on post-vacay moods.

I’ve never been a person who says I’m ready to go back.  Routines and structure can fill any part of your life, and the five-day-a-week commitment to the future of America doesn’t stand alone in the daily routine department.  

Smashing fresh avocado and ever-so gently drizzling extra-virgin olive oil over the toasty warm french bread became routine the last ten days.  Waking up to my daughter’s miniature kisses on my arm, lying half asleep until nine and folding laundry directly after our dryer buzzes, not forty-eight hours later, when the wrinkles have taken over, are how things go around here.   

And for this glorious Spring break, the blazing sunshine, coating my basketball belly on the Gulf, gazing at what looks to be a Banana Boat commercial starring my husband and daughter, I’m reminded I chose the right career.  

Vacation time and long weekends and summers off...oh my.

Yet here we are again.  Freedom is over. Trying to ride that last high of vacation and shooing away any thoughts of werk. werk. werk. werk.

Students will return along with us, some craving that structured day with high expectations, predictability and a stimulating social-atmosphere beyond their pesky little sister.  Many though, will be longing for more days of sleeping in and little requirement to think or produce or walk in a straight and silent line to a not-so-homemade school lunch plate.

In the classroom, beach vibes and sunshine come by way of juicy novels or geography and ecosystem studies, but a mental escape isn’t the same as an actual one.  Come Sunday morning before returning from any vacation time-the reluctancy sets in and we all get a little sad.

Admitting the show must go on, and determined to ease back in post-break, I like to cushion up the schedule and prevent culture shock for all thirty-one of us.  This time around, I scheduled a Harlem Renaissance painting workshop with the art teacher and hands-on math-stations sprinkled with some extra, extra-long silent reading and independent writing time.   It’s expected that the Langston Hughes poetry analysis will be like pulling a bunch of fifth grade teeth, but at least I can sandwich it between art, group work and an extra helping of peace and quiet.  

The funny thing is, after break, I’m somewhat rejuvenated to go full speed ahead and pack the daily schedule with enough academic rigor to make my kids head spin.  Reality, though, doesn’t allow for that.

Don’t get me wrong, academic expectations remain high, but I’m not trying to introduce four new learning objectives the day we return.  Ultimately, I aim to welcome a little bit of vacation mode into every learning experience, or at least into small moments each school day.  

Lack of balance in any school day makes both the teacher and the kids crazy, so infusing vacation mode ensures I don’t resign to become a yoga teacher at the end of each week.

Pre-baby and pre-thirties, I thrived on the work hard, play hard mentality-capping out each full-force work day with happy hours, six-mile runs and back-to-back social gatherings.  

With preserving energy as a top priority, I find myself, these days, searching for the most creative methods to integrate vacation-mode into my students learning experiences.  Children need to opportunities to access their “whole selves,” just like we do.

Afternoon naps and never-ending recess still live in the home environment, however, tranquil reading sessions and structured, interactive academic games can make school and work much more enjoyable when vacation highs fade.  

Nothing compares to vacation spent with the people you love.  Being the responsible adults we are, though, and grateful to be in a profession we also love...aiming for balance is key.  

I know every instructional minute counts, which is why jam-packing days with teaching and learning on over-drive is counter-productive and far-from sustainable.  

No one wants to be the educator that counts down the days until the next break on the day we return from vacation.  Planning for balanced routines rather than hoping it just happens could be the first step in bringing more peace to a high pressure profession.  

Power to the teacher! 

on teachers as superheroes. part two.

Do you remember teacher portfolios? 

Approaching final semester, our college of education required student teachers to confidently compile a binder full of sample lesson plans, recommendation letters, student work, our teacher philosophy and anything else to score us that straight outta college first teaching job.

We were sure to impress with our glossy page protectors, chalkboard bordered resumes and scrapbook-style photographs of smiling students covered in mud splatter or finger paint or pretty much anything that screamed “hands-on.”

My husband actually stumbled upon mine in our last move, admiring the one-stop-visual-shop of my career-long accomplishments. Although I don’t dare whip it out for an interview, it’s evolved into a holding place for my journey as an educator, tucked away behind Spring Break 2002 photo albums and old tax files.

