EDU 883
First Icon
Hockey Stick
paradigm shift
Without a doubt the very first icon that I knew I had to include was a hockey stick.
It’s pretty unoriginal, pretty obvious in hindsight, but still it’s the most powerful metaphor for change in my teaching practice.
I wanted to make changes… was ready to make changes… but just didn’t know how. I was stuck and couldn’t step back and see my classroom from a different perspective. And that’s all I needed - to be given a new way of viewing my classroom and my students. This was the one idea that changed my whole perception and freed me from the constraints that held me back.
I had always felt limited by the behaviours of a few children in my classroom - the outliers. I didn’t do group work because a few of the students couldn’t handle it and would misbehave. I didn’t seat the students in pods because there were always those few students that couldn’t handle it. Everything seemed to revolve around those few that couldn’t handle ‘it’... but really, who was the one not handling the situation? I had twenty other perfectly capable students who were willing and ready to work.
It was during a discussion about why we line every student up to walk down the hall despite knowing full well only a couple of them would ever misbehave that I really took notice and started to question. Why do we do that? Why do the behaviours of the few limit the possibilities of the many? A classroom of children isn’t a bell curve; it’s more like a hockey stick. The majority will meet my expectations leaving those few outliers to form the blade of the stick.
This shift in perception allowed me to consider what was in the best interests of the majority of my students. I was able to prepare tasks that motivated and engaged them as the willing, curious students they are. The unexpected benefit of an engaged classroom was that it gave me more time to work with those that needed it - the outliers. And as the culture of the classroom began to grow, the outliers began to grow with it.
paradigm shift
Without a doubt the very first icon that I knew I had to include was a hockey stick.
It’s pretty unoriginal, pretty obvious in hindsight, but still it’s the most powerful metaphor for change in my teaching practice.
I wanted to make changes… was ready to make changes… but just didn’t know how. I was stuck and couldn’t step back and see my classroom from a different perspective. And that’s all I needed - to be given a new way of viewing my classroom and my students. This was the one idea that changed my whole perception and freed me from the constraints that held me back.
I had always felt limited by the behaviours of a few children in my classroom - the outliers. I didn’t do group work because a few of the students couldn’t handle it and would misbehave. I didn’t seat the students in pods because there were always those few students that couldn’t handle it. Everything seemed to revolve around those few that couldn’t handle ‘it’... but really, who was the one not handling the situation? I had twenty other perfectly capable students who were willing and ready to work.
It was during a discussion about why we line every student up to walk down the hall despite knowing full well only a couple of them would ever misbehave that I really took notice and started to question. Why do we do that? Why do the behaviours of the few limit the possibilities of the many? A classroom of children isn’t a bell curve; it’s more like a hockey stick. The majority will meet my expectations leaving those few outliers to form the blade of the stick.
This shift in perception allowed me to consider what was in the best interests of the majority of my students. I was able to prepare tasks that motivated and engaged them as the willing, curious students they are. The unexpected benefit of an engaged classroom was that it gave me more time to work with those that needed it - the outliers. And as the culture of the classroom began to grow, the outliers began to grow with it.
Second Icon
One Pen
thinking classroom
The hockey stick may have been the catalyst for change but one pen gave it a permanent foundation. One pen became my metaphor for the changes that I implemented to turn my classroom into a thinking classroom.
One pen allowed me to move from a cooperative classroom to a collaborative classroom. I wanted my students working as a group, not just in a group. Having them in random groups at vertical surfaces was integral to this. And allowing them to use only one pen meant that each group had to work together to achieve their goals.
I had never experienced much success with group work before. I didn’t plan it; I didn’t teach it; didn’t value it; And, not surprisingly, I never stuck with it. It wasn’t until I was immersed in a collaborative environment during my master’s that I realized its power on improving student learning. I wanted to build that same kind of culture in my own classroom… I wanted a thinking classroom.
The change in classroom dynamics gave quieter students voice and made everyone’s thinking more visible. Knowing they could always count on peer support, students were less hesitant to try and embraced risk taking. They began to rely on each other more and my classroom became less teacher centred. Our goal was to understand rather than produce… we were developing a thinking classroom.
thinking classroom
The hockey stick may have been the catalyst for change but one pen gave it a permanent foundation. One pen became my metaphor for the changes that I implemented to turn my classroom into a thinking classroom.
One pen allowed me to move from a cooperative classroom to a collaborative classroom. I wanted my students working as a group, not just in a group. Having them in random groups at vertical surfaces was integral to this. And allowing them to use only one pen meant that each group had to work together to achieve their goals.
