Folding clothes and Halloween candy

I am an online grocery shopper. Other than picking up something I’ve forgotten or something for an unplanned event or meal, I have not stepped foot into a grocery store in months…months!  It is probably my favorite thing to order groceries from my bed and then pick them up from my car. Not only do I love the convenience, I save so much money because I purchase what I need and not impulse buy while in the store.

On Saturday morning, I was at my grocery store at 7am for my pick up appointment. I remembered Thursday night, while placing my order, to get Halloween candy for Halloween night’s trick or treaters.  Little did I know that the weather would not cooperate with us and it is going to rain on Thursday night. And I have a lot of candy. Yesterday one of the Rosebros wanted to open the candy and asked, “Can I have some candy?”  My immediate response was, “No, you can all the leftover candy Thursday night.” His response was, “I need the practice.”

He never stops making me laugh. But I got to thinking about his “I need practice” comment. While he needs no practice eating a chocolate bar, I thought back to that afternoon. He was helping me fold laundry. He needed a lot of practice on how to do it correctly. He really struggled on folding t-shirts and then towels. I showed him once, then I guided him through one attempt then his second attempt. Then he did it on his own and we started the process over again until he did it well without me fussing.  Not one time did I google a worksheet on folding shirts. Not one time did I show him a video. Not one time did I have him cut strips to teach the order of folding a shirt. He practiced. He practiced over and over and over. At first he watched me as I described and explained each step carefully. Then he had guided practice where I stood over him and stopped him when he was about to make a wrong fold of the shirt. Then he did it alone.

Late last night I was walking the dog and I came back in to Rosebro 1 and 2 folding laundry. My first thought is that something really bad must have happened while I was walking the dog. I mean my boys were working together to get a task completed that 1. I had not asked them to do and 2. They hate doing. I watched as Rosebro2 explained to Rosebro1 how to fold a tshirt “the way mom said to do it.” Rosebro1 explained that he didn’t like it that way because there was a crease on the sides of the shirt and he preferred to fold it a different way. He then proceeded to teach Rosebro 2 his method. I didn’t care which method they used as long as laundry was folded and put away.

Teach. Teach. Teach.  Explicitly teach. Model. Give guided practice. Then allow for independence and mistakes. Reteach through those mistakes- explicitly teaching again. Model, give guided practice and then allow for independence.  It is a simple, simple formula. And it is an effective one. Student can never, ever learn something that they are not explicitly taught. Never.

And reward them. Reward them often. Your praise goes a long, long way. I was so proud of the Rosebros for folding all the laundry that I had to order my Halloween candy. 

Oreos and Ice Cream

I knew the data. I knew what was going to happen. I knew that eating ice cream, oreos, and fried everything was not nutritious. I knew that I’ve purchased new clothes in a size larger than last year. I knew that I hated looking at pictures of myself. I knew that I was shoving emotions with food. I knew that my blood pressure was high. I knew that I could never again say thigh gap without spitting out my said ice cream, oreos, or French fries dipped in my ice cream.

But then I went to the doctor for a routine visit. It was then that I knew. The nurse took my vitals. My blood pressure was high for me. And when that number popped on the scale I almost gasped. I probably would have if I hadn’t had that oreo in my mouth. The doctor was completely honest with me when he looked at my chart. He was kind. He was worried. He was honest. He told me that he understood the last two years have been difficult and he understood that life was different for me now. But he reminded me that I have two young boys who didn’t need their mother to have a stroke from high blood pressure or a heart attack from eating fried food and an overworked heart by weighing too much.  He was brutally honest.

I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t disagree with it either.

 I had to make a change. And I have. Nothing drastic. I mean, I really can’t shock my body too much, too fast. It is a gradual release of sugar and fried foods. I’ve started exercising again. Well, as much as I can with a crazy insane schedule that I keep. I’m cooking more and going out to eat less. I am watching carefully what I purchase at the grocery store. And I’m proud to say I’ve dropped a couple of pounds-again nothing drastic.

