On Sports and Teaching

I'm a big fan of sports metaphors. Sports make sense for my ego in a way that life doesn't. There is defined success (hitting a double, scoring a touchdown, winning a game), there is defined failure (striking out, double faulting, losing a game). Achievement is obvious, public, and measurable, and practice leads towards improvement. Talent plays a big role in ultimate ability, but hard work can compensate. This is how my ego thinks life should work - teaching included. Does life work this way? No, not really. There is no obvious definition for success. It's never clear whether you are the best or the worst on the field. The black and white of sport is replaced by the grey of life, and our brains aren't well equipped for grey. Mine isn't, anyways. So, for the purpose of my own sanity, I deliberately lie to myself and liken life to sports because my ego needs to believe that someday, with enough effort, enough talent, and a little bit of luck, it will "win". Baseball is my favorite.

Call it ignorant bliss.

Several years ago, during an independent study with Nancy Johnson, I felt confused as to my role in teaching. At school, I was getting good grades, but something felt wrong in the classroom, and I knew it. Seeking to make sense of this discrepancy, my mind drifted straight to baseball.

"Am I supposed to be a Major Leaguer right now? I feel like I'm in A ball," I asked.

"Peter," replied Nancy, who is also a baseball fan, "you're in little league."

Wow. That put a nice perspective on the situation.

In a way, I was frustrated. I had put in so much work. Years of school, years of coaching, countless practica, essays on theory, hours of conversation with esteemed and respected teachers and professors, and yet there I sat, staring the end game in the face and being told by my mentor (who thought I was doing very well, actually) that I was the baseball equivalent of a 10 year old. It wasn't exactly a hug.

But it made sense. Ken Griffey Jr. was 10 once. And he was still Ken Griffey Jr. He too was a little leaguer. He was a very good little leaguer. By the time he was twelve, he was the fastest, strongest kid on the field and he was smashing home runs like the fences couldn't contain him. Scouts drooled and graded him highly. He was a Major League talent, but he was still in little league.

Now, I'm not going to be so bold as to call myself the young Ken Griffey Jr. of teaching, but this scenario begs the question. When did Griffey become a big league hitter? He was Ken Griffey Jr. his whole life. What happened that made him a big league hitter? What is a big league hitter, besides simply someone who hits big league pitchers?

When do I become a big league teacher?

Obviously, in my classroom, there are no big league pitchers. In fact, there is only one player in the teacher game. And just like that, as so often happens, my sports metaphor begins to unravel in the face of real life.

In teaching, real-life teaching, there is success, and there is failure. To dwell on the success is to ignore the failure, to dwell on the failure is to ignore the success.

In a sense this is like baseball - Griffey is an undeniably amazing hitter, but he still fails 60% of the time he steps to the plate. His success depends on his ability to accept his failures. This is an amazingly difficult skill to master, and serious connections can be drawn from it to teaching and to life.

But, in another sense, this is different than baseball because, even with his failures, Griffey can come home and say without a doubt that he is an amazing hitter, and no one can disagree. He success is very public, and it is supported by concrete evidence in the shape of 500 foot home runs, and the simple fact that his batting average is higher than nearly any other player in the game. He knows he's the best, because no one else can do what he does given similar situations. Teaching provides no obvious avenue for comparing, or even measuring ability. Given his 60% failure rate, I wonder if even Griffey would view himself a bad hitter were there no objective way to rate his performance.

How does this apply to my teaching?

I have days where I feel like I've done something great. I have days where I feel like I am in control and on top of my game and possibly the greatest teacher on the face of the planet. On those days, I feel as if Randy Johnson in his prime couldn't strike me out.

Griffey must have days just like those.

On other days, when the kids are wild and it seems like I'm the only one in the room hearing my voice, or when I look out to a sea of blank faces and realize that I'm the only one that cares about math, I feel like I should have never stepped up to the plate.

Griffey must have days just like those, too.

But because baseball has a clear way of measuring success, Griffey can still come home from both of those days and know objectively that he is an amazing hitter.

Somehow I must come up with a way to value my teaching ability without clear measures so that I can accept both my successes and my failures as a rational part of teaching - a rational part of life.

