She did it! After three weeks on her individualized behavior contract, Aniyah finally earned enough points to present a special cheering show in front of the whole class.
As she stepped into the spotlight, Aniyah was surprisingly shy, unlike her attitude when giving frequent, disruptive cheers at inappropriate times. This “command performance” cheer was a bit more subdued. Yet as her friends cheered her on, her face brightened, and you could hear a sense of pride reverberating through her voice.
She cheered while clapping out each letter, “A-N-I-Y-A-H, A-N-I-Y-A-H, Aniyah, Aniyah, I am Aniyah! Aniyah, Aniyah, Aniyah!”
When I shared news of Aniyah’s show with her brother and mother the following day, the pride became contagious. Her family members smiled widely and seemed relieved that Aniyah was showing progress.
Aniyah’s road to victory was not quick and easy. She initially responded to the point system just as she had to our whole class color card behavior system, asking me angrily why I gave her a one or a two or a yellow or blue card instead of connecting her behavior to the negative consequence.
As we had one-on-one conversations each day, focused on her specific behaviors and the number of points that corresponded with them, she began to grasp the relationship between her choices and the consequences. Towards the second week, I would ask her how many points she thought she earned for the day, and she could usually guess correctly based on her own assessment of her behavior.
What does Aniyah’s behavior look like on the rug now? She usually listens to her friends and me attentively and rarely creates a disturbance by calling out. We, of course, still have our cheering moments, but these have become exceptions.
Perhaps best of all, Aniyah’s behavioral improvements have facilitated intellectual growth. She engages more actively in discussion during stories, making predictions and thinking critically about how to solve the characters’ problems. Just last week, she posed the “water car” solution to the problem in Leo Lionni’s classic, Swimmy. After losing his school of fish to one deep sea predator, Swimmy found another school of small fish so petrified of big tuna fish that they would not swim around the ocean. Aniyah’s solution required the small fish to drive a water car out of the ocean away from the big tuna fish. Aniyah was so focused that she not only suggested the idea but also wrote “wtr car” on our solutions list without guidance from me.
Her behavioral and academic progress have gone hand in hand, and I look forward to more improvements in the months ahead. This is one contract that both sides of the table are happy with.
Last week, I had another round of bilateral talks - a.k.a. parent-teacher conferences - which again revealed the importance for pre-k teachers to possess good “diplomatic skills.”
Going into the conferences, I was enthused about discussing my children’s progress. Tanasia, who had struggled to come out of her shell, is now participating throughout the day and moving forward in basic math and literacy skills. A look at David’s writing folder demonstrates clear and constant growth, progressing from self-portraits he labeled with the letter “D” to short sentences written with little guidance using invented spelling.
I grew concerned, though, as I considered a few remaining difficulties with two family members in particular: Kevin’s grandmother, who emphatically disapproves of our literacy program; and Tyrique’s mother, who after more than five attempts to reschedule during the last cycle of conferences still never came.
Despite my efforts to engage her, Kevin’s grandmother had barely spoken to me since our confrontation in January. She had, however, continued to complain to Ms. Morrison during the after-school program proclaiming, “I can’t wait until this year is over.” While this round of conferences focused more heavily on social development and an explanation of a new assessment, I decided to start off our conversation with positive comments relating to her primary concern: literacy. I began by discussing Kevin’s ability to read short sentences with little guidance from me (for example, he can read, “I like to see the fat cat run on the mat.”). I showed her a short, teacher-made assessment I gave to Kevin the day before and modeled how he used his knowledge of letters, letter sounds, and sight words to read. She was so overjoyed with this positive communication that I was able to shift gears and discuss Kevin’s need for further development in other skill areas, such as taking on roles in Dramatic Play, taking turns, and using words to solve conflicts.
Given her absence from the previous conference, I did not expect Tyrique’s mother to respond to the school’s formal efforts to set up conferences for this round. I therefore made plans to reach out to her informally about two weeks before. In addition to mentioning something positive about Tyrique’s performance each time she came in, I would say that I couldn’t wait to talk more about it and show her his great work at the conferences. The day of the conferences she said she couldn’t stay, but we rescheduled for the next morning. I made a comment about celebrating Tyrique over muffins in the morning. She laughed and at 7:45 the next morning was at my door. We had a productive conference and even discussed some behavioral issues which she too has noticed at home.
In both of these cases, I believe it was my ability to talk with parents about their children in a positive light that helped us get past indifference and hostility. It goes to show that, even when parents and teachers don’t see eye to eye or see each other frequently, communication between a child’s home and school is achievable and beneficial to all.
Certain birthdays represent meaningful thresholds in our society; times at which someone decided we are ready to take on new responsibilities. After seeing Aniyah today on her birthday, I’m beginning to think we should add the big ZERO-FIVE to that list.
Aniyah often has difficulty concentrating on group work and respecting others when they are speaking, but today I saw improvement. During clean-up time I noticed Aniyah reminding her friends to put their name cards back. We all know that if we forget, we will have to wait a couple of minutes before going to choice time the next day. As Aniyah told classmates to “put your cards back, and be responsible” with a sing-song tone, I rushed over and thanked her for being such a great cheerleader.