As we strolled down memory lane, my crispy portfolio cover sheet read:

I am a teacher. I am a counselor. I am a custodian. I am a nurse. I am a mother and father. I am a detective. I am a nutritionist. I am a police officer. I am a big sister. I am a travel agent.

And so on and so on. Back then, I don’t recall us teachers carrying the title as superhero, but that might’ve made for a catchy portfolio cover page. Maybe Wonder Woman with my face Photo-shopped and a whiteboard marker tucked in my gold-plated forearm shield.

I am not a superhero.

Seven months pregnant, mother of a toddler, full-time teacher, wife, and human being..yes, but not superhero. I do not save lives. I cannot fly. I can barely remember to turn off the faucet these days. My daughter is watching Despicable Me 3 for the thousandth time while I eat Kilwin’s sea-salt fudge slivers off my protruding belly.

I don’t want to be a superhero. I want to be an effective educator. I want to be a good mom and a good wife. I want to have a social life and spend time with my family and friends and travel from time to time. But I do not want to carry the weight of a superhero. 

So can you stop calling me a superhero? You’re making me look bad.

In the classroom, proudly, I wear the Kween’s Crown of High Expectations. Investing time and sweat into promoting student self-motivation and ownership of their poetry, research projects, math investigations and debates is my focus. 

Teaching students to revise and edit their writing, to truly listen and respond to each other during group work and to take plain pleasure in reading takes precedence over warm fuzzy team builders, pep-talks and healthy birthday treat lectures.

Obviously safety comes first. Putting hands on other kids and bullying are not tolerated. Kids cry and confide in me about home stuff. I buy Costco-sized trail mix for those who miss breakfast. We play games during Brain Breaks and we have weekly shout-out rituals where students praise each other for showing good values, such as perseverance and thoughtfulness.

Teachers are educators, not psychologists.

Definitely NOT police officers.

We may be parents, but likely to not more than five children. Doctors train and specialize in medicine and teachers train and specialize in pedagogy.

We can pretend to be superheroes, but I’m pretty sure only superheroes are the ones with special powers. My training and experience, not powers, grant me the skills and passion to teach reading, writing and facilitate critical thinking. I wish my powers could erase poverty, change emotionally-abusive parents and eradicate racism and fear in my students’ lives.

Self-aware and magic-free, I focus on what I can control, and what I’m (mostly) good at...teaching. 

These days, I give this “superhero teacher” narrative the cold shoulder and stay in my lane. Of course I will advocate to hell and back for a kid who needs therapy or specials services, but I am not those special services .
Superheroes save lives. I am not saving kids lives. Providing the tools to have a happy future? Yes. Offering experiences and windows to the world’s possibilities? Yes. Showing and practicing love and perseverance and social responsibility? Yes.

At twenty-two, bright-eyed and ready to take on my first real teaching job, I believed every bit of that interview-ready portfolio cover. That’s what teaching is, right? This is what we signed up for, right?

Umm, maybe for a few years, yeah. Right around twenty-five though, I think we wise up and realize that the ability to be magical is more like a fantasy. We are educators. Don’t call us superheroes.

We are quite satisfied with teaching a kid how to read for the first time.

Power to the teacher!

on struggling.

I was pretty addicted to change in my twenties.  The unknown.

Faraway places, strangers with friend potential, the high of joining a new school community, fresh views, freedom of the past and strengthened long-distance relationships.  

Six times in my twenties, I started over.  Running to-not from, careers,  relationships, and desirable geography, it was more of a thrill than a struggle.  For nine years I did this, chasing the dream, until, once upon a time, it wasn’t so dreamy anymore.

Unexpected circumstances introduced me to Los Angeles, the city of a magical climate, beach, ocean, the mountains and, if you desire it-a nature-inspired lifestyle.  What better environment to “start over” in...fresh food fare and limitless diverse subcultures for any international transplant to get inspired!  Yeah, there was the traffic and the subtle superficiality in some pockets, but Los Angeles was definitely a relationship I wanted to explore further.

In my practically customized fit environment, the struggle, as they say, was real.  Not because of LA, but because of my circumstances. Because of me.   

