"...I contain multitudes."

On the best days, teaching is all about hearing children sing their own songs. Some may need a little tune up, but all of the songs are reflections of who they are. I'm not talking about those kids who cling to the five-paragraph essays until they sweat the structure to the point of echoing an educator or text, stifling their voices in the details.

But maybe I am talking about those kids. Maybe on the field, in first chair, with a brush, writing code, tending gardens, pulling crab pots. Maybe at some point in the day their authentic selves shine through with confidence. Maybe.

How do we bring that same confidence to sharpening their literacy skills when they are so, so far behind? We don't play the blame game. Who knows where those children were functioning when last year's teacher met them? They may have already fought hard to gain the ground that we are see as shaky at best. Let's assume that their parents may be doing the best they can. Blame wastes your mental energy and precious time. Teachers know those are resources we must protect.

Meet kids where they are. There will be times in class when they just have to tackle a text that is out of their ZPDs, or reading comfort zone. As teachers, it's important that we know when that happens, so we can offer support. Read-alouds, modeling, think-alouds, active reading strategies, fix-up strategies...the list is long. Get comfortable with techniques that work for you as you help your students engage with the text. Engagement is key, and engaged students are far more fun to teach. Right?

Sometimes a story may be so far out of their independent reading ability that all of the strategies in the world won't build that scaffold strong and high enough. So is it important that they read that selection, or is it important that they get the story? 

If it's about story, is there another way to get it? Would clips of a film with subtitles turned on make the story more accessible? If the story is a classic, chances are that it has been illustrated by now. I'm not talking about the random art that can show up in the literature book. I'm talking about an illustrator who has read the text. Has it been turned into a graphic novel? Would reading this be a springboard for attacking the original story? Is there a Reader's Theater version of the tale? Scope magazine publishes a script in each edition of their magazine. (I have "The Tell-Tale Heart" ready to go for my collaborative class tomorrow.) And after you have given them this story, can you find a comparable tale that they can read with confidence that allows them to sharpen their independent reading skills?

Is there time set aside for kids to have some choice over their reading within their ZPD? If we were struggling readers, what would it feel like to sit through a double block class with materials that were three or more reading levels beyond our comfort zone? How will they be able to use literature to gain skills that rest on understanding the subtleties of authors' craft when all of the material is out of their mental grasp? And what if their reading class is at the end of the day? For a "third grade reader" in eighth grade, I'm just thankful that they didn't run home screaming before they got to me. (Luckily, I work with great people who do their best to make their curriculum accessible to all learners; I hope you do too.)

No matter how low children are, they can grow. It's never okay for us to tell ourselves that a child cannot. It's also not okay for us to be thankful the troublemakers have their heads down today. And we cannot say to ourselves that a child just is not a reader and take comfort in the fact that they excel in another field in order to quiet our conscience.

Reading is a pathway to community. It's not the only way, but it's a way marked with richness and diversity. 

Libraries are for everyone. Tell a friend. Tell your students. Some will not believe you. You will have to show them the truth.

Some books in the library aren't for everyone, but faced with seemingly infinite possibilities-- there just has to be something in there that fits. We have to help struggling readers use the library. We can still provide choices, but libraries are overwhelming to fledgling readers of all ages. What if we decoded language at such a painful pace, just browsing the shelves caused us to break into a sweat? Teachers and librarians who know the collection can guide the student and provide a few options based on student interest and independent reading level. So many books are out there these days designed to look "on level" while containing vocabulary and style for a "below level" reader. 

And thank goodness for the boom in graphic literature. Bless those writers and artists with swift fingers and fluid lines. Keep at it. One characteristic of some struggling readers is that they do not picture what they read, which is what good readers do. Graphic literature can bridge that gap. If you know an educator who still turns his/her nose up to this style, there is lots of research out there to support your love of these illustrated texts.

So back to Uncle Walt, Mr. Humanity, who contains multitudes. So do we. So do our kids. Walt was talking about all of us. Children aren't one-dimensional beings, although sometimes they like to think they are. 

"I don't need to read. I'm going to work on my dad's boat."

"I don't need to read. I'm an athlete."

"I don't need to read. I'm a musician."

"I don't need to read. I'm going to work on cars."

Students may actually say these words to us. I know. It hurts. We are the adults. Do not expect a child to have the foresight and understanding of the ways that literacy opens and closes doors in the blink of an eye. We can try to explain that, but only some of our message will not land. 

Often in education we have to carry the dreams we have for our students when they can't dream for themselves. That's okay. 

