Summer Homework: Reconnecting with Optimism

Practicing self-care first so I can practice optimism this coming school year
Starting by practicing self-care first so I can practice optimism this coming school year

I’ve finally started my (self-assigned) summer homework. It took almost a month of reading books just for the sheer pleasure of reading, knitting, running, bike riding, pie baking, and relaxing on the beach for me to feel ready. By the end of this school year I was definitely feeling depleted and burned out. I actually missed most of the last week of school because I was so sick. My body basically yelled at me and told me to lay down and not move for a while.

During the last two months or so of school I could feel my fuse getting shorter, my focus getting weaker, and my ability to “leave it at the door” becoming almost nonexistent. I was frustrated by a lot of things both in and out of school. The specifics aren’t really what’s important. However, I spent most of the year focusing on the fact that things I had no control over were disrupting my work with students. When we get to that point, it’s easy for teachers to into a spiral of “everything is terrible” and to not embrace the kind of optimism that will help us to change the things we can control. This can wear us down and lead to burnout.

Choosing Optimism

Deliberate Optimism in the wild
Deliberate Optimism in the wild

I decided my first book that I would read for the summer would be Deliberate Optimism: Reclaiming the Joy in Education by Debbie Silver, Jack C. Berckemeyer, and Judith Baenen (Corwin, 2015). I picked up the book at AMLE this past October after hearing Dr. Silver speak. She was funny and engaging, so I picked up the book I knew it was something I needed to read. Even in October of last school year I could feel myself heading for burnout (this was probably a really bad sign). I picked it up again because I knew the book would help me figure out how to get out of the funk I had been in. It might also help me figure out where I could take action and what I could do better next year.

What I Learned About Optimism

Daria & Aunt Amy: My anti-optimism heroes

When I was in high school and through college my favorite television show was Daria. It might still be one of my favorite shows (I’ve rewatched it–it holds up). I identified with her cynicism. I still identify with her a bit (now I probably identify more with Aunt Amy, I’m in my mid-30s, after all). Optimism is hard for me. I didn’t just cultivate cynicism in adolescence because I thought Daria was an excellent role model. Cynicism is somewhat in my nature. However, I can get on board with the way the authors define optimism in this book.

I like that the authors define optimism as a choice (or a series of choices). Even more importantly, they differentiate between optimism and deliberate optimism. Deliberate optimism is different from the “peppy cheerleader” image of optimism I have in my head. The authors define deliberate optimism as having five principles:

  1. Gather as much information as possible before acting or reacting. Get that information from a variety of sources.
  2. Figure out what is beyond your control. Strategize how to minimize the impact of things that are beyond your control on your life.
  3. Figure out what you can control and look for ways to maximize your power in these areas.
  4. Actively do something positive to achieve this goal.
  5. Take ownership of your plan and take responsibility for your choices. (Silver, Berckemeyer & Baenen, 2015)

As someone who really likes clearly laid out procedures, I love this list. These are things that I can do. And the authors explain is great detail how to achieve each one. Yes, this is definitely a self-help book for teachers (and my inner Daria is inclined to mock such things). And, yes, these are things that I already know I should do. But I definitely needed the reminder this year, and know I might need it again. The idea that all of us have things that are within our control and can make actionable goals to change things within that sphere is powerful.

Throughout the remainder of the book, the authors apply these principles to various areas of teaching: interacting with colleagues, building relationships in school with both students and colleagues, creating a positive school culture, and self-care. These explicit connections to struggles that we all have at school make the principles in the book feel easier to take on. And I think I’m ready.

How I’ll Implement Deliberate Optimism

I have a few close friends at work that I’m going to reach out to. I’m going to ask them to read the book as well so we can support each other in implementing the five principles, and call each other out when we’re not disrupting our old patterns.

My biggest goal for this year is going to be to differentiate between what I can and can’t control, and then focus on the things that are within my control. I got too hung up on what was beyond my control this year, and it made me, if I’m totally honest, not a great teacher or a great colleague sometimes. I didn’t like it and tried to change things, but didn’t know how. Now that I have a plan, I’m confident I can keep things on track.

