Category: Classroom

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Classroom Writing

Guest Blogger—Lynn Balmer: The Power of Words

When my coworker, Lynn, sent me this piece of writing, I knew I had to share it with you. She is truly ahappyteacher, but this morning she was also ahappywriter.  Nothing makes me happier than passionate people, passionate people writing—they’re my BFFs.

Anyway, she wrote this as a model for her students, to show effective organization. I’m pretty sure it also shows effective voice, style, and everything good writing should be. I love Lynn for sharing like this with her kids; I love Lynn for sharing this with me; I’m sure you’ll love her too. . . .

“The Power of Words”

            I wasn’t the prettiest, smartest, or most popular person in my class.  But like any normal kid, I wanted to get attention from my peers and teachers.  Fortunately, I found a way that was positive: humor.  And no where did that humor come out more than through my writing.  I evolved as a writer from the kindergartner who gripped a pencil tightly with her tongue sticking out as she carefully formed each letter to the  teacher who still hunts and pecks as she types a mentor text for her eighth grade students.

Picture this:  a five year old with a bad hair cut from her grandfather (it was a way for a single income family to save a few bucks) and pink cat eye classes (hey, it was 1963; I was stylin’).  Eager to start school and impress the teacher, I proudly printed my first name at the top of my paper.  L  nn.  Miss McGregor walked by, glancing at my paper as I smiled up at her, despite the stern look she gave me (as the year progressed, those stern looks turned into vicious slaps meant to stifle my chattiness and humorous remarks which I never raised my hand for).   She made no comment, but later that day I got to take a note home to my mom.  My school career had just started; what did I know about notes home from the teacher.  Later that night, my mom informed me that she couldn’t practice my letters and name with me anymore.  The teacher said I wasn’t making my letters correctly, specifically the “y”, and the school had a particular way that they wanted to teach students how to write.  These were different times from today, a time when both students and parents deferred to teachers’ wisdom (and discipline), so my mom dutifully allowed the school to teach me how to write letters properly.  And while writing is much more than knowing how to write your name, my earliest memories of writing are about writing my name, my identity, backwards “Y” and all.  Fortunately, Mrs. McGregor did not smack the joy of learning out of me, nor did she quell my witty remarks, which amused the class.  I loved elementary school, especially reading and writing which came quite easily to me, and I readily accepted the role as class clown.

My writing flourished, however, when I hit middle and high school.  By now I was experimenting with the actual spelling of my name, ranging from the typical “Lyn” or “Lynne” to the more unique “Lyne” which was short-lived because people began calling me “Line”.  But the real power of writing for me came with the status it gave me as a funny person, a natural born storyteller.  Quite a few teaches allowed us to perform skits to show our knowledge, whether it was reenacting Columbus’s discovery of America in social studies or creating a different ending to a novel we’d read in English class.  And here is where I finally got to shine.  I was the writer of the script.  Naturally, I had a star role in the production too, and no matter how serious the topic, I always managed to work some humor into it.  At that time I didn’t own a type writer, but I didn’t mind filling sheet after sheet with blue ball point pen, crossing out a word here to put in a more precise one, inserting a comma there, and sometimes even ripping up the whole paper to start over.  Like most adolescents, I was painfully aware of my appearance (my stylin’ pink eye glasses now replaced by the much more hip octagon wire frames of the 70’s) and while I was limited in my ability to perfect my appearance, I was empowered with the written word, which I used to express myself and to entertain others.

