(I’m tired and feeling sick and probably shouldn’t be blogging. But there is a lot on my mind today, and I need to get some of the things out of it so that I can sleep. So.)

*coughs*

Ahem.

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I like brainstorming for my classes. Lesson planning, when you have enough time and some good resources to help spark your creative process, can be awesome.

My plans absolutely should get better from year to year – more engaging activities, better focus on problem solving, more in-tune with the students I have in my class. I should be rethinking and revising the curriculum, even if I do so in baby steps. I can do that! Every teacher should be doing that! That’s one part of my job I feel excited about and in control of.

But the plan is not the thing.

Because the plans might have gotten better, but each interaction with a student only happens once. So much of this job is about knowing our students as individual learners and making sure that what happens on their end is what we were aiming for. That takes a lot of work, there are a ton of variables, and it doesn’t feel like something that’s easy to plan for. Execution is hard. Also, it’s exhausting because unlike the plans that can “get better” from year to year, it’s something we start from scratch with each student, each year. It takes time to learn who your students are, build rapport, understand the dynamics of each class, and orchestrate an environment that pushes each kid. All of this, each year, from scratch, while staying positive every day and making each moment count regardless of anything else that is going on your life as an actual human being and not just a math teacher.

I know I am never going to “perfect” the human element of this job. It’s always going to be challenging. I just wish people running the show could see that that’s the part I need help with!

As Jason said in a post last month, “the idea is the easy part.“

Everyone has ideas. My question isn’t about his idea it’s about his willingness to put the work in to make it happen and keep it happening.

You’ve got an idea? So do a million other people. Let’s stop celebrating ideas. Celebrate those standing waste deep in the muck with dirt in their nails and sweat on their face.

This job isn’t just about thought, it’s about action. Conversations around innovation by the adults in the building are important, but reflective practice is just as important as new ideas in creating change where it matters – in the end result for the students.

Stop giving me ideas – I’ve got plenty. The next big thing isn’t going to solve all of my problems. Start helping me get better as a teacher in action and supporting me in what will always be one of the hardest parts of this job – doing it.

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(I promised myself I would cut back on complaining and this is a very whiny post so maybe when I’m feeling better I’ll get back to writing about what’s going on in my classes these days (trig! exponential functions! logarithms! matrices!))

From Mike Caulfield’s blog - Thoughts on To Save Everything, Click Here

What Morozov demonstrates brilliantly is not only are we are often solving problems with inappropriate solutions, but in our rush to find solutions for these problems we are short-circuiting debate on what the problems actually are, and addressing things as problems that might in fact be features or compromises that make the  system work.

This thought stuck in my brain, and is still stuck.

Sometimes I listen to everyone talking talking talking about change/”innovation” and ache for us to take a moment to slow down and understand what it is we’re already doing. If we don’t truly know ourselves now, how do we know what needs to change? How do we know what effects change will have?

There is plenty of tension that lies in the middle of competing aims for our schools. More of one thing often means less of another. Our priorities (as teachers and school leaders trying to challenge, nurture, and transform students) should not be shifting according to the relative shininess of new ideas, but should instead be determined through honest assessment of where we are, where we want to be, and the gap between the two.

So.

This is my fourth year teaching at my school. Have I said that already? I’ve said that already.

It’s spring break and my brain is bit dusty. I’ve been watching a heck of a lot of Doctor Who.

It’s an entertaining show. (But I’m not writing a post about it, nerds, don’t panic!)

I notice that frequently in good television shows, there is some kind of season long “arc” - a theme, a “big bad” that has to be defeated, an emotional center to the drama, or even just a word to sum up the story that is unfolding that year.

I think the same could probably be said for each of the “seasons” of my teaching career so far. Year one: jumping in - forcing me (stubborn, “I’ll figure it out on my own,” generally introverted me) to fearlessly admit how little I knew so I could watch, ask, and learn. Year two was a battle to reconcile my perfectionist tendencies with the messiness of classroom teaching so that I could learn to recognize and celebrate (what felt like incredibly slow) growth. Year three was all about collaboration. But this year?