Mister Trader Joe fed me well though.  Cheap red zin, sea salt dark chocolate and blocks of hard cheese reigned as staples while I rode the highs and lows of my rediscovered solo lifestyle.  This was not tragedy or illness, but it definitely was not happy times.  

As strangers turned into friends and surrogate families, and as I learned from my disconcerting poor decisions (and there were plenty), I gradually rose above the darkness.  Day by day for two years, under that forever sunshine, I was changed.  Harder.  Better.  Faster.  Stronger.  

LA never quite convinced me to buy into “everything happens for a reason,” or “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,”  but in retrospect it did strengthen my core.  

And tonight I find myself back in the City of Angels, far from home but still feeling like home.  Sinking deeper into the hotel-grade, bleach-white, plush duvet, coated with the peering afternoon sunset-ahhhh.  I love this place.   Intermittently, I begin to reflect, as I often, overdo.  

Grapple.  The buzz word of this week’s educators conference.  Grapple.  Let your kids grapple.  Grapple with text.  Grapple with unknown words.  Let’s grapple with this next question.  

Grapple could be the next Grape Snapple flavor.  I like it.  

This new lingo, though, began to irk me a bit.  Grapple means struggle.  Why can’t we just say struggle?  Is struggle a bad word or something?  Who knows, maybe grapple just sounds more refined.  

Despite my resistance to this trendy term in teaching, I can really dig the relevance of grappling in our state of education.  

Experiencing one of the most transitional educator conferences ever, the educational philosophers, the data and fellow teachers across the nation reminded me that the foundation of quality teaching is about being equitable.  

Curriculum and instruction are often presented as distinct from equity and other core values.  Slide after slide of knock-you-in-your face data began to reveal just how interconnected it all really is. Thinking about equity, I was reminded to ask myself, Why do we lower our standards for struggling students?  

I’m guilty of doing it. I mean, I do have high expectations for all students based on their individualized level. Or “where they’re at,”  but is that high standards for all?  My fifth graders should be diving into fifth-grade leveled texts and investigating fifth grade level math and science, or above, but are they all?  Well sometimes.

Leveled text and guided math groups sometimes dominate my daily schedule.  Probably only half of my kids actually read aloud for a significant amount of time per day.  And I admit to trading complexity and rigor for student engagement far too often.  

Fun times equals engagement equals well-behaved students, am I right?

In other words, I often offer easier books, simplified math problems, and overly praised feedback on writing pieces all to satisfy and “build up” my students who consistently perform below grade level on assessments.  They grow and grow, but still continue fall short of meeting the mark.    

This week has got me thinking, would these students still be struggling if I pushed them harder?  And, what are they thinking when they’re given lower level texts than their friends?  What about the “high” kids who see their friends getting easier math problems than them?  What happens there?  Psychologically, even?

And ultimately, why am I so scared of bringing up their frustration levels, in the name of long term growth and learning?  

Don’t get me wrong, as I was reminded this week, scaffolding plays a huge role in all of this.  The difference is, that we can create scaffolds to support kids to access the “hard stuff,” rather than offering below-grade level materials that could put them further and further behind.  

And we don’t want kids to hate school.  We want them to feel safe to make mistakes and comfortable when challenged.  We want them to have options when they graduate and live happy lives full of choices.  

Thinking big picture, even if a fifth grader jumps two grade levels in reading in one year, what does that say if he was at a second grade level to begin with?  Will the child ever catch up?  

Reflection is at the heart of our practice.  Half the time, I contradict my own thoughts fifteen times before I put them out there, and in all honesty, many of my own educational revelations have come from struggle.  

Success stories came from failure.  Gurus, mentors and my teacher comrades offered me tools to get through the struggle and the support to see the light at the end.  Drowning never did me any good, but neither did any hand-holding.  

But, man, am I thankful for my support systems.  

Los Angeles taught me the power of tough love back then, and again now as I engage in this week-long seminar.

Now back in the cozy comfort of my own couch, with my sweet baby girl and awe-inspiring husband, I take a deep breath.  Ahh.  I love this place.  

Power to the teacher!  

For my fellow reading teachers, here is a snippet of food for thought regarding small group instruction and leveled texts.  

