Grappling with Giftedness

I've only worked with a handful of truly gifted students in all my years as an educator.They stand out.  I remember something wonderful and exceptional about each of them.

The first was a young man in my grade three class during my first full year as a teacher.  We were working on our "Wild Animals of Canada" unit....I was super excited about the animal track prints we were making on our giant story boards-  the kids were all pumped up about painting their stories onto their maps and creating tales that showed how the various animals in their chosen region interacted.  We were all busy drawing ponds and forest trails. A parent helper was helping us to carve florist sponges into stamps for making tracks.    My young naturalist approached me, with a hand painted map that could have been produced by the National Geographic,  to ask if it was important to label the 14 varieties of vole in the Northern Boreal region of Saskatchewan with their Latin names.

Next came my wonderful historian.  During his grade four year, he was struggling, often being sent to work where he "wasn't causing a disturbance." (His words).  I was his support teacher at that time. We decided it would be good for him to have an independent project to work on for the days that the classroom wasn't a good fit.  Over the next four months, he spent many of his afternoons working on a scale model of the Parthenon.  Out of toothpicks.  It was fantastic, and, although my math wasn't as good as his was,  I'm pretty sure was accurate.

Another student who stands out was a young man whom I first met when he was in first grade.  I had an "enrichment" group at that time, and he came along for the period of time we were working on PowerPoint.  It was pretty new, cutting-edge stuff at that time, and adding motion paths and animations was pretty exciting.  I quickly moved him from the primary group to the intermediate one.  To this day, I've not seen a PowerPoint quite that masterfully created.  He had icons dancing all over the place, interesting facts about space peppered in.  He finished it after only a couple of sessions, which was great, because then I had all kinds of help showing the other kids stuff I had no idea about.  That was fun to experience, but the deeper learning for me came many years later-  I next crossed paths with him in his grade 7 year, while working at the high school. Where he explained to me that he'd been riding his bike between buildings every day for a full semester, and was there to write his Math 10 Provincial exam.

While I have worked with many other gifted students over the years, these three stand out for me, because, with each one, I learned something tremendously important about how to meet the needs of gifted students.  Each one illuminated something critical about the ways that gifted learners are significantly different from the other bright, talented students I have met over the years.

1.  My naturalist taught me that being gifted isn't necessarily about being the best at everything.  Or really at anything.  He was a pretty average guy in math, and his writing was pretty messy and disorganized.  He seemed happy enough to work along at the pace of the rest of the class most of the time, and he worked pretty quietly and with apparent engagement most of the time.  His parents reported he enjoyed school, although they worried a little that he didn't seem to have any good friends.   I had to really talk with him to find out what he was passionate about.  Voles weren't high on my Top 10, but he could chat about them for hours. 

I'm sorry to say that the fact that he was successful and content was enough for me most of the time.  It was my first year teaching, and I really had no idea what the options were.  I tried to engage him in conversation about the things he liked, to stock books in our classroom library that were at a higher reading level and would engage him with respect to his topics of choice, to let him go off on his own exploration every once in a while if he expressed that he was bored or finished early and wanted something to do.  He did ok that year, but if I were to get another shot at it, I'd hook him up with a resource person in the community, or excused him from some of our more straightforward projects to really explore the stuff that excited him. 


2.  My historian taught me that sometimes, it's all about process.  (And that with gifted kids, it's rarely about product.)  He did make a fantastic model of the Parthenon.  It just wasn't the whole Parthenon.  That's because his exploration took him on a lot of bird walks.  I'd pop into the area he was working and hear tons of details about Aquaducts.  Or birds.  Or the number of soldiers in Athens vs. Rome.  Or about the way that the ancient Egyptians (yes, Egyptians) made bread.  For this young man, one question led to a thousand others.  And they were all equally exciting and distracting.  He just loved learning about the antiquities.  He couldn't get enough of it.  He also loved the math.  The endless calculations and re-calculations, adjustments for this little extra bit of height, or wondering if Roman's had created green space around their buildings that needed to be considered.

There was never a time when I walked in to find him doing nothing, but there were many times where it didn't look like any progress had been made on "the project" at all.    I'm so grateful that I was usually popping in between other things and didn't have too much time to "redirect" him.  He often reminded me that it was his project, and I had promised it could be self-directed.  He was self-directing himself all over the place, and he loved every minute of it.  After a few weeks, I settled into this rhythm of having him share his discoveries with me, rather than pulling out our criteria sheet and project plan.  I loved hearing the excitement and pride in his voice when he figured out a new angle or discovered some interesting new facts.  His class was completely enraptured when he finally felt ready to present his project to them.  He answered every question confidently.  But that wasn't the best part.  The best part was that his mornings also became a lot more successful, and that his peers started to seek him out on the playground because they found the nice guy who was fun to play with under the troublemaker.  Grade four ended in a much better place than it had started.

3.  My mathematician taught me about the importance of carefully crafted opportunities.  That, for gifted learners, these opportunities need to be fostered, and sustained.  While it was wonderful for the other boys to explore areas of personal interest, and to be given opportunities to explore "instead of" rather than simply being provided "more of"  -  for our truly exceptional learners, this isn't going to sustain them forever.  When I worked with this young man, I created opportunity by bumping him up to a group of older learners.  This worked for a bit of an enrichment opportunity in first grade, but my learning about how to really support him didn't come until much later, when I saw the opportunities others crafted for him.

The middle school did the heavy lifting that made a real difference.  They connected not only with the math department at the high school to allow him to work on advanced math, but also with the physics teacher, who put him in touch with NASA, where he could really talk with someone at his level.  He ran through all of the offerings in the secondary school math and science departments when he was in 10th grade, and had begun college-level work.

