Techie Awards September 2017 #edtechchat #inspired

Boom! Mr. Steve Katz @SteveKatz did a 5 minute Techie Awards at our school today.  It was a fresh way to engage teachers with the things that we are doing @ISKLproud and it was motivating to be better in tech.

So it's September 2017 and I am setting some personal goals for the school year.

• Instagram daily and follow people who have similar interests particularly around food, travel and photography
• Tweet at least three times daily.  These can be tweets or musings from me, from the work I am doing in classroom, from articles I read, in response to things we do each day or experience
• Blog at least one time a week about life, teaching and learning, being a mom, trips, etc
• Try a new tech tool each semester and actually use it: this one I am going to have to do some research on and find a teacher who I can work with to pilot this in their classroom or at the grade level #takerisks #trysomethingnew #lifelonglearner

I'll see you next week if not sooner.   In hopes that I get my lights switched on, sooner than later.  #lightitup #bethechange #inspire

DIY Literacy #cyberPD final reflections

What a great summer to be authentically inspired by this #cyberPD group.  I have only been coaching for a year and one of my biggest worries is that I will get behind my teachers in their instructional practices in literacy.  I try my hardest to be in the classroom for 2-3 hours a day and this upcoming year, I should be able to spend at least 4 hours in the classroom a day, now that the curriculum is mainly written and we are a road to implementation.  Having said that,  thanks to this group and a few other close reads I have done of other texts this summer: Amplify;  Reading Strategies; and a reread of Reading Pathways, I feel confident that I can go into next year and differentiate for my teachers and students better than ever.  #awesome

via GIPHY

Reflection on Chapter 5: The metaphor to yoga that Kate and Maggie drew was fabulous.  We constantly need to remind ourselves as teachers that we have tools to scaffold different abilities and needs.  Additionally, the basic reminder to keep things simple: use only a few tools, meet the students where they are, and do your best to model the level that you can determine they are ready to go to.  

The explicit DIY "how to" make a demonstration notebook is amazing.  I think it would be helpful for teachers to additionally carry a notepad, notebook, post-it stack etc, to jot down ideas that they collect to be demonstrated as they work with their kids and new teaching points emerge.

Finally, I have worked with the if/ then tools in writing this year in the WUOS and tried to also, use some of the suggestions with the RUOS.  I think that the individualized if/ then charts are great and could be delivered to specific groups as strategy lessons once teachers have assessed their needs pre-mid- and post.

The ultimate takeaway I had from this chapter is tools are great for differentiation.  It's important for teachers to master tools: to look at their purpose and how to use them at an individual, paired and group levels.  Being fluent in at least one tool will ideally help kids by creating more metacognitive awareness in their learning.

Reflection on Chapter 6: Things I want to try in 2016-17 school year! 
With my whole staff:  Metaphors for Life anchor charts
With my techies: Video boxes/ responses/ webchannels/ video response/ youtube channel, etc
With my organizers: Improving classroom set up to best meet student needs
With my nit-pickers: Working on improving one element of anchor charts
Just me: Making a number of demonstration notebooks for at least one reading/ writing unit per grade level!

DIY Literacy #inspired #cyberPD

Being in education, summer comes roaring in like waves, some are intense and action packed, others are quiet times where a book is your best friend.  This beautiful summer swept in softly, starting with a sweet winding down with half a week in Kuala Lumpur celebrating birthdays, getting massages and lunching amongst friends.  The other half of the week was spent diving in aquamarine waters with my soon to be married, often traveling partner in crime, Heather Rich.    The first week of summer was the perfect introduction to a summer about tuning into things I want and exploring at a leisurely pace.  After the islands, I feel to Barcelona for a whirlwind week of friends, wine, and walking.  It was so nice to be in the coastal climate and soaking in one of my favorite cities in the world.  From Barcelona, I zoomed off to DC, diving into a week of professional development, doing more work unpacking standards and revamping our literacy units.   Whereas, these last two weeks have returned to a little bit of quiet and time to do some work on aligning report card indicators and reading PD books such as Jennifer Serravallo's  Reading Strategies and Kate and Maggie Roberts', DIY Literacy. 

