Character Counts

Right now I'm reading Dracula by Bram Stoker.  I checked this book out of the library because it's on so many must-read lists.  I've read everything by Anne Rice, and I made it (barely) to the end of Twilight--how could I have missed the granddaddy of them all, the Count?

I'm only halfway through, but now I know why you must read this book--it's absolutely brilliant.  Stoker brings out the narrative using numerous points of view and through various forms of documentation.  At one moment you are reading a diary entry from solicitor Jonathan Harker, and the next you're spying on the captain's log of the cargo ship Demeter.

It made me think about teaching point of view in the classroom.  You can talk about character motivation until you're blue in the face, but it won't mean anything if the kids don't experience and play with the concept of motivation firsthand.  The best way to do this is through theater.

To scaffold the concept, start with something easy.  In pairs, give each kid a different motivation--it's best if the character goals have nothing to do with each other.  For example,

Kid 1:  a child trying to convince a parent to get a puppy
Kid 2:  a parent trying to fix a leaky sink

Remind the kids to focus on two things:  What do you want?  How are you going to get it?  That's your motivation.

Once they've had a little experience with this, put them in small groups and have them act in a setting like the zoo or a department store.  The students must agree on and pick different roles in the setting.  Then each student decides privately what their motivation is.  And the acting begins.

Bring it a step further, having them act out the motivations of characters in a story you have just read.  You can have them start by brainstorming on graphic organizers the motivations of different characters.

And finally, try a story that they haven't read yet.  Which brings me back to Dracula.  The reading level of Dracula is way beyond the ability of my fourth graders, but I'd like them to experience the story in a deeper way than the comic books offer.  So, I'm assigning them characters and character motivations.  I haven't finished the book yet, so these are portrayals I just made on the fly--I'm sure I'll get a deeper understanding as I work through the book.

What's my motivation?

Count Dracula:  You want to fill the world with vampires.
Jonathan Harker: You want to escape the castle Dracula and return home to your fiance, Mina.
Mina Murray: You want to create a perfect household and support your fiance, Jonathan.
Van Helsing: You want to protect people from vampires.
John Seward:  You want to understand and treat psychosis.
Lucy Westenra: You want to party and get the attention of potential husbands.

Put them in one big room and see what happens!  How fun is this?  Try it!  The opportunities are endless as kids explore the ideas of character, motivation, and point of view.  It will increase their reading comprehension, improve their creative writing, and help them become a more empathic person.  It's a win-win-win situation.

So, when you're playing a character like the Count, remember that character counts.

Bouncing Baby Book

Whew!  All that talk about testing, and you'd think that's the only important thing in education.  Let me get back to the spirit of Electric Child.  It's time to talk about Mockingjay.

Mockingjay is the third book in the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins.  Santino introduced me to Hunger Games last year via recommendation by his teacher.  "Mom, you've GOT to read this," he said.  A real page-turner, it is a dystopian vision of a post-apocalyptic United States.  The controlling central government asserts its power over the twelve districts of "Panem," formerly the U.S., by sending teenage representatives from each district to an arena fight to the death.  I couldn't believe my kid was reading this stuff!

Like everything else coming from Santino's teacher, though, this book was compelling.  We quickly read the second installment of the series, Catching Fire, some time in March.  And after that?  The long wait for the third book to come out.

I don't know what's happening in the publishing industry, but it seems that nobody writes a simple, single book any more.  So many books come series, in threes, or fours or fives.  Each individual book has an ending, sure, but the arc of the whole story isn't played out in the first 300 or 400 pages.  Most of my experience is with young adult fiction, but immediately several series come to mind, including "Midnighters"  (three books), "Uglies" (three books), "Twilight" (four books), and of course, Harry Potter (seven books).  The Hunger Games series was no exception.

As we finished the second act (that is, book) of the story, we were left with two cliffhangers.  First--would our hero, Katniss Everdeen, succeed in leading a revolution to overthrow the central government?  And second---who would end up as Katniss' soulmate?  Her longtime archery chum Gale, or her loving partner in the Hunger Games, Peeta?

These are high stakes, and we had to wait until August 24 for the last book to come out.  Santino was upset because he had soccer camp that day.  I know he would've been very happy for me to say, hey, don't go to camp--let's sit all day and read instead!   But, he went to camp, and I bought the book, including two additional copies for my book club friends at school.  When I picked Santino up from camp, he climbed into the car and started reading immediately.

