Tag Archives: reflection

The Path Not Taken

Sometimes I find myself in a rut–stuck in the mud, sinking lower and lower so that it seems that all I see are shoe tops. Instead of appreciating the beauty around me, I get mired in the minutia of everyday–dishes and laundry, report cards and meetings, and traffic!

When I’m in that rut I don’t always see the possibilities. I find myself traveling the same paths, butting up against the same barriers…and even thinking the same not-so-inspiring thoughts!

And I know that I am lucky. I enjoy my work–most of the time–and all it entails. My students are a source of energy, my colleagues keep me learning and growing, and the end of the school year means my work will change–adding variety and new stimulation to the mix. But…there’s that rut…and at this time of the year lots of others are in it too.

Yesterday, after a long work day I was heading to a planning meeting with some colleagues. And instead of the provocative thinking I knew I would experience when I got there, my mind was on the traffic and the frustration of the snail’s pace I would experience as I got on the freeway.

So I ventured out in another direction. There was some traffic as I set off, but as I crossed the intersection that could have taken me to the freeway, I headed into the hills. The road was narrow and steep as it curved through neighborhoods with breathtaking views. As I reached the top I pulled off into a park–well known in these parts. A place I had been before, but never think to visit. It’s off the usual path, less direct, with a lower speed limit.

And this path not taken led me to wonder and inspiration…and jubilation!

I was treated to amazing views of my city. I could look north to La Jolla shores and the Scripps pier, east toward the mountains and the communities between. As I looked south I saw the iconic structures of our downtown and the bays and ocean that frame it.

I felt like I could touch the clouds from this place on the hill. And in spite of the clouds I could see forever in all directions. The sky was clear and the sun peeked through, brightening my outlook and my attitude.

I don’t have to stay in the rut, mired by routine and overwhelmed by the demands of the end of the school year. But I do have to find the spaces of inspiration, make time for moments of vacation and renewal even when time is in short supply.

This is one of those lessons that I need to remind myself of over and over again. It’s easy to stay in the rut, to do the same thing, travel the same roads, talk to the same people, see the same sights. I’m already thinking about other ways I can shake up my ordinary and pull myself out of the rut…the view is so much better here!

A Love Story

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Last Tuesday morning I fell in love. Head over heels, irrevocably, intensely, impossibly, and wonderfully in love. I expected it…and yet, the depth and utter wonder was unexpected and emotional.

I felt my heart expand when I laid eyes on him. I looked closely and realized I knew him, maybe I’ve always known him. It was truly love at first sight.

How could this tiny being have so much power over me? And all of the those feelings were magnified this weekend when I met him in person.

I am a grandma and I want to shout from the rooftops! My baby boy now has a baby boy of his own…a tiny little boy who takes me back in time to when his father was a baby. But…it’s also so different. I get the delight of cuddling that sweet baby, smelling that incredible newborn baby smell, but I also get to hand him back to his capable mom and dad when he needs to be fed and I get to sleep when he is fussy in the middle of the night. I get to be helpful (I hope) and supportive, but the big decisions are not mine. I can worry–but he has parents to worry for him too.

It was hard to say goodbye and go home last night, leaving that beautiful boy and his amazing parents to their new lives together as we returned home to our everyday lives. But everything has changed too, enriched by a new life and new possibility. The world is just a bit better with that little guy in it and my world has expanded–just like my heart, and I have new things to think about, learn about, and plan for. (And yes, the next trip to see him is already planned!)

And this is just the beginning…I will be a grandma again in the next week or so when my other son also becomes a dad. There’s plenty of room in my heart and in my world–and I am sure that I will be falling in love again and again. I am a grandma, it’s an incredible state of mind!

Looking Closely to Look Back: December’s Photo-a-Day Challenge

Weekly Photo Challenge: Summer Favorites

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Summer doesn’t officially end for a month still, and it will seem like summer for longer than that in these parts, but the beginning of the new school year has me thinking about some of my favorite photos of summer.

Exploring Malibu with my son led me to take this photo of seagulls from behind. There is something wonderful and whimsical about this shot of seagull butts!

And there is nothing quite like spending time at the San Diego County Fair–a huge extravaganza of animals, food and light. I never seem to tire of photographing goats.

I’ve also been messing with some night photography this summer. Here a few of my favorites. Nighttime with the moon at the fair,

Oceanside from the pier,

and a Chicago sunset reflected in the windows of the Signature Lounge.

And I love to photograph nature as I find it. Bees at work,

the beauty of a spider’s web in the early morning dew,

and black sage in bloom.