Well. I am missing some of that dizzying, creative juice that comes with prepping new courses. I have taught both of these classes before. I don’t come home and spend hours with 5 textbooks spread out on my bed and 15 blog posts open in different windows on my computer as I try to conceptualize each new unit. For a while this felt weird… wasn’t that what teaching was supposed to feel like? Sure, I developed some new activities and tweaked the old, but it felt a bit like cheating. What I’ve realized is that this year all of that energy I used to burn at night, alone, got pulled with me into my actual teaching day. My interactions with students are sharper, my questions are (slowly) getting better, and I feel more skilled in my ability to execute the things I have planned. All of my focus is on the action of the classroom and my interactions with students – I’m listening more, capitalizing on tiny moments, building relationships, and pushing. I have stopped seeing the year as a bus full of students I drive from point A to point B and instead have [tried to] really see each student as an individual learner with different strengths and weaknesses, and a unique trajectory of growth as they spend a year inside my class.

I wrote some thoughts about this in a sprawling, messy document to myself a couple of months ago:

In class – in instruction – we MUST tap into what is special about having 20 humans occupying the same room. Think bigger. Think backwards.  Think about this CONSTANTLY when designing lessons. It should be the benchmark… if students could do it alone (ex: watch playback of a lecture-style lesson, read silently, work problems silently) then it’s not right for in-class time. (note: that doesn’t always mean it’s not good or worthwhile.)

PLAY: create experiences for students to engage with content and get out of the way. Be comfortable with more open-ended, messy process (Grades get in the way of this?)

Class should have more: Making, touching, talking! DO something.

Students don’t all have to get the same thing out of these experiences. They already don’t anyway.

So. I don’t know. Perhaps year four is about the small things, those “push” points. The individual experiences of each of my students – moments where J. jumps right in to figure something out, when S. has a true “lightbulb moment” as something finally clicks, R. explains something to a classmate brilliantly, M. shows such dogged determination in her pursuit of deeper understanding, or G. and E. perfectly model what it means to work together on a problem. Those things.

And my hand in making them happen. Now. How do I keep creating opportunities for those moments?

I originally logged on here to write a post about one thing, and it turned into something else entirely. Okay. Well.

When I think about how much I have changed since my first day in my own classroom, it is more surprising than I realize. I am someone who is very critical of herself, so it’s hard for me to sit back and recognize or celebrate that growth. But over the past few years, I have grown rapidly in my ideas about what good teaching looks like, tapped into a growing pool of resources to help plan my classes, developed a toolbelt of strategies for classroom management, and overall worked to establish myself as the kind of math teacher I want to be.

Experience is hard-earned – it is the sum of tiny moments day-in, day-out that – at the time – can range anywhere from completely insignificant to completely overwhelming. And the pace we keep as teachers means that often we don’t have the time to see the ways each day changes us. But this has been a good year for me – the first year I’ve had a chance to teach any class for a second time – and this has meant that I can more easily see the ways in which experience is allowing me to fine-tune my interactions with students, my crafting of a good lesson, my leading a classroom discussion.

The other thing that a few years of experience has afforded me – something significant but not at all “glamorous” – are the routines and organizational systems I have established that make the million tiny things we have to do each day as teachers a little more manageable. I was reflecting on this the other day, and thought it might be worthwhile to write about some of these. It’s silly, but these are patterns in my working day that have helped feel saner, stay organized, and allow me to spend more time doing the stuff that actually matters – working with my students to explore mathematics and help them become curious, compassionate young adults.

