Say no to the Syllabus

The first week of school are filled with them. Colored sheets of paper, wasted ink, overstated content, obvious self composure rules and precious time thrown down the drain. All this comes in the form of a syllabus which is completely unneeded in a learning environment. I may have just shattered your world into little tiny pieces but bare with me on this idea. It’s not the entire syllabus I hate, just a majority of the content and the way that it is presented.

In a rapidly growing district that is striving to go green and cut down their paper consumption, there isn’t room to print thousands of unneeded restatements. By my rough calculations, I received six syllabuses and I’m sure 600 other kids in the building did too. Just in the 9th grade that is 3,600 pieces of paper and ink plus, don’t forget those inevitable multipage syllabuses. There is still unaccounted for syllabuses in the middle and high school which has a lot larger student body population.

What is being printed on these wasted pieces of paper but standardized content. They all mention the teachers name, phone, email, and blog address. That is great that these are mentioned but the point of those DIGITAL ways of communication is that it doesn’t have to printed on a piece of PAPER. They are all located in one spot on our school website. We went green and invested in online resources, and now they are just duplicates of what we’ve been doing for years? That isn’t real change at all.

The district wide Positive Behavior Intervention System and letter grading scale is always noted somewhere too. Did I mention district wide? Enough said. Retake policies are different for every class making everyone’s tasks more complicated. Which, is not how I believe it should be in any school but that’s another topic.


The worst part is that most of them had spots for parents to sign and initial, a syllabus that was intended to notify the students of what they are to expect in a class, not forced parent interaction. When you want your students to interact with their parents, it shouldn’t be a simple signature. There should be meaning and depth behind it. Something to discuss or create. It should be something enjoyable and authentic I’m sure John Spencer has my back on that.

I’m not bashing any teacher, school, or district because I know these horrid syllabuses are found in many schools. The overarching stereotype and push that this is the material we NEED to cover to be successful is just plain wrong. The real definition of a syllabus is the subject content of a class, not overstated rules. Instead, change your first day plans to an engaging activity. Ditch the syllabus because the website and handbook has already got you covered. If there really is new content your students need to know do you think a piece of signed paper is going to do the job? Hold an assembly, create a skit(s), use a video and discuss afterwards quickly during advisory. Teach them how you would want them to teach you. Because, letting a piece of paper run the room isn’t what anyone wants.

What does your first day of school consist of?
How do you introduce your classroom expectations and subject content?

A Difference, A Change, A Legacy

A difference. A change. A legacy. Do we think about how these impact others or do we focus on on the betterment of ourselves? Our lives. Everything that happens (or is happening) leaves behind a difference, a change, a legacy. How do we define a legacy? How do we know if we've left a change? And for that matter, if it was a good change? How do we measure our difference?

I find myself just going through the motions of daily life, doing what I'm instructed to do. Not thinking, not reflecting, not becoming enthusiastic by anything that I'm doing. About the change, difference, and legacy I'm leaving. Becoming frustrated with having discussions that are only able to last 15 minutes during advisory when we could spend all day and still not be done. Overwhelming myself with trying to be a perfect person and enjoying the rare people that realize I'm not. I was digging myself a hole until I realized something yesterday.

Nothing is considered important to me until I make it important.

People may say that personal standards, mission statements, and beliefs is what makes you yourself. But only if we make it matter to us. I was chugging along at incredible speed, doing more than I ever thought I would in one year. I would attempt to make it matter by stopping, relaxing, then thinking, "What matters to me? What do I want to do next?" only to continue on to doing what I needed to do next. Even into this summer I was still doing more than I'd expected. I was still chugging along, in the middle of July. What type of kid does that? Yesterday I decided that it was time to stop and be selfish. I was going to use the rest of my summer for me. Reminded by Kristina Peters that it was great to put pen to paper and write. I told myself I was going to write anything I wanted so long as it wasn't social studies notes, english essays, math homework, or science labs. I hadn't written anything since then. I was going to stop going and start writing.

