Still swamped and tried to dig out and settle into a routine. Hopefully that will happen sooner rather than later, and I'll be able to blog again more regularly.
In the meantime, here's an inspirational blog for parents and teachers about meeting our kids where they're "at" instead of trying to push out kids that are all equally adept at the same things.
From Raising Small Souls, here's why differentiation is critical.
Enjoy!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
The 3 R's: Rigor, Relationships & Relevance
Last month, at CAJE, I had the opportunity to participate in two learning sessions with Marc Kay, an educator from the Detroit, Michigan area. Marc has taught in the following settings: day school, supplemental school, youth group, and is currently a secular high school English teacher. He brought a wealth of practical experience, as well as research-based findings, to his workshops.
The title of one of his workshops was “Jewish Education in the 21st Century: Relevancy and Rigor in the Classroom.”
Honesty compels me to admit that my initial reaction to the word “rigor” is to flinch: the connotation for me usually implies a lot of jargon that ends up meaning, “teaching to the test,” “college-credit for high school work,” and “how much can we cover in how short a period of time.” In fairness, my Merriam-Webster defines it as “a strict precision or exactness” – a values-neutral definition.
By adding “relationships” and “relevance” to “rigor”, Marc changed the equation.
“The primary aim of all education is not to enable students to do well in schools or colleges, but to help them do well in the lives they lead outside of the schools and colleges,” he explained. He went on to say, “This theory applies to our hope to how our students apply their Judaic education to becoming part of their greater Jewish community.” [emphasis added]
The title of one of his workshops was “Jewish Education in the 21st Century: Relevancy and Rigor in the Classroom.”
Honesty compels me to admit that my initial reaction to the word “rigor” is to flinch: the connotation for me usually implies a lot of jargon that ends up meaning, “teaching to the test,” “college-credit for high school work,” and “how much can we cover in how short a period of time.” In fairness, my Merriam-Webster defines it as “a strict precision or exactness” – a values-neutral definition.
By adding “relationships” and “relevance” to “rigor”, Marc changed the equation.
“The primary aim of all education is not to enable students to do well in schools or colleges, but to help them do well in the lives they lead outside of the schools and colleges,” he explained. He went on to say, “This theory applies to our hope to how our students apply their Judaic education to becoming part of their greater Jewish community.” [emphasis added]
Marc debunked some of the false ideas of “learning” currently circulating:
- finishing a textbook means achievement
- listening to a lecture means understanding
- getting high test scores means proficiency
Instead, he identifies the roots of learning as containing the following:
- meaning, not just memory
- engagement, not just transmission
- inquiry, not just compliance
- exploration, not just acquisition
- personalization, not just uniformity
- collaboration, not just competition
- trust, not fear
Too many students see education as something that happens to them, he adds. Seeing real-life applications of what they are learning and understanding how they learn and developing the ability to monitor their own learning progress changes that passive state to an active one.
Relationships between students and teachers are a key factor. Learners flourish if they know that they matter to someone. From my own experience as a parent and teacher of students with learning difficulties, I know that students are more willing to exert themselves and plow through their challenges when they know that their teacher cares about them and believes in them.
Relevance comes into play when students are able to understand how the information or skill has some relevance to their lives; when they are encouraged to grapple with their own understanding of what they are learning; and when they learn how to learn as a result of the process.
In a meditation on the blessing that precedes Torah study, Rabbi Leila Gal Berner comments on the Hebrew phrase l'asok b'dvrei torah:
The Hebrew words here do not say "to study Torah," but rather to "be engaged" or "to be busy with" the study of Torah. We study Torah not an an intellectual exercise alone. Rather, we understand our "engagement" with Torah more holistically, as an evey day, every moment activity. We also understand that to be fully "engaged" with Torah is to wrestle with Torah - to challenge our tradition while loving it, to question while celebrating it. (Kol Haneshamah: Shabbat Vehagim, JRF)
Ultimately, Marc believes that we need to adapt our lessons (and our approach, I might add) so that the students we interact with can answer the question, “So what?”
How many of my students this week can answer why the content we’re grappling with matters and what impact it will have on their lives?
Thanks, Marc!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
An Invitation
As we begin a new year, I'd like to shift our direction slightly.
I'd like to invite you to make comments on what what I post, to add your own suggestions and insights, to help change this into a "virtual community."
Here's a starting point: do you have any suggestions that you've found to make your beginnings with your students easier? Is there something you ALWAYS do? Or something that you'll never do again? I'm eager to hear!
Let's learn together....
I'd like to invite you to make comments on what what I post, to add your own suggestions and insights, to help change this into a "virtual community."
Here's a starting point: do you have any suggestions that you've found to make your beginnings with your students easier? Is there something you ALWAYS do? Or something that you'll never do again? I'm eager to hear!