By now I realized that my status in school was someone who was smart, but not too smart, and funny.  While I never ran with the most popular people, I was accepted by them because I could make them laugh.  In 11th and 12th grades I had the same English teacher, Mrs. Watkins, and under her tutelage I created literary analyses, research papers, and my personal favorite: narratives.  Stories about me and my life experiences which I could embellish and make funny.  What’s more, she let me read them aloud to the class (I always volunteered), and I can still picture it:  me at a desk with the chair attached which was in the very front of the room, the blackboard behind me with Mrs. Watkin’s perfect handwriting conveying profound words of wisdom, and the whole classes’ eyes on me as I read my story.  Not that I wanted anyone looking at me too closely back then (I never felt like I had quite the right look or clothes or hair and by now my eyes were so bad that no matter what kind of cool glasses I tried on, by the time my prescription was put into them, I looked like I was wearing the classic geek Coke bottles, definitely not a way to get a boyfriend). However, the real draw of the classes’ focus on me was the power of my written words on an audience.  Maybe Richard wasn’t going to go to the Homecoming dance with me (my fantasy), but I could make him laugh, and that kind of attention drove me to write more and more.  Poetry (most of it really bad) and letters to friends when I went off to college (long before email and texting), and eventually lesson plans as a student teacher for 7th grade English.

Because now writing was not just a way for me to be the center of attention as I made people laugh.  It was something I was good at, whether I wrote to entertain, inform, or persuade.  I chose a career to teach others how to read and write because I loved doing both these things so much, that I wanted to inspire others to love them too (or at least appreciate what the written word has to offer).  And so here I sit, hunting and pecking on my keyboard, writing a mentor text for my 8th grade students, feeling the power of the written words as they seem to almost magically appear on the page (wearing both contacts and funky reading glasses now that my myopic eyes are middle aged).   When I share this written piece with them, in hopes of inspiring them to think about how they have progressed, evolved, and grown in their own lives, I also hope that they appreciate the power of the written word.  And maybe even laugh a few times.

Categories
Classroom Reading Writing

Rigor, Detroit, & Evan

This story was written last year, and never posted. It’s strange how things get away from me sometimes. I can’t believe I’ve never shared this story on ahappyteacher; it’s one of my favorite teacher things I’ve done yet. So before I begin to try and tell you about this year’s project, I’m taking you back to last year and letting you read about . . .

Evan. It’s hard to even begin to describe this Detroit native, or why I think it’s so vitally important that you know him. But, it is.

This fall my students fell in love with Evan and Detroit. The whole thing felt sort of magical. I was running around in my backyard with sparklers on the 4th of July when I discovered my greatest lesson plan yet. I am an eighth grade language arts teacher in Pennsylvania, and when you meet your new neighbor, who bears a striking resemblance to Robert Paterson (Edward, from Twilight), you instantly start dreaming up ways to keep this kid in your life and use him to inspire the young, vampire obsessed teens in your classroom. What I did not know that night was just how much Evan, the young Cullen look-a-like, would change my teaching practice and my classroom.

After one look at his new house, it was apparent that Evan was not from around here. His house is one of the coolest I have seen in West Chester, with little pieces of Detroit hidden throughout it. A picture of Michigan Central Station resides on his kitchen wall next to a framed picture with the word Detroit artfully scribed upon it. On his end table sits a copy of Detroit Home. Ask Evan about Detroit, and you are sure to hear about it for quite some time. If ever a boy loved his hometown, I have certainly found him.

Remembering a Time magazine article about Detroit I had read the previous fall, I asked Evan if he would help my students to connect with the text by providing short video segments about his life and Detroit. This fall a section of my students were dubbed “Detroit” and our lessons began.

At first, the kids found the article, which was above their reading level, difficult to read and the history confusing. They didn’t understand why Detroit mattered. Enter Evan and his first video entitled, “Why I Love Detroit.” My students giggled as he referred to Coney dogs and the ability to get a Greek salad with little olives at the local gas station. They connected with him as he told them of how neither of our football teams, Philly nor Detroit, have ever won a Super bowl. They listened, surprised, as Evan told them of the musical greats that have come from his city.

