The Power of Belief

 This past school year was an amazing learning experience for me. To see the power of belief overcome the doubts of self is so amazing. There were several examples of how believing in self changed the direction of students in my class.

On the first day of school, I received an email from a mom. She started off by saying her daughter came home from school in tears. These are not the words you want to hear after the first day of school. I continued reading and was surprised. The mom said that her daughter came home and said: “Mr. Hawley told me that I would learn everything I need to know for math in 5^th grade. For the first time, I believe it.” The mom said this brought tears to her eyes as well. Not only was she able to master 5^th grade math, but she was also able to be admitted into 6^th grade accelerated math.

There was a student who I had connected with in fourth grade in my class. She also had self-doubt. She struggled in the beginning of the school year, however, the atmosphere and encouragement in the classroom allowed her to move into the realm of understanding. She believed in herself.

I had another student who could not multiply at all. The first thing I did was show him that his test scores from fourth grade to the start of fifth grade showed him in the 95% of growth. He was able to explain and understand the calculation of volume but could not do the math. We proceeded to tackle the challenge of multiplication.  It took him two weeks to complete a multiplication chart. With some praise and encouragement, he was able to increase the understanding and ability to complete a multiplication chart in one class period. Encouragement to belief.

I had a set of twins that could not multiply. I struggled with them and found that every effort I was making was not resulting in understanding. I asked the second student mentioned above to help them one day while I was working with some advanced students. When I came back to check on them, I noticed that the student was demonstrating the box method and not the algorithm. Two things became clear to me. The first was that if they could not do the box method, they could not understand the standard algorithm. They were engaged and getting the work done. The second thing that became clear to me was that the student helping them was becoming more empowered in her understanding and confident in her math work.

These same twins could not understand the division algorithm. We had already been working together for more than half a year and I had seen them grow and learn. I finally had them put their markers down and said to them that they were in the gifted program. They were in advance math, though they were desperate to be taken out of it. They were the highest leveled readers in my class. I then said to them that they are telling themselves they can’t do it. I told them that the reasons mentioned above were the reasons that they should not have problems. Within an hour they not only understood division, they mastered it.

We test our students in math at the beginning, middle and end of the school year on their understanding and growth. I had an awakening when I found most of my advanced students showed no growth. This concerned me. I was so focused on those students that had been challenged by the past three COVID years that I had not spent the time I needed on the advanced students. I set about working on targeted lessons based on their test data and they were flying through the material. I had multiple students doing eighth grade math. I would get questions I was having trouble answering. I would direct students to each other for answers and this worked well. I could tell they were working with linear equations, I just could not explain it to them clearly at the time.

What makes the difference? The classroom culture. The first thing I do each school year is to ask questions. I engage and show patterns. I start by asking a difficult question. I ask who does not understand. Maybe one person raises their hand. I then point out that for each person who raises their hand, there are at least five others who are not understanding. They are raising their hands for those people too. My students learn quickly without hesitation to express their need for clarification. A safe place is created.

I never say “no” or “wrong answer” in math class. I answer with “that’s the right answer to the wrong question.” We then proceed to work together to find the mistake.  

Most importantly, I share with my students my own personal story. I struggled with math as a child. I remember moving to Florida and experiencing “new math” in fifth grade. It was a disaster that I did not recover from until I became a teacher. I Share with them that I failed math many years. I did not understand math well.  I tell them that the last class I took for my master’s degree in education was teaching math. What hit me was an exercise that turned on a switch for me. I suddenly realized that nobody explained math to me growing up. Suddenly a new world opened for me. If I can be here understanding math, you can too.

My first job as a teacher I was asked what I preferred to teach, I said anything, knowing of a certainty that it would be math. I just did not know it would be 75 students and teaching nothing but math. I vowed to not let my students have the same experience I had. I wanted to find their switch that gives me the most important sound in my classroom. The magic that occurs when a student says “ohhh!” with a revelation of understanding.

A Very Different Angle

A very different Angle

What is a left triangle?  One of the most valuable lessons I learned this year as a teacher was from this very question.  I was introducing geometric shapes to my class.  After introducing the right triangle to the class one of my students raised his hand and asked if there was a left triangle.  I took this as playfulness on his part and said there are no left angles.  He then asked why it is called a right triangle.  I told him that is what it is called.  He pressed me and I then said, “because that’s the way it is.”  He kept pressing and the entire class was becoming agitated and started picking on him.  I realized that I needed to stop things, which I did. 

