Plotting a Course to Uncharted Curricula
by Abby Sandberg and Melinda Deal
ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Spark
Issue #17, Fall 2018

At ąű¶ł´«Ă˝, every school year is like a road trip.

Our planned destination is that each student finds enthusiasm for learning and that he or she ends the year with a plethora of new academic and problem-solving skills. Getting to our destination may not be as simple as moving in a direct route from point A to point B. ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ teachers, however, are well-traveled in the learning journey. We use our teaching expertise, a set of clearly defined goals, and a reliable toolbox of resources to embark on this excursion in a manner that is responsive to the learning needs of the students. By opening ourselves up to the possibility of alternate routes to our destination, we not only accomplish our intended goals but also reap the benefits of the learning that occurs off the beaten path. When we design for responsiveness in the journey, we make ourselves available for unexpected adventures and sometimes unforeseen challenges to conquer. Throughout the school year, the trips down these side roads, sometimes even off road, result in experiences that are more rewarding than we even imagined. Collaboration among faculty is a key component of these successes. Collaborative teaching requires risk taking, develops shared responsibility, and builds deep trust among colleagues, all of which help make it safe to be brave enough to try something new. 

ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ teachers are keenly attuned to what must be taught, but the “how” of teaching is constantly up for discussion. With the ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Continua as a guide to the progression of academic skills students will master, we collaborate with one another to design meaningful opportunities that will help students reach this end. Looking with fresh eyes at the needs and interests of our students as well as the resources in the community, we design, test, and redesign our teaching methods. We do not rely on teaching a particular unit or topic at a specific level; thus, we are always bravely inventing new ways to engage students and make connections between content areas through our unique yearly theme. Because this is our educational model, founded on what we believe is best for children, it is easy—rather than rely on redoing things as they have been done before—to stir the pot and try it in a new way.

Sources of inspiration are unique to each school year. As such, it is no surprise that each learning experience is novel. We are adept at teaching the discrete academic skills on the Continua, but we do so in a way that is responsive to students. As a result, the route to student mastery of these teacher-generated goals typically includes paths on which we have never trod. Because the path is uncharted, we must be willing to courageously begin these learning journeys even if we cannot always see clearly around the bend.

When we, as teachers, courageously embark on designing emergent curricula, we become excellent models for students to see critical thinking, flexibility, and collaboration first hand. Students witness how we address unexpected challenges and see how we call upon each other’s unique skills when a particular quandary takes us out of our current wheelhouse. We question one another, express ideas, and share unique areas of knowledge all in the view of students. Many times this collaboration is evidenced by consulting with Specialist teachers, who can enlighten the teaching team with information and strategies from their individual areas of expertise. For example, after reading an excerpt from the current Read Aloud book, a student query about the natural capabilities of the lead animal character spurred a class discussion that prompted a call from the classroom teacher to the Science Specialist. This modeling teaches students that questions are beneficial, seeking resources is wise, and collaborating with those around you can lead to greater understanding. This is another important benefit of brave teaching. 

Although a willingness to take risks is certainly an important component of brave teaching, the collaborative nature of this style of lesson planning makes it feel safer to embark down an unknown path. During the school week, teachers meet regularly across grade level teaching teams and across Specialists’ disciplines. We are courageous in our questioning and project design, posing questions that have multiple solutions, which we have not always worked out ourselves. It is common to hear questioning such as, “What if we…..?” or “How about we try….?” Many times, our planning prompts projects for which we will have to observe students’ responses to determine how best to proceed through. During this process, we weigh pros and cons of potential paths, bravely assert ideas, and reach compromise. The entire teaching team takes ownership over the learning experience. We celebrate successes together, and we solve unexpected challenges collaboratively. This safety net of colleagues provides a platform for courageously forging ahead when you are not certain which path will lead to your goal. 

Every instance of brave teaching supports future courageous endeavors. The more often we call upon the expertise of one another, the more knowledgeable we become about each individual’s unique skillsets. As we courageously work with a wide range of colleagues, the more familiar those individuals become and the greater comfort everyone experiences during these collaborations. For example, an upcoming solar eclipse prompted us to design an experience for students to learn about this phenomenon. Classroom teachers and the Science Specialist certainly had knowledge to impart. However, when we discovered that the school’s Director of Technology was an avid stargazer, we saw a great opportunity to expand the teaching team and call upon his expertise. Collaborations between all of these parties resulted in an afternoon viewing experience that students and parents engaged in together. While this outcome was deemed a success, an even greater benefit of this collaboration was the shared connection among those involved in the experience. 

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I Made Fire! Teachers Coach Independence, One-on-One
by Susan Foley and Sally Minerich
ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Spark
Issue #14, Fall 2014

Combining red, yellow and orange swirls of color, Jack, a four year old in an Early Elementary classroom shares, “I made fire coming out of the volcano. The dinosaur lives near the volcano.” With his illustration complete, he finds a teacher and announces, “My word today is dinosaur. I’m ready for writing!” His teacher takes a moment to acknowledge and discuss Jack’s independence exhibited through his picture and word choice, and she passes him a pencil, “You get started writing dinosaur and I’ll be over soon!” Jack’s questioning eyes express some hesitation. Up until now, the writing has always been done with a teacher by his side guiding his practice in letter sounds and formation and assisting him in separating the words into distinct sounds. As Jack’s writing skills develop, the role of the teacher as a guide adapts. Thus, he has been given the challenge to try writing some letters independently. As he slowly reaches for the pencil, the teacher confidently reminds him that he needs simply to take his best guess and write any letters he thinks are in the word dinosaur. He looks around the table and notices that indeed, some classmates are writing before the teacher comes over to help. He says the word dinosaur aloud a few times and announces his plan to start by writing a D.

