Tonight I asked that question on Twitter, or rather I made a statement:
As always Twitter did not disappoint…
Teacher. Author. Creator. Speaker. Mom.
Tonight I asked that question on Twitter, or rather I made a statement:
As always Twitter did not disappoint…
I think it is time we start those courageous conversations with our administrators. It is time for us to realize and acknowledge that our principals were teachers once as well, and that they too functioned under a principal, with every self doubt that implies. It is time for us to not be afraid and to speak to our principals and administrators the way they deserve to be spoken to; as human beings rather than just our bosses.
I know I fall victim to stereotypes myself; assuming that someone in a principal job does not want feedback, does not want ideas, does not want honest discussion. I am not sure where this idea started from but it seems to permeate many schools. Perhaps the very role of principal means there is a glass wall between us. Perhaps it is their sheer busyness that creates a natural distance. I am not sure but we must discuss, we must reflect, and we must have conversations that push the boundaries much like we would with our colleagues because even though principals are in leadership positions they are still our colleagues as well.
While I know many principals tread water all day, floating from one fire to another, there are still many moments for us to discuss and reflect together. I think we need to bridge that unspoken gap that exists between teachers and principals and somehow find a way to grow together, rather than the more typical path of us versus them. We must approach our every day as we would an edcamp; there to learn, there to think, there to connect. It is time we give our principals a fair chance.
Being an organizer of this EdCamp really deepened my love for this type of professional development even more. I now know exactly how much work goes into this “easy” day of learning and also how much its success depends on the excitement of its organizers and attendants. So in the end, we are happy to say that there will be a second annual #EdCampMadWI.

Having 3 kids and being sleep deprived most of the time thanks to the 4 year old also means that it would be really easy to just not care about what I wear, but I do, so I started a fashion blog a couple of years ago. Because why not show the world how huge I get while pregnant with twins or chalk up some of my more adventurous outfits?
Not that fashion blog; poor og rich, has to move to WordPress and with it comes a new name and a new look, The Style Teacher.
So while my main goal will always be teaching, I have decided that it is ok to try to look good while doing it. Judge for yourself at The Style Teacher.
I stand there not quite knowing what to say, feeling like I should apologize and tell him how much having him in my classroom changed the way I teach. How I am sorry for not changing sooner, for realizing that punishment and rewards was not going to help motivate. For not giving up on homework he was not in a state of mind to complete For not treating him as a child and more like a product. I don’t know where to start and so I don’t.
“How are you?” I say
“Good…” and he smiles again.
“How is school?”
“Really good…”
And I smile.
“I am proud of you, do you know that?”I stammer out.
He smiles, shrugs and nods.
“Good to see you…” and I release him back to his friend.
The words left unspoken rattle me and I turn to a colleague, “If he only knew how much he means to me. How much having him changed everything for me.” Perhaps it is just not something you tell a middle school boy.
When do we as teachers apologize for the way we teach? When do we apologize to the students we failed to reach? Do we ever or is it part of the nature of teaching, that we wont be able to reach them all? Do we ever own up to our previous ways or do we just carry it with us hoping it will push us forward and never teach that way again?
Would Peter have cared if I apologized or simply shrugged and nodded as must middle school boys do? I don’t know.
*Name changed for obvious reasons
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| image from icanread |

Imagine being a child who comes in with certain knowledge lacking. Perhaps they have moved many times. Perhaps they have a learning disability. Perhaps they just hate reading. Or perhaps they can’t help what they don’t know. We test and discover the holes, we meet and discuss the gaps, we then plan and set up all of the things we now shall do to the child. Often without ever asking them or wondering how they will feel when they get pulled out. We teach them strategies, we fill their brains with more methods, more knowledge, more understanding, hoping to find the one that makes it all make sense. They lose class time but we know we have to sacrifice something. They lose reading time because they are in the group we meet with as much as possible. We hover and constantly ask, “Does it make sense?” All in the hope to help them.
I don’t mean to suggest we shouldn’t intervene but perhaps we should ask them how they feel about all of the things we do to them. How do they feel about their labels that we are not supposed to have put on them? How do they feel about the pull out? The extra attention? The extra people that they get to work with? Most kids just go along, but perhaps we should ask them. Perhaps they need a break t ojust be a kid, like all the other kids in the classroom, and perhaps they just need some time.
