As a teacher in the flipped learning movement, I sometimes struggle with sharing what I do in class.  Especially when I am running what looks more like a teacher-centred classroom than what I would like.  

However, I've had to come to the realisation that being student-centred is about doing what the students need for where they are in their education and with the content knowledge and academic habits they bring with them.  So sometimes that looks like me being at the "front" (there is no front in my classroom) and everyone engaged in a synchronous activity.  In fact, that's what it looks like most of the time right now.

For both years Andrew and I have team-taught, we started running several minutes before even hitting the ground.  We planned to throw our students into the deep end, and then hope that they could swim as well as we wanted them to.  And yeah, that failed.  Shocking, I know.

After only a few days (it took six weeks last time), we saw that we needed to take a few steps back and build their skills before expecting them to take ownership over their learning in any meaningful way.  Since that's the ultimate goal of any class we teach, it was important enough to change enough that we could get it right.

We were already planning the first unit (for me, the entire first trimester) to be about the brain, how teenagers think, feel, and learn, and to centre around the novel Looking for Alaska, by John Green.  So we started thinking about the skills and knowledge they would need in order to start taking responsibility for their learning.  The short (and nowhere near comprehensive) list came down to:

1. Taking notes, both as annotations while reading and while taking in information from a video or in class
2. Collaborating and having academic conversations with peers
3. Establishing a procedure for writing fluency - writing without stopping or talking for 3-10 mins
4. The basics of patterning - finding patterns in a text, categorising those patterns, and starting to find meaning
5. Using information from sources accurately and effectively
6. How to work productively and independently for a short amount of time without disrupting others
7. Using technology essential to the course - Google Drive, MentorMob, YouTube, Gmail, Blogger
8. What it means to work to mastery, rather than just for completion

We gave ourselves the first trimester or so to teach and assess those skills.

As we started to plan out the unit, we thought about what content we should use for this unit.  Other than Looking for Alaska, we didn't want to use fiction, either short or long-form, or poetry (or at least not predominantly).  So we decided to focus on two things:

1. How the teenage brain operates, and how it learns
2. What the purpose of school is, and how our understanding and decision-making is (or should be) influenced by brain development

So we began to build a unit that would teach our students those concepts; however, the real focus is on the skills.  So we will watch a TED Talk on the adolescent brain, but the actual assessed skill is note-taking.  The question on the open-notes assessment is just a way of checking to make sure students see the utility of good note-taking.  We may do a piece of visual art about one of the videos we watched, but the real skill is in finding patterns and showing the main idea clearly through their art (even if it's stick figures).  All of these skills are things that are required in the Common Core standards, or lead to students becoming more critical readers, writers, and thinkers.  We also believe that regardless of whether these things are in the standards verbatim, they are the skills that literate human beings need for whatever they do after leaving high school.

Everything is leading toward the project students are undertaking that centres around this question:
What is the purpose of a high school, and what can we do to implement one change at our school to make it fit that purpose better?

That question will guide all of our study.  If you want to see what this looks like, here is the MentorMob playlist that has all the videos we're using (we do a video every day at the start of class to get students in their seats on time and focused, and also to give them something to write about if they need a topic for their daily writing warm-up.  We also have used lots of TED Talks about education and the teen brain) and many of the assignments we've created to lead them towards thinking about education and their place in their school community.  I've also started getting in the habit of taking a picture of anything I write, whether it's on the board or my own personal notes about something.  I post these for my students, and many of the steps on the playlist are the notes/instructions that I've modelled and made available for all students.

As with all our curriculum, please take what works for you and use it.  We do ask that you credit us if you take something exactly as-is.  We also acknowledge that NONE of this would be possible without having TED Talks available for free online, and without the work of many of our colleagues, particularly Karl Lindgren-Streicher, who did a version of the "What would you do to make a positive change at our school" project.  We are blessed to have such amazing people share so freely with us, and we'd like to extend the same offer to all of you.

As I’ve been reading some new books over break, I’ve noticed something.

The way I read has changed now that my use of technology has changed.  Let me give you an example.

I read Looking for Alaska. You should too.  But luckily for me, Andrew (my favourite person with whom to read a book) HAS read it.  So as I was reading, and crying, and laughing and wondering how John Green got so nerdfighting awesome, I was also doing something that has become part of my reading ritual/routine/practice these days.

I was messaging Andrew with quotes, thoughts, connections to our own lives, and questions.  I found that when I was struck by the beauty of something, I wanted to just send him the quote.  So I would type out the quote and often realise just how much more beautiful it was as I was copying it verbatim.  And he would respond, and we would talk about it.

And it made me love the book even more.

Then I read An Abundance of Katherines.  And he hasn’t read it.  But he (and you) should.  I found myself actually enjoying it a bit less, not because it was inherently less enjoyable, but because I wasn’t getting the same interaction I had with Looking for Alaska, and before that dozens of other books Andrew and I have read together (synchronously or asynchronously).

When I read, I often take on some of the images, metaphors, turns of phrase, or other subtle patterns in my own writing.  I’ve found that having that kind of assimilation with my favourite books deepens my own ability to express myself, and simultaneously communicates a deeper meaning to anyone familiar with the original work.  I can make an allusion to a character, or a particular scene, and the background of my writing becomes so rich with references that it is a tapestry of meaning to which only some of my readers have access.

