Posts filed under 'Classroom practice'
It’s time to check in again with Amanda Villagomez, who’s been chronicling her adventures with blogs in the classroom. The last time we heard from her in January, she was experimenting with online book clubs. Today she says that despite some bumps in the road, she is more and more excited about using technology in her classroom.
With anything related technology, flexibility and a willingness to experiment are essential. Third quarter was a good reminder of that. At the start I was excited and gearing up to have my students begin their own blogs. Based on feedback from parents, they were more comfortable having their students begin blogging internally. When I realized that I would not be able to make their blogs private without paying a fee on Edublogs, I decided to have my students blog with Blogger. I was also excited about students utilizing Google Docs since they would need a Gmail account to sign up for Blogger.
I thought I had everything planned out. I had a meeting with parents to discuss the new technology and why it would be beneficial, each parent signed a permission slip, and students signed an appropriate use agreement. The big day arrived, but when my 7th graders clicked the button to set up their account most of their hands shot up, and there was an instant buzz, “Mine says…” Aside from a few who were excitedly saying theirs worked, the rest of the class had the message that they did not meet the age requirement. I couldn’t believe I had overlooked that little detail. I had to check in with all of my 6th and 7th graders to let them know that for now the plans were on hold.
Even though I was initially disappointed, it gave me a chance to reflect. The one great part that came out of this roadblock was the discovery of Google Apps Education Edition. Both of the universities that I am associated with have their email via Google, but I had not realized it was free. With this, my students will still have access to everything I had wanted, except Blogger, in a more controlled environment. As far as student blogs go, I am planning on waiting until the 8th grade year when all students will be 13. My 6th and 7th graders will continue to have discussions on my classroom blog, and eventually I will allow them to post comments on the 8th graders’ blogs. I am also exploring other options to give them access to other technologies.
Despite not being able to create their own blogs yet, students were excited to interact more on the classroom blog this quarter. After piloting a book club with a small group second quarter, I had all students participate in an on-line book club. Although I was not able to give as much support as I had initially planned because of less classroom time due to some state testing, at least all students got their feet wet. I will need to continue to scaffold the depth of ideal responses as well as appropriate voice for on-line discussions.
I was, however, very pleased with one of the groups that had a large concentration of students from the initial book club. They had already received additional scaffolding from their previous club and were able to provide a model for the new additions to their group. This made me realize that next year when I introduce on-line book clubs instead of trying to support all students on my own, I would launch with a small group again, but then I would have them lead a small group once the whole class participates.
Technology is such a fascinating field with so much new to learn all the time. At the start of the year I was thrilled to be able to have a classroom blog for the first time. There is still so much more that I am exploring and rethinking with blogging, but I am also considering other technologies to better meet the needs of my students. In the near future I will have the opportunity to integrate iTouches. I also plan on learning more about wikis over the summer in order to use next year. The more I let go and embrace the process of familiarizing myself with new technology, with all its advantages, along with the frustrations of complications, the more ideas I get to prepare my students for the ever increasing emphasis on 21st century literacies, while still making sure that my practices are aligned with my literacy philosophy.
April 7th, 2010
We’re thrilled to have a guest blogger this week! Stacey Shubitz of the excellent Two Writing Teachers blog and co-author of an upcoming Stenhouse book, explains her inspiration for writing at an early age, how she used her own writer’s notebook to set an example for her students, and how to work writing into your daily routine.
Carol Snook, my first grade teacher, encouraged me to write and publish lots of small books. Every time I published one of those construction paper masterpieces, she placed them on one of the rotating book racks in our classroom library so my peers could read my writing.
I kept in touch with Carol mostly by letters. From 1984 – 1988, we only wrote each other letters in the summertime since I saw her around school during the school year. When I transferred to a new school in 1988, we began sending letters all year long, with one or two in-person visits per year. By 1995, we took our letters online when I started college, sending e-mails back and forth. I always looked forward to getting mail from Carol since her letters were interesting and thoughtful.
Carol passed away in 2002, but her memory lives on for she was the person who inspired me to become both a teacher and a writer.
Not everyone had a first grade teacher who made them passionate about writing. In fact, many teachers I know do not like to write because they never enjoyed writing when they were in school. As a result, they don’t write very much as adults. The problem with having an aversion to writing when one is a teacher of writing is that it’s hard to understand the difficulties and obstacles students face when one is not writing on their own.
I’ve come to believe that teachers of writing must be writers themselves. Perhaps it’s because I like to write. Or, maybe it’s due to the fact I’m not willing to ask students to do what I’m not willing to do. However, I’m not alone in this belief. Don Murray said, “You should write too, under the same conditions – on the board or in your notebook – and share your writing first. It’s a matter of ethics. You are going to be seeing their work; it’s only fair that they see yours.”