(p.s. I started this post before break and now it’s break and I am finishing it and realize it’s pretty freaking boring so maybe if you read the whole thing you win a prize? I hope you find at least one useful idea or organizational strategy in here…)

to-do lists

I keep 2 different running to-do lists on the “stickies” program on my macbook. One is a longer list with any item I need to take care of, organized into different categories (advisory, alg 2 trig honors, precalculus, math dept, softball, rec letters, general.) This list is usually pretty overwhelming, so I keep a second list of “action items” that help me focus on the immediate tasks that need to be handled each day. I typically update this list either at the end of the work day (to help me focus when I get to work the next morning) or at the beginning of any chunk of planning time – so I don’t get distracted by emails or interruptions by students or colleagues. Deleting each item is far less satisfying than crossing it off a list, but the digital system works much better for me than a paper one.

agendas

I do my planning for my classes well before the beginning of each unit, but as I move through the day-to-day I need one place where the day’s plans for each period are collected. We have a weird rotating schedule at my school (7 periods, 5 of which meet each day, for a 6 day rotation – each day is lettered “A” through “F.” yeah. I know.) so there are some days where it gets pretty confusing keeping track of where in the “cycle” I am with each class. My solution has been to keep a running sticky note with the date, day, letter day, and periods that meet with the agenda for each. Each morning, I copy the agenda to the whiteboard at the front of the room and my classes are used to checking the agenda to see what we’re going to be doing each day. Honestly, though, it helps me more than it helps them – I usually have a few different things planned for each period, and it cuts down the transition time between each activity and helps me stay on track.

(Our crazy schedule)

gradebook

I do keep a paper copy of my gradebook – it’s far easier for me to quickly record grades as well as checks for homework completion given the frustrating program we are required to use to input grades digitally. This year I made a customized grade sheet template for each class and printed it on cardstock with a different color for each class. Free and easy.

missed work

I always make exactly the number of copies I need for each handout, worksheet, quiz, or test. It makes it easier for me to remember to touch base with the absent students. For class handouts, I immediately write the name of the missing student on the top of the papers after passing things out, and put the work in the student mailboxes downstairs in the commons. If the student missed a quiz or test, I write their name on it and put it in a pink folder that I carry with me in my blue work bag.

traveling teacher

So I am lucky to have a beautiful, awesome classroom mostly to myself this year, but it does get used during 2 periods of the day when I am not teaching – for a study hall and for the yearbook class. Most teachers at my school who get booted from a classroom for any portion of the day have a cubicle space where they can go to work during that time. So, my second home is in the “math cubes” downstairs (next to Molly, Julie, and @tieandjeans when he decides he has time to hang out on West Campus.) The change of scenery can be good for collaboration and puts me nearer to a copier, but it means I have to be able to pack up everything I might need for my planning periods and be fully mobile between the 2 locations. So, in my blue work bag I have: a pencil bag, a calculator, any papers that need grading (binder clipped together of course), my pink folder, my laptop, and a binder with all of my teacher notes. In the binder, I have different tabs for planning, notes, and assessments for both of my preps, and a pocket in front for the colored grade sheets. When I finish each unit, I transfer all of the plans, notes, and assessments to 4 bigger binders that I keep in the cubes. This means I can travel with pretty much everything I need to plan and prep my classes for the day-to-day.

(Old cube spot – before I moved and added a few more cartoon drawings of eggs with legs.)

assignment calendars

For the first few years, I made and printed assignment calendars for each unit in each of my classes. This was helpful for me especially when I was prepping a new course (which was like, every year except for this year.) It gave me a sense of how things for each unit would space out across weekdays and “letter days,” and helped me communicate to students what the next few weeks in math class would look like. The frustrating thing about printed calendars was that they were fixed – and since it was always my first time teaching a unit, I got a lot of things wrong. Some lessons just needed more time so we could stew in really good conversations about difficult topics, and other lessons were flops and I needed to recalibrate my plans for homework and the next few days. This year, my school mandated that we post assignments through the same centralized system we use to keep students schedules, post grades, take attendance, etc. At first it was incredibly frustrating because you have to click like a million different buttons to make things show up the way you want them to, but I have found I like the freedom of posting assignments online. Students have a one-stop-shop to check assignments for all classes, and I can make a quick change without having to re-type and print calendars. I also like that through this system I can upload handouts for any assignment so that absent/unorganized students can print themselves a copy of anything they are missing by just clicking on the assignment details.