This weekend as I was writing comments on report cards, I thought back to that brutal honesty. My doctor wasn’t mean. In fact, he was very kind. He spent a lot of time with me-much more than family doctors do these days. But he told me the truth. The truth was awesome because it made me change. To do better, I must know better. Many report cards left me wondering if we are doing the same. Are we carefully letting students and parents know of difficulties? Then I thought about SLC this week. Are we being honest with our parents about their student’s progress? Are we sugar coating? Are we asking for their help? Are we begging for change?

My first year teaching I had the superintendent’s child. Yes, you read that right. My first year teaching. By November I had told the superintendent that the child needed to repeat. My principal almost fired me or killed me on the spot. In June, the superintendent came to my classroom. I really thought he was delivering my exit papers. He came over to my desk and asked if he could hug me. I stood up and he had tears in his eyes. He told me I was the first honest teacher his child had had and he appreciated it.  

Courage. Honesty. These are very valuable traits of an excellent teacher.

My 13 year old self

     This past weekend I helped Rosebro2 with his college essay. Not even sure how that is possible. I mean, is seems just like yesterday he was running around JBE, but now he is completing college applications and writing a college essay. He is applying to 4 colleges. Each college has a different essay topic. His top college pick had the following essay topic “What advice would you give the 13 year old you?”  He was struggling on this topic for two main reasons. One, he really wanted to have a great essay because this is his school of choice and two, he was confused by all of the things that he could tell the 13 year old Rosebro1-I mean, he has been through a lot in his 17 years. 

     As any good teacher would do, I started a web map to help him narrow down the choices. We started talking about the good things, the bad things, and the moments that really haven’t mattered. We narrowed them down to categories and started making a list of things that were of most important. (Sidebar: The moral of the story here is how very terribly boring a night at the Roses can be). He finally was able to wrap his head around a good beginning, middle and end. Then he composed a great essay. He brought it to me to edit and then he had a finished product.

     As he was typing up the final draft, I started thinking deeply about that question as a much older adult. What advice would I give to my 13 year old self?  My initial response was, “pick a better major.” Then I internally got mad at myself. I don’t mean it. I love our field of education even with our faults. I majored in Special Education as an undergrad. It wasn’t easy. There was plenty of theory, strategy, and clinical work. Then I got my first job and had not a clue what I was doing. Had it not been for some pretty amazing mentors those first two years, I would have never survived. So I brought back my thinking to what I instantly always have known, “Don’t lose your why?”

     I became a special education teacher because I am dyslexic and was a nonreader until grade 3. I hated school-I mean hated school. I threw up out of the back of my Mom’s Ford Esquire station wagon almost every day on the way to school. I had teachers who were used to students who could learn in a dark room. They didn’t know what to do with me. I knew there was something wrong, even though I could not name it. I knew I was different and I knew the teachers didn’t like me. I was finally given the most amazing teacher in 3^rd grade who changed the trajectory of my entire life. I never, ever want any student to feel the way I did in school. That is my why. It is why my standards are so high. It is why I can’t settle on good enough. It is why I constantly aim to provide higher levels of diversified instruction. It is why I believe that busy students aren’t necessarily learning ones. It is why I believe that EVER student can learn-not just the ones that are scoring well. It is why I will not settle with 27% of our students performing under grade level projections. And it is why I will never give up the good fight.

     So if I had to give advice to my 13 year old self, never forget your why. NEVER.

Buddy the ELf

The other night I couldn’t sleep. I read. I cleaned. I tossed and turned. Then I turned on the TV. For whatever reason, Buddy the Elf was on. I mean, it is only October…I actually think this was still September. Why in the world is Buddy the Elf on TV. For whatever reason I decided to watch this movie….for the 100^th time.  I watched the movie until I drifted off to sleep. One of the last scenes I remember Buddy hears that Santa is on his way. Upon the news that Santa is coming to town, he can’t help but contain his excitement -“I know him! I KNOW him!”

