Field trippin'

Two months and no posts...I am terrible. I swear, this is the week when I turn it all around. Or so I say. Today was the fifth grade's second journey to the National Museum of the American Indian. We took the city bus, but as this was the second time around, we seemed to have the hang of it. A shout goes out to our inclusion specialist Ms. Palmer, who bravely accompanied us today. I couldn't (and certainly wouldn't) have done it without her.

Last year I did not plan any of my own field trips, so these past few weeks have taught me many things. Here are a few:

1. Be sure to call when running late to avoid having the principal threaten to not let you go on any field trips again, ever. (Fortunately, after brief consideration, he relented.)
2. Read the entire bus schedule. The little dashes mean the bus does not actually go to your desired destination.
3. No amount of preparation can predict how the carefully crafted structure sheets will work when in the hands of actual students. Or flying out of the hands of actual students across the National Mall and probably ending up somewhere in Virginia.
4. Don't plan on actually having the kids eat the authentic Native American food from the food court when chicken fingers and fries are an option.

And so on, and so forth. We are going to the same museum again next week, and as always I will have to adjust what I had planned. The important thing, though, was that we all learned something. Just kidding. The actual important thing was that we made it back to school in one piece, with all of our coats, hats, gloves and notebooks.

An anecdote for today:
A challenge that I would have written about long before had I posted with any regularity is that I have a student in my class who is a brand new arrival from the Dominican Republic. Not only did he come in speaking no English, he is quite the lively (read: exhausting) fellow. At least now he asks if he can go to the bathroom rather than shouting "Voy al baño" on his way out the door. But anyway, he didn't bring money for the authentic Native American cuisines/chicken fingers today, probably because I did not actually tell him that this was something we were doing. I must remember to translate these essential items into Spanish. So, since he was the only one without money for a snack and I actually did want to try some Native American food, I bought him some food as well. I was thinking as we sat down that I should have gotten a soda for myself when out of nowhere Miguel (as I will call him) pulls out a plastic cup from who-knows-where and pours half his drink into it for me. What can I say about that other than quoting the great lyricist Brad Paisley. "Oh, I live for little moments like that."

As I say, or even think this, I am knocking on our hand-me-down, fake-wood IKEA desk, but this year is off to a roaring start. Today was my second full day of school with the children (all half days last week) and it has been great. Our Internet hasn't been working at school, so I can't attach any of my cool new lessons and such, but I'll share a few.

Part of our new charter school model is math workshop, which is great. We have 90 minutes of math each day, and the first forty-five are spent reviewing (and relearning) basic skills like adding, subtracting, and identifying even and odd numbers (today's topic). Then, though, in the second 45 minutes, the fun begins. The children are broken into mixed-ability groups (the same ones each day) and given a multi-step problem. Yesterday, they had to figure out how many M & Ms they would have after a week if they got one the first day, two the second day, etc. The trickiest part of the workshop is getting the kids to write about their answers rather than just putting down a number. Their answers have to include four things: a correct answer, a step-by-step explanation of how they solved the problem, pictures or equations and an interpretation of the answer (i.e. Mrs. Runge got 127 M&Ms for her birthday). Yesterday was our first math workshop and they did fairly well, but today some of them really rocked out. It makes me look forward to continuing with this group as the year goes on.

Whew. I am seriously tired and it's only nine-thirty. Not surprising that newly married + working at least 10 hours a day = exhaustion. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Is that chalkdust I smell?

Ah, yes. As summer draws to a close, the smell of chlorine and grilled steaks (or tofu) gives way to other odors that induce fond childhood memories. Even though I am beginning my third year as a teacher and have grown somewhat accustomed to being the one with the big desk, the smells of school always manage to take me back.
School starts for our students in a mere 13 days, but as teachers, we are already back in action. My fans have reminded me (okay, so maybe it was just one, and she's related to me) that with the start of school it is time for me to resume my more-infrequent-than-I-would-like blog posts. As I have discussed previously (I think), this year marks another period of transition because although my school building is the same, we have converted from Catholic to Charter, or, more simply, private to public. I also had to give up my prime location across from the girls' bathroom, but I am hoping that since my new room previously belonged to one of the greatest teachers ever, I am inheriting a good vibe.
Along with a new room and a new mission, I have almost a completely new set of coworkers. So far, so good, though. Each of them seems passionate about children (a quality that an alarming number of teachers lack) and I think I may have even found a kindred spirit or two in the bunch.
This summer was a trip, literally and figuratively. I am now joyfully Mrs. Kurt Runge, and in the past months I have spent time in Illinois, Michigan, Kentucky and the Dominican Republic, all on top of, oh yes, getting married here in DC. It was great fun, but I am glad to be home with my new husband, who will be starting his last year of grad school on Monday.
This week, I plan on finishing the setting up of my classroom and going door to door trying to recruit a few more students. One of my coworkers suggested I wear jeans so that I am not mistaken for a Jehovah's witness. As you can tell, these people are already concerned for my welfare.