We can flash forward to the miles of forms that it takes to be an adult, the speed that it takes to find the answer to a question on the internet and choose the most accurate response, the times they may have to shuttle children and grandchildren to the library and read to them at night, the dinner table studying sessions when their children may need help, the employment they may seek that requires the ability to communicate through e-mail in a timely manner, the scanning of the newspaper for coupons in order to stretch their family's budget. 

We see all of this. We live it. No one has to remind us.

Every child is a reader. If we can help them believe this between September and June, we have given them a gift that they will not even begin to understand until they are adults. (So don't hold your breath for a thank you!)

This post sounds a little like a Sunday sermon, and maybe it is. This week there were two specific moments that fired me up all over again. 

First, the talented artist and teacher, Clayton Singleton, spoke at Norfolk Public Schools' convocation. Mr. Singleton made a lot of salient points, but something he said at 28:34 spoke to me. Watch the entire presentation, if you want to get lifted. Just perk up at 28:34 and pay close attention when he talks about "the black dude." I want you to hear it for yourself. Again, that child also contains multitudes. Let's not forget it!

Second, CBS Sunday Morning made me cry. They let me see that struggling reader take control of his reading life and find joy, community, pride and self-respect through literacy. 

Teachers, keep on teaching! 

We'll never get to see the true impact of the time we spend with children, but keep moving forward anyway. 

Here's to your best year yet!

Zzzzzzzz

We don't have nap time in 8th grade.   If we did, I would be the first one with my head on the desk, thinking my happy thoughts.  For real.

Will some kids try to nap in your classroom anyway?   Yes.   What should we do?

WAKE THEM UP!!!

Why?   They got on the big, yellow bus.   When it dropped them off at school, it wasn't a surprise.   Why would they expect to sleep at school?

Also, how are we going to explain that to parents?   Let's say the child has an F in our class, and we allow them to sleep.   "Hello, Mrs. Jones, Scooter is not doing well in class.   In fact, he sleeps days at a time during third period."

Most likely the parent will wonder why this is being allowed.

When we allow children to sleep during instructional time we are telling them that their contributions are not valued in the classroom community.   We are telling them that we do not value their education.

Does this make our jobs a little harder?   Yes.   It does.

You will most likely meet teachers who allow children to sleep as one of their last ditch desperate attempts at classroom management.   Here's a scenario.  Let's say there's a child who's not being productive in your room.  You've tried all of your tricks, so before calling home you ask her other teachers for ideas or advice.  Seems the teacher of the class that precedes yours lets him zone out and drool on his desk every day.  The teacher tells you this outright.  This means you're batting clean up.  Teens usually don't physically or emotionally transition from REM sleeper to star (or mediocre) student in the flash of a class change.  As an added bonus, you will probably be met with some surly resentment from the child as well.  Mrs. So-and-So lets me sleep.  Why won't YOU?!

The child.  Don't lose that thought.  The child will test you every day, and she may not like you, but that's not what you're here for.  And, after all, she's the child; you're the adult.

What to do?

In the best case scenario, we are working in schools where having students attend class awake is a core value.  If not, hopefully we established it as a core value for our classrooms on day one.  They should know what to expect from us, if they break that rule.

Stand near the child's desk.
Tap on the desk.
Wake the child up.
Ask if he/she needs to go to the nurse.
Ask if he/she needs to stand at the back of the classroom to complete the day's work, so he/she can move around and keep those eyes open.
What about a trip to the water fountain?
How about a S-T-R-E-T-C-H?

If this happens a second time, we speak with the child in the hallway.   We reiterate our expectations for all children, and remind this child that it's disrespectful for us to care so very little about his/her education.  We can certainly ask the child for her side of the story. (I'm verrrrry clear to the child that I am not the babysitter.  If I were, I would demand better pay, tasty snacks, a comfy couch and cable.)  We then contact guidance, administrators, nurses, case managers and/or parents as needed.

If you need support from your colleagues, check the child's current grades.  Is there a class where the student is excelling?  Ask that teacher for ideas, or check the cumulative folder to see last year's teachers.  Maybe they can help.  Usually they can.  After all, they just spent nine+ months with the child.  They have a lot of anecdotal information to share, and their expertise lets you hit the ground running.

Are kids sometimes sleepy for reasons that demand our compassion?  Yes.  More often it's an electrical issue.  You know what I mean.

Here's what we're up against.  We need to help kids know when and how to "unplug" and rest.  More on that on another day.

Back to the other teacher who is letting her sleep.  There's not much you can do with a grown person making his/ her own choices in this matter, unless that teacher is one you are mentoring.  Be kind and reasonable in explaining why alert students are preferable.  Most folks get on board with that.  At this point, it's your administrators responsibility to decide whether or not to request that the teacher change his/ her classroom management approach.