Deliberate Optimism: Should You Read It?

Definitely. If you’re a teacher who’s feeling a bit overwhelmed or burned out this summer or gets stuck focusing on things that are beyond your control, this book is definitely for you. A caveat though: Two of the three authors describe themselves as humorists, and my inner Daria was doing a lot of eye rolling at some of the jokes. They kept the somewhat heavy subject matter a bit lighter, but they weren’t really my thing. That said, the book offered easy to follow, concrete advice about how to bring joy back into your teaching practice. We could all likely use a bit of that.

How will you bring deliberate optimism into your practice next school year?

Yes Teachers, You Really Should Do a Conferenece Presentation

Excited for my conference presentation

I started blogging (albeit, inconsistently over the past year) to share what I was doing in my classroom. I wanted to throw the doors of my tiny room open wide to let people in and  learn from others, connecting with other teachers. Finding my “tribe”, as Marlena Gross Taylor calls them, that group of like-minded educators that I could share with, learn from, and grow with, was important to me.

However, even as I found and expanded my tribe online and shared my work through this blog, telling people about it in real life at at a big conference was something that I wanted to do, but didn’t really think  I could. After all, what I’m doing, I told myself, wasn’t anything special. No one really wants to hear what I have to say about what is basically just best practice, right? Besides, what if they shoot me down before I get started? What if they tell me what works for me will never work for them and for their students? Not just in a blog comment, but right to my face. Or they walk out of the room because my idea is so obvious that it just seems ridiculous.

I even presented at a few smaller conferences or in workshops that I helped set up. I did these presentations with varying levels of success. The issue wasn’t that what I was saying wasn’t good or interesting. It was that I was going in with the mindset that everyone already knew it, so they probably wouldn’t be interested.

Here’s the thing: I think as educators we frequently sell ourselves short. We’re a group of passionate people, and if we were looking for recognition or glory would have done something else. And yes, we know there are always one or two people who want to do things the way that they’ve always done them, but the majority of us are focused on honing our craft and making sure our students get the best education possible. I think sometimes because we’re so passionate, we forget that just because what we’re doing doesn’t seem earth-shattering to us, it doesn’t mean it won’t give someone else that “ah-ha” moment.

conference presentation 2
Before my conference presentation. Look how excited I am! (Fake it till you make it–totally felt like I was going to puke…)

Interlude: Everyone Is Worried About Their Conference Presentation

(Obviously paraphrased and based on our memory of the actual conversation, because I was quite nervous and it was almost a week ago)

Me (seeing David Hayward, who I had just taken a workshop, right before my session): Hey! I really enjoyed that. It was awesome.

David Hayward: Really? You kept nodding. I thought you knew everything already.

Me: I knew a lot of it. I kept nodding because you talked about things I knew, and then gave me ways to take it further. I got so many ideas!

David: Thanks (or something–I’m not sure. I was incredibly nervous.)

(I’m pretty certain after this I ran away because I was was nervous and worried I would vomit)

If an expert who gave an amazing presentation thinks this, does that mean we’re all worried about the same thing? Maybe.

Seriously, You Have Something to Teach People in a Conference Presentation

No matter how simple or basic you think what you’re doing might be, you’re doing it your way, with your own style. There’s also so much to know that we can’t possibly know it all. And even if others already know about what you’re going to talk about, they don’t do it the exact same way you do. Maybe they’ve heard about it, but haven’t heard someone who has the same passion you do. Maybe there’s one small thing that you do differently that will spark someones imagination and make them want to try it out for the first time.

The bottom line is: You have something to say. Start sharing it with others!

Have you ever presented at a conference? Thought about it and then not applied?

Coteaching: What’s Going Well

I have my first semester of coteaching under my belt. So far, I think Drew and I are doing really pretty well. We’ve been navigating communicating and coplanning, and it feels like we have a good balance in the classroom. We both have our own areas of expertise and, I think, we’re becoming better at balancing those. There are, however, still areas we need to work on. I’m going to start with our stars (the things we do well) and follow up with a post about our next steps and how we’re going to improve.

