Haven't blogged about nothing for a couple of months. Not terribly sure what I can come up with for this one...it's late on the night of a long day. And my toes are cold. See? I'm already grasping for topics.
**I held an all-school assembly (in a K-2 school, so it's not nearly as impressive as it sounds) a couple of weeks ago to talk to our students about giving and returning greetings to others properly. Many times we teachers had might as well greet The Walking Dead instead of our students - at least the zombies would try to eat us. Our students hear a "good morning" and walk by with glazed eyes like they are alone in the hallway. Anyway, to combat this I demonstrated to all of our students what a proper greeting looks like and encouraged them to make our school a happier place by greeting as many people as they could each day. I told them I looked forward to seeing them in the hall, and that I would do my best to learn their names so I could greet them as perfectly as possible. Fast forward to today - half of the Kindergarten students line up for busses at the end of the day right outside my classroom. I happened to be returning to my room as they were waiting, as opposed to hiding in my room like I usually do at the end of a day. Naturally, I started hearing "Hi Mr. Lukenbill!" from about 50 different directions as Ksters on all sides of me showed me their proper greeting skills. I put on my best smile (the one that's a half-step up from a grimace) and started waving and giving out some "Hi theres" and "Have a great nights" while I made eye contact with as many little faces as I could. As I entered my room I heard one clear voice disgustedly proclaim: "He didn't even recognize me." Sixty kids, all of them four feet shorter than me, none of them standing still, most of them calling out my name......and I get dinged for not naming one of them. You know it's been a tough week when the K kids are calling out your shortcomings.
**This was a pretty good blog about nothing.
**I blogged on Sunday about making sure we remember to LIVE as we go through life. I've been giving it my best shot. I mowed my lawn a couple of days ago for the first time in a month, and these last two days I've taken the time to stop and enjoy the sight of no city ordinance reminders on my front door. I drove to my night class this afternoon and soaked in the beauty of the fall colors while trying to figure out how to knock off one of the many Sandhill Cranes in fields so I could finally dine on the Ribeye of the Sky. I made myself throw out the raw chicken breast that I forgot to cook this weekend, the one that was starting to smell more like cantaloupe than the cantaloupe, so I could avoid food poisoning and actually continue to live. I'm pretty much crushing this living thing.
**"Don't let idiots ruin your life." My favorite Tweet of the week. I've followed the advice beautifully - I've completely stopped listening to myself.
**This one was kinda lame.
**The MN Twins have now lost 102 games. My heart hurts. Good thing we financed a new stadium for them so they could remain competitive. Memo to ownership and management: You were going to use revenue from the new stadium to keep the team competitive!! Hello? Is no one else remembering this? Oh well, at least we weren't dumb enough in this state to build a billion dollar stadium for a team that only plays eight home games each year. Wait - what?
**It's Homecoming Week in the school of my employment. My daughters are having a great week, very excited about all the hoopla. I remember my own Homecoming days with some fondness...my school had a fall and winter Homecoming, actually....but now Homecoming isn't much more than "meh" in my life. Maybe it's because this place isn't really home to me. Maybe it's because I'm 25 years removed from the excitement of being in the Homecoming game. Maybe it's because I'm 25 years removed from the excitement of being excited about something. I don't do excitement anymore. Too easy to be let down. "Cautious subdued enthusiasm" is about as wild as I get.
**Since the blog about nothing has turned into "the blog with more links than a chain factory" I'll throw one more in. One of my favorite posts that hardly anyone read is right here.
Thanks for reading. Enjoy your day, night, life.....
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Monday, September 26, 2016
Don't Forget to Live
If you use your eyes and ears, there's reminders throughout your week that life's short and you don't call all the shots. A sense of gratitude and a sense of joy needs to be more prevalent.......Be where your feet are. Enjoy the moment. There'll be a day where there won't be another day.
I write on the eve of what promises to be another busy week filled with the stuff Life says I have to do. Another five days in my career as an educator, three-and-a-half spent teaching while attending workshops the other day-and-a-half. Another five days as a parent of three, all of whom are in various stages of sickness while trying to balance school and activities. For two evenings I will be a volleyball fan, making one road trip to do so; the evening between I will be on the road again to attend a class as a student. And just for giggles it's Homecoming Week in my district, meaning Friday night will be lost to a football game I have very little interest in. Oh, hold on - Saturday will find me in two different towns watching two different daughters playing in two different volleyball tournaments. Ain't life grand?
The world of sports reminded us today that, while life may not always be grand, we had better find ways to cherish it before we lose it. The words at the top of this blog were spoken this morning by Clint Hurdle, manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates, who was talking about the death of Jose Fernandez, pitcher for the Miami Marlins. Killed in a boating accident during the night, Fernandez's death was THE story in sports prior to noon, pushing aside yesterday's college football news and today's NFL previews. "So young" (24 years old), "so full of life", "so tragic" were among the phrases that were repeated by those who spoke of him...which is why Mr. Hurdle's comments caught my attention. More philosophical in tone, Mr. Hurdle found a way to turn tragedy into lesson, loss into gain.
This evening Arnold Palmer died, and the sports world grieves again. The sadness over this death is different, though - Palmer was 87, and despite not yet hearing an official cause of death I'm guessing he died from being 87. Rather than "shocking" or "sudden", his death is being described as sad but not unexpected, unfortunate but not devastating. He found success in sports, found ways to stay relevant after sports, and by all accounts made his way through a long life as a high-quality human being. I have to believe his final moments were filled with satisfaction for his life well-lived.
Between the sudden death of a youngster and the passing of an icon life kept moving today. As it does every day. Today was bookended by two deaths that were nearly as opposite as deaths could be, and from this oddity a lesson emerges: live. We get caught up in the cyclone of our busy days and our crazy weeks, we look ahead to when the madness might subside, we think back to when times were simpler, and all the while we forget to do one thing: live. Mr. Hurdle's words - "Be where your feet are." - are an eloquent directive to do one thing every day: live.
Day one in life arrived without our input, and life will be content to ignore our wishes about the final day, too. The days between the first and last are ours....so take control of them. Live each day, not necessarily like it's your last, but maybe like it's.......yours. We may not get to call all the shots but we don't have to let all the shots control us. Every day will have flowers worth smelling - find them. Every day will contain some sunshine - soak it up. Every day will send storm clouds towards all of us - endure them, learn from them, be strengthened by them. They will make the sunshine warmer, the flowers sweeter.
