Juliet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What’s in a name?   Shakespeare explored this question in the famous balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet.  His answer, “that which we call a rose / by any other word would still smell as sweet”  (2.2.43-44).

Apparently, Shakespeare, or Juliet in this case, got it wrong.  The majority of my seventh period class, the ones who use their given names, had trouble with the idea that people could be called by a nickname, variation of their name, or even their middle name.  Yet, during the reading of To Kill A Mockingbird no one questioned Jean Louise Finch’s nickname “Scout” or Jeremy Finch being called “Jem.”

I guess Chris’ middle name may be Topher; Pat’s middle name may be Rick; and Rob’s middle name may be Bert.

My freshman experience today was realizing not all students finish their thought process before speaking up.  Of course, I am guilty of this, too … especially at home.

Reblogged from Diane Ravitch's blog:

Reblogged from My Everyday Power Blog:

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Oak and Ash (Photo credit: Let Ideas Compete)

I visited my parents this weekend to wish Mom a happy Mother’s day.  She is struggling with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases and stays in bed all day and night.  My dad and I talk in front of her; she smiles and nods.  It used to be the other way around.  Mom had a way of dominating the conversation and Dad would smile and nod, adding a joke or story occasionally.

While there, I learned that my dad had to have the Oak tree in the backyard cut down before it fell in a storm and destroyed the house or neighbor’s house.  This was not just an Oak tree.  It was THE Oak tree.  It was the reason I planted an Oak tree in my backyard: to remind me of childhood.

Mom and Dad’s Oak was taller than the house.   Three adults, holding hands, could not wrap their arms around it.  Its shade covered three-fourths of the backyard and the back of the house.  The Oak wasn’t a climbing tree; the lowest branch was ten feet high.

What do my mom and the Oak tree have in common?

It is not their size.  Mom did have a large presence in our family, all five feet two inches and 100 pounds of her.  The tree trunk had to be cut in three sections for a crane to lift it over the house to the front yard.  Anything larger, and the work crew worried the crane would tip over.  A semi-truck and logging trailer hauled all of it away.

No, size was not a commonality.  The true similarity was the fact that the Oak and Mom were always there in my life.

They both protected me.  The Oak shaded me from the sun; Mom from everything else.

The Oak tree entertained me.  It dropped leaves in the fall and challenged me to catch them.  It wanted to help me improve my eye-hand coordination to improve my chances to be a professional athlete.  (It seems the Oak tree doesn’t know a lot about sports.)  Like the Oak, Mom would play with me.  When I was home from school, she would stay home from work.   We would play Monopoly or Payday for hours.  Luckily, Mom had more sense than the Oak.  She prepared me for the life outside of professional sports.

The Oak tree provided me with the opportunity to work every autumn.  I would get to earn my keep by raking leaves, raking leaves, and raking more leaves.  Every few days I was out there making piles of leaves.  Of course, I spent a lot of time jumping in 25 feet high leaf mountains.  Mom provided opportunities for me to do chores, help make spaghetti sauce and wedding soup.  Of course, I had some fun with the chores and did a lot of taste testing.

Well, the tree is gone.  The sun is setting; we know that.  May all of our Moms have a Happy Mother’s Day.

The Question Is What Is the Question? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

STUDENT: Why did I get a zero?

ME: You did not answer the question.  Your answer was off topic.

STUDENT: I didn’t know what the question was.

ME: It was in your Reader’s Notebook packet.  You were to respond to Ch. 9-11.  See, it says that right here on the rubric.

STUDENT: But, it doesn’t have the question there!

ME: The question is in the Reader’s Notebook that I gave you.

STUDENT: But, Sally stole it from me.

ME: You never told me you needed another one.  Plus, I wrote the topic on the board and explained to the class what was being asked.  You were here that day.  Why didn’t you copy it down?  Why didn’t you ask me if you didn’t understand?

STUDENT: But, Sally stole it from me.

I guess if you run out of excuses or blame, you just repeat yourself.

I walk away to get her a new copy of the Reader’s Notebook.  Fortunately, she did well on today’s writing assignment.

Later, I learned why one student struggles in class even though she sits right in front of the board where I write the homework assignments:

STUDENT: When did you get that large cupboard?

ME: It’s been there since the school was built 10 years ago.

STUDENT: No Way!  I have got to start paying attention, more.