At home, Santino plunked himself down on the couch, and I sidled up on the love seat.  He read Mockingjay, and I read Specials--yet another third book in a trilogy about a post-apocalyptic dystopia.  After four chapters, Santino growled.  "Arrghh!!! Mom, I have to talk to you about this.  Could you read it?"  So I read four chapters so we could talk.  Then he had the great idea--we would each read a few chapters tag-team style so we could discuss the book as we went along.

Once more, he plopped onto the couch and continued reading--he changed his mind about tag-team because he didn't want to give up the book to me.  It was getting late, though, and some time past 11 pm he still had about 100 pages to go.  "I don't want to go to soccer camp!"  he whined.  I told him that while he was at camp, it would give me a chance to catch up with him.

The next day, I read to the exact page where he was in the book.   Back from camp, he focussed again on the couch, book in hand and puppies at his feet.  That last 100 pages were excruciating.  "Oh, not HIM!"  he cried.  At another point, "Mom, you're going to HATE this!"  And finally, "Yes, YES, I knew she would do it!"

The final page read, he shut the book with a loud thump and woke up the puppies.  It was my turn, and the book didn't disappoint me.  No spoilers here--but I can tell you I know whether the rebels succeed, and also which boy Katniss chose in the end.

After plunging yourself into a world that spans over 1,000 pages, it's always a disappointment when you've come to the end.  We certainly felt that sense of loss at the seventh installment of Harry Potter.  You get to know those characters, and that world, and it's almost like a death in the family.

But how wonderful is it to celebrate the birth of a book.  The anticipation of the release of Mockingjay captured our imaginations for months.  We tooted our horns on August 24--today is the day!  And as we saw the world play out, a surprise in the end, we left with a sense of happy melancholy.

And now Santino and I are asking ourselves--What's the next great book?

Parent Education and Test Success - It Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree

Okay, I'm still thinking about testing.

I've been crunching numbers lately.  My focus group was three elementary schools in my local district. The statistics come from my school district's website and are available for everyone to see.

One interesting stat is parent level of education.   Using stats developed by the California Department of Education, I pulled up information on these three schools that happen to be within about a 3 mile radius of each other.  One of those is my school, the school where I teach.  Here are the stats:

Parent Education Levels

Source:  California Dept of Education -- Assessment, Accountability and Awards Division

2009 Academic Performance Index (API) Report

My School                     percent

Not a high school graduate    31

High school graduate            41

Some college                       16

College graduate                    7

Graduate school                    4

My School's 2009 API: 754
My School is located in an immigrant and working class neighborhood with a gang population of >3,000.

Nearby School #1           percent

Not a high school graduate     9

High school graduate            19

Some college                       30

College graduate                  27

Graduate school                   16

Nearby School #1's 2009 API:  845
Nearby School #1 is gifted magnet school located within 2 miles of My School.

Nearby School #2               percent

Not a high school graduate      3

High school graduate              7

Some college                       27

College graduate                  35

Graduate School                   28

Nearby School #2's 2009 API:  898
Nearby School #2 is a School for Accelerated Studies (attracts gifted students) and is located in a secluded neighborhood within 2 miles of My School.

The "API" of a school is a numeric valuation based on the performance of students on a standards-based test given once a year.  The goal is for all schools to have an API of 800 or greater.  My school--in a working class and immigrant neighborhood--has been inching up toward 800 slowly but surely.  "Nearby School #1" is a magnet school for gifted kids.  "Nearby School #2" happens to be my son's old elementary school.  If you add up the percentages of each school, they come to over 100%, but I assume this is because of how they rounded the decimals.  So, my numbers below may be off by a percentage or two, but you'll get the idea.

Just to take a quick look at the stats, note that 72% of parents in the survey at My School never went to college.  Compare this with 28% at Nearby School #1 and only 10% at Nearby School #2 who had no college experience. 

Do you see that--as parent education level goes up, the API goes up?  

Oh--and look at Nearby School #2 with the meteoric API of 898--90% have been to college, 63% are college grads, and a whopping 28% of the parents went to grad school.  Amazing.  

I really don't want to club you over the head with a baseball bat on this one, so I'll leave you to your own designs.  Look at the numbers, check other schools, and see if you can find a similar correlation.  Bon apetit!

Weighing in on Merit Pay -- Do YOU Want Bart Simpson Determining Your Salary?

Fine, I'll weigh in on merit pay.

I'm for it.

