Just Who is Marrionne Chandler??

A must see photo story!

Santa Made Me Cry

Yesterday, our cohort had a Secret Santa gift exchange. Today, I am looking at the gift I received with tears in my eyes. O.K., yes, I'm a bit emotional these days--all the reflecting I've done and trying to explain to the world who I am as a teacher and what I want for my students. It's all been a bit much. But Janey's gift spoke to me on many levels and is worthy of tears! She presented me with a beautiful spiral-bound whimsically-designed journal. She wrote "Mrs. Brady's Quote Book" on the cover and then filled many of the pages with beautiful quotes and sayings that I know she selected just for me. It's cool and beautiful looking and I will refer to it often. It is also a wonderful model that I can piggyback off of to invent projects for my students. Thank you, Janey, for showing me what's possible! I'm already flooded with ideas, of ways students could create a special type of journal for themselves like this one Janey created for me. On another level, I am overwhelmed by all the time and energy Janey put into this project, when I know how busy and stretched thin we've all been. Wow. What is most moving, however, is the feeling I have that Janey really "gets" me. What a gift that is. I feel rededicated to my goal of giving that gift to each of my students.

A Most Heavenly Day

Today I worked in my primary placement classroom from 7:15 to 4:15--that's nine hours. When I left the building, I felt refreshed, rested, and immensely happy. I almost couldn't believe the mood I was in: it was magical and strange, like I was in a feel-good movie. Even remembering all the homework I still had left to do could not bring me down. Just what happened in this extraordinary day? It's so hard to explain--it wasn't anything big; it was a lot of small moments. Thinking back, I remember feeling love for every single student in my room--yes, every single one. I looked at them all, one by one, to confirm their lovableness! They each are a little light shining out into the world, each a precious person making sense of the world and trying to become their best selves. I saw them showing respect to each other, I saw them struggling with math problems, I saw them asking really important questions, and I saw them laughing and enjoying each others' company. I remember feeling love coming back to me. Kids lingered to talk to me, kids smiled at me, kids looked at me for approval as they worked their math problems, kids paid attention to me. Then there was the joy of spending the day with a masterful teacher who is enthusiastic and able to create a magical environment where students feel safe and experience joy. Throughout the day, whenever we had a free moment, we talked about what was happening with the kids and what it meant. It felt like we could never have enough time to say all we wanted to say to each other. It was energizing and stimulating and it helped me see who I am becoming as a teacher. Even walking the halls of the school was special. I smiled and said hello to all I encountered and they smiled and said hello back! Will every day I spend as a teacher be so enchanting?? No, of course not. But just one of these days, once in a while...ah, heaven.

Basking In the Climate

Some of you have heard me mention the extraordinary climate that exists in my 6th grade primary placement class. There is a feeling of energy and industriousness throughout the room that is infused with incredible warmth. Following is a brief anecdote that illustrates this climate perfectly.

Recently, I visited my primary classroom during "Dyad season." Since the students were enjoying free time, I decided to grade an important math assessment they had taken earlier. As I graded, I noticed frequent glances from John (a pseudonym). Every time I looked up from my work, he was looking my way. Finally, he walked over and asked if I had graded his paper yet. I told him I had and that he had only missed one problem. I showed him the problem and told him it was a very difficult problem and that, so far, no one had gotten it correct. He asked if anyone else had topped his score and I said, no, that his was the best score so far. Down he sat, but kept popping up to check if his score was still the best. He is a great math student and I know he was keenly disappointed that he missed one, but he really seemed anxious about someone getting a better score! When I came to Peter's (also pseudonym) paper, I found a paper with all the problems done correctly--even the really hard problem. Peter, in fact, was the only one up to that point who had correctly answered that tough problem. I wondered what John would do when he found out he wasn't number one anymore, so I mentally prepared words of wisdom to help him put his disappointment into perspective. Before I could finish my thoughts, John appeared at my side. I delivered the "bad" news: someone had gotten a better score on the math test and had gotten the hard problem correct. When he asked who it was, I told him. His reaction was swift. "Peter got #14 correct??!??" He grabbed Peter's paper and turned to the problem and looked it over with a very serious demeanor. Then, he broke into a huge grin and rushed over to Peter. "Peter, Peter, you got problem 14 correct!!!" He was excited, he was celebrating, he was patting Peter on the back. I stood and watched in wonderment, touched by a moment I will never forget.

Dyadium Interruptus

Anyone feeling like I am?? Our Dyad is almost over. A few weeks ago, I would have been relieved, even happy, to be able to check off another task, to get even closer to my destination. But that was before the 100+ kids I see everyday got to me. I am beginning to feel affection for these kids as I get to know them and try to peer behind their aloof personas. All the middle school attitude suddenly seems so endearing, the angst so noble. Getting to see tiny bits of what's hidden underneath them--the confusion, the sadness, the bravado, the hope--is a rare and beautiful privilege. Sure, the affection is pretty one-sided. I'm fairly marginal in these kids' lives. I sometimes get heckling and indifference, but I get where they're coming from. I carry on, working with the kids, one at a time, trying my best to really see their lovable selves and honor them in our tiny moments together. Just as connections are being built, away I go, gone from their lives forever.

"I'm Quitting the Program Tomorrow!"