I asked his mom about that one day, wondered if he was missing opportunities to connect with same-age peers by being so connected with the college already.  (That's a worry we'd often had at the school level, as we saw so many gifted students struggle with friendships, often demonstrating an immaturity in their interactions with others).  His mom wondered why I had that concern.  She asked me a couple of questions about how I chose my friends, and I countered with the usual-  people I have things in common with, people who are fun to spend time with.  She asked how many of us are the same age.  Before I had a chance to stumble out a response to that, she gently pointed out that I had described "intellectual peers."  She wasn't worried about how old his buddies were.  She was worried that he had friends who "got him,"  Friends he could engage in stimulating conversation with and feel at home.   That had been really hard for him over the years, and was actually getting easier now that he wasn't trying to find them all in his classes at school.


There is some scary research out there regarding gifted learners.  Truly gifted kids often struggle with anxiety and depression, and find connecting with peers really difficult.  Lots of gifted kids are twice-exceptional-  they also have learning disabilities, or autism, or attentional challenges.  Often, they struggle with relating with peers, finding it difficult to sustain friendships, or to relate to their teachers.  Too often, we hear the word "gifted," and assume this means school should be easy for them, that if they're not succeeding it must be laziness or lack of engagement.

Gifted learners have special learning needs.  They need our support, our encouragement, and our time, as much as any other learner with challenges.   It's up to us to keep listening, keep exploring, keep planning, to keep creating vehicles to engage and sustain their learning.  The good news is that, if were providing differentiated, open-ended learning opportunities for everyone, our gifted students will help us create these opportunities for themselves.   And we don't have to do it alone.  Reaching out to community resource people and other institutions will help us.  We're in it together.  After all, "They're all our kids!"

Resources and Links for Gifted Learners:

Toolkit for High-End Differentiation  (Lannie Kenevsky, SFU 2013)

Possibilities for Learning:  Planning For and With Highly Able Learners

Bright vs Gifted Learners (chart)

Links for Parents 

The Dark Side of Being A Gifted Kid (Calgary Herald, Feb. 2015)

Why I Love Loose Parts

This has been an interesting fall for me.   I am back in the classroom on a regular basis for the first time in many years.  Each Wednesday morning, I have the privilege of working with a group of kindergarten and grade 1 learners.

I can't really say whether or not they are a "typical" group, as it's been 15 years since I was last a kindergarten teacher.  I can say they are busy.  They're curious.  They're creative.  They're conversational.  And several of them are still learning the basics in terms of sharing their learning space with others and interacting successfully as part of a group.

I've struggled a bit to find a rhythm with them.  They've got too much energy to sit for stories and whole group lessons, they are all over the place in terms of their readiness for product-based tasks.  Solving a challenge that one is having inevitably leads to something that needs sorting with someone else.

I've been chatting with my teaching partner, who is with them for the other 90% of the week.  She has set up these wonderful morning choices for them, and she never seems to be as rattled as I'm feeling after a busy morning with our class.  She talked about provocations and seeing where their questions took them. 

I knew the feeling in the room during this choice time was lovely and productive, but didn't know that was rooted in Reggio Emilia philosophy until another teacher on our primary team came across the hall and began chatting about "Loose Parts."    She's working on her masters, and was doing a project on them.  I listened along, hearing all kinds of wonderful things about creativity, and interest, and engagement, and honoring children's passions. I admitted that I was new to this approach, but didn't confess that I had no idea, really, what a "loose part" or a "provocation" were. 

That weekend, I went home and did a whole bunch of reading.  I learned that provocations were clues alongside bits of materials or objects that are designed to inspire exploration.  Not "rules" or "systems,"  but something that can provide "an inspiration for children to express themselves." (From: What is a Provocation).  I love this idea.  We were expressing ourselves all over the classroom.  Might as well find a way to channel it for good...

I also read about how to set up a "Reggio-Inspired Activity."   From what I have gleaned through my reading, you begin first with the children.  Find out what they are interested in, what they have questions about.  Once you know that, you seek activities and materials that will "engage their sense of wonder."  How beautiful is that notion?  If we can do that, even a little bit, what a wonderful place our classrooms will be.  Kate Gribble's blog has really helped me think through this...you can find her at: An Everyday Story: Inquiry Based Learning. 

So I launched.  I was ready to start a new unit on light, so I hunted through my house for every flashlight and headlamp I could find.  We were making glow-in-the-dark slime at Scouts, so I grabbed the blue light I'd picked up for that, too. (Although it was really hot, shouldn't probably have been in a K/1 classroom...I'd skip it the next time around).  Then I went hunting for prisms and mirrors, and bits of colored plastic, and bins of "stuff" to shine lights on,  in an attempt to create some provocations. 
                                                     
I had already learned that this group works best with a tiny bit of structure, completely open-ended exploration puts us in proximity with children we don't do our best learning beside.  My solution was to structure the groups and station rotations, but not the exploration specifically.  I set up five stations with a variety of materials and let them rotate through a turn at each.  When we were done, we collected our questions.

We did a lot of thinking during our exploration.  Now my challenge was tweaking the provocations to allow us to explore our wonders.  I spent the better part of an afternoon looking for books at the public library on "light experiments," and googling for "reggio activites about light" and such.  I sorted and re-sorted my bins trying to come up with the best way to present things to answer their questions.

And then I gave up.  I had no idea how to set things up to match their questions.  These weren't my questions.  In the end, I decided to remind them of what their questions were, and to put the materials back out for them, to see what they came up with.  That was a fantastic decision on my part, if I may say so. 

During the exploration, I circulated and ask them about things.  ("Did you find your rainbow?"  "What happened when you stacked those colors together?").  We took a whole bunch of pictures, and put some drawings into our Wonder Books to record our thinking.

I am so proud of these kids.  We didn't all answer our original questions, but we sure learned a lot about light.  Ask us about reflection.  We can tell you that it can "bounce," or go in different directions.  We can tell you that it can change color if we put different, transparent, things between the light source and the place it's landing.