Black like me?

Mondays always seem to leave me with a head so full of...stuff? that all I can do is come home, drink lots of water, stare at the TV (on or not) and then writing things like "stuff" before falling into bed. Today was great, especially considering that it was raining for the too-many-th day in a row (or maybe indoor recess just makes it feel that way). I left for 15 minutes to gobble some lunch only to come back to a shrugging PE teacher surrounded by some hostile looking fifth graders. Before I could deduce what had happened, someone told me that we were all out of incident reports for "the box". When I left for lunch, there were about twenty blank reports left. I knew that we were in big trouble.

A side note - After trying all manner of disciplinary techniques throughout the course of the year, one that I have settled upon for arbitrating minor grievances works like this: A student who has an issue with someone else records the pertinent details along with the names of all involved on an incident report. Before recess, I go through "the box" (quotation marks compliments of the ever dramatic 5th graders). All parties not mentioned may go out for recess, and all others must stay until things get sorted out. If nothing else, it forces the students to consider whether or not their problem is serious enough to warrant missing part of recess. Also, I find that by keeping all relevant persons detained, I have a chance to get all aspects of the story before rendering, or arriving at, a potential solution. A copy of the blank incident reports (4 to a page in the interest of the environment and the encouragement of brevity) can be found by clicking the link below.

Blank incident report

So, anyway, apparently someone touched someone who said something about someone who in turn said something about someone's Mama. Yep. Hence the indoor recess brain overload.

Bedtime is upon me, but I don't feel like changing my ingenious title of this post, so one last story for the night. David is doing his country report on China, which led to a discussion of Chinatown in DC. Amazed to find out that there are real, live Chinese people living in his city, David comments, "So, it's like black people and Chinese people, mostly?" I look at him a little sideways and try not to laugh as I boggle his mind further.
"Well, there are other people, too. For example, by Naisha's house, there are lots of people from Mexico and other Spanish speaking countries." (Insert brief digression on the part of Naisha re: loud dance club and parking shortage in her neighborhood.)
"They speak Spanish in Mexico?" David asks.
Trying to distract myself from thoughts of my failures as a social studies teacher, I say, "And, I mean, I live in DC, too."
"So?" says David, looking quite confused as to the point of my comment.
"Well," I say, now somewhat confused myself, "I'm not black."
"Then what is you?" (Yep, there go any illusions about my grammar teaching as well).
"Naisha," I say, wanting to be sure that not all my students are as ethnocentric(?) as David, "How would you classify me, racially speaking?"
"Um, I think, uh, you're just white, right?"
"Yes, yes, I am."
"You is?" (David, again. At least, I tell myself, he stopped saying "I'm am" about mid-October)
"I am. Why did you think I was black? Am I just cooler than most white people you know?"
"Yes."
Well, okay then. Where were we? Oh yeah. The landforms of China. At the very least, I will tell myself as I fall into bed tonight, I allow my students to fully flesh out their misconceptions before I attempt to unravel them. And, at least, as white people go, I am pretty cool.

P.S. I wrote a paper in college about how I did not wish to racially identify myself based solely on my skin color. I got a B- and a comment from my TA that it is a privilege of the white race to be able to decide not to racially identify oneself. Three years later, I am happily unsure of what box my students might check for me. Go figure.

6 weeks (or so) and counting

It has been forever since I've posted, and of course I feel bad about that. It reminds my of my junior high pen pal and I, who liked the idea of writing letters, but when it came down to it, were never as dedicated as we hoped to be. Consequently we started pretty much every letter with, "Sorry it took me so long to write back". My favorite hard-time giver gave me a hard time about this here blog yesterday, so I decided to spend my recess time casting my thoughts in to the "blogosphere". (I heard someone use that word in a sentence for the first time last week, and it is too cheesy not to put in quotation marks when using it in written form).

Today, as a part of our mystery unit, my class explored the elements of a book review. I have created this nifty sheet for analyzing genres (a term I use loosely to mean forms of writing), and for the two genres we've broken down so far, it has worked quite well. You can download the form by clicking on the link below.