When I was a classroom teacher, I used to keep my writer’s notebook out so my students could snoop around. By leafing through my notebook, my students were able to sense my commitment to writing since I wrote daily. They discovered I wrote about a variety of topics. It was possible for them to view my struggles as a writer since there were words or sentences crossed-out, as well as notes in the margins. It was clear, to every student in my class, that I was doing the kind of writing I was expecting them to do.
Engaging in the same type of writing work as my students did, month-after-month, provided me with richer demonstrations during my minilessons. Since I was the living, breathing, adult writer in the classroom, I was able to show them my work in progress, talk about my writing process, and help them understand how I worked through struggles. My writing wasn’t always wonderful. It didn’t have to be. What mattered was that it was present for my students to see.
While I dream of spending long days writing at a lakefront cottage, that’s not my reality. I write wherever and whenever I can. It often means writing early in the morning or right before bedtime. Sometimes I write when I’m a passenger in a car or when I’m sitting in a waiting room at a doctor’s office. Finding ten uninterrupted minutes in a day to write can often be challenging, but it’s a luxury I’ve grown accustomed to and don’t intend to give up.
I write about the ordinary moments of my daily life I want to capture. I write about things like folding laundry with my husband and shopping in a crowded supermarket before a snowstorm. I live life with a heightened sense of awareness so I can recapture these moments with clarity when I write. Most of the days of my life aren’t extraordinary, but they are worth capturing because my life’s journey is unique and worth preserving.
In Creating Writers: Linking Writing Assessment and Instruction, 2nd Edition, Vicki Spandel and Richard J. Stiggins draw attention to the fact that writing about everyday life can be rewarding. After all, one of the most popular sitcoms of all time, “Seinfeld,” was a show about nothing. Spandel and Stiggens note:
The wisdom of “Seinfeld” is this: little topics work best. Don’t write about world peace; write about how you handled having your parents discover you threw away the watch they gave you for your birthday. Don’t write about the hazards of global pollution; write about falling into the river on a boating expedition and wondering whether the water you couldn’t help swallowing would kill you (174).
Are you a teacher of writing, but not a teacher-writer? Are you ready to become a teacher-writer? Schedule a time to write, just like you’d pencil-in an appointment. Buy yourself a writer’s notebook and pen that feels comfortable, or go online and set up a blog if you prefer writing on your computer. Get started by thinking about the little pieces of your life that hold meaning or value to you. Once you do schedule time to write, use writing tools that work for you, and write about the tiniest moments of your life you will realize that you, too, are a writer.
Stacey Shubitz with Carol Snook (10th grade, 1993)
March 18th, 2010
In his new book, Conferring: The Keystone of Reader’s Workshop, Patrick Allen writes:
“Reading should be left somewhat organic. When I confer, I am having the opportunity to talk one-on-one with a reader. About what he is thinking, in the moment… and he is able to beguile me with his thoughts as a reader– holding my attention, interest, and devotion to his coming to know.”
In his most recent podcast (recorded during the CCIRA Conference in Denver), Patrick shared some stories about students coming to know and becoming empowered readers through conferring.
Download Patrick’s podcast (2MB).
Read more about Patrick Allen.
February 18th, 2010
We’ve been following the progress of Amanda Villagomez during her first year of using a classroom blog in her middle school language arts classes. In her prior posts, Amanda talked about setting up the blog and her initial experiments with it in the classroom . Now, midway through the year, Amanda continues to be excited about the possibilities created by the blog. In this post, she reports on the successful integration of online book clubs and talks about her plans for the remainder of the year:
Another quarter has flown by, and I am officially half way through my first year of integrating a classroom blog. Throughout the quarter I was able to continue posting Author Tip Tuesdays on the weeks that I was teaching in English (I teach half of the time in Spanish). My students seem to look forward to them. They especially enjoyed a week integrating a YouTube video that Mary Amato created about her revision process , as well as a Q&A with S. Terrell French after a group of 7th graders read her book as a book club.
The most exciting part of the blog this quarter was a successful integration of an on-line book club. I originally thought of it as a new way for my students to interact for their book club discussion. However, before I started the club, I realized that it opened up many more possibilities, including being able to facilitate multi-grade level discussions. Students also enjoyed that other staff members, parents, and relatives left comments of encouragement. I recently blogged about more of my reflections on this first book club.
Next quarter students will participate in more book club discussions via the blog. Collaboration with people outside of the classroom will be an exciting component. One group will be reading Pride and Prejudice, and I requested some suggestions from Kelly Fineman to provide support for my students, as I had appreciated her previous chapter by chapter notes about Northanger Abbey earlier in the summer. Some of my students had mentioned an interest in Austen, but they quickly lost their motivation when they were not able to understand it well enough attempting to read it on their own. Fineman was gracious enough to send me detailed suggestions to guide my students through the reading. Actively blogging on my own has been very beneficial in networking with different authors and bloggers to further engage students. Other future possibilities may include having university students in children’s/YA literature classes comment on discussions, having parent and staff members participate in book clubs, and having book discussions with students in other classrooms.
