Won’t You Take Me Out of Funky Town?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
funk

I’m gonna be real here.

Real real.

I’ve been in a bit of a funk since this school year started. And I’m in the South, so that was two months ago. I’m doing that thing that I used to do in my old life that I promised myself I wouldn’t do anymore. I’m waiting. Promising myself that it will be better as soon as…

Except some of those milestones have passed and I’m still waiting. And still funky.

I can enumerate the reasons I’ve been funkified:

  1. I’m feeling overwhelmed and overworked. Yes, I know I say this every fall. Yet this year feels worse (even though I know I say that every year too). I’m needed more by some of the other teachers this year and I’m struggling to balance their needs with the needs of my students (along with trying to remember that I have needs too and these are just as valid). I keep waiting for the groove to come, but I’m not sure it will.
  2. My husband underwent cervical fusion at the end of August. It was stressful waiting for the surgery (there was a minimal but very real risk of paralysis if there was any impact to the neck before the fusion). And of course, surgery itself is scary. The procedure went well and healing is progressing nicely. But it’s still hard. I’ve had to take on more and he’s without his normal martial arts outlet, which takes a toll on both of us.
  3. I haven’t had much social connection since school started. I do best with social contact about once a week or so. I’ve had only two encounters with friends in the past month. Definitely not sufficient, especially because I’m pretty isolated from adult contact at work.
  4. Many of my favorite podcasts are still on summer hiatus. Trivial, I know. except it’s not. Between my morning dog walk, my commute and my monotonous teacher tasks (like collating and stapling unit summaries), I can easily consume about three hours of audio content a day. So when it’s limited, I notice.
  5. This one is 100% my fault. I slipped on the daily gratitude journal again. It’s been easy to claim that I’m too busy. Except it takes less than 60 seconds, so that’s utter bullshit. I’m not too busy. I’m too IN the busy. And still stuck on the mindset that if I just keep my head down and keep pushing, I’ll push through and have space to breathe.
  6. And probably the hardest part – when I’ve shared with others that I’m struggling, they seem to dismiss it. Minimize it. It could be that I’m overly sensitive to this, but I think it’s because they have the perception that I don’t fall apart (or haven’t in the last nine years, at least). So they assume that I’m okay, even when I try to say that I’m not. It’s a key problem of being one of the “strong ones.”

I haven’t been all-bad though. I’ve prioritized yoga. I’ve been taking some time to read and I even joined a book club (a first ever for me). I have committed to and maintained a hard 8:00 pm deadline to put work aside no matter how unfinished it is. I sought out some new-to-me podcasts (thank you By the Book; you’ve made this week much better!) and made the trip to renew my library card so that I can again download audio books. I switched gyms to one that is closer, cheaper and has the most bad-ass treadmill-ish contraption that allows me to do sprints inside. And I love coming home to a puppy that insists that play is important no matter how much work there is to do.

I need to do better though. To find a way to breathe within this chaos instead of waiting for the chaos to end. Because it won’t. Chaos is a part of life. All that changes is the particular tone and texture of it.

I keep coming back to the book my club discussed earlier this month – 29 Gifts. It describes a woman’s resolution to give – and document – 29 gifts in 29 days. I liked the idea, especially since I’ve been feeling somewhat resentful over the amount of myself I’m having to give right now. I’m not ready to do the full challenge right now, but I’m really working on shifting my thinking around what I’m doing – seeing my time as a gift rather than something being taken from me. It’s a small step, but it is a step. After all, how many times do I tell people that we have limited control over what happens to us, but a lot of say in how we respond to it?

Next week is fall break. I’m viewing it as an opportunity for a big ol’ reset. Do some self-care, visit with friends, get some sleep and put some things in place to keep me grounded and sane when the intensity (which just aptly auto-corrected to “insanity”) picks up again.

Because I refuse to allow this funk to follow me into October.

Please hold me accountable.

The Problem With Doing What You Know

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I first started teaching math, I followed the general wisdom of the time that the majority of independent practice should take place outside of the limited classroom time.  As I was advised, I took grades on homework completion, quickly glancing at thirty-plus student papers filled with equations before going over the answers.