I used the phrase "have to do" when describing the week ahead of me. I chose those words for the beginning so I could change them now at the end. My week will be busy, yes, but not with things I have to do. My week will be filled with life, and I will live it. I think. I hope. In the words of the late, great Kirby Puckett - "Tomorrow isn't promised to any of us." Weeks have disappeared on me....years have slipped away....my tomorrows have dwindled. But this week....this week I'm going to be where my feet are. Day by day I'm going to teach, I'm going to learn, I'm going to cheer, I'm going to parent, I'm going to care. I'm not going to get through this week; I will live this week.
Will you?
Day one in life arrived without our input, and life will be content to ignore our wishes about the final day, too. The days between the first and last are ours....so take control of them. Live each day, not necessarily like it's your last, but maybe like it's.......yours. We may not get to call all the shots but we don't have to let all the shots control us. Every day will have flowers worth smelling - find them. Every day will contain some sunshine - soak it up. Every day will send storm clouds towards all of us - endure them, learn from them, be strengthened by them. They will make the sunshine warmer, the flowers sweeter.
I used the phrase "have to do" when describing the week ahead of me. I chose those words for the beginning so I could change them now at the end. My week will be busy, yes, but not with things I have to do. My week will be filled with life, and I will live it. I think. I hope. In the words of the late, great Kirby Puckett - "Tomorrow isn't promised to any of us." Weeks have disappeared on me....years have slipped away....my tomorrows have dwindled. But this week....this week I'm going to be where my feet are. Day by day I'm going to teach, I'm going to learn, I'm going to cheer, I'm going to parent, I'm going to care. I'm not going to get through this week; I will live this week.
Will you?
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Shackled By School
I've got lots of thoughts in my head tonight. Too many to organize. Too many at once to elaborate on just one. The kind of thoughts that sit right in the middle of the brain, being pulled by inspiration and hope in one direction while being fought by doubt and reality from the other direction. Not the best frame of mind to carry into a piece of writing.
Why don't schools ever change? I know there are schools that have innovative practices, schools that celebrate change, schools that look nothing like the school I work in. But collectively, why does the fundamental way schools operate look very much like it did when I was in school? Grade levels, set classes, early morning start/mid-afternoon end, advancement determined by calendars....it boggles my mind that my parents and I and my children have lived in astronomically different worlds but have been schooled almost exactly the same way. Among the boggles on this night:
**Brain science and the study of human physiology has proven that different aged kids will learn better at different times of the day. Yet we send them all to school on the same bus at the same time.
**We gather far more, and far more specific, data on kids than we ever have. And with this expanded resource of information we......do very little differently than we did 30 years ago. We throw a bunch of kids in a room, give them one teacher, send in a different teacher for the low kids, let the high achievers sit there, and continue the routine for nine months.
**Why do we bother assigning kids to teachers before we even know the kids? We don't sort the patients in a waiting room into groups and send each group to a different doctor; patients see the doctor who can best treat their ailment. Mechanic A, you get these 15 cars today; figure out what needs fixing while Mechanic B figures out these 15. Sounds ridiculous....but isn't that what we do with classes of kids? Teacher A, you've got these 20 students....and two weeks later we find out that 17 of them are a year below grade level. Good luck, Teacher A!
**Teachers are so good at working with people, yet we are so hard to work with. We embrace change when it serves us, shun change that might serve others at our cost. We are stubborn out of concern for our students, even when that stubbornness might prevent a greater good. We want what's best for kids as long as it's pretty good for us, too. We are the key to a quality education; we are also the parking brake that often holds education back. The key word here is "we" - I'm as guilty as anyone on all of these points.
**We talk about educating all children and then ignore the needs of the most advanced students. We lock them in grade levels. We lock them in classrooms. We label them as "role models" for kids who don't pay attention to anything, let alone the modeling of a classmate. We partner them with struggling students. We reward their brain power with thicker books and papers with more empty lines to fill.
**Special education is destroying us. Not the kids - the laws, the paperwork, the minutes, the hoops, the cost. The resources we pour into this segment of education is staggering. The burden placed on teachers by the laws, not the kids, is staggering. The top heavy arrangement of program management is staggering. That we allow the needs of the majority of our students to come second to the needs of a few is staggering.
I realize I'm pointing out perceived problems and offering no solutions. I hate that. I have the solutions but not the confidence or the time to write them. I am in a hopeless state of mind tonight; nothing I've written is a new concern. Why would I expect any of these problems to change just because I offer a solution? I don't, and that's where I struggle with my career. I have a great job in a messed up field. I see potential but no hope for change. I have solutions to problems that most don't see as problems. I watch my team work hard and wonder if we could be working smarter instead. I feel like there's more to say, but the words seem to have ended. The battle continues.....
Why don't schools ever change? I know there are schools that have innovative practices, schools that celebrate change, schools that look nothing like the school I work in. But collectively, why does the fundamental way schools operate look very much like it did when I was in school? Grade levels, set classes, early morning start/mid-afternoon end, advancement determined by calendars....it boggles my mind that my parents and I and my children have lived in astronomically different worlds but have been schooled almost exactly the same way. Among the boggles on this night:
**Brain science and the study of human physiology has proven that different aged kids will learn better at different times of the day. Yet we send them all to school on the same bus at the same time.
**We gather far more, and far more specific, data on kids than we ever have. And with this expanded resource of information we......do very little differently than we did 30 years ago. We throw a bunch of kids in a room, give them one teacher, send in a different teacher for the low kids, let the high achievers sit there, and continue the routine for nine months.
**Why do we bother assigning kids to teachers before we even know the kids? We don't sort the patients in a waiting room into groups and send each group to a different doctor; patients see the doctor who can best treat their ailment. Mechanic A, you get these 15 cars today; figure out what needs fixing while Mechanic B figures out these 15. Sounds ridiculous....but isn't that what we do with classes of kids? Teacher A, you've got these 20 students....and two weeks later we find out that 17 of them are a year below grade level. Good luck, Teacher A!
**Teachers are so good at working with people, yet we are so hard to work with. We embrace change when it serves us, shun change that might serve others at our cost. We are stubborn out of concern for our students, even when that stubbornness might prevent a greater good. We want what's best for kids as long as it's pretty good for us, too. We are the key to a quality education; we are also the parking brake that often holds education back. The key word here is "we" - I'm as guilty as anyone on all of these points.
