On trusting my GPS…
Every time I drive into the Ottawa Valley area my GPS navigation device surprises me, transforming a simple road trip into an epic journey.
I begin with the destination, an address for a remote retreat-house. After three tries the GPS reveals a route and I select “Start Guidance,” trusting that the system will choose the best route, relieved that I can focus on singing to the radio and not on watching for the road signs. I let the GPS do the thinking for me.
Every time I drive into the Ottawa Valley area I trust my navigation system–and I get lost.
One summer, the GPS leads me down a one-way dirt trail. Rather than question the route, I trust the path will end shortly, miss the signs along the way, and end up on an old deserted railway trail, too remote for cellphone service.
Joy in the woods…
The woods are dynamic, peaceful, alluring, eerie. I splash through puddles the size of dinosaurs’ footprints on suffocated, narrow, washed-out roads lined with towering leafy green trees on one side and sprawling marshes on the other. It’s impossible to turn the car around. I can either go forward or backward. When I pass a number of old rusted abandoned cars, with flat tires and busted windows, wedged between trees or half-sunken in the marsh, I finally wonder if I made a wrong turn. Then I notice a crooked yellow sign: “Use at Own Risk.”
I am lost in the bush in my car for nearly three hours. It feels like time stands still, like I’ve slipped through a wormhole into an alternate universe.
Part of me is scared to be stuck, to be unsure of how I got here or how to get out of the woods. Part of me enjoys the experience of being lost in such a beautiful, still place—a place between my home and my destination. Thankfully I trust that the universe will eventually conspire to help me find my way, that an idea of how to turn my car around on this narrow trail will come to me when it needs to. I stop the car, put down the windows, turn off the engine, and sit on the old Kingston & Pembroke Rail Trail, drinking water and eating carrot sticks.
Why does this isolation feel both comforting and worrisome?
Like I’ve arrived at the place Shel Silverstein calls “where the sidewalk ends?”
I sit alone in the void and feel peaceful, connected, vulnerable, brave, and curious.
Then I start to ask questions. I wonder how it will play out if I get a flat tire? Will I walk back to the main road? Will I sleep in my car waiting for help? Will I cry? Can I die on this road?
When will I start to feel really scared? Why do I trust that it will all work out, that I will find my way, that this is just a temporary detour? I wonder if it’s normal to be feeling so at peace, to want to stay in-between, sitting in a void. I wonder if it’s normal to start writing this scenario in my head as I’m experiencing it, visualizing the lines of text, placement of punctuation, use of metaphor. Is this a weird writer thing to do?
I resist leaving this eerie comfortable place, but finally choose to drive forward. I reach a small clearing and with some careful manoeuvring I’m able to turn the car around and retrace my path back to the road where I made the first wrong turn.
Relieved to be on a main highway, tired from my reflection in the woods, I trust the GPS again. It consistently reroutes me to dirt trails and unconventional roads. After another couple of hours, I realize I will have to find my own way.
I stop the car, pull out the bag of maps from the trunk, determine my location, and begin to retrace the route to Highway 7 from some back roads near the town of Ompah. I regain control.
Sometimes life is symbolic
Then I see the first wild turkey on the side of the road. A few kilometres later I see another. Then another. Turkeys saunter out of the bushes like feathery, waddling breadcrumbs leading me to my destination for the next hour and a half. As I giggle about the sight of so many wild turkeys after the day I’ve had, and I think about the significance of turkeys as birds of thanksgiving, I drive through a town called Brightside. It’s a true story.
Learning can feel like being lost. Whenever I learn there is a point in the process where I feel misplaced, where I need to find my way through trial and error or asking for help or trusting wild turkeys.
Deep learning is rarely a simple road trip.
How do you know that you are learning something deeply?
Today I taught my first primary lesson. My background and experience is as a high school teacher and administrator. Now that I’m in my second year as an elementary principal I wanted to get into classes more, to become more familiar with curriculum in the various grades and subjects, and to explore different research-based teaching strategies.
In mid-September I invited classes to choose any subject for me to come in and teach one lesson. My stomach did flip flops at the thought of teaching grades and subjects that were new to me–and in front of my staff. But this was important to me. In exchange for the lesson I asked that the class and the teacher give me feedback on my teaching.
The first class to request a lesson was Grade 2/3. They wanted music.
The students know I am a singer (at our first assembly last year I sang Katy Perry’s “Firework” for them). I was thrilled to begin this journey with a subject I felt confident in so I could focus on teaching strategies.
To begin my work I reviewed our school board resources on assessment, including creating learning goals and success criteria. Then I reviewed the Music curriculum for Grade 2 and 3. The biggest challenge was to think about how to plan a stand-alone lesson with learning and assessment for a 50-minute period.