For third quarter my biggest new blogging venture will be having my 7th graders set up their own blogs. Within the next few steps I will be guiding them through the process. They will begin blogging by creating posts such as book reviews, slice of life stories, and facilitating their own book club disscussions. I would also like to incorporate podcasting eventually, but it may not be until 4th quarter. I am still debating whether or not to have my 6th graders begin their own blogs this year, depending on how smoothly it goes with 7th grade, but they will be able to view 7th graders’ blogs as mentor texts and will be encouraged to leave comments and participate in book clubs that they facilitate. Moving into the second half of the year I am still very enthusiastic and excited about the amazing opportunities that blogging has created in order to enhance my language arts instruction.
January 21st, 2010
All teachers have been in a situation where they are just not quite sure how to respond to a student’s comment, or how to help a student make sense of what they are trying to say. In this week’s Quick Tip, Debbie Miller offers up some ways of responding to children and helping them clarify their own thinking at the same time. These examples are from her recent book, Teaching with Intention: Defining Beliefs, Aligning Practice, Taking Action, K-5.
Let’s say a child says something in response to a statement or question and we’re not sure where they’re headed.
If we smile, nod encouragingly, and say things like the following, we’re letting children know we believe they have something significant to say and we’re going to do everything we can to help them find it:
■ Keep going.
■ What else?
■ Keep talking. I think you are onto something here.
■ Say more about that.
It takes time to help children find words for what they’re trying to convey. It can be uncomfortable. But when kids understand we’re not going to ask them to do something unless we know they can do it, they most often accept our challenge.
Sometimes, when a child is having difficulty putting his thinking on display, we might say something like, “Is there anybody who can help Josh?” Lots of kids will want to help Josh, but will they really be able to? More than likely it’s an opportunity for them to share their own thinking, and Josh learns that if he hesitates to answer, his teacher and his classmates will come to his rescue. That’s no way to move a child forward. So don’t let Josh off the hook. Stick with him. Nod, smile, and say, “Keep talking, Josh.” And then wait. Let him know you know that thinking takes time. Let him know that you truly believe he has something thoughtful to say. When children know we believe in them, it’s the first step in learning to believe in themselves.
Let’s say a child actually has quite a bit to say, but we’re not really sure what she’s talking about.
In this instance, we try as best we can to make sense of what she has to say and make meaning for ourselves. We’re showing kids we really do want to understand their words and ideas when we say things like this:
■ So, are you saying . . . ?
■ Is this what you mean?
■ This is what I think I heard you say. Do I have it right?
We try our best to find that golden nugget—to find significance—in what they have to say, and offer it up for the child’s consideration. How do we know what to say after saying something like, “So, is this what you mean?” (Especially when we have no clue?) Take a deep breath, think about the child’s words, the focus of the discussion or conference, and say something that makes sense to you.
We don’t really know if this is what the child is thinking, but we’re having a go at it. It’s important that we frame our understanding in the form of a question. “Is this what you mean?” sends a much different message from, “This is what you mean.” If the child answers with a nod or a yes, I say, “Okay. Now you say it.” We’re giving the child the opportunity to put it in her own words—she owns the thinking now. Sometimes I’m asked, “So how do you know she was really thinking that? How do you know she’s not just saying that’s what she was thinking?”
I don’t. And I don’t think it matters. What does matter is that the child understands that her teacher is working hard to make sense of what she has to say. And if we do end up giving her an out? So be it. Sometimes we forget that when we dismiss a child’s thinking, we also dismiss the child. And conversely, when we embrace her thinking, we’re also embracing her. We cannot underestimate the power of our influence. Other times a child will say, “No, I’m not thinking that. I’m thinking this . . .”
Perfect. Either “Yes! I’m thinking that” or “No, I’m not thinking that, I’m thinking this . . .” helps children clarify their thinking. What we say and how we say it lets them know that it’s safe to put their thinking on display.
Sometimes children say things that seem so bizarre (to us) that we wonder if they have been listening at all.
Instead of asking them that question, or giving them that special look we reserve for occasions just like these, we could decide to not pass judgment. We’re being honest and we’re showing kids that even though we’ve never thought about it quite like that before, we’re willing to now when we say something like this:
■ Wow. I never thought about it like that before! But what if children say things just to get a reaction from everyone? In that case, children know that we’re open to listening to a variety of perspectives and ideas, and that we expect them to substantiate their thinking in thoughtful ways for themselves and others when we say something like this: “So help me out here. What’s the evidence in the text that leads you to draw this conclusion?” Or, “What in your experience makes you think about it in this way?”
Once students find out we’re serious, that we’re going to keep at it in order to find significance in what they have to say, they usually stop responding in less than thoughtful ways.
Sometimes we see that students need to broaden and expand their thinking and to value and make efforts to understand thinking that’s different from their own.
We’re helping children understand the importance of being open-minded, listening carefully, and learning from each other when we say things like this:
■ What might be another way of thinking about this?
■ Who has another point of view?
