SingTeachRun

A year ago I watched with pride as my seniors delivered their senior presentations. These TED-style talks, 8-12 minutes in length, brought out the very best in most of my students. They were creative, authentic, professional talks that combined many of the skills that we worked on all year: developing arguments, incorporating evidence, integrating narrative, and, perhaps best of all, speaking with authority and passion. For years now students have delivered these talks while standing in the front of my classroom. But in a moment of epiphany twelve months ago, I caught a new vision for these presentations. I could see my students standing on the stage in Timberline's beautiful auditorium, microphone in hand, stage lights shining, and a large screen behind them replacing the small one in my room. This idea, so potent, so vivid in my mind, filled me with joy and excitement. My heart raced every time I imagined how spectacular this could be. I could imagine them upping their prese...

My dear friend Simon Miller, tech guy extraordinaire, innovative teacher, dedicated husband (and father of four), and one of my honorary brothers, was interviewed two weeks ago for a podcast dedicated to honoring inspiring educators/unsung heroes. Anyone who knows Simon would agree that he is most definitely an inspiring educator, whether he's teaching high school students, the faculty and staff of the Kellogg School District, or his many friends (like me), who turn to him in times of technological need. You can enjoy his interview here: http://www.inspiringeducators.net/2016/02/ie72-simon-miller-flyhighfri/ Coach Miller then nominated the brilliant Tammy McMorrow to be interviewed the following week. If you don't know Tammy's blog and you're an educator or a parent (or just alive), you should check it out:  Forever in First . Tammy and I go back a few years, too . . . to the day she was born. She is my cousin, my second-best friend, the best singer I know, and ...

I can picture myself as a preschooler (back when preschool literally meant "before school"), discovering that I could count all the way to 100. What a joyful revelation! Forty-some years later, counting is still an important part of my life. I find comfort and joy in numbers.  I love watching the balance on my mortgage go down--even though it moves very, very slowly. And budgeting night is something I look forward to every month. In fact, I've been known to use it as a reward for myself: grade 20 essays and I get to budget! When I have a pile of essays to grade I make stacks of five or ten (depending on how long the essays are), and I give myself a reward for every stack (10 minutes to eat or watch television, for example).  To manage those really big jobs (like the senior research papers, which take about an hour each) I use a quota system. Once upon a time I thought grading 15 research papers in a week was a reasonable quota, but then my AP numbers grew...

This is a rough, cell-phone recording of a song I wrote today. Perhaps it will be your prayer, too:

I was no more than eight or nine years old when I first began to feel it--the yearning to run. I don't mean the kind of running that little kids typically do--those short spurts of speed that are a natural part of play (or at least were a natural part of play, when I was kid). I mean slowing down and running long. I mean getting into a rhythm and letting the steps carry me for minute upon minute upon minute. I remember imagining what it would be like to have the stamina to run around the nearby baseball field for long stretches of time, and I even remember trying it a time or two . . . and quickly realizing that my body's stamina did not live up to my mind's imagination. I ran track (badly) in junior high and high school--too slow to be even a mediocre sprinter but too lazy to run distance. (Plus, really, to be a competitive distance runner you have to have speed.) In my college years and through my mid-20s I dipped my toes in the world of distance running, but, as I w...

I am a fan of the New Year's resolution. I know, I know, studies show that very few resolutions are kept; nevertheless, I am drawn to the idea. Nearly every year I make resolutions, and this year is no exception. I am resolved:  I will write at least three blog entries a month ​ ​. I will finish scoring senior papers by February 16 th ​. I will run a half-marathon on February 27 th.   ​ I won’t buy clothes or shoes until I’ve finished paying for my CDs*. ​ I will revise senior presentation protocols and AP boot camp. *I am allowing myself the possibility of buying running shoes, should the need arise.  This year for the first time I found time to bring my love of resolutions to my classroom. I managed to get a whole week ahead during the fall semester, so on the first day back from Christmas break I devoted the entire period to guiding my students through a process I called "Resolve, Plan, Dream." I started by telling them about my brilliant ...

" I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it" (Romans 7:15, NLT). It was with great dismay that I discovered, a few days ago, that I only wrote two blog entries for all of 2015. Like the apostle Paul, I don't understand myself. I want to write--intend to write--yearn to write. And yet . . . I fail to write.  I suppose this is often the hallmark of the human condition: to desire, but not to do.  And so, like many others, I start on this first day of the new year with new resolve. I know that statistics suggest New Year's resolutions are kept less than 10% of the time; nevertheless, I enter this new enterprise with great hope. After all, one year ago I saw two friends make similar writing resolutions and keep them, without fail. Jonelle wrote a blog entry each month of 2015, and Paula wrote one every week. They set their goals with courage and determination, and they completed these tasks with wisdom and beaut...