  We can tell you that light goes through some things but not through others, and that it looks different when it comes from a natural source versus a light in the classroom.

We can tell you that it sometimes gets hot, and
that we shouldn't put it right in our eyes or it hurts them. (But that that's better with a barrier like sunglasses).  We have made connections to summer days and solar eclipses.

I love this way of being with learners in the classroom.  It was a leap of faith based on a need to re-design my approach to meet the needs of some very busy little people, and it worked.  I'm always re-directing somebody when we're sitting at the carpet.   When we're exploring with loose parts, I get to talk about wonders and discoveries.  I pack my phone with me because we're so excited we need pictures about everything.  And when we go to put the pictures in our notebook a full week later, we can still describe what we were wondering about and what we figured out.

Thank you, Joanne and Aimee for letting me pretend I knew what you were talking about until I was able to figure out a little bit about it for myself.  It was either rattling out some Loose Parts within myself, or learning about Loose Parts with our learners.  I'm confident that I picked the right set.  I'm far from being an expert on the Reggio approach, but I'm hooked on learning more.  Meeting learners where they are at, and honoring their sense of wonder, is a lovely way to acknowledge that "They Are All Our Kids."

Understanding Intellectual Disabilities

As always, we have lots of new faces in our school this fall.  New learners have arrived at our doors from all over the province and country.  And some of these learners have additional needs that will require adult support and thoughtful planning.

In order to provide the best support we can for these new students, we've been talking lots about what we can do to get to know them and to really understand what they need.  Over the course of these discussions, I've been reminded about how profoundly different it is to provide support for a student with a learning disability than it is to provide support for a student with a more global intellectual impairment.

While both students can struggle with understanding new concepts and "hanging on" to new learning, there are very distinctive reasons for these challenges, and we are only able to provide them with the supports and structures they need if we deeply understand these differences, and why they matter.

 The term Learning Disabilities refers "to a number of disorders which may affect the acquisition, organization, retention, understanding or use of verbal or nonverbal information. These disorders affect learning in individuals who otherwise demonstrate at least average abilities essential for thinking and/or reasoning."(http://www.ldac-acta.ca).

Our learners who have been diagnosed with a learning disability will have an aspect of their learning which is more challenging- perhaps math calculation, or reading fluency, for example, but will have other areas of relative strength, which can help them to develop strategies and to employ tools, to make their challenges less impactful.  Individuals with a learning disability have average or above-average intelligence.  Where we successfully assist these students to learn compensatory skills (work-arounds), they find success with all aspects of the curriculum, heading off to the world of post-secondary education and  work to enjoy life independently and with few barriers.

Often, the tools that are the most successful for these learners are the tools that benefit all learners.  It's not about finding things that are weird or different....it's about providing access to things that EVERYONE benefits from using.  That's the beauty of a differentiated classroom community.

Examples include digital options such as word prediction, speech-to-text and text-to-speech tools, summarizing or hi-lighting tools  (aren't we lucky that between Google Read and Write, Google Chrome and the App Store that many of these things are available free or nearly free for our kids to access!).  Who doesn't want to lay on their bed with a cup of tea and an iPod recording an essay that's easily emailed to the computer for editing...but that's for another post.

The term Intellectual Disability is quite different.  It is "characterized by significant limitations in both intellectual functioning and in adaptive behavior, which covers many everyday social and practical skills." (http://aaidd.org).

Intellectual disabilities are sometimes described as cognitive impairments.  They generally fall into two categories:
Mild Intellectual Disability and Profound Intellectual Disabilities.

Diagnostically speaking, average intelligence is defined as having an IQ (Intelligence Quotient) score of 100.    Individuals with Mild Intellectual Disabilities will have IQ scores less than 70, individuals with Profound Intellectual Disabilities will have IQ scores that fall below 55.

It is easy to see that someone with a profound intellectual disability needs additional help.  These are individuals with such significant communicative and adaptive challenges that it is clear someone is needed to provide support for them on an ongoing basis.

It can be much more difficult to recognize that someone with a mild intellectual disability needs us.  Individuals with mild intellectual disabilities may be slower to acquire new skills and concepts, may find communicating with others or caring for their own personal needs difficult, or may have very short attention spans and be very concrete and literal.  At the same time, they may be quite comfortable in conversation with peers and adults, be able to navigate their school day without someone to help them work their way between environments in the school, and be quite keen to participate in class activities.

What happens sometimes, is that these students are perceived as disorganized, or distractible, or disengaged.  It may be that a student with an intellectual impairment participates in class and seems very interested in the conversation, but is not able to produce assignments without significant adult support.  Perhaps he or she is able to answer the straightforward questions, but becomes overwhelmed and lost when asked to be more reflective or inferential in his or her response.

For me, the most critical thing we can do to support these learners is to always be mindful of the difference between "can't," and "won't."   It is more difficult for learners with an intellectual disability to understand figurative or metaphoric language.  These are students who not be able to process multiple step directions, or to keep track of all of the dates/timelines/bits and pieces that we require of most students in a classroom.  If we're not really careful, it can be easy to think of them as dis-engaged or, (I cringe even typing it), lazy, without remembering all of the very real reasons they may actually be unable to do more without assistance.

These are learners who will have a gap socially with other students.  They will not understand the banter of peer interactions,  or the consequences of some of their choices, in the same way as their same-age peers.   They may be self-conscious about this, or may just become confused and frustrated.   They are definitely more prone to succumbing to peer pressure, it's harder for them to "see things coming."

Often, learners with intellectual impairments require more than differentiated environments or adaptations to their curriculum.  They need specific modifications to the content or expectations with respect to their learning.  They will simply not be able to cope with all of the material that is explored by their peers.


 
There are some specific things we can do as educators to support this group of vulnerable learners:





1.Support their language skills.  Advance load the vocabulary instruction, and carefully scaffold reading comprehension tasks.  Take time to answer their questions and help them make sense of what they are hearing or reading.  Know that they may not be able to understand or work with the same volume or complexity of material that their peers may explore.
 

