DING! BONG. The Sounds of Class Dojo

It begins as a muffled conversation as they walk in line down the hall to lunch.
Next, a quiet laugh with a classmate sitting nearby during independent reading time.
Soon, someone is dabbing in the middle of a math lesson and another kid has a fidget spinner whirling across his nose. Ah, how quickly they grow up in the month of September!

via GIPHY

Managing student behaviors has taken many forms in my classroom over the years. I've tried paper money, behavior color cards, raffle tickets, donuts, songs and dances, bribes, individual behavior contracts, class pets- you name it. And while some of those things, or combinations of those things were highly effective for some groups of students, nothing has been as effective as Class Dojo.

Class Dojo is a simple to use app that assigns a cute little monster (see what they did there?) avatar to each student's name. Teachers customize behaviors they want to award (DING!) or take away points (BONG) for (smart teachers like me link them to the work habits and behaviors on the report card... see what I did there?). Parents are linked to the Dojo via an app, so they have live updates on their child's behavior. Teachers can also send messages to parents through the app (no more hunting down e-mail addresses, just shoot them a text!) to report on behavior, academics, to send pictures, you name it!

While teachers use Class Dojo in a variety of ways, in my classroom it is primarily used as a positive reinforcement. At the beginning of the year, students are earning points from every miniscule thing that they do correct. Oh, you put your backpack in your cubby? Awesome, that's a point (DING!). Oh, how nice of you to help your friend get on the computer, that's a point (DING!). You get the picture. I completely frontload my students with positive reinforcement from DAY ONE. At the end of the day, students points are revealed and they squeal with delight to see how many points they've earned in "just one day!"

As the year goes along, point giving becomes more and more infrequent as students must work harder to earn points. They are no longer rewarded for following standard routines in December, but they may earn points for collaboration, or giving a presentation to the class. Certain projects may even be worth 5 points (DING DING DING DING DING!). However, students are also beginning to hear the dreaded sound of points being lost (BONG) as they engage in behaviors that are not conducive to the classroom. Passing notes instead of completing your writing goal? BONG! Running down the hallway? BONG! While the sound of points being lost is rare for my classroom in general, it does happen, and students have a conditioned response to those sounds. DINGS make them giddy, but a BONG makes them freeze in their tracks and wonder... was that ME? Did I lose a point?

But for the most part, kids are racking up the points in room 2. In my classroom Dojo points are used to “purchase” items at the end of each trimester. My kids decide what they should be able to buy and how much it should cost. They have come up with things that are SUPER important and valuable for 3rd graders, like: free homework passes (20 pts), lunch in the classroom (50pts), taking home a stuffed animal from the classroom for a night (75 pts... really, 75 pts...), pajama day (50 pts), bring in a bean bag chair for a week (100 pts), and so much more! It is always interesting to see how they decide to spend their points and to see what items they come up with for purchase. It may take some kids WEEKS to earn 75 points, and they are willing to blow it all for the chance to borrow a stuffed tiger for the night. Imagine the math that goes into this too- what can I afford to buy? Can I buy PJ day AND lunch in the classroom? How many points are left over?

BUT let's look at what's in play here- positive reinforcement for doing the right thing, motivation to meet the expectations, and socially constructed rewards that are NOT material in nature (meaning, they earn privileges, and I don't have to go spend all of the huge buckets of money I make teaching on pencils or erasers or other glitzy prizes that I obviously can't can afford). In addition, parents are happy, I'm happy, and kids are happily rewarded every now and then for working their tails off for me all day, everyday.

Revamping... for Motivation's Sake!

The air is heavy inside your classroom. It’s hot. Some kids are slouched onto their desks. Others are barely propped up by an elbow. You even see a yawn or two. Student mood and motivation is in a slump, and subsequently, yours is too. Not even a Snickers will help at this point. Mood, motivation, and emotion all have tremendous impacts on learning, and in order to avoid an outright Bueller moment, we need to ensure that we are empowering our students to take control over their learning and that we are planning authentic learning experiences to help keep motivation high!

