Genre Reflection: Ms. Dawson and the Halls of Hogwarts Part 2

Professor Dawson awoke from her troubled sleep. She sat up, pulling her blanket around her, and gazed out the window as she tried to recall the fading dream that had disturbed her. It was still dark. The Hogwarts grounds seemed to be blanketed by blackness. She shivered beneath her blanket.

“Accio lesson plans,” she mumbled. If she was up, she might as well be working. Her notebook full of lesson plans rattled on the shelf and started their way toward her.

She had hit the point in the term where things weren’t quite new anymore. Although they most certainly weren’t any less exciting, the excitement wasn’t always paired with a positive connotation.

*Thud* notebook hit the ground. “Lumos, “she whispered. The room brightened.

Sighing, Professor Dawson climbed out of her four poster bed and picked up her lesson plans.  She flipped through her notes and squinted at her messy print.

She still struggled with her magic. It was new to her, newer than the curriculum she had begun teaching. She was always interested in magical creatures, that part was second nature to her. But magic itself was a completely different beast.

“Accio glasses.” Her glasses too started toward her and then dropped to the ground. However, this time she had anticipated the fall and was able to catch them. After sliding her glasses over her ears she found her way to the right page in her notebook. She thought to herself: ‘Will they like it? Is it too much? How many times will I trip over my own feet during that lesson?’

Her students could see right through her when she struggled to control her powers. Some were sympathetic, others fed off of it. Either way, she couldn’t blame them. She was still trying to figure out how to merge her love for Magical Creatures and her newfound magic therefore, her lessons didn’t always go as planned – something she had anticipated, but living the experience, well that was similar to the difference between reading about a blast ended skrewt and being stung by one.

She had been over the lesson plans at least four times and practiced them out loud, like she used to when she pretended to be a Hogwarts professor as a child. She had no idea that she would actually end up here but she had always imagined what it would be like.  It wasn’t quite the same as she had pictured. ‘Is anything though?’ Some days were even more fantastical than she could imagine. Others were more difficult and sometimes even tedious. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know she’d have bad days, off days -- days where she literally dropped absolutely everything she touched and then proceeded to trip over the Malfoy kids’ school bag and then pretended not to see him laughing hysterically at her while she picked herself up off of the classroom floor. No, she knew that she could get lost in a paper bag, or fall up the changing staircase. She didn’t however, anticipate Moaning Myrtle moving from the first-floor girls’ bathroom to the bathroom inside the Professor’s common room – a surprise that led to teaching her first class in soaked robes. But more importantly, she couldn’t envision the extent to which she would connect to her students – a realization that made everything more difficult and at the same time, more rewarding.

Accountability, Participation, and Bonding with Students

Accountability, Participation, and Bonding with Students 

I want to start off this post by saying that I had the BEST day at my placement on Wednesday and to be honest, I needed it. I needed to have a really good day to remind me that I’m still doing the right thing; that I’m not always a complete failure.

Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do. But I am also extremely self-critical and if you can’t tell (by the mention of anxiety in practically all of my previous posts – I know you’re tired of it), I’m basically a picnic basket full of anxiety filled baked goods (you know, like the chocolate chip cookies that are a little crispy around the outside but have the gooey, almost under done center. Or is that just me? Anxiety = gooey center). And like everyone in every job, I struggle. There are of course good and bad days. But Wednesday was wonderful.

What did we do? I’m glad you asked! We were working on one pagers which I’m sure at this point in our careers sounds a little tired and played out or as some of my students put it “bunk”. But there was a twist! They worked in groups. Each person at the table got to choose one of the tasks presented for the one pager: What is the theme? Draw a picture that represents the theme, Find two quotes (evidence) that support your theme, Write the title and author of the book and draw an illustration, Write a question pertaining to the novel, then answer it, etc. Tables with less people had more work, tables with more people had less work (this is still something I’m figuring out how to adjust point-wise) but each task got its own piece of paper! (I had a total a-ha moment. DING! Accountability!!) And even though they groaned and complained, my students LOVED it. After each piece was done, they taped them all together and they were PROUD of their work. They were able to collectively create a summative representation of their knowledge of the book.