2.  Make math manageable.  Basic facts such as arithmetic, time, and measurement will make more sense to students with intellectual impairments.  Problem solving and reasoning tasks will be really tough.  Use visuals, concrete examples, manipulative tools.

3.  Understand that this learner will have a short attention span.  It's not that this learner doesn't want to focus.  He or she actually CAN'T for too long.  Prompts, decreased distractions and starting with the easier bits of the task will help.

4. Directly teach "tricks" to remember things:  little rhymes for rote lists, repeating information orally to oneself, remembering bits of info in clusters, creating little pictures and diagrams.

5.  Help with the transfer of knowledge.  Learning something in English class won't necessarily mean the student can do it in Social Studies.  Wherever possible, teach with meaningful context, point out connections, remind students they learned something in another environment that can help them here. These students will learn new skills and information in little bits.  They need us to break things down, and to help "chain" the bits together. 

6.  Structure opportunities to practice social skills.  These are often learners who won't "get" the interactions of their peers or notice body language.   Coach them.  Encourage them.

(Adapted from https://www.education.com/slideshow/areas-difficulty-children-mild/language-skills/)


For me, though, the most important thing of all is missing off of this list.   Learners with mild intellectual disabilities deserve all of the success, engagement and connection with their school communities that other students experience.  Regardless of the size of their steps, or of whether they are working adaptations or modifications to their curriculum, this group of learners deserve to be working alongside their peers, and their individual learning needs to be acknowledged and celebrated.

After all, THEY ARE ALL OUR KIDS!

Lessons Learned in Porlier Pass

My husband and I had an eventful paddling excursion last week.  As you read this, keep in mind that we already know that we were out there lacking some of the knowledge we needed.   We were definitely lacking the experience we needed.  The day was significantly longer than what we needed. Those were the "instant lessons" learned.

As in most circumstances where I find myself in way over my head about something, I start digging for the silver lining, the bit of learning that I can bring forward to make things easier next time.  As we brought the kayak onto the beach 30 km and 10 hours later, I looked at my husband wryly, and said, "there's a blog post in here somewhere."

No way was I going through a day like that and not garnering something of value from it.

If you're a water enthusiast, please pardon the basic definitions that follow.  They're alot more meaningful to us now than they were a week ago.

Slack tide:  that time between high tide and low tide where the water is calm and current at it's minimum.  It's tight window. About 40 minutes in Porlier Pass, between Galiano and Valdez Islands.




Flood tide:  when the tide is coming in.  In Porlier Pass, it means the water is heading back to Salt Spring.

Ebb tide:  when the tide is retreating from the shore.  In Porlier Pass, it means the water is heading out of the pass toward Vancouver.  

Flood and Ebb tides in Porlier Pass both look a bit like a fast-moving river.  In telling our story since returning home, my husband has taken to referencing it  as "the maelstrom."

Intuitive readers are already going to have identified that this was some of the deep learning that we hadn't quite solidified on our way to the Dionisio Point campground last week.  We had done some research, knew the water could be quite different at different times of day, and had planned to head in at slack tide.  We have a healthy respect for the water, and had saved tons of extra time, and had lots of extra food as well as our sleeping bags, in case we ended up needing to spend the night.  We had checked and re-checked the tide table before we headed out.

Yet, 3 1/2 hours into an already challenging paddle-  strong currents are found throughout the Trincomali Channel -  as we entered Porlier Pass under glorious sun for our picnic -  we didn't truly understand how quickly things would change.  After a 15 minute munch, (under the only cloudy skies we had the whole four days we were away), we looked back at the way we'd come, to see a vastly different body of water.  It turns out that most of the "slack time" is in the lead-up to the published time for slack tide, not after it.

Before putting the kayak back into the water, we walked out to the point to peek around the corner, and found a roiling boil of swirling whirlpools and what looked like a fast moving river, heading the opposite direction of where we wanted to go. We knew it was 6 1/2 hours before the next slack tide. The actual campsite was a bit further around the point that we'd anticipated, so our picnic spot had actually been rocky shelf,  about 500 m shy of the spot we had originally planned to go to, and was somewhere that wouldn't really be great for camping,  so we decided to go for it and see what happened.  The plan was to stick right along the shoreline and chip away at things bit by bit.  If necessary, we'd pull in along the way and spend the night.

That worked to get us through the really fast moving water right at the point.  We got through the first bit more easily than we expected.  Right up until the kayak got wedged on some shallow rocks.  After rocking side-to-side for a bit to loosen ourselves, and launching off of the rock we backed into, we shot into the middle of the pass.

By now, our clear heads were a little less clear.  We got this idea that the water looked smoother in the middle, so we stayed there, rather than heading back towards the shoreline.  We paddled like crazy to get ourselves out the mouth of the pass.  Forty-five minutes later, when we realized that the landmarks right beside us hadn't changed, (except for when we took turns having a sip of water and shot backward 100ft), it was time for a new plan.

We took a hard right turn to tuck in behind some rocks to regroup. A short breather there let us brainstorm another plan.  There was a second out-cropping of rocks right at the mouth of the pass a little further north, we decided to leapfrog to that.  We did a full 360 in a whirlpool on the way, but safely got behind it.  My husband stepped out to see what that last point looked like- we decided to hug one more corner in the kayak, rather than portaging, and went for it.

This time we made it, and headed to a beach at the southern tip of Valdez Island.  Heading north instead of south added about 7 km to our paddle by the time we would get back to Salt Spring,  but we were finally in safer water, and knew we'd be able to make it back before dark.