**We talk about educating all children and then ignore the needs of the most advanced students. We lock them in grade levels. We lock them in classrooms. We label them as "role models" for kids who don't pay attention to anything, let alone the modeling of a classmate. We partner them with struggling students. We reward their brain power with thicker books and papers with more empty lines to fill.
**Special education is destroying us. Not the kids - the laws, the paperwork, the minutes, the hoops, the cost. The resources we pour into this segment of education is staggering. The burden placed on teachers by the laws, not the kids, is staggering. The top heavy arrangement of program management is staggering. That we allow the needs of the majority of our students to come second to the needs of a few is staggering.
I realize I'm pointing out perceived problems and offering no solutions. I hate that. I have the solutions but not the confidence or the time to write them. I am in a hopeless state of mind tonight; nothing I've written is a new concern. Why would I expect any of these problems to change just because I offer a solution? I don't, and that's where I struggle with my career. I have a great job in a messed up field. I see potential but no hope for change. I have solutions to problems that most don't see as problems. I watch my team work hard and wonder if we could be working smarter instead. I feel like there's more to say, but the words seem to have ended. The battle continues.....
Monday, September 19, 2016
Volleyball: It's FANtastic!
Though fall doesn't officially start for several days the signs of fall have been plentiful this past week. Leaves that have enjoyed four months of greenness are letting that color erode into yellow, red, or orange. Cool mornings have become chilly mornings. Geese sound off about their southern journey as they fill the sky with greater frequency. Hunters' shotguns have been sounding off as well, hoping to detour a few of those honkers into a freezer or crock pot. Friday night lights surround dozens of football fields in towns large and small. Deer have exchanged their orange coats of summer for the grey shade that will keep them hidden from hunters and warm all winter. And, if all of those hints didn't scream "FALL!!" quite loudly enough, my role as a volleyball dad cements the arrival of autumn.
When I was in high school my basketball coach and I used to sit together at home volleyball games. We didn't care for volleyball. He had to be there for supervisory reasons, I had to be there for classmate support reasons. We often would discuss all the things we felt were more boring than sitting through the team warm-up portion of the evening. Those were quiet conversations - tough to come up with less entertaining ways to pass minutes than watching volleyball warm-ups. Then the games would start and we'd get a quick reminder that at least during warm-ups the band played. But hey - high school wasn't gonna last forever; when it was done, so too would end my life as a volleyball spectator.
Except it didn't. The high school sweetheart/volleyball star played college volleyball for two years. By the time her career was ending my younger sister's high school volleyball career was beginning, leading to several more years of "fandom". Just for good measure she also went on to play college volleyball, extending my stay in the bleachers by three more years. But she wasn't gonna play forever; when her college career ended, and my youngest sister found other things to do with her time, my days of watching a sport I didn't really like came to an end for good.
Except they didn't. I was blessed with three daughters. Born to the woman I used to watch play volleyball in high school. A woman whose passion for the sport runs deep....genetically deep, apparently, as the first two of those daughters spend most of their year bumpin' and settin' and spikin'. For the last six years, at various times during the year, I've again found myself stuck to a bleacher watching elementary volleyball, junior high volleyball, Junior Olympic volleyball, freshman volleyball, varsity high school volleyball, and even college volleyball....because when we can't go to a daughter's game, we go watch other peoples' daughters play.
This past week I gave up - I sent my white flag up the pole and caved in. After twenty-some years of grumbling about having to watch a sport I've never liked very much I decided to try something different: I've declared myself a volleyball junkie. I was at eldest daughter's varsity game Thursday night, 7th grade daughter's game Friday afternoon, and took in two Division I college games Saturday evening. This coming week I'll be at a home 7th grade game on Tuesday and then travel an hour for the varsity game that night. Thursday will be just a varsity game. Saturday we will head back to campus for another college game. Even the curmudgeoniest volleyball curmudgeon wouldn't endure that kind of schedule, so it's time to give up the grumbles and just enjoy the ride.
To be honest, it's a lot easier to be a volleyball fan now than it was twenty years ago. The game has evolved as the athletes have evolved. It's faster, it's more powerful, it's more intense....it's just a lot more entertaining than volleyball used to be. And while I was happy to support my friends in school and even happier to follow my sister's career - watching my daughters perform on the court is much more special.
Helping my evolution into a volleyball junkie has been the opportunity to view the game at various stages of competence. Eldest daughter's varsity team is struggling so far this season, but compared to her years in the lower levels of the program they look like Olympians. Watching middle daughter's seventh grade team is a great reminder of just how far eldest daughter has come as a player. Seventh graders play a "hot potato" brand of volleyball, doing their best to hit the ball as far away from themselves as possible if it ever comes near. Just a few years removed from that level the varsity team, though not very good, plays with a flow and a purpose. The progress shown by players from age 12 to age 16 is amazing. And then there are the elite players......
The University of Minnesota volleyball program has become a national power, reaching the Final Four last season and holding a national ranking of third right now. My girls and I watched them play the second game of a double-header on Saturday; words cannot do that Gopher team justice. The size, the strength, the speed, the power, the jumping, the hitting.....I kept looking from my seventh grader to those college players, perplexed at how any of them could have ever been at the level of a sevvie, beyond impressed at the level they had worked themselves to now. Regardless of sport I always get a thrill from watching, in person, a team or individual that has worked their way to excellence. That Gopher group is a completely excellent volleyball team.
The bleachers haven't gotten any softer over the years. My back and butt used to wait until the third set of a match to ache; now one or both are hurting midway through the first. Volleyball warm-ups are still just as boring as they used to be, and maybe even worse; pep bands have been replaced by some form of tribal nonsense that today's youth has been brainwashed to believe is music. And whereas volleyball used to be a September/October sport, it, like too many other sports, is played nearly year-round by our high school players. But two-thirds of my daughters love the sport, and for them I will love it, too. I will sit and travel and clap on occasion and follow and gently advise and keep quiet.....and I will enjoy it. This life as "volleyball fan" will pass, and when it does it will be too soon. I'm done wishing the games would go away - I'm a born-again volleyball junkie. Ahhhh-Ace!
