being a teacher, classroom expectations, students

So We Breathe

We work hard in my room each and every day.  The students know that to be in a limited homework classroom, they are on the minute they get to school until they leave.  The pressure is on to stay on top of the learning, to be involved, and to grow, grow, grow.  So this week as we finished our dream project, as we inch closer to break, we breathe.  We release, we relax, and we rejuvenate.

As an educator I push my students, I make them reach for the things they are not sure they can touch, that is after all why I am there.  And yet you cannot continue to push kids to their utmost, day in, day out.  And so we breathe, we release, relax, refocus.

Academic rigor still stands, standards must be met, projects must be completed.  Yet our brains slow down, attempt to reconfigure all of this information.  We rewire our thoughts, we charge our spirits and we breathe.

being a teacher, common sense, Decisions, promises

I Am Committed

We all struggle with decisions, every day, every minute. Some decisions become easier as we get more set in our ways, language we use, motions we go through, and yet some never lose their unfamiliarity, their newness, their rawness. As a teacher I cannot begin to count how many decisions I make in a day; language choice, assignments, what I bring into my room and what I take out. TO teach does not just mean to guide the learning, I am also there to make decisions.

So I wish for this for the coming week, month, and year; that whatever decisions I make, I make them fully. That once I commit myself to something, I commit the entire me. Not just a tentative part, but the whole thing. That once my thinking is through and outcomes have been weighed that I then trust myself. That I trust myself to know I made the right decision, that I trust myself enough to agree with my choice, and to perhaps even revel in it. Trust myself to fully commit. Give myself the gift of believing that I made the right decision, perhaps then I can give myself a break. Do you need to commit?

being a teacher, being me, classroom expectations, Student-centered

Don’t Worry – There’s a Routine for That

Image taken from ronnestam.com

Routines, one of the big words in  “teacher school” as we call it in my classroom.  You must set up routines, you must establish them, practice them, train them and share your expectations.  We have routines for everything, and it seems the younger the students are – the more routines we have.  So if you need to go to the bathroom, there’s a routine for that, how to hand in homework, there’s a routine for that, how to answer a question – you guessed it, there’s a routine for that.  And yet as I struggle with keeping track of all of my routines, I wonder; when do the routines become suffocating?

I agree that routines must be in place for the students to know the shared expectations.  After all, accountability is one of the great skills we teach along with math, reading, writing.  Students learn to follow routines because it provides familiarity and safety.  It simply makes school and a classroom more manageable, and more effective.  And yet we can over-routine.  We can ponder and prepare routines for almost everything.  My first year, I spent a whole day preparing a sign for my students, very artistic indeed, writing out routines for what to do when you needed to sharpen your pencil or leave the classroom.  I don’t think any student ever read the poster, let alone memorized it. 

So I realized that perhaps routines were needed for the really big things, like morning routine, how to go to specials or lunch routines, and general classroom behavior routine.  But beyond that, I am done.  I am done routining my students to death.  After all, they are equipped with common sense.  I do not think me writing out how and when they should sharpen their pencils is worthy of their memorization or the title of “routine.”  I think I am going to stop “ruling” them to pieces and let them develop their inner sense of proper behavior.  Do we trust our students enough to pull back some of our rules masqueraded as routines?  I do.

alfie kohn, being a teacher, journey, No grades, students

So What Does a B+ Mean to You – Quitting Grades Does Not Mean You are Lazy

Quitting grades to some means to quit expectations. I used to think that if I didn’t meticulously grade everything, I was inefficient, ineffective, and certainly lazy. And yet I have come to happily realize that quitting grades as much as I am allowed to do has become one of the great liberations of my young teaching experience. By quitting grades, I simply become able to better evaluate work, to in the end better “grade” my students.

When I quit putting letter grades on my papers, I did not lower my expectations for an excellent product, in fact quite the opposite happened. By removing letter grades from the final product it ceased being exactly that; final. When my students hand in an assignment now, they know it is is not done. No longer just an end product, but instead another stepping stone in our learning journey. If a test is mediocre, then they get a chance to fix it. As simple as that seems, I cannot tell you how many times I have witnessed a student say “oh” only to then erase the incorrect answer and provide the right one.

So quitting letter grades did not make me weak, simpler or even more “granola.” I didn’t quit letter grades because I wanted to shelter all of my students from the “real” world. I quit letter grades on assignment because they did not work. A letter grade only ever sparked a discussion when it was below what a student or parent thought was deserved. If an A- was given, a student did not take the opportunity to ask what could be better or ask what was great about it in the first place. Instead the grade was received, glanced at and the product filed away, perhaps to be shared with a parent, at some point to be shared with a recycling bin. So I didn’t start to wear patchouli or run chants in my classroom, I didn’t let my students academics slide to fit in with my new philosophy. Instead I challenged myself to provide better feedback, a better pathway for my students to follow to academic success.