One way to boost motivation is to reconsider how we evaluate students. Intrinsic motivation for learning is negatively affected when students are aware of a formal evaluation process. Formal evaluation can cause feelings of anxiety, which have proven effects on learning, performance, and cognition. Think, for a moment, about what taking the SBAC test must feel like for an eight year old. A silent classroom (how often does THAT happen?), one-to-one computer devices with text directions and 50 questions to do (or THAT?), the teacher circulating around the room for an hour NOT HELPING YOU AT ALL (Okay, that NEVER happens!). It’s unauthentic. It’s anxiety inducing. It’s terrifying. And, it’s not ok. While certain things are out of the realm of our control as teachers, we can work to design authentic learning projects, and evaluate for learning without the students even realizing it. In doing so, we preserve students sense of self-worth, confidence, and can keep student morale high.

This is all easier said than done, right? Wrong. It sounds scientific, but teachers do this kind of thing all the time. We’re always evaluating students informally, whether it’s listening in as a partnership discusses a book they’re reading, watching a student manipulate geotiles, or having a conversation with a student as they try to work out a real-life math problem like how many buses are needed for the school field trip.

In my classroom, students must develop a general understanding of the major organs and their location within the human body. Rather than drill and kill, which we know isn’t effective anyway, I put students into groups and have THEM become the teachers. Groups select a major organ of their choice to research about (they could even use this cool app) and then have to work together to somehow “teach” their learned information to the rest of the class. Groups have written songs, made slide shows, acted out skits, and even made “real size” models of the organs (you’ve never seen a party-streamer intestinal tract like that before!). Their presentations are always a great indication of their learning, and no “test” is needed. Students are relaxed, motivated, and they have fun learning content while I can easily and authentically evaluate them.

So, if you want to avoid the Bueller scenario, think about how you can REVAMP your evaluation process to improve student motivation.

A Time For Reflection

         I was very hesitant about blogging as a professional and in terms of student blogging. As Pernell Ripp @pernilleripp said in a twitter chat one night, there is a huge pressure for teachers to meticulously micromanage every blog post to ensure that every piece is high quality, exemplary work that is suitable for public viewing. However, that’s not real. Peeking into a child’s writer’s notebook reveals all of their story seeds, their creative process, their progress over time. A classroom blog should be the same way. I am really, tremendously proud of my students’ blog and the 21,000 views it’s gotten since its induction in February. I wish I had done it sooner! Parents have been leaving comments, as have students in other classes in our school, other teachers in our school, students in other COUNTRIES. It has opened doors and possibilities to my students that I couldn't have imagined. Was there fear on my part? Yes. How would the blog be received by parents, administration, and the overall community? There is a lot of fear about privacy, safety, and appropriateness online. Initially, I really stressed the importance of our role as trailblazers in our school for student blogging, how important it was for us to dispel those fears. To prove that blogging is a beneficial, safe, way to authentically foster literacy in the 21st century! Students have been posting EVERYTHING from things we’ve learned about in school, to opinion pieces, to journaling, to websites they’ve created. It has been incredible to open this door and watch the students run through it.

       Professionally, I was concerned about voicing my opinions about educational topics on a blog. After all I’d already been given a slap on the wrist by posting on facebook, “Just curious teacher friends, what’s the largest class size you’ve ever had?” What would happen if I even mentioned being a teacher somewhere else? Well, nothing happened. Funny, when you disconnect with the district (remove them as an employer on social media) “big brother” stops watching. Am I hesitant to say certain things still? Yes. I choose my words carefully, treading lightly. However, I’m also willing to stir the pot a little, to express my political concerns with the Common Core and SBAC testing. I’m not venting about the kids, I’m advocating FOR them. In fact, I recently decided that my next blog post will be about SBAC: A letter from the kids. Parents, administrators, teachers, and politicians are speaking out about SBAC and the Common Core, but the ones whose voices are silent, are the kids. I’m publishing on behalf of them. Their voices deserve to be heard. They’re the ones taking the test for the next 9 years, not us.

I think every teacher should know that technology is scary for all of us. Not because of online predators, or risque websites, but because of the persecution and scrutiny of our profession. If anything, EVER, bad happens to a child, the finger comes pointing back to us, whether it’s a scraped knee on the playground, a forgotten lunch box, or a less than desirable standardized test score. However, to succumb to fear is to do a disservice to the children. The digital world is here, and it’s going to impact their generation more than any other generation before them. As Kathy Cassidy (2013) mentions in “Connected from the Start,” we can’t expect the child to cross the street without scaffolding that experience. We teach them the rules of the road. How to look both ways before crossing. We hold their hands when they’re small.  We watch from the sidewalk when they get a bit older. Eventually, we trust them to cross without us watching. But if we teach them to fear the road, to cower at the sight of cars- they’ll be stifled.We have to become leaders in ways we haven’t had to in the past, and even though it’s scary, we’ll do it, because our loyalties lie where they always have- with the children.