■ Now let’s look at this a different way. What if . . . ?
■ Turn and talk with a partner about your thinking.
January 12th, 2010
In July, Amanda Villagomez, a middle-school language arts and social studies teacher from Oregon, shared her plans for starting and maintaining a classroom blog. We checked in with her recently to see how the blog was doing now that the schoolyear was well underway, and to find out about her plans for her blog.
My classroom blogging journey had a later start than I initially expected. As my school is growing, another building on our property was partially renovated in order to house my new classroom. I was able to move into my new classroom one week before students arrived, but the technology was not ready. While planning over the summer I failed to consider the possibility that all of the technology might not be in place at the start of the school year. It ended up that my projector and Smart Board were not up until about 5 weeks into the quarter. I decided to hold off on blog posts (with a few exceptions) until all technology was in place. Nonetheless, I had a chance to get my feet wet with classroom blogging with the second half of the quarter.
Learning to navigate Edublogs has been relatively easy. Whenever I was confused about a difference between Blogger and Edublogs, a quick skim over the options or Edublogs help support solved my issue. This quarter was a chance to begin exploring and experimenting, but I still have so much more that I would like to do with my blog. Rather than getting frustrated that I was not able to start integrating my classroom blog into instruction from the beginning of the year and utilize it as much as I originally expected, I decided to choose areas where I would be able to start easing into the process once my room was completely set up. So far I was able to establish a couple of consistent types of posts. I began with Author Tip Tuesday posts. Over the summer I got the idea to have a weekly feature with writing advice from authors who responded to my request for a tip aimed at middle school aged students. Then I began to post writing mini-lesson information. I created a handbook tab that will serve as a quick way for students to access resource information that would otherwise be harder to find as I start to utilize the blog more.
Incorporating a classroom blog into my instruction has been fairly easy up to this point. One area where I had to be careful was using other teacher’s ideas. Because many of the handbook posts were inspired by other teachers, I gained permission to use information before posting it. I realized that using a wall chart in my classroom was different than posting the ideas on the Internet. Even though the intended audience (my class) was the same, I knew that a larger audience could access my blog, and I did not want to infringe on any copyright laws. Now I have a procedure in place. After checking in with individual teachers or publishers, depending on the information I want to use, I make sure to always attribute the source once permission is granted.
At the start of second quarter I am excited to see the new ways that I will be able to use my blog. It did not take me long to realize that it will be a long-term process in order to integrate all components that I would like, so I decided to have goals for each quarter. Second quarter I want to:
*Continue posting handbook information. I will have students gain more familiarity navigating this resource from their laptops during workshop time.
*Start having one book club group discuss on-line via the blot. Once I try this out with one group and have it running smoothly, I will expand this to more groups.
I have many more long-term goals that I will begin if I have the chance. However, for now I wanted to make sure that I had reasonable goals, as I am also experimenting with other new components in my curriculum. I look forward to seeing the way my blog will evolve this quarter, the rest of this year, and future years of teaching.
November 5th, 2009
In the second edition of Mentoring Beginning Teachers, authors Jean Boreen, Mary K. Johnson, Donna Niday, and Joe Potts provide mentors with a road map for helping new teachers become confident, reflective educators. In this week’s Quick Tip, they talk about how to establish simple, easy to follow classroom policies even before the beginning of the school year so that students know right away what is expected of them.
Classroom Management Strategies Should Be Developed Before the School Year Begins
Although we have already mentioned it, we want to reinforce the idea that proactive planning is critical to the success of less-experienced teachers. Lin Su, a second-year fourth-grade teacher, remembered last year’s management decisions vividly. She had decided not to give the “rule talk” to her fourth graders on the first day of class because she did not want to come across as the “heavy.” The students responded to Lin Su’s lack of direction by making every effort to determine how far she would let them go before reacting. By the end of the first week, Lin Su was contemplating early retirement even as the students embarked on a year of anarchy. She eventually restored order, but the process was lengthy and difficult. This year, she would do things differently.
If a teacher goes into the classroom and has to make management decisions on the spot, without the aid of a previously developed policy, problems are inevitable. A disruptive student who is reprimanded in front of classmates has an even greater incentive to contest teacher actions in order to “save face” if there is no management policy in place. Teachers who make their policies clear early in the semester have the flexibility to enforce or to modify those policies because the students already know the rules and what is expected of them.
Classroom Policies Should Be Simple to Explain and Easy to Enforce
Stan, a first-year teacher, has already decided that he will not be caught unprepared when management problems arise. Before the school year began, he spent hours developing policies for absences and tardiness, bathroom passes, late work, talking in class, respect for classroom furniture, respect for other students as well as the teacher, trips to the water fountain, and every other conceivable activity known to students. On the first day of class, he distributed a three-page management handout to every student and sent another copy home to parents. For each infraction, his management plan detailed the consequences for the first, second, and third occurrence. On his desk were individual infraction sheets that he intended to file by class period as well as the sheets he expected to use to keep track of how many points students lost for “one-day-late” work, “two-day-late” work, and so on.
