How is your proficiency with Google Apps for Education, Blogs and Twitter? Where would you want to improve?
School is over, at least for 2018-19, and that means fewer work emails to sort through. One today caught my eye.
My new principal sent an email sharing for thoughts on our new school motto for August: Bulldog Strong. Those who responded said "I love it" or "sounds good." I scrolled through dozens of responses on the thread and thought how can we expand the conversation on this. I like the simplicity of the statement - less is more - but I see an opportunity for discussion platforms that go beyond a work email. This could be the start of a very necessary conversation over what that statement means to our school and community.
Email is the quick and ready tool for getting information out. It's not conversation-starting. It doesn't coalesce ideas. As a librarian and a tech advocate, I see an opportunity to bring in platforms to shape the conversation, not just deliver it.
I am preparing to take the GAFE Level 1 certification (my wife is gearing up for Level 2, which means I have to up my game and catch up with her), am breathing life back into my own blog, and use Twitter to expand my own professional learning communities. I describe Twitter as a cesspool of political vitriol, but it DOES have its merits as a way of positively spreading and sharing ideas. MY proficiency is solid.
My goal this year was to get more teachers involved with GAFE, blogging, and Twitter. The ones who implement those tools do so with kids in mind. Some amazing things happened. The inequity in access to the means of using those tools (Chromebooks) made expanding it difficult. It also involves creating mindsets when kids are young that hold technology as more than entertainment.
I plan to follow up with my principal and pitch the idea of a Google Form soliciting feedback on her motto idea. This would allow some data collection and coalescing into a package to examine. I could blog about it. The school Twitter handle could post the idea with #moedchat and #ffsd hashtags and expand the conversation beyond an email thread.
That would be transformative.
Thursday, May 30, 2019
The Innovator's Mindset: Chapter 9 - Powerful Learning First, Technology Second
How do you model and explore new opportunities for learning in your own practice?
This summer marks thirty years since graduating high school. Several of my old teachers are STILL teaching at my high school. They model and explore powerful learning, even in their sixties. Current students still feel the magic the class of 1989 experienced, and that is a testament to their power as educators.
Technology is the accelerator but learners are the driver. For nearly a quarter century in education, I have heard that "computers in the classroom" and "1:1 initiatives" will help drive success and lead to equity. Having technology is one thing; having the right technology and knowing how to use it is another.
Alan Jones was my 10th grade Geometry teacher and, for at least one semester of senior year where I thought I could handle it, Trigonometry. Except for Algebra II, I was a C and D student in math. I just did not get it. I struggled in Mr. Jones' class, but I loved his goofiness, intellectual brilliance, and penchant for pissing off the wrong people. A trophy in his ongoing example of the latter was an old TRS-80 computer, the "Trash 80" as we children of the Apple IIe called it.
It was 1988, and during my abortive attempt at senior year math I noticed the old gray doorstop sitting on his back table. I hadn't seen one of those monsters since grade school. Why in the world did he have one in his room?
Mr. Jones was a slight, rail-thin man with a scraggly beard, wire glasses, and a monotone delivery. He looked like George McFly's beatnik cousin. He was an inveterate runner, and could be seen running all over town, even in the dodgiest of Vermont winters. Like all distance runners, Alan Jones was a glutton for punishment and quietly gloried in running his own route, even if it meant going into traffic. The Trash 80 was a humorous reminder of when he went against school district convention and was rebuked by administration, only to get the last laugh.
In the early 1980s, district administrators decided that the Tandy TRS-80 was the computer system that would populate classrooms. Mr. Jones, being the pesky gadfly and unafraid to call truth to power, wrote a letter to the school board stating that these computers were junk and would be obsolete within a year or two. He advocated that Apple would be a better choice, allowing for word processing and computer learning. He received an angry memo stating that he should stay out of commenting on district technology decisions.
Sure enough, Jones' words rang true and within a year the gray behemoths were mothballed and Apple IIs populated the computer labs and classrooms.
"Mr. Jones," I asked. "What's with the Trash 80?"
"Oh," he smiled, stroking his beard. "That's my reminder of administrative incompetence and not listening to teachers."
My district is not a "1:1" environment but we have moved to mobile carts of Chromebooks, which makes a lot more sense financially and practically. They are cheap to replace and fit perfectly with the online and app based platform instead of expensive software. The platform is adaptable, and while Chromebooks may take a beating from student use, their functionality will not be obsolete in a year's time.
In the library, I am constantly exploring how learners can drive their journey. I will pull kids in and ask them to try out new apps and extensions and give feedback. The focus is on them as learners and not an expensive piece of technology.
Mr. Jones succumbed to cancer several years after I graduated. I kept his obituary and put it in one of my journals. I can't say I grasped much of the math he taught, but I never forgot his belief that technology is the accelerator, not the driver.
This summer marks thirty years since graduating high school. Several of my old teachers are STILL teaching at my high school. They model and explore powerful learning, even in their sixties. Current students still feel the magic the class of 1989 experienced, and that is a testament to their power as educators.
Technology is the accelerator but learners are the driver. For nearly a quarter century in education, I have heard that "computers in the classroom" and "1:1 initiatives" will help drive success and lead to equity. Having technology is one thing; having the right technology and knowing how to use it is another.
Alan Jones was my 10th grade Geometry teacher and, for at least one semester of senior year where I thought I could handle it, Trigonometry. Except for Algebra II, I was a C and D student in math. I just did not get it. I struggled in Mr. Jones' class, but I loved his goofiness, intellectual brilliance, and penchant for pissing off the wrong people. A trophy in his ongoing example of the latter was an old TRS-80 computer, the "Trash 80" as we children of the Apple IIe called it.
