Morning Constitutional

Most of my days feels rushed. I set up a series of lessons that includes timed segments to meet set objectives. Particularly pre-Writing SOL, I'm checking boxes on a pre-defined list with an inflexible due date. Despite the stress you may detect in those words, I think we're okay. Not great, but I do get this knowing look from the students that the clock is ticking. More so for students who have to work for their scores, which is interesting. Suddenly, my advice on how to crack the code of this standardized test is pertinent information. This is in my regular English classes, and for my reluctant English students, I'll take their eye contact and pencil to the paper any time anyhow.

Meanwhile, I'm in my fourth rotation of ATSS, an intervention period with fewer than ten students each round. They're my kiddos, so they know me from class, and one of my goals is to coach them on how to show their classmates up when they get back to the larger class. You know the kids--they think, maybe I know the answer, but if I say the wrong thing I'll look dumb, so I'm better off saying nothing at all. Unless they're already sure of the skill or content from the morning session. Are they showing more likelihood of passing the SOL test? Super. More important than that--they're experiencing what it's like to get things right. 

And the best part of this program is that it's the most laid back of any lesson I teach all day. We are couch and beanbagchair lounging with clipboards. Crisscross apple sauce on the rug with an occasional white board. There is some rubbing of eyes at 7:50 in the morning, but there is a "let's ease ourselves into this school day" feeling that I can handle when the rest of my day will pick up the pace. We pass the snacks around. We read some Langston Hughes, some news, or even watch a Pixar short now and then. All of it, mind you is fuel for later. And I'm happy as can be to help at the filling station.