We decided, spur of the moment, on a new title that connects her affinity for cheering to the classroom activities: Responsibility Cheerleader. Her face lit up, and she smiled as she repeated the cheer while heading into the bathroom to wash her hands before lunch time. I plan on applying this role to other parts of the day and think that, if she takes ownership of the cheer and receives encouragement and appreciation from me, the new role could, in fact, make her more responsible and respectful of her friends.
Aniyah also did a great job focusing during whole-group time on the rug, usually a challenging activity for her. When she did call out disruptively, I did not call on her. She ended up crying, because she did not get a chance to convey her thoughts. I consider that a breakthrough as it indicates she is caring more about participating in discussions than doing her own thing.
Now, I’m not really sure if it was a heightened sense of maturity on her birthday that led to Aniyah’s super day or her mother’s promise of a Princess Barbie birthday party in return for better behavior. So, I’m covering my bases and have spoken with her mother about an individualized behavior contract, which I plan on creating with Aniyah tomorrow morning. As I have learned from experience, if we can isolate those behaviors we want to change and design rewards around a child’s interests, the child, the family, and I can more effectively focus on specific problems and lasting solutions.
In my classroom, setting and working tirelessly toward goals are crucial to our overarching theme of going from “good to great.” I set goals for my students, use data to assess our progress toward those goals, and design lessons based on those analyses. Likewise, I aim to instill in my students the importance of reflecting about areas in which we can improve and addressing those areas in order to grow as learners. I also want to invest families in this process in order to ensure that a goal oriented mindset stays with my students after they graduate from pre-k.
As part of our celebration of the New Year, we made resolutions with our families. Each student received a note and blank resolution card
the first day back last week. Students returned the cards after coming up with a resolution with family members at home.
2007 New Years Resolutions
Tyrone and his mother: Our goal is to read more words and count more numbers.
David and his mother: Our goal is to read two books every night and find more words and letters.
Sierra and her family: As a family our goal is to spend more time reading and sharing our thoughts.
Derrell and his mother: Our goal is to improve Derrell’s writing of letters.
Tyrique and his mother: Our goal is to strive for the best together.
Awana and her mother: Our goal is to identify numbers and the alphabet and to work on writing Awana’s first and last name.
Karen and her grandmother: Our goal is to read one new book a night and write down two new words out of the book.
Fuquan and his mother: Our goal is to read a book every night.
Kevin and his grandmother: Our goal is to help Kevin read a book until he understands how to read alone.
Jeffrey and his mother: Our goal is to learn how to tie our shoelaces.
Ravon, his mother, and father: Our goal is to sing more songs together such as “The Wheels on the Bus.”
Friday morning, 7:45 am, and still no Ms. Alexander. Tyrique’s mother and I have now set up four alternative conference times to meet about Tyrique. Each time she has said she would make it. Each time I have provided several oral and written reminders; and each time, she has not shown. Tyrique is not a major behavior problem, but he did come in among the lowest academically in the class. He could barely identify any of the letters in his name and struggled to pick up on basic book handling skills. We have a lot to discuss, but still, Ms. Alexander doesn't come. She does come, however, to other parental events: Family Show and Tell, Giving Thanks, Halloween Costume Parade, Tyrique's birthday party. She comes late, but she comes, nonetheless.
I grow frustrated and decide instead to focus solely on Tyrique and our work inside the classroom. With our efforts to target his needs in one-on-one, small group, and whole group interactions, Tyrique has now started to identify beginning sounds and some letters in words on his own. He can also write his name and read the names of his friends.
Is family support important? Of course. But what happens when difficulties with parental investment arise, even as early as pre-k? Does the child become a lost cause? Of course not. Should teachers relinquish their own responsibility? Just the opposite.
Partnership and cooperation between teachers and parents are so critical to pre-k. What happens at home impacts events at school and vice versa. Even though I spend months interacting with my students, recording their progress, and collecting their work samples, I need parental involvement to fully understand each child’s interests and needs. And I need parents’ trust if I’m going to get the information that, as David’s mother put it, will help their children go “sky high and have a better life.”
For example, last week our school held a parent-teacher conference night. But well before that week, I laid the groundwork to make sure my students’ parents came. I share information about their child's progress 2-3 times per week, either orally for those parents who drop off and pick up their children or through informal notes to those parents who work during school hours. I also reinforce that they are always welcome in my classroom by inviting them to special events like “Family Show and Tell” and our “Giving Thanks Party.” The use of both formal written invitations and constant oral reminders to anyone and everyone in the family we see helps boost attendance and demonstrate my sincere desire to invest each family member in their child’s education. Then, during conferences, I use an open dialogue format, as opposed to a more overbearing and arrogant top-down approach with me talking at them. Rather than just delivering and explaining the report card, I use an individualized action plan to guide discussion of the child’s strengths, target areas, and ways both families and I can move the child forward.
This last time, thirteen out of fourteen parents or guardians showed up for conferences. Several parents remarked that their child does things like rhyming and retelling stories at home -- activities I’d not seen these children do in school. This information is invaluable, since I now know the issue is not a skill deficit but a matter of not feeling comfortable or motivated to show these skills in the classroom. Now I can design teaching strategies that more accurately reflect each child’s needs. Thank you, families!
I think results like these prove that parents will make time to be involved if teachers make time for them and create strong home-school connections.
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