My classroom is an utter disaster area. So bad, it's giving me the heebie-jeebies. With our showcase two short weeks away, my kids are in full creation mode.
It doesn't help that two of my fifth graders have chosen to study Rube Goldberg machines for their Genius Hour projects, and have been constructing a roller-coaster like device that incorporates marble runs, dominoes, K'nex, LEGOs, Snap Circuits and cocktail umbrellas -- among other materials. I believe its purpose is to ring a bell.
I have, strewn around my room right now, a miniature physics museum for kids, a student-invented air cannon and more robots than the entire Transformer movie franchise.
Posters and tri-folds are tucked away in a corner; LEGO movie sets are hiding on high shelves (to keep kindergarten fingers away).
I have had kids begging to work on their projects at lunch, at recess, before school and after school. I promised my second-graders, who have lunch bunch tomorrow (a time set aside only once every two weeks for stories and bonding), that we'd make it a "working lunch" so they could keep typing up their research.
They are so engaged because of choice. I've already written about the LEGO robot dinosaurs. With my third through fifth graders, I've jumped on the Genius Hour bandwagon. Basically, they got to choose any topic or skill they were passionate about, then researched it to present at our GT showcase.
I created a rubric to ensure quality projects (we've talked a lot about quality this year), and they are definitely rising to the challenge. Will every kid finish an amazing project? Probably not -- I wish I had the key to motivating 100 percent of my kids, but I'm still learning what makes some of them tick.
Still, this year's showcase products are amazing me right now -- and we still have two more weeks to see what they come up with.
I just need to look at all that chaos, take deep breaths, and keep reminding myself of that.
You know you've done something right as a teacher when seven 8-year-old boys come into your room right after recess, see a stack of books and say "ooooh, research!"
My second graders have officially begun work on their LEGO robot dinosaur project. I introduced them to robotics using LEGO's WeDo robots. They took to it like little ducks to water -- or rather, like little pterosaurs to the sky.
To help the project along, I asked our librarian for any books she had on the subject. This being an elementary school, she provided us with a pile of dinosaur books. I spread them out on the table, and had planned to have the kids look at the pictures, pick out the dinosaur they wanted to build, and move on from there.
Here's where the magic happened.
First, they each grabbed a book or two, and curled up somewhere quiet. (A bookworm myself, I have lots of reading nooks around my room in the form of carpets, floor pillows and a big comfy papasan chair.) Then one of them says, "Mrs. Z, can I get some Post-its to take notes on what I'm reading?"
Well, if you must.
He passed sticky notes out to all the rest, and I set the timer for 15 minutes, figuring they'd be ready to move on after that.
The timer went off, and a collective groan went around the room. "We need more time! Please!"
Well, ok then.
They started to get excited about what they were reading, and began pointing it out to the other boys. "Did you know dinosaurs are still alive today? Birds are living dinosaurs!"
Then my chattiest one piped up -- "Guys! Guys! We need to be quiet, and take our notes so we can read as much as possible, and we'll share it after!"
"Oh, yeah yeah yeah." And they settled down.
Well, alrighty then.
Seven boys. After recess. My squirlliest group every week.
Silent. Reading. Taking notes.
Because they got to choose. They own this project in a way that makes them intrinsically motivated to do their very best on it.
Sometimes, as a teacher, your job is to teach. But sometimes, you get to learn. And today, I learned a very big lesson in facilitation. Over the last few years, I had given my boys the tools -- they knew how to take notes, and group them afterwards into categories. And they had the confidence to look at a pile of books and decide what they wanted to do with it.
They didn't need me to be the boss today.
So I stepped back, mentally chucked my lesson plans out the window, and curled up with a dinosaur book myself.
"Did you know....?"