In this multi-age classroom, there is a wide range of experience, knowledge and abilities. The writing assignments for each student reflect this. Whether drawing a picture, sharing an idea or writing a few letters, words, or sentences, each student is asked to begin in a place where he or she feels confident and can be successful. Drawing on their own understanding, students are given the opportunity to try things independently to demonstrate what they already know. They are also asked to take a risk on trying something new or not yet solidified independently before their work with a teacher begins. Teachers routinely assess individuals and tailor assignments to include personal challenges that fit each student. They guide each student to build on current skills by coaching him or her through individualized next steps. A student’s initial attempt or approach is an important way that a teacher may assess and determine what challenges make sense for a particular student. The practice of starting with what you know or giving something a try also sends a powerful message to children that education is not about discrete lessons or facts, rather it is about making connections and decisions about how to apply the knowledge and skills you already have to gain deeper understandings and new insights. 

This philosophy is a driving force at ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ as teachers guide and encourage children, whether working through academic or social challenges and whether in pre-K or in 5th grade preparing for middle school. Classroom teachers and specialists are equally committed to following this model and creating curriculum that provides many opportunities for a variety of entry points and challenges. Additionally at ąű¶ł´«Ă˝, teachers have great respect for the enthusiasm and determination children have for learning and are committed to modeling the same curiosity. Teachers become active participants in learning. This provides opportunities for teachers to model thinking through a problem. Free from the constraints of teaching a set curriculum based on age or grade level, teachers are invested in making the most out of their time with students. 

Teachers ask many questions under this model. “What have you tried?” “How did it go?” “What might work instead or next?” Learning is viewed as a continuous process, where putting to use the skills you have already acquired allows you to move forward, building on past knowledge and understanding is essential to growth. Students are given opportunities to devise strategies to solve problems, and teachers guide them to navigate their own thinking as well as make suggestions and offer possible solutions to try. Successes and missteps are celebrated and examined for the lessons they provide. With guidance and encouragement from teachers, students are asked to work hard and take responsibility for their learning. If a solution comes easily, teachers see that as an ideal opportunity to pose a new challenge. Students are taught to reflect on and modify strategies as they work through more difficult problems. They practice perseverance, learn from mistakes, and in turn build creative and critical thinking skills.

With independence also comes the understanding that not everyone will approach a problem in the same way. Students learn to expect that peers at the same table could be working on a variety of problems and at a variety of skill levels. They also learn to expect that even when they work on the exact same problem, they will likely approach it differently and have a different process for solving it. Opportunities to share strategies give students important practice in explaining their thinking, and as students consider novel ways of solving problems, they build flexibility in their thinking.

From their first day at school, students are actively engaged in their social learning and problem solving. Just like the student who inquires about the spelling of a word, the student who gets help to solve a disagreement with a friend will hear similar questions, “What have you tried?” “How did that work?” “Are there any strategies that have helped you in the past?” “What do you think you could try next?” As teachers ask guiding questions such as these, the students are learning self-talk and internalizing the kinds of questions they can ask themselves as new situations occur. As novel situations arise, children can draw on these conversations to guide their responses and develop skills that allow them to be independent thinkers and question askers. 

Students cannot learn problem solving and negotiating skills without taking an active role in this process. They benefit from practice forming questions that move the learning or problem solving process forward, and using a variety of problem solving skills in a hands-on and meaningful way is essential. What is meaningful is different based on the student.. Some students rely on more teacher modeling and direction than others, and some relish puzzling through tricky problems while others are supported by gradual challenges with more frequent teacher check-ins. Teachers adapt to each student’s style while keeping key elements consistent. When a student is a part of the process, adding his or her skills and knowledge to the conversation, he or she is able to think and reflect and then practice new skills with ever increasing independence. 

The implications of fostering this independence are great, even for seemingly simple tasks. For example, in a 2nd-3rd grade classroom, students are getting ready for their next activity. The teacher reminds her class to check the schedule so each small group will know if they are going from Science to PE and then to lunch or the reverse (PE to Science and then to lunch). This prompts some to question if it makes sense to bring their lunchboxes with them, to save a trip back to class. The teacher turns the question back on the group, and there is a healthy debate among students based on the locations of the different classes and what makes the most sense, saving time versus managing belongings. In the end it is decided that consensus need not be reached and everyone can find the solution makes sense for him or her, give it a try and modify next time if desired. 

Even this small interaction has provided an opportunity for independent thought and decision-making, ownership over an action and the potential to modify. Under this model, students are increasingly accountable and aware of their individual needs, learning styles, strengths and challenges. They also learn how to advocate for themselves when they need support and learn to celebrate mistakes as part of the learning process. Students’ understanding of mistakes, or unknowns, as a part of learning, is exemplified every year in our science lab. Katie Morrison, our science teacher focuses on scientific practice skills, including making a prediction or hypothesis. She highlights to students that sometimes experiments result in evidence to support your hypothesis, but sometimes they do not and if something unexpected happens in an experiment, we can celebrate it as a discovery. Katie explains, “When I first started teaching, I meticulously tried to control each experiment before I introduced it to students, making sure that it would “work.” I soon discovered that it was unnecessary for me to control the outcomes to such a degree, and when the experiment did not go exactly as planned, it was a meaningful learning opportunity for students. The investigations are authentic and exciting when the results vary and students have the opportunity to troubleshoot technical aspects of the investigation. When it doesn’t work just right, and students have to figure it out, they gain a deeper understanding of the tools, techniques, concepts, and content.”

