L is a really funny kid. He makes all of us laugh, and though I do have a couple of "class clowns," he's not one of them. L has floppy hair I love to play with, big, bright eyes, a ready laugh and a wonderful sense of humor. He is often caught in his own world, and sometimes needs a little reminder to rejoin the group. He also takes things quite literally.
My teacher's assistant, Jessica (Miss Jessica to the kids) is occasionally with us during read-aloud. (I just finished reading Benjamin Dove by Fridrick Erlings to my class - one of the best books I've ever read to them. I highly recommend it). Whenever Jessica, a visitor, or any member of our group, has missed a day of read-aloud, we summarize the missed parts. I usually say, "Who can fill us in on what happened yesterday," or something of the sort.
Jessica sat to join us for read-aloud on Thursday last week, and I changed my question regarding summarizing Benjamin Dove just a little bit: "Now where were we when Miss Jessica was last with us?" L looked at me like I'd lost my mind, put his hand on my arm, and said, "Ms. Stern, we were right here. We didn't move or anything. Are you okay?"
Literally!
Storyline
Westward Movement
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
From Pluto to Jupiter
Our storyline the first half of the year involves colonizing a planet in search of natural resources near depletion on earth, namely petroleum. The goal is to use this experience to build understanding of colonial America. The process builds on student experience - asking questions to solicit ideas, opinions, knowledge and further questions. I asked my students to choose planet for exploration. They chose Pluto - wanting to be unusual, wanting to go somewhere yet to be explored.
Groups were formed: a group would design the planet, another the space around the planet, another transportation to take us there, and a fourth would build structures we'd depend on once we arrived on Pluto. After some planning time, creating began, and for an hour or two, groups worked together creating the Pluto colony.
The next morning, with just a few hours of time available to complete the planet colony, C, an exceptionally bright, though struggling 4th grader, raised his hand as we discussed next steps and our need to be finished by the end of that day. When I called on him, he said he'd been thinking about our choice of Pluto as a planet on which to search for petroleum, a gas. He suggested we look at a gas planet rather than a rock and ice planet as a gas planet, even unexplored, would be more likely to have gas like resources. He told us the temperatures were far less extreme on Jupiter than they were on Pluto, and that although Jupiter had a big red spot deep within the planet, we'd be safe from harm - it is like the core of earth, he said. We don't go there - we know it's
there, so we are informed.
The whole class listened to C. Another student suggested choosing to go to Jupiter as it was much closer, and we wouldn't have far to go. Yet another student suggested voting to make a change. It was a split class - eight or nine kids still wanted to go to Pluto. C again brought up the point of going to a gas planet if we were going to explore gas resources. He'd gone on line during recess, and shared the range of temperature on Jupiter, as well as the extreme cold temperature on Pluto. The kids asked for another vote. This time, just two students held tight to Pluto, yet agreed they could live with the change to Jupiter.
Two hours later, the planet group, with the help of my terrific new student teacher, created a new planet, the space group added a few elements, the transportation group finished the ship that would take us there and also created a land vehicle, and the structures group, after the class decided we'd build structures once we arrived, as had the original colonists of our country, created a prototype for a space suit we'd all need to wear on the planet. The conversations that took place were excited and focused. Aside from facilitating the conversation, I offered no advice nor suggestion. I fired up the glue gun, stood on a chair to do the "tall stuff" (that always makes me feel good), and offered another set of hands when needed.
My kids are powerful. They own our planet frieze, and are so excited they made the change from Pluto to Jupiter. C, a boy who self-admits temper issues and at times struggles getting along with others, was glowing as his peers and I thanked him profusely for his valuable suggestions. That alone is enough to make me glow, too.
Groups were formed: a group would design the planet, another the space around the planet, another transportation to take us there, and a fourth would build structures we'd depend on once we arrived on Pluto. After some planning time, creating began, and for an hour or two, groups worked together creating the Pluto colony.
The next morning, with just a few hours of time available to complete the planet colony, C, an exceptionally bright, though struggling 4th grader, raised his hand as we discussed next steps and our need to be finished by the end of that day. When I called on him, he said he'd been thinking about our choice of Pluto as a planet on which to search for petroleum, a gas. He suggested we look at a gas planet rather than a rock and ice planet as a gas planet, even unexplored, would be more likely to have gas like resources. He told us the temperatures were far less extreme on Jupiter than they were on Pluto, and that although Jupiter had a big red spot deep within the planet, we'd be safe from harm - it is like the core of earth, he said. We don't go there - we know it's
there, so we are informed.