Communication

The biggest issue people encounter in coteaching tends to be navigating the collaboration and communication piece. Drew and I have the advantage of requesting to work together to pilot a coteaching program where a Special Educator works with a General Educator, so we were both on board with the idea of coteaching and knew we had similar visions and a desire to work together. This is something a lot of coteachers don’t have. I know other special ed teachers who get thrown into classrooms with general ed teachers who don’t want them there. We also weren’t totally on our own in establishing a cotaught class. Our colleagues Pooja and Emily have already done great things coteaching as English and ELL teachers, so there were plenty of places to get advice.

We’ve become better at reading each other and are able to discuss things when one of us is uncomfortable with a strategy or technique the other wants to do. I know when to pull back or slow down when trying to infuse explicit strategy instruction or another technique, and I think Drew knows when I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with the more (as I call them) “loosey goosey” aspects of Readers’/Writers’ Workshop.

Coplanning

While I think there are things we can do to make our coplanning time more efficient, we’re generally doing a good job of always planning together and setting out a schedule for the week. We make sure to keep that time sacred and not schedule other meetings. The agreements and discussions we had before school started about how we wanted to structure our planning time were really useful, as was this planner from the book The Teacher’s Guide to Inclusive Education (Hammerkin, 2007). It helps keep us organized and on task.

Trust

There is an ease in how Drew and I interact in the classroom, and this seamlessness has helped out students to see us both as the teachers in the classroom. Not a teacher and an assistant. Not a boss and a supervisee. That’s partially because we have trust. We trust each other enough to try new things and fail. We’re willing to make mistakes, and know we’ll be corrected kindly. This trust is what makes our partnership work. We’re really lucky that we were able to choose each other for this work, but just because we chose to coteach, doesn’t mean we would be ready to be vulnerable. The biggest thing we did to foster this was talking things out at the beginning of the year: How we wanted the class to run, what we wanted things to be like. But we also shared who we are outside of school: talked about our likes and dislikes, shared pictures of our cats. And knowing each other better, both our school and out of school personas, really helps us to be open with each other. Because of the trust we’ve established we know it’s ok to say “I’m not ready to try that yet” or “I don’t understand” and knowing that the other person will still accept and work with us.

Of course, we’re not perfect. In my next post I’ll share our goals for the end of the school year and how we want to improve our practice.

Have you ever cotaught? How did you work together to establish a strong coteaching relationship?

When We Say a Student Can’t Learn

Via Saved by the Bell Hooks (the site might be the best thing ever)

Teaching is a profession that can be both extraordinarily rewarding and extraordinarily frustrating–sometimes simultaneously. Sometimes we’re tempted to throw our hands up in the air and proclaim that this student just can’t learn. And sometimes we do.

And when we as educators say that a student can’t learn, we’re saying a lot of other things, even if they’re not things we really mean or believe. It’s such a tiny statement–a throwaway line when we’re frustrated–and, yet, it has a million connotative meanings that don’t even occur to us as the words escape our lips.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying that we’ve given up on her.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying that his needs as a learner are not a priority.

When we say a student can’t learn, we might mean we don’t know how to teach her, but we’re saying that she needs to shape up and get with the program.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying that we’ve tried all the tricks in our toolbox and are afraid to ask for help. Someone might judge us, might say we’re a bad teacher, might tell us that if we were more competent, built better relationships, went to this PD, we’d be fine. Look at the teacher down the hall. She’s fine.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying “I’m not a bad teacher. I’m doing everything I know how.”

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying that we’re scared.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying “I don’t know how to help this kid and the 24 others in my class.”

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying we don’t care about her.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying that we are tired.

When we say a student can’t learn, we’re saying he’s not my problem.