I never tire of sunsets,

or fireworks,

and water seems to be my life-force!

So this is your week to look through your summer pictures and highlight a few favorites…or head out with your camera and capture some new favorites before the summer makes an exit.

You can post your photo alone or along with some words: commentary, a story, a poem…maybe even a song! I love to study the photographs that others’ take and think about how I can use a technique, an angle, or their inspiration to try something new in my own photography. (I love a great mentor text…or mentor photo, in this case!) I share my photography and writing on social media. You can find me on Instagram and Twitter using @kd0602. If you share your photos and writing on social media too, please let me know so I can follow and see what you are doing. To help our Weekly Photo community find each other, use the hashtag #summerfavorites for this week and include @nwpianthology in your post.

Putting this post together encouraged me to do a bit of photo curating…something I need to be more systematic about…and as I browsed through I also got to reflect on a wonderful summer filled with whimsy, fun, and lots of love. I hope you enjoy a week of thinking about your summer favorites! Can’t wait to see a glimpse of summer-in-review through your lens!

Architecture: The Structure of Learning

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We have a beautiful urban park here in San Diego. Open space, trees, a lily pond, fountains, trails, museums and restaurants…including some ornate and historic architecture that dates back to the Panama-California exhibition in 1915. In these storied surroundings, I’ve been spending time with a group of formal and informal educators investigating ways to improve school field trips through a project we call Intersections. (I’ve written before about it here and here.)

As I spent the day at the San Diego Natural History Museum today, observing a group of high school students on a field trip, I found myself thinking about architecture.

As the educator-researchers in our group discussed what we observed watching students during their field trip today, our conversation moved to the carefully planned structures that support students’ independence and dispositions toward learning. Field trips have traditionally depended on adult-centered structures that keep students “on-task,” ensuring that the trip has documented educational value in the form of completed packets of answered questions rather than trusting students to be interested in what they find in front of them.

Over lunch, our Intersections leadership team chatted with an external evaluator–a part of our larger National Science Foundation grant– about our observations and tentative conclusions. And we found ourselves thinking about and talking about all the learning that happens that we are not able to document. When we take students outside the classroom, what are we hoping for? What can they learn that the classroom environment doesn’t offer? And why then, do we keep trying to make field trips more like school?

As I look at this photo of a young woman using her cell phone to photograph an owl, I wonder how we encourage students to use tools and processes they use outside of school to support their own learning. How will this student use this photograph? What was she aiming for as she composed the image? How can students’ digital lives interact in positive ways with their school lives?

And as my colleague described her understanding of the development of social capacity, a concept important in her binational work, my understanding of the learning that happens on field trips continued to evolve. A field trip is not a classroom lesson, it is a social event, a shared learning experience outside the school environment. And while students certainly learn some content, they are also developing social capacity–as representatives of their school and class in a public arena. They are navigating unfamiliar spaces, coming in contact with people they don’t usually see, interacting with adults–docents, volunteers, vendors, scientists, researchers–and exploring materials not present in their classrooms and schools.

And in the best of situations they are figuring out how to interact with the space, people, and information in meaningful ways. I loved this informal game I observed today…a chaperone and his group spontaneously started counting the animals they spied in this coastal sage environment. Someone saw 9…and another saw 12, someone else saw 15. They started pointing them out to each other, looking closely, naming what they saw.

And another researcher watched a pair of students challenge each other on the native/nonnative quiz in the patio area. The goal was to win…and the game was calling on prior knowledge and combining it with what they were observing in the exhibit. And they were having fun…being social, laughing, enjoying themselves…and learning.

So what is the underlying architecture of a successful field trip…that structure that enables students to engage in learning on their own terms? That takes advantage of the place and the richness of expertise and artifacts that aren’t present in the classroom? And that honors the beauty and elegance of learning…not for a grade or a test, but because we are inspired and motivated to learn because we are learners–driven to make sense of our world, on our own terms.

March Madness

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It’s that time of the year…

No, I’m not talking college basketball, brackets, and the sweet sixteen.

It’s report card time, and I can feel the March madness starting to seep in. That insidious doubt that narrows my vision and makes me doubt what I know to be true.

If I weren’t writing report cards right now and you asked me to describe student learning in my classroom in one word, I would say blossoming.

