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I was standing at the front of the class, in the middle of my history lesson.  I was a new teacher, and in those early days it didn’t take me long to notice the distinctive energy that characterized a lesson going well. It was marked by easy flow of conversation, focused attention, interaction …  At times such lessons seemed to sail along by themselves, with questions, and answers, and more questions propelling the learning forward. Time would slip away like a stream, completely unnoticed until the bell suddenly announced the end of the period. But on one particular day, things were not going as planned.  Stilted energy. Halting flow. I was distracted by something important, and every sentence I uttered seemed to drop like a stone in front of me.

One student could not understand my lesson, and I knew it.  She had joined our class that morning and was new to English. After introductions, welcoming, and community-building games throughout the morning, we found ourselves in afternoon history class. History can be a challenging subject at the best of times, with abstract concepts and events removed hundreds of years from current experiences. But now this bright student was sitting in front of me, knowledge and skills encoded in a language I was not speaking. She was so eager to learn, wide eyes watching me hopefully …  and my heart sank.

I did not know what to do.

Although I had just returned from teaching ESL abroad and was knowledgeable in ESL instruction, the context here in the Ontario public school system was entirely different. Overseas, the students I taught were studying English as a separate rotary subject, much like students in Ontario study core French. “English” had its own designated period, and the sole goal was linguistic acquisition. Moreover, everyone in the class had the benefit of speaking the same first language, allowing full discussion and explanation of the language material. But here in Ontario, in a class full of English-speaking students, my new student had none of those advantages: she was not learning English for the sake of learning English; she was using it to learn math, science, history, art, health …  How was I supposed to teach her all of these curriculum subjects when she was just beginning to learn the language? When she had no same-language speaking peers with whom to ask questions and clarify material? When she was in a culturally and linguistically unfamiliar place and school community?

I looked back at those hopeful eyes once more.  I am not teaching in a way that she can understand, a loud voice was ringing out in my head. On repeat. Knowing very well what it was like to be in a roomful of people and be the only one not understanding what was being said, I had to switch gears.  I hurriedly finished my lesson, and went over to work with her, re-teaching the topic as best I could and scaffolding language. But there were 25 other needs in that classroom as well, and only one of me. I couldn’t give anyone the time they needed like this. I needed to find other ways to include my new student in whole-class learning.

And that’s where PWIM comes in.

Ah, PWIM. I even like saying it that way. When sounded out it is almost onomatopoeia, a zippy word for a technique that gets your lesson going instantly. The acronym stands for Picture Word Inductive Model, and it is a tried-and-true strategy for teaching vocabulary and curriculum content simultaneously – in a way that is accessible to everyone in the class, including beginner MLLs. And the most amazing bonus? It requires almost zero prep time. The only thing you have to do is find a picture of whatever unit you are teaching … Canada in the 1800s. Desert Ecosystems. Healthy Eating. Or, in this case, the Life cycle of a Bird:

Projected in front of the class, this single image becomes a tool of engagement, with vocabulary learning, activation of prior knowledge, and curriculum teaching all rolled into one. Once the picture is up, the teacher invites students to name anything they see in the picture. In this case, students might say things like bird, nest, babies … The teacher writes the words as the students provide them, labelling the whole-class visual on the spot and even leading the class in chorally repeating the words for emphasis:

During this interaction, teachers also become aware of words students are not volunteering and may not know, and can then introduce them … perhaps words like chicks, down feathers, or talons …  Great for building vocabulary they will need for the subsequent lesson and unit. And of course, let’s not forget translanguaging:

Including students’ languages in learning has immeasurable benefits, in terms of equity and inclusion, language learning, and overall academic performance. Research tells us that students who maintain and develop first language acquire English faster and do better academically than those who do not. In addition, a multilingual classroom creates a new, inclusive space for students, in which their linguistic repertoires and identities are recognized, reflected in the school environment, and integral to learning.

And this is what would have made a difference in my ill-fated history lesson. With vocabulary now pre-taught using the Picture Word Inductive Model (necessary for the MLL but great for everyone), the teacher now has a giant labelled visual to refer to as they teach the main lesson, pointing to items and visuals as they say them, reinforcing vocabulary, and enabling greater access to curriculum content than a purely verbal-linguistic lesson would have allowed.

At some point, we all look back on our beginning years in education and think, I wish I could go back and re-teach this lesson or that …  Well, the history lesson I described earlier is one of mine. But I learned quickly, and have never stopped learning to be honest. There’s always more to consider, more to add to instructional approaches. Hoping this one, or an effective variation that you have discovered, becomes just one more way to include all students in your learning community.

