"What are the three most important words to a teacher?"

"June, July, and August."

I despise this joke. It adds to the rhetoric that teachers do not care about their students, that teachers are lazy ne'er-do-wells who couldn't figure out anything better to do with their lives. 

And it implies that once the school year ends, teachers don't give their students--or their pedagogy--a single thought.

It's not true. 

Today is the first day of summer break, and what have I done? Finished reading "The Book Whisperer" by Donalyn Miller, and thought about how I can implement her approach to growing readers in my own classroom. Checked in on Twitter occasionally, and read some articles about how to be a better teacher. Built up my GoodReads to-read list so I have recommendations for students next year. Thought about how I can make my teaching life a little more manageable next year.

I haven't been out of school for 24 hours, and I'm already trying to figure out how to do it better next year. This is not new--this is what the first few days of summer break look like for me.

That's not to say I don't have some fun things planned for the summer...mostly just relaxing and hanging out with my family. Trips will likely not happen this summer, as I'm saving for a trip to Japan for next summer. That plan is worth the sacrifice of laying low for the next several weeks.

And I do have some lofty goals, as well. Run (but let's be real...mostly walk) 100 miles before August 14. Read 24 books. Write a textbook for a class I teach, because no textbook exists for it. Revise the memoir I wrote in November. Learn the 1st page of Rhapsody in Blue (it's a crazy hard song, and I have tiny hands, so that may not happen). 

I'm not just sitting around, doing nothing all summer. Sure, right now it's 11 AM and I'm still in my PJs, books strewn all over my bed and my home is a bit of a mess. I'm giving myself some lazy time for the next few days. And since a Redbox code just popped up on my phone, I think today might be the day I finally see Captain America.

But next week? It's back to work. 

Back when I coached speech, I really struggled to maintain a balance between teaching my students skills, allowing them some creativity, and guiding them toward what judges wanted to see. It eventually became nearly impossible for me to balance those--if I allowed my students to make some unorthodox choices, they were often denied state and national awards. But if I forced them into choices that pleased judges, their performances were a tad inauthentic.

Now that I'm a newspaper adviser, I'm faced with the same predicament. Do I let my students really make their own choices (and therefore make mistakes)? Or do I proofread every little thing, suggest every layout, monitor all story ideas, all in an attempt to "play to the judges"?

I talked about this with Stueve, my compatriot who advises the yearbook, and we decided we would take a page out of Eddie Vedder's playbook.

At the 1996 Grammy Awards, Pearl Jam won an award, and as he "accepted" the award, Vedder acknowledged that at the end of the day, awards mean nothing. He was a little more colorful than that, of course, but he speaks the truth. We do what we do because we love it, not because we want to win awards.

So Stueve and I plan to let our kids make the choices, trust their decisions but guide them when necessary, and if we're recognized by anyone outside our building, then great.

But if not, we'll just be happy we get to work with some of the best kids in the building in creating something absolutely beautiful.

Full disclosure: today was State Journalism. One of my students came in 6th in column writing; a different student actually won our district in prelims of column writing. I'm terribly proud of them both.

It is 4th quarter, and in a year with no snow days, that means that all of us--teachers, students, probably even administrators--are more burned out than usual. I have really great students, but they are increasingly enticed and distracted by the warmer weather and the promise of summer. 

Plus, it's deadline week and one editor is competing at DECA nationals and the other editor is competing at Metro track (thank goodness for a WONDERFUL staff that picks up all kinds of slack), so I'm feeling a little more frustration and stress than usual.

But today? Today was thank you card day. The senior English teachers have their students write thank you notes to teachers in the building who impacted them for good. So when I went to the office after school, I found a couple of really, really sweet thank you cards from students.

Also in my mailbox was a message from the NSAA State Journalism director letting me know that another one of my students qualified for State Journalism next week. My mood at this point? Sky-high.

I stayed at school late working on the newspaper, hit the gym on the way home, and when I picked up my mail, I saw a letter from the journalism institute I applied for two months ago. I prepared myself for rejection, but as I unfolded the letter, I saw "Congratulations" instead. I'm heading to Austin in June to learn how to be a better newspaper adviser.

I needed this B-12 shot in the arm of goodness today to get me through the next three weeks. I have much to accomplish in the next three weeks (including keeping a positive attitude in the face of increased distraction) and today reminded me why I do what I do, and why I love it so much.

Not to get all "Napoleon Dynamite" on you, but I love technology.

I was fortunate to have parents who were early adopters in the 1980s--I cannot remember a time when we did not have a computer in our home. Then in my mid-20s, not long after the Information Superhighway was in a majority of American homes, I dated a guy whose profession was IT. He taught me all kinds of troubleshooting (tricks that still work today, mind you) and I've been a total technology disciple ever since.

But as of late, I'm experiencing some technology fatigue. 

I realized this today as I watched my Journalistic Writing students do peer revisions. On paper. 

(Remember paper? You can hold it in your hands and write on it.)

