Regardless of how you look at the year, I hope that you return to your students this month with a bright new outlook and the resolve to reach as many of your students as you can.  To help with that, I’m very excited about my new, FREE, magazine, Terrific Instruction Tips and Tools.

This magazine is full of articles to help teachers, and parents, meet the goal of reaching all learneres. If you, or your campus, service center, or organization could benefit from this information, please contact us at 603-625-6087 and we’ll get some to you asap!

Here’s to a great year ahead, filled with all the success you wish, for yourself, your family, and your students!

Everyone gets angry. It’s human nature and anyone who never gets angry is probably a droid of some sort. That said, when our kids get angry in the classroom, it’s a really hard thing to deal with since we’re trying to control a classroom of sometimes as many as 40 children and an angry student threatens to disrupt a well planned lesson.

There is no one ‘right way’ to handle anger management and whatever your solutions are to the problem, I’d love to hear from you. However, I do have one suggestion a teacher in Ohio told me about which seems to work pretty well.

He explains to his students at the start of the school year that he understands that they will feel angry and frustrated at times. He tells them that they can have a voluntary time out with no penalty in order to calm down, however they must come and talk to him after class about what was bothering them so he can help resolve it. He tells them that the reason they need to talk to him is in order to make sure they’re not abusing the privilege.

The idea actually solves two problems at once, which is why I love it. Not only does he remove the potential problem from his classroom for the time it take for the child to cool down, but he has a built in mechanism for avoiding abuse and, more importantly, for getting kids, who are sometimes reticent to talk to their teachers, about whatever it was that was bothering them. Talk about brilliant!

Anger is a secondary emotion—a person is never just angry. A student feels angry because she is embarrassed, or depressed, or frustrated, or annoyed—there’s always a root cause. The Moodz poster shows an array of multi-ethnic faces displaying a wide range of emotions, from thrilled and satisfied to distrustful and overwhelmed

One of the most effective ways to use the Moodz poster is very simple. The first face on the poster is “Angry,” but when I was working with students who’d come to me with behavioral issues, I would cover that face and ask the student to point to the way he was feeling. They could not choose angry, they had to select another emotion. Sometimes, it would be embarrassed—a student felt embarrassed because a classmate humiliated him, so he got angry. A student felt lonely, so she lashed out at a friend.  Very often, the cause of anger was that students were simply feeling overwhelmed by school and life. The exhaustion and anxiety were coming through as anger. Once we’ve identified that primary emotion, we can start to work on the real issues and find ways to solve the problem.

The Moodz poster can be effective even if a student doesn’t have the reading proficiency to read the names of the feelings: They can usually recognize the way they are feeling from the faces alone. Soon there will be a Spanish version available as well for use with ESL students who speak Spanish as a first language. The Moodz poster is a beautifully simple way to get your students to open up and start talking about their real feelings.

You can get a FREE copy of the poster by clicking on any of the links above to sign up for our newsletter, or purchase a laminated 8 1/2 X 11  Moodz poster or poster-size version for your classroom in the AIMHI online store, and find a black-and-white reproducible copy inside Transforming Anger Into Personal Power: An Anger Management Curriculum for Grades 6-12 by Susan Gingras Fitzell, also available in the online store.

Dyscalculia is a learning disability that affects mathematics. Some students with Dyscalculia struggle at arithmetic but do well at higher math and some are fine at arithmetic and struggle with higher math. I am unfortunate enough to have trouble with it all. Math and my brain just never clicked no matter my hard work or my positive attitude towards the subject. Even as an adult, I have to find ways in my life to compensate for my difficulties manipulating numbers and realize that in many aspects of my financial life I need to be comfortable with hiring a professional.

Since my Dyscalculia has always been significant, I would have struggled with math no matter how it was taught, but I feel that if I would have been able to study math my own way I would have had more success, learned and retained more, and been better at mathematics today than I am now. When I think of the most tedious and stressful time learning something in math, I immediately think of long division. It was very challenging for me. There are so many seemingly unrelated parts to long division to me. Division, multiplication, subtraction, lining up the columns,

remember what step I just did last, it was a task that was impossible for me to do on my own.

It seems that most people think the best way to train someone in something that takes steps is to let them practice on their own. This goes for job training as well as mathematics, and in both cases this does not work for me. Leaving me to learn step based work, such as long division would result in me sitting at my desk, pencil in hand, paper in front of me, and nothing getting done because I wouldn’t be able to remember the next step. To learn long division, I needed to sit next to someone who reminded me of the step over and over as I worked on my problem set. I needed the use of a calculate so I didn’t get bogged down due to my difficulties in computation, and I needed to use graph paper, because otherwise I would not be able to line my columns up correctly.