Due to my wonderfully tech literate and super ambitious colleague and friend, Erika Victor, I stumbled upon this group and since, I have drunkenly loved DIY Literacy,(meaning that I keep on getting amazing ideas from this book that I want to share and start asap) I thought I would participate in a few of the discussions. 

Reflection on Chapters 1 & 2 and bonus: The first chapter really reinforced the importance of tools. Tools that help scaffold but aid in independent thinking can help make our teaching better and improve student learning.  Students who use tools should be able to self-assess, goal-set, and adjust their tools to best approach their learning.    As I read through Chapter 2, the book gave me a smile because it was easy for me to make repertoire and process charts on post-it notes the way it was set up, which I may be able to break down simply for my teachers who don't want to read the whole book.   Every teacher knows that students learn through modelling and Kate and Maggie have done a good job modelling their tools in "how to" friendly ways, particularly for teachers who are accustomed to a workshop model.   Finally, in the third "bonus" chapter,  I was really struck by how all of these tools and strategies really go back to us being good teachers, which translates to: being lifelong learners, knowing our kids their academic and learning strengths, weaknesses and how-tos, and finally, being risk-takers and not being afraid to hold our students' hands as they take their own risks. 

The Tools: Loved the review and clear examples and how to structure of the tools.  Repertoire/ process charts are a familiar friend to me, as well as student generated bookmarks.  This past year, I worked with some teachers to also work on unpacking Lucy Calkins' reading progressions. After having read a lot about micro-progressions, I am ambitious to first try to familiarize kids and teachers more with the language of her reading progressions.  Once, we have achieved more familiarity with these progressions, I think teachers will be able to pull apart her progressions and write them with a more individualized tone to meet their students specific needs.  In the past, I have used conferring binders to help which have been helpful in writing more than in reading and I am anxious to play around with demonstration notebooks this year, particularly in some of the units I have taught a few times. 

My Big A-Ha: These days, I feel more confident conferring particularly in writing, than I have ever in my life.  As a literacy coach, I have to do it across 6 grade levels but am flexible and fluid in my choices.  Still the same, one thing that I have to watch myself on is the potential to cram too much into a conference.  I think that the micro-progressions could be a great tool with this issue as you would have your layers of complexity on the specific targeted skill but you could not detour from what was already there.  These tools are really differentiated for teachers and students.  It is natural for teachers to work with process/ repertoire charts and have kids devise their own relevant learning bookmarks, however, micro-progressions and demonstration notebooks start to hold students a lot more accountable for their learning in a great way. 

In closing... this book is leaving me inspired, there are post-its overflowing aside it, I am forming little repertoire/ process charts from the step by step processes Kate and Maggie have laid out. Additionally, I cannot wait to share this book with my curriculum coordinator and discuss the power of micro-progressions because I feel like they could be used authentically in a multi-disciplinary way and hope to do a back to school interactive presentation with the teachers on using them.  I would appreciate any ideas on what this might look like?  

When Earth Comes...in appreciation of Menorca

When Earth Comes....

How the earth penetrates my epidermis and 

Shoots lighting 

Through my body

Electrifying my veins

Seeping into my bloodstream

Funneling a melodious steam in my corps which

Evaporates off my pores and 

Circulates back into the ecosystem

How the water laps over my skin

Saturates my mind which

Manufactures thoughts and

Aches to be turned off painlessly.

How the heart twitches with the touch

of  heavenly form that

Exists only in your eyes

Possibly

How the moon illuminates your innocence

Shines the spotlight on your vulnerability

Lifts your soul into nirvana

This is how we remember how alive we really are. 