I'm not telling this story as a celebration of our kayaking prowess. There's no doubt we were in way over our heads and need to be a lot smarter when out on the ocean in the future.  There's a reason why people go into Dionisio at slack tide, stay over, and leave the next day, at a new slack.  Clearly our misunderstanding the difference between the direction of the water at ebb and flood meant we could have sent us halfway to Vancouver rather than propelling us out to Triconomali after lunch.

But I think I've found a pretty good metaphor for the changes coming for me in the fall.  After 20 years in the Qualicum school district, with the last 5 1/2 in district learning services, I'm moving back into a school-based admin role, with Nanaimo-Ladysmith Public Schools.  I have plenty of learning to do.  Not only do I need to develop and understanding of the district's systems and processes, I'll have TWO school communities to learn from - one elementary and one secondary.

I've been doing some research this summer.  I've had tours of the schools and met the principals I'll be working with at both sites.  I know a little about the schools' goals and focus, as well as the initiatives that the two teams have been working on.  My husband is already with the school district, so I know a little bit about the processes and overall district culture and vision.

It's like paddling in slack tide.  I'm armed with information and I'm moving forward, but without experiencing it first-hand, I don't really know what the waters ahead will bring.  I don't know where the periods of calm will be, nor do I know when the whirlpools and fast-moving current of the flood and ebb tides will start to pull me somewhere unexpected.

Like paddling in the heavy currents of the pass, I need a plan that provides me with a way to collect the information I need, as well as the moments to pause, to reflect, and to correct course, if I'm to be successful in this transition.

I've decided to draw a springboard for this plan from the Leadership Symposium I attended with Sandra Herbst and Anne Davies in early July.   We spent 2 1/2 days talking about ways to "become a system of Master Learners."

Over the course of the session, Anne, Sandra and their team encouraged us, as a group of educational leaders, to consider evidence of being master learners in our own practice.    We were asked to reflect on how our own work aligned with that of the broader system- both at the school level, and at the district level, and to consider "are you owning or renting the work?"

I believe that to successfully navigate the complex tides of the coming school year,  I need to work toward becoming a master learner, to soak up what I can of the new culture and seek opportunities to contribute to my new environment in thoughtful, deliberate ways.  Anne and Sandra call this "Assessment in the Service of Learning."   

They argue that to do this, leaders must deliberately and systematically collect data as evidence of specific goals.  This data, must take a variety of forms-  

a) products - samples of student learning, quantitative data; 
b) conversations - with teachers, students and parents, and 
c) direct observation of learning activities - by both adults and students.  

Looking for the patterns and connections in this data (triangulation), will create a picture of progress toward those goals, and help to identify the areas where additional work needs to be done.

Once I decide on my focus goals, (which I will narrow down after I learn more about the goals and focus of the schools and district), I will begin to collect evidence and build myself a portfolio.

The digital portfolio I started a few years ago is a repository.  An electronic photo album of bits of writing and PowerPoint presentations from workshops I've hosted, illustrating where my thinking was at at the time the samples were generated.  It's a good definition of my beliefs and philosophy regarding my role as an educator.

My new portfolio will be far more focused and organic.  It's not that the things I've collected are irrelevant-   in fact, I believe they're a great snapshot of my learning over time - but they are not focused on my current journey of  becoming a master learner.  They are not focused on Assessment in the Service of Learning with respect to the specific goals and objectives of the schools and district I will be working in next year.   The "umbrella" goal of my revised portfolio will be to help bring me into alignment with my new environment.

By collecting valid, reliable, evidence in multiple ways,  I'll be able to see progress toward my personal goals.  If these personal goals are drawn from the goals of the school and district, I will be in alignment with the bigger picture.  This should help me to find ways to contribute to the work being done both in classrooms in my own schools, and across the district.

Anne and Sandra suggest three questions to help focus the reflection that follows this evidence gathering:

What counts?

What matters?

What's important?

Creating this portfolio will also give me an opportunity to provide what Anne and Sandra describe as "tight support and loose pressure."  If I'm becoming a master learner, I will recognize that collecting data is not simply to help me complete a tick-box-  it's a way to check-in and learn how things are going in a deep and meaningful way.  Once I am more informed about the status of the initiatives and student learning in my schools, it will be easier to encourage myself, and my team, to keep moving forward.  And it will compel me to provide whatever support and encouragement I can to make further growth happen.

My husband and I were in over our heads when we paddled out of "the maelstrom."    Our focus and goal shifted significantly over the course of the day.  In collecting bits of evidence as things unfolded, we adjusted our plans and strategies- and our perspective on what counted, what mattered, what was important.   It wasn't until we deliberately sought calmer waters and really took stock of our environment and our learning to that point when we were able to adjust our goal and make a plan that led to a successful adventure.  It also very clearly pointed us in the direction of additional learning we need to do.

That's the bit I'll take with me in this transition. The deliberate collection of evidence in a portfolio, and intentional stops in the year to reflect on what I've learned, will allow me to construct that moment in calmer waters to take a look around my environment and to consider the variety of options and pathways available to me, helping me to make the best decision I can in moving forward at that point in time.  To provide both myself, and my team, with that tight support and loose pressure toward our goals.

In becoming a master learner, I will better be able to serve the students and staff of my new school communities.  Because, they're all our kids.

Grappling with Meaningful Inclusion

This has been an interesting spring for me.


I am someone who advocates for ALL students to be welcomed and included in learning environments across the district.  I define myself as an inclusion advocate, engaging in problem-solving and planning conversations all the time.  I visit classrooms and teach model lessons to help classroom teachers envision ways to differentiate and provide multiple points of entry so that all students in their learning community participate in meaningful ways.



This year, I was challenged with supporting a couple of school teams who were really struggling provide a meaningful school experience for two learners who are on the autism spectrum, are non-verbal, and who have significant challenges with self-regulation.  Not regular challenges with self-regulation. The kind of challenges that led to two adults working with each of these children at all times, and programs that had evolved to the point where these children were essentially isolated in a separate space with those adults for the bulk of the day.