Last night I wrote down this reflection of what I consider my first world problems and that night I slept the best I could ever remember. Not laying awake for hours thinking about what I needed to do, wanted to do, or what I'd done. My plan is to get my sanity back by transforming the #365views project into a daily writing project. Writing something of my own everyday. Whether it's on sticky notes, lined paper, or published on this blog I consider it to all be writing. I'm going to put pen to paper, become enthused, and reflect upon my difference, my change, and my legacy.

1908 Prairie Hill (Poetry)

I wrote this during writers workshop last Thursday and thought that it needed to be published somewhere. It is not intended to describe the Waukee Community School District in any way, shape, or form but stands as an eye opener to anyone willing to read.


As I sit here
in this class
I wonder how everyone can pass.
The world is changing,
and we're sitting still
in this static class,
from the Prairie Hill.


Nothing is new
it will all break down soon
for the new is too new,
for this One Room Retention House.


The lectures are long
the learning is little.
No one gets nowhere,
in this Brick Bomb Shelter
stuck in the middle.



Just because
we were taught
the same stuff from years ago, like
science
math
and how to bake cookie dough,
you won't give us a job
anywhere but the old Prairie Hill?




I walk through the halls
and can't help but wonder,
if its a new century.
I can't really notice
inside of this
perpetually
stalled
and darkening 
place that they call school.


-Ian Coon

The Perpetually Shining Stairwell - A Memoir

The stairs were purple. They had plastic covers with rigid lines along the edge to prevent slipping and sliding falls. The carpet had blue and purple dots in it that turned a dark maroon red when science experiments were clumsily spilled by overexcited. The stairwell was musty and full of moisture until the cooks filled it with the fumes of processed chicken and stale hamburgers. The stucco walls glistened with paint, but had the texture of adobe. The 1930’s graduates on the walls always sent shivers down my spine. Drawing me into a trance, daring me to look at them until you heard the grumpy old lady ask, “Where are you supposed to be right now young man?” and continued walking. The stairwell was always either empty or full, but never anything in between.

* * * *

Open House Night should be old news by now-- we do it every year. Believe it or not, it was enjoyable to go to school for about the first month. Students got to talk about everything you did that summer, meet your friends from last year again, and show off your new shoes and sparkling school supplies. While everyone else was doing that, I was in the stairwell looking at pictures. Anyone may have thought, “That’s Ian, observant little guy,” acting like they knew what they were talking about. Teachers were constantly trying to find where to put me. I’d get moved from group to group or get special projects to work on when, all I really wanted was to fit in with everyone else. That’s when I heard the thump, creek, thump, creek up the stairs. It sounded like a ghost creeping its way back upstairs to the closet where the rumor mill said it lived. Once a week it would come out from its dormant sleep and scare some lonesome soul in the bathroom, hallway, or stairs. It especially liked to possess lights in the stairwell. From the platform below you could hear a deep, gurgling voice bellow, “I hobbled all the way through the building, looking for one...” The hanging light above me flickered and I scuttered over to stand under the other light. The voice continued, “...only to figure out that I needed to go up to the 3rd floor...” My heart skipped a beat and I about peed my pants; this was the ghost.

I looked at the pictures on the wall trying to act like I didn’t hear whatever this thing was. It must have been obvious that I had heard it talking, because this overweight man apologized to me as he waddled past. The puny kid next to him was shaking, scared to death while he fiddled with his crutches. They continued their journey to the third floor.

* * * *

It was one of the only things I’d ever lost. Normally, I never lost anything. I needed to admit that I did though, as this was an extremely important piece of paper.

I feebly walked up to her desk and managed to stutter. “I...I... lost my paper. Do you...um.... have another?”

“What paper was it?” she questioned intently.

“The...umm...science...rubric,” I stammered.

“Stay after school for a sec and I’ll run and grab it off the printer,” she cheerfully announced.

