Pieces
"Good teaching is not about "covering" a new list of standards; good teaching is grounded in practices proven to sharpen our students'...skills." ~ Kelly Gallagher
The No Child Left Behind Act that has defined and shaped so many of our educational careers is no longer... In its place, the Every Student Succeeds Act has been signed into law. What does this mean for teachers? According to my intro quote from Kelly Gallagher... it shouldn't mean much at all. Not for the many of us who are interested in educating students more than we are in satisfying a legislature that has never been, nor ever will be, in a classroom. We signed onto this crazy train to make a difference. We can do that when we focus on the most important piece of this whole puzzle...the students.
Over the years, I've presented at multiple literacy and technology conferences. My sessions usually cover two hot topics in the literacy education world right now: Work Stations and Mentor Texts. However, I typically focus on using these in the Secondary Classroom. I began my teaching career in the secondary English classroom, and I still find my heart being drawn there from time to time.
As I prepare for the session on Mentor Texts - I am using mostly picture books - I find myself thinking fondly of my favorite books when I was a child.
"Tell Me a Mitzi" by Lore Segal isn't even in print anymore, but OH! I loved this book. I remember my poor father reading it over and over again until he had to hand it off to my mom to finish because he was sick of Mitzi and her antics! It's a weird little book with unappealing illustrations and that is why I was so drawn to it. Mitzi is NOT a pretty child, and Mitzi messes up A LOT. I loved Mitzi, because I saw myself in her. I understood conflict later in my more mature readings, partly because of all of the time that I spent reading about Mitzi's conflict and connecting to her and empathizing with her.
Why is it important to still incorporate picture books with our preteens and teens? Anyone who has stepped foot in a public school classroom recently should know the answer to that. Our students have not been exposed to good literature in the form of picture books. Most of our kids never had their parents or guardians read with them at home...alot of them never had picture books of their own. As teachers, it is our responsibility to bridge the gaps between the earliest knowledge of these literary techniques and the ability to find these things in more rigorous, difficult texts. Some of my favorites are:
Theme:
Character:
Point of View/Symbolism:
These are just a few of my favorites! To view the whole presentation... click here.
I encourage you to begin looking for rich texts to use in your K-12 classrooms. I have loved picture books my whole life. They are near and dear to my heart... My desire is that teachers impart that love of reading to their students at an early age, and continue to use and search for beautifully accessible examples to bridge the gap so as they grow - they are unable to satiate the thirst for the adventure that all literature can bring!
The View from the Cheap Seats
I’ve been a coach’s wife for over 20 years. On the day I got married, my aunt, who was a veteran coach's wife gave me some advice that I have never forgotten. Advice that I do my best to pass on to new coach's wives whom I might come into contact with. What is the coveted and oh so esteemed advice, you may ask?
NEVER SIT WITH YOUR OWN FANS.
I’ve been a coach’s wife for over 20 years. On the day I got married, my aunt, who was a veteran coach's wife gave me some advice that I have never forgotten. Advice that I do my best to pass on to new coach's wives whom I might come into contact with. Advice so invaluable that, when I have followed it, the Friday Night Lights have been all they are meant to be. But, on the rare - and I mean VERY rare - occasion that I have chosen to rebel against this sage advice from a woman who knew all to well of what she was speaking - I have found myself traveling down a wormhole from which it is impossible to return. What is the coveted and oh so esteemed advice, you may ask?
NEVER SIT WITH YOUR OWN FANS.
I will take a minute to pause here, so that the diehard-take-no-prisoners home team fans can finish gasping and close their mouths, and the collective "Preach" from the coaches' wives can simmer down a bit.
Ok. For those of you still reading, let me explain. Being the young, all in, coach's wife that I was in the fall of 1999, I found it hard to believe what my aunt was saying. After all, as a coach's girlfriend, I had had no problem sitting with the fans and cheering on my love. What could be so different? Well... my friends...I will tell you.
He put a ring on it.
That's right. I don't know when. I don't know how. But somewhere between football season 1998 and football season 1999... I became not just a girlfriend, but a wife, someone's pledged partner for life. Good or bad, win or lose, I was now the wingman; I had his back; I was the one keeping an eye on his blind side. As I sat in the stands for my first official home game as a real "Coach's Wife", I heard things that my "girlfriend" ears never heard. I was shocked! Were they really talking about our team our coaches... MY coach? That's right... they were talking about MY coach.
True confession time. I have a hard time controlling my temper. Like a really hard time. Like try not to let ice cream melt in August in Texas hard time. Ok. I can't. I can't control my temper. Not at all. Couldn't then, can't now, probably won't ever.
When someone is talking about someone I love... I can't be quiet. So, on that sultry August evening in 1999 in Ft. Worth, Texas, 25 year old me did something that 45 year old me still struggles not to do. I responded to all of the stadium quarterbacks and self appointed athletic directors. And did I ever respond! I won't get into all of the ugly, embarrassing details, but let's suffice it to say that I put my English degree to good use that night!
I let them have it... and I stormed out. And then I sat in my car for the entire rest of the game and cried. I cried because those people in the stands who were supposed to be supporting my husband and the boys he was there to coach had been anything but supportive. I cried because I knew how hard the coaches and the players had worked to get themselves out on that field. The sacrifices they all - young and old - had made to show up and give their fans a game to watch. But most of all, I cried because I did NOT like the person I had just turned into. I was no better than they were. I had let words come out of my mouth that were hurtful and demeaning and shameful.
I realized then, in my first ever game as a coach's wife, what my aunt had meant. It wasn't because of the fans that I shouldn't sit on that side of the field... it was because of me. I wasn't able to handle what they were saying. And... as the wife of one of the coaches, I was an extension of him - like it or not. My actions were seen as his actions.
There have been times since that game that I have tested this theory again, but not often, and never does it end well - not as badly as the first game, but I always find myself getting up and moving. I've found now, that after 20 years, I can't even sit on the visitor side, because, you see, I don't just see myself as needing to look out for my coach, but for all of the coaches - on both sides of the fields. I know just how hard they all work. I know just how many nights their children go to sleep without a goodnight kiss from daddy. I know just how many cold suppers are reheated way after the kitchen has been "closed" for the night. I know how many sleepless nights worried about long bus rides those wives on the other side have had. I know just how many stomped feet, slammed doors, tears cried and I'm sorrys have been said because of yet another meeting, another late dinner, another broken date... and because I know... they are in a way my sisters.
And so, now, 20 years in... if you are looking for me at the next football game. You can probably find me - sitting somewhere alone as close to the endzone as possible, proudly cheering for my man, and his team. Enjoying every minute of my view from the cheap seats.