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December 20th, 2020

12/20/2020

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I have thought about this story for years. Forty-four years, to be exact.

In sixth grade, at holiday time, our teacher had us draw names for a secret santa exchange.  I drew the name of a student I barely knew.  From my childhood lens, I knew this: Jimmy was very poor, very strange, uncouth, unmannerly, often absent, and seemingly had no friends. From my adult lens, I know he was poor and probably had a lot of food and shelter insecurities.

When I drew Jimmy’s name, I remember feeling dread. I will say that my dread came from a certain wisdom I had then. I knew he would want something that I or others might not know or understand. I knew he probably couldn’t participate in the exchange, and I knew it was all awkward.  I also knew I wanted to get this right. 

This was in those days when we all gave each other the lifesaver storybook gift boxes.  It’s all I wanted. I know that.

But. I wanted to get him something different. He sat diagonally just across and behind me, when he was in school. Students made fun of him, and he seemed to not notice or not care.  Or some combination of those things. I didn’t like people making fun of him, and I was always curious about him. Most of us in my community were not very well to do, and we all were used to not having much. But he had far less than any of us, and that made me wonder. I was always a big reader, and I remember that year I’d read a book about a very poor family, and my eyes were so widened. I had always thought my family were kind of poor, but to read about REAL poverty was startling to me. I will always remember thinking of this boy when I read that book.  No, I don’t remember the name of the book.  I read about five books a week back then.  

But, I always tried to be nice to him. I didn’t snicker when others did, when he made social gaffes. I handed him papers without acting like it was “icky” to be around him or near him.  I wish I could say I was always nice like that, but I wasn’t. There was just something about him.

So, when I drew Jimmy’s name, I felt like it was something meant to be. That I was meant to be the one to find a good gift for him.

Five dollars was the limit, I think, for our gifts.  I thought about it so much. I can honestly say I’ve never thought about any gift for anyone before, during, or since, as much as I thought about that gift for him.

I was in my room, listening to my transistor radio on a Friday night about a week before we were to exchange our gifts. Elton John’s “Philadelphia Freedom” came on, and I turned it up. That song was so transformative for me. I just loved it. Those were the days when you had to buy the record or wait until it came on the radio.

It occurred to me that Jimmy probably liked that song too.  

I got up that next morning and asked my father if he could drive me into Portland to the record store.  I told him why. He agreed to drive me. It’s funny, because I remember my father talking cryptically about Jimmy and his family. He knew the family, and I could tell he knew something about them. And I could tell he had empathy for this boy and their family.  But my father never told me anything about them. He just drove me to the record store.

The 45 record cost a bit over five dollars.  I cleaned houses and babysat, so I had the money.  I felt so proud buying it, so hopeful. But also so scared. It would be the only gift at the gift exchange that wasn’t a lifesaver gift box.  I knew that.  

That Friday, before our Christmas break, he wasn’t at school. We all exchanged gifts, our lifesaver gift boxes, and his was left. The teacher gave it to a student who lived next door to him, and he would deliver it.

I went home that night, somewhat sullen, wondering what he’d think, if I’d ever know. And I let that go, knowing that this wasn’t about me. I wasn’t always that mature, but I do remember knowing that I’d done what I thought was a good thing, and that that should just be the end of the story.

I was in my room on the second floor that night. It was cold, and the windows were steamy from the radiators, and I was snuggled in a blanket on my bed.  My parents were downstairs in the dining room playing cards with our neighbors.  I heard the phone ring, and I heard the tread of footsteps on the stairs. It was my father, and he walked all the way up the stairs and knocked on my door. That alone was pretty bizarre. Normally, he would bellow up the stairs that the phone was for me.  But here he was, sober in countenance, telling me that a boy was on the phone for me.  

I was flabbergasted. This was before “boys on the phone” was part of my life, and also, there was something about how my father spoke that made me wonder.

I walked downstairs and picked up the phone from the counter. My parents and the others were quiet, eavesdropping.  I said hello.  

“Hi Karen, it’s Jim.” I couldn’t think who Jim was, but he kept talking. ‘I got your present, and I wanted to thank you. I love that song so much.  Thank you.”  I started to reply “you’re welcome”, but I heard the dial tone before I could get that out.  

I stared down at the phone, and I felt so many emotions and thought so many thoughts. How had he gotten my number? How brave was he!  Why did he hang up so fast?  He’d  called himself Jim!

I looked at my parents. I told them who it was. My father nodded. “He introduced himself when he asked for you.”

So, that “uncouth, unmannerly” boy had more couth and class than I know I could ever have mustered at that point in my life.  

I remember being gratified...to a degree. I felt more like I’d been schooled in how to truly be a better person. I admired his manners and bravery. I didn’t know anyone my age at that time who would have dared to pick up the phone and call someone they barely knew. 

I remember meeting my father’s eyes. I remember how he understood.  

