Just a quick check in to say Happy New Year (sorry I’m late, things have been busy!)

In case your student hasn’t told you…. we’re using math sets these days — if at all possible please snag a compass/protractor set for next week. And if you have a student who plans and taking academic math from here on, try to find a metal one with a cross-bar:  (they’re easier to use and last for years)

The classroom is well-stocked on lined paper thanks to a lovely parent who sent some in. We are out of Kleenex, and pencils these days. If you have any spares, we’ll take them! Teachers were allowed a small order of supplies in December but our pencils etc. haven’t come in yet. 

January is all about working within time limits: finishing work in class, and being ready for class at the bell in each block. Most kids are rising to the challenge, but a few really struggle. Please reach out if you’d like ideas on how to improve these skills at home. 

More info coming soon — off to finish term 1 report cards on a great bunch of kids (all 31 of them!)

Meg PJ

2 weeks without studying or quizzes or ….

Your kids.

Now I’m sad.

Because these kids are all so amazing! They try things, they improve things, they work hard to challenge themselves.

They come in every day excited to learn, and amazingly — they challenge me every day.

Thank you for the loan of your children. They make me stronger with their curious questions and their unfailing drive to know ‘why’ things ‘are’ the way they are.

Thank you for the gift of your kids.

Tag.

You’re it.

Two weeks with pre-teens, catching up on sleep and time with friends….

Two weeks of giggles and Fortnite battles and sleep-overs.

See you all in the new year!

Rest easy, friends. The days are about to get longer. Spring is coming. Trust the light. Feel the joy.

MPJ

I’m. So. Tired.

Not ‘retire’ tired…but pretty darn fried. 

Yes, it’s April. Yes, we’re post-Covid.  Yes, I own two teens and a husband and 3 lizards and a dog, and I tutor and teach guitar lessons after school.

But this is a different ‘tired.’

So — to all my disabled, broken, auto-immune, chronic-pain, and peri-menopausal teacher-folk…

Ugh.

That is all.

Let me explain…

It’s April in Ontario, which means we were wearing snow pants last week and it’s 29C today. The A/C isn’t turned on yet, so rooms are warm.  Windows don’t open because they’ve been screened from the outside to guard against random smashing.  So rooms are… warm. And kids stink.

Not just warm and sweaty stink but ‘sweaters that haven’t been washed all winter’ stinky.  

And I swear hormones have a palpable smell.

So, I teach grade 8.  That’s a unique ‘pong’ unlike anything smelled in any other context. It’s… slimy green with a sheen of cheese and a sprinkle of bacterial funk. (Can I tell you I am Neuro-atypical any more clearly?)

So it was a muggy, smelly day.  It was difficult in terms of classroom management and challenging in terms of student support, and it was full of worry-for-kids and worry-for-learning-outcomes… and I think my fridge is dying but that is another story…

But an ex-student’s mom emailed to let me know their grade 11 kid is rocking English.  And that kid said ‘it’s all because of what I learned in grade 8.’ And yes, it’s shallow, and petty, but to hear that my hard work pays off gives me the drive to go again tomorrow.  In spite of the stink, and in spite of the ick.

Because in two years, more kids will be doing ok because of the groundwork I laid. 

When you see tired teachers, remind them that they don’t often see the fruit of their labor — sometimes it goes off into the world and does it’s thing without looking back — and that’s ok too.  That’s the goal. 

(But yes, it’s awesome when they let you know that some of what you did has stuck…)

And after a couple of years you forget how bad they smelled.  

Thank you, smelly kiddos from the last 20 years. You have been loved, even on the stinky days where I wondered why I come back the next day.  You are still loved.  

Stay tuned…. More musings coming soon…

I have always prided myself on being an early adopter – to the annoyance of many colleagues over the years. I like learning, and in many ways trying new technology out has become a hobby of sorts.

Instead of blogging over the past year I was busy learning a new school culture, and I through myself into getting to know my new students, by new colleagues, and my new building. I was following all of my own rules: I was teaching from my website in my classroom, I was transparent with my teaching, and I was very engaged in learning how to best support my students.

And everything was working really, really well. Until…

Covid-19.

And within minutes of hearing we were closing for an extra two weeks after Spring Break, a collegaue texted:

“And PJ just keeps on doing what she’s been doing. Prepper.”

And I took silly joy in that because yes, all of my ‘you shoulds…’ were finally paying off. My students already knew how to use my website, to check GoogleClassroom for tasks, and to hand work in online. That was all normal for them. But the student interaction piece? The over-the-shoulder help? The casual advice on the fly as kids worked collaboratively? How on earth was I going to do that…

And it’s been a learning curve for sure — between learning GoogleMeets and playing with Bitmojis I have already learned tonne. My digital PLN has tripled in size, and I have read so many resources and posts my brain feels as if it could pop. I am supported by my colleagues and peers from all over the country…. and my family has been beyond amazing as they teach remotely and learn remotely alongside me.

But more than anything I have questions:

How will learning look in September for me, my music-specialist-husband, my own kids, and my students?

With no physical classroom presence for the next few weeks, how can I be more accessible to parents as they transition their own kids to grade nine?

