That's why I get lots of time to practice all of this :)

Superlatives

Usually I don’t think superlatives are useful. Words like “the best” or “the worst” often remind me to ask myself: was it really THE best?

And so over a month later that I left my Chilean family, my three and half month stint learning Spanish, living in earthquakes and aftershocks, learning about a neoliberal education system and a system of “educación profunda” (meaningful education), becoming friends with other U.S. students, and learning more about who I am and what I want to do in this world…I feel that it is not only appropriate to use a number of superlatives to describe the experience but to thank the people who were part of making it what it was: an incredibly enriching, thoughtful, funny, scary, meaningful, challenging, frustrating, peaceful, gentle, beautiful, overwhelming experience. In many ways it was the best study abroad program I went on (okay, so I’ve only gone on one…but I think you get my point).

I had the perfect host family. Not that other people in my program didn’t have incredible host families, but my host family was the perfect family for me. It’s hard to imagine reflecting about all of this knowing that Ale, Pablo, and I developed the relationship we did. So much of who I am, is what I say. And I know I did not say everything perfectly for them to understand what I want to say. But they were unbelievably patient. I remember when she wanted to know more of my “coming out” story and I said, “Can I just say this in the present tense?” She said, “You tell me how ever you’d like to” And when we’d be having a conversation or a debate or an argument (or as they’d say—“Emma you’re just being so stubborn)…they’d make sure I got to say what I wanted to say. If they didn’t understand me, they’d ask me to start over and if I’d get frustrated with myself (which I often did) they wouldn’t let me quit—they’d make me keep trying.

They cared about what I was learning. They wanted me to show them pictures from the different excursions. They read (not just read…Ale edited, asked me questions, told me when a section wasn’t good) my ISP so many times I couldn’t keep track. They wanted to know what I thought about the education system, how I would “teach”differently. I remember coming back from my first school visit (way back in March). Ale could tell that I was frustrated by what I saw. She listened to me list what I didn’t like. Then she asked me, “What would you do, how would you do it?” And she let me walk around her bedroom imitating how I would teach, mixed in with some words and full sentences.

And we laughed. A whole lot. Often it related to food. Some weekends, especially on Sundays when Pablo didn’t have work, we’d all sleep in really late into the morning and then get up and eat a feast. We’d each take turns getting things from the cupboards and refrigerator to have everything out there---and then we could decide what to eat. Pastries were really important to us. One day during my ISP month (May), I visited the school where Ale teaches. On the way back we stopped off at the pastry store where Ale and Pablo got their wedding cake. I said I’d treat her and buy some pastries (three—one for each of us—we’d share all of them). Long story short, Pablo never got one of them. I think Pablo eventually forgave me.And we danced. played cards and more cards. went to family gatherings. protests and candle vigils. talked. and cried. They opened their lives to me. I felt part of their family and their extended family and close friends shared their lives with me.

And in turn they became part of my family. I am forever grateful for the warm, caring, gentle people Ale and Pablo are to me, to each other, and to the world. We are all lucky to have them in this beautiful world. So were they really THE best?

For who they were to me during the experience, for who they are to me now, and for the family of three we became: most definitely yes.