I reflected that night on the events of the day and had a profound realization.  Something I vowed never to do; I did.  I said, “because I say so.”  What I really should have said was, “I don’t know.”  I then researched the root of the name right triangle.  From my research the words that came to play were rictus (straight) and erect, or upright. 

I returned to class the following day and called them to the carpet for a conversation.  I explained to the class that I made a mistake the previous day and should never have said “because I say so.”  I then proceeded to go over my research and explained to the class what I found.

A further revelation that I had was that the young man, an avid reader, was clearly not intentionally disrupting my class, he is sincerely inquisitive.  I pulled him aside later and asked him if he was interested in words.  He said yes.  I then explained to him what etymology was and showed him on the computer the research I did the night before.  Later, I gave him a dictionary in front of the class and asked him to be my go-to person on looking up definitions.  He was free to do so at any time.

Our school dictionaries are adequate, but nothing like what I grew up with.  I found an old dictionary (probably older than I am) at the library sale and got it for the class.  I took it to school and showed the young man the multiple meanings of words, how to see the etymology of the words, and told him that it was his dictionary to use in class.

During testing, students put books aside to read when they are done.  I found a change in my class that surprised me.  On any given test day, there would be 3-5 dictionaries on the table to be read when done with testing.

My final act in this story was to write a note in the dictionary and gave it to the young man. 

The day I stop breathing will be the day I stop learning.

The Walk

Sometimes reality and the creative become one.  This is one such occasion where I experienced something that lent itself to be told in narrative.

THE WALK          

Childhood memories of getting lost in the woods and walking for hours with little or no purpose are, for the most part, just that, childhood memories.    The closest such escape that I have found in my adulthood is walking.  Unlike my childhood, I can take some distractions with me, in this case, an mp3 player.  Playing music, however, is not unlike the companionship that one would have had with one’s friends in those days past.  The music fades in and out as our thoughts and reflection increase and decrease in intensity.

One late evening I was walking through the park.  The circuit is little more than a mile and 7 laps is the average that I walk on weekends.  This particular day I started later in the afternoon and evening was approaching.  I started knowing that I would be chasing the sun as it would set just about the time I would finish.  I found myself, for the most part, alone in the park. 

As each lap progressed I noticed a scene unfold, not unlike frames of a film, each lap revealing more of the picture that was to conclude before my eyes.  At first I saw two young girls, high school age, lay out a table cloth on a picnic table.  This table is situated under trees and looks out upon the lake.  They were dressed up and it was around the time school was coming to an end for the year.  Each lap around the park revealed more and more of the arrangements being laid out.  Table cloth, candles, linen, silverware and more, were revealed before my eyes frame by frame. 

My thoughts went to the efforts being made to…what?  To entertain boyfriends.  Most likely.  How nice, yet temporal.  How fleeting.  How seemingly important.  The thoughts of lost youth, of wasted time came to mind.  Reflecting on my own past, what would I have felt like?  It would have been important to me but lost in the memories of the past over time and its significance would be diminished to a lost memory or a memory carefully forgotten.

The sunset was winning the race and my laps were drawing to a close.  I was approaching the scene now lit carefully with the glow of candles and I could see that there were now four people sitting in the distance at the table, looking at each other, the sunset, and the lake.  I did not want to be an intruder, I also was unwilling to relinquish my race with the sun and my hard-fought exercise.

I approached closer and tried to walk past in a way that would not intrude on the privacy or carefully set tableau before me. My feelings of lost youth, of fleeting time and superficiality went away to the revealed magical moment before my eyes.  I was hard pressed to keep from staring, I was in awe at the beauty of the moment.  Before me were the two young girls sitting radiantly at the table, the joy was one that would withstand time.  Before them sat two women, older than them.  They were glowing, radiant and joyful.  It all came crashing down in my mind.  It was not what I had perceived it to be, it was significantly more profound.  I realized, at that moment, that is was Mother’s Day.  Of one thing I am sure, there are five people that will never forget that night, for if I still remember it this vividly a decade later, the participants themselves will never forget.  This, for me, will always be what I think of when I think of Mother’s Day.  It was a magical scene, and one of intense simplicity and beauty.  It was a moment not unlike the wonders of intentionally getting lost in the woods as  a child, a bridge built between the past and what has become, and upon reflection, what will be.

