They'll get a Thank You note from me in the mail sometime in the next week or so. The Cognitive Coaching SM office, that is. It's all about deepening thinking. Paraphrasing does it, when the paraphrase supports taking thinking to the next level. But once in a while, a question is in order.
Ah, and there's the rub. Good questions are non-evaluative, they presume positive intent, and they deepen thinking. Try it. Try composing a question with all of those elements. It's achievable, and for me, also somewhat time-consuming.
I'm quicker than I used to be. At first a solid 15 minutes could maybe see a good question from my brain. Now I'm down to around five. Fine for desk-work, troublesome in a coaching conversation. They need to come naturally, be easily accessible, these thought-deepening inquiries.
So, as a Winter Break gift, our "Coach of Coaches" added these lovely 5"x7" (or so) laminated question cards to our libraries. I loved my question cards. They freed me up to listen more closely to the conversation, paraphrase better, and still question skillfully and timely.
Then they were gone. Almost as fast as I got them, they were of into Never-Never land. Forever among the missing. Oh, I searched, scoured, and sorted all my things. My work area is in fact now, much neater. Still, the cards were gone.
Guilt-laden, I got on line and ordered more for myself. If the school district was willing to invest $10.00 in me, surely I could match it. Well, somehow the order failed to complete, and those magical cards continued to allude my mailbox. Propelled into action, I started asking around. One thing led to another, and finally a conversation with the Cognitive Coaching SM administrative office landed these handy tools in my box today.
Free of charge. Free of hassle. Free of explanation. They just appeared. People are essentially good. Thank you Cognitive Coaching SM office. You rock!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
1-14-11 7:00 pm Magical Words
The art of listening is easy. It involves putting your own thoughts aside, and letting the words of another enter your thinking. OK, maybe that can be tough to accomplish, but it's certainly simple. New information shared affords the listener an opportunity to make choices: think, respond, question, or just continue listening.
As a coach I paraphrase continually. It's my default, and it's an effective way to show a speaker I'm listening. I'm finding that I'm beginning to paraphrase students. Their response shows a deepening of their own thinking. It's as though their words fly out of their mouths, entirely unfiltered, and when they hear them spoken back, that's their opportunity to evaluate their thinking. Do we do that as adults? Fling our words into unsuspecting ears, and watch for reactions? How can we tell whether reactions have anything to do with what we said? Paraphrasing from the listener shows that, regardless of my response, this is what I heard you say. It seems to validate the speaker's words, or give him or her an opportunity to change the statement.
As a coach I paraphrase continually. It's my default, and it's an effective way to show a speaker I'm listening. I'm finding that I'm beginning to paraphrase students. Their response shows a deepening of their own thinking. It's as though their words fly out of their mouths, entirely unfiltered, and when they hear them spoken back, that's their opportunity to evaluate their thinking. Do we do that as adults? Fling our words into unsuspecting ears, and watch for reactions? How can we tell whether reactions have anything to do with what we said? Paraphrasing from the listener shows that, regardless of my response, this is what I heard you say. It seems to validate the speaker's words, or give him or her an opportunity to change the statement.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
1-11-11 6:37 pm "A"
He continues to amaze me. He's eager to get whatever the class's goal is - getting to their work stations, getting to the story rug, getting to the sink to wash hands. He'll sit in any position I ask - usually "criss-cross apple-sauce, spoons-in-the-bowl", if it means he'll be allowed to get to the next thing.
And he wants to help. When his partner needs an eraser, he offers his own. When someone forgets to pick up the last piece of a project, "A" will get it. And without ceremony much of the time. So he's not needing to be a distraction. He just has an almost annoying sense of balance and justice. I say annoying because sometimes when kids want to help more than you expect them to, or more than you'd anticipate, it ends up seeming like time being taken from learning.
With "A", it's clear he wants to exercise his mind. Yes, he has his own, unfailing terms, but they're meant well. Again, I'm convinced, every student wants to learn and perform well. It's finding that balance between making room for what they want, and inspiring them to do some work that you need to see. "A" is truly an inspiration because he reminds me of what all students need. They need to feel like valued, connected contributors. It's finding a way to honor those needs while engaging them in learning activities that's the art and science of teaching. It's a fairly simple concept but can be complex to execute.