How can I synthesize this? I guess I feel like I'm an up-and-coming teaching prospect - not unlike Griffey once was. But now, two years after my talk with Nancy, I know that development in teaching does not look just like development in baseball. The metaphor doesn't hold true.

Teaching is not a series of leagues you must progress through before you get to the big show. It's not that black and white. Taking classes and getting more and more immersed in my student teaching environment can make it feel like it is. That black-and-white lie was comforting when I was taking classes.

Taking classes was like playing a sport, a teacher game. There was defined success (answering a question, getting an A, passing a test, passing a class, getting a degree), and there was defined failure (not knowing the answer, getting a poor grade, failing a class). Achievement was obvious, public, and measurable, and practice lead towards improvement. Talent played a big role in ultimate ability to compete in the sport of school - the teacher game, but hard work could compensate.

Now that I'm done with classes and grades, I find myself standing in the front of a classroom day in and day out. Here the definitions are gone and achievement isn't so public and measurable. There aren't 20 classmates to compare my performance against. In fact, there is no good way to compare my performance to anyone else's. So what, then, is success?

Without competition or concrete statistics on which to base conclusions about my performance, without clear victories or clear defeats, black and white bleed into grey. As the colors bleed, it becomes clear that the sport of school, the teacher game, was just a construction of society, just as baseball is.

It was a useful game for both me and for the university. For me, it provided opportunities to learn important concepts and experience measurable success - a framework within which I could allow my black-and-white ego to play. The university staff invented the teacher game to convince their egos that training successful teachers was a black-and-white process. I represent one of many people they have deemed as prepared - I represent a small victory for them. Perhaps I am a double. But the university hasn't won the game yet, because there is still grey. They will continue on in inventing and changing their sport, their black and white hides the grey, providing an intriguing and somewhat functional venue for an ego that aspires to learn how to teach.

But for me, the black and white has ended. The school sport, the teacher game, is over. I have already won.

Now, there is teaching.

In teaching, as in life, there is grey. There isn't a best, there is always better. There is always a higher batting average. Home runs can be longer than 500 feet or land short of the fence. Some might never land at all. It is not my goal to progress to one top level, because there is no such thing. I am a teacher. I am a good teacher, hopefully. I can be a better teacher, definitely. That will always be true, no matter how good or bad I feel on any given day.

To "succeed" in teaching, and ultimately in life, I must change my definition of success. I must free it from the black-and-white of the teacher game.

I must:

1) Trust my talent and my ability to be enough.
2) Trust that hard work and time will yield improvement.

Those items aren't a recipe for success, as they are in baseball or in the teacher-game, where they often lead to hits and wins, grades and degrees. Rather, those things are success. They define it.

If I can do those things, I'll be a big league teacher. And unlike big league ball players, big league teachers don't peak at 27 years old.

What's to stop me?

-Mr. Reni

Exploring the Blogsphere

I've been a blog reader for some years now, but I mostly stick with baseball. I'm a huge Mariners fan, and it just so happens that the Mariners have one of the best "blogspheres"around. Reading about baseball at my favorite blogs has made me a better and more knowledgeable baseball fan. Unfortunately, that's not a skill that is so easily applied to professional life.

Teaching seems to have it's own blogsphere, and exploring some teacher blogs has been a fun and rewarding experience for me. Here's hoping that reading expert teacher blogs will provide me with the ability to be a better an more knowledgeable teacher, just as baseball blogs have made me a good fan.

One blog that I really appreciated was "My First Year" which is updated by Siobhan Boylan. It can be found here; http://www.ibabuzz.com/myfirstyear/. I like this blog because Siobhan talks about failure. Failure is going to be a big part of my first year of teaching, I can see it now. I am not going to be perfect - there will be days when I just don't have much to bring to the table. But I will improve, and I must always remain steadfast in my determination to get better. This type of thinking resonates in Siobhan's blog. That has proved comforting to me, and helps me remind myself that while I'm not perfect, I can certainly improve.