That may sound elitist or exclusive, but it’s something we all do.  We make inside jokes with people as a function of relationship.  It connects us to them, and adds shades of depth to our ordinary interactions.  It creates backstory and shared history.  It knits us together in thousands of tiny stitches.  And that’s the same way authors connect to the readers - they give us in-jokes, references to famous stories and situations, and in that way, we understand the world they have created and can see ourselves in it.  If the book is really good, those ideas can actually mean something both inside of and outside of the original context of the novel.

You only have to look to fandom to see that this works extremely well.  How many people dress up like Star Trek, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Hunger Games, etc. characters because they feel like it’s a world they inhabit?  On a smaller scale, I was at church on Sunday and someone came in wearing a The Fault In Our Stars shirt (the one that matches the cover, only it says “okay” instead of the book information).  I told her how much I loved John Green and the book and therefore, the shirt; instantly, we had a point of connection where none existed before.  The same thing happens when I wear my birthday present from Andrew - the NOT COOL ROBERT FROST! t-shirt.  Anyone who recognises it is really just recognising one of the stitches that hold us together.

It’s part of human nature to seek connection with others.  And one of the ways we do that is through telling stories and imagining ourselves and other people complexly.

So that is what Andrew and I have been talking about lately.  We wanted a way for our kids to engage in many of the same practices that we do as readers: practices we try to model for them so they can see proficient readers and start to change their conception of what it means to read with thoughtfulness and depth.

That’s originally where the ideas for reading journals came up.  When we read books that we’re teaching (or preparing to teach) we don’t do formal annotation, but we do some informal reading journal strategies (and one of us who will remain nameless uses only envelopes and file folders for these).  So I showed my students my crazy messy notes (that I have cleaned up and posted here, along with instructions if you are interested) and talked them through what my idea of a reading journal is.  

But first, what it’s not:

• Cornell Notes, or other kinds of structured note-taking
  
• Graded or evaluated in any way
  
• Treasure hunting for symbols or metaphors
  

In fact, there are only a few things I insist be included:

• Actual thoughts about the text
  
• Something that responds, connects, or interprets the text
  

That’s it.  They can illustrate or use other visuals, they can write out quotes, they can tell a personal story, they can make bullet points of key words or ideas, they can note patterns or repeating language/ideas/themes, etc.  Most of them do a combination of those things.  Some like to write down quick thoughts and then go back and write a more polished version at home that night.  

The point is that I want them to have something that they wrote about the text during or just after when they read.  I’ve found that it increases comprehension, helps them formulate questions so they engage the text more fully, and assists their composition and planning process when the time comes to write the essay or do the project at the end of the unit.

But here’s the flaw in the plan: they are the only one benefitting from these.  They do share with their group, and then often with the whole class, but that is a very limited sphere of influence.

That’s the flaw this New Idea is designed to address.

So instead of doing all the reading journals individually on paper (some do them digitally on their own device), we want students to choose one section of the book and do a video reading journal.  This will look a little like the Death of a Salesman videos I wrote about in the last post, in that they will get a particular section of the book and will be asked to work in a small group to make a video.

But there’s a slight difference.  This video isn’t about analysing character.  It’s about connecting to the text.  And they can talk about anything they want, so long as it gets them to engage and read both academically and empathetically, treating the characters and situations with thoughtfulness and complexity.

It would be a little like a book talk, but with a focus on pointing out the things in that section of the text that can pull the reader in and help them understand the book more fully.  So a straight summary won’t do it.  Neither will some vague statements about character.

I don’t know if this will work, but I think the primary goal is to get students to make a video in which they make people care about the book and want to read it.

All the videos would be under four minutes, but other than that, could be put together however they wished.  They could use puppets, green screen, animation, RSA-style, still pictures, PowToons style, or just sit in front of the camera and talk.

The first step is to make some model videos.  So Andrew and I are working on a project that involves reading journal videos for John Green’s AMAZING book The Fault in Our Stars.  We’ll post it here when we finish it.  Our hope is that we will put together a series that involves members of our PLN (including non-English teachers, because hey, reading isn't an "English Teacher Only" activity) to model what these can look like, and then we can start our students with a plethora of models for inspiration.  We can also work out the bugs in the system before assigning it.  Eventually we’d love our students to actually make videos to send to their classmates across the country (so Andrew’s students make them for a book my students are reading too, and then my students make videos and then send them back, etc.).

And it just sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.  It’s kind of like a book club with more #EduAwesome.

We’d love to know if you’ve tried anything like this before, or have ideas to make this idea even better.

My brother wants to be a writer.  He has lots of time on his hands.

So I put together my entire Essay Exposition course so he could work through it unit by unit (it was part of his Christmas present, actually).

In the spirit of giving, here's what I did.  I will use this structure again if I get to teach this course next year (it's probably my all-time favourite class to teach, actually) but I will make some improvements to give them more feedback in 1:1 settings.

Now, you lose a lot without all the discussion we had.  This is just the reading we did and the writing we did.  There were daily discussions and frequent seminars on all the reading assignments and workshopping the students' writing.  

If you use these assignments or ideas, please credit both me and Andrew Thomasson.  Almost all of this is straight from the tmi shared brain.

To see the unit plans, follow the link.  If any documents are not available, comment here or send me an email.

And Merry Christmas everyone!

Last week, I wrote about the struggles Andrew and I are having with our Flipped Classes.  We have several plans underway to deal with those issues.

