Choosing to Disturb the Universe brings Peace

In his poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", T.S. Elliot muses aloud:

And indeed there will be a time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"...
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?

Now is my time. There is a time to stand. On the verge of a new semester and a new year; having gone through an extended period of self- reflection and rebirth- now is my time. I've decided there are real times in a person's life when it's perfectly acceptable to disturb the universe and I'm ready. So I'm going to be bold moving into 2017. It's just time. "I can do this hard thing!" (Montessori).

I guess I should slow down a bit and try to explain myself. Perhaps in my story you will find the same kind of courage I have run into as we put 2016 mercifully away. Perhaps you'll find the same peace...

I can say unequivocally that the things that matter most to me are family, friends, my students, and my work- teaching history. (I love books too and writers who challenge me to think and the time I get to spend stringing my own words together in my journal and now in this blog, but they aren't as valued as the others.) 

I am incredibly fortunate to have a beautifully blessed family and great friends and colleagues at school. I am also very grateful for the kids I can count as my students. (Despite what people told me about them, I think they've been wonderful this school year... I truly do) However, 2016 has not always felt kind to me professionally. It's been a year filled with challenge and critique. I clearly was not ready and did not anticipate all that I would be asked to change and do differently without adequate time to think through and respond to as thoughtfully as I am accustomed. 

I'm a deep thinker- and enjoy challenge and change, but I struggle to work on this work when the plane is already in the air. This year I've been told to accept and get used to it. And as much as I've been uncomfortable with it, I feel like I can earnestly say I tried to rebuild several systems simultaneously without too much whining. I'm fortunate to have some good colleagues who let me mope a bit and then help me get up and push through. 

But there is a difference between continuous improvement and constant change. And there comes a time when you have to slow things down a bit for the sake of soul and sanity. It feels impossible to change everything all at once- yet the more I change the more I feel I'm being told has to change and for the first time in over 20 years in education I've been labeled by an evaluation system as less than my heart knows it is. For all the work I've put in it hardly seems right.

I'm a teacher of history in an era where administrators and systems openly tell you they don't care what story you tell as long as the majority of your time is spent teaching kids how to apply transferable skills to standardized tests. For those who make the big bucks data is now king and data that shows growth keeps everybody employed. But at what cost?

At the cost of story and identity? I think not. I cannot seem to reconcile that. I can change alot of how I do things and spend an ever increasing amount of time on skills and assessment- but I will not do so at the risk of my students not understanding who they are and where they come from. Their history matters and I'm not a language arts teacher. So I've decided this is an appropriate place to disturb the universe and buck back. I may have to reconsider how I'm going to tell the story- but I'm going to do it. And I'm going to do it well. My students deserve that.

My teacher soul has to get even more creative to do this according to standards and ever changing expectations that never seem to be completely, clearly spelled out for me- but here I'm determined to lead. Here I stronghold the line on following. I can do all things... right? Of course right. Thus the great disturbance. In not giving up the story I'll blow them away- I'm determined to show the world that one doesn't have to place more emphasis on skills than story to have students comprehend and value learning both. 

I don't expect this work to be easy- truth is I'll probably spend more time than ever working on curriculum and lesson planning, but I'm sure it will be risk rewarded; especially for my students. Moreover, in deciding to disturb the universe, I'm feeling better about finding peace- inner peace. I haven't given up who I am or what I deeply believe in. That's always worth disturbing the universe for- at least I think so... so here we go, on into 2017- more at peace, less personally distraught by challenge and change- ready to lead. Here's hoping you have found peace at the end of the year as well. Dona Nobis Pacem- from the latin, "Grant Us Peace". 

Savoring and Celebrating Reinvention

It's that time of year again- beyond Thanksgiving and into the Holiday Season; Christmas has sprung! And with it the sights and smells and sounds we enjoy for a month every December. I admit, I like the season of fresh green trees (we always have a real one) and bright twinkling lights. I've especially enjoyed the last seven years celebrating and bringing its traditions to life with our son- who is still a true believer of all things Santa.

