on hard lessons.

Snuggling up with my pouty-faced pitbull and a supersized bag of Sour Patch Kids Xtreme, it was Netflix and quiet time in the Watson household.  Sharing a Netflix code with my brother miles away, coupled with my husband’s undying love for Marvel movies and my daughter’s new obsession with Coraline, the “Because you watched…” section usually disappoints.   

The formula fairies often offer  me something like Hotel Transylvania 2 or Captain America-far from my preferred taste.    

This time, though, Netflix got it right.  Hard Lessons, and it’s gritty eighties Valencia non- filtered movie cover caught my eye.  I love me a good teacher success story.

Five minutes deep, I had to IMDB it up.  Denzel?  Nawwww.  But it is true, teacher friends.  Denzel Washington, stars in the 1986 biopic about a New Orleans raised,  Los Angeles public school principal, Mr. George McKenna, who, in a matter of a few years, no less than transforms, not only an entire school, but the entire neighborhood.  

And this was a time when Bloods and Crips dominated Los Angeles.   The film reveals the power of gangs on school communities and the power of a principal to make education reign.  

Now I won’t divulge any more than this, but, it’s pretty evident that George McKenna was and still is one of a kind.  Many teachers and principals have come along with the hard core tough love and dedication that George McKenna has, but this man, or at least the way Denzel portrays him, is like Prince or Michael Jackson.  They have some innate magical powers.  

I wish I had the charisma of Denzel.  And the hard-to-pinpoint gifts of Mr. George McKenna.  His character in that film definitely does call me out on my nasty habit of relinquishing ownership (AKA blaming external factors) when times get tough.  As a school leader for decades, he stands by his belief that the principal is the number one factor in a school’s success.   

He takes ownership of his own role in education. McKenna knows the principal can’t do it alone, but knows that the responsibility of school success falls on us.  The adults.  Despite drugs and achievement gaps and poverty and adolescent apathy...it’s on us.  

Reluctantly swallowing some hard truth, there were lots of hard lessons for me in that film. Thank you Netflix.  And with music by Herbie Hancock, why did it take until 2017 for this movie gem to fall in my lap?  Needless to say, it’s definitely worth checking out on your next movie night.  

We may not all be George McKenna’s, but we do get one step closer each day.  

Last week, one of my colleague’s offered me some top notch reflection to brighten my day.  He said, "You know, when teaching times get tough,  I think to myself...this may be my seventh year teaching and I still haven’t figured it all out, but who knows...this could be the year."  

Hey teachers, each day, we are one step closer to being the Lebron James' of education...who knows..this could be the year.

Power to the teacher!

on survival mode.

Riot fights, food fights, schools with no books, the revolving door of teacher hires, fires and walkouts...I’ve seen the worst of it in turnaround schools.  Despite the chaos, given the opportunity, I would do it again.  Then of course, not now.

Turnaround charter school models are designed to persevere through the growing pains, with the greater good in mind, using dramatic approaches to “fix things”, striving for better schools of choice for the surrounding communities.  It’s usually first time teachers, first time principals and local families in search of the best school option for their children.   

Spending exactly 71.4% of my teaching or leading experiences in turnaround charters, you would think that I’d have more answers when it comes to student behavior, and a bunch of tried and tested tricks up my sleeve to showcase at all-day PD’s, but no. It’s was all kind of a blur.

I chalk it up to survival mode.  Those years were spent in full out survival mode, where the good days were monumental and the bad ones I prefer to forget.   Test scores reigned, and the happy hours were fruitful.

Teacher friends were my brothers and sisters and my students were my own children.

Unless you’re one of the few natural born teacher geniuses out there, being a new teacher in a tough school can drown you.  Not just drain you, but drown you.  The last thing I needed as a new teacher was to be left in the middle of the ocean with my self-made life preserver and a three lifeboats of third graders with no supplies.  

God knows the school leaders were just trying to stay alive, too.  But it happened.  We were “empowered” to keep anything short of a fist fight within our four solid walls.  Repetitive disruptions, profanity, blatant disrespect...it was on us.  

Turnaround school or not, though, teachers still seem to be buying the narrative that if we don’t take on classroom management alone, we are weak. But why?  

Okay, so no one is going to call us weak to our faces, but the messages of “If you send kids out of class, then you let them take away your power,” and “Ask yourself if you’ve really tried everything, before having a student removed,” are quite obvious and sometimes received as condescending to teachers.  

Again, I’ve been on both sides of this.  Leadership is hard.  Teachers do have to take ownership of their classrooms.  Together, we do have to do whatever we can to make it work and help students succeed.  

Sometimes though, after the same student calls out twelve times and works your classroom like a funnel cloud of distraction, you’ve decided enough is enough.  

You’re not going to sacrifice twenty-eight other student educations for your pride.  You swallow the interrogation of “well, what did they actually do?” or “This isn’t something to send a kid out for..is it?”  Or my comrade’s favorite, “have you tried those cushy stress balls for him?” And you smile and nod and go back to teaching the hell out of that lesson.  

I mean, do you really think we haven’t tried everything before we called for help? The parent’s number is on speed dial for heaven’s sake.     

Thankfully, I’ve encountered plenty of school climates that differentiate teacher support with student behavior as much as we differentiate learning for our students.  It’s a must.  

New teachers or vets, we all need support from time to time.  I’m hoping that we all can recognize that when teachers ask for help, they probably need it.  

Approach is everything.

I would much rather have someone support me in the moment,  and reflect with me later.  If this isn’t the case for you, teachers, then find the people that will give you that support.  Reflect, learn from your mistakes, and move forward.  

