There’s no denying it: this is an unusual time.

Events cancelled: major and minor. Businesses and facilities closed. Precautions taken. Misinformation spread. Panic buying. Potential long-term school closures.

It’s been a far from typical week.

Let’s face it. Our students are hearing bits and pieces of the news. Their events and extracurricular activities have been cancelled. Many are watching their parents stock up on supplies. Some families are voicing fear and concern. And in Alberta, as of a few hours ago, classes have been cancelled indefinitely.

If this is a scary time for adults, imagine for our students.

I am putting together some language arts suggestions for remote learning. (Stay tuned…) One of the first things to consider is the opportunity for students to (continue to) write in a weekly journal: the opportunity to reflect and respond, to sort through their feelings, especially given these unprecedented and confusing circumstances.

The platform might be different, but the purpose remains the same.

Take the time to write short notes back to reassure your students. Respect the emotion and perspectives that emerge. We may not know what the upcoming weeks and months will bring, but this is certainly a way to stay in contact, and provide our students with authentic reasons to read and write.

Do any of your students have negative views about reading or writing? Likely someone, admittedly or not.

My fundamental goal as a teacher of language arts is to change these attitudes. How?

First, take time to discuss illiteracy. I tell students about my encounter with an illiterate adult, a parent of two former students, in fact. We brainstorm all the things this adult would not be able to do in her daily life. We also consider the feelings associated with illiteracy.

Then we discuss the opposite! How empowering to be able to read menus, field trip forms, ingredients, prescription labels, and job applications. How empowering to communicate through emails, letters, poetry, stories, or social media. How empowering to learn about the world and the experiences of others, to find comfort and connections, through books. How empowering to participate in the literate world.

Second, it is essential that we make the teaching of reading and writing strategies explicit and accessible for our students. We cannot merely tell them to be better readers and writers. (Oh, if only it were so simple!) We must empower them to become better readers and writers through the strategies we teach: one by one… step by step… day by day…

Flip your students’ negative attitudes. Open their eyes to the wonder of words!

Teachers’ Convention. How is it that a common message emerges each year regardless of the speakers I hear?

Gerry Brooks, Temple Grandin, and Jann Arden. What could these three – a principal, a professor of animal science, and a singer, song-writer – possibly have in common?

All three spoke either directly or indirectly about the inevitability and usefulness of hardship. Gerry Brooks reminds us that “ervybody ain’t gonna like you” and that’s okay. But while these folks are challenging us or confronting us, he reminds us to consider any truth to the claims being made. This honesty with ourselves will ultimately make us better and stronger.

Temple Grandin has faced adversity because of perceptions about autism. As she proved in her keynote, her diagnosis is not a disadvantage. It is because of autism that she thinks differently. It is because of autism that she is able to educate others about the need for (and the incredible contributions of) different thinkers in our world.

Jann Arden has faced considerable hardship in her life, and yet, she is grateful for the experiences because of the learning that followed. While telling her story, she said repeatedly, “Good from bad.”

If I hadn’t yet caught this message, it was reiterated at the theatre last night by dear ol’ Shakespeare: “Sweet are the uses of adversity.”

How does this translate into what we do in the classroom? Quite naturally, I think. As we read about the stories of others, as we discuss the origin of an invention, as we study history, revolution and change, as we try to establish a growth mindset within our students, this lesson endures: Sweet are the uses of adversity.

The last few days at Reading for the Love of It in Toronto (where I met teachers from across the country), I was reminded that teachers are teachers are teachers. Regardless of our geographical locations, we are connected by a love of children, a passion for literature, and a desire to make a difference in the world. Regardless of the communities in which we teach, we are united by both the stories of our students and the stories on our bookshelves.

Stories help us learn about the world, about each other, about ourselves, about our place in the world. Stories keep the past alive and implore us to contemplate the future. Stories expand our perspectives and stir emotion. As Madeleine L’Engle once said, “Stories make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more loving.”

I leave this conference with new stories to tell, new connections to nurture, new books to read. (My suitcase is quite literally weighed down by books… books that were not yet with me when I ventured east.)

Most importantly though, I leave inspired to continue my own story. To empower students with the skills of reading and writing. To assist teachers in their endeavors to teach these skills to their students. To teach. To write. To read for the love of it.

Are you a list person?

I am. I create a daily to-do list and take great pleasure in crossing things off. (I’ll admit: I’ve even gone so far as to put something on the list just so I can cross it off.) And if I can’t sleep because I’m thinking of what I need to accomplish the following day, I make a list to give myself peace of mind in hopes of slumber.

