Next year I'm taking on something new and intimidating. I and three other teachers (history, algebra, and study skills) are taking most of the students from our feeder middle schools who failed two or more eighth-grade classes. Most of them will be boys, most minority, most who qualify for free or reduced lunch - although except for the gender, those qualifiers describe the majority of the students at my high school. Since passing ninth grade is one of the strongest correlations for staying in school and graduating, this is an important task.

Mostly, I'm excited even though part of me is sad that I had to give up my honors classes to do this and part of me is terrified that I will not be able to get the kids hooked.

I've been looking for more ways to bring kinesthetic activities into an English classroom where basic skills in reading and writing are a top priority, and believe me, there just aren't that many kinesthetic activities when it comes to the actual tasks of reading and writing. Kinesthetic projects and responses to literature I have aplenty. Actually getting them moving when they're reading and writing is pretty difficult - especially at the high school level.

We've also been exploring alternative assessment and trying to figure out how that will fit in. One of our discussions right now is how we will balance responsibility and mastery. We're playing with the idea that student can pass our final exams with a 75% or better, it won't matter whether they turned in assignments or not, as long as the tests prove mastery in skills and content. But if we do this, are we setting them up to fail when they move on to more conventional teachers?

There are still a lot of discussions to be had and decisions to be made, but I'm working with an outstanding group of teachers who are all strong relationship builders, and to me, that is the most important "skill" we need to make this work.

All in all, we are up for this challenge. It's either going to be the most rewarding, exciting year of my career, or it will be the year from H-E-double-toothpicks. But the glass is always half full to me, so I'm counting on the former.

 by Travis

Why don't all teachers blog? It seems reasonable to think that a great many do. Teachers like to share and the internet allows for such ease in sharing. However, I wonder how pervasive teacher blogs are.

By Tom

Quick, what's eight-ninths of twenty-seven? If you solved it like my third graders, you divided the total by the denominator and then multiplied by the numerator. 27 divided by 9 is three; three times eight equals 24. It's pretty easy, right?

Actually, no it isn't. At least not for third graders. For my students, that problem was fairly difficult. Rigorous, if you will. It was a hard lesson to teach, but most of them finally got it.

Our district switched to a new math curriculum this year. It's more rigorous. Way more rigorous. And that's a good thing, according to all the school reform gurus, including Arne Duncan, our new Secretary of Education. He wants to implement high, nation-wide standards in lieu of the piecemeal, state-by-state approach that we're using now. He also thinks we should have a longer school year, which in an astounding display of poor timing, he announced just last week.

Meanwhile, back in my district, we had to cancel summer school this year. Guess why? That's right, as soon as we switch to a tougher math curriculum, we find out that we can't afford to offer summer school for the kids who need more time to learn it.

So here's an idea:

Teaching is a unique profession. Certainly for the reasons you think—squirrelly kids, parents, bells. However, there is one more reason. A reason that is dear to all teachers, and likely something you would only know if you were a teacher . . . . or were told. And I am about to tell you.

By Tom

I use a lot of small group activities in my classroom. After I teach a concept, I like to put my students into groups of three to do an activity in which they get a chance to discuss the concepts and practice the skills I've taught them before I ask them to demonstrate their learning individually. It's a strategy that works pretty well.

To get my students into functional groups, I'll get out my set of Popsicle sticks, each with a student's name printed on it. Then I'll divide my sticks into three groups; the group on the right represents the kids who I expect will have understood the concepts and skills, as well as the instruction for the activity they'll be asked to do. I'll be counting on them to be the leaders in their group. The sticks in the middle represent the kids who may or may not go into the activity with a complete understanding of the material. I'm hoping that the chance to process it with their peers will complete their understanding. The sticks on the left are the kids who will probably need the most support. Hopefully, hearing their peers present the information in a different way and in a small group will fill in the holes for these students. After dividing the sticks into three groups, I'll form my groups by picking a stick from each pile, with consideration for who does and doesn't work well together.

A few years ago I had a student named Laura. Her stick was consistently in the pile on the right. She was a bright, hard working kid who also possessed great communication skills. She knew how to express her ideas without being bossy, and she knew how to listen to other people without compromising the correct answers. She was an ideal student. She was also extremely talented in music, playing first violin for the local youth symphony when she was only in third grade. 

And it didn't end there. Her dad was a hard-working engineer-type who kept her motivated and well-practiced in regards to music, and her mom, a nurse who had taken a decade off from her career to raise the family, was the backbone of our PTA, volunteered twice a week in my classroom (the only volunteer I had!) and chaperoned on every field trip. This was a family committed to their children and their school community.

But then they left. Our district has a choice school. One where each parent has to commit to several volunteer hours each week. It's a great school, with great teachers, motivated students and supportive parents. Not surprisingly, due to the miracle of self-selection, the test scores are in the stratosphere.  They hold a lottery for their openings, and Laura won.