The whole class listened to C. Another student suggested choosing to go to Jupiter as it was much closer, and we wouldn't have far to go. Yet another student suggested voting to make a change. It was a split class - eight or nine kids still wanted to go to Pluto. C again brought up the point of going to a gas planet if we were going to explore gas resources. He'd gone on line during recess, and shared the range of temperature on Jupiter, as well as the extreme cold temperature on Pluto. The kids asked for another vote. This time, just two students held tight to Pluto, yet agreed they could live with the change to Jupiter.
Two hours later, the planet group, with the help of my terrific new student teacher, created a new planet, the space group added a few elements, the transportation group finished the ship that would take us there and also created a land vehicle, and the structures group, after the class decided we'd build structures once we arrived, as had the original colonists of our country, created a prototype for a space suit we'd all need to wear on the planet. The conversations that took place were excited and focused. Aside from facilitating the conversation, I offered no advice nor suggestion. I fired up the glue gun, stood on a chair to do the "tall stuff" (that always makes me feel good), and offered another set of hands when needed.
My kids are powerful. They own our planet frieze, and are so excited they made the change from Pluto to Jupiter. C, a boy who self-admits temper issues and at times struggles getting along with others, was glowing as his peers and I thanked him profusely for his valuable suggestions. That alone is enough to make me glow, too.
Monday, September 26, 2011
chocolate donuts and world peace
Each Monday, my students have an essay due in their green composition book. The prompt changes weekly, sometimes deeply personal, sometimes humorous, sometimes fantasy, and so on. Last week, the prompt asked the kids to choose three wishes granted them by a genie who suddenly appears before them.
E is a very bright, very sweet third grader. He loves to write ... most of my students do ... and took to the above prompt with gusto. I read his response late the afternoon of a particularly difficult and stressful 12.5 hour day. E's essay was so well written, and brought an immediate smile to my face, reminding me, once again, why I do what I do. He began by letting me know that he'd take his time to choose three wishes carefully. While his first wish was world peace, and his third to be rich, his second was to have a "large snowman made out of chocolate donuts."
I read E's essay, eager to discover the thought behind the snowman. He wrote, "The reason I would wish for a large snowman made out of chocolate donuts is because my favorite dessert is a chocolate donut. The snowman would keep the chocolate donuts from melting, and keep them nice and cool. Knowing that every time I want a chocolate donut I have it within reach. It's like every time someone would start building a snowman it would be turning into chocolate donuts. My wish is one of a kind because no one else would think to wish for a snowman made out of chocolate donuts." Yes, this is a one of a kind wish, E! You rock! I want a donut and a cold glass of milk!
My smile, however, turned misty as I read E's final paragraph. The prompt asked the kids to describe how one wish most affected their life. Here's E's: "The wish that affects my life would have to be world peace. Everywhere I turn in the street I see candles and flowers because someone got killed. In the news, everything that happens around the world, no one feels safe anymore. It affects me because I live in the world and want this to change so we can all feel safe to walk at night and not live with fear. I am the future so it starts with me to be a good role model and not to do bad things."
I wrote back to eight-year-old E, telling him I'd like to share his essay with the class. I'm also going to try to send him to Washington D.C., the middle east, and anywhere else in the world needing a role model for peace. Not only will he awe these leaders with his compassion and understanding that change begins within, he'll serve delicious treats, and they'll be ice-cold.
E is a very bright, very sweet third grader. He loves to write ... most of my students do ... and took to the above prompt with gusto. I read his response late the afternoon of a particularly difficult and stressful 12.5 hour day. E's essay was so well written, and brought an immediate smile to my face, reminding me, once again, why I do what I do. He began by letting me know that he'd take his time to choose three wishes carefully. While his first wish was world peace, and his third to be rich, his second was to have a "large snowman made out of chocolate donuts."
I read E's essay, eager to discover the thought behind the snowman. He wrote, "The reason I would wish for a large snowman made out of chocolate donuts is because my favorite dessert is a chocolate donut. The snowman would keep the chocolate donuts from melting, and keep them nice and cool. Knowing that every time I want a chocolate donut I have it within reach. It's like every time someone would start building a snowman it would be turning into chocolate donuts. My wish is one of a kind because no one else would think to wish for a snowman made out of chocolate donuts." Yes, this is a one of a kind wish, E! You rock! I want a donut and a cold glass of milk!
