Once, when I was teaching simple machines for a science class, I was stressing about how to get to the lumberyard to get materials for class. A more experienced teacher gave me the simple advice, “Have the students do the work.” Instead of building, our class walked to the lumberyard and carried back the materials. On route, I explained what we were doing and why. Having been involved in the early stages of the project, my students owned their work throughout the project.

Now I have students do everything, from cleaning my room to helping with planning out units. Whereas I used to stand up in front of a whiteboard and wave my arms around, I now facilitate. We create projects where they work and I advise. Of course, I structure the unit and hold them accountable, but they are good at constructing authentic ways to learn the goals I set out and managing their time. Instead of my running to the art room, debugging the computers or wondering who wrote on the bathroom walls my students do this. In return, I have time to work with students who really need my help.

Keeping in mind Robert Fulguhm’s Everything I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten and Randy Pausch’s “Last Lecture” we see that the really important things are very basic. In a follow up to backward design, you need to keep your lessons simple.

What simple lessons provide are a foundation. Reading is essential to everything else a student might do throughout their entire career, yet by sixth grade sustained silent reading stops being a class time enjoy and becomes homework that is not done. Paragraphs are taught in first grade, yet ninth grade teachers need to repeat and repeat this skill. Those lessons can contain great subject lessons (in poetry, for example), but need to be the basis for everything you do.

More important, simple lessons allow you to see mistakes early. A student who cannot write a paragraph cannot write an essay. The ideas of a clear thesis, good evidence, citations, proper grammar, and in-depth analysis are all clear in a paragraph. Mop up those mistakes, and then move to the essay. While such lessons can be dull, by focusing on these basics in the first week you can focus on issues of style and content the rest of the year.

For this reason I am a huge supporter of poetry. Can we expect students to offer in-depth analysis of a novel, play or historical event if they cannot, or will not, venture to guess what Frost meant when writing of that snowy day? How can someone prove a geometric theorem if they cannot tackle a simple poem about a candle burning on both ends?

Simple lessons are easy to organize, grade and provide corrective action for students. Once the foundation has been laid, all of that other stuff can be laid on top of it. You will be surprised how much you can focus on the good stuff once you laid down the simple ideas first.

I am in the front yard, working at the corner of the house.  My son is playing by the front walk, when suddenly he runs for the road.  As he is ten feet from the road, and I am at least thirty feet from him, I am quite sure that he will run in front of the pick up truck before I can physically stop him.  So, I yell.   STOP!

Yelling is what we do when we have run out of options.

It is really that simple.  Most of our relationship is spent talking, teaching, showing, hugging and being civil to each other.  With him, I find a lot of patience.  When I have the time, we use that time to learn lessons that will last a lifetime.  Except, when there is no way I can stop him from running into the road I use the one thing I have left: I yell.  And he stops.

For many teachers, this is the moment they yell.  In their minds they have made the rules clear, allowed this student to get a drink of water or that one to go to their locker.  A third of the class is not reaching their potential, and a spate of dry ink cartridges has prevented seven essays from making it in by the due date.  Then, someone complains that class is boring.  They want to go outside.  The worst part of it all is that they are only expressing these thoughts out loud because they trust you enough–you have built a relationship and responded to their fair minded criticism–but today someone would not understand that their language offends you, and you are a part of the class and community, too.  So, you blow it.  You are out of options.

IF YOUR WATCH ALARM GOES OFF ONE MORE TIME! you scream at the child who is running towards the busy street of life and is too distant for you to reach.  Or, perhaps, you meant it for him or her, but instead screamed at the unlucky child who put that last straw on your back eight straws after that kid you felt really deserved the warning.  In the end, your tricks all played, yelling was your only option.

Now, with my son, I could have been preventive.  At all times I could have been closer to him than he was to the road.  When our older son was two, we laid down a low stone wall.  In part, it was decoration, but it was also meant to slow him down a step so that we could catch him before he got to the street.  We do have a nice backyard for him to play in.  Life, though, is fraught with danger.  Even had we done it all, another life threatening situation would probably have reared its head.

Prevention is important, which leads to the second reason we yell: to make a point that sticks.

YOU NEVER GO NEAR THE ROAD!

This was not a patient response that treated my son as a partner, but a directive I did not want my child to forget.  This was a non-negotiable rule, and the next time he even thought of doing it I wanted him to wonder if the wrath of my entire six feet-four was worth it.  Perhaps it is the bullying of a child, but if it keeps him from running into the road I weight the ends over the means.

Thus begins the slippery slope.  Even as I try and undo the scare with hugs and a rational discourse about the dangers of traffic and dashing towards it, I know that my child is afraid of me.  While the ends are justified, I wonder if there is another way.

