I heart my trainer

This past July, 15 minutes before being picked up to go the airport, I was putting the last few items into a small suitcase that I intended to carry-on for my flight to London. My mom, sister, and I were taking a 10-day trip to England and France. Many hours of planning had preceeded this moment, including several conversations about the appropriate shoe choices for a trip that would include miles of walking every day. (My mother knows me all too well--style always trumps comfort in my shoe collection.)

As I leaned over my bed and picked up the smallest suitcase I've ever packed for at trip, a sharp pain ripped through my lower back. I cried out words I cannot put on this blog, dropped the suitcase, and leaned on my bed. For several minutes, I couldn't move because of the pain and the lack of strength to support myself. Finally, I was able to stand up and carefully get myself out the door and into the car to go to the airport. Needless to say, I checked my bag and spent the first half of the trip nursing my very sore back while walking around London and Paris in ugly, but sensible, sandals.

When I returned home, I decided it was ridiculous and embarrassing that a 34-year old woman would pull a muscle in her back by picking up a light-weight suitcase. So, I joined a health club near my home, but knew I would need someone to hold me accountable for using it. I forked over enough money to buy several nice pairs of shoes and signed up for a small group fitness class that meets three days a week for an hour each day and is led by a personal trainer.

For the first three weeks, it was okay. I was trying lots of different equipment and completing intervals of cardio on the elliptical machines. I wondered daily if I was making any progress, but when I asked my trainer about tracking my progress with data, he said I would not see any noticeable improvement for 6 months.

Then, during week 4, we had a 'substitute' trainer, since our normal guy was on vacation. During the first workout with him, Paul walked around as we sweated our way through a series of exercises and made several small suggestions to me to correct my form--lean back more, keep your elbows in, stand a little farther away from the machine. Then, he stood and watched me complete a few more reps to ensure I understood the corrections before he moved on. During our cardio workouts, he provided speed or incline settings to make sure we were pushing ourselves. That week, I got a lot of 'thumbs up' from him, which did not mean 'great job,' but actually indicated I needed to increase my speed or incline to work harder.

I needed that. And I appreciated that he was paying attention to me as an individual and pushing me when I needed to be pushed. Starting with week 5, I switched to Paul's class. The class meeting time is not as convenient, but the benefits of working with him far outweigh the drawbacks of being at the gym at 7 p.m.

Since I have spent my entire adult life avoiding any kind of physical activity, I've reflected a lot about why I'm so motivated to exercise now (sometimes I even go to the club on 'off days' and work out by myself!). Here's what I've concluded:

• my trainer cares about me as an individual; he knows my goals and can tell the minute I'm not working toward them with my best effort (see: 'thumbs up')
• my trainer provides me with personalized feedback at every session; the changes he suggests are small and manageable enough, so I never feel overwhelmed
• my trainer makes sure I can complete the task properly before he leaves my side
• my trainer collects data on my progress
• he weighs, measures, and pinches me-it's not as bad as it sounds
• my trainer has a plan and sets goals
• exercises are selected prior to our arrival and we are provided with a printout of the cardio workout, so we know what's coming next
• my trainer never asks me to do something that will result in a feeling of failure
• I'm always able to run for the required length of time and lift the required amount of weight
• my trainer takes an interest in who I am outside of the health club and shares things about himself--he wears women's socks, by the way.

Take the word 'trainer' and replace it with 'teacher.' Now, we're onto something...

What are you reading?