Stan’s is an example of the too-complex management plan. Prior preparation is admirable, but he has created a system so complicated that all his energies are likely to go into an unsuccessful attempt to maintain it. Stan instituted this management plan hoping that it would make his teaching life easier and convince his students that he was serious.
However, the pressures of everyday school life and the inevitable exceptions that will arise will eventually make his professional life more difficult. In addition, he may inadvertently be leading his students and their parents to believe that he expects frequent misbehavior and that he lacks confidence in his own ability to work with them—and they may be right. Although a carefully thought-out management plan is essential, it is also essential that the plan be practical. Stan’s mentor should remind him that a system requiring extensive and detailed record keeping traps the teacher by its inflexibility and is prone to failure. Even if the teacher is capable of maintaining such a system, his or her time is better spent grading papers or homework, planning lessons, or conferring with students. (See Resources for Teachers for more information on specific, easy-to-use management plans.)
Among the topics usually found in the basic management plans of experienced teachers are tardies and attendance, late work, and expectations for appropriate behavior. Certain disciplines may require attention to other types of behavior; for example, a science teacher may wish to delineate specific rules for lab day, or the wood shop teacher for running certain types of equipment. Mentors should also remind beginning teachers that students’ age level will also determine the rationale for a management plan. Rules appropriate to high school students may be unrealistic for younger children. Obviously, a “one size” plan does not fit all grades, disciplines, or teacher personalities.
Management plans should also specify what the consequences are when students do not adhere to the rules. Experienced teachers know that rules are pointless if they are not backed up by reasonable consequences. Has the new teacher planned what she will do if Sue leaves class to go to the bathroom without obtaining a hall pass from the teacher’s desk? How will she handle Mark when he mysteriously appears at the class door thirty minutes after the bell has rung without a clear-cut explanation of where he has been? How will she respond when Betsy tries to turn in all her homework at the end of the grading quarter instead of when it was due? What will happen to Eugene’s class standing if he misses four days this week and three days next week and the absences are not excused? Although we prefer not to detail specific consequences here, it is critical that you encourage new teachers to decide well in advance how they will respond to situations of this nature.
Although management systems should emphasize consistency, they should also allow for some flexibility. While some parts of the management plan require a common approach from situation to situation, some issues may have to be handled on a case-by-case basis. Even teachers who rigorously adhere to a policy of tardiness would not penalize two tardy students who brought a pass from their chemistry teacher explaining that they had been cleaning up after a lab. You might encourage your beginning teacher to be lenient with a student who was not able to finish a homework assignment because she was involved in a minor collision the night before or a student who ran to the bathroom without asking because she thought she was going to be sick. When working with less-experienced teachers, it is important to encourage them to be flexible. Without a plan, however, they will lack credibility and exceptions will become the norm.
November 3rd, 2009
This week’s tip comes from a new book by Rick Wormeli: Metaphors & Analogies: Power Tools for Teaching Any Subject. In this provocative book, Rick argues that metaphors show students how to make connections between the concrete and the abstract, prior knowledge and unfamiliar concepts, and language and image. His book is filled with illustrations of metaphors in action and practical tips about using metaphors to improve assessment, professional development, and symbolic sensing.
Read a portion of the Introduction here and then visit our website to preview the entire book online!
From a high school teacher:
I asked my ninth-grade class to deconstruct a metaphor in their reading. They were stumped and silent. Thinking to myself, what’s the difference between a metaphor and a simile, I backtracked a bit. I asked the class if the United States were an animal, what animal would it be
and why? Total uncomfortable silence. We all squirmed while I looked at the board and thought: Okay, what animal am I going to pick? What comparisons am I going to make?
As I turned back to the class, Pete, a special education student, had his hand waving in the air.
“If the U.S.A. were an animal,” he said, “it would be a big dog that likes to be on the porch. But once that dog gets riled, look out—it will come off that porch looking for a fight. But most of the time it likes to take it easy, it likes being on that porch with all the other dogs looking at it.”
Pete was known for being a goof in class, so several kids started to laugh. But he continued quickly and confidently: “No, no, really you guys; look at us. Look at what we’ve been studying this year. The U.S. didn’t want to get involved in World War I or World War II. We wanted
to stay home. We’re the richest country; we get to stay on the porch, no rain on us, no snow.”
I looked at the class. Students were nodding their heads. Everybody was looking at Pete.
“Look at what we’re doing in Kosovo,” he continued. “We like being the boss, but we don’t want to get off the porch to do it.”
After class, I told Pete what a nice job he had done explaining his metaphor. I said I thought most students got the comparisons he made, but most of them found it really hard to construct metaphors on their own. “Hard?” he said. “Hell! That was about the easiest thing you’ve had
me do all year. Any time you want me to compare stuff like that, I’m your guy.”
