Citizen Scientists

I have loved nature and the natural world for as long as I can remember. My parents nurtured my various fads and interests, from fossils to minerals to flora and fauna. I loved to observe, and even to this day get really excited by things like the annual monarch butterfly migration (as you can see in the picture I took of the very first monarch caterpillar I saw this season!).

I love the idea of the 18th- and 19th-century "Naturalist," the educated gentlemen (and gentlewomen!) who spent their days on long walks, observing nature. I realize I'm romanticizing this (I mean, really, all they had to do all day was wander around?), but I still think it's important to pass on that enjoyment of observing the natural world to our students today.

There are some great websites and tools out there to help. One that I've used with my students is Project Noah, which according to their website is "a tool to explore and document wildlife and a platform to harness the power of citizen scientists everywhere." I love their extensive area for educators, which includes lesson plans as well as places to start your own exploring "missions."

Another favorite is Journey North, a website that brings together citizen scientists to study migrations worldwide. At the risk of sounding too nerdy ('cause y'all haven't figured that out already!), I myself have been uploading my own sightings of monarch butterflies and caterpillars this spring. 

If you're looking for a fabulous book study for your kids, which combines history, nature and gender equality issues, I would suggest "The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate." This young lady learns a lot from her naturalist grandfather, including a passion for science that clashes with her Victorian upbringing.

If you have any suggestions of your own, please leave them in comments below! And don't forget to keep an eye out during your next walk -- who knows what you'll find!

I Just Can't Do It...Yet

I am not good at math.

Or organized sports.

Or physical activity in general.

I'm not terribly good at drawing, or singing, or dancing.

I can create quite a long list of things I'm not good at, and I'm sure you can, too.

So can our students.

If you think about it, it's the perfect "out."  It's defense of self. "You can't be mad at me if I'm not good at this thing," the reasoning goes, "because I already told you I'm no good at it."

Even (or especially) among my gifted students, I hear it all the time.

"I'm not good at reading."

"I'm not good at writing."

"I'm not good at spelling."

"I'm not good at technology."

It would drive me nuts. How can you acknowledge their fear (they really weren't all that great at those things), while still providing support to make it better -- when they're fighting against you the whole way?

This week, I added a powerful weapon to my toolbox, courtesy of Class Dojo:

"It's not that you're not good at it. You're just not good at it...yet."

Who would have thought those three letters would have made such a huge difference? And yet, isn't that exactly what we needed? An acknowledgement of the truth -- "Nope, you're not good at it." But encouragement at the same time: "Yet."

I was so excited by this ridiculously easy, yet revolutionary breakthrough, that I shared it with the Hubby (a 10th-grade English teacher).  He found out quickly that it works just as well on the big kids.

"Sir, I'm not good at reading," one of his students informed him, a few minutes into a new short story.

"That's ok," Hubby replied. "You're just not good at reading...yet. But stick with me -- we're going to keep working on it, and you'll get better."

Kid grumbled...but went back to his seat, and read.

So...I may not be very good at math, or singing, or sports...yet.

Designing Experiments

I never really played with Hot Wheels growing up -- I was much more into unicorns than cars. After this last month, though, I have to say that these speedy little toys are definitely at the top of my to-give-to-nieces-and-nephews list.

Right before Christmas, a huge box of cars, ramps, loops and connectors showed up at my door, courtesy of their Speedometry curriculum. I figured it'd be good for a challenge or two, a nice break from the routine, but nothing serious.

Boy, was I wrong.

My second-graders have been experimenting with Hot Wheels for the past month -- first designing tracks to see how far they could make one go, then following the Speedometry curriculum's lesson on potential and kinetic energy. Their theme for the year is "change," so I introduced the idea of "variables" -- the parts of an experiment that can change. We did Speedometry's book/ramp experiment -- then branched out to our own.

I created this experiment design page, and my kids have been designing their own experiments with their own identified variables. Questions included "How does the number of tracks in the loop affect the car's ability to go around it?" And "Does the type of car determine the success of the loop?" (As you can probably tell, my second-graders are really into loops!) 

I'm not sure how much longer we'll be working with the Hot Wheels, but I definitely give them two-thumbs up as classroom supplies.

Growth Mindset for Me!

I am really trying not to hyperventilate this morning -- but I will be presenting at my first statewide conference this afternoon, and I'm trying right now to make sure EVERY LAST THING IS PERFECT.

Ok, I can breathe.

In my classroom, I coach my students through their presentations. "Just be prepared," I say. "Everything will be fine," I say. "These people like you, and they want to know you what you have to teach them."

This morning, I am trying REALLY HARD to take all that to heart. Is my presentation ready.  Um...sure. Except for a couple of things. You know, those last-minute perfectionist tweaks.

Taking deep breaths.

I've got this.

And for those of you at TAGT this week, come by at 4 p.m. today. I'll be there to talk about facilitating student leadership.

And I'll be ready.

I think.

Celebrating a Day of Play

Once again, my classroom is a wreck -- and I couldn't be happier. This all started with the video below. If you haven't heard of Caine's Arcade, you really need to watch it.

I watched this video a few years ago, then remembered it again lately when I heard about the Global Cardboard Challenge. A day of play? Creativity? Innovation? It was an activity designed for my kids.