Giving letter grades would be less time consuming then the feedback I provide now. Sometimes on busy days I even yearn for those days of easy calculations, slap on of a grade, and done with it all. Now instead I ponder, I chart, I reflect back upon previous work and then I try to write meaningful, relatable feedback that is relevant to that student. No more “Nice try” comments, but instead “You are secure in paragraph setup but still developing in sentence fluency.” And that’s only after all of my students actually know what a paragraph and sentence fluency is. So call me weak, call me a rebel, but don’t call me a softie. Letter grades for my students has meant more work, more thought, and more academic challenge than ever before. And boy do I love my new, hippidippy ways.

being a teacher, common sense, punishment

The Story of My Brother the Onion Boy

When I was 22, my 12 year old little brother brought a knife to school. Now before people freak out, it was a steak knife, kept in his backpack, until he needed to use it to cut open an onion.  You see, his 6th grade classroom had different plant experiments and my brother’s group had decided that they would slice open an onion in a live demonstration to show the rest of the class all of the layers and even have them smell it.  So he prepared as any normal Danish student would and packed one of our normal serrated dinner knives in his backpack.  Come science time, much to his teacher’s horror he pulled out the knife.  His teacher, a calm and cautious woman, sent him straight to the principal’s office for a knife possession.  And then zero tolerance took over.


Had this event occurred in Denmark, nothing would have happened, in fact, my friends and I had a birthday cake commitment where every time someone had a birthday, cake and a massive bread knife was brought to school.  No big deal.  However, in this post-Columbine American era, no chances were to be taken.  So when my little brother, a straight A student, threatened to cut up that onion he was expelled from school for a year.  The school board argued that intent did not matter, what mattered was that he had brought a dangerous weapon to school and that it could fall into the wrong hands, a person who could then use it as a weapon.  They also argued that to be released back into the school system faster all he would have to do was admit he committed a crime, undergo extensive anger management therapy and anger management therapy.  The school district urged my parents to take the punishment, have him admit his guilt, and then he could return to school the following school year.  Mind you, this was March.


Most parents would not have fought, but mine did.  They saw injustice being made and more importantly, they realized that zero tolerance with no perspective of situation made zero sense.  So they hired a lawyer, a family friend who specializes in bankruptcy law, but has a sharp tongue and even sharper intellect.  The school district was shocked!  They had never had a family hire a lawyer before for an expulsion hearing and when my parents opened up the hearing to the public, the media caught wind of it.  I cannot tell you how strange it is to drive to work and have the local morning radio team lambast your little brother ,who they felt was just another privileged white kid trying to get out of his rightful punishment.  And so I swore at the radio, tried to protect my little brother, who admittedly had made a stupid mistake but a mistake nonetheless, and waited for the hearing.


I don’t think there has ever been so many people to an expulsion hearing before.  I also think a lot of people were shocked at the vigorousness with which the school district’s lawyer went after my little brother.    Had my parents not been in a situation to hire their own lawyer, it would have been a bloodbath, with a 6th grader as its victim.  The hearing lasted 3 1/2 hours with witnesses being called to testify to my brother’s character and intent.  My brother swore he did not realize he was doing anything wrong.  Finally after 3 1/2 hours, the independent examiner told the district that the 15 days my bother had been out of school was enough punishment and that this eagerness to prosecute was overkill.  It was a victory not just for my little brother, whom we still refer to as onion boy, but for all of the students of his district because it prompted a review of the district’s zero tolerance policy, and a clause was added much later that each case had to be evaluated and could not just be judged based on the same language.  A small but righteous victory indeed.


So what made me think of this even that occurred 9 years ago?  A line in this article “How I Joined Teach for America – And Got Sued for $20 Million” in which the writer states, ” Furthermore, I saw from the first month that she generally gave delinquents no more than a stern talking-to, followed by a pat on the back, rather than suspensions, detentions, or any other meaningful punishment.”
Meaningful punishment?  Why does those words seem to not go together?  To me they appear almost opposite of each other.  Meaningful?  When you punish a child, it is to punish, not to have them reflect or rethink, but to judge them based on their actions and then hurt them in some way, not necessarily physically.  When we suspend students, we punish them by removing them from the privilege of learning, even though this sometimes is the worst thing that can happen to them.  When we punish students for not doing their homework by keeping them in from recess, then we are taking away their rightful time to renew and reenergize before we expect them to learn again.  What would a meaningful punishment look like?  There can be a consequence, but a punishment?


So I ask you, is there such a thing as meaningful punishment?  Is it our job as educators to punish our students?  My brother fell victim to a zero tolerance policy that wanted to punish him to the outmost of its capabilities, without common sense, without the “punishment” fitting the “crime.”  He was not angry, nor was he a criminal, and yet the district deemed him as such.  Since when do we get to lose our common sense when we make rules and them apply them blindly?  When do we realize that it is children’s futures we have in our hands and not just percentages or statistics, but real live kids that are deeply affected by our decisions to punish.


As for Christian, he is 21 now, traveling in Asia and about to go to Denmark to study.  I miss him dearly and will never forget that phone call I got from his school back in 2002, when I was sick on my mom’s couch, telling me that he had been caught with a knife, and that scared look when he realized what was going to happen to him.