At the Wisconsin State Reading Association Convention, Donalyn Miller invited us to write a reading autobiography. This is a list of books that shaped us as readers and as people. My group thought that this activity would be an excellent way to end the school year with students or to re-engage a group of “dormant readers”. Below is my short list.
Elementary School: Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume – I was a reluctant reader until my 3rd-grade teacher read it aloud to our class. I’m told that I reread this book several times before I found my next book. I guess I had some catching up to do.
Junior High: It by Stephen King – I’m surprised my junior high teachers let me read this novel and other King books. The content was not middle level appropriate…if I remember correctly, my friend and I found these books at the public library in town. I particularly remember It because half of the story was told from the kids’ point of view. Our town wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Derry but we had just as much free reign, something not often seen in today’s hyper-vigilant world.
High School: Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes – My current preference of science fiction was influenced by this book we read in high school English. The idea that science and technology might always have a cost in addition to the opportunities realized has stayed with me.
What books would be in your reading autobiography? How did these books shape you? Consider writing your own post or share in the comments here.
Below is a short article from my staff newsletter I wrote yesterday. We are the midway point of the school year, and I wanted to highlight our successes as a school culture by documenting evidence of our work in writing. I’ll be speaking more about this topic at the Wisconsin State Reading Association Convention next week in Milwaukee. If you are also attending, I hope we are able to connect! -Matt
I’ve asked a few staff members for feedback about my plan for publishing To the Point every other week. My theory on this is that our communication as a staff, both formal and informal, is strong. Information shared seems to be frequent and accurate. That is a major reason for my staff newsletters which also helps with not having more than one short staff meeting a month.
This thinking became apparent as I have prepared for a session I am leading at the Wisconsin State Reading Association Convention next week: “How to Build a Literacy Culture”. As I go through artifacts of our success and growth to present to others, I could confirm many indicators of a healthy and thriving school culture beyond only communication (these characteristics come from Literacy Essentials by Regie Routman).
Trusting – We focus on our strengths first and follow through on our tasks before facilitating feedback about areas for growth.
Collaborative – Our different school teams work together to guide the school toward goals; instructional coaching is common.
Intellectual – We have thirteen shared beliefs about the reading-writing connection and reading to understand.
Responsible – The goals for the school are limited, focused, student-driven and clear, i.e. “A Community of Readers”.
Equitable – We have high expectations for our students and provide additional support when necessary.
Joyful – Celebration and appreciation are interwoven in our interactions with each other and with the community.
It’s an honor to be able to highlight our collective work for others and share our journey toward success. Sustaining a school culture is an ongoing process that is far from perfect and is sometimes challenging. Yet the results we see with our students makes all the difference.
During a Twitter chat this week for #AWSAConnect (Association of Wisconsin School Administrators, @AWSALeaders1), the facilitator Jay Posick posed a challenge for educators to respond to and blog about it before the next chat: Choose one barrier to hurdle next week.
The hurdle I choose, one I think I select every week, are the obstacles I might create for myself.
Certainly, some hurdles are beyond our influence. For example, staffing that might be cut or resources that are limited due to budget constraints are legitimate obstacles we have little control over.
But I have found that the majority of the obstacles in our path are the ones we decide to let into our professional lives.
An example I wrote about recently was the commercial resource samples that appeared in our hallway. I had not requested these items. In the past, I would have shrugged and had our custodian put them in my office to review at a later time. And every time I went to my office, there they would be, waiting for me to open them up and make a decision on whether we should adopt these resources. This year, I requested that the company come back and pick up the samples. No more obstacle.
Potential hurdles that can interfere with our important work are not just physical. We also get inundated with online requests that call for our attention. For instance, a few of our faculty members have used Teachers Pay Teachers to order resources. A representative for this site reached out and asked if I was interested in a school account. In the past, I would have hemmed and hawed about making a decision, wondering who I might upset if I said “no” or “yes”. Instead, I asked the rep for more information about how their resources are evaluated for effectiveness and for permissions. I’ll share his responses with our leadership team and make a collaborative decision. Now, this obstacle was a chance to practice shared leadership.
