When Kids Make You Tear Up

I am going to admit that this is one of those posts that rambles a bit. I am not sure exactly where I was headed, but I felt compelled to write about this, so I did. - JK

"Are you crying?"

That was a question posed in my classroom a couple of weeks ago. And yes, it was lobbed my way. Actually, I was not really crying. I just had a little moisture on my lower eyelid that resembled a tear.  If you had been in my room, you would understand.

At that point, I was laughing so hard, water fell out of my eyes. One student had just completed a reading of his Spoken Word Poem, a masterpiece titled "Mr. Kohls". One of the kids looked up at me and queried, "Mr. Kohls, are you crying?"

I answered honestly. "I've teared up several times this hour." Why lie? It was their fault.

We were wrapping up our poetry study as the school year wound down, and I had challenged my honors sophomores to pen a spoken word poem which they would then present to the class. Of course, "Do we have to say it out loud?" was the first question. I am not sure what part of "spoken word" the student was missing, but I answered, "Yes, but I won't make you stand up."

"Oh, ok then," he responded. It was the easy. As long as he didn't have to stand up, it was all good.

My kids are weird sometimes.

At other times, they are amazing. That day, I told them to get out their cell phones and place them on top of their laptops. I then told them to leave them there was we left the room and headed out to Crusader Field. I was going to lock the door, and everything would be all right. We were going outside, and we were going to write, on paper, with pencils. We spent the next 45 minutes scattered around the green turf and maroon endzones, kids sprawled out on the surface or leaning up against up against the goalposts. And, for the most part, they wrote. When one student said he could not come up with something to write, I told him to write about that. One young lady asked me to read what she had started; it was a piece on how the world might change if we didn't have cell phones.

"The room is lit up like a blazing fire had just been ignited.
But not a single light switch is turned on..."

Some would not let me see what they had written, while others asked me multiple times to check out what was scrawled on the notebook paper. One class was even a little late getting to their next hour because we lost track of time because they were into what they were doing. On the way inside, Raegan thanked me. When I asked her what for, she told me it was the longest she had gone without looking at her phone in as long as she could remember, and she felt good about that. She had written more, and better, than she had in a long time.

(On a side note, I geek out about tech in our classrooms. We are 1:1 laptops, and I love it. We are nearly paperless. I let my kids use their phones to do things in class, and I let them listen to music when they write or read. On this day, however, I felt like leaving it all behind was worthwhile.)

The next day, my second hour begged to do it again.

Now, I won't try to tell you that each and every one of the kids produced a masterpiece worthy of high literary praise. and not every topic was earth-shattering, at least not on the surface, but they were their topics and their words, and not a single kid balked at producing and presenting. Some of the pieces stood out, however, and, yes, they caused moisture to collect across my bottom eyelids.

One young lady wrote about how horrible she felt as she thought of having to present what she had written to our class. Her voice quivered as she began to deliver her lines, and her eyes never rose from the page that shook in her hands. She uttered one of the greatest lines I have heard as she personified her anxiety:

"He is the weight on my back telling me to stand up straighter as he holds me down."

She finished, and as she took a deep breath in the silence before the first class member started the traditional snaps, I heard someone across the room whisper, "Wow." The activity for the day would not appear explicitly anywhere on a state assessment report card, but it was a victory, not just for Emma, but for so many of the kids who had a chance to shine that day. The girl who wrote that family is not everything, at least not for her, because her family situation is something she must overcome, the boy who penned a piece about his social anxiety and presented for the first time all year in any class, the multiple young ladies who wrote about doubting their self-worth because they question whether what they see in the mirror each day will be seen as pretty. I am not sure if it is because I am the father of a daughter or because these girls are truly good and beautiful people who should never doubt their value, but that one bothered me. One student wrote passionately of the love she has for music, painting a picture of little girl dreaming of being a lead singer in a rock band, only to discover that she couldn't sing. Another wrote of her love of 'home': 

"Home-grown

Like a seed planted in the soil

Watered and weeded

We grow taller and taller

Our buds aching to find the sun

Twisting around to be graced by the bright

Warm

Light

But still anchored firmly in the ground..."

