Getting Over Myself

Sometimes you read some tweets (or a collection of tweets), and they really make an impact on you. This is what happened last week when I read these tweets from Kristi Keery Bishop (read from the bottom, up).

2015-08-02_14-14-02Kristi got me thinking about my own experiences in education. When I started teaching, colleagues and administrators offered me a lot of advice on how to improve.

  • Become more organized.
  • Consider different assessment and evaluation options.
  • Remember to regularly contact parents and track conversations with parents.
  • Know your students. Plan for them. Remember that not all students are the same, so vary activities to meet their individual needs.
  • Know curriculum expectations. Plan for how to address them. Think about this question: what do students really need to learn?
  • Change is scary, but change can be good. Be brave. Be willing to change.

I’m sure that these points are not the only ones that they made, but they’re definitely many that I’ve thought about and reflected on over the years. After these early experiences in education though, I got better. I listened to the advice, and I made improvements. That’s when something different happened: I got less feedback.

  • Maybe it’s because I was improving.
  • Maybe it’s because there is a concern that feedback is evaluative, and teachers are only evaluated every five years. 
  • Maybe it’s because I asked for feedback less than I did in those early years.

And then, a couple of years ago, I started teaching Grade 5. My administrators at the time, Paul and Kristi, visited my room regularly. I was being evaluated that year. After they visited, I began to email them and ask for feedback. At first, I just received some kind notes, and then one day, I received “real feedback.” I still remember that day. I was doing an activity that I thought was great! Our school was really focused on “student voice and choice,” and it was the students that indicated their desire for this type of activity. They were on-task and happily working together. Paul and Kristi started asking them some hard questions though, and while these students may have been “engaged,” they couldn’t think through the answers. This email made me question my approach, and it helped me make changes … positive changes that helped my students think more. This feedback was the first of many emails and face-to-face conversations that I had with Paul and Kristi that helped me think differently, make more changes, and realize that while I may be “proud” of what I’m doing, I’m not perfect.

I’m not going to say that the feedback was always easy to take. It wasn’t. It often made me question myself and question my teaching, but without it, would I be stuck where I was instead of moving forward to where I wanted to be? On Twitter, in blog posts, and in school discussions, I often hear the words (paraphrased), “Nobody’s perfect! We all have areas in which to improve.” I agree with these words. But then, when reflecting on lessons, activities, or days in the classroom, how often do we — myself included — say the following phrases?

  • “That was great!”
  • “I really liked that activity!”
  • “I’ll be doing that lesson/activity again.”
  • “My kids loved that!”
  • “They were so engaged.”

These words could all be true, but what about,

  • what didn’t work and why?
  • what could we do better?
  • what students didn’t understand the lesson, and how could we tailor it more to them?
  • what did the students learn, and can they articulate this learning?
  • where do we need to go next?

I think of staff meetings that we’ve had where teachers share their successes. It’s good to celebrate success, but what about also celebrating a willingness to grow? What about sharing “failures” or at least “next steps?” 

A couple of years ago, I really needed to “get over myself,” and in the very best and most supportive of ways, Paul and Kristi helped me do so. Last year, I worked with two other wonderful administrators, Gerry and Gord, that continued to supportively question and challenge me in order to grow. 

Every day, educators do wonderful things for students. They care about kids, and they work hard to help them meet with success. But what about those students that don’t? What if there was more that we could do? I can’t help but think about Sarah Sanders“one word” blog post, and her goal to be “open” this year. Maybe no matter how proud we are of what we’ve done, we need to be open to what else we can do. I’ve chosen to take Kristi’s good advice, and am hoping that by sharing my story and continuing to get over myself, I’ll be even more open to what else is possible.


Who’s with me?


Looking Back At My “One Word” And Looking Forward To A New “One!”

Yesterday, I caught Sue Dunlop‘s tweeted challenge in response to Donna’s Fry‘s recent blog post.