My colleagues are gasping.  My friends are confused.  How could I possibly approve of merit pay for teachers?

Basically, I love chaos.

However.  (You knew it was coming.)  And that's a big however.

Our school district, state, and federal government are all promoting merit pay for teachers.  In fact, our school district is proposing a "value-added" component that bases your "merit" on the performance of your students on one standardized test they take in May.

Are you cringing now?  I am.

Recently our local newspaper published an article preparing us for the worst.  They hired a researcher from a local think-tank to review data from our school district and are going to publish a list of 6,000 elementary school teachers and their "ratings."  These ratings are based on the improvement of individual students on the state testing (again--that one standardized test they take in May).  The evaluation of teachers--what they are calling the value-added approach--is calculated as a percentile.  Those at the top of the ranking are being labeled by the paper as "highly effective" teachers, and those at the bottom are "least effective."

 Some cynics (and realists) think that this sensationalistic journalism was a move to increase readership in a floundering newspaper whose circulation has plummeted by 40% in the past 10 years.  But I won't go there right now.  I'll save my rant about the slow and painful demise of our beloved paper for another day.

Ironically, the school district this year is reporting that our test scores have gone up.  So, when you are evaluating people on a percentile basis that is moving upward, someone still has to be at the bottom, right?  Someone has to occupy the basement even if they are doing something "effective" in the classroom.

Now let's look at how colleges evaluate applicants.  Do they look at only the SATs?  No.  Now that would be silly--it's just one test.  Instead, the colleges look at a variety of indicators:  SATs, grade point average, Achievement Tests, AP tests, essays, letters of recommendation, extra-curricular activities, and occasionally interviews.  They look at a variety of measures and treat the incoming student as a whole person.  If the colleges are looking at the "whole" student, why isn't the school district?

Here are the reasons I am against the district's proposal to use this particular value-added measure to evaluate and pay for a teacher's performance:

1. The state test is a flawed tool.  It is under dispute and should not be used for something as serious as determination of performance and salary.  I have previously written about this and could write volumes more--which I will do in later posts.

2. Kids who have great increases in performance on this test one year are more likely to fall back the following year.  That means, as a teacher, if you get a class full of kids who "slid back" the previous year, you're in luck.  If you get kids who made big gains, you'll have a tough time improving this year.

3. Believe me when I say this:  for the most part, kids don't take this test seriously.  It doesn't determine whether they move onto the next grade or not.  It doesn't determine the grades on their report card.  They don't even get the scores until months after they take the test, and even then, they don't know what they did right or wrong.  The impact and import of the test is lost on them, so they don't care about it the way we teachers do, and the way we teachers would like them to care.

4. We teach to the whole child.  What does that mean?  Well, yes, we teach the standards.  We teach them to write, and read, and do math.  And we teach them how to take tests.  But we also teach them how to think critically.  We teach them how to solve problems.  We teach them how to love reading.  We work on their self-esteem, personal hygiene, social skills--we teach them how to play nice.  How to be a good audience.  How to be gracious.  How to walk away from a fight.  How are you going to assess that?

Regarding my own scores, last year I inherited a bunch of kids who had "slid back" the previous year.  I lucked out, because there was a lot of room for improvement.  Now that I've reviewed their test scores from May, only one of my kids slid back in language arts scores--and she went from "advanced" to "proficient."  Twenty of my kids improved by one or two levels--and I feel sorry for the teacher that gets them next, because it will be hard to make gains after that.

I am amused that our newspaper reported that it found that teachers who worked at poorly performing schools fared better in the evaluations than those at highly performing schools.  You know why?  Because kids at "poorly performing" schools have nowhere to go but up.  It's much easier to have a positive impact when such a high number of kids are scoring below the proficient level.

But let's get back to merit pay and value-added measures.  The union's response to printing the database of teacher scores has been to boycott the newspaper.  I laughed--I started boycotting this paper several years ago after The Tribune bought it in 2000 and began its destruction of our Pulitzer-winning paper.  But aside from boycotting the paper and writing letters to the editor, the union doesn't give any concrete advice on how to deal with the situation in a meaningful way.  They are relying on appealing to the public via a medium that has been attacking them for the past I-don't-know-how-many years.  The newspaper has consistently portrayed us teachers as whiners and slackers.  No amount of letters to the editor or boycott is going to change the minds of the public.  The public already has their opinion.

