I am a Yellow Crayon

At a meeting last night, my friend, Ruth, gave me a yellow crayon...

This is my crayon. (Thanks, Ruth!)

She gave it to me because--her words--I am a positive, sunny person who spreads joy to everyone around me.

This seriously warmed my heart.

Many people have told me that I am a positive person; this is not surprising to me.

But the tangibility of being given a token like this was a welcome reminder for me of the impact I have on the people around me. Ruth mentioned something specific that had happened a week or two ago while we were working on a mutual, technology-related problem. She tried sharing a file with me, and after I was unable to open it, I emailed her back. My email said, "No joy on my end." And she told me when she gave me the crayon, "I can hardly imagine you with 'no joy.'"

What a lift, from a simple little gift!

I'm embracing it: I am a yellow crayon.

How about you? If someone was going to give you a crayon that represents something about you, what color would they give you, and why?

Your Classroom: Collecting Wood? Or Longing for the Sea?

A Twitterfriend shared this one last week...

"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

— Lynn Swaner (@LynnSwaner1) October 23, 2018

I love this word picture.

And doesn't it just capture teaching? Both the good parts, as well as the struggles?

There are some lessons that just feel like collecting wood. (I've had a couple of those in my Geography class lately, to be honest.) The discussions are halting and stilted. The students are going through the motions, doing the tasks and work assigned to them. But it feels like just drumming up people to show up and do it.

And then, there are lessons that feel like longing for the sea. (Thankfully, I've had a few of these this semester too!) The joy of learning is so obvious, so real...it's like you can smell the salt air and feel the wind in your face! And when we shove off from shore, we have a real sense of the immensity of the ocean of content we can explore!

What ships are you building in your classroom? And how are you approaching the shipbuilding? Do students feel that sense of longing, wonder, and excitement for the voyage? Or are they just looking for the next log to drag toward the beach?

Image by Alberto Jaspe [CC BY-NC-SA 2.0]

American Division?

Are you familiar with the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon? You've probably experienced it, even if you don't recognize this name. It's that feeling that happens when you encounter something new, and then suddenly you start seeing it everywhere. For example, when we got my wife a new car a few years ago, I suddenly started noticing that make and model of vehicle absolutely everywhere we went. Weird, isn't it? (If you want to learn more, go a-googlin' and I'm sure you'll find out plenty about this.)

I bring it up because I had a bit of this feeling just this week. I'm still thinking about how impossibly divided the American public seems to be along political lines. Every time I check my Facebook I see some political posts either decrying our President or defending him. It's bizarre to me how divided things are.

And then, I had two very different media experiences in short succession that have me thinking about the implications, and possible causes for this division in a new light. (And a little Baader-Meinhof feeling, because I encountered these things back to back...)

Being a Teacher

Tomorrow in my middle school curriculum and instruction class we're going to be talking about lesson plans. Which means...tonight I was working on my lesson plan for teaching future teachers about how to write lesson plans. (That feels like Inception, somehow.)

Teaching, as I often tell my students, is not for the faint of heart. Under the very best of circumstances, it is incredibly demanding. Just planning a lesson can be daunting, let alone teaching it. And don't get me started on assessing their learning. And then the demands of meeting the needs of individual students--can we really do this? Ensuring that all students will learn? And then there is the management of the classroom. How do we create a classroom atmosphere conducive to positive social interaction and meaningful engagement in learning? And how about fostering moral development in students? And communicating with parents? And keeping up with professional development expectations? And fulfilling other administrative tasks that are required?

As I was thinking about this, I created a quick web graphic to illustrate...

Being a teacher is like trying to do a yo-yo with your right hand while solving a Rubik's cube with your left hand while also balancing a broomstick on one foot, all at the same time. I might add that in the current school culture, it's like trying to do all of this while riding on the back of a 10-point buck in hunting season. 

So give those teachers in your life a little extra measure of grace. Yes, we chose to do this. And, for the most part, we love it--or we wouldn't keep doing it.

But being a teacher is anything but "easy."

An Analogy to Help Teachers Understand Homework

I have been thinking and thinking about homework over the past few months--why teachers give it (many reasons), whether it truly advances learning (debatable), what the scholarly research says about it (it's complicated), and what parents can do to partner with schools on this issue (reply hazy, try again). (If you are interested in reading my past posts on this topic, feel free to read through this list of posts tagged "homework.")

I was recently struck with what I think might be a helpful analogy for teachers who are themselves perhaps wrestling with what to do about assigning homework. Here it is...

Imagine, teacher, that your administrator hands down an expectation that you are going to write detailed lesson plans for every single thing you teach. You are expected to do this every single day, and must submit them by 7:30 a.m. every day. If you are late, or if your work is incomplete, you will have to give up your lunch hour as a consequence. Every once in awhile, you get a stack of your lesson plans back from your administrator with "10/10" or "B+" or "78%" written on the top of them, but with no other comments, written or verbally submitted.

How would you feel about this situation?

Grad School: I'm Headed to Fairbanks

Time for a brief grad school update.