Last Monday didn't go so well. After spending probably 10 hours over the weekend writing a lesson plan, preparing to teach, and assembling materials, I woke up tired and edgy on Monday morning. Nevertheless, as the kids entered the first period class I was about to teach, I felt at ease and full of enthusiasm. An hour later, I felt deflated and disappointed. All that work, all that emotional investment, and...it fizzled. I rushed, I didn't give the kids time to process and think, I didn't take action when the kids were clearly confused, and so on. It didn't help that one of the girls in the class made it her mission to spend the whole period heckling me. That's when I told my Dyad partner, Deb, "I'm quitting the program tomorrow if I don't do better this afternoon." I did reteach the class later in the day, and, yes, it sure was improved--it was even pretty good, but, of course, far from perfect. Intellectually, I know not to expect perfection, but a part of me wonders if all the grueling academic and emotional work I am doing is really going to be worth it. Being a really good teacher seems almost beyond attainment when you look at all the required components. First, I spent so many hours on the lesson plan, yet it turned out to be mediocre at best. Next, I spent a ridiculous amount of time preparing materials and organizing myself, yet things still felt disorganized and chaotic. Last, I wanted the kids to see that I cared and I wanted them to learn, yet they seemed only somewhat engaged. I know this is a bit premature, but if teaching involves an inordinate amount of work and time, and yet I end up feeling distressed and unhappy with my effectiveness, what then?

Living with Frustration, Heartbreak, and Injustice

William Ayers talks about "working the gap"--trying to teach in that space between hard reality and the ideal classroom. Now that we are in real classrooms, we know what he is talking about! I felt it the other day in my middle school math classroom. I was having one of those days of feeling both elated and sad. The elation was about helping and really connecting with some of the math students. The sadness was about all the kids I knew needed help, but weren't getting it due to time constraints or their reluctance to ask for help. There were other sad issues as well: knowing some of the students wouldn't achieve their potential due to homelessness, violence at home, or lack of self-esteem. It's frustrating, it's heartbreaking, and it's not fair! And how could I ever feel good about this job, knowing there would always be a sense of things being undone and imperfect? My friend and colleague, Deb, came to the rescue! She listened and then said something so simple, yet so inspiring. She reminded me that I could only help one child at a time and that was profoundly better than helping none at all. It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes: "The greatest tragedy is to do nothing because we know we can do so little." (Edmund Burke). If not us, then who?? The fact that the gap exists is the reason we need to step in. If there were ever a place where big hearts and big minds need to go, it's in the classroom. Rather than focus on the gap between the ideal and the real, I'm going to shift my focus to the gaps between yesterday and today: what changes and improvements--even tiny ones--have we made since yesterday and how can we make more changes tomorrow? Wouldn't it be great to teach in classrooms filled with kids who live in loving households with plenty to eat, situated in schools dedicated to real learning and whole-child development, located in societies that support teachers as professionals and reject simplistic high-stakes testing? Sure, it would, but meanwhile, I'm going to use my whole heart and soul to help make small steady improvements, one child at time.

"A Teacher That Can Be Replaced by a Machine Should Be"

In an excellent lecture Sugat Mitra gave in 2010, he showed how groups of children could use computers to learn fairly complex materials completely on their own with no teacher input! Upon hearing about this, Arthur C. Clarke commented: "A teacher that can be replaced by a machine should be." I say "Amen" to this! Let the machine teach the child as quickly and efficiently as possible and thereby free up the teacher to do what no machine could ever do: inspire, motivate, acknowledge, support, and cheer the children on. The teacher would provide the guidance on what it is the children need to learn and then shepherd them as they hone their skills of critical thinking and inquiry. Meanwhile, the teacher could be teaching other skills for living such as learning how to build community, work collaboratively, and resolve conflicts.

In a video entitled "The Machine is Us/ing Us," Professor Michael Wesch describes how the internet is enabling us to rapidly connect with information and even modify it to meet our personal needs and share with others. For me, the provocative idea here is that information--and even reality-- is relative. I can find "truth" that I want to find no matter how unhinged that "truth" may be. The implications for teaching are tremendous. What's important to know? Where does the important information reside? "Who" decides the "correct" version of important information? These questions lead me to conclude that today's students must be taught to be critical thinkers!

These two videos show us a vision of the future--one in which students are finding information rather than having it spoon fed to them. It's an interesting juxtaposition to the trend today of scripted curriculum and high-stakes testing of knowledge, rather than thinking.

Taking a Shower with the Forces of Nature

I really just planned to take a shower. Showers are pretty boring, so I let my mind focus on something we had done the day before in our Instructional Design class. We were exploring ways to get at the Big Idea we wanted to teach. I knew I had to design a unit on geology, with an emphasis on landforms. Frankly, the topic seems deadly dull to me. Maybe it would help to think about what the Big Idea could be. I considered such ideas as: The earth has a variety of landforms that people must adapt to. Or: Forces of nature create a variety of landforms. Not bad, but my enthusiasm meter had not budged. Then it occurred to me: Would finding the “right” Big Idea get me more excited about the topic? I thought about how profound the concept of Big Idea really is. Wiggins and McTighe, in Understanding by Design, tell us that the Big Idea is the broad overreaching concept that can help students transfer specific understanding about one set of information to other related sets of information. Hmmm. Could it also be the thing that would make a topic so enticing that a person couldn’t wait to learn it—or teach it? By now I was clean, but I was really getting involved in this concept of a Big Idea, so I showered on. Could I come up with a Big Idea about landforms that would make me excited about designing and teaching the subject—and maybe make the kids excited about learning it? Maybe it’s a bit over the top, but here’s what I came up with: The earth is composed of nonliving material, and yet, because of natural forces within and around it, changes and growth occur that make it seem almost alive. Now that’s a Big Idea I’m eager to teach!