The other day our 2 and 1/2 year old son melted our hearts. He's a pretty snuggly little guy. As he was gazing into his mother's eyes and playing with her hair, he suddenly said, "Mom, you my boy." The noun was incorrect, but the meaning was right on. Actually, by calling my wife "my boy" our young son was coming up with the most precious term he has in his extensive vocabulary. He was simply mimicking his parents who shower him with love and affection and often say, "you're my boy."
It's easy to let a person's incorrect word choice get in the way of their message. Both in the classroom and at home, I try hard to ask for clarification before assuming complete understanding. But, sometimes I simply look/listen beyond the words; there is often a treasure waiting there.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
From Taksmaster to Teacher: Coughlin's Transformation
How many transformative changes have you had in your life? By "transformative," I mean a revolutionary change in ideas or behavior. I'm talking about seeing the world in a radically different way than you did the week before. I'm talking about a seeing that leads to action.
Enter 62 year-old Tom Coughlin, the head coach of the World Champion New York Giants. Jerry Green's article provides a concise portrait of the old Coughlin and the new one. What amazes me is, "The coach who was reputed to be a taskmaster but was not quite up to the task himself" transformed into a players' coach. In fact, Coughlin established a Leadership Council, which consists of a group of players whose primary purpose is to foster better communication between Coach Coughlin and the rest of his team. (What a great idea! I wonder if classrooms would benefit from this type of dynamic?)
By all accounts, Coughlin ran a tight ship. He possessed a retentive personality, rarely cracked a smile, and micro-managed to the point that his players lost their love of the game. As teachers, we are called to ignite our students' imaginations--to stoke the embers of curiosity. Technology allows us to do this better than before. Like the Leadership Council, technology fosters better communication--better communication between student and student, between student and teacher, and between student and the world. For many of us, embracing technology required & requires a transformative change. These kinds of changes are difficult, and they do not happen often. A transformative change, however, is well worth it. Just ask Tom Coughlin.
Enter 62 year-old Tom Coughlin, the head coach of the World Champion New York Giants. Jerry Green's article provides a concise portrait of the old Coughlin and the new one. What amazes me is, "The coach who was reputed to be a taskmaster but was not quite up to the task himself" transformed into a players' coach. In fact, Coughlin established a Leadership Council, which consists of a group of players whose primary purpose is to foster better communication between Coach Coughlin and the rest of his team. (What a great idea! I wonder if classrooms would benefit from this type of dynamic?)
By all accounts, Coughlin ran a tight ship. He possessed a retentive personality, rarely cracked a smile, and micro-managed to the point that his players lost their love of the game. As teachers, we are called to ignite our students' imaginations--to stoke the embers of curiosity. Technology allows us to do this better than before. Like the Leadership Council, technology fosters better communication--better communication between student and student, between student and teacher, and between student and the world. For many of us, embracing technology required & requires a transformative change. These kinds of changes are difficult, and they do not happen often. A transformative change, however, is well worth it. Just ask Tom Coughlin.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Oedipus and Lao Tzu: Reflections on a Great Class
We just finished reading Oedipus the King. I had a great class on Thursday, and I'm going to articulate why I think it went so well.
The simple overarching question propelled the lesson. In this case the question was is Oedipus a good king or a bad king. From my experience, inquiry based lessons work best when the question is broad, when there is evidence for multiple responses, and when concepts within the question need defining (i.e., "good," "bad," "king"). Teachers who have success with this method will "play student" and imagine the various responses prior to implementing the lesson.
Students (and teacher) were engaged. I suspect there were multiple reasons for this. To begin with, Oedipus the King arrests the reader's attention. The story certainly elicits an emotional response from the kids--often repulsion. Like any great work of art, a multitude of questions arise after experiencing it. Essentially, the content kept our interest. The content allowed for a good class; however, something else transformed it into a great class.
The question allows for tremendous meaning making potential. Although I don't consider this the most important component of a "great class," I rarely have one when this component is lacking. Students (and adults, actually) crave self-expression. They want to make something their own--in this case, an interpretation. Seeing hands shake in the air and seeing eyes pop out, assures me that they have something to say--something to contribute. Hearing them make insightful connections to Ishmael, Siddhartha, Lao Tzu, and the Allegory of the Cave, as well as their own lives, assures me that they are making meaning. Adolescence, itself, is about finding one's voice. Self-expression sure is a fun way to find it.
Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that we had an observer in the room. A young teacher who is logging away her hours prior to certification commented on how awake, articulate, and astute the kids appear. I couldn't help but think about Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, which basically says that an observer alters an occurrence simply by observing it. In short, they were eager to showcase their critical thinking skills.
The simple overarching question propelled the lesson. In this case the question was is Oedipus a good king or a bad king. From my experience, inquiry based lessons work best when the question is broad, when there is evidence for multiple responses, and when concepts within the question need defining (i.e., "good," "bad," "king"). Teachers who have success with this method will "play student" and imagine the various responses prior to implementing the lesson.
Students (and teacher) were engaged. I suspect there were multiple reasons for this. To begin with, Oedipus the King arrests the reader's attention. The story certainly elicits an emotional response from the kids--often repulsion. Like any great work of art, a multitude of questions arise after experiencing it. Essentially, the content kept our interest. The content allowed for a good class; however, something else transformed it into a great class.
The question allows for tremendous meaning making potential. Although I don't consider this the most important component of a "great class," I rarely have one when this component is lacking. Students (and adults, actually) crave self-expression. They want to make something their own--in this case, an interpretation. Seeing hands shake in the air and seeing eyes pop out, assures me that they have something to say--something to contribute. Hearing them make insightful connections to Ishmael, Siddhartha, Lao Tzu, and the Allegory of the Cave, as well as their own lives, assures me that they are making meaning. Adolescence, itself, is about finding one's voice. Self-expression sure is a fun way to find it.
Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that we had an observer in the room. A young teacher who is logging away her hours prior to certification commented on how awake, articulate, and astute the kids appear. I couldn't help but think about Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, which basically says that an observer alters an occurrence simply by observing it. In short, they were eager to showcase their critical thinking skills.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
When I Get Small: The Beauty of Perspective
The other day my 3 and 1/2 year old son said, "Daddy, when I get small, I want a bottle." At the high school level, our students often talk about and dream about graduating, getting older, and getting out of town. Young children, on the other hand, have a beautiful way of flipping things upside down. My son's sincere, matter-of-fact declaration forced me to pause and take inventory.
Am I in a rush to grow up, to succeed, to "make it"?
Is there an advantage to staying young or "getting small"?
What was my son expressing a need for?
How do I ignite the "inner child" in my students?
How do I acknowledge the "inner child" in my family, my friends, and my self?
A child's perspective has that uncanny ability to bring a warm, genuine, sarcastic-free smile to my face. A child's perspective snaps me out of the predictable and the orderly adult world. A child's perspective reminds me of my own humanity. Just read some of these insights on love to see what I mean. I put five of my favorites below.
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." -Kari, age 5
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." -Danny, age 7
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." -Bobby, age 7
"Love is when mommy sees daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." -Mark, age 6
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." -Jessica, age 8
Am I in a rush to grow up, to succeed, to "make it"?
Is there an advantage to staying young or "getting small"?
What was my son expressing a need for?
How do I ignite the "inner child" in my students?
How do I acknowledge the "inner child" in my family, my friends, and my self?
A child's perspective has that uncanny ability to bring a warm, genuine, sarcastic-free smile to my face. A child's perspective snaps me out of the predictable and the orderly adult world. A child's perspective reminds me of my own humanity. Just read some of these insights on love to see what I mean. I put five of my favorites below.
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." -Kari, age 5
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." -Danny, age 7
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." -Bobby, age 7
"Love is when mommy sees daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." -Mark, age 6
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." -Jessica, age 8
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Lila: A worldview worth viewing
Under the title "Kid@heart" the description reads, "I choose wonder, recess, and Lila." What's Lila you ask? It's actually a Hindu term that refers to divine playfulness. Under this concept, the heavens, the earth, and the underworld are simply one big playground. I'm not sure what all the religious implications of that view are, but I do like to contemplate the secular (especially the classroom) ones.
Imagine a couple who chooses to view their disagreements in terms of a war metaphor. What do they do/feel/think at this time? According to the groundbreaking book by Lakoff and Johnson, they "attack" their sweetheart's weaknesses in hopes of being "right on target." They desperately try to "win" the "battle," and "defend their position." They avoid "surrender" at all costs.
