This is the latest in a series of blogs by partners of the Fluency work.
-- By Anna Malone Each of us has a story, an amalgamation of experiences spun together to create a unique lens that is undeniably our own. When one person takes the courage to open up, sharing their vulnerabilities and strengths, we grow collectively, deeply, and authentically. Learning about the life of another opens our worldview, challenges our thinking, and illuminates new pathways previously unreachable. This process can take place in our households, churches, and social circles as well as our classrooms if we as educators foster a conducive, safe environment. In my first year as a Graduate Assistant (GA) in the Teacher Education Program at West Liberty University, I collaborated with Gabrielle Burriss, then also a GA for the Teacher Education Program, and Dr. Sarah Schimmel, Teacher Education Program Director, to redesign the undergraduate course Instructional Technology to better suit the needs of current pre-service teachers. We decided to introduce the students to video editing and reflection, two critical skills needed for the summative assessment during residency, and task them with creating a video that explains why they would like to become an educator. In co-teaching this course, I was cordial to students, making small talk before class began, often about The Bachelor, of which we had a love hate relationship; however, I simply did not know them very well. What started as one assignment, a five-minute video, ended up teaching me more about these pre-service teachers than any conversation ever could. While watching their videos, I was amazed by the authenticity, depth, and creativity on display by each individual; their voices were filled with passion, hope, and optimism as they spoke of the teachers who inspired them, becoming the role model they did not have, their volunteer experiences that turned into a career path, and more. One student discussed their transition from the military to civilian life as a parent, while another spoke of the positive impact of being adopted. Yet another student recounted experiences with the inequity and racial divide of school districts in their hometown. I came to understand that each individual sitting in this class has a powerful voice. It was not my original intention; my objective was increasing exposure to filming, editing, and reflecting to prepare them for an assessment down the road. I am so thankful, however, that the results were much more significant because I learned a great deal about the importance of increasing student voice in the classroom that have left an indelible impression on my heart. Additionally, I am grateful to be a part of a group such as the Fluency Project cohort that fosters voice and inquiry amongst professionals and students. Links to Example Videos: Video 1 Video 2 Anna Malone is currently a second-year graduate student in the M.A.Ed. Reading Specialist program at West Liberty University. She also works as a Graduate Assistant in the Teacher Education Program at WLU and a substitute teacher with Ohio County Schools. Anna graduated from WLU with her Bachelor’s in Elementary Education with minors in special education and early childhood education in 2019. She is a member of Cohort 3 of The Data and Technology Fluency Project with West Liberty University and the CREATE Lab (situated in Carnegie Mellon University). Anna’s special interests including spending time with family and spoiling her niece and nephews.
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This is the latest in a series of blogs by partners of the Fluency work. -- By Kristen Fischer In this time of remote learning, as I sit in my empty classroom, heavily beige and completely windowless, it strikes me that I could really be sitting anywhere. Likewise, so could my students. Where would I like to be, if geography, travel, and other factors were not an issue? If I had no restrictions or obligations otherwise? Where would I go if I could teach from anywhere? I allowed my mind to wander on this topic for a while, and realized that my choice—shared and justified—revealed a lot about me. Likewise, I predicted I could learn a good bit about my students by asking them that question: Where would you choose to learn from, if you could be learning from anywhere? So, I decided to ask my incoming 11th grade American Literature students that question as our opening writing activity. There was one more thing, though—I didn’t want to be the only audience for their thoughts. I wanted to be able to collect all of our answers on a map that all students could then access. I pictured a map full of pins and the option to click on any one of them to learn about the person who put it there and why. With the help of Jess Kaminsky, I figured out how to make it happen with a Google Map; now, I have a map with an array of student posts, each with some media like a picture. And, not only have I learned about the students’ learning preferences and favorite places, but they have connected with each other in this way, too. The final part of the assignment involved reflecting on the map after browsing the pins and posts. Students recognized the quirky thinkers who want to learn from a zoo, and the introverts who want to learn in the mountains—or from the top of one; students recognized the beach-lovers, who want the white noise of the waves and warmth of the sand, and the adventurers, who want to work by day but hike glaciers or watch the aurora borealis by night. Teaching remotely has presented no shortage of challenges, constraints, and disappointments; lots of outcomes have fallen short of my visions and what used to be easy (showing a dvd! performing scenes from a play! jigsaws!) present unexpected and sometimes bewildering difficulties. However, in some cases, I’ve created activities and adapted assignments that I’m really happy with—activities and assignments that are better than their predecessors, and only emerged due to this unique set of circumstances. It’s these successes that are more important than ever to recognize, and reflecting on this one reinforces to me the value of learning opportunities rooted in authentic experiences and authentic questions. Sometimes, the debates I’m having in my head or the questions I’m asking myself are great inspiration for classroom inquiry. Kristen Fischer teaches English (and electives including Photojournalism) at Carlynton Junior-Senior High School in Carnegie, Pennsylvania, where she also coaches track & field, especially triple jumpers. She is a graduate of Clarion University and Georgetown University, and a member of Cohort 1 of the Fluency Project. She enjoys biking and hiking, especially when joined by her husband and three kids. This is the latest in a series of blogs by partners of the Fluency work.