My smile, however, turned misty as I read E's final paragraph. The prompt asked the kids to describe how one wish most affected their life. Here's E's: "The wish that affects my life would have to be world peace. Everywhere I turn in the street I see candles and flowers because someone got killed. In the news, everything that happens around the world, no one feels safe anymore. It affects me because I live in the world and want this to change so we can all feel safe to walk at night and not live with fear. I am the future so it starts with me to be a good role model and not to do bad things."
I wrote back to eight-year-old E, telling him I'd like to share his essay with the class. I'm also going to try to send him to Washington D.C., the middle east, and anywhere else in the world needing a role model for peace. Not only will he awe these leaders with his compassion and understanding that change begins within, he'll serve delicious treats, and they'll be ice-cold.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
What if you're dead?
I have been up since 4:15, (many of us are up at any given hour, with students in mind), thinking about T, one amazing, resilient little girl. She and her mom are one tough team, always smiling, always looking forward, even when life has dealt them many, many hardships. T is very bright. She's a struggling writer - not without ideas, but not yet able to format those ideas into a grade-level piece of writing. She's a candidate, however, for a wonderful program that helps children who qualify achieve entrance to private school, along with a scholarship. Sometimes that scholarship is a tiny fraction of the tuition, and sometimes it covers the tuition, uniform, texts and extracurricular experiences. (Two of my students are currently in 11th and 12th grade, having received at the end of their fifth grade year a full scholarship to esteemed private schools. When they run for president, I will let you know their names)! If granted the opportunity, these children, coming from impoverished circumstances, often with uneducated and limited English-speaking parents, have a chance rarely offered in feeder middle and high schools. That's not to say those attending local public schools don't go on to higher education and to success ... this is simply a path with guidance they otherwise would be unlikely to see.
I tell every one of my students that anyone who is valedictorian of their high school will have a meal with me at the Southern California restaurant of their choice. They ooh and aah ... I just want to build within my kids an appreciation for hard work and accomplishment. Graduating high school is the goal - achieving such high honor is icing on the cake. I hope they'll move on to higher education. I ask my kids to invite me to their college graduations, and that I will make every effort to attend.
All this said, as I prepare to help T begin her journey, I can't help but think of K, a student from my first K-1-2 class in 1992. She was tall, sophisticated, brilliant, wise, a role-model, and seven years old. Her picture is on the front of my portfolio. She is standing in front of the blackboard with a huge smile on her beautiful face, (yes, a blackboard ... I go back a ways) holding a piece of chalk. She'd written, "I have a great teacher. Her name is Ms. Stern." I wanted to keep that blackboard, but a picture sufficed. As teachers, these are the gifts we cherish. The notes, the words, the moment a child lets us know we've made a difference in their life.
K was with me again in 4th and 5th grade. I switched grade levels, and several of those early kids remained with me for two, three, four and five of their elementary years. She came to visit over her middle school years, when she attended the local feeder middle school, and then during her ninth grade year at Hollywood High.
I was invited by two of my students to the Hollywood High graduation several years ago. It's held at the Hollywood Bowl, a grand place for such an event. A fifth grader of mine was going on that same evening to watch her cousin graduate. She and her family held a seat for me in a front box of the bowl. I arrived late, just in time to see the graduating class take their seats on stage. A young woman stood to welcome us, and to introduce her friend, the valedictorian of Hollywood High School, K_____! I gasped, grabbed my fifth grade student's arm, and uttered with incredible pride that she'd been my student.
K's speech was wonderful. I sat with tears in my eyes, remembering that little 2nd grader. I had known then, and was proven to be correct, that she'd do great things. That night, my newly culminated fifth grader walked with me as I went to find K and her family. Pride was palpable as I introduced my two students, telling the older one how proud I was, how I felt I'd come full circle, and letting the younger one know how like K she was. That was very true.
The next year began, and on day one I shared the story of K with my kids. I told them I'd taken K to lunch. One of my wonderfully bright, articulate young men, J, asked if any of them would have the same opportunity as K to join me for a meal. I responded with a strong yes. He asked about being the valedictorian of his college. I responded that the restaurant choice would then extend to the entire state of CA. He asked about graduate school. The country, I told him. Pause. J cocked his head at me. "What if you're dead?"Pause on my end. "I'll put it in my will. Somebody will take you on my dime."
My father keeps telling me to get a will together. I don't have much, but I have several meaningful items. None, however, so meaningful as my promise of a meal for the superior effort and achievement of one of my students. I'm leaving a roll of dimes in my safe deposit box.
FYI - K is about to enter medical school. J is near the top of his class in high school. (I ain't dead yet, buddy)! And I heard recently that the little girl I sat with as K spoke at the Hollywood Bowl has moved far from Los Angeles, and continues to follow in K's footsteps.
