Friday, December 21, 2012

Aha Moments

     Thank you, Oprah, for coining the term "aha moment." Otherwise I wouldn't have quite the right phrasing to describe this week's post. Yes, readers, this post is dedicated to sharing three "aha moments" I have had this week while conferencing and collaborating with some of the teachers I work with as an instructional coach. Sometimes when I observe a class, or have a discussion with a teacher about issues he or she is experiencing, an idea will just occur to me -- a new way of looking at something, a fresh perspective, an aha moment. (Side note -- this is why I think that, as educators, we need to watch each other teach more often and we need to have more and more open discussions with one another about issues in our classrooms, because often it is through these experiences that new ideas will come to us!)
     Here we go . . .

Aha Moment #1
     Lately I've worked as instructional coach with several teachers who are having difficulty getting their class's attention -- a problem all of us have experienced, for sure. We've talked about using quiet signals and about which quiet signal will work the best. The answer is that no one quiet signal is "the best." Truly this is the case since, if there were said magical signal, we'd all be using it. Here comes the "aha" -- it doesn't fully matter which quiet signal you use (whether it's clapping a pattern, ringing a chime, a call and response, etc., etc.). What matters is . . . drum roll, please . . . specifying your expectations for students. What should they do, specifically, when this quiet signal occurs?? I'd venture to say most of us (including myself before this particular aha moment) simply assume that of course our students know what we want from them at this quiet signal moment. But have we been explicit enough? Have we said, while practicing the quiet signal, "Students, when you hear this chime (or insert alternative quiet signal here), your eyes should be on me, and you should be absolutely silent. This means you are ready and are waiting to see what the next set of directions or what the next transition will be"? Have we posted these expectations in our classrooms? I think students need for us to be this explicit. Why leave it to chance that they just inherently know what the heck we're talking about?

Aha Moment #2
     This aha is sort of tied to a memory of mine. Lately, I've also been working with several teachers on using summarizers at the end of a lesson. Mainly, we've discussed avoiding falling into a rut with these summarizers. Tickets To Leave are great, but do students start becoming numb to them when they see them too often? My aha moment answers a resounding "yes." And I'll tell you why. While discussing repetitive summarizers with one of these concerned teachers, I was visited by the Ghost of In-Service Workshops Past. In a former district of mine, we teachers would be given a 3-2-1 exit slip at the end of each in-service. Reflecting on the workshop, we were to write 3 things that had interested us, 2 things we still had questions about, and 1 thing we could immediately start using in our classrooms. The first few times this type of exit slip was used, we all dutifully and thoughtfully filled out the 3-2-1 reflection. However, this went on for years. And years. By the time we had been filling out 3-2-1s at the end of each and every in-service workshop for four or five years, no one was being all that reflective or thoughtful about it anymore. Honestly? It was boring. It was old. We were tired of it. I can't help but think that students who are presented with the same summarizer day after day start to feel the same way. Aha! Variety is the spice of life!

And Finally . . . 
Aha Moment #3
     Lately, several teachers have lamented to me about students who repeatedly call out during a class discussion or during a question and answer session. This has frustrated all of us from time to time. And we know as teachers that this is not a good behavior to encourage in the classroom. It's unfair if only certain students' voices are heard, especially since these students are being heard due to behavior that can be interpreted as rude or inconsiderate of others. This is not the lesson we want to teach our students about how to be heard in life. But, what to do, what to do? And then it hit me! Get into the habit of asking questions by asking students to raise their hands. For example, instead of phrasing your question as "What is the main character struggling with in this paragraph?," phrase it as "Raise your hand if you can tell us what the main character is struggling with." Seem too simple of a solution to be true? Ah, my friends, but I've seen it work! With the latter phrasing, students are following the main direction being given to them, which is to raise their hands if they know the answer. With the former phrasing, no such direction is inherent. Another point for explicitness!

     I realize, having just written all of the above, how vital a tool reflective writing is. If I did not have this blog, this outlet for sharing my thoughts of the week, would I remember and retain these aha moments? Or would these realizations (simple and "common-sense-y" as they may be) slip my mind eventually, causing me to consistently struggle with the same issues? Reflective practitioning works, readers! Jot down those ahas!

     No more posts from me until I resume work during the first week of January. Happy Holidays, readers, and to my fellow educators out there -- have a lovely vacation!

Friday, December 14, 2012

When the Teacher Sneezes

     I've been reading a book by Todd Whitaker lately entitled What Great Teachers Do Differently: 14 Things That Matter Most. It's an easy little read that (unfortunately at times) doesn't delve into too many specifics, but does offer a nice educational philosophy. Whitaker has conducted several studies on great teaching, theorizing to his readers that there are certain things that great teachers consistently do as part of their practices that set them apart from their colleagues. I thought I'd share some of these with you this week:
  • Great teachers set -- and stick to -- expectations. Whitaker explains that establishing expectations is vastly different from establishing rules. He claims that "great teachers don't focus on 'What am I going to do if students misbehave?' They expect good behavior -- and generally that's what they get" (2004, p.18). (Remember I warned you about the lack of specifics?? Whitaker doesn't go into much detail about how great teachers expect good behavior -- about what that looks like and sounds like, etc. But his philosophy is a nice starting point for us all to start thinking about what that might look like for us.)
  • Great teachers have a bag of classroom management tricks, like using eye contact or proximity. Great teachers know that a teacher never wins an argument with a student: "As soon as it starts, we have lost. If their peers are watching, they cannot afford to give in" (p. 26). And great teachers recognize that yelling doesn't work. (I learned this last lesson the hard way when I first started teaching. During my very first year, I yelled full volume at a very talkative class. It resulted in pin-drop silence . . . for about five minutes. I had lost my cool, my control. My students had won. They had been able to do that to me. I never yelled at a class again because I knew it didn't work.)
  • Great teachers know that they want all students on their side. Whitaker offers this scenario: It's the first day of school. There are 25 students in a class and 24 of them are on their best first-day-of-school behavior. But #25 is not. As Whitaker insists, and I agree, right now the remaining 24 students are on the teacher's side. They want the teacher to take steps so that #25 will stop misbehaving. However, because #25 is one of them, they want the teacher to deal with #25 in a professional and respectful way. If the teacher does so, he's got the class on his side. If he does not, other students will begin to shift their allegiance to #25, and now the teacher has several #25s on his hands. Whoops. Whitaker claims that great teachers demonstrate respect for their students.
  • Great teachers have high expectations of their students, but even higher expectations of themselves, says Whitaker. As a former high school ELA teacher, my expectations of my students and of myself were tested each time I assigned a major essay. I knew that if I expected my students to be able to complete this essay within a certain time frame, that I also had to be able to assess the essays within a certain time frame in order to provide feedback to my students. My expectations for my students kept my own expectations for myself in check.
  • And, finally, when the teacher sneezes, the whole class gets a cold. As Whitaker says, "Our impact is significant; our focus becomes the student's focus" (p. 56). We as teachers set the tone for our classes each day. The teacher is the variable in her classroom. Whose behavior can she control? Her own. Whitaker recognizes that how teachers respond (to misbehavior, to a majority of a class failing a quiz, etc.) is the variable. "Good teachers consistently strive to improve, and they focus on something they can control -- their own performance" (p. 38).
     Now, I fear at times Whitaker might get a little "preachy" or a little simplistic -- and I've already remonstrated the poor man for his lack of specificity (give us some examples -- jeesh!) -- but all in all I enjoyed his common sense approach to what great teachers are doing in their classrooms every day that sets them apart as "great." I like that the above (though abridged) list is full of attainable mindsets and ways of thinking about teacher ownership over what occurs in a classroom. I hope this list sparks some thought and reflection -- I know it did for me!