What equity issues are getting between my students and their learning, and what can I do about it?

How do I support my extroverts who are isolated at home?

How do I equip my introverts who will need to readjust and acclimate to some kind of face-to-face learning when all of this is over?

ugh…

And so, in an effort to put time into answering my questions, and a million others that will pop up, I am going to put blogging back on my personal week-at-a-glance and dedicate more time to my professionally writing.

Hopefully getting back in the habit will be good for all of us.

oiy.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, so here’s a recap.

July 2018:

The school year had just finished, and I was on a well-earned break.

August 2018:

My room was ready to go, and I was diagnosed with Heat Intolerance.

Late August 2018:

I was put on medical leave until they could find me a school with air conditioning.

September 2018:

For the first time in 42 years, I wasn’t in a classroom in some capacity on the first day of school. Ugh.

November 2018:

I started at my new school in a temporary classroom support role, working with kids in grades 6, 7 and 8.

July 2019:

I’m moving into my new classroom, getting ready to create a new learning community for 25 grade 8 students in September. Whee!!!

So where do I start? After a full year in a temporary office and without my own homeroom, it’s time to think hard about what I value in a space, how to best support my students, and how to start off the year as sparsely as possible.

First… I purge!

If you need me, I’m knee-deep in boxes in my new classroom.

MPJ

In the spirit of using this unforeseen time for good, I feel inclined to keep busy. Last week I packed all my classroom collections and books in boxes for storage, whether long term or temporary —- yet to be determined. It felt purposeful, and needed, and beneficial both to my future classroom and to my family, to get it all ‘squared away.’

This week has left me with a nagging feeling of not doing ‘enough.’ I’m on leave, but only because there isn’t a classroom that fits my current needs. Within the parameters my team has identified, I’m still fully functional. So I have tried to put my time to use, planning ahead as best I can. I simply must use my time for PD of some sort in order to feel fully alive and productive.

Monday I revamped my Book of Knowledge, a key piece of my classroom practice. The BOK is a binder, with dividers for each subject. Over the course of a year, students add subject vocabulary to these sections as we cover it. As kids add to their personal copies, I add to a digital copy which is accessible through Google Docs. Families can compare their kids’ notes to the digital copy and add what is missing, so that no one gets behind. Checking to see that the BOKs ‘match’ is homework in my room. This supports my ESL kids, who often add translations in their first language at the beginning of the year, and my IEP kids who benefit from front-loading their learning with content-area vocabulary. And it helps parents who don’t know what to review with children in preparation for assessments. We also add anchor charts in each section as we co-create them in class. Reference pages are built collaboratively, and filed in appropriate sections. I routinely pass out blank graphic organizers and walk students through how to use them to reflect on their own learning, and to make meaning from new content. These get filed as well. This binder is meant to evolve as a master study binder over the course of the year. It is vital. It evolves. It is a living, breathing, transparent window into my classroom practice.

This Monday, sitting st home instead of in my room – and desperately needing to feel busy, I took the time to make a master index of the most common organizers I use, and linked the digital BOK to printable copies. This will save me time when I land in a classroom, and will allow kids to print what they need on their own. I also took time to convert my math Learning placemat into a two-page anchor chart for the BOK. It contains formulae, number lines, lists of perfect squares, and other useful reference charts. Having these resources in the BOK streamlines the supports I have been providing, and should make things less cluttered when I land in my future class.

Reconnect with what brings you joy.

Today, with official ‘school stuff’ out of the way, I was able to begin work on sketches for a band piece I’ve had in my head for a few months. Whether it will end up scored for middle school or the New Horizons Program, putting notes to the page was cathartic. Eight years of my post-secondary education was devoted to composition. I loved and breathed the monicker of ‘composer.’ Yet, real life took over, and I consciously moved away from what was my passion. Today, I rediscovered that flow state, a la Csikszentmihalia, measure after measure spinning out and winging into melodies and new textures. For a few hours, I was completely outside of time, outside of my circumstances, and inside the music. This was a gift. This was joy.

Let go of the ‘I should’ list. Let go of the guilt.

Finally, I received another gift. I have been open with my evolving medical needs and my classroom reality – always believing honestly is the best policy. I have accepted my new limitations with — I think — realism and grace. As a result, putting my experiences out there is natural for me. Through social media, I have received support and encouragement from friends, family, and countless colleagues. Reconnecting with a friend and colleague from my past helped me become more open to a sanity-preserving lesson: let go of the ‘I should’ list. Let go of the guilt.

And so, tomorrow, I will start my day with music, accomplish something creative, and reflect on what I need to learn next. Each day will be a gift, until I land in a room of kids who need me. And I’ll have that much more to share when I do.

MPJ

I started kindergarten in Winnipeg, Manitoba when I was 4. From that day forward I have spent every “Tuesday after labour day” in a classroom: as a k-12 student, as an undergrad, as a grad student, or as a teacher. And, for the first time in 40 years I won’t be in a classroom this Tuesday.

I had my room all set up and ready to go, and for the first time in years it was all coming together. I was planning, prepping, and getting excited. I was looking forward to great collaborative projects with my colleagues and a major change in daily practice. I was excited about seeing new people in my building, and looking forward to new relationships and connections. But life changes on a dime and I am now on leave until the board can find a building that accommodates my evolving medical needs.