This year, I’ve had the privilege to attend and participate in professional learning focused on literacy practices in the classroom. One of the things that has stood out to me in every session was the intentional way facilitators asked us to self-reflect. 

At the beginning of each session, after sharing the learning goals, they would ask the following : Are you a seed, a seedling or a tree?

• Seed … beginning the learning journey, curious and open to ideas
• Seedling … someone who has built some roots, experimented, explored new strategies, and looking to learn more
• Tree … someone who has built strong roots (and will continue to), feels confident in their knowledge and understanding and can share or support others

I appreciate this seed‑to‑tree analogy not only for individual growth but because, in many Indigenous worldviews, plants and seeds are teachers with cultural and relational meaning (embodied in works like Braiding Sweetgrass), which explores how plants teach about reciprocity, relationship, and learning. This approach reminds us that growth is holistic, relational, and generational. The seed, seedling, and tree represent more than stages of personal development; they reflect the continuity of culture and knowledge. 

In relation to professional learning, this subtly highlights that as educators we all are at different points. Growth isn’t linear and there isn’t a single “end” goal. Some days we feel like seeds, absorbing ideas, while others we feel like trees, grounded in our understanding and practice.

This reflection process made me think of my students as well. We often focus on identifying the learning goals, and the success criteria. Giving space for our students to consider where they are in the learning journey can help improve their self-esteem as learners and foster a growth mindset. 

How do you incorporate time for students to self-reflect?

Across Canada, the groundhogs and lobsters have made their predictions for the start of spring. Now we can read a picture book celebrating the arrival of spring, Spring’s Miracles, by Indigenous author Kaitlin B. Curtice. Ideal for kindergarten to grade 3, this story explains how Dani, a member of the Potawatomi nation, celebrates the new year when spring arrives. The Potawatomi are Anishinaabe whose traditions include celebrating the new year with food and getting outside to appreciate the gifts of spring. 

Before Reading – New Year Celebrations and Seasonal Changes

Ask the class about the ways people celebrate the new year. They may mention January 1st with fireworks and parties and also Lunar New Year celebrations in February. Also look at the illustrations on the cover, does this cover look like early spring? Why or why not? We can use the students’ observations to talk about climate in different parts of North America and that early spring will look different depending how far south or north we are. Just thinking about this has me humming the chant from Bill Nye the Science Guy, “The reason for the seasons is the tilt of the earth”. It is possible to make an entire science lesson about seasonal changes just based on this story, but we can also include social studies, language and the arts.

During Reading – Relating to Students’ Experiences

The story takes Dani up a challenging climbing rock and she has to overcome her fears if she wants to reach the top. She remembers that,  “Even when she is scared, she can still do great things.” Students may wish to give examples of times when they were scared but found the courage to complete something frightening. 

Dani’s family has a celebratory meal, and we can use this opportunity to ask students about  favourite foods for the New Year. Are they the same or different? 

After the meal, Dani’s family share their hopes for the new year around the campfire. Again, students may wish to relate their ideas and wishes for the new year as well.

After Reading – A Spring Walk and Creative Response

Looking for signs of spring is a beautiful way to celebrate Spring’s Miracles! We can take the class for a walk around the schoolyard or into the neighbourhood*. It’s very rewarding to take photographs of the signs of spring on your walk.  Another exciting task is to bring along peeled  crayons and paper to take rubbings of tree bark. If we did this walk in my area of southern Ontario we might find: melting snow and ice, mud, puddles, running water (creeks), plants pushing through the soil, buds on trees, pine cones on the ground or on the branches, a variety of birds (listen for their calls), insects, squirrels or other small mammals, animal scat, and people enjoying warmer weather in a variety of ways in their spring clothing. 

Follow-up Suggestions

Once students have been outdoors and made observations of the change in seasons, we can ask students to reflect on the new growth they would like to see in their own lives. What changes do they hope to see? Is there something new they could try, even if it requires courage?

Creative Reflections

– use photographs to create a digital collage of spring’s miracles;

– draw or paint a garden of spring flowers such as trout lilies and trilliums;

– work together to create a Goodbye Winter, Hello Spring class book similar to the one in my Winter Solstice Blog;

-take crayon rubbings of tree bark and cut pieces of the rubbings out to create cut and paste flowers or a spring scene;

-dramatize what is happening to the snow or the plants in early spring;

-any of these ideas can be accompanied by a written statement in which the student shares an area of growth that they are working on;

More Experiences to Consider

-visit a farm to see what is being done to prepare for the coming season. How is life changing on a farm in the spring?;

-have an outdoor education experience focusing on spring changes in the forest;

-visit a sugar bush and observe maple trees being tapped for sap that is boiled into delicious syrup.

