It's March, and March is for slicing. Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices!
K., a new teacher in our district emailed me a couple of weeks ago asking for fairy tale exemplars since she was beginning the unit. I was a little embarrassed that I didn't have any to send her way, and I've been making it a mission to make sure I collect some this year and get them scanned and into a folder for future use.
This morning, I checked in on K.
"How are the fairy tales going?" I asked as students were trickling in.
Q. brought over the folder and pulled out her story about Wooferella. Wooferella was one of the most engaging, cohesive, well-elaborated adapted fairy tales I've seen from a second-grader. Sometimes I wish my face and my eyes weren't as revealing of my thoughts as they are, but in this instance, my emotional transparency worked in all of our favors.
"E. can you show Mrs. Meehan your adapted fairy tale?"
E. was thrilled to pull out her story about the Waffleman who had similar, but different, adventures as a gingerbread man you might know. If I had said create a perfect exemplar fairy tale adaptation, E.'s was pretty close.
As the students continued to arrive, K. asked them to start their own morning meeting (which they did), and we talked a little about what she's been doing that has made the kids so successful. She talked about a few of her recent lessons and pointed to her interactive bulletin board where kids could take the charts they needed and return them when they're done. I've shared these types of bulletin boards on blogs, in my books, and on staff newsletters, but I've never worked one on one or in a PD session with K.
"Who taught you to teach writing like this?" I asked.
She smiled and shrugged.
"I'm serious," I persisted. "There are lessons, but the ones you're describing."
She explained that she and the students got bored because they were doing everything in the lessons, so she focused in on craft moves and other "fun stuff."
Finally, she reflected that in her old district, there hadn't been a writing curriculum, so she had to create it herself. That helped her understand a lot of it more.
She had to create it herself.
That helped her understand it more.
I don't need to write about this interaction in order to remember it, and it's an interaction that I will remember and reflect on for a while. Deep, deep respect and gratitude for K.
This is such a telling slice, and really captures your delight as it unfolds. The two lines you repeat at the end are worth reflecting on. I love that K had the space to do this work in her classroom. While having a curriculum, and a well-designed one, is helpful, it can also be stifling. My colleagues and I often talk about wishing there was a bit more space for doing the "fun stuff" . There's a constant sense of an impending deadline so that we are finished in time to move on to unpack and deliver the next scripted unit. Sometimes it feels like the joy of teaching is usurped.
ReplyDeleteThis is a keeper. I always feel so fortunate that I was literally handed a packet for curriculum when I first started. It is in the creating that real learning happens. How lucky this teacher was able to learn this lesson in an era of prescribed curriculum and turning the page. How lucky she landed in your district. ❤️ Jess
ReplyDeleteSO glad you repeated these important truths: "She had to create it herself.
ReplyDeleteThat helped her understand it more." This is how I learn best and often wonder if as a coach, just how much I should give so not to allow a teacher to create and understand best.
That's the sign of a born-to-be writer, having to create it herself. Now here is a kid to watch - - a writer who knows intuitively how to create.
ReplyDeleteI read this sentence a few times: K's class is one of those purposeful places where kids know their routines, they get themselves settled, and they begin their morning work.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely compliment for that new teacher. I hope you share it with her.