The district's response?  They love it--using this measure might help win the "Race to the Top" competition created by the Obama administration.  Arne Duncan's support of (and love for) value-added measures and merit pay does not bode well for the teaching profession.

So, regarding the value-added measures to determine merit pay:  I'm eager to see the fallout--I really do love a good trainwreck.  What's going to happen?

• Teachers will flee to teach the lower grades (K-2) where there won't be this value-added measure.
• Teachers will run away from teaching gifted kids, because their test scores typically fluctuate between proficient and advanced--and let's hope that you don't get a kid when they're on the downslide.
• Teachers will be reluctant to teach the lowest special education kids who have much more difficulty moving up.
• Teachers will drill and kill.  Haven't heard of that?  It's another term for rote learning.  To get the kids to perform on this test given once a year, we will have to drill them specifically on these kinds of test questions, thus killing the test-taking skill (that is, mastering it) and thereby killing the spirit of education.  Goodbye 21st century learning, hello vapid memorization.
• Teachers are going to leave the profession.  We are public servants, and we publicly serve in a hostile environment.  If you're going to publish our percentile "scores" based on the performance of nine-year-olds and pay us accordingly, then please pay us more.  Don't forget--Bart Simpson is a nine-year-old too.

The country's move toward a corporate model for education is laughable.  But that's for another post.  In the meantime, since I love a good horror movie, to the issue of merit pay I say:  Bring it on.

Hey! I Taught You That!

You get a free homework pass if you know who this is.*

Another day of testing, and I'm roaming around the classroom quietly as kids take their yearly state-issued standardized exams.

"Yes!" I think to myself as I see a kid get an answer right.

As I continue to roam around, I notice a few kids getting easy questions wrong.  I think to myself,

"Hey, I taught you that!
You had it for homework!
You had it in class!
You had weekly quizzes!
And always you passed!
You answered my questions--who what why and how.
You showed me you mastered it, but why why not now?"

I'm not sure why kids do this on standardized tests--get easy questions wrong--questions for which I really prepared them.  Maybe we make too much out of the testing. Maybe in stressing their importance, we stress out the kids.  Year after year, I clench my teeth during testing.  Sometimes my kids do really well, and sometimes not so well.  I strategize, I teach them the standards, I have them practice and hone their test-taking skills, and yet--on that fateful day of testing--I am sure of only one thing: that I prepared them for the test.  In no way am I ever sure that they will actually demonstrate that.

It comes down to this: I know I did my job.  Will they do theirs?

I had one kid--Richard--who was arguably the best reader in my class.  He was taking a weekly Open Court Reading comprehension test, and as he handed in the test, I quickly glanced at it.  He missed four out of ten multiple choice questions.

"Richard," I said, "go back and check your answers before you hand this in."  He glanced at it quickly, wrote his name at the top, and handed it back to me.  "Sorry 'bout that," he said.

I grimaced.  "Richard, not your name.  Your answers. Check your answers."  Again, he looked at it, scanned from top to bottom, and handed it back.

"Look, Richard.  Go back to the story and write down the page number where you got the answer."  Five minutes later he had written down the page numbers but hadn't changed one answer.

That's when I decided to sit down with him--just him--and go over every single question.  He read the questions out loud, and then read each multiple choice answer.  Finally the light bulb went on.  "Oh, that's wrong.  Why did I do that?"  In response to his rhetorical question, I said nothing.  He quickly went through the test, silently, and corrected all of his wrong answers.

Richard was one of my gifted students who underperformed in the state's standardized test the previous year.  The tests give out five levels of results:  Advanced, Proficient, Basic, Below Basic, and Far Below Basic.  Last year, Richard scored "basic" in language arts.  "Basic" is basically not passing.  To pass, you need "proficient" or higher.  This kid, who has a very high level of reading comprehension when you talk to him, was unable to demonstrate his reading skills consistently when he took a written test.  The key word here is consistently.

During the year, I worked closely with him to make sure that he slowed down and paid attention to his tests.  But on that fateful day in May, I worried--will he be too nervous to remember? Will he show the world that he's capable of scoring "advanced" on the language arts section?  Or will he space out, yet again?

I'm talking about Richard in this post because it's important for everyone to understand that these standardized tests measure one very specific thing:  how kids perform on this particular test.  I knew Richard learned what I taught him this year.  If you sit down and talk to him about anything he has read, he can speak volumes in a critical voice.  He can tell you about figurative language,  use a thesaurus, and  write a persuasive essay.  This kid is smart and applies his learning--both in his speech and his writing.  But put a multiple choice test in front of him, and it's a crapshoot.  Sometimes he does well, and other times--not so well.

