Tag Archives: Reflection

“Why Should I Trust You?”

Erika Bogdany, Pedagogy, Strategies to Add Some Zip August 17, 2013 Comments: 3

Our Compass Shifts 2-1Every year at this time just as I’m about to focus on, and plan for, this upcoming school year; I remember a very powerful moment I keep with me – always.  This moment, and more specifically this very innocent yet profound notion, continually resonates with me.  I make sure to put myself back in my Day One shoes, standing in front of my class comprised solely of eager male high school freshmen looking to challenge me, test me, but ultimately, accept me (as their educator).

*****

“Good Morning!  I’m Ms. Bogdany.  I am…”

(And we’re off!  This introduction (being oh-so-carefully crafted and rehearsed) had a very distinct mission: do not lead on to the fact that this moment marks your very first day educating in Brooklyn, one of the five boroughs of New York City; the most comprehensive public school system within the United States.  Breathe.  Just keep breathing!  You’ve got this!)

As my introduction was coming to a close, it was time.  Questions.

“So, does anyone have any questions for me?”

At that, I see one particular student’s hand confidently emerge into the air.  This unique student coolly, and wildly presuming, asks:  “Why should I trust you?”  (Wait, Wait, Wait.  Wait!  No one prepared me for this!  Ok.  Just keep breathing, Erika…I mean Ms. Bogdany.  I mean…   Breathe and answer the question.  Quickly, all eyes are on you.) 

I found myself simply replying, “You shouldn’t.” (Did I just say that?!)

 At that, he put his hand down, smirked, and the weight in the room (for all of us) lifted.  The truth surfaced.  I realized what I just admitted.  This unique student was satisfied.

 *****

Throughout the years, I’ve come to realize that Day One truly defines and shapes the journey we all embark on together as a class community, so I need to be ready.  While each year presents unforeseen opportunities and obstacles, I ask myself endless questions before the school year even commences; before I know who my students are; and way before I know how our community is going to function as a whole.  Annually, I will probably continue to do so; yet I always end up finding my way back to this guiding, eight-year-old question, “Why should I trust you?”  Once this question rests its reassuring presence on my question-filled mind, I settle back into the comforts of the same revelation: It’s simple, in order for students to trust me, I need to trust myself.

Disclaimer:  Starting the school year needs to feel authentic…for students and educators alike.  In answering my student’s question for him and the students in that same class; and for all of my students to come…I am not certain of much, but I am certain that the following three intangibles prove to create trust among all of the communities in which I have been fortuitous to be a part of.  For me the most authentic success resides largely within the art of teaching, not the science. 

Create the classroom you’ve always dreamed of!

See beyond the institutional green walls and peeling paint.  Do you see the mismatched desks, tables, chairs, bookshelves…?  You shouldn’t.  This is your canvas so paint it.  There are limitations to all of our working environments, and we know it.  Take charge…change it around…move things…turn things upside down…whatever it takes.  Students know when we’ve invested our time and energy into our shared space; and they are appreciative of it.

Students are less resistant to become a part of a class community when they know educators are doing the best we can to make them feel welcomed in a space that lends itself to learning, teaching, challenging, questioning, struggling, and movement.  Give them the paintbrush, they’re sure not to disappoint.

Where’s the library?!

The inquiries students have about the world never cease to amaze me.  They internalize their own struggles, or struggles of their families and friends, and don’t often know how to process what they’re experiencing.  Hill Harper guides our young men and women via Letters to a Young Brother and Letters to a Young Sister as Esmeralda Santiago does in When I was Puerto Rican.  Other times students want to explore worlds beyond their own; they want someone to guide them through the land, culture, religion…differences.  The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho takes them on quite the journey.  Sometimes students want to just escape; don’t we all?  Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson is comical, relative to students’ lives, and wildly crafty.

Despite the content area in which we educate, it is powerful beyond measure to have literature lining our walls, stacked on tabletops, and accessible to students.  Teaching math this year?  Stock up on biographies of mathematicians such as Emmy Noether: The Mother of Modern Algebra.  Science educators, have you thought about The Hot Zone by Richard Preston or The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch?  Art and Music educators, books with visuals, lyrics, memoirs, and struggles of artists (of all kinds) are empowering for our young emerging artists; it makes it real.  Howard Sounes takes on an enlightening journey with Down the Highway: The Life of Bob Dylan.  History.  Non-fiction heaven!  Night by Elie Wiesel, A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah, The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Alex Haley.  There are more…

Make a decision! 

There are so many unknowns we face daily as educators: We take risks before we even realize we’re doing so.  We find ourselves as the ‘go to’ when we know we don’t have answers.  We internally battle if students should leave their ID card in return for a writing utensil.  We wonder when to push a student verse when they have truly reached their limit (for the time being).  We grapple with riding the waves of a ‘teachable moment’ or tossing aside our planned lesson.  We all know, the list is endless.

Rest assured.  When we allow ourselves to make decisions we are giving ourselves permission to trust ourselves.  We are setting the tone for students that while decision making can be difficult, we must trust ourselves in the process, and make students privy to the journey through this process.  Because here’s the reality, when we model our own decision making, students start to follow our lead.  When we exhibit our ability to be independent thinkers and change agents, students are inspired to do the same.  Before we know it, students are showing us the way.

And so, as we all gear up and find ourselves in the midst of the ‘get ready whirlwind’; let’s think about how we can answer (so our students don’t have to), “Why should I trust you?”