After watching this amazing video about the power of imagination (and a little packing tape), my fourth graders went all out with their version of cardboard arcade games. For the past few weeks, they've designed, cut out, failed, redesigned, stuck with it, and created some great games.

  It may look like a pile of boxes held together with duct tape (and, well, it is), but when you get close, the detail and ingenuity really come through. One child made his own bean bags, another figured out how to harness gravity to create a working ball return. This is the type of hands-on engineering that gets kids hooked into science and math.

Fourth grade's S.A.G.E. Arcade

Next week, we've invited the entire school to come play in their Arcade. If you have a few boxes and some packing tape lying around, I encourage you to unleash your imagination (and your kids), and create your own Day of Play.

"Seeing" Writing

For my whole life, the written word has been like breathing to me. Reading and writing are something I could just do -- they made sense. 

This probably had something to do with my parents, who love to tell how they had to hide my books from my toddler self, who would insist that they read all six of them -- in order -- and who would get really, really grumpy if pages were skipped. (Yes, I am the oldest and a little spoiled.)

With this natural affinity, it's been one of my biggest challenges as a teacher to help my kids write. For a lot of people -- particularly those who are visual/spatial thinkers -- there is a huge disconnect between the stories they tell, the stories they experience, and then turning around and putting those stories on paper. 

With 80% of my students qualifying for the gifted program nonverbally, I needed to step up my game. 

So this summer, I started reading an amazing book by Betty Maxwell and Crystal Punch called Picture It! Teaching Visual-Spatial Learners. They have an abundance of tips and tricks to help visual learners connect in every subject.

I've also turned my hand to co-teaching.

Last year, I wrote about breaking through one of my student's writer's block . This led to some great conversations with our fourth-grade team (the year of the...duh duh DUH...writing test!). And as a result, we've created "Writing Workshop Wednesdays," where I'm coming in and teaching writing in a more visual/spatial way.

Our first lesson (inspired by the Maxwell/Punch book), had kids visualize an expository composition as a tree. The central idea -- like the trunk of the tree -- had to be nice and strong. The main ideas are the branches, and they come from the central idea. The details are the leaves and birds' nests and acorns that make the tree interesting. 

They drew their writing tree into their journals, then created a field of "idea flowers" -- topics that they may want to write about someday. Then they "picked" an "idea flower" and did a quick write -- trying to incorporate their central idea, at least one main idea and some great details.

It went great. EVERY student, no matter their ability level or learning style, wrote successfully.

As this year of writing continues, I'll keep sharing what we've done -- and if you have any great visual/spatial writing ideas, feel free to shoot them my way. I could use them!

An Open Letter to Brian Mendler

Dear Brian,

I heard you speak this week. You were funny, and gripping, and you spoke truth. 

You had me nodding when you talked about fairness: "Every child gets what he needs to succeed."

When you talked about privacy: "I will talk to you about your child. And only your child."

When you railed against the "everybody doing it the same way" mentality, when you ranted about behavior charts and behaviors that set kids up for failure, I nodded along. I teared up when you spoke about your fourth-grade teacher -- no kid deserves that experience, and far too many have it.

For almost five hours straight, I listened intently. And believe me, that is not something I do very easily.

You had me laughing, and in tears. But in the last 10 minutes of your presentation, you lost me. Not just gone, but completely furious.

Here's why.

You were in the middle of a riff on things you hated in schools. Teacher of the Month. Student of the Month. Things that inherently set staff and students against one another, instead of bringing them together. Ok, I get that.

"But what I really hate," you said. "What I really hate in school, are the words gifted and talented."

Every child has gifts, you said. Every child has talents. You invited the crowd to cheer and hoot and whistle.

I was dumbfounded.

How could you? How could you? A man who just spent five hours preaching "fairness" and "doing what's right for kids" and "giving kids what they need to succeed" -- how could you turn that exact same thing into a laugh line? And worse yet, for an audience of people who -- let's face it -- probably have some issues doing the fair thing in their classrooms. Why else would we be here?

I get it -- you're probably talking about the label. Gifted and talented. And believe me -- I hate that label, too. I hate it for what it implies about kids who aren't "GT." And I hate it for what it does to my students who are. Gifted and talented? What does that mean? What more do these people want from me?

I, like you, believe that every child has gifts, or talents -- something they are amazing at, or passionate about, or very special about just them. Sometimes those gifts are things schools traditionally value, and sometimes -- like your humor and public speaking -- not so much.

So, what's with my objection? Because you didn't clarify, Brian. You didn't say you hated the label, but understand the program. You didn't say that it was something created to help kids get what they need to succeed. Not all kids are created equally, Brian -- didn't you teach me that? And some are created with gifts and talents so advanced for their age that a regular classroom teacher needs help in meeting their needs.

And, unfortunately -- you know that word, the one that means "I hate that this bad thing is going to happen but I know that sometimes it will" -- unfortunately, there are some teachers who, unless that label is in place, will do nothing extra for that child. 

Gifted and Talented is not a pedestal -- it's a protection. I don't like the words either, but they're the ones we are stuck with, because they are the ones protected by law. The law in most states says if a child is identified as gifted and talented, they deserve some sort of special education to meet their needs. They deserve teachers to differentiate, to do what is necessary to help them succeed in school -- and not be bored to tears by content and material they've had under control since the first grade.

You know, to be fair.