Training the brain

Plans, adjustments, differentiation...  A recent professional development reminded me that reflecting on everything is what makes a difference.  A well-planned lesson is a necessary start to achieving student mastery; however, once the lesson is over, the reflecting and refining and revising play another necessary part.  These reflections aren't just useful for students, but for us as a team of professionals.  I've never thought of teachers as teaching on their separate "islands," but rather as a collection of like-minded colleagues with similar goals, dreams, hopes for the children they serve.  By thinking critically about our lessons, we are training ourselves to reflect for the good of the students, which then leads to a collaboration of various ideas within our teaching departments.

With collaboration sometimes comes differing views.  Someone told me that "none of us like everyone we work with," which made me pause and think, "sure, but in this profession, liking or not liking a coworker shouldn't matter; what matters is a similar vision for the students."  In these times where disagreements and differences of opinions stop us short of constructive criticisms, ongoing discussions, and meaningful debates, I plan to critically look past differences, and uncover solutions, just as I would encourage students to do.

These trying times have affected our youth in ways that many of my colleagues are struggling with ourselves.  I've come to process it by training the brain with "growth mindset":

I realize this a gross simplification of complex issues, but maybe it's a start to having tough conversations.  This could lead to recognizing perspectives, brainstorming solutions, and attempting those solutions.  Maybe by modeling this communication pattern for our youth, they can start to build each other up, instead of tear each other down.

My middle school released 17 balloons to remember each victim of the Parkland shooting.

At home, we are consciously practicing critical thinking together.  The boys (10 and 8) have made comments about the world, of course with some influence from their friends.  We openly discuss what their opinions are, and we as parents try our best to present the facts before they make a conclusion.

For example, Jesse one day had an honest question about Trump's wall.  We had a discussion about what walls physically do, and what he thinks the purpose of it would be.  We guessed how much it would cost.  He replied, "A fortune!"  We then Googled the cost and estimated efficiency of such a construction.  We then asked what other ways we could try to solve this issue.  Jesse said some of the billions of dollars could be spent on helping the poor.

Another example of practicing critical thinking is when reflecting on their day: "What was something that made you proud today?"  Or we'd pick from this list, instead of the old "How was school?"  where the critical thinking often disappears in a one-word response like "Good."

Visiting Oklahoma University

Even more, just as in the classroom, we discuss books, movies, tv shows, song lyrics and when we get there, social media.  The more we arm our youth with ways to constructively analyze what is presented to them, the more they can make sound judgments and conclusions, and maybe not end up swallowing Tide Pods.

When someone makes a statement that we don't immediately agree with, we may feel anger, confusion, disgust.  Let's read and learn with our kids.  Let's encourage them make the choice to figure out the ways to use critical thinking skills to not just stick with "let's agree to disagree." Training the brain is an interesting way to #buryboyswillbeboys.

P.S.  Even though "This is Us" is fiction, so many connections and parenting nuggets!

Sticking to a memory

In my not-so-many years of teaching, one thing a mentor teacher said stuck with me: kids sometimes don't remember what you teach them, but the memory of how they felt, they will take with them.  Even though I lost touch with her over the years, whenever a situation arises that I can decide to have the child remember something about the way I make them feel, I use that to my advantage.  This philosophy is sometimes tricky to stick to, especially at the middle school level.  Their brains seem wired to 'test' authority figures.  How does "tough love" translate into a memory?

One thing my mom used to do when we were younger also stuck.  When she would get mad (rightfully so) at us for something we did wrong, the next memory she would give would be a happy one, whether a softer-toned conversation, a favorite food, an outing, or something of the sort.

At home, the boys are becoming more rambunctious: wrestling, WWE, play-fighting, karate-kicking, etc. These boys' imaginations are growing more and more into the likes of "Street Fighter,"ninjas, toy swords and guns, etc.  While I know this may be 'normal,' I feel like their innocent play is fading.  Conversations are about not hurting people, even in pretend.  These goofy kids are not malicious, but the characters who they're pretending to be may be.

trying to act hard in his own 'selfie'

playing at gramma's house

When they cross a line, counting down and time-outs are routine.  Sometimes our patience wears thin, but the above beliefs comes back to me.  We try to make the distinction between reality and pretend clear, but are their brains ready for that?  And with their growing awareness of "punishment vs. obedience," are they ready to use what we've been teaching them?

Whatever 'punishments' we decide to use, we hope they'll realize that we want them to remember the lesson, and not carry with them the memory of their immediate reaction.  I just want to bottle up this sweet simplicity and bury "boys will be boys."

Sensing kryptonite

Being a teacher means being aware... aware of the 35 students' behaviors, attention-spans, interests, dislikes, and... health issues.  We are pretty lucky that we have a computerized tracking system that gives us access to so much student information, like attendance, recent school picture, test scores, and health records.  With a click of a mouse, I can take a quick glance into their past, and use it for decisions I make in the present.