This was really hard for the dedicated, empathetic, creative teams working with them.  Each and every person- and I do mean everyone - classroom teachers, learning support teachers, education assistants, administrators, parents, itinerant specialists and outside consultants - supporting these children wanted more for them.  Success timetables with opportunities to learn and grow alongside peers had been developed for most every environment, indoor and out, for these students.  The speech-language pathologists had developed high and low-tech communication devices for them, there was a clear and workable structure for a visual schedule and transitions.


We just couldn't get there.  These learners are incredibly complex, and we learned, over time, that their significant sensory needs currently impair their capacity to be safe and successful in typical learning environments.  Even in the spaces that had been set up for them in their home schools, they were exposed to bells, announcements, lighting, noises, large groups of moving children, and even "funny smells" from hot lunch and cooking programs.  We just couldn't get the recipe right for them.

After many, many, parent meetings and conversations with the teams at both home schools, we decided we needed to do something different.  We needed a place where we could focus on these students' needs, and systematically build in interventions and opportunities, especially tailored for them to build capacity with the skills they needed to be successful in their home school environments. We needed a facility that provided opportunity for practicing learning behaviours in a classroom, for up-regulating (our sensory room), down-regulating (our quiet room), and easy access to the washroom.    We needed to be able to work through the challenging moments that would be needed in a way that allowed these students to scream, to cry, to sleep, to explore, to succeed, in a respectful, open way, while keeping everyone, both students and adults, safe while this practice happens.


Thus Bridges was born.

Over spring break, we relocated some of the Learning Service offices to vacate a four-pack of learning spaces that were ideally arranged for this type of supportive environment.  We ordered equipment, found a teacher, enlisted the help of some education assistants who already knew the children from their previous environments, and got things going.

Right after the break, these two students began to attend this new centre.  It feels like the successes are building.  The team of adults has worked tirelessly to create a warm environment.  The classroom is full of literature, and displays of student work (I love the sensory-friendly bulletin board of actual artifacts they created on a recent nature walk).  They have bean bag chairs and soft lighting, they have a kitchen table to gather at for meals and snacks,  and they have a lot of fun creating special events for their class. (My favorite so far was May the 4th Be With You - Star Wars t-shirts and alphabet, an awesome quote from Yoda on the door).


I'm not going to pretend we haven't had difficult days.  Of course we have.  When you're supporting learners as complex as these young people, you will always have things to work out and wonder about.  But overall, the families are thrilled their children are able to be at school all week, to learn alongside a peer, to participate in field trips, and to have the time and space they need to have their individual needs supported along the way.
But that's not really what this post is about.  This post is about the gnawing niggle in my stomach that I've had since the moment Bridges opened it's doors.  I'm awfully proud of the work being done in there.  I can't even believe how fantastic the team of adults is -  taking every moment in stride, continually reflecting on next steps, or considering antecedents or triggers for the challenging moments that erupt on a daily basis.


So if Bridges is successful, why can't I just relax and celebrate?
It's because I struggle, every day, with how this matches with my beliefs about inclusion.  If I believe that teachers need to teach for ALL, that classrooms need to provide multiple points of entry for ALL, that They're ALL our Kids, how can I be ok with having two students leave their home schools, their neighborhood schools, every day, to attend this off-site environment?


After attending the BC CASE conference last month, and being lucky enough to listen to several educators whom I have immense respect for, I've landed on a couple of thoughts that are helping. 



1.  It's about having a PURPOSE within the PLACE.  (Thanks, again, Shelley Moore).  You're right.  Students need to have something meaningful to DO in the place they are learning.  We need to create meaningful opportunities for them in the learning environments they encounter.  Because of the challenges these young learners currently experience, we couldn't do that in their previous environment.  They are not yet able to regulate in a safe enough way to be with other children in a busy, or even a quiet, space.  This led to dangerous situations, sometimes resulting in injury, in their previous settings.


Bridges is a PLACE that meets them where they are at, giving them opportunity to practice being self-regulated learners in an environment that has all of the additional supports and tools, and access to specialists, they require if we are going to help them to develop these skills. Their PURPOSE is building the skills they need to Bridge (pun totally intended) back to their home schools when ready.


2. It's about COMMUNITY.  It's not enough to say we're doing "Social Inclusion" by allowing them to warm a seat at a table somewhere within a room full of others.  (Thank you, Pat Mirenda.)These children deserve an opportunity to develop friendships and connections with peers.  Things were very difficult for them in a larger school environment.  They were too overwhelmed to connect with peers, or "big buddies."    Their whole experience was structured around the adults setting up opportunities for them to interact in safe ways-  which meant there was most often an adult "buffer" between them and other learners.  Now they take turns with activities in their new classroom. They sit together to eat their meals.  They go on weekly field trips to the library, daily walks on the nature bath.  They get Star Wars day.

3.  It's about the WHOLE CHILD.  If we're really wanting meaningful opportunities for our children, we need to provide meaningful learning opportunities (#1), to fostering a sense of belonging in a social community (#2).  And we need them to feel a sense of self-worth, of success, in their experience.  (Thank you, Jennifer Katz.)  While they're at Bridges, these learners interact with one another, with the adults in their classroom, with older students who visit and read or do art projects with them, with their community on field trips.  There is enough space and time to notice each little success and celebrate it.  There is enough space and time to sit and wait for them to think about next steps, to process decisions, to "plunk down" on the path and work something out for 10 minutes, if that's what they need.   Every day, every task, gives us a chance to learn more about these children, and to adjust and scaffold what's next.  Their environment allows us to pace things in a way that honors and respects their highly individualized journeys.


So, now I have three suggestions or thoughts I can offer when challenged to describe Bridges as an inclusive place. I am proud of Bridges because I see how supportive and successful it is being for these learners.