I don't teach in a 1:1 school, and all the labs are booked. So I printed copies of their stories and we discussed what they should look for as they read each other's stories. They spent time reading, and then they moved around the classroom and had discussions. They talked. Face to face, they shared strengths and weaknesses of their writing. It was welcome noise to my ears. When I schedule lab time, many of them collaborate via Google Docs, but I don't hear it. And I miss hearing those conversations.

I am drowning in digital clutter myself, and while I get better all the time at managing it all, I sometimes wonder if I'm missing out on other experiences by relying so much on technology. And I worry that the words "technology," "engagement," and "relevance" all get conflated with the word "fun." 

My heresy is evolving, and I know I won't ever leave technology on the side of the road--I love it too much, and I know I can find ways to balance its use in my classroom. But I also feel a need to evaluate and moderate, maybe even push back a little when I feel like I'm on a technology binge. 

Stay tuned...

Twelve years ago as I wrapped up student teaching, my cooperating teacher warned me of the dangers of working too much. 

This struck me as odd, because as the publications adviser, she was at school all. the. time. I've thought of her advice often these past twelve years, because I've struggled to follow it. As a teacher, I always have something to do. If I allowed myself, I could work 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

And I often feel guilty when I take time for myself. Taking an hour to watch a TV show, taking a nap, working out--none of these activities happen without the nagging thought in the back of my head: you should be working.

That cooperating teacher told me, "You need to give yourself permission to relax, to take time for yourself. Because if you don't, you will burn out."

My lessons are planned for the week, and even into next week. But I have many stacks of papers to grade right now, and I should be working on those. 

Should, should, should...I love my job, love my students, love what I do, but I also love my family, love reading, love playing the piano, and when I'm on a roll, I even love working out. I need balance, but it's often out of reach.

This story made the rounds recently--we actually become less effective when we work more than 40 hours a week. Sometimes, that's just not an option for me. Like this week, deadline week, when I'll be at school until 8 PM every night. But other weeks, I need to find ways to scale back.

So tonight, I'm giving myself permission to go to a concert, spend time with a friend, and not feel guilty about doing it. (I'm at least going to try to not feel guilty about it.) And then I'm going to try, for the last month of school, to only work 40 hours a week.

Or maybe just 50.

But definitely not 60.

Last Friday, 13 computers were stolen from our journalism lab. Last night, the thieves came back to finish the job. The remaining 7 computers were gone, along with 20 cameras, battery chargers, and memory cards. Our entire curriculum...gone.

I spent most of the day Friday, and then again today, thinking only the worst of people. For someone who is often teased for being a bit of a Pollyanna, that kind of negativity is draining and dangerous. When I get like that, I know the only way to feel better is to seek out the best in people.

Some of my students are on a poetry team, and they made it to the second round, which was tonight. So I grabbed a friend and we went.

And I saw the best in people. Students from all over the metro cheering each other on in a slam poetry competition.

When the host, writer Matt Mason, asked "Is the point the points?" the crowd yelled back, "No! The point is the poetry!"

Most of the poets from our school are either current or former students of mine. Quiet students with very reserved demeanors. Yet put them on a stage in front of over a hundred people and ask them to perform their own eloquent poetry? Gregarious. Energetic. Amazing.

It's been a rough couple of days, days in which I look at the general student body with a degree of suspicion. They have to know something, I think. They have to know who stole all that equipment, I think. 

And maybe some of them do. But I want to be back to where I was when I gave every student the benefit of the doubt, when I trusted them and loved them. And tonight, I got some of that back.

Watching those students perform their poetry reminded me why I became a teacher in the first place. 

I needed that reminder. I'm glad poetry was part of it. 

Today I taught my students one possible way to analyze a poem. We read the title. We discussed what the poem might be about just from the title. We picked apart the literary devices. We evaluated its structure. We hypothesized about the theme and tone of the poem.

And the whole time, I thought about this poem by Billy Collins. Were we torturing a confession from the poem we analyzed as a class? I honestly don't know.

Poetry, for me, should simply be experienced. Written or read, poetry should be loved. And when I come across a poem I don't love? I find one I do, and settle in with it as if I'm relaxing into a chair that was custom made for my body.

I don't want to kill poetry for my students. So tomorrow after we review some basic literary devices, I plan on letting them just read poems. Not analyzing the poetry they bring to class, but just reading and settling in with the poems. 

But I'm really thinking about trying Poetry 180 with my students next year. Not picking apart each poem, but just starting each class reading a poem, just for the sake of reading it. Just to see what happens.

Oh, my poor, poor, neglected professional blog. Every year I have such great intentions, and every year, I get sucked into all the papers to grade and books I should be reading and lessons I plan and tweak. I write regularly on my personal blog, but over here, blogging takes so much more thought.

I struggle to find topics about education that don't end in a rant about NCLB. I stress over whether my tiny voice even matters. And then there's the issue of time to develop something positive, something that might contribute to the ethereal "conversation." 