He's a train kid and as of this morning we've already seen The Polar Express twice in all it's holiday glory. We've been watching it for years- ever since he first called it "Choo Choo Moo"- short for movie we think. Every year he seems to notice new details and hears words of the story that become new to him. This makes his mother and I laugh quite regularly. We love how the story always seems to hold something new and vibrant for his heart. This reinventing never gets old. In fact, we savor it.  I think there are elements of the whole season that do that for all of us. Things get reinvented for us in new and magnificent ways at magical times of the year like Christmas.

For me it's the Christmas music. And specifically it's John Denver and the Muppets. Ok... I admit it- I'm probably a Muppet at heart and John Denver's poetry in song has always been worth repeating- the world misses both he and Jim Henson something fierce. Their Christmas collaboration from the late 1970's  has remained with me annually since I was a boy my son's age. This is not a review of that work (and it probably could be), but rather a bigger statement about how things annually reinvent themselves in powerful ways that keep us going- and keep our strongholds alive.

I have great memories of listening to the album I originally owned on LP. I sang parts of its magic for friends at my mother's New You club when I was eight or nine years old. I've owned it as a cassette and now have it on CD. I love pulling it out the day after Thanksgiving and giving it its full merry measure until I am finally forced to put it away- usually about the same time we go back to school and this year that's January 9th! So maybe I can savor it's magic just a little bit longer.

This annual reinventing is full of timeless words and lyrics and story that touch my heart each year in new and different ways. It never gets old. This year it's simple lines from The Peace Carol and Kermit's dream of a Christmas Wish. Moreover songs like When the River Meets the Sea and A Baby Just Like You bring the real meaning of the season back for me year after year. I'm sure the season's music and traditions do this for millions of people. I like the way traditions reinvent themselves for me and I'm really enjoying seeing that for with my son as well.

Reinvented Holiday Joys  and Traditions are keeping me going strong this December. I hope that's true for you as well. There's great magic in stories that stay with us and reinvent themselves year after year- magic worth holding on to and savoring and celebrating. I hope you're enjoying some reinvention at this special time too.

"If you believe in love, that will be more than enough for you to come and celebrate with me"- Kermit the Frog

A Mighty Chorus

"Community is a place where the connections felt in our hearts make themselves known in the bonds between people, and where the tuggings and pullings of those bonds keep opening our hearts."

                                                - Parker Palmer

I'm feeling lucky. I work with so many gifted and talented colleagues who keep my heart open. And as we approach Thanksgiving this year I can honestly say they are a large part of what keeps me going in challenging times.

I recently told a colleague that as a teacher I sometimes feel like my cat. I appreciate a kind word about my work with my students from time to time the same way he needs a little love and attention. I guess I was kind of complaining that I never hear anything positive from administrators who are my bosses- thinking they don't value my efforts much. Listening carefully, my friend let me finish and then shared with me some things my tired heart had missed about my administrative team and their reactions to work we all did. Before I knew it, a simple conversation I began as a bit of a gripe session blossomed into an hour and a half of mentoring and sharing work and ideas. It was time spent that I definitely needed.

And I didn't just get some much needed attention from CRL. I have had time recently to talk with many colleagues. I've talked to Joseph and Jess and Liz and everyday with Cass. I've talked some with Wendy and Pat and Kath too. And all of these conversations have done my worn heart good. They've come at a time when I needed them.

Like so many educators, we're constantly in a state of change. We're constantly trying new resources and being asked to tweak and change systems to better serve our students. And it gets overwhelming. The work sometimes makes me feel alone with my struggle to keep up and provide quality lessons for students. I guess that's why I feel like my cat- a little positive attention can go a long way to keep hearts going and purring and happy.