When I was in high school my basketball coach and I used to sit together at home volleyball games. We didn't care for volleyball. He had to be there for supervisory reasons, I had to be there for classmate support reasons. We often would discuss all the things we felt were more boring than sitting through the team warm-up portion of the evening. Those were quiet conversations - tough to come up with less entertaining ways to pass minutes than watching volleyball warm-ups. Then the games would start and we'd get a quick reminder that at least during warm-ups the band played. But hey - high school wasn't gonna last forever; when it was done, so too would end my life as a volleyball spectator.
Except it didn't. The high school sweetheart/volleyball star played college volleyball for two years. By the time her career was ending my younger sister's high school volleyball career was beginning, leading to several more years of "fandom". Just for good measure she also went on to play college volleyball, extending my stay in the bleachers by three more years. But she wasn't gonna play forever; when her college career ended, and my youngest sister found other things to do with her time, my days of watching a sport I didn't really like came to an end for good.
Except they didn't. I was blessed with three daughters. Born to the woman I used to watch play volleyball in high school. A woman whose passion for the sport runs deep....genetically deep, apparently, as the first two of those daughters spend most of their year bumpin' and settin' and spikin'. For the last six years, at various times during the year, I've again found myself stuck to a bleacher watching elementary volleyball, junior high volleyball, Junior Olympic volleyball, freshman volleyball, varsity high school volleyball, and even college volleyball....because when we can't go to a daughter's game, we go watch other peoples' daughters play.
This past week I gave up - I sent my white flag up the pole and caved in. After twenty-some years of grumbling about having to watch a sport I've never liked very much I decided to try something different: I've declared myself a volleyball junkie. I was at eldest daughter's varsity game Thursday night, 7th grade daughter's game Friday afternoon, and took in two Division I college games Saturday evening. This coming week I'll be at a home 7th grade game on Tuesday and then travel an hour for the varsity game that night. Thursday will be just a varsity game. Saturday we will head back to campus for another college game. Even the curmudgeoniest volleyball curmudgeon wouldn't endure that kind of schedule, so it's time to give up the grumbles and just enjoy the ride.
To be honest, it's a lot easier to be a volleyball fan now than it was twenty years ago. The game has evolved as the athletes have evolved. It's faster, it's more powerful, it's more intense....it's just a lot more entertaining than volleyball used to be. And while I was happy to support my friends in school and even happier to follow my sister's career - watching my daughters perform on the court is much more special.
Helping my evolution into a volleyball junkie has been the opportunity to view the game at various stages of competence. Eldest daughter's varsity team is struggling so far this season, but compared to her years in the lower levels of the program they look like Olympians. Watching middle daughter's seventh grade team is a great reminder of just how far eldest daughter has come as a player. Seventh graders play a "hot potato" brand of volleyball, doing their best to hit the ball as far away from themselves as possible if it ever comes near. Just a few years removed from that level the varsity team, though not very good, plays with a flow and a purpose. The progress shown by players from age 12 to age 16 is amazing. And then there are the elite players......
The University of Minnesota volleyball program has become a national power, reaching the Final Four last season and holding a national ranking of third right now. My girls and I watched them play the second game of a double-header on Saturday; words cannot do that Gopher team justice. The size, the strength, the speed, the power, the jumping, the hitting.....I kept looking from my seventh grader to those college players, perplexed at how any of them could have ever been at the level of a sevvie, beyond impressed at the level they had worked themselves to now. Regardless of sport I always get a thrill from watching, in person, a team or individual that has worked their way to excellence. That Gopher group is a completely excellent volleyball team.
The bleachers haven't gotten any softer over the years. My back and butt used to wait until the third set of a match to ache; now one or both are hurting midway through the first. Volleyball warm-ups are still just as boring as they used to be, and maybe even worse; pep bands have been replaced by some form of tribal nonsense that today's youth has been brainwashed to believe is music. And whereas volleyball used to be a September/October sport, it, like too many other sports, is played nearly year-round by our high school players. But two-thirds of my daughters love the sport, and for them I will love it, too. I will sit and travel and clap on occasion and follow and gently advise and keep quiet.....and I will enjoy it. This life as "volleyball fan" will pass, and when it does it will be too soon. I'm done wishing the games would go away - I'm a born-again volleyball junkie. Ahhhh-Ace!
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Make Thought A Priority
When I started teaching nearly 20 years ago I was given a glimpse of the future by those who had taught long enough to learn from the past. I was warned of the cyclical nature of education, how today's methods would become yesterday's news in about five years...only to return 20 years later with a new name. The vets also spoke of the many educational buzzwords that would fall from the heavens year after year after year....sometimes in cycles, oftentimes not, but never relenting. I've paid much closer attention to buzzwords than cycles, especially in recent years. I'm a word guy...it's what I do.
At the end of a recent doctor appointment the doc and I engaged in a brief conversation about education. Upon learning my profession he disclosed that he, too, held a teaching degree. He had never used it. He spoke of changes he had seen in kids and families over the years and I spoke my observations of the same. We exchanged theories on why the changes were so, why teaching continues to increase in difficulty. As noted, it was a brief chat. As I drove away I marveled at how a short conversation with someone I had never met before ended up being so intense, so engaging, so......comfortable. My conclusion as to why came down to one word: thoughtful.
Those buzzwords I spoke of have increased in volume over the last year. "Innovate" is big right now, as is "mindset" or "mindfulness"...which don't really mean the same but sound similar enough to justify sharing the same sentence. "Effort" was the key to being a successful student until "grit" took its place; recently I've seen "moxie" given higher importance than grit. All great words, all as important as the next in education, and life. Maybe it's time "thoughtful" started getting some educational buzz; our world seems in short supply of it - maybe we don't stress it enough in schools.
The three-minute conversation between the doc and I allowed for several exchanges of opinion and reply, but more importantly were the allowances for silence between each exchange. Both of us took pause before speaking, not only to prepare our next utterances but to absorb what the other had just shared. These pauses, this thoughtfulness - this was the foundation for a quality conversation enjoyed by both parties. (side note: I have to assume he enjoyed the conversation based on body language and tone of voice. I did not run back to the office and yell "Hey doc, did you enjoy our visit? Didjya? Huh, doc? That was pretty good talkin', weren't it?") Think about the last great conversation you had with someone - was it nonstop talking, or was silence, thoughtfulness, a key ingredient?