Friday, December 7, 2012

John Dewey Throw-Back

     Hi readers. Just a quick post this week -- sorry (I'm a bit under the weather and not at my blogging-best!).
     Remember all that John Dewey you had to read as a undergrad education major? Well I stumbled upon some wise words from the father of progressive education just the other day on -- of all places! -- Facebook. I think I first saw the quote on Edutopia, a Facebook page that I "like" due to some interesting education blogs they sometimes post. Imagine my delight as I came across the following quote while scrolling through recent status updates:

"We do not learn from experience; we learn from reflecting on experience."
~John Dewey

     Teachers, surely we can relate. We can have those wonderfully magic days in our classrooms where every objective is met smoothly by smiling students, every minute is well-paced. But, is it really just that 50 minute experience, the in-the-moment of teaching that lesson, that we learn from? Or does our learning truly come when we take the time to be reflective practitioners, when we sit down after teaching that lesson and reflect upon just what made it all work so well, and how can we replicate this magic in the future? The same can be said for those wonderfully horrid lessons -- if we take the time to reflect, these can also be excellent learning opportunities.
     But this doesn't stop with the teachers. Students should also learn from reflecting on experience. Of course, the first step has to be (as I wrote about in my previous post) making sure that the students are the ones doing the work and having the learning experiences in your classroom. But, as Mr. Dewey reminds us, the next step is equally -- if not more -- important. We must provide our students with opportunities to reflect on their learning experiences. Students must also engage in metacognitive practices, and, in order to do so effectively, must be taught how to be self-reflective about their work in the classroom.
     There's lots of ways to help students engage in thinking about their own thinking and about their own learning. Interested, and teach in my district? Then give me a shout and we can work together on building more opportunities for students to reflect!

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Are You Doing More Work Than Your Students?

Alternate Title: Those Who Do the Work Do the Learning.

My alternative title may sound a little bumper sticker-ish to you, but I believe it rings true. If you are doing more work during a given class than your students, guess who's also learning more? You are. Actually, since you already know the material you're teaching, the more important way to think about this is as follows: if you're doing more work, your students are doing less learning. 

I've seen this happen pretty often, and I've fallen victim to it myself. Sometimes it just seems so much easier to keep rattling off example after example of the concept you're teaching; it can seem quicker, and more efficient, to do so rather than give some of that example-generation over to the students. For instance, let's say you're an English teacher (always an easy go-to example for me since I used to be one!). You're up at the board, where you've just defined (or reviewed) figurative language. You then proceed to give your students eight different examples of figurative language from the reading they have recently completed. My question to you is this: why not provide your students with one example (in order to model), and then release them to find the subsequent examples on their own? It may be a little more time-consuming, but the students will be doing the work. And they'll be doing the learning. AND you'll have a chance to check for understanding!

The more and more you do this, with topics ever-increasing in complexity, you may start to notice something: your students may not be enjoying this. Some of them may have grown accustomed to sitting back, taking notes, and generally letting you do all the work. Some of them may even think you are slacking off! Story time: A few years ago, when I was teaching 11th grade English, it was time for my students to study good ol' Henry David Thoreau. In the interest of differentiating based on student interest, I did some small talks on several of his essays from Walden, then allowed my students to choose which essay they wanted to explore in-depth. Once the choices were made, groups were formed, and the assignment was given -- study your essay closely as a group and, following some provided guidelines and specifics, prepare to present this essay to the rest of the class. By the second day of work on this assignment, one of my groups of students starting delivering humorous smirks my way. As I made my way over to their location, they told me they had my number. One of them said, "We figured out why you're doing this this way, Ms. B. You're taking the easy way out because you don't want to read this book, so you're making all of us do it." 

I realized I had not built a culture in my classroom where students were consistently expected to take on ownership of tasks, of content, of areas of study. So, step one is to plan lessons so that you are not doing all the work (and, subsequently, all the learning). But step two must not be ignored, either. Students need to be brought into the loop. Explain to them, discuss with them, why you'll be handing over more tasks to them. Be sure they understand the teaching philosophy behind it. Make them your partners in this process called education.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Giving Thanks


      I typically post on Fridays. It’s the end of the week, and I love taking the opportunity to reflect on everything I’ve read and researched about instruction and assessment and everything I’ve seen in classrooms over the course of the week. It’s a nice chance to synthesize the ideas that have been flooding my brain all week, as well as to stop and remind myself of the big picture.

     Well, today is Tuesday, but it’s fake Friday for all of us who are fortunate enough to have the rest of the week off to celebrate Thanksgiving. So, I thought I’d post not about everything I’ve learned and thought about this week (it’s been a two-day work week, people!) and instead share with you some things I am grateful for.

I give thanks for:

·      My new job as an instructional coach. This position has reinvigorated my passion for education by allowing me to stretch my muscles and try out a new way to be an educator. Having the chance to work with teachers from grade K all the way to grade 12, in science classes, in art classes, in ELA and in history has been challenging, exciting, interesting, and definitely NOT boring!

