Sign 'O' The Times: Memoir Meets Musing: An Introduction

Purple Rain

Adolescence is portrayed as very different from generation to generation, yet at the core, it is very much the same. Angst, assertion, and amplified emotions. Every generation had their music, their movies, their culture. For mine, the 1980’s it was built around Prince’s music. He sang our feelings, our heartbreak, our aspirations. “Purple Rain” was our battle cry. For some it was other songs, but for our group, our tight knit cohort- it was the song we fell quiet too. It was the color we wore, at least a splash of, it was the echo of our commitment to each other. We attended a small high school, open campus, freedom to go to the beach during lunch, or just hang in the band quad. We had the independence many schools lack today- but this squelched our rebelliousness, it made us feel free and thus we didn’t search for ways to cause an insurgency.

Laguna Beach was a small town in the 1980's. At least it felt small. Two supermarkets, one high school. Nestled into a cove between Dana Point and Newport Beach, California. Summer was crowded with tourists; our Art's Festival was famous. Sawdust on the floor, I used to walk through it with bare feet, feeling the wood between my toes. After I graduated, I worked there, selling jewelry I didn't make myself. I would spend hours wandering and looking at beautiful art, I could never afford. But the festival didn't feel pretentious, it felt accessible to us. It was the social center of our community from June to August and I wanted to feel a part of it. Yet I was always on the outside looking in. What felt like a rural community was suburban, but from a coming of age teenager perspective, it was heaven. Big enough where we felt we had a connection to the world and small enough where most of the world left us alone for most of the year, at least.

Little Red Corvette or rather an AMC Hornet

Population wise we saw circles and cliques at our high school, but it didn't really matter. The cliques just seemed to ebb and flow, merge and separate like wax in a lava lamp. I had friends, we were a misfit group of oddballs- we were odd even for the 80's. Prince, Oingo Boingo, The Cure, The Smiths, Depeche Mode and Duran Duran were our bands of choice but Violent Femmes, Jane's Addiction and U2 were among the many blaring from our car speakers, as we drove through the streets of our small coastal town. We were the outcasts before the Breakfast Club made it cool to be one. Our vehicles were beaten down jalopies: An AMC Hornet, Oldsmobile and 1982 Honda Accord (duct-taped bumper). Laguna Beach in the 1980's as far as a teens point of view, was not about prestige or popularity, even wealth- it was about making the best of what you had.

Unless you drove Laguna Canyon or El Toro Road- Laguna Beach was unreachable back then, now there is a toll road leading straight to it. The isolation back then, made us creative as teenagers: no cell phones, computers or Internet. We had mix tapes, board games and driving around. This we mastered. We also had MTV- real videos that spoke to us, inspired us. We saw opportunities to have fun and we did. We got bored and found ways not to be bored, like scavenger hunts and lip syncs. These were free. We didn't have a lot of money, but we did have each other, and this is very different from today, mainly because we didn't have everything at our fingertips- we had to go out and find our adventures. Our noses were not facing down to our phones, or up on Instagram trying to outdo one another. We drove to the Circle K and hung out in the parking lot on Friday nights. We had bonfires on Saturday nights at Aliso Beach. We were always together, physically, socially and mentally, we talked a lot, face to face, worked out our problems in person not via trolling or texting. It was very much a different time.

Let’s Go Crazy- or Not

Curfew was in place, but we generally stayed at each others houses so frequently- it was understood, that our responsibility was to check-in, not be home every night. We left a message on the answering machine. The infamous answering machines. We used pay phones to do so, or we left messages with parents and they shared it with one another. Strange to think about that world, free of instant communication. We made it through weeks without seeing our parents faces- messages on the fridge sufficed, when we stopped by to take a shower and grab a change of clothes. 

This may sound like a fictional place, a fairy tale- but it was just life in the 1980's, in a small beach town in California. The place is gone, replaced with modernity but the past is never replaced, it is forever edging the angles and carving the valleys of adulthood. When I see my children engrossed with You Tube and their eyes on a piece of technology, it makes me feel sad. We were lucky, we saw a wide-open space and decided to go check it out. We "hiked to Canada" as we used to call it- getting lost for the day outside in the middle of nowhere, that's a story for later.