And he wants to help. When his partner needs an eraser, he offers his own. When someone forgets to pick up the last piece of a project, "A" will get it. And without ceremony much of the time. So he's not needing to be a distraction. He just has an almost annoying sense of balance and justice. I say annoying because sometimes when kids want to help more than you expect them to, or more than you'd anticipate, it ends up seeming like time being taken from learning.
With "A", it's clear he wants to exercise his mind. Yes, he has his own, unfailing terms, but they're meant well. Again, I'm convinced, every student wants to learn and perform well. It's finding that balance between making room for what they want, and inspiring them to do some work that you need to see. "A" is truly an inspiration because he reminds me of what all students need. They need to feel like valued, connected contributors. It's finding a way to honor those needs while engaging them in learning activities that's the art and science of teaching. It's a fairly simple concept but can be complex to execute.
Monday, January 10, 2011
1-10-11 9:25 pm Substitutes
Well, "A" is putting us all to shame. He's outperforming my highest hopes. I've had a substitute teach for me over the last two days. All they keep reporting is how on-task "A" is.
He wants to learn. He wants to perform well. He wants to be part of the classroom community - a welcome member. More and more clearly do I see that students with behavior problems, at least this one, while a myriad of additional issues may plague him, simply chooses social "failure" over academic failure. Students with learning challenges sometimes rather you see them misbehave than reveal their true weaknesses.
This reminds me of the eternal truth: Students may forget what you teach them, but they'll remember how you made them feel.
He wants to learn. He wants to perform well. He wants to be part of the classroom community - a welcome member. More and more clearly do I see that students with behavior problems, at least this one, while a myriad of additional issues may plague him, simply chooses social "failure" over academic failure. Students with learning challenges sometimes rather you see them misbehave than reveal their true weaknesses.
This reminds me of the eternal truth: Students may forget what you teach them, but they'll remember how you made them feel.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
1-6-11 6:49 pm So far, So good...
"A" was a full class participant today. He was engaged, cared about his work, and behaved appropriately. Not perfectly, he did get squirmy a time or two, but the rest of the class was able to continue their learning. I believe all students want to succeed, most especially those who struggle to do so. Observing "A"'s successes only convince me further of the truth in my convictions about students wanting to achieve learning.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
1-4-11 6:06 pm The Prisoner
"A" took his imprisonment well today. He was shy before entering, hanging back at the door. He smiled, but his feet weren't moving. So, we hung up his coat with the others. If his joining the group was too big a first step, his coat could make the first move. And it did. Then he followed, with a tiny pinch of bravery. At first, he seemed to appreciate being stuck with me. Maybe it gave him a sense of belonging in his new setting.
There were plenty of allowances to buffer the blow of his being shackled. He was asked to call on volunteers, observe and report the behaviors of others, and choose teams. It's more than was fair, but "A" is a special case, and this is a slightly unusual situation.
At first he was definately a player. He excitedly reported the goings on at each table, and eagerly looked around for our next target. I'm not sure how long this first round took. Maybe 10 minutes. He showed stamina, and if there'd been more stations, he'd have been up for more reporting. But the moment he realized we'd made a complete circuit, he wanted in. Ah! Maybe I snagged him. Maybe learning activities are on his agenda. Time will tell.
With any other student, it would have been time to let him join, but I wanted to give "A" that permenant memory of my presence at his side. And sticking together gave us plenty of opportunities to bargain.
"Oh, you'd like to join Table 2? Well that could happen tomorrow. What will you do when you're at Table 2?"
"Wooork quuuuietwy."
"Wonderful! You'll get a lot done working quietly at Table 2 tomorrow."
And so on, for each station.
He began to ask to go to Table 4. It's a number chart game where students fix a 100's number chart. 100 number cards are all out of order: 23, 45, 11, 37, 90, etc. Students find the correct numbers and put them all in order. The best part is, cleaning up at this station means putting the numbers in the wrong places. They all love it. "A" asked several times to join that station, regardless of the team working there. Hopefully that means the activity is more enticing than the people. We repeated the bargainning conversation for that one several times.
