Some Battles Choose You

We rolled out the iPads for the sixth graders today and much of the conversation centered around what they were and were not allowed to download. Our district organizes acceptable programs into an "App Catalog" and students are only supposed to download from there; in fact they and their parents sign an agreement to that effect. The problem is that they must have access to the Apple App Store as well, so that Apple can push down or otherwise make updates available, so for a few hours every day a siren song lures them into forbidden waters.

Oh I heard an earful today on the subject. "You know the seventh graders all have games on their devices!" was a common complaint.

"They are taking a risk and breaking the rules," I answered. "If they get caught, there will be consequences."

"One of the other sixth grade teams told everybody they could download one app, just one, but any one they wanted!" was another widely reported rumor.

"I doubt it," I said. "We teachers are not even allowed to give you permission to get apps from the app store. Do you know why? Because they ARE NOT our iPads! And they aren't yours either! Who owns those?"

"The schools," they chorused miserably.

"That's right!" I answered brightly, "and whatever they want you to have is in the app catalog!"

At that, one student indignantly raised his hand like a prim little flag. "Well then why did they have us get Apple IDs if we're not allowed to use them for games?"

"Why don't you give me that iPad back," I suggested, "and then we can see what you need it for when you don't have it?"

He drooped to half mast. "That's okay," he mumbled.

Fish out of Water

We went out for Heidi's birthday dinner last night. "What should I get?" Heidi asked scanning the menu.

"Be adventurous!" I advised. "Try something new."

When the waiter delivered the plate of whole grilled porgy festooned with pickled celery and shallots, she sat back a minute in dismay, but then quickly regained her composure and grabbed first her knife and fork, but after a moment, her camera, too.

"Don't," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It's a kind of uncool."

She listened to me, but later we were both sorry. I because I regretted being so uptight and controlling, and Heidi because at least five people asked to see a picture of it when she told them what she had!

Cast Off the Shackles

We went to see the movie Suffragette this afternoon, and it was an empowering tale of the struggle of many working class British women to gain the right to vote.

Perhaps it was a little too empowering. About three-quarters of the way through the film, a woman's voice rang through the theater, clear above the soundtrack. "Whose phone is that?" she demanded. And a moment later she repeated her question, the righteous indignation in her tone unambiguous as she affirmed her right to an interruption-free movie, "Turn it off!"

The irony of her dictate was perhaps lost on her, but not the other patrons, one of whom hissed, "Jeez Lady! It's on vibrate!"

Haters Gonna Hate

It's the end of the quarter, and I find that my students are struggling with independently breaking down directions and then following them. So today I took an assignment that they were to complete by last Friday, copied the directions and included a few of the actual responses they turned in. Tha task was simple: work with a partner to evaluate the examples and then explain why did or did not fit the assignment directions. The next step was to go back over their own replies and revise and improve them. Of course there were some good exemplars, too, and when it came to the class with the student who had written them, I thought it was only fair to give him credit. "Oh stop," his friend said. "You're only feeding his arrogance! They really aren't that good."

Lifelong Learning

From time to time I re-arrange the tables in my room into long courses where students can easily work facing a partner. To provide movement opportunity as well as a variety of perspectives, I usually break the activity into parts and have students share their ideas, and then move seats for the next section. It's an approach that works well with sixth graders, but when there is an uneven number of kids, I either have to work a trio into the rotation, have someone go solo for a round, or join in myself.

I like the last one best, but it requires me to manage my class AND participate in a meaningful conversation, so it doesn't always happen. It did today, though, and because I use the Socratic method of asking way more questions of my partner than I answer, I gained some insight into the poem we are reading. Let me be clear: I have taught this particular poem for over ten years, and with 4-5 sections per term, that means I've read and discussed it at least 40 times. Today? I saw something brand new, and that is why this job never gets old.

Knowing the Drill

We had a fire drill during homeroom this morning, and my class had a little trouble staying together. In their defense, there is a bit of a bottleneck at our designated exit. The students evacuating from our area must merge with students coming up a narrow stairway and pass through two doors into the main vestibule where they can finally exit the building. By the time we were outside, my class was scattered, and it took a minute for me to gather them all up.

When we returned to the room, I told them I knew it could be challenging, but if they all stuck close to the classmate in front of them, then no one would be separated from the group. "Sometimes you just have to wait patiently before you try to go out," I advised them.

One little girl raised her hand. "But what if it was a real fire?" she said. Wouldn't we want to push our way out and run from the building as soon as we could?"

Talisman

Fifteen years ago we spent election night at my brother and sister-in-law's house. It was Heidi's birthday and we were celebrating. Riley was 8, and Treat was 5 and I brought along a little craft project I was going to do with my students the next day. After dinner, we all moved to the living room to watch the election returns and put together dream catcher kits for my class. Emily's parents, Vic and Judy, were there, too, and we all expected to sing happy birthday and go home secure in the knowledge of who our next president would be. Of course that didn't happen: it would be several weeks before the Supreme Court would rule in Bush v. Gore. I thought of that evening today when I caught site of the red, white, and blue dream catcher fashioned out of pipe cleaners, yarn, plastic beads and feathers with a now vintage I Voted sticker affixed in the center. It still hangs on the wall behind my desk. When I made it, I joked that it would be a good filter for political nightmares but frankly? I have never found it very effective.