Story Bird

     During the course of this semester, I was exposed to a variety of technological tools supporting literacy that I am confident will positively impact  the growth and learning of my students. Story Bird is one such source that I utilized in an effort to reach a struggling writer. Story Bird a digital story telling website that provides students with artwork that they can utilize the create the story of their choice. Students can begin by choosing what style of book they'd like to write- a chapter book, a picture book, or a novel. Next, they choose an artwork style that will lead them to a series of pictures to choose from. For example, if students click on a princess, they will have choices that all revolve around that theme, castles, dragons, and knights will appear. They can then use those pictures to inspire the text for their story and "publish" it for others to view.
     Shawn is one of my very intelligent students who has ADHD and some difficulty completing written tasks. Fortunately, he is a computer savvy student who is able to manipulate technology with ease. During writer's workshop, I looked around the classroom and noticed Shawn struggling to come up with an idea. I decided to invite him to pilot this new program to see its impact on struggling writers.
     Initially, Shawn was very overwhelmed by Storybird. Although the program is easy to use, the artwork selected significantly drives the direction of the story. He was also frustrated by pictures, which were laid out in a scattered table-top manner, requiring users to slide them back and forth to reveal those hidden beneath. He was annoyed that the artwork was hard to locate (as it was moveable) and that the pictures available didn't always meet the vision he had in his head for his piece. For a student who is rigid and distractable, it didn't seem like this was the best program to use.
   However, despite being initially frustrated, Shawn eventually found some pictures that really inspired him to get writing. In some ways, Story Bird was more like a puzzle of artwork that the "writer" needs to sort through, order, and string together with text. Once he was able to  find his pictures, order them, and link them, he was on a roll. In fact, his frustration soon grew to an infectious enthusiasm that pulled other kids over to the computer. What began as an independent project, soon became a group project, with 3-4 classmates on surrounding his computer making suggestions for character motivations, wording suggestions ("what if he calls the pigs 'plump' or 'juicey?'"). Eventually, Shawn, with the help of his group, came up with a clever story that had a beginning, a middle, and end that made sense, had a message, and built upon character traits and motivations.
      In terms of the Common Core, this activity hit a variety of standards. Because Shawn was writing (relatively) freely within the program, he was demonstrating standard CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.3.3-
"Write narratives to develop real or imagined experiences or events using effective technique, descriptive details, and clear event sequences." In addition, Story Bird also forced Shawn to correctly order his story, and therefore he hit upon standard CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.3.3.A- "Establish a situation and introduce a narrator and/or characters; organize an event sequence that unfolds naturally." He also was able to provide closure to his story, which is a skill for standard CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.3.3.D- "Provide a sense of closure." By nature of the program, Shawn also worked within standard CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.3.6 "With guidance and support from adults, use technology to produce and publish writing (using keyboarding skills) as well as to interact and collaborate with others." The second part of that standard unfolded naturally as other students became interested and motivated in the topic at hand.

     An analysis of Shawn's story reveals that this was a tool that truly allowed him to be successful in starting and finishing a free-write narrative within one class period. He had a clear sequence of events, logical elements to his story, character motivations, character thoughts, and a resolution/lesson learned. Typically, Shawn struggles getting started, and is unable to complete the story in full. The ability to take something which was an are of weakness, and turn it into an area of strength was a huge celebration for Shawn. He eagerly asked if he could share his story with the class, which of course, prompted even more enthusiasm for writing and for the Story Bird website. This program has allowed me, as a teacher to reach a student with incredibly diverse needs. I am confident that, although this program still has some flaws, it is a valuable tool that allows students with multiple needs to reach writing goals.

Check out Shawn's story here!

 
    

Why should they buy in?

I recently read an article by Curt Dudley-Marling in the text Closer Readings of the Common Core. Dudley-Marling did a great job of pointing out the positives about the CCSS (“standards matter… teachers must know what they’re aiming for if they’re going to provide students with appropriate instruction,” p.93) while pointing out the inevitable flaws.

He says that “high standards and testing linked to those standards have never done much to improve the quality of schooling… or the professional lives of teachers (p.92).”
He also states that “the standards will be a cudgel with which to continue the assault on teachers and the teaching profession,” (p.96)
and that “in the likely scenario that the CCSS fail to lift achievement in high-poverty schools, the new tests will function mainly as evidence of the failure of teachers,” (p.98).

