When I attended my first Torah Umesorah convention I was not sure what to expect. Prior to that Shabbos seven years ago I had limited exposure to Torah Umesorah. Although I like to fancy myself as being open minded and non-judgmental, living way out-of- town made me a bit skeptical of the “New Yorkish” crowd found at the convention.
We packed the car and drove the 700 miles to Baltimore to drop off our children and then continued on to the Friar Tuck Inn in the mountains. All told, we had put the first thousand of the eventual eight thousand “to and from convention” driving miles our van has accumulated.
It was no time before I was overwhelmed by the scene. The combination of available Roshei Yeshivos and sincere mechanchim was awe inspiring. I found myself talking to every person I could. I listened to the workshops and presentations with rapped attention. Somehow, Friday flew by and before I knew it, there was an hour left to shabbos. I had not made it back to my room (or to my shame, checked in with my wife) since leaving for shacharis many hours ago!
Kabbolas Shabbos was no less spectacular. The kol of a thousand people singing together and listening to the Roshei Yeshiva was so powerful. I suspect I am especially susceptible to being wowed by this gathering because I live in Atlanta where any one of the participants would be a respected guest.
My departure on Sunday morning was quite emotional. Here I was leaving this environment of chizuk and growth and going back to the hubbub of daily teaching. The feeling reminded me of the inevitable down I felt in the old days after an NCSY shabbaton. As I was leaving, I was trying to think how I could capture the energy this experience had generated in me. I had a deep passion to become a more committed and skilled Rebbe and was faced with the age old challenge of channeling that inspiration into meaningful action.
After my last goodbye in the dining room, I saw a Tallis bag that caught my eye.
It was the bag of Rabbi Yoel Kramer. Although I had never met him, I had heard that he was a teacher trainer with vast experience and expertise in helping teachers develop. Was this the opportunity I was looking for? As a result of my feeling slightly intoxicated by shabbos, I took the bold move of leaving him a brief note in his bag. In it, I asked for advice on teacher development for a Rebbe “out- of- town” and left my cell phone number.
Just as I had forgotten about the note, he was kind enough to call and he offered a piece of advice that has helped me significantly. He suggested that I ask fellow teachers to come and observe me and give me advice. He explained that every experienced teacher has some unique expertise in the classroom and would provide valuable feedback from his perspective.
He pointed out that Atlanta had a number of experienced Rebbiem and suggested that I ask them to observe me. He was confident that these rebbiam would be happy to help a new Rebbe. An additional advantage to having peers observe is that it takes away the feeling of judgment that one would feel with a supervisor. The fact that I have asked them to observe makes me feel less vulnerable to their criticism.
Since that conversation I have invited over ten mechanchim sit in on my shiur. I can honestly say that I have grown from each experience. Each person saw a different aspect of my teaching and gave me solid advice on improvement. It surprises me how often I think of that advice on a regular basis. Here is a sampling of the points made. I am sharing them as an example of the kind of feedback this process can generate.
Rabbi Yechezcal Freundlech – pointed out the impact my using of the first name of each child made. He noticed that within the first ten minutes of shiur I had used each child name at least once. It shows respect, care and personal interest. I may have happened to use that practice that day but he highlighted the power that exists in using the name of a person.
Mr. Richard Kaplan – after observing a class he encouraged me to walk around the room more. I had done most of the lesson from the front of the room and he reminded me of the value of walking around and teaching from different parts of the room.
Rabbi Zev Schwartz – took careful notes of how many interactions I had with each child in the class. After class ended was done he shared with me the statistics on my classroom interactions. I talked with some children five times more than others and encouraged me to think about why that may be. Although there are times when such a practice in appropriate, it should be done by design and not habit.
Rabbi Shalom Yosef Horowitz - observed a lesson and asked me about my use of the white board. He explained that by writing neater and using color to my advantage I could add an untapped dimension to my presentation.
Rabbi Eliyahu Tendler – observed a lesson that I put much work into many aspects of the presentation. He gently reminded me that the most important part of the lesson is the explanation of the text and although the pre- and post- learning was well prepared, the main part could have been thought about a bit more.
These examples represent a sampling of the advice and feedback I received over the years. I am now more aware of my use of names, place of teaching, interaction with a broad number of children, use of the board and careful preparation as a result of the advice of Rabbi Kramer and these wonderful friends.
Unfortunately, I do not anticipate making it to the convention every year but the spirit of growth continues to burn within and I plan on continuing this practice of professional development.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Movement Movement
Each season of year, day of the week, and time of day has a specific energy in the classroom. The most easily identifiable examples are the bookends of the first and last days of the school year. Who cannot easily identify the nervous energy that the first day has or the energy of anticipation that accompanies the last day of the year? Identifying the “energy identity” of a classroom is another insight a teacher can benefit from when planning and executing the lesson.
I first became acquainted with this concept after a particularly difficult day in the classroom. Aa I returned home from Yeshiva I called my shver, Rav Simcha Cook, as I often do in times of crisis. He explained to me that I should take note that this took place on a Sunday. Sunday is often the most challenging day as the bachurim are re-acclimating to the Yeshiva classroom and schedule. After that point, I took notice that most often it was Sunday when I felt overwhelmed by the behavior of my students (today included).