So there I was with this totally new insight into Pete, a boy who struggled to read and write but made comparisons far more sophisticated and concise than students who read and wrote with far more facility than he ever would.
As teachers, we live for such aha! moments: those times when our lessons evoke an “Oh, I get it now!” euphoria in students. It might be a lab demonstration, a successfully completed math problem, or a series of guiding questions that eventually lead to understanding and make a lasting connection.
What was the difference? How did we get their mental gears in sync? When we look back over our most successful lessons, we realize that these mini-epiphanies often occur in the presence of metaphors and analogies:
* “In this situation, Prussia was a cornered mountain lion.”
* “This molecule is trying to flirt with that other molecule.”
* “What does irrational mean when it is used to describe human behavior? Let’s see if that description applies to irrational numbers in math.”
On other occasions, students fail to thrive because they cannot grasp the metaphor we have chosen, or because we let an opportunity to build a bridge to understanding slip away. “If only I had a good analogy that would have cleared this up for these students,” we lament as we grade their less-than successful papers. “What do you mean that you don’t see how a Mercator
projection is like a peeled orange—Didn’t I explain it well enough?” Little in education has as much influence on students’ academic and personal success as the metaphors and analogies teachers use to make unfamiliar concepts clear. Given their significance, metaphors and analogies should be one of the primary considerations in lesson design.
Today’s classrooms are fertile ground for constructive use of comparisons. Metaphors and analogies can be used to shape our thinking, and thereby our actions, but they can also open our minds to new ideas unattainable through other means:
*In music class, students perceive the intricate melody of a new piece of music as someone running up stairs, stumbling down a few steps then leaping forward to an airy emancipation from gravity.
* In algebra class, students finally understand equations because they see either side of the equal sign as extended bars on balance.
* In biology class, the complexity of the Krebs cycle gets simplified when someone explains it as an energy processing factory for Citric Acid, made of six smaller interactions working together that create ATP (adenosine triphosphate).
For more examples of metaphors from successful classroom teachers, see Appendix B in the back of this book.
Purposefully Teaching with Metaphors
Mathematics is not a way of hanging numbers on things so that quantitative answers to ordinary questions can be obtained. It is a language that allows one to think about extraordinary questions . . . getting the picture does not mean writing out the formula or crunching the numbers, it means grasping the mathematical metaphor.
—James Bullock, 1994
Formally teaching through metaphors and their main subset, analogies, represents a different way of teaching for many. Some of us make good comparisons routinely and naturally: When a student seems confused, we think of something related to their personal lives. “T.J., you like working on cars, so let’s compare how a car’s engine regulates internal temperature with the way mammals regulate internal temperature. Then we’ll compare it with how reptiles do it, which is very different.” The student says, or at least thinks, “Now, I get it,” and we move on—though we stop periodically and make sure that he really does.
For others, learning how to use appropriate metaphors or how to guide students to create their own unique metaphors will require adjustments in thinking and curricular planning. How do we frame meaning? That’s a much different question than, Will we get through Chapter 10 by the
midterm exam?
What may need to change in many of our classrooms is the purposeful pursuit of metaphors and analogies in our teaching instead of the momentary inspirations that may or may not be helpful to students’ learning. We don’t want to leave such effective strategies to chance.
Teaching through metaphors and analogies isn’t just about building personal background knowledge so students have a context for understanding new concepts. Nor is it just about giving students templates to complete
(________ is to ________ as ________ is to ________) or assigning students to compare and contrast two periods of history or pieces of literature. It’s also a conscious choice to scaffold learning by making meaningful connections among topics. By giving students specific tools to think critically, such as making the invisible visible through explicit comparisons or applying knowledge from one discipline to another, we help students move beyond memorization to deeper learning that lasts.
October 13th, 2009
“How do I grade Socractic Circles?” This is a question Matt Copeland receives reguarly from classroom teachers. His response: “Well, maybe we don’t grade them.” In his new article in our Quesitons & Author series, Matt, the author of Socratic Circles: Fostering Critical and Creative Thinking in Middle and High School, talks about how he stirred his students away from participating in Socratic Circles just to get more points or better grades, and how he came across an unusual “grading” method.
Not long ago, I exchanged a few emails with a classroom teacher new to Socratic Circles. She was frustrated, both with the strategy and with her students for the lack of depth and quality in their classroom discussions. It’s a topic of conversation I’ve shared with many teachers over the years. And, in many cases, the frustration appears to stem from one concept. Grades.
So, inevitably, my email boiled down to a central question: How are you evaluating the quality of the students’ conversation? The response I received was well thought-out and very detailed in its approach: Students received a homework grade for completing the critical reading of the text before class and they also were rewarded points for the contributions they made to the conversation during class. Statements of agreement earned a point; summarizing what a previous student had said earned two points; posing a question or offering new ideas to the group earned three points; offering a particularly insightful idea or question could earn four or even more points. Bingo.