And now, during these crazy times,  living during a pandemic, how we are all not living freely in our desire to be with friends and family, how hard this is on all of us, I think of that time. 

 I think of those small gifts and how powerful it is to simply be grateful. Jimmy. Jim. He gave me a lifelong gift. 






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Beauty of gratitude in all the acts of kindness

10/9/2020

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I’ve worked with our head custodian for over 25 years. We have traded sports stories, enjoying a rivalry. Mike is a straight up Broncos fan, a straight up Colorado sports fan, but he’s a straight up honest guy about sports. 

He gives credit where credit is due.

He likes me even though I’m a Pats fan.

He understands to the deepest level how exciting it was when the Red Sox won the world series...finally, in 2004.

Our lives have intersected daily  for years, and these interactions have been casual, polite, and filled with the mutual respect of co-workers.

Fast forward to 2010, when Dan joined the staff at Westview. Dan and Mike hit the ground running with understanding and sports rivalry camaraderie and a deep mutual respect and that male bonding of ribbing. The Monday morning quarterbacks.

Over the years, Dan and Mike hit it off more and more, and I got that fallout of favor, so that our relationship, between Mike and me, grew.  

Once, only once, Mike and I had a tiff. I’d not communicated with him and his custodial staff about my upcoming drama event. I put them in a hard situation. He called me on it. But I was stressed out about the whole thing, and when he barked at me, I cried.  Not in front of him, but later, when I was feeling so overwhelmed and sad that I’d made other’s work more difficult.

That next day, Mike walks in my room with a Patriot’s football and an apology.

How hard that must have been for him to buy a Patriots football!  And I was the one who was mostly in the wrong.  That gruff guy showed his compassion to me, and that football is a deep treasure.

When we went into quarantine, Dan and I did not return to Westview until we came back to school in August. Mike watered our plants (and we have a lot of plants!), and he took care of Dan’s fish tank.

We were back here for a month before I realized something small that Mike did, that I hadn’t noticed. And when I say it was small. I mean. It was gigantic. A small thing that meant so much to me.

I was in a space where I came in to teach online and then left.  I planned at home, did most of my work at home at night. I didn’t pay attention to my classroom space.

Mike’s daughter works at King Soopers, and she shared with Mike, who shared with me, that his daughter has seen the best of humanity and the worst of it, working in retail.

We talked about how we have to focus on the best of humanity, and the small gifts, the gifts of nature and of humanity.

So, here is my story of the best of humanity. 

When I finally paid attention to my  space to get it ready for students, I saw something so beautiful.

Before quarantine in March, I’d put a few plant cuttings in a cup to have them root, so I could re-pot them.  Just last week, I looked down at a corner, buried behind my dish rack, and those cuttings were still there, in that cup.

The cup was filled with water.  

The cuttings had new growth.

Mike had watered my cuttings. And he hadn’t just watered them for the five months we were gone.

He’d watered them while I was in my myopic space, ignoring my classroom, focusing only on my online teaching.  

Mike had to be at school from March on. Had to be there with no students, no teachers. Administration and their boss (I mean secretary) was there, but no life in the classrooms or the hallways. He saw papers in classrooms turning yellow and folding up at the edges.

But he kept everything alive.

Mike, your work, especially down to caring for my cuttings, is the best of humanity.  

Thank you.
  






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Learning...learning...learning

6/18/2020

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I’ve been thinking about next year’s school year.  We don’t know what it will look like, how kids will feel, what new ideas we’ll need to focus on. I could go on. So, I’ve been focusing on what I do know, and what I can strengthen. And that’s how  to support students in reading, writing, and thinking.  I’m learning from teachers on my Twitter group. I’m thinking. I’m planning for whatever school looks like.  And I’m reading and writing. And I’m thinking about my students.

We have a mantra in my classroom of “never done, never finished.”  All products, projects, learning, can always be improved.  We give ourselves grace in this by recognizing that we can always put something aside for a while (or forever), but we need to recognize that all important work takes time, reflection, feedback, revisions.  Sometimes, that cycle continues for a long time and sometimes it takes a long time and then gets...put aside. 

This culture takes a bit to instill, but I am always surprised by how quickly students adapt to this, and better than adapt, how they embrace it, and it becomes a vehicle of agency.   Of course, often, many of them just want to be “done” with work, but because students choose their path (writing, reading, research), they have agency and ownership about how they work, and all the pieces that entails.  They want their idea to bloom.  So, part of the culture has to be the safe release of realizing their idea might be amazing, but there might be multiple reasons it cannot blossom right away, or for a while, or maybe ever.

That’s where my being a writer and reader, sharing my choices, revisions, frustrations, excitement all come in.  I often quote Stephen King, his idea that you often need to “kill your darlings.”  That has saved me as a writer many times. I have written things that are my absolute darlings, but whether it’s a line of dialogue, a scene, a chapter, or a whole writing piece, sometimes, it just has to be killed.  Put aside, is what we call that in class. Some like to say they know they need to “kill their darlings.” They are middle schoolers, after all.