Now, this may seem a bit ordinary but the best part for me was, they asked for my help, and I was actually able to help them. (Selfish, I know.) I helped them but I also bonded with them. We made small talk as they hunted for the right quote to represent their theme. They asked intelligent and informed questions and then answered them… get this: WITH EVIDENCE FROM THE TEXT (without being asked to provide that evidence)! – can you tell how excited I am? I was so proud (and a tiny bit sad that I hadn’t thought of the activity myself, but it’s not about me. It’s about them).

It was the ideal win-win situation. They were productive and we were able to laugh. We talked about non-school related things. They asked me life questions, silly questions, and text relevant questions. And the girls who normally looked at their cell phones once every five minutes didn’t check their phones as often. And the boys who play video games during class weren’t playing video games. And the girls who use class time to freshen their makeup didn’t have their makeup out. It was glorious. BEST DAY EVER. And I hope that someday I’ll be able to recreate that in my own classroom.

As a further extension of the topic of accountability, I’ve been pondering the idea of participation points. I like the idea of having a small portion of student grades allotted for participation and behavior. Should they start with a certain number of points and lose them for misbehavior or lack of participation? Should they earn them as extra credit? What happens when a student is absent? As far as I’m concerned, if they’re not in class, the situation is beyond their (and my) control. There should be an opportunity for students to make up those points. What does participation look like? Is it always contributing an answer?

Maybe this is a topic that has been addressed in the last few cores but I’m finally at the point where I can actually see it. I can see how it could help behavior. I can picture it in my placement.

For the most part, I want to leave this open as I’m still figuring it out (And I’m sure I’ll never have the perfect answer that never needs revision). But I will say, I think trying out participation grades is a good thing. I think that students should have some opportunity to make up points. And I know that participation isn’t always contributing to discussion. Sometimes being on task and listening are more than enough. 

What does it mean to be human?

What does it mean to be human?

I couldn’t possibly articulate all of the things that I learned at the KATE conference. It was absolutely an invaluable experience for me as a future teacher, as a student, and also as an individual.

From Laura Packer’s workshops on storytelling to Mrs. Harrison’s lesson on how authors build empathy, to Mrs. Tolbert’s presentation on integrating art into the classroom, much of what I absorbed will (hopefully) be forever in my mind when it comes time to build my own curriculum. (In fact, both Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. Tolbert’s presentations have already influenced changes in my unit plan.)

While the best thing I took away from the KATE conference was an idea that was fostered throughout my two days of workshops and presentations, this idea was not a teaching practice that I graciously copied into my notebook, or a new perspective on an ordinary assignment that I scribbled a messy star next to on a handout. This idea is that connections are an important part of being human. 

I’m not talking about connections that lead to a job interview (although those most certainly have their place). I’m talking about the connections that two humans make when they really let those barriers down and are open and vulnerable with one another. The connections that were reinforced within the cramped space of my tiny two door car, on our way to lunch or to the social gathering. The unexpected conversations that occurred across a small wooden table in the back of a dimly lit restaurant, full of chatter. This conference gave me the opportunity to get close to people. People I see fairly frequently but talk to on sometimes no more than a surface level. The opportunity to really listen and to be heard.  And although we may never again speak of the stories that were told or may never open up in such away again, a bond has been strengthened and I have gained a new respect for these people.

Through all of this, I find myself at peace with the struggles that exist in the very near future. We all connected.

We connected on a deeper level.

I was reminded how to be human. I was reminded of what it is like to exist outside of myself.

If I could only take one thing away from this conference, it would be that connections are crucial to the human experience. I think that this is something we can (read: need to) use in our classrooms as teachers. It is important for our students to see us as people but it is just as important (if not more important) for us to see our students as people. As individuals. As humans. Humans with stories to tell. Stories that don’t necessarily require any more of a response than a simple acknowledgement.

We need to remember how to be human. We need to remember what it is like to exist outside of ourselves.