Reading, Raki and Randomness: Balkans 2014

So I found myself in a taxi with a man named Reef who was in his late 30s/ early 40s out of the Skopje airport at 12:30 in the morning.  He asked what an American was doing in Skopje, I replied with my story about a fascination with the Balkans as we turned down a dark highway.  The highway was vacant and looked like a potential kidnapping situation until the sign 20 km to Skopje was illuminated and I breathed a quick sigh of relief.

The next day I woke up and walked in circles until I found the lion bridge to cross into the Old town area,  a little mix of Turkish markets, Dubrovnik beige stoned streets and many men in colorful clothing lined the streets.  Later on, I approached the newer side of town and decided upon a trip to the Museum of the Macedonian Struggle.  Naturally, being the only visitor to the museum, I entered and paid my 5 euros and quickly was told, "You may not enter without a guide." To which I replied desperately, "But, it´s just me." And was rapidly reminded, "It´s the rules." So my tour guide put on his suit jacket and cleaned his glasses and we made our way into the hidden tours.  As he continued to tell me the marvelous and extensive story of the Macedonian struggle, I worked on making eye contact and nodding, thinking to myself, how the hell am I going to pay attention to this guy for the next two hours and get to understand what´s happening here?  Luckily, we were rescued by the desperation of the museum director for the solo English speaking guide to lead a tour of 50 random English speakers, and so they accompanied me as I learned about the many assassinations, territory claims and independence movement of Macedonians.  Later on, while being the only solo visitor at the City museum, the guide recommended a snack of Ayjur and Bosa and so went to the supermarket and indulged in some Macedonian splendor.

The next day, I woke up at 6 am and headed to Prishtina, Kosovo.  Kosovo is a place that less than 20 years ago was a center of struggle for between Albania and Serbia.  It wasn´t until recently, 2008 that it gained independence and not until 2013 that it was given complete authority to rule itself in Prishtina.  As I strolled down Bill Clinton Avenue, I was impressed with the life that was present in the streets.  Left, right and center, people were dining, taking coffees, artistic exhibitions, music festivals. I thought of the wealth of a country like Venezuela and the lack of life on the streets and how funny it is that Kosovo, a country with one of the highest unemployment rates in Europe seemed so alive and resilient.  The museum was an odd experience, sponsored by NATO, but lacking the signs of any of NATO´s money.  One had to wonder what´s the point.

Museum of History Kosovo

The next morning, I made myself to the capital of Albania, Tirana, a colorful city with the very odd Mumja discotheque, now art exposition, which used to actually host the Enver Hoxha museum.  Enver Hoxha was one of Albania´s fierce leaders from the mid 1940s to 1985.  He led the country through periods of resistance against Yugoslavia, unified with Communist Russia during the 1950s and even went so far to join the Maoists for a large part of the 1960s.  Tirana was a vibrant city, complete with many bunkers, rumored to be used for teenagers looking for a place to lose their virginity.  One would find the bridges lined with books and a well-planned city with greenery all around.   The history museum there was not such an adventure and without the help of the Lonely Planet, I wouldn´t have survived.  All in Albanian, I was not able to patch the pieces of the puzzle together as much as I would have liked.  I enjoyed an evening meal with a French friend, Silva, and we exchanged ideas about the lack of women in the city and the overall friendliness of Albanians but lack of willingness to discuss the past.

Kumja Discotheque, Tirana

Graffiti Art, Tirana

The bus to Berat the next morning was an interesting adventure.  A ride that normally takes 2.5 set us back 4 hours down dusty, gravel one way roads.  It appeared that I was appearing to enter the more "Wild West" of Albania.  Berat, a historical city that in the past was known as one of the major capitals of the Ottoman Empire, was a picturesque town built into the city.  Although, I am not really sure what else was happening there.  I walked around for about 2 hours through the downtown and saw a handful of people.  "All the people are at the beaches," said the hotel manager and so, that´s where I headed.