Reflection: I Really Want to Have That Bad*** Celebration

Amy Rasmussen, Readers Workshop March 20, 2013 Comments: 2

I sat in the conference room with eight other educators as we tried to figure out how to save one kid. He’d been recommended for special education services, but it was clear within the first few minutes of the meeting that he did not qualify. He rarely attends class– and so many other factors. There are gaps in his learning wider than should ever happen in the life of a child.

“He says he didn’t attend third grade,” one teacher said.

“I thought he repeated third,” another said as she flipped through his file. “He jumped to fifth,” she finally says.

“He spent most of one year out of the country. Never was in school.”

“Father was deported.”

“Foster care for a while.”

“How did this child ever get through middle school?”

Silence. No one has the answer.

He’s 15, and he can barely read and write. He’s easily five years behind his peers in basic skills. No wonder he doesn’t want to be in class. 

kunalnagi.blogspot.com

kunalnagi.blogspot.com

This is the tall and husky, bright eyed young man who told me a month ago that he’d never read a whole book. I got him to try one: 4 grade reading level. He gave it 10 minutes before he started messing with his headphones. When I asked him why he gave up, he told me he’d read the first two pages three times, and it didn’t make sense. I gave him another book: 2.5 reading level. He agreed to try. He read for 20 minutes. The longest I’ve ever seen him attempt anything remotely academic.

At the end of class he asked me if he could take the book with him. “Sure, I said, will you really read it?” He told me yes with a shy smile, and he tucked that Bluford High book into his backpack. “How do you think it will feel when you finish that book?” I asked. “It will be badass” was his honest reply, and he waited to see how I would respond. I told him that if he’d finish that book and have a talk with me, we’d have a celebration– a badass celebration. He grinned his approval.

Sadly, I’ve only seen him twice since that conversation. He came to class once, but we were in the middle of a district assessment, and he sat playing with his new red headphones. The other time I saw him was in passing–literally. He passed by my room instead of coming in for class. Sigh.

I left that meeting today feeling like a failure, but I know it’s not my fault. This child needs one-on-one instruction. He also needs a mentor, a tutor, a life coach, a sponsor, a guide, a therapist. I am just one teacher who gave a $1 book to a kid who can barely read.

It’s a bit unsettling. And it’s quite disturbing. What happens to this child? What does his life look like when he’s gone from here? And, always the question: Could I have done more?

Somehow, someway, I really want to have that badass celebration.

Reflections of an Arrogant Teacher

Amy Rasmussen, Pedagogy November 17, 2012 Comments: 4

I was only in the classroom one day this week. I spent two days in training learning how to be an instructional coach, and then I skipped town and headed to Las Vegas to the National Council of English Teachers Conference.

I learned in training that when I go into other teachers’ classrooms to observe, and I become judgmental and critical with thoughts like: “Oh, honey, what were you thinking when you decided to become a teacher?” I am arrogant. I should presume positive intent and ask questions that will lead that teacher to find her way into better pedagogy. Okay. I can do that. Maybe.

But what about the children? Sitting there. Unengaged. Not thinking. Not trying. Not learning.

I learned at the opening session of NCTE that “kids are naturally creative; teaching is an art form; education is the single most important thing in many people’s lives.” Sir Ken Robinson spoke about imagination and how it is the heart of human life: “Imagination is the well-spring of everything it means to be human…and creativity is applying imagination, putting it to work.”

So much of what I’ve seen in classrooms is (sigh) nothing close to creativity. And, I am guilty, too. So much of what I have kids do in my own classroom lacks the application that beats within the heart.

Robinson said: “Teaching is an art form. It is not a delivery system. We must engage people imaginatively in the creative process.” Drop out rates are high, 30-40%; 60% in some areas.

“We cannot blame the kids!”

If kids cannot feel important, like their ideas matter, like their voices will be heard, why should they try to learn? If kids feel like they cannot color rainbows like zebras and peacocks like penguins, how can we expect them to write verse like Shakespeare or turn a marble slab into a David?

How can we expect them to write an essay that has “engaging characters and an interesting plot”?

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Robinson reminded me: “If you love something you work at, you never have to work again.”

Now, I am thinking: How does this apply to me as a coach? How can I help my teachers love teaching? How can I get them to stop blaming the kids and start championing creativity?

How does this apply to me as a teacher? “Teaching is more like agriculture than engineering,” Robinson said. How am I adjusting my climate control? How am I continually creating a climate of growth?

So I learned this week that I am arrogant. I am judgmental. I am critical. I don’t mean to be, and I will do a better job of changing my thinking so I can help others change.

But they better hurry.

What about the children?

“Risk”
And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom.
~Anais Nin

I Want to Be That Teacher

Amy Rasmussen, AP English, Readers Workshop, Writers Workshop August 13, 2011 1 Comment

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Lately on Facebook I’ve noticed a rash of “You know you grew up in _____ if…” status updates. The comments vary from favorite restaurants and haunts to town and school traditions. It’s been interesting to note how often the conversation turns to high school teachers, and surprisingly, most of the comments are positive. I am fascinated by what people remember.

I have a few memories of my own:

Mr. Strittmatter who wrote out algebraic equations as if they were poetry, and I finally got math.
Mr. Tisdel who loved Melville and planted in me a love of literature.
Mrs. Shirey who devoted hours of her life, so I could say I created a great yearbook.

But here’s the thing: when I try to analyze what they did, I come up short. Was it kindness, patience, passion for their content, the sheer joy of teaching? A myriad of other things? I don’t know.

I do know I remember them: names, faces, the way they made me feel.

In a week, I start my 6th year teaching, and as I think about how I will partner with my students one question resonates:

What do teachers do that create the impact on a student that lasts for decades?

I want to be that teacher.