Now everyone knows that I lost something, there goes that record, I thought as I walked back to my desk. The day went by and the bell sang its song to let everyone else out of the building. I put away my pencil, eraser, folder, and book and sauntered my way to the hall, but made the mistake of peering down the stairs before getting my backpack. There was a howling from the floors below that echoed its way up the stairs. “Why don’t we get a brand new building?” I murmured to myself. Then a creak, bang, and a howl, the exact noises that ghosts make. I forgot about my grouching and ran to snatch my backpack off of its hook, not even caring to close the locker door behind me. In the room I started to organize the crayon bin, putting them all point forward in neat, little 12x6 rows in the tub. I was still panting, watching the doorway and wondering if the stairwell had swallowed her. It’s known to do that from time to time. I was really getting worried as I finished sharpening the colored pencils when she came back in, saw me, and burst out laughing. “Here’s your printing, bud!” She choked on the words while still having a laugh attack. For the rest of the year, and to this day, I stay after school to help everyone. What a great thing that pain stricken, old printer caused.

* * * *

Being the lonesome kid that was shy and afraid of the world was not an admirable thing to be for a social life. All the boys were busy acting like two-year-olds, yelling and screaming over one missed shot during basketball at recess. All the girls were checking their hair, constantly putting on lipstick and gossipping about the way everyone tied their shoes. I was in my own little world, not consumed by sports and rambunctiousness nor appearance and judging people. My priority list was to be sophisticated, not stand out too much, and get out of elementary. It was arduous fitting in with a group, so I went with the girls because they had some time in between beauty checks where they played tag or just talked. Sara, Chandler, and Brandy were the three most accepting of them. We’d all swing in a row, playing marriage until one of us slowed down and divorced our swing partner. Sara and Chandler stayed after school and checked papers with Mrs. Netten while I reorganized the room. They skipped Live Y’ers to help after school, and I don’t think they missed it too much. The daycare group ate a snack, took attendance, and then let you play games in the cafeteria until your parents came. I always wanted to be a Live Y’ers kid. I don’t want to point fingers, but Brandy was the one that usually caused all the drama. She was the one that started the childish “I’m not your friend anymore” battles with Chandler, because Chandler played with Sara and me at recess instead of her.

Walking up the stairwell from recess one day Brandy was taking off her gloves and holding onto the handrail at the same time when she managed to “hurt herself” and needed a band-aid. Mrs. Netten understood that in third grade culture, band-aids were a sign of honor and awe. Mrs. Netten never refused a kid a Band-aid, even if they were just trying to spruce up the most boring of days.

* * * *

The worn out scraping of shoes down the stairwell. Exuberant screams from children playing “Ghostbusters” in the gym. The repetitive marching back up the seven stairs to be re-connected with the rest of the school building. Gray brick walls. Red carpet spotted with darker shades from water infested ceiling tiles taking over the building. I couldn't stand it anymore.

He drove me crazy. It was February and he had figured out all the things that made me tick: unstraight stacking, mismatched colors, incorrect answers, and making me look stupid. I swear if he does it one more time I will freak. People say that all too often and it never happens, but at that moment he did it one more time. He did it. He stepped on me one more time. This fell under the category of making me look stupid. I couldn’t believe that he really did it. I was supposed to be the respectful line-leader, but I freaked. I yelled at him with all the rage filling my little 3rd grade body. “I’m tired of this! Stop it now!” That six seconds, those six words, seemed like an eternity. He just stared at me, looking straight into my eyes. Everyone was staring straight through him watching me, enticed by this kid who never said a word but had just flipped out. Great, I thought. Just great. I really just did that, and now everyone thinks that I’m stupid, mentally unstable, and have anger issues. These things happened all the time -- we were the lower class elementary. But this incident was an exception. It was me who did it. Everyone walked so silently and solemnly back up the stairwell. I was trying my best to act normal when I noticed that he had snuck to the back of the line. He gave up his assistant line-leader spot, I thought. Something is definitely wrong. That’s when it hit me square in the head, as if the ghost had flown out of the pictures and bumped into me floating down the stairs. Our guidance counselor had always recited to us, “Bullying hurts people. Your actions aren’t only impacting you. Hurting people on the inside is much worse than on the outside.” Guidance counselors couldn’t teach me, I had to. This incident snapped me out of my little world. Ianville was burning down rapidly inside my head. Other people really do have feelings and those feelings matter just as much as mine. Other people are bullied and teased. It’s not just me. I did something so significant to him that he gave up his line-leader spot and nobody asked what was wrong, not even Brandy.

