Following Directions

Saturday, September 28, 2013

The supply station all set up for my first class.

In the second week of school we did our first lab. I talked about how I had to revamp the lesson by 8th period in this post. We had to re-do the lab the next day as a whole group.

Fast forward 3 weeks to Week 5 of school when I decided that I’d try again. Give them a lab with a caveat, “Today we’re going to do a lab to figure out if yeast is alive or not, and I’m issuing you a challenge: I won’t be helping you.” Cue the cries of “What?! Ms. Reveal! What?” After the initial shock, they accepted my challenge.

My students trust me a lot more than they let on. Maybe a little too much sometimes. I think a push to struggle through something without my help was exactly what they needed. They need to learn to trust themselves. When I set out to write my classroom vision statement at the beginning of summer training, I wrote about equipping my students with the tools to believe that they are capable of high achievement. We’re still working on it, but this lab was a huge step.

My absolutely favorite, science-teacher-heart-melting point in the day was when students asked to start over because they’d followed the directions incorrectly. Of course of course of course you can start over. Of course you can do it right the second time.

After all, I start over ever day. I try it again, I try it differently, and sometimes it works.

Adding yeast a little bit at a time.

Sometimes It Doesn’t Work

Thursday, September 5, 2013

I have grand ideas about teaching biology. I envision all my happy little students working peacefully with their lab partners. Finishing collecting data one day so we can move on to graphing that data the next. Sometimes it doesn’t work.

My class without enough seats was madness as they tried to measure their heart rates after jumping up and down. My honors class could barely make it through Step 1 of the procedure.  Sometimes it doesn’t work.

And yet, by the time I got to 8th period I had revamped my lesson. And it worked. It worked so well that my craziest class that averages 2 out of 5 class points a day got an unprecedented 6 points. Everybody got raffle tickets. They loved it. They understood. They were so serious while counting their heart rate that any scientist would have been proud. My toughest kid, the one known by his gang name and who storms out of class at a drop of the hat, got every single data point. He was so excited to share. Sometimes it works.

And it’s those moments, 50 minutes out of a long, frustrating day, that make everything worth it.

Now to figure out tomorrow’s plan.