·      All the teachers in my new district who have volunteered to work with me so far. In my first two and a half months in this position, I have worked with 36 teachers (many of whom I continue to work with). These teachers give up their free time during prep periods, before and after school to meet with me, all because of their dedication to their craft. It’s inspiring and motivating, to say the least.

·      My soon-to-husband (the big day, 2/2/13, feels right around the corner!). He ceaselessly believes in me, and is the best partner this girl could ever ask for.

·      Friendships. I have a few friends who have known me for so long, I cannot even picture my life without them. Being known so well by someone (or in my case, a few someones) is priceless.

·      Family. I don’t think mine always understand everything I do or believe in – in many ways, we can be polar opposites of each other. But I am blessed to have a nuclear family that, regardless of differences, offers me unconditional love. Especially thankful for my little nephew, who just turned one! He has taught me that I actually CAN get along with a baby – who knew?!?

·      This blog. I’ve never blogged about anything before, so starting a blog was a new challenge for me. I’ve grown to really appreciate the opportunity to sit back and quietly reflect on where my thoughts stand, where my questions lie, where my ideas are coming from. I am thankful to any readers who view my posts, and hopeful that they are learning from and reflecting on what I share.

·      And finally, today I am quite thankful that I was invited to a second grade Thanksgiving feast. Readers, I have never experienced something quite as cute. These are students I have been working with for a while now, and it was sweet to have them welcome me into their celebration. Every now and then with this new job, I really miss being a classroom teacher. Days like today make me still feel that I am part of classroom life, of students’ lives. It was a special gift.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Friday, November 16, 2012

Reunited . . . and It Feels So Good

     This week I had the good fortune of being reacquainted with a dear, old friend: the summarizer. I'm working (in my instructional coach capacity) with a lovely teacher who is currently looking into establishing some new routines for her classes, including expanding her end-of-class routines. What a great goal! Fun fact: Did you know that, according to most of the brain-based learning research out there, what students retain the most from a class is based on what they did during the first five minutes and the last five minutes? Bring on those activators and summarizers!

     So, in the hopes of helping out the afore-mentioned teacher I am working with, I went straight to my Research for Better Teaching handy-dandy little spiral-bound text of summarizing goodies, aptly named Summarizers: Activity Structures to Support Integration and Retention of New Learning.  What a lovely reunion we had, this book and I. I had forgotten how many great, easy, practical ideas were to be found within its pages. And so, in the spirit of giving, for this week's post I decided to share with you some of the book's best. Yes, readers, even though I just became reunited with this old flame, I am sharing it with you. Some things are so great, you just cannot keep them to yourself.

     You may also find that these ideas are a bit of a reunion for you as well. Sometimes what I love best about stumbling across an old resource (Shhh! Don't tell my Summarizers book I called it "old!") is not the fact that I am necessarily learning anything new, but the experience of thinking, "Oh yeah! I remember doing that (or something quite like it) with my students once and it worked really well. Now why the heck did I stop doing that?" So, I hope the following ideas from my newly-reunited-with-me book will either make you remember something you used to do with your classes and want to be reunited with, or present you with some new and helpful ideas.

     Here we go:

ABC

Easy as 123. Simple as do re mi. ABC. 123. Baby you and me girl. This easy-to-do summarizer might just have you and your students singing like The Jackson 5, too. Here's how it works (or one variation of it, anyway): Each student pulls a letter of the alphabet out of a fishbowl and then creates a summary sentence about the day's topic starting with the given letter (for example, if a student pulls a "B," then they must write a sentence summarizing the day's lesson that starts with the letter "B"). If you still have those pesky couple of minutes left before the bell rings that are starting to cause you to panic because you already started the summarizer and kids know class is over and they're done and they're going to start packing up -- aaaaaagggghh!, then you can always have students share their sentences in alphabetical order. OR, you could start class the next day by having students share, which would serve as a nice reminder before your new lesson begins.

Inside Outside Circle

Sorry. No song to go along with this one. Here, each student is asked to prepare one question (and corresponding answer) about some aspect of the day's lesson. Then, students form inner and outer circles, with the inner circle facing the outer circle, so that each student is paired up with someone. Pairs take turns asking their questions of one another and helping each other if necessary in answering the questions. When this exchange is over students exchange question cards. Then the inner or the outer circle moves three people to the right, students face off and begin a new round. Hey -- and you don't have to worry about that pesky last minute of class sneaking up on you.  Just keep the circles rotating as long as you need to!

Luck of the Draw

You feeling lucky, punk? (Whew! I'm glad I squeezed in a pop culture reference for this one after my failure to do so with the last strategy! Redemption is mine!) Okay, so Luck of the Draw is designed to ensure that each class period will begin with a quick summary of what happened in and was important from the previous class. All student names are on cards in a container. At the beginning of class, the teacher pulls out a name and announces who has won the Luck of the Draw. This student will begin tomorrow's class with a summary of today's class. This kills a few birds with one stone (I love using that expression, but it's just so gruesome!). First, it allows you to check an individual student's understanding of a lesson. And it also leads to a quick, prepared summary for the next day's lesson to begin with. In addition to reminding everyone of what was accomplished the day before, this ensures that any students who were absent the previous day are given a quick heads-up on what they missed. Some suggestions: Provide the Luck of the Draw winner with a summarizing sheet to fill out that asks for "what we did," "the most important things we learned and should remember," and a list of homework assignments. The student can also attach any handouts to be given to students who were absent that day. Also, the teacher I've been working with came up with the great idea to not return the student's name to the container, thereby ensuring that eventually every student in the room will have his or her name pulled.

     I hope you enjoyed these three ideas. (***Did you notice how none of them involved a lot of teacher prep?***) There's plenty more where that came from. Want to know more, and teach in the same district as me? Then, shoot me an email or call my office -- let's explore summarizers together!

In the interest of citing sources, here's the citation information of this fun book:
Saphier, J. & Haley, M.A. (1993). Summarizers: activity structures to support integration 
     and retention of new learning. Research for Better Teaching, Inc.: Acton, MA. 

Friday, November 9, 2012

Tic-Tac-T-Oh my Goodness, what a cool idea!