Another blog that I have been checking in with is JT Spencer's Musings from a Not-So-Master Teacher. It can be found at http://jtspencer.teacherlingo.com/default.aspx. I like this blog not so much because I always agree with him - sometimes I think that he is too harsh, like when he rudely and publicly denied a successful student partial credit. However, I like that he doesn't act impulsively. He looks at his decisions and critically evaluates them. That's pretty cool, I think. He also updates very regularly, which is nice for a reader, and his posts get some feedback too.

I appreciate bloggers who are regular, honest, and well spoken, and these two blogs that I have mentioned are both. I wonder what role blogging will play in MY teaching experience. To blog would be a natural progression for me, I think.

Only time will tell. Until then, I've got some great blogs that should keep me thinking until I feel comfortable enough to fully enter the blogsphere with a self-driven professional blog of my own. Perhaps I'm not far away!

-Mr. Reni

It seems hard to believe that this first quarter is coming to a close. Harder still to believe it when I glance at my still lengthy to-do list. It's been a very rewarding quarter, one to remember, for sure. Each day has presented me with new challenges in organization, priority, professionalism, self-motivation, skill, and practice. With these challenges as my fertilizer, I have grown. Along the way I've found certain elements to be just as I expected. Others have certainly surprised me.

My biggest concern, coming in, was that I wouldn't be able to find a teacher voice. I worried that perhaps I was too informal, too young, too green - not ready. But when I got in the classroom and stepped up the stage, I was surprised at how readily I morphed into the role. The kids respond to me in a productive way. I've found that if I'm confident, if I believe in my role and my ability to rise to the situation, I can. "If you build it, they will come." Of course, I'm still a touch informal, a touch too young, and a touch too green, but I am ready.

I am ready.

That has been the message that I've taken from this quarter. I'm not going to be perfect, and there is always much to learn. But If I've learned one thing in these last three months it's that I'm ready to start learning it, and practicing it.

Along that same train of thought, I'm excited for next quarter, and that's surprising in itself! I have found that I feel at my best when I'm involved in curriculum and pedagogy decision making. If I'm not, I can feel disconnected or useless. This quarter I was able to do a little bit of that with my unit planning. Next quarter, with my classes in math, literacy, and special education, I anticipate more planning, thus more connection with the everyday life of the classroom. So while six months ago I was dreading the upcoming workload, now I'm surprised to say that I'm eager to begin.

This year will be over as quickly as it began. It's important to absorb as much learning as I can along the way. Here's hoping that even more surprises and opportunities for learning are headed my way!


-Mr. Reni

Simulating Success

Man, oh man, have I taught a couple of marathons this week. They've both been very fun and rewarding for me and, more importantly, my students, but sheesh, they've really eaten up some hours. I'll have to get better at keeping them shorter, because there simply won't be enough time in the day!

The lesson I'm going to talk about today is one that I'm particularly proud of. I spent a lot of time creating the idea, and it seemed to go over very well. I was trying to teach a lesson that made students aware of the following learning target: humans' ability to meeting their basic needs is both limited and helped by their environment and the natural environment around them. I was teaching them this universal lesson through the lens of Native Americans, the theme of my unit. As this was the first lesson, it was important that I get them familiar with all of the topics at hand. To do this, I created a survival simulation. With the lights low and their eyes closed, students listened to me read them a description of a survival challenge that they were being thrust into: a month alone in the pacific coast wilderness. When the lights came on, we talked about what we'd do first, and then brainstormed a list of basic human needs, including food, water, shelter, warmth and tools. The students continued to brainstorm in small group discussions their strategies for survival, prompted and pushed by my questions and alterations to the situation. To keep their minds imaginative, a slide show of PNW coastal wilderness pictures flashed by on the screen. At the end of the activity, which took over an hour, the students responded to a writing prompt that I'd created, describing their strategies for meeting their needs. They also drew pictures of their imaginary created shelters. This was a subtle set up for the final evaluation of the unit - students will make model Native American houses with regionally appropriate resources.

The best part of this lesson was that I think it worked! Students responded to all of my questions very thoughtfully. By the end of the lesson, students were able to describe to me with great confidence basic human needs, and how they could meet them using only natural resources from their surrounding environment. When I challenged them by reshaping the environment (taking away the option of driftwood) students were able to thoughtfully come up with other options for shelter that relied on other resources, and explain why they made their decisions. When I taught the next lesson, brainstorming natural resources was a cinch. In fact, they were able to develop a hypothetical list for the Plateau tribes as well, a very thoughtful list, too, I might add.