These days getting lost is immersing in the Internet, inwards rather than outwards. This novel is going to be a bridge between modern ideals and the 1980's vision of a teenage girl, who may have grown up with simpler perspectives and still holds them dear, but who has adapted to the 'Sign 'O' the Times, as Prince so eloquently put it. Music may have changed, technology advanced, but at the heart of all of us who grew up in a decade of opulence, personal connection and individualism- we remember. We do not necessarily want to go back, but we want to keep those quintessential aspects of our teenage aspirations and dreams alive, for they are the core of who we are. We may use our phones every day for more than their original purpose- to simply talk to one another. They are now tools of global connection, albeit a virtual one. But deep down, we can still envision a pay phone, change in hand at the side of the road, We can still hear that tape rewinding, as we checked our messages.

Raspberry Beret, or Various Hats Maybe

This tale, told through anecdotes and tales of my teenage years and those of my children, is going to be how things may seem drastically different, how the 1980's almost seem foreign to millennial's, but in reality- we are very much the same, simply with different instruments at our fingertips. I hope you join me on this adventure. Every week a new chapter in the story of my collision of past and present, music infused with memory and comparison. 1980’s, 1990’s and the new century. I hope you enjoy the ride. Oh, and did I mention I love hats. I used to wear a huge black one at the beach, blocking my very pale skin from the sun. Many would say I was goth in high school but trust me I was everything but. That, however, is another story.

Oddities, Curiosities and Eccentricities: Mom, Teacher, Coach

It is a very strange feeling when family and classroom meet. When my educator persona bumps up against mom mode.There is a certain wall generally, between the two for me. If my husband were to walk into my classroom, as I was teaching it would definitely stop me in my tracks. Only for the reason that my family posture kicks in, once the bell has rung and I am exciting the building. When I am in the building I am in teacher mode.

But, when it comes to Quiz bowl- the wall has crumbled and the two aspects of my life seem to connect to a certain degree. Rather than staying in teacher mode, I have to jump back and forth, this does not necessarily blend seamlessly- sometimes it causes oddities, curiosities and eccentricities. My students always say you are so different with your children around. It is a pitch, yaw and lift that keeps my flight path directional, however it also creates some turbulence. I have a difficult time giving attention to my youngest when I am on the teacher path.

This last weekend for the first time ever, my whole family traveled to Chicago with my Quiz Bowl team for the nationals competition. At the airport I was in a parent and teacher conundrum. I switched back and forth so quickly, I forgot who I was talking to and my teacher voice came out with my children and my mom voice with my students. It was funny. My students even commented that I sounded like their parents rather than their teacher. Oddities due to the blending of roles.

Curiosities sprung from every angle. Would my children get along with my students, they had met a few times, but would they get along? Would parents get along with my husband? Would my youngest son behave with the other younger travelers? My family is definitely not a mainstream, normal family. My boys have long hair, they are loud and expressive and above all they argue a lot with one another because of it. It felt like I was diffusing situations with my own children more than I was with my students.

We are definitely eccentric. This is what makes my family so fun. But, we are home bodies and getting on a plane and traveling across country was a first for us as a whole family. My youngest had never even been on a plane. The co-pilot overheard this and invited him into the cockpit. It was awesome. My students, most well-traveled, hunkered down and were excellent on the plane, which gave me two hours to be just mom and wife. It was a nice respite before the very busy weekend. With parents in attendance, I focused my energy on being coach and let them take on the role of parent. My family, stepped aside and went into Chicago as I led my team through the competition days.

But after games and after the rounds my family joined in as we celebrated making playoffs. My family has become very much a part of the team. But, it is weird to hear "Mom" and "Mrs.CJ" at the same time. Generally teacher mode and parent mode stay separate. But for me the oddities, curiosities and eccentricities of both have merged into more of a comfortable place. It is strange to switch so quickly from Mrs. CJ to Mom but it is kind of fun. My classroom is teacher mode, my home parent mode and Quiz Bowl has allowed the two to combine, even if for the weekend tournaments.