Genre analysis sheet

To use this sheet, my class reads a few examples of a certain kind of writing, such as a book review or a mystery. (For the mystery analysis, I chose a book that we had already read as a class, James and Deborah Howe's Bunnicula, or as one student insists upon calling it, Binocula). Though a discussion of the pieces, we come up with 5 or 6 elements of the genre. For book reviews, we chose the following elements: summary, favorite part of the book, quotations and details, recommendation (or not) and leaving out important information. We record the elements on the genre analysis sheet, define the elements, then look at two example works and pick out the various elements. Finally, the students write, in their own words, what the purpose is for writing in that particular genre. Author's purpose is something that was on the standardized test that they just took, and I think that this sheet is a way to teach that using authentic examples.

That's enough teacher talk today, so I'll end with an amusing anecdote. One of my students had his desk moved yesterday because he would not stop kicking the student sitting across from him. When I talked with him and his mother this morning, she asked him if this has been a problem for awhile. He said, "No, but it was a problem yesterday. I think I grew a lot overnight."

Spring in my step

Ah, yes, it's true. It's Wednesday night and I have nowhere to be, nothing to do (officially) until Monday. This is, of course, the last time this will happen until mid-June. I celebrated today by doing my taxes and doing some classroom spring cleaning, which meant finally tossing some classwork from Thanksgiving. No recycling at school, so I lug it home one trash bag at a time and jam it into our teeny house recycling bin. Next year I have designs on some sort of school-wide program, but for now its all I can do to make sure my copious numbers of Diet Coke cans don't end up in a landfill.

I've already read two books over the break, both good, neither one educationally related. The first, Expecting Adam, was a joyous, witting and life-affirming account of the birth of a child with Down's Syndrome. If anyone is in need of some spirit (or Spirit) lifting, definitely check it out. The other book, Into the Wild was non-fiction, and not something I would ordinarily pick-up. It chronicles the last months and years of Christopher McCandless, the young man who gave up all of his worldly possessions and walked into the Alaskan wilderness, dying of starvation a few months later. Though it seemed grim at the outset, my aunt assured me that it was not, and she was right. Fascinating, puzzling and at times painful though it was, it was not depressing. The most interesting thing that I found about the book was the author's voice, which was apparent throughout. I will suffice it to say that the author was much more than a neutral party in the story's telling.

My next book to swallow whole this break is Setting Limits in the Classroom. I was recently criticized, rather harshly, for my control in the classroom, and I am interested in reading this book because I know that I need to improve, but I refuse to give in to the suggestions that I "make the students sit down" or "be more strict, even if some of them are your favorites." I know that there has to be a better way, and I intend to find it. I have another book, called the Pre-Referral Intervention Manual or PRIM that was given to me at the principal of my last school, at a time when I was in waaaay too far over my head to feel like I could analyze individual student behaviors. Now, I have the time and energy for that, and this book is perfect. It is basically a catalog of problem behaviors exhibited by students, with 50+ suggestions on what to try with the student before referring them to the office. Which is good, because I have determined that the way I will know if I have mastered behavior management is if a) I no longer raise my voice, ever and b) I don't send kids to the office...unless I, for the third day in a row, forgot to put out my attendance sheet.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

How many times a day do I say the same thing over again? My coworker and I often joke that we would save ourselves a lot of energy if we just had a little keyboard, where each key would utter, rather than a high C or a low G, a phrase that as teachers, we have worn all the way out. We have come up with a few essentials, including, "Sit down", "Stop bothering him", "No, you may not go to the bathroom", and "Get out your copybook". I suggested that the keyboard also include a button for each student, so with a simple two-finger move, I could play, "James, sit down". If it were really high-tech, it would record how many times each student's name button was pressed in a day, and when a student reached some maximum (having pushed too many buttons, so to speak), a trap door would open up and slide her directly into the office. I'm telling you, this new invention would be way more useful than the new iPod 8000 or whatever they're on these days.

On the topic of listening, or lack thereof, we have started doing some listening exercises in class. The ones we have done in the past few day have been from at 3rd and 4th grade book, but they seem to be working out so far. The activities are basically a group of pictures or numbers with distinguishing characteristics. The students cross off the pictures as they hear the clues, such as "My favorite clown does not have a pickle for a nose". In the end, they are left with one picture, which they record on their notecard. I am hoping to use activities like these as a warm-up, and eventually segue into some more complex listening activities, such as enjoying some kid-friendly podcasts as a class and recording important information as we go.