As gently as I could, I suggested that perhaps students were not engaging the conversation at the level she desired because, in their minds, Socratic Circles and their grades embodied a game: How many points can I rack up in my allotted time? I offered the idea that perhaps holding the conversation without any points attached might help to improve the quality of the discussion. That perhaps allowing the students’ ideas (rather than their grades) to be the central focus might encourage and empower them to engage more fully in the dialogue. It was worth a try.
Her reply came back quickly, “but if I don’t count up points, how do I grade this thing?”
My response was simple: maybe we don’t.
Part of our job responsibilities as classroom teachers is to monitor and document the growth and learning of our students. But, at times, within my own practice, I know I run amuck of the spirit of this responsibility and focus more upon the grades than I do the learning. All too often, in classrooms across this land, points and grades (and test scores) become the “bottom-line” thinking of the classroom.
But my goal in facilitating authentic, open classroom dialogue, I hope, aims a little higher. Through their conversation, I want to instill in my students a love of learning. A love of the collaborative discovery of meaning. A love of one of the bedrocks of our democratic society. I want to see them applying, analyzing, evaluating, and creating information. I know their voices contain meaning; I know their voices contain truth. I want them to know it—and feel it—too.
To evaluate true dialogue and true learning in a classroom, we need a better measure than points or grades. We need something that, when added to the conversation, helps to synergize, not something that helps to fragment. If we seek to create that sense of synergy when students are using their whole minds, their whole range of experiences, their whole beings and intuitions, to discuss and construct meaning—to transcend our common core expectations—we need a measure more meaningful. Something more immediate. Something more hilarious.
When I was growing up, my dad always referred to those moments when someone flinched or was suddenly, physically startled as “a dog slapper.” He was notorious for leaping around corners, jumping out from behind bushes, etc. all in hopes of scaring someone half to death just so he could slap his own knee, loudly chuckle to himself, “Oh, that was a good dog slapper!” and then offer his own impression of a yelping dog suddenly awoken from a deep slumber. He’d crouch over on all fours, then spring back up and turn a few full-circles as though he was trying desperately to escape something behind him that we could not see. Barking and yelping the whole time, as though he was a hellhound possessed. And then, after a brief reprieve of silence, he’d almost die laughing. We were never quite sure at what, exactly, he was laughing—the situation, or us, or himself. But, boy, he sure enjoyed it.
My father’s “dog slappers” became one of those quirks of family lore that embarrassed the rest of us immensely (which probably only led to him doing it even more often), but it was also one of those things we came to miss when he was gone. Little did I know at the time, but “dog slappers”—evidently—are also hereditary.
A few years ago, in the middle of one of those synergistic Socratic Circles in my classroom, we experienced one of those eerie yet blissful silences that only occurs when the thoughts being shared have blown away the expectations of everyone in the room. I sat there, watching, numb with glee. My students sat there too, all leaning forward, eyes focused, minds concentrating on the depth and insight being collaboratively created.
And in that pregnant moment of silence, when the cognitive gears of students were kicking into realms we didn’t know existed and everyone in the room contemplated her next contribution, the silence of engaged concentration was shattered as the bell rang to announce the end of period. And, just at the moment that bell shrieked against the concrete wall, I swear half of the students’ rear ends must have lifted two or three inches off the floor. And without so much as an ounce of forethought, I slapped my knee, shouted… (you guessed it)… “Oh, that was a good dog slapper!” and launched into my own impersonation of a yelping dog—yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp—right there in front of an audience of 28 petrified 14-year-olds.
Despite all the commotion between classes in the hallway outside my room, despite all the good conversation and meaning we had created, despite the hungry stomachs that so often dictate learning at the end of the class period just before lunch, my students sat there—motionless, deathly silent, staring at me incredulously. I think some were taken aback by the startle they received from the bell. Others might have been aghast at the perceived suggestion of animal cruelty. Others yet were more deeply disturbed—first—by the yelping and—then—by the school-girl-like giggling coming from their middle-aged, male teacher.
And then, one by one, with these deep, sheepish grins, they each gathered their things and headed off to lunch without muttering so much as a single word to me.
Of course, when fourth hour came to class the next day, it was quite obvious that absolutely no work was going to take place and that the entire world could grind to a halt unless I stopped and explained what exactly a “dog slapper” was and the story behind it.
So, I did what all good storytellers and teachers do. I decided to roll with it. Completely embarrassed, I told the entire story—with, of course, my own impersonation of my dad doing his impression of a caught-off-guard hound. Yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp.
We all had a great laugh. Somewhere my father smiled. And it was one of my students who then asked, “But isn’t a ‘dog slapper’ at the end of a Socratic Circle a good thing? Doesn’t it mean we were all so focused and doing such a good job of listening and thinking and paying attention and collaborating that we weren’t even thinking about school or bells or anything else?”
And I answered absolutely.
To which another of my students—as only teenagers will do and because grades too often seem to mean everything—asked, “Does that mean we can get extra credit for every Socratic Circle that ends with a dog slapper?”