Berat, Albania

Berat, Albania

 The next morning on a bus ride to Saranda, Albania, I finished my fourth book over the last 5 days.  When traveling alone, you have a lot of time for contemplation, reading and relaxation and so I indulged while the summer was still going strong.  In the bus, I sat next to some 17 year old Albanian boys who were off to the beaches for a boys trip, something that according to them, doesn´t happen for young Albanian women.  "And why weren´t there so many Albanian women on the streets at night in Tirana?"  I asked curiously.  "It´s just not a thing in our culture." The boy with the best English said.  Whatever that means.

When I reached Saranda, my heart leapt, finally the beach.  The winds of the coastal city and salty air, I realized how much I missed Barcelona, longing for this sunny seaside.  My quick flutter of fun was curtly interrupted by an injection of frustration unable to find the hostel.  As my blood sugar dropped rapidly and face flushed, I took refuge and dove into a pizza before attempting to find my hostal.  When I finally arrived at the top of the 8th floor, last door on the left, instructions that seemed like an email from a CIA agent, I was pleasantly welcomed with a shot of Raki and an amazing view of a beach just walking distance from the hostal.  Do check out the Hairy Lemon hostel if you are in Saranda, Annette is a doll and it is a place that attracts all kinds of types, young, old, families, couples, singles, etc.  After a long day in the bus, I headed to the beach, and was so happy I could leave whatever I wanted on the shore while I took a swim.

The next day, I spent wandering amidst old Grecian/ Albanian ruins in the city of Butrint and napping in one of the infamous Southern Albanian beaches in the town of Ksamil.   A little bit of old amongst a lot of new with the development of high rises and other apartments in Saranda attracting Scandinavians to the beaches and coastline predicted to be Europe´s next Croatia.

Ksamil, Albania

                                                     
All in all, a route that was somewhat educational but very interesting.  After living in Thailand and traveling in Vietnam, it seems to me that some countries are so good at being hospitable (Thailand) and others want you to completely understand what has happened and what might happen because of the past (Vietnam). This is just a fraction of my adventures and there is more to come. To me and clearly, to other adventurous backpackers I met along the way, the Balkans are something that you can enjoy on so many levels; historically, physically and emotionally and I love the energy produced by the locals and travelers one meets along the way in this new and still rather untouched part of Europe.

A Year of Plenty: Reflecting on 2013

If you are lucky in life, you have people surrounding you that are incredible writers, artists, sportsmen, lovers, wisdom-holders, tear-wipers, travel buddies, team-players; or in other words, you are lucky, to be blessed.

The last year of my life included many compelling milestones, voyages, reconnections and plain happiness.  I do say, I am a little nervous about maintaining the wonder and amazement of it all, it´s a challenging task to renew beauty.

On one hand I don´t want to sound as if I am bragging; on the other hand, I do want to remember these wonderful opportunities and in the digital age and time we live in, my thought is that one day, someone will look back at this document and think ´this was what the average person was doing in 2013..´

So without further adieu, in no particular order except the way that my memory processes, here are some of the tremendous opportunities I luckily had in 2013.

Born to Run: I ran my first marathon in 4 hours 6 min in Amsterdam, in the Netherlands.  It was a sunny day, there were over 45,000 participants and the city of Amsterdam took me under their wing as if I was one of their own.  (I suppose it doesn´t hurt that my blond hair and blue eyes gave the overall appearance I was Dutch).  2 of my favorite people in the world were there: Lisa Rivera, one of my best friends and traveling running partners extraordinare, came in around 3 hour 45 minutes, bless her ironman heart and steel legs; Andrés Manso, my partner followed me around Amsterdam using planes, trams and cabs to make sure he could give me a clap and a thumbs up sign while I struggled through all 42 km, particularly the last 4 km.   Overall, I am not sure how I feel about more marathons.  I do know I prefer trail running in the end but we´ll see.  Sometimes it´s hard to resist the idea of a trip to a new place all in the name of running a marathon.