When we say a student can’t learn instead of “I don’t know what to do, and…”, “I’ve tried everything I know how, but…” or “I don’t know how to teach her, so…” we’re saying that it’s easier to put the responsibility for making sure everyone learns on the student rather than on ourselves.

When we say those words, we’re saying so many things. Deciding what we really mean and taking action will determine how successful we are in teaching that student.

When we hear someone else say those words, we need to take a step back and withhold judgement and offer our support as colleagues to help turn the discussion toward something proactive and helpful. In order to try to build a school culture where people feel safe saying “I don’t know what to do” and asking for help, we need to offer that help and support freely and without judgement. We can’t look at our colleagues and say “This teacher can’t learn,” either.

Checking-in in the New Year

Skyview Atlanta
The second-best picture I took in Atlanta. Again, there’s a metaphor here. I’m sure of it.

At the beginning of the school year I set goals for myself as a teacher. Right now I’m asking my students to check in on their progress toward their goals in their digital portfolios and the teachers I coach to reevaluate the goals they set at the beginning of the year, so I’m checking in on my progress as well. I also have finally set a coaching goal for myself after attending Pete Hall’s Building Teachers’ Capacity for Success workshop through ASCD.

Improve my behavior management for my “challenging” class

This is hard to admit, but I haven’t done a great job following through with this one. I’ve done many of the things that I said I was going to do, but in the more short term. The problem is, I know exactly (or at least partially) why things I’m trying aren’t working. I’ve been so focused on finding strategies to manage behavior and making those strategies work, that I’m not focused enough on planning engaging lessons to meet my students’ needs. I’m not walking into class with no plan, but I’ve been so focused on anticipating behaviors and what strategies I would use to manage these behaviors, that the content and concepts in the lessons I’ve been planning have been, well, less than stellar. So when my strategies work, the activities I have planned aren’t enough to hold the students’ attention and keep them on that good track. It hurts to admit that I dropped the ball here, but it happens and I can fix it. For the remainder of the year I want to keep implementing the strategies that are working, but refocus my efforts on lesson planning so that my students can be successful.

Better integrate the technology I have available to me into my lessons, including finding more ways to leverage “regular” technology as assistive technology for my students.

Here I’ve done much better. I’ve implemented digital portfolios for my students and I’ve been slowly refining them so they become spring-boards for student self-reflection and learning. Yesterday a student exclaimed as he had realized that our work with SRSD and Close Reading had been just as much about improving his ability to manage and regulate his attention as they had been about his reading and writing skills after going through a variety of digital and paper artifacts showing his work. I also am now able to very easily share student work with a parent who has moved back to Denmark ahead of the rest of the family.

I’ve also curated a number of resources for students on my Schoology pages for my learning support classes, including videos and interactive games (usually created by others), as well as graphic organizers (usually created by me). What’s even better is that some students are seeking out and using these resources. I think my next step here is to add more content that I’ve created (or that my students have created) to these resource pages, using podcasting, screen capture, and other methods.

Finally, the coaching goal: Go into classrooms regularly (1-2 times per week) for either very quick (30-45 seconds) or brief (5-15 minute) visits and follow up on these visits with teachers.

Or actually doing what Pete Hall calls “Rounds” and “Walk Throughs”. This goal sounds simple, but it involves a lot: coordinating schedules, figuring out “look-fors”, etc. But the biggest reason I haven’t done this is that I haven’t felt comfortable. I wasn’t given a clear description of what I would be doing as a coach at the beginning of the year, nor was it explained to teachers, so I spent most of the first semester in meetings with teachers, talking and building relationships. Now that I feel like I have a job description (even if it’s self-created with the help of a workshop and a book) and have built up fairly good relationships with many teachers, it will, I hope, be easier. The short workshop I led on Tuesday afternoon about checking in and reevaluating goals from the beginning of the year will also provide context for my visits.

How are the goals you set for your own teaching at the beginning of the year going? 