Truthfully, I certainly still have plenty to sing about when it comes to student growth. But when I get tired and worn, I have a hard time singing about it alone. I need the help of others to help me hit the high notes.

We see so much good change happening with our kids. and many of the conversations we're trying to have in our PLC speak to that good growth and to seeing how many students we work with appear to be further ahead than ever. So our work has impact, it does pay off. And yet as teachers we know we can't sit still or we'll lose the momentum. So we keep rebuilding, keep changing, keep thinking, keep doing. We feel like we have to keep practicing to make the melodies magical.

But sometimes we get tired and the music doesn't flow. This year I got tired earlier than usual. I don't generally start feeling worn until mid- winter. So I'm grateful to have found some colleagues this week and to have gotten some of their positive reinforcement and listening ears. It made a huge difference. Conversation matters.

Moving into Thanksgiving break its easy to identify who I'm thankful for at school. I'm grateful for a community of colleagues who share my strongholds and believe in our work. They truly keep my heart open and alive with the kindness and affirmations I needed to help me help students continuously improve and grow (especially when I'm feeling tired). 

This week I feel like I'm not singing alone, but as part of a mighty chorus- and I'm grateful.

"Learning" standards

I am looking forward to Monday. In fact I can't wait to spend more time with my students. I've been enjoying watching them learn so much lately. In fact, they may be a bit on overload, as many of our eighth graders were able to participate as they spent some real time hearing from three different authors last week. And I know the visits had impact.

While I was only responsible for one of those visits and colleagues supplied the time and energy to make the others happen- they were three dynamic experiences. Something we know we need to spend time planning for and executing for our students. Experiences in addition to their regular schooling truly color their world and help spur growth.

Now I want to find out just how much growth- what was the impact of the experience? What can we do with what we learned? Unless we do something as a result of our time spent in experience we aren't setting standards worth reaching. But I feel good about that part- my students are good at setting and reaching for high standards. I've been watching them set and achieve since August when our journey began. This is how growth occurs.

As history/ literacy educators ,we set standards for reading, writing, speaking, listening, and thinking. These standards, according to Webster's,  are described as a level of quality or attainment . In my building we are beginning to label student's achievement as basic, emerging, proficient, and excelling according to descriptors we provide that describe what they should know and be able to do at fixed points in their experience as eighth graders. And as I said, I think my students are pretty good at setting and achieving those standards.
 
One standard we have been working on is Inquiry standard SS. IC. 6-8 M.C.  Communicating Conclusions. The authors of the standard suggest mastery happens when students can present arguments and explanations that would appeal to a wide appeal to an audience and venues outside the classroom using a variety of media. My students see this as learning to tell/ teach history to others in the form of story- based on claims they make from research they have conducted.
 
Our visit this week was with author and story teller Brain "Fox" Ellis of Bishop Hill, Illinois. Fox worked with each of my classes, first by modeling a couple of good stories (all in all he played a dozen different characters on Friday) and then by eliciting some conversation with students about the process of remembering and telling and teaching. At then end of the day he conducted a more extensive work shop for some additional students who will serve as teachers to their classmates, sharing techniques he taught, so that we can all improve our ability to share story. His work with them was genius. And I know they were learning- it was written all over their faces and reflected in their conversations and the risks they were willing to take. I know there was learning- that's what I'm celebrating and strong holding this morning.
 
I will never forget how Tina reacted to Walt Whitman's recitation of O Captain, My Captain and subsequent telling of how the death of President Lincoln effected him at the end of the Civil War. I totally enjoyed watching my students learn from an old German woman who was held as a prisoner of war during World War II or an African American woman and slave who told her story of losing her son to the Confederate cause only to find him again. Their experiences with Fox (and friends)literally further opened my students eyes to a whole new way of learning history and teaching history.

I'm so grateful for Fox and his time and his talent- and I can't wait to hear what my students will do with this learning and how they will transfer it to their own performances. For I am sure that they will. That was our intended standard for the day. I am confident my students loved the experience- now they will seize the day and do something with their learning.
 