It was 1988, and during my abortive attempt at senior year math I noticed the old gray doorstop sitting on his back table. I hadn't seen one of those monsters since grade school. Why in the world did he have one in his room?
Mr. Jones was a slight, rail-thin man with a scraggly beard, wire glasses, and a monotone delivery. He looked like George McFly's beatnik cousin. He was an inveterate runner, and could be seen running all over town, even in the dodgiest of Vermont winters. Like all distance runners, Alan Jones was a glutton for punishment and quietly gloried in running his own route, even if it meant going into traffic. The Trash 80 was a humorous reminder of when he went against school district convention and was rebuked by administration, only to get the last laugh.
In the early 1980s, district administrators decided that the Tandy TRS-80 was the computer system that would populate classrooms. Mr. Jones, being the pesky gadfly and unafraid to call truth to power, wrote a letter to the school board stating that these computers were junk and would be obsolete within a year or two. He advocated that Apple would be a better choice, allowing for word processing and computer learning. He received an angry memo stating that he should stay out of commenting on district technology decisions.
Sure enough, Jones' words rang true and within a year the gray behemoths were mothballed and Apple IIs populated the computer labs and classrooms.
"Mr. Jones," I asked. "What's with the Trash 80?"
"Oh," he smiled, stroking his beard. "That's my reminder of administrative incompetence and not listening to teachers."
My district is not a "1:1" environment but we have moved to mobile carts of Chromebooks, which makes a lot more sense financially and practically. They are cheap to replace and fit perfectly with the online and app based platform instead of expensive software. The platform is adaptable, and while Chromebooks may take a beating from student use, their functionality will not be obsolete in a year's time.
In the library, I am constantly exploring how learners can drive their journey. I will pull kids in and ask them to try out new apps and extensions and give feedback. The focus is on them as learners and not an expensive piece of technology.
Mr. Jones succumbed to cancer several years after I graduated. I kept his obituary and put it in one of my journals. I can't say I grasped much of the math he taught, but I never forgot his belief that technology is the accelerator, not the driver.
The Innovator's Mindset: Chapter 8 - Strengths Based Leadership
What are the current strengths of your organization and how do you continue to move forward?
Yesterday was the last day my school existed as a middle school. We are becoming a 3-5 building, and only myself, a principal, a music teacher, and the custodians will remain come August. The feeling is surreal. The rational part of me understands how the district needs to restructure and consolidate buildings to create a more financially sustainable and equitable experience for our children.
Most of my colleagues are remaining with the district and will be assets at their new schools. Others are leaving, off to new experiences in the annual rite of spring where stronger districts cannibalize the weaker ones in siphoning off talent. I'm not resentful of that. It's a market economy, and St. Louis has 26 different districts and plenty of turnover. It's reality.
Our current strengths revolve around human capital. We have some amazing educators who see teaching as a vocation. My district lacks financial resources, but we have incredible human resources. Moving forward entails empowering teachers and trusting us to follow our hearts, our instincts, and our passions. We have operated as neighborhood schools for decades, and for some of our kids, next year will involve going to schools outside their neighborhoods. They are losing their sense of immediate community.
We have staff who will recreate new communities, forge new identities, and build on the strengths of our past.
Yesterday was the last day my school existed as a middle school. We are becoming a 3-5 building, and only myself, a principal, a music teacher, and the custodians will remain come August. The feeling is surreal. The rational part of me understands how the district needs to restructure and consolidate buildings to create a more financially sustainable and equitable experience for our children.
Most of my colleagues are remaining with the district and will be assets at their new schools. Others are leaving, off to new experiences in the annual rite of spring where stronger districts cannibalize the weaker ones in siphoning off talent. I'm not resentful of that. It's a market economy, and St. Louis has 26 different districts and plenty of turnover. It's reality.
Our current strengths revolve around human capital. We have some amazing educators who see teaching as a vocation. My district lacks financial resources, but we have incredible human resources. Moving forward entails empowering teachers and trusting us to follow our hearts, our instincts, and our passions. We have operated as neighborhood schools for decades, and for some of our kids, next year will involve going to schools outside their neighborhoods. They are losing their sense of immediate community.
We have staff who will recreate new communities, forge new identities, and build on the strengths of our past.
Monday, May 27, 2019
The Innovator's Mindset, Chapter 6: Engage versus Empower
How do we create learning opportunities and experiences for students and staff that focus on empowerment, as opposed to engagement?
I had a wonderful conversation with a friend at church yesterday. Her daughter, Hazel, is nine years old and finishing up her third grade year. I told Kristin how I love seeing Hazel as an acolyte, a job I find my 48 year-old self doing quite a bit these days, a throwback to my time as a teenager.
Growing up in the '80s, my experience in the Episcopal Church was a regimented evolution of responsibility in assisting with the service. Sixth graders became torchbearers, moving on to flag-bearers, and finally becoming the crucifer, carrying the cross and assisting the priest (my dad) with duties at the altar.
My father retired in 2005, but he still supplies occasionally, and generations of acolytes characterize him as a patient teacher and empowering priest. His sermons tend to run about 12 minutes, always starting with a personal story, some self-deprecating humor, and a tie-in with the lessons for the day. He is not a hands-waving preacher. His audience is not captivated by an animated sense of engagement; they are empowered because he brings the Word of God to them and empowers them to act. One can call him "Reverend Sanders" or "Father Sanders," but even the youngest children know him simply as "Harv." Years before, he had his name removed from the church sign. The church is not Harv Sanders, not a building, but God's love empowering a congregation. It's a lesson that is not lost on me.
