My students have been out of school for four days now, while I've been out for two. I'm a night person, so I admit that I love the luxury of not setting that 5:15 alarm . . . but I miss my students already. Teaching fifth grade is especially strange, because my students will go to middle school, and I won't see them in the hallways next year. They may come back to visit for assemblies or younger siblings' events, and I may see them when we tour the middle school next February and we exchange waves or hugs or book recommendations. But this is not the same. We know so much about each other. We've spent eight or more hours of the past 190 days or so together. We know stories about families, about activities, about trips. We know about the struggles and sadness and triumphs and creativity over the past year. We know how to push each other's buttons, and we know how to make each other laugh.
Around April, all this familiarity becomes a little too intense. Really, you can see fifth graders transform on the bus ride back from the middle school tour - they sit a bit taller, and their elementary world seems too small. Lining up in the hallways and sitting flat at assemblies - these things no longer seem to apply to them as they reach toward French class and passing time and sitting with friends from other classes in the cafeteria. Elementary school suddenly seems like clothes that no longer fit.
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My school has a great tradition of maker-thinking when it comes to Valentine's Day. Our fantastic instructional technology specialist runs a contest for students who build Valentine boxes that use simple machines (she does this for pumpkins in the fall, too). However, students don't need to make their Valentine boxes move to be interesting:
Fifth grade in January is an interesting time of year. We've just had a long break, but we know each other pretty well. We have routines and relationships. But things are changing, and we can all feel it: we visit our middle school in February, which seems early, but it sets things in motion for the middle school to establish their schedule on time for next year.
When we know we're moving on, sometimes we reject the familiar. It's hard to realize what you'll miss until you don't have it anymore. Likewise, when we are worried about something new, sometimes we can only see what we're giving up, because we don't yet know all the good things that will come. In either case, it can make the spring of fifth grade a rather tumultuous stew of feelings. It's an age where students are learning to find boundaries between themselves and authority figures, the wider community, and each other. It's also an age where they begin to understand complex concepts and ideas, and they are often very passionate about addressing these things. Unfortunately, we don't always make enough room to listen to their ideas or passions in elementary school, because we are busy trying to keep them within the routines and systems of that community. Today we built art pieces to express what we want our class culture to look like! What a great maker-based way to review foundations of IB-PYP and to establish collaborative learning practices right from the start of the year! As we began the school year, we started with conversations about what we want our class to look like. As fifth graders at an IB-PYP school, my students are familiar with the language of attitudes and attributes of learners, as well as general school expectations. As a teacher, I also have three key expectations that I share with students: Be Kind, Participate Constructively, Keep Improving. As a next step this year, I wanted to establish my commitment to a maker mindset right from the beginning. This time, I asked my students to create something to show what they wanted our classroom to be like. We talked a little about art, and how it could be a drawing, a sculpture, a song, a video, a play, or a dance. I put out a few materials - a few different colors of paper, a bit of string, some index cards, but nothing too fancy - I didn't want to be the idea starter. When they asked for specific things, I got them out if I had them available. I gave them some time to work in groups, and then we gave our first presentations. We got six posters and one three-dimensional sculpture. There were some things that were working really well, but overall, the results weren't what I hoped for. I had tried not to prompt them, but their projects looked a lot alike - they were working to please me and check something off a list for the most part, not working to express themselves authentically. However, we did observe and reflect about our collaboration, and we had a chance to do initial shared presentations, so we were off to a good start. It's that magical time of year again, when all things seem possible. Teachers return to classrooms to attend trainings, set up their learning spaces, and make plans to guide their students. The empty classrooms are gleaming, but too quiet. These rooms hold the promise of all the things to come - discovery, progress, connections, excitement. Pretty soon, other things will enter these spaces, too. Paperwork, mandatory assessments, unexpected schedule adjustments, conflicts. If we aren't careful, these things can take up so much room in our school lives that they crowd out the things that matter most. One of the things I like to do each year is to choose a personal theme. (Here is a good article by Elena Aguilar about teaching mottos; hers was "You Belong.") This theme has nothing to do with decor and everything to do with where I put my focus and energy. It centers my purpose and clarifies my "why." This year, my theme is "Appreciate Amazing." I will need to be present in each moment, and less preoccupied with my to-do lists. I will be on the lookout for laughter and ways to build connections, for high-quality processes and products and mistakes that shine a light on our next steps, for small triumphs and seized opportunities. I will find beauty in problems that lead to growth, if we let them. I will commit to the well-being of my colleagues, my students, and their families, and see all the ways they shine. I will celebrate the meaningful work of this important profession, and the incredible potential of the young people in my learning community. Amazing is abundant in people, when we look for it, and in the world itself. Number patterns, trees, music, the feel of wind and working muscles when you run, water, sunshine, buildings, words. I hope teachers, students, parents, and education stakeholders in cities large and small are looking forward to an excellent 2018 school year. I am ready for all the Amazing it has to offer!! |
Jamie Wright
I've had the privilege of working with hundreds of students and families in IA, CT, NC, MO, TX, and Canada. I love being a teacher-librarian! Categories
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