We teachers, having X number of days to teach 2X amount of material, tend to go heavy with the verbiage at the expense of thoughtfulness. Not that we speak without thinking, but I observe many teachers (including myself) saying far more than they/we have to because they/we don't pause for moments of thoughtfulness. Pausing, or waiting, feels like time being lost. We expect too many students to answer right now, either with time limits on work or rapid fire questioning or choosing the next raised hand before the first chosen tongue has had time to form a thoughtful answer. We are cultivating a culture of thoughtlessness.
Watch athletes get interviewed on television. Bless those guys and gals for how patient they are with the media...but listen to enough interviews and you'll notice most athletes say exactly the same things. Why? They begin speaking the instant the reporter stops asking. No thoughtfulness. I've found some of the best interviews to watch are with athletes who struggle with English - they have to carefully consider how to properly speak their answers, allowing for thoughtfulness to guide them.
Consider your favorite politician....and for the life of me, I can't imagine why anyone would claim to have such a thing....and the way he or she answers questions. I rarely pay attention to politicians, but when I do I shake my head at how rapidly they tend to answer questions. Shouldn't we expect our leaders to provide thoughtful answers? The only truly thoughtful politician I can recall was David Palmer....the President on the TV series "24". The man never answered a question without a deep breath and a pause....and he gave great answers. Ok, fine - he was a TV character who ended up with a bullet in the throat by season three. I'd still vote for him over any of the clowns in our current political circus....only because today's clowns aren't very thoughtful. And I loved "24".
Think of who you really enjoy visiting with. Do they talk the second you finish? Or worse, do they talk before you have the chance to finish? Or even worse, do they ever stop talking long enough to let you start? Anyone who converses in any of those ways lacks thoughtfulness - and how much do we really enjoy visiting with those kind of people?
Beyond conversation, how else does thoughtfulness benefit us? How about problem solving and decision making? Important skills, to be sure, not to mention frequently needed skills. Does our society make decisions with pause for thought, or are we prone to impulse? When problems arise do we go into thinking mode, or complaining and blaming mode? I see the latter options being used more and more frequently by the people in my world and people out in the world, making me wonder, again, if maybe thoughtfulness ought to be a life skill we stress more in school, a buzzword worthy of Twitter feeds and best-seller lists.
When my eldest daughter was confirmed at her church a few years ago the pastor chose a word to describe each confirmand. The word he chose for my daughter was "thoughtful". He explained that he didn't mean she was thoughtful in a "concerned about others" kind of way...though she was that, too. He had noticed that she rarely gave an answer or offered an opinion without first taking a moment to think about what she wanted to say. He was impressed by this skill. I, likewise, was impressed by his recognition that A) she had that trait and B) most folks don't. As I reread I wonder if this paragraph is necessary or overkill. I love my daughter - it stays.
So how do we increase thoughtfulness in schools? Slow down! Teachers, take a breath once in a while and maybe sacrifice that next sentence in favor of a carefully thought-out, more effective sentence. And then let your students do the same - wait ten seconds for an answer....and then wait another ten. Build the expectation that thought trumps speed. Look for that student who has the inner wheels turning rather than the kid throwing her hand in the air every time you stop talking.
And in life? How do we develop our own thoughtfulness, society's thoughtfulness? Same way - slow down. Ponder instead of pontificate. Review before you react. Give an audience to those who speak with thought, remove it from those who don't. Vote for thinkers instead of yakkers. Be assertive and point out a lack of thinking when someone displays it (in a respectful way, of course...and maybe from a safe distance away). All the innovation and grit and effort and moxie in the world won't do any of us much good if we are unable to precede those traits with at least a little bit of thoughtfulness.
At the end of a recent doctor appointment the doc and I engaged in a brief conversation about education. Upon learning my profession he disclosed that he, too, held a teaching degree. He had never used it. He spoke of changes he had seen in kids and families over the years and I spoke my observations of the same. We exchanged theories on why the changes were so, why teaching continues to increase in difficulty. As noted, it was a brief chat. As I drove away I marveled at how a short conversation with someone I had never met before ended up being so intense, so engaging, so......comfortable. My conclusion as to why came down to one word: thoughtful.
Those buzzwords I spoke of have increased in volume over the last year. "Innovate" is big right now, as is "mindset" or "mindfulness"...which don't really mean the same but sound similar enough to justify sharing the same sentence. "Effort" was the key to being a successful student until "grit" took its place; recently I've seen "moxie" given higher importance than grit. All great words, all as important as the next in education, and life. Maybe it's time "thoughtful" started getting some educational buzz; our world seems in short supply of it - maybe we don't stress it enough in schools.
The three-minute conversation between the doc and I allowed for several exchanges of opinion and reply, but more importantly were the allowances for silence between each exchange. Both of us took pause before speaking, not only to prepare our next utterances but to absorb what the other had just shared. These pauses, this thoughtfulness - this was the foundation for a quality conversation enjoyed by both parties. (side note: I have to assume he enjoyed the conversation based on body language and tone of voice. I did not run back to the office and yell "Hey doc, did you enjoy our visit? Didjya? Huh, doc? That was pretty good talkin', weren't it?") Think about the last great conversation you had with someone - was it nonstop talking, or was silence, thoughtfulness, a key ingredient?
We teachers, having X number of days to teach 2X amount of material, tend to go heavy with the verbiage at the expense of thoughtfulness. Not that we speak without thinking, but I observe many teachers (including myself) saying far more than they/we have to because they/we don't pause for moments of thoughtfulness. Pausing, or waiting, feels like time being lost. We expect too many students to answer right now, either with time limits on work or rapid fire questioning or choosing the next raised hand before the first chosen tongue has had time to form a thoughtful answer. We are cultivating a culture of thoughtlessness.
Watch athletes get interviewed on television. Bless those guys and gals for how patient they are with the media...but listen to enough interviews and you'll notice most athletes say exactly the same things. Why? They begin speaking the instant the reporter stops asking. No thoughtfulness. I've found some of the best interviews to watch are with athletes who struggle with English - they have to carefully consider how to properly speak their answers, allowing for thoughtfulness to guide them.