We All Tell Stories....Hear Versions of Others' Stories... Alter the Endings

We All Tell Stories

When we experience the world, even if we are sharing it with others, our practice, participation, and purpose, is our own. Formulated and designed around our observations and understanding of what we feel is real and what we know to be reality. We tell ourselves anecdotes, connect our memories, to steer us into our personal setting, characters and all. We choose who to add to our narrative. We decide who are our arch-enemies and allies. We paint a perfect picture of what we want our landscape to look like and then we fill it with dialogue and interactions.

This dialogue may be different from our imagined conversation- it may be repartee rather than meaningful exchanges, but nonetheless, we hear what we want to hear, make judgments based on what we think we hear, and sometimes we ignore what we hear in order, to shift our story. Our story is our concept of who we are. Villains do not think they are villains. Heroes know they are heroes, mostly because others tell them so. But we know if we are villainous or heroic, at least in our story we do.

The story of us, is only a version of a complete picture, as we want it to be. If we want to see our flaws, recognize our need to edit, we can re-write our autobiography- especially the version no one else is aware of. We keep most of our memoir private, so taking a chance on the rewrite, recast and re-release, is risk free. All we need to do is hit the backspace, edit and adapt. But, this takes awareness and mindfulness. This takes seeing past the façade of what we tell others and taking a deep look behind the curtain.

We see trouble when it isn't there or we refuse to recognize its tendrils as they grab hold. Why? Because we are so busy creating our plot, writing the ending to each chapter of our story, that we do not allow ourselves to use the backspace. We want to type so fast, add graphics and plot twists and just keep the flow going that we do not stop to make sure that our characters are fully formed, that their character traits are well-developed. We often lose sight of their motivation, of our motivation. We tell ourselves stories to shape our fictional world and blend it with our documentary version of our lives. When the documentary becomes boring we shift to the fictional to make the read more interesting.

Hear Versions of Other's Stories

Life is a library. Shelves full of horror, comedy, historical and self-help. Others, romance, political treatises, plays and classic. There are endless genres to choose from. We wake up in the morning with our own legend, replaying in our heads. Then when we begin interacting with others, their chronicles, serials and cliffhangers, merge into our own. Changing our tale. We move about our days listening to others, interpreting their stories and deciding if their words are fables or truths. We are only hearing their version of their story, however. Until they have become characters in ours, they do not have dimension. Life's characters follow their arc or they make dramatic changes to type. Either way, they are only as realistic, as we make them and as much as they allow us, to know them.

It is fascinating to listen to the narratives of others, on the sly. Often when we are not part of their chapter, we hear more truth. We see the bigger picture. When we are a main cast member, we fall into the main narrative and then we have difficulty seeing the subplot. When we are the reader rather than the narrator, we can see other aspects to the story. We may not be able to change the outcome, but hopefully we can recognize the motivation and understand the impetus for it. When we silence our own speech and truly listen to the voices of others, we identify the gaps in the plot- we make sense of the vague dialogue, meant to distract us from the theme.

We can never alter the novel of others, all we can do is add some plot points. Maybe the episode will become a two parter or a mini-series. Or we will be written off, after a single scene. But, if we don't try to word-bomb or photo-bomb the story, we won't even get a walk on role. Listening is key, there are hidden twists and red herrings everywhere. The more we hear, the more we can decipher between them. In every story there are lies and deceptions. They may be purposeful plot points or merely the antagonist’s narrative- but making sure we use them to push our own story forward is key. Stories merge, alter, and re-write themselves on a daily basis. We are both audience, reader and lead actor, protagonist.

Alter the Ending's

Every day we look upon a library of stories, some short, some poetic, some purely comedic. We interact with these books, each with a cover either hardback or paperback. Some are more accessible, more copies available, while others are first editions and difficult to find. The more we open, the more narratives we add to our own the more changes our ending, branches to our story emerge. Each chapter we write in our heads, about ourselves, becomes more fleshed out, more meaningful. We must realize that the narratives of others are still in the editing process, as is our own. Each new twist and plot device, creating a new ending. 