And then there was the straying. He'd begin to wander off, trying to join the others on his own. Rejoining me reluctantly was, I thought, a healthy sign, even though it was by coersion.
"A, when you rejoin me, the class can rotate."
"A, we'll get started when you rejoin me."
"A, I'll wait..."
But he smiled for the entire hour and a quarter. My fingers are crossed so hard for tomorrow their knuckles are white. It's a real white-knuckle finger-crossing. I'm hopeful - very hopeful.
There were plenty of allowances to buffer the blow of his being shackled. He was asked to call on volunteers, observe and report the behaviors of others, and choose teams. It's more than was fair, but "A" is a special case, and this is a slightly unusual situation.
At first he was definately a player. He excitedly reported the goings on at each table, and eagerly looked around for our next target. I'm not sure how long this first round took. Maybe 10 minutes. He showed stamina, and if there'd been more stations, he'd have been up for more reporting. But the moment he realized we'd made a complete circuit, he wanted in. Ah! Maybe I snagged him. Maybe learning activities are on his agenda. Time will tell.
With any other student, it would have been time to let him join, but I wanted to give "A" that permenant memory of my presence at his side. And sticking together gave us plenty of opportunities to bargain.
"Oh, you'd like to join Table 2? Well that could happen tomorrow. What will you do when you're at Table 2?"
"Wooork quuuuietwy."
"Wonderful! You'll get a lot done working quietly at Table 2 tomorrow."
And so on, for each station.
He began to ask to go to Table 4. It's a number chart game where students fix a 100's number chart. 100 number cards are all out of order: 23, 45, 11, 37, 90, etc. Students find the correct numbers and put them all in order. The best part is, cleaning up at this station means putting the numbers in the wrong places. They all love it. "A" asked several times to join that station, regardless of the team working there. Hopefully that means the activity is more enticing than the people. We repeated the bargainning conversation for that one several times.
And then there was the straying. He'd begin to wander off, trying to join the others on his own. Rejoining me reluctantly was, I thought, a healthy sign, even though it was by coersion.
"A, when you rejoin me, the class can rotate."
"A, we'll get started when you rejoin me."
"A, I'll wait..."
But he smiled for the entire hour and a quarter. My fingers are crossed so hard for tomorrow their knuckles are white. It's a real white-knuckle finger-crossing. I'm hopeful - very hopeful.
Monday, January 3, 2011
1/3/11, 10:30 a.m. - Effective Classroom Management, and Student "A", the Desk-Crawler
This blog shares examples of, and plans for, productive classroom management, from the perspective of an Instructional Cognitive Coach (SM). "Productive" as in supporting independent learning motivated by inspiration, achievement, and challenge. The kind of management that motivates students to want to learn. The coaching strategy is this: Identify the desired outcome, and then choose congruent behaviors to elicit it.
For example, for my 1st graders' math class, I'd like to be available to all students as they need help during learning time. Trouble is, when every one's engaged in the same activity simultaneously, chances are good that lots of students could need help at the same time. To that end I've created math "centers", areas with different math tasks involving writing, building, drawing, throwing dice, etc.
At the beginning of each class we take a gallery walk of the centers, students review the learning tasks at each, and then they set off to work independently. While they work, I'm available to circulate, and help as needed. Also, keeping many of the centers routine, only rotating in a few new activities a week, helps maximize my availability to students needing support. Other teachers have described the learning environment as "Zen", and I agree. I'm calm, collected, and able to help at all times. Students work independently most of the time. It's utterly delightful, and every bit the desired outcome I had in mind. Hopefully a fine example of some great classroom management.
As for a plan, this is what's happening with one of my favorite people, student "A". The desired outcome for student "A" is his feeling like a successful learner: trust that I'll be there when he needs me, responsibility for his own learning, fair-minded classroom participation, and academic achievement. He'll be starting in my classroom tomorrow.