The reasons we lose steam and interest in a writing piece or passion piece are manyfold, and it is only for the owner of the work to decide. My feedback questions and support are usually questions around their goals and vision. We talk about multiple approaches, and I always ask the writer what they think they might want to use.  

The writing process is messy, super messy, not linear. It’s why writers need to write, write a lot, to truly learn.  

So, back to that “never done” mantra. I have written three novels, put a lot of time in one of them more than others, tried to get published, got some hits, got some kicks, stepped back for a while.  That previous sentence is a boring sentence that represents about 20 years of  my work. 

I have been reflecting on the not done because I got back to my young adult historical romance.  And I realized it needed a serious overhaul. It needed a big uptick in conflict, and it needed a change of setting.

This all meant back to major research.  I’ve spent years researching all things Regency era, Napoleon wars, war of 1812, costumes, battles, culture. I could go on.  But for my plans for this book, I needed new research.

My plot ideas unfolded leading me to more problems, better problems, more character crisis and development.  All of those ideas led me to more questions.  

This is at once most exhausting and exhilarating. It is another reminder of how hard writing is. It’s difficult in the process, the passion, the ideas, and the follow through (and that big old cycle).  

I’m committed to this. My process led me to realize how much more I could bring to this story. It’s led me into a place of discomfort and excitement. And it’s reminded me how hard this process is. I’ve been writing and researching for over twenty years. More expertise to share with my students.

I’m far from “done”.

Goal: get some chapters and research done for the next few months. Enough to keep up the steam. Work, learn, and find ways to make our students’ return to school, whatever that looks like, a hospitable, comfortable, invigorating place. 

Gratitude: being a writer and a teacher. Living and working in a supportive, amazing place.



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Student (and teacher) agency at a distance

5/7/2020

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I have written a few blogs that I haven’t published. I have also written that sentence about a kazillion times.  I have hyperbole on the brain because we just finished reading The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963, by Christopher Paul Curtis.  The narrator, Kenny, uses hyperbole about a million times.  Sorry.

One of the reasons I haven’t wanted to publish my blog is that there are so many feelings, thoughts, ideas, and I can’t seem to bring them into a theme. And, frankly, they just were either too personal, or too much about the “me” in this teacher -student equation.

I wanted to end the year with at least one more blog.  By year, I mean, school year, and that just made tears jump into my eyes (I think I stole that from Kenny’s voice in the Watsons.)  

I’m super lucky that students are very used to working with an online spiral for me; we call it “The Fireworks” document. Our routine is that they do all their inquiry responses and reflections in that document, and we use the comment feature for feedback.  It is such a treasure to have that routine in place because we can really talk about ideas, characters, thoughts, reflections in a way we’re all used to.  

I’ve been reflecting a lot over the past few years about how my one-to-one conferencing has opened up to have so much more authentic dialogue. The bottom line is that we talk as mutual learners and thinkers. I ask them what they would like feedback on. Most of the time, they have ideas, but sometimes, they want to know what I think. I’ve set up routines and practices so that we don’t usually sit and look at work and say, “oh, good job”. Well, we never do that.  So, it’s safe for them to know I’m not going to say that.  

The more I pulled away from leading conferences, the more I realized that they owned their work. For instance, a student might tell me they’re stuck in their writing. I ask them what they want to do about it. They shrug. I shrug.  Then, after some wait time, I ask them if they want to put it aside for a bit and try something else, or if they want ideas on how to get unstuck. It’s often 50/50 here.  

I know a lot of people want to “finish” things, and that is a valuable goal, but not in learning writing. Most writers start many projects and put them aside until something clicks. That’s the process. So, I honor that with students’ writing.  Finishing something is actually frowned upon. Who finishes quality writing in a week or two, or three?  And, I’m talking about their passion  choice writing, which, for most of them are novels, short stories, and screenplays.  Even Stephen King cranks out a book then puts it in a drawer (I picture the bottom right drawer of his desk. I wonder if that is just my own fancy or if I read that), for a year. He socks it away for a year.  So, we honor the process. All of writing leads to more writing, which leads to better writing.

But, here I am, once again, off course. One of my verbally gifted students, whose voice in her writing resounds like a coyote atop a canyon (I know, I really need to work on my figurative language), wrote something in her fireworks doc, and she asked me if it was swearing. She used the word heck.  I told her it was not swearing the way she used it, but that it was a really clear reference. I thought at first, that I wanted to tell her she just should have written hell.  I didn’t.  But, if we were sitting side by side in the classroom, we could have talked about the pros and cons of word choice. She has sophisticated instincts, so I know I could have that conversation safely. I believe she would likely still not use “hell”, but the conversation itself would be one of writer to writer.

I’m glad I didn’t write that to her because though she is a bright, wise, gifted, student, she is also twelve. Or eleven. And she doesn’t like swearing. I applaud her for that.  But without sitting beside her, I knew I needed to be direct and matter of fact, but I needed my written feedback to be “safer.”  