One is to talk to people smarter than us.  There's a great chance that some of that conversation will end up being in a video we can share publicly. 

One was to start, or prepare to start, new units, none of which we had ready beyond a vague description and texts.   The overwhelming nature of the number of preps we have that are totally brand new, along with the sheer number of students (I have 155! I've never had that many! I now know all their names...after six weeks!) means that grading and planning are really overwhelming.  More on that in a bit.

But the Real Change needed to happen with us.

For Andrew, we instituted more structure.  Instead of giving students self-paced work time, we put routines in place and drew it back to only semi-self-paced.  The desk arrangement changed.  The new unit was put on hold until we could make sure students had learned all the things they needed to learn in the first unit.

But my Special Skillz are in implementing routine, structure, lesson planning, and classroom management.  So we worked to get those in place.

For my students, it was mostly about me and the personality I wasn't allowing to show in the classroom.  I realised just how little the kids knew about me.  That may not seem like a big deal, but in a flipped class built on collaboration, it was killing everything I was trying to do.

Just how much that was affecting my students became clear when I did a simple activity with them.

I wrote a short memoir this summer, and part of it was based on describing photographs in a way that built a narrative.  So I pulled a piece of that as a model for an activity my Essay Ex class was doing.  I didn't tell them it was mine at first.  I was shaking I was so nervous about it.  If it hadn't been for Andrew, I would have never shared it.

And they had nothing bad to say.  They said it was beautifully written and the imagery was great, and that it showed depth of emotion.  And I was scared to death to tell them it was mine.  It felt...weird.  When I told them it was mine, they were taken aback.  I could tell that even that small thing raised my ethos as a writer, and made me a Real Person instead of a benevolent taskmaster.  Several students, for the first time ever, stayed behind to talk to me after class and ask about the picture I had written about.

*****

For many reasons, sharing my personality with my students is not something I do much of anymore.  Sure, I joke with them and show genuine interest in them and give them advice when they ask for it.  But they don't know much about my personal life.  I love them, and they like and respect me.  But they don't know where I went to college, why there are posters and art from South Africa covering the walls of my room, or why I occasionally wear an migratory engagement ring on various fingers. 

And that's not good enough.

That's not how I started my career.  I'm not saying I told them everything in my personal life, but I did tell them stories, and shared my own hopes, dreams, aspirations, etc. with them.  

And when that didn't go down well with certain people at my first school, I was forced to reevaluate how much I told students about myself; as a result, I retreated into a persona I didn't much like - a Sage on the Stage, who could answer any question...as long as it wasn't personal.

And now that I've reevaluated again, I can see just how much all of that was really hiding - people told me I was "too close" to my students and I was so afraid of that being true that I made it Not True. 

I'm not saying that our job is to air our issues in front of our students (nothing bothers me as much as a teacher who forces their stories on bored kids who are pretending to listen intently so they can check Facebook instead of doing class), but they need to know us and invest in us personally.

One of the things I am most grateful to have learned from Andrew is that relationship is the centre of everything we do.  Our work together is built on a solid foundation of friendship, and without that friendship, we wouldn't be attempting something as crazy as team-teaching from a continent apart.  And one of Andrew's many Special Skillz is that relationship is the heart of his classroom.  He is an amazing creator of classroom community.  His students love him, and you can feel that in his classroom, even just through Google hangout.  He makes them feel valued, cared about, and respected.  And he doesn't do it by becoming their BFF or talking about his personal life ad nauseum.  

He is just himself.

And his encouragement (both to share my writing with my students and in general) and friendship has taught me so much about how to build community in my flipped class.  It's not the same as when I first started: at 21, I didn't know exactly what was over-sharing and what was under-sharing.  I didn't know how to be myself and be their teacher.  So I just stopped being myself just in case I accidentally "did it wrong."

And Andrew has taught me how to do it right.

And you know what?  When I changed, my class changed.  

Now, my students have always been intrinsically-motivated, high-achieving, genuinely fun kids.  Which just proves how much I am the problem.

And here's the most amazing thing:  I just so happened to find someone who had all the Special Skillz I lacked, and who lacked many of my Special Skillz.  And we just so happened to both have the same educational goals.  And we just so happened to decide to throw in our lots together before we knew just how much we needed each other to become better teachers and better people.

And we just so happened to start to model in our own lives exactly what we want for our students: a collegial partnership that gives you what you need, even when you didn't know you needed it.  A collaborator who is good at everything you're not.  A friend who is not scared to tell you the truth, even when you really don't want to hear it.

I had no idea how isolated and lonely teaching had been until it just wasn't anymore.  

****

Now, I'm not saying we have things figured out.  It's a long road, but I feel like we've finally stopped searching for the trail and have found purchase, not only on A trail, but on the RIGHT trail.

And we had some absolutely amazing days in class.  Here's a brief description of what we're doing in each class, with some links.  As always, take and use, but please credit Andrew and I if you do.


SAX Playlist
(that's what is sounds like when you say Essay Ex too many times, short for Essay Exposition)
Students read three atypical narratives: 1) How to Become a Writer (fiction), 2) Under Water (creative non-fiction), and 3) In the Ruins of the Future (expository).  They found repeated words, which we developed into pattern groups, and used those to analyse the features of a narrative.  They are now preparing for a seminar on the questions (available on the playlist in the documents that go with each text).  Then they will look at some descriptive/observation narratives and do the same.  It will culminate in them writing their own atypical narratives.