I tell every one of my students that anyone who is valedictorian of their high school will have a meal with me at the Southern California restaurant of their choice. They ooh and aah ... I just want to build within my kids an appreciation for hard work and accomplishment. Graduating high school is the goal - achieving such high honor is icing on the cake. I hope they'll move on to higher education. I ask my kids to invite me to their college graduations, and that I will make every effort to attend.
All this said, as I prepare to help T begin her journey, I can't help but think of K, a student from my first K-1-2 class in 1992. She was tall, sophisticated, brilliant, wise, a role-model, and seven years old. Her picture is on the front of my portfolio. She is standing in front of the blackboard with a huge smile on her beautiful face, (yes, a blackboard ... I go back a ways) holding a piece of chalk. She'd written, "I have a great teacher. Her name is Ms. Stern." I wanted to keep that blackboard, but a picture sufficed. As teachers, these are the gifts we cherish. The notes, the words, the moment a child lets us know we've made a difference in their life.
K was with me again in 4th and 5th grade. I switched grade levels, and several of those early kids remained with me for two, three, four and five of their elementary years. She came to visit over her middle school years, when she attended the local feeder middle school, and then during her ninth grade year at Hollywood High.
I was invited by two of my students to the Hollywood High graduation several years ago. It's held at the Hollywood Bowl, a grand place for such an event. A fifth grader of mine was going on that same evening to watch her cousin graduate. She and her family held a seat for me in a front box of the bowl. I arrived late, just in time to see the graduating class take their seats on stage. A young woman stood to welcome us, and to introduce her friend, the valedictorian of Hollywood High School, K_____! I gasped, grabbed my fifth grade student's arm, and uttered with incredible pride that she'd been my student.
K's speech was wonderful. I sat with tears in my eyes, remembering that little 2nd grader. I had known then, and was proven to be correct, that she'd do great things. That night, my newly culminated fifth grader walked with me as I went to find K and her family. Pride was palpable as I introduced my two students, telling the older one how proud I was, how I felt I'd come full circle, and letting the younger one know how like K she was. That was very true.
The next year began, and on day one I shared the story of K with my kids. I told them I'd taken K to lunch. One of my wonderfully bright, articulate young men, J, asked if any of them would have the same opportunity as K to join me for a meal. I responded with a strong yes. He asked about being the valedictorian of his college. I responded that the restaurant choice would then extend to the entire state of CA. He asked about graduate school. The country, I told him. Pause. J cocked his head at me. "What if you're dead?"Pause on my end. "I'll put it in my will. Somebody will take you on my dime."
My father keeps telling me to get a will together. I don't have much, but I have several meaningful items. None, however, so meaningful as my promise of a meal for the superior effort and achievement of one of my students. I'm leaving a roll of dimes in my safe deposit box.
FYI - K is about to enter medical school. J is near the top of his class in high school. (I ain't dead yet, buddy)! And I heard recently that the little girl I sat with as K spoke at the Hollywood Bowl has moved far from Los Angeles, and continues to follow in K's footsteps.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Learning English
Teaching a group of second language learners often makes for interesting word choice. Students spell as they hear, and struggle with the rules of English. Next week, our kids will split into language level classes, and we'll focus on specific needs. As we were talking about individuals, I shared the 10 year old story of G, a new to the country third grader. He was eager to try, and gave it everything he had.
Our class was doing a unit on water. The first lesson focused on surface tension. The kids used droppers to place single drops of water on a penny until the surface broke. They then recorded the number of drops in their science journals. I had written on the board the following question: How many drops fit? I neglected to write the word "penny."
As I circulated the room, encouraging students and asking them about their experience, I notice that G had written in his journal, "I can fit 32 drops of water on my penis." I stifled my laugh. Of course I realized he meant penny, and had heard me mention pennies, thus spelling penny as he thought it was spelled, and adding an s. I encouraged G not to erase his error, but to lightly cross it out and write the correctly spelled word above.
Lesson learned, Stern. When we did the kit next, my question read differently. All the necessary words were on the board.
I still have G's science journal. I smile every time I see it and every time I tell the story.
Our class was doing a unit on water. The first lesson focused on surface tension. The kids used droppers to place single drops of water on a penny until the surface broke. They then recorded the number of drops in their science journals. I had written on the board the following question: How many drops fit? I neglected to write the word "penny."