Characters enter the story, some with good intentions and some not. Some moving the story forward, some reminding us where we were and how far we have come. In our classroom, each story has multiple endings, each student has their own version of their story, while we create our own. There are situations we do not read about, there are expositions, conflicts and resolutions that are kept hidden from us. We may not be able to alter the ending of their story, but we can help shape the current chapter- in this chapter, we are a side character. 

We play a role in the plot. We can lead them to a rising action and capstone. We can get them to the summit if we listen to their story. The words their own, the theme positive. If we lay down a setting of excitement and intrigue, we can help them design a landscape for themselves that is on-going, full of curiosity and imagination. We can help them rewrite the chapter from a doldrums day to a happy memory, if we provide them the independence to write their own story. As children we were often placed inside a story not of our own creation. We were told when to sit, when to eat, when to talk. This stifled our creativity. Our stories became biographies, rather than autobiographies.

Letting the Narrative Go

We all have a narrative. A story we tell ourselves. Many of us stick strictly to the plot, we have created for ourselves, while other let go of the narrative and edit and rewrite their story frequently. They recognize the need to stir things up. Some read the ending first, they like to know where the characters are going. Others read at a slower pace, letting the characters resonate. Letting the setting become familiar. Letting the dialogue merge with their own.

If we allow ourselves to truly do this, let the narrative go, we will have more time to read the cornucopia of titles, on our shelves. We will be able to make a new landscape from the settings within each story. Create an inter-changeable backdrop where students take stage, write the play and act every role in the performance.

This backdrop is our classroom. This backdrop, flexible and student-painted, can be raised and lowered depending on the scene. This flexibility creates a community of plot-lines, stories and narratives- this is education. We can be minor characters or major plot devices- the choice is theirs, all we can do is be real, be honest and be kind and they will write us into their stories, as they remember us. 

Stop-motion and Vlogging in Science

I wrote a guest post for Blended Learning Network: Podcasting, Stop-motion and Vlogging in Science.

https://blendedlearningnetwork.org/
Please give it a read sometime.....

Tale from a Dyslexic Mind

I have never met a student who didn't want to learn. I have met many who were reluctant, who shied away from a challenge. I have met many for whom learning comes easy and others who struggle, with the simplest of concepts. But never have I met a student who didn't want to learn and feel like they are smart.

I was a student who never gave up, who struggled in a huge way, not because I wasn't trying, but because my teachers believed I couldn't do it. They said as much. "She is just not smart enough to be in this class." or "She isn't trying hard enough, she is just a lazy student." A label, that followed me though out grade school. I changed schools seven times, before high school and at every school I attended, I was labelled as lazy and a student who needed to focus more and pay attention more and then I would be able to be a better student. I have Dyslexia not laziness.

What is a better student? What does it mean to try harder? Is there a scale of trying hard? Does it progress exponentially? As a child, these words meant nothing to me. The phrase "If you do your best, you can accomplish anything," didn't mean what it was intended to mean. To me it meant, you aren't good enough. I did my homework. I listened in class and did my best at taking notes. They weren't thorough or perfect, I struggled with listening and transcribing. But what teachers saw was, I was easily distracted and never took complete notes. Again, perspective. I never want anyone of my students to feel the way I did growing up. I felt isolated and dumb. There is no other way to put it. It sounds harsh, but true, I am afraid. 

I have been talking a lot to my Dyslexic students. Asking them questions and making sure they never feel isolated or less than. We just get to know one another and what works for us. What tools we use to make learning more fun. We can talk about strategies, till we are blue in the face- but until we negate generalizations and really get to know students, personally, this will never happen. I know some fantastic teachers, out-going and caring teachers who just miss-connect with Dyslexic students because they are taught certain methods to help these students.

Yet, none of us who have Dyslexia are the same. We learn differently, absorb information uniquely and have certain techniques we use every day to cope with being slightly outside the bubble. The bubble of the normal people, I used to call it. We will never be ‘normal’ because we are extraordinary like everyone else. What is normal anyway? Until relationships are in place and students feel safe to tell teachers their fears, they will never truly feel connected in the classroom.