Language of Humour Playlist
We finished reading most of David Sedaris' book Me Talk Pretty One Day, and watching several episodes of South Park to determine how comedians take something that is Not Funny and turn it into Very Funny.  We watched Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail and blogged about how they used the toolkit we developed.  Each class did an inquiry unit to figure out what made something funny. (3rd period 6th period)

Now, we're reading Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and comparing it to the Radio Drama to figure out how characters are created in different mediums.  We will also read Good Country People and figure out how to create vivid, funny characters.  They will end the unit by writing a narrative with vivid, funny characters, and will translate it into two different genres to show how genre shapes a text.


American Literature Playlist
We just started Their Eyes Were Watching God.  A book I had never read before.  Or taught.  But that Andrew LOVES.  So far, we have been focusing on two things: literal plot and the role of women in the novel.  Andrew and I did our first close reading on video, where he talks intelligently and I smile and nod a lot.  I love teaching this book because it's something that Andrew is genuinely passionate about and that came out in the video for sure.

I also have recorded myself reading (not that I'm great at it) so students can get used to the dialect used.  All those videos are in the playlist.   At the end of the unit, students will be analysing characters in the novel in a full-length literary analysis essay.  We will also be doing a Socratic Seminar fairly soon to discuss the view on love and marriage and sex in the text,


If you made it this far, well done!  I'm not sure how I end up writing so much every time, but there's just so much to talk about.  I really, really love what I do.

Other cool stuff I'll write about eventually:

• all the guest blog posts we've written lately and have coming up
• visiting the Twitter HQ and working with a committee to help the local PBS affiliate come up with best practices for using technology in the classroom
• the webinar we're doing for Mentor Mob about collaboration
• the upcoming Flipped Class Open House
• presenting about Blank White Page at CVCUE with Karl Lindgren-Streicher and Andrew (Andrew virtually, of course)
• getting to go to NCTE's national conference in Vegas with 5 members of my department
• ideas for flipping novel units, now that we've actually started doing it
• profit?

Andrew and I have worked incredibly hard this year to make our team-teaching a success.  We spend hours planning over G+ Hangout, or in Google Drive documents, and we are pretty proud of what we've accomplished.  None of the material in our first unit was anything we had ever taught (with the exception of one of the short texts each).

We also believe in open source, free materials for teachers.  We do not intend to ever sell our materials.  We want to give them away for free with the caveat that you give us credit for the work.  We, by no means, want to present the material as if we think it's perfect - it's not.  There are lots of changes we will make when we teach it next (since we both have new students at the semester, it will be January-February when we teach it again).

But for now, here is the unit - complete with planning documents and links to every assignment, text, grading rubric, and warm-up.  If something is listed but doesn't appear, let us know and we'll fix it right away!  Almost all of the links are through Mentor Mob, since that's where we store our student playlists.

I hope you find it useful.  It's been amazing to plan and teach, and we hope that others can use some of the ideas we have developed here.

Here is the information from the document linked above:


The Master List of Unit 1 Resources
Andrew Thomasson and Cheryl Morris

Planning Documents:
Original Unit Plan (with full assignment descriptions, although a bit different from what we ended up teaching)
Skills Map (Thomasson’s iteration)  
Morris’ iterations: 1 2 (Morris modified her maps from the main document)

Playlists:
Weeks 1-3 (Morris)   
Weeks 1-2 (Thomasson)    
Smoke in Our Lights (both)    
Weeks 3-6 (both)

Unit Goals:

1. Introducing students to the technical processes they need for the class
2. Easing them into the flipped class part - how to watch video, how asynchronous instruction works, how mastery grading works, etc.
3. Familiarise them with the patterning strategy and why we use it
4. Making inferences based on evidence
5. Constructing a definition, both in narrative and informational writing
6. Collaborate with peers on a variety of tasks, and differentiate that from doing Group Work.

Essential questions:

• What is a flipped class, and how does OUR flipped class work?
• What goes into a good definition, and how does that differ based on genre and purpose?
• What is the best way to collaborate, and how is that different from cooperative learning/group work?
• What is a pattern and how do those patterns build meaning in a text?
• How do you access meaning beyond the literal/surface level?

Since our classes are asynchronous much of the time, this is mostly a suggested pacing, and is close to our actual pacing.  It took Morris six weeks, with about 240 minutes per week (11th-12th graders), and it took Thomasson four and a half weeks, with about 450 minutes per week (10th graders).  Please use any resources freely, so long as you give us credit for our work.

How do we get students to take responsibility for what they are learning, rather than expecting us to help them every step along the way?

It's a hard question to answer because I believed that I never had to have anyone motivating me to do my schoolwork.  

But that's not entirely true.  There are many times (even now as an adult) that I act much like my students who would be on the "not taking responsibility for learning" list.  So I tried to find patterns.  Here's what I came up with:

1. When I feel as if my time is being wasted, I stop caring.
2. When the instructor proves to be incompetent, either in content knowledge or in adequate preparation, I stop wanting to listen.
3. When there is open disdain or resentment towards me/the class/the audience/the subject/the organisation, it shuts me down.
4. When I don't get enough time to process, I stop "playing school."
5. When I don't see the relevance to my life or practice, I tune out.
6. When I am personally overwhelmed by something wholly unrelated to school, I disengage. 
7. When I am not treated like a respected colleague and peer, I fight back or I give up.