 
             Looking for a fun and effective way to individualize learning tasks for students (either based on different levels of readiness, interest, or learning style)? In her 2005 text, Differentiation in Action: A Complete Resource with Research-Supported Strategies to Help You Plan and Organize Differentiated Instruction – and Achieve Success with All Learners (Whew – what a title!), Judith Dodge recommends an often-cited approach: she calls it “choice boards,” I call it Tic Tac Toe. (You say potayto, and I say potahto.) The concept is, the teacher creates nine different assessments designed to assess student mastery of the same objective. Type those nine assessments up in boxes to resemble a Tic Tac Toe board (three rows of three columns each). If you’re mixing it up for different readiness levels, you make sure the range of levels is represented on the Tic Tac Toe board. Addressing various interests instead? Just make sure there’s a true variety in types of assessments. Learning styles? Refer to our friend Mr. Gardner, and try to address all or most of the types of learning styles in your nine assessments.

            Here’s what one may look like if the teacher is aiming to address preferences in learning style (Note: this is a quick example just to give you an idea of what I’m talking about – as you’ll see, these assessments are not fully fleshed out!):

         Auditory                                            Visual                                                    Tactile-Kinesthetic

Teach a Lesson
Create a Web Site
Gather an Artifact Box
Conduct an Interview
Create a PhotoJournal
Present a TV Newscast
Engage in a Debate
Design a Graphic Organizer
Role-Play with Props

            Now, hand out those beautifully-crafted Tic Tac Toe boards to your students. You can ask them to choose three different assessments from anywhere on the board, the only requirement being that they create a vertical, horizontal, or diagonal “tic tac toe” line connecting the assessments they’ve chosen. (Using the above example, a student might make a horizontal line, choosing “Engage in a Debate,” “Create a PhotoJournal,” and “Gather an Artifact Box.”) You can leave the choice completely up to the student, or you may want to engineer more student variety by requiring students to choose one assessment from each row or each column.

            Some may wonder about the use of this for different readiness levels. With this approach, each row would represent assessments for each of three readiness levels of students. Teachers may (understandably!) feel uncomfortable telling a student, “You need to do the three assessments on the middle row because that row matches your ability.” But, I think you can do this without needing to directly say something like this to your students. It’s been my experience that, with choice of assignments, most students will gravitate to the one that best matches their readiness level. You just need to be on the lookout for students who choose an assessment that is way beyond their readiness level, because they may get frustrated and give up. (But be cautious about this – if a student is choosing something that stretches them, this is not always a bad thing. Just monitor it, and jump in if the student is drowning! Let them know they can abandon ship in this case, and choose a different assessment from the board). You also need to be on the lookout for students who are choosing assessments that are at a lower readiness level than they are capable of. You can recommend/require that these particular students choose from one of the other rows on the board in order to challenge themselves.

            Using this strategy can be as complex or as simple as you want to make it. It can be used before, during, or after a unit of instruction for diagnostic, formative, or summative assessment purposes. Teach in my district, want to give it a try, but aren’t sure how? You know where to find me!

Friday, November 2, 2012

Making the Students the Teachers

     Readers, I watched some exciting education in progress yesterday that I simply must share with you. (**All identifying information will be kept anonymous, since, in my role as instructional coach, my relationships with teachers are confidential.)

     Yesterday, I looked on as a group of students became teachers. These particular students struggle with math, requiring extra support during the school day. But, their teacher doesn't see this as a limitation. Instead, she promotes their mastery of mathematical objectives through her use of the following activity:

     Once students have mastered a certain concept in math, having proven themselves on various assessments, it's time for them to become the teachers of this concept. They are provided with a sheet of problems, all based on this math concept they have recently mastered. They then work either individually or with a partner to choose which problems on the sheet would work best in teaching this concept to other students.

     Already, the metacognitive juices are flowing! I heard students explain their reasoning behind choosing certain problems over other ones, and debating the order in which they should model the solution to each problem, realizing that the sequence in which they model the problems would help in their teaching. Once students have had some practice with these problems, it's off to the classroom's smart board!

       At the smart board, students used ActivInspire to record screencasts that would visually display to viewers the students' (now teachers!) physical work on each problem, as well as allow viewers to listen to the step-by-step explanations of these mathematical understandings as said aloud and recorded by the students/teachers. I sat nearby, in awe, as I watched two students recording their instruction of a certain mathematical problem-solving technique. No longer were these mere children. No longer, especially, were these children who had been identified as math strugglers. The confidence they had in their own abilities was clear, as they solved problems while specifically explaining what they were doing with each step, and why they were doing it.

     What made the difference? These students had been scaffolded to this point, receiving formative and summative assessment that helped them master the concept. They were able to use interactive technology, usually a plus for 21st century students. But, I think the biggest motivator was their audience.

     Their audience was not their classroom teacher. She had, instead, assured them that these screencasts would be uploaded to Edline for other students to be able to use as math resources. If there is any doubt regarding the impact that having an authentic assignment that will be viewed by an authentic audience has on a student's performance, this doubt would be erased after five minutes of watching these students in action. They looked like teachers, up at that board, marking up their problem-solving in order to best demonstrate the how-to for their future "students." They sounded like teachers, using mature, thoughtful, and meaningful ways to explain their steps. Heck -- I totally understood what it was they were teaching via their screencast and, trust me, I am no math scholar.

     The moral of the story, then, is this: Let's find more ways for our students to have authentic audiences other than their teachers. Let's find more ways to give them voices that can be heard by others, that can make them feel they have a genuine way to share what they know and what they can do.

     The possibilities are endless! Readers, if you teach in my district and would like to explore this further, you know where to find me. . .     :)

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Model Behavior

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     Looking for model behavior from your students? Then why not model the behavior?
Modeling has become (thankfully) a fairly common practice in today’s classrooms. Teachers model via think alouds what to do when encountering a challenging text. They model the writing process by projecting sample paragraphs and essays for the class to look at together. They model which steps to take and in which order to take them in order to solve an algebra problem.

     We do all these types of modeling as educators because we understand that, often, our students need to see what the process looks like, or need to see what an end product should be, or need to hear what an active reader’s thought process sounds like.

     So why not also use modeling when it comes to behavioral expectations in the classroom? Perhaps, sometimes, students’ inappropriate behaviors are a result of students needing to know what it looks like and feels like to behave appropriately.

     I’ve been doing some reading on muscle memory, thanks to the famous sister authors of The Daily 5 and CAFÉ books, written to promote classroom structures that enhance elementary students’ literacy independence. These are great reads, in my opinion, for both elementary and secondary educators alike, so don’t be surprised if they are the subjects for future blog posts.

