Paint by Instict, not by Number
On Friday, the students were gone, and we teachers actually had the opportunity to be professionals--well, as professional as you can be when you work with middle school students.
My greatest pleasure on these rare occasions is the wealth of personal and professional conversations I have the great fortune to experience. The topics vary greatly, but they all share the common thread of developing relationships and inspiring new ideas.
I happen to be blessed with an English team that naturally fosters relationships and new ideas on a daily, if not hourly basis, so when you give us a day like we had on Friday, it's sure to be an eye-opening experience.
After a short amount of time chatting, we began grading student assessments. This is something we typically don't have the opportunity to do together, but is such a beneficial process when we can.
Initially, we did what we're used to having to do--outline an agenda (because we're rushed for time) and constantly check in with the time to be sure we're sticking to the agenda.
But once we snapped out of our typically required routine, something amazing developed.
We discussed, and questioned, and analyzed, and questioned, and affirmed, and then questioned every response that we read on the assessments. We tread the spectrum of appreciating paragraph structure to disappointment that a student's reasoning wasn't specific enough for his/her evidence.
It was a lovely and simultaneously overwhelming experience. We experienced every stage of grief...
1. Denial...ugh, it's these kids!
2. Anger... that's it! I'm done teaching multiple ways. They don't get it anyhow!
3. Bargaining... well, I'll show a few of them who need help, but only if they ask...
4. Depression... why did I become a teacher? I obviously am not making an impact here...
5. Acceptance... ok, they have the majority of the standard; how can we get them the rest of the way?
The amazing thing about teachers is that they go through this cycle more often than you'd probably think. I can't speak for everyone, but I find myself in some sort of this vicious cycle after grading, meeting, conferencing, and even after making copies.
Ultimately, the fact that we came to acceptance and designed some killer strategies for next week was a beautiful experience to be a part of.
By wrestling with a single assessment, we simultaneously solidified our already strong relationship and opened our minds to the truth in front of us--we have the talent, resources, and passion to conquer anything thrown our way.
In this journey, we also had to break free of the constraints that are usually put on us or that we put on ourselves.
As this all began unfolding, I immediately connected to the movie Mona Lisa Smile. If you haven't seen it, it's basically an all-female Dead Poets' Society set in the 1960s, but with a feminist agenda.
Julia Roberts plays the single, female professor who has no intentions of putting "wife" above education. When she arrives at the all-female Wellesley College, she sees the writing on the wall, but forges ahead, trying to break stereotypes along the way.
While we were racking our brains & equally wondering why we were racking our brains, a scene from the movie came to mind. It was the scene where Julia Roberts' character is trying to get her students to stop thinking there is always a right way to look at art.
She elaborates on her point by talking about paint-by-number kits. How they promise a replica of an original artist's painting and how disgustingly arbitrary that is.
Sometimes I feel like I have to get my kids to "paint by number" in their writing, reading, and speaking. I feel like I'm trying to inspire artists, but I'm told to make them "paint by number".
But then I remind myself that the standards are still only guidelines, and that I have freedom to inspire my students' creativity. Just because the lines are there, it doesn't mean that I can't help my students choose the color to place within them.
It's an endless battle to find where "filling the vessel" and "igniting the fire" (Plutarch) belong because both are necessary in some way, shape, or form, but if the tribute the students give to Roberts' character at the end of the movie is any inclination, maybe it happens naturally when you've got your students' futures, not their grades, in mind.
Here's to painting by instinct, not by number,
Kristy
photo citation
My greatest pleasure on these rare occasions is the wealth of personal and professional conversations I have the great fortune to experience. The topics vary greatly, but they all share the common thread of developing relationships and inspiring new ideas.
I happen to be blessed with an English team that naturally fosters relationships and new ideas on a daily, if not hourly basis, so when you give us a day like we had on Friday, it's sure to be an eye-opening experience.
After a short amount of time chatting, we began grading student assessments. This is something we typically don't have the opportunity to do together, but is such a beneficial process when we can.
Initially, we did what we're used to having to do--outline an agenda (because we're rushed for time) and constantly check in with the time to be sure we're sticking to the agenda.
But once we snapped out of our typically required routine, something amazing developed.
We discussed, and questioned, and analyzed, and questioned, and affirmed, and then questioned every response that we read on the assessments. We tread the spectrum of appreciating paragraph structure to disappointment that a student's reasoning wasn't specific enough for his/her evidence.
It was a lovely and simultaneously overwhelming experience. We experienced every stage of grief...
1. Denial...ugh, it's these kids!
2. Anger... that's it! I'm done teaching multiple ways. They don't get it anyhow!
3. Bargaining... well, I'll show a few of them who need help, but only if they ask...
4. Depression... why did I become a teacher? I obviously am not making an impact here...
5. Acceptance... ok, they have the majority of the standard; how can we get them the rest of the way?
The amazing thing about teachers is that they go through this cycle more often than you'd probably think. I can't speak for everyone, but I find myself in some sort of this vicious cycle after grading, meeting, conferencing, and even after making copies.
Ultimately, the fact that we came to acceptance and designed some killer strategies for next week was a beautiful experience to be a part of.
By wrestling with a single assessment, we simultaneously solidified our already strong relationship and opened our minds to the truth in front of us--we have the talent, resources, and passion to conquer anything thrown our way.
In this journey, we also had to break free of the constraints that are usually put on us or that we put on ourselves.
As this all began unfolding, I immediately connected to the movie Mona Lisa Smile. If you haven't seen it, it's basically an all-female Dead Poets' Society set in the 1960s, but with a feminist agenda.
Julia Roberts plays the single, female professor who has no intentions of putting "wife" above education. When she arrives at the all-female Wellesley College, she sees the writing on the wall, but forges ahead, trying to break stereotypes along the way.
While we were racking our brains & equally wondering why we were racking our brains, a scene from the movie came to mind. It was the scene where Julia Roberts' character is trying to get her students to stop thinking there is always a right way to look at art.
"I don't even want you to like it," she says.
"What I want you to do is consider it."
She elaborates on her point by talking about paint-by-number kits. How they promise a replica of an original artist's painting and how disgustingly arbitrary that is.
Sometimes I feel like I have to get my kids to "paint by number" in their writing, reading, and speaking. I feel like I'm trying to inspire artists, but I'm told to make them "paint by number".
But then I remind myself that the standards are still only guidelines, and that I have freedom to inspire my students' creativity. Just because the lines are there, it doesn't mean that I can't help my students choose the color to place within them.
It's an endless battle to find where "filling the vessel" and "igniting the fire" (Plutarch) belong because both are necessary in some way, shape, or form, but if the tribute the students give to Roberts' character at the end of the movie is any inclination, maybe it happens naturally when you've got your students' futures, not their grades, in mind.
Here's to painting by instinct, not by number,
Kristy
photo citation
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