Saying Goodbye to My Guides; A Reader's Response to Ladybugs, Tornadoes, and Swirling Galaxies

In these final chapters of Ladybugs, I felt like I was slowly saying goodbye to a dear friend or mentor. Much like Dumbledore must go away so that Harry can rise up and face challenges with his own power, I must close the book (or the iPad), and carry the wisdom of these master teachers within me, and manifest them through my own practice.

I appreciated many of the practical examples and tips for how to get a classroom of inquiry moving. One thing I find myself continuing to return to in my reflections, is how to get a system of publishing work in place that excites the students and gives them ownership. As of right now, my students have produced many wonderful works, particularly in creative writing, but very few of those works have gone through any kind of publishing process where their thinking can be made visible to an audience beyond their classmates or their teacher. Buhrow and Upczak Garcia give many good reasons why publishing is important, reminding me of things like, “by displaying work, students can take pride in what they have written. It also gives the other children access to environmental print” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 1974). 

Beyond just theoretical reasons why publishing is important, the authors also offer pragmatic tips and examples of how they encourage meaningful publishing in their own classrooms. They talk about how some kids like to create posters, whereas “some kids like to present their information in a different way from most people, and making a comic strip to show what you know is one of them” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 2219). I have a small group of students who are very interested in graphic novels and comics, and I think letting them publish their learning in this format that speaks so strongly to them is a wonderful idea.  I also really like how the authors describe how “putting their work out there helps the students build confidence and pride in their writing. Often we take an easel with the kids’ work taped to it and put it in the school’s front lobby. The first thing people see is our kids’ thinking. Next to the work we place a pile of yellow sticky notes and some pens for people to write comments” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 1974). I am so inspired by how Buhrow and Upczak Garcia make publishing an interactive experience. Students in their classes are motivated to publish because they know they will be receiving feedback from peers and community members, which also reflects how research is treated in the adult world as well. In blogs, forums, and even newspaper articles, there is always a space reserved for feedback to the authors or for readers to publish their own thoughts that were stirred by the piece. Why shouldn't our students experience that same satisfactory feeling of knowing our work has reached someone? I think this plays right into Brad and Anne's questioning of what a final product even is. They say, “the idea that there even exists a final product is something we go round and round about. If we are promoting a transformational style of learning, is anything really ever finished? Don’t we just keep questioning and learning in the cycle of life and knowledge?” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L.2281). In today's world, is a writing piece ever "finished" and closed off forever? Or does the piece continue in the dialogue between author and reader, for as long as the conversation holds interest?

I really respect how the authors scaffold "the publishing process so that regardless of where [students] are with their writing or English-language acquisition, they are able to do it. Consistency in this area has helped our ELL students. Seeing their own stories in published format is inspiring, and the more work that makes it to a completed, published format, the  better. Doing this shows the children that their worlds and words matter. If they are publishing for others to see, it inspires them to do great work” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 1959). Buhrow and Upczak Garcia do more than emphasize the benefits of publishing, but they also offer novice teachers like myself tips for how its practically done. In one example they describe how,“Using strips of paper, we scribe what is said by the child with whom we’re working exactly as they talk, while putting their words into conventional syntax. With another strip of paper we draw lines to represent each word. The kids then copy what was scribed, which are their words, onto the other sheet. This is a way to scaffold this process, and the more the kids experience what it takes to explore a topic and publish it, the  more quickly they are able to do it more independently” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 2123). They also bring in peer collaboration, something that has been a stated goal of mine to incorporate more often in my instruction. The authors explain that “when [students] are making their big posters, kids use pencils to put their words down and then self-edit. The piece is peer-edited, and we look at the writing and give it a final edit. That way we can write the words that are not conventionally written on a sticky note and let them fix them” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 2085). This technique makes the writing process as independent as possible, while also utilizing peer collaboration, and finally the teacher as the last step. 

Another helpful thing the authors do is offer further explanation for how to use anchor charts to scaffold for writers, something I have been wanting to get more comfortable with in my own practice. Often I make a chart with the students, only to have it fade away into the background and from our memories. Students don't get into the habit of referencing the charts and eventually the poor dusty neglected things get put away to make room for something new. Brad and Anne “build an anchor chart for the kids to refer to while checking what to add to their posters" saying "Anchor charts enable the kids to be more strategic in their thinking” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L.2576), but Buhrow and Upczak Garcia also make these charts fluid and interactive all year long. This might be the secret to their success, because students don't forget about a living document that belongs to them and can be modified and edited as new information and needs arise. What a wonderful way to increase metacognition and to give kids that proper feeling of ownership over their classrooms and their learning. In my own practice, I would have to get into the habit myself of referencing the charts and reminding students that we can add or edit, in order to model the proper way to use these handy tools. 