     But, for now, I want to zoom in on what the sisters have to say about muscle memory and its connection to behavior in the classroom. Some students, particularly those who are kinesthetic learners, learn best by experiencing the same physical task over and over until it becomes an ingrained way of being because it has become a part of their muscle memory. We’ve all experienced this, actually. Take driving a car, for example. As adult drivers, we no longer have to concentrate on each physical aspect of driving a car; we don’t consciously think, “Now I put the car key in the ignition, now I turn the key clockwise until the car starts, etc.” But we probably did need to think through these steps much more consciously when we were first learning to drive. The difference now is that, through much repeated practice and experience, these tasks have been ingrained in our muscle memory.

     A student in our classroom who is learning a new behavioral expectation from us (how to behave during a mini-lesson, for example, or how to behave when the teacher is busy conferencing with a small group of students) may just well need two things: 1) he or she may need to experience a model of the behavior so he or she knows just what is expected, and 2) he or she may need to practice the appropriate behavior repeatedly until it is part of his or her muscle memories. Muscle memory does not happen overnight, or even after three practice runs (again, think of the driving analogy).

     A great suggestion from the sister authors is to include the students in the behavior modeling. They suggest beginning by discussing with the whole class what student behavior should be during a particular activity, brainstorming a list of behavioral criteria. Then, the sisters ask for a student volunteer to model for the class what this behavior looks like. While the student models the correct behavior (which could include sitting correctly, listening, nodding along in agreement, taking notes, etc.), the teacher points out to the rest of the class how the model student is doing everything on the previously-created brainstormed list of expected behaviors.

     But – wait for it! – here’s my favorite part. The sisters don’t stop there. They then call on a student whom they know will find it challenging to display these appropriate behaviors. They ask this student to model for the class the incorrect way to behave. As they insist – and I’m sure most of us can relate to – “Remember, give that student an audience now, or he or she will certainly take it later!” (from The Daily 5, 2006, p. 88). Modeling incorrect behavior typically results in some laughs from the crowd, and this student has now received the attention he or she typically craves.

     But – wait for it! – here’s my actual favorite part!!! The sisters then have this same student model the correct way to behave. I tried this out just the other day in a classroom I’ve been working in as an instructional coach and I can testify to its effectiveness. After modeling the incorrect behavior and getting some laughs, the student was able to completely shift gears and model the correct behaviors, giving him a chance to further instill these behaviors in his muscle memory, and also proving to himself and to his teacher that he does, in fact, know how to behave correctly and is, in fact, capable of doing so. This modeling exercise provides the teacher with great evidence to bring up with this student should he slip away from the expected behavior later on.

     I do feel I’ve oversimplified the concept slightly. The sisters do get into a lot of stamina-building practices that are very conducive towards building muscle memory that I haven’t talked about here. But I hope, readers, you’ll walk away from this post thinking about one more thing that could – and should – be modeled for students. Even if they are secondary students, they are still in your classroom for the first time and may need to learn your expectations for behavior during certain activities.

     Modeling. If it works for writing assignments, algebra problems, and thought processes, then why not for behavior, too?

     Bye, readers! I’m off to the gym. Gotta work on that muscle memory!

Friday, October 19, 2012

Got a Bad Back? It Might Make You a Better Teacher.

     I read a blog this week that, in my opinion, really hits the nail on the head. Educators, you need to read this:

What My Bad Back Taught Me About Teaching

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Seriously. Click on the above link to the blog first, and read it. You'll need to register (which is free and super easy and quick!), which the site prompts you to do. Then we can discuss.

Thanks for doing that! Wasn't it a good post?

     What I love about Colucci's post is twofold: 1) I love that he finds himself reflecting on his life in terms of a metaphor for teaching, and 2) I love that he does something with this reflection, namely -- changes some of his practices to reflect his new understandings.

     As educators, sometimes we can forget what it may be like to be a student in our classrooms. When Colucci found himself in the position of needing help, he was able to introspectively realize what that experience is like for him. More so, he was able to think about whether or not he was providing an optimal environment and optimal strategies for his students to be able to learn and to be able to seek help.

     I've had some Colucci-like reflective experiences in my day. The more obvious ones are when I've taken a class or attended a workshop and found myself in the position of student once more. I took a course several years ago during which the instructor stepped way back and we the students were left to struggle with some pretty complicated tasks together. But as a group, we collaborated and eventually discovered some pretty insightful solutions to the problems with which we were grappling. I realized I had learned much more through this experience than I would have had my instructor simply delivered the information to us via a lecture. And I was forced to think: do I provide enough experiences like this for my students? So, I began to, more and more. Luckily, I had a great model to follow.

     But what's so great about Colucci's post is that these metacognitive opportunities need not only present themselves in a classroom. When was the last time you needed help, and what was that experience like for you? When was the last time you were really close to mastering something, and you experienced a final push in the right direction that helped you to do so? What did that push consist of? When was the last time you were in an environment that was getting in the way of your concentration or your learning or your thinking or your emotions? How can you avoid such an environment in your classroom?

     Be present. Take note when life is going to teach you a lesson about yourself as an educator. Put yourself in your students' shoes as often as possible (even -- especially -- the sweaty, grungy-looking shoes). Share your reflections with others.

     Thanks, Anthony Colucci!

Oh. And now that you've registered for free for Education Week, you can read all kinds of interesting education blogs about all kinds of interesting education-related topics.

But don't stop reading this one, please!  :)

    

Friday, October 12, 2012

The G Word

Disclaimer: I am about to bring up a bunch of issues that I don't necessarily have solid answers to. Consider this post a collection of ideas in the making, not a collection of solutions (just yet, although I'd LOVE to get there someday).