Our students are blossoming. They are reading and writing eagerly. There’s a sense of confidence and fluency among this group of 6, 7, 8, and 9 year olds that defies grade level benchmarks. Last week when students learned about how reasoning could make their evidence more compelling in a piece they were writing about this special place where they live, they were undaunted and dug in to add reasoning to their evidence, carefully explaining just why the beach makes this place special and why having a family owned donut shop matters to them. A line like this one makes my heart sing… A second grader describing an iconic statue in our community that makes the community a special place to live wrote: We also have a Cardiff Kook that loves to get dressed up. I think everyday is Halloween for him. And I want to shout from the rooftops when I read an ending like this one a third grader used to close the essay: So where were we again in the beginning? Oh yes, the beach. Now the sunset kisses the dusk with oranges, yellows, reds, pinks, purples, and blues too beautiful to explain, and as you see the last foamy white whale spout on the horizon, there’s no doubt Encinitas is a very special place.

Of course they weren’t written on demand in an decontextualized setting. They are the result of rich discussion and leveraging of background knowledge, a writing community where revision is ongoing and expected, instruction that encouraged students to go back and add reasoning to their claims and evidence, and a space filled with mentor texts that highlight and celebrate beautiful language. These complex sentences mean that the punctuation isn’t perfect…and the vocabulary students use push them to depend on phonics to express the words they don’t yet know how to spell, but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But I know the first thing people see when they look at student writing is the mechanics…and that sometimes it can stop them from even noticing the beauty of the language and composition.

And then there’s math. All year we have worked to develop a strong sense of number and the ability to solve real life (or as close as you can get in a classroom) mathematical problems. So why did we hand our students traditional equations to solve? March madness is my best excuse. Luckily I took the time to look closely and notice that every one of our third graders competently solved a problem that featured Alexander Calder and his wire circus–and required both multiplication and division to solve. And the majority of them solved three different versions of the problem that varied the level of difficulty! (Thank goodness we decided to add that problem to our assessment to represent the kind of problem solving we have worked on all year!)

And most people don’t even ask about students’ programming skills, design abilities, persistence and resilience, empathy…or even their dispositions as budding scientists. (You can read a bit about that here and here)

So, as I write report cards I’m trying to remind myself to breathe…and focus on the blossoming, pushing against the March madness. Are all our students right where we want them to be? No. Is there still room for growth? Of course! Can I improve my instruction to better support student learning? Yes–and I’m working on that every day.

But, our students are blossoming. And I want to make sure that the way I communicate progress helps their families and other educators see all that they can do, all the ways they have grown as learners…and help our students recognize that growth can be measured and documented in lots of ways. And also know where they need to continue to work and grow…because learning continues for a lifetime.

I understand the importance of accountability and communication in our educational system. I want to make sure that students are making progress and not slipping through the cracks. But I also want to honor hard-earned growth and pay attention to the attitudes and processes that aren’t measured by standardized tests or traditionally reported on through report cards and assessments.

I’ll keep pushing against the March madness…and once the report cards are done, maybe I’ll watch a bit of basketball…

Appreciating Stillness

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As I waited for the passengers to board my flight home, my inbox delivered an article on stillness and its benefits…and the ways that we avoid stillness…by using our devices (to read that article, ironically enough) and keeping ourselves busy, busy, busy.

This weekend has been a nice exercise in stillness for me. Somehow, with my camera in my hand, I find myself watching and waiting, listening to my own breath and noticing nature’s breath too (even in the city). There’s so much around me that I don’t capture in photos, but because I am looking for interesting photos, I notice. (I have written about this idea before here.)

A hike yesterday took us out in the rain and wind into a park in Seattle. Not quite knowing where we were going, we headed out for a shore hike hoping to catch a glimpse of a lighthouse way out on a point of land that we couldn’t drive to. The wind and rain made me zip my jacket up to my chin and tuck my camera inside my coat for a while. Bare trees swayed, rubbing branches against branches, creaking and groaning. Most seemed to flex, but there was also evidence of breakage along the way. We made our way down some steep twists and turns and were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of that elusive lighthouse. Knowing we’d have to climb back up however far we went down kept us from going all the way to the bottom for a closer view.

We got back to a trail that would loop us back toward our car and continued to listen to the wind, feel drops of rain bounce off our hoods, and notice winter’s rainy splendor of leave littered ground, bare branches, and evergreens shaking off some excess water drops. Geoff’s eagle eye spotted a bright yellow mushroom and some local hikers were amused as we squatted low to the ground to photograph this beauty.

Earlier in the day, as we left Port Angeles, we took a bit of a side trip out to the Dungeness Wildlife Refuge. Alone in the stillness, we noticed how weather batters the trees and cliffs and off in the distance we could see the mountains we had climbed the day before wrapped in fog.