It never went that far, but the students decided to keep an on-going record of how many of them would flinch at interruptions (bells, intercom announcements, visitors, etc.) during our Socratic Circles. So they wrote “DSC” (dog slapper counter) in the corner of the chalkboard and would add tally marks for each student who so flinched during a discussion.
Of course, it took all of about a day before the other classes wanted to know what in the world DSC meant, and I had to launch into the story—and impersonation—for them as well. Yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp.
And from there, a new game was afoot: which class could rack up the most “dog slappers” in a given semester? Although certainly flawed in its own way, DSC became our default measure of those synergistic moments when we knew that both the dialogue and our learning were transcending all expectation. But, thankfully, our tallies never translated to points in the gradebook. Our cart never lurched before the horse.
While I never award points for our dialogue, I understand the motivations of those who do. Each of us must operate our classrooms in a way comfortable, familiar, and effective. In my practice, I certainly award students points for the critical reading of the text they do in preparation for our Socratic Circles and also in the follow-up writing assignments that occur after our discussion. And, as a way to build and reinforce foundational skills, perhaps there is purpose and meaningfulness in assigning points to dialogue for students struggling with creating quality conversation among their peers and/or in struggling to participate at even a minimalist’s level. But, in my mind, those points are only temporary scaffolding that should be removed at the earliest opportunity. In my mind, grades are just a sometimes-unfortunate necessity in the business of education.
Collectively, if we are doing our jobs during the dialogue and striving to reach those higher gears of cognitive synergy, I shouldn’t need to assign points for the conversation itself. The quality of our dialogue will be reflected in that follow-up writing assignment. In this way, our Socratic Circles become a type of collaborative brainstorming session, a transformational strategy (for students and for teachers) that rises above grades and the “bottom line” and embodies all that which education and learning should be. In an authentic literacy classroom—in any classroom—that synergy is important.
And so now, to this day, every time I present Socratic Circles and am asked, “How do you give grades for this thing?” you might see an ornery smirk on my face because part of me is just dying to answer, “That’s easy, you just count up the dog slappers!” But I know that nothing in life—or in the classroom—is ever that easy.
September 3rd, 2009
This week’s tip comes from Kelly Gallagher’s book, Deeper Reading: Comprehending Challenging Texts, 4-12. Using William Maxwell’s story, Love, Kelly demonstrates how he teaches for effective first and second draft readings, collaboration, how he leads students to meaningful reflection, as well as how he uses metaphors to deepen students’ comprehension.
Students often have trouble thinking in metaphorical terms. To help introduce this concept, I use the following exercise.
1. Explain to students what “intangible” means and then have students brainstorm a list of random intangible items. List these on the left-hand side of a t-chart.
2. Ask students if they can infer what “tangible” means. On the right-hand side of the chart, have students brainstorm a list of random tangible items.
If your students are like mine, their brainstorming might result in the
following:
Intangible Items
love
hate
betrayal
jealousy
envy
trust
friendship
commitment
anxiety
confidence
Tangible Items
skateboard
CDs
driver’s license
bracelet
pizza
backpack
locker
Eminem
movies
video games
3. Have the students complete the following sentence by selecting one intangible item and one tangible item and then exploring the relationship between these two items as follows:
(Intangible item) is like a (tangible item) because ___________________________.
Here are some of my students’ responses:
Friendship is like a driver’s license because it will expire if you do not renew it.
Nicole, 14
Jealousy is like a backpack because it can get heavy carrying it around.
Omar, 15
Trust is like a video game because there are many levels to it.
Josh, 15
4. Once students have tried this and have shared with one another, I challenge them to extend their metaphors. I change the sentence template to the following:
(Intangible item) is like a (tangible item) because __________________________ ,
_______________________ and _____________________.
Using this new template, the previous student samples are stretched:
Friendship is like a driver’s license because it will expire if you do not renew, it takes skill to obtain, and it requires that you pass a test.
Jealousy is like a backpack because it gets heavy carrying it around, it’s hard to zip up, and everyone can see you wearing it.
Trust is like a video game because there are many levels to it, it requires practice, and it’s hard to repair once it’s broken.
This exercise is a good way to introduce metaphorical thinking. Once students grasp this concept, they are ready to apply it to their reading. For example, think about the love the boys had for Miss Brown in “Love.”How would you describe it? With the story in mind, complete the following
sentence:
The boys’ love for Miss Brown is like (a) _____________ because _____________.
Again, here are some of my students’ responses:
The boys’ love for Miss Brown is like an old oak tree because it has strong roots.
Karen, 16
The boys’ love for Miss Brown is like a sprained ankle because it hurts a lot right now, but the pain will ease with the passing of time.
Steven, 15
The boys’ love for Miss Brown is like a scar, because although it will fade, it will always be there.
Miguel, 15
When I read these responses, it becomes evident to me that these students understand the story “Love” at a deeper level. They see and feel what the author intended.
September 1st, 2009
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