2015-07-25_10-57-17I knew that I needed to update my “one word” post, as so much of what I’ve done this year has revolved around this word: being uncomfortable. I just did a search on my professional blog for the word “uncomfortable,” and since writing my blog post on December 31st, I have three pages of blog posts all connected to this single word. Looking back at these blog posts, I realized that I’ve been uncomfortable …

  • in my classroom practices.
  • in my reflections and goal-setting.
  • in my interactions with colleagues.
  • in many different choices that I made this year.

Maybe my biggest “uncomfortable” challenge is what I have in store for next year: teaching Senior Kindergarten. It’s not about the grade choice. I’ve taught this grade many times before, and absolutely loved it. But the challenges are,

  • teaching this grade with a new Program Document than we had before. I say that I’ve taught Kindergarten for eight years before, and I have, but never with this new document. While I sat on an advisory committee for the document, and I’ve read it many times before and know the thinking behind it, I haven’t experienced this thinking in practice with four- and five-year-olds. Six years ago, I left Kindergarten because I didn’t agree with the philosophy behind the Full-Day Kindergarten Program. My thinking has changed since then, but as September comes closer, I’m getting scared. What if everything I believe in theory, doesn’t work in practice? How can I stay true to the document, while also addressing the diverse needs of our learners?
  • teaching this grade in a school with many different student needsLast year, I started teaching at a different school. It’s an incredible school with a very diverse student population. Poverty remains an issue down in the area where I teach. For many students, English is also their second language, and this may be the first year that some of our Kindergarten students are learning English. I keep thinking back to a comment that a previous Early Years Consultant made at the time when I last taught Kindergarten: “We don’t withdraw students for support in Kindergarten because the Kindergarten classroom is the ideal place for English Language Learners. There is so much of the oral language that they need.” I understand and agree with this statement. I’m a big believer that all students can learn, and with the right supports in place, can meet with success. What if I’m wrong? If the students don’t make enough academic gains, will people start questioning the Kindergarten program? Will I? How long do we wait for growth to occur before making changes to approaches?
  • sharing a classroom with somebody else. My partner for next year is fantastic, and we’ve already had so many great conversations on classroom set-up, programming, and pedagogy, but for 14 years, I’ve been used to largely planning alone. Now the “I” is becoming “we,” and this is both exciting and scary. How do we continue to develop this strong partnership? If/when disagreements occur, how might we go about solving them? What have others done before?

All of these challenges, while connected to being uncomfortable, are making me think that it might be time to update my “one word.” I know that this was a year-long challenge, but in teaching, the new year starts in September, and I wonder if this is when my word also needs to change. I really think that success for this upcoming year is going to come down to listening. I’d like to think that I’m a good listener. I do watch and listen to people often, but …

  • how often do I “listen” with what I think the answer is already in my head?
  • how often do I “listen” just for the purpose of responding?
  • how often do I “listen” just to give myself time to think about what I want to say next?
  • how often do I “listen” and interject prematurely?
  • how often do I “listen” and nod along, but not really “hear” anything at all?
  • how often do I “listen,” comment, and question, but forget about the wait-time that students and adults may need?

If I can become a better listener, I’ll be able to find out,

  • what students know.
  • what students want to learn about.
  • what students struggle with, and how I might be able to help.
  • how students communicate (with me and with each other) regardless of the language that they’re using at the time.
  • how students solve problems, and what they do if/when they can’t solve them.
  • what my teaching partner thinks and believes.
  • issues/concerns that my teaching partner may have, and how she would like to solve them.

From listening comes next steps, growth, and learning … for both children and adults. As the new school year approaches, I’m going to “get uncomfortable” again as I focus on how to become a better listener for myself, my teaching partner, and my students. What impact has your “one word” had on your practices this year? Will you continue with your current word until the end of December, or will September bring a shift for you? Why? I’d love to hear your response to this updated one word challenge!


Can There Be Many Ways?