While this issue can usually be resolved by working with the child, sometimes you will need to ask for help at home.

Sometimes this issue is more complex than it first appears, but try the simple approach first.  Set behavior expectations early and follow through on enforcing them.  

No Foolin'

I think all teachers might be guilty of sizing up their kids during the first week of school, sometimes the first day even.  Let's just say on day one there's a child who is already acting up in the classroom.  I mean, he/she knows about first impressions, right?  What in the world?  Have mercy!  Will this child be the death of us before June can get here?  That's a hyperbole, but you know what I mean.

Here's what I know about those kids.  Sometimes those kids are the ones who manage to carve out the deepest spots in your soft teacher heart.  Don't be fooled into giving up on them.

Are you a kind teacher?  I thought you were.  It won't be enough to be kind to the whole class.  You need to speak to these children individually, call them by name.  Often their tiny little knots of anger will start to loosen.  Sometimes praise can embarrass a child, but sometimes these kids ache to hear a kind word.  Don't be afraid to give a sincere compliment for their accomplishments in or outside of your room.  Even if only yesterday dealing with this particular kid made you actually write the countdown to summer "vacation" in your lesson plan book, don't withhold an earned word of praise or thanks.

We all know that life is hard.  As adults we also have learned that we will never really know just how hard it is for others, including our students.  We're also smart enough to know when to take a child's negative behavior personally and when the behavior has nothing to do with us.  We know how to find windows when children seem to have shut doors on the adults in their lives.  When we speak to even the smallest success with a child, that can be powerful.

And when our students (formerly known as angry) realize that we are on their team, they are usually the first ones to pitch in around the classroom or say a kind word to us in order to make our lives easier.   All because we acknowledged them.

You're my favorite!

8th graders can have the same curiosity about the world as their  kindergarten selves.
It won't take you long to find a good reason to like each one of them.

I confess.   By the end of the year, I've said this a lot...to a whole lot of kids.   And it's true.   

Here's a great article on cnn.com about the subject of teachers who play favorites.   Here's the best part: 

"'I would say, first off, that teachers do their best to treat all kids fairly,' said Dryw Freed, who has taught for 16 years in public schools in North Carolina and Virginia. 'With that said, we are only human and do respond differently to different children.' But it's not as simple as having one favorite. In a class of 27 students, Freed says, the majority of the children would all rotate and have 'moments of being one of (her) favorites.' 'With very few exceptions, each kid has something that endears her to a teacher, so there don't tend to be dramatic, clear-cut favorites,' says Freed. 'It's not a case of a few favorites and a bunch of goats. It's more like a collection of beautiful, funny, endearing little people, a couple of whom happen to stand out slightly at one end of the spectrum or another.'"

That is the perfect way to sum it up.   Here is a short list of personal reasons for liking the children in my classroom:

You're kind.   I've never seen you treat your classmates in any other way, even when you thought I wasn't paying attention.

You clean up after yourself.   When I make time for an art activity, you don't wait for the 10th request to return your supplies and clean your area.   You respect the work of our custodians like I do.

You're calm.   You're in 8th grade; how do you travel in such a bubble of peace?   Once I find out who you are, I feng shui the classroom by placing you near my desk.   The classroom temperature changes.

You're like a dog with a bone.   You don't give up.   Nothing is too challenging for you, even when I know that it just may in fact be a little out of your comfort range.   You're on it.

You love to read.   I don't care if it's a comic book or Dickens.   If you have identified yourself as a lifelong reader already, I love that about you.

You had 10 better excuses than that other kid, but you turned your work in on time.

You were not ready to read when they were teaching everyone else how to read in elementary school, and now you're having to reopen as many of those windows as possible.   But....you're trying.   Love it.

You have Asperger's.   The world is difficult to decode for anyone, but you're finding that you may have some added speed bumps in reading all of the signs when it comes to interpersonal relationships and the life lessons in literature.   Watching your mind work is exciting for me.   Truth be told, your logic and reasoning make a lot of sense to me.   You're amazing and strong.

You wore that to school.   That wacky outfit is awesome.   Your sense of fashion is electrifying.

You come to school regularly.   Do you know how much easier it is to teach a child who is in front of me?   Loads.   Thanks.

You turn in all of your work.   Yes, I assign work for a reason.   I also think I give a reasonable amount of time to complete it.   You agree.

When you don't turn in your work, you don't act surprised when your grade's low.   You understand that I grade with numbers, not good intentions.

You think of yourself as a bad writer and listen intently to instructions on how to improve.   You try the tips out in your own work.   Hey!   What do you know?   You can barely believe what you just created.   You are excited and let me post it on our classroom wall.   You even think of writing as a career choice.   Look at you!