That phrase, “I know him!” kept ringing in my ear the other day as I was doing a class observation. I didn’t understand exactly what was going on during the small group and what the other groups were doing. Don’t get me wrong, almost every student was engaged and almost every student amazed me with their work, I just didn’t 100% understand. So later that day I asked the teacher about it and I got more than I had anticipated. Not only could she fully explain each group’s assignments and her pedagogy, she explained almost every student in the class and where they were and what she was doing with them. Not once did she mention worksheets. Not once did she mention levels. Not once did she mention what the student couldn’t do. She discussed in detail where each student was functioning. She detailed her plan to get each child where she wanted them to be. She made no excuses about a parent not helping or last year’s teacher, or last year’s school. As I left the room, I stated “thanks, buddy.”

Why? Because all I could think of was “I know him! I know him!”  Knowing your students is the key to moving your students. The good news is there is a difference in not knowing AND not knowing yet.  The formula isn’t hard. But at the same time it isn’t easy. Be prepared. Be willing to adapt to that plan. Engage your students…be funny, tell stories, make it personal, make it connected. Reteach if necessary….don’t ever be that teacher who states, “I taught it, don’t know why they didn’t get it.” And reflect. Always, always reflect on what you’ve done and how you can do it better.

“I know him!” is the best way to start by moving a student from good to great.

Learning from others

You all know I am a Clemson fan. Die hard, blood runs orange kind of fan. My Dad played football at Clemson and I was taught from birth where my loyalties must lie. But, I will tell you that I am huge fan of the new quarterback for the USC Gamecocks. I love his story.

If you don’t know, Ryan Hillinski is a true freshman who has been thrown (no pun intended for a quarterback) into the spotlight due to the season ending injury of the starting senior QB. Ryan is from California, a long way from SC, and comes from a family of athletes. Ryan’s older brother, Tyler, was the starting quarterback for Washington State. Without any signs of depression or sadness, Tyler Hillinski committed suicide in his family’s home in January of 2018. The Hillinski family, while devastated over the loss of their beloved Tyler, began Hilinski’s Hope- a charity that promotes mental health awareness and reducing the stigma among college athletes. They even recently scattered some of Tyler’s ashes on the island of Kauai (which touched me as it is a part of our school theme).  Ryan’s parents, emotionally unable to live in their family home after Tyler’s death there, made the decision to move to Columbia to be closer to Ryan and be able to follow his career at USC.

If you follow college football, Ryan was forced into play after starting QB Jake Bentley was hurt. He had a rhythmic first start against Charleston Southern impressing USC fans and quite frankly worrying USC opponents. He had a decent game in a loss against #2 ranked power house Alabama. Yet, this Saturday, his team played Missouri and they did not fare as well as they had the previous two weeks. I was in Clemson and didn’t watch the game, but saw some of the reactions on Twitter.

I woke up Sunday to some harshness and criticism yielded towards The State newspaper when they published an article entitled “Hillinski Hope Sinks”. When I first read the Twitter criticism I, too, was upset that a reporter would use the title of the Hillinski family’s foundation as a “cute” way to describe a bad game for the QB. As a side note, this is a part of sports and social media that upset me badly. It hurts my mommy heart how mean folks can be hiding behind the screen of a computer. I felt, like many others, that the reporter should be accountable as well as the newspaper. I was outraged that the reporter would use the name of a heart filled, sensitive organization to describe a game.