The Potawatomi Nation

As Treaty People we benefit from learning Indigenous perspectives. Since author Kaitlin B. Curtice is a member of the Potawatomi nation, we can take time to listen to their stories and learn about their communities. This nation crosses the Canada/U.S. border, with communities in both countries. Studying a map and reading from the community websites, or even better, having a guest speaker, helps us work on research skills while learning about the Potawatomi.

I hope spring brings you growth and change in the most rewarding ways!

Brenda

*Please check your school board’s policy on neighbourhood walks. I also recommend checking weather conditions, especially with the spring thaw causing flooding in some areas.

When we drive by a school and see a person in a bright vest with a stop sign in hand, we look out for children being helped to cross the road. Although the main role of crossing guard is safety, I have been lucky to know crossing guards who make students more comfortable with their friendly and caring manner. A warm greeting in the morning can help a student feel welcome and reduce their anxiety about going to school. I appreciate the important role of crossing guards in our communities!

I was excited to have the book, A Practical Present for Philippa Pheasant by Briony May Smith, recommended to me because it features a crossing guard who wants to help forest animals cross the road safely. Published in 2022 by Walker Books in London, England, this story is targeted at grades K-3, although I will always advocate to read more picture books to older students, including this one!

Pre-reading Discussion

Ask the students if they have had experience with a crossing guard. Do they think crossing guards are important community helpers? Why or why not?

Vocabulary

Given that this book was written in England, some terms will need explaining. 

Lollipop Person – crossing guard (the lollipop refers to the hand help stop sign)

Zebra Crossing – the common term for a crosswalk in the United Kingdom

Torches – the term for flashlights in the United Kingdom.

Other words that may need explaining: peculiar, triumph, fowl, distraught, ordeal, roused, preening, and nocturnal.

During Reading

When the mayor is introduced, we may need to guide younger students to understand his role and that he is jealous of the attention Phillipa is getting. When he decides to award a present to Philippa, we can ask, “I wonder if our crossing guard has ever had a present?”

After Reading

The Ontario transportation council recognizes School Crossing Guard Appreciation Week June 1-5, 2026. Some municipalities and school boards also recognize March 23rd as an appreciation day for school Crossing Guards. Teachers, we can show appreciation any day of the school year so here are some suggestions and cross-curricular activities. 

Writing Thank You Letters: Depending on your grade level this could be shared writing or completed in partners or independently. Have the class brainstorm what it’s like for crossing guards to be out in all kinds of weather, meeting different people, and stopping all those vehicles. We can thank them for their kindness, bravery, and perseverance. For older students this could include making a slide deck with photographs of the crossing guard at work.

 Drama: Creating a Crossing Guard Skit: Invite the crossing guard to see your class perform skits that they have created about the job. The skits could each have a different plot such as close calls with drivers who are not paying attention until the whistle blows, children who are rescued when they fall down, or short conversations while waiting for traffic that help students have a good day at school.

Visual Art: Create a wordless picture book with student drawings of the crossing guard at work. Encourage a variety of styles of pictures in different weather and clothing. Some pictures could be close up portraits while others could be the landscape of the street featuring the crossing guard.

Media: The National Film Board produced a vignette called Crossing Guards in 1978. I recommend showing it to the class to compare the job to the current day. Do they see similarities? Differences?

Social Studies: Grade 1, The Local Community: In a class discussion, review the role of a crossing guard and how this position is helpful in the community. What would happen if crossing guards did not exist?

No Crossing Guard at the school? We can show appreciation to custodians, secretaries, educational assistants, and DECEs. 

Happy Reading and Happy Celebrating!

Brenda

As I continue my Structured Literacy journey, today’s post focuses on Oral Reading Fluency. To see other shifts I’ve reflected on, check out the series below:

• Shift # 1: Explicit Instruction
• Shift # 2: Morphology Instruction
• Shift # 3: Progress Monitoring
• Shift # 4: The Power of Self-Talk

Oral reading fluency (ORF) refers to how smoothly, accurately, and expressively students read connected text. More often we are only focused on speed. But truly, it’s about reading in a way that supports meaning. When students read with appropriate pace, accuracy, and expression, their comprehension improves.