Kristin told me that Hazel is ready for summer after a somewhat dispiriting time in third grade. Hazel does not feel empowered. The kid has kept a journal since she was six, loves writing, and is captivated by reading and the written word. A recent assignment was to create a piece of writing and then revise it. Hazel felt her original writing was her best writing and simply copied the draft as a final edit.
She was marked down. She was deflated.
Hazel is not a compliant kid. She is a "good kid," don't get me wrong. She is not a kid who will do things a certain way because it pleases her parents or her teacher. Hazel wants to know the "why."
Her parents are masterful at teaching her the "why." She has not experienced that in the classroom.
I suggested that Kristin see if there is a male fourth grade teacher for Hazel. We both agreed that it would be a growth experience for Hazel to learn from a different-gendered teacher. My friend, Dan, is an elementary librarian and former fourth grade teacher, and it takes a special kind of guy to make a difference in the elementary setting, where male roles seem to be P.E. teachers and - less so now than when we were kids - principals.
I told Kristin that if Hazel were my student I would take her aside and answer her "whys." Why IS writing about revision? I would have offered the opportunity to edit with me and see what a fresh set of eyes would see. That is empowering.
I worked with a colleague who prided herself on a "well-managed" classroom. She has only taught first grade her entire career. She has no desire to do anything else, no impetus to teach at a different grade level, She loves the compliant children, the ones who fear and follow her without question. She requires kids use a hand signal to signify yes to a question. God forbid what would happen if a child uses verbal response. She has two boys and loves them dearly, but the boys in her classroom were to be broken and made compliant like the sweet, compliant girls she adores. Certain boys always had lunch detention and missed recess. Admonitions of "How DARE you" were commonly thrown at them. Shame was her game, and for many of these boys their tolerance level was hardened by their home experiences and they seemed to blow it off. Tragic. She would empower her own children but not those in her charge.
We had a few clashes, but for the most part I just steered clear of this toxic teacher.
One child was her model student, always being praised for her behavior. This child went to second grade behind in her reading and all were amazed considering how well-behaved she was. This child was compliant and engaged, but not empowered. She later moved to my wife's district and is entering 8th grade at my wife's middle school.
Isabelle (she now goes by Belle) is still sweet and well-behaved, but she has blossomed into an empowered adolescent. She loves the library, and visits Jodie every day. She is part of the empowered "Reader Girls" my wife has cultivated. (She has "Reader Boys" as well, but the Reader Girls are special. They remind her of our niece, Ella, who is the same age. Reader Girls steer clear of drama.)
How do we create a focus on empowerment and not just engagement? We build relationships with kids and inculcate the mindset that we learn to grow ourselves and not just to learn material. I began my career as a teacher of history but realized I am a teacher of children. A dear colleague has allowed me to push into her 8th grade US History class and work with students. Nearly two decades of life separate us, and our friendship shares a love of hockey, history, and the fact that either she is "an old soul" or I am just "young at heart." Perhaps it is both.
"Sanders," she told me. "You see history as a conversation to be had and not information to be retained."
I will never forget that. My dear friend empowers those kids in the same vein that I do.
I had a wonderful conversation with a friend at church yesterday. Her daughter, Hazel, is nine years old and finishing up her third grade year. I told Kristin how I love seeing Hazel as an acolyte, a job I find my 48 year-old self doing quite a bit these days, a throwback to my time as a teenager.
Growing up in the '80s, my experience in the Episcopal Church was a regimented evolution of responsibility in assisting with the service. Sixth graders became torchbearers, moving on to flag-bearers, and finally becoming the crucifer, carrying the cross and assisting the priest (my dad) with duties at the altar.
My father retired in 2005, but he still supplies occasionally, and generations of acolytes characterize him as a patient teacher and empowering priest. His sermons tend to run about 12 minutes, always starting with a personal story, some self-deprecating humor, and a tie-in with the lessons for the day. He is not a hands-waving preacher. His audience is not captivated by an animated sense of engagement; they are empowered because he brings the Word of God to them and empowers them to act. One can call him "Reverend Sanders" or "Father Sanders," but even the youngest children know him simply as "Harv." Years before, he had his name removed from the church sign. The church is not Harv Sanders, not a building, but God's love empowering a congregation. It's a lesson that is not lost on me.
Kristin told me that Hazel is ready for summer after a somewhat dispiriting time in third grade. Hazel does not feel empowered. The kid has kept a journal since she was six, loves writing, and is captivated by reading and the written word. A recent assignment was to create a piece of writing and then revise it. Hazel felt her original writing was her best writing and simply copied the draft as a final edit.
She was marked down. She was deflated.
Hazel is not a compliant kid. She is a "good kid," don't get me wrong. She is not a kid who will do things a certain way because it pleases her parents or her teacher. Hazel wants to know the "why."
Her parents are masterful at teaching her the "why." She has not experienced that in the classroom.
I suggested that Kristin see if there is a male fourth grade teacher for Hazel. We both agreed that it would be a growth experience for Hazel to learn from a different-gendered teacher. My friend, Dan, is an elementary librarian and former fourth grade teacher, and it takes a special kind of guy to make a difference in the elementary setting, where male roles seem to be P.E. teachers and - less so now than when we were kids - principals.
I told Kristin that if Hazel were my student I would take her aside and answer her "whys." Why IS writing about revision? I would have offered the opportunity to edit with me and see what a fresh set of eyes would see. That is empowering.