YOU SIT IN THIS CLASS LIKE YOU DON’T CARE, BUT YOU AND I KNOW THAT IF YOU KEEP GOING DOWN THIS PATH YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GET JACK FROM THIS LIFE!  ARE YOU READY FOR THE WORST JOB IN THE WORLD?!  This is a toned down version of what I have said.  I can go longer, into much more personal detail, asking rhetorical questions that make the point: Stop screwing up.  Nearly every child I have said these things too has agreed that it was justified, even as they did not like to hear it.  Still, I know that they were afraid of me.  They have said as much.  And they already knew it.  They knew, before I uttered a word, that what they were doing was wrong.

In the end, the bottom of the slope is filled with laziness.  My younger son is kicking my older son, and while the latter uses his words and is the good big brother it does not stop.  STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER! I yell from the other room.  It is easier than getting up.  When my older son was four, I realized that much of my discipline was yelling from across the room because stopping the behavior and talking it through was too much work.  As he threw blocks, jumped on the couch, or sang at the top of his lungs a yell stopped the behavior.

At first.  Then, it became noise.  Unlike the road, which worked because of pure novelty and shock of the situation, the ten yelling corrections a day wore off.  Instead, he started pushing buttons.  And yelling.  Now, he yells down the stairs and from other rooms.  We realized, quickly, that we need to get up and correct behavior, and it worked, but the yelling is still with us three years later.

My classrom has not become one of the classrooms that are famous for yelling.  In our high school, one teacher used to stop teaching when the teacher in the neighboring classrooms began his rants.  Knowing that no one was listening to him, he would stop mid-sentence, sit at his desk, and read the New York Times until it calmed down.  Then, the lesson woudl resume.  Having been in that class next door, on the receiving end of the yell, it amazes me that he could have a job.  In fact, he was head of the department, a coach of football and track, and well respected in our community.  Ah, the old days.

Each year I have learned to hold it together a little bit more.  Planning has been very important.  When I have systems in place, and am able to stop my proclivity towards co-dependence (my thought that, this time, they’ll listen), I maintain order because I have options.  Three years ago I took a Responsive Design course, which gave me many more strategies for the good of students and my sanity.  I have, in many ways, the low stone wall in place.  And, at the end of the day, running into the street (in an academic sense) can be a tough love learning experience, as long as you are ready to scrape them off the tar and start fresh the next day.

Know where your yell comes from.  If it is laziness, get some systems, get off your behind, or get a new job.  On the other hand, if you feel you are out of options you need to take a breath.  Then, before you correct or even plan your next lesson, imagine every senerio and what you will do in response.  Be happy with that response.  The next day, play it out calmly.  If you do it right, you are in charge.  The child will not make it out of the yard on your watch.

One teacher told me she loved middle school because one kid would be playing on the slide while his friend talked about his newly grown facial hair. These are children, and the appropriateness of the material you teach is often tricky to peg. One student I had watched nothing but violent and sexual videos at home, yet was shocked when I said “crap” in a moment of frustration.

Regardless of what you determine is appropriate, have parents sign a general permission slip at the start of the year.

If you know the poems, books and videos you will use, list those that are controversial, but still cover general topics and language that might arise over the year. Cover yourself, but it is good for the kids, too. Remember, your school and community are allies in doing what is best for kids. While you want to push them, the community tends to know things that might go too far (i.e., someone who was molested as a child). When parents can support your inclusion of poetry and literature, classes are win-win for everyone involved.

Yes, I know those of us who travel in literature are sometimes amazed by the views of others, but it can be an opportunity to have a larger discussion. We all say we want parents involved, and then we get upset when they try and do what is best for their child. By putting it all on the table, though, we open up rich dialogues that go in very interesting directions. It is a much more powerful technique than relying on student ignorance.

Concerns can come from many corners, too. I once played Allen Ginsburg reading “America”, which contains an f-word. The students did not notice, but the aide in my room did. She told the nurse, who told an administrator, who spoke with me. A few yeas later, a new principal came to our school with a K-4 background. When a controversial reading came up, she was shocked to learn that our library was filled with books like The Chocolate War and Speak. In the latter case, parents were my allies.

If you are teaching middle school, or have questions about appropriateness in general, the following link will take you to an article I wrote about when middle school students are ready for the racier subjects, language and literature you might throw at them. So, before you try Whitman or Ginsberg take a gander at this article.

Too Old to Know, Too Young to Learn: When is Young Adult Literature Age Appropriate?

