The Separation Is In The Preparation!

Yesterday I was so caught up in reading both The Reluctant Disciplinarian and I Read It, But I Don't Get It that I completely forgot it was time to start my Salt Crystal Science Experiment.  I thought, no big deal, I'll just adjust the start and end dates by one day.  I felt I had written out my experiment thoroughly and thought through all of the required materials.  Last week I had a rather lengthy discussion about What We Think We Know About Salt with my fellow scientists (my daughters).  Earlier on Saturday we had talked about predictions and observations.  We'd also talked about the ABC's of scientific drawings A-Accurate, B-Big, C-Colorful.  We discussed how we would try to write down everything we thought and observed, even if we weren't sure if it was important to the actual growing of the salt crystals.

I figured it would take us about an hour to set up the experiment and write down our observations, even if they were fairly thorough.  Really, we just needed to experience the two kinds of salt again and then put water, salt, and a string in jar.  How hard could that be?

I was very excited to try this experiment without knowing much about what would happen.  It would be fun to have this new experience alongside my students/fellow scientists.  I now firmly believe that you should try every experiment on your own, before you try to teach it in a classroom!

I did not anticipate the time it would take to just figure out how to use the microscope and how important it would be to set behavior expectations for the handling of the microscope, the slides, and anything within a 5 foot or so proximity to the microscope.  I also hadn't set up a schedule for who would use the microscope first and for how long.  After several minutes of frustrated waiting by two of my scientists, I realized that they could not draw and look in the microscope at the same time.  Aha! they could take turns looking into the microscope and spend the majority of the time trying to capture their observations with pencil and paper.  I did remember to have them write descriptions as well as draw what they saw.  That was important.  Although we all looked at exactly the same grains of salt, we had very different illustrations.

I did not know (in fact I still don't) whether or not it is important to have the salt crystals completely dissolve in the jar of water.  I'm not even certain it is possible to completely dissolve them, unless the water is heated.  The experiment did not mention heating the water, so I didn't.  I was impressed with my daugthers' perseverance.  They held out longer than I did.  I finally said, "Okay, Stop Stirring and Start Writing."  We made sure we included the observation that it seemed like it would take forever to make the salt dissolve.

I did not anticipate how difficult it would be for me to tie tiny knots onto the toothpicks.  I also should have pre-measured the lengths of string.  Luckily only one of my guesses was so far off that it had to be re-done.

At 9:12pm, my fellow scientists were asking if they could please just go to bed.  They didn't really think they would write anything very good now anyway because they were so tired.

I did really like the fact that I didn't have all of the answers and could honestly say "I guess we'll just have to wait and find out."  But, since you never really know what will happen in a classroom situation, you would be honest saying that even if you'd performed the same experiment for the last 8 years.  My children were very forgiving and it is very important to them that I succeed in learning how to be a teacher, so they made this first evening full of missteps very easy on me.  I can't imagine that my regular class of 29 second graders would have been as patient and helpful.  Maybe I am underestimating them, but I wouldn't want to test it out.

"Science is about investigating and explaining how the world works."

This week, in my primary placement, I was so excited to see a familiar Science lesson.  I had a Science rotation the year before in my children's co-op school and remembered leading a small group through exactly the same activity.  When my CT asked if I wanted to lead Science today, I hesitated a bit and then decided to just jump in.  I remembered all of the fun of the inquiry and exploration but forgot all about the actual instruction.  The kids had a great time trying to figure out how to make their shapes balance on their popsicle sticks by placing the clothespins in just the right place.  I knew that they had performed similar experiments the day before using the tagboard crawfish, but I neglected to call upon their prior knowledge and what they had recently discovered.  I was so excited about getting the students to the part where they started to explore on their own that I didn't do any modeling or really set any expectations for behavior or noise level.  I just wanted them to get to it.
I followed the instructions from the science kit (mostly) and had them perform all of the different experiments.  I was quite pleased with myself for not telling the students how to balance their arches and triangles and letting them figure it out on their own.  However, I'm not sure how much of it will be retained.  I missed a big part.  At the end of the lesson (I knew it was almost the end because we were running out of school day) I did notice there were words pertaining to the previous science lesson written in their word bank.  I called their attention to the words and asked the students if they could tell me what "stable" and "balance point" meant.  As I collected the materials and the students got ready for dismissal, I felt like I'd robbed the students of a great educational opportunity.  They had made a number of observations and many had figured out that their counterweights needed to be below the balance point.  Some even figured out that they could balance with one counterweight if it was directly below the balance point.  I was wishing that I had asked if they had Science Journals.  I was sad to find out that they did and I hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity for them to record their observations and realize/reinforce what they had learned.  It would have been great to have them not only figure out how to make the shapes balance, but to also have a discussion about why.  If the students had a chance to sketch examples of what balanced and what didn't, maybe they would have seen the relationships between the counterweights and the balance point.