-- By Autumn Troullos As part of the Fluency Project and having gone through the National Board process, I have discovered that good practices look the same in each platform. What is different is the person I am at each moment in time. The National Board process planted the seeds for reflection; the importance of knowing my students; setting goals, evaluating my progress, then setting new goals. Through Fluency I was able to look through the lens of educators who taught students and subjects far different than mine and use strategies I had not imagined in my own corner of the world. During the spring the connections I made launched me to another level as I worked with my Fluency colleague Jess Kaminsky to co-write a blog which inspired workshops co-hosted along with MaryLu Hutchins entitled #thenewhomeroom. To date we have recorded or scheduled five (!) different versions! I am so thankful for each opportunity that I have been given as each one is a fresh chance for me to grow upon the work I have already done. Being the oldest of three children, I have always considered myself a natural teacher. I thrived on helping others in and out of my home on all things academic. Instinctively I knew the content but I also knew the stories of my “students.” I knew what worked to motivate each one to do better-- for my brother it was shaming his laziness (Definitely not a good practice, but I was a child!) and for my sister it was praise because even attaining “average” was a struggle for her. In all seriousness, though, I understood that I needed to have knowledge of each individual person in order to try and help each one. Fast forward several to my teaching career and my bright idea to go through the process to become a National Board Certified Teacher. It was there that I received confirmation that, yes indeed, knowledge of students is the gold standard for accomplished teaching. Being a math teacher with no wiggle room for anything that was not math, I knew my kids as best as I could (or so I thought) through some interest inventories administered at the start of the school year, paying attention to who was involved in what activities outside of class, and listening to my guidance counselor give valuable information about students having traumatic experiences. The best information came from my best friend and coworker, who happened to be the Reading/Language Arts teacher. She always had the best, most intimate details about students through journal entries, class discussions, and essays. I was so jealous that she could work that into her content so easily and seamlessly. Although I was thankful she shared such information so I could know and understand my students, it did not feel authentic. They were not sharing that delicate material with ME. I received it secondhand and I felt like an eavesdropper. But because of the tremendous pressure I felt as a math teacher to have students achieve their very best, I could not justify taking precious class time to ask these questions myself. Nope, I could not spare any time at all getting to know my students and allowing them to get to know me because I could definitely teach so much more by utilizing every second of my class time for math. That is, until I was invited to join the Fluency Project. I began talking to other teachers from different subjects, different grades, and different states. I talked to people who were not classroom teachers, but were vested in education. The energy and inspiration I acquired just from one day every other month was invaluable to me and my students. I spent a year pouring over National Board standards, videotaping my classes, writing papers upon papers after analyzing every single breath I took, but that was not as powerful to me as the Fluency Project. Through the Fluency Project I learned from teachers who took the time to genuinely know their entire students, not just who they are academically. That’s right--I took CLASS TIME (!) to talk with my students about what was going on in life, how they were doing, and the like. I allowed myself and my students to breathe and acknowledge that we are humans with feelings, ideas, and worries that did not revolve around math. Through our communications, my students started to see me as a real person, too. With all my imperfections, worries, shortcomings, and trauma that I shared with them, I allowed myself to be vulnerable. This was the most powerful strategy I have ever used in my room. Genuinely developing communication between me and my students, and although it took a little time from math class, the positive return on OUR learning was extraordinary. Take for instance Declan*. He was new to the district and did not come with a glowing reputation. It took some time, but Declan let his guard down and told me all about his absent mother, his love of hunting, his desire to be a runner and to own his own garage where he fixes cars when he grows up. Declan spent time in a juvenile detention center at the beginning of the year for crimes he committed the previous spring. In preparation for his time away, he asked me to give him extra math work so he didn’t fall behind while serving his time. He came back from the detention center and he fell right back into step in math class. He actually was one of my best math students in the class. The following year he used his one elective class to sign up for my Mindfulness class. He put as much effort into mindfulness as he did math, and I could not have been any prouder of him. Michael* is another great example. Michael was nowhere on my radar for being at risk for anything negative at all. He had a loving and supportive family, great grades, and was very active in a baseball team outside school. He and I got along fine, but I didn’t realize the extent to which he grew to trust me. It wasn’t until I went to pay my utility bill that the man noticed my very uncommon last name and asked if I was a teacher. A conversation followed and he told me that his neighbor, Michael, started loving school again because he really connected with his math teacher--me! Shayla* was a very quiet girl in school. She rarely contributed to any discussions and would never ask questions. Her work was far below average. No matter what approach I took, Shayla was not making much progress. So, I privately asked her to come up and have lunch with me one day. She revealed to me that she started falling behind in math around fifth grade because of a lot of turmoil at home. She was always playing catch up and felt like she was always treading water in math because she was lacking a strong foundation. Shayla and I started having a working lunch together once a week so I could do some background work with her for the upcoming week. If she felt overwhelmed, she would slip me a note asking to come in and work some more, or ask for work to take home. To an outsider her grades may have looked mediocre at best, but she worked so hard for the grades she earned and we both were extremely proud of her progress. I share these three stories although there are many times more successful stories just like these. Without the research shared, the people involved, and the support provided from the Fluency Project, my students and I would not have grown academically and humanly as much as we did. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to learn and share with other educators. The impact the Fluency Project had on me positively touched so many lives. I am eagerly looking forward to the next opportunity in my life which will help me to grow. *Student names and identifying characteristics have been changed. Autumn Troullos graduated from Ohio University’s Eastern campus in 2002 with a major in Middle Childhood Education (concentration in Math and Social Studies) and a minor in Mathematics. Her Master’s degree in Instructional Communication was earned at WVU. She earned National Board Certification in 2013. Autumn began her career as a teacher at St. Mary Central. From there she taught at Warwood School and Bridge Street Middle School in Ohio County. Currently she is teaching 8th grade Math and Mindfulness at Union Local Middle School. Autumn has been engaged in researching mindfulness and its benefits and incorporating mindfulness into the classroom. She has joined a National Board cohort as a mentor. Autumn currently is a member of Cohort 4 of The Data and Technology Fluency Project with West Liberty University and the CREATE Lab (situated in Carnegie Mellon University). Her special interests include yoga, reading, plants, learning, and her family. This is the latest in a series of blogs by partners of the Fluency work.
-- By Heidi Hohman Connections are how I make sense of the world. I am an observer and an analyzer by nature. It is what I do to process new ideas and challenges. I find ways to link them to concepts, ideas, events and past experiences. It pleases me when I find connections between the familiar and the unfamiliar. It does not always happen, but when it does, life is good for me. This summer I worked with many wonderful colleagues to prepare awareness and support sessions about the National Board Certification process through the West Virginia Department of Education. It was a bit overwhelming to plan a virtual conference, but we were thrilled that over one hundred participants joined us to learn about this worthwhile undertaking. The work these National Board candidates are pursuing is thoughtful and deep. They will ponder their relationships with their students, their students' families, their colleagues and their communities. They will question what they think they know about their students’ social and emotional levels and needs as well as their cognitive abilities and possibilities. They will analyze their knowledge of the subject matter they teach and they will contemplate how they teach and why they teach the way they do. They will make decisions for their students and then critically examine the results. Candidates will monitor students’ learning and use their observations to inform future learning and teaching. Many of them will come together with other educators and participate in cohorts to discuss their practices. They will listen. They will write and reflect. At times they will feel challenged, overwhelmed, excited, confused, overjoyed, and ultimately changed by the process. The previous paragraph was about the work of the National Board, but I could have written it about The Data and Technology Fluency Project! The similarities are uncanny. Think about the work we have done through Fluency. All of us are thoughtfully contemplating our practices, we are listening to one another and learning by participating in our Fluency community, and we are making changes to open the world to our students. We are doing important work. Making connections brings me comfort and helps me move forward especially now in today’s world. Perhaps my words will help you make a connection between the work of the National Board and the work you are already doing through Fluency. I am wishing and hoping you will find connections and inspiration throughout the school year to come. Heidi Hohman is a graduate of West Liberty with a major in elementary education and a minor in general science. She earned a Masters in reading from WVU. She began a career as a fourth grade teacher at St. Mary Central in Martins Ferry, spent 14 years teaching science at Triadelphia Middle School, and has seen her career come full circle as she returned to teaching fourth grade at Steenrod Elementary. Heidi renewed her National Board certification in 2018. She is currently a member of Cohort 3 of The Data and Technology Fluency Project with West Liberty University and the CREATE Lab. This is the latest in a series of blogs by partners of the Fluency work. -- Over the last few weeks, even more educators have grown #TheNewHomeroom project even bigger by adding their beliefs and dreams to this conversation (you can see previous additions to this work here and here). Teachers at a school district in Ohio and another in Pennsylvania joined this work during their first days back for the 2020-2021 school year, intentionally making time to breath, reflect, and vision together. Another group of educators collaborated across districts in August to build their version of #TheNewHomeroom. This group was unique in bringing together teachers across grade levels an across generations. One participant, now retired but still just as invested in education, joined alongside his former student who is an elementary teacher herself. It was a strong reminder of the legacy that we can build through education, and the collegiality that's critical to the health of educators. Below are the values and actions generated by this cross-district group in August for #TheNewHomeroom. Thank you to T~L Rogers, Laurie Ruberg, Eric Trio, Riley Carpenter, Lori Dougherty, Jordan Robinson, Isabella Droginske, Jonna Kuskey, Lou Volpe, Quenton North, Natalie Bigelow, and Rachel Miller for sharing your dreams for teaching and learning!