I know a teacher who relied on student ignorance when it came to inappropriate material. When I asked him how he taught a raw and brutal scene in Robert Newton Peck’s A Day No Pigs Would Die, where a breeding of pigs represents the harsh reality of animal life and the larger “loss of innocence” moment (it reads like a rape, with the adult justifying it as natural; it is disturbing), his reply struck me. He said, “Oh, most of the kids won’t get it”, meaning that he was hoping for their obliviousness to keep the book appropriate. Not exactly a safeguard, nor what we might want as teachers stressing a close reading of the text, or even basic comprehension. That this scene was the main illustration for the book’s theme made me wonder what he WAS teaching.

This same teacher’s response to parents and administrator’s raising concerns about books lead him to a novel solution: he had a special shelf and he told students that it was for controversial books only. While the heavy traffic it received had a schadenfreude feel to it, in the end is was disrespectful to those trying to protect their children. We can do better.

So, put together permission slip and run it past an administrator. Send it home, and have getting a parent response a homework assignment. A “response” is different from a signature; leave a space for concerns and a check-box if parents want to speak to you about concerns. The concern space is often blank, but I always get one concern about showing any videos and another showing appreciation for pushing their kid to think. Every other student will tell you their parents are “fine” with any movies, but put on paper they can sing a different tune. Follow-up on any that do not come back, and then put everything in a drawer.

I have never needed to pull them.

Backward design is a simple way of organizing a unit, a course, or an entire year.  So obvious is it, that most people cannot believe they groped through the dark forest for so long.  It will save you a lot of time and sorrow, too.

Basic steps:  Think of lesson planning like planning a trip:

1. Identifity the skills you want students to have at the end of a unit or course.  This is your destination.  So, for example, writing a paragraph with a lead, evidence, analysis and final might be your goal.
2. Determine how you will know students have arrived.  Using our example, students might write a paragraph independently.  You must have a clear, concrete example in mind of what the finished product looks like.  Before you start your journey, a good rubric and sample will serve as a good marker.  When they arrive, your grade is like stamping their passport.
3. List those skills students will need to learn in order to get to that destination.  Writing a lead sentence is a skill many students struggle with.  What else (i.e., evidence, analysis and final sentences)?  Ask yourself if everything on that list really needs to be there (do not overwhelm yourself by trying to do too much).  These are your directions (turn left, go five miles…).
4. That list is what you teach (follow the map).

Really, that list is the sum of all of your lessons for that unit.  If you are teaching anything that is not on that list, ask yourself why.  That’s just sightseeing, and while fun it is a waste of time and gas.  Either you created an incomplete list, of you are distracting the class from what you need to be doing.  By having a concrete final product, and creating a rubric and sample, your list should be fairly tight.

Anyone who has studied backward design or read a book knows there is a bit more to it than this, but that is the gist.  If you want to know more (suggested!) look at this Wikipedia entry (it has more emphasis on the beginning of the process, which I do not deny) and buy Understanding by Design by Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe (which I think is only available through ASCD, which, once you get on their mailing list, you never get off; great book, though).

So, why is this not how many teachers plan their units?  First, we all go into teaching believing we know what to do.  From the seats, it seems so obvious.  We also teach as we were taught, so we can rattle off plenty of lessons in our chosen field.  But, let’s face facts: Teaching is tough.  After a few disruptions, a fire drill, a few kids missing for lessons, an administrator dumping many more action items and skills on your lap that clear month to teach paragraphs is suddenly a minefield of distractions.  Once you are overwhelmed, it becomes difficult to regroup.  Instead, you play catch-up.  And every year you think this is the year you’ll be on top of everything.

You need your road map.

Here are some examples of why things go ary:

• The question: why do we need to know this?  If you cannot tell a student in a very concrete way why, in five years, they will need that skill than you need to wonder why is it being taught?  That reason–the enduring understanding–is the focus on the lesson.  In five years, that student should still have that skill.
• Lessons should not be islands.  In thinking about what they are going to teach tomorrow we often forget about the goal.  So, students might learn to write a lead sentence, but there is not context and the next lesson might not even be related to a paragraph.
• Teachers have a hard time imaging the end product in a concrete way.  Determining, with a rubric, exactly what “success looks like” should be a natural, but its really hard.  Once you do it, though, your entire unit falls seamlessly into place.
• Often, we try and do too much.  So, while grammar is really important in teaching writing, is this the time?  If, in the middle of struggling with evidence and analysis, you start talking about verb tenses you are veering way off course.  Valuable?  Yes.  After they can write a paragraph, the next unit might be grammar and you can clean that solid paragraph up and make it sing.

In the end, backward design is about being efficient.  You have only so many days, and so much to teach.  You should not be taking on more than your share, and you should be be wasting your students’ time.  Once you determine the destination and make it concrete, weeks of lessons will fall into place.