Are those the reasons my students don't take responsibility for their learning?

I had to honestly ask myself these dangerous questions (and I encourage you to as well):

• Do I prepare enough to make it feel like class time is productive, rather than wasted?
• Do I present myself in such a way at to make students think I believe I know everything and am the sole/main source of learning in the classroom?
• Do I treat my students as peers in learning, rather than as passive recipients of knowledge?
• Do I give them enough time to process and reflect, and help them understand how what they're doing is relevant to their lives?
• Do I take good enough care of myself that I'm healthy and able to do my job effectively as much as humanly possible?
• Do I use my authority to shut them down?  Do I make them feel like they aren't as good as me because I am the one with her name on the door?

Sometimes, I do a good job.  Sometimes, I don't.

***

The thing I think Andrew and I haven't done well enough this year is helping students see the relevance of what we're doing, and how it is helping them learn important skills.  

We started this unit with these goals:

1. Introducing students to the technical processes they need for the class
2. Easing them into the flipped class part - how to watch video, how asynchronous instruction works, how mastery grading works, etc.
3. Familiarise them with the patterning strategy and why we use it
4. Making inferences based on evidence
5. Constructing a definition, both in narrative and informational writing
6. Collaborate with peers on a variety of tasks, and differentiate that from doing Group Work.

And these were our essential questions:

• What is a flipped class, and how does OUR flipped class work?
• What goes into a good definition, and how does that differ based on genre and purpose?
• What is the best way to collaborate, and how is that different from cooperative learning/group work?
• What is a pattern and how do those patterns build meaning in a text?
• How do you access meaning beyond the literal/surface level?

So those were great goals and essential questions, but none of the instructional design matters if I'm not creating a classroom where students are responsible for their own learning.

***

So I need to change.  These are my answers to my own questions:

• Do I prepare enough to make it feel like class time is productive, rather than wasted?

Most days, I am prepared enough to make it through that day.  But the last few weeks, we haven't been planned far enough ahead that I could LET students work ahead.  Which meant wasted class time.

• Do I present myself in such a way at to make students think I believe I know everything and am the sole/main source of learning in the classroom?

No.  I believe that I've presented myself as someone who is learning alongside them.

• Do I treat my students as peers in learning, rather than as passive recipients of knowledge?

Yes. I've even had days where students suggested doing something related, and we've changed the plan.  Some of those were the best days.  I believe that I have as much to learn from them as they from us.

• Do I give them enough time to process and reflect, and help them understand how what they're doing is relevant to their lives?

This is the one that hurts.  I think I give them time to process, but there have been times when I've cut off a discussion because we needed to move on.  I also haven't let them reflect enough to make meaning of everything we're doing.  I haven't convinced them that learning how to use a blog is useful.  I haven't convinced them that patterning is helpful.  This is the place I need to focus for the next unit.

• Do I take good enough care of myself that I'm healthy and able to do my job effectively as much as humanly possible?

I want to say yes to this.  I'm pretty sure Andrew would say no, that I'm not.  Working on it.

• Do I use my authority to shut them down?  Do I make them feel like they aren't as good as me because I am the one with her name on the door?  Do they feel safe, emotionally and academically in my class?

I think I'm doing okay on this one.  There is always room for improvement.


***

So here's what I've decided on why students not fully taking responsibility:

1. We are not always planned enough to let them work at their own speed.  We need to plan more so students can work ahead.
2. They don't understand why they are learning what they're learning.  We need to show them exactly what they're learning, because they are actually learning a lot.
3. They need more time to process, which means less synchronous work.  The end of this unit has been on collaboration, so a lot of it has been at the same pace.  But not all partners work at the same pace, so one group inevitably finishes early and another is still working after the bell.  This will change in the next unit.
4. They don't see how everything connects, or where it's going.  That was intentional, but I think it was the wrong decision.
5. They aren't reflecting enough on their own learning process and progress.  In the final assessment, there will be a reflection to help address this.

So in the next unit, those are our key focus areas.  If you have ideas that can help, please let us know!

Coming soon: our entire first unit with all the resources we used for six weeks of a high school English flipped class.  We will publish EVERYTHING.  For free.  We're really excited to share it - we're proud of what we've accomplished together in this unit.

There are a lot of people who will tell you that mastery grading won't work with English.

Andrew Thomasson and I disagree.  We're doing it, actually, and it's working pretty well so far.

Here's our video explaining the philosophy and basic principles of Mastery:

Our Mastery system is based in large part on an idea stolen from Jon and Aaron.  Here's our latest grade table:

In this first unit, we are assessing the following things for mastery:
1. Process of posting to their blog, accessing and using all their Google accounts
2. Making an inference based on evidence
3. Writing an essay that defines who they are through a transformational experience
4. Developing a project that shows mastery of a concept
5. Having a conversation with a group that shows their ability to come to a collaborative definition
6. Reading a text and finding patterns
7. Making meaning of those patterns to determine author's intent

Some of those are processes, and some are about content.  This whole first unit is built on the idea of Explore Flip Apply, and all of those skills and processes were developed throughout the unit in that way.  As an example:

Patterning
Explore: Students read a text and find any repeated ideas or patterns.  Discuss with group to find commonalities.