Thinking of grades, I could only nod my head in agreement.

Then, she asked if she could go to her engineering class because she just noticed she forgot her books and binders there.

I could only nod my head in agreement again.  I wrote her a pass.  After all, I have had these moments, too.

However, my day continued to improve.  After writing creatively for a class period, I had this conversation with a student:

STUDENT: I think I got carried away.

ME: Why? What were you writing about?

STUDENT: I wrote 600 words on having a monkey as a pet.  I started with some background scientific information and then went into a story.  I will continue it tomorrow.

ME: Excellent!  Good luck with it.

And during the last class, a student shared the start of an amusing story that he began in class and continued at home.  So far, his first four pages (he only had to write two) describe a man waking up late and locking himself out of his house when he went to get the morning paper.  I look forward to reading more of it.

What kind of day did you have?

The second Death Star under construction in Return of the Jedi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“May the fourth be with you,” stated my eight-year old son.

“And with you,” I replied.

Thus began our STAR WARS day, May 4th, 2013.

A month ago the invitations were mailed. The RSVPs had been given. At noon, my son’s fellow younglings would arrive for light saber duels, Jedi training, and good v. evil challenges. The Jedi were to depart at 3:15. Not 3:00 o’clock. Not 3:30. Three. fifteen.

This was my son’s third annual STAR WARS party. At the first party, someone thought it was a birthday party and brought him a gift. The mom couldn’t understand that our son would plan a party to celebrate STAR WARS! Really? I have seen Oscar parties, Kentucky Derby parties, and Super Bowl parties. Those parties do not even come close to my son’s STAR WARS parties for fun and excitement.

The best part is he does the planning. We ate Death Star grapes, StarWarsberries, and make your own pizzas. Every little Jedi would be happy.

My son informed me that I was not needed in organizing games or activities outside. In fact I was to do nothing except put the pizzas in the oven and take them out of the oven. Part of me was sad that he was growing up, and he didn’t need me. However, I quickly became happy when I realized I would not have to be hit with light sabers, or have those Ewoks jump all over me. I could relax.

Jar Jar Binks, a Gungan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Of course, at every STAR WARS party we have a kid cry. Even if I remind them that no one ever cried in STAR WARS. This year, we had one accidental hit on the head with a light saber. A little Jar Jar Binks walked into a light saber being tossed in the air. And, we had a couple of boys try to sneak into the basement to play video games:

“It’s burning up outside,” they whined.

“It’s 73 degrees. There is a breeze. Get a glass of water and go play,” I ordered.

They drank some water, petted our little Chewbacas and ran outside to join the fun. There were no further problems or complaints.

The party was an excellent demonstration of skills my son learned in school and at home:

*Writing invitations

*Using time management

*Planning activities

*Leading small groups

*Creating a menu for kids with food allergies

*Compromising so everyone has fun

I can’t wait to see how the Department of Education will create a standardized test to assess these skills. I hope he does well, or he may not be college and career ready.

Related articles

• On Star Wars Day, a Look at Recent Force News (newsy.com)

I am Procrastinating by Taking a Procrastination Test: I scored as an Above Average Procrastinator (Photo credit: Tricia Wang 王圣捷)

When I saw this, my mind reeled with thoughts… If he takes another test, will he be reading at grade level?  What if this trend continues?  Will he regress to the point that I have to read Dr. Seuss books to him at bedtime?

First, I called my local congressman.  He always has the answer.  I explained the situation and asked him what he thought.  He replied, “It’s obvious; the teacher is terrible.  She must not be doing her job.  The test scores prove this.”

“I can’t believe it, sir,” I replied.  “I have met her, seen the work she assigns, the passion in her eyes to help students become better.  She can’t be the problem.  Can she?”

“Constituent, she has fooled you into thinking she is doing a good job.  The test scores are the proof!  Your son’s learning was measured.  There is no other answer.  She is making your child less ready for college and career.  Teachers like her are the reason we have the new evaluation system.  Fifty percent of her evaluation will be based on your son and his classmates last test.   Now, thanks for calling.  I have to attend a fundraising dinner and discuss why evaluations based on economic growth for congressmen are not fair.”

“Um, OK.”

I hung up, more confused.  My daughter saw my confused look and asked me what was wrong?  I told her about her brother’s scores.  Of course, she came up with the answer.

“Duh, Dad.  He is 13.  He IS getting dumber!”