On the other hand, imagine a couple who chooses to view their disagreements in terms of Lila. They see their disagreement as part of the interplay of their marriage. What does that look like? When my children play, I see self-expression, I see role-play, I see collaboration, I see a need for choice and for some control, and I see lots of smiles.
Of course I've had my drill sergeant days in the classroom (and at home), but I am not most proud of those particular days. The days that I am most proud of entail the energy, the creativity, the self-expression, and the intrinsic motivation that you'll see on any playground. The days that I am most proud of entail Lila.
Imagine a couple who chooses to view their disagreements in terms of a war metaphor. What do they do/feel/think at this time? According to the groundbreaking book by Lakoff and Johnson, they "attack" their sweetheart's weaknesses in hopes of being "right on target." They desperately try to "win" the "battle," and "defend their position." They avoid "surrender" at all costs.
On the other hand, imagine a couple who chooses to view their disagreements in terms of Lila. They see their disagreement as part of the interplay of their marriage. What does that look like? When my children play, I see self-expression, I see role-play, I see collaboration, I see a need for choice and for some control, and I see lots of smiles.
Of course I've had my drill sergeant days in the classroom (and at home), but I am not most proud of those particular days. The days that I am most proud of entail the energy, the creativity, the self-expression, and the intrinsic motivation that you'll see on any playground. The days that I am most proud of entail Lila.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Wondering about Wonder
Have you ever wondered what it means to wonder? Emily Dickinson has a gorgeous poem that starts out:
My students and my children often live in this state between certainty and ignorance. Right now my three year old son knows that his nose is stuffy, but he doesn't understand why. He suspects that he'll get better, but he doesn't know when. He trusts that everything will be okay, but he doesn't know how.
Because he lives in this state of wonder, he is receptive to new ideas. In fact, he craves them. If you want to be a kid@heart, embrace wonder. :-)
Wonder -- is not precisely Knowing
And not precisely Knowing not --
My students and my children often live in this state between certainty and ignorance. Right now my three year old son knows that his nose is stuffy, but he doesn't understand why. He suspects that he'll get better, but he doesn't know when. He trusts that everything will be okay, but he doesn't know how.
Because he lives in this state of wonder, he is receptive to new ideas. In fact, he craves them. If you want to be a kid@heart, embrace wonder. :-)
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
MENTORS MATTER
To some degree every person I've met, every author I've read, and every musician I've heard has been a mentor. The following people, however, are the ones I want to mention in my first ever blog entry.
William McCarthy--my grandfather, who taught me the value of family and the value of honesty. He never shied away from "telling it like it is," especially the last 20 years of his life in which he got honest with himself, sobered up, and lived gratefully one day at a time.
Michael Gelven--a college professor and friend, who illuminated the world of philosophy and the world of Shakespeare and proceeded to show me how these two worlds are siblings.
Barbara Taylor--a former boss and leader of the the English department at Glenbrook North High School. She helped transform my teaching from "what" to "how." She guided me in scaffolding lessons that teach students how to learn, not merely what to learn. In addition, she never let me forget that I am a kid teacher first and an English teacher second.
Ryan Bretag--an Instructional Technologist at GBN. Although he's much younger than the other three (in fact, he's younger than me), Ryan gets the credit for showing me the true value of technology (i.e., a tool that makes my professional and my personal life better). Ryan helped me see the meaning-making potential in wired discussions, wikis, blogs, etc.
So, what mentor of yours deserves mentioning?
William McCarthy--my grandfather, who taught me the value of family and the value of honesty. He never shied away from "telling it like it is," especially the last 20 years of his life in which he got honest with himself, sobered up, and lived gratefully one day at a time.
Michael Gelven--a college professor and friend, who illuminated the world of philosophy and the world of Shakespeare and proceeded to show me how these two worlds are siblings.
Barbara Taylor--a former boss and leader of the the English department at Glenbrook North High School. She helped transform my teaching from "what" to "how." She guided me in scaffolding lessons that teach students how to learn, not merely what to learn. In addition, she never let me forget that I am a kid teacher first and an English teacher second.
Ryan Bretag--an Instructional Technologist at GBN. Although he's much younger than the other three (in fact, he's younger than me), Ryan gets the credit for showing me the true value of technology (i.e., a tool that makes my professional and my personal life better). Ryan helped me see the meaning-making potential in wired discussions, wikis, blogs, etc.
So, what mentor of yours deserves mentioning?
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