I have submitted my final papers for this semester, and I have achieved a landmark: I am finished with my coursework!

This semester I was taking a research elective (Design-Based Research, which was absolutely fascinating and helpful for my current and future research agenda) and conducting an "innovative experience" (basically an internship intended to help me synthesize the things I've learned in my coursework and begin applying it to a real-world problem in a way that "stretches" me.) Both were excellent learning adventures, but I feel drained--I am definitely at "the end" of this semester, limping my way to the finish line. I think it is because I kicked off this semester with comprehensive exams, which meant a ton of extra reading and preparation during Christmas break (normally a respite from the hectic, 60-hour+ per week schedule of the semester.) Honestly, I am tired...really, really tired.

But despite this fatigue, I feel great, submitting those last papers from this semester!

For my innovative experience, my final paper was a reflection on the things I had done and learned, and when I submitted it to my advisor and our program director, I shared my joy at reaching this point.

In response, one of my professors encouraged me to think of it this way:

The drive from NYC to Seattle is about 2,800 miles. To get to Fairbanks, AK, it's another 2,300 miles. When you've completed coursework for the program ... you're in Seattle. But ... you need to get to Fairbanks. ;-)

Truly, I'm grateful for this encouragement. I have said to a few people that I am now "ABD" (All But Dissertation.) One fellow academic commented to me that I should never say that; ABD is often used to indicate folks who got to this point where I find myself...and then stall out, not completing the degree.

I needed that encouragement too. I am NOT going to end up at "ABD" status. I'm proud of the work I've completed so far, and by the grace of God I'll see this journey through to the end. It's been quite a trip so far; I've enjoyed it thoroughly, but I am not at the end.

So I'm taking a rest stop in Seattle for a few days here...but I'm headed to Fairbanks.

Image by J. Stephen Conn [CC BY-SA 2.0]

When Learning Sticks

I had a joyful moment this week.

As a former middle school teacher, it is always just a bit odd for me to have one of my former young-adolescent students in class again now that I am teaching in higher ed. But it happens, and I'm getting used to it.

And, every once in a while, something wonderful happens.

One of my former middle-schoolers-turned-future-teacher caught me before class the other day:

"Hey, Mr. Mulder..."

"Yes?"

"Remember when you taught us about cells in middle school? We learned about how things get in and out of cell membranes? And you taught us about diffusion?"

Get in there and Jump!

I had a fun new experience this past weekend: I took my kids and nephews and nieces to an indoor trampoline park. You would think that I was there to be the responsible adult, but let's be honest: I was just the biggest kid in there. Here, this might help you picture the scene:

That's me, "levitating" with the smaller humans jumping around me...

Middle School Teachers: American Ninja Warriors of the Profession

I have a new course I'm teaching this year: Planning, Instruction, and Assessment in Middle Schools. I'm so excited for this one! I was a middle school teacher myself for 14 years before becoming a teacher of teachers, and I care deeply about making school a developmentally appropriate experience for young adolescents.

Teaching in the middle grades isn't for everyone.

The Nine Administrators You Might Know

It's that time of year again...when my thoughts start turning toward the new school year, but I'm still scrambling to make the most of the summertime I have left with my family. My son and I were talking Lego at lunch, and he said, "Remember those crazy superhero teacher and superhero student teams we made last year?" (Oh, yes I do son...)

And then he said, "We should make another one."

So I said, "How about principals?"

A knowing smile spread across his face...

And thus, we present to you, the nine administrators you might know:

Planting Seeds...Seeing Sprouts

Image by Denise Krebs
[CC BY 2.0]

I have been marking (grading? correcting?) like a madman these past few days.

It's the end of the semester, and I am--as usual--feeling behind the 8-ball.

How does it all pile up like this at the end? It seems to always end up this way. Unit plans, papers, portfolios, final exams...it all has to be reviewed.

I tell myself it won't happen this way again next time...every semester.

And then...

While I am in the thick of marking, a student stops by. She is one of my advisees, and so I've gotten to know her quite well over the past three years. She has recently completed her student teaching, and she is graduating tomorrow. And she stopped in, just to chat.

Marking can wait.

Yellow Submarine Moments: Stop Worrying So Much About What Other People Think

I recently introduced my kiddos to the Beatles. I am a little ashamed that it took me this long.

I had their compilation album 1 on in the car the other day, and my daughter asked me what band this was.

[OH. MY. I haven't introduced them to the Beatles? I am neglecting my duty as a parent to make sure my kids know good music, and a little history of rock and roll!]

So we listened...

"Love Me Do" ("Is this a love song? It's weird...")

"She Loves You" ("Another love song?")

"I Want to Hold Your Hand" ("These guys sing a lot of love songs, don't they?")

"Help!" ("I like this one, Dad!")

"Yesterday" ("He sounds kind of sad.")

"Day Tripper" ("That is my favorite guitar part ever!")

And then...

What's In Your Desk Drawer? Day 19

Snack time!

I am told--by people who love me very much--that I can be an unpleasant person when I get hungry.

"Hangry" has become a word. Hungry + angry. That is, unfortunately, often the case for me.