I'm glad that the gnawing niggle in my belly remains, though.  This environment was created as an INTERVENTION for some children who really needed another way to approach their learning.  It's not a "new school."


We need to always be mindful of our end goal - self-regulated learners who have developed the skills and capacities to return to find a purpose within a place back with their peers in their neighbourhood schools.  That is the purpose of this place.  The moment we move away from that, and become complacent, or accept this type of intervention as a "necessity," without looking ahead, we've missed the point.  We have a moral obligation to provide meaningful opportunities every day for every learner, in the most inclusive way possible.  This intervention, like all intervention, needs to be goal-focused and time-limited. 


Bridges is an inclusive environment for learners who were isolated in their previous settings. These learners experience opportunities that allow for that challenge, support, community and celebration in their daily school experience.  It allows for wrap-around support to care for our most vulnerable students.  But it is an intervention.  It's not a "program."  It's definitely not a "school."  As long as we remember that, we'll remember that They Are All Our Kids.

Assessment in the Service of Learning

It's funny how, every once in a while, everyone seems to start talking about the same thing at the same time.

This spring, I've been reading and reflecting on ways to utilize student self-assessment for evaluating the new Core Competencies in the BC Redesigned Curriculum.  Earlier in the year, I challenged our district's team of learning services teachers to write "competency driven IEP goals."  We spent time looking over the profiles for each of the competencies, and talked about ways that this work is linked to classroom programs.  We talked about ways to embed this work into things the students are already working on, and how we could collaborate with classroom teachers to make it happen.

It was a lofty goal, and we knew it was a "process,"  not a "moment."  

Fast forward 6 months, and now we're faced with the task of evaluating progress toward these goals, and starting our planning for next year as we review the current Individual Education Plans. Thus, my hunt for tools/suggestions/supports to offer to the team in our conversations.

I've come across a couple of things that I believe are useful in this quest.

1.  Kallik and Zmuda's book Students at the Centre. 

In it, the authors talk about four aspects of self-assessment to engage students:  co-creation of goals and steps toward them; finding their voice in sharing their work with each other, teachers, and parents; building ideas through relationships (social construction), and coming to understand themselves as learners through self-discovery.  

The text goes on to describe the 16 Habits of Mind that are characteristics for students' success, and provides examples of assessment strategies and rubrics for promoting student growth.

2. Successful Learner Traits:

School District 71 (Comox) began this conversation, but it's gaining traction across the province because of the flexibility of the framework, and the many, many ways it can be integrated into classrooms for students of all ages.  It supports learners towards being mindful of their approach and the way they apply themselves to various tasks.  The list is similar to the list of Habits of Mind above-  and is captured on a variety of colorful posters featuring different animals.  Strategies for Assessment for Learning are embedded throughout the materials.  (Click the photo to link to the website).

3.  In Grading, Reporting and Professional Judgement in Elementary Classrooms, (as well as in their companion book for the secondary school setting),  Sandra Herbst and Anne Davies share some  perspective on ways to prepare students and teachers to engage in self-assessment, and encourage teachers to collect "triangulated" data....from work samples, from observations of students, and from conversations with them.  

Herbst and Davies describe Assessment for Learning as "Assessment in the Service of Learning."  I love this.  It fits beautifully with my belief that educators are advocates for all students, and that we need to teach all students to be advocates for themselves.  Everything we say, do, experience, in school, has an aspect of service built it.  I'm a Scout.  This works for me.  

I enjoyed these texts while I was working through them, but it wasn't until I had the opportunity to sit in a session with them,  and they emphasized a few key ideas, that the deep meaning of what they were really saying, fully landed. 

They challenge us all to consider:

How can we put students at the center of pedagogical reflection?

In what ways does capturing evidence allow us to better know our learners?  
(Because Professional Judgement is not "trust me, I'm a teacher.  It's informed decision making based on solid evidence.)

They offered suggestions-  such as tools for collecting observational data, proof cards, and apps such as Aurasma and SeeSaw - to help us collect evidence beyond work samples in a seamless way.  For a deeper look, their website, Connect2Learning has lots of great tools and ideas available for educators to use.  

This brings me to the personal part of my reflection.  In sitting in the session with Herbst and Davies, I also realized there was so much more I could be doing as a leader to support my team in developing a deep commitment to student self-assessment of the competencies.  

So far, I have shared a collection of articles and artifacts.  I've spent time developing rubrics and participated in "group marking sessions" with colleagues.  I've reviewed IEP goals with teams and helped to tweak the language and determine assessment tools that matched.  I've modeled self-assessment strategies when teaching lessons in classrooms.

In every case, I was modelling and supporting things for others to do, but I wasn't really owning the journey for myself.   I've been saying for ages that it's really difficult to maintain a connection to classrooms and students when working in a district capacity, yet I now realize I've missed the first step in changing this.  While I've spent lots of time thinking about how to help and support others, I haven't worked nearly hard enough at helping and supporting myself.

Herbst and Davies challenged all of the administrators in my district to engage in their own learning and exploring of the tools as a way to model effective practice for others.  If you've not engaged in students in self-assessment in an embedded, authentic way, it's a leap of faith to implement things that will result in very different types of data than has been collected in the past.  If, as an administrator, it is my hope that the educators I work with will engage in this type of practice with their learners, then I should be authentically doing it myself.  

How have others modeled this journey as administrators?

- By creating a bulletin board of photos, work samples, and transcribed conversations, that support the school's journey toward the school goals
- By blogging....not just about personal areas of exploration, as I have been doing, but in response to specific goals and areas of growth
- By creating a personal e-portfolio of learning towards a professional growth plan, and sharing it with staff
- By being a part of classroom environments-  not just for a walk-through, but by practicing new things alongside a colleague
- By working with admin colleagues to practice offering deep feedback to teachers, and receiving/reflecting on deep feedback ourselves in terms of how effective this feedback is.