Last week, I got involved in a Twitter conversation with David Benay, Stephen Hurley, Andrew Campbell, and Brian Aspinall. The conversation started because of some tweets shared from the Self-Regulation Symposium (#selfreg2015), but as you can see in my Storify Story, it definitely evolved from there.

While reading the comments from David, Stephen, Andrew, and Brian, I came to a conclusion that started to make me feel very uncomfortablemaybe I’ve been looking at the Learning Skills all wrong. Since Friday morning, I’ve been thinking back to comments and marks that I’ve put on the report cards for Learning Skills, and wishing that I could have a “do over.” Why? Because when I’ve evaluated Learning Skills, I think that my definition of success is too narrow, when students might actually be meeting these expectations in many different ways. 

Let me think back …

  • If students need to move around or fidget with objects in order to participate in group discussions, are they still self-regulating?
  • If class discussions are too much for students to handle, and they can recognize this in themselves and come up with alternative options for these times, what mark do they deserve for self-regulation?
  • If students can quietly engage with their peers while working independently, how do I perceive their independent work?
  • If large groups overwhelm students, but they can collaborate well in groups of two or three, what “value” do I give to collaboration?
  • If organizing paper is too much for students, but they can organize their ideas and assignments on a tablet or computer, are they getting evaluated lower on organizational skills? Am I giving students opportunities to choose the way in which to organize their work, or am I enforcing a system that may not work for everyone? Am I being hypocritical knowing that the traditional systems of organization do not work for me?
  • If I’m asking students to take responsibility and show initiative in the classroom, what opportunities am I giving them to do so? If they take initiative, but extend learning in a way that I don’t want, are their marks reflecting this? Is this fair?

I wish that I thought of these questions before now, because maybe then, I would have done things differently than I did in the past. While I’d like to think that I always look for ways to meet individual student needs, I don’t know that I always consider these different needs when it comes to Learning Skills. I am now going to change!

Educational Twitter chats and numerous blog posts talk about the need to change the classroom learning environment. There are lots of discussions on Project-Based Learning, Inquiry, and Game-Based Learning. While we talk about the impact that these approaches have on academic learning, what impact do they have on Learning Skills? How might changing viewpoints on Learning Skills change the classroom and school environment? Are we ready for this change? Before, the marks for Learning Skills never really bothered me as much as the grades in subject areas. Now I question more what these different levels may look like, and if marking Learning Skills is just perpetuating a system where there is one view of success. What do you think?


Not Just For Kindergarten

About 1 1/2 years ago, I got involved in a fabulous Book Club through our Board. We discussed Stuart Shanker‘s Calm, Alert, and Learning. Reading, thinking, and talking about this book, changed my understanding of self-regulation and many of my classroom practices.

  • I reconsidered bulletin board colours and visual displays in the classroom.
  • I tried to speak in a softer tone.
  • I became more aware of when students were “up regulated” and how to help them “down regulate.” Students also started taking more ownership over this “down regulating.”
  • As a class, we worked on creating more zones in the classroom. We ensured that there were “quiet areas” for when students needed them.
  • I thought of music in a different way, and realized the value that it could have for many students. 
  • After many years of report card comments to the contrary, I finally came to understand that self-regulation was about more than sitting quietly and raising your hand to share ideas

I share all of this now because when I read Shanker’s book, I was teaching Grade 5. The Book Club was advertised as a Full-Day Kindergarten and Early Learning Book Club. Everyone was welcome, but self-regulation was a focus in the Early Years, so this was the target audience. I hate to admit it now, but the only reason that I even signed up for the Book Club was because I really wanted to move from teaching a junior class to teaching a primary one the following year, and I thought that this Book Club would show that I was dedicated to learning more about a topic that mattered in primary. What I quickly came to learn though was that self-regulation isn’t just for kindergarten.

Let’s think about what happens as children grow up.

  • Friendships become more challenging.
  • Students often start to feel more stressed (for various reasons).
  • Puberty often complicates emotional reactions to problems.
  • Relationships start … and they often impact on the classroom environment if we want them to or not.
  • Learning needs become more prevalent. As gaps widen, student frustration often increases. 