So, here is what she said about her feelings about swearing when I assured her that she didn’t curse: “I just really don’t like cursing…”

Here was my written response: “It has its place when characterizing characters, but, yes, I agree, it is harsh sounding, and it is often very derogatory.”  

Her reply to my feedback: “Quite True.”

I guess all of this is what my blog theme is:
  1. I really miss the ability to sit next to my students.  Nothing can take the place of not just looking at the person, but adjusting tone, body language, reading each other to make certain any message is heard and felt not just with accuracy, but with humanity.
  2. I really appreciate that I have been able to build the community of trust to relate with my students writer to writer, thinker to thinker
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Gratitude: all of the above, learning with my students, connecting with students as writer to writer, learner to learner, human to human.

Goal: Continue to develop this feedback cycle within the constraints of not sitting side by side.  

I have a P.S (or two):
  • The student I referenced above worked with me on revisions of this.
  • That student helped me with some much better figurative language, but I figured I should stick with my own because I like to show myself as a learner, and I am definitely a learner when it comes to crafting effective figurative language!
  • That student gave me so much insightful feedback, and it was a true “loop” of feedback. We both got “off course” with our discussion. We discussed other writing ideas, techniques, and navigating our own moral compasses.  
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Hunkering In.

3/23/2020

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Hello, everyone.

Danny sent me this picture yesterday morning, and he said, in the text (yes, Danny texts...I know….crazy), he said, “You know what today is?”.  The answer, every day is, today is another day.  We’ve had that mantra almost daily for years. Well, mostly since 2011, when he survived.


A special hello to my students. We started spring break at 4:30 last Thursday. .  I hope you’ve been able to feel like this week has been a break for you. I have loved all of the posts on the Padlet we pushed out. How heartwarming to see so many of you with pets!  How wonderful to see so many of your faces. Your faces. I miss them all. I miss the smiles, the frowns, even the eye-rolls. I miss the laughter. I just miss you all so much.  

I have decided to make my blogs shorter and more frequent. My main goal will be about sharing gratitude. Gratitude is a way for me to focus on positives, and it’s about living in the moment.  It’s about now, not yesterday, not tomorrow. It’s part of our 7 mindset curriculum, but it’s been a huge part of my life for so long.  



I have tons of gratitude right now. I have lots of thoughts, but I’m going to start simple. A kitten found us, somehow climbing a tree on our 20 acre property, which is surrounded by 20, 40, 100 acre properties. We have no idea where she came from.  But she was in our tree, and she let us know she was there. We thought we’d keep her safe and find a home for her.

Well, we did. She is with us, and she has insinuated herself into all of our hearts. As I write this, she and our three year old cat are playing. 

As we all hunker in, I hope we’re all taking care of ourselves. I hope we’re finding ways to connect to others. I hope we’re finding the inspiration of boredom. For me, boredom has always inspired my creativity. That can be cooking, day-dreaming, solving problems, or creating something you never thought you’d create.  

For spring break, I’m actually considering going back to sketching.  I had private lessons years ago to learn how to sketch the 19th century clothes I was envisioning for my characters in my novel.  

But I also want to continue with my young adult novel I’m writing. I’d like my students to give me feedback.

But, I’m also just relaxing, soaking it in, planning creative meals.  Planning for teaching. I’m also connecting with my family and friends, via texting and video conferencing.

Goals: write two blogs a week. Work on my young adult fiction novel. Be well in all ways. 

Gratitude: our cats, Danny pushing me and comforting me, my students sharing themselves on the Padlet.  Our community.

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Writing Conferences

2/19/2020

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The longer I teach, the more I realize how much I have to step back with my teacher voice. Teacher voice uses words like “fix, correct, right, wrong, I’d like you to,  …”

I have feedback conferences for daily work, feedback conferences for writing, and grading conferences. My students choose their writing and reading, and when I conference with them about their writing, I have learned to have super long wait time when I ask them what they want help with.

I don’t start with what I see needs feedback, I start with what they see. I want them to identify what their goal is and how I can help. The more they get used to this, the more they own their work, the more they own their writing.  Sometimes I give them examples of how they can show not tell, or how they can build scene setting, or I ask them about their choices. I usually ask if I’ve given them “enough” to think about. More and more, I feel like I’m giving very little direction, and they’re getting a lot from the conference.

I don’t think I spend more than 5-7 minutes per conference. I don’t read much of their work. I don’t have to. I simply need to read enough to “suspect” what their purpose is. 

It’s because it’s on them to think about what they need. They must use metacognition to analyze their work. I’m meeting them where they are, and we discuss how they can move forward.

The biggest impact of this type of conferencing is that they feel as though we’re both writers talking about writing. As we continue to conference about their writing, it doesn’t feel like I’m telling them how to “fix” writing but giving them things to employ and to think about to make their writing what they envision.  