“Of course! I forgot what you were like at that age.  It’s not the teacher’s fault.  It is Number One Son’s fault.  He needs to take responsibility and ownership for his learning.  Thank you daughter!”

“No, Dad.  I meant that he takes after you and Mom.  Look at you.  Mom tells us you got good grades in school.  You even have a Master’s Degree.  But, you don’t know how to fix things, can’t find your keys, and think your own jokes are funny.  You get dumber every day! Plus, Mom calls orchards apple-tree farms, forest rangers bear catchers, and recently thought the air conditioner in the car was not working… then she pushed in the AC button.”  Face it, you two are not rocket surgeons!”

“Funny.  Real funny.  Go to your room!”

After all, what else could I say?  I begin to wonder if she is right.  I have been forgetful lately.  I forgot the wife’s birthday, Christmas, and our anniversary.  I couldn’t help Number Two son with his fourth grade math homework.  And, I didn’t win the NCAA March Madness tournament at work.  Number One’s regression is my fault. Do I tell my wife? No way!

I decide to ask Number One.  I show him the scores.  I ask him if he has any idea why the scores have dropped?

He laughs.  I wonder why he thinks that his getting dumber is so funny. 

He explained: “Dad, the first test day was the third week of school.  I was excited.  I was pumped up.  I tried my best to impress my teacher and make you and Mom proud.”

“Well, Number One, I am very proud of those scores.  You were awesome.  However, what happened for the next test?”

“It was in December, Dad. I was distracted with the thoughts of what I was going to buy you for Christmas.”

“Really?  You were thinking of my gift? You are so thoughtful… Wait a minute.  You didn’t get me anything!”

“Just kidding!  I was thinking of all of the gifts I would be getting.”

“OK, Number One, that makes more sense.  That explains test number two.  What about the third test in March?”

“Oh, I didn’t do my algebra homework and needed time to do it.”

“It was an English test.  I don’t understand, son.”

“As soon as I finished my test, I had free time.  I could do my Algebra homework.   You know me, Dad.  I was the kid who would color a picture in first grade in one minute in order to go outside and play.  I skip steps in Algebra because they take too much time, and I get the right answer.  It’s all about efficiency, Dad.  I play soccer the same way.  One touch passes.  No one ever out runs a pass.”

“Number One, let me see if I understand.  You scored low because you rushed through the test.  You had other priorities that day?”

“You know Dad, you aren’t as dumb as you look.  Want to go outside and kick the soccer ball?”

“Why not, Number One.  As long as I am not tested on it.”

No one I know takes standardize tests for a living (Photo credit: Ken Whytock)

We even talked the second grader into going.  (He prefers watching Star Wars and using his imagination instead of sports.)

Well, the evening was a success.  There were funny jokes, dancing with basketball stars, and the ever popular: teachers losing!  Sonny’s work during recess with his fourth grade teacher did pay off though; she scored two points!

I enjoyed seeing friends entertain the kids.  There was my son’s best friend’s mom pretend to use her Ninja skills to fight a wizard player who was a foot taller than she.  Luckily, it ended peacefully.  :)  And, the community member (a former U.S. Professional Football Player) who was asked to try out for the Wizards during the game missed his one shot by a mile.  The kids did not know it was on purpose, but I know it was.  His shot was worse than my best attempt.  He could not be that bad.  Seriously.

The best part was the referee.  It was my boss, the principal of the high school.  Apparently, she played basketball in high school and college.  She followed the directions of the Wizards and called a “great” game.  She was a great actress and my sons believed everything she did, whether it was a bad call, putting up with disrespect, or even giving the benefit of the call to the teachers.  For her acting, Mrs. H. deserves an Oscar or at least an Oscar the Grouch.

Tonight reminded me why I teach.  It is not the tests scores.  It is not the novels, although I do love them.  It is the fun!  It is the connection with the kids.  It is the immeasurable that no test will ever show.

Think about it.  Do you remember a test score?  Or, do you remember a teacher?

I remember my third grade teacher, Mrs. Duda, who let me help her grade papers and get the films from the office.  I remember Mr. Collins, my eight grade English teacher, who saw my reading and writing ability enough to let me read the main part for a play in class.  I remember Mrs. Collins, my senior English teacher, who saw more potential than I was ready to admit to.