Recently, the 1st and 2nd graders, upon returning from Science, were asked to share their predictions for the latest rounds of experiments that they were designing. The teacher asked, “What happens if your prediction is wrong?” The kids threw their arms up in the air, laughed and announced, “Then you made a discovery!”

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Mentorship Through Collaboration: The Resident Teacher Program’s Evolution and Practice
by Julie Kalmus and Diane Chickadel
ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Spark
Issue #8, Fall 2010

For the past fifteen years, ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ has welcomed over 120 teachers to join its Resident Teacher Program. Over the years, many keep in touch, sending stories about the impact that a year of teaching at ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ had on their professional lives. 

Sitting on a 400 acre winery in Napa, a surprise reunion occurs between a past Resident and current ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ teacher. She is now running her family’s business and expecting her first child. Five years has passed since her time at ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ and touring the beautiful vineyards, one can’t help but marvel at the quality of the collaborations and energy between her and the winery staff, “I can trace it back to my Resident year,” she offers, “one of the best things I took away from the program was the idea that I should always be thinking about how I can influence those around me to be their best selves and how I should be too.” 

Days later, a different Resident writes. She is in graduate school now and hungry to have her own classroom. Several years out of the program, she reflects, “It’s funny, a lot of grad school is about how to fix problems and meet standards. To be clear, these are good things to think about. But I know that I don’t just want to fix problems for kids. I want us to build solutions together. I know what kind of teacher I am going to be and it means so much to know what that feels like and means while I digest all of this pedagogy and philosophy.”  

Through the Resident Teacher Program, ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ has been working to refine a unique immersion experience for beginning teachers that is symbiotic with the experienced teachers they work beside. Since its inception, the ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Resident Program has sought to model exceptional team collaborations for its students while asking, What is the impact on new teachers of doing real work in education beside an invested mentor with targeted professional development and a cohort of peers?

The journey started when ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ recognized that purposeful, continuing professional support and collaboration amongst its faculty directly impacted the quality of student life. To this end, it looked to recreate and invigorate a traditional teacher assistant program. Because of the inherent hierarchy and lack of consistency, this type of program often felt like an afterthought. The school had some wonderful assistants over the years to be sure but the quality of their work often seemed a reflection of the quality of their personality, as opposed to the school’s support of their work. 

Looking back, the school knew that new teachers had so much to offer- energy, enthusiasm, new ideas, new questions and different perspectives. Was there a way to redesign the “teaching assistant” program that would give new teachers practical experience while giving the school the benefits of more eyes and minds on individual students? It was time to try something new, something more intentional. 

We looked to other professions for models that gave beginning professionals an opportunity to partner with more experienced colleagues in purposeful ways. Many of the experiences and structures that made medical residencies work for beginning doctors seemed like they could be applied to teaching residencies for beginning educators. In 1996, the school decided to capitalize on its culture of collaboration and innovation to create a new Resident Teacher Program. 

With the change in name came a change in culture. It began by looking at hiring, professional development, partnership and Mentorship in new ways. Instead of hiring people who were interested in being “assistants,” the school aimed to hire people who were deeply interested in education and children and partnered them with Mentors who would collaborate and teach beside them, not assign them tasks to perform. Further, to support Residents as they entered a new community and partnership and to support mentor teachers as they developed their skills as partners and Mentors, the school also created a Resident Program Coordinator position. In 1996, the school hired its first Resident Teacher and launched the program. 

The following year, the first cohort of Resident Teachers was hired to work with the Early Elementary students and faculty. As the program blossomed, ownership and investment grew across the school. Established faculty discussed the value of Mentorship and collaboration and within a five year period, the Resident program grew to include Resident Teachers that worked with each level at the school. Currently, the school employs ten new Residents each year. 

From the first day of employment, Residents are welcomed as full faculty members. Each Resident works in one to three classrooms, sits on a faculty committee, participates in all curriculum planning and professional development, facilitates large and small group teaching, plans and leads parent conferences and writes student reports. For Mentors, Mentorship has become about listening to ideas, sharing ideas and building classrooms and curriculum together. The expectation for Residents to do the same demands that each one engage more deeply in both the development of ideas and the practice of their work with students. The model showcases a different depth, pace and expectation than student teaching or an assistant position could offer. 

Over the years, the most exciting consequence of the new model was the least expected. Teaching has changed. To truly collaborate, Mentors and Residents have to have regular conversations about individual students and the class as a whole. The fruits of these conversations lead to more targeted work with individuals, more consistency and follow through in classroom culture and greater depth and cohesiveness in curriculum planning and delivery. 

On top of the in-class and after school (and often, before school) conversations that Residents have with their teaching teams, they are also a part of a peer cohort of Residents that share similar experiences.  The cohort meets three times a month during the school day with the Resident Coordinators to support professional development and a broader understanding of and investment in school culture. Meeting together as peers provides an opportunity to reflect, share strategies and successes and ask questions. 