I also always make sure they know that they can take any and all of my feedback or leave it. I stress that they are the writers, and that if my feedback doesn’t resonate, then they can simply move on. It’s rare that they don’t accept my feedback because it’s given as me in the audience role, asking questions, not slashing through words, phrases, sentences, or paragraphs.

Each and every writing conference is very different, and often I have to shift my thinking to help a student differently. For instance, today, I conferenced with a highly gifted writer, who writes in that process I call magic. She just writes scenes as they come to her, often not knowing what or where she is going with it.  I don’t ask her to figure that out. I just ask questions, and I talk about what she might need to do to come back to a scene to flesh it out once she has her plan. 

I conferenced with another writer today who is excited about their story, but this is new for them, this passion. They came to middle school hating to write, but now they love it. The difference is simple: they, in my ela class, get to choose what they write. I start class with a daily inquiry question, but their daily writing, they choose. 

I end each conference asking how helpful the feedback and discussion was for them. I ask them to articulate what impacted them.  Here are some recent answers:

  • Very helpful. I see how much more I need to put in this scene to show not tell.
  • So helpful. I get that I need to know my character better.
  • So helpful because I realize I can revise this part a lot and have fun with it.
  • Mostly helpful. I know what I should do, but I know I need to go back to play with my writing more.




And they believe they are writers. They are. A writer writes. That’s it.

My voice is the voice of an experienced mentor who enjoys exploring ideas, writing techniques, and mostly, honoring their writing voices.

Up next: how we get distracted by technology, even when it’s for good not evil.

Wondering how other teachers run their writing conferences in a workshop model.  

Goal: Write that “up next” blog by next week.
Gratitude: learning from my students and having them inspire my own writing.

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February 11, 2020. A personal Reflection.

2/10/2020

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So, today is February 11th.

It’s a beautiful day. It’s a new day.  We’re lucky we have this new day.

February 11th, 2011 was a different day. It was the day I was told my husband would not survive. 

For over two months, this was a message repeated by nurses, doctors, even from the look on our custodian’s face.


It’s a day we celebrate as the first day of the rest of our lives.

But it’s not all celebration. We have so many emotions. For me, the feelings, the intense trauma resurfaces, and I get a bit melancholy. I get into a state of remembering. The memory is almost embedded in my DNA. I feel it to my bones, the shock, the survival mode, the fear, which I pushed down to be able to cope and live in hope.

So it is a day of remembrance. For Danny and I, we feel the periphery of all these emotions for a few weeks leading up to this date. We feel the gratitude, the appreciation, and the humility of our good fortune.
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But every year since 2011, I have let myself feel again, all the things I probably didn’t really let myself feel when Danny was fighting for his life.  

Mr. Cribby was then (and is now) a beloved teacher. I had to message in the Caringbridge blog the daily ins and outs of his battle in a way that was an amelioration x100 of what was really happening to him. His students, mine, the community, were all praying for him, thinking of him, hoping.

Hoping.

And I needed to honor their hope.  

When I re-read the blogs that I wrote to keep our community updated, I cannot fathom how I made his daily dire circumstances sound as if there was any hope.

I don’t know what begat what, in all of this, in his miraculous recovery. Did his daily abiding love and care for his students leverage more love?  Did my framing of his condition give hope, which led to positivity? Did the love that was pouring in, in forms of prayer, thought, and intention, change his circumstances to provide more hope?  Did our friends and family, their constant care of us, uplift us?  Did his sheer strength and will pull him through?   Did all of it come together in a synergistic blast of love that healed?  

All of these questions don’t really matter. I know this.

He survived. Love matters. We are blessed. 

What happened to him led to the most beautiful event that provides support to others, every year.  And, Mr. Cribby won’t like this. But he’s a hero. He’s a hero to all. And today, selfishly, my hero.

Goal: we get to help the Happy Smackah continue to thrive to help others.
Gratitude: this day. Every day. And our friends, who are our family, and our family, who surrounded us with all we needed so all of the energy could be for Danny to fight, and for me to have courage and purpose.



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This old Dog is learning a lot more from the young'uns.

2/4/2019

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​I must find a way to hold myself accountable for publishing my blogs more regularly.

I’ve written that line quite a lot.

I am going to be okay with this blog being about a few things, and I’m going to get this out.  

Here is the not “gist” of this blog. Just a quick musing:  I’ve been conferencing with students about what they’re reading/writing/passionate about. I’ve had a few students tell me that I probably wouldn’t like the book they are loving or their book/narrative they are writing because, “Ms. Cribby, you cry easily, and I know you probably wouldn’t like this.”  

Here is why they say that and why I’m more than okay with their perspective.

I do cry easily.  

I’m not talking about blubbery tears, I’m talking about showing emotion. I show my students who I am. I show them myself as a human.  


I show them my humanity. I show them that I am engaged in life, learning, being human. I’m not afraid of showing emotion, at the right times. The right times means they are safe, and we are exploring literature, ideas, and I am responding as a learner in the class.  

