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I start my daily scroll. I have set a time limit. (Usually 20 minutes that turns into 45 minutes). First - it’s a lot of ads. Then my For You Page (fyp) begins to take on my interests… which is mostly large cats. Tigers. Lions. Panthers. BIG cats. I love them. In fact, it is a full blown obsession of mine. When I am lucky enough to escape the tundra and go to a zoo, I can stand at the same tiger exhibit for hours. And I mean hours (much to the chagrin of my usual travel companion). But I digres… It makes sense that BIG cats dominate my fyp, but not every TikTok fits this mold. Because of my past searches, reading interest, and what I can only assume is a constant microphone listening to my every word, TikTok knows that I am a teacher. So a fair amount of my fyp is made up of teacher content. Sometimes its that lady who just records her after school routine every day - which is inexplicably, deeply satisfying to watch. Sometimes, its a funny clip about teacher besties - which I immediately send to my own teacher besties. And sometimes… it just pisses me off. For instance, there is one TikTok teacher (who has to be making twice his teaching salary on the platform) who loves to poke fun at admin asking if students know the learning target by approaching his sleeping toddler to ask. Or there is the tired memes of admin acting like the magical solution to every problem was posting a learning target or building relationships. At first, none of these annoyed me. And I even found them funny. But after a couple years of TeacherTok and more infamously, QuitTok, they make me a little sick to my stomach. Sad, mostly. Now that I have a leg in both words - teaching and administration, simultaneously - I have the advantage of knowing the full story. Instead of having things parlayed to me after some training the admin went to, I am now usually with them. I see the information first hand that backs up all those initiatives, new approaches, etc. And from this new perspective, I’ve come to see how the message doesn’t always translate too well to the teachers getting the summary in the staff meeting. Instead, a kind of ugly things happen. Admin try to keep it short (“to be considerate of your time”) and in doing so, usually skip explaining the real why behind administrative choices, or they oversimplifying the strategy all together in their effort to be concise. And that’s when I hear the muttering as people exit the meeting, which happens to be the same muttering that becomes material for TikTok teachers: the oversimplification of something meaningful diluted further and further with each conversation and exchange of the original idea. I’ll start with the more contentious of the messages I previously described: learning targets. Classroom educators - because of years and years of message dilution - don’t really seem to understand why posting the learning target matters. How could putting a piece of paper with a statement on the board fix anything? How does a simple statement written on your PowerPoint (or Canva presentation, if you’re cool) make any real difference? And when you look at is as that simple - they don’t matter. You could religiously post your daily learning target and even acknowledge it in class, but it isn’t going to make any substantial difference. When used in this simplified way, its just words. And words are empty when they are just lain bare. So let me take a stab at explaining this one - in a way that makes sense to the classroom teacher. (I hope. I mean, I am a classroom teacher, and it makes sense to me). First, conveying a single learning target is a great start, but more important is the progression of learning. The step-by-step process of learning that you are going to go through with students. Let me explain using my own class: AP Language and Composition. One learning target for AP Language is that students can explain how an argument demonstrates understanding of an audience’s beliefs, values, or needs. The unfortunate reality is that neurologically, a sixteen-year-old is not mentally developed enough to analyze rhetoric like this. It takes a fully developed brain to achieve cognition at that level, which usually happens around age 25. No 16. Imagine learning that - despite the fact that you are not wired to do this really hard thing - you have to do it. On a time limit, even. Our kids are up against (what feels like) impossible things. Even what you feel is “something they should already know” or “pretty basic stuff” may not feel so basic to your learners. And facing something that feels truly gargantuan can be diminishing. (For me and my students, this is the world we live in for all of our second semester.) And if you experience that experience over and over again… it chips away at the fragile self-efficacy our students have. So how does a piece of paper on the board fix that? Duh. I already told you. It doesn’t. Instead, let me illustrate how I use a progression of learning to build their confidence. Prior to this “scene,” I just make a slide with my progression of learning (see below). 