One of the more challenging times of our Yeshiva school day is night seder. Our Yeshiva has night seder every night (excepts Tuesday). I return to the Yeshiva after dinner for an hour of Gemarah shiur followed by fifteen minutes of mussar. By this point students have been in Yeshiva for twelve hours straight and are coming off an hour of break. To say that focusing this group of emerging adolescents is challenging would be an understatement. Over the years I have resorted to a number of nontraditional techniques. These include ga-ga tournaments, dart board competitions, standing on desks and a wide variety of question-answer sports games. All of these activities are aimed at harnessing the energy into a constructive activity that reinforces the learning. Some attempts have been more effective than others.
Wednesday has always been most challenging. I assume this relates to the fact that it takes place between the weekends and the boys have PE class that afternoon. Whatever the reason, when I return to the building on Wednesday evening I always brace myself for the energy that will envelop me when I enter the room. One particular Wednesday was especially challenging. Parent/teacher meetings were taking place in our classroom and I had to teach my shiur in the Bais Medrash. The multiple distractions of the other Talmidim and people entering and leaving the Bais Medrash made it impossible to keep my beloved Talmidim focused. After a few minutes we deiced to try going outside.
In front of our building is a circular driveway and we started walking around it in groups of two. I went from group to group and explained a point in the gemarah with each pair. Although between my visits I allowed them to speak about whatever they wanted, I asked that they review the stage of the gemarah with each other before continuing their conversation. I was shocked by how well they learned. They listening careful to each stage and were able to repeat it back. We got more accomplished in that hour than we did at a “normal” night seder. There was no bantering, arguing or disobedience. When not learning the students were engaged in civil conversation with a peer – something that itself is not all that common in a ninth grade classroom. It was not surprising that the next night the bachurim asked if we could do it again because they felt that they had learned better that way.
Since that fateful night, we have been walking for about a half hour each night. The boys are better behaved and more focused, and when we return to the classroom for musser or review they are calmer and open to listening to the shmooz.
I am still integrating the lessons from this experience. Here is what I have so far;
1) Sometimes a difficult teaching situation can lead to interesting innovations.
2) Students are capable of sharing with their teacher how they learn best.
3) Creative approaches to the “classroom” can yield remarkable results.
4) Teachers can benefit from being in touch with the “energy level” of the class and must adapt.
5) When students are invested in the learning process, they achieve much more.
I am sure this would not work for every group and yeshiva but it seems to be making a positive difference for my group for now. And that is the only criteria that really matters anyway!
I first became acquainted with this concept after a particularly difficult day in the classroom. Aa I returned home from Yeshiva I called my shver, Rav Simcha Cook, as I often do in times of crisis. He explained to me that I should take note that this took place on a Sunday. Sunday is often the most challenging day as the bachurim are re-acclimating to the Yeshiva classroom and schedule. After that point, I took notice that most often it was Sunday when I felt overwhelmed by the behavior of my students (today included).
One of the more challenging times of our Yeshiva school day is night seder. Our Yeshiva has night seder every night (excepts Tuesday). I return to the Yeshiva after dinner for an hour of Gemarah shiur followed by fifteen minutes of mussar. By this point students have been in Yeshiva for twelve hours straight and are coming off an hour of break. To say that focusing this group of emerging adolescents is challenging would be an understatement. Over the years I have resorted to a number of nontraditional techniques. These include ga-ga tournaments, dart board competitions, standing on desks and a wide variety of question-answer sports games. All of these activities are aimed at harnessing the energy into a constructive activity that reinforces the learning. Some attempts have been more effective than others.
Wednesday has always been most challenging. I assume this relates to the fact that it takes place between the weekends and the boys have PE class that afternoon. Whatever the reason, when I return to the building on Wednesday evening I always brace myself for the energy that will envelop me when I enter the room. One particular Wednesday was especially challenging. Parent/teacher meetings were taking place in our classroom and I had to teach my shiur in the Bais Medrash. The multiple distractions of the other Talmidim and people entering and leaving the Bais Medrash made it impossible to keep my beloved Talmidim focused. After a few minutes we deiced to try going outside.
In front of our building is a circular driveway and we started walking around it in groups of two. I went from group to group and explained a point in the gemarah with each pair. Although between my visits I allowed them to speak about whatever they wanted, I asked that they review the stage of the gemarah with each other before continuing their conversation. I was shocked by how well they learned. They listening careful to each stage and were able to repeat it back. We got more accomplished in that hour than we did at a “normal” night seder. There was no bantering, arguing or disobedience. When not learning the students were engaged in civil conversation with a peer – something that itself is not all that common in a ninth grade classroom. It was not surprising that the next night the bachurim asked if we could do it again because they felt that they had learned better that way.
Since that fateful night, we have been walking for about a half hour each night. The boys are better behaved and more focused, and when we return to the classroom for musser or review they are calmer and open to listening to the shmooz.
I am still integrating the lessons from this experience. Here is what I have so far;
1) Sometimes a difficult teaching situation can lead to interesting innovations.
2) Students are capable of sharing with their teacher how they learn best.
3) Creative approaches to the “classroom” can yield remarkable results.
4) Teachers can benefit from being in touch with the “energy level” of the class and must adapt.
5) When students are invested in the learning process, they achieve much more.
I am sure this would not work for every group and yeshiva but it seems to be making a positive difference for my group for now. And that is the only criteria that really matters anyway!
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