To all of the teachers that are in survival mode, I commend your perseverance.  If you find yourself in the ocean with a self-made life preserver and a life boat of bright-eyed students, make sure to call an SOS.   

Let’s be real, survival mode can only last so long before it goes one way or the other.  

Sending positive vibes from New Orleans...Power to the Teacher!

on crying at work.

The last time I cried in front my students is never.  The last time I cried at work was last year, Face Timing my daughter in a closet classroom, tied to a breastpump, a batch of ungraded papers and her sweet little “Mamas” chirping through the phone.  

The last time I cried about work was two days ago.  Call it passion, call it exhaustion, call it whatever, but sometimes education makes me cry.  I’m a pro at bottling it up for the comfort of my own car or couch, but it definitely happens.   

Monday turned out to be a garden-variety bad day, too many moments of teaching to thirty-two blank faces, mumbling mouths or eyes screaming, I just don’t care what you have to say, lady.  

This followed by my own self-doubt, self-pity and pit-of-my-stomach frustration led to a nasty little cocktail of...why am I a teacher?    

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, nobody is allowed to call me dramatic except myself, but yeah...maybe I was being a liiiittle dramatic.  C’mon though, unless you have the superpowers to turn on and off emotions, teaching cuts you down deep and builds you back up, faster than you can say Silent Lunch.   

Sustaining that pretty poker face at work takes practice, and teacher triggers are different for everyone.  Most of us agree, though, that we’re not holding back tears because a kid hurt our feelings.  We’re adults, and by this age, our skin is mighty thick enough to muster some snarky comment from a ten-year-old about our “stupid” lesson.   

When it comes to teacher tears of frustration, often times it boils down to either 1. Loss of control, or 2. The feeling that kids didn’t learn.   These two acknowledgments have offered me plenty of doses of sleepless nights and Indeed.com search sessions.  

Does it mean I don’t love teaching?  No.  But it does make me question why it has to be so damn hard?  Yes.  And why, after this many years in the game, is it still so damn hard?  

Clearly, I’m still searching for answers.  

Emotions of love, pain, triumph, failure and everything in between fill our classrooms daily, with the Goddess Of Education peering over us, whispering….they must learn, teacher, they must learn!

Self-proclaimed non-movie crier that I am, education makes me cry sometimes.  Never ever ever ever will I cry in front of students, but I will cry on a car ride home.  They may “just be kids,”  but they’re our kids.  And love makes you cry sometimes.

Power to the Teacher.   

on reinventing yourself.

Tilting his head back as the barely-there remnants of Purple Bag Doritos fall ever so swiftly from bag to mouth, my husband slides the next mystery box my way.  Two bottles of Pinot, a pound of sour patch kids and three hours later, we are ankle deep in a semi-productive storage closet cleaning.  

We dig through file box after photo pile, spending more time reminiscing than we do purging papers and expired insurance policies.  

What’s this?  

Oh, that’s my teaching portfolio.

Really? Let me, see!  

Haha, okay babe.  It’s like fifteen years old.  I mean, I’ve added to it, but it’s pretty outdated.  

Yeah, funny how all of these photos are circa pre-smartphones.  I wanna look though!

Peeling through clear plastic pages of certificates, student work and reference letters, Michael stumbled upon my teaching philosophy.  Buzz words from the 2000’s like, kinesthetic learning, differentiated instruction and guided reading splattered the page with a standard red appled ABC border.  

I'm actually surprised an Eminem or Nelly CD didn't fall out of the portfolio pocket. Or maybe a Will Ferrell comedy on DVD.

Snatching the portfolio, I recalled my twenty-two-year-old self.  My twenty-two-year-old teaching philosophy written with bright eyes.   Frankly, I probably cut and pasted it from a handful of exemplars presented in one of my education undergrad courses, but it was mostly mine! 

Teaching philosophies change,  kids change, teachers change...education changes over time.  

In 2004 my teaching philosophy wasn’t my own, but by 2005 it had developed, 2010 it refined and in recent years has evolved into a truer form of what I believe in my heart.

If the goal is to impact students and their impressionable young minds, then what do we prioritize?  How do we even know what’s most important anymore?  How do we do it in 180 days?

So much to choose from...so much to believe...so much to try..

Two weeks ago, in hopes of inspiring some good PD conversations around project-based learning, I asked my fellow ELA teachers to reflect on favorite teachers from their childhood.  

It turned out, that in a room of forty-five, there were very few commonalities.  The X Factor in this group, though, was that every one of the “favorites” made them feel special.

It made me think, do I make all of my kids feel special? I need to rethink this year.

In teaching, it’s not just about the restart button that comes with the new school year.

It’s about your ever-evolving self, getting a chance to try something new, a chance to impact kids using the good and bad memories of trial and error, innovative research, hard data and powerful inspirations to change their lives with more confidence than the year before.

The new school year can bring the new you.  Well, the new teacher-you.  With your refined pedagogical philosophies and fly and fresh wardrobe.   

Lord knows you can refine and refresh throughout the school year, but reinventing yourself in February for the same thirty students who met you in September, might be a tough sell.  

We may not own our own business, but we own our own classroom. Craft those 2017-2018 mission and vision statements with your gained wisdom and ever-developing understanding of what kids really need.  

For me, teaching philosophies have evolved into learning philosophies,  what will the end product be?  How do students learn? How will my students leave this year?  How will this year impact their lives down the road?

And in fifteen more years, I hope I get that same feeling I did, when my husband shoveled spicy Dorito crumbs into his face...daaamn...my educational beliefs have chaaanged!  

Power to the teacher.