* * * *

The assembly gave everyone a joyful ending to the school year. It was hotter inside than it was outside with 800 kids packed into a so-called gym that has no air conditioning. I never really understood how a kid hadn’t died of a heat-stroke in there. The floor echoed in the small gray gym as the rest of the kids filed in. Mrs. Cronk, our music teacher, led us in singing while Mr. Nemitz, the principal, strode to the center of the gym, surrounded by kindergarten kids trying to give him high-fives. “It has been a great year here at Waukee Elementary and we have lots to be thankful for; the students, the staff, the learning that’s still happening. Most importantly at this point in time is our wonderful, movie-making, computer teacher, Mrs. Doud!” Mr. Nemitz boomed over the raspy speakers dangling on the wall. Mrs. Doud started the slide show and music and the crowd went nuts when they turned off all the lights. There were pictures of kids posing, playing, and presenting from all year long. I sighed, relieved that no one had managed to snap a picture of me. I thought of the three friends I made, the mistakes I learned from and the lessons that changed my life. People laughed and giggled as they looked around at their friends when they saw a picture of them. Instead of staring into the past, I peered into the future. Going back to that stairwell after third grade, the sun shone brightly through two windows into a previously perpetually darkened stairwell.

Differentiation Divided

During study hall a while ago we had a discussion about differentiation. I know, study hall is that class where students sit around and stare at the wall for 40 minutes (complete stereotypical sarcasm). The teacher said "It's really hard to get used to this differentiation junk. It's all one on one." She's right, math is hard to differentiate because it's all equations and steps. She stressed, "If you don't follow the steps you will not get it." It isn't conceptual like social studies, language arts, or science is. There are steps to take and you won't get the right answer without doing those steps.

She's tried differentiating on the same topic, it is hard to do when we only spend one to two days on a subject. The way she has been doing it is having 1-2 table groups that got their independent practice problems correct and have a secure understanding of the subject, do more challenging problems on the same concept while she reviews with the rest of the class. For example the class may be reviewing linear equations for the second day, while the advanced group gets introduced to linear inequalities a day earlier than the rest of the class.

We also talked about quality versus quantity of work. "I'd rather have them work their way through two homework problems and get them right, not do all 20 assigned problems wrong." she said, "Technology has turned kids into instant learners. If you don't get it right the first time quickly, you give up easily."

How do you differentiate your math room? What were your attempts at differentiation to get you where you are now? Is independent practice mandatory or optional? 

Classroom of the Future or of Today?

Walking into the classroom door students would do a warm-up pre-assessment for the teacher to base stations and help for the day. The class period would be dynamic to the sense that stations would be chosen by the student on where they think they need help and a combination of where the teacher sees a fit. I picture a room with 3-4 stations happening either on different topics and students rotating between them, or where the stations are differentiated to different levels of the same topic, or a little of both. The teacher would float back and forth between stations while being ubiquitous and still monitoring the whole room. Having the station function gives students the freedom to move to a different leveled station if they need more than their current station is offering. It would be a mini version of a "vote with your feet" conference, if a session isn't working for you then find a better one. All of the stations would coincide with a theme for the day or relate to a project based learning activity later on. At the end of the class time students would do a formative assessment of what they learned that day to show what they retained and to let the teacher know where some clarification and instruction may be needed.

