Ball Babies

As is often the case, the highlight of last week came at tennis practice.

A seventh grade boy who's new to tennis, but very athletic and picking it up quickly, joined two girls who play happily together at the bottom of our ladder. I had overheard the pair create a game as they started warming up: they'd name the ball, then count aloud how many times they got it over the net in succession as they played a short game, and consider the total number of volleys the age their 'baby ball' reached before dying (being hit into the net or out of bounds). I raised an eyebrow when I heard one gleefully cry to the other, "You murdered our baby! She was only nine!" and seeing me do so only intensified their giggles.

I was, naturally, very curious to see what he would do when he realized that this was the short court warm-up they'd begun. He's a sweet and tender guy, I didn't know how he'd respond to this silliness, and I was pretty sure he hadn't realized what they were doing. Creeping closer to their court, I heard one girl start to explain, interrupt herself and say, "You'll see." Sure enough, she named the ball Bella, started hitting it over to her partner, and when Bella failed to clear the net at a young twelve years old, the girls lamented that she never got her driver's license, or went to prom, or got into college. As soon as they were done with their faux eulogies, one girl plucked a ball from the hopper, turned to the boy, and said, "Ok, what do you want to name this one?"

This boy - the son of a former pro athlete, who wrestles and roughhouses on the basketball courts every day at recess, who sticks around at the end of practice to hit hard against the wall, who serves with power and intensity these girls don't even dream about - didn't miss a beat.

"Paul.  Paul the Ball."

My heart melted, even more when Paul met a tragic end (at only eight!) and the boy who named him  moaned, "He didn't even make it to middle school..."

A Random Thought on Rubric Writing

I'm a bit of a rubric-aholic. I fastidiously tweak rubrics I've had and been using for years, and fiddle with formatting ad nauseum. While my attention to these details tends toward the obsessive, it's because I do feel so strongly that students desperately need clear guidelines and expectations to be set forth in order feel that they can reach the defined benchmarks.  On the other hand, I worry sometimes that in my effort to be explicit, I'm encouraging formulaic responses, and becoming too prescriptive about what final products should be.

I was talking about this tension with a colleague who summarized it thusly (thanks, Erik!): We want the task to be ambiguous, but the path to success to be clear. That is, we want students to have opportunities to exercise choice and interpret some goals for themselves, but also to understand with certainty what would define a successful or effective output.

What a paradox! I suppose it's not too different from advice I once heard in an education class: don't let the scaffolding become the house.

Confessions of a Conference Junkie

I love attending conferences, especially in the summer. For real.

I know some people might roll their eyes or do a sarcasm check when they hear that, but it's true. I've been surprised in the past by how many colleagues I respect in so many other ways and for so many other reasons are completely disinterested in this kind of professional development. While I completely understand the importance of protecting my time off on weekends and breaks, and the difficulty of planning meaningful learning opportunities for my students in my absence, the benefits of participating in a good* conference far outweigh those competing interests.

*Before I go further - yes, it's true, not all conferences are created equal. There are bad ones. Those are terrible. There's nothing worse than giving up that time off or with your students for something that doesn't offer authentic learning or inspiration. I'm sure that many of the teachers who don't pursue conferences now have been burned by bad ones in the past.

**A second caveat - I also know that there are tons of teachers who do want to pursue conferences but aren't in schools or districts that can support them financially in those endeavors. I am privileged to work now in a school that has demonstrated a commitment to self-selected professional development, and not all of us do. I'm sorry if you're not as fortunate right now.

So, why do I find them so rewarding?
First and foremost, I learn so much. At the best conferences I've attended, I have been exposed to technology tools, pedagogical approaches, and inspiring speakers I never would have learned about or from otherwise. Even when concepts or content isn't as brand new to me, other attendees share their own applications and integrations in fresh ways. I always leave with dozens of new ideas I'm eager to mull over or put into action.

That inspiration and reinvigoration of my practice is the second key benefit. It's easy to fall into routines, to do things the same way year after year; attending conferences helps me stay dynamic and evolving. It's been a long time since I've felt like I had to reinvent the wheel with my most beloved units; conversely, I haven't ever done them exactly the same in subsequent years, because there's always something I've learned about or seen done in the time that's elapsed that I want to try to bring in myself.

Third, I meet awesome people. I believe we're all better at what we do when we talk and exchange ideas with as many people as we can - it calls to mind a motto that hung in a dean's office at a school I once worked at, "All of us are better than any of us." The network of professionals I've met and maintained relationships with is an incredible resource.

Finally, in attending them, and presenting when I can, I model exactly what I want students to do - step outside my comfort zone, pursue my passions, and form connections with people and ideas. What could be better?