At that time, if you had asked me which students would be successful in algebra at the end of the term, I would have replied confidently, “Well, the ones who do all their homework, of course.”

I would have been wrong.

Because what I was unaware of at the time is how many of the students were completing their homework, yet because of some critical misconceptions about the topic, did every problem wrong. Even worse, when the class went over the assignment, they discounted their errors as one-time mistakes or simply careless omissions instead of the deeper misunderstandings that they were.

And by asking the students to complete their assignments in the relative vacuum of home, I was providing the opportunity for them to continue to practice the material incorrectly, thus solidifying the errors. Without outside feedback, they lost perspective on their choices and their progress.

Because if we do something enough, we begin to believe it’s right thing.

When the only voice we listen to is our own, we fail to account for our misjudgments and we lose track of improvement. 

When we do only what we know, our established neural pathways and assumptions become deep-worn grooves, lessons practiced and mastered, even if the conclusions aren’t accurate.

It’s easy to operate like those responsible students, dutifully completing every task that crosses our path. It’s easy to believe we’re doing the right thing because we’re doing some-thing. And it’s easy to discount any missteps as purely accidental or careless when they’re really because of some deeper understanding.

Before my first full year of teaching was out, I changed the structure of my class. I gave more time in class for independent practice and I always devised a strategy for students to verify their answers before the bell. I emphasized the importance of mistakes and that refusing to admit one is the worst mistake of all. I focused more on the quality of work completed than the quantity, making deals with the more reticent students that low homework grades could be modified upon successfully mastering a concept on a quiz.

That year taught me the danger of doing only what you know. I initially modeled my classroom on what I had experienced as a student, and the results were suboptimal. My students were practicing the procedures they knew, reinforcing incorrect pathways.

Progress was made only when other perspectives were considered, assumptions were challenged, mistakes were admitted and risks were taken.

Because sometimes the best step to take is the one into the unknown.

Unsaid

Posted on by stilllearning2b

This seems to happen to me every fall. I play host to a common rhinovirus. Apparently, I’m great at making those little buggers feel right at home because they move in and invite all their friends. Some years, I end up with pneumonia. Other years – the lucky ones – I make it through with only a sinus infection, bronchitis and, the worst for a teacher, laryngitis.

The timing of these illnesses is always impressive. Three years ago, Brock and I were in the middle of moving homes and had our annual Thanksgiving camping trip scheduled when we both came down with the munge. Not ones to be easily discouraged, we held to our plans although we had to make a couple NyQuil runs during the trip and I think our coughing kept Tiger up during the night. Two years ago, I was blessed with a bout of pneumonia just a few short weeks before my marathon. I was still able to run although I’m sure the illness had some impact on my race experience. Last year, it hit Brock during our wedding week and me shortly after.

And this year?

No pneumonia, knock on wood. But no voice either. I’ve been attempting to teach math with pantomime and interpretive dance and to communicate in meetings through lip-reading and telepathy. I’m only partly joking.

It’s exhausting trying to get through a busy day with hundreds of people with no voice.

But even worse?

It’s frustrating.

There is always more that I want to communicate than what I can conceivably convey. I’m in the middle of the group yet I feel invisible. Impotent. Dependent and decrepit. Especially when the classroom phone rings and all I can do is stare at it pathetically.

Not a feeling I like.

I’m hopeful, though. Brock and I are both on the mend and hopefully we’ll be healthy before we hit the campground for Thanksgiving. Hiking is more fun without my seal-bark cough scaring away all the wildlife and toasted marshmallows over chilled NyQuil.

And maybe I’ll even have a voice for tomorrow when I expect my principal to do one of my formal observations.

Of course, she may enjoy my interpretive dance about volume instead:)

Stay well, folks. It’s okay to be a bad host sometimes!

 

 

 

 

Starting Over

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“I can’t do this.”

“Why should I try again? I’m just going to fail.”

“Maybe I’m just no good at this.”

“I’m tired of trying.”

I hear those refrains from my coaching clients about lifestyle changes. I hear them from my blog followers about relationships. And, most of all, I hear them from my students about algebra.