And each of these issues, and many more, make it that much more complicated for students to regulate (or control) their behaviour. As teachers, we also expect that as students get older, they know the classroom and school expectations even better, and should be able to follow them with few, if any, reminders. So what do we do when there is drama, tears, outbursts, and/or interruptions in class (regardless of the age of our students)? Would our reactions vary if our knowledge of self-regulation was different? 

I think of this more now because there is currently a Self-Regulation Symposium happening in Peterborough. I was reading some of the tweets later this afternoon, and I saw this one by Cathern Lethbridge: a principal in Midland, Ontario.


I am thrilled to hear this, but I also wonder, how many people and school boards are at this Symposium to hear this message? How can we get this message out to those not there? My tweet below sums up my thoughts.


If I hadn’t chosen to join the Book Club back when I did, I would still see self-regulation as an “FDK topic.” I wonder about the impact of this, for if students don’t learn to self-regulate well, how do they really learn? What do you think?


The Bathroom As A Learning Space … And Other Things Learned By The Power Of Observation

Earlier this week, I read a fantastic blog post by a fellow Kindergarten teacher, Anamaria Ralph. In her post, she discusses the flow of the day, with some very detailed explanations behind the different components. Anamaria references a resource, Working In The Reggio Way, that asks important questions to help with determining the daily routine.

2015-07-12_13-06-24I decided to make Wurm’s book my first professional read of the summer, and I’m so glad that I did. This book has made me do a lot of thinking and develop many talking points to explore with my partner before September.

When I look back over the notes that I made and the questions that I asked, one important word came to mind: observation. Before worrying about what we say or do, we need to sit back, watch, and listen. I used to think that I did both, but now I’m not so sure. 

  • I watched students, but did I already assume how they would behave, and were my opinions clouded by my assumptions?
  • I listened to students, but did I only listen with a single expectation in mind? Did I listen closely to everything else that they shared — or didn’t share — and did I use this information to think ahead for programming options?

My first a-ha moment came when the author discussed the use of a bathroom as a learning space. She mentioned ideas that I had never really thought about before, but made so much sense. The classroom teachers in this Reggio environment even developed their own professional inquiry based on the use of this bathroom space. Amazing! How did they get to this point? They watched and listened to students. They saw the social interaction that happens in a washroom, and they decided to re-think the possible use of this space. (Now our classroom bathroom is just one small room with a toilet and a sink, so what these teachers did may not work for us, but I still can’t help but wonder what may.) The quality observation that happened in this case, and in so many other cases in the book, made me think about the time needed to observe. 

I am left wondering …

  • How much time is spent watching children versus how much time is spent talking and working with children?
  • How many children were in these classrooms? Do numbers play a role in how we observe and what we observe?
  • With a large number of students that have English as their second language, how can we scaffold the language for them and still spend the quality time watching their interactions?
  • When do we act on our observations? Wurm’s book discusses the importance of “wait time” and wait time that is much longer than what we may be accustomed to (stretching on for even days, weeks, or months at a time). With this wait time in mind, how do we know when to act and when to just continue observing?

Wurm really emphasizes the importance of small changes. She thinks it’s valuable to make one or two changes, observe what happens, and make other changes based on these observations. This will be hard for me. I’m comfortable with change, and I tend to make changes regularly and quickly. I’m going to need to slow down. But how slow do we go? In a school and Board environment where “meeting benchmarks” is important, how do we take the time needed to make positive changes, while still helping our students get to where they need (or maybe it’s where we want them) to be? I think that this summer read will lead to many interesting conversations in the coming months. I’d love to hear more about your thoughts and experiences as I continue to consider the Reggio way.



Learning To Love “Free Time”

Yesterday, I walked a group of campers to a martial arts lesson. We arrived a bit early, so the instructor told the children that they could have some “free time.” What?! All I saw was a big open area and lots of items to kick or hit. Someone was going to get hurt. Nobody did though.