Does this look like your room? What do you do differently that works for you? I'm interested to hear how the style of your room works.

Wouldn't Everyone Have a D?

Some of you may remember the post from last February, #SBAR Thoughts. A post from last February just got a new comment today from Meg, nearly 9 months later. The post was in response to our district switching 6th grade to standards based reporting that they had been craving for a while.

I would argue that English is the best subject that it works in.  The reason that this works is because of the standards, if your standards are too general or too hard to accomplish then it will not work.  If a standard for Grammar Punctuation was "Places periods in appropriate spots after sentences" that would be a piece of cake for a normal 6th grader to do. If the standard was "Uses proper quotation and comma placement to structure a quote" that would be more leveled for 6th grade. 

I can't speak for other schools but middle school teachers in our district use standards behind the scenes for their own purposes of tracking student knowledge and understanding. But they have to then take those standards and form a rubric that converts them into points to put in the grade book. Not only does that take more time but the simile I like to use with it is that you have to measure in inches and report it centimeters, kind of pointless.

Language Arts is subjective at times. For example, last year we studied the holocaust for a month. It wasn't social studies so the standards weren't to understand and grasp what happened in the holocaust but to understand the social effects, and dive through writing from the time period. In the grammar example I gave above you could grade them on a worksheet and give 5/5 points for secure,4/5 for developing. The issue with that is they got an 80% because they slipped on one problem and in the grade book that's the only thing that is reflective of that. Where when you use standards you take into account that worksheet, group work, independent practice, formative and summative assessments to decide what they receive on that one concept.

Everyone puts their own little spin on standards based reporting but it still comes back to the standard. In a standard of "understand and use the 201 concepts of grammar" everyone would be developing. Standards are sorted and specific and that's what makes them work.

I hope I didn't throw you under the bus too far Meg. :)

Six Standards, That's It

Last Wednesday the Kee Squad group at our middle school taught Google Calendar to all the teachers in the building to incorporate into their new blogs, I think(look at how much I knew what I was doing.  We split the teachers in half: advanced & beginner.

Life got in the way earlier that week and all I had going into that presentation was a list of 6 items to teach.  I thought this would be easy to do and I tried my best to flow with it.  I thought, "All I had to do was go through a list of six things to teach, six standards, that's it."

Within the 10 minutes (I went into this not knowing how much time I would have) I feel like we completed one of those standards.  Maybe I had over scheduled that session, maybe I didn't prepare enough, maybe it was more difficult to teach 25 people SIX things in 10 minutes than I thought.  What ever it was I felt like I crashed and burned while my co-pilot was dead in the passenger seat.

I had planned on doing live demonstrations on the projector step-by-step while they followed along on their laptops.  I had planned on letting them explore that for a minute or two before we moved onto the next.  The two times I attempted to do live demos on sharing a calendar and subscribing to a calendar the page wouldn't load, the dongle came unplugged three random times in the presentation and the ELMO wasn't even set-up yet.
After I fiddled around for 5 minutes we got into Calendar labs. Everyone turned on event bling and I individually helped people.  That one thing was finally going so good I thought I could bring this crashing jet back on track when my ten minutes (that I never knew I had) were magically up and 25 people were out of sight in 30 seconds.

What I learned from this is that live demonstrations barely ever work when trying to do them with a crowd, screen shots are the way to go.  Coming right in and getting right to the point without daddling will give me more time to teach.  The projector needs to be set-up and turned on before everyone comes into the room.  Next week I get a chance to repent my sins.  I have an attack plan and only five standards to cover this time with about 15 minutes.  I now have a new understanding for teachers having to make these lesson plans daily and having to teach it six times a day, all though I would rather do that than have to do the work.

I Let Go

Today I let go of every and anything normal.  My day was a routine, a boring and repetitive routine.