Herein lies the issue with the CCSS- the high stakes testing attached to them. When one of my students asked me this fall about the SBAC test (“Does it go on our report card? Do we need to pass it in order to pass 3^rd grade?”) I found myself struggling to offer a politically correct answer, so I answered truthfully. In third grade friendly language, I had said something like, “no, you don’t need to pass this test for any personal reason. It doesn't go on your report card. It doesn't tell us if you’re ready for 4^th grade. Actually, the test is really to see if teachers are doing their jobs. If the test asks you to answer 2+2 and you get it wrong, the people in charge will say, ‘oh that Mrs. Banville isn't doing her job, her students don’t even know 2+2!’ And then I would probably be asked to not be a teacher anymore. I would lose my job.” Then one of my critical thinking students Colin said, “Well that’s not really fair Mrs. Banville. What if we’re just having a bad day and we don’t test well? Like what if I’m tired that day or sick?”  I remember saying, “that’s the thing Colin. It isn't fair. The test is a quick snap shot, it doesn't know you like I do. I know you can do 2+2, and I know if you’re having an off day. So if Mrs. Dixon (our principal) came to me and said, ‘Colin doesn't know 2+2!’ I could say, ‘oh yes he does Mrs. Dixon. Look in his math notebook, look at all the great things he can do!’”

            The SBAC test virtually has no effect for students. They can test horribly and it would have no consequence for them. Which is a fact another one of my students, Shawn, picked up on. He said, “so we can just fill in random answers if we want and it won’t matter?” Yes, I had told him. But then of course I put my teacher hat and spoke for a while about how important it is to always do your best in anything and everything you do. But deep down, my long lost teenager self was rebelliously shouting, “random answers! Down with the system!” I would never buy into this test if I were a kid. Never. So, my long winded question is, given the high stakes attached to the SBAC assessment, what is in it for kids? Why should they buy in? Why should they spend 8 hours on a grueling rigorous test if it makes no difference to them in the long run anyway?

SBAC: Blowing Up the Arena

Friday afternoon, after indoor recess and a long week of heavy instruction on ordering fractions, writing autobiographies from the point of view of someone from history, and composing opinion pieces with substantial evidence, my 24 25 kids (I got another one this week) were plopped in front of  a computer screen for an entire hour to take the SBAC English Language Arts test, (one out of 8 total testing sessions). The experience was like something out of a novel. And, although the Common Core State Standards don't like us to make connections based on personal experiences, I will dare to do so because the works of J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins were the only way my brain could process the scene that was occurring in front of me.

Dementors. They literally feed off the goodness, the happiness, the joy within a person. They suck every last bit of positive energy out of a soul, not only leaving it withering, and dry, but also full of darkness. I watched students who smile all day, lead group discussions, create, imagine, and dream, get the life absolutely sucked out of them. Colin (8) is one of those kids who takes school very seriously. He's like a 30 year old man trying to get tenure. "So Mrs. Banville, how long exactly should this homework be? I'm thinking about 5 sentences, one for my main idea, three really good pieces of evidence, and then one more for my concluding sentence. Is that right?" But he's got a great sense of humor and wonder about him- he's always eager to tell me about his independent reading book, and tells me with gusto his shock at something hilariously outrageous the main character has done that day. Needless to say, Colin took the SBAC VERY seriously. Midway through the assessment block, I went to check on him. His face was red and his hair was ruffled because he had been tugging at it. His eyes welled up as he said, "this is really hard Mrs. Banville." The dementors had sucked him dry. No amount of encouragement from me (the test doesn't matter, we don't get student scores, it's just a field test...) would be able to fill the emptiness left by that test.

I looked around the computer lab at my incredibly diverse group of kids and noted their bodies. Even in swivel chairs, I noticed the kids had managed to get their bodies in the strangest positions. One girl was slouching so far down, her body was like a stiff diagonal ramp, her head on the back of the chair was the only thing that was keeping her from sliding to the floor. A boy I have with very slow processing speeds, went from a squatting position on his own chair (like a sumo wrestler ready to attack the screen), to his legs extended onto the chair next to him (like he was lounging at the beach). Another boy had wrapped his headphone wire completely around his wrist and arm, fingering the wires like he would a baby blanket.  Another boy gripped the desk in front of him tightly as he read, and swiveled his body back at forth in the chair, working his core muscles to stay focused. I gave all of my kids gum, because I am a firm believer that it helps children to focus, and so, the computer lab sounded like it was housing a bunch of cows chewing loudly on their cud. All of these things were clearly coping mechanisms to deal with the amount of mental stress they were under. As I stood back and watched the dementors suck the life out my class, I wondered, what on earth are we doing to our children?

