becoming type z

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Archives for October 2017

The Things That Matter

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In education when we’re writing curriculum, we often follow a process pioneered by Jay McTighe and Grant Wiggins. Following their process, we “work backwards.” We identify the big ideas, the lasting learning, the concepts we want to stick. Wiggins and McTighe call these “enduring understandings.”

We educators are super thoughtful when identifying specifically what it is we want kids to learn. Then, we ask questions, “essential questions” to inspire learning, encourage reflection, and help students comprehend that what they’re doing is important.

This process called Understanding By Design requires teachers to be mindful in their curriculum writing, purposeful with their allocation of precious time and resources. And it works really well. So well that we remove the fluff and focus on the good stuff. The stuff that a professor of mine dubbed the material that passes the “so what?” test. If we cannot justify why any task is important, then we simply don’t include it.

Then I got to thinking. What if we could sit down, identify the non-academic learning we want our kids to master? The really important things that pass the “so what” test, what I refer to as “the things that matter,” that make our lives full. Full of experiences, joy, a sense of purpose?

And then I thought, why not take what I know about the Understanding by Design model and plug in some enduring understandings and pose some essential questions? It was a lightbulb, aha moment. Of course we could apply McTighe’s and Wiggins’ process of working backwards to inform our parenting!

I brainstormed the key understandings I want to stick with my nearly grown daughters, which incidentally are the same things I want for my students. I want them to feel connected to community, yet independent; self-confident, yet humble; calm, yet enthusiastic.

I started with a UbD template, and plugged in something I want my kids to know. Then I added a question to drive this point home.

Enduring UnderstandingEssential Question
People who possess confidence have limitless opportunities.
How do you show self-confidence?

It was a good starting point. But I wasn’t presenting material. I needed my matrix to be more specific, yet general enough for others to use. So, I riffed on McTighe and Wiggins’ framework. Added easy to understand headings. What things, precisely, do we want our kids to learn about life anyhow? What tools do we want them to accumulate? What do we want them to be able to do? And why do these things matter?

Here’s my starting point:

What Do I Want My Child to Know?What are the necessary tools?Why does it matter?
Self-confidence can improve with practice. Eye contact, a calm voice, smiles…Self-confident people have more opportunities than less-confident people.

 

Then I thought some more. Something was missing still. I know I want kids to be happy, confident, and successful. I know first-hand how much better life is when anxiety is replaced with confidence. Then I thought, of the Antoine de Saint-Exupery saying, “a goal without a plan is just a dream.”  That’s what I needed! My matrix needed an action plan, some suggested steps. So I revised my matrix once more.

What’s the goal for my child?What tools/skills do they need to accomplish this? Why does It matter?What can I do to help make this happen? (possible action steps)Timeline
I want my child to be self-confident.Opportunities to practice speaking, developing eye contact, learn through repeated practice.1. Self-confident people have more opportunities.
2. Confident people are happier.		As a teacher, easy-peasy: provide numerous opportunities to practice speaking in partnerships, small groups, and whole group.
Provide verbal feedback on specific growth.
As a parent, yikes:
Be quiet, don’t force my child into conversation, but let my child speak for herself.
Daily

Then I started plugging in a desire statement, just to see how the matrix worked. When I was filling in my own worksheet, I found my action steps became nifty actionable tip-lists in and of themselves, the heart of becoming type z!

Each month I look forward to sharing specific goals, tips and action steps to helping kids of all ages become their happiest, most confident, type z selves.

© Kathie Z

Treat Them Like They’re Yours

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When I stepped into a classroom to teach the first time, I was green-super green. I’m talking Kermit the Frog green. I was at the end of my graduate school program, the practicum a.k.a. “student teaching” experience. I was finally going to put all of the theory and classroom learning to use. And I was petrified! What ifs popped up in my brain, multiplied. Because that is what the then-perfectionist did. I assigned high-stakes status to big deals and little deals alike; planned for the worst-case-scenario, and planned some more.

My cooperating teacher was a dynamo. She was organized, knowledgeable, kind, bubbly-a legit child whisperer. I took note of everything she said and did, wrote copious notes and did my best to emulate her ways. She taught me everything from setting up a classroom to start the year to lesson planning to writing a monthly classroom newsletter. Bit by bit, she shared teaching duties with me.

All was going well. By all accounts I was doing a great job, even. I felt confident in my abilities. Yes! I had landed where I was supposed to be. And then it happened. My first failure. It happened during a spelling lesson, a carbon copy of the lesson I’d presented the week prior. This week, however, the kids weren’t buying what I was selling. They were antsy, inattentive and talkative. I tried to use the strategies I had seen my cooperating teacher use brilliantly to no avail. I stood in front of the chalkboard, arms folded across my chest, eyeing the clock as the second hand made its way around again and again.  Shh! One of the kids finally whispered. “She’s waiting!”

I had employed the silent waiting strategy, finally, but my frustration and irritation had already taken root. While transitioning to the next lesson, I muttered, “They will listen” or some other “I’m the one in charge, here” phrase that adults who are clearly not feeling in charge mutter to my cooperating teacher.

She quite calmly and pleasantly told me to let go of my attitude and replace it with good cheer or she’d take over the teaching. I shook it off the best I could and we finished our morning fine. Later, while debriefing, I asked her how she stayed kind and positive in those trying moments when it feels like the class was engaged in a mutiny. She smiled her toothy grin and said quite plainly, “I treat them like they’re my own.” No brainer for her.

But what exactly did her wise words mean? I didn’t have kids (yet). I had a cocker spaniel. How exactly was I supposed to do this? For the next few days, I did my best to make meaning of her words and watch for evidence of her “treating them like her own.”

I watched her listen intently, smile, laugh, and treat the children with kindness. She exuberantly praised effort and pointed out specific evidence of success. And when the children misbehaved, she calmly, matter-of-factly redirected the students. Not once did I see her take our students’ behavior personally.

Now that I’m an experienced parent and seasoned teacher, I totally get the depth of her words. The first rule of parenting. It’s not about us, the adults. I think this is one of the first principles of teaching, too. Our students, like our own children, are complicated, amazing individuals. They are the priorities. It is our job to meet them where they are and help them to soar.

Wow. What an amazing responsibility, but what a privilege, as well. Most days when lessons are going well and the children are following classroom routines, all is right in the world. But some days, when something’s off, someone’s struggling in one way or another; it’s imperative to stop, assess the situation and modify plans as necessary. I know it’s tempting to keep going, plow through the day’s curriculum because we have so much to do. But it’s not about me, the classroom teacher. It’s about the kids. And I choose to treat them like they’re my own.

Kathie Z.

 

 

 

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