Dyslexia is personal. It is a way of processing and assembling new information into a schema that makes sense to us. This never really happened for me until high school. Not because at the time, 1980's a lot was understood about Dyslexia or that a bunch of new strategies presented themselves to teachers of the time period. It was because of relationships that were made with my teachers. The tools they provided were not mandated or measured, they worked because they came from a place of security and that is why I incorporated them into my learning framework. Now this is not to say that there aren't some amazing strategies out there for teaching Dyslexic students. For me, it means that these methods are just the shape of the solutions, the middle and ultimately the vibrancy will come from a teacher’s time, patience and communication.

When you see a student pull away and retreat- nudge them back in, not with new strategies alone, but with conversation. A current student I have, who is Dyslexic, told me this, on an exit ticket, she wrote this amazing response and I find it the most meaningful feedback, I have ever received. Not because it is positive, but because I wish I had had a teacher whom I could have said this to growing up. It is a reminder that we often forget to just listen.

"I have never been good at science. Too many words and concepts being thrown at me, bombarding me. When I asked questions it was, see me after class, or come to tutorials. I didn't want to spend extra-time learning something everyone else was learning in class. But, since I have been in your class, the vocabulary is presented in so many ways, I get to talk to you one to one every week, and I have lots of time to talk to other students. You really listen to what I need and make sure I get it. I know I am smart, I just need to be reminded sometimes. Not with grades or praise, but with after a hard lesson, I get it. I get to leave the classroom feeling as smart as other students. This is why, I love your class."

Line, Speed, Beauty: A Semblance of Being

Perfect your line. Build your speed. Make it beautiful.

Line

Every letter and shape begins with one. The first placement of the writing instrument on the page, the mark produced by a quick action of the wrist. A line emerges. Straight or curved, font determined by the angle, the momentum, the slant. Lines can be crisp delineations or contours shaping the landscape. They can be demarcations, separations and borders: each for security or independence.  Lines can be tactile, like braille, or communicative like Morse Code. Dashes, hyphens or bars, each representing sounds or words. Even just a simple scribble, an expression of boredom or distraction embodies emotion in a subtle, unassuming way. Lines shape, distinguish and embody.

Lines can be measured, meters or inches. They can be divided, traced and configured. They are tangible images, we get in our heads from an early age. "Line up at the door," or "Form a queue." We as humans feel more organized if we have a line. A line for coffee, for the restroom, even on the highway, traffic is a line of cars. If our vehicles were strewn all over the place, travel would be chaos.This is why we have yellow or white divider lines down freeways, thoroughfares and roads. They keep the flow of our lives organized. Like the grooves of a stream, as it curves and meanders down the landscape. It is a force, the simple line, in almost every aspect of our lives. A symbol of specificity. A broker of mathematics, language and science.

Bilateral or symmetry there is a furrow or wrinkle that separates. Sometimes a line is marked. Sometimes it is implied, like the Equator or Tropic of Capricorn: recognized and honored but very much imaginary in nature. Windows are framed, doorways arched, by lines. Silhouettes are shadowed with a darkening of an edge. A shoulder between obscurity and light. Yet, this shaded profile illuminates. It creates a figure we recognize. Lines can limit, but they can also maximize liberation. People often say "A line has been crossed." Meaning in some trenchant way expectations were marred. Feelings were hurt, morals were strained. Yet, the borderline, the perimeter was never defined. It was never agreed upon. This line, the mark in the sand, we often draw around our comfortability, is personal, it is very much real, if only in our minds.

The problem arises when the periphery is fluid and our expectations are not made clear. Borders are set politically, so that this miscommunication, can be kept to a minimum. These margins of countries and counties are there to bring order. They are not always fair or logistically sound, but they are purposeful. They are in place to keep a semblance of normalcy. To keep a framework for movement of goods, to protect and manage commerce and travel. Again, not always fair but purposeful. The imaginary, personal lines we set up around ourselves are no different. They maintain an assumption of protection and communication. Yet, they are often inflexible, causing closed mindedness. They often construct high walls of separation, not allowing situations, in which one can grow and expand.