Slowly the children started to get into groups.

  • They played tag.
  • They chased each other around the room.
  • They practiced some of their stretches.
  • They punched and kicked the swinging punching bags.
  • They used the row of punching bags almost like a maze, and they weaved themselves in and out of them as the bags slowly swung back and forth: careful not to get hit.
  • They skipped.

It was amazing to watch the children.

  • How did they interact with each other?
  • Who led and who followed?
  • How did they include other students in their games?
  • What risks did they take, and how did they do so safely?
  • How did they add structure to an unstructured environment?
  • How did they create their own fun?

I remember summertime when I was a kid. Usually my sister and I went to camp for a week or two, and then we were at home with my mom. Our days were not highly scheduled.

  • We read books.
  • We played inside (we did love playing school and house) and outside (tag and hide-and-seek were always favourite games).
  • We ran through the sprinkler.
  • We rode our bikes.
  • We went on walks … and even took our dolls with us in their little strollers. 
  • We connected with friends and had fun with family members.
Some Of My "Free Time" As A Child

Some Of My “Free Time” As A Child

In our own ways, we learned how to enjoy unstructured time and get past the “bored” and to the “fun” (even without electronics). I wonder how we give children more opportunities — at home and at school — to work through the “free time” and learn from the experience. Maybe, despite what I initially thought, “free time” isn’t so scary after all. What do you think? 


Hi [Name]!

Today, I started teaching for a three week summer program. I’ve worked at this same program for over 20 years, and I’ve seen many children grow up there. Some campers that started in JK are now in Grade 11, and while I always feel old seeing just how much they’ve grown :) , it’s also great to connect again each summer.

Just before recess time today, I was out in the hallway helping the campers get ready, and I saw a bunch of campers from the older group. I happened to call each of them by name as I was saying hi. One boy stopped me and said, “Wow Aviva! I can’t believe that you remembered my name.” He was beaming! It was his reaction that really made me stop and think: learning names may be one of the simplest, but most powerful ways, to make connections with others. 

I can’t help but think back to Doug Peterson‘s blog post from a couple of days ago. Maybe my name a-ha moment isn’t anything new, but I think that the power of something so simple, surprised me. For the rest of the day, I tried hard to call everyone I saw by name. I had to quickly learn some new ones to do so. It was very interesting to watch the reactions when I did say a camper’s name.

  • He/she smiled.
  • There was a happier quality in his/her voice.
  • He/she was then very eager to share something new with me.
  • We connected.

This makes me think about my time at school. In September, I’m teaching a new grade and know very few of the students. Since it’s a straight Senior Kindergarten class, I won’t be meeting the children before school starts. It’s usually during the classroom visits that I talk to the students, learn new things about them, take photographs of them, and memorize their names. This won’t work for September, so what can I do?

  • Maybe I can get some class pictures from last year and use them to help learn the new names.
  • Maybe as I talk to each of the students on the first day, I can follow the same routine that I would usually do beforehand.
  • Maybe as I meet the students on the way in, I can find out their names, and then use them in follow-up conversations.

I think of my own experiences in new environments. When I’m at a meeting or at an inservice, and there are lots of new people there, what always makes me feel better is when someone says, “Hi Aviva!” Then I’ve found a colleague. I’ve found an acquaintance. Or I’ve found a friend. I’ve definitely found someone that can make the unfamiliar seem a little less overwhelming. How can we provide this same “comfort” to our students?  Maybe it starts with learning their names. What do you think?


I’m Sorry!

As an elementary school teacher, I’m sure that I’m not alone when I say that I hear, “I’m sorry,” many times during the school day. Whenever problems arise, students apologize. Children have become so accustomed to apologizing — learning that it’s the correct thing to do when they make a mistake — that they default to this “sorry” response regardless of the size of the problem. Many educators, myself included, have spoken about the need to teach students that sometimes sorry isn’t enough. Sorry can’t always fix things. On Friday though, I wished that these words had more power.