We headed into the city center of Bainbridge Island to find a place to relax with a cup of coffee and check in for today’s flight home. Even in the bustle of the coffee shop, I found a bit of stillness as I watched people, sipped coffee and nibbled on a crispy ginger cookie. My mind felt relaxed, not racing ahead to the next thing that needed to be done. We wandered around the island a bit, finding a walking trail around the marina, watching sea birds glide on the currents as everyone else seemed to be hunkered down in preparation for the big game. Seattle Seahawks were playing the Green Bay Packers for the divisional title…at home. We tried to time our arrival in Seattle for after the game had begun.

As we waited for the ferry, parked in our rental car, the rain poured down, creating a little bubble of solitude around us. I noticed the bright yellow slickers and tall rubber boots that must be the uniform for ferry workers…having the right kind of clothes for the weather makes all the difference!

The rain stopped right before we drove onto the ferry, and once parked, we headed up onto the viewing decks. While it was warm and cozy with lots of comfy chairs inside, I feel better outside on a boat…and the picture taking is better there too! We found a spot under an overhang, with a bit of protection from the wind where we could watch Seattle come into view. The whistling wind sounded almost like native American flutes in the distance, welcoming us to the city.

We checked into the hotel just as the football game went into overtime and by the time we were on the 14th floor, we could hear the roar that signaled that the Seahawks had won! Horns honked, people danced in the streets dressed in blue and green waving flags with a 12 on them (the city is clearly part of the team…the 12th member on the field at all times!). As we walked down to our favorite doughnut and coffee place a couple of blocks away, we could feel the camaraderie of the city, gathering together to celebrate this win that almost didn’t happen.

Strangers chatted and re-hashed the game as we navigated the powdered sugar and dripping jelly of the most delicious doughnuts…and even better coffee. There is stillness even in the hustle and bustle of the city, if you stop to find it.

And we went to sleep to an amazing view of the Space Needle from the window in our room, knowing we would make one more trip to Top Pot in the morning to gorge on doughnuts and coffee before heading to the airport.

And after reading that article as people boarded the plane this morning, I gazed out the window, lost in my thoughts, watching planes coming and going, thinking about stillness. I’m grateful for a weekend of stillness, of quiet and reflection, and for the opportunity to spend time just being…with someone I love.

I’ll be looking for some moments of stillness to squeeze into my everyday life…and remind myself not to turn to my devices to fill that precious down time.

Taking Time to Explore

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I’ve been debating on a word to call on as a muse for 2015. I’ve been looking for a word that is active…that will push me to move out of my comfort zone, challenge me mentally and physically, and will work for both my professional and personal life.

And today’s adventures pushed me to decide.

We knew we wanted to squeeze one more hike into these precious days off…something a bit out of our ordinary choices. And when we left the house this morning in our hiking gear, with cold weather layers ready, we thought we were heading up into our local mountains. But at the gas station, we changed our minds and headed off on a two-hour trek to Palm Springs and the aerial tramway.

The tram takes you from the bottom of the mountain near Palm Springs to near the top of San Jacinto at over 7000 feet. What we didn’t anticipate were the crowds…or the snow. Each tram holds about 80 people and takes about 15 minutes to go from the valley to the mountain station…and there are two. We were lucky and only waited 90 minutes for our turn to go to the top. By the time we boarded the tram people were waiting more than three and half hours!

Once we got to the top, we headed off on a five plus mile hike…in the snow! And ah, it was breathtaking! As we walked away from the lodge, we moved away from the throngs of people who had come solely to throw some snowballs and slide in the snow. The sun shone brightly on the clean, white snow. We could hear birds chirping and our own breath as we climbed the mountain. We happened by this family of snowpeople as we headed out on our hike.

We reached our destination at 9100 feet! Crisp and white and fresh…Round Valley (the peak is another three miles up, we’re saving that for another day!).

The views were gorgeous! I had that same feeling of peace and relaxation that I get when I walk on the beach–a sense of the power and beauty of nature.

From the magnificence of the trees, rocky mountainside, and enormous boulders, to the fragile elegance of icicles and the reminders of what is yet to come from the pinecones…the wonders of Mother Nature surrounded us and wrapped us in her arms.

And for the cherry on top, as we got back into the tram for the trip back down the mountain, the sun was setting with the full moon in view. As the tram floor rotated 360 degrees during our descent, we were treated to amazing and colorful views of the entire valley below.