 
 "History is a story waiting to be found"... (stories) "remind us how we got here." (Mike)
 





This week my students learned an awful lot about telling stories. And as a result I have every confidence they will more willingly take on the tasks of digging deeper, reading closer, thinking deeply, writing stronger, and telling wonderful stories. They'll set new standards for themselves because they want to be good at what they do. They will see the challenge and raise the bar for themselves and I can't wait to see it. I always love watching them "learn" standards. Before long they'll all be excelling- for excelling can be contagious- and I that is worth celebrating for sure!

KNOW THY IMPACT? YES, IN THE SMALL THINGS THAT LIFT US UP!

Know thy Impact. That's our adopted theme for the new school year, where I teach.  Our focus is on data. and making sound decisions around instructional practices based on data we regularly review and discuss in our professional learning communities. While, I'm not always entirely enthused about the amount of data that's been made available to me about my students, I give the leadership in my building credit for not telling us exactly what data we must discuss or how we must discuss it, but instead giving us room to make those important decisions ourselves.

Frankly, that's made the journey easier and honestly, I feel like my co- teacher and I have had some great discussions about teaching and learning using data to help us become more focused on work students really need to be engaged in to improve their reading and writing. We are making better progress mastering standards. Data has been a helpful guide. In fact, 83% of our 157 students showed solid growth on our first unit of study, working to master standards 1, 2, and 4 I'm proud of that. I'm proud of them!

But I wonder, does data have to deeply govern ALL of the decisions we make about teaching and learning? Are there times when growth can be witnessed outside the numbers? And can we still be allowed to make great choices about what kinds of things we know deep in our teaching hearts will impact students without using data to prove it? Where is the balance? 

Recently, We've been gifted with an excellent opportunity to bring in an incredible professional author and story teller for a day of learning that we are confident will have great impact on our students as they work on saying out loud what they are learning about the past and how it impacts their future. Research suggests when students can teach someone else they are getting closer to mastery, so per our own goals for helping students read and write better- we are also committed to helping students learn to say it out loud and teach each other through the lens of story telling.

You should have seen many of them perform their stories last week about progressive personalities, first for themselves and later at our Night at the Museum event... we were so proud! It's worthy work and we believe it's making a big impact as students research and write and learn to say what they have learned. But we can't prove it. And because we can't prove it we're having a hard time getting the kind of support required for the day of learning that we want to provide for our students with this high quality professional.

So, we're  being encouraged and allowed to pursue the event- but in a way that we fear diminish the contributions offered to a true professional. That won't stop us, and we'll be wise about trying to find a way to quantify his impact so that we leave the door open to future collaborations. We know we must persevere in the work because of the impact we have already seen- the confidence and skill students develop as they learn to share their learning out loud for others.

 Our students deserve these kind of experiences whenever we can provide them. And as teachers we shouldn't have to prove impact in ALL things with numbers. It kind of sucks the joy out of this part of the journey- ya know? When we should be celebrating, we are left wrestling with ways to make great work and experiences happen... so we become conditioned to wrestle- because we know we must to make impact happen.

As a big Cubs fan, this has been a special kind of year! As a baseball lover I'm aware of a statistic used in baseball these days used to measure the impact a given baseball player has on his team's success called W.A.R. or wins above replacement. If a player is a 5 W.A.R. player it means he will help his team win five more games during that given season. I worry that education is heading that way as well- in order to get support for events and experiences that we know will impact students will we first have to prove that they are worth the resources using data as our evidence? Seems so.

And that's left us in a quandary... and feeling down and unsupported. But we keep trudging forward working to make it happen against the grain of expectations and quantification because our teacher hearts demand it. It's what we stronghold... a certain stubbornness.