I had never experienced much success with group work before. I didn’t plan it; I didn’t teach it; didn’t value it; And, not surprisingly, I never stuck with it. It wasn’t until I was immersed in a collaborative environment during my master’s that I realized its power on improving student learning. I wanted to build that same kind of culture in my own classroom… I wanted a thinking classroom.
The change in classroom dynamics gave quieter students voice and made everyone’s thinking more visible. Knowing they could always count on peer support, students were less hesitant to try and embraced risk taking. They began to rely on each other more and my classroom became less teacher centred. Our goal was to understand rather than produce… we were developing a thinking classroom.
Third Icon
You Need To Throw It More To The Left
assessment
A note and a beanbag complete the triumvirate of metaphors that directly affected my teaching practice and improved student learning. The activity from which they stemmed was embarrassing in its simplicity but, nonetheless, I was transformed. Peter could have lectured and told us everything he knew about effective feedback but instead he had us participate in a blindfold/beanbag toss activity that clearly demonstrated the power of effective feedback. My students don’t need me to give them a pat on the back and a hearty ‘good job’. They need to know I’m standing beside them showing them where to aim. It’s that simple. Give constructive, descriptive feedback and your students will hit their targets.
I call this formative feedback and it goes hand in hand with formative assessment. Both are powerful tools to improve student learning and, fortunately for me, permeated all of my master’s courses and were modelled by all of my professors. From Rina reminding us to make a math problem simpler to David arranging one-on-one meetings - all clearly demonstrated that it was the formative assessment that drove student learning. It was the feedback that pushed me farther and caused me to think more deeply about what I was doing and what I needed to do next. Perhaps I needed Peter to distill it into its simplest elements to make that so clear and understandable. And therefore made it possible for me to take into my classroom.
assessment
A note and a beanbag complete the triumvirate of metaphors that directly affected my teaching practice and improved student learning. The activity from which they stemmed was embarrassing in its simplicity but, nonetheless, I was transformed. Peter could have lectured and told us everything he knew about effective feedback but instead he had us participate in a blindfold/beanbag toss activity that clearly demonstrated the power of effective feedback. My students don’t need me to give them a pat on the back and a hearty ‘good job’. They need to know I’m standing beside them showing them where to aim. It’s that simple. Give constructive, descriptive feedback and your students will hit their targets.
I call this formative feedback and it goes hand in hand with formative assessment. Both are powerful tools to improve student learning and, fortunately for me, permeated all of my master’s courses and were modelled by all of my professors. From Rina reminding us to make a math problem simpler to David arranging one-on-one meetings - all clearly demonstrated that it was the formative assessment that drove student learning. It was the feedback that pushed me farther and caused me to think more deeply about what I was doing and what I needed to do next. Perhaps I needed Peter to distill it into its simplest elements to make that so clear and understandable. And therefore made it possible for me to take into my classroom.
Fourth and Fifth Icons
CASS Card & Starfish
opportunity & making a difference or perhaps the opportunity to make a difference
Leaving the classroom last year was a difficult decision for me. I had worked hard to develop a thinking classroom and I knew that I was making a difference in the lives of children. I’m not going to pretend I was the world’s best teacher but I was good at my job. Getting children excited about learning and encouraging their natural curiosity came naturally to me and it was personally rewarding. On any given day, I could have pointed to a child and told you that in this moment I mattered to this particular child in this particular way. Like the Starfish story, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t reaching a multitude of children… all that mattered was that I was reaching some. It was hard to let that go.
So it was a powerful moment when, after my first time working with my group of lead teachers, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I would be making a difference that extended farther out than I could ever have anticipated. We had had an amazing day together learning, sharing, growing… and they all left excited to implement their own changes and improve student learning. I realized that I had moved from making a difference in the lives of one classroom full of children to nineteen classrooms. And then after our first District wide professional development day, the impact of knowing that I had had a role in encouraging 250 teachers to spend the day reflecting on improving student learning was incredible. Even if only 10% of the teachers were inspired, that would be a huge impact on student learning. What if it was even higher?