Fluency sits at the intersection of decoding and understanding. When decoding is slow or laboured, students have fewer mental resources left for making meaning. Likewise, when students read quickly but inaccurately, they miss key ideas.

Some routines that supports oral reading fluency includes (but not limited to):

• Decoding practice with connected text
• Repeated readings
• Modelling fluent reading through read-alouds
• Partner reading or echo reading
• Texts that match a student’s current decoding skills
• Reader’s Theatre
• Small, frequent fluency checks (progress monitoring)
  

Benefits I’ve Noticed in My Classroom

Since intentionally supporting oral reading fluency, I’ve noticed:

• Improved comprehension—students understand more 
• More confidence when reading aloud
• Better transfer of decoding skills from isolated practice to real text
• Increased reading stamina
• More expressive, meaningful reading during shared reading and guided practice

A Few Notes

Fluency instruction is an equity practice. By monitoring fluency regularly, we can gain insight into whether a student needs decoding support, vocabulary instruction, or additional practice with connected text. This ensures we provide targeted, timely support so all students—regardless of background knowledge or language experience—can access grade-level text meaningfully.

How do you support oral reading fluency? Do you use any of the practices higlighted above?

My little group of retired teacher friends and I get together a few times a year.  We love to play a card game called Dutch Blitz.  You might have heard of it.  It’s a super fast paced, card counting game that uses a unique deck of cards.  It’s a lot of movement and reflexes. When we’re playing we are super competitive and the laughs abound!

There are, however, many nights when I feel at a disadvantage in this game. It takes me awhile to get into the swing of things.  I come straight from work most nights and have to get up early the next day to head back to work.  My kids are still young-ish and definitely still reliant on me for some things.  My contributions to the appetizer potluck are usually store bought; I’m sometimes the last to arrive or sliding in late and barely shifted out of work mode. I always need a reminder of the rules of the game I’ve been playing for over a decade. By the time I get to our card nights I’m tired!

Life is busy and sometimes there are things that are just out of our control.  We don’t always make the rules of life, but we can accommodate and help each other to feel welcome.  At different phases of my career, I’ve felt the same way in the classroom.  Family obligations, time off for a variety of reasons, and feeling like I’m always playing catch up can be so stressful.  What got me through those times?  Staff and colleagues who were willing to co-plan with me, offer a listening ear, remind me that we’re supporting each other without judgement. A little empathy for others can go a long way. 

This year, take a moment to notice those children who are arriving at school a little late, running for the bus, forgetting their indoor shoes, lunches, and homework. Let’s extend that empathy toward them as well. Understanding that they might be figuring out their own breakfasts or lunches and packing school bags after a night with little sleep or babysitting siblings. Maybe they’ve forgotten their pencil crayons and rulers at home – it’s happened to me more than once!  Offer some empathy over penalty; let them borrow materials, ask them how their day is, tell them you’re glad they made it. We don’t control the rules of the game, but we can all be a listening ear and remind them that we support and care for them at school. 

I can’t remember the last time I won a game of Dutch Blitz – hey, some days I can barely remember the rules. In over ten years I think I’ve won a handful of times and that’s probably all the times we’ve played in partners.  But I do remember the laughs and the camaraderie. The feeling of belonging and that my friends extend understanding to me when I need it most.  And that’s the unspoken rule that keeps me in the game.

Over the winter holiday break I had the opportunity to visit the NASA Space Center in Houston and naturally, I looked up the user reviews to see if it was really worth the trip. One review gave the centre a single star, largely arguing that most of the information could be found on the internet or in a Youtube video.

The review made me pause and wonder: why go and learn anything anywhere then, when you could just “Google it” or turn to artificial intelligence? What is the point of having an “in person” experience when you can learn from the privacy and comfort of your own home?

In the end, we did go to the Space Center and while there was certainly information that could easily be found online, there were experiences that were absolutely meant to be had in person. Walking beside impossibly huge rockets and engines made me realize the level of innovation and ambition it took to engage in space travel; touching one of the eight pieces of moon rock on display in the world was awe-inducing. In one exhibit, a volunteer was explaining how rockets work. A large crowd had formed around the speaker, who grew increasingly animated as he talked, using a model and a globe to support his explanation. Kids and adults listened with rapt attention, and though I had read much of what he explained in the exhibit, I think I learned so much more from listening to the speaker’s storytelling.