My days are filled with students groaning  in frustration, papers wadded up and thrown away in disgust. Every day, I reach into my supply of pencil-topping erasers and provide students with a way to obliterate their mistakes. Sometimes, they become too defeated by even the faintest echoes of work gone wrong, and I have to provide them with a fresh copy, unsullied by their past choices. Some students thrive when they can write on the Activeboard or even with dry erase markers on the desk, where the marks of any error erase without a trace. I model starting over, capitalizing upon rather than hiding my own mistakes at the board.

So much of my day is spent coaching people in starting over – motivating past the initial resistance and guiding new attempts. And even though I coach students on algebra and adults on life, much of the lessons are the same.

We would rather fail because we didn’t try than fail because we couldn’t do.

This was a powerful realization in my early teaching days. I would get so frustrated with students who would just give up and refuse to attempt anything. I saw it as lazy. Or obstinacy. But usually it was a form of self protection. You see, if we try and fail, it reflects upon on abilities. Whereas if we do not try, it only discloses our choices. I learned that in order to reach these students, I had to first convince them that they were worthy in spite of their failures. I found ways to build them up. To let them know that it was safe to try and fail; I would not ridicule mistakes and I would not allow other to either. And then I would find ways to create successes so that they could feel the joy of finally getting something right.

Failure means you’re learning. Starting over means you’re applying the lessons.

We may me more mature than those kids in some ways, but we also shy away from trying because of a fear of how it reflects upon us. We internalize failure rather than see it as a sign of growth. We want to play it safe, stay in known zone where the risks are not too great and the effort not too imposing. We look at the past effort as wasted and we fear starting over because it may lead to another dead end. But the reality is that nothing is ever wasted if you learn from it.

Starting over is overwhelming.

Whether it’s one of students having to re-do a page long problem or a person facing dating again after the end of a long marriage, starting over is hard. Very hard. It’s like taking your first step of thousands in a marathon – your leg is moving forward even as your brain is screaming, “Don’t! It’s impossible!” As with any feat of endurance, the trick is to focus on one step at a time. Starting over requires energy and if you’re mentally biting off more than you can chew, you’re exhausting your resources before you even begin.

When we focus only on the results, we grow frustrated. Celebrate the steps along the way.

I get a strange look from students when I praise their reasoning or skill on one step of a problem but still advise them that their answer is incorrect. “But, Mrs. Arends, I got it wrong. Why are you telling me I did something good?” Learning is a process. Starting over is a process. When we attach too much meaning to the outcome, whether it be a date or an algebra problem, we may miss the signs that we are getting better. So even when the results aren’t what you wanted, celebrate any signs of improvement.

Defeat only occurs when you give up. It’s better to change your goal than to throw in the towel.

In spite of the message put forth by the “everybody gets a trophy” mentality, not everybody can do everything. There are times that you may be trying to accomplish something that is beyond your reach and requires an endless amount of starting over. Rather than just give up completely, shift your goal to something you can do.

When we begin again, the possibilities are endless.

There is something about a blank slate that cultivates enthusiasm. It’s an empty canvas ready to accept whatever you put down. It’s easier to start from the actions of the past, rewriting what we have already tried. But this is your chance to do something new. Different. If one way didn’t work, toss it out and play around with another. If you allow it, starting over can have a sense of playfulness. Curiosity. Wonder and excitement.

Starting over is not doing the same thing again. Starting over is a gift of being able to apply the wisdom of your past to create the image of your future. 

Try. You just might amaze yourself with what you can do.

 

Feedback in Relationships

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I had to deliver some staff development today on the concept of feedback in the classroom (please try to restrain your disappointment at not being invited:) ). As I was moving through the material, my monkey mind was making connections to how we give and receive feedback with students and how it relates to feedback in relationships. So even though you missed my presentation this morning, I’ll still share my thoughts with you and feedback and its role in our relationships. Only now the professional dress has been replaced with yoga pants:)

Feedback is Meant to Improve, Not Shame

There’s a TED talks video by Rita Pierson we always watch at meetings where she talks about putting +2 on a child’s paper rather than -18. That’s because the purpose of feedback is to improve, not to punish or shame. Feedback should never be delivered in anger or in frustration. It’s deliberate. Conscious. Careful.

In a relationship, any criticisms or advice delivered in a heated moment will not be received. If feedback is shared in public in a shaming way, no positive change will occur.If your purpose is to make your partner feel badly, you’re bitching, not providing feedback.