One of my goals as a teacher, which will likely not be met for a few years, is to have my students so familiar with the routines and procedures of the classroom that I won't have to say the same thing 8,000,000 times a day. I believe the mark of a great teacher is a classroom where things seem to run smoothly all on their own. The children sit when they need to sit and go to the bathroom when they need to go and, for crying out loud, get out their copybooks when they need to get out their copybooks. But I am not yet a great teacher, as I am reminded many times a day. My hope for now is that by recognizing my many areas of growth, I am already taking the first steps up the mountain of greatness. Until I reach the top, or at least a slightly more elevated ledge, maybe I'll teach my class sign language. Carpal tunnel syndrome, here I come.

Ben Carson: M.D.

Whew! And here I was thinking that I would be this awesome blogger, recording my every experience with eloquence beyond my years. Now it's been over a week since my last post, and I am only barely able to keep my eyes open to finish this sentence....

Today was field trip day, thanks to the lovely and talented Lisa Rowe, the fourth grade teacher at my school and the best, most hilarious mentor a girl could ask for. The fourth, fifth and sixth grades set out on what one of my students referred to as a "cheese bus", bound for Baltimore to bask in the presence of the apparently-well-known-but-new-to-me Dr. Ben Carson. My students read his biography last year and did some sort of report, so they knew much more about him than me. For those unenlightened ones of you out there, he is the chief of pediatric neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins teaching hospital. (I'm still not sure what's up with the name Johns Hopkins, which rolls rather awkwardly off the tongue, but that is a mystery for another day.) Dr. Carson was giving a talk entitled THINK BIG, which was part motivational speech and part "let's look at nasty pictures of babies with enormous tumors". Fortunately, my students are banned from having snack this week, so no actual sickness occurred on their part. However, after seeing the pic of the boy with the metal rod through his eye, I imagine they will think twice before going sledding any time soon.

Overall, despite the aforementioned pictures, the field trip was a success, and nothing is cuter than watching a bunch of fifth graders fall asleep on the bus ride home like the little kids they still are inside.

Before I fall into bed, I want to link to a poem that often comes to mind when I think about teaching. More than any inspirational, sickly sweet chicken soup, it single-handedly encapsulates so much about teaching in a few short verses. The language is a bit PG-13 at times, but it is too fabulous not to share.

What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If things don't work out, you can always go to law school

Amen to that.

Just a short post today because it is Sunday night and I have plenty to do and think about for this week. I have been meaning, for the past two days, to write about the professional development that I attended on Friday afternoon. At my school, the students have a half day every Friday so that the teacher can attend all manner of meetings and such. This not a bad thing, theoretically, and there have certainly been valuble experiences in those afternoons. A few weeks ago, I attended a Friday afternoon session on differentiated instruction that was amazing. The presenter was a 30-year-old, phD-possessing, educational fountain of information that rocked my world-no joke. I left the session feeling energized and inspired to taylor my instruction so that each child could reach his or her potential. I have been looking for ways to remove myself from the front of the classroom and work with my students in a meaningful, hands-on way, and after that particular meeting, I felt like my desires were right on with the true meaning of education.

With all of this still banging around my head on Friday afternoon, imagine my sadness at spending three hours discussing how to teach students how to take standardized tests. And those three hours are nothing compared to what's to come. I haven't looked in my test-prep folder yet, but the word on the street is that the "Twelve Days of Terra Nova" mean that the students and I are expected to spend more than 2 weeks preparing for these tests, for something like 5 hours a day. So much for reducing the amount of teacher-directed instruction. I suppose that, as a Catholic school teacher, I should be glad that until now, the test-talk has been kept to a minimum. However, I am far from convinced that these next few weeks will be anything but an unfortunate waste of everyone's time. Less than three weeks until spring break.

To end on a more positive note, I am beginning a new spelling program this week called Words Their Way, which I have heard great things about. The students are broken up into three groups based on spelling ability, and each week that groups get a different set of words to sort and manipulate. Cutting out all of the slips of paper has been a bit tedious, but I am looking forward to adding a new facet to the individualized (in this case, small-group) instruction that I love so much.

Montessori on My Mind

Before I jump into the glories of my day of professional leave, I want to be sure to add the journal questions that accompany the rubric in yesterday's post. When the students write in their literature response journals, they answer a question from me, as well as choosing a question from the list below.

Journal questions

So my day began in earnest when, for perhaps the 8th time since moving to DC, I could not figure out how to get on the GW Parkway. Fortunately, after crossing the same bridge multiple times, I emerged unscathed in McLean, VA, home of the Montessori School of McLean. I was greeted by two charming children upon entering the building, following my journey through what looks to be some major school renovations. The school was conducting an open house, and in the classrooms, various pairs of children were set up to demonstrate lessons in math, science and reading.

