Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Reflecting #2


           Writing a great deal more than usual and in different genres throughout the semester was challenging for me. I cannot say that I am walking away with a passion for writing but I can say that my eyes have been opened a little wider as to how my students must feel when they are asked to write and how I can better support them in their learning.  This type of knowledge is the kind that you only receive by putting yourself in the position of the students.
I have read countless books and articles about the importance of using mentor texts.  I fully believed in their importance in the classroom.  However, it wasn’t until I was asked to write my own personal narrative that I truly understood the value of a mentor text.  Having an example to refer to and study made all the difference when it came to writing my own piece.
Living with the expectation that I would have to write at some point during the day made me look for things to write about and I always found them.  I believe that if students know they will be expected to write at a given time every day, they will develop that writerly eye.  Then, once I got an idea, I spent time thinking about the different ways I could express that idea through writing.  The more I wrote, the easier it was to find ideas, and put them into writing. When the ten days were over, a part of me was sad that I didn’t get to explore different formats and ideas that I had stored away in my head. The freedom to express myself in different formats and genres was motivating.  I don’t think I would have enjoyed it as much if I were given a topic to write about or a genre to write in every time. “Students who write for purposes and audiences of interest to them are more likely to engage in writing in the first place” (Dudley-Marling & Paugh, 50).
Going through this experience with a class full of teachers also taught me that writing can be challenging for everyone.  I am not the only one that struggles to put ideas to paper.  I truly believe that students need to see that too.  They need to see that it can be challenging for their classmates and even for their teacher sometimes. “Many struggling writers do not seem to understand that writing is often difficult, and sometimes frustrating, for all writers” (Dudley-Marling & Paugh, 35).

Here are some of my takeaways from this semester with a few fun graphics that help describe my thoughts
 
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When you know that you have to write every day, you start looking for things to write about and you find them.


Writing can be challenging for everyone. Students need to know this.  

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After spending two years learning about the importance of mentor texts, having to write in genres I was not accustomed to really drove that point home for me. 

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Sharing your writing can be a bit nerve-racking but it can also be very satisfying. 


Receiving feedback is powerful.  It can make anyone feel successful and motivated to continue writing.


 Occasionally, you write something that you are particularly proud of and you feel pretty darn good about yourself. Every student should get a chance to get this feeling.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Fantasy: The Green Flash



This story may sound strange.  You may not even believe me!  I’m not even sure if I believe it myself and it happened to ME.  I’m going to tell you though and you can decide for yourself what you think.

After one long day of working and learning, my students quickly exited the classroom at the sound of the final bell and went on their way home.  As they left, I started to prepare for the next day.  I went into the closet and took out two bottles of green glitter, a tub of green paint, and a handful of green markers.  I looked around the room to choose a spot to begin.

Tomorrow was St. Patrick’s Day, one of my absolute favorite days of the year.  Every year, I use glitter and paint to decorate my room for my first grade students.  I don’t only decorate though; I make a mess all over the room.  I start out by knocking down books and pencils, replacing student work with funny pictures, and switching desks.  Then, I leave a trail of green glitter and tiny little footprints leading up to all of the chaos. Finally, I write a message to the students from “Sprinkles the Leprechaun”.

Essentially, I frame a leprechaun. 

Well on this very occasion, just as I was putting the finishing touches on the tiny green footprints I heard a voice from behind.  “Ya know those footprints need to be a wee bit smaller lass”.  Started, I turned quickly to face the door, only to find that the door was still closed.  Anxiously, I looked around the room for anyone that may have spoken those words and yet there was no one in sight.  Then, I heard a noise, as if someone was clearing their throat “mmhhmm” just below me.  Slowly, I moved my eyes down to the floor and at my feet there still a tiny green man, in a bright green suit, with a beard as white as snow, and a tiny black stick, looking straight up at me.

I was stunned into silence.  I couldn’t move and I certainly couldn’t speak.  I closed my eyes and then opened them very slowly.  I was half expecting it to have been my brain playing tricks on me.  But when I opened them again there he was, standing there on the ground looking straight up at me.  “Well, aren’t ya going to say somethin?”

“I…I…”

“Cat got yer tongue lass?”

“I just can’t believe it” I said in a whisper.

“Well you better because this room looks nothing like it would if I had come into it. You’ve been giving me a bad name for years and I’m planning to fix that”.

Before I could say another word the little green man was off in a tizzy.  He sped around the room so fast that all I could see was a tiny green flash darting from corner to corner.  In a matter of seconds he was back at my feet and the room was a mess.

“Now this is a room your wee ones will enjoy.”

Then, in a poof of green smoke, the tiny green flash was up the cabinet and out the open window.  As I looked around the room, I saw the absolute disaster that was my classroom.  Papers were scattered throughout the room, pencils, erasers, and markers covered the floor.  

Had I imagined this?  Had a big gust of air come through the open window and blown everything over?  Or, was the most unlikely of events actually true, had a tiny green man really come into my room and done this?

As I went to close the window, I noticed the tiniest specs of green paint on the cabinet leading to the windowsill. Were they…footprints?