Once a month, Mentors meet as a group as well to discuss ways to support Residents. Over time, patterns in conversation paralleled both groups in interesting ways. When Residents were interested in classroom management and how to find the “right” way to jump into tricky situations, Mentors were interested in how to bring language to the “right” ways that they jumped in and share that knowledge with Residents. When parent conferences were on the horizon, both Residents and Mentors wanted shared voices contributing to the dialogue with parents. Curriculum design, report writing and group facilitation all fell into similar alignment. The school also created informal and formal professional development structures to support understanding and success around these topics. 

It is not always easy. You cannot just ask someone to be a mentor or mentee and expect it to be a perfect marriage. True partnership takes time and effort. It builds itself over conversation, generation, experimentation, laughter and trust. Open communication, flexibility, a strong work ethic, an ability to self-advocate, a true passion for children, high expectations and a good sense of humor have risen as critical qualities for both Mentors and Residents to share. As the school recruits new Residents each year, these are all qualities it seeks. 

Culturally, the school has continued to recommit itself to the importance of welcoming new Resident faculty each year onto the team. It forces everyone in the community to rearticulate our philosophy, beliefs and approach and requires each team to build community and curricular programs anew.  This collaboration is the energy that ignites the excitement and interest of faculty, students and their families as they enter the school’s doors each day. In this model, Mentorship is a partnership that allows each Resident to “influence those around me (them) to be their best selves” and identify “what kind of teacher I am going to be.”

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Thinking About Thinking
by Susan Foley and Gretchen Morse
ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Spark
Issue #12, Winter 2013

“Success is a journey not a destination. The doing is usually more important than the outcome.”
Arthur Ashe

At ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ we purposely choose the forms of assessment that best serve our students and teachers. Over the years we have researched, gathered and created a variety of assessment tools and practices that guide how and what we teach. ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ teachers carefully choose and create assessments that not only give us information about a child’s academic performance but also provide insight into a child’s thinking process. In particular, we know that when students reflect on their own thinking they become successful independent learners. Through reflection on one’s own thinking process, an individual practices learning how to learn. In turn, each student develops independence and the ability to generalize his or her thinking strategies to other problem-solving scenarios. In fact, we consider these reflective skills to constitute the core of our program, providing a platform on which academic growth occurs. 

Our curriculum is built from a continuum of skills (benchmarks) that describe how we generally expect students to acquire academic abilities. We acknowledge that academic growth is not always a linear process, and the continua documents allow teachers to note where a child’s abilities currently lie without being constrained by his or her age or grade. These are living documents that we regularly review. Throughout the process of examining our reading, writing, and math continua, we sparked discussions about the problem solving skills that surround academic abilities. These skills seemed to fall under the bigger umbrella of Critical Thinking. As we considered the ways students communicate their understanding, approach and method to solve problems, we decided that these abilities were not unique to one academic content area. And so, with that realization, we were ready to embark on creating a continuum that would give a picture of each child’s Critical Thinking abilities. 

Our original plan was to create a fourth continuum, modeled after the reading, writing and math continua we were already using. We didn’t realize at the start just how long, complex and valuable this journey was going to be. We wanted this continuum to go beyond the list of skills and concepts that were carefully teased out in the other documents. Our ambition was to create a multi-dimensional tool not only to assess a child’s thinking but also to assess the process of thinking. We devoted many of our in-service days over the next two years to thinking about thinking. The school worked with the staff of ILABS, University of Washington’s Institute for Learning and Brain Sciences, to begin the process of looking deeper at our own practices in light of the exciting, emerging research in the field of neuroscience. Small teams of teachers traveled to attend workshops hosted by Mel Levine, John Ratey, Ron Richhart and the Foundation for Critical Thinking. Upon returning from such workshops, these teachers led the staff in discussions to further understand the thinking process. We filmed students solving puzzles and interviewed them about their processes. As a staff we reviewed and reflected on these videos. We repeated this exercise with teachers working through puzzles and problems. We invited researchers and leaders in the field to visit our school and add their perspectives and knowledge to our discussions. These visitors included Robert and Michelle Root-Bernstein, Ellen Winner, Jennifer Amsterlaw, Ron Richhart, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and John Ratey. We also broke into small groups to read about and share a variety of teaching philosophies including Bloom, Vygotsky, Dewey, Waldorf, Piaget, Montessori, Reggio-Emilia and Levine. These activities helped the faculty create shared language and informed our ongoing discussions. We explored and tested a few versions of the ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Critical Thinking Continuum over the next few years.

One surprising decision that we arrived at was that a Critical Thinking continuum was not serving the purposes we hoped it would. The language seemed to emphasize science and math rather than fitting all domains and the layout implied that the document was tracking linear skills that to us seemed better described as learning traits or habits of mind. We came to the conclusion that one continuum would not suffice. We needed to add information about thinking processes to each of the existing continua (reading, writing and math) to illustrate how an individual’s thinking and problem solving was often dependent on that specific domain. For example, one child may consistently explain his or her thinking when solving a math problem, but may not do this in a literature group discussion. Having a place on each continuum to document thinking in a specific domain gave a more thorough picture of each student. 