Genre Reflection: Ms. Dawson and the Halls of Hogwarts

Ms. Dawson and the Halls of Hogwarts

It had been over fifteen years since Voldemort was defeated and while pockets of dark followers still existed in hiding – or secret, the world of magic was quiet. It had been quiet long enough that the Ministry of Magic had grown restless; and so started the era of revisions. Everything from muggle interactions to flying regulations to education had become subject to rigorous investigation – things couldn’t possibly be fine as they were. Quidditch however, remained untouched – no one dared to challenge the Minister’s favorite pastime. With revision comes expenses and with expenses, budgets.  After the second Dark Age, even Gringotts had suffered financial loss which affected businesses and magic folk alike. It is within this era of revision that a new term at Hogwarts begins.

The Potters’ son, James, had been sorted into Gryffindor along with the first born children from the Weasley families and Neville Longbottom had been the newest addition to the professors until today. After the sorting but before the great feast the interim headmistress stood and addressed the student body, just as the late Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore had done many years ago.

“Greetings and Welcome!” Headmistress McGonagall said, with a genuine smile. She was aging gracefully but aging nonetheless and would undoubtedly be looking for a replacement.

The crowd of students, both newly sorted and returning, silenced. She may have lightened up over the years but McGonagall was still not one to be crossed.

“I am pleased to announce,” She began again “that we have a few new additions to our staff this year”.

The students began to cheer but with a warning look from the headmistress, they settled back down.

Their applause would have to wait until she was finished.

“Please join me in welcoming Professor Dawson, who will be filling the Care of Magical Creatures position.” Several students expressed a sadness at this appointment. Over the summer it had spread that Hagrid would be retiring in order to travel but no student or parent wanted to believe it. Everyone loved Hagrid and while he was never the most practical professor, he was well liked and full of old stories.

Headmistress McGonagall silenced the students once more. “Professor Hagrid has given our new instructor his best wishes and has promised to visit throughout the term.” At this, the faces of the students brightened. “And please welcome Professor Burridge who will be filling my old post in transfiguration.” The students clapped and cheered, eager to get on with the feast.

“Our last announcement if you please. I must advise against entering the Astronomy tower for any reason this term. And now, without further ado, let the feast begin.”

Professor Dawson sat quietly at the head table and tried to take in her surroundings. She had always wanted to teach here, though it was not until her early twenties was she aware of any magical abilities within her possession. She turned and smiled at the other new professor, Professor Burridge, who seemed to be lost in thought and possibly upset about something. She shrugged it off and left the table for her sleeping quarters. There was much to be done before the term started but she was thankful that the headmistress had graciously assigned her a mentor: Professor Longbottom. She hoped that, as a relatively new professor, he would understand the challenges she would be facing and she was especially thankful that, as another professor not teaching within the castle, she would be able to find him quickly if she needed assistance; the layout of the school was confusing and it would be quite embarrassing to be lost or stuck during her first term teaching.

Ms. Dawson took one last glance at her work robes and her second-hand, wide-brimmed, pointed hat. She smiled and closed her eyes, excited for what this new adventure will have in store for her. 

You won't always have spellcheck!

"You won't always have spellcheck!"

We’re living in a world where technology refuses to be ignored. As I sit down to write this post in my living room on my two-in-one tablet laptop, my phone sits on the television tray directly next to my computer, just within my left-handed reach and blinking at me with a new text message. In this room there are four computers: our media center, and “main PC” which is connected to our printer, my work laptop, the two-in-one device listed previously, and my old laptop. Currently four game consoles, of old and new, live beneath my television.

I recall a time in elementary school when I was told that spellcheck wouldn’t always be around. I was editing a paper, what the paper was about I can’t recall, but I remember sitting there in the ancient computer lab (even then, the “new” computers were mixed in with old Mac computers, the ones you may or may not recall playing “Oregon Trial” on), hitting the “F7” key to check for spelling mistakes and using “Shift + F7” to open the thesaurus. I remember thinking, “I disagree” (probably in a less kind and less elegant way). Now it is 2015 and every device at our fingertips has some sort of spellcheck. Students (and professionals) can simply “Google” a term and the wise search engine can usually figure out what you mean, correct you, and locate various definitions of your term from different sources. (Note: So far I have received one email and three text messages on the phone sitting next to me.) Sure, spellcheck can’t always find the grammar mistakes. It can’t tell if you meant to use there, their, or they’re. It can’t figure out that my name is in fact not misspelled without re-programming the spellcheck function, and it certainly didn’t help me improve my spelling skills (read: lack of), but nonetheless spellcheck is always available to us in some form or another. 