Flip: Students watched this video:

Apply: Students went back through the text and made meaning from the pattern we found but didn't explicitly trace in the video.  They had to have a group discussion with us to demonstrate that they understood the pattern and how it affected the meaning in the text.

We patterned several other texts in that way (some with a video, some with live in-class modelling of the patterns we found), and the final assessment will ask students to pattern a new text and make meaning of it on their own.

***

Now, we still live in a point-based reality.  So somehow, we need to give students points for getting to mastery.  The way we decided to make it work is to give students all the points for showing mastery, and none if they didn't.  At the end of the unit, the assessment is graded on a rubric, but all other strands are all/nothing.  So 20 out of the 55 unit points are graded on a rubric.  That means that about 1/3 of the unit points are in the assessment and NOT all/nothing.

If students get all the points for the classwork, the most they can get is an 85% - to get the other 15%, they need to complete the Blank White Page project work for the unit.  This is straight-up stolen from Karl Lindgren-Streicher.  Thanks, buddy.

The last thing to mention is the Behind Line.  That's the date on which work should be completed, but students are not "late" until the unit is over.  I don't think we'll take work after the unit is over, but we need to see how it shakes out before deciding for sure.  It's all based on the idea that students can work ahead, but not fall behind.  Often, we will still do synchronous work in class, so we want students to stay near the same point through this unit.  Again, we'll reassess later.

The students are responding positively to this - in fact, they've stopped asking about their grades now, and seem to trust that this is as straight-forward as we keep promising. The true test will come at the end of the unit.

The way Andrew and I have been teaching is new for our students.

It's new for us, for that matter.

It's not the Teacher Lectures and Student Studies the Textbook paradigm.  And our students really struggled with the transition.

So I decided to ask them what they were learning in my class.  We've been working on these three playlists.

I wasn't expecting much because it really seems like they weren't "getting it" and making the right connections.

Here were the results for the topic:

What are you learning in this class?  What do you think we want you to know/be able to do?


Wordle (all classes combined)

Original notes from the 1st period discussion:

Sorry it's not super legible.  The check marks indicate when another group said something that was already up there.

I'm really proud of them.  

They ARE learning! :-)

It seemed like a bad idea a few days ago.

I didn't want to come here.  I had too much work to do, I had cats to tend, I had Very Important Things, none of which could be done if I took a vacation.

But thankfully, I have people in my life who push me to do things that are good for me, even when I don't want to do them (you know who you are).

So I've been at Asilomar in Pacific Grove, California for the last day and a half.  This summer has been at a relentless pace - blogging, video filming, video editing, tweeting, conferencing (virtual and one in-person), meeting with teachers from my new school...even the road trip I did a few weeks ago was relentless, covering 2,500 miles and nearly the entire length of the West Coast in a week.

And now, the start of school is staring me down.  I know many of you will have started already, either with students or with back-to-school PD.  I am lucky to have until Monday before I am expected to attend anything, and two weeks from tomorrow until the students are expected to attend anything.

And instead of continuing the relentless push for planning out the year, hammering out the details of team-teaching with someone 2,500 miles away, doing paperwork to make sure I get paid...

Instead of doing those things, I am at Asilomar, by the sea.  

And here is what I DID do:

I finished The Things They Carried.  I read parts of Price of Privilege, The Years (Virginia Woolf), Bird by Bird, and How to Think and Write about Literature.

I sat, staring at the ocean, getting sunburnt and catching the way the fog melted away above the trees.

I wrote.  What started as a one-page attempt to write a descriptive essay about a coffee shop turned into a larger creative non-fiction project.  The only reason it became that is because my collaborator read it, and saw the seed of something bigger than a coffee shop.  He cut it to pieces and made it make sense.  Then he told me to stop thinking and start writing.

Before I got to Asilomar, I had about 19 pages.  Now, after I've taken his advice (finally), there are more than 40.  Some parts are good, others are horrible, and some are great.  But what matters far more than quantity or quality is that I actually wrote.  


******


In college, I wanted to be a writer - creative non-fiction or academic, I didn't care - but through time, circumstance and several discouraging realities, I stopped writing.  Even starting this blog was daunting, because publishing for a global audience of professionals was much different than writing lessons or sample essays for my students.

For me, what it took was the seed of an idea.  And someone to encourage me, even before it was any good.  To edit parts to make them more clear, or precise, or profound, but mostly, to hear the story I was telling and help me find the voice I needed to tell it better.

*****

Because of that experience, and many more like it, I start this year, completely obsessed by one question: 

How do I get my students to experience the joy of collaboration, the freedom of writing, and the beauty of learning?

Because this summer has taught me that all three are things of great value, to be sought after and treasured.  And all three have made me a better teacher, a better friend, and a better human being.  If I can get my students to have the kind of year I crammed into the last six weeks of summer, I will feel successful (and I bet they will too).

I want them to be able to try out ideas, knowing they might fail, but if they do, there's no one to mock you.  And sometimes, the other person can make the idea a success in a way you never thought possible, and suddenly, it's ion lucidity, and it's magical.

I want them to see learning as something intrinsic to human experience.  That we are all constantly learning, whether through making inferences about the environment or other people, or reading a book, or walking through a Safeway.  That learning is not bound by the classroom walls.

I want them to see knowledge not as a capacity for facts, but as the way you use facts to make deeper meaning of your world.  When they get in an argument about whether Eucalyptus trees are native to California, or what street Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland is on, or whether the exact linguistic phrasing they used was constructivist or behaviouralist, I want them to say, "Hang on, I'll Google it."  