You read every single small book I put in the back of the room, even though you claim to hate reading. Whatever, kid.   I still think you're great.

You're always ready to help me pass papers and supplies to your classmates.

You don't shame me with disrespectful behavior during library visits, fire drills and grade level assemblies.

When you come to class, it's to learn.   Asking for a bathroom pass is rare for you.   Rare.

You unpack your supplies before class.   You are so old school the way you sharpen your pencil before instruction starts.

You never forget to write your name on your work.

You always participate in class discussions.

You never participate in class discussions, but you write the most insightful journals, responses and papers.   It's okay if we keep your ideas to ourselves.

You get out of hand.   I speak to you in the hall.   You cut it out.   I love a kid who can recognize a mistake and make a change.

Your parents cut your hair right before school picture day.   You spend homeroom hiding under a desk, but you still get your picture made.   It's okay.   Retakes are just around the corner.

You're funny.   Your papers are full of personality.   I love a natural born storyteller.

When I play James Brown, you're the only kid brave enough to get up and dance.   You don't care.   You just get up offa that thing.

You're game for whatever I have planned.   Even when I teach you the "Harold and the Purple Crayon" yoga stretch because I think we have spent way too much time sitting and testing, you get up and try it with your awkward 8th grade self.

I tell you that your writing is bad this time, super bad.   You take it in stride and revise and edit.

You laugh when I read silly stories to the class.

I know a little bit of the hand that life dealt you.   It's one foot in front of the other some days.   But every day you do something amazing anyway.   I marvel at your strength.

You do your best on state tests.   Thanks.   

You stand up for what's right.   Compassion.

You rock that band solo.   I can't imagine how many hours of practice got you to this moment.   I admire your dedication.

It's your first year being mainstreamed after being released from special education services.   You are doing your best.   You are excelling!

When you are out and your family asks for make up work, you complete it and turn it in.

You are in my group to watch over for a field trip.   You understand that I am totally OCD when it comes to keeping other people's children safe.   We have a great day, and you always let me know where you'll be.

You come to school with something to write with and write on.

I think you all get the point.   Is each kid my "favorite" at some time or another?   Probably.   There are plenty of reasons that I think that children are fabulous, and all of them aren't related to being academically inclined.   I'm certain that most 8th graders have no inkling of how even the smallest efforts can endear them to the adults in their lives, but I hope that more than a few of them have found themselves appreciated for trying to be the best of who they are.

That's so gay.

If you've heard this before, you might be an 8th grade teacher.

If you teach middle school, and this is not a topic that you've had to address, good for you.   I've had to address it every year.   I talk about it in conjunction with my behavior expectations on day one.

Here's the short version of what I say to 8th graders.   In our classroom, we are here to learn.   It is my top priority that you feel safe and welcome here.   You do not have to believe all of the same things that I believe, and I can't control your behavior when I am not with you.   But we will not use labels for groups of people as insults.   Think about how many people are in this classroom and how many family members and friends we are connected to.   What are the odds that no one in here has a gay relative, friend, or is gay themselves?   Exactly.   I respect your personal opinions on the subject, but we are not going to do or say anything in here that is going to detract from anyone else's learning, safety or comfort.   You, no matter who you are, belong here.   We are here to learn.

Obviously, you would adjust the language and content to the age level that you are teaching, but that's what I feel is appropriate for my students.   Here's the tricky part.   Some kids don't get it.   What they take away from the discussion is that my teacher thinks it's bad to be gay, so that's why I shouldn't say it.   They have a hard time understanding that the insult is given to the named group, not to whatever they think is "so gay" at the moment.   If it takes them longer to catch on, be patient.   It's also appropriate to ask, "What's a better word for what you are really trying to say?"

Someone will slip up in the first month of school and say it.   This is not because they are trying to defy you.   It's because they've said it for so long that it's become a habit.   Address the issue, revisit your expectations and move on.   If it happens again, it's time for a talk in the hall, so you can make sure that the child understands you and that you understand why the behavior is continuing.   This will probably happen with one child per year, maybe.   I've never had to put pen to paper and create a discipline referral for students using language related to denigrating someone else's sexuality for incidents that happen with my students in my classroom.   

When you draw the line with 8th graders in a way that is rooted in fairness and compassion, they usually respond positively.   Remember how insecure you were in 8th grade?   What if you knew that your teacher was there to protect your heart whenever possible.   What could you have accomplished with your writing, your art, your friendships?   And what's better than being the kind of teacher who nurtures a sense of community and compassion at such an important stage in a child's development?   When you stand up for kindness on behalf of children, there is nothing to debate.

Here's more on the topic.