You might argue--well, if he truly understands the material, he should be able to answer any question put in front of him.  To be honest, it depends on the question.  And the day of the week.  Or his mood.  What he had for breakfast.  Oh--and are there police helicopters hovering above our school at the time?

He did do well on one particular type of multiple choice test--our Accelerated Reader program.  In previous posts I mentioned how Richard had passed enough reading comprehension tests to enable him to be the first student at my school to read a million words, and later, two million words.  On those 10-20 question tests, he routinely scored 90% or higher.

So, why did he score consistently well on Accelerated Reader, but not on the Open Court weekly tests?

Well, that's easy.  He cared.  With Accelerated Reader, we had class goals to meet (for example, one million words before Halloween).  He chose the books he read, and which quizzes to take.  He had a friendly competition with another student to see who could reach one million first.  He had classmates cheering him on as he came closer to the two million word goal.  His achievements on these daily tests were a classroom event, and the positive vibe in the class kept him motivated, interested, and smiling.

So, on that fateful day in May as Richard took his state standardized test and police helicopters circled above, I hoped and prayed and crossed my fingers.  I know you can do it, Richard--now let's show the world.

Ultimately, Richard did extremely well on his test, improving his language arts score by two levels--he scored "advanced."  I knew he could do it--he was prepared, after all.  All he had to do was care.  And for this test, in this year, he did.

Yeah, I taught him what he needed to learn in the fourth grade.  But at the end of the day, what really makes a difference is what each individual kid brings to the table.  And the most important thing Richard brought was: he cared.

* Robert Goddard, the father of modern rocketry

Testing 1-2-3

"I didn't fail the test, I just found 100 ways to do it wrong." --Benjamin Franklin

Santino was in second grade and came home from school after a day of testing for the CSTs (California Standards Test).  These are the annual tests kids take to determine a school's compliance with No Child Left Behind.

"Mom, Dad--what's an almanac?"  I knew why he was asking that question, because as a second grade teacher, I had read that same question that day as I tested my kids at my school.

I looked at Santino's dad and decided to field the question.  "It's an informational book about a specific subject.  I used to have a baseball almanac that had statistics on baseball.  Or you can have the farmer's almanac, which gives information on the weather."

Santino harrumphed.  "Well, if you had to get information about stamp collecting, would you use a dictionary, thesaurus, encyclopedia, or an almanac?"

Simultaneously, Santino's dad and I gave different answers.  "Encyclopedia," said Dad.  "Almanac," said Mom.  Then my poor son waited patiently as his dad and I debated the question.  Dad said that all encyclopedias will have information on stamps, and almanacs are inferior because you have to get the right kind of almanac.  I countered that encyclopedias only have general information, so you would need a stamp almanac to get any useful information on stamp collecting.  He never faltered from encyclopedia; I never strayed from almanac.  We could not agree at all. We didn't even agree to disagree.

When two highly educated people disagree on a question posed to second-graders on a standardized test, it makes you wonder: what exactly are they testing?  How useful and valid are these tests?

I don't know what testing was like before No Child Left Behind.  I only know the tests I have been giving my students for the past seven years.

Anyone can download sample questions from the state's Department of Education website.  As a teacher, you need to know not only what topics are covered on the test, but also how they are covered.  For example, there are dozens of questions on the test about writing.  How can you assess writing on a multiple choice test?  One of their strategies is to have sample pieces of writing, and then have students select the best sentence or group of words to complete the writing piece.

I understand that assessing writing is a difficult standard to tackle, but let's be real--this isn't how we actually teach writing, or how we write, for that matter.  According to the California content standards, students must be able to brainstorm, draft, edit, and publish a piece of writing--we call that the writing process.  Literally, the fourth grade standard reads:  "Edit and revise selected drafts to improve coherence and progression by adding, deleting, consolidating, and rearranging text." Nowhere in the standards for, say, fourth grade does it say that students have to be able to select the best possible sentence out of a group of sentences. I suppose you can defend that this is part of the editing process, but that's not how we really edit--selecting "the best" sentence out of many similar sentences.  When I'm helping my kids with their revisions, I'm aiming for interesting, complex sentences that fit well in the writing piece and are grammatically correct.