So.  I've decided to embark in my own process of Self Assessment for the Service of Learning. Herbst and Davies say that that getting going means taking the first, next, step.  I need to take two.

First....I'm going to begin transforming my e-portfolio.  I have one, but it shows where I've been.  It needs revamping to show where I'm going.  I will work on a goal and some plans for stepping toward it, so that it's all ready for the exploration that will follow.

Second...I'm going to find myself two critical friends.  One who is a classroom practitioner who is willing to let me come in and explore alongside next year.  Together, we can pick something to work on and begin crafting our pathway toward it together.    The other is an admin colleague who is willing to offer feedback on my journey, to help me reflect the learning I will do as I deepen my own understanding of self-assessment and using the competencies enhance student learning.

Assessment in the Service of Learning.  It's worth it, because They're All Our Kids.

Supporting our Traumatized Students

I spent part of my Friday with the team of counselors from my school district. We've been watching a video series by Dr. Bruce Perry, which explores the brain science and impact of trauma on children, and offers strategies and approaches to support these learners.

I walked away from the conversation with the same sense I always get when immersed in conversation about a particular population of students.  Learners who are impacted by trauma definitely need us to be sensitive to their individual needs, and to be thoughtful in our approaches for providing them support - but these approaches aren't dramatically different from interventions that other students need.  Dr. Parry isn't advocating for something really out-there or complicated, beyond the support we provide for other kids in our classrooms.  This isn't to say that intensive, clinical support is needed by many children who've experienced trauma.  What I am saying is that the approaches in a classroom setting are the same as approaches which support many of our other kids. It's just that our learners who've been impacted by traumatic experiences will need them more.

Dr. Perry shared some bits of background information that have anchored my thinking.

1.   Our brains are designed to deal with survival first.  

Dr. Perry shares this diagram of brain function.  We work from the brain-stem up.  People who've experienced significant trauma, literally do not develop the neural networks in the other areas of the brain which will help them to reason, problem solve, develop healthy attachments, etc.  Our work with these learners necessarily has to focus on creating safety and acceptance, and recognize that it's not that they won't interact and problem solve the way we would like them to, they really can't.

2.   Our responses are shaped by the templates of earlier experiences in our brains.  

Every bit of learning we do is processed in the context of the learning that came before it.  We expect the stove top to heat up when we turn the dial because we've seen it happen before.  We know we will feel cold without a coat in the winter because we've shivered every time we popped outside poorly dressed in years gone by.  And, if in the past, quiet redirection has immediately escalated to yelling or physical injury at because we didn't quite get off the slide fast enough or asked an innocent question at bed time, we expect adults at school who quietly redirect us or use a stern tone of voice will hurt us too.

It's the same for touch.  If being slapped or shoved has been the norm for someone at home or in the community, their brains will tell them that's what's coming in other environments too.  They may not be shrugging us off because they're trying to get away from us or avoid work, or shoving a peer because they're trying to pick a fight.  For traumatized students, it's very possible these reactions are an autonomous, self-protective response that occurs before they've even processed what's happened.

Not on purpose...but because the template in their brain-stem causes them to react long before other areas of their brain can get involved.  We don't have to wait to process that the stove will burn us.  We react instantaneously to pull our hands away because we just know.

By age 6, we'll have 95% of our adult brain mass and initial neural networks.  That's a lot of patterning that needs changing if there has been significant early trauma, even if the trauma has been over for some time.  What looks innocent or inconsequential to us may elicit strong reactions in our students, because our students' reactions aren't only based on their interactions with us.  They're based on the templates created by the life experiences that have come before.


3.  Trauma responses can look like hyper-arousal, or can be dis-associative.

While harder to deal with in the moment, it's easier for us to "notice" a child who is angry or reactive all the time.  It's more difficult to recognize that the learner who is sitting in his or her seat passively may also be triggered by a traumatic response.  "Checking out" is a coping strategy that helps to numb the feelings of fear and stress.  Additionally, many children who've experienced trauma aren't checked-out at all - they're actually totally checked in- but their focus is not on what we expect.  While teachers and other learners are thinking about the content of a lesson or discussion, a traumatized learner might be intensely focused on the sounds in the hallway, or the movement in a cloakroom, or have "spidey senses" tingling because someone is moving around behind them.  It's not that they're not paying attention.  It's that experience has taught them that it's more important for their radars to be "tuned in" to potential dangers in their environment than it is to a discussion about chapter 4 of a novel..

So what can we do?  Like so many other aspects of learning -  it comes down to relationships.  If we respect our students' early childhood expediences, and we know that the impact of trauma can last for many, many years even after the experiences are well over, and we know that the human brain has an amazing capacity to heal and grow in the right environment....then we will intuitively know that it all comes down to relationships.

As educators, the best thing we can do for traumatized students is care about them. We can begin by assuming that our learners give us the best that they have to offer in the moment, and that focusing on their strengths, on the things we want to see, will help them to build patterns of success, and help to erase the things that hurt.  We can understand that they're not reactive, or not completing assignments, on purpose to hurt us, or because they don't care.  They're not being lazy or combative.  They're simply using the tools they have available to them in order to cope with what they've experienced in the past.

Just like our students, we won't get it right every day.  We're shaped by our experiences the same as they are.  But if we start from a place of caring and understanding, we'll get it right more often. Traumatized learners can come a long way in a short period of time when surrounded by the care and acceptance they need.  And isn't this something that we want for All Our Kids?

Helpful links on Trauma:

Articles on Core Strengths of Supporting Students with Trauma
http://teacher.scholastic.com/professional/bruceperry/

Article:  Maltreatment and the Developing Child
https://childtrauma.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/McCainLecture_Perry.pdf

            Dr. Bruce Perry - Handout for Caregivers

                                                      https://tinyurl.com/jrfj7s4

                                                      Child Trauma Academy - articles and resources

                                                      http://childtrauma.org/cta-library/