Perfect your line. Lines do not need to be permanent. Nor do they need to be guarded at all times, constricting the mobility of wanderers. We build relationships by lowering our drawbridge and allowing others to venture in and share ideas and emotions. When we sit atop a fortified tower, we isolate ourselves. To perfect our line, we need to build multiple spiral staircases, open our portcullis and allow others to take up residence. Our line needs to be permeable, accessible and manageable. If we place too heavy of a garrison, not only will others retreat, but many will never cross the expanse to even try to form an alliance. Step one- a line should never be forged in steel. Stone is strong and durable, but with the right tools, it can also be re-imagined and reset. Lines should be conceived and generated to bend and flex with the times. The speed at which it is erected, ultimately guides the level of beauty it exudes.

Speed

Speed is relative. Time appears to many, as slow and truncated. For others, situations are a blur. How we set our inner clock determines our perspective. We rush through certain situations because they make us uncomfortable. While, when we are in a place of calm and joy, we tend to stretch it out, making sure we get to experience every moment of it. If we haphazardly construct our sense of things, we miss opportunities. Our framework may seem sound, but it is tittering, due to uneven layers and misshapen memories. But, if we take each brick, each new experience and reflect, add mortar in balanced, smooth, seams- just maybe with time to dry and settle, they will add strength and fortitude to the fabric of our tapestry.

In other words, if we slow our speed, just a little, we can pick up more nuances and frame our border more accurately. We hang this masterpiece, this construction of reality, around us, the vibrancy of life, each panel an adventure we have taken. To prevent unraveling we must secure each thread. These stones and filaments, strands and slabs form the line- the boundary between ourselves and others. Speed matters. Perfection does not. Step two- use a level, well-constructed material and patience to lay the foundation of your perspective. The more we allow for alterations, the more freedom we allow ourselves, to climb over and walk around, rather than getting stuck behind our own misconceptions.

Beauty

The beauty of freedom of expression is that you feel like yourself, you are no longer tied down behind a wall of limitations. The highest part of the wall is often erected not by you, but by those who wish to have their boundaries secure. Beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder. But exposure to the difficult, the overwhelming, the disquieting, is important for our well being. This emotional roller coaster not only allows us to empathize and sympathize, it allows us to recognize the beauty in everything. Above all it forces us to see the details, the differences, the eccentricities, that make us all individuals. We may not like what we see, or hear, but we need to appreciate the value in creativity, individuality and personal expression.

The artistry of the disgusting is a marketable form of entertainment. Some thrive on watching and interacting with the uneasy. Others shy away from the unnerving, that is the nature of the beast. Freedom of expression does not bring unity, it brings discordance. It brings to the surface outspoken and determined individuals whose purpose is to destroy these liberties. But more tragically, to squelch the privilege to express it. The beauty of life is that it is a cycle- carbon, water, energy. Each have an ebb and flow, but are never created nor destroyed. They transform. Opinions, extravagances and influences do as well. Yet, these lines, these personal boundaries, often do not.

Beauty is everywhere. It appears not only before triumph and success, but after tragedy and failure. It is embedded in language and meaning, mathematics and science. It is visible on the faces of children, tasted in amazing food and felt in meditative and exciting experiences. It is absent in hatred, greed and prejudice. It is lost in moments of outrage and anger, yet it is found in resolve and forgiveness. Lines form profiles and open up frontiers. They change the flow of matter and energy. They transform neighborhoods, halt progress and build bridges. Above all, lines create a sense of pride, design new ways of doing things, because we are forced to step around them, they detach, emancipate and rescue. They are life lines as much as they are borderlines.

Step three- see the line, keep it fluid. Cultivate it and nurture it rather than simply construct it. This line should be not preventative but inviting. We all have these borders. Its a part of being human. But, we also have the consciousness to be aware of our limitations and expand our mind set. This is growth. So, lines ultimately are beauty itself, because they are a part of everything and everything: star dust, molecules of carbon and water, waves of light and energy- these aspects of our world are a part of us. Line, speed, beauty- each a layer of existence, each a building block of humanity. Now all we need to do is stop and smell the roses and see how the three combine to bring a perfect semblance.

You Wouldn't Put Gravy on a Salad, Would You?

You Wouldn't Put Gravy on a Salad, Would You?