In the past, "A" has required constant teacher supervision; he's continually sought attention (his desired outcome), whether by sharing crayons, crawling on desks, or randomly singing loudly during quiet learning time (all highly-successful behaviors congruent with getting the attention he craves). So: How to get him learning instead of sabotaging? If it's attention he wants, I'll use it behaviorally to attain the outcome we all want for him.
He wants continual and captivated attention of teachers and peers alike, and I think he also craves academic success. Most learners do, whether or not they show it. My strategic behavior? He and I will be learning partners for the entirety of his first day in my class. His task? Reporting to me as we tour our math learning centers, the task at each stop, and its learning objective. This will create a strong memory for him of me as his constant companion, and a shared set of explicit, appropriate expectations. The desired outcome? Trust for both of us. He'll trust me to be there, and I'll know he understands what to do.
Secondly, he will want to join his friends - another of his desired outcomes. My strategy? Offer participation, conditionally, the second day (and thereafter). He'll have his chance to build both social and academic success, after reporting accurately to me appropriate behavior for the learning activity of a center of my choosing. That is my condition for his inclusion. Rejoining me, resuming his reporting duties, will be my leverage anytime he needs redirecting. Wanting to work with his peers (his ultimate desire) will motivate him to engage appropriately (a congruent and winning behavior) in learning.
Academic success will result from engaged learning, the ultimate desired outcome. He'll trust me, his teacher, work with his friends, and continue to build academic capacity. This success will build upon itself. It's a best-case scenario backed by research and results-based planning.
I'll let you know how it goes....
For example, for my 1st graders' math class, I'd like to be available to all students as they need help during learning time. Trouble is, when every one's engaged in the same activity simultaneously, chances are good that lots of students could need help at the same time. To that end I've created math "centers", areas with different math tasks involving writing, building, drawing, throwing dice, etc.
At the beginning of each class we take a gallery walk of the centers, students review the learning tasks at each, and then they set off to work independently. While they work, I'm available to circulate, and help as needed. Also, keeping many of the centers routine, only rotating in a few new activities a week, helps maximize my availability to students needing support. Other teachers have described the learning environment as "Zen", and I agree. I'm calm, collected, and able to help at all times. Students work independently most of the time. It's utterly delightful, and every bit the desired outcome I had in mind. Hopefully a fine example of some great classroom management.
As for a plan, this is what's happening with one of my favorite people, student "A". The desired outcome for student "A" is his feeling like a successful learner: trust that I'll be there when he needs me, responsibility for his own learning, fair-minded classroom participation, and academic achievement. He'll be starting in my classroom tomorrow.
In the past, "A" has required constant teacher supervision; he's continually sought attention (his desired outcome), whether by sharing crayons, crawling on desks, or randomly singing loudly during quiet learning time (all highly-successful behaviors congruent with getting the attention he craves). So: How to get him learning instead of sabotaging? If it's attention he wants, I'll use it behaviorally to attain the outcome we all want for him.
He wants continual and captivated attention of teachers and peers alike, and I think he also craves academic success. Most learners do, whether or not they show it. My strategic behavior? He and I will be learning partners for the entirety of his first day in my class. His task? Reporting to me as we tour our math learning centers, the task at each stop, and its learning objective. This will create a strong memory for him of me as his constant companion, and a shared set of explicit, appropriate expectations. The desired outcome? Trust for both of us. He'll trust me to be there, and I'll know he understands what to do.
Secondly, he will want to join his friends - another of his desired outcomes. My strategy? Offer participation, conditionally, the second day (and thereafter). He'll have his chance to build both social and academic success, after reporting accurately to me appropriate behavior for the learning activity of a center of my choosing. That is my condition for his inclusion. Rejoining me, resuming his reporting duties, will be my leverage anytime he needs redirecting. Wanting to work with his peers (his ultimate desire) will motivate him to engage appropriately (a congruent and winning behavior) in learning.
Academic success will result from engaged learning, the ultimate desired outcome. He'll trust me, his teacher, work with his friends, and continue to build academic capacity. This success will build upon itself. It's a best-case scenario backed by research and results-based planning.
I'll let you know how it goes....
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