So I am in limbo. We traditionally keep our grade 7s into grade 8, and my 7s are expecting to return to my room. I’m crushed to not be there for ‘my’ kids on Tuesday. I feel like I’ve let them down, abandoned them. I feel guilty for leaving my admin and colleagues in the lurch, for the chaos that will happen Tuesday with so many questions from kids and parents. I’m not even attached to my school anymore, so I can’t be there to answer those questions and reassure them. I feel absolutely wretched.

The amazing team at the board may find a placement for me this week, or at the end of September when a school has a reorganization, or as of Christmas if someone retires…. They may even roll me into something at the board office temporarily. I may have to wait until next September to walk back into a classroom. But the thought of being away from grade 7 & 8 kiddoes for so long makes me physically ill.

Rather than give in to the guilt, I can try to view this as a sabbatical. If I’m off for more than a few days, I have a chance to explore my practice in a focussed way while I wait for a placement. I have a chance to learn so many new things. I can research new theories and techniques that will help me when I return to the classroom. I can read, and watch web seminars, and update all of my teaching files. It’s like the ultimate mid-career reset. It’s an amazing opportunity.

And it’s terrifying.

So to all those people who talk about all change being good, I still agree — it is good, but it definitely doesn’t feel good. Not at all.

Happy back to school, everyone. I wish I was going too.

MPJ

My room is mostly ready. The walls are ready for kid work and celebrations. The shelves are sorted and labelled. The plants are growing (for now) and the worm farm is going strong.

But I am unsettled.

I want to be ready, focussed, and feel on top of my game. But my old friend anxiety is bubbling just under the surface. I think it’s because I’m trying so much this year that is new, and there’s less for me to prepare, because there’s less I can actually plan ahead. I have to be able to adapt and adjust on the fly.

I’m doing SCH(school)OOL with three other classes… I’m running a new language program… I’m revamping my math program to balance the needs in my room with more demonstrable goals… I’m going back to the University Band and thinking of joining a choir… It’s my TPA year… My daughter is starting a new school… Curriculum changes are coming… The political climate is negative for my profession… and on and on…

So I need to work really hard at staying focussed and balanced this year. And I think I have a plan:

1. Use my bullet journal to help me keep track of my to-dos, my work/life balance, and my overall wellness. I can use the time between dismissal and when I pick up my daughter to close my school day and refocus on home.
2. Use my mornings to prep my day instead of my evenings. And give myself permission to let a plan go if it needs to wait a day.
3. Use class time for the kids, with them in the trenches, not for administrative paperwork (which can happen on preps).
4. Pay attention to my body and adjust my commitments accordingly. Without guilt.

If you see me throughout the day and I’m spinning in circles, remind me to keep ‘4 on the floor’ and come back to this plan.

Wish me luck!

Yup, summer for me is a bit of a void. I love spending time with my family, and having a slower pace, yet I miss the go go go of my classroom. I miss the thinking. I miss the kids. And my busy “A-type brain gotta think gotta get ready” mindset doesn’t take a holiday willingly.

So I usually throw myself into planning specifics, without a lot of thought to the philosophical underpinnings of what I want to teach. I want to change that this year. So I am forcing myself to think less about planning the details and more about the kind of learning community I want to build. It’s still planning, but it’s more thinking about planning, which seems apropos for relaxed summer reading.

I have been doing a great deal of reading both in Leadership and the Reggio approach, and it has greatly changed my classroom vision. Here is my latest list of classroom goals:

1. Lead from behind, not from out front. Dragging kids to the goal is not an option.
2. Provide provocations that naturally generate inquiry, not Topics to study.
3. Keep the room flexible, so we can shape it to student needs
4. Honour who my students are: skateboard parking lot, hat hangers, kid art, and an honour board where kids can post symbols and sayings and icons that represent them.

So these are my goals. This is my plan. Kid centred, theory-based. Now I just need to bring it to life. That’s the fun part for me 🙂

Like most teachers I love to plan the physical decor of my room. I like to show kids that I try hard to make a space welcoming to them. And lately I have become a little obsessed with the industrial chic design vibe. The essential elements of the industrial style are rough hewn wood, steel pipe-structures, bricks and open space — which is what you find in my older building. So rather than my usual ‘hide the old elements’ and make everything look new approach, I’m going to highlight them. It’s simple, yet rough around the edges. It invites building, creating, and seeing the pieces that go together to make the whole. It is the perfect aesthetic for the kind of learning environment that will celebrate kids’ learning.

So I have a plan to mash Urban Industrial Chic with Reggio-Inspired natural elements. My natural tone artist drawing boards will go up on the walls to make vertical spaces for collaboration. My steel Drip Pan awaits Quirky wooden hall passes and funky steel magnets. The Carson Delarosa Industrial Chic line has so many amazing printables and wall decor. And I really do believe the black and grey flexible seating I received last year will fit right in.

I think I have a philosophy to build on, and a plan for creating a re-invisioned learning environment. Time to go read another book,

MPJ