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Happy New Year! One of my goals this year is to write more, and so here I am! I have been thinking a lot about how to make personalized learning more accessible to others - to kind of minimize some of the stigma and confusion surrounding it. As I've been working through these thoughts, I have started writing down ideas from my own process, and while my intentions for these pieces is unclear at the moment, I figured I would share them along the way here. So today, I have a post on the (many) mistakes I made in implementing personalized learning as well as some of the lessons I took away. I hope you enjoy! Three version of me emerged in college. First, was the freshman stereotype. You know… the kid living on their own for the first time, living on microwavable food, skipping that 8am class, and taking advantage of my new found freedoms. I saw my general educations classes as most do - pointless, or hoops to jump through before the real work begins. Unfortunately, that version of me took that mentality a little too seriously. It just took one 2-point-something GPA at the end of the year for me to send her packing. Enter, English major me. For the next couple years, I sat in a lot of literature classes. American Lit. Brit Lit. Themes in American Lit. World Lit (twice). I still wasn’t living up to the 4.0 senior in high school I had once been, but I was at least trying compared to my freshmen year. The problem during this phase was that I just did not care. I know most secondary teachers become teachers because they are passionate about their content. Because they love math or history or science. That was never really the case for me. While I always liked English and performed well, I didn’t love reading. In fact, I had kind of grown to hate it over the course of my education. My coursework during this time didn’t help. Obsessing over meter and diction was my own personal Hell. But I put my head down, put in the time, and shuffled through. Simultaneously, I had begun some of my teaching coursework with Introduction to Teaching and Classroom Management, but the reality of teaching was so far away that neither thrilled me. But then came my third year, and my first methods of teaching course. With this course, a new version of myself was born - the one most similar to the version of me typing this unnecessarily long anecdote. Because that year, I finally started to imagine myself in a classroom, trying out the different things I was reading and learning about. For the first time, it felt real. Fastidious is probably the nice word to describe this new me. Now that an actual classroom and actual students were just a stone’s throw away, I became almost obsessive about my school work. They told me the secret to good teaching was a thorough plan, so I planned and planned and planned every lesson plan, unit plan, and activity. I wanted everything to be so thorough that I could one day pull it out and use it in class. (In fact, for one class, I created an entire binder for one incredibly over-the-top unit plan. The cringiest part? My professor brought that to actual teachers as an example of how they should lesson plan. I hate to think I was complicit in gaslighting my future peers). I was, in short, obsessed with being an amazing teacher. I share this story not to inspire you with my bludgeoning love for teaching, but to paint a picture of my teaching style as a young teacher. As you may have guessed from this little story, I graduated with a deep need for control. A perfect classroom, I thought, was the result of thorough planning and preparation. If I could just plan, plan, and plan, enough, everything would always run smoothly. If I anticipated every possible roadblock, every lesson would be perfect. Those of you who have spent more than five minutes teaching an actual class can probably guess how that worked out for me… I learned quickly that some things are just out of your control, but it took me a long time to shake the innate need to be in control of every, single aspect of my classroom. And in hindsight, that should have been my first step in trying to personalize learning for my students. And it should be yours. To truly personalize learning, you need to start with just that: Prepare yourself to give up control. There are two questions you should ask yourself before embarking on a journey toward more personalized learning…
If you can’t answer yes to both, you aren’t ready. Which I say from a place of wisdom. I definitely wasn’t ready to say yes to either of those questions, and I paid the price in a number of mistakes I made along the way. Come along with me as I relive each ugly misstep. Mistake #1: Individualizing instead of Personalizing.This was my first and biggest mistake. It is also a mistake I see over and over again as an instruction coach now. Too many people mistake individualization for personalization. And that makes sense because the difference is subtle and maybe hard to visualize. I lean on the definitions shared by Bena Kallick and Allison Zmuda in their book, Students at the Center.