I make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. I try hard to learn from these mistakes, and usually, I end up making new mistakes, but not the same ones again. On Friday, I made a mistake that is still bothering me today. It’s probably not the biggest mistake that I’ve ever made, but it’s one that I’m finding hard to move past. I’m a big believer in being up front with people, even if we don’t necessarily agree. I try hard to not talk behind people’s backs, engage in gossip, or get caught up in complaining. But on Friday, I made a comment that I shouldn’t have made to someone else, and the person that I was referring to, overheard. Or at least I think that this person overheard. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. I felt terribly!

I probably should have gone to talk to this person, but I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I was so upset because I made the kind of mistake that might have hurt the feelings of somebody that I truly respect. After this incident happened, I sat down and I thought. I wrote an apology. I re-read it. I made changes. In my note, I tried to apologize in the only way that I knew how … I said sorry

I still don’t know if this apology worked. The truth is, even if it did, a “sorry” can’t take away that feeling in my stomach and that knowledge that I might have hurt someone that didn’t deserve to be hurt. Sometimes I wish that I could be a kid again. I wish that all problems could be fixed with a single word, and that this terrible feeling in my head and heart would go away. It won’t though. I know that I won’t be making this same mistake again. While a “sorry” may not fix the problem, I hope that it will eventually bring forgiveness and a fresh start. How do we apologize if “sorry” doesn’t work? If the goal is to learn from our mistakes, then how do we take back words that cannot be forgotten? What do you do? I wish there was a way to begin Friday again. I know what I wouldn’t be doing.


What We See; What Do You See?

During Friday’s PA Day, I had the opportunity to work with my wonderful partner, Mandie Ristic, as we started setting up our Senior Kindergarten classroom for September. When I walked into the room on Friday morning, I was overwhelmed by the stacks of supplies, the amount of furniture, and the size of the room.


The “Before” Picture

I’ll admit that I didn’t really know where to begin. This is one of many reasons that I love having a partner (and such a terrific one at that). Mandie had a much clearer vision, and together, we could talk out what mattered to us and why. We spent the whole day …

  • arranging
  • discussing
  • rearranging
  • discussing again
  • getting feedback
  • making changes
  • and ultimately developing a plan.

As Mandie was drawing the plan on the whiteboard for our caretakers, I said, “I wish we were recording our conversations today. They would have made a wonderful blog post!” I can’t go back and do this — no matter how much I might like to — but I’m thrilled that Mandie was open to me blogging about our design and asking for feedback. Usually I publish this kind of blog post just before school starts in September, but I definitely see value in receiving input now, so that we can continue to modify our plans before the school year begins. And so, with this in mind, here’s our thinking.

We wanted “zones”: which included quieter areas and noisier areas. We decided to put our quieter area near the door. As you walk into the classroom, there is a large bench area that has cubbies underneath and hooks on top. We don’t need to use these hooks though, as we have lockers out in the hallway. Currently, these benches are full of supplies, but come September, the supplies will be organized elsewhere, and this will become a quiet reading area. We’ll have some bins of books on the benches, along with a few pillows, and Mandie is going to get some see-through fabric to drape above the hooks: creating a calming ambience that very much aligns with Stuart Shanker‘s thinking on self-regulation


Right next to this area, we have a carpet area surrounded by a couple of bookshelves. Initially, we thought about putting books in the cubbies, but as we added more and more of them, we decided that we didn’t like the look. Now we’re going to put an assortment of books on the bookshelves. We’re also going to put some smaller books (e.g., board books, Clifford books, etc.) in the rows of cubbies that are at eye level for the students. Below these books, we’re going to add some puzzles and a few small toys. We thought about putting our CD player here as well. Calming music can always be played at a low level in the background to again support self-regulation and the need for some quiet time.