Consider your favorite politician....and for the life of me, I can't imagine why anyone would claim to have such a thing....and the way he or she answers questions. I rarely pay attention to politicians, but when I do I shake my head at how rapidly they tend to answer questions. Shouldn't we expect our leaders to provide thoughtful answers? The only truly thoughtful politician I can recall was David Palmer....the President on the TV series "24". The man never answered a question without a deep breath and a pause....and he gave great answers. Ok, fine - he was a TV character who ended up with a bullet in the throat by season three. I'd still vote for him over any of the clowns in our current political circus....only because today's clowns aren't very thoughtful. And I loved "24".
Think of who you really enjoy visiting with. Do they talk the second you finish? Or worse, do they talk before you have the chance to finish? Or even worse, do they ever stop talking long enough to let you start? Anyone who converses in any of those ways lacks thoughtfulness - and how much do we really enjoy visiting with those kind of people?
Beyond conversation, how else does thoughtfulness benefit us? How about problem solving and decision making? Important skills, to be sure, not to mention frequently needed skills. Does our society make decisions with pause for thought, or are we prone to impulse? When problems arise do we go into thinking mode, or complaining and blaming mode? I see the latter options being used more and more frequently by the people in my world and people out in the world, making me wonder, again, if maybe thoughtfulness ought to be a life skill we stress more in school, a buzzword worthy of Twitter feeds and best-seller lists.
When my eldest daughter was confirmed at her church a few years ago the pastor chose a word to describe each confirmand. The word he chose for my daughter was "thoughtful". He explained that he didn't mean she was thoughtful in a "concerned about others" kind of way...though she was that, too. He had noticed that she rarely gave an answer or offered an opinion without first taking a moment to think about what she wanted to say. He was impressed by this skill. I, likewise, was impressed by his recognition that A) she had that trait and B) most folks don't. As I reread I wonder if this paragraph is necessary or overkill. I love my daughter - it stays.
So how do we increase thoughtfulness in schools? Slow down! Teachers, take a breath once in a while and maybe sacrifice that next sentence in favor of a carefully thought-out, more effective sentence. And then let your students do the same - wait ten seconds for an answer....and then wait another ten. Build the expectation that thought trumps speed. Look for that student who has the inner wheels turning rather than the kid throwing her hand in the air every time you stop talking.
And in life? How do we develop our own thoughtfulness, society's thoughtfulness? Same way - slow down. Ponder instead of pontificate. Review before you react. Give an audience to those who speak with thought, remove it from those who don't. Vote for thinkers instead of yakkers. Be assertive and point out a lack of thinking when someone displays it (in a respectful way, of course...and maybe from a safe distance away). All the innovation and grit and effort and moxie in the world won't do any of us much good if we are unable to precede those traits with at least a little bit of thoughtfulness.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Country Roads
Country roads take me home, to the place where I belong.
When John Denver sang those lyrics in the early 1970s he was singing the praises of West Virginia. Aside from the specific mention of that state and some of its landmarks most of the song could apply to any country road. I was able to travel down my own country road on Friday evening past, and though she was dark the pouring rain had rendered the dust inert for the time being. I've written about the place I call home and the deep respect and love I have for this piece of land. More than once I've hummed Mr. Denver's tune as I covered the last few miles of those beloved country roads to the place where I belong.
Saturday evening my dad suggested we take a drive around the neighborhood to look for deer. I was a bit skeptical; it was kind of early in the evening for deer to be out on the fields and the breeze was still pretty stiff - wind and deer movement don't go together at all. But opportunity was knocking so I opened the door of the truck and away we went. I've been taking this deer ride for as long as I can remember; sometimes with my dad, occasionally by myself. When I was much younger I often took the deer ride with my grampa or uncles or both. Regardless of age or driver, the route has always been the same - the old country roads.
What used to be an all gravel, barely-two-lane path through the woods with more twists and turns than a snake farm is now a paved two-lane highway with cleared backslopes and almost no curves. Most of it no longer resembles a country road, and with each passing summer I have a harder time remembering the original feel of traveling through the neighborhood. But though the road has changed, the prime deer spots remain. A couple of yearlings on Ike's field, nothing on Harry's alfalfa on the way out but a puddle of does and fawns on the way back. Hornbeck's Hill was quiet, as was the Sinkhole area, but we did catch sight of a doe across from the Town Hall.
As we traveled I let the country road take me back once again - but instead of going back home, I went back in time. I thought of those evenings with Grampa at the wheel, the buzz of the Twins on A.M. radio. I beg your pardon - the "blankity-blank Twins", whose hitters all suffered from "feeblitous", whose fielders stopped the ball about as well as croquet wickets, and whose pitchers threw way too many fastballs over the heart of the plate. I never could figure out why we listened to those games that made him so mad. As we drove we saw the yearlings on Ike's, the does at Harry's, occasionally a nice buck at Hornbeck's Hill. We would take a "sashay" onto the Pine Lake road...and Dad did the same thing on this evening.
The Pine Lake road is still a true country road, as is the last mile to my parents' farm. In fact, the last half-mile to the lake isn't even two lanes in most places, with trees growing tight to the shoulders. Pine Lake itself is barely a pond, and would fit nicely inside any superstore parking lot. We got to the lake and stood for a bit on the shore, immersed in the silence and drinking in the first hints of fall fragrance while both thinking back on the different trips we've taken to this secluded little lake that seems to hold more memories than fish. There were wolf tracks in the mud, as always, but the streams that used to fill Grampa's minnow traps have now become beaver bogs. Much of the land along the road has been logged off, but the woods around the lake are still mature, still intact, still beautiful.
As we let the country road take us back home I thought about the changes to the neighborhood over the years, and how amid all the changes there have remained some steadfast reminders of the better old days. I try not to live in the past...in fact, I think I blogged about some mission statement of mine that stated just that...but maybe an occasional journey down a country road through time isn't a bad way to spend an hour or two. For me it's a kind of therapy - looking back with fondness on what was and taking comfort in what still is.
I feel a bit of sympathy for those whose lives have never included a country road. I suppose everyone has that special path that takes them back home...but I'll argue until the end of my days that no one has a path that compares to mine. Time will pass, and the day will come when my dad joins my grampa as a memory along the road. I'll be taking my grandkids for the drive, and there will still be those yearlings on Ike's, the does on Harry's....and maybe, just maybe, the Twins will have found a pitcher that doesn't groove fastballs that get hit a country mile.