I worked with a colleague who prided herself on a "well-managed" classroom. She has only taught first grade her entire career. She has no desire to do anything else, no impetus to teach at a different grade level, She loves the compliant children, the ones who fear and follow her without question. She requires kids use a hand signal to signify yes to a question. God forbid what would happen if a child uses verbal response. She has two boys and loves them dearly, but the boys in her classroom were to be broken and made compliant like the sweet, compliant girls she adores. Certain boys always had lunch detention and missed recess. Admonitions of "How DARE you" were commonly thrown at them. Shame was her game, and for many of these boys their tolerance level was hardened by their home experiences and they seemed to blow it off. Tragic. She would empower her own children but not those in her charge.
We had a few clashes, but for the most part I just steered clear of this toxic teacher.
One child was her model student, always being praised for her behavior. This child went to second grade behind in her reading and all were amazed considering how well-behaved she was. This child was compliant and engaged, but not empowered. She later moved to my wife's district and is entering 8th grade at my wife's middle school.
Isabelle (she now goes by Belle) is still sweet and well-behaved, but she has blossomed into an empowered adolescent. She loves the library, and visits Jodie every day. She is part of the empowered "Reader Girls" my wife has cultivated. (She has "Reader Boys" as well, but the Reader Girls are special. They remind her of our niece, Ella, who is the same age. Reader Girls steer clear of drama.)
How do we create a focus on empowerment and not just engagement? We build relationships with kids and inculcate the mindset that we learn to grow ourselves and not just to learn material. I began my career as a teacher of history but realized I am a teacher of children. A dear colleague has allowed me to push into her 8th grade US History class and work with students. Nearly two decades of life separate us, and our friendship shares a love of hockey, history, and the fact that either she is "an old soul" or I am just "young at heart." Perhaps it is both.
"Sanders," she told me. "You see history as a conversation to be had and not information to be retained."
I will never forget that. My dear friend empowers those kids in the same vein that I do.
The Innovator's Mindset, Chapter 5: Learn, Lead, Innovate
"We manage things. We lead people. That is how we will empower them." - Stephen R. Covey
I have said for years that schools model a shopping mall where each storefront (classroom) is its own entity and there is little interaction between spaces. In a mall, the retail manager may regularly frequent the food court and the food court staff my recognize the manager buying their cheesesteak or coffee, but there is likely little observation of the other's business in what makes for success.
I have characterized my role as a librarian as a go-between, able to view the whole scene and facilitate interaction. More often than not, there is little sharing except within grade levels. Everyone sticks to their own small setting and barrels ahead. It's the way things have always been done. Why change?
What does it take to break that paradigm?
A visionary school leader is one who leads and empowers teachers, not manage them. Years ago, an assistant principal would park his car at the front entrance and record teachers who were as little as a minute or two late. I had a collection of these three-part forms reminding me that I was to report at 7:30 and was observed arriving at 7:32. The language on these forms was defeatist and insulting. This principal - and the whole administrative team as a whole - saw teachers as things to be managed. The state eventually disbanded the school board and took over the district. Visionary leaders don't micromanage and sweat small stuff. I was very blessed this year to be in a building were administrators would see my work with kids, offer praise, and ask me what they could do to help me grow and reach kids.
An empathetic school leader is willing to roll up sleeves and remember that they were once classroom teachers but are still teachers in a different setting. They know that children are imperfect little creatures, and not every kid is going to "play the game" when their teacher is being observed. They value time, and know there are moments where mental health moments are crucial.
Last September, I travelled to Atlanta to visit a friend I have known since we were four years old. Mike and I lived near each other. His mother raised me as much as my own mother. We played football together, and as offensive linemen we were part of that tight brotherhood. Linemen never get the glory. We don't record statistics. We support those players who DO get the stats, and without five guys working as a unit the whole team suffers. Mike was a state champion and All-American in high school, was recruited by Michigan, Florida State and other big schools, yet chose to attend the University of Missouri, a nod to his mom (Mizzou '63) and a chance for her to attend every one of his games.
His office bookshelf (he's a principal now) showcases four helmets (Jefferson City High, Mizzou, the Cleveland Browns, and the Atlanta Falcons...he had a "cup of coffee" in the NFL for a couple seasons but used his time to get his teaching certificate), books, and a collection of toys and figurines, particularly Star Wars and Jurassic Park.
It's a cool office, but he doesn't spend much time there. We walked the halls and he took time to clean off the tops of lockers (being 6'5" helps with that), follow up with kids on what THEY needed to share, and offering encouraging words to teachers. He prefers to be addressed as "coach" and not "doctor."
A young teacher asked me for insight into this hulking bear of a principal.
"That's simple," I replied. "He is a leader and not a manager. If there is a job to be done, he is the first man in and last one out. He's a coach above all."
Mike also models learning. One morning, he was up early making breakfast and I remembered how he taught the FACS (Family and Consumer Science) kids the art of making scrambled eggs. He and his wife, Ashley, have two boys - one a lineman at Coastal Carolina and the other a tight end being recruited - and the task of feeding them is a task unto itself. When I returned to St. Louis, I approached the FACS teacher and told her I wanted to push in with a lesson on the art and science of barbecue.
I had a presentation where I delved into the regional differences of barbecue cuisine, flavor profiles, cuts of meat, and other aspects. I also brought pulled pork and smoked brisket. The joy I received when a girl took a bite of that beautiful brisket and said "Mr. Sanders...THIS IS SO GOOD!" was a winner. She showed the smoke ring, the perfect bark, and recapped what I taught her. I knew that I had modeled learning that day.