1. I woke up at 6:40 this morning, 30 minutes later than normal.  I put clothes on, brushed my teeth, grabbed my phone, and was out the door 15 minutes after.  
2. I snapped this morning in the library, tried to ignore the fact that I did it and moved on (or so I thought).
3. I organized stencils into a perfect stack while we watched a video.
4. I watched Finding Nemo in Spanish and wrote down new words.
5. I went to art and focused on painting. Just painting. Everything else was blocked out.
6. I went to P.E. and played dodge ball for 10 minutes until I left early to eat lunch with my advisory.
7. I ate lunch (cheese bread ins't too long of a lunch) while listening to everyone elses weekend plans, relationship drama, and sports team arguments (the regular 8th grade chatter).
8. I put on a peppy mood when we were doing our 1k walk and cheering on others but my mood fell off after doing that for 2 hours.
9. I watched yet another movie in social studies on the French & Indian War.  It was probably the highlight of my day.
10. I took a quiz in math and missed one problem (and got 85% on it).  I didn't even bat an eye when I didn't get an A.
11. I participated in 40 minutes of credible sources and searching techniques in English.
12. I fixed a TV, projector, and worked on a video question for 3 different teachers. It was a slow day tech help wise.

My point of giving you my daily schedule wasn't to make you feel sad for the off day I had or about how many movies and quizzes and notes I take a day (you wouldn't believe it).  It was to show you that I made it through a day of doing this.  I let go of any emotions after 7:55 this morning.  I put no effort into the remainder of my day.  I let go of any leadership I had in me and was a regular person.  I followed others all day and probably couldn't have told you what time it was all day.  I worried about nothing but the one task at hand.  I didn't read a book all day and got something out of my binder once.  I did things like a regular middle schooler, like the other 825 kids in the building.  I felt like a robot.

Just One Tweet: My Narrative

Shaelynn Farnsworth and Erin Olson invited me to contribute to the Just One Tweet narratives that they used during their presentations at #TICL11 and #BLC11 on the benefits of Twitter in education, below is my narrative.

I joined Twitter in May of 2010 after hearing Russ Goerend talk about his PLN of 1,000 all of that year.  For the first month I added lots of people and a majority followed back.  It was a great way to learn about new social media and web 2.0 tools that I use on a daily basis.

The first people that I interacted with that I’d never met before are Ron King and Northern Lights Pizza last summer.  The most eye opening and inspirational person I know is Beth Ritter Guth.  We met this spring when she was the winner of a video camera contest I hosted.  I sent two cameras to Mouth of Wilson, VA where they planned on using them to make podcasts to share with the public schools in the county and use QR codes to organize them.  What makes this so inspirational is that she works in a private boarding school and is using them to help out the rest of the poorer community and open up kids to their remote world.  Most kids in their county drop out and of the ones that don’t, only 4% go onto college.

It has also been a great way for me to connect with people even WHILE I’m attending conferences like #itec10 and #i11i.  They are state level education conferences hosted annually in Iowa.  I presented with a classmate and Russ Goerend at ITEC on “Breaking Down The Walls Of Our Classroom”.  At the Iowa 1:1 Institute I was one of the few students who attended and went to sessions the whole day.  I find these conferences fun not only because it’s a big tweet-up but because I like involving myself in everything.  It’s that moment of honor when you reach the end of the tunnel and can say I was part of that 10 years ago that put the U.S. back on top.

This summer I followed Robin Phares because truthfully, there was an iPad in her profile picture (Apple fan boy in your presence).  She sent a tweet about wanting Google Sites to show in one of her classes she is teaching this summer. I gave her a link to the three I made to represent learning using Project Based Learning this year.  There were many tweets to come and another awesome student to meet on Twitter, Ivan Shires.  I plan on hanging out (Google+ instead of Skyping) into her class and talking to these teachers in Ohio when I live in Iowa.  The class is on how you can use PBL to improve learning instead of the 100 year old lectures.  We will blow their minds apart, all because of Just One Tweet.
- Ian Coon @Waukeestudent