They know I have a tender heart. They also know I have a fierce soul and a strong sense of purpose.  They know they can trust me as the adult in the room, but they also know that who they are can always move me and make me better. Make me think differently.  They know I’m confident enough to be the adult in the room that takes joy in learning from them.

At least I hope they know that. I know many do. I hope they all do.  


I share myself with my students. I treat them as people and co-learners. Sure, I’m an expert. I’m pretty expert in language arts content, and I’m definitely the most expert with the writing process, because of my age alone.  But I’m not the expert about who they are. I’m not expert on them as people and learners. They are. So, I need to hold myself as the listener to their learning and thinking. Often times, frankly, when I sit and listen and learn from them, I get, yes, moved.  Yes, sometimes, teary.

It’s because the older and wiser (about some things) I get, the more I recognize how much I have to learn from everyone, and especially, most especially, from my students.  

I don’t feel weak because of my growth and vulnerability. I feel strong and empowered. It is my greatest hope for all of my students.  

I’m hoping my students are reading this and laughing at how I can also bark. Loudly, if needed.  

The older I get, the more I realize I must be honest and authentic to the most important people in my life, and I confess, the people who get the most of me are my students.  I have been so lucky to have had the most amazing mentors and role models during these 25+ years of teaching.

Here is the bulk of this blog. As an 8th grade teacher in the most wonderful system of progressing with our students, I am just moved beyond all I’ve ever felt (that really is not hyperbole), about what our students are reflecting in their own learning.  

This blog started because I am so moved beyond words by what my students do, what they share and create. What they do when I give them some direction, and I step aside.

Here is the first student self-evaluation that motivated me to publish this blog:



After looking at the rubric and looking back over my book study essay, I think that I deserve a 4. I think that I deserve a 4 on this for a variety of reasons. The first reason why I think that I deserve a 4 is because my essay is thorough, complete, and someone could learn about how theme impacts various aspects of the story. I go in depth about how love impacts the characters, important events, and how it is built over time. I use quotes from the text to support this as well which adds another layer of reliability and validity. It makes it more accurate and shows that my point/ideas are textually proven. I use proper language and make sure that the format is easy to follow. The information is on task and little to none of my essay drifts off from the main idea/topic. I made sure that the transitions were smooth and that the paragraph doesn’t just cut off in the middle of an idea. I also did my best to not repeat information or ideas. This adds to the flow and makes it easier to learn from as well as makes it easier for someone to read it. This way, someone can get the most possible knowledge and understand from this essay.

Not only did I demonstrate all of the requirements, I exceeded in research. I knew that I had some questions about certain things I needed to know in order for this book study to reach it’s full potential. So, I guided myself in thorough research. This shows that I not only know how to craft an essay, it shows that I have a good understanding of how to do proper research and then apply that to a product. That is something that we are always learning about and focussing on in class. By demonstrating this, this connects this project to other aspects of class, not just one single assignment. I made sure that this project wasn’t isolated from a world of ideas. I made sure that it got to touch the ideas from previous dates. These are all metaphors, which is another thing I applied to my writing. I added proper terms to make it more appealing and friendly. Let’s face it, I have a close to four page essay as my project. By adding slight details such as figurative language, it makes it much more inviting and easier for someone to read. Overall, I think that I deserve a 4 on my literary project, which I have decided to be a book study. I think that I deserve a 4 because it is thorough, complete, and could be a valuable resource for students to learn from. It meets all the requirements as well as going above and beyond. I think that I deserve a 4 on my literary project.

I have spent my entire career hoping, dreaming, of what this student expresses as their experience. They just need me to mostly step aside while they fly.

And then, here is another:

Unfortunately I have to turn in my character study today. I was enjoying it, but I am proud of my work so I am glad to turn it in as well. While I didn't get as much revising done as I hoped, I still think my character study of Ebenezer Scrooge is good. First of all, my project meets the requirements of a 4. I used plenty of academic language and elaborated on that. I tried to make the character study sound as professional as I could, and I also connected everything with details and smooth transitions. This character study is probably my best example of connection. My writing all connects to the main theme of Scrooge’s dynamic change. On top of that, all of these elaborated details are connected with smooth transitions. I found things in common with the different details, and connected them using that. For example, here is a transition from my writing:
“After we see how he became the miser he is, we realize how Scrooge probably does have some good deep inside of him. When the second ghost comes, the Ghost of Christmas Present, we start to see a little bit of this inside goodness come out of him.”
The common detail in the Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Christmas Present is how the Ghost of Christmas Past makes us realize how Scrooge has some good, and the Ghost of Christmas Present starts to bring out this goodness. My transitions were something I worked really hard on in my character study, and they are very helpful to make my writing connected.

