Monday, April 23, 2018

Teaching Is Collaborating Until You're A Team

1. The Benefits of Teacher Collaboration 

2. Teacher Collaboration Gives Schools Better Results 

3. Making Time for Teacher Collaboration Is Crucial

All this in 30 minutes after school.

4. Maximizing the Impact of Teacher Collaboration 

5. 5 Ways to Get More Out of Teacher-to-Teacher Collaboration 

6. The Benefits of Teacher Collaboration 

7. 5 Ways to Get More Out of Teacher-to-Teacher Collaboration 

Must be high school teachers collab team, only three women.


Running Errands with Mommy

African Mother And Child John Warburton Lee
...that lady is always busy.
Mother's Day May 13.

National Poetry Month: Poem #22

Tiger , San Diego Zoo

THE TYGER (from Songs Of Experience)

By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


William Blake
 William Blake

Educational Links 4/24/18

Why 'High Functioning' Autism Is So Challenging

Does Your STEM Curriculum Teach These 4 Skills? (Students Need Them in the Real World)

7 Brain-Based Ways to Make Learning Stick

Why Discipline Should Be Aligned With A School's Learning Philosophy

6 Types of Tech Tools Every Teacher Should Have 

Spark Your Persuasive Writing: 3 Simple Prompts

“Mozart Helped Me Focus My ADHD Brain.”

Focusing the ADHD brain can be tough, but music is a proven tool for engaging the brain and minimize distractions. But why? Learn more about the science behind certain melodies and how they work to keep your attention.

Who Told You Stories and Sang You Songs?

Grandmother Storyteller by Ada Suina, Cochiti New Mexico

I'm giving this one to Grandma.

Mother's Day. May 13. Don't forget Granny.

Check out the pottery from New Mexico:

Pueblo Storytellers


This is a little ceramic piece I found at Furnace Springs, Death Valley, CAL. I wish I could hear what Grandma was singing.

Teachable Moment: A Party Game for William's Birthday

Need A G-Rated Insult? 

I find Shakespeare animal memes hilarious. I just can't help it. So here's the game--I'll give you a hint which plays these come from-- you guess. To be sure, you can always google the quote.

Which of these first four are from Richard III, Hamlet, Two Gentleman of Verona or a sonnet?








Of the next three, which are from Richard II, Romeo and Juliet?

Of the three memes above, which are from Romeo and Juliet or Richard III?

Of these four memes below, which are from MacBeth, Midsummer Night's Dream,  and Romeo and Juliet?

This last group:

Two from MacBeth, one from Midsummer's Night's Dream.






 My own meme--from a play we study in grade ten in the USA.

Celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday with some of his best insults and pickup lines

Welcome to the official Shakespeare’s Birthday Celebrations website.

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Educational Links 4/23/18

Are We Asking Too Much Of Our Schools?


3 tips to help inspire self-reflection in teachers

What Is Writing Workshop?

Tips For Helping Students Open Up to Poetry

A Lesson In How To Overcome Implicit Bias

8 Stress Factors for Kids With Learning and Attention Issues

Putting Learning First With New Tech Tools

It’s wild to think about how new technologies are changing the way we think about teaching and learning. The digital tools many students have access to both inside and outside the classroom require us all to take a hard look at the way we use these tools in the context of learning experiences. It’s easy to get caught up with the shiniest, brightest, or most attention-grabbing digital device or website, but it is possible to pause, reflect, and prioritize tasks over digital tools in the classroom. Are we putting the learning first?

Maman, Let's Take A Walk

'The Stroll,  Madame Monet and son' Monet
Did you go on nature walks?

Mother's Day, Sunday May 13.

Teaching Is Reflective

A Mid-Year Reflection for Teachers and Students 

The Reflective Teacher: Taking a Long Look 

Reflecting on Reflection: A Habit of Mind 

Reflective Teaching: A 30-Day Blogging Challenge For Teachers 

Are You A Reflective Teacher?

Are You A Reflective Teacher? 

10 Ways To Be A More Reflective Teacher

10 Ways To Be A More Relective Teacher

10 Ways To Be A More Reflective Teacher

7 Great Resources for Reflective Teachers 

Reflection: What Makes Learning Stick 

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Educational Links 4/22/18

The Change Leader

27 Incredibly Useful Things You Didn’t Know Chrome Could Do

Why Teacher’s Aides Deserve Our Appreciation Every Single Day

My Latest BAM! Radio Show Shares Important Articles That Have Impacted Classroom Practice

How Should Teachers Navigate Social Media in the Classroom?

Benefit Mindset: Why it Matters & How to Foster it in Your Classroom


6 Tips for Helping Your Child Improve Reading Comprehension

Is Your School Racist?

I pulled you in with that one didn’t I? Well
of course a school can’t be racist, because
a school is just a building, not an actual
human,with traits and characteristics, and
experiences,stereotypes, bias, and emotions.
What I really meant to ask is, are the
principles and foundation of your school or
institution rooted in racism? Wait, hold your
answer until the end of this blog.

You'll Always Just Be Mum To Me

Kate Middleton and George

Spice Girls - Mama 

Happy Mother's Day, May 13!

National Poetry Month: Poem #21

Pieter Brueghel, Kermesse (1567-8)

 The Dance

William Carlos Williams

In Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess,
the dancers go round, they go round and
around, the squeal and the blare and the
tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles
tipping their bellies (round as the thick-
sided glasses whose wash they impound)
their hips and their bellies off balance
to turn them. Kicking and rolling
about the Fair Grounds, swinging their butts, those
shanks must be sound to bear up under such
rollicking measures, prance as they dance
in Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess.

Friday, April 20, 2018

Who You Callin' A Mama's Boy?

Love Between a Mother and Son, artist unknown
Hey guys, Mother's Day is May 13.

All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother. - Abraham Lincoln

 "Mothers all want their sons to grow up to be president, but they don't want them to become politicians in the process."
-- John Fitzgerald Kennedy

"My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it."
-- Mark Twain 

"A boy's best friend is his mother."
-- Joseph Stefano 

When Jesus saw his mother standing there beside the disciple he loved, he said to her, "Dear woman, here is your son." John 19:26  

"Men are what their mothers made them."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"When I was a child, my mother said to me, 'If you become a soldier, you'll be a general. If you become a monk you'll end up as the pope.' Instead I became a painter and wound up as Picasso."

National Poetry Month: I've Looked At Clouds From Both Sides Now

Please feel better, Joni. 

JONI MITCHELL /// 10. Both Sides Now - (Clouds) - (1969) 

 Bows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

Oh but now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From WIN and LOSE and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

Educational Links 4/21/18

12 Strategies For Creating An Atmosphere Of Problem-Solving In Your Classroom

Have a Business Relationship with Your (IEP) Team, Not an Emotional One

When Teachers Experience Empathic Distress

How A Culture of Improvement Goes Hand in Hand With Coaching Teachers

Why More Than A Million Teachers Can't Use Social Security

Guides and Rulers for Google Slides

Schools Teaching Students In Special Ed How To Code

Though not all these children may grow up to be programmers, Williams said the students are learning how to problem solve, overcome obstacles and collaborate with their peers. The coding is a means to an end toward helping students work on their interpersonal skills.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

National Poetry Month: On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive...

Paul Revere's engraving of the Boston Massacre (March 5, 1770.) A poem was the actual caption for the illustration. 

The Landlord's Tale. Paul Revere's Ride

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,—
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."
Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade, —
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay, —
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British Regulars fired and fled, —
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm, —
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,

And the midnight message of Paul Revere.