The authors also make sure to honor their kids choices in the publishing process by keeping an open ear and mind to student input, something I have been getting better and better at across the year. I related strongly with the statement that “the ideas for how to publish pieces come from the children and what they know or are interested in. We can provide models for ideas, but frequently the kids modify them and come up with better ones. We not only let them, but encourage them” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 2001). Particularly the last sentence resonates with me and sounds like something I would say or write. As I said in my Mosaic video for Language and Literacy, "I love being able to say 'yes' to my students" and I do it as much as possible. For me, this is one of the simplest and most authentic ways to give them the power to drive their own learning. 

I also like the idea of using self-assessments to increase metacognition and encourage students to track and monitor their own growth, another key indication of ownership.  The authors insist that “Self-assessment is an important part of the inquiry process because it lets us know whether or not the kids are internalizing the process and the meaning of what they have been doing. It Is also a path to independence” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L.2534). I would be curious to see how the students in my class would enjoy and utilize this tool. I believe encouraging metacognition in any form is beneficial, or as the authors say, it helps us because “We think about our thinking, which internalizes learning at extraordinarily deep levels” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L.2326).

My ears really perked up when I read their description of what their room looks like when students are given time to independently work on their own inquiry projects, because this is exactly what I am thirsting to create in my own classroom. It's much like my "Classroom of Wonders" I described in my previous Ladybugs reflection post. I am still trying to figure out a way I can justify taking up an hour of instruction time per day to let my students pursue their inquiries, when I know my administration and parents have certain expectations for what type of learning should take place during the day and what it should look like. I would love to do what Buhrow and Upzcak Garcia do and “keep blocks of time open for inquiries. Some students will be using fewer sources, others more, but they are all learning in an authentic way. The students have the desire or the spark of wonder, and the teacher is guiding them by explicit and implicit modeling. Some kids will be working more independently and taking notes, whereas others will be with the teacher, who will be scribing their words” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 2465). I know to some people, this would look disorganized and they would question how the common core is being reinforced when students seem to be doing "whatever they want." I am going to do some serious thinking about how to demonstrate that this block of time is accomplishing important work that honors both the students' desires and reinforces the common core concepts they need to be reviewing. 

Finally, I wouldn't be me if I didn't spend a moment reflecting on the balance between a teacher's need to promote social justice and her duty to respect the stance of the school or the individual families. The authors of Ladybugs have some interesting comments on this conundrum, and inspire me with their bravery and candor and assertion that good teaching must confront political issues and social inequality. They say that “acknowledging political inequalities and racial bias in our world has helped us to speak out against them. To be able to teach and do the necessary assessments we have had to take a step back and examine what we thought we knew about these inequities” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L.2594). I found this very relatable in light of my own recent experience in fumbling between my desire to promote inclusive thinking and attitudes and challenge a civil rights issue I feel storngly about, and stating an opinion to my students that upset and offended parents and administration. As I look back upon this event, I realize that my statement of an opinion did not in fact open up inquiry, but came off as teacher-centered beholding of all information and me having the right answer. Buhrow and Upczak Garcia point me towards reconciling my mission to encourage social justice and critical thinking, by using the art of inquiry. They state “we have learned that inquiry is a valid literacy pathway for ELLs and all learners. We believe that it promotes democracy through questioning and engagement by allowing students to follow their curiosities" (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L.2609). In a true "Classroom of Wonders" I would invite the students to wonder further about the social issue they brought up, rather than instantly providing my version of the truth.  

Brad and Anne were wonderful guides to me in helping me appreciate the power of a student-centered, inquiry-based classroom, as well as offering me pragmatic how-to steps in making it a reality in my own practice. I'm going to miss sitting down with these teaching heroes every day, but in order to become the hero myself, I must integrate their wisdom into my own beliefs and practices, and make them my own. 

Theory in Practice; The Dance

"In November, the air grows cold and the earth and all of its creatures prepare for winter. Animals seek food and shelter. And people gather together to celebrate their blessings with family and friends." -Cynthia Rylant, In November.