This is what the special education department did for me as a student, allowed me to practice all my long division work sheets with the learning special or teachers aid leading me through it, allowed me access to a calculator, and had me use graph paper. Looking back I think they could have gone a step further to help me learn the material to the best of my ability.

It would have helped if I only had a few problems to work on for each homework assignment, maybe only four per night. A parent or tutor would lead me through the problems and when we were finished I would be allowed to write a narrative about how I did each problem (I also have a nonverbal learning disability, so using words is the best way for me to internalize information. If your child with Dyscalculia also has Dyslexia, for example, perhaps pictures would work best). While I wrote my narrative (or your child drew their pictures) the parent or tutor I was working with would be looking over my shoulder and correcting me each time I missed a step, or was simply lost. I would be able to keep these narratives (or pictures) and I would go over these the next night with a parent or tutor. As the week progressed toward the test, I would alternate each night from trying new problems with help one night and writing a  step-by-step narrative the next night, then spending time the following night reading and studying the narratives with a parent or tutor. If long division had been taught in a way that worked better for me, I think I would have had much better memories of learning the skill and be more competent at it today.

Anna is a freelance writer, taking on projects as varied as stories about her ups and downs with NLD and Dyscalculia to copywriting projects that help businesses and organizations connect their products and services to their customers. She holds a Bachelor of Arts Degree in journalism from Keene State College and was a staff reporter at the former newspapers The Connecticut Valley Spectator and the Argus Champion. Through her writing, Anna hopes to bring more awareness to learning disabilities, especially the little known ones she has, and help others with learning disabilities succeed in their lives. Anna can be reached at Anna.Super01@gmail.com.

I wrote a note to my building principal to update him on my progress in Kung Fu since the “Kung Fu Parable”.  I told him that my experience in Kung Fu will make me a better teacher.  It has reminded me of what it feels like to be a “kid/student” again, therefore, giving me a much better perspective on where my students are coming from.

I’ve learned, or re-learned:

•    How to focus my attention better.

•    That I’m not too uncoordinated to learn those “awesome” forms.

•   That it is OK to say “Do it again” to a student.

•    That saying “May I” needn’t be out of style.

•    That I can OVERCOME my FEARS.  I had noticed (before starting Kung Fu) that I was beginning to let my fears limit me more and more.  Now, after sticking with four months of Kung Fu, when I barely thought I could survive one, I have more confidence in my ability to attack an activity, problem or situation that I am afraid of.

•    That there is a place in this world where I can put aside the confident, assertive, in control image I portray to the rest of the world, and work on the parts of me that aren’t so confident.  Where no one expects anything more of me that to do my best.  It’s a place where it is safe to be insecure or nervous until I can gain confidence at what I am doing at my own pace. There is no where else where I feel I can let that side of me out.

•    That if I’m given constructive criticism it is not the “end of the world.”

•    That I can challenge my students more, that it’s good for them, and they probably won’t fall apart.  I’m so conscious of their self-esteem and their need for success that I sometimes spoon-feed them too much or expect less than they are capable of.  I get bored very quickly when I’m not challenged. So do my students.

•    … and so much more than I can put into words.

I often use analogies from my experience in Kung Fu when speaking to teacher’s about students and learning.  The other day, I heard an example come back to me.  My Kung Fu analogies are helping other teachers to understand their kids better.

There are sound gains to be had in a student-centered classroom. But, in educations’ zeal to seize upon new approaches, let’s not forget, and throw out the benefits of a traditional classroom. The student centered classroom fosters critical skills, problem solving, peer interaction and democratic process.  The traditional classroom can foster a respect for and trust of authority, an understanding of and respect for rules that we may not have control over, a security and comfort in ritual, a group cohesiveness, and a larger capacity to learn from the wisdom and experience of the teacher. Important learning occurs in both types of classrooms, although what  is learned depends a lot on the personality and skills of the teacher, no matter the style.  Nothing is black and white.

I am eclectic in my approach to teaching. I believe there is a time for student-centered learning and democratic classroom process.  I also believe there is a time for traditional teaching, with the teacher as a caring authority. I was fortunate to  experience both styles as an adult student. I attended a student-centered graduate school while also training in a traditional martial arts school. In reading Noblit’s account of his experiences, I could not help but draw definite parallels between the way Pam taught and the way a good traditional martial arts school is run.