My learning focuses were creating a high level of student engagement, using learning goals and success criteria to design the lesson, and using a 3-part lesson.
After checking in with the teacher about what they’ve already learned in Music I decided to focus the lesson on singing the blues.
When I arrived I gave the teacher a copy of my lesson plan (as though it was my turn for a performance appraisal).
We are learning how to use music to bring people together and express emotion.
- I can use my feelings to generate ideas for a blues song.
- I can describe three characteristics of blues music.
I also wanted students to begin playing with composition and apply elements of music when singing but thought it would be best to share two with the students since it was only one period.
- Included links to three strands:
- Creating and Performing
- Reflecting, Responding, Analyzing
- Exploring Forms and Cultural Contexts
- Dynamics and expressive controls.
- Form (phrase, simple verse, and chorus).
- Sing in unison.
- Apply elements of music when singing.
- Create simple compositions for a specific purpose and familiar audience.
- The Blues Lesson Powerpoint slides (Email me if you want to PPT presentation. The file was too big to post here).
- Scroll through five items on the Smartboard: Harmonica, guitar, fedora, sunglasses, blue
- What do these items have in common?
- What type of music do they represent?
- What do you know about the blues?
The students liked trying to solve this puzzle. I scrolled through the items slowly. Most students guessed “rock and roll.” After we discovered the lesson would be about the Blues, only one student said she had heard them before “playing in the square in town.”
- What are the blues?
- Sing “Bring it on Home to Me” to the class as an example. Talk about the voice as an instrument. Sing the same lyrics in a couple different styles (opera, country, rock). Talk about how the blues use a belly voice or chest voice. Invite class to activate their belly voices by doing a simple warm-up, holding their stomach and saying “ho ho ho” like Santa Claus. Remind them that when they sing the blues they need to feel it in their tummies.
- Blues songs tell stories about life experiences, particularly about love and hard times.
- Blues songs use pianos, drums, guitars (rhythm and bass).
- Blues songs use repetition, improvisation, strong belly voice, and they express emotion.
Students sat straight up and their eyes popped out when I sang. It was fun to see them react this way. I used a big, deep voice. It wasn’t a classroom sing-song voice but a full blues belting voice. They enjoyed doing the warm-up and feeling their bellies move when they used their voices. One student said, “The blues sound like a lullaby.”
- What’s hard about being a kid?
- Brainstorm together
- Aim for details
- These ideas will be used to improvise verses for our blues song
My chart paper skills are definitely lacking. The students had so many ideas I couldn’t keep up with them. I think they could have gone all day sharing what’s hard about being a kid. (The stick figure in the center is supposed to be a kid).
- The Colborne Blues
- The Colborne Blues: I wrote a little song using the background track in the YouTube video below. I taught this chorus to the students and then improvised verses based on the ideas the students had given me. Then the students took turns improvising lyrics. (Sing starts at about 17 seconds.)
The students picked the tune up really quickly. All students sang or hummed along.
After singing through this together a few times I taught them how to use their voices to create a blues background track. Students then split into partners with person A singing the background beat and person B singing the Blues, either the song we learned or one they made up. Then we invited the pairs to sing their song to the class.
Here is a sample (featuring a couple students):
We needed more time! This was a good introduction but a week would have really helped them develop their vocal and improvisation skills. Mostly I wanted to see how open they were to experimenting with voice–next steps with this lesson would be giving them feedback to improve vocal quality and to have them spend time writing the blues before singing.
- We reviewed the learning goal and success criteria, discussing our learning so far. What impressed me most was how the students spoke about their learning–they are becoming more confident with this language.
- Then students watched The “Time-Out Blues” and answered these two questions:
- What is this song about?
- What makes this a blues song?
At the end of the lesson I asked the students for feedback. They asked me to come back–and I will. Next time I plan to bring a musician with me so they can hear some blues instruments. The teacher reminded me I need to leave more “think time” before calling on students, building in ways for them to brainstorm and practice independently. She’s right–I just saw all the eager hands and jumped into responses.
I’m looking forward to my next lesson. I’m not sure what it will be. A number of classes are struggling to reach consensus. The students are debating over Music or Healthy Active Living. One class said I could choose the subject (but three other students chanted “Gym” in the background.) I’m surprised they’re not trying to make things harder on me by picking subjects that are challenging.
I’ve learned so much from this about primary teaching and learning. This experience reinforced the idea for me of assessment over time and the importance of time for going deeply into a topic. It also took a lot of time to utilize learning goals, success criteria, and the 3-part lesson but all three were essential in grounding the lesson in learning, in being intentional about our limited time together.