You wouldn't put gravy on a salad, would you?" This statement came forth from my mouth the other day, as I was explaining an enrichment assignment to my students. They wanted to take it to another level, I am all for this by the way, when it is appropriate. But, when it is to be completed in a class period, the adornments that time permits, on many occasions are reigned in. "But at home, if you want to "I said, "add the milk, bring it to a boil and add yourself some gravy." As I said it, I could envision thick, gloppy, warm gravy, being poured over a perfectly layered Cobb salad. In some countries gravy can mean a salad dressing, but for me it means the heavy accoutrement to meat and potatoes. Not a salad condiment. I imagined the hard boiled eggs, blue cheese and bacon, swimming in the brown, murky sauce. To some maybe a delicacy, to me, it would make the lettuce wilt and warm, thus not very appetizing. 

"Why would anyone do that," I asked myself silently? Some may however, find a dark, savory gravy perfect on a salad, so we have to remember to make our lessons approachable for them as well. This blog post is my response to this question. What I find to be the best way to align gravy and a salad. But again, everyone sees the world differently and our taste buds are unique. Enrichment and engagement in the classroom, taste buds aside, do not always need embellishment, they need substance and alignment. They need a strong connection and relevance. Thus, sometimes when we want to 'bling' up an enrichment lesson, or any activity for that matter, we sometimes pay more attention to the sequins and less on the functionality of the bedazzlement.

Not all lessons need a shiny coat, some simply need a polished delivery. When students can see themselves in the purpose, recognize their reflection among the depths and layers, the assignment becomes more than learning, it becomes personal. Most of us love gravy, or at least sauces and embellishments, on our meat and potatoes. Most of us love salads too, some ornate and some basic with just lettuce, tomato and croutons. But, most of us do not love gravy on a salad, we wouldn't even think of pouring it on top. If we did we would have salad chowder and that does not sound appetizing, at least to me anyway. There is a reason a crisp salad is a pre-entree dish and the warm gravy is not. One is an aperitif, while one is added as a layer to an already well-prepared dish. In our classrooms we are usually rushed for time, re-teaching concepts and just plainly trying to make our lessons memorable. Gravy is not the only answer to bring engagement.

There is no perfect lesson.

There is no perfect lesson. There I said it and it pains me to. I know as educators, we have great ones. We have those, what seem to be, life-changing lessons, where we go home at the end of the day proud and satisfied that our students were engaged. We watched their eager, committed faces as they participated, collaborated and completed the task with excitement. But, then the next day, after a warm-up assignment, asking them to share their insight and reflection of the same activity, their answers fall short. We get a true eye opener. We let out a deep sigh, look back on what seemed like the perfect lesson and reflect. Were students engaged? Yes. Were students participating and interacting? Yes. Were students having fun, were they learning? Yes. So why then, did the information we wanted them to learn, slip through the cracks? We 'blinged up' the lesson. We poured gravy all over it and beneath the scrumptious sauce, the heart of the lesson, the nuts and bolts, or should I say fiber and healthy calories, got lost.

What students remember most is what we say the most. What we as educators demonstrate the most. What we let our students explore and investigate the most. But, often we give them step by step procedures, or we tell them what we expect them to discover. This doesn't always remove the engagement. Many students want these solutions, it makes them feel safe and comfortable. What we need to do, however, is remove them and let students struggle. Let them feel uncomfortable and vexatious. For when they do, the lesson becomes more culminating: each step may not be a precise print we can follow to witness their growth, but these indentations, will lead in the same direction, changing as they figure out the best terrain for themselves. Leave off the how, the where and the when they should see progress and focus on the why. When we understand the why, we can see the rest, as they fall in to place. We can see the layers of the Cobb salad.

Strategies for Designing 'Bling' without Losing the 'Cling.'

I am no expert. Not even close, but I do have years of experience creating successful lessons, lessons I thought were boring, but that students learned a lot from and of course many a lesson that fell flat. I have a very active, chaotic mind. I change lessons literally as students are entering my classroom. I rarely write anything down, much to the dismay of my team. I see the lesson, play it over in my mind and then at the last minute, I see a different route. I ask myself, "What if I hated science? What would engage me in this lesson?" Now, sometimes I add 'bling' or more 'cling' but more often than not, I remove myself from the lesson. I make it more student-centered.