Last weekend we saw a play at The Citadel Theatre called Every Brilliant Thing: humorous, heartbreaking, and heartwarming all at once. A young boy begins a list to help his mom, suffering from depression, recognize the good in the world. As he gets older the list is abandoned and returned to a number of times.

The play inspired my own list of brilliant things, things that make life worth living. It’s already much longer than this, but here’s a sampling:

A houseful of family.

Snuggles with my pooch.

Sunlight.

Card games with my brothers.

A book that makes me ugly cry.

Writing.

Exchanging manuscripts with Mom.

Throwing the baseball around with Dad.

A day with limited back pain.

Teachers.

Grandparents.

The universality of story.

The innocence, joy, and spontaneity of children.

Well, what about it? What would be at the top of your list?

Last Tuesday, the staff in our district had the pleasure of listening to David Wells. In the middle of a busy school year, it was an opportunity to reconnect and rejuvenate, pause and reflect. Turns out, David Wells wants us to do more of that. His advice?

“Stand back from the picture that is your work, your life.”

He suggests that perhaps we are consumed by the details, the trivialities, the never-ending to-do lists of our days. Sometimes even, at the expense of joy.

He’s right, in my case at least. It’s easy to fixate on the frustrations, the problems to be solved, the negativity of some. And yet, as educators, we are surrounded by the greatest joy of all: children.

When the pressures threaten to dishearten you, or crush your enthusiasm, stand back and appreciate the whole picture. Recognize the goodness and the beauty that is present within each day.

“Despite trials there is always beauty.” Stand back and have a look.

I have a confession to make. I have never taught my students to write a paragraph using the hamburger method. You know, the one with the topic sentence, three sentences each with supporting details, and then a closing sentence.

Never. Not once.

Do I teach my students to write in paragraphs? I do… but not in the way you might think.

Content dictates form.

When I teach narrative writing, I teach students to begin a new paragraph when a new character speaks. When we revise our freewriting, we find natural breaks in topic. When I teach students to write persuasively, we find an effective place to stop, using our paragraphing to add emphasis to our arguments.

Consider the paragraphing choices I made in this blog. Intentional? You bet! Hamburger style? Far from it.

Last week when I finished a lesson on writing in a grade five class, a student blurted, “I want to keep learning!”

I smiled in the moment and probably said something like, “I’m so glad.” But even now, five days later, his comment has stuck with me. As a teacher, perhaps there’s no better compliment than an exclamation like his.

So what was it that had him so engaged? What did I do on that particular day that motivated and excited him?

I think my use of mentor texts and the intentionality of the lesson contributed. I also think the students felt empowered as writers because I gave them specific tools to help them revise their work. That day, writing became manageable for those grade five students.

When do your students express the most excitement over their learning? How do you know that a lesson has been effective? What clues and cues do your students give you?

This week I was reminded of the realities of classroom life: indoor recesses, kids throwing up, nosebleeds, artists-in-residence, assessments, interruptions, more indoor recesses… oh, not to mention regular classroom instruction.

Teachers are amazing. They juggle all that is thrown at them day after day. And somehow, amidst all else, they manage to teach the curriculum and do so with enthusiasm.

This week I was also reminded that sometimes the most important lessons are outside of the curriculum. The hug and the “I’m so glad you’re here” to the student who perpetually arrives late. The impromptu classroom basketball game with a balled up piece of paper initiated by the teacher. The reassuring “I knew you could do it” to the student who needs to hear it most. The grace of the teacher casually continuing to teach even with a child’s breakfast on her shoe. The search for a missing student during a cold, winter evening. The sharing of a lunch to a student without.

There is no doubt: teaching is love in its purest form.

Have you ever noticed what students do when they finish writing?

Typically, they close their books, or hand in their papers, and announce, “I’m done.” Not only have they not revised their work, often they have not even read it!

Revision is a mindset. I teach students to get their ideas on paper first and then work to revise and improve their writing afterwards.

This mindset is not a one time lesson but an ongoing conversation throughout the year. I begin the conversation by showing them the early drafts of Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White included in the book Some Writer: The Story of E.B. White. We discuss the types of changes White made to his early drafts. Students have the opportunity to observe the revision process of an effective writer.

But that’s only lesson one and not enough to change the behaviour of most student writers. It’s simply the beginning of an eventual change in thinking.

Once, while I was teaching a grade five class about the process (and the power) of revision, a student said to me, “It’s like my Rubik’s Cube. I try something and if it doesn’t work, I try something else.”

Exactly, Lloyd. Exactly.