Although including descriptors of a student’s thinking process in each academic continuum deepened the way we used these assessment tools, faculty still believed that providing additional information about a student’s Reflective Thinking with peers and in the community could valuably document how a child’s social/emotional skills are growing. To this end, faculty began developing a resource to describe Reflective Thinking, which is a snapshot of how a student interacts with the community and approaches situations where problems need to be solved. In order to support this valuable part of our curriculum, we decided to re-envision the fourth planned continuum as the ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Reflective Thinking Profile. This description is a profile because it provides a snapshot in time of a student’s communication and collaboration style. From year-to-year, these snapshots are an ongoing source of data on how a student is developing as a learner and community member. In addition, this document acts as a guide for teachers as we continually coach students on how to practice and implement these essential skills. 

The continua and Reflective Thinking Profile are used to assess and track a child’s growth and are considered living documents. As a faculty we examine these documents regularly, discuss their effectiveness and adjust them to reflect what we value and teach. The useful documents that result from these cooperative efforts are appreciated by all, but by far the most value comes from what we gain taking the journey together. By undertaking this process, it gives us time to delve into theories about learning and thinking and more clearly define what we want to coach and assess in our everyday teaching. 

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The Search for the Elusive Gum Tree
by Sarah Andle
ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Spark
Issue #15, Fall 2015

“What is that?” exclaimed Matthew as he eagerly pointed to the pages of Lois Ehlert’s Leaf Man. Matthew and his friends crowded closer to their teacher as she held the book in the air. The teacher looked at the picture and read, “It’s a sweet gum fruit.” The eyes of the five children looking at her instantly lit up, followed quickly by questions of “Where is that?” and proclamations of “I want to find a gum tree!” She didn’t know it at the time, but this moment had just changed the course of their entire school year. 

It was the beginning of the school year, and the Studio was exploring the fall changes in their neighborhood. After spotting a particularly large pinecone on a walk near a local college campus, the teacher gathered together five students to search around the Studio for more pinecone examples.  Later, when reading Leaf Man, to build on the children’s interests about the changing seasons, Matthew asked the question – “What is that?” His three-words changed everything. The quest to find pinecones was quickly abandoned, and the search for the gum tree was on. 

From the moment the Exploring Relationship and Connection (ERC) group that was focused on the gum tree set out on their first walk, the students were eager to find the elusive gum tree. They stopped at every tree to determine whether it may or may not be the gum tree. Even their teacher, who was as unfamiliar with a “sweet gum tree” as they were, carefully followed their lead and direction. They used some of the best tools they had available to them, their senses, to search and hunt for the elusive tree. They looked for the “spikey balls” that they had seen in Leaf Man and peered up through gorgeous fall colored leaves to look for signs of gumballs and gummy bears. Piles of leaves were excitedly searched through as the children literally immersed themselves in the trees. They scratched and sniffed bark hunting for the sweet smell of gummies and collected examples of what could possibly be evidence of a gum tree. They gathered pictures of data that could be used later as “study maps” to determine what a sweet gum tree may look like. While the group members never limited the scope of their search, whether it be for a magical tree full of gummy bears and fruit snacks or a tree full of spikey pinecone type balls, the five students made it clear that the tree they were looking for had not been found and the search needed to continue. 

One morning, about a month into our search, Lily, a member of the gum tree group, came running into school with exciting news. While on a walk in her neighborhood with her family, she had a found a “spikey ball” lying on the ground! She and her mother collected examples and brought them in for the group to explore. When the time for ERC groups came, they excitedly gathered on the rug as the balls were passed around. This was the first time that they had something tangible from either the real or imagined gum tree to explore. They examined the balls in their hands, commenting on their texture and smell, and they quickly determined that they wanted to see what was inside. They made their way to the table as their teacher slowly cut open the first ball. Before it opened, the teacher asked the students what they thought they might see inside. “A bird!” Lily exclaimed! “My mom!” said Matthew. “A ball!” called George. Lily pushed back from the table and commented that she felt nervous to see what was inside. As the ball slowly opened, the students leaned into to take a peek. They commented on the smell, how it reminded them of pine trees and mint, and that this could be evidence that the spikey balls may in fact be related to the minty chewing gum they had noticed adults chewing. They continued to open several other balls, carefully examining each one. The students gathered supplies to help them explore, including magnifying glasses to get a closer look and play dough tools to help them cut the balls themselves.  The children commented on what the spiky balls reminded them of. “It looks like a sea anemone!” shouted Oliver. “I think it looks like a fruit,” said Matthew. As George examined the spikey ball he proclaimed that he did in fact see a bird inside. They all gathered closer to see if they could get a better look. Lily suggested, “It’s a tiny bird. You need three magnifying glasses to see it.” The small round ball reminded Oliver of a microphone as he held it to his mouth and started singing a song. All of the children worked together to cut the sweet gum fruit into tiny pieces to share as a “snack” with their friends later. As they manipulated and explored the spikey balls, they continued to find connections and build relationships. 