I chose to talk about this today for a few reasons: first of all, to dissuade us, as future teachers, from being those teachers who tell the students “that won’t always be around”, because honestly, it probably will be and it will most likely continue to get more accurate and more advanced. Second, how do we deal with the constant interruptions of technology, specifically in our classrooms? (Note: I have two more new text messages) Finally, or rather most importantly, how can we embrace technology in our classrooms? What new (and old) tools can we use to help our students become more engaged in the classroom? Think about it: I had spellcheck in elementary school; our students had iPods, smart phones, and SmartBoards (the latter of which is now considered outdated technology). (Note: another text message has arrived. It’s not even 8:00 AM people, why aren’t you sleeping?)

I’m constantly asking: “How do you deal with that?” To which the answer seems to be something along the lines of the advice of the wise: “pick your battles”. Not to bring on the implications of teachers as commanders but more or less to ask: Is it really worth upsetting a student, causing them to shut down and detach themselves from the lesson, because you asked them (for the third time this week) to remove their carefully arranged, hidden from plain sight, earbud? Is it really worth calling out the two girls near the front of the room who, in between tasks, check their phones at least twelve times per class period? They are doing the work and even sometimes answering the questions out loud. This is for us to decide in our own classrooms and it is something that I am still struggling with. Consider it food for thought.

What I am most interested in, is how to utilize technology in the classroom to get students more engaged. I have been in classes and even educational conferences where “tweeting” is encouraged as means of discussion. In my placement, the students used “Goodreads” over the summer to engage with one another about their summer reading and to assist them with their reports. Obviously we are blogging about our experiences in place of hand written journals. Isn’t this literacy?

I am very interested to hear what you think and I will be posting a follow-up as this is something that I am continuously contemplating while thinking about the mechanics of my own classroom. (Note: For those of you wondering, my total tallied up to two emails and nine text messages throughout the composition of this post.)

Sincerely,

Ms. (Holli) Dawson

Answer My Question!

Answer my question!

We’ve all been there: we’ve carefully prepared what we as pre-service teachers think is an engaging lesson. We’re in college after all, we still know what fun is! Granted, for me fun is sitting down with a good novel and a strong cup of black coffee or binge watching a television show while parsing each scene for subtext. So maybe we don’t exactly know what fun is, but we’ve given it our best shot and we’re going with it.

You’re standing at the front of the room, bouncing with excitement (read: anxiety), lesson plans tightly clutched between your hands. At least twenty pairs of eyes are studying you, wondering (ideally) what you have in store for them today or maybe they’re just wondering what’s for lunch, but they are looking at you. You begin to build a little background knowledge or maybe you’re trying to figure out how much background knowledge they already have. You’ve created what you feel like is a safe environment for discussion and you’ve covered discussion expectations, so you ask a question. Maybe you’ve asked something vague and ambiguous that has multiple right answers or maybe you’ve asked a very specific question with one right answer but either way, immediately following the last sound that exits your vocal chords, you hear it: crickets.

The silence resumes after you’ve rephrased your question and internally you’re thinking (read: pleading) “please, someone just shout out an answer”.

So my question, a question I hope to find multiple answers to, is this: How can I increase student participation? After all, according to Bomer (2011): “our students need to be ready for college and/or career, as so many standards movements would have them be, but they also need to be ready to participate in communities well beyond those” (p. 8).

After taking a considerable amount of time formulating my question, I asked for advice from my Mentoring Teacher. She smiled brightly at me and dashed to one of her bookshelves. She returned with a well-loved copy of Rigorous Reading by Nancy Frey and Douglas Fisher (Side note: I think it’s an English thing but I love running into other people who write all over their books). I scanned the cover and my eyes lit up with recognition as I recalled seeing those very same names on a textbook from a previous semester. She encouraged me to take the book home and see what I could find.