It occurred to me in that moment how special it was to learn in a human-centred way. School provides children (really people of all ages) with those critical moments of interaction and lived experience where curriculum content is not just received, but put into context through discussions, realia, and materials across the senses. And while it would be impossible to make every day of teaching a trip to the museum, it doesn’t take a whole lot of creativity and planning to make learning more real and visceral.

It’s hard to ignore the proliferation of artificial intelligence and digital technology in today’s world, and school is no exception. As technology compels us to re-think the way we teach and prepare students for an unpredictable world and economy, it is more important to remember that teaching is a human endeavour. Educators and schools bring so much more to learning than the delivery of curriculum content: they bring information and knowledge to life, and create spaces where authentic relationships and trust are built. one. When teachers build connections with students, they create conditions for risk-taking, curiosity, and persistence. Students are more willing to ask questions, attempt challenging tasks, and recover from mistakes when they trust that their teacher is invested in their success.

There has never been a more important time to recognize the human element of education – it is what we bring to the table as teachers in schools.

I really struggle to imagine a world in which knowledge and information is reduced to a Chat GPT prompt, or where teaching is rooted in artificial intelligence. It is painful, for me, to watch entire AI-driven dialogues occur on professional learning discussion boards, and to hear from other educators the extent to which students use AI to write their work. Losing sight of the power and impact of individual voices, complete with spelling errors, mistakes, and misconceptions, is something I hope we never devalue.

It was lunch time, and I was sitting in the little room outside the office prepping materials for an assessment. I was just about to get up and grab some pencils when a teacher passed by and looked in.  “Oh it’s nice to see you!” came her bright greeting, and it was undeniably nice to see her too. I’ve had the opportunity to work with this educator a couple of times now; my system role sees me moving about quite a bit, and at each new school it’s always a bonus to run into people I have collaborated with in the past.  She’s a dedicated teacher, always on the go and brimming with positive energy, someone you always feel better for having spoken with.

Today she seemed a little different, though. A little quieter.

Our conversation lasted about twenty minutes, the third period bell sternly enforcing its end. But while we were chatting, she spoke about how much her students would be able to do if they had adequate supports, and I could hear the frustration in her voice. She had multiple needs in her class, and as the only educator in a room of 30 students, along with vanishing funding for special education and ESL, her worry for her students was palpable.

Such situations are far from isolated. Every day teachers show up and give their best for students, and despite all the challenges still manage to accomplish incredible things. But let’s face it: no matter how devoted the educator, no matter how skilled their pedagogy, the underfunding of our school system can sometimes create an unshakeable type of stress, when we routinely see students who do not have the specialized supports and manageable class sizes they need to truly thrive. Couple that with the worries and struggles we may have in our personal lives, set it all against the backdrop of our roiling world, and you have the perfect recipe for stuckness.

Ugh, stuckness. I loathe it. Stuckness is the worst.  That trapped feeling, like boots you can’t pull out of squelchy mud.  Where solutions to our problems seem so out of reach, so distant, that we feel that we aren’t really making any progress at all.

But – as I discovered not too long ago – there is sometimes a way to make the worry a little more manageable.

It was a couple of years ago now, and I was telling a friend about a problem. It had been bothering me for some time and I felt, well, stuck.  That there was no solution to my dilemma and never would be.  That I was doing absolutely nothing to get to where I needed to go.

But what my friend said next helped, at least a little bit. She told me to imagine I was driving a car, and while not at my destination quite yet, it was important to recognize that I was headed in the right direction. Contrary to what I felt, I wasn’t doing ‘nothing’: I had a list of steps I’d already taken, and I had a plan for steps I’d continue to take. I was aiming for my goal, doing what I could do. And sure, unruly passengers might occasionally climb aboard with me, squawking and screeching and doing their best to remind me I wasn’t there yet (thank you very much, unhelpful thoughts).  But, my friend said, you don’t have to listen. They can spew doom all they like, because you know where you’re going and you have the skills to get there. So instead of absorbing the panic and helplessness, I could continue on, perhaps with a little more self-compassion, knowing that although I hadn’t arrived at the solution yet, I was headed the right way.

So as we continue the cold trudge through February, whenever I feel myself trapped in stuckness I’m going to think of that gradual, winding road trip. It’s the right image for me; it may or may not be the right image for you. But if there is a challenge you are facing in your day-to-day teaching, it is my hope that you can see all the things you are doing, all the little steps moving you forward, knowing you are making a difference in children’s lives every day. And that as we continue to care for students, as we continue to collaborate and help one another, and as we continue to advocate for the supports our students need, we are headed in the right direction together.