Who Wants to Live Forever

WHO WANTS TO LIVE FOREVER

The wind of change doth blow

                The roots dig deep

From every tempest we know

Rain, shine, drought and flood

                Tests the mettle of every soul

As each aspires

                To that divine goal

Step by step

                We move ahead

Embracing hope, and dread

                Whether asked or not

These tests besought

Growth comes, with a toll

                Toll enwraped in pain

For without tests

                We have not gained

Each knows not their lot, in life

Or how much in store

Of joy or strife

                Though aware

That our lives

                With tests are rife

Asked for, or not,

The river of change we ride

Fast, slow, turbulent or calm

All comes to pass

For nothing, good or bad

                Will last

We jump from stone to stone

                Towards that eternal home

Sometimes off that path, we roam

                Yet in the end, ready o not

 we reach that realm

I breath in deep

                The chilled air of change

Facing the unknown

                Steeling myself

For those tests, unknown

As I release my breath

                The tempest, doth wane

And with inner eye

                Supplications to the sky

those troubles and worries I decry

                I step forward

To a future unknown

                -Shiidon, September 2016

Uncle Dave

UNCLE DAVE

Love

                That’s what’s left

As I sit here

                Bereft

Thinking, reflecting

On all I have

The memories

                The stories

                                The laughter

                                                The smile

                                                                Now gone

My heart aches

As it weighs its loss

Hoping this pain, will last

So in some way

I can hold on

To as much of you

As I can

I know and understand

That life goes on

And my turn will come

Anon

I don’t want

                Will not

                                Let you go

Into the fog of time

In my heart you still glow

You understood

What family means

You opened your heart

And let us in

Where the greater power

Did shine within

Your certitude

Carried through

As when we last spoke

Of this day to come

In retrospect

How profound

You were

In accepting fate

For those of you

Who have gone ahead

Where do we turn

For wisdom, instead?

Where is that love

Where are those memories

Slipping away

And now it would seem

Our day is arising

The recipients

Of your words and deeds

And from those we take heed

And mount our steeds

And with ensigns held high

Ride upright and forward

Into the unknown

And until that fateful day

When we, it will be

That you welcome home

-Shiidon, February 18, 2016

I wrote this in honor of my Uncle Dave who passed away this past week.  He was the youngest of the three brothers who survived their two sisters.  My Aunt Ginny passed away years ago and their other sister passed away in childhood. I am blessed to have had a wonderful conversation with my uncle a few months ago.  We spent a lot more time in Boston together at the occasion of my brothers wedding.  He had a lot of love in his heart.  There are many conversations that are now lost and gone, yet the ones we had were sufficient to bring solace to my heart until that time when I am sure we will meet again, but not just yet.

Tempest

TEMPEST

We search

Far and wide

For answers

To our hearts denied

We look seemingly

With discerning eyes

For that answer

That from us doth hide

All around

The answer is there

Though with narrow eyes

We’re unaware

And misinterpret

What it means

To care

Time slips by

And blindly we wander

Or sit cloistered

And inside wonder

Hapless and blind

We miss the signs

And through eyes obscured

We pass on by

We are quick to judge

From those who begrudge

And readily accept

That age old precept

Listening to others

A salve to our pain

For it gives a reason

To without remain

That tis better

To be alone

Than our life bemoan

Through we continue

On this search

As we halfheartedly roam

As if touching a fire

We draw back

From that which we seek

And rather than risk

An outcome golden

We to our fears

Remain beholden

How easy

To find fault

Than to look to that

Which doth another exalt

We remain in life

With troubles beset

And balance on

That fine line of regret

It remains to be seen

Can we from another

The true essence glean

Without the clutter

That tends to demean

Do we dare

Leave fears behind

Throwing the chaff

Of the superficial aside

And true to our own hearts abide

In the end

Everything has its place

And we have

Ourselves to face

What I have learned

Is that which is earned

Tis held more dear

And what is conquered

In the end

is fear

-Shiidon, June 2015

Dancing Hand in Hand

DANCING HAND IN HAND

I call out

Every day

As I sit

And devoutly pray

I would not presume

An answer to hear

Nor anything overt

To hold dear

For such is not needed

To know You are near

Yet knowledge alone

Doth not assuage

The pain I bear

As I age

Separation

Is much to bear

And each waking moment

I am aware

That I am closer

Each breather I take

And fear atonement

For each mistake

Sorrow and joy

Dance hand in hand

Knowing payment

Is near at hand

Am I worthy

Of the time I’m given

Or have I Thee

Away from me driven

In what manner do I know?

 And in what way doth Thou show?

I know, in my heart

That truly, we are not apart

The signs of you, are everywhere

And tis found, in the love and care

Of those whose hearts, of You are aware

I walk the path, as best as I can

And reach out, as I follow Your plan

And with Your loved ones

Walk hand in hand

-Shiidon, May 2015