There is a small sensory bin area near the sink and not too far from this carpet area. Mandie mentioned that the sensory bins were not too noisy in her other Kindergarten class, and it’s ideal to have them near the sink. We also have our guided reading table over in the corner. It’s pulled back far enough to create more of a nook for reading. While some of our students can be supported in an “over the shoulder” approach, others will need more support. We definitely see using our guided reading table for this support, but we know that when it’s not being used by us, students can also use it to read, write, and/or explore together.

We put a large table on the other side of the reading carpet area. This table will be used for largely visual arts and projects. Mandie is going to fill the cubbies right behind this table with different colour-coded materials, much in the spirit of that which has been shared by Joanne Babalis before.

The other areas in the classroom are likely to be louder ones, and include block areas, a dramatic play area, and a Science area. The SMART Board carpet area can also be for full class gatherings. We don’t anticipate to do this much and/or to do this for long. We actually questioned if we needed an area where all of the students could sit, as we both find that working with small groups of students is often far more effective than large groups. Neither one of us intend on long, full-class gatherings, but the carpet is there if we want to dance together, read together, and/or share together.

2015-06-29_13-59-34 2015-06-29_13-59-45 2015-06-29_13-59-58

We decided on two block areas. When visiting the Kindergarten class at Earl Kitchener, we noticed that these teachers had two block areas. Not only does this spread out the noise a little bit, but it also allows us to target different skills. The block area near the SMART Board is more of a “structure block area.” We have lots of foam blocks and wooden blocks, and we’ve added in cars and small animal toys to help get students thinking about creating structures. They can even look at real structures on the SMART Board, and use these images to inspire their own. We’re also going to add books, paper, and clipboards to this area to get students looking at other structures, reading about them, and drawing and writing about their own. Adding signs to the structures, such as, “Please keep,” also provide opportunities for meaningful writing. 

The other block area is more about fine motor development and math skills. We initially wanted to put the hundreds carpet here, but due to space, we had to reconsider. The carpet that’s currently here though has some patterns on it, and may even inspire some other pattern creations. We also have a few small tables around this area, so that students can save their creations. Just like with the other block area, we intend on adding in books, paper, and clipboards to inspire reading and writing, while also building.

We wanted a Science area. Science learning can connect so well with Language and Math learning, and can often help students develop their oral language skills. Mandie has a great aquarium that can be used in many different ways. We thought that the use of provocations in addition to some reading and writing materials (on the little table) will help get students thinking, talking, reading, and writing about science. 

Our dramatic play area will continue to evolve throughout the year. Student interests and the introduction of different provocations will help regularly change our dramatic play area. When we were looking at it on Friday, Mandie didn’t like seeing the brown backing of the furniture. That’s when we talked about creating a message area. Mandie has some chalkboard paint at home, and we’re looking at using this to even add some more literacy into this current kitchen area. What a nice way for us to leave messages for students, and them to leave messages for each other. We see the potential for some authentic writing here. 

Technology is everywhere. We don’t want technology to be an add-on, but instead, an invisible, but useful, component of our learning environment. Students can use technology to help learn more, share with others, create, document learning, and review learning. Technology is infused throughout our learning environment, in the midst of low-tech tools such as paint, paper, pens, blocks, toys, books, and manipulatives. We have one desktop computer, but our other devices are portable, and include laptops, ChromeBooks, and iPads.

We wanted space. Students need little areas to sit, talk, and work together. We need to all be able to move around comfortably. In a classroom with many students, having space helps reduce the noise and any anxiety (maybe for both children and adults). Coupled with this need for space though, we wanted to ensure that there was a table area and a chair for each student if/when it’s needed. Initially, we had another small table in the classroom, but it was really reducing the movement area around the big art table. We decided that if we look at all tables — big and small — as possible ones for students to use (which they are), then we have enough room for everyone without the extra table. Sometimes less is more … and it definitely seems to be in this case.