We can event set up professional hurdles in our personal lives. They may not even seem like an obstacle to overcome at first. Case in point: I had my eye on a writers workshop for April. I talked to my wife about this being a birthday present, an opportunity to improve my writing skills. In the meantime, while discussing possible spring activities with my family, my daughter suggested we go to a Milwaukee Brewer game for my birthday (she knows I’m a baseball fan). It was at this point that I realize the workshop was connected closely to my work; I write almost exclusively about education. Her comment helped me get some perspective and reflect on my priorities as a father, husband, and friend. In other words, we’re going to a baseball game.
And with that, I would like to add a follow-up question to Jay’s call to action: Is this barrier that you want to hurdle an obstacle you created for yourself?
The topic for this session is on how school leaders of every stripe can build a literacy culture. I took three ideas from a past post I wrote and developed a theory of action that other educators might follow to facilitate schoolwide student improvement in reading, writing, and communicating. See below.
The thing about theories is they are limited, especially when developed by one person. While I do read widely and connect with others, as well as reflect on my experiences here, my perspective is not the only point of view. Other school leaders might have found a different pathway toward success.
So what are your thoughts? I want to put this theory to the test before I present it at the WSRA convention session. That could include offering critique and feedback in the comments, or simply sharing it with a colleague who might have a response. Thank you in advance.
The new year always seems to offer a deal: if you resolve to make a change for the next twelve months, it will begin on January 1.
It’s nice to think about. A restart can be motivating and cause one to engage in some reflection, goal-setting, and a sense of renewal. “This year, I resolve to… (fill in the blank).”
But the new year is a bit of a false promise. January 1 is only tomorrow. Today is Monday. I’m not trying to dampen anyone’s mood; in fact, I encourage you to take an optimistically realistic stance about the new year. Maybe by taking a step back and appreciating the journey we’ve been on, we can develop resolutions that will keep the momentum going (instead of trying to recreate ourselves in a matter of 24 hours).
This can happen through reflection, goal-setting, and renewal. It is not without context. Last year matters. There were points for celebrations and areas for growth. Consider the following questions to respond to in your journal as you prepare for the upcoming year.
What accomplishments am I most proud of so far? Go back as far as you want. For example, I wrote out milestones in my writing career starting in 2012. Big or small, all celebrations were included.
Based on my past, where do I want to grow professionally and personally? I believe in keeping our goals limited to no more than two, aligned with the classic organizational leadership book Good to Great by Jim Collins. Professionally (as a writer), I want to self-host my sites in order to take advantage of more web tools. Personally, I want to improve my exercise/activity habits (and if I lose some weight in the process…:-).
How might I achieve these goals? The word “might” is key here; it offers many possibilities vs. one pathway toward success. So…I am trying out the Amazon Affiliate program for this blog. I don’t like monetizing the site, but I haven’t found a better method that doesn’t interfere with the readers’ experience. Regarding my personal goal, I am going to develop a schedule of activities that keep me interested and wanting to come back. Neither may work. I have permission to try new approaches in those situations.
It bears repeating: the upcoming year is not without context. Last year had lots of experiences to reflect upon and to celebrate. Next year (yes, 2020) holds more opportunities. Instead of focusing on New Year’s Day, what about today?
It’s one thing to have a belief in an approach for teaching or leading. It’s another thing to apply those beliefs to our practices. The distance between beliefs and practices is a group’s willingness to embrace failure as an opportunity for collective learning.
Today, I facilitated a professional learning session with teachers about reading comprehension. We started by celebrating our growth as a faculty. Important to stress was how our positive school report card was a product of our shared beliefs about literacy. We are on the same page.
But being on the same page philosophically does not necessarily translate to practice. Teachers are at various stages of expertise, often varied in different areas with each teacher. To relate, I shared a story about how I was recently reading aloud to 1st graders, and it didn’t dawn on me to stop and take a moment to explain challenging vocabulary until one student asked, “How can you sow (sew) seeds?”
My personal example of failure led to a short exercise. Teachers were provided a matrix. On the left side were our literacy beliefs we currently shared as a faculty, translated into teaching practices they represented. At the top were four columns. Each heading described a level of progression along a learning continuum. I won’t spend time or words trying to describe it: you can click here to download it or view it below.