Pam knew that “…caring in classrooms is not about democracy — it is about the ethical use of power.”   The kung fu school I attend is very traditional. The Sifu (teacher) is kind, tender, protective, exacting, reasonably demanding and a definite authority.  He sees my weak points, physically and mentally, and in a style that is sometimes paternal, sometimes humorous, always understanding, he pushes me to improve.  “In Pam’s classroom, ineptness did not lead to your losing your responsibility.  Instead, it led to a lot of coaching to get it right and a lot of room to figure it out for yourself.”  And so it is in the martial arts class; I have to work to “get it right” and make room in my schedule to “figure it out for myself”. My self talk sometimes grumbles that my Sifu is too demanding. I sometimes feel frustrated. But I know that he is invested in my growth and development as a martial artist. That knowledge buffers the demands with warm acceptance and appreciation. Pam’s students know she is invested in them also. I question whether a totally student-centered classroom could foster that same type of relationship. As Pam praised her students and at the same time maintained high standards, Sifu commends what I do well, but doesn’t let up on my weak points.  He pushes me to be more patient, more focused, to relax more, to practice more, to think more about the meaning of what I am doing, and think less about speed and making mistakes. There is more direct interaction between teacher and student in the traditional classroom when this type of coaching occurs.

Pam’s class is defined as a collective; individuals connected by responsibilities and obligations to the whole.  The “kung fu family” is an integral part of my martial arts environment. Students help and respect each other.  I take private lessons and group classes. The group classes are more difficult for me. In group classes, I’m more distracted and mistakes seem glaringly obvious, however, it is the very structure and routine of the group classes that gives me a sense of security. I know what is expected. There is comfort in the consistency and ritual of the traditional classroom.  Because the environment is stable and supportive, more challenging skills can be taught. This raises the level of expectation for all students, motivating all to push limits and challenge themselves.

My experience as an adult student in a traditional classroom is invaluable. I realize the importance of every challenge that I face in that traditional school.  I learn patience, focus, self-control, and trust.  I learn to trust that authority, continuity, and caring, can be found in the same classroom. I also realize that the traditional classroom can be run by a power driven, self-centered, “teacher” who could not begin to provide the safe opportunities for learning and growth that Pam and my Sifu do. But that is not the fault of the traditional classroom model. A student-centered classroom with such a teacher would yield no better results.

References:
Noblit, “Power and Caring”, American Educational Research Journal, vol. 30, 1993.

I’ve often talked about the value of mandalas for their calming effect on students and their ability to expand creativity. Michelle Waymouth attended one of my seminars and shared that her students love mandalas and are proud of their work. She said that one year she pieced all of her students’ paper mandalas into a “quilt” and hung it in the hallway. Students were encouraged to write a message about how their mandala made them feel. Those messages were also hung up next to the quilt.

Jennifer Jones, from Ector County ISD, suggests putting a mandala (with enough copies for each student) into each of her substitute folders. The students can work on their mandalas and give the substitute teacher some time to prepare.

Mandalas can also be useful teaching tools. They lend themselves well to math and geometry lessons, and they can also be incorporated into units about Native American or Asian cultures.

Mandala patterns can be simple to complex and can be purchased or downloaded for free. Just do an image search, download the patterns you like, and print them for your students. My website also has several hand made mandala designs that you can use in your classrooms. Enjoy!

These articles aren’t new to publication, however, I believe they still are worth reading.

From: Mirror cells’ fading spark: empathy-related neurons may turn off in autism. by Bower, B.
Source: Science News, 12/10/2005.
Via: HighBeam™ Research
COPYRIGHT 2008 Science Service, Inc.

From: WE FEEL YOUR PAIN. . . . . . AND YOUR HAPPINESS, TOO THE HUMAN BRAIN’S SOURCE OF EMPATHY MAY ALSO PLAY A ROLE IN AUTISM by Carey Goldberg, Globe Staff
Source: The Boston Globe (Boston, MA), 12/12/2005.
Via: HighBeam™ Research
Copyright 2009 The Boston Globe

From: Is the future of autism research to be found in the mirror. by Kessler, Richard J.
Source: Pediatrics for Parents, 9/1/2008.
Via: HighBeam™ Research
COPYRIGHT 2008 Pediatrics for Parents, Inc.

From Susan’s booklet, “Martial Arts and the Awakening of a Public School Teacher”
Copyright 1995 by Susan Fitzell

“How are skills learned?  By experience.  How, then, are they best taught?  By coaching.  I, the teacher, can tell you rules for writing — grammar, forms of felicitous phrasing, types of argument.  I can show you examples of good and bad writing, and with the aide of an overhead projector, I can demonstrate for you how to analyze a piece of work.  However, until you write and I criticize your writing, your expository skills and the thinking behind them lie latent.”
–Theodore R. Sizer, Horace’s Compromise

I had an experience just this week, that drove this point home. I have been training in the martial arts for almost three years. For the past year, I have been studying Kickboxing along with a formal style of Kung fu.  I have been learning the skills, and the rules, necessary to effectively defend myself.  In the academic world, this would be similar to learning grammar rules, dissecting sentences, and practicing penmanship. The pieces are studied and practiced. Individual skills are tested. Form is learned. I am told and shown what works, how it works and why it works, just as academic teachers “tell” their students how to write. However, I have seldom had the opportunity to apply those skills.