And if and when they were wrong, I want them to laugh it off and apologise for insulting their friend's mother.  And most importantly, I want them to take what they've learned and make meaning out of it, rather than just being content with knowing facts.  
(and yes, those are real examples from this summer...all except the insulting of mothers.)

I want them to spend hours listening to their close friend talk about how their life feels like a series of roadblocks.  I want them to give advice, some bad, some good, but do it because they care so much about the person they want the best for them.

I want them to be rooting so hard for their friends that there isn't a hint of competition anywhere.  That any victory their friend finds is shared, and more valuable than a victory for themselves.  I want them to have people to trust and who trust them.  I want them to make mistakes, and learn how to ask for forgiveness and reconcile the relationship.

I want them to have the summer I had.


*****

That is the essence of the MetaFlip.  Taking all these experiences in which we as educators and human beings find value and meaning, and making them accessible to our students.  Breaking it down into processes and showing them how to navigate through challenges and failures.  Showing them what friendship and collaboration are, especially at times where the mess threatens to overwhelm the relationship.

Building assignments that are not just personalised, but are personal.  That take the things we value - friendship, collaboration, learning, writing, reading - and presents those things to our students in a way that gives them a foothold to do each for themselves.

*****

Do we know how to do this right now?  Not quite.  But we have some ideas:

1. The projects that Andrew, Karl, Crystal, Kate and I have been working on this summer will turn in to model projects for the Blank White Page project.  Students will see our authentic products and how we created them to help them understand how to make it something meaningful.

2. In every video series, Andrew and I are aware of our process as much as our content.  We want to make the students see the process and try it out, rather than just loading them up with content and asking them to apply it on their own.  We want the end of every unit to have some reflective time about how they are doing, how their collaboration with peers has been, what they need to work on/change to make the next project even better, how they can improve the way they're learning...etc.

3. The reading will always have a component of personal education.  We will talk about concepts like ubuntu, or ion lucidity, or love or friendship.  We will show students that we don't have all the answers, but we're learning.  That is the most powerful tool in our toolkit, I think.  We are willing to fail, and then demonstrate resilience.  We are willing to try something, reflect on it, and ditch it if it doesn't do what we want it to do.  We are willing to make our lives as transparant as possible so students can see through the glass and into our heads.  It's scary, but it's exciting.

4. We have to show the mess.  Andrew and I will be team-teaching this year.  Both our names will be on the board, and on the syllabus, even if our classrooms are 2,500 miles apart.  The introduction video we do will be both of us.  We will be teaching the same skills at the same times, albiet with slightly different content to fit our own school/curricular context.  

******

We are embarking on this team-teaching endeavour because we love working together, yes.

But we are also doing it so our students can see a model of how to work with someone else.  How to make your ideas better by sharing them.  How to have fun, but still be productive.  We've never seen the other person teach (except on video), so I'm sure obstacles will arise, but I'm equally sure that we will come up with such amazing solutions to overcome those obstacles that we will remember them as blessings, rather than as trials.  

Teaching is hard in isolation, but teaching in a flipped class is impossible without collaboration.  There is no way you can go it alone.  The Great Myth of American individualism is that you can be wholly self-reliant, and that's the highest form of human existence.  The Great Myth of the American teacher is that they comes up with the perfect lesson on the way to school and then it changes lives in seconds...

But that's not the reality.  The reality is burnout, playing the political game, avoiding people with an axe to grind.  The reality is long, lonely hours, with too much to do and not enough time.  The reality is that half of those who enter the profession will have left it within five years.

For all those reasons, we have to fight back against these myths.  Working with someone who makes you better is far, far better than trying to struggle through on your own.  Collaboration sharpens your ideas, and magnetises them to the point that you are surrounded by so many ideas you just don't know where to start.  And then collaboration helps you find the best idea, polish it, and put it into action.

*****

But sitting here in Asilomar, I'm reminded that there will be time for all of sharpening, the collecting, the selecting, the polishing.  There will be time for lesson design, and video production, and blank white page...

...after I return.  

Right now, the only thing I need to do is model resting, relaxing, and reading.

I don't know a single teacher who hasn't, deep down, wondered if they were doing a good job.  I don't know a single good teacher who doesn't think that constantly.

Some doubt that more than others.  In fact, some of the best teachers believe that they are failures, and wonder if they even should be in the profession at all.

I stake no claim for being a great teacher; I've never been happy with the job I'm doing in my classroom.  For years, I've masked it with a completely fictitious act of over-confidence or with a tendency towards perfectionism (the socially acceptable form of always feeling not-quite-good-enough).  But deep down, it's there.  Lurking, rearing up whenever I feel most vulnerable.

It's the blessing and curse of the reflective teacher: you are always thinking about how to make your classroom better, but you're always struck by just how far you have to go before you are where you want to be.  It's an exhausting place to be in, emotionally, physically, and professionally.

And while I don't trust teachers who say their class is perfect, I also don't trust teachers who say they are doing a bad job.  Because here's the thing:

Learning is messy.  Teaching is messy.  Life is messy.

When we hide that, we hide the reality of who we are and what we do.  In a weird way, we have to show how much of a mess we are to show what a good job we're actually doing.  And in a flipped class, if your class is not a little chaotic then it's not truly student-centred.