The second (and last) requirement for a 4 is for the study to be creative, engage the reader, and help the reader learn something new. For the creativity, I was creative in a few different ways. My transitions were creative, first of all. Also, my way of giving the information was creative. While a standard 5 paragraph essay in the form of an introduction, 3 body paragraphs, and a conclusion isn't necessarily creative, the way I connected everything to the main goal was creative. Usually if I were to do a character study such as this one, I would have an introduction on how Scrooge is a complex character. Then I would have 3 separate body paragraphs on different parts of Scrooge. However, with this character study, I decided to focus on one thing and show that in chronological order. I have never done that before, and I think (at least for me), it is a little unconventional. The second part of the last requirement is to engage the reader. The biggest way I engage the reader is in the introduction. In the introduction, I basically try to lay out what the entire study is going to be about, and give some background information. I like doing this because if I am a reader, I want to read the first few sentences and see if I am interested. Another way I engage the reader is by being vague in the beginning. I give some details but not enough for the reader to know what the entire study is going to say. I do this to engage the reader and make them read the study. Lastly, the last part of the requirement is to help the reader learn something new. In my study, I give a lot of deeper information. Maybe the reader wasn’t able to make deeper connections on how and why Scrooge changed. Maybe the reader didn't understand why Scrooge became such a miser. I doubt the reader knew that Scrooge represents the rich in Victorian Britain and the story is trying to motivate the rich to give more (in Victorian Britain). There is a lot of information I give that the reader probably doesn't know, and unless you have already done a study on Scrooge, you will probably learn something new.
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That should be it. I gave examples on how I met the requirements of a 4 and explained them. However, before I turn this in, I want to talk a little bit more. I learned a ton while doing this study, which is one of the main reasons we did this (other than to learn how to write a study). I enjoyed this project, and I hope we are able to do more studies because I learn a lot and I like the format. Anyway, that should be it. I met the requirements of a 4 with ease and learned a lot, what more could you ask? Have fun grading the rest of these character studies.

Wow.  

Just wow.  

The students did these character, book, author, or genre studies, and most of them were wonderful, and I learned so much. I learned about poets I need to read, books students were passionate about because they read them when they were children, genres I didn’t know existed, authors who wrote in multi-age platforms.  

Most especially, I learned more about the passions of my students, and that was a gift. For over two and a half years, I’ve had these students, and I’ve learned from them and helped them explore their passions, but now, as they are grown in confidence, they have also grown in a self-wisdom that moves me beyond words. This happens, every 8th grade year, I know.  And every year, it doesn’t surprise me, but it seems to sneak up on me, these young adults, these funny, silly, wise, mature, crazy, calm, deep, intense, young people.

Makes me want to latch on and keep them for another three years.

It also makes me get a little teary.

I always wonder what moves us all as people, as teachers. I am fortunate that I work closely with my beloved and respected colleagues, and I learn from their perspectives, what they notice, what connections they make.

Goal: publish my blog once a week (Gah!  I wrote that!)
Gratitude: a career that keeps me growing. Students who astound me and make me a better person.


2 Comments

A Post about my last post

9/24/2018

7 Comments

 
Picture

​I had always hoped to be my most authentic self as a teacher. It took a while to trust myself in this process, but it was always my greatest goal, to be myself, my vulnerable, real self. I have realized recently that I’m there.  Blogging has been the thing that has pushed me there the most. I wonder what other educators have set for goals, and how they measure that.



One of the earliest mentors in my teaching career, years before I even taught, was a special education teacher at a middle school in Boulder. She asked me what I most looked forward to, in being a teacher. I didn’t hesitate: “helping students find their voice.”  This teacher told me I was already a teacher and would do well. She told me most teachers told her decorating their rooms. That shocked me, but that’s another blog.

So, twenty-five years later, that’s still my goal, to help students find their voices. And I’m feeling like I’m helping more and more.  I’m inspired by some recent replies to my latest blog.

I had responses from a former student, a current student, and a former classmate.

These connections are amazing.  And humbling.

I’m moved that my former classmate replied to my blog, I’m enlightened by her wisdom and how she perceives my own.  I’m moved by the words of my former student, who must be in her late 20’s, still holds me in a place of inspiration and who seeks wisdom from me (really, she is smart…).  

But the words of my current student move me in such a different way.  

It’s Friday afternoon, the day after I published my last blog, and I’m pretty tired from a long short week (why are short weeks so long?). It’s been a great day, not without blips, but that’s par for the course in middle school.  So, I come in from outside duty, and I sit down to check my email. There is a comment on my blog from an “Abby”. I read it. It’s beautiful, amazing, and humbling. There is no last name, so I click into my blog, and I see who it is.

My student.  I re-read her words, and I start crying. I’m moved beyond I can describe.  This is what she wrote in response to my last blog.