(one of my course pages – no assignments because we’re on spring break.)

class wikis

For each of my classes, I have a wiki where I post the filled in “teacher notes” and homework solutions for each topic, as well as review guides and solutions. This has been a HUGE help to me for the past few years in so many different ways. Absent students have used it to get notes they missed from class, students who would rather engage verbally in class and limit their writing (when it makes sense for their learning) have easy access to reliable notes from class that they can make use of later. Any time we are reviewing I post the solutions on the wiki so that students can check their work as they go, and often include answers to any extra practice sheets I can find. In my Precalculus class, I “pre-post” all homework solutions and students are expected to check their work before coming to class and be prepared to ask questions. There are plenty of things we do in class that I don’t post to the wiki – warmups, more discovery-based activities, partner practice, etc. (mostly so that it doesn’t get too cluttered) but it has been SO great for students to have access to anything they might need from class. It means they are less reliant on me for answer keys, etc. and they can take more ownership over any of the studying/corrections/extra practice they need to do to master a topic.

Feel free to take a look, but don’t judge me too harshly. Very little of the spirit of my classroom is captured in these static documents: Ms. Kernodle’s Website

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There are plenty of other “routines” to my day – the silent pre-dawn carpool with Molly, the morning cup of faculty room coffee, coming up with adjectives for the letter day in advisory, stealing any carby foods up for the taking in the faculty lounge, debriefing the morning with my cubemates at break, singing and humming while making copies, sitting by the “fire” (aka the space heater in my freezing classroom) with Molly while we eat lunch, walking up and down and up and down the stairs 100 times as I travel from cubes to classroom and back, and so many more. They stabilize me, orient me, and help me tackle the day.

Because in reality, with teaching… there’s rarely routine. I am (usually) thankful for a job where every new day brings some fresh, exciting (or exhausting) challenge waiting to be tackled.

Two weeks ago in my Algebra 2 Trig Honors class we were finishing up our unit on rational expressions, equations, and functions. In past years, students at this level had focused on graphing only simple rational functions – transformations of y=1/x. (In Precalculus, students are exposed to general rational functions.) I was feeling frustrated, though, at how limited this approach felt – I didn’t want students to be misled into ignoring the big vast ocean full of rational functions after looking at a goldfish bowl-sized sample. (Questions like: “so it will always look like this?” were driving me crazy.) But at the same time, I didn’t want to bog them down with a tedious approach to graphing general cases by hand. I just wanted my students to get a feel for all of the different crazy shapes these graphs can make, notice patterns, and begin the process of generalizing.

Last year I had included an investigation of general rational functions using Wolfram Alpha on a homework assignment. In hindsight, leaving this activity for homework wasn’t a good call – there wasn’t enough time for thoughtful follow-up, and by having students work alone they missed out on the magic of discussing their findings with others and building understanding together. So this year, I took an extra class day to allow students time to play around with more complicated rational functions on the Desmos calculator. (Which I am a little bit in love with.)

In my 2nd period class, I didn’t do a great job of setting up and explaining what I had envisioned for the hour. I showed them the Desmos calculator, told them they should be graphing a variety of rational functions, and gave them a sheet with 4 specific examples with bullet points for guided questions underneath to use as a framework for their investigation. On the back board, I had written “What do you notice/what are you wondering about…” with different categories for them to record some of their findings throughout the hour. The idea was that throughout class, I would circulate and peek in on their conversations, help answer some questions or poke at their thinking a bit, they would record their observations and questions on the back board, and at the end of class we’d save 10 minutes to discuss our findings on the board.

As I turned students loose to begin working, some problems became evident pretty quickly. While students were comfortable recognizing the one vertical and one horizontal asymptote for simple rational functions, they couldn’t “see” the asymptotes for the more complicated graphs. This to me indicated that they didn’t have a good enough understanding of what an asymptote truly was, but instead had mastered an algorithm for graphing the simple rational functions. I tried to chat with groups of students to see where the disconnect was, and I encouraged students to graph the lines that they visually predicted were asymptotes – then connect that to the algebra of each function. I also realized I had not done a good job explaining or modeling the way they should record what they noticed/wondered on the back board – I ended up with lots of random pictures and little interpretation or generalizations. I also did a horrible job keeping track of the timing of the class. It became clear we weren’t going to have the 10 minutes I wanted at the end of class to pull together our big findings – instead, I had to take pictures of the back board and wait until the next day to summarize their investigation.

