Literacy Now

Being a teacher means embracing constant change. Yet all too often, teachers are told when, how and why to change. In this monthly column, Mrs. Mimi takes on creating change for herself by rethinking old practices and redefining teaching on her own terms.

Come with me on a journey back in time to one of my favorite teaching moments ever. It was a beautiful spring day and despite the glorious distracting sunshine outside our window, my classroom was abuzz with the sounds of learning. My read aloud that day? Genius. That lesson on making connections across texts? A grand slam. The class project for the science fair? Someone show me the Nobel Prize. The four thousand inevitable classroom interruptions? Handled. Without batting an eye.

That magical day, the classroom organized itself, papers found themselves graded and filed, and the photocopier was working. And there wasn’t even a line!

I walked home that day half expecting birds to land on my shoulder as I burst into song.

What really happened? I went home to Mr. Mimi, who asked about my day, and said, “It was amazing.” To which he replied, “Because you’re amazing.” (Don’t you just love him?) To which I replied, “No, it was the kids. They’re amazing.”

Most teachers I know are extremely self-deprecating. We love to joke about how many chocolates we’ve eaten off the secretary’s desk (“Seriously, I am such a PIG!”), make fun of ourselves when we accidentally pack up the kids 20 minutes early (“Guess I need a lesson in how to tell time!”), and put down our own profession constantly (“It’s not like rocket science.”).

How many times have I overheard (or been a part of) the following conversation:

Teacher 1: That lesson was amazing! I loved how you incorporated that read aloud.
Teacher 2: Oh, well, my colleague and I wrote that lesson together.
Teacher 1: It was a great choice of read aloud. Such a lovely mentor text!
Teacher 2: Yeah, well, you know, the librarian pointed it out to me.
Teacher 1: And your kids! They were so engaged!
Teacher 2: I guess it’s just one of those days. Tomorrow will probably be a mess…

Hey, Teacher 2? JUST SAY “THANK YOU.”

Yes, your colleague worked on the lesson with you and yes, the librarian showed you a great book, but YOU made that lesson sing with your fabulousness. Own it.

You need to own it. Not only for your sense of self but for the kids. (I know. I just pulled the “do it for the kids” card…one of the lowest cards to pull on a teacher. Please know that I would not pull this card without just cause.)

As teachers, we need to own our expertise and not be so ready to throw the baby out with the bathwater every time a new-fangled curriculum or mandate comes along. Own what you know. Own your years of experience, your successes, your institutional knowledge. Own that “special something” that makes our job indescribable and impossible for anyone who has not walked in our shoes to understand.

Oh, and can you own it fast? Maybe you haven’t heard, but this little thing called The Common Core State Standards for English Language Arts and Literacy is coming and it’s already getting off the exit and is like ten minutes from your house, so you might want to roll out the welcome mat and put a fresh pot of coffee on.

Read the standards for which you will be responsible. I mean, really read them. Then read the standards for the grade levels above and below you. Now, get out your highlighter and/or favorite teacher pen (because I know you have one) and take notes. Underline words. Circle stuff. Do whatever you have to do to understand what is being asked of us in a deep, knowledgeable way.

And then, with the all the confidence you have mustered from owning what makes you a master of your craft, come to the table with a plan, an interpretation of the standards, a way of reaching this goal, something. Save the gossip and kvetching for a glass of “soda” with your colleagues (because you know Mrs. Mimi understands your need to vent, and vent you shall).

Stand up to own this change before someone with a power tie comes along and owns it for us.

Mrs. Mimi is a pseudonymous teacher who taught both first and second grades at a public elementary school in New York City. She's the author of IT'S NOT ALL FLOWERS AND SAUSAGES: MY ADVENTURES IN SECOND GRADE, which sprung from her popular blog of the same name. Mimi also has her doctorate in education from Teachers College, Columbia University.

Being a teacher means embracing constant change. Yet all too often, teachers are told when, how and why to change. In this monthly column, Mrs. Mimi takes on creating change for herself by rethinking old practices and redefining teaching on her own terms.

Elementary schools can be aggressively positive places. You turned in your homework on time? Gold star for you! You remembered to push in your chair without me asking? Here’s a scratch-and-sniff smiley face! You raised your hand before shouting out? Three cheers for you! Wait…did you just pass the eraser nicely to a friend? Someone get the prize box!

We, the teachers of the small fries, are so ready to celebrate any and all successes, that we occasionally turn a blind eye to those not-so-perfect moments.

I know we all have high aspirations for our students. We want them to meet the goals we set for them and more. We want them to feel successful, be lifelong learners, and all the stuff of deeply nerdy teacher dreams.

However, there were times in my classroom where I realized that these beautifully lofty visions for my students got in the way of seeing or hearing what was actually coming out of their mouths.

Let me give you an example from the early days of Mrs. Mimi’s teaching.

The scene: My classroom. My little friends are gathered on the carpet. We are halfway through my annual reading of CHARLOTTE’S WEB. We have just finished reading our chapter for the day and are deep into discussing connections to the text.

Friend: I can totally connect to Fern because I really love my cat and my mom doesn’t.

Me: Say more about that.

Friend: Well, Fern loved Wilbur a lot and fought to keep him even though her parents wanted to give him away because he was a runt.

Me: Yes! (Insert self-satisfied grin here…my kids are nailing this!) I like where you’re going. How does this connection help you to better understand the character?

Friend: Well, my mom doesn’t like my cat at all. But I do. Because she is really crazy and chases her tail and that makes me think that Fern thinks Wilbur is really funny when he chases his tail too.

Me: ???

Friend: So Fern and me both love our pets because loving your pets is important. I understand Fern better now.

Me: (sigh)

Frustrated, I moved on. Afraid to shut down this friend, I moved on. Unsure of how to handle this, I moved on. Unwilling to negate such an enthusiastic reply, I moved on. I made a mental note to address this issue with my friend at another time and…(you guessed it!) I moved on. And by moving on, I demonstrated my passive acceptance of this response.

The message to my friends? This answer is okay. It is acceptable and if I wasn’t holding the book and in the middle of a lesson, I would high five you and take you out for ice cream. When really? This is just a hop, skip, and a jump from saying, “Fern is wearing a blue shirt and I like blue shirts too!”

I realized that I was so ready to see my students as lifelong readers that I was willing to accept many responses that just weren’t quite up to snuff. I was so ready for them to be successful, that too often I let moments like this slide by rather than holding my friends accountable for giving a solid answer. I was so ready to be positive and supportive of their thinking that I didn’t adequately teach into their misunderstanding or miscommunication.

One day, after giving out more stickers than there are stars in the sky (and it was only 9:00!), I challenged myself to rethink these moments and found this bit of reflection had a profound impact on my teaching practice. Rather than simply state that my classroom was a place where all students were safe to try, experiment, succeed and sometimes fail, I had to actively make my classroom a place where these things could happen.

I had to take those I-have-a-pet-too moments, turn them on their head and model for students how to think through and respond to questions accurately and clearly. I had to push my friends to express themselves clearly rather than rely on what I wanted to hear them say or where I thought they might be going with a particular comment. I had to separate who I thought they could be from who they were in that moment, put down my stickers, and listen.

Mrs. Mimi is a pseudonymous teacher who taught both first and second grades at a public elementary school in New York City. She's the author of IT'S NOT ALL FLOWERS AND SAUSAGES: MY ADVENTURES IN SECOND GRADE, which sprung from her popular blog of the same name. Mimi also has her doctorate in education from Teachers College, Columbia University.