The following week, the group planned to go out on another search for the gum tree. The students had seen evidence of what a “sweet gum fruit” looked like, but there were still unknown possibilities for what direction their search might take them. As they gathered on the rug to prepare for the walk, Natalie exclaimed, “I know where to find gum!” She rushed away from the rug and returned shortly with her empty hand outstretched towards her teacher. “Here’s the gum!” she said. Lily looked skeptically at Natalie’s hand and declared, “There is nothing there!” Lily reached out to touch Natalie’s hand to prove it was empty, and Natalie warned, “Careful! They are fragile!” As Natalie passed her teacher her imaginary handful of gumballs, the children all crowded closer. The teacher offered each child a piece and each accepted. Lily watched as her other friends took a piece of gum. Her skepticism faded and was soon replaced with excitement as she joined her friends in the imaginary game.  As they each chewed the make-believe gum, their teacher asked them what they thought it tasted like. Lily, Natalie, and Matthew all said their gum tasted like mint. Oliver described his as watermelon flavor. George had a huge smile on his face as he proclaimed his to taste like cheese! The pretend gumballs lasted for a few chews so the teacher offered to get out the peppermint flavored play dough to build off this interest in working with “gum.” She was interested to see if it inspired more gum conversations and creations. As they gathered around the table, each with their own ball of play dough, a discussion began about how they could make gum. 

Lily: “How do we make it?”
Teacher: “How do you think we can?”
Matthew: “I know! We can mash it up and roll it up.”
Each person tried Matthew’s method.
Oliver: “Let’s make flapjacks!”
Lily: “I want to share my idea! We can make it into dough!”
They continued to work with the play dough in their hands.
Teacher: “Natalie, what’s your idea?”
Natalie: “You can make some holes in it and then roll it up and then cut it.” 

The conversation and exploration with the play dough continued. Matthew’s gum could open and shut like the wheels of an airplane. George wanted to cut his ball into small pieces so that everyone could have a piece. Lily decided to make spaghetti gum. As they worked they continued to talk about the gum tree, the gumballs, and ideas about where they might find a gum tree themselves. The students had now been exposed to the “sweet gum fruit” they read about in Leaf Man.  They had been given opportunities to share their own their ideas about what a gum tree may look like. They were at a crossroads in processing what a gum tree might be. Would it be full of gummy bears and gumballs? Or would it be covered in leaves and the “spikey balls” we had collected?

As the group processed what a gum tree might be, an unexpected encounter proved to be a pivotal moment in their journey. One day as Oliver, Natalie, and the teacher returned from the local library after returning some books,  Natalie stopped dead in her tracks and enthusiastically yelled, “Look! Look! I see some gum!” Sure enough, right in front of them on the path was a “spikey ball.” She leaned forward to pick it up and smiled as she showed it to the others. Her teacher asked her where it came from, and she looked to the sky, pointed her finger and said, “Maybe it came from that one! See there’s more on that tree!” She paused as she processed what she had found. She exclaimed, “It is! THAT’S THE GUMTREE!” The joy and enthusiasm etched on her face were indescribable. Natalie collected examples from the tree, and hurried back to the Studio to tell her friends. As they returned to the classroom, the group began yelling, “Gum! Gum!” Matthew who was working at the table looked up as they entered. 

Matthew: “What is your exciting news?”
Natalie handed him one of the gumballs that she had collected.
As Matthew took the gumball he gasped and a huge smile lit up his face.
Matthew: “A gumball!”
Teacher: “Where did it come from?”
Oliver: “The gum tree!”
Teacher: “We found the gum tree!”
Matthew: “Where?”
Teacher: “It’s right by the library, would you like to go see it tomorrow?”
Matthew: “Yes!”
George: “I want to go see it too!” 

The day arrived when the entire ERC group would go and see the newly discovered gum tree. As the group set out on their journey Matthew began looking for clues on the ground. As they approached the library, the excitement continued to build. Natalie ran up to the tree she had seen before and said, “That’s the gum tree!” The group looked up and saw hundreds of spikey balls hanging on the tree. The children looked at each other and smiled and quickly began collecting gumball samples. While they didn’t find any gummy bears or chewing gum, the students were still thrilled to have completed their long sought-after quest for a gum tree. Some wanted to climb it, and others asked if we could bring it back to school. In the end, they said goodbye to the gum tree for that day and headed back to school. 

The Studio children still visit the gum tree often. They also continue to keep their eyes peeled for a gummy bear covered tree. They are building upon the connections, understanding and relationships they made during the searching phase of their long-term investigation as they are now making maps to guide their fellow classmates to the location of the gum tree. While the epic search has come to an end, the kids’ desire to continue learning about the gum tree, make new connections, and share what they have learned with others continues to inspire conversations and collaborations throughout the Studio program. 

The Studio teachers observed through this experience that when they followed the kids’ lead, honored their interests and allowed that to guide their next steps, an epic opportunity to make connections, build relationships and conduct research with their students emerged. 

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What if the Answer is Learning to Ask Questions?
by Paula Smith
ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ Spark
Issue #14, Winter 2014

Crayton Turner was supposed to be teaching me American History from one of the textbooks that were piled in the back corner of the classroom. He didn’t even pass them out. Instead, Mr. Turner announced to my class that American History was a recent piece of a much bigger picture and that we were going to back up a bit to cover everything that came before the last several hundred years. We started with the formation of planet earth, and we worked our way forward. Mr. Turner’s desk was piled with dozens of books that we sampled as we surveyed history through the eons. We took turns reading aloud, engaged in countless discussions and were responsible for research that we each took turns presenting to the class. Mr. Turner challenged us to ask why events unfolded the way they did and to provide evidence that would support our theories.

In truth, I do not remember many of the facts I learned that year, but I did learn how to place information in context; to think about the way one event, or one idea, shaped what happened next; and to question the accepted version of what happened in the past. But most importantly, I got to spend time with an adult who loved to read, to learn, to think, to hypothesize, an adult who inspired me to want to be as knowledgeable, passionate and excited about learning, ideas and history as he was. What I remember about that class 40 years ago was the way that Mr. Turner taught me to ask questions.