There were more nuanced conversations than the sloppy work on the board indicated, but overall I wasn’t happy with the way things had gone. I didn’t feel like we had arrived at enough clarity or closure for the big ideas I wanted them to be tackling.

Lucky for me, I learned a bit from my mistakes and in my 4th period class I did a MUCH better job of setting up the activity. I graphed the first specific example on Desmos, talked through how I could visually “see” the 2 vertical asymptotes and 1 horizontal asymptote, showed them to graph those lines to confirm the asymptotic behavior, returned to the algebra of the example function to make connections between the algebra and the graph, then added a generalization to the board of noticing/wondering.

During this hour, the students did a better job of working together, asked me fewer questions, and were more able to generalize their findings. They even surprised me with some observations I was *not* expecting them to make (see the last one under “V.A.”) and a few students figured out how to use sliders with Desmos to more efficiently explore how changing different bits of the function they graphed would impact its shape. You can tell by looking at their noticings/wonderings how much more successful my second shot at this lesson was. During the follow-up conversation at the end of class, I addressed all of the points on the board, asked for students to help respond to some of the questions, and felt that the majority of students left with a better understanding of both the important features of these graphs and how the algebra of the functions controls their shape.

Since I first started this post a week ago (sorry, February is the worst), I have now given the test for this unit. General rational functions were not tested (only transformations of y=1/x), but I did decide to include a question that had students explain the shape of the parent function y=1/x. It was a great way for me to see if all of the investigation and conversation about the shapes of the graphs had paid off… were my students more “mathematically fluent” in the vocabulary and ideas associated with rational functions? I did have some very strong responses, and I’ve included my favorite below.

I’m sure there are ways for me to tweak and improve upon this lesson for future classes, but I was happy with the chance it afforded students to talk, play, investigate, and generalize.

I have written about this before, but I am incredibly lucky to have a colleague in my department who is also a very close friend outside of work. It would take pages to list the ways she has helped me to grow professionally – both as we work together to plan our courses, and in the way we rely on each others’ advice to navigate the different situations that arise each day as a matter of course.

One thing that Molly started doing in the fall was taking time each day to focus on one positive thing that happened, then writing it down – to put in a jar labeled with the quote “every day may not be good, but there is something good thing in every day.”

Throughout the fall, we sometimes shared our “good things” from the day – and I found it to be not only a nice thing to do (it’s therapeutic to talk about your day with someone), but actually a way to keep me really focused on the positive: a reminder of  how our small daily interactions can actually have meaningful consequences. On the hardest teaching days, sifting through to remember those good things can be a way to make sure the stress, the exhaustion, and the various tough situations we face as teachers don’t drown out the small moments that are gems.

So, I stole the idea (something I find myself doing frequently – it’s nice to be surrounded by creative, intelligent people!) and made it social and collaborative. The group blog one good thing is a shared space where we are just beginning to collect our teaching stories. Right now, there’s a small group of authors (a couple of my colleagues, a couple of math twitter friends, and a friend from college) who are challenging themselves to reflect on – and document – that one good thing. If you’d like to participate and post to the blog, just let me know. I think it’s going to be a worthwhile endeavor.

You might leave a couple of students in your classroom during your planning period while you go print something, and return to find your desk in another location and two smug looking students working on Precalculus like nothing at all has happened in your absence.

On occasion, your Algebra 2 Trig Honors class might walk into your room in a particularly goofy mood and get all kinds of distracted seeking your permission to dress Gary (class pet, pictured below) up for Halloween.

If you’re lucky, you might get a gift from a student who was a gift of a student. You’ll reflect on how much she has grown from sophomore to senior year and hope that maybe you played some small role in that.