As a writing instructor, I prefer the more organic approach.  Give the kids a topic, and let them brainstorm and write.  Certainly you review passages and talk about why one sentence would be better than another. But in order for them to perform well on the test, they must be able to do a very specific task:  choose the "best" in a group of "good" sentences.   This is harder than it sounds.  They have to practice this over and over again--and do it well.  You need to review with them in great detail--what makes this sentence better than that one?  On the test, sometimes they stop when they get to a "good" sentence but not the "best" sentence.  (And usually three out of the four choices are good.)  Often kids just pick the longest sentence in the group, and so you have to address that issue too. Longer is not necessarily better.  Forget about the fact that all year long, we've been teaching them to create depth (and consequently length) to their sentences by adding adjectives, adverbs, and dependent clauses.

You see, the questions on the test aren't designed to check that they merely understand and apply the concept. The questions are actually tricky and often very difficult.  For example, in that selection of sentences as answers, the test makers include a very short but descriptive sentence (the right answer) and a very long but awkward sentence (the wrong answer).  Good luck to you English learners who are speaking Spanish at home.

Oh--and don't get me going on mathematics testing for second graders.  The math test for second graders is given orally.   The teacher reads every question to the kids.  The questions aren't written in their test booklets--only the answers.  So, imagine that spacey--but smart--kid who wasn't quite listening as I read the question the first time, and the kid is still not listening the second time.  "I didn't hear the question," says the second grader.  "I'm sorry," I reply, "I can only read the question two times.  You have to listen and pay attention."  Or, what if they heard the question but need the visual cue to understand it?  They don't have the question written down to check their understanding.

The math test for second graders becomes a test in listening comprehension.  That's tricky for fidgety second graders and even trickier for kids learning English as a second language.  I make it very clear to my kids: this is a test of your listening comprehension.  I give my second graders practice oral tests in math just to get them used to hearing math questions without any visual reinforcement.

Also, the second graders don't benefit from that test-taking strategy of skipping the hard one and going back to it after your brain has had time to register the information.  There is no "going over your work" in the second grade math test.

I could blather on and on about the problems with the standardized tests we are giving our kids in California.  I've been told that earlier versions of the test were more reasonable and apparently did a better job of assessing learning.

It's hard to tell who or what the beast is in this situation.  Is it the test? The standards?  The requirements of No Child Left Behind that ALL students are proficient in all areas by the year 2014?  I agree--assessment is a necessary tool to inform instruction.  But how do you fix a broken tool?

Let me tell you what I want happening in my classroom.  I want my kids to learn how to be critical thinkers.  I want my kids to learn how to use reading as a source for information and learning about the world.  My kids are 21st century learners, and I want to enable them to use the resources necessary (technology) to learn the way they know best.  I want my kids to be able to communicate effectively.   I want my kids to enjoy being nerds, to explore their interests, to engage in critical thinking, to love to learn and love to read.   Of course--I'll teach the standards, but the standards are really only a framework for what's really important in education.

So what is the use of the test?  Essentially we're testing our kids in order to see how the school is doing.  We're supposed to use it to inform instruction, but instead it's being used to determine our funding, our ability to stay autonomous as a school, and rate our "effectiveness" as teachers.

What is this test, really?  A measure of how well a student performs on this test.

Contronyms: Why I'm Glad I'm a Native English Speaker

You are sleeping.  The alarm goes off.  You reach over and push the button to turn the alarm off.

Why is this sentence so confusing?  It's because the word "off" is a contronym--a multiple-meaning word whose meanings are antonyms.  In this sentence, the word off means at first to turn on, and then secondly to turn off.  Who can stand that kind of confusion so early in the morning?

I stumbled upon contronyms when reading the wall post of one of my friends on Facebook.  Quoting her teenage son, she wrote, "Antonym slang is just confusing."  Having no clue what antonym slang is, I googled around and found something close--a listing for contronyms, or words that are their own antonyms.

For example, the word clip can mean detach and also fasten.

She clipped coupons out of the newspaper.  Then she clipped them together with a paper clip.

dust:  to add fine particles; to remove fine particles

He dusted the cake with a fine coat of chocolate powder.  Then he dusted the powder off the kitchen counter.

sanction: approval, punishment

The school sanctions the sale of condoms in restrooms.

Good luck on this one, and please choose the correct definition.