     The G word. Something that for many teachers, especially those practicing or considering the practice of differentiated instruction, is becoming increasingly exasperating. Grading. There, I said it. 
     Now, there are a lot of reasons why bringing up grading with teachers might be synonymous with cursing. It can feel like a never-ending process. It can take up lots of time. True, and true. But today I want to focus on what, for me -- especially in light of my recent obsession with differentiated instruction [DI] -- is most frustrating about the traditional practice of grading.
     As I read book after book and article after article on DI, I grow more and more in love with the philosophy behind it. But this little voice in the back of my head will insist on asking questions, like "I get how teachers can teach in a DI classroom, but how can they grade in one?" I am not alone in this concern. I've had several conversations with several teachers during which they express the same concern.
     Luckily for me, I just finished reading Integrating Differentiated Instruction and Understanding by Design by Carol Ann Tomlinson and Jay McTighe. And when I reached chapter 8, "Grading and Reporting Achievement," I became a very excited reader. What follows is what I gleaned from the chapter, my reactions to this, and some questions I think all educators need to consider if DI is truly going to function fully as a means of providing the best education to all students.
     Here's the overall problem: traditional grading and reporting practices as we have known them for decades do not mesh well with the philosophy and practice of DI. Why not? Because traditional grading practices require teachers to keep a rank book (paper or digital) in which the perception is that teachers will record a significant number of grades for the given term. I know many teachers who fret over not having enough grades in their rank book, so, trust me, the quantitative aspect of it is something teachers focus on. Sometimes the more grades one has recorded for a term in one's rank book, the more armed they feel should they ever have to defend a particular student's grade. Now, I get all that. I've lived all that as a teacher. But in embracing DI, I've had to face the ugly reality that this doesn't make sense. Why not? The biggest factor rests in the practice of beginning to assign grades to students at the very beginning of a marking quarter and continuing throughout the quarter to add more and more grades. The issue here is that, at the end of the quarter, the teacher then averages all these grades together, culminating in one final term grade. Here's the rub: Should a student's assessments from early in a term really impact his or her final grade for that term? What if they didn't understand the material during the third week of the term (thus doing poorly on assessments) but made great strides, and had come close to mastering the material by the term's end? Perhaps this student's understanding of the material during the last week of the term looks like a B+, but, when averaged in with those early assessments, the grade for the term becomes a D+. Isn't there something wrong with this? Shouldn't a student's grade be indicative of performance on summative assessments only, summative assessments which are designed to assess what the student has finally learned by a unit's end (versus the formative assessments given prior that really should only be used to inform further instruction and goal-setting)? As Tomlinson and McTighe (2006) suggest, ". . . the student should not be penalized for failure to demonstrate mastery in the second or fourth weeks. . . . In other words, what a student learns should be more important than when he or she learns it" (p. 132). 
     I did begin this post with a disclaimer, stating that I personally have no solid solutions to these problems as of yet. I recognize that changing how quarter grades are determined and how they are reported (which is currently on a report card for most districts) would be a huge undertaking for any school or district. But, Tomlinson and McTighe, as well as grading expert Ken O'Connor, have made suggestions that I think are well worth considering.
     O'Connor (as cited in Tomlinson & McTighe, 2006, p. 132) "suggests that grades should be 'determined' from various sources of evidence, rather than 'calculated' in a purely quantitative manner." He goes on to suggest that, should averaging be required by the district, teachers should use "the median or mode -- not the mean -- as the basis for arriving at a grade." 
     Tomlinson and McTighe (2006) present a total alternative to the report card as most of us know it. They recommend that schools and districts switch to using "reporting systems that support standards and differentiation" (p. 135). Rather than using a single grade to try and report "all that we need to say about a student's learning," they propose "that at least two, and preferably three, separate factors be reported: (1) grades for achievement of goals, (2) progress towards goals, and (3) work habits." When I read this, I almost fell out of my seat. This notion is so thrilling to me. I can't think of a better way to communicate a student's individual achievement and progress, not to mention placing value on work ethic. 
     So, what do you think? I'll leave you with the questions Tomlinson and McTighe (2006) share at the beginning of this inspiring (to me, at any rate!) chapter:

How will we know that we are providing high-quality feedback to parents and students?

How might we ensure that the information we transmit in the grading and reporting process is useful in supporting the learning process?

How should we grade and report in ways that encourage learner success?

Important questions! I'd love to hear what you think, readers.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Potpourri

     Ah, yes. Potpourri. It's the Jeopardy category that pops up from time to time, letting you know that, either the Jeopardy writers just couldn't think of one more category, or, as I like to think of it, they got excited about a bunch of different things and wanted to throw them all in there.
     Well, for this week's blog, I am borrowing from the Jeopardy writers due to my own excitement about a bunch of different ideas, reflections, and experiences I've had lately due to my most recent readings, research, and work in classrooms. Please enjoy the potpourri!

How Cool are Socratic Circles?
     This week, I had the amazing opportunity to help launch the use of Socratic Circles in a fifth grade class. In preparation for this, I decided to take a second look at Matt Copeland's Socratic Circles: Fostering Critical and Creative Thinking in Middle and High School. I love a lot about this book! The best is how positive Copeland is about students' abilities to maintain a thought-provoking and meaningful discussion. Having seen Socratic Circles function smoothly in a high school setting, I was intrigued to see them in an upper elementary classroom. The discussions were mind-blowing. Not only was the content of the discussions great, but even better was how reflective the students were in terms of how the discussions were going, and what they could do to improve. Granted, there is preparation and instruction that goes into this. But the overall moral of the story? Your students can do this, can do it well, and can learn a lot from these types of experiences. Try it out! 

How Cool is Carol Ann Tomlinson?
     Okay, I know I'm getting into a little bit of hero worship here, but, seriously, she's just great. I just finished her book on Leading and Managing a Differentiated Classroom and it is a must read for anyone who needs to take their own pulse on how they feel about the philosophy of DI. The best chapter (although it's really hard to choose one!!) has to be chapter three, in which Tomlinson writes about how to invite students to be a part of the vision of DI. What makes this the best chapter, arguably, is that most other books on DI seem to ignore this, allowing for the reader to assume that students will just automatically go along with a differentiated classroom. Tomlinson's points about developing a classroom community that embraces the DI philosophy are spot on. In order for this to work, why wouldn't we involve our students as part of the plan?

How Cool are Teachers?
     As an instructional coach new to the job, I have been and continue to be inspired by the number of teachers in my new district who have reached out to me in order to collaborate on trying something new in their classrooms, or on reaching certain goals they have set for themselves as teachers. What an amazing profession of lifelong learners! What amazing role modeling for our students. 

Thursday, September 27, 2012

The DI Philosophy: Some Food for Thought

     Lately, I've been reading Leading and Managing a Differentiated Classroom (2010) by none other than the queen of DI herself, Carol Ann Tomlinson. I just finished the first few chapters, which are dedicated to the philosophy of differentiated instruction.
     That's something about DI that we can't afford to neglect -- it truly is a philosophy, a way of thinking about teaching and learning. Differentiated instruction is not a set of activities that you can just begin incorporating into your classroom. It is a belief system about how all our students learn, a system that then must inform our planning. Truly, I think the planning aspects of DI are the most significant part of implementing this type of instruction in the classroom. Yes, DI can -- and should -- happen "in the moment," but it is when we delve into our planning with DI as the consistent focus that we can see the most results.
     With all that said, I'd like to use this particular post to share some of Tomlinson's thoughts on the subject. Consider the following statements from her food for thought. How do these ideas relate to your own classrooms and to your own belief systems about teaching and learning?