These are just several examples of what an innovative school leader embodies. We all have the opportunities to lead if we see ourselves as leaders and not managers.
I have said for years that schools model a shopping mall where each storefront (classroom) is its own entity and there is little interaction between spaces. In a mall, the retail manager may regularly frequent the food court and the food court staff my recognize the manager buying their cheesesteak or coffee, but there is likely little observation of the other's business in what makes for success.
I have characterized my role as a librarian as a go-between, able to view the whole scene and facilitate interaction. More often than not, there is little sharing except within grade levels. Everyone sticks to their own small setting and barrels ahead. It's the way things have always been done. Why change?
What does it take to break that paradigm?
A visionary school leader is one who leads and empowers teachers, not manage them. Years ago, an assistant principal would park his car at the front entrance and record teachers who were as little as a minute or two late. I had a collection of these three-part forms reminding me that I was to report at 7:30 and was observed arriving at 7:32. The language on these forms was defeatist and insulting. This principal - and the whole administrative team as a whole - saw teachers as things to be managed. The state eventually disbanded the school board and took over the district. Visionary leaders don't micromanage and sweat small stuff. I was very blessed this year to be in a building were administrators would see my work with kids, offer praise, and ask me what they could do to help me grow and reach kids.
An empathetic school leader is willing to roll up sleeves and remember that they were once classroom teachers but are still teachers in a different setting. They know that children are imperfect little creatures, and not every kid is going to "play the game" when their teacher is being observed. They value time, and know there are moments where mental health moments are crucial.
Last September, I travelled to Atlanta to visit a friend I have known since we were four years old. Mike and I lived near each other. His mother raised me as much as my own mother. We played football together, and as offensive linemen we were part of that tight brotherhood. Linemen never get the glory. We don't record statistics. We support those players who DO get the stats, and without five guys working as a unit the whole team suffers. Mike was a state champion and All-American in high school, was recruited by Michigan, Florida State and other big schools, yet chose to attend the University of Missouri, a nod to his mom (Mizzou '63) and a chance for her to attend every one of his games.
His office bookshelf (he's a principal now) showcases four helmets (Jefferson City High, Mizzou, the Cleveland Browns, and the Atlanta Falcons...he had a "cup of coffee" in the NFL for a couple seasons but used his time to get his teaching certificate), books, and a collection of toys and figurines, particularly Star Wars and Jurassic Park.
It's a cool office, but he doesn't spend much time there. We walked the halls and he took time to clean off the tops of lockers (being 6'5" helps with that), follow up with kids on what THEY needed to share, and offering encouraging words to teachers. He prefers to be addressed as "coach" and not "doctor."
A young teacher asked me for insight into this hulking bear of a principal.
"That's simple," I replied. "He is a leader and not a manager. If there is a job to be done, he is the first man in and last one out. He's a coach above all."
Mike also models learning. One morning, he was up early making breakfast and I remembered how he taught the FACS (Family and Consumer Science) kids the art of making scrambled eggs. He and his wife, Ashley, have two boys - one a lineman at Coastal Carolina and the other a tight end being recruited - and the task of feeding them is a task unto itself. When I returned to St. Louis, I approached the FACS teacher and told her I wanted to push in with a lesson on the art and science of barbecue.
I had a presentation where I delved into the regional differences of barbecue cuisine, flavor profiles, cuts of meat, and other aspects. I also brought pulled pork and smoked brisket. The joy I received when a girl took a bite of that beautiful brisket and said "Mr. Sanders...THIS IS SO GOOD!" was a winner. She showed the smoke ring, the perfect bark, and recapped what I taught her. I knew that I had modeled learning that day.
These are just several examples of what an innovative school leader embodies. We all have the opportunities to lead if we see ourselves as leaders and not managers.
The Innovator's Mindset Chapter 4: All About Relationships at Berkeley Middle
Relationships, Relationships, Relationships. Why or Why Not?
I woke up early this morning to work on my blog assignment, and came across a clickbait headline (which, of course, required a subscription to read, hence I didn't read the whole article) outlining how twenty St. Louis Area schools were in the bottom 2% of the worst performing schools in Missouri.
Most were in St. Louis City, several were in Riverview Gardens, and two were in Hazelwood. The latter two are districts where I formerly worked. None of these schools were buildings I had worked in, but I knew the culture. Poverty was a key component. A greater indicator, I believe, was the fact that the districts might have some outstanding educators but the missing ingredients were administrators who foster relationships with staff and with children.
My middle school has two days left in its existence as a middle school. Ferguson-Florissant is restructuring and turning Berkeley Middle into Berkeley Elementary, a 3-5 building that will be home to nearly 600 students. My head principal will be remaining as an assistant principal; some would call it a "demotion" but he is embracing it with grace and love and the knowledge that the relationships he has built with families in Berkeley will continue to be an asset with the younger siblings of children he has worked with the last several years.
I will continue to be an asset there as well, at least in a half-time capacity split with another 3-5 building. I worked nearly ten years as an elementary librarian even though my true love and comfort is middle and high school settings. Would I jump at the chance to be a librarian in secondary again? Absolutely! For now, though, this is where I will be and I remind myself that whatever the setting my impact on kids is not how many readers I foster, books I check out, or how my innovation mindset can reach kids - it's about relationships.
BMS is not a "high performing school" and to say otherwise is to fool oneself. We have some high performing kids, and our test scores have shown marked growth in the last several years.