Certainly, many of these contronyms are part of idiomatic expressions, like "go off" from the alarm clock example above.  The word strike means to hit, but it also means to miss when you use the baseball term strike out.  When put together with the word out, the meaning of the word strike changes.  In some ways when the contronym is part of an idiomatic expression, it's even more confusing.  Imagine trying to learn English and coming to this sentence:

When we tried to convince him to go to the party, we struck out.

You look up the word struck, which is tricky itself because it's an irregular verb.  Then you find it means to hit.  The word out means away from.  So struck out means hit away from.   Poor guy--his friends want him to go to the party so badly that they're willing to hit him.  Luckily for him, they missed.  Hmmm....I bet all those ballplayers who strike out wish they they were hitting that ball away from home plate.

There are zillions of reasons (at least 14) why I'm happy to be a native English speaker--contronyms is just one of them.  It's the bomb.*


* bomb: a failure; a success

Creative Writing Through Theater - A Total Physical Response

Try this one on for size.


Imagine you are at the beach.  What sounds do you hear?  Let's make a list of all the sounds you hear at the beach.


Now pick one of those sounds.  On the count of three, make that sound and only that sound.  Listen to the other sounds at the same time, and to the whole beach experience.


After you have listened to the sounds, write down a story about what happened at the beach.  You have lost an object.  That object is important to your family.  Use the sounds you heard at the beach to make your story feel real.

I learned this technique during an outstanding class sponsored by the school district teaching how to use theater to deliver creative writing instruction.  Two experienced and energetic theater teachers taught the class, and the fourteen students in class were willing participants in an acting and writing extravaganza.

Think of a moment in history.  Using all of the actors in your group, create a tableau of that moment.  That means everyone freezes in place to show that one moment.  


Now point to all the actors in the tableau.  What are they thinking?  What's the dialogue?  Write a story describing that moment.

By having our students act out moments in history, we are using the technique called "TPR"--Total Physical Response.  When you use your body to learn, your brain has a better chance of remembering the event and consequently writing about it.  The writing becomes interesting, thoughtful, and creative.

Take a look at this painting.  Pick one thing in the painting--it can be a person, a plant, or an object--and as a group, re-create the painting just as it looks. You don't need to communicate to anyone, just go up and become your object.  Now freeze.


Let's ask each person/object in the painting:  What is your thought bubble? What are you thinking?


Think about the object or person you became.  Write a story describing the scene from that perspective or point of view.

Again, using TPR the students have a better chance of understanding the moment and translating that into a solid piece of writing.

Doing theater in the classroom doesn't necessarily mean putting on plays.  You can just have students act out ideas, concepts, questions--you name it.  When they use their bodies and their words to demonstrate understanding and challenge their creativity, learning is effective and fun.  And it builds self-esteem, too.

So, get out there and let the kids act!

Note to Self: Make Homework Fun and Relevant

Homework is a touchy subject.  Some people are absolutely for it.  Others are completely against it.  And many fall somewhere in between.  In the face of increasing amounts of homework being hoisted onto schoolkids, numerous articles have come out making the case against homework.

An article in the Washington Post outlines some of the arguments against homework.  And that icon of education, Scholastic, even posted an article blasting current homework practices.  In a nutshell, they're saying that kids are receiving too much homework and it isn't helping much.

In our school district, homework is required for every grade--even kindergarten, if you can imagine that. Here are the guidelines for elementary school, K-5:
      Kinder   15-20 min
      1st         30-35
      2nd        30-35
      3rd        35-45
      4th        35-45
      5th        50-60

Students at my school are required to read for a certain amount of time on top of the homework.

As a parent, I know what goes on when kids have a lot of homework after school.  They're tired, grumpy, and the more homework they have, the more crying that takes place--so it takes twice as along as the recommended homework time.   It's wretched and often doesn't really add to their education.  It just makes them hate school.  See my earlier post, Paging Dr. House:  Little Buddy Can't Do It Alone.

This past year I finally found a way to tackle the homework problem.  I have two major issues with assigning homework:
1. It takes kids away from playtime and relaxing time after school; kids don't have a chance to recharge their batteries.
2. Many families in our neighborhood, who are working class and/or immigrant, can't help their kids with the homework when they are having difficulties.

I give out homework packets on Mondays, to be returned on Friday. By giving the entire week's homework on Monday, I accomplish a few things:
1. The kids and parents know what they are going to learn for the entire week.  Learning is predictable, and I stay focussed.
2. In the event that the family has an event and the child can't do their homework one night, they can either plan ahead and do it early, or make it up later without my having to keep track of them.
3. I reduce the homework collection process to one day, saving instructional time.
4. Families that don't understand the homework have a few days to communicate with me about helping their child because the homework is only due on Fridays.