Saturday evening my dad suggested we take a drive around the neighborhood to look for deer. I was a bit skeptical; it was kind of early in the evening for deer to be out on the fields and the breeze was still pretty stiff - wind and deer movement don't go together at all. But opportunity was knocking so I opened the door of the truck and away we went. I've been taking this deer ride for as long as I can remember; sometimes with my dad, occasionally by myself. When I was much younger I often took the deer ride with my grampa or uncles or both. Regardless of age or driver, the route has always been the same - the old country roads.
What used to be an all gravel, barely-two-lane path through the woods with more twists and turns than a snake farm is now a paved two-lane highway with cleared backslopes and almost no curves. Most of it no longer resembles a country road, and with each passing summer I have a harder time remembering the original feel of traveling through the neighborhood. But though the road has changed, the prime deer spots remain. A couple of yearlings on Ike's field, nothing on Harry's alfalfa on the way out but a puddle of does and fawns on the way back. Hornbeck's Hill was quiet, as was the Sinkhole area, but we did catch sight of a doe across from the Town Hall.
As we traveled I let the country road take me back once again - but instead of going back home, I went back in time. I thought of those evenings with Grampa at the wheel, the buzz of the Twins on A.M. radio. I beg your pardon - the "blankity-blank Twins", whose hitters all suffered from "feeblitous", whose fielders stopped the ball about as well as croquet wickets, and whose pitchers threw way too many fastballs over the heart of the plate. I never could figure out why we listened to those games that made him so mad. As we drove we saw the yearlings on Ike's, the does at Harry's, occasionally a nice buck at Hornbeck's Hill. We would take a "sashay" onto the Pine Lake road...and Dad did the same thing on this evening.
The Pine Lake road is still a true country road, as is the last mile to my parents' farm. In fact, the last half-mile to the lake isn't even two lanes in most places, with trees growing tight to the shoulders. Pine Lake itself is barely a pond, and would fit nicely inside any superstore parking lot. We got to the lake and stood for a bit on the shore, immersed in the silence and drinking in the first hints of fall fragrance while both thinking back on the different trips we've taken to this secluded little lake that seems to hold more memories than fish. There were wolf tracks in the mud, as always, but the streams that used to fill Grampa's minnow traps have now become beaver bogs. Much of the land along the road has been logged off, but the woods around the lake are still mature, still intact, still beautiful.
As we let the country road take us back home I thought about the changes to the neighborhood over the years, and how amid all the changes there have remained some steadfast reminders of the better old days. I try not to live in the past...in fact, I think I blogged about some mission statement of mine that stated just that...but maybe an occasional journey down a country road through time isn't a bad way to spend an hour or two. For me it's a kind of therapy - looking back with fondness on what was and taking comfort in what still is.
I feel a bit of sympathy for those whose lives have never included a country road. I suppose everyone has that special path that takes them back home...but I'll argue until the end of my days that no one has a path that compares to mine. Time will pass, and the day will come when my dad joins my grampa as a memory along the road. I'll be taking my grandkids for the drive, and there will still be those yearlings on Ike's, the does on Harry's....and maybe, just maybe, the Twins will have found a pitcher that doesn't groove fastballs that get hit a country mile.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Innovate
If you've done it the same way for two years, look at it carefully. After five years, look at it with suspicion. After ten years, throw it away and start over. Alfred Perlman
Ten years ago I made a bold move in my first grade classroom: I banned erasers. All of ‘em. Ripped ‘em off the ends of pencils, sent the rectangular hand-held variety home. Colleagues were aghast, parents stunned, students reduced to tears. This was no whim, however; I had given much thought to this simple, yet radical move. I found erasers to be inefficient, an excuse to focus backwards on work rather than move forward. More importantly, erasers were unrealistic tools. How often in life do we get to erase mistakes? Rather than disappear or hide mistakes, I wanted my students to own their mistakes, learn from their mistakes, overcome their fears of making mistakes. And now, ten years later, what’s a hotly trending topic in education? The importance of failure, the benefits of making mistakes.
Ten years ago I made a bold move in my first grade classroom: I banned erasers. All of ‘em. Ripped ‘em off the ends of pencils, sent the rectangular hand-held variety home. Colleagues were aghast, parents stunned, students reduced to tears. This was no whim, however; I had given much thought to this simple, yet radical move. I found erasers to be inefficient, an excuse to focus backwards on work rather than move forward. More importantly, erasers were unrealistic tools. How often in life do we get to erase mistakes? Rather than disappear or hide mistakes, I wanted my students to own their mistakes, learn from their mistakes, overcome their fears of making mistakes. And now, ten years later, what’s a hotly trending topic in education? The importance of failure, the benefits of making mistakes.
Seven years ago I had had enough of seeing my lowest
performing students yanked all over the school in the name of “support
services”. While everyone working with
these students had their hearts in the right place, none took the time to view
such an approach through the eyes of the students. These poor kids, who had a very hard time
attending to lessons and scaffolding new information with old, were constantly
moving in and out of the classroom, in and out of lessons and work time. Rather than a consistent approach to
improving their skills they received pieces of instruction from a variety of
teachers in various locations. I put my
foot down. No more would kids leave my
room, my instruction, for any
reason. Support teachers would join my
room, my lessons, and enhance the learning that had begun rather than stop one
set of learning to begin another. That
class became the highest growth class I had ever taught up to that point. Seven years later, what approach does my
school use to deliver support to struggling students? A push-in approach, where support teachers
join kids in classrooms and enhance whatever the classroom teacher is teaching.
Do I share these anecdotes as a way to brag about my
trend-setting ability? No. A little.
No. I share not to brag, but to
encourage. Steer yourself out of the
flow, folks. Take a hike along a new
path when yours becomes worn. Don’t just
follow the beat of your own drummer – form your own band! When the parade of life keeps aimlessly wandering
up and down Main Street take a hard left down Innovation Avenue.
We’ve all heard it – “it’s never too late to change!” I disagree.
By the time most folks make a career change, parenting change,
relationship change, or philosophical change it’s because of a “feeling they’ve
had”…which means the desire to change has been present, but the act has been
delayed....and the change is late. Maybe not too late, but not on time. By no means am I advocating
change for the sake of change or wild abandonment of your tried and true – I am
very much a “toes in the water one foot at a time” agent of change. Rather, my encouragement is for reflection
and introspection, consideration and deliberation. Finding that one thing that you’ve always had a hunch could be that much better
if….