What's In Your Desk Drawer? Day 13

Go Carnivores!

This is an antenna ball from Jack In The Box. Yep, it's fast food at it's finest, and one of the great marketing ideas: you put a goofy little doo-dad on the antenna of your car, which actually serves as an advertisement for the company.

Keep those Plates Spinning

This week is shaping up to be a crazy week for me. Last week sort of was too. I simply have a lot going on right now. In fact, I sort of feel like this guy:

Sure would be nice if he had a friend to help him keep those plates spinning, wouldn't it?

Teacher, if you are feeling overwhelmed today, be sure to take time to connect with a friend. Have a cup of coffee with a colleague. Take 10 minutes to walk a lap around the school. Yes, in the meantime a few of your plates might start to wobble, but you can't do this on your own. This job is bigger than you. It's daunting to try to meet the needs of those 20 (30? 120?) kids that come through your classroom every day. It can be overwhelming to deal with the papers, the planning. There is always more you could do; there is always one more plate someone would like to see you spinning.

That's why it's so important to make time to connect with others. Knowing that colleagues have gone through (or are going through) what you're going through can be so helpful! Not in a "misery loves company" sort of way, but more of a "here's what I did and here's what I learned."

Teaching, like plate spinning, is the sort of vocation that gets better with practice. Don't be afraid to accept a little help, coaching, and support!

Perspective Matters

Last week, I was at the Mall of America with my family. We didn't really buy anything, but we had fun exploring. We spent a fair bit of time at the Lego store. My kids love Legos. To be fair...I love Legos too.

While we were there, I noticed this Lego mosaic on the wall...

Nice pattern, but can you discern the whole picture from this close-up view? Let's step back a bit...

A Cold and Soaking Mist

A cold and soaking mist began to fall, chilling him through. The breeze picked up and he began to shiver, even as he was trying to keep moving, trying to warm up. His shirt began to cling to his skin with the damp, and soon droplets were shaking loose and falling to the ground. Alone, in the pre-dawn gloominess illuminated by passing headlights, he longed for home. A place to dry off. A place to warm up. A place to melt away the misty misery...

---

I'm describing my bike ride this morning. It was 47 degrees and fully dark out at 6:00 a.m. as I pedaled away from the house. By the time I reached the corner, the mist was just beginning to fall. By a mile in, I was shivering, and water was dripping from my handlebars. And as my shirt soaked through, I did decide to cut my ride short and head home. I was miserable out there.

---

I wonder if this description could also refer to classroom climate? Do students feel warmly enfolded? Or are they shivering in the drenching mist?

Stalling

Image via Mark Harkin [CC BY 2.0]

I remember watching some old movie or TV show when I was in elementary school back in the 80's (it was probably the kind of show my mom wouldn't have been happy to know I was watching.) In the show, the Bad Guys were trying to hijack a plane--they had guns!--but the quick-thinking pilot was able to save the day by pulling the plane up into a steep climb so the Bad Guys couldn't climb their way up the aisle to get into the cockpit.

Eventually, though, the plane stopped climbing, and "stalled." Now, 10-year-old me wasn't exactly sure what caused a plane to stall...but it was pretty clear what that meant: the plane stopped flying upward, nosed down, and began to dive back towards earth. Of course, this was great adventure on the show, because it meant that the Bad Guys went tumbling forward toward the cockpit, banging their heads and getting knocked out.

Meanwhile, the passengers were safely buckled in their seats, screaming about the plane plummeting toward the ground, and the editors cut back to a shot of the pilot and co-pilot straining as they heaved on the control sticks to regain control of the plane. Of course, they were able to level out and land safely, where police officers met the plane on the runway to take the Bad Guys away.

The Ten Students You Have in Your Class

In my last post, I shared the nine teachers you meet at school. Today, let's consider the students. I enlisted my son and our Lego collection to help me think up the ten students you likely have in your class...

Does this look like your class?

I was amazed as I talked with my son about his insights into human nature as it manifests in the classroom. Here is what we came up with:

Reflective Practice in a Chinese Restaurant

My wife has been out of town for a few days, so last night my kids and I decided to go out for supper to the local Chinese buffet.

I love Chinese food. Well, I love the silly, Americanized version of it, anyway.

I love that there are many things to choose from on the buffet. Some have very straightforward names, like Beef and Broccoli, or Mushroom Pork, or Hot and Sour Soup. You can be pretty sure of what you're getting there. Others seem downright exotic: Moo Goo Gai Pan, or General Tso's Chicken, or Kung Pao Chicken. I love the noodles. I avoid the bright red sweet and sour sauce, because it seems unnatural.

My kids' favorite part is dessert, and of course that means fortune cookies.

With great ceremony, we crack open our cookies and read our "fortunes." And then usually look at each other with a raised eyebrow and a grin on our lips, trying to decipher the meaning of the mystical message hidden inside the convoluted, crispy cookie.

But every once in a while, the "fortune" rings true, and not just in a goofy, game-like way. I had one of those last night. According to the all-knowing cookie, my "fortune" was this: