This article was written as part of the High Tech High Graduate School of Education Masters in Education Leadership Program. For their Capstone Project, all members of the cohort identify a problem of practice within their sphere of influence and use improvement science to identify solutions and achieve measurable gains.
My fourth-grade classroom was covered in cardboard boxes. The entire back wall was piled high with donated boxes. The tables were covered in glue and paint cups sat in the sink. As I began to clean up some paint splatters, I smiled to myself as I thought about how I ended up in this situation.
I had recently introduced Genius Hour to my students—a time during the week (actually ninety minutes in our case) when they could pursue their own passions. Every Friday we gathered in a circle around the carpet. We explored what broke our hearts, what brought us joy, the big questions we wondered about, and how we could help our community. It was a time in the week that students felt like citizens of the world instead of just students in a school. At this point, students were brainstorming their own passion project. There were only three rules: Learn something, create something, present something. We would be working on these projects for 90 minutes each week and we would be displaying them in three months at the district-wide Community Open House. The classroom was filled with energy as students wrote their proposals. I couldn’t wait to read them.
After school I sat in my classroom with the door closed, the proposals in front of me. The topics were as unique as the students. Yet, proposal after proposal, every single one of my students wanted to make a poster and present it to the class. I was disappointed and wondered where I had gone wrong. I didn’t want this to fail. I knew this project was being watched to see if Genius Hour was a good use of time in the elementary school. It had been successful in the high school for a few years, led by a high school English teacher, Traci.
Traci was well-trusted throughout the district. She showed through her actions and words that she cared about students, stood firmly and passionately for her beliefs, and was a skilled educator. Traci was the engine behind introducing Genius Hour, and later a move towards project-based learning. Traci had recently spoken at a professional development on the topic and gave examples from her freshman class.
I knew reaching out to Traci would help me figure out what to do about my poster problem. Yet I worried Traci would think I was clueless or I had somehow messed up introducing Genius Hour. I didn’t want someone as smart and innovative as Traci to see me struggle. I looked up at my closed door, wishing my teammate would walk in and I could brainstorm with her. I even hoped that my principal would pop in and I could ask her for ideas. Neither scenario happened, but that was the moment I realized I was tired of teaching like I was on an island.
I opened my laptop and wrote an email to Traci:
To: Traci
From: Carly
Subject: Genius Hour Poster Problem
Hi Traci,
I am excited to be doing a Genius Hour in my class. The kids have picked their topics but their presentation proposals are all posters. Any advice or resources that I could look through to help them see the possibilities beyond posters?
Traci responded that night:
To: Carly
From: Traci
Subject: RE: Genius Hour Poster Problem
WHAT A WONDERFUL PROBLEM TO HAVE! I have an idea that might work…
I’ll bring my Adv. English 9 class to your room (next week?) and they can share their project proposals with your class (yay oral presentation skills!). They can then help your kiddos brainstorm beyond posters.
The plan was set. In Morning Meeting the next day I shared with my class that ninth-graders would be coming next week to help us expand our ideas. Every day after that a student would ask if this was the day the ninth-graders were coming. Seeing their excitement reaffirmed for me how powerful it is when students work authentically with others.
Finally it was the day of collaboration. Excited chatter filled the room as students wondered if their siblings or cousins would be one of the ninth-graders coming in. As the ninth-graders filed in, I directed them to sit with a fourth-grader until everyone had a partner. When everyone was paired off and spread out around the room Traci prompted the ninth-graders to give a one minute explanation of their project to their fourth-grade partner and then fourth-graders would have one minute to share their project idea. Ready, set, go!…nothing. The freshmen didn’t know how to talk to younger kids. My students were too scared to share their ideas with teenagers. Most pairs finished talking before a minute and an awkward silence began filling the room. Multiple times I tried to jump in to course correct, but Traci gave me subtle cues to hang back. By the end of our time together the room was buzzing. Traci taught me in that moment that we don’t need to save kids in moments of struggle; the struggle is part of the process.
That afternoon I heard a knock on my closed classroom door. It was Traci, she wanted to check in. As we chatted it became clear that both our classes enjoyed their time together. It was the beginning of a new partnership.
Our two classes continued to work together on Genius Hour by creating new projects together. The students led and we got out of the way. A small group of four ninth-graders who were in the same technology class proposed an idea to their fourth-grade partners. They wanted to each build an arcade game out of cardboard and with an element of technology. These games would be available for all to play at the upcoming community open house. At the end of our combined time that day Traci asked groups to share aloud their project ideas. After that group shared another pair chimed in to ask if they could join. And then another, and another. By the end, seventeen out of twenty paris wanted to be a part of the arcade. It was decided by a take-charge ninth-grader that the fourth-graders should decide which games to make and report back next week.
The following week the fourth-graders shared what game they wanted to make. There were doubles and triples of some of the games. Traci and I suggested that duplicates make groups of four in order to make the best use of time and resources. Some partners obliged, but others maintained that they wanted to try it on their own first.
I watched as a group of two ninth-graders taught two fourth-graders how to block code as they used a Sphero (a programmable ball) as a cue ball on their cardboard pool table. Another group of two learned about poetry as they painted poems on the back of their fishing game. A fourth-grader drew on our current science unit as he reminded his ninth-grade partner that the claw machine they built used a pulley and a lever.
Finally, it was the day of the Community Open House. Every student across the district would have work or a performance on display. The ninth- and fourth-graders met one more time that afternoon to lay out their games. Half the games would go in Traci’s classroom in the high school and the other half in my classroom in the elementary school. Finishing touches were added, last minute repairs were made, and groups tried out one another’s games. As the time drew closer to the end of the period we reconvened as a whole group in my classroom, where it all had started three months ago. Neither Traci nor I gave a final big speech. Instead we mingled with the students as the fourth-graders confidently high-fived the ninth-graders and the freshmen in return praised the ideas and work ethic of the fourth-graders.
At the Community Open House that night the fourth- and ninth-grade students proudly brought their families to the classroom to show the arcade games and shared how they were created. We had taken a picture of each group in front of their game to display with the game. When one of the quieter fourth-graders came through, she came to life as she showed her family the block code she learned to write.
I wished my students could have seen that I was learning as much as them in this experience. Sometimes teachers have to get out of the way and let students lead their learning. The process isn’t always what we envision it to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Teaching doesn’t have to be an isolated profession. Asking for help is one of the best things we can do as teachers. New partnerships are made and deeper learning experiences are had by students and teachers.
That one moment of courage to reach out and ask for help has changed me as an educator. Collaboration isn’t just for students; educators have to lead by example. When we do, we empower students to be so much more than just students in our classrooms.
Fullan, M. (2011). Learning is the work. www.michaelfullan.ca
Harris, S. (2015, April 1). Four essential practices for building trust. ASCD. https://www.ascd.org/el/articles/four-essential-practices-for-building-trust
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