I certainly don't think the time was completely wasted.  Because this was one in a series of lessons on Balance and Motion, I think that some of their ideas from their discoveries will stick with them.  They likely learned something.  I know I did.  The discovery and exploration seems to come very naturally, however it is important to also guide the students toward asking questions, making predictions, explaining why they've made a particular prediction, recording and analyzing their observations, comparing their observations to those made by other students, and revisiting their initial question(s) and prediction.  When I read in the Zembal-Saul chapter about Scientific Explanation "the predominant approach has become hands-on activities, which can minimize the importance of big ideas and meaning making" I was quite sure it was a description of my lesson from this week.  It was definitely a strong reinforcement for thorough planning of a lesson and deep knowledge of the subject matter.

I'm revisiting this post after finishing the two chapters in Ready, Set, SCIENCE.  This sentence at the end of chapter 3 seems to make the point that I was trying to articulate above, "While children may have amazing skills and capabilities to learn science, people do not spontaneously generate scientific understanding."  (Michaels et al, 2007 p. 57).

Don't tell me what I know, let me show you

While I was reading "Ready, Set, Science!" this past week, I found myself writing a little note in the margin to remember to BLOG about an experience with one of my students.  The idea of setting our expectations high and not imposing limits on our students' capabilities seems to be a recurring and incredibly important theme.  On one of my last days in one of the classrooms where I was a Teacher Candidate, I had the opportunity to just sit and read with one of the students with whom I worked closely on both math and reading skills.  This was the first time that I'd sat down with her one-on-one.  I took a quick look at the text she had chosen and felt a little pang of concern that she had picked something well beyond her reading level.  However, if this book had piqued her interest, I was perfectly willing to read it with her.  We sat down and decided that we would take turns reading.  She would read until she wanted me to take over, then I would read until a new page started.  The book was wonderful.  It had great descriptions and illustrations and a wonderful story.  We were both very engaged.  I found myself quickly "helping" the student each time she paused on a word.  A few pages in, another student asked if she could come read with us.  My reading partner said it was fine with her.  Soon, she had two people jumping in to "help" with words that seemed difficult.  A page or two later, the student who had joined us asked me a question.  While I was thinking through my answer and quietly responding to her, my reading partner continued reading.  I didn't jump in quite as quickly since I was conversing with the other student.  She was struggling with a word and I found myself thinking back to a recent reading where I learned that students sometimes guess at words based on their beginning sound and the shape of the rest of the letters.  She seemed to be doing just that.  I also noticed that she was saying her "guesses" aloud to check for meaning.  She went back to the beginning of the sentence and read it again a few times, trying out a couple word choices.  I am so glad that I had been distracted, because she came up with the correct word on her own.  I had seen many looks on this student's face before, but never this one.  She felt successful.  I'm sure she was feeling smart!  This is exactly what I wanted her to feel.  I had just seen her confidence grow in an experience with one word.  Had I been reading along with her, I might not have allowed her the time to figure it out on her own.  I would have assumed that she simply didn't know the word and should tell her what it was.  What a loss that would have been.  We immediately changed our strategy and only offered to help with words when asked.  She was very happy to struggle with some of them and asked for help on others.  By "helping" her, I'm rather certain I was getting in the way of her learning.  I do not wish to see students struggle and become frustrated to the point that they lose confidence and give up. But, I am so grateful that I had this experience and hope it will serve as a reminder to me that students often know more, are capable of much more than I expect.  I will try to remember that they need the chance to show me what they know.

Blogging . . .

When we first began blogging for this program, I was quite intimidated.  I was fairly certain that even within the cohort there would be only a few who would read my musings.  Likely, each person would read and respond to only the required number of blogs and then move on to their next reading, reflection, lesson plan or assignment.  Admittedly, I was tempted to use this approach.  I was certainly interested in what my classmates had to say, but like everyone else in the cohort, I felt pressed for time and needed to quickly move on to my next priority.

During the Fall Quarter, I found myself starting to think of how I would compose my Blog when I would have an experience in a classroom that I really wanted to share with the cohort.  This was quite a change from the initial, "hmmm, what should I write about this week?"  Those blogs where I felt truly inspired seemed to draw the most comments.  Coincidence?

I read several of my cohorts posts and did not simply post a response to the first two I read.  I kept reading and waited until I felt that I had something worthwhile to add to the conversation.  Throughout this process I have realized that despite the fact that we are a somewhat diverse group of people, we all have one very strong common interest.  We all have different perspectives that are worth exploring.  Every comment posted to my blogs has made me think a bit more about what I posted.  That seems like success.

When I have read commercial blogs for our curating assignment and just for my own personal interest, I have noticed that sometimes the most interesting, although not necessarily the most educational parts, are the comments.  I am fairly conservative.  I am not trying to spark a debate or write a provocative piece that will have everyone chiming in with their experiences.  However, I do feel some level of validation when I see a comment "awaiting moderation."