I know that it’s hard to look beyond the mess and see what we see. Hopefully though this post provides a clearer picture of what we want and the reasons behind our choices. Our room will surely change throughout the year and probably even when we go back in August to finish setting up, but this post highlights our current plans. What do you think? What might you add or change, and why? We welcome feedback as you imagine with us the possibilities for this Senior Kindergarten environment!


Learning From A Leader

Goodbye Mr. Carey!

Goodbye Mr. Carey!

During Monday’s assembly, my students found out that our amazing vice principal, Gord Carey, is leaving for another school. Minutes later, we were standing up to leave, and Gord passed us in line. One of my students turned to him and with huge tears in his eyes said, “Why do you have to leave us?” At that moment, I could feel the lump in my own throat. What made me have to choke back my own sobs even more was when Gord went up, let this child give him a hug, and calling him by name, reassured him that everything was going to be okay. Why did Gord’s words and actions have such an emotional impact on me? Because this student of mine is one of over 500 students in the school. He doesn’t visit the office. Gord just sees him on his walk throughs and when outside on the playground. But he knows him. He knows his name, and for the few times he sees him, he makes him feel special. 

I’ve only had the pleasure of working with Gord for a year, but during this time he’s taught me many things. My biggest take away from him though is people matter most. I know this makes sense, but it’s his words and actions that really drive this point home. 

  • After a very emotional staff goodbye this morning, Gord came around to classrooms. Why? “Because Aviva, I’m afraid that I might not be able to see everyone at the end of the day, and I want to spend my time seeing and saying goodbye to as many staff and students as I can.” That’s exactly what he did! He talked to kids. He received hugs, high fives, and lovely words of encouragement. He showed the value in connecting with people.
  • Gord’s one of the busiest people that I know, but when it comes to talking about kids or solving problems, he’s always there. He always listens. He always helps. I don’t know where he finds the time, but he does. Last year, the staff at my old school used to laugh at me for my late night email replies to them; well, I’m proud to say that Gord has me beat. Even on the weekend, on a holiday, or on a week night, he’ll write you back … and that says something to me!
  • He takes the time to laugh … like really laugh with you! It’s the kind of laugh that makes your stomach ache and your eyes water. I think that laughter connects people. It shows people that you care enough about them to take the time to connect with them on a personal as well as a professional level. Gord does that!
  • He always puts kids first! Here’s a little secret about Gord (that I don’t think he’ll mind me sharing with everyone): he hates worms. We had a vermicomposter, and I’ll remember the first time that he came in on a Wiggly Wednesday and a child ran up to him holding a worm. The look on his face was priceless! From then on, Gord would always squirm when he knew that the worms were out. That was until the day that I mentioned I was going to be away on a Wiggly Wednesday. I had a supply teacher coming in on this day, and she’d never been in my class before, nor had I ever been away on this kind of special day. Gord’s comment to me was, “Okay Aviva. I’ll make sure that I go up and see everyone … even with the worms!” I love his dedication to students: worms or no worms. :)
  • Gord notices things, and connects over the details. This morning, as we were having our before school Staff Celebration, Gord saw me and said, “I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed my daily dose of Aviva.” :) This week has been full of field trips, special days, and moving classrooms, and I haven’t gotten down to the office or the staffroom as much as usual. Not only did he notice this, but he showed me that he cares. That matters!

I’ve worked with, and continue to work with, many wonderful administrators. I’ve learned something from all of them. I’ve only been at Dr. Davey for a year, but I’m so glad that I got a chance to work with Gord as part of this first year experience. Today, I watched staff members, students, and parents say goodbye to an incredible vice principal. I saw the looks. I saw the tears. I saw, and heard, the love. As I said to a colleague tonight, I strongly believe in the fact that change is good. It’s never easy, but it’s valuable. I watched the start of this change today, and I know that Gord will be remembered so fondly at Dr. Davey because he took the time to care and connect: he took the time for people! His departure made me wonder, how would you want to be remembered? How do you think you might be remembered? How can we all learn a little something from Mr. Carey?