As I circulated the room, encouraging students and asking them about their experience, I notice that G had written in his journal, "I can fit 32 drops of water on my penis." I stifled my laugh. Of course I realized he meant penny, and had heard me mention pennies, thus spelling penny as he thought it was spelled, and adding an s. I encouraged G not to erase his error, but to lightly cross it out and write the correctly spelled word above.
Lesson learned, Stern. When we did the kit next, my question read differently. All the necessary words were on the board.
I still have G's science journal. I smile every time I see it and every time I tell the story.
Monday, September 12, 2011
From the world to the classroom
The writing prompt was as follows:
"You arrive to find a note from your teacher on the classroom door, telling you that she is unable to be there and has left you in charge. Write a note back to her, telling her about your day."
A, a third grader, wrote the following, verbatim:
Today I was in charge of the class. The class was very understandably and was nice also very respctfull. I diden no who was you helpers so I chose them for the day. Ther were no vilens and no unuproperyent words. Every body noo there area and was playing nice. I had no cumplands about any thing. The class was playing so nice that they all got a green card! When I ask them to open there book and read quieyetly they did it so quieyet that I didn't no they were evend here. When I gave instushens they dident ask what do we do?
I had several responses in a similar vein. A day with no violence or inappropriate language, a day when everyone stays in their area, and a day with no complaints is one I'd like to experience! Additionally, when I give instructions, I'd love to see everyone get to work so quietly I am able to close my eyes and imagine I'm alone.
The truth is that I have a marvelous class. They are nearly always respectful, non-violent, and appropriate in their interactions. While they don't always earn green cards (basically a "caught doing something great" reward), they rarely receive orange cards (out of area, language, and other such warnings), and I will be quite surprised should one of them receive a red card for defiance or violence. They do, however, like to clarify instructions several times. For that reason, alone, I plan to ask A to take over tomorrow's class. I'll let you know how it goes.
"You arrive to find a note from your teacher on the classroom door, telling you that she is unable to be there and has left you in charge. Write a note back to her, telling her about your day."
A, a third grader, wrote the following, verbatim:
Today I was in charge of the class. The class was very understandably and was nice also very respctfull. I diden no who was you helpers so I chose them for the day. Ther were no vilens and no unuproperyent words. Every body noo there area and was playing nice. I had no cumplands about any thing. The class was playing so nice that they all got a green card! When I ask them to open there book and read quieyetly they did it so quieyet that I didn't no they were evend here. When I gave instushens they dident ask what do we do?
I had several responses in a similar vein. A day with no violence or inappropriate language, a day when everyone stays in their area, and a day with no complaints is one I'd like to experience! Additionally, when I give instructions, I'd love to see everyone get to work so quietly I am able to close my eyes and imagine I'm alone.
The truth is that I have a marvelous class. They are nearly always respectful, non-violent, and appropriate in their interactions. While they don't always earn green cards (basically a "caught doing something great" reward), they rarely receive orange cards (out of area, language, and other such warnings), and I will be quite surprised should one of them receive a red card for defiance or violence. They do, however, like to clarify instructions several times. For that reason, alone, I plan to ask A to take over tomorrow's class. I'll let you know how it goes.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Sapo Verde
For as long as I can recall, my class has celebrated birthdays in the same manner. The birthday boy or girl sits on the tall stool in front of everyone. He or she shares their new age, and also how they know how old they are. I tease them that their birth certificate may have errors, and they figure out their age based on the year of birth. A little math outside of math class never hurts! The way a child plans to celebrate is shared. More than one student has shared with me that celebrating his or her birthday in the classroom with me and with peers is the only celebration they've had. This saddens me, and also reminds me how important it is to take a few moments to celebrate. Those few moments last a lifetime for many.
My class speaks along with me as we present the child with a birthday pencil, stickers (this year a birthday rubber bracelet), and three candies to celebrate el pasado, el futuro y el presente. A special question is asked by another student: "If you had $100, tax-free, can't spend it on world peace, have to spend it selfishly, what would you buy?" They love it when, if they say shoes and clothes, I applaud, and if they say video games, I groan!
My favorite part of this celebration, prior to my final act of air spanking each student, followed by a pinch to grow an inch, and a squeeze as I say "happy birthday, sweetie," is the singing of a very special version of Happy Birthday. When I first began this tradition, oh so many years ago, my class was filled with several newcomers to this country. Many had never heard the English version of happy birthday, and must have assumed the lyrics below:
Sapo verde to you
Sapo verde to you
Sapo verde dear _____
Sapo verde to you!
To this day, this is what we sing. The direct translation is "green frog to you." My mom loved frogs. She got a kick out of hearing this version. So ... sapo verde, mom. And sapo verde, B.
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