Let's learn together....
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Teachers
Before the week is out, I will have participated in staff orientations at six different programs in the last month. I’ve presented content (on differentiation, on working with parents), participated in ice-breaking activities, oriented staff to new responsibilities, and responded to questions about programs that haven’t yet been fleshed out. I’ve also participated in work sessions with teachers working to articulate the "big ideas" in the materials they'll be teaching this year. I've brainstormed with colleagues who are in new settings this year. I’ve gone to Burlington, VT for CAJE; New Haven, CT for a family wedding; and consulted via phone with a wonderful colleague from Michigan, who has inspired me to push myself in new directions. I’ve worked intensely with a couple of communities in the midst of unanticipated transitions. And I’ve scrambled to help implement two new programs regionally – both directed at building our next generation of religious school teachers. With all due respect to Nat “King” Cole, those “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer” WEREN’T.
What I’ve come away with is a deeper sense of appreciation for the commitment of the men and women who choose to spend a chunk of their discretionary time teaching Hebrew, holidays, prayers, values, history, peoplehood, CONNECTION to the youngsters in our communities.
For the most part, our teachers are “avocational” – that means teaching is not their main vocation. They come to us for orientation and planning at the end of the work day. Some cut their family vacations short or arrive back at their colleges early. They come tired and anxious, eager and apprehensive about the coming year. Which students will be part of their classes? What’s different this year from last? How will they structure their time? They come, knowing that the work in which they are about to engage is significant. They know that they need help – in content areas, organization, confidence, working with certain types of students and/or parents. Some are confident in their knowledge level; others see only how little they know. They know that the time is too short, that the task is too great: “You are not required to complete the work, but you are not free to abandon it.” (Pirke Avot; 2:16)
But the bottom line is that they come… week in and week out, they come.
All our teachers will struggle at some point this coming year. All will try to juggle commitments to home and family, their “real” job, and their religious school classes. Some will be more successful this year than others. How do I define “success?” Success, in my mind, is the ability “to reach and teach.” First comes the connection – and then the student and teacher are available to grapple with content together.
My wish for you – for all of us – is “smooth beginnings, a year of enough challenges to grow and learn (but not so many that we’re overwhelmed!), and a recognition that we can make a difference.”
What I’ve come away with is a deeper sense of appreciation for the commitment of the men and women who choose to spend a chunk of their discretionary time teaching Hebrew, holidays, prayers, values, history, peoplehood, CONNECTION to the youngsters in our communities.
For the most part, our teachers are “avocational” – that means teaching is not their main vocation. They come to us for orientation and planning at the end of the work day. Some cut their family vacations short or arrive back at their colleges early. They come tired and anxious, eager and apprehensive about the coming year. Which students will be part of their classes? What’s different this year from last? How will they structure their time? They come, knowing that the work in which they are about to engage is significant. They know that they need help – in content areas, organization, confidence, working with certain types of students and/or parents. Some are confident in their knowledge level; others see only how little they know. They know that the time is too short, that the task is too great: “You are not required to complete the work, but you are not free to abandon it.” (Pirke Avot; 2:16)
But the bottom line is that they come… week in and week out, they come.
All our teachers will struggle at some point this coming year. All will try to juggle commitments to home and family, their “real” job, and their religious school classes. Some will be more successful this year than others. How do I define “success?” Success, in my mind, is the ability “to reach and teach.” First comes the connection – and then the student and teacher are available to grapple with content together.
My wish for you – for all of us – is “smooth beginnings, a year of enough challenges to grow and learn (but not so many that we’re overwhelmed!), and a recognition that we can make a difference.”
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Actors
Written two years ago...after a local education day
Yesterday, I got to teach Sam again.
At a local educators’ day, I was standing outside the door, waiting for teachers to filter in when a young man approached me. “Morah Mary,” he said, “do you remember me? You taught me in third grade and now I’m back to learn from you again.”
Do you remember me? “Of course, I remember you,” I replied as my eyes filled with tears.
I remember one day early in the school year, after class I complimented you on your high participation and the quality of questions you asked. You grimaced and said, “But you really shouldn’t compliment me: I didn’t want to come today. My Mom made me.” I remember writing you a note that evening and explaining that although Mom may have “made” you come to class, Mom wasn’t in our room and she didn’t “make” you walk in with a smile…she didn’t “make” you raise your hand…. she didn’t “make” you help the kid seated next to you…..
I remember that you were part of a group of six friends who thought the best part of religious school was the chance to see your friends and get caught up on each others’ lives. What you had to share with each other was infinitely more interesting than what I could teach. At a parent/student meeting to brainstorm solutions, I remember wryly responding to a parent, “Putting one in each corner of the room might work, but my classroom has only four corners….” After that meeting, you were the student who came up to me to apologize for being thoughtless and disrespectful, and you vowed to improve.
