Education | BulgingButtons

November 4, 2014
by BulgingButtons 1 Comment

An Open Apology to Fourth Graders

Dear Fourth Graders,

On behalf of compassionate fourth grade teachers everywhere, I’m sorry.

1. I’m sorry that you don’t have as much recess time as you really need. I know that you need to run around and play more. I know that you need more opportunities to be with your peers in unstructured environments and more time to work out your conflicts without adult interference. I know that you need to exercise your imagination as well as your body, and that the short amount of time that you get to do this each day isn’t enough. I also know that your opportunities for this kind of play and social interaction outside of school are extremely limited in most cases. I’m sorry that most of you don’t live in “free range” neighborhoods, where you can ride bikes, play in friends’ yards, and feel like you own the outdoors. I’m sorry that for the most part those days are gone.

2. I’m sorry for the sad excuse that is your school lunch on a daily basis. Back in the good old days there was a delicious hot lunch waiting in the cafeteria for students each day, prepared with love by the ladies behind the counter in hairnets. I’m sorry that much of what you receive these days comes out of microwaved packages and hardly resembles a home cooked meal. Furthermore, I’m sorry that you don’t know the difference and think that it’s perfectly fine. I’m sorry that your tray is disposable and that we’re adding millions of these to landfills everyday, along with the packaging that your lunch came in. I’m sorry that your lunch time is no longer about enjoying a meal with your friends, but rather about shoving as much of this processed junk into your mouth as you can in the tiny amount of time you’re allotted. I’m sorry that these days items such as “trout treasures” are on the menu, and that someone thinks that serving cucumber slices with a pancake lunch is a good idea.

$fracti8$ 3. I’m sorry about fractions. I know you don’t like them and that they’re confusing. I agree. They’re a little difficult to understand once you get past the basics, and frankly most people only really need to understand the basics. You, however, are in fourth grade, so you are expected to understand a lot more than that. You are expected to be able to identify lots of equivalent fractions, to order fractions on number lines, and to complete operations with them. You need to be able to rename them, decompose them, add them, subtract them, and mix them with whole numbers. You are also expected to be able to show multiple representations of all of these mathematical gymnastics, so relying on the old pizza diagram just doesn’t quite cut it anymore. I know that your parents have never seen the kind of work that we’re doing and that they can’t help you and they feel as frustrated by this as you do. I know it’s a lot, and I know there are umpteen million things you would rather do than draw a model of yet another fraction pair, but we have to do it. I’m sorry.

4. I’m sorry about all the tests. You think they’re normal, after all you’ve been tested half to death since before you ever set foot in a classroom, but I know the difference. I know that you’re tested too often, and frequently on all the wrong things. I’m required to test you reading against a stopwatch. I’m required to administer long complex tests via computer three times a year in math and reading. I’m required to make sure you’re prepared for a multi-day end of the year assessment that someone else wrote on content that I’m not convinced is even developmentally appropriate for you. Oh, and this year the test is brand new and nobody seems to have any clear idea of what it will actually be like. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it will be a surprise, and I’m sorry that it’s so darn long. I know you’re a little kid. I know that your attention span is fairly short. I know that this test is way more important to me than it is to you, and I’m sorry that I keep trying to get you to understand that I really need you to take it seriously and do your best. It should be enough that I’ve been teaching you all year and that I know what you understand and what you don’t, but unfortunately, some very powerful people don’t see it that way. I’m sorry.

5. I’m sorry that we just don’t have time for all the fun things that I know you would love, and that would help you to enjoy school and someday look back on it with fondness. I’m sorry that celebrating holidays is pretty much a thing of the past. I’m sorry that we’re so “culturally sensitive” that we end up doing virtually nothing out of the ordinary ever, for fear of upsetting someone. I’m sorry that our curriculum leaves so little room for art and drama and good old-fashioned fun. I’m sorry that we don’t do as many projects as you would like. I’m sorry that I have to rush you to learn, when I know that a slower pace with more time to process is what so many of you need. I’m sorry that I have to put my better judgement aside so frequently as a result of what I must accomplish on a daily basis. I’m sorry that room mothers (and fathers) and Valentine’s parties and time for games and crafts and show and tell have become a thing of the past in so many cases. I’m sorry that so often we don’t get to see the real you in school as a result.

6. I’m sorry that you think everything about school is as it should be. I know you would just LOVE to spend a week or two on a thematic unit studying the tropical rainforest, or that working together to make a group quilt would be a valuable and rewarding activity, but those types of learning experiences are so difficult to squeeze into the already demanding curriculum. All hope is not lost though. Your teachers really do want you to love school, so they hang on to those events and activities that they hold most dear, in hopes that we can leave some lasting impression of fourth grade, beyond tests and fractions and lousy school lunches. I’m sorry that we can’t do more of them, though.

7. I’m sorry that I only get you for one year. Fourth grade is a tough year. You’re expected to be a good reader by now, only many of you aren’t, yet. You’re expected to work independently at this age, except that many of you struggle with this expectation daily. You’re expected to be organized, but for a lot of you that’s just not possible. You’re expected to solve your own problems, except that many of you have little experience with this skill, so you’re not very good at it yet. Add to that the fractions and the testing and the quick pace and the lack of downtime, and fourth grade ends up being a very stressful time for many kids. It’s also a time when class sizes increase (at least in my district) and it’s when some children are beginning to show signs of puberty. It’s a year of challenges, but one that you’ll get through. I wish I could keep you for fifth grade. I’ve had that pleasure before, and that second year together is magic. We know each other, we work together as a team, and you do amazing things that you just weren’t quite ready to do the year before. I can’t keep you, though. I have to send you on at the end of the year, but I know you’ll be ready, and for that, I’m not sorry at all.