This card is significant for more than just the starfish though. It represents all of the opportunities that have come my way these past two years to which I responded with a resounding YES… beginning with my master’s. For Peter’s last paper, I wrote that it has been my experience that, despite how much trepidation one might feel, the only correct answer to a new opportunity is yes. Yes, I will lead a session on classroom technology. Yes, I will allow other teachers in my classroom to observe. Yes, I will speak to a parent group. Yes, I will speak with Board members. Yes, I’ll take a Lead Teacher position with my District. I think that it is in preparing for these opportunities that I experienced the most personal growth. I had to reflect on the things I do in the classroom and be able to talk coherently about them with colleagues. I had to anticipate tough questions I might be asked and be prepared with thoughtful answers. I had to step far outside my comfort zone. It culminated with being asked to present at an event for Alberta School Superintendents about the revised math curriculum - twice! What an incredible opportunity to make a difference of which I didn’t hesitate to take advantage.
opportunity & making a difference or perhaps the opportunity to make a difference
Leaving the classroom last year was a difficult decision for me. I had worked hard to develop a thinking classroom and I knew that I was making a difference in the lives of children. I’m not going to pretend I was the world’s best teacher but I was good at my job. Getting children excited about learning and encouraging their natural curiosity came naturally to me and it was personally rewarding. On any given day, I could have pointed to a child and told you that in this moment I mattered to this particular child in this particular way. Like the Starfish story, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t reaching a multitude of children… all that mattered was that I was reaching some. It was hard to let that go.
So it was a powerful moment when, after my first time working with my group of lead teachers, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I would be making a difference that extended farther out than I could ever have anticipated. We had had an amazing day together learning, sharing, growing… and they all left excited to implement their own changes and improve student learning. I realized that I had moved from making a difference in the lives of one classroom full of children to nineteen classrooms. And then after our first District wide professional development day, the impact of knowing that I had had a role in encouraging 250 teachers to spend the day reflecting on improving student learning was incredible. Even if only 10% of the teachers were inspired, that would be a huge impact on student learning. What if it was even higher?
This card is significant for more than just the starfish though. It represents all of the opportunities that have come my way these past two years to which I responded with a resounding YES… beginning with my master’s. For Peter’s last paper, I wrote that it has been my experience that, despite how much trepidation one might feel, the only correct answer to a new opportunity is yes. Yes, I will lead a session on classroom technology. Yes, I will allow other teachers in my classroom to observe. Yes, I will speak to a parent group. Yes, I will speak with Board members. Yes, I’ll take a Lead Teacher position with my District. I think that it is in preparing for these opportunities that I experienced the most personal growth. I had to reflect on the things I do in the classroom and be able to talk coherently about them with colleagues. I had to anticipate tough questions I might be asked and be prepared with thoughtful answers. I had to step far outside my comfort zone. It culminated with being asked to present at an event for Alberta School Superintendents about the revised math curriculum - twice! What an incredible opportunity to make a difference of which I didn’t hesitate to take advantage.
Sixth Icon
Pi Shoes
building relationships
What I didn’t expect from all of these opportunities was the relationships that would emerge.
Not just in my classroom, but among this cohort, among District colleagues, and now, thanks to CMESG, even among math educators from across Canada.
It seems this master’s has gathered me into a group of like-minded people from whom I draw strength and encouragement.
And the icon with which I chose to symbolize this building of relationships is a pair of Pi shoes, given to me by our District Assistant Superintendent. Her, Alicia, and I were going to NCTM together - they had Pi shoes, and I didn’t. How could we take New Orleans and CASS by storm if I didn’t have Pi shoes, too?
Which brings me around to Alicia. Believe it or not, I barely knew her before this program started. And like our shoes, we don’t match - but only in things that don’t matter - she’s young and I’m old, her kids are little and mine are grown, she teaches FSL and I most certainly do not. But a matching passion for math has become the foundation for a beautiful friendship… and now we have the shoes to prove it.
The fact that they are Pi shoes is, of course, significant. At the risk of sounding sappy, they too are symbolic of building a relationship... but with mathematics this time. Or rather, should I say, rebuilding a relationship with mathematics because like Monica so once eloquently said, this master’s has drawn me back to the math I loved and enjoyed as a student.
building relationships
What I didn’t expect from all of these opportunities was the relationships that would emerge.
Not just in my classroom, but among this cohort, among District colleagues, and now, thanks to CMESG, even among math educators from across Canada.
It seems this master’s has gathered me into a group of like-minded people from whom I draw strength and encouragement.
And the icon with which I chose to symbolize this building of relationships is a pair of Pi shoes, given to me by our District Assistant Superintendent. Her, Alicia, and I were going to NCTM together - they had Pi shoes, and I didn’t. How could we take New Orleans and CASS by storm if I didn’t have Pi shoes, too?