I remember your face when we’d talk about how what we were learning connected with our daily lives – and the way your face would light up when you were able to make a personal connection.
I remember the questions you asked – thoughtful, provocative, eager to put the pieces together.
And I remember the last day of class. You weren’t there. I was so disappointed. I wanted to say goodbye – to find a private moment to let you know how privileged I felt to have had you in my class that year.
Five minutes after class, you and your Mom walked in. You were obviously distraught. Mom explained that you hadn’t wanted to say goodbye, but realized that you had to. We spoke for a moment – you looked at me with your soul in your eyes. I took your hand and remember saying, “Some day, Sam, you’ll be a religious school teacher too – and you’ll be blessed with students just like you.”
What I learned from Sam those many years ago was a simple, critical lesson. I shared it with him and his colleagues in the workshop I taught yesterday – in order to be “master teachers,” we must let our students touch our hearts and be willing to touch theirs in return.
Yesterday I got to teach Sam again – and he got to teach me. Baruch haShem – my life has been blessed!
Yesterday, I got to teach Sam again.
At a local educators’ day, I was standing outside the door, waiting for teachers to filter in when a young man approached me. “Morah Mary,” he said, “do you remember me? You taught me in third grade and now I’m back to learn from you again.”
Do you remember me? “Of course, I remember you,” I replied as my eyes filled with tears.
I remember one day early in the school year, after class I complimented you on your high participation and the quality of questions you asked. You grimaced and said, “But you really shouldn’t compliment me: I didn’t want to come today. My Mom made me.” I remember writing you a note that evening and explaining that although Mom may have “made” you come to class, Mom wasn’t in our room and she didn’t “make” you walk in with a smile…she didn’t “make” you raise your hand…. she didn’t “make” you help the kid seated next to you…..
I remember that you were part of a group of six friends who thought the best part of religious school was the chance to see your friends and get caught up on each others’ lives. What you had to share with each other was infinitely more interesting than what I could teach. At a parent/student meeting to brainstorm solutions, I remember wryly responding to a parent, “Putting one in each corner of the room might work, but my classroom has only four corners….” After that meeting, you were the student who came up to me to apologize for being thoughtless and disrespectful, and you vowed to improve.
I remember your face when we’d talk about how what we were learning connected with our daily lives – and the way your face would light up when you were able to make a personal connection.
I remember the questions you asked – thoughtful, provocative, eager to put the pieces together.
And I remember the last day of class. You weren’t there. I was so disappointed. I wanted to say goodbye – to find a private moment to let you know how privileged I felt to have had you in my class that year.
Five minutes after class, you and your Mom walked in. You were obviously distraught. Mom explained that you hadn’t wanted to say goodbye, but realized that you had to. We spoke for a moment – you looked at me with your soul in your eyes. I took your hand and remember saying, “Some day, Sam, you’ll be a religious school teacher too – and you’ll be blessed with students just like you.”
What I learned from Sam those many years ago was a simple, critical lesson. I shared it with him and his colleagues in the workshop I taught yesterday – in order to be “master teachers,” we must let our students touch our hearts and be willing to touch theirs in return.
Yesterday I got to teach Sam again – and he got to teach me. Baruch haShem – my life has been blessed!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Props
Okay, so where was I? (That’s the problem with “vacation” – it’s hard to regain your momentum!)
Improv. theatre…. setting …. the script…. oh, yeah – the props! Now I remember.
“Props” can be anything that help your script come alive: things that your students can experience – taste, touch, smell, hear.
If you’re teaching a lesson on what I used to call “the Jewish uniform” – bring it in! Bring in a tallit (or three). Let your students finger the fringes. Let them trace the Hebrew letters on the atarah/collar. Let them tent themselves in the tallit/prayer shawl as they repeat the blessing after you. Let the tallit settle on their shoulders – show them how to fold the edges up, so they are able to hold a siddur/prayer book at the same time. Let them experience laying on tefillin – examine different styles of kippot.
If you’re teaching about Passover – let them smell and taste the maror/horseradish; let them chop the apples and add a little grape juice – and have that as snack instead of challah; let them break the matzah to hide an afikoman.
If you’re teaching about the Dead Sea – fill a basin with super salty water. Place it next to a basin of clear water. Let them take turns dropping objects into the basins and watch how they float in the super-salty water.
If you’re trying to evoke the solemnity of Kol Nidre – or the joy of Simchat Torah – play instrumental music softly in the background while students are working.
When you learn about Chanukah together, have them bring in their Chanukiyah from home – and let them tell the stories associated with their personal Chanukiyah.