While the way we live, work and learn outside of school is dramatically different than it was when a man first walked on the moon, the way we learn in school hasn’t changed all that much. Although there are several trends that now provide an opportunity to change the way children learn in schools (such as recently adopted Common Core Standards, integrated technology and access to charter schools), for a majority of teachers with no control over curriculum, instructional methods or assessment tools, the professional culture is much the same. It was clear back then that Mr. Turner’s classroom was different than any other in my high school. He simply shut his door to the hallway and used his own collection of books to create the learning experience that he envisioned for us. It took several years before the administration realized that he wasn’t sticking to the script, and he was ultimately terminated by the school district.

Today, teachers across the country can face a similar fate if they vary from the district curriculum and instructional guidelines. One difference, however, is the accountability that is now in place in the form of standardized tests at several points in the school year. Teachers must pace their instruction carefully, mindful of performance outcomes that will be posted on the district website. The pressure to cover content leaves little time to explore a big idea and little opportunity to ask questions that are not part of the lesson plan. As a result, students may learn to identify the pre-determined “right answers” without mastering the understanding and skill to derive the solution to a real problem. There frequently is no time for students to generate, research, analyze, debate and evolve questions that they care about. In stark contrast to the drive and curiosity that fuels learning outside of school, students learning in a traditional classroom have few opportunities to consider questions that would cause them to fall in love with learning.

It was really quite by accident that ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ came to organize around questions. As a lab school on the University of Washington (UW) campus from 1911 to 1981, we spent our first 70 years serving preschool and kindergarten students. During that time, large curriculum companies had not yet identified early childhood classrooms as a major profit center. Our teachers needed to adapt or create the curriculum that we used with our young students and also needed to evaluate how well it worked. From the beginning it was a collaborative effort. Teachers worked together to design the curriculum, to implement it in the classrooms, and together discussed how well it had worked before designing what came next. We needed to ask ourselves: 

What should we be asking children to do and why? What do the children know and care about? 

How well did it work for each student, and why or why not? How do we know, and what is our evidence?

Out of necessity, our teachers developed a professional culture of inquiry. In other words, we were able to create a culture of asking questions by asking questions and by making time to answer them. It is this culture that we took with us when we left the UW campus to establish an independent elementary school. And, it is this culture of inquiry that is the central organizing principle of our school today.

Walking through ąű¶ł´«Ă˝, visitors notice immediately that children are highly engaged and working independently. Students lean forward, unaware that we have entered the classroom. The teacher is not immediately visible, and we find her sitting at a table in conversation with a student. In fact, our teachers don’t spend much time standing at the front of the room as we don’t “teach the answers” in advance. Instead, a new project is presented by asking the children questions. What is important about this project? What do we know already? What will we need to figure out? What will we have to consider when we approach this problem? The air in the room is electric as the children dig in. They are encouraged to use the core knowledge/ strategies they know, to ask questions when they get stuck, and are encouraged to share their approach with classmates. The teacher moves about the room checking in with individual students, asking questions, making observations and offering tips. Practically speaking, these coaching conversations make it possible to assess a child’s level of understanding while they are working, and our teachers will use what they learn to design what comes next.

What is not as obvious to visitors is that our work culture for teachers resembles the work culture for our students, and as a result, both teachers and students are constantly learning. Later on as teachers sit together to plan the next lesson, they spend a great deal of time building the questions they will use to introduce the next concept/ project and specific questions to ensure that every child gets a stretch. The discussion is lively as they review any surprises from the previous week and begin to brainstorm ways to build on what the children have learned and are excited to explore further. There are always numerous ideas about how we might proceed and listening to this conversation, one would notice a central feature of our culture: it is expected that we sometimes disagree.

This way of using questions to surface and iterate ideas is not all that different from the process used by a design team in the business world. And as a result, not only is our teaching plan better than each member of the team could achieve on their own, but also, every member of the team develops greater skill as a creative problem solver, communicator and collaborator. It is gratifying to be able to add value in a generative work session and to learn from others. And in contrast to a set work plan handed down from above, everyone has contributed and owns the outcome. As the team matures, the level of creativity increases. Working in this way, both our teachers and our students develop the resourcefulness to learn independently anywhere. Perhaps more importantly, they love their work.

At ąű¶ł´«Ă˝, we believe that gaining confidence in one’s own learning capacity is at the heart of education. As educators in a mission-driven independent school, our teachers have the opportunity to build a culture of inquiry and to work intentionally to achieve this goal. Our teachers spend less time talking and telling, and more time listening and observing students. Our students spend less time listening and observing the teacher, and more time trying to apply and to share what they have learned. Like my experience in Mr. Turner’s class so many years ago, our students not only learn to provide the right answers, but also to ask the questions that lead to deeper understanding. In doing so, we increase the capacity to learn as well as achieve. As education shifts into the 21st century, we need classrooms like Mr. Turners that engage and inspire. How to achieve this? Let’s ask the teachers and students.

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This past March the ąű¶ł´«Ă˝ community had the opportunity to attend a webinar-style zoom call with author RenĂ©e Watson. 