When Jesse was 2, we began suspecting something about his health; nothing drastic, but something a little nutty.  During a quick trip to Trader Joes, big brother got to pick a snack.  We paid, we left, they opened the package in the car.  After 3 bites, Jesse tossed the bag over to me.  He started coughing lightly.  I was driving, so I couldn't do much but ask if he's okay.  We arrived at home, and his face had red, hive-like streaks.  His eyes were puffy; he's scratching his ears and neck.  I ran and got the Benadryl.  I looked at the snack: Peanut Butter Pretzels.

"Eh, he can't be allergic," I thought to myself.  No one in my extended family has extreme allergies.  And Jesse has such an appetite, he'll eat anything!  "Maybe it'll go away."

A couple months later, we decided to eat at La Bou.  One of our favorite dishes is the Asian noodle salad.  It came with peanuts, but we moved them to the side so Jesse can try this delicious dish.  The fork barely touched his lips, and the hive-like rashes formed right down his mouth.  "Uh oh."

A trip to the allergist it is.  The blood-draw tested over 30 different reactions.  Kaiser does a great job of keeping their website up-to-date, so I checked every day for the results.  I don't have a medical background whatsoever, so I clicked away at each test...ryegrass <.10; elm <.10; mugwort <.10 (mugwort? what is that?); cat dander <.10; dog dander .23; cottonwood <.10... clicking away, not knowing what I was really looking at.  Test result number twenty-nine: peanut.  93.5.  93.5!

I clicked on "About this Test," but it only gave me generic information of the blood-draw.  I wanted to know what that number meant!  I called my husband (why?  he can't interpret it!), and we finally got the allergist's response:

Peanut was the only significantly positive test (class V = very high positive). There were a few tree nuts that were class I (very low positive). I think the risk of Jesse reacting to nuts from trees is very low.
Also - no allergies to any of the environmental allergens (pollen, mold, dust mite, cat, dog)

Wait, what? I read it three more times.  Well, what does it mean?  What does Jesse need?  Is there a cure?  A vaccine? (vaccines are always the answer, right?) Will he be okay?  I know peanut allergies are pretty common, as pointed out by my sister later, but I had never had any close encounters with this, even in all my years of teaching.

Recently, a local 13-year-old girl died (died!) after a bite, Benadryl, and three Epi-pens.  Our Superman has a kryptonite.  It could be worse, I know.  But we will be cautious wherever we go.  We will carry his Epi-pen around.  We will notice every "peanut-free" sign, even the one at his new school.  He knows he's allergic.  He knows he can't just put anything in his mouth.  He has to be the one in charge of his "bizarre but delicious" food creations, and not eat everything in sight, like all the other boys around him.  So, in that regard, we'll have to bury "boys will be boys."

Connecting the dots

No, not to make pretty pictures. In teaching a unit or concept, one goal I have is for students to make connections to other concepts, possibly text-to-text, text-to-world, or text-to-self. The more prior knowledge they have, the richer the connections, discussions, and understandings. Many times, teachers end up having to reach and stretch the dots closer together, or even build bridges for the correct perceptions.

At home, we definitely try to help them connect dots.  After watching Turbo, we went home and got all our Cars books and toys out because both were about racing (text-to-text, where the "text" is a movie).  Maybe brains at 4 and 6 aren't mature enough yet, but we can try with things like, "What does this remind you of?" or "This character is like..."

Some funny "connections" from my youngest when he was 3:

• He's sitting crisscross applesauce, occupied with a toy. After his attention span gets the better of him, he rises awkwardly and rubs his foot back and forth. His face winces. He's not so sure about this new tingling feeling. "Mommy! Help! My foot's buffering!"
• The two boys and I braved the zoo that is Costco.  We had some extra time, so we sit down at the food court to enjoy our meal. An elderly man walks by the outer aisle to find a seat. He politely glances at the boys, who are laughing at something, and I give the man a small smile. He and his turban drift further away from us when Jesse looks up and whispers with a small gasp, "Mom, a genie!"
• Our fridge failed its mission. Food no longer cold, ice no longer solid. What we can salvage finds a temporary home at my mom's house. We set up an appointment for a repairman who, the next day, shows up and investigates. He speaks to my husband, in his Russian or Russian-like accent, about the problem, the part, how much. I finally come home, and Jesse runs, hugs, and then informs me, "Mom, the man's fixing our fridge. He speaks Spanish."

In all of these instances, he was being so sincere. I stifle my giggle, and after each misundestood dot-connection, a conversation follows, a bridge constructed to connect the correct dots.  With any new experience, we find it valuable that he expresses his thoughts, so if he perceives something wrong that could come back even worse, especially if it deals with race, we're on it.

So many jokes get told with the cloak of humor, and we try to convey that it's not funny if it's at someone else's expense, and we're sure to address that race is not a laughing matter.  The Kids React to Cheerios commercial  is an awesome example of how kids are connecting their own dots the right way.  Bury "boys will be boys."