Let them hold the lulav and hear the branches whisper as they are shaken east, west, north, south, up and down. Let them gently scratch the surface of the etrog and smell its lemon-like odor.
When you study Torah with your students, use a Chumash that includes both Hebrew and English, if possible. If that’s not possible – photocopy the page you’ll be studying together. If that’s even beyond what you can provide – type your text as it’s found in a Chumash, including the verse numbers interspersed within the text.
Take them to see a Torah scroll up close. Let them help undress it and carefully roll it out. Let them use the yad/pointer to point to the Hebrew words – and let them tell you “there are no vowels!” Let them touch the wood of the etz hayim/rollers. Let them be responsible for dressing the Torah, hearing the clink as the breastplate is settled into place – and the jingle of the bells in the crowns. Let them feel the texture of the Torah cover – and open and close the ark carefully as it is replaced.
Then take a moment to catch your breath – and think about the experience.
Use lengths of material as costumes when studying biblical characters…. as tents when they’re Israelites wandering in the desert….or pioneers settling in the Land of Israel… or to block off a special area in the classroom in which they can repair to think calming thoughts.
The more we make the learning real, the easier it is to engage our students. The greater the level of engagement, the greater the likelihood of retention. Using all of our senses in teaching and learning helps make the learning come alive.
Improv. theatre…. setting …. the script…. oh, yeah – the props! Now I remember.
“Props” can be anything that help your script come alive: things that your students can experience – taste, touch, smell, hear.
If you’re teaching a lesson on what I used to call “the Jewish uniform” – bring it in! Bring in a tallit (or three). Let your students finger the fringes. Let them trace the Hebrew letters on the atarah/collar. Let them tent themselves in the tallit/prayer shawl as they repeat the blessing after you. Let the tallit settle on their shoulders – show them how to fold the edges up, so they are able to hold a siddur/prayer book at the same time. Let them experience laying on tefillin – examine different styles of kippot.
If you’re teaching about Passover – let them smell and taste the maror/horseradish; let them chop the apples and add a little grape juice – and have that as snack instead of challah; let them break the matzah to hide an afikoman.
If you’re teaching about the Dead Sea – fill a basin with super salty water. Place it next to a basin of clear water. Let them take turns dropping objects into the basins and watch how they float in the super-salty water.
If you’re trying to evoke the solemnity of Kol Nidre – or the joy of Simchat Torah – play instrumental music softly in the background while students are working.
When you learn about Chanukah together, have them bring in their Chanukiyah from home – and let them tell the stories associated with their personal Chanukiyah.
Let them hold the lulav and hear the branches whisper as they are shaken east, west, north, south, up and down. Let them gently scratch the surface of the etrog and smell its lemon-like odor.
When you study Torah with your students, use a Chumash that includes both Hebrew and English, if possible. If that’s not possible – photocopy the page you’ll be studying together. If that’s even beyond what you can provide – type your text as it’s found in a Chumash, including the verse numbers interspersed within the text.
Take them to see a Torah scroll up close. Let them help undress it and carefully roll it out. Let them use the yad/pointer to point to the Hebrew words – and let them tell you “there are no vowels!” Let them touch the wood of the etz hayim/rollers. Let them be responsible for dressing the Torah, hearing the clink as the breastplate is settled into place – and the jingle of the bells in the crowns. Let them feel the texture of the Torah cover – and open and close the ark carefully as it is replaced.
Then take a moment to catch your breath – and think about the experience.
Use lengths of material as costumes when studying biblical characters…. as tents when they’re Israelites wandering in the desert….or pioneers settling in the Land of Israel… or to block off a special area in the classroom in which they can repair to think calming thoughts.
The more we make the learning real, the easier it is to engage our students. The greater the level of engagement, the greater the likelihood of retention. Using all of our senses in teaching and learning helps make the learning come alive.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Just Back From CAJE33
I’m just back from CAJE33 in Burlington, Vermont – where I had the opportunity to connect with old friends, solidify relationships with beginning friends, and make new ones.
Along the way, I participated in some great workshops. Ongoing professional development is key to staying fresh and continuing to learn and grow.
For a Powerpoint of the information I presented in the “Success Stories in Congregational Education” poster session, click on “What’s New” at my website: www.morahmaryconsulting.com.
I enjoyed my time in Vermont – but it’s good to be home and back in a routine!
Along the way, I participated in some great workshops. Ongoing professional development is key to staying fresh and continuing to learn and grow.
For a Powerpoint of the information I presented in the “Success Stories in Congregational Education” poster session, click on “What’s New” at my website: www.morahmaryconsulting.com.
I enjoyed my time in Vermont – but it’s good to be home and back in a routine!
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