One poem was inspired by Hakuna Mutata of The Lion King fame, and another explored the importance of eye-contact. One young man wrote about the feeling of hurling pitches from the mound while another penned an ode to the weight room. I could go on and on. The topics were as diverse and wide-ranging as, well, the personalities of the people I am blessed to work with each day.  I was given a brief glimpse into the hearts of some of these kids, a little shutter flash that many struggle to allow. It makes them vulnerable, and for some of those kids, that is the last thing they want to feel when they come to school. If they are going to let me in, if they are going to sincere and genuine with me, I owe it to them to be same. So, if I tear up listening to them read, I am not ashamed to let them see that. My "football coach" status does not preclude me from letting them see me as vulnerable. It is not always fun or easy for me, as was put on display when my fifth-hour seniors demanded I read them the poem I had handed them just before class ended on their last day, a piece titled "A Letter to my Seniors". I wasn't planning to read it outloud to them because I knew I would struggle to make it, but when Tiffanie said, "Hey, you made us read our stuff," I had no way out. They deserve my sincerity. Every one of my kids does.

And they continue return the investment many times over.

The PLN at Our Fingertips

In the last year or so, I have had the distinct pleasure of taking part in something that invigorates me as a teacher and supplies me with a seemingly bottomless treasure chest of resources and motivation as I try to work more effectively with my students. If this was an infomercial, now would be the time when the enthralled host would breathlessly utter "And what magical experience would that be, and how can our viewers get in on this?" The answer is simple: I discovered the modern tools to help me develop my PLN, or Professional Learning Network.

Before you click the X in the corner of the page and abandon this page, let me beg you to bear with me just a little longer because "WAIT! There's more!"

I am proud, and a little embarrassed, to be honest, to say that I am a 2016 Kansas Teacher of the Year Semi-Finalist. This program has allowed me to spend several days visiting the districts of truly talented teachers from around central Kansas. We get to ask each other questions, laugh together, learn what the world outside of our classrooms looks like, and explore the different ways we can work with our kids each day. It has been an amazing experience. Getting together, talking about what they do, learning from one another, and exploring ways we can continue to stay connected even after our tours are over has been a gift. These are amazing teachers and people: why wouldn't we want to stay in touch and continue to draw on one another to become better at what we do?  Without the KTOY program, I probably would not have met these exemplary people. I am truly blessed to have this opportunity to become part of this circle, to be able to build my Profession Learning Network. Everyone should have this chance.

On the way home from Council Grove after our last tour, I commented to Jenn Keller, our elementary KTOY nominee and fellow Semi-Finalist, about a fact that struck me during this process. I coach football as well. Actually, the way I look at it, I have the pleasure of having multiple classrooms where I get to teach: Room 202 upstairs at BHS, the weightroom on the north end, and the practice and game fields where our boys play. Something is different though. As coaches, the PLN, while not called that, has been the basis for success and growth for ages. Coaches have been developing and building PLNs as a natural process and never think twice about it. Coaches seek out one another. If Bo Black runs a no back, no huddle system before everyone else in Kansas does, then Coach Warner makes a trip to Great Bend after we move to Buhler and they discuss how they do it, and more importantly, what might stop it. Coaches in Wichita mention how their LBs read the zone, and Coach Warner and I drive down to NW Wichita after school one day and talk football for three hours. Wisconsin runs the power play to perfection in the Rose Bowl, or Kansas State abuses defenses with run-pass options, so we get on the phone and set up ways to pick the coaches' brains about what they do in their programs.  Coaches talk, and if more than three are in a room for more than 12 minutes, a dry erase board is going to turn into what might look like a modern art piece as plays are drawn upon plays and defensive counters are diagramed out and adjustments are made.

And yet, a recent attempt to draw teachers from neighboring districts together in an effort to share, learn, and support one another was met with everything from skepticism to outright rejection. That is frustrating.

The desire to share and be a part of a bigger community of positive thinkers and innovators is present in all great professionals. Teachers are no different. In 2016, we have incredible opportunities to do just that. It is literally at our fingertips.  We can connect, not only with those teachers in our districts, but throughout the state, across the country, and beyond all borders. Thanks to some of my colleagues, I have been thrown into the community pool of Twitter Chats, Voxer, and the like. And, I can honestly say, "Come on in. The water is fine."