Link here!

on trusting your gut.

I’ve spent my share of teaching/admin years in K-8 schools with weekly riot fights, police officers on payroll, non-drill lockdowns and I even once confiscated a gun from a fourth grader.

Violence in high-poverty schools is no joke, but take into account that several of the settings described here were first-year “turnaround charters,” you can imagine how desperation for new student enrollment plays a powerful role.

First year “turnaround charters” have no room for Picky Pollys. We need kids, kids equal dollars and hey, your kid was “recommended” for expulsion? C’mon in! We’d love to have you!

Reflecting on these earlier years and how my teacher voice has grown, I regret not speaking up more. Working in high poverty schools has always been my choice, and although frequently surprised, I knew that things would be tough. 

Asking for help in these tough situations, unfortunately, was not my strong suit. Neither was speaking up.

I remember the first time a student threw a desk across my classroom. Escorting twenty-five students to safety is quite an unnerving task as a rookie. We’re trained to remove the students from the classroom, call for assistance and wait for crisis- intervention certified colleagues to help deescalate or restrain the upset child.

Like other situations in years to follow, this was not an isolated incident. With lack of intensive counseling/psychological support services in some school communities, kids often get help, but not necessarily the long-term help they need.

Or they just transfer to the next new “turnaround charter” up the street.

As teachers, and non-experts in child psychology and psychiatry, we often put our trust in school support services and administrators to take necessary steps to keep all kids safe, especially with the big stuff.

We all have the best intentions, but too many times, I’ve felt unsafe at work. This is not the fault of administrators or anyone else, it just happened that way. So over time, I changed my approach to it all.

I stopped breaking up fights, started calling out parents to their faces and became ultra-sensitive to students triggers- sometimes to the point where I let a child sleep in my class, just so not to poke the bear. 

This is real talk, teachers. Forgive me for sounding insensitive, but now on my second pregnancy, I make my voice well heard in these situations.

Even though I (usually) end up loving the emotionally distraught child/children in my class more than any other, safety comes first. It’s not only about love, it’s about safety.

When I speak up now, I’m not just advocating for my unborn child, but I’m standing up for the twenty-nine other scared students...some of which are already on edge due to chaotic home situations.

Taking the proactive approach has proven to be most effective these days. Once I sense a trigger, or catch the invisible steam pouring from a child’s ears, or even read some seriously aggressive body language-I call for assistance.

Waiting for the crap to hit the fan does no one any good, and if I’m questioned or challenged about the student or students needing to be removed from class, then I push harder.

Understandably, as a more seasoned teacher, administrators and behavior interventionists probably trust me now more than they would’ve fourteen years ago. Trust or not though, I wish I would’ve pushed harder when I was younger. I might’ve prevented a whole lot of situations from escalating to physical aggression.

Effectively picking your battles is no easy task. Teachers question their own judgement probably every four minutes, so the best we can do is go with our guts.

As long as we keep ourselves in check about the fine line between standing up for things and whining all of the time, then I think there’s nothing wrong with being a squeaky wheel about stuff that matters.

The decision makers and leadership team juggle just as much as we do...sometimes they need to hear voices from teachers like you and me to refresh their memories about life in the classroom. We know our kids, we know their triggers, and we aren’t just teachers, we are their first line of safety each school day.

So these days, I’m following my gut more. I speak up on the important things and if I’m not heard, I professionally push harder in the name of student safety and high quality teaching and learning.

And if the outcome doesn’t change, after all of the pushing...at least I know I tried. Power to the teacher!

on telling yourself no.

Thankfully, I’ve nearly mastered the art of telling others no.  In the name of not overcommitting myself, I politely respond with, No I can’t make the baby shower.  Sorry, let’s raincheck on happy hour.  Or, unfortunately, planning a field trip right now is just too much.  

Saying no to myself, though...that’s another story.  Like most jobs that serve others, a teacher’s work is never done.  Slacking and procrastination directly impacts our students, and teacher-guilt can be so real that we don’t know when to stop.

Years ago, I encountered a principal who refused to open the school building on weekends.  Lesson plan deadlines ran Thursdays by 5, and weekend emails from leadership were non-existent.  Forcing teachers to enjoy their weekends, proved to be a mandate that made sense and paid off.  