Today's youth are "young people who live in a world of personalization -- at least outside of school. They are accustomed to watching a particular television show when it's convenient rather than when it's broadcast. They no longer buy entire albums to 'own' a particular song but rather download just the selections they like. They order computers specifically designed for their needs. They get news on demand and information they need when they need it. In school, however, we teach them as though their variance in readiness, individual interests, and particular approaches to learning were of no consequence" (p. 4).

"During differentiation, we emphasize the methods that students use to access key content . . . rather than change the content itself" (p. 15).

"Readiness is not a synonym for ability. . . . The term ability connotes what we sometimes believe to be a more or less fixed and inborn trait. Readiness suggests a temporary condition that should change regularly as a result of high-quality teaching" (p. 16).

"Inevitably, we'll find that students are in different places with their mastery of . . . goals. Then, . . . because we want to make sure each student succeeds, we have no choice but to differentiate instruction" (p. 27).

"Teachers with a growth mind-set work from the premise that virtually any student can learn anything if the student is willing to work hard and if he or she has support in that effort" (p. 32).

"We tend to see and think of our students as a group. We say, 'The students always love it when we do this lab,' or 'The students don't understand inverting fractions,' or 'The students were restless today.' No doubt a number of students do like the lab, don't understand how and when to invert fractions, and were restless today, but there's also little doubt that some students found the lab pointless or confusing, could teach a cogent lesson on inverting fractions, and were perfectly calm and ready to learn today. It's virtually impossible to attend to student differences when we think of 'the students' as a single entity" (p. 36).

"Good teaching -- the really good stuff -- is hard work" (p. 37).

     Now, I'm not going to pretend some of these ideas are instantly easy to adopt. Sometimes it's hard to read some of this stuff, for me, because I am forced to admit to myself when I've made some mistakes as a teacher. But I cannot fundamentally disagree with Tomlinson's ideas, nor do I think most teachers would. It's time to look the philosophy of DI head-on and start to embrace what it can do for our teaching and for our students' learning.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Instructional Coaching -- an Extended Metaphor

     First things first: I ran into a teacher from the district I am working in as an instructional coach (IC) the other day and she told me she has been reading my blog!!! It's so exciting to know I have a reader. But, in all my excitement, I now forget this wonderful and wise woman's name (was it Rhonda? I'm just not sure), but here's a shout-out anyway to my faithful reader! 
     For this one lovely reader and for anyone else who may be tuning in, a little recap as context for this week's blog. As I ran around town in my new district, presenting at each of the schools an introduction of what instructional coaching is all about, I spoke about a metaphor I happen to like for the collaboration between a teacher and an IC. Here's the recap: 
     I've been long-distance running since I was 14. In high school, I ran cross country and track and had some good and not-so-good coaches along the way. Now, many, many years beyond high school, I know how to be a long-distance runner. If I go out for a 10K, I know how to approach it. But recently I decided to train for a marathon -- something totally new to me. So, even though I'd been running since the age of 14, I decided to partner up with a new friend of mine who had some marathon experience so that we could train together. He didn't need to teach me how to run -- I already knew how to do that. But, trying something new like a marathon is just simpler and more effective when you're doing it alongside a partner, coach, friend. 
     This is a great metaphor for how ICs and teachers should work together. As an IC, I know I am not here to teach established teachers how to teach -- they're already doing it. But they may want to try something new in their classrooms, and it just might be simpler and more effective to have someone by their side while they're doing it.
     Here's the update on this metaphor, extending it, if you will. I moved a couple weeks ago, so I now live about an hour or so from my running buddy. This past weekend, my training plan dictated that I go for an 18-mile run. Not being able to hook up with my now long-distance pal, I decided to go it alone. In case you've never tried, let me tell you that 18 miles is a long time to run by yourself. Three hours with nothing but my own thoughts. It became a mental game. I had a hard time keeping myself motivated, I was grumpy and distracted. So distracted that I ended up making silly running mistakes I thought I was beyond making, like starting off too fast and running too many hills within the first half of my run. In the end, I only made it to 16 miles before I gave up (I know, in retrospect, 16 miles is nothing to sneeze at).
     The moral of the story -- and of the metaphor -- is this: Even though I have been training with my running partner for a couple months now, doing one long run together each weekend, I wasn't completely ready to go it alone. I regressed a bit to some of my older, solo running habits. I lost my motivation. 
     I've been doing a lot of research on how to be an effective instructional coach. And much of it has told me that as a support for the teacher, you shouldn't remove yourself too quickly. Just because the teacher has tried out a new teaching strategy and it went well once doesn't necessarily mean the relationship is over. Often, teachers need the IC to continue to stick it out until the new strategy becomes second-nature. Adopting a new practice can be challenging!
     So, this weekend I am making the one-hour trek down to my old stomping grounds to run with my friend. We have a couple more really long runs before we get to start tapering (shortening our distances before the big race day). I know I can do those shorter distances (anything under 14 miles or so) alone. But for now, I realize I do still need support during those long, long runs. 
     For teachers who are or will be working with me as an IC: I know each of you will work with me for different lengths of time. Some of you will need my support for much longer than others, depending on what it is we're working on in your classroom. I hope that we can reflect together to know when to start "tapering" our work together, and not to do it too soon!
     In closing, I'll say to you, reader(s?!?!), something I used to say to my former high school English students which was often followed by understandable groans at my cheesiness:

                                                         ~Metaphors be with you.~


(If you don't get it, try saying it in the voice of Yoda or Obe Wan Kanobe.)