In the meantime we are reminded that impact can be measured in other ways too. Small and powerful things that lift us up. We've witnessed students take great risks to perform a bit of a story in front of supportive peers. We've watched parents interact with young story tellers and seen the joy and pride in their eyes. as students memorize a piece they've written and work on using gestures as they make eye contact and get beyond the traditional "just read it off the page", pride and confidence grow in them and our teacher hearts swell as we watch this growth take place. It's these little things that are of great worth to us- and to our students. They lift us up! And we celebrate them... excited for where we know they will they take students as they journey to master more than just standards.

There is impact here- and we don't need numbers to prove it!

PUSHING PERSEVERANCE and STAMINA

Perseverance and stamina. These are two words I way overthink at school. And I fear wrongly. For years I've complained and wondered why students really struggle to "stick with" certain tasks- especially reading tasks and work that challenges them. Now that my students all work out of chrome books everyday, the "problem" is something I think about even more. But my thinking is starting to change.

I've been wondering, where did I learn perseverance? I've been thinking about that a lot. I don't know why I never thought to do this before- but I didn't... but now that I have, the memories have really helped me think differently about things.

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I learned about perseverance and stamina in seventh grade. I spent seventh and eighth grades at a boarding school away from home. Part of our daily activities involved starting each day with a run. We had to run at least one mile but were given the opportunity to run three. If we could run three miles up to the truck stop, Pastor Ken would buy us breakfast. That was a treat.

So I learned to run- not all three miles at once, but each time I set out I would get a little further than I did the time before. Learning to run is psychological. The more I reflect on it, the more I can remember conversations I had with myself between school and the truck stop. I can literally remember learning to push myself. And I can remember the first time I made all three miles without stopping. I'm not sure I was ever more proud of myself than I was then. I can still taste the chocolate milk celebration. Those were good days.

So where do students learn to push themselves? Do they learn to push themselves? As teachers are we more responsible for the pushing? What motivated me to push myself? breakfast?? or was it something bigger? What might motivate my students to push themselves? Is pushing even appropriate? Is this process as psychological for them as running was for me? Do they talk to themselves? Teach themselves? How do they learn to be perseverant?

so many questions.... deep in my heart I know how I really feel about this... the answer is a resounding YES! I really believe I should push them. Gently. But, yes, as a teacher there are real times when pushing is good for my students. So I do. And I hope the process is somewhat psychological or metacognitive- because then it will stick. I hope they are talking to themselves just like I did out on the road between school and the truck stop.

So I push and I watch. And they dig in... they work- hard! And I get excited! The results are good. In the end I make them talk to themselves, by writing about the process of going through all that hard work. There has to be value in that. There certainly was for me.

This week we'll celebrate those good results. We'll celebrate the way my students have responded to the prodding.

What a privilege to watch them work hard on these writing tasks. They weren't easy and they were time consuming. The work caused them to really dig for the right text to support their well constructed claims. I got to see them work at being thoughtful about word choice and providing citations. And for them most part, even though it took lots of time, they pushed themselves. And I got to watch it happen.

Time to celebrate. (and reflect on process)

As I reflect on these last few days, I think some of what we saw happened because we decided not to accept the final, finished work, until we went over it with them and asked them prodding questions that allowed them to see how they could improve the work before turning it in. But they had to choose to work at making the improvements. They had to choose to push themselves and they did.

That is definitely worth celebrating! It was truly an honor to see them work so hard and I'm sure I witnessed growth over the three days it took to construct those responses. They weren't easy tasks- but the students persevered. I am so proud!

As a teacher I think I'm pretty good at pushing. And I guess I always have been, but hadn't really realized it until this week. Ironically as much as I've really been thinking about perseverance and stamina I remembered an old drawing a student of almost twenty years ago did of me that hangs above my work bench in the garage- he labeled me a "slave driver"! It's kinda funny- but it is who I have learned to become at times- so I'll own that title and celebrate it, because I think it's worthwhile to be "pushy" sometimes and to stronghold high standards.