Nowadays, weekend building hours are a given, and dare they close shop for our “days of rest,” someone is begging for the key.

Kids present in the building or not, we are still in our physical work environment.  The brain knows this.  

Guilty of the constant-wheel-turning work brain, myself, I know it’s hard to shut down.  Spending Sundays in the copy room and Saturday mornings grading and planning in coffeeshops can become unhealthy, though.  Before you know it, it’s counterproductive and some of us begin to resent our over-demanding careers.      

The question is, are you really that much more effective working seven-days a week?

Learning time-saving tips from friends throughout my career, many say that maximizing prep-time can be the golden ticket to work-free weekends.  Tips such as, Saying no to leaders when they spontaneously ask to meet during your prep, with, “I’m available, but I was planning on giving students feedback from their morning writing, so they can revise this afternoon.”

Another borrowed prep-time tip, is listening to headphones to stay focused and avoiding extensive vent sessions you could save for later.  

Don’t get me wrong, isolating yourself in the name of being more efficient is a fine line.  Your people are your people, and love and support from your colleagues is necessary for survival.  You do however, have to make a choice sometimes.  Chill and chat now or chill and chat tonight, outside of the workplace, with family, friends, or just you and a hot bath.  

Education is an emotional field.  Our hearts and heads can be taken through the ringer on the day to day, so time to reset should be mandatory.   

Maybe happy hours and baby showers get back to feeling less like commitments and more like a necessary boost for the soul. Well, baby showers, I don't know... 

Power to the teacher!

on censorship.

How cool is this?  I beamed.  The President of the United States, a leader who will bring real change and genuine faith and who gets it will speak to students in classrooms across our nation tomorrow.  

This means something.  And teachers across America can quote President Obama and refer back to his relevant advice to our kids.  I wonder if this was his idea?

My anticipation of Obama’s back-to-school speech, coupled with the handful of anti-Obama (but let’s be real, anti-Black president) parents in my 2009 school community reminded me how much I missed the big city and surrounding myself with like-minded people. Am I the only one geeking out over this around here?

As the school-wide instructional leader at that time, I had both power in decision making and the responsibility to collaborate with teachers and parents to provide the best educational opportunities for our kids.  We all wanted success for these young minds.

So to my surprise, blatant verbal threats blasted through my not-so-smart silver flip phone just days before the 2009 speech was to air.  

Do you really think I’m going to let you show my daughter that?  If I find out she was part of that viewing, we are going to have another conversation.  

Or…

“I will pull my three kids if you show that man on the TV.”

And the kinder-toned demands…

“We do not support Barack Obama, and if you are planning on showing that speech to my child, he needs to be removed from class.”

So I did what any school leader would do. We held a viewing party and I strongly encouraged teachers to show the live speech.  

Some teachers chose not to play it and some parents kept their kids home that day.  To be expected...

We’re not reading To Kill a Mockingbird in fourth grade, people.  We are watching a nationally publicized speech from the President of the United States of America!

And don’t get me wrong, eight years later, I cringe at the sound of our current president’s voice.  But do I play CNN Student News each morning for my fifth graders?  Yes.  And when Trump blurts out another ignorant message do I want to cover and protect my kids’ innocent ears?  Yes.    

Debating, analyzing and digging deep on various points of views makes for a hellova class discussion, doesn’t it, though?  Who knows, kids might even develop their own opinions, beyond their teachers, parents or President’s.  (Gasp!)

Is that what those parents and teachers were scared of in 2009?  That kids might’ve liked what Obama had to say, and the adults weren’t okay with that?  

In the end, reality is reality.  And I’m no proponent of inappropriate language, sexual content or glamorized violence in school settings, but uncovering age-appropriate controversial topics surrounding us in today’s current events with a carefully chosen text set makes sense to me.  

The challenge now is to teach our students how to back up their newly developed opinions with strong text evidence.  Sending y’all strength and yoga breaths on this one...

Stay woke teachers.  Happy Thanksgiving!  Power to the teacher.  

