Running on Muscle Memory

If I were inspired more than I plan to be, I could do a cartwheel. That’s because I did about a trillion cartwheels from the time I was in preschool through adulthood. Haven’t done a cartwheel in a decade or so, but I trust that my body just knows what to do.

Turns out, for me anyway, launching a school year in the classroom seems to be the same. My muscle memory has pulled me through these past two days. This is, mostly, a really good thing. But … there is at least one drawback so far to relying on automaticity. 

The good news first: Kagan groups, over planning, and lots of student talk still work. Through the middle of next week, it’s all team and classroom culture building before we dive into content. I’ve intentionally planned too many activities because there will be no downtime, and I really need students to connect and engage with each other before we do difficult stuff together. 

Their happy chatter warms my heart, and kids are still so darn funny, but what I’m really trying to do is lower their affective filter and build a foundation of safety and support. A couple classes are still pretty quiet, and I’ll keep coaxing them until they are ready to share their voices.

The bad news: Muscle memory cuts both ways. I automatically do the effective things I used to do, as well as the practices that are no longer effective or necessary. Case in point: I needed to prep lessons for co-creating classroom expectations. I opened a blank doc and took off. And about a minute later, I remembered that I don’t need to spend a couple hours making lesson plans and materials. I clicked over to Diffit, asked for lessons on co-creating classroom expectations, instantly received a bunch of stuff, reviewed and edited that stuff, and five minutes later, I had everything I needed. Early on in this journey, I declared that I would use AI well, but these tools didn’t exist when I left the classroom, and it will take a while for this old dog to learn that particular trick.

Also not great, I wore one of my favorite outfits on the first day of school because that’s what I do. Here’s a tip for new teachers: Don’t wear the colors of the rival school on the first day back. I didn’t even think about that - just muscle memory - but I certainly will from now on!

Nope. Not this time around!

To complete the analysis of what I plan to add, to keep, and to toss as reenter the classroom, here are three things I’m not bringing back this time around:

1 - So much classroom decor - My previous classroom was a colorful, crammed assault on the senses. In my defense, I was in there for 23 years, and things just piled up. Posters, books, knick knacks - all part of my little home away from home in room 706.

I gave away most of my stuff when I went into admin, and I’m darn glad of it. (Though I am dearly missing my podcasting equipment at the moment …) The plan for my new classroom is sleek, simple, quiet. Imagine a cafe where you go to work and think and reflect. Honestly, this is going to take quite a bit of discipline on my part, but I know it’s the right thing for me, and for students who don’t need a bunch of tchotchkes in their space.

True confession though: I’m still making room for the disco ball. I mean, c’mon, there must be a little dance break every now and again!

2 - Spending weekends grading papers -  Before I left the classroom, I taught dual enrollment English and AP English Language. Students wrote a lot. I tried to grade a lot. I also tried to build students’ ability to edit and revise, assess their own work, and practice their writing skills without concern for a score. But I never found that sweet spot.

My plan is to be so intentionally, ruthlessly focused on standards that the evidence students turn in for me to gauge their growth in meeting those standards is as sleek and essential as my new classroom. Quick and focused formative feedback, made possible by frequent and targeted station rotations, I hope will lead to more in-class and on-time assessment and fewer stacks of aging essays on my dining room table.

Much more to come on this topic, I’m sure …

3 - Stressing out about needing a sub - I’m entering my 30th year in education, and I probably have a year of sick leave at this point. You know, that’s fantastic, except that it represents days and weeks of me going to work sick, grieving, missing events at my daughter’s school, etc. I’m glad to have the time, but it represents a big regret for me. 

I hate leaving my class with a sub, but it took a couple decades and a global pandemic for me to see that the alternative has been harmful to me, and ultimately, my students. I plan to take time when I need it and accept that sometimes, I do need it. Tough sell for sure.

The universe has a sense of humor and decided to test me: I have a jury summons for later this month. Saw it in the mailbox, instantly freaked out, and then decided …

I’m not doing that this time around.