Thanks to these tools, I have, at my fingertips, the ability to not only share my thoughts, but to tap into the gifted minds of thousands of educators who have different experiences, varying resources, altered viewpoints, and extraordinary imaginations. Sometimes, this simply allows me to renew and recharge. I have selected three Twitter Chats that send up smoke signals for what is becoming my professional tribe (outside my hallway, building and district, which are still a source of terrific pride and energy. I am blessed to teach in Buhler): #leadupchat, #ecet2, and #ksedchat. Each one has its place, and I was drawn into each one by different people. One Monday, I was having a truly Monday Monday. I was grumbling, I was dark, and I was frustrated. I did not even intend to take part in the #ksedchat discussion that evening. However, at 8 pm, I opened up my tweetdeck, and took a glance or two at the feed over the next 10 minutes or so.  Soon, I was reading about how Ts (Teachers for those saving their 140 characters) engaged reluctant students. The ideas were flying, and commitment was clear. A couple struck a nerve with me, and I read more closely. Then I was engaged. At 9, I was disappointed it was over. I felt so much better. I could actually breath easier. My jaw was relaxed. And I began planning anew for the week.

Our district has been discussing how we can use Twitter Chats to help teachers develop and grow. The question was posed: Do Twitter Chats really offer anything more than a chance to toot our own horns? That is a legitimate questions. Twitter is, after all, SOCIAL media. What real good can come from it?

The answer is simple. Growth. Several weeks ago, I commented on a picture that Greg Froese (@Froese89) had taken while his seniors read poetry outside on the football field. The irony of the Thoreau-esque activity taking place on artificial turf was not lost. Shortly after, Suzanne Rogers, an AP English teacher from Arkansas had commented on the photo and asked if I had seen how "Thoreau" the rapper Macklemore had gone on his last album. She sent me a link to a video. BOOM. Lesson on Romanticism that will relate to my students today (after I edited 2 words from the video). Last week, I connected with a teacher who will be speaking a two ComiCons and a national social studies conventions on the topic using comics to teach history (and many other things). I had shared that we use "Walking Dead Mondays" in my English classes to help draw in students who might not otherwise be interested in plot development or character motivation. The discussion was during an #ecet2 edchat about engaging boys in the classroom. How am I, a lowly teacher in central Kansas, going to exchange ideas in an immediate fashion with a creative teacher who will be speaking to multitudes at the nation's largest ComiCon in San Diego? Guess what? I am doing it regularly now when I see the lessons he is teaching posted on Twitter.  Just this Saturday, I saw a comment on my Twitterfeed about distict Twitter Chats. I replied to the poster. Her response? "DM me, and we will chat." So I did, and we did. In between stops at garage sales, she enlightened me about the process she and her district has explored in using this tool to help their teachers and district grow. We can use this expertise in our own journey. The teacher, Ms. Denko, teaches 3rd grade in New Jersey. We might have crossed paths at some point without Twitter, but the odds are slim. I don't get to Jersey much.

Great, you might say, for you English teacher nerds. But wait. There's more. I recently set up Coach Warner's Tweetdeck. I had found this little Twitter Chat called #MeshPoint, which focuses on option football. That's right: we can even geek out about football plays.

It goes beyond Twitter Chats. This week, Dr. Randy Watson, the Kansas Commissioner of Education, spoke to me. In his voice. Ok, he was speaking to many of us, but he spoke to us. I was added to a group on Voxer that is pulling together Awesome Teachers from across Kansas. Dr. Watson has replied and even liked a couple of my comments on #ksedchat. He is a regular participant. He doesn't have to be, but he is. That means something to me, as he is a part of a positive and energetic town hall meeting of educators from across Kansas, not once a year or leading up to some election, but nearly every week. We have several Voxer groups in our district at this point, each one with a particular aim, from team communication to student celebration. It is just beginning to take off.

This is an exciting time in education. It is so easy to read the headlines and grow jaded and frustrated with how our state's leadership seems to be trying to tear us down. However, we owe it to our kids to keep growing, and in turn, help them to do the same. We do not need to wait for the district to approve the funds (which are being held up in Topeka) to send a group to some conference. We do not have to wait for a PD day speaker to lift us up and energize us with new ideas. Those activities have their place and are valuable. But we have so much at our disposal. We just need to tap into them. The PLN is out there, waiting for each and every one of us to "contribute our verse."