Enter Suzanne Collin's novel Catching Fire. There is a scene in the book where Katniss is facing a moral dilemma. She's angry because she thinks her ally's plan to kill off the others in the arena has been foiled by Finnick, who she thinks has killed her ally, and she sees him coming towards her. She's so angry she just wants to kill him. She even raises her bow to do it.

The CCSS and the weight the SBAC places on teacher evaluation makes us all crazed killer trapped in an arena. We're all fighting to come out on top. We're all fighting to keep our jobs.

As Katniss raises her bow to kill Finnick, she remembers words from her trainer Haymitch before the games began. He told her to "remember who the enemy is." In that moment, she  chooses not to kill Finnick, but to cast her arrow, which is armed with electricity, to the top of the arena, blowing it up, and leading to the eventual uprising, the downfall of the Capitol, a Revolution. If she chooses to shoot Finnick, nothing changes, the games go on, the Capitol wins.

We, the public education community, are, in this moment, aiming our arrows at Finnick. It's time we remember who the enemy is. It's time we blow up the arena.

Finian's Rainbow: Keeping Our Heads Above Water

I'll never forget that moment. She was up on stage speaking slowly and purposefully and articulating her lines with carefully crafted  annunciation. Her performance was going well, although her eyes seemed to be scanning the crowd  unnaturally. Finally, her eyes locked with mine- her face exploded with joy, she knew I was there. Maddy had been a 5th grade student of mine several years back, and, like most of her classmates, she had kept in touch with me over the years via e-mail, updating me on everything from who's dating who, to what books she's reading, to how draining homework has become. Naturally, when she, and several other of my former students were performing in the middle school play, I was invited. This put me in a slightly awkward position as I had not been hired by Maddy's district permanently- I had moved on to neither bigger nor better things, just different things. Third grade things. It would be weird to walk back through the doors of the school that I had loved so much. It would be strange to brush shoulders with former colleagues, and the principal who had promised me a job, but who was unable to produce one. Never-the-less, I showed up, and the look on Maddy's face made all of my silent debates and inner awkwardness worth it.

A year later, another student, Max, invited me to his play, Finian's Rainbow. Max was a student who was shy and quiet and oh-so-intelligent. I was elated he had taken the risk of trying out for the play, and was even more excited that he made it! The day of the play, my third grade teammates and I got some of the worst news we could have gotten right before standardized testing (SBAC) was about to begin. We were getting three new students, one for each of us, in our already "capped" classrooms. This would put two of us over our contracted student capacity, and this was a tough group. We all left school that day feeling defeated. Between the implementation of the Common Core,  new curricula, a new co-teaching model that wasn't exactly going swimmingly, the looming start of SBAC, Teacher evaluation, and in my personal world, let's just throw in our state's new teacher program (TEAM), as well as my final semester of graduate school. Now you're giving me more kids? It felt like the straw that broke the camel's back. I was done. Defeated. You win.

But as I squeezed in with Max's parents in the small cafeteria audience, and the raspy voices of middle schoolers began to sing about leprechauns and rainbows and pots of gold, I forgot all about the load I was carrying. I watched some of my former students take the stage with ease and confidence. I chatted with parents about their successes, and I saw their smiles as they updated me on the ins and outs of middle school life. I remembered then that nothing else really matters. Common Core, reading levels, math scores, class size, SBAC, Teacher Evaluation, TEAM, research papers... Those things don't matter to my students. What matters to my students is that I care about them, that I support them, that I am always there to guide them. I realized that I was being tricked by data and paper work; people were making me think that quantitative data was what mattered. But let me tell you, there is something about a 7th grade boy leaping around the stage in tights, singing about getting back his "pot of gold"- that serves as a mighty reminder that in the end, none of the things we're worried about, matter. Kids go on, they grow up, they persevere, and they become leprechauns. It's our job to keep swimming, to keep our heads above water, and to hold on to the wreckage floating around us and not to abandon it for some seemingly "save-all" lifesaver float thrown hastily our way. We're teachers. We're improvisers. We're trailblazers. And even if we're not Olympic swimmers, we'll doggy paddle, and we'll do just fine.