I walked into one of the Reading Labs at school this afternoon--a place where students who are two or more years below grade level in reading receive an extra dose of literacy instruction four days a week. The teacher was at a table in the corner listening to a student read aloud to her quietly, while the other students were scattered around the room in comfortable chairs or on shaggy rugs on the floor independently reading books of their choice. As I tip-toed over to the assessment materials I needed, I noticed a girl slouched against the book shelf with two books sitting next to her, neither of which she was reading. And she did NOT look happy. Since I have never met this girl, I smiled as I stepped past her, but did not approach her. A few minutes later, when I had what I needed from the room, I could not resist any longer. I kneeled down to her, smiled again, and said, "What are you reading?" Now, this question was meant to be a non-threatening entrance point into a conversation during which I fully intended to hear something like, "Nothing. I hate reading. All the books in this room are boring." This is the point where I usually put on my superhero costume and rescue the student from a life without reading.
However, to my suprise, she smiled back and said, "Summer of Secrets. But I forgot it at home today." Knowing this book is one of an extremely popular series among teens at my school, I promptly found a copy in the library and brought it back to the room for the girl. I explained that we could keep the library copy at school for her, so she didn't have to remember to bring her only copy back and forth.
If you work with struggling readers, you know that a lot of the time it is quite the elaborate process getting students to engage in reading for enjoyment, but have faith that, sometimes, it can be as simple as asking, "What are you reading?"

So typical.

I met with a reading teacher at a local high school last week to help her learn how to use data to place students into her English class for struggling readers. Unfortunately, the meeting was convened because on the first day of school, there was only one student on her roster. Although she works in a high-performing high school, I was quite sure there was more than one struggling sophomore reader wandering the halls.

As we were starting the meeting, a new student, who had just been added to the class, wandered in the room. The student, who I'll call Callie, had shoulder length blond and hot pink hair-probably not her natural colors. As her eyes, heavily outlined in black, scanned the room of mostly adults, she thought there clearly must be mistake on her schedule.

The teacher explained this was an English/Reading course and asked Callie if she had any idea how she had been placed here. Callie shrugged her shoulders and said,

"No."

So, the teacher pressed on and asked Callie what kind of grades she received in English last year. Callie smirked and said,

"I failed English."

Next, the teacher asked Callie if she's ever had difficultly reading.

"I can read just fine," was her response.

I couldn't resist. I have heard these identical responses many, many times, so I asked Callie about her other classes last year and what kinds of grades she received in those classes. She smiled.

"I don't really DO school. I'm just not motivated to do my work."

BINGO. I can tell you with complete certainty, 'I don't do school' is code for 'I tried, but I failed so many times that I just gave up. It's easier to fail because I'm not trying, than to fail because I did try.'

Since we were planning a data dig during the meeting anyhow, I looked up Callie's history of standardized reading assessments. As a 7th grader, she was reading at an appropriate level for her age. However, on the same assessment a year later, her score remained exactly the same, which now meant that she was falling about a year behind her peers.

I said to Callie, "Let me guess, it was sometime during 8th grade when you decided to 'not do school' anymore. Am I right?"

She laughed and said, "Yep!"

I knew it. Callie's situation and responses are SO typical of struggling readers - 'I don't do school,' 'I'm just not a good test-taker,' 'I didn't really try on that test,' 'I wasn't feeling well that day.' Unfortunately, a lot of adults buy these stories from kids and then shrug their shoulders. And I get it! It's easier to accept a reason that is out of our control or realm of responsibilty, than to talk with students about their poor reading histories that cannot be chalked up to a bad test day and procede to DO something to help those students grow as readers.

But, we have to. We have to intervene and provide the support students need to develop skills they will use for the rest of their lives no matter what occupation they pursue.

By the way, there were 60 struggling readers in the sophomore class. Not just one.

A Clean Slate

A while back, I deleted by personal blog because I wanted to have one for work and it seemed silly to have to maintain two. However, many times since deleting this blog, I wanted to share stories, resources, or ideas that didn't quite seem relevant for the work blog. So, here I am again with a fresh page-kind of nice to start with a clean slate.

Don't we all need that sometimes? A clean slate? I think that's one of the things teachers love about a new school year. Everyone wants and deserves a fresh start-administrators, teachers, students. Struggling readers, especially, can demonstrate some pretty unappealing behaviors. And when those behaviors surface in April, May, and June, teachers can simply be too exhausted to dig deeper and try to uncover the real issues.

However, it's a new school year. If you are a teacher, and you find some of the same challenging students' names on your rosters this year, channel some of that 'new year energy' and do your best to give all of your students the benefit of a clean slate. If they can, they will. If they can't, they need you desperately.