I blow the bubbles into the air and let them choose to pop them between their hands, chase them and watch them burst, or on their desks, I provide bubble solution and let them create their own. But more importantly, I give them the opportunity to make their own bubble solution. Let them try and fail until they get the mixture just right. Not just right for me, but just right for them. Not every student does well with complete freedom. Some need more guidance, while some need specifics. But, bubbles are shiny and translucent, just enough to lure most of them in. Whether they want to chase or create. Bubbles are the independence and self-guidance every student longs for. Here are some strategies I do in my class to keep the bubbles afloat and student choice bountiful.

1. Rather than a handout or worksheet- I provide some objects on a table and have them write a lab to demonstrate a concept. For instance: How does the Circulatory and Respiratory systems work together? (Supplies-balloons, straws of different sizes, a clear container, water and red food coloring)

2. Go Big or Go Home- I love enlarging things- students made giant cells (with large organelles to go inside) we also use giant arrows to create a huge food chain of the forest. Each student gets an arrow or an animal and they have to work together to assemble it. It’s a fun way for them to see something often unobservable become tangible.

3. Digital does not mean more engaging- In fact when I ask my students if they want to use technology they more often than not choose a hands on approach. My class is a blended classroom so they do get assignments and notes on-line but in class, they prefer to use the makerspace and build with Lego, Play-Doh or other colorful materials. But, for those who do prefer technology, I always have an alternative idea for them to tackle.

4. Digital can be a good thing too- Students, rather than completing reflection sheets after labs or activities, create podcasts. Either individual or group. They then share to Canvas, our on-line classroom platform. This makes students choose their words and have to be precise and specific in their reflection. It is more personal when you have to explain what you saw, what you learned, how well you worked together, then just copying someone else's words from a lab sheet. It makes them take more responsibility for their learning.

5. Differentiation of Notes- Visual, Sketch, Thinking Maps or your own organizational note-taking style. I let my students choose how they want to make their notes. I check them, they are graded which does hold them accountable, but I give them the freedom to get creative. The only requirements- some drawings, words and all concepts have to be covered in the notes.

6. 1-Minute Check-In's- 1 minute a week per student. Sometimes they are in groups, if there is a project or PBL happening, this helps me gauge their progress. But most weeks, it is face to face, one to one. Every student, every week. For some students it is more than once a week, depending on need. But these chats are fantastic. At the beginning of the year they were awkward but now we are comfortable with one another. We talk science, classroom struggles, or just life. But it is the relationship building that is so important. My behavior management is amazing because, if I have a student fumble, we chat. If a student’s grade drops, we chat. Everyone comes to my table to chat. So there is no whispering, they expect a conversation. These are enlightening- they have shaped my lessons, my classroom design and my teaching style. They are the best thing I have come up with as an educator, hands down.

Salads are Great, but Gravy is Tasty

Each of these strategies removes the gravy. It helps the salad be the center-piece. They are not embellishments or adornments but simplifications and components of the big picture, my student-centered classroom. I have altered and refined them based on student feedback. I have shared them at local and state conferences. I have adopted them as the foundation for my entrée. The main course of my festive, family dinner. Community building is the key to any student-centered classroom. A village has generalists and specialists. Classrooms do too. Let students choose which role they want to take in your classroom. Provide them with the tools to do their task, the freedom of how to do it and the guidance to make mistakes, problem-solve and make their own choices and a student-centered classroom will emerge.

Salads are great, they are the core of the dinner. Opening our taste buds, settling our hunger until the main course arrives. Whether our dinner is laden with gravy, meat and potatoes, vegetarian, or even vegan, the salad is the precursor. It is the fiber and roughage that helps us digest. Just as a solid lesson helps students digest new information. Gravy can be vegetarian too. It makes everything more palatable, for some. It is heavy though. Filling. So we need a balance between the two and hopefully never the two shall mix, at least not for me. You wouldn’t put gravy on a salad, would you? or would you? The choice is definitely yours, and my students of course.