Every day, you will arrive by 6:45, throw yourself into the tornado of gradingplanningcopying, have some big moments and some small ones. You’ll get frustrated and feel behind, you’ll wonder if you’re doing anything unique or important at all. You’ll forget what it’s like to go to the bathroom or eat when you want to, you’ll drink too much coffee and dance around the classroom and laugh at your goofy hilarious students. You’ll find it harder to work with the adults in the building than the kids (on occasion), you’ll drown in emails, you’ll learn to speak a foreign language (“check whipple hill” “it’s on the wiki” “tomorrow is a d day so we’ll have town meeting after blue period”) You’ll stay late and think about your students all evening and everything you read or watch will make you think about teaching.

You’ll probably hate it, but you’ll probably love it too. Good luck.

Well, the year is good and under way. I don’t think the calendar is just having a laugh at my expense – it actually IS October, believe it or not.

September is always a hectic, overwhelming month at work, but things were especially busy for me this year because I was traveling for weddings galore! The year at school started well, though – I felt like the comfortable classroom climate “clicked” a little earlier than usual this year, and I have been impressed at how my students have jumped right into working with each other (both inside and outside of class) and seeking me out for extra help consistently and early when they are struggling. Extra help was chaotic and draining for the first couple of weeks of school, but I kept telling myself that every minute I spent early on meeting my students where they were and helping them rise to my high expectations would pay off dividends for the remainder of the year.

This has already proved to be the case in my two Precalculus classes – after finishing the first unit (a review of fundamental algebra skills that can be challenging for those walking in with a rocky foundation) we spent the next two days with a focus on problem solving. It was actually Molly’s idea that this year after each unit test, we will spend 1-2 days on problem solving – problems that either build off course concepts, or serve as stand-alone explorations of interesting topics. The goal was to help students THINK mathematically and embrace challenge; to encourage them to spend less time doing the procedural part of math (“carry out the plan”) and more time doing the interesting part (“ask the question,” “understand the question,” “come up with a plan,” “extend.”)

So for the first problem solving lesson, we kicked it off by having some fun with Dan’s “bean counting.” I made students give me a quick estimate after watching the first video (before trying to do anything mathematical to solve the problem), and I enjoyed gently ribbing the students who estimated a combined time that was slower than Chris’s 5.6 minute solo time. We did some math. We talked about Polya. They were really interested in what Dan and Chris were listening to.

After exhausting bean counting and the extension (by the way, Dan, the 4 groups that correctly got the extension with no help from me literally SCREAMED and high-fived each other when I played the answer video), I split students into 5 groups, each group tackling one type of modeling problem (drawing a diagram, a number riddle, a rate/time problem, a money problem, and a mixture problem.) They had the remainder of class to work with their group to solve the problem. I tried my best to resist jumping in to help when groups were stuck – encouraging them to keep talking and writing things down, but staying out of the way so that they could have an authentic problem solving experience. This is one of the biggest differences that the confidence from a few years teaching has given me: the ability to discern when students’ struggle is productive struggle, and an arsenal of prodding questions to keep them going when they start spinning their wheels.

For homework each group was tasked with finishing their problem (if they hadn’t been able to do so in class) and preparing to teach the class their problem the next day. I told them they needed to take this seriously – since it was their only homework, I had high expectations about what that teaching would look like.

The next day in class, I gave students about 5 minutes to go ahead and write their work on the whiteboards, including defining their variables, any drawings or diagrams, the set-up of their equation, and all of the algebraic steps to arrive at a solution. I coached them up a little bit on what I expected from them in their presentation of the problem: Be sure each group member is involved in presenting the problem. Start by reading us the problem. Don’t be afraid to tell us some of the things that stumped you at first, or incorrect approaches you tried. Speak slowly and give us time to take notes. Pause and ask us if we have any questions. I also coached the learners: Be respectful of your classmates; raise your hand and ask questions just like you would if it were me teaching – don’t hesitate to ask just because you’re afraid of putting your friends on the spot. It’s okay if they have to ask you to clarify your question – sometimes I do too!