November is a busy time for all of us creatures, and a time marked by change. Highs and lows become more pronounced as we brace ourselves for the winter, prepare for the painful process of shucking off old coats and growing new ones, and celebrate the possibilities of newness and rebirth when the ice finally melts. November is a precarious point between one season and the next. It's neither summer nor winter, but rather flits between the two with t-shirt weather one day and ice flurries the next. I can really relate to November in this way, as I also find myself in an awkward, fluid place, unsettled yet in exactly who or what I am as a teacher and socially responsible advocate for justice.

Dr. Lynch, my coach, often speaks of this teaching thing we do as a dance, and mine has been a clumsy one this November, with plenty of troddings on toes. My lows stem from the justified complaints of my dance partners, and my highs from the small moments of grace I achieve thanks to the practice and hard work I put into memorizing the steps. I still have a long way to go, and sometimes looking far into the future can be discouraging when I stop and realize just how long the waltz really lasts and how much my feet already hurt. There are so many styles of dance, and my different dance parters expect me to dance like them. I am still figuring out which dance is my own.

Common highs this month are rooted in my growing competence in seeing my theories play out in practice. My abilities in fostering peer collaboration and student-centered engagements have grown noticeably and in turn the students have grown as well. My favorite example is from our bucket note returning ceremony. The last two ceremonies I led, calling the student forward, giving them the notes from their peers, and calling on students to share specific anecdotes about moments their friend filled their buckets. On this particular ceremony day, when I announced the first student, she immediately came to the front of the room and started calling on the raised hands herself. I backed off instantly and let the kids run the rest of the ceremony, which they did seamlessly. This showed me a few things: That the successful modeling of the first two months of bucket-notes taught them the procedures they needed, that they are eager to take ownership of the procedures and rituals that should rightfully be theirs, and that they are seeing themselves as competent and capable of running the show themselves. I have also seen my kids thrive as helpers to each other in their learning journeys. Supporting kids in developing these peer collaboration skills is so important to my practice because “cooperative learning produces better learning and more motivated learners than competitive learning and individualistic learning” (Pressley and McCormick, 2007, p.276). Many of my highs come from stepping back and watching this capable young people help themselves and help each other. Our community bonds strengthen day by day as do the individuals within it.

In this dance between highs and lows, I often find that the highs and lows stem from the same source. Successful peer collaboration and student ownership has had me soaring in my practice, while botched attempts have left me in brooding lows. I see a pattern in these failures, and their source originates with me. While the kids are eager and willing to work with each other and to take charge of their own learning, often they are left high and dry because they don't know how to collaborate or how to be in charge of their learning. I have been very influenced by Ladybugs, Tornadoes, and Swirling Galaxies and have tried to lift engagements straight from this text. I have observed that my biggest failures come from turning the kids loose and expecting Ladybug-esque buzz and activity and collaboration and instead finding kids continuing to work independently or seeming aimless or perplexed by the wide open possibilities of pursuing their own topic of interest. I've reflected upon the difference between my engagements and theirs, and have pinpointed the many GROUP and SHARED inquiry and writing experiences the authors do before ever setting kids free to do it themselves. The teachers from the book model, provide experiences of group engagements, and then spend time consulting with each kid on his or her work. They say that “this kind of consultation creates a community of learners who participate in the learning process together” (Buhrow and Upczak Garcia, 2006, L. 379), which is exactly what I am going for. Moving forward, I will definitely take more time for teaching procedures before overloading kids with incomprehensible and overwhelming tasks.

Can I now take some time to talk about another kind of dance that popped up on several occasions during my reflections this month? This one has been circling in my mind continually, and was marked by some large events that left me with big questions about my role as an educator and in the larger scope of American society as a whole. I speak of the delicate dance, perhaps even done on a tightrope, that a teacher does between working for social change and maintaining professional neutrality on controversial issues. Let me give you some background:

In my old school, I taught a transgender child named Sunshine* for 2 years. (By transgender, I mean a person who is biologically one gender but identifies as the other gender). When I met Sunshine, we used ambiguous pronouns and avoided them when possible. Slowly, as she became more comfortable and confident in her feminine identity, and after discussing it with Sunshine and her mother, we transitioned to exclusive use of the female pronoun in reference to Sunshine and encouraged and reminded her classmates and other teaches to do the same. The students embraced their friend as a girl and barely batted an eye, as if to them this transition was an obvious one. Sunshine was a respected and beloved member of our community, celebrated for being exactly who she is. My heart overflows whenever I think about it. Sadly, Sunshine did not come over to our new school with myself and many of her old classmates, and is at another school where the administration has recommended she "go stealth", or in other words, pass herself off as female without revealing the true nature of her situation to her new friends and teachers. This in and of itself is problematic in my eyes, but I digress.