Now understanding that Detroit mattered to Evan, my students began the research process. Together we learned about the history of Detroit and in turn the history of our nation. My students grew to love and even defend Detroit. They searched for more information online, and when we were stuck, we turned to Evan. We once spent an entire class looking at pictures of the Heidelberg Project. We watched YouTube videos about the city and read online articles and blogs written by true Detroiters. There were timelines charted, concept maps constructed, and comparisons drawn. We listened to their music, took in their art, and salivated over their local cuisine. Our little class had fallen for a city much bigger than ourselves.

As our project drew to a close, so a chapter was perhaps (okay so we made this up, but they’ll never know) closing for Evan too. The students were informed that Evan was faced with the decision of whether to move back to Detroit or to stay here in West Chester, PA. Each student was asked to write a persuasive letter; it became so much more. I realized how much my fourteen-year-olds loved Evan and Detroit. They wanted Evan to stay, because he is part of their lives and has had such success here. They also wanted Evan to return to Detroit– the city he so loved– because they recognized the heart of a true Detroiter: passionate, creative, and motivated. Though they loved Evan dearly, some did choose to send him home to be a part of a city that is “redefining cool.”

When I assign a writing project to eighth graders the first question out of their mouths is, “How long does it have to be?” This time it was, “I can’t pick,” and “Can he do both?” It mattered. They discussed; they read more; they even made movies of questions for Evan to watch. At the end of the week, I collected the best work I have ever seen eighth graders write, some topping four pages in length, and all supported with facts from a variety of sources. The passion with which these students were invested blew me away and brought tears to my eyes.

It was at this point that I truly began to reflect on the process. My kids gained more knowledge than I ever dreamed they would have of Detroit. We had not merely skimmed the surface instructionally; we had gone into the deep waters of comprehension. I had given the students the gift of Evan, someone who would love and celebrate them. Someone who would never dream of grading them or telling them they could or couldn’t go to the bathroom. Evan who would read their papers and write a response to them as though they were long lost friends, not a teacher checking for proper grammar or focus in writing. By letting go a little bit, I had given my students the three R’s I hear so much in the teaching field: Relationship, Relevance, and Rigor. It made all the difference.

In the end, Evan is not moving back to Detroit, but certainly a small part of Detroit has moved into Room 302, and we couldn’t be happier.

Evan teaches the boys how to add voice in their writing.

Categories
Classroom Reading

an apology long overdue

I’m not a huge fan of the library. Is that a crazy thing for a language arts teacher to say? It probably is. So I take it back, sorta.

When I was in school, every time a teacher took us to the library for some lame research project, I would goof off. Crazy, right? Me, ahappyteacher, wasting class time? Truth was I hated the books, I hated the card catalog, and searching a page for information was just painful. I come from a Googlemethis generation, and to be honest, I’m proud of it. We get it on our kindle, we take notes on our iPad, the bibliography is formatted for me on www.easybib.com .

So maybe I’ve been a little lax these past few years in taking my kids down there. Just because I didn’t see a use as a kid, or a college kid, or a grad student, doesn’t make the library old school? Or does it?

Regardless, we headed down there for a cross-curricular project with social studies this week. The kids used books and google, in harmony, and I have to say I’m pretty proud of them. They worked harder than I did as a student and really I feel like their understanding is deeper than any I would have had at their age. Who would have thought, a simple trip to the good ol’ library?

There was this really cool atmosphere of research going on down there, I kept finding myself thinking, “Awwww look at my little learners!”

Dear Library,

I’m sorry; you’ve done good for my kids and I this week. I plan to take them down to visit you a little more this year; I don’t mind that you’re not all digital, and I love your nerdy atmosphere. So for all the years neglected you, I hope we’ve no hard feelings.

Sincerely,

ahappyteacher

Categories
Classroom Writing

little teacher moments

This week I experienced quite a few moments that made my teacher heart smile, and rather than forget them in the busyness that can sometimes overtake me, I’ve decided to catalog a few for you in today’s blog post.