Which brings me around to Alicia. Believe it or not, I barely knew her before this program started. And like our shoes, we don’t match - but only in things that don’t matter - she’s young and I’m old, her kids are little and mine are grown, she teaches FSL and I most certainly do not. But a matching passion for math has become the foundation for a beautiful friendship… and now we have the shoes to prove it.
The fact that they are Pi shoes is, of course, significant. At the risk of sounding sappy, they too are symbolic of building a relationship... but with mathematics this time. Or rather, should I say, rebuilding a relationship with mathematics because like Monica so once eloquently said, this master’s has drawn me back to the math I loved and enjoyed as a student.
Seventh Icon
Permission Slip
courage to change
While the hockey stick may have been the transformative moment of change in my teaching practice, the granting of permission was what triggered both professional and personal growth.
Do you remember when your children were young and not quite reading yet? My son started grade one so ready and so wanting to learn to read. I swear to god he was reading within the first week of school. He just needed someone who knew what they were doing to help him. That’s how I felt starting this program. I was poised and on the cusp… wanting, willing, and wishing for change. I knew that there were even better ways to help children learn - all I needed were credible voices to show me, and to give me permission to step outside the box and change my teaching practice. The idea that I was seeking permission didn’t register until David’s final course. During our one-on-one visits, I repeatedly found myself asking him questions that began with, ¨Is it okay if...¨. He would always nod and say, “Of course it is.”
Reflecting back, I realized that this ‘permission’ was a gift given to me in all our courses.
Rina permitted me to experience the joy of math from the vantage point of a student again. *Spoiler Alert* - on Rina’s end of year gift, I quoted Anais Nin, ¨We don’t see things the way they are, we see things the way we are¨. This is what Rina allowed. She let me look at math in a personal way. She allowed me to bring my own particular ability and skill set into any problem and helped me persevere.
Peter gave me permission me to step away from all that is traditional in teaching and instead gave me the teacher moves I needed to help children think and learn. He not only permitted it… he demanded it of all of us - his confidence that we could was awesomely reassuring.
Nathalie gave me permission to be a total nerd and revel in the beauty and elegance that is math. Her incredible modeling of wait time also allowed me the courage to slow down my own professional development sessions and make room for reflection and quiet discovery.
David’s permission freed me to notice and wonder, and to approach mathematics as reflective discourse. I wanted to hear his voice reading the permission slip because I was so often moved in his class by the way he wove experience and anecdotes into story... we all were. His lovely accent helped, but it was deeper than just that. He modelled how a great teacher shares wisdom and knowledge without resorting to direct lecture, notes, and passive listening.
courage to change
While the hockey stick may have been the transformative moment of change in my teaching practice, the granting of permission was what triggered both professional and personal growth.
Do you remember when your children were young and not quite reading yet? My son started grade one so ready and so wanting to learn to read. I swear to god he was reading within the first week of school. He just needed someone who knew what they were doing to help him. That’s how I felt starting this program. I was poised and on the cusp… wanting, willing, and wishing for change. I knew that there were even better ways to help children learn - all I needed were credible voices to show me, and to give me permission to step outside the box and change my teaching practice. The idea that I was seeking permission didn’t register until David’s final course. During our one-on-one visits, I repeatedly found myself asking him questions that began with, ¨Is it okay if...¨. He would always nod and say, “Of course it is.”
Reflecting back, I realized that this ‘permission’ was a gift given to me in all our courses.
Rina permitted me to experience the joy of math from the vantage point of a student again. *Spoiler Alert* - on Rina’s end of year gift, I quoted Anais Nin, ¨We don’t see things the way they are, we see things the way we are¨. This is what Rina allowed. She let me look at math in a personal way. She allowed me to bring my own particular ability and skill set into any problem and helped me persevere.
Peter gave me permission me to step away from all that is traditional in teaching and instead gave me the teacher moves I needed to help children think and learn. He not only permitted it… he demanded it of all of us - his confidence that we could was awesomely reassuring.
Nathalie gave me permission to be a total nerd and revel in the beauty and elegance that is math. Her incredible modeling of wait time also allowed me the courage to slow down my own professional development sessions and make room for reflection and quiet discovery.
David’s permission freed me to notice and wonder, and to approach mathematics as reflective discourse. I wanted to hear his voice reading the permission slip because I was so often moved in his class by the way he wove experience and anecdotes into story... we all were. His lovely accent helped, but it was deeper than just that. He modelled how a great teacher shares wisdom and knowledge without resorting to direct lecture, notes, and passive listening.