“Innovation” is one of the
buzz-words right now in education, business, agriculture….everything but
politics (unfortunately). My student
support innovation was an attempt to solve what I viewed as a problem. My eraser innovation wasn’t so much a
solution as an advancement towards something greater, a more powerful
student. Both were successes. Both were the result of identifying what
could be, planning how to make it be, summoning the courage to move towards
what could be, and having the persistence to continue along the road less
traveled until what could be was.
So, who can innovate?
Anyone! When is the best time to
innovate? Probably yesterday! Why should you innovate? Because doing what you’ve always done will
only get you what you’ve always had.
What should you innovate? That
one has to be your answer. But your
answer is out there….or in there, I suppose.
Pick an area of your life that feels stagnant, analyze it, and then
innovate it. Innovation is liberating, exhilarating…and
who knows – maybe in seven to ten years you’ll look back and see that your
simple innovation was ahead of its time.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Dad's Words of Wisdom
It's been several weeks since I last posted a blog. One might think those weeks have been used creating an original, knock-your-socks-off kind of post. One would be wrong. I am, instead, shamelessly copying an idea from someone else's blog....and pretty much making very little effort to even make mine better.
Several months ago a close friend who happens to be a teaching colleague and fellow blogger posted a collection of advice she felt her three daughters needed to hear. Her blog posts are always well worth the read, and this one was no different. Having three daughters myself I read her words of wisdom with a careful and thoughtful eye, all the while wondering what kinds of things I would tell my own girls in a similar post. In fact, that was the thought I couldn't shake after reading the list of advice - what would I say to my girls? What do I know that they need to know? What words of wisdom do I have that could save them time, trouble, or heartache?
I've been answering that question all summer long, pondering knowledge nuggets and jotting down ideas for this ultra-important endeavor created specifically for the three most important people in my life. As it stands my list is not nearly exhaustive as that other list. And, ok, some of my advice is steeped more in opinion than fact. But be reminded that I never set out to change the world with this advice - my only goal was to make my girls' lives a little bit better than mine. And now, Dad's Words of Wisdom:
Several months ago a close friend who happens to be a teaching colleague and fellow blogger posted a collection of advice she felt her three daughters needed to hear. Her blog posts are always well worth the read, and this one was no different. Having three daughters myself I read her words of wisdom with a careful and thoughtful eye, all the while wondering what kinds of things I would tell my own girls in a similar post. In fact, that was the thought I couldn't shake after reading the list of advice - what would I say to my girls? What do I know that they need to know? What words of wisdom do I have that could save them time, trouble, or heartache?
I've been answering that question all summer long, pondering knowledge nuggets and jotting down ideas for this ultra-important endeavor created specifically for the three most important people in my life. As it stands my list is not nearly exhaustive as that other list. And, ok, some of my advice is steeped more in opinion than fact. But be reminded that I never set out to change the world with this advice - my only goal was to make my girls' lives a little bit better than mine. And now, Dad's Words of Wisdom:
1. Advice and
opinions offered to you freely are worth every penny you spend on them.
Seek advice from trusted sources.
Beware advice you haven’t asked for.
Ignore opinions.
2. Never do today
what you can put off until tomorrow. If
you don’t need to do it today, don’t.
You’re gonna be busy today doing all that stuff you didn’t do yesterday.
3. Eat the small
chips first – you’ll consume less calories with each one so you can eat more without
feeling guilty or unhealthy. Apply the
same principle to cookies.
4. Kindness isn’t
always easy but it is always worth it.
Unless you overdo it. Be kind too
much and it becomes expected, and let’s face it – being kind can get
exhausting. Eventually you will have to
do unkind things to drive others away.
So in the end, kindness leads to loneliness. Be unkind from the git-go and splash in a
little random kindness to keep people guessing and on the periphery of your life. There, that’s your wisdom for this one.
5. The women on TV
are fake. The actresses – fake. The newswomen – fake. The singers – fake. All of them have been painted and primped and
stripped of who they really are. Don’t
ever desire to be just like any pretty face you see on TV. But don’t try to be like the ugly faces,
either. Nobody wants to be ugly. Just be you.
Always.
6. Dad is done
changing diapers. Forever. If you and a husband decide to have kids of
your own someday I’ll be more than happy to care for them from time to time. But not until those things are
housebroken. End of discussion.
7. Your kids will
think the music you like now is awful.
They will be right - it is awful.
Your kids will be just as musically intelligent as your dad.
8. Talent is less
important than desire. However, desire
is not a substitute for talent. Effort
outranks them both. If you want
something, work for it. If you think you
have the talent to do something, work for it.
If you don’t have the necessary talent, work harder.
9. Daniel Craig is hands-down the best James Bond and it's not even close. There have been 26 Bond
movies made since 1962. Skip the first
22 and start with 2006’s Casino Royale.
You have just saved at least two days of your life. You’re welcome.
10. You are what you
eat, so - if you join a tribe of cannibals make sure you get in line early at
mealtimes and do your best to get a helping of brains as often as possible. Avoid the rump roast.
11. Zombies can be killed, but only with a head shot. Sure, you
can slow them down a little with hits to the extremities or torso but you can
only finish them with a shot to the head.
I know, it’s a heavy subject. I’m
sorry. I only want you to be safe. And a good shot.
12. Choose substance
over style. This kind of relates to the
fake pretty people on TV – beware of fake pretty people and things in everyday
life. Learn to look past the packaging,
the sound bites, the make-up, the window dressing and focus instead on the
value held beneath all of the stuff on the outside. Fabricated outer beauty is, many times, a
ruse to hide inner problems.
13. Choose your
friends carefully. Hold on to those who
prove worthy of the choice. Discreetly
dispose of those who don’t. Make sure to
thoroughly wash your hands afterward.
14. Things are never
so bad that they can’t get worse. You
will have bad days, sometimes bad weeks.
They will pass. And they will
return. And sometimes they will be worse
than your last bad days. But somewhere
someone is having a worse day than you, and that thought should bring joy to
your heart.
And that's it. That's all I've got. Four-plus decades on this planet and that's the sum and total of my accumulated knowledge. No, it's ok - you can feel sorry for my girls. They've been told that a lot...usually after the DNA tests come back.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment if any of my advice stirred a reaction. Or if you have a word or two of advice to add to the list. Or if you've got nothing better to do. Until next time....enjoy your day.
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