I certainly hope that I continue to grow in my Blogging experience.  I find that writing is so helpful for helping me to think about what I think.  Putting the words down "on paper" and reading them aloud, as if I am reading them to my classmates, makes me think more carefully about what I want to say.  Often, while editing, I realize that there was much more to the experience than I had originally thought.  The process of determining how I want to convey it to my audience gives me the chance to, dare I say it, reflect.

CURATING

EVERNOTE NOTEBOOK - Struggling Readers (k-3)

The information in this notebook was curated by Nikka, Molly, and Alicia.  If you should peruse it and find anything interesting, please let us know.  Also, please feel free to suggest additional links to ideas to help Struggling Readers in Primary Grades.

Thank you.

Treasure!!!

Earlier this week I was doing some procrastination cleaning at about 5:47 am.  This is the time that I typically reserve for myself.  My brain works best right after I've had adequate sleep (not good, I'm in a graduate teaching program, I don't foresee good sleep until mid-June).  I can have a quiet cafe au lait and catch up on textbook reading before my three darling girls drag themselves out of bed and start placing their breakfast orders (and suddenly remembering another piece of homework they need help with right now because it is due today). 

I justify my procrastination cleaning by telling myself that it will actually help me to get my homework done.  I will have less to think about.  I get distracted by clutter.  I like everything to have a place, and for the most part I want everything in that place.  I've relaxed a bit.  I now enjoy having the LEGOS out and on display.  If the books and games are always put away, that means no one is using them. 

I was busy straightening up children's literary magazines, coloring books, art supplies, and many partially completed art projects.  The book/art shelf was beginning to look fairly tidy.  I reached for one of the books that had a torn cover not sure why I was pulling it off the shelf.  It was a collection of children's stories.  Stories that my mom used to read to me when I was a child.  There next to where the battered book had just been was Harriet the Spy.  It suddenly dawned on me.  I was staring at all of the books that I didn't remember.  Well, I remember some of the stories, but I don't have a clear recollection of how they got into my head.  I wrote my literacy vignette last week on how my mom had developed my love for reading with her great expression and amazing character voices.  I had very specific memories of certain books, big, important books.  Some so important that I don't feel that I can read them aloud, because I will never be able to read them quite the way my mom did/does.  But here, right in front of me, was a treasure trove of books that I am certain mom read when I was little.  I have a whole long shelf of beat up, well-loved books that are full of stories that my girls and I can enjoy together (and then probably not remember).

word by word

I had something of a revelation today.  I was reading Anne Lamott's bird by bird and absolutely loving what a fabulously entertaining book it was.  I took comfort in the idea that I was not alone.  I experience this gripping terror whenever I need to begin a writing assignment.  I can never understand why.  I love it once I get started, even if no one else will ever read it.  The practice of simply putting my thoughts down on "paper" helps me to clarify exactly what I am thinking.  So, why do I find everything else that I can possibly do before I sit down to begin?  I don't actually have a particular affinity for folding 11-15 loads of laundry at once or spending hours with shampoos, sheers, and scissors grooming my dog.  But, I'll busy myself doing these things, justifying to myself that they are really important and need to be done, RIGHT NOW.  I wait until the very last hour, when the deadline for my assignment is looming and I am starting to panic.  Then I sit down at my computer.  The first thing I do is open Facebook and go to my Secret Group.  My sisters and my two adult nieces are then bombarded with words.  Lots and lots of them.  I recently recognized this procrastination and have just realized that it is part of my routine.  Somehow, after writing a ridiculously long paragraph and posting it to my audience of 4, I am able to start working on my assignment.  The revelation?  That Facebook post is my warm-up.  It is that exercise of simply getting some words down.  I write, read, revise, re-read, revise, write more, revise and then post.  I feel sorry for these kind ladies, so I try to write with a bit of humor and amidst my complaining and procrastinating, I try to point out some bright spots.  And that is how it starts. 

Now, if I could figure out how it ends.  My dog just came by my office and informed me with her insistent whining that she needed to be let out.  I get up, she begins to run for the stairs, she quickly comes running back to make sure that I'm still with her.  I am.  She bounds up 12 of the 14 stairs and then stops, frozen.  She is crouched down and absolutely certain that she will fall to her doom if she attempts those last two steps.  There is nothing different about them.  They are just the last two that she needs to climb before she can make her way to freedom.  But, she is stuck.  I cajole her, tell her she's a good dog, I try to entice her up the last steps with a bribe, but, nothing.  I give in, pick her up and place her gently at the top of the stairs.  She then scampers off toward the door as if the terrifying event had never happened.  I think the end of my writing assignments are those last two stairs for me.  I haven't figured out yet what is going to come along and effortlessly carry me those last couple steps to my destination.