This week I have no regrets that we pushed- but I do have a lot of celebrating to do- with my students.

(drawing by Mike Riffel, 1991 or 1992?)

It's "knowing" that matters- the harvest WILL come.

Gifts

Growing up We said a traditional Catholic "Grace Before Meals" daily. I must have uttered the phrase "Bless us O Lord for these thy gifts" hundreds of times always with the understanding we were speaking of the food that was set before us. Today, I'm thinking differently of what is meant by "gifts".

It's been a tough couple of weeks. School's demands are growing. We are being pushed more and more to have conversations about the copious amounts of data we have been collecting and that's been given from the vast amount of tests we continue to give. As a teacher, I feel like I'm spending more time on data and less time on planning... and while I know I've got to find a way to make these things work together as part of my system, I'm not there yet. I'm struggling to see how to marry them. That makes my work less joy- filled and more stressful.

At home, we've been struggling to keep the grass cut and the dishes washed and the laundry washed and folded. There just hasn't been much time for slowing and playing; things we believe in and value.

As I sit here on a Monday morning we've just completed a weekend of celebrating weddings and funerals. I'm feeling a bit drained. Some time for pausing and reflecting is in order. So I stopped. I took a day and decided to pause. I needed some time for catching up and to write.

Beginning and Ends

I'm feeling like I see alot of beginnings and ends lately. I've just witnessed the beginning of life for a beautiful and happy couple. I've seen beginning steps toward more mature decisions and better choices by my students. There have been some ends as well. The loss of my wife's beloved grandmother, the loss of time for detailed planning as I have always known it, and the loss of time for family.

Beginnings and ends have been ever present and more obvious in recent days and thoughts. I'm not sure how to necessarily handle them all as they seem to come and go so quickly and there are only so many hours in a day. So I hang on. And I decided to continue to look for the good and celebrate the positive- no matter what. My wife's cousin chose to take the occasion to remind us in her beautiful eulogy for their grandmother that children, through their young eyes see life for its good, before the eyes of the adult world catch up and confuse what and how we see things. I need to see things through younger eyes again. So I begin looking.

And I find reminders of these good things when I take the time to look. In a blessing before meals "gifts" in my minds eye have gone from the food we were fortunate to receive to the people we are surrounded by. I'm so fortunate during trying times to be surrounded by people that help me stand strong and bring a smile to my face as I struggle some. They are my gifts. I guess I may have spent too much time with bowed head as I uttered those words, failing to look up and see what was right in front of me; the gift of family and friends I was sharing the meal with with in addition to the nutrition I was getting.

Looking up, mid way through last week, I ran into Marge Piercy's "The Seven of Pentacles". And while I didn't have time to enter the entire poem into my journal. I tucked away a few lines that touched me and promised myself I'd get the rest when I had a quality moment for doing so. Her verse (shared below) reminds me of the beginnings and ends I'm witnessing.They remind me that real work; honest attention to detail, and following my heart's passion and recognition of the "gifts" I've received are all worth it. Especially because the fruits come with their internal clock. The long season does yield a harvest worth celebrating. It doesn't matter when the gifts arrive, it's knowing that they will always be present that matters.

So I'll stay the course. I'll celebrate both beginnings and ends. I'll recognize the gifts. and I'll take the harvest whenever it comes. It's always going to be be a part of my stronghold.

"The Seven of Pentacles"

by Marge Piercy

Under a sky the color of pea soup

she is looking at her work growing away there

actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans

as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.

If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,

if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,

if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,

if the praying mantis comes and the lady bugs and the bees,

then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.

You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.

More than half a tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.

Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.

Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.

Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.

Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.

Live a life you can endure: make love that is loving.

Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in,

a thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside but to us

interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.

Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen:
reach out, keep reaching out, keep bringing in.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,
for every gardener knows that after the digging, after
     the planting,

after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.