This is the latest in a series of blogs by partners of the Fluency work.
-- By Bea Dias (with editing support form Michelle and Jess <3) Lately, I have been grappling with language, and how my own words often work to dehumanize and shame myself. I have engaged in a process of decolonizing my mind, which includes shifting the language I use. As a brown woman who grew up in South Asia - aka “the third world” - I realize that much of the language I have adopted is from a colonial, white supremacist gaze. It is not so much in how language is constructed, but more so the meaning embedded or encoded in the words we use. Words matter, and how we utilize the tool of language informs the way we see and experience the world. A vivid example of this from my childhood was the equation of “beautiful” with fair or light skin. This type of code is employed in many fairy tales as well, where the princess character is often described as “fair”. What is less explicit is the implication for those who are not seen as “fair”. This is where my own internalized oppression primarily occurs. If my embodiment is not encoded in the language that describes positive attributes, then I must represent deficit. This reflection has left me wondering about the standardization of whiteness and maleness and ability and heterosexuality (among other dominant identities) in our language. Constructing meaning this way creates at its base a dialect of deficit for those considered “other than” the norm. Personal stories like mine are not isolated incidents - they are indicative of a broader system designed to marginalize ‘otherness’ and normalize power. How often have we placed qualifications such as “good” or “normal” on neighborhoods, schools, and student behavior? What do those spaces and activities look like? For example, who is excluded from our images of a “good neighborhood” and who is included? These are some of the questions I am following to interrogate my own internalized, skewed perceptions of the world. Given the current pandemic and transitioning plans for school, there is often conversation about students being “behind” or having to “catch up”. I use quotations for this terminology because I am wrestling with what those terms actually mean. The question that comes up for me is: “Whom or what are we trying to catch up to, and why?”. On the one hand, I understand the role of benchmarks in learning, and on the other hand I wonder what this type of deficit dialect signals to our children and to each of us (parents, teachers, community members, etc.). Perhaps, we might reprogram language to honor us as we are in the present moment, to inspire rather than to judge. This might relieve some of the pressure we feel to “perform”, and leave us more space to be curious and reflective. In my pursuit of lifelong learning, I realize there is so much I need to first unlearn or revisit through a different lens. In terms of language, this presents me with an opportunity to reprogram and play with words I use, so that they might empower and liberate my dreamscape of the world. As a parent, I am trying to see my child as a person full of genius insight, because he is my mirror and my teacher. There are moments when I can offer him ideas or questions to ponder, and he will absorb my words (or ignore them), and construct his own knowledge. As an adult, when I see young children, can I see them as budding geniuses ready to absorb and process new information? Can I see myself as full of wisdom and power? Everything might be relative, but who or what is our basis for relating to the world? This could be a place for us to shift our thinking, and move away from deficit dialects so that we can embrace language of liberation. Maybe in our reimagined freedom tales, the dark-skinned beauty wields their magical stone to help us touch and smell and feel true liberation. “The opposite of oppression is creativity.” ~ Liana Maneese M. Beatrice Dias (Bea), Ph.D. is the Co-Director of Outreach for the CMU CREATE Lab. Her work focuses on engaging with different communities of practice to explore the role of technology in society. Bea earned her undergraduate degree from Hamilton College in Clinton, New York. Following college, she worked in the private sector for two years before moving to Pittsburgh to complete her Ph.D. in Engineering and Public Policy at Carnegie Mellon University (CMU). Bea embraces joy, believes in our collective wisdom and practices freedom-dreaming. She is the proud mama of a 9-year-old and is part of a very big Sri Lankan family. |
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