You are a seriously developed human. An odd way of saying that, I know, but also the best, in my opinion. Fear is something we all deal with. As a student, I have a good amount of fear to get past. One tip I can offer is pretend you are a protagonist. Pretend you are fighting your way past your problems. Write yourself analogies of how its hard, of what is happening, making it sound like a very intense and hyped-up book. Because protagonists always win, in one way or another. Make yourself into a book, and read it. see yourself from another prospective. It also helps when you really don't want to continue your homework. Pretending you are in an epic montage is quite motivational, if I do say so myself.
 
Anyways, now that we covered that, lets talk about what a good job you did. Uploading is hard. Because once its there, people see it. But trust me, the people who see it are just going to grow to know you more. If you don't like it, that's okay. I don't exactly love myself at all times, but i keep going because its what we do. We love your uploads. All of them. And if everything is falling apart, that's fine. Pretend its fine until it is. It will be.
 
We all believe in you, and your writing, and we love your blogs(and your flattering remarks about your students). Keep it up!

Where do I begin? I need to begin with what impresses me the most, the thing I value the most. My student is reaching out to me as a fellow human. We are equals in this sharing.  She read my words, and she wanted to engage in my thinking and feeling and share her advice.

Then, there is her advice.  It’s brilliant, wise, creative. I should see myself as a protagonist fighting the conflicts of all great stories.  Because “all protagonists win, in one way or another”. And, then, she says this idea helps her with homework. The juxtaposition of huge problems to daily real problems, from the wisdom of an eighth grader, well, it humbles me.

And then, her other advice about how I should risk people knowing me better. And that it doesn’t matter how people feel when they know me better. These words from my student, when I try desperately to help students feel that message.  

So, I’m humbled, deeply.

And here is the biggest thing about Abby reaching out to me human-to-human. She is empowered. She is reading my work as an authentic piece of writing, and she’s being her real authentic audience self. And she’s empowered to engage. That’s what made me get welled up with tears when I read her words on Friday afternoon. There is no greater hope for me than that my students feel empowered to think, learn, reason, own their own thoughts and actions, create, reach out, make change happen.  

And feel empowered to reach out to her teacher.  

What a gift.  

Thank you, Abby.

Gratitude: the technology that keeps me in touch, in a deep and meaningful way with others.

Goals: keep putting myself out there and risking others knowing me.  

7 Comments

My past 12 rough draft blogs into one mash-up blog.

9/4/2018

8 Comments

 
I’m so far behind in this blog. I’ve written twelve blogs since last April and have published none of them.  Here are the reasons why:
  • Fear
  • Things got too personal
  • I didn’t like how I wrote and lost steam on revising
  • I lost focus on what I wanted to say
  • Fear
  • Things got too personal
There are a lot of other reasons, but those are the main reasons. I’m going to do a quick verbal mash-up of what has been going on with my twelve (or more blogs):

    Caveat: I’m okay, really:)
    I’ve been thinking about teaching in ways that are the same as they’ve always been and also so different, and I can’t explain it without a few years off to study this (fear); I have had lots of family and friend stuff going on (things too personal); I wrote about pedagogy, ideas, student choice and voice, and it sounded preachy and pedantic (fear); I wrote about how I am good with thinking differently because I have an online PLN that supports my thinking (along with my teaching cohort) (fear); I wrote about how much less work it is to personalize learning with technology and feared teacher response (fear). More stuff happened to friends and loved ones and has activated that go-to response  and has exhausted me and makes me think I can’t quite take anything else (fear and too personal).

    There you have it: the subject of all my blogs that were layered under the context of really good things.  Here is the mash-up of all the good stuff I left behind:

    Caveat: I’m hoping this shows I really am okay:)

    Student choice allows students to have an authentic entry into learning; students’ voices are heard from the smallest items to the largest class-changing procedures; students can safely fail; students love learning and own it; students move me to learn, think, grow, every day.  What that last sentence just said x30.

    I’m more excited than ever to be a teacher. This school year, two weeks in, has been rough on me personally. I’ve been sick, busy with taking care of others, making sure I take care of myself, and...well, lots of other things. But being back to school has been the balm my soul has needed. My 8th graders are:
  • Charming
  • Funny
  • Compassionate
  • Filled with curiosity
  • Surprising
  • Hard working
  • Not-So-Hardworking
  • Silly
  • Soulfull
  • Themselves.

So, here. I braved this fear and am publishing this.  I needed to just reach out and write a blog. I will ask my students to hold me accountable for weekly blogs. And these 8th graders will do it.

And I ask my students to remind me, when I forget, to remember their lives, all that they have in their lives. All the good.  All the challenges. All that they fear. How it holds them back. And how we can move forward. How I can help them.


Gratitude: my students and my community of learners at school and online. And, Danny. And Emily.

Goal: put aside more fear so that my blogs reach more heartstrings.

P.S: to my 8th graders: Ms. Millikan described this blog as one big mindset.  What do you think?


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    6th grade language arts teacher at Westview Middle School in the St. Vrain Valley School District

    Old dog learning new tricks

    writer of fact and fiction

    educator of middle schoolers and self

    cat lover

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