Tuesday night, I put on huge boxing gloves, and protective gear. I got into the boxing ring to kickbox with another woman.  She is about my height, but a body builder.  Her muscle mass makes me look like Oliveoil. We touched gloves to show respect and good sportsmanship and began. The blows came at me, hard and fast.  She hardly kicked, which should have been to my advantage. But, I was so overwhelmed by the power behind the hits to my head that I couldn’t think. It didn’t hurt through my gear; rather, it was psychologically debilitating. All those skills that I had learned were useless in the moment. I couldn’t apply them. My confidence hit bottom. My emotions ran the gamut from frustration to anger to humiliation. I was coached through it. My coach was in the ring, guiding, encouraging, making sure the situation was safe. I think I went two rounds.  I really don’t know. Time was a blur. Was it worth it? Absolutely!

The coach spent time with me afterward, encouraging, analyzing the situation, pointing out style differences, suggesting alternative strategies. Only now, do all the skills, pieces and techniques have meaning. He stressed that I needed to feel the feelings, understand them, recognize them — so when I experienced them again, I’d know what to do with them.  Experience, coaching, critiquing are critical aspects to the learning process. I understand so much more because I have had the experience and the coaching. When I practice the skills, I can now visualize their application. When I practice my Kung Fu forms, I have a better understanding of the “spirit” needed behind the motions. Something clicked. I’ve reached a new level. Knowing I’ll be in the ring again, also adds extra motivation and determination to the skills practice. Now that my skills have meaning, I have more drive.

I often gain tremendous insight into my role as  teacher and  learner from my martial arts experience.  It seems that the physical nature of the martial arts makes the paralleling abstract concepts of the academics very concrete.

Before this week, I have seldom had the opportunity to use my skills “in the ring.” My early experiences with sparring, were not coached. Two people were put together and simply told to practice fighting skills. I reinforced sloppy habits and gained little skill. In my experience, high school teachers expect students to know how to write.  With the possible exception of writing courses, students are given writing assignments, told what to do, and often left on their own to complete an assignment.  Rarely do these students have the skills, or the experience of meaningful application.

With much drill and practice of parts and pieces, form and style, martial arts students become quite good at specific skills.  Until those individual skills are put to the test in the ring, however, meaningful learning does not occur.  Just as it is necessary for the martial artist to use self-defense skills in realistic situations to gain understanding, meaning, and the ability to analyze and apply those skills, the academic student needs to write, to think, to analyze, to apply his or her knowledge, and then write again. Just as it is important to have the martial arts coach in the ring, encouraging, guiding and critiquing, it is important to have the academic “coach” in the classroom encouraging, guiding and critiquing, showing the way, but allowing the student to learn by experience, by doing, by being coached, and doing it again.

Copyright 1995 by Susan Fitzell

Last Wednesday I was hurt during my self-defense class. The instructor was having us practice throws. I don’t like being thrown. I don’t trust the inexperience of the “throwers,” nor do I trust my ability to consistently fall correctly. It’s part of the class, however, so I do it. I don’t know how it happened, but when the young person “threw me” (with a shoulder throw), my head whipped around and hit the floor, hard. There is two inches of padding on the floor. I felt as if the impact compressed the two inches so that I hit bottom. I heard this big, boing type of a bang. Supposedly, it was my brain slamming against my skull. My head hurt a little, and I was a bit nauseous, but, I was OK.

What struck me in all this is how I began to feel about the class. I no longer felt safe. That lack of feeling safe destroyed my motivation and desire to remain in the class. At my age, I don’t take brain injury or paralysis lightly, however, that aside, I again could relate the experience to the academic classroom.

I imagine that my experience is similar to that of a child who is hurt in a class either emotionally or academically. Like that child, I don’t feel very good about my ability to retain the information in that class. As is often the case for children with learning “differences,” the class does not fit my learning style. It is not structured enough for me. There isn’t enough practice and repetition. Steps are not broken down clearly. The class moves too fast. I don’t know the basics, yet, here I am doing throws (and being thrown). If I think about all that I have learned about students who have difficulty in school, their frustration, their fear of being hurt through failure or humiliation, their lack of confidence in the teacher’s ability to teach them, and their distrust in the teacher, I can now understand those students that much better.

I often think that all teachers should periodically be required to learn a task that is inherently difficult for them. Only then do teachers remember what it is like to struggle. This isn’t the first time martial arts has taught me something about my students. I’m sure it won’t be the last.