“But at the end of the day, the circumstances of your life -- what you look like, where you come from, how much money you have, what you've got going on at home -- none of that is an excuse for neglecting your homework or having a bad attitude in school. That's no excuse for talking back to your teacher, or cutting class, or dropping out of school. There is no excuse for not trying.

Where you are right now doesn't have to determine where you'll end up. No one's written your destiny for you, because here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future.”  -Barack Obama, Back-to-School Speech, September 8, 2009

Want to read more?  Check out Obama’s entire speech here.  

on reading for fun.

Choosing between reading a book and watching Netflix is a no-brainer for me.  Last night, I shamefully indulged on three episodes of MTV’s Catfish while simultaneously trolling Instagram, Facebook and posting recipes on Pinterest that will likely never make it to my stomach.  

Who knew the Goosebumps addicted ten-year-old would one day choose crap TV over the new Gillian Flynn novel?  Who knew the literature loving fifteen-year-old who skipped the SparkNotes and fell in love with The Scarlet Letter and The Great Gatsby would one day forgo a Saturday night snuggle with a thought-provoking autobiography to binge watch A Handmaid’s Tale.  (Don’t get me wrong, what a thought-provoking series!)

So what’s changed?  Technology of course.  The voracious reader I once was, slowly faded when smartphones, insta-movies, insta-music, insta-TV and insta-everything broke through in my early twenties.  As an educator, I obviously still love books, somehow though I rarely read for pleasure.  And books don’t make my Christmas list anymore.  

Thankfully that once book-obsessed child experienced a K-12 education with offered perspectives from Huck Finn, Veruca Salt, Ramona Quimby, Hester Prynne, Atticus Finch, The Babysitters Club girls and more.  

Do our students of today read for fun?  Do they like reading, or is it another chore like drying dishes?  Do they choose chapter books over Snapchat?  At home, how do they escape?  

Teachers hope reading logs and Accelerated Reader competitions promote lifelong readers, and for some kids, I think this does work.  In reality though, my guess is that kids do most of their reading at school.  

In the classroom, what is their purpose for reading?  Back in the eighties, pre-insta era, Nancy Atwell (In the Middle, 1987) researched and shared a list of negative things kids learn about reading:

• Reading is difficult, serious business.  
• Reading is a performance for the audience of one: the teacher.  
• Reading is always followed by a test.  
• Readers break whole texts into separate pieces to be read and dissected one fragment at a time.  
• There is another kind of reading, a fun, satisfying kind you can do on your free time or outside of school.  

Atwell goes on to propose Sustained Silent Reading (SSR), also known as Drop Everything and Read (DEAR) where students across a school (or classroom) read for twenty or thirty minutes for pure pleasure.  Students choose their own books, there is no quiz to follow, and they just sit (or stand or lay down) and cuddle up with a good book.  

The last time I worked in a school that did this was 2004 in my student teaching placement.  With so much pressure for bridging the gap and catching up struggling readers, we rarely offer designated reading for enjoyment.  If not accompanied by comprehension questions and graphic organizers, we feel the need to hold some sort of accountability for their reading time.  

I get this.  My teacher friends get this.  We know lack of SSR and DEAR time in many schools hurts everyone’s goal of promoting lifelong readers.  

We know guided reading works, and with so little time to bridge gaps, we pick structured reading practice over unstructured.  

And since we also know kids go home and jump on Snapchat, we know they’re likely not staying up late reading Dragon Ball Z comics rather than playing the video game.

So fellow educators, I propose we bring back reading for fun in our classrooms.  For some of us, we have to sacrifice twenty minutes a day of target instruction that we know our kids need.  

I, too, feel this pressure.  Children though, can learn empathy, self-love, perseverance and relate to characters and real people, that just may inspire them to follow their dreams in life.  

Books can offer an escape into dystopian worlds, foreign countries and magical places that students may not encounter otherwise.  Yes, video games and films provide themes and settings, but is the movie ever really as good as the book?    

Growing up loving books opened my eyes to things before I ever got out of my parent’s house.  Throwing yourself into the human experience through the eyes of others is powerful.  

Hopefully, more schools prioritize the importance of reading for fun, or even to better ourselves as part of an ever-changing society that could use more empathy right now.      

Power to the Teacher!