I read a student journal where the student chose to reflect on the strategies I’d been teaching in class. First he defined them with an example, which was enough to thrill me; I mean he could have picked any topic Xbox, basketball, whatever, but he went for writing strategies. Then I read the line that reminded me why I love my job, “I then began to think about how I can use this in my story.” Oh how I love when they share their thinking so freely and when they begin to revise with purpose.

It started raining on Friday, really hard. If you’re a teacher you’ve probably thought many times about how to deal with weather. I mean if it’s raining hard outside, every kid in your room will probably think that’s more entertaining than whatever you’re presenting. For me, sometimes I embrace the weather, and sometimes I close the blinds. Friday I chose to embrace it, and I was sitting with a table full of boys talking about rain stories and this one time at camp. Suddenly, a boy at the table interrupted my story, “I don’t mean to be rude Miss Smith, but I’ve got a rain story too, could you pause for a second so I could jot down my idea in my writer’s notebook? I don’t want to forget it.” That’s a writer, one who stops a conversation to remember.

I was moving around the room during writing time, when I noticed a boy writing seed ideas. I was curious; I haven’t taught them in awhile, and his looked shorter than normal so I sat down. I sat down and inquired what he was doing. His reply went something like this, “Well I was looking at an old generating list, and I liked a few stories so I decided to try out a few short sections of each one to see which one I like the best, that one I’ll write long. We’re allowed to do that right?” Actually that’s exactly what I want them to do, I just wasn’t sure anyone would remember it.

I overheard a writing conference where the writer said, “I’m working on details.”

His writing partner looked at him and said, “What do you mean?”

“Details like being specific?”

And again the writing partner, “I don’t understand what part do you want to be specific in? Characters? Setting?”

“I’m not sure, everything?”

“That’s too hard, let’s read your piece together and focus on one thing that’s important to your story.”

Asking about goals, being specific with goals, and accomplishing goals, that’s what we’re all about.

That was just the beginning of my writers coming out of their shells this week. I had kids begging me to spend more time revising, and others finding punctuation in their independent reading books that they could model in their writing. I’m starting to feel at home with these kids. I love their talk. I love their thinking. I can’t wait to see how we’ll grow as writers this year.

Categories
Classroom Writing

timelines

Backing things up a bit, I wanted to share with you a planning strategy we used in our journals before lifting the text to regular paper. I didn’t think the strategy was blog worthy (or maybe I just didn’t have the time), but now that I’ve had the chance to read through most of their journals, I can see it had power.

I often teach making timelines as a planning strategy when working with Small Moment True Stories. A timeline is exactly what you think, a series of events in the order you will write them. The difference is I usually have my kids make at least three for the same story. I do this because I want them to recognize that a story might be more powerful if it started an hour earlier or maybe even right in the action itself. They’re the authors so in the end they do the picking, but I do force them to make timelines.

In making these timelines students are looking at:

  • Which approach best tells the story?
  • Which approach best conveys why this story is important to tell?
  • Which approach is unique or follows a mentor author?

After making the timelines some students had to shift text around, others had to add on, and some simply decided to keep their story as they had written it. All completely fine options in my book, as long as the thinking was there. And after looking at their journals, I’m thinking it was . . .

Here’s an example of three different timelines that I found in H’s journal . . . they kinda’ read like a poem don’t they?

Getting ready for game

Warming up for the game

Getting starting lineups

 

I start at mid-field

Snowing, raining, 40 degrees out

Playing my guts out

Can’t feel my hands or legs

 

After playing for 60 minutes we lose

2-1 was the score

Sweat and cold air

Thought to myself maybe next year

I will never stop playing soccer

Categories
Classroom Writing

lifting

Today we went for the first big move, or lift as I’m calling it. My kids took their first idea out of their notebooks and onto drafting paper.  I love this part of the process; where they have generated thousands of ideas and tried out a few seeds of stories in their playground (err notebook), and now they’re ready to test out their story to see if it will stick (and it will . . . because I’m teaching them to revise . . . lots).

I can’t wait to teach them revision. There is something about watching a writer struggle with their own paragraph, sentence, word, that gives me the chills. I love the decision process where a writer cuts out a whole paragraph because they’ve told you too much. Or better yet, I love hearing an author read a sentence aloud four different ways until they’ve found the perfect order for their words. Then again sometimes the removal of a word or the changing from the proper noun, Zack my boyfriend, to just the measly pronoun him when you break up — oh the power my young writers have (don’t even get me started on the drama they can cause with punctuation).

I’m giving them one more day to draft this whole thing out on paper, and then I’m diving in. I’m offering up five mentor texts to them for mining of tips and strategies while we revise together together.

Mentor Texts for Small Moment True Stories:

  1. Boys, Beer, Barf, and Bonding by Bruce Hale
  2. Crow Call by Louis Lowry
  3. Marshfield Dreams by Ralph Fletcher (Chapter 2—Statue)
  4. Dead Body by Jerry Pallotta
  5. Eleven by Sandra Cisneros

Of course, I’ll be modeling with my own writing and these books— hopefully, I’ll find a break in the middle of all this and share a tip or two with you.

Categories
Reading

five.

Did she really just say five books?

Yeah, she did.

A majority of my students are on their third book of the year; I’m pressing for five by the end of September. We’ll be working on covering a volume of pages this year, but for September we’re working on a volume of books. For some kids, this is a goal they would have met anyway, but for most it means putting in more time, going for shorter books, or lowering your reading level and going back to old favorites.

I thought five books by the end of September was a strong request when I first said it. Now, I’m realizing it’s totally doable. I am giving them time to read in class, and I am forming my instruction around their independent reading books, they have more than ample opportunity to cover ground. In fact, their only homework for my class is to read (and make a post-it note or two on their book).

I wish my teachers would have done this for me— it’s no fault of theirs that Independent Reading wasn’t a trend when I was in middle school. However, I just love that most of my kids can name a book they love or an author they enjoy reading. It’s my hope they’ll be reading books long after they leave my class, long after they leave school. Side Note: I’d really like to thank all the teachers from kindergarten to seventh grade that worked with my students before me; it’s not a battle or a challenge for them to find books they like—I know this teaching and this culture is yours; I cannot thank you enough.

If there is one thing my district does right, it’s create readers. Five books? No problem.

Another Side Note: some kids do complain— they’re fourteen. I tried to count them today, out of a potential 85 students, 10 thought five was a bit much. A little more than 10%— this happyteacher is totally okay with those odds. It’s cool to read.

Categories
Classroom Reading Writing

Product of: Starbucks, Conversations, and Dreaming

Yesterday I was trying to figure out if we have been in school for two weeks or three. I’m starting to feel a sense of urgency in just about everything I do. During the summer there was Starbucks, conversation, and dreaming. Now I reflect, plan, and do, praying that a little bit of sleep makes it into the equation somewhere.

But, I feel like we are gearing up—I’m giving them the tools and structures they’re going to need for the journey this year.

  1. Lots of Reading & Post-It making
  2. A ton of Partner Talk
  3. Generating Ideas to write from

Post-Its. I’m a teacher; I love them, that comes naturally with the job. However, it wasn’t until this summer at Columbia University’s Reading Project that I understood their value for my students. I’m modeling strategies for responding to text in ten-minute mini-lessons and then watching the kids use that strategy on Post-Its in their Independent Reading book. It’s a beautiful thing to see their thinking sticking out on brightly colored notes between the pages of a book.

Partner Talk. I was pretty good about remembering partner talk last year with writing. I understand the importance of talk within the writing process, but this year I added reading partners to the mix. Now, my kids are talking purposely at least twice during the block. Once during reading; once during writing. I’m modeling this talk with my coteachers and other kids in mini-lessons, and mid-workshop interruptions. Sure, I’m hearing off topic talking. Sure, this is taking up valuable time. But, I’m thinking, give me another week or two and everyone will know my expectations for both reading and writing partners—from that point, these partner talk relationships will become invaluable to my instruction.