A friend reminded me that I could actually stick with my word from last year for more than a year…play has plenty more potential. I could probably stay with it for a lifetime. (And I think it will remain with me!)

But I’m ready to add to play…and this year my word will be explore. I want to explore possibilities and places, new ideas and old habits. I want my explorations to take me in new directions, to push me to try things I haven’t imagined I would ever do, like hike up a mountain in the snow! I look forward to exploring this year…physically, intellectually, imaginatively, and playfully. Hope you’ll come along for the ride!

And To All a Good Night!

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Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and magical winter holidays filled with family, friends, love and laughter!

Angular: Teaching and Learning on the Slant

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For the last few days I’ve been in Washington DC attending the National Writing Project Annual Meeting, a conference for those connected with writing projects all over the country. In this space we come together to reconnect, learn together, and envision and re-vision possibilities for both our national network and our local sites. And while I was in this rich, intellectually stimulating space, I found myself thinking about angles, the slant that is essential in the work of learning and teaching.

Tell the truth but tell it slant. Emily Dickinson

The hallmark of writing projects has been their longevity (we’re in our 40th year as an organization), which attests to their ability to adapt to new mandates and contexts in education, their ability to remain responsive to changing needs in the educational community while holding on to their core beliefs, and their ability to innovate as they strive to anticipate upcoming needs and trends and develop more effective and relevant approaches to supporting teachers with the goal of improving the teaching of writing. And even in our own community, what that means and how that looks does not assume that we all agree or even that we all understand our charge in the same ways.

And as I consider my own learning experiences, my observations of others, and continue to think about presenting ideas to my own students and to my writing project colleagues I realize that the straight path is not always the best path. I can’t assume what I have come to understand over a number of years will be clear to others as I explain what I now know. I have to find ways to communicate the truth…but find the slant that gives others access. Sometimes looking straight up or straight ahead actually works to obscure your view and understanding.

As I spent some time at the National Cathedral yesterday, I started to see the embodiment of some of these slants. What I noticed as I walked into the nave…the main body of the cathedral…were the incredible angles.

Columns reached high, curved, and then met in angular points. In that expansive and intricate structure, I could feel the careful study of architectural soundness. I felt reassured that this long-standing building would continue to stand, in spite of some damage from a recent earthquake. And so I’m thinking about the underlying structures that inform work some of us as educators do around the concept of connected learning. How do we make the structures and educational soundness visible? What experience will adult and student learners need to feel the expansiveness?

There is a beautiful infographic that I’ve seen shown over and over again and that I have used myself, but like the beautiful stained glass windows in the cathedral, it requires not only a close look but an understanding of the underlying design, accompanied by some personal experiences related to the concepts to truly begin to make sense of it.

And like the stained glass window, light shining from outside reveals details and intricacies that are not otherwise noticeable. Rubbing emerging ideas and persistent questions against those of my colleagues works like that shining light, revealing nuances and pushing me to rethink and reconsider my own understanding. When I can see my thoughts reflected through the ideas of others, they take new shapes and create new possibilities like these intricate shadows the wrought-iron work reflects on the cathedral walls..

And while that sounds pretty easy and productive, it isn’t always that straightforward. There are more slants and angles to consider. Sometimes the learners and teachers must wander down seemingly endless corridors, making false starts and running into dead ends before finding their way in. But repeated opportunities to try and stumble, reflect and reengage eventually reveal a pathway—maybe not THE pathway—to understanding.

Sometimes you have to crane your neck while your nose is right against the window to catch a glimpse of possibility like I had to as I searched for gargoyles. And sometimes that view might be terrifying, monsters seem to come into view, until you realize you are not alone and there are other meanings to be made of what you are seeing and experiencing.

As I have reflected on my experiences this week, I am reminded of the value in taking a step back, considering other perspectives and the role that resistance (my own and that of others) plays in learning. How do I play the doubting and believing game (Elbow) in productive ways that opens doors rather than closes them? And how do I facilitate processes like these for my students and my colleagues?

I know it’s about the slant, the angular nature of our personal biases and the complexity of learning itself. And just like the straight path isn’t for everyone, I know that there are many slants to consider as we continue to learn ourselves and to support learners in this fast-changing, information-driven, connected world we live in. My trip to the cathedral not only allowed me to explore this beautiful national treasure and take interesting photos, it also helped me think about learning and angles and envision the role I might play in creating entry points and interactions to extend opportunities to consider alternatives to our current educational system. I’m looking forward to exploring the slants…and I’m appreciating the angular.