Oh the places that you´ll go: I reached 50 countries, it´s only a little less than 1/3 of the countries in the world but I am well on my way.  This year, I travelled to Ireland, Belgium, Senegal, Japan, England, The Netherlands, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovenia, The Philippines, Greece, Czech Republic, France and to Menorca and Santiago de Compostela within Spain.   Being in Barcelona makes it easier to conquer Europe and more difficult to get to more exotic destinations such as Africa and Asia, but it is in my blood to be in these less frequented places of the world.  In El Nido, Palawan, I was touched by the sense of community set to a backdrop of the Jungle Book meets The Beach.  In Cap Skerring, Senegal, I got my groove back in a hip hop club surrounded by gorgeous chocolate men and women.  And in Mostar, Bosnia, I had the privilege of listening to Ahmed, our Croatian-Bosnian tour guide, who had lived for ten years in the US, who shared multi-level perspectives on the past, present and potential future of his country and the extensive Baltic peninsula.   In the themes of books, I take this quote from Augustine of Hippo to remind us "The World is a Book, those who do not travel read only one page."

On the Road:  Finishing the Camino de Santiago has been a 2 year process.  In the end, it turned out to be one of the most spectacular experiences of my life.  This year, I had the pleasure and challenge of finishing the last 200 km with my mother.  My mom was a trooper the whole time, trying to force a smile on her face and ignore her blistering soles.  In the end, I was blessed to have an assortment of friends and family around us.  Andrés made the journey from Barcelona and our two friends, Albert and Aleix, arrived in Santiago the same day as my Mom and I.  My Dad also arrived to Santiago and before I knew it, I was surrounded by love and accomplishment on the road.  I cannot recommend this journey enough to people who like to walk, meet people and be at one with nature.  The Camino will always be a part of me, in my buckling knees and warming my heart with one fond memory after the next.

Of course there was much more, just like more is yet to come.  But no one has time to read through all of my ups throughout the year, and everyone should know that there were also many dark and twisty moments throughout the year.  It´s why roller coasters are fun and often compared to life.  They wouldn´t be fun without all the ups and downs.  You often have to look back at the ride and remember the, whoa and wow, all at the same time to really feel the pleasure of the journey.  I hope to read more people´s reflections and thank especially my Barcelona community for being expressive and ready to inspire by regularly blogging.   One of my many goals this year is to do just that, blog and write more,  there´s a lot floating around up there that might provide a little wisdom or at the very least some humor and empathy.  And to finish in some more famous words provided by William W. Purkey, an old favorite and something wonderful to live by in the year to come and hopefully many more.

“You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth.” 

Finding the Way at the Very End- Camino de Santiago Part 2

This is the personal narrative I wrote in 6th grade this year and it largely represents my Camino experience this year while walking with my mom from Ponferrada to Santiago. I hugely learned that what is one woman´s pleasure is often another one´s pain, but it brought my Mom and I closer and I finished something I committed too. 

Finding the Way at the Very End.

I looked before me, with my legs wobbling back and forth, weary and tired from the 205 km we had walked in a week. The stairs, all 20 of them, appeared monstrous, like a mini- Everest lying in front of me and I hadn´t even hit base camp. In a way, they were laughing at me, grey faced and strong.  I knelt down feeling the cold stone on my knees, it felt like dry ice puncturing my knee caps and pain instantly hit my heart. This was going to be much more difficult than I thought, just like the Camino had been for my Mom.