Then I got to thinking some more. I am daily criticized. I face criticism every single day either face to face, over the phone, via email, on social media, and mostly behind my back. Sometimes that criticism is warranted. Shockingly, I am human, and not a robot, and do make mistakes. Many times, I am criticized for things out of my control-traffic on the road in front of school, a bus issue, state rules and regulations, etc. But most of my criticism comes when dealing with an issue that I had nothing to do with to begin with. So with that perspective I began thinking differently about the writer of the newspaper article. While I didn’t like the title of his article, I didn’t retweet it. I wrote an email to the author of the article about growth. I wrote to him about making mistakes, how to learn from them, how to go about fixing them, and how to make sure you don’t make them again. I also gave some advice about thick skin-because he’s going to need it in the next few weeks. I then made a donation, albeit small-I am an educator, to Hillinski’s Hope. I didn’t hide my criticism. I went to the source and told the truth-kindly, nicely, and with grace. I sure wish the entire world did the same. Maybe we can start. Maybe we can model that for each other, our students, and our community.

Is Golf an Individual or a Team Sport?

Rosebro1 loves golf. He was devastated when his doctors would not let him play anymore. Golf was the perfect game for him. He is self motivated. He was totally focused on his game. He knew each course he played. He knew the lowest score he had made on that course and always challenged himself to score lower. He knew each hole on each course he played and he set goals for himself to do better each time. He got to know which clubs worked best for which shot. He knew how much power he had with his driver. He knew that his putting game was on spot. He knew that he needed to learn more skills for chipping. He was constantly challenging himself to do better than he had done before.

Yet, his game effected his team. Last weekend he and I were talking about golf as we passed a golf course. He misses it. He stated that it is an interesting sport to play but he never could decide if challenging himself helped him achieve more or if the team concept made him play harder. He knew that he had his own goals with each hole with each match, but he also knew that what he did effected the other players on his team. His score-his individual score- could help his team win or lose a match.

As he and I rode in silence for a little while and I tried to think of something inspiring to say to my heartbroken kid, I thought about the old, tired but true statement, “a mom is only as happy as her unhappiest child.” And then, as it so often happens, I started thinking about school and I changed the subject while I bored Rosebro1 with my analogy.

Working in a school is much like a golf team. Each of us has our individual strengths and weaknesses. Each of us is responsible for what happens in our own classroom or office. We set our goals on what we want our students to accomplish. We know what we are really good at and we know where we need work. We know which “driver” to use when we need the most power. We know what aspect of our teaching “game” needs the most work.  But as individual as that work is, it is a part of the bigger picture. We cannot work in silos and think that what we do doesn’t effect the rest of the school.

Just think about going into a reflection meeting and being the only person to have taught the planner. It is hard to reflect as a “team” when others haven’t done the work. Think of heading to a field trip and not everyone has collected permission slip forms. We can’t accomplish as a team if we don’t do what is expected of us as an individual.

In my first year teaching, I befriended a teacher in 4^th grade who has become a great mentor. I loved her spirit. I loved her work ethic. I loved her passion. I wanted to learn everything I could from her. One afternoon I was leaving and she was still in her classroom. I walked in to talk- and probably get advice. She was sorting writing papers. I asked why she was sorting them and she said something I’ll never forget. She said, “those kids over there,” as she pointed to a small stack of papers, “they had Mrs. Smith last year.” And? I thought. “I have to grade them differently because Mrs. Smith doesn’t teach writing. No one wants her students.” No one wants her students. I’ve never forgotten that statement. It hurt me to the core. It hurt me because I’d never heard her speak negatively of anyone. But it hurt me because I was naïve to think that that would ever be true.

Everyday that we don’t do what is expected of us as teachers, we let down our team. We make the job of someone else harder. Not only do we hurt students. We hurt each other. Apathy towards others kills an organization. I never want to work in a building where apathy exists. It is wildly important to remember that what you do individually is important to you. It is important that you have goals, you seek help when you don’t know, and you work with passion. It is important to you, but it is important to the team. I would hope no one would ever, ever want to be known as the teacher where “no one wants your kids.” Be the teacher where others are begging to have your students after you’ve worked your magic. There could never be a higher compliment as a teacher.