We found out in October that this would be the final year, but from my building principal down, the mindset was to continue to teach, love, and grow relationships with kids. Ideas such as mindfulness training were in the pipeline, but we educators still carried on with the mindset that our kids need to know there are teachers who first and foremost want those relationships with students before we can ever see dramatic growth as learners and people.
A situation last week embodied the idea of relationships.
Zoe is an empath. Her mother describes her as always standing against injustice even though it gets her in trouble. When I hear kids exclaim "Y'all DO to much!" I know our love is working. Zoe spent part of the year at the alternative program, which was a blessing in getting her away from much of the "girl drama" and allowing her to mature.
One of my "ministries" at school - those undertakings that are not part of my job description but I undertook out of love - is maintaining the inner courtyard. My "Garden Guys," the cadre of seventh grade boys - the Nerd Herd - have joined me in clearing brush, planting flowers, and even mowing the grass. This spring, we have enjoyed taking lunch outside away from the noise of the cafeteria. I will miss those boys but take comfort in the relationships we have made. They tell me how they walk the hallway and look out on spring bulbs blooming and say "I was part of that."
We were coming in from lunch, and a mass of seventh graders were going from lunch to their next class and eighth graders were heading to the gym for their elective period. I stood at the courtyard door and saw Zoe.
"Jaylen, don't do it," she pleaded. "It's not worth it."
Two boys were exchanging words and about to fight, and Zoe was making an effort to get the crowd into the main hallway where more staff were concentrated. The crowd shifted, and I calmly weaved my way through the mass of adolescent humanity. Reaching the main hallway, other staff swarmed in as Zoe held back Jaylen and some eighth graders restrained the other boy.
They were poised to fight but my peacemaker had done her job.
The halls dissipated and I remained. Zoe was there with some other seventh grade girls, sobbing and hyperventilating. I walked up, she fell into my embrace, and was sobbing.
"Zoe Ann, I have never been prouder of you than I am right now. Blessed are the peacemakers, for you are one of them."
I later returned to the library and called her mother. I had to tell her that.
That is the power of relationship. Zoe is not my most avid reader, and I have had to work with her on how to be cool in the library. She knows that when I call her by her first and middle names she is not just a name on a computer screen. I have claimed her. She is loved.
She returned from a two month alternative placement in March, and while she had a few stints in ISS, she was not suspended out of school, her grades improved, and her outlook has improved dramatically. When she went to alternative school, I told my principal I was praying for her.
"She's a tough kid with some real issues to overcome, but we're here for her," I said.
I tell kids that navigating school requires one seek out one teacher whom you can trust and let them guide you. Zoe is lucky. She had MANY teachers - and two administrators - who see her for who she is.
We can't save them all, but we can save some. None will be saved if relationship building is not the cornerstone.
I woke up early this morning to work on my blog assignment, and came across a clickbait headline (which, of course, required a subscription to read, hence I didn't read the whole article) outlining how twenty St. Louis Area schools were in the bottom 2% of the worst performing schools in Missouri.
Most were in St. Louis City, several were in Riverview Gardens, and two were in Hazelwood. The latter two are districts where I formerly worked. None of these schools were buildings I had worked in, but I knew the culture. Poverty was a key component. A greater indicator, I believe, was the fact that the districts might have some outstanding educators but the missing ingredients were administrators who foster relationships with staff and with children.
My middle school has two days left in its existence as a middle school. Ferguson-Florissant is restructuring and turning Berkeley Middle into Berkeley Elementary, a 3-5 building that will be home to nearly 600 students. My head principal will be remaining as an assistant principal; some would call it a "demotion" but he is embracing it with grace and love and the knowledge that the relationships he has built with families in Berkeley will continue to be an asset with the younger siblings of children he has worked with the last several years.
I will continue to be an asset there as well, at least in a half-time capacity split with another 3-5 building. I worked nearly ten years as an elementary librarian even though my true love and comfort is middle and high school settings. Would I jump at the chance to be a librarian in secondary again? Absolutely! For now, though, this is where I will be and I remind myself that whatever the setting my impact on kids is not how many readers I foster, books I check out, or how my innovation mindset can reach kids - it's about relationships.
BMS is not a "high performing school" and to say otherwise is to fool oneself. We have some high performing kids, and our test scores have shown marked growth in the last several years.
We found out in October that this would be the final year, but from my building principal down, the mindset was to continue to teach, love, and grow relationships with kids. Ideas such as mindfulness training were in the pipeline, but we educators still carried on with the mindset that our kids need to know there are teachers who first and foremost want those relationships with students before we can ever see dramatic growth as learners and people.
A situation last week embodied the idea of relationships.
Zoe is an empath. Her mother describes her as always standing against injustice even though it gets her in trouble. When I hear kids exclaim "Y'all DO to much!" I know our love is working. Zoe spent part of the year at the alternative program, which was a blessing in getting her away from much of the "girl drama" and allowing her to mature.
One of my "ministries" at school - those undertakings that are not part of my job description but I undertook out of love - is maintaining the inner courtyard. My "Garden Guys," the cadre of seventh grade boys - the Nerd Herd - have joined me in clearing brush, planting flowers, and even mowing the grass. This spring, we have enjoyed taking lunch outside away from the noise of the cafeteria. I will miss those boys but take comfort in the relationships we have made. They tell me how they walk the hallway and look out on spring bulbs blooming and say "I was part of that."
We were coming in from lunch, and a mass of seventh graders were going from lunch to their next class and eighth graders were heading to the gym for their elective period. I stood at the courtyard door and saw Zoe.