Each day, my students get one very short page of math and one short page of language arts--it shouldn't take them more than 20 minutes to do their homework, 30 tops. Sometimes I give an additional assignment that focuses on talking to their parents.  On top of that, my students know I expect them to read every day.

So, a week's worth of homework might look like this:
Monday:  Math p. 39, Language arts write sentences using vocabulary words
Tuesday: Math p. 40, Language arts review page from workbook
Wednesday: Math p. 41, Language arts reading comprehension page
Thursday: Math p. 42, Language arts write 5 similes

Once in a while I will add an assignment like, "Tell your parents the story about how George Washington died."  Practicing their listening and speaking skills is critical, especially for English learners.  Also, by keeping the homework light and interesting, I know the kids will do it and not get bogged down in a cycle of homework tantrums.  If you are a teacher but not a parent, please believe me--this happens even to the best of kids. 

On Friday mornings, we correct some of it, but not all of it.  I make the act of correcting homework solid instructional time, so we really go over it carefully.

I encourage the kids to "make me laugh" with their sentences or stories.  When it comes time to correct the homework on Fridays, all the kids want to read their stories or sentences to see if they can make me laugh.  Also, vocabulary sentences are more productive than, say, copying spelling words over and over.  It forces them to be engaged with the language and actually think about what they are doing.  I only have them do a few sentences--usually 5 or 6, but 10 is tops.  Trust me, this will save a lot of stress and crying at home, and the kids will not hate school because of homework.

And guess what?  Homework becomes fun.  My kids look forward to getting their packets on Monday and correcting them on Friday.  Go figure!

But what I really want my kids to do is read, and read for fun.  I tell them to read about 30 minutes a day, but I don't keep reading logs (another painful thing for parents to keep track of).  I know how much they're reading by looking at the self-directed reading quizzes they take with our Accelerated Reader program.  I don't care what they read--fiction, non-fiction, magazines, comic books, cereal boxes.  It doesn't matter as long as they're engaging the language.

For vacation homework, they must read read read books and talk talk talk to their parents.  Again, I want them engaging in language--whatever language that is.

Basically, here is the type of homework I find valuable:

1. Practice standards that don't get much coverage from the Open Court program (which is substantial)
     Example:  figurative language, fact/opinion
2. Review and practice math learned during the week or the previous week
3. Practice answering reading comprehension questions
4. Talk to parents about learning
5. Use vocabulary in a meaningful and creative way
6. Brainstorm for writing - thinking maps
7. Read, read, read

And by all means, make homework fun.

So Long, Dr. P--Don't Forget the Worms

After a turbulent week of endless phone calls, emails, and texting--we have failed to keep our beloved principal at our school.

To remove a principal who was doing something--who had a plan--to remove him after only two years is like removing the President of the United States after two years.  He had just gotten started.  And we won't know where it could have gone.  We were soaring ever higher at our school, and the sky had no limits.

The first day of school this year will be difficult.  "Where's Dr. P?" the kids will say.  I'll tell them that we have a wonderful new principal, and that Dr. P went to another school where they really needed him.  And then they'll ask about the worms. You see, Dr. P promised that if the school's test scores went up by 12 or more points, that he would eat 12 live worms in front of the whole school in September.  It's funny to think that eating worms will get kids motivated to perform well on a test, but sometimes it takes many different angles to accomplish our goal.  Dr. P played basketball with them, chatted, showed his battle scars, laughed, joked, and he even promised to eat worms.  The kids knew he cared about them and that he took them seriously.

I know the incoming principal comes highly recommended and I look forward to working with her.  However she will certainly have her own stamp on the ongoing plans.  And that's fine.  I'm sure our school will continue to thrive.  Still, it would have been nice to see what would have happened with Dr. P. still at the helm.

What good has come of this?  I am comforted by the fact that our community came together to fight for its right to be considered by the school district respectfully and thoughtfully.  I am happy that the families were able to come to a consensus on something--that this principal was good for the school and for the community at large.  I am impressed that many parents who were too shy to speak, spoke up for their right to be heard and taken seriously.  Sometimes we find our voice when we are under duress.

Goodbye, Dr. P.  It was a good ride, and I know we will always keep in contact.  I'm hoping that in September, you come back and eat some worms with the kids.