Most of the lessons that I saw were math-related, except for one science experiment that involved microwaving bars of soap to demonstrate Charles' Law. Messy, but very fun. The greatest thing about Montessori education, from what I have seen so far, is that through the use of various manipulatives, the children are able to teach themselves. I saw students multiplying on an abacus, adding and subtracting fractions, and dividing using a cleverly devised bead board. My only concern was that some of the students made computational errors without noticing, but I'll chalk that up to the excitement of the open house and the lack of teacher facilitation. The key for the teacher, I am sure, is to be available to spot such errors.

The funny thing about the students there was their overall demeanor. They were all clearly capable and very eloquent, and I was impressed by their interaction with adults. However, one boy, when performing an addition problem using tiles, spilled an extra tile out of the box and mistakenly added it into the problem. When I pointed this out, he looked at me with something akin to contempt, that I should be so bold as to correct him. I suppose that the far side of capability is overconfidence, but if that is one small byproduct of such marvelous self-directed learning, so be it.

I then watched a video which was designed to encourage parents of preschool Montessori parents to enroll their children in the elementary level. The Montessori method uses multi-age classrooms, typically divided, I believe, into 3-6-year-olds, 7-9 year olds and 10-12 year olds. The video gave some interesting insights into the Montessori program, and I suppose, with the $12,000 yearly price tag, parents do need some convincing.

Overall, I was impressed with the school, and I plan on going back over my spring break to observe a regular school day. One comment from a Montessori teacher that I found particularly interesting was that when she worked at a regular school, she felt like a martyr to the cause of education, but working in a Montessori school, she finds as much enjoyment and growth for herself as the students do. I will keep that in mind, particularly if teaching starts to wear me down. The only problem I see is that the high price of tuition certainly limits the access of students from low-income families, the students that I most enjoy serving. My hope is that my increasing the amount of hands-on and self-directed learning in my current classroom, I can bring a little taste of the Montessori philosophy to children who perhaps most need the best education possible.

February Draws to a Close

My spiritual director said never to make any major life decisions in February, but I don't think starting a blog counts. Considering my life in the past few months, this is hardly a major decision at all. Just in case someone besides my mom does read this, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lisa Kallenbach, but the name that I am called most often (200 times a day at last count) is Miss K. As in, "Miss K, can I go to the bathroom?" or "Miss K, he won't stop bothering me" or, my favorite, "Miss K, tell her to stop looking at me." I teach fifth grade at St. Francis de Sales Catholic School in Washington, DC, fondly known to its staff and students as SFDS, soon to be known as Center City Public Charter Schools - Brentwood Campus.

I have always been skeptical of this whole blog business, especially after one of my friends told me that she once asked her roommate how she was doing, and the roommate replied, "Check my blog." Believe me, that will never, ever be my response to such a question. So, why start a blog if not to provide an up-to-the-minute description of my emotional state? Well, aside from a solo mission to the arctic, nothing is quite so lonely as the Sunday night of a first year teacher, so perhaps someone will stumble upon this when they are feeling particularly down, and find something to at least make them feel less alone. Plus, I've put so much time and energy into my job/vocation as a fifth grade teacher already, maybe someone can use one of my ideas and make things a little easier for herself. (By the way, before you call me biased toward female teachers, keep reading. I promise not to show preference to any gender of teacher out there. The only bias I claim is a preference for grammatical correctness.)

Now that I've explained who I am, at least minimally, I'll end with a story for today. I shot myself in the foot once again this morning, as I do about 3 times each week. Two of my students, David and Diamond (names changed) were happily working out the mysteries of rounding with our ever-patient high school tutor while the rest of the class was at library. I looked up from my work and espied the biggest, weirdest looking bug I have seen since my return from South America. This is where the poor decision-making came in. I should have simply kept the presence of the bug to myself, but, in a momentary lapse of sanity, I pointed the bug out to Diamond and David. It is safe to say that no more rounding got done after that. However, perhaps it was evidence that our prayers don't go unanswered, because the kids have been asking for a class pet since before Christmas.

In this blog I plan to include lesson plans, rubric, worksheets, etc. that I have created for my class in case other teachers wish to use it. All I ask is that it not be reprinted commercially without permission. One big part of my reading program, that I took from a teacher at Sacred Heart and made my own, is the literature response journal. The students turn in their journals each week on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, and I score the entries based on a rubric that I created. You can download the rubric by clicking on the link below.

Journal rubric

Then, I reply to the students' entries, pass the journal back with the rubric stapled to the entry, and the cycle continues. This activity meets Indiana Learning Standard for 5.5.2, writing literature responses. I will try to put up some sample student work for this activity as well.

Peace to all.