"Jaylen, don't do it," she pleaded. "It's not worth it."
Two boys were exchanging words and about to fight, and Zoe was making an effort to get the crowd into the main hallway where more staff were concentrated. The crowd shifted, and I calmly weaved my way through the mass of adolescent humanity. Reaching the main hallway, other staff swarmed in as Zoe held back Jaylen and some eighth graders restrained the other boy.
They were poised to fight but my peacemaker had done her job.
The halls dissipated and I remained. Zoe was there with some other seventh grade girls, sobbing and hyperventilating. I walked up, she fell into my embrace, and was sobbing.
"Zoe Ann, I have never been prouder of you than I am right now. Blessed are the peacemakers, for you are one of them."
I later returned to the library and called her mother. I had to tell her that.
That is the power of relationship. Zoe is not my most avid reader, and I have had to work with her on how to be cool in the library. She knows that when I call her by her first and middle names she is not just a name on a computer screen. I have claimed her. She is loved.
She returned from a two month alternative placement in March, and while she had a few stints in ISS, she was not suspended out of school, her grades improved, and her outlook has improved dramatically. When she went to alternative school, I told my principal I was praying for her.
"She's a tough kid with some real issues to overcome, but we're here for her," I said.
I tell kids that navigating school requires one seek out one teacher whom you can trust and let them guide you. Zoe is lucky. She had MANY teachers - and two administrators - who see her for who she is.
We can't save them all, but we can save some. None will be saved if relationship building is not the cornerstone.
Thursday, May 23, 2019
The Innovation Mindset: Chapter 2
A great teacher adjusts to the learner, not the other way around.
Over twenty years ago, my wife had a middle school student in her 7th grade social studies class who slogged through and persevered in spite of his learning disability in written expression. No matter how hard he tried, the boy did not feel success because writing was his albatross - it always dragged him down.
He was interested in the content - Greek and Roman history - but if one was to ask him to write about the naval strategy of the Peloponnesian War or the workings of Roman government, one would never acquire an accurate assessment of what this child knew.
His teachers simply did not adjust to the learner.
This young social studies teacher did. She adjusted to the learner.
Jodie knew this particular kid loved woodworking, creating, and designing. This was in the 1990s, long before concepts such as "makerspaces"and "learning labs" entered our lexicon. She had an idea.
The boy's task was to research the design and build of the Greek trireme ship and apply that to a working model of the ship. After he built the model ship, his task was to teach the class what he learned about the characteristics of the vessel and why they were historically important.
He built an aesthetically beautiful model, rich in detail and design. He presented to the class and explained how many men the ship needed, why oars were placed at particularly places on the port and starboard side and how low to the water they rowed. He was able to show sail placement and describe how the ship design was adapted for sailing in the Aegean Sea.
The kid knew the content but just needed a teacher who was willing to adjust to the learner. Some teachers have the courage and creativity to find ways to reach kids. It just takes time and building relationships.
Over twenty years ago, my wife had a middle school student in her 7th grade social studies class who slogged through and persevered in spite of his learning disability in written expression. No matter how hard he tried, the boy did not feel success because writing was his albatross - it always dragged him down.
He was interested in the content - Greek and Roman history - but if one was to ask him to write about the naval strategy of the Peloponnesian War or the workings of Roman government, one would never acquire an accurate assessment of what this child knew.
His teachers simply did not adjust to the learner.
This young social studies teacher did. She adjusted to the learner.
Jodie knew this particular kid loved woodworking, creating, and designing. This was in the 1990s, long before concepts such as "makerspaces"and "learning labs" entered our lexicon. She had an idea.
The boy's task was to research the design and build of the Greek trireme ship and apply that to a working model of the ship. After he built the model ship, his task was to teach the class what he learned about the characteristics of the vessel and why they were historically important.
He built an aesthetically beautiful model, rich in detail and design. He presented to the class and explained how many men the ship needed, why oars were placed at particularly places on the port and starboard side and how low to the water they rowed. He was able to show sail placement and describe how the ship design was adapted for sailing in the Aegean Sea.
The kid knew the content but just needed a teacher who was willing to adjust to the learner. Some teachers have the courage and creativity to find ways to reach kids. It just takes time and building relationships.
Friday, May 17, 2019
The Innovation Mindset by George Couros - Chapter 1
The Innovation Mindset: Empower Learning, Unleash Talent, and Lead a Culture of Creativity
George Couros
It has been a while since I tackled the blog, and since I am taking a book study course where blogging is required, I only saw it fitting to revive my old medium and share my thoughts with the world.
Enjoy my thoughts...
Jon
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Learning and innovation go hand in hand. The arrogance of success is to think that what you did yesterday will be sufficient for tomorrow." - William Pollard
Being married to a teacher and librarian, my life at home revolves around sharing stories of school. Jodie and I also share stories of our experiences as students, which for us the most recent ones date back more than thirty years. We graduated in the late 1980s, and our school years saw technology advance from purple dittos and film strips to TRS-80s, the Apple IIe, and eventually early Macs and PCs printing in dot matrix and saving to 3 1/2 inch floppy disks. Social media involved printing banners on Print Shop.
To us, the internet was non-existent and when we discovered it in college the experience required going to the computer lab and logging on to a VAX or Telnet station. This was even before the familiar "You've Got Mail" became part of the cultural landscape.
We are digital migrants. We were on the pioneering front of the computer age when technology became more about communication than computation. This is also when we first started teaching.