I know you don’t always understand why I do what I do in school, and why you have to do what you have to do, but please trust me. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I make descisions about your education with an open mind and an open heart, within the parameters that are allowed. I care about you, and your future. After all, your future is tied to mine, and I want you to be as well prepared, in all ways, as possible.

With love,

Your Fourth Grade Teacher

January 15, 2014
by BulgingButtons 19 Comments

Under Pressure

Yikes! I’m amazed at how quickly I’ve reverted to the stressball I was before winter break. I’m feeling a little too much pressure, and I’m not dealing with it all that well at the moment. School has been back in session only eight days since break, and I’ve missed two of those days. I took a sick day last week and slept virtually all day. On Monday of this week I had a professional day of collaboration with other educators. It was fabulous. Those other eight though…

It’s not the kids. The kids are fine. It’s not the other teachers. They are amazing. What is it? I guess it’s all the demands. In those eight days I’ve been visited by my administrator at least four times. I’ve also been visited by our instructional coach and another coach sent in from the district. I’m being watched.

Now lest you think I’m “in trouble” or a slacker, I assure you I am not. HOWEVER, and this is obviously a big however (you did see the all caps, right?), my winter test scores weren’t great. Not just mine, the whole grade level. In fact we’re all being visited. I’m not sure it’s necessary or even helpful. Long story short, many hours have been spent discussing the situation, and measures are being taken to correct it. I hate being in this position. All of us do. We are professionals. We work hard. Really really hard.

I typically arrive at school by 7:30, take a 25 minute lunch unless I have kids come to do some work, then it’s closer to 12 minutes, and stay until 5 or later. Then I work at home many evenings and weekends. Why? Well, there are 29 sets of papers to be graded, scores to be entered, phone calls and emails to be returned, lessons to be planned and created, tests and practice sheets to be written, and test data to be evaluated. Then there are meetings to attend, forms to fill out, book orders to complete, displays to create, pencils to sharpen, web sites to update, and so much more.

This is not to complain, just to enlighten. The whole image of teachers working 8 to 3 and taking summers off is a fairy tale. Most of us love teaching and love kids, which is why we do it. None of us got into education for fame or fortune. But this is crazy. This feeling of never quite doing enough, never quite having enough time, never quite giving all the students exactly what they need at all times. It’s a lot. It’s too much. I have to cut myself a little slack or I won’t be any good to them. I know what I’m doing. I know I’m a good teacher. I can’t let the current situation get to me, or it will end up sabotaging my efforts. I just need to take a step back and breathe. In, out, in , out… I can do this. I have to.

December 8, 2013
by BulgingButtons 29 Comments

Daily Prompt: Learning Style

As an educator (I teach fourth grade students) I think about learning styles a great deal. Every day I am charged with teaching children concepts that are often confusing and difficult to understand.

I have been teaching for quite a while, and I know that different learners need different experiences, but in a classroom of approximately 30 students, I cannot offer 30 individualized lessons, that’s why I have to mix things up. Besides, when we are confronted with new experiences, we don’t get to stop and request that they be presented to us in a particular style, now do we? Sometimes we have to gather information by hearing it, other times by reading it or attempting to perform some task. Experience with all of these is important, even if someone is clearly stronger in one area than in others.

There are those who would propose that we can learn anything by reading a book on the topic, however, would a book be the most effective way to learn to play an instrument? Wouldn’t you have to hear the notes and watch how the instrument is manipulated in order to produce certain sounds?

Likewise, it would be difficult to become a proficient athlete without actually suiting up and trying out different movements and routines. I can read about ice skating all day long or watch a fine skater perform, or listen to a lecture on skating, but I will not learn to skate until I get on the ice and start moving.

I consider myself to be a very visual person. Many people are visual learners, which I believe is why so many of us are horrified by the idea of losing our vision. Our main method of taking in information would be eliminated, and we find this terrifying. At least I do. When I see things I can often make sense of them. Reading is an excellent way for me to learn, and when there are visuals, either photos, charts, maps, or better yet video, involved, I learn even better.

Still, I do believe in the age old saying (attributed to I don’t know whom and I’m too lazy to go searching, sorry) “Tell me and I will forget, show me and I may remember, let me do it and I will learn.”

I find this to be especially true when I take quilting classes. I have been a quilter for well over twenty years, and I have taken class after class after class. It’s not because I’m incompetent. It’s primarily because I enjoy the company of other quilters, and I like to see how they interpret the same ideas using their vision and their materials. I also learn something new with every class I take, sometimes from the instructor and sometimes from the other students. I listen to them, I watch them demonstrate the technique, then I practice the technique. If I wish to go in a slightly different direction with my work I’m generally encouraged to do so.

All of this is done in a supportive, non-threatening atmosphere. There is no test at the end. No panel from the state will be walking through to see how I’m doing, and the teacher’s boss isn’t breathing down her neck with a check sheet to make sure she has covered the same topics that every other quilt teacher has covered, whether they apply to this class or not. At the end of the class I evaluate my own progress. Have I accomplished what I sought out to do? Do I need more practice with this technique? Is there something else I should try to improve my work? What do my peers think? What does the instructor think? How will I incorporate their feedback? Ultimately, it is up to me.

I wish I could provide more of this type of learning atmosphere to my students. I wish I could provide more time for exploration and discovery, more materials for them to manipulate and experiment with, and more options for showcasing and sharing their knowledge and learning process. I wish I could limit the number of standardized tests they are required to complete, and I wish I could eliminate some of the content I’m expected to cram into their fragile heads each year, in order to spend more time on topics of importance that fascinate and engage them. My biggest wish, though, is that they will continue to love learning, for the sake of learning, not for the sake of the test or the grade. If I can help them do that, I have succeeded.