Instructional Coach Training: #BTCFS

Atlanta Metro Station
One of the best photos I took in Atlanta. Not sure what it has to do with my post. There’s a metaphor there somewhere. I’m sure of it. CC-BY-NC

At the beginning of the school year I wrote a post about my students’ goal setting as well as my own. When I wrote that post, I only talked about my goals for myself as a teacher, but didn’t discuss the goals I set for myself as an instructional coach. That’s really because at the beginning of the year I wasn’t sure what the standard was for instructional coaches. Where was I going? I really wasn’t sure. I didn’t have a job description to help focus me, and while I have been a literacy coach before, it was in a completely different school environment where that was my only role. In my initial meeting this year with my principal, she suggested that I look around for professional development opportunities about becoming a better instructional coach. Excited to learn more, I immediately started researching and came up with the Building Teachers’ Capacity for Success workshop with Pete Hall through ASCD. I knew that the title sounded extremely familiar, and that’s because I picked up the book at ASCD last year after my principal had first suggested that being an instructional coach might become part of my job.

Reading the book was eye opening, but the workshop with Pete was 1000 times better than reading the book. If you ever get the chance to see him present, I highly recommend it. He’s passionate, energetic, and friendly (he also has good advice about running routes in Atlanta and possibly in the other cities where he presents. Warning though: he did try to convince me to run the stairs in the Georgia Tech stadium. Not happening). I’m still processing everything that I learned over the two days, but I think I have a “Top 5” list of things I learned, all of which led me to the coaching goal I set for myself at the end of the workshop. For things that others learned , check out #BTCFS on Twitter.

5. Find the “Green Stars”

You know the teacher down the hall? The one who seems to have taught the same lesson for the last 20 years? Or the one who seems to have no control of her class? Even when we’re trying to be supportive, sometimes working with these teachers can be frustrating. But there’s good there. And as coaches and administrators we need to see that good and remind ourselves of it. Then we need to use that good–that green star–to spark change and growth. This helps us to have a growth mindset with our teachers just like we have with our students.

4. Self-reflection is the key to teacher growth

If you’ve been reading this blog for any period of time you know I’m a fan of self-reflection. For me, for my students, for educators in general. And I think on some level I understood the idea that in order to develop as educators we need to reflect on our teaching. I was also on board with the idea that teachers need to be taught how to self-reflect. What was new was the idea that we can put the ability of teachers to self-reflect on a continuum, and that where they are in terms of their ability to self-reflect determines how we interact with them and the role we take on as coaches, mentors, and administrators. For example, I would take on a totally different role with a teacher who is able to easily reflect on their instructional practice to improve it (a teacher in the Refinement Stage) than I would a teacher who isn’t really able to see the connection between what they’re doing and student outcomes (a teacher in the Unaware Stage). I’m also wondering how I can use the Continuum of Self-Reflection with my grad students and with their practicum supervisors to help support them in their development toward becoming more self-reflective educators.

3. Building teachers’ capacity is the key to student growth and success

Teachers matter. They matter a lot. There’s tons of research on this. Too often, however, we try to get teachers to improve their practice by using carrots and sticks, rather than actually guiding and supporting them in improving their practice. In order to ensure student success we really need to support our teachers in their professional learning and growth based on where they are on that Continuum of Self-Reflection. And to do that…

2. Instructional coaches and administrators need to work together to support teacher growth
Instructional Coach & Admin work together to support a teacher
A visual representation of how the administrator and the coach work together to support a teacher in the Refinement Stage. CC-BY-NC

Administrators and coaches really need to be partners in helping to teachers to improve their faculty’s level of self-reflection and their skill as educators. If administrators and coaches are on the same page with how they work with teachers and are clear about their individual roles and transparent with the staff about those roles, they can be really effective in fostering professional growth in an environment that is supportive rather than punitive. Again, I’m wondering if I can stretch this model to apply to working with my grad students. Maybe with me as the instructor in the role of the administrator with my practicum supervisors in the role of coach.