Part of the partnership Andrew and I have built is on the premise that we never "hide the mess" - from each other or from our students.  We believe that it's essential to show students how we fail and then try again and then fail again and then eventually (maybe) succeed.  We want them to see us fail because it shows them how NORMAL it is, and that the acceptable response is not to give up, but to get up.  To slip and not be buried.  To fight and not be defeated.

In any educational movement, including the flipped class movement, there are people held up as "experts," but here's what I have learned: there are no experts.  We are all constantly learning, and if we stop learning, we stagnate.  And if we stagnate, we become irrelevant and ineffective...which is death to the classroom, and certainly does not an expert make.

While I see the value in there being people who are willing to put their information out there (I am a blogger who claims to know something about teaching in a flipped English class, after all), I think it's also vital to stop perpetuating the myth that they are (and I am) doing an amazing job and should be revered and held in awe. 

Put even more bluntly: if you don't show me your mess, I'll assume you're lying or irrelevant.  Because the mess is there, whether I can see it or not.

Some of us have been lucky enough to have had some of the mess cleaned up by years at good schools.  That's where I'm coming from.  I went from being a broken teacher, disillusioned with teaching and with everything that wasn't about the relationship between me and my students, to someone who was suddenly a valued and respected colleague.  It helped me clean up my metaphorical living room, even if the rest of my house was still a mess.

But San Lorenzo was the school that taught me how much I had to give and how much I actually stole from my colleagues by not sharing with them.  It was there that I first learned that in the act of sharing your curriculum, you actually are sharing your mess alongside your ideas.  And when it isn't thrown back in your face, but rather taken and made better just by the act of sharing and collaboration, you start to wonder why you held back for so long.

There is a concept very close to my heart that drives at this same idea.  It derives from the Bantu word, "ubuntu."  It is the South African driving principle that affirms that, "I am who I am because we are." People are people THROUGH other people.  There is no such thing as being alone.  We are all interconnected, and as such, we must act accordingly.  We may not see the ties that bind us together, but that doesn't mean that they are not there.

In America, we've never really had this concept, let alone valued it the way my South African friends do.  In fact, it's so foreign to us that we are genuinely surprised when people make choices that are not in their own self-interest.  And yet, according to ubuntu, acting in the interest of others IS acting in self interest, because when someone else is exalted or esteemed, we all are exalted and esteemed.

On the flip side, when one teacher is disillusioned and broken, we are ALL disillusioned and broken.

And that is the state most of us are in.  Is it any wonder that schools are so broken and students are so disillusioned?

And yet.  By showing all of you the mess underneath my thin veneer of competence, I'm hoping to give you some hope that by embracing the mess that is our lives and profession, we can become something better together than we can alone.

Andrew and I named this blog Ion Lucidity, partially as a joke.  

But we were recording a few nights ago, and suddenly, it didn't feel like a joke anymore.  As weird as this sounds, it became the exact phrase we needed to explain what had happened in a single moment.

I'll back up a little bit.

We had spent hours planning a complicated shoot that included topics on which neither of us are experts.  When we started filming, my physical exhaustion and his mental exhaustion was palpable.  I can hardly watch the footage because of how present that exhaustion is.  

After about 20 minutes, we did our typical stop and check-in to see what else we still needed to cover.  And we did something that we do far more than work:  we just talked as friends.  It was an attempt, for a few minutes at least, to try to hold on to our last bit of sanity.  Through that conversation, it became clear we needed to start the recording over from the beginning (this is something that happens regularly in our partnership...which explains the many, many 13 GB Camtasia files on my hard drive).

So we started over.  And that's when it happened: we reached Ion Lucidity.  The ethereal moment when we went from exhaustion to clarity, solely through the act of conversation and collaboration.

Here is something I know: We are so much better together than we are alone.  By working together, we have ideas that are better than any either of us had alone.  It starts from incoherent rambling and flowers into something neither of us expected or imagined.  

And not only are we lucky enough to work with each other, we have been so fortunate as to find other like-minded educators to share our mess with us. 

But what I barely understand is that they care so much that they refuse to leave it that way.  They jump in and help figure out how to make the mess visible, and by doing so, exorcise it for good.  To loosely quote the Avett Brothers,  they love me for the person I'll become, not the person that I am.  That is something beautiful and incomprehensible.

Here is something else I know: the only word other than Ion Lucidity that makes this concept make sense is ubuntu.  

And here is what I believe more than anything: There is a magical quality to collaboration that allows you to be so much greater than the sum of your parts.  It allows you to see what was obscured when you tried to view it alone.  It pushes you beyond where you could ever imagine going.  It supports you when you feel like you will be crushed under the self-doubt and failure.  It reminds you that you are never a failure...it is just your mess becoming visible.

And it is there that we are most powerful: When your mess is visible to the world, people recognise their own mess in the midst of yours and it becomes okay to show theirs too.  And by the simple act of sharing, you are living ubuntu; the ties that bind you to everyone else go from being invisible to being so obvious you wonder how you've missed them for so long.

And you wonder how you ever lived without seeing them, because your life is so much more rich and full than you could have ever imagined.

Call it collaboration, call it Ion Lucidity, call it ubuntu...it doesn't matter.  It replaces that deeply held belief that you're not doing well enough with something even better: the realisation that when you AREN'T good enough, there are people who will love you anyway, and will help you be far better than good enough.