Generating. It’s weird to say I teach my kids to think up their own ideas. It’s even weird to me that they can’t just do it on their own. I mean they have facebook; they like to post. But, in response to their cries of, “What should I write about today?” I’ve learned the importance of teaching them to generate their own ideas. I try to give them about one generating strategy a week in the beginning of the year to get them going with ideas. Then later in the year, if they come to me with the awful, “What should I write about today?” question, I can simply point them to my wall charts and move on with a smile.

It’s the end of week two, it’s the product of: Starbucks, conversations, and dreaming.

Categories
Classroom

reviewing the game plan

All summer, pretty much whenever I could, I would sneak off to Starbucks. I’ve developed a love for a tall iced coffee, sweetened with soy. And although I was maybe embarrassed initially by my Starbucks gold membership, I’m not anymore. In fact I love it, and my free coffee refills (which you can get too as long as your card is registered—you don’t have to be gold). But today, I wasn’t at Starbucks at all; in fact, I passed four of them on my drive to school.

Then I arrived, at the door of my almost creepily empty room. At first, I was simply overwhelmed. Thirty chairs were stacked in the back, there was nothing bright or colorful anywhere, and I hadn’t had any coffee. I wish I could tell you some trick to make this moment better if it happens to you. But, I can tell you that I moved through that overwhelming threshold, plugged in my iPod, and got started.

I arrived around 9:45AM, then at 11AM I was ready to call it a day.  I think I pushed through until 2PM.  I hung all my favorite posters, took out new pencils, hung up artwork around my desk from former students, and then sat in the summer heat and tried to rehearse in my mind what I might say to them when they walk in on that first day of school.

Beginnings are nerve wracking and beautiful in the same breath. Maybe as a teacher, I shouldn’t admit that I get nervous about the first day of school. Maybe I should tell you; oh it’s just a bunch of administrative stuff that first week. But, you saw my last blog; you know my first week, and there are no preseason this doesn’t really count moments when you’re in my classroom.

For now, I’ll run back up to Starbucks and review the game plan one more time . . .

Categories
Classroom Reading Writing

August is.

It’s August.

I guess for some teachers that means the end of vacation. For me, August is inherent with reflection, planning, and oddly high credit card bills. My brain is ready to go back and my wallet needs to stay away from Manhattan and Starbucks.

I’m left thinking about what routines, what structures, and what assessments I really want to pack into that first week of school. I’ve downloaded curricular calendar after curricular calendar, and I’m packing my brain full of first month of school non-negotiables.

 

In Reading Workshop for Week One I’m thinking

-Volume Matters, kids make a plan of the next 6 books they’ll tackle (see things I’ve learned from my coworker S.Gardner)

-Model Reading Log Possibilities (More on this in the next post)

-Establish Reading Partners & Model talking about books

-Read Aloud A Picture Book or Two

-Reading Survey

 

In Writing Workshop for Week One I’m thinking

-PreAssessment, kids showing off their best writing skills

-Spelling Inventory

-Making Writing Portfolio Folders

-Generating Ideas to journal from

-How to set a up a journal page

-Establish writing partners & model talking about writing

-Writing Survey

 

And that’s just the start…

I’ll need to show them where to keep their tools and how to organize/respect our room. I’ll need to show them how to move the desks quickly when we sit on the floor, and how to move them back quickly to begin working. I’ll need to discuss technology, and how to respect it within the classroom.

There is more, I mean I can’t really even begin to tell you the more, because if you’re a teacher like me the more has started to wake you up in the night. What I’m recommending is starting your non-negotiable lists now. Then come the first day of school you can focus on helping kids open their lockers and learning their names, rather than planning some strange get to know you game that has nothing to do with your curriculum anyway.  Happy Planning!