Friday, September 14, 2012

My Academic Crush on Lucy Calkins

     Ok. I have a confession to make. Despite the fact that I am engaged to a wonderful man, a true partner through and through, I've fallen for someone else. I really didn't see it coming, but, earlier this week, I picked up a series of books by Lucy Calkins on writer's workshops in the primary grades, and, well, it was love at first sight.
     Ms. Calkins, or, if I may be so bold, Lucy (as she refers to herself throughout the texts) is a master. And while I could go on and on (and on and on) about my newfound love for her, I'll just share one major thing that made my heart go pitter patter.
     She calls her students writers. Her kindergarten and first grade students. When it's time for them to come to the rug for the workshop's mini-lesson, she invites them: "Writers, let's gather." When she needs to interrupt their work to offer a suggestion to the whole class, she asks for her writers' attention.
     Seem small? Seem like no big deal? Maybe at very first glance, but think about the message she is sending to these students. She is empowering them through her use of this one word, allowing them each to own the role of writer. It is one simple, consistent way to demonstrate her belief in her students. I think it's beautiful. And it is something each and every one of us educators can do.
     Yes, Calkins's book is geared towards K-1 classrooms, but why should the above-mentioned message need to change as students get older? Can't they always be called writers by their teachers in 5th grade, 7th grade, in 12th? Can't we also start calling our students artists, mathematicians, musicians, scientists, historians, sociologists.....? I say -- why not? Perhaps some would argue with me (and, shudder to think, with Lucy!). Maybe some would say, "But a 4th grader is not a mathematician. And my 10th grader who is struggling with algebra is certainly not a mathematician." My counterargument is that they are studying these fields and doing work in these fields every day, regardless of their stumbling blocks. Now, I'm not talking about building up a false sense of ability or achievement or confidence so much so that our young mathematicians and artists and historians don't realize that there's still room for improvement. I'm just suggesting that we consider taking a page out of Lucy Calkins's brilliant book and see what it's like to empower and recognize our students and the work they are doing, wherever they're at with it. What better way to motivate them to rise to the occasion?

Friday, September 7, 2012

Thoughts on Differentiated Instruction...

     This week I began reading Rick Wormeli's Differentiation: From Planning to Practice. First of all, this is a great text. I mean, GREAT. Wormeli is so practical; he really paints the picture of what his ideas look like in the planning process and in the classroom. No huge chunks of theory here -- just take it and use it immediately.
     Since I've been reading up so much lately on RTI, I can't help but draw comparisons and links between these two instructional concepts. In fact, I wish there were a nicer way to combine the two acronyms (who working in education doesn't want fewer acronyms?), but DIRTI just doesn't convey the clean interest I have in both. 
     Why do I think they are so related? Because they both focus on providing instruction that is based on individuals' and small groups' disparate needs. In Buffum et al's (2009) Pyramid Response to Intervention: RTI, Professional Learning Communities, and How to Respond When Kids Don't Learn, the authors make a great case for differentiating instruction within the core curriculum (aka, Tier 1). As they put it, "a Tier 1 curriculum must be prioritized so that students have ample opportunity to master power standards" (p. 74). And as we know in education, the same opportunity to master a power standard will not work well for all students. Therefore, it's important to differentiate instruction even in Tier 1, instead of considering Tiers 2 and 3 to "count" for differentiation.
     Buffum et al (2009) warn us that the two biggest challenges we face in incorporating differentiation into our Tier 1 (or core curriculum -- the curriculum that all students receive and that should, according to RTI research, effectively reach about 80% of a given student population) are classroom management and the selection of quality instructional activities, especially those that students can complete independently (p. 75). And so, I consider these two pieces to be excellent starting points in thinking about and planning for a classroom that incorporates differentiated instruction. In upcoming blogs, I'll be diving into both areas, especially in light of DI. I'll also be exploring how Understanding by Design (or UBD -- oh good, another acronym!) fits into these practices as well, thanks to a great book co-authored by Carol Ann Tomlinson and Jay McTighe called -- you guessed it -- Integrating Differentiated Instruction and Understanding by Design.
     I guess the moral of the story is that sometimes instructional innovations or initiatives really can and do naturally overlap, especially when they are based in strong pedagogy. The task of the educator is to not become overwhelmed by DI, RTI, UBD, and other acronyms being thrown his or her way, but to make sense of these theories and ideas about instruction by looking for their common elements. Sounds like a starting point to me! 

Sunday, September 2, 2012

RTI: "Really Terrific Instruction," or Something More...?

     I just finished reading Rachel Brown-Chidsey and Mark W. Steege's second edition of Response to Intervention: Principles and Strategies for Effective Practice (2010). Now, while I learned a lot about how to implement an RTI model in a school or district from this book, and will most likely blog about some of the strategies outlined at a later date, for today I'd like to tackle one phrase that is used not only in this text, but that I have seen used several times in connection with writings about RTI, namely that, in addition to standing for Response to Intervention, RTI can just be thought of as "really terrific instruction."
     Now I won't lie. When I see this in print, it (initially) makes me feel great. And it echoes my own sentiments when I first read a new text about RTI. I find myself thinking, "Yes. Data-based instruction. This is just what good teachers have always done, and now we call it RTI." I've had countless conversations with educational colleagues about RTI and other initiatives that carry the same tone -- "Oh, we can do this. This is easy. We've already been doing this forever." And while these thoughts can ease the stress that creeps up with a new initiative, something always lingers at the back of my brain, nagging me.
     What nags me is this -- I don't really think RTI (or many other initiatives) are all that easy, or just come down to really terrific instruction. And I don't think we are doing our profession a favor by consistently trying to make them seem easy. Some of this is really complicated stuff. But that's okay. It should be. We educators work in a really complicated field. We are professionals, and, as such, we can delve into some really complicated stuff together and learn and grow. When we tell ourselves and our colleagues that a certain initiative is going to be easy to implement or that it's just "common-sense teaching," that can serve to isolate our profession. What teacher, when hearing these types of statements, is going to come forward and say, "Actually, I've been struggling with RTI. It's pretty tough to implement, and I need some help"? Most will just become insecure, blaming a false sense of incompetence. And -- worse -- give up on the new initiative before it's had a chance to succeed.
     So, I have a challenge for myself and for my fellow educators: let's stop trying to make some things seem easier than what they are. Let's admit that some things -- like progress monitoring all the students in one class on a daily and weekly and monthly basis, and then using that data to try a variety of instructional strategies and interventions to teach a variety of students, and then switching up those strategies when some don't work in order to teach each student in the best way possible -- yes, things like that aren't easy. And maybe shouldn't be. But, if we admit these challenges together we can being to fully meet them together. Sounds like a goal to me. I will continue to blog about RTI and about other instructional initiatives and strategies as I study them and learn about them. But I will not sugarcoat them with platitudes. Nor will I give up on them. I will work and collaborate with colleagues to determine the best ways to make them work for our students.