The next 50 minutes were amazing. I mean really, truly, honestly amazing. I sat down at my desk and pretended to be a student and barely had to speak a word as each group taught their classmates. There were plenty of questions and lots of healthy, respectful back-and-forth as students tried to understand each problem. It gave me teacher goosebumps to literally see lightbulbs go off in students’ heads as their classmates explained the ideas in a variety of ways until things finally clicked for everyone.

I’m not going to lie, I actually almost got teary at one point, watching a group with one student who had been having a tough time in class the first few weeks absolutely KILL IT with confident, clear, kick-ass teaching. Blame my sentimental streak on all of the nuptials I’ve witnessed this month, or something. When class ended I ran out of the room barely containing my excitement. Me: “I think I just had the best hour of teaching of my entire career!” Brian (Upper School director): ”This doesn’t mean you can retire!”

One last win: I followed up the lesson with a take-home assignment meant to match the types of problems the students taught each other in class. They had the weekend to work on it. Today I woke up to this awesome email with the subject line “Another winning moment in math”:

So that was pretty great. I guess my year has nowhere to go but down.

Yesterday, I got to spend the day doing high and low ropes course activities with my brand new batch of (sophomore) advisees. At my school, the year begins with “field studies” – outdoor trips that vary by grade level: freshmen and seniors have an overnight trip, sophomores and juniors have a day trip. This was my first chance to spend time around my new advisory, 12 students who I am excited to get to know and support as they navigate high school over the next three years. Spending a day on a farm is an interesting way to interact with a group of students for the first time – I got to observe as they worked together (or not) to overcome obstacles in the low ropes challenges (X games! the duck!), saw leaders emerge as they climbed “the wall,” and had a blast riding a zip line (100% advisory participation! FEARLESS.) Despite the fact that the day wore me out, I appreciated the chance to get to know my advisees and their personalities – as individuals and as a collective – in a more informal environment. They’ve already decided that we’re the “noodle advisory,” and I’m now brainstorming ways to make boxes of spaghetti into gifts/symbols of advisory pride.

In a post-field studies daze, I stayed at work to finish up the odds and ends that needed to be done before the first real day of classes – today. It turns out that even in year four at this school, when I should probably be getting the hang of things, there are still millions of tiny details I’ve forgotten that all need to be set in place before the year can actually begin. Welcome back to the crazy and that all-or-nothing feeling that is my life during the school year.

On the way out the door yesterday, needing a bit of inspiration to convince me I was going to make it through the week upright (with appropriate levels of energy and enthusiasm for the students who would soon be walking through my door expecting me to be a competent teacher), Molly and I stopped to look for a four-leaf clover. What she found was the tiniest, most pathetic-looking ragged little four-leaf clover – which somehow seemed appropriate for our tired, nervous/excited, slap-happy emotional state.

As I attempted to procure PHOTO PROOF of this wonderfully tiny clover, I deleted a couple of out-of-focus pictures: “eh, could be better.” Molly called me out immediately. This, apparently, is my entire problem with planning right now – I’m endlessly iterating activities, lesson plans, handouts, homework assignments… never content because “it could be better.” We had a nice laugh about it, but I’m going to try harder this year to embrace the fact that teaching is often unpredictable and requires me to balance priorities, adjust to new realities, and be accepting of what I am realistically able to accomplish all at once. I am “in a period of rapid growth” (not my words) in my career, and I should be able to be proud of what I’m doing without the amount of criticism and negative self-talk that I normally engage in. In fact, I printed this poster out (3 copies) and hung it in my classroom, my cube, and on my planning binder for one of my classes. Maybe it will start to sink in.