The 3rd and 4th graders read her book Ways to Make Sunshine, the first book in the Ryan Hart series, and the 5th graders read Some Places More than Others. Having Renée Watson visit with us was an exciting experience and we were delighted to make many connections with her. 

Renée Watson opened up with an “I am From” poem. This type of poem highlights how family and home make you, well, you! Last fall as a part of our Literature groups, the 3-4s created their own “I am From” poem. When Renée Watson shared hers with us, it was neat to make the connection that we too, had gone through the process of reflecting and thinking about how the things around us help make up our identity. 

Here is a compilation of some “I am From” poems!

I am from… historical fiction from World War II (L. V.)
I am from Mission Impossible and top  gear (M. D.)
I am from sushi, Popsicles, and Lemonade (O. W.)
I am from playing chess to staying active (T. S.)
I am from The Magic Tree House and Kirby’s Return to Dreamland (N. C.)
I am from football player, writer, artist and runner (A. G.) 

We were also reminded of how meticulous the writing process is. At the time of our meeting with Renée Watson, the 3-4s were wrapping up our “Bridge Builder Stories”. Excited for publishing, it was hard to remain patient through the final editing process. Renée Watson shared similar experiences in her own process as a writer and encouraged us to lean into those moments. 

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This blog post will guide you through becoming your very own storyteller! Whether you are an adult wanting to have some creative fun with family and friends, or a student wanting to expand your writing skills, the 7 sentence story structure is guaranteed to give you some VERY silly results. Much like Mad Libs, the 7 sentence story is a fill-in-the-blank format that guides the story maker(s) through creating a complete story with arch and all. Simply follow the guidelines below, fill in the blanks, and you will find yourself crafting unique and sometimes hilarious stories with your kids. It is important to note that the 7 sentence story can be a great writing guide but can also be played as a very fun game. If you write down multiple responses for each answer (making sure to keep the answers in its 7 designated piles) you can scramble the answers and weave some pretty silly tales. Also, this game can be great to play at dinner or during family time, having everyone participate and fill in the blanks as they meet their prompt.

Enjoy!

1. Once upon a time, there was a __________
   (At this time, you can prompt someone to fill in the blank. If participants don’t know what to put here, I like to ask what a favorite food might be, animal, or number. Really any noun, and then have the expand on it. The more detail in the noun the funnier the end result.)
2. And every day _____________
   (Every day something happened, what might be that something?)
3. Until one day _________________
   (Here is when I’ll ask about something very silly that could happen, like raining chocolate chips…)
4. And because of this _________________
   (What might happen to something, fall off a chair? Lightning struck?
5. And because of that _________________
   (Same question as above just with a completely different answer)
6. Until finally _________________
   (This is the point in the story where we are looking for a resolution. So what might stop happening? Did someone take a nap? Did the bubble pop?)
7. And ever since that day _________________
   (What could the very end of a story look like? Is there emotion for the characters? Was everyone happy? Was there a change in the scenery? The villagers ran away? How might this story end?

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Whenever I talk to people whose whole life isn’t wrapped up in education, like mine, they bring up how much has been lost this year for students around the world.  I completely agree that school closures have made a huge impact on children and their families.  Stability, structure, predictability and care have gone out the window for many students who are still learning remotely.  Friendships have suffered.  Learning how to interact with other people isn’t possible.  Support for interests outside of academics has been taken away, as kids can no longer enjoy their sports and activities.  It is really sad when you look at it that way.

I don’t particularly worry about children “losing” academics or being “behind” because I understand that all kids grow and learn over time.  All the standards we’ve put in place for them are arbitrary anyway.  Many of them are important markers that should be met, but when and how isn’t so critical.  In many ways, this pandemic has given kids opportunities to learn in different ways, to connect with their families, and to discover the ancient art of boredom.  What does worry me is the mentality that kids are behind.  That we’ve lost an entire generation.  Sheesh.  That’s a bit dramatic.  And negative.  And it’s going to have an impact.

Teachers are under so much pressure already to have their students pass the state-mandated, standardized tests each year.  They must get their students to perform to standards.  If they don’t, their jobs are on the line.  So what happens when all these children return to school next year and haven’t met the standards from the previous year, let alone the new ones presented?  Teachers are going to be working harder to get kids to standard.  And that could mean every minute is going to be spent for that one purpose.  All the things that kids lost from not going to school – friends, community, social skills, communication, athletics, the arts – might not be going to come back.  They could be lost for the sake of getting everyone “back on track.”  That would be a sad state of affairs for our children.  

I hope that things don’t turn out that way.  I hope that this pandemic has given everyone time to rethink and reimagine what education is and what it could be.  What would happen if we let go of these markers of success and redefined what success looks like?  What if we saw value in those other interests and supported our children to follow them?  How might their lives turn out differently?  Why not take a deep look at these standards and ask ourselves how essential they are?  Maybe we could still teach the basics without all the pressure to perform a certain way.  I hope that we’ve learned something from covid that helps us better support our students and give them a chance to succeed – maybe in a new way.  

When schools shut down, I thought to myself, “What we’re teaching kids is that when something scary happens, you go home, close your door, and don’t go outside.”  That’s not the lesson I want kids to walk away with.  Instead, what if we took this opportunity to revise our way of looking at things and doing things?  We could teach our kids that when bad, scary things happen, you can face them and reflect and learn and grow.  If we could learn that lesson, nothing would be lost, but a whole lot would be gained.

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