Next year, I will be evaluated on student growth, which is not a bad idea.  However, the growth is to be measured by one test.  The day of the test could be a “bad day” for the kid.  The student could be like my oldest, a “bad test taker.”   What about the impact or influence I have had on a student?  Unfortunately, this is not easily measurable.    Thus, my evaluation will not be accurate.  For now, if you want to know who are the good teachers, listen to the kids.  They will tell you, either directly or indirectly.

What I have learned in twenty-five years is that a good relationship with students creates success.   Now, I have to figure out how to turn the standardized test into a positive relationship.

Reblogged from Diane Ravitch's blog:

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Congratulations to the Providence Student Union, which exposed the inadequacy of the NECAP (New England Common Assessment Program) as a high school graduation test. As a result of their activism, the Boston Globe today opposed the use of NECAP for that purpose.

Instead of just protesting or writing letters to the editor or to elected officials, the PSU engaged in political theater.

Read more… 531 more words

As usual, I planned the entire trip, with some input from the wife.  As usual, the kids, who never wanted to be bothered with helping me plan, complained.  It is too hot.  The kid’s games are rigged.  The room is too small.  (There are six of us; every hotel suite is too small!)  The slides are too steep.  The slides are too slow.  The wave pool is too small.  Lesson one: kids will complain.  They come out of the womb crying and complaining, and it doesn’t stop for a very long time.  Don’t let the complaints stop you.

However, our kids are getting older and a little more independent.  The oldest went to a different pool at the resort and napped.  The thirteen year old got hot and bored and went back to the room to read. I, too, got bored, so I grabbed him and we explored the area and had lunch.  Lesson two: It is ok to split up and “differentiate” the vacation experience.  We do not all love the same things.

One of our family’s highlights was dinner at the Rustler’s Rooste.  They had a long horn bull out front, a slide to enter, and a magician who came to the table!  The kids had a blast and the food was great!  Lesson three: Make it fun! 

Next, we drove to Sedona, Arizona, to take a jeep tour and see the beauty of the area.  The red rocks of Sedona, sights like my favorite, Snoopy Rock, and the bounces of a jeep going through dry creek beds was a new experience for all of us.  It is not even close to sliding in an SUV in the snow and ice and seeing your life flash before your eyes.  And an experienced tour guide sharing survival skills, in case she crashes, is also helpful.  Lesson four: A knowledgeable guide makes learning fun, exciting, and memorable!  Be a knowledgeable teacher!

Snoopy Rock – Sedona (Photo credit: Al_HikesAZ)

Grand Canyon Railway trains at Williams Depot (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

After the jeep tour, we went to Williams, Arizona, home of the Grand Canyon Railway, where we spent the night and travelled to the Grand Canyon by train.  The kids were on their Ipads, and my wife and I enjoyed the scenery and the relaxing ride.  Once at the South Rim, we took a bus tour to see different viewpoints of the Canyon.  Of course, the teens had to inform us that the Canyon was all the same: “Look there is are layers of rocks over there and over there.”  And, “Wow, there is the big ditch again…”  Interestingly, they, and especially the wife, were all a little nervous about venturing toward the edge.  I wasn’t and when I saw a ledge about 4 feet below the rim I was standing on; I had to jump.  I landed, waited for the gasp, and peeked over the rocks… “April Fools!”  Don’t be mad at me.  Several years ago, the wife cried to me that she was pregnant with number five.  Then, she said, “April Fools!”   Lesson five: when you can play with people’s minds, do it!  Then, keep your kids away from the edge…

We spent the night at one of the National Park’s lodges.  We told the kids we might hike into the canyon.  The next day, the wife informed me that she was very nervous and afraid about hiking into the canyon because the boys tended to push each other.  Apparently, she did not like the idea of having one brother push another down the side of the cliff.  We only hiked two miles, and downhill was easy, but the children realized what a hike it was.  We met people hiking up from the bottom with children the same age as ours with backpacks and not complaining.  Without any prompt from us, our children realized that others had it harder.  Lesson six: Once we can see the hardships of others, we learn we could have life (or English class) worse.

In the end, the kids agreed the best part of the trip was the hike.  The hike that pushed them, challenged them, and made them feel good about accomplishing something.  It was a reminder that our job as parents and teachers is to give challenges to the kids; to allow them to push them to be better.  Lesson seven: Challenge the kid!  They want it and they grow! 

What lessons do you learn from trips?