Your first responsibility in a partnership is to change yourself – your perceptions, your actions, your responses. Yet there will be times where you need to work to shape your partner’s actions for the betterment of the pair and feedback is a critical component of this. Before you speak, make sure your intentions are to improve, not to shame or blame.

Climate Comes First

The first goal of any effective teacher is establishing a classroom culture where students feel safe and secure and feel comfortable taking risks and making mistakes. If this climate is not present, any negative feedback tends to lead to defensiveness and shutting down. But once this climate is built, students know that you care about them and they are much more receptive to feedback, even if it is negative.

Relationships are no different. We need to feel safe in our partnerships. We need to trust that it’s okay to not be perfect and that a single mistake won’t mean that we’re kicked out. It’s important to establish a relationship climate where both partners feel comfortable voicing their concerns and receiving feedback from the other.

In the classroom and in relationships, building a positive and safe climate takes time. Trust doesn’t occur overnight; it comes from a pattern of action and response. Energy put into developing this environment goes a long way. Brock and I put quite a bit of effort into this early on (using candles as a signal) and that preliminary work has since paid dividends (and the candles have been in retirement for the last year and a half or so).

Goals Must be Clear and Shared

In the classroom, it’s not fair to give students feedback on their progress when they do not know or understand the goal they are trying to reach. Teachers use a variety of methods to communicate learning expectations to the students so that not only do they have an idea of where they are relative to where they need to be, but they have a clear picture of the ideal destination.

We know how important communication is in relationships and how easily misunderstandings can spiral out of control. Just as it’s not fair to berate a student for failing to achieve some mysterious goal, it is unfair to a partner to expect him/her to read your mind and then react with negative feedback when he/she doesn’t make strides to the goal you had in mind.

The learning goals for my classroom are constantly changing (thanks Common Core and meddling politicians!) and goals in relationships are often as malleable as curriculum. It’s important to continually touch base and ensure that the relationship-related goals are clear and shared.

Feedback Should be Formative, Not Only Summative

Teachers divide learning activities into two categories: formative and summative. The former describes the activities that occur during the learning process, such as practice and quizzes. The latter applies to the culminating event, such as an exam or project, where a student is expected to demonstrate mastery of a concept. Effective feedback occurs during the learning process so that the student can shape his or her actions towards the stated goal. It’s not fair or effective for the first feedback to be received when it really counts.

So, as that relates to relationships, don’t do what my ex did. The first time I knew there was a problem in the marriage was when he left with a text message. If there had been formative feedback along the way, there may have been an opportunity to change. There’s often a balance in relationships – sometimes you need to bite your tongue and avoiding bringing something that is minor or fleeting. And you also need to address any issues before they build to a level that destroys the partnership.

If the point of feedback is to improve, make sure that it’s given along with a chance to make the improvements. Otherwise it’s not feedback, it’s just a bunch of red x’s and a big, fat “F.”

Address the Actions, Not the Person

The fastest way to alienate a kid is to attack their person, to imply or state that they are “stupid” or “no good.” They will quickly live up (or actually, down) to the claim. Teachers have to be careful to address issues the kids can control – study habits, practice, etc. rather than things they cannot – learning disabilities, sub par schooling, etc.

We all have innate tendencies and backgrounds that we cannot control. When those are attacked, we shut down as we internalize the message. When you are giving feedback to a partner, be careful not to condemn areas they cannot change or that are an inherent part of who they are. Focus on the actions and behaviors that are transient and reworkable.

Feedback Should be Specific and Actionable

Students don’t grow when they receive a failing grade on an assignment with the implied message “you suck at this.” It’s overwhelming and they give up. Instead, they improve when they are given specific and actionable feedback that addresses one or two areas at a time with recognition given for progress along the way.

Baby steps work for relationships too. Don’t flood your partner with a laundry list of feedback. Start small, focus on one behavior. Acknowledge improvement, no matter how small. Be clear and specific. When the intent is clearly stated, it’s more likely to happen.

 

Just like with teaching, feedback does not only flow one direction. Be open and receptive to your partner’s feedback. Assume that their intent is to make you better.

And remember, we are all still learning. Always.