Now, just because it was successful doesn't mean that it was perfect. I regretted a couple of things along the way. If I could reteach this lesson, I would be way more aggressive with writing things on the board. I decided in this lesson to let the discussion stay oral, and not write anything down. In hindsight, I don't think that this was the most beneficial for the students. I think that more students would have been able to create more complete answers to the writing prompt if some of the language that we'd used would have been present in written form for them. I also think that I should have been a little bit better about only responding to raised hands. The behavior of the class was over all absolutely stellar, especially considering the duration of the activity, but during discussion certain students had the tendency to holler out the right answer. If they were wrong, they were reprimanded, but if students blurted what I was looking for, I (oops) sometimes went with it. I can improve.

I've already planned on extending this lesson, by taking it more deeply into a study of how the Native Americans responded to the same natural resources, but with over 10,000 years of time to figure out how to meet their needs. Students were excited to figure this out at the end of the lesson. If I wanted to, and if I had the time and resources, this would be an optimal unit for a field trip. And at the very least, the students general interest in shelter will be very useful when I assign the take home project. There is no reason that every student shouldn't be able to use this information in many aspects of their life. Any time that we talk about a foreign culture, I will be able to relate back to this EALR, and they'll have the tools to appropriately and fluently respond.

This lesson was an overwhelming success, and I'm very proud of it. If they all went this well, life would be too easy. My second one, for the record, went very well too. I hope that you all are having such fun with your respective lessons. This was an excellent experience for me - one of those "I can do this!" moments. I can only wish you the best of luck, so I will. Good luck!

-Mr. Reni

(editors note: whoops, I forgot to click publish when I wrote this earlier this morning. I hope that my eager and devoted readers weren't left wanting!)

Finding my voice

Perhaps the most important part of being a new teacher is finding your voice -your role in the classroom. Occasionally you'll see teachers who have assumed an amazing role, and they power their children's learning, assisting and supporting and crafting unique independently thinking individuals. Other times, a teacher is not so successful. I would wager that some teachers even vary in their role year to year, some years finding luck, and some years finding struggles. I'd like to think that I will always assume the "perfect" role, but I can't be sure. I think that the biggest secret is to be flexible. That's what I'm trying to do right now.

Mrs. Candini has her classroom down to a science. She knows her routines, procedures. She knows how she'll handle different situations as they arise. She has her own class. When I have my own class, will it operate just like hers? No. It won't, but that's not to say her way isn't excellent - elite, even. She has her voice, and I have mine. My job, then, as a student teacher in her classroom, has been to find my voice within the confines of her class. That has proved to be easy in some ways, and tricky in others.

It's not hard for me to stay useful. Mrs. Candini always has all sorts of things lined up for me to do. Some days I can barely look over the pile of papers she asks me to grade (wild exaggeration). I've had all sort of projects that have not only taught me interesting things about the background setup of a functioning class, but have also given me a bit of ownership into the room. This "parking lot" poster I designed is one such example - kids use it to put aside things they want to share with the whole class. It's been very efficient, and is very helpful. I like that I was able to put my own spin on it.
I've been working on finding that voice within my teaching, too. I've administered many spelling tests, which the kids got a kick out of. I motivated them with the promise that at the end of the unit i would rap the spelling list - which I did, freestyle. I was sure nervous for that. Funny, I've been rapping at tennis lessons (my other job) for years now, but in front of the classroom, in my "Mr. Reni" clothes, it felt like the first time. It was certainly a dorky moment for me, but it was refreshing, because for that moment, the class was mine. It was a bit of my authentic teaching voice coming through. I've since silenced it a bit, trying to hold back on my inherent goofiness out of respect for Mrs. Candini's structured feat of organization and suave.

I've been the "sub" twice, thus far. True, there was a paid sub that sat in the back of the room all day, but I was in charge. Once the subbing was planned, and it was a full day, the other day was a big surprise for me. Subbing is exciting, and it was a fun taste of being a real teacher. But it seems like so much of subbing is doing worksheets, and trying not to ruffle too many feathers, or mess up the sheets. It's hard to make a positive impact on a group of kids in just one day, doing mundane activities. No, I'll need my own classroom if I'm going to truly love what I do. I'm excited for when that finally happens.