1. And not but

Of everything I’ve learned, this may be the smallest thing that makes the biggest deal. While there were a number of “ah-ha” moments during the two day workshop, this one was the biggest. And it’s such a tiny change to make when I interact with teachers (and with students and parents). As educators, we like to use the “start with a compliment” format. Then comes the “but”. However, the word “but” can make people defensive and angry. “But” can make the compliment feel like lip service. “And”, though. “And” says, “You really are doing these things right. Here’s how you can grow.”

I’m really excited to start implementing this framework, and I hope I can get others on board as well. Next week I’ll share my goal for myself as a coach and how I plan to achieve it.

What are your strategies for coaching teachers? How do you foster self-reflection with faculty?

The Dream of Differentiated PD

The problem with traditional PD--why we need differentiated PD
From Jen Henga via Flicker

I think the thing that stuck with me the most when I went to CGC was the idea that everyone learns. And everyone means everyone–students, teachers, administrators–we’re all learners. To me, the CGC principle that learning is scaleable is the most important one for me this year in my new role as Instructional Coach as well as Learning Specialist. I think that trying to develop differentiated PD for the faculty is one of the most important things I can do this year to ensure that everyone learns, both because I’m modeling what I want teachers to do and because I want teachers to get what they need from PD and find it useful. So I sent this out into the Twitterverse:

Crickets.

I can’t believe that no one is trying this. It could be I didn’t use the right hashtags. It could be that I tweeted at the wrong time of day. Maybe I need to follow some of Matt Renwick’s tips here. But I came up with nothing. So I’ve been muddling through on my own, and there are a couple places where I’m still stuck.

Readiness: How Do I Know What They Don’t Know?

I work with people who come from a wide range of backgrounds and experiences. They’ve been teaching anywhere from a couple of years to a couple of decades. They have various comfort levels with differentiation and various opinions on whether or not it even has a place in our school. I’ve used a variety of different tools to try to get at this, but I’m always left with the following questions:

  • How easy is it for teachers to be vulnerable with their colleagues and admit they don’t know?
  • If part of the purpose of preassessment is to preview and maybe show learners that they have something to learn about the topic, how do you make sure that people who may see themselves as knowledgable (but may not be) feel neither talked down to or threatened?

When I tried to create a preassessment questionnaire for my last PD session, one colleague gave me the feedback that it was “too intense and detailed” and might “scare people off” or make the “feel threatened”, another colleague gave me the advice that it didn’t cover enough and really wouldn’t give an adequate preview of what people would learn. I ended up not handing it out, leaving me feeling unprepared and like I wasn’t modeling what I wanted the staff to do.

I think today this might be more successful. I used exit tickets from our last session to group people by interest. We’ll see how it goes.

Interest: How Do I Keep Things Relevant?

I’m pretty good at helping teachers develop differentiated units and projects, but there are definitely areas that are outside my comfort zone and knowledge, most specifically subjects outside of the MESH (Math, English, Science & Humanities) or core subject domains. I’m not sure what to do that will be relevant to disciplines like PE, Art, and Music,, and sometimes Modern Languages, but I do want to make sure these teachers feel included and like a part of our professional learning community.

Things I’m trying this year:

  • Flexible groupings: grade levels, subject areas, general interests.
  • Using teacher-leaders from those disciplines to act as leaders or experts in small groups.
  • Talking to these teachers: what do you want? What can I do to make this relevant?

The thing is though, I’m still up against years of these teachers feeling not included or marginalized, and that’s the added piece here that I’m really not sure how to deal with.

Taking Risks

So trying all of this means I’m taking some risks with how I’m structuring PD. Some of them may fail, and I’ll reflect from them and learn from them. However, I’m worried that by taking those risks and failing to get it right I might make people feel like their time is being wasted. And we all know how happy teachers are when their time is being wasted (we’ve all been there and been really angry about it). So how do I find the balance between taking risks with how I’m delivering PD and playing it safe with my use of my colleagues’ time? I wonder if this is why so many schools and districts stick with the “sit and get” model of PD. People may not always enjoy it, but they’re not complaining too much.

Any thoughts? If you lead PD at your school, how do you approach these situations?