Today, the first day of classes, I was a bundle of nerves and energy. How can I communicate to my students what I value, what my class will be like, what they can expect to learn, and get to know a little bit about them all in one go? (Answer: I can’t. That kind of classroom culture-building happens over weeks and months, not in one hour long teacher-focused blast.) It was a successful day, though, and my “first day” routine is starting to feel a little more routine, and a lot more ME. Some highlights include 1) shuffling seats as students walk in the door, 2) throwing them right into partner work to generate as many questions as possible to 3 different “answers” (a la @mythagon’s “What’s the Question?”), 3) snapping photos of each student holding an index card with their name on it (so I can learn their names as homework tonight) while having each student introduce themselves with an interesting fact, 4) going over syllabus and expectations, and 5) actually doing some math. The math portion of the show seemed especially short this year, probably because I’ve got pretty full classes and it takes longer for everyone to introduce themselves. Maybe next year I can figure out a more effective way to use that last 15 or so minutes. All told, though, it was a pretty smooth first day in class. Now to do it 170-or so more times.

A few miscellaneous highlights from the first days:

• Having a former advisee stop by to visit me and Molly on his last day before leaving the country for college. He sat and talked with us for more than half an hour while we ate lunch, and it buoyed me up for all of the student interactions I would be having with new students that I haven’t established relationships with – yet.
• During field studies, as my advisory waited in the treehouse-ish structure to take turns on the zip line, everyone was joking to one particularly tall student: “don’t forget to pick your legs up when it’s your turn.” It took me a few minutes to get the joke, and when I did, my delayed reaction left the students in giggles.
• Finding a beautiful orchid on my desk when I got to work this morning, a gift from my colleague and good friend Lindsay. While I usually can’t be trusted to take care of living things, I will try my hardest not to kill it.
• During the “take a picture, introduce yourself” part of class, I made sure to introduce Gary – the bright green stuffed animal snake hanging from the ceiling that was my Blue period’s class pet last year.
• One of my advisees who I also have as a student in class gave as his interesting fact: “I have the best sophomore advisor in the school.” It was genuine, and it made my day.

Hope all of your school years are starting well, as well. Remember to take care of yourselves and blog about all of the things you’re doing!

Today I worked to make my syllabi a little less horrible. I looked back at last year’s and felt like I couldn’t actually see myself or the spirit of my classroom anywhere in the words on the paper. I know that’s hard to capture in a static document, but I wanted the things I truly value to be a little more explicit in the first handout they will ever get from me.

The course description is what it is (not written by me, an artifact of the school’s making) and the class procedures and other odds and ends were mostly unchanged (although I changed the wording so it was directed at the reader – “you should…”) I did spend some serious time rethinking and reworking the grade breakdown (“how the sausage is made” @tieandjeans), hopefully for the better… but the biggest change was creating some bloat in the middle of the syllabus by waxing poetic about what I really want students to learn in my class.

I also hope that you learn:

• Problem solving techniques – I don’t just want this class to be “I show, you do.” Instead, I want you to develop an arsenal of reasoning skills that allow you to tackle new and challenging problems on your own. Expect to be active class participants, working hard to engage with the material on your own terms. “There is no one way” – and I want you to experience the thrill of pushing through frustration and discovering your own path to a solution.

• To take intellectual risks and be mathematically fearless – Part of thinking like a mathematician is learning how to be comfortable in a state of confusion. I highly value the entire process of exploring a new topic or problem, not just the final answer. Doing math is messy – you may wander some paths that don’t lead you anywhere, but confidently sharing and analyzing mathematical missteps is an important part of the process. Don’t be afraid to be wrong!

• To work collaboratively – Exploring and understanding math does not happen in isolation. Working with others and talking about math can help “unstick you” when you are stuck, or allow you to reach greater depths of understanding as you are forced to clearly explain your own ideas. All of us have different working styles, but I hope you push yourself to engage with your classmates in the learning process.

• To make connections – Math is not just a series of isolated skills. Math is deeply connected to the world around us, and by talking about, writing about, and using technology to explore mathematical ideas, I hope you begin to make some of those connections.

• To be curious – The topics that we will be exploring in class are only the beginning. Some of my favorite moments in class begin with the words “what if…” I hope that you will push yourself to think beyond what is expected and take ownership of your mathematical growth this year. You may find that your interest is sparked by a particular topic or concept, and I hope you run with it – your unique insights can expand the horizons of what is possible for us this year.

So this is where my brain is. I (think I) know what I want my classroom to look like this year… let’s go!