Teachers were provided time to reflect on where they were on the learning progression spectrum with regard to each literacy belief in action. (Our beliefs derive from Regie Routman in Residence.) Then they shared with a trusted colleague which practices they felt effective with and with practices they believe they needed more support.
“Do you want to collect these?” asked a teacher. “No, I want you to keep this reflection tool for future use. Maybe you might want to explore a practice more deeply through instructional coaching or peer observation.” Next, I asked if any teachers were willing to share their reflections with the whole group. No one spoke up. To follow, I asked those who rated themselves as unconsciously effective (become second nature) in every practice to raise their hands. No one did, although I noticed many smiles on teachers’ faces.
Later in the professional learning session, teachers were having conversations within self-directed study groups about their selected professional resources. I sat in on one group. As teachers went around discussing their work, one teacher announced, “I have a failure to share.” She pulled up her phone and displayed a picture of a student’s novel filled with sticky notes. “He has a Post-it note for every page!” shared the teacher, which led to laughter and more honest conversations about their own challenges, along with ideas for how this teacher could use the Post-it note information to guide future instruction.
If schools are ever going to grow collectively, we have to start being honest with ourselves about our practices. Teaching and leading in schools is incredibly complex work. People outside education rarely understand this so we cannot expect them to adequately address the issue. By being open and vulnerable about where we struggle, it gives others permission to divulge their own failures and challenges. These confessions are the seeds for true growth as professionals. It starts with leaders – not just principals – speaking the truth about our challenging, rewarding work.
This month I have committed to reading one blog post a day and leaving a comment. It’s my way of saying thanks to other educators and writers who take the time to share their thinking online, as well as to frequent the sites of readers of my own blog.
Maybe you don’t have a blog but have always wanted to start one. When I have asked people what’s stopping them, they usually cite one of two reasons: “I don’t have time,” and “I don’t have anything worth sharing.” I won’t argue with the first reason; people’s life circumstances can vary. But the second one is debatable because every educator I know who writes regularly online about their practice is providing a benefit to others as well as themselves.
In fact, sharing our work and our reflections in a public space is one of the best ways to express gratitude for others. Consider the following reasons.
Blogging reduces professional isolation. When you write about your experiences and observations in school, other educators who read what you share will often relate. They may realize they are not alone in feeling a certain way about a similar situation, for example, confusion over whether or not to purchase a commercial literacy program. I know this because I have received comments and emails in appreciation for bringing up these topics (and likewise reciprocated on others’ sites). Benefit: other educators.
Blogging improves your practice. Through the act of writing about our professional lives, we start a process of reflection. We put our ideas down, reread and see what we initially wrote from a more objective perspective, and then continue writing in response to our thinking. Writing is an act of creation, so it makes sense that we will come to deeper or different understandings about a topic through this process. That will make us better educators, which can impact the staff and students with whom we work. Benefit: our school.
Blogging puts our ideas somewhere. I know educators will bring home their challenges, unloading the days’ frustrations onto their spouse and nearest adult. Maybe we feel better, yet I don’t know if this is the best approach to living a fulfilling life. What if you altered some details, not letting “the facts get in the way of the truth”, and published a post around an area of concern? Now we have put these thoughts somewhere that won’t change the mood at home and will likely be appreciated by our colleagues online (see reason #1). If the post is too close to our current school context, leave it as a draft or trash it. The act of reflection itself can be satisfying enough. Benefit: our families/friends.
Blogging brings value. The opposite of those who feel like they have nothing to say or share are people who expect to be compensated for all of their writing efforts. Some see blogging as giving away their work. Others worry about their ideas getting lost in all of the tweets and posts. I remember one well-known connected educator remark about blogging: “The market is saturated.” It’s not. Good ideas always have an audience. And no one has a better point of view about the world of education than those currently practicing within it. Maybe your writing efforts won’t bring in additional income, but it will give you more credibility and visibility, which is of immense value as you navigate your teaching or leading career. Benefit: you and everyone else.
I write this post not to put one more thing on your plate. Rather, I encourage you to rethink your plate. By adding to the collective understanding of education through blogging, we help others and ourselves become more connected, we grow as professionals, we find a healthy outlet for our ideas, and we build on our practice. Writing online about your practice is a selfless action that can benefit everyone, yourself included.