Not long ago, I heard some of my current students in conversation about Sunshine. They were debating whether she is a boy or a girl, saying "He's a boy, no, she's a girl," and going back and forth. Then I made a choice that I am still experiencing the consequences of. I weighed in. I sat down and listened for a minute and then I dove in. I said, “In my opinion, Sunshine gets to make that decision for herself. If she tells me she is a girl, then as someone who is a friend to her and respects her, I will treat her as a girl.” My coteacher very quickly jumped in and cut the conversation short, telling the kids to talk about this at home with their parents if they still had questions. I am very torn by how this played out. There is a dance here going on in my mind, where on one hand I want to hold high the torch of justice and what I believe in, but on the other I want to be responsible and refrain from doing the thinking FOR the kids, even if I strongly believe my way of thinking is ethical and right. Something I consider over and over again when it comes to transgender issues in American society is what Stevenson says about being proximate. In my mind, making talking about people like Sunshine taboo at school is pushing the topic away and making it far away from us, when what we really need to elicit the necessary and just social change is to make it CLOSER to us. And how lucky are we to have a remarkable child like Sunshine to be proximate with? I don’t appreciate the message that Sunshine’s gender predicament is something “taboo” to talk about and is forbidden to wonder about in school. These kids are very fairly trying to make sense of their world and the people in it, and adults can like it or not, but Sunshine and people like her are some of the people in our world. It harkens me back to other interesting gender conversations that have come up, such as what is for boys and what is for girls that kind of thing. I want to encourage them to think critically about this, but maybe when I expressed my opinion, I closed off the critical thinking and gave too strong of an answer. Did I say too much by giving my opinion? My coteacher was obviously uncomfortable enough to silence me. But is that in and of itself a sign that I went too far, or is that evidence that I am touching on important transformative ground? I still don’t know. I sometimes hesitate in this dance, taking a step forward, taking a step back.

I think I need to acknowledge that I am strongly influenced by some of the critical thinkers we’ve encountered this year like Joyce King and Bryan Stevenson. Hearing them speak left me with a fire coursing through me. I wanted to put on my biggest ass-kicking boots and kick down the school doors and shout my social justice message through every hall. Maybe I let myself get too militant, maybe it's not a good idea to put my job at risk by spreading a message the powers that be don't want to hear. But then again, both King and Stevenson assert that change needs to come from changing the narrative, and that sometimes we need to be deliberately uncomfortable to do this. How should I interpret the discomfort of the administration and parents and other teachers? Is it a healthy discomfort that comes from talking about the necessary topics, or is it a sign to me that I overstepped my bounds? I am still trying to figure out where I stand in this. Was I wrong or right? Or somewhere in between? Part of me thinks “I don’t want to step on toes” and part of me thinks “wait, yes I do, these are toes that NEED to be stepped on because it’s the right thing to do.” But then the message I got from the administration was that it's not my place to engage in these controversial issues. I haven't decided if I agree with this or not. My principal made lots of salient points as to why what I said was inappropriate. Part of me thinks that this is exactly a teacher's place, positioned as we are to be the barometer for right and wrong for the next generation. But then part of me thinks maybe it's not my place to encourage topics that the paying customers, the parents, are uncomfortable with. These questions are exactly what makes this teacher dance such a complex one.

I do believe I was somewhere between right and wrong. I think I said too much, I "named" and I told the kids (what I believe to be) the answer rather than encouraging them to get there themselves. One of my role models is Jane Elliot who did the famous engagement with her students in the 60s, where she got them thinking about race in terms they could understand. (Watch the documentary below if you've never heard of it, it will blow your mind). She really epitomizes a child-centered, inquiry based, discovery model to encourage her students to come to their own conclusions about America's racial inequality and the Civil Rights movement. Keeping her style in mind, next time this topic comes up that is so important to me (and in my eyes the next frontier of the civil rights movement), I won't get so fired up but remain calm and trust my students to get there on their own with some skillful guidance from yours truly.