Reading Pollard's quote, I have to ask what our teaching lives would be like without learning and innovation. We have always been innovators, and being librarians, we thrive off of innovation. That is not always the case with many in our profession.
Jodie had a teacher whose class revolved around lecturing from the same, curling and fading yellow legal pads of notes year after year. The same notes Jodie heard were likely heard by her cousin, ten years senior, and later heard by her brother, eight years junior. I am sure this teacher was quite successful, notching a solid career at St. Charles High School. However, he obviously had the mindset that was good for Carla in 1976 was good for Jodie in 1996, and Cooper in 1994.
I had a similar professor in college. I was part of a freshman program called Integrated Humanities. We lived together and had core classes in our complex - English, History, and Religion. History and Religion were my favorite classes. Professor Patrick Hutton (who would later become my advisor in the History Department) was engaging and animated, making history what I love about it - a story, a conversation, an experience. Religion was with Professor Richard Sugarman, who can best be described as a cross between Zero Mostel in Fiddler on the Roof, a wise rabbi, and an NFL linebacker. The man would chew Nicorette in class and then duck out for a smoke immediately after class. I took four courses with him. He was amazing.
Professor Metcalfe filled in for Professor Hutton for the second semester of freshman year. Metcalfe was Canadian (I believe from the Maritime Provinces) and was the University of Vermont's go-to expert on Canadian Studies. I found him interesting, but then again, I entered college knowing I wanted to major in history.
Like Jodie's high school teacher, Metcalfe relied on aged legal pads full of notes and his class was heavily lecture, test, and paper based, the latter on topics HE assigned.
Noelle, a classmate and long-time friend, asked "Professor Metcalfe, are we ever going to write about topics WE want to write about?"
Noelle was deflated when he curtly replied "No, I don't think so."
Perhaps it was arrogant for him to assume that the way he always did things would be sufficient for tomorrow. My friends and I were blessed to have professors who saw innovation as necessary. My high school mentor, Bill Holiday, is still teaching in his late sixties and you will never see him reading from aged notes. He sets up Skype visits with students in Belgrade, collaborates with students in Dublin, and engages students in the local history society, where all things historical about Southeastern Vermont are explored and shared.
He will never be tagged as a teaching relic. It's that innovation and learning that has never left him.
It also inspires me.
George Couros
It has been a while since I tackled the blog, and since I am taking a book study course where blogging is required, I only saw it fitting to revive my old medium and share my thoughts with the world.
Enjoy my thoughts...
Jon
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Learning and innovation go hand in hand. The arrogance of success is to think that what you did yesterday will be sufficient for tomorrow." - William Pollard
Being married to a teacher and librarian, my life at home revolves around sharing stories of school. Jodie and I also share stories of our experiences as students, which for us the most recent ones date back more than thirty years. We graduated in the late 1980s, and our school years saw technology advance from purple dittos and film strips to TRS-80s, the Apple IIe, and eventually early Macs and PCs printing in dot matrix and saving to 3 1/2 inch floppy disks. Social media involved printing banners on Print Shop.
To us, the internet was non-existent and when we discovered it in college the experience required going to the computer lab and logging on to a VAX or Telnet station. This was even before the familiar "You've Got Mail" became part of the cultural landscape.
We are digital migrants. We were on the pioneering front of the computer age when technology became more about communication than computation. This is also when we first started teaching.
Reading Pollard's quote, I have to ask what our teaching lives would be like without learning and innovation. We have always been innovators, and being librarians, we thrive off of innovation. That is not always the case with many in our profession.
Jodie had a teacher whose class revolved around lecturing from the same, curling and fading yellow legal pads of notes year after year. The same notes Jodie heard were likely heard by her cousin, ten years senior, and later heard by her brother, eight years junior. I am sure this teacher was quite successful, notching a solid career at St. Charles High School. However, he obviously had the mindset that was good for Carla in 1976 was good for Jodie in 1996, and Cooper in 1994.
I had a similar professor in college. I was part of a freshman program called Integrated Humanities. We lived together and had core classes in our complex - English, History, and Religion. History and Religion were my favorite classes. Professor Patrick Hutton (who would later become my advisor in the History Department) was engaging and animated, making history what I love about it - a story, a conversation, an experience. Religion was with Professor Richard Sugarman, who can best be described as a cross between Zero Mostel in Fiddler on the Roof, a wise rabbi, and an NFL linebacker. The man would chew Nicorette in class and then duck out for a smoke immediately after class. I took four courses with him. He was amazing.
Professor Metcalfe filled in for Professor Hutton for the second semester of freshman year. Metcalfe was Canadian (I believe from the Maritime Provinces) and was the University of Vermont's go-to expert on Canadian Studies. I found him interesting, but then again, I entered college knowing I wanted to major in history.
Like Jodie's high school teacher, Metcalfe relied on aged legal pads full of notes and his class was heavily lecture, test, and paper based, the latter on topics HE assigned.
Noelle, a classmate and long-time friend, asked "Professor Metcalfe, are we ever going to write about topics WE want to write about?"
Noelle was deflated when he curtly replied "No, I don't think so."
Perhaps it was arrogant for him to assume that the way he always did things would be sufficient for tomorrow. My friends and I were blessed to have professors who saw innovation as necessary. My high school mentor, Bill Holiday, is still teaching in his late sixties and you will never see him reading from aged notes. He sets up Skype visits with students in Belgrade, collaborates with students in Dublin, and engages students in the local history society, where all things historical about Southeastern Vermont are explored and shared.
He will never be tagged as a teaching relic. It's that innovation and learning that has never left him.
It also inspires me.
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