So to ease back into this blog, I'll jump on the National Poetry Month bandwagon and share some poems over the next couple of weeks. 

To begin, my most favorite Shakespearean sonnet. I read this poem the first time during a British Lit class at BYU, and it struck me as so different from his other sonnets. Rather than extolling the virtues of his love, this sonnet documents an argument. I love the fear he conveys as he waits for her to finish her sentence. Oh, just read it for yourself.

SONNET 145

Those lips that Love's own hand did make 
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate'
To me that languish'd for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come, 
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet 
Was used in giving gentle doom, 
And taught it thus anew to greet: 
'I hate' she alter'd with an end, 
That follow'd it as gentle day 
Doth follow night, who like a fiend 
From heaven to hell is flown away; 
   'I hate' from hate away she threw, 
   And saved my life, saying 'not you.' 

Yesterday was my first EdCamp experience, and since I've had about 24 hours to reflect and process, I offer some thoughts.

First, the format would be a cool way to run buliding staff development. It would take a bit of a culture shift in some buildings. But imagine if, instead of a principal/superintendent directed staff inservice, the teachers could create sessions based on what THEY needed? The teachers who are still a little trepidatious about technology could get directed help. The teachers who struggle with reaching students could collaborate. The teachers who see deficient use of school resources could create solutions. 

We talk a lot about making content relevant to our students, so why can't staff development content be relevant to us? And individualized? 

Second, I loved the collaborative nature of EdCamp. The first session I attended was titled "Making the Most out of my iPod/iPhone/iPad." I figured someone offered to run a session in which I would learn how to use my mobile devices better. So I was surprised when the person who offered the session said, "Well, I have one, and my kids have them, and I don't really know how best to use them or what to use them for."

And for the next hour, the people in the room offered ideas from essential apps to best practices for management. No guru led us through the wilderness. We didn't need a guru. We had each other.

As I mentioned in my post yesterday, the biggest weakness of EdCamp Omaha was me and my shyness. I think I've become so comfy on Twitter, that I just hid there rather than talk face-to-face to the people I follow. 

Now that I've seen how it works, next time I can be more confident in signing up for a session. Whether it's something I already know how to do or something I might need some direction with, I don't want to sit on the sidelines next year.

As with any conference, it is what you make of it. Our numbers thinned throughout the day. Faces I saw in the morning were gone in the afternoon. And that's okay. To be honest, I wasn't wild about the sessions slotted for the last one of the day. But I went to the session run by my colleague at school, just to show support for him, and it ended up being a great session. 

But here's the best thing about EdCamp Omaha: I didn't feel conflicted about technology at the end.

Sometimes I attend EdTech conferences, and I feel like the focus is on the technology, or how much "fun" the kids will have, or how pencils are obsolete. And it frustrates me, because I didn't become an educator only to be supplanted by robots. 

At the end of EdCamp Omaha, I had real tools I will use in my classroom this week. I didn't feel overwhelmed. And I didn't feel like the robots were coming for my job.

So if you ever have a chance to attend an EdCamp, I recommend going. 

I'm not proud that I haven't blogged here much this year. It's been a crazy year and time for reflection has been sparse. But here's something...

Today I attended my first EdCamp. It's an interesting situation, these EdCamps. Educators from near and far meet in an agreed-upon location and self-direct a day of professional development. I have many thoughts percolating right now, but the one thought that I think I feel most able to write about is some current dilemmas I face.

Dilemma #1: I'm not quite sure where I want to fit in right now. I teach 2 English classes and 3 Comm Arts classes. My passion has always been Comm Arts, yet I feel a sense of duty and requirement to cling to those English classes. I feel guilty that I get to teach these classes I love.

Dilemma #2: I'm not quite sure where I want to fit in right now. I am a tech trainer in my building. I've presented about social media use at local and national conferences. But today at EdCamp Omaha, I felt completely out of place. I saw what other people were doing and saying and sharing, and suddenly, I wasn't sure I belonged. And I'm horrible at networking. I'm just too shy and not good enough at taking risks. It was a big enough risk to just show up to a conference by myself; to ask me to talk to people was just a little too much.

Dilemma #3: I'm not quite sure where I want to fit in right now. I'm editing a book that I wrote--a memoir--and I need to spend time on that, but the grading never ends. And I have moments of panic when I feel like I need to make a name for myself, and other moments when I think I am completely happy living a quiet life teaching these fantastic students that I get to teach every day. And let me not forget the five piano students I adore teaching, but even that is starting to take a toll. Oh heck, it started taking a toll two years ago.

Overall, my first EdCamp experience was quite positive (I'd love to follow the format for our building professional development) but these dilemmas are weighing heavily on me. I don't know that I'll ever solve these dilemmas--perhaps they don't need traditional solutions in the first place. And to be honest, that was the best take away from EdCamp Omaha: it's okay to try unconventional solutions. 

But first, I need a nap.