Once I was home I sat down on my living room floor, textbooks and notebooks in organized piles (read: a haphazard semicircle, completely surrounding me), flipping through annotated pages and tried to come up with an answer. I found myself perusing a chapter called “Collaborative Conversations” and then it dawned on me: productive participation doesn’t always have to come from whole-class discussions. I think I had ruled that out as counting for participation because I enjoy classes structured around whole-class discussions. Sure, I had considered literature circles and think-pair-shares but I had isolated and categorized those exclusively as instructional strategies.

Fisher and Frey (2013) further enlightened me on the significance of collaborative learning by explaining that: “it enables them to consolidate their understanding with peers and provide support for one another in the absence of the teacher” (p. 74). Sometimes students (read: humans in general) need to talk things out before being certain; sometimes they just need someone else to listen. Either way, breaking students up into groups and having them work together before asking for whole-class responses is a brilliant way to increase participation. In fact, I’ve seen this in multiple classes.

I think sometimes we get so wrapped up in the little things that we have learned in segments and we forget to take a step back, look at what we’ve learned, and combine those segments. We get so focused on one thing that we forget to look around us and see things that are already in place.

This is not to say that I have completely answered my own question – far from it. However, I have scratched the surface and some days, that’s quite a feat.

Sincerely,

Ms. (Holli) Dawson

                                                                      References:           

Bomer, R. (2011).  Building adolescent literacy in today’s English classrooms. Portsmouth, NH:

  Heinemann.

Frey, N., & Fisher, D. (2013). Access Point Three: Collaborative Conversations. In Rigorous                       Reading: 5 Access Points for Comprehending Complex Texts (pp. 73-96). Thousand

        Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.

The Calm before the Storm

The Calm before the Storm

Let me preface this post by explaining that I love storms: I love the way the moisture in the air clings to the inside of my nose, the way the sky darkens as swollen clouds rapidly consume what was a clear blue sky just minutes before. I get chills when those first droplets of water touch the ground and I can’t help but smile when the thunder booms and echoes through the sky and the lightning illuminates its surroundings, contrasting with the darkness.

I have always referred to the first week of classes as the calm before the storm. Sure, you feel a little overwhelmed on the first day and you probably already have some (read: tons of) assigned reading and writing, but the first week is the calmest week you will endure during the semester.

As the typical Kansas storm forms in mere minutes, the academic storm forms in just one week: the blink of an eye to the student who works, takes classes, and has a field placement.

It is with eager anticipation that I await the moment when classes are in full swing but I also equally appreciate the days building up to that moment: days like today.

Today was my second day at my placement. I was armed with a desk, two months’ worth of lesson plans, a new seating chart, and my tangled nerves, twisted into an uncomfortable knot in the pit of my stomach. Nerves aren’t all bad for me, in fact the extra energy (read: borderline anxiety) pushes me to put myself out there and do my best. As “my” students filled the classroom, the hair on my arms began to stand upright. I donned a brave smile, greeted each student over the blaring end-of-passing-period music, and directed them to the seating chart. Over the course of the class period I tried to match names with faces and then test myself by passing back papers. I failed my test miserably: miserably but with a smile.  “This is the calm”, I thought to myself. This is the part where the darkness fills the sky and the water droplets begin to fall. I love the calm. I also love the storm.

I am the kind of person who likes to approach a problem, especially a challenge, head on. I am beyond excited to throw myself into teaching this class, bonding with these students, and absorbing everything I can from my CT while adding my own personal flair when appropriate. I am ready to try, succeed, fail, reflect, and try again.

As I adventure through this semester, I intend to find my teaching voice. It’s easy to put on a brave face when you’re teaching something that has already been created, reflected upon, and improved but when you are creating something on your own as a novice instructor and giving it to students it is something between judgement day and a cruel experiment (for me at least). Will my students understand what I’m trying to explain? Will they think this is too easy or too hard? Will they pick up on my silly puns? Is this the best way to present the information? I think that this is a necessary thought process for teachers before they present their students with new material but there comes a point when you have to trust yourself and your voice and give it a try. If it doesn’t work, you reflect and revise. My other goal for this semester is to include as many hands-on activities as possible. Getting students actively involved in the classroom is one of the best ways to get students directly involved with their learning; this makes the students responsible for their own education.

Bring on the storm!

Sincerely,

Ms. (Holli) Dawson