I looked deep into my Mom´s eyes. She stood, at the top of the steps, staring down at me, with tiredness drawn all over her body and eyes aching for sleep.   As she was waiting for me at the top of the stairs as I lined up behind many pilgrims to enter the grandiose cathedral in Santiago for the daily mass.  I needed to know and understand her tiredness.  I needed to feel all the soreness she had spoke of every time she showed up at the albergue with buckling knees and fatigued eyes.   I wanted to understand how someone can´t have a smile after walking 30 km, because it felt that good for me.  I looked at the stairs and watched the church group bow down to their knees.  They quietly took off their shoes and placed them on their hands and began to climb the 20 or so stairs that laid before them.  I looked at my Mom again.  She saw the glimmer in my eye, the determination that I was going to follow the pilgrims and follow the way.  I knew what I had to do.

        I slowly untied my shoelaces, happy to have my sore feet escape from the trap of sweaty hiking boots.  I knelt down on the first grey, stoney step.  I felt the cold rock cool my body which momentarily gave me relief in the heat of the scorching sun.  2 seconds later, my mom and I met eyes.  She looked at me and realized what I was doing.  I could feel her glance burning a hole in my heart.  I could feel my knees resisting the rock underneath them, beginning to ache from the seconds without moving.  I looked down and began.

        With my shoes in my hands, I made it up the first step.  ´Not that bad,´I thought, my heart fluttering and my eyes glancing upwards, noticing the 19 or so more steps that lay before me.  The man on my left who was two steps above me, quivered with pain.  The woman on my right, had tears forming in her eyes and a face that screamed pain.  She used her coat sleeves to lay down padding every time she went up another step.

        As the seconds past, I began to realize how easy it would have been to climb those stairs normally and how easy it was for me to walk the Camino.  But that was just it, the Camino wasn´t supposed to be easy.  In fact, it was supposed to be something that challenged you every day, every hour, every minute.  With my next step, my body pinched itself, I gasped, feeling the guilt run through my body into my knees and slamming against the cold stone.

Once more, I gazed at my mom and tears began to form in her eyes.  When I saw the tears flowing freely out of her eyes, I felt sadness boiling up inside of me  and the tears rushed out of my eyes.  With each step, I breathed in deeper breaths, because each step didn´t get easier.  It was completely the opposite, each step came upon me like a fire breathing dragon that got it´s defense by roaring on your knees. With the excruciating pain, I felt lifting my sweaty legs off the lower step, I raised my knees to the next step and to the next step, sucking in air, each time I reached the step and could breath for 5 seconds before moving onto the pain of standing in one place for too long.

        My mom took a long glance at me.  Her tears gave me strength.  Her tears made me know that she knew. I wanted to understand what she had gone through.  I wanted to let her know that this was her Camino and I was there for her.

        I made it through the middle stairs rapidly with her weak smiles and the powerful raindrops falling gently off her face.  Reaching the platform, I let out a “aghhhw!” piggish noise.  My knees now layered with pebbles dug deeply into my epidermis, pressing against the stone simultaneously, feeling a frog in my throat as I tried to swallow.

        The woman next to me with tiredness singing from her eyes, said “No puedo.”

        I got next to her and said “Te ayudo?” and she shooed me away like a fly.

        I remembered the journey is only your journey and you must get there independently.

        I looked at the last 8 steps.  My mom, in her florescent yellow jacket, blue shorts and pink sweater was waiting for me, silently cheering me on.  “Oh Boo.” she mouthed the words to me, my nickname, and I think she got it. I slowly climbed up, checking on the troubled lady behind me, but simultaneously, looking forward towards my mom and the liberty of standing.  And finally, there it was the last step, looking at me in the face, smiling at me at eye level, laughing at my knees 4 steps below.  ´No sweat´ I thought my hands swimming in my sweaty shoes and my knees wobbly moving from left to right to minimize the pain.

I reached the final step and pushed myself up, as my knees flexed back and forth, side to side.  My mom rushed up to me between where she watched and the last step.  Tears streamed down her face and contagiously, formed in my own eyes. ´I know it was hard´I said silently, wearing my apology in my face, my eyes glistening with salty tears.  She squeezed my hand and leaned forward to hug me.  To me, those were her unspoken words, ´Now, I know you understand.´