The kids have been very busy lately, especially in the field of social studies. First, there was Columbus Day, and all related activities. I wasn't there for that, but in light of what we've been reading lately, I wondered if perhaps there could have been some more meaningful learning taking place during such an authentic opportunity - oh well, wait 'till the next holiday, right? While the kids may not have touched on all the deeper issues, they sure did create some beautiful art! Look at these paintings!
Who knew we had twenty-four Monet's in our classroom!?


After Columbus Day, we had my read aloud, which went very well. I was impressed with the discussion that the kids had. Mrs. Candini agreed that it set a very nice foundation for our election unit. I was proud of the work that I put into planning the read-aloud, I was even more proud that I was able to teach it using a voice that felt like my own and fit into Mrs. Candini's classroom.

Finding a voice is a tricky thing to do, especially when you have to blend it with one that isn't your own. I wonder if I'll be brave enough to establish my own style, my own voice this year. If so, when? Next quarter? Spring? Should I even try? Or rather should I continue to try to fit in as seamlessly as possible. Tricky choices, eh? Has anyone else pondered this query? What do you think?


-Mr. Reni

Convictions and Growth

I love to teach. It's a professional that requires passion, poise, leadership, conscious thought, and personal reflection and growth. These are great things to have as part of your profession. They certainly beat plugging numbers into a computer accounting system - at least in my own humble opinion. There is, however, a serious amount of tediousness and monotony that walks hand in hand with teaching's finer traits. There is very little fun in running photo copies, ripping posters off walls, disciplining deviant children, collecting and grading papers... the list goes on. In fact, the negatives can move so far into the forefront of some teacher's brains that they burn out - leaving the profession in a cloud of frustration.

I'm not saying I know that I'll be a happy teacher forever, but I need to think carefully about why I'm teaching if I want to even have a shot. I need to outline my convictions or I won't be able to look past those things that aren't immediately rewarding. (Sounds like a life lesson, doesn't it?).

Those convictions don't necessarily remain static - that is, they can change over time. Some of mine already have. For example, I came into this year believing strongly that I would have to operate on an island, because my teaching style and means of communication has differed somewhat severely from those I've seen in textbooks. I was worried, perhaps because I'm a male, perhaps because I've chosen not to associate myself with a religion, perhaps because of a number of reasons, that I was not going to be able to identify or connect with many of the teachers that surround me and that they would perhaps look down on me. I did not think that this would stop me from my job, in fact, I thought that it would help motivate me, albeit in a sick and twisted way.

This has NOT been the case. The staff at Northern Heights do differ than me in many ways, and my teaching style will surely be different than theirs when I have my own classroom, but everyone has been more than willing to assist and accommodate me in any way that I've asked. It's a very civil, fun, and motivated group, and I'm honored to even be mildly considered their colleague. I can only hope that other schools that I may work at will boast such a functional and friendly group of teachers that I can work and grow with.

Convictions are important for teaching, perhaps the most important thing. If you don't believe in something, then that something will never be true. But convictions can, and should, be altered and tempered under the fire of real life. It's important to remember that they can come out different, but better. Convictions can evolve, and when they do, so do we.

-Mr. Reni

It Begins

Welcome to my brand new blog. While I admit that I've never written in an official blog before (can they be official?) I do hold myself to be a remarkably articulate person who always sees the ultimate truth in everything I choose to discuss. Hopefully, with those expectations, you can proceed to be wowed, thrilled, and astonished by the profundity of my dialogue.

...

Probably not. But perhaps this blog will offer you, the curious reader, insight into the wild and hectic world of student teaching. A world that is constantly abuzz with change, reflection, critical thinking and growth.

Currently I'm at Northern Heights Elementary, in Beckey Candini's classroom. I'm lucky in that Beckey is easily one of the most knowledgeable and capable teachers I've met. She has been and will be an amazing mentor to me as I go forth into my future. I personally can't wait.

Enjoy!

-Mr. Reni