In other words, personalized learning is based on relationships. It cannot succeed without the “relational part of learning.” In an individualized model, teachers will set up an entire unit so that students can progress through at their own pace, rarely giving them opportunities to engage with their peers. Also known as… me, circa 2019. I set up neat little folders and told kids to make their way through each. To complete their notes, then a practice, and then take an assessment. I was so proud of myself for creating a digital environment where they could all work at their own unique pace. Only… I was bored. They were bored. We were all dying of boredom! They would sit on their devices, completing their tasks and I would… wait. Because they were all over the place in terms of pace, I felt a little unsure of how to connect with them, other than to see how far they’d gotten on their checklist each day. On occasion, I would sit down to give them feedback, but I found myself saying the same things over and over again. Things I could have easily corrected collectively if everyone was working on the same task. Needless it didn’t take long for all of us to decide we were “over it.” By switching immediately to flexible pacing, I overlooked the important truth outlined by Zmuda and Kallick: learning is social. I also overlooked how easy it is to look engaged when really, you are just staring at a screen or document. I removed the most profound tool for learning - social construction - and replaced it with mind-numbing monotony. So Lesson #1 is this… Don’t overlook the value of learning socially. Instead of jumping to a free for all of pace and individualization, become secure in your understanding of what personalization actually is. When it really hits, it is give students voice, creates opportunities for co-creation, emphasizes social construction, and promotes self-discovery. Mistake #2: Too Much, Too FastThen a pandemic happened, and I guess - like most students - I forgot everything I learned. In the spring of 2021, instead of taking a moment to recalibrate to teaching post-pandemic and rethink my version of personalized learning, I doubled down and committed even harder. That spring, I set up five units for my AP Language and Composition students to complete. Not only did I give them totally flexible pacing again, I also let them choose the sequence, the learning method, and their assessment. And to top it all off, I also threw in some dispositional learning as my school had adopted our “Profile of a Graduate.” Yes. I let them choose path, pace, method, and assessment. And expected them to be successful after years of educational chaos. Just like when I was an over eager undergrad, I tried to do absolutely everything, all at once. A true recipe for disaster. I guess I did learn my lesson slightly. Kids weren’t just working through a series of pre-set tasks for the most part, and the advantage to this was that more of them chose to work together and learn social. This time around, I also set up generic deadlines to help them manage pace. (You know… “You have to submit two units by March.”) And to be honest that did help some, but in general, they weren’t really learning. They weren’t managing their time. And they weren’t able to design their own assessments. So there I was, looking around at a room of kids who weren’t really “getting it,” as though I hadn’t created this exact outcome. I had tried too much, too fast. Instead of stopping to refine my initial missteps, my reaction was to pile on more new challenges. To essentially, jump years ahead in my journey toward a personalized classroom. And (as I’m sure would have been obvious to many of you), it failed. So Lesson #2 is this… Don’t try to do it all at once. Instead, take your time with each new tenet that you’d like to implement. Refine and reattempt each new strategy until you see the positive results. Mistake #3: Redoing and Redoing (and Redoing Again)If I were to check, I probably have six or seven versions of some of the assignments I’ve used since beginning this journey. That’s because every year, with a few tweeks to my overall method, I needed to renumber and rephrase standards and create new unit guides and adjust format. The amount of time I’ve spend over the years remaking assignments and materials is enough to make me sick. But I guess I’ll look on the brightside… now I can produce an assignment or resource faster than anyone I know. What gets me, looking back, is that it didn’t have to be that way. My impatience - the same impatience that made me go hog wild in 2021 - didn’t allow me to stop and just think about what the actual first steps should have been. My excitement forced me into a pattern of redoing everything, every year, in the hopes that one combination of choices would result in a magically perfect method. You might have guessed it, but… I never found that perfect combination. And year after year I started all over. In hindsight, I can tell you where I should have started: the curriculum. The “year-at-a-glance,” the standards, the progressions of learning, the proficiency scales. I guess in simplest terms… I should have had a freaking plan! Let me give you an example: I have been using some version of standards referenced grading since about 2017. The problem is… I didn’t have a clear vision for how those standards should fit together, build on one another, or connect. To be honest, the first year, I didn’t really even have specific standards. At the start, I just picked out a list of skills based on the AP Language and Composition class overview and (again) just decided to wing it. Another example of when I tried to do too much, too fast. Then, in 2018, the College Board rewrote the curriculum for AP Language and Composition. Now I had a neat set of 22 skills that I could assess. Being handed something I could finally use can only feel like Charlie unwrapping his chocolate bar to see his golden ticket. Only… I had not, in fact, found any golden ticket. For the next six years, I continued to play with how those skills fit together - how I could make sense of them for myself and for the kids. It wasn’t until fall of 2023 that I felt confident in how I had grouped them. (Yes. I am talking about this fall. The fall only a few weeks ago). It took six years to piece together those skills into a logical progression of learning. And as I think about it now… I can only imagine what my classroom might look like had I knew then what I know now. If I had taken the time to piece it all together upfront. So let me save you the time. The first step in personalizing learning is to have a well organized curriculum, with progressions of learning and proficiency scales that combine and marry the standards in a way that make sense to YOU. Not your colleague, not the curriculum coordinator, or the admin. It has to make sense to you. Clear vision means you won’t waste time redoing assignment and units for trivial things like how the learning target is worded or what the task is titled. Instead, you can invest that time into being responsive to the new learners you get each year. So Lesson #3 is this… Start with a strong curriculum. Carefully design the long term plan, with the milestones you want the kids to reach. For instance, if I want my kids to analyze rhetorical choices, then I better know every step along the progression of learning. If I can’t articulate how we are reaching the target comfortably, I don’t have a deep enough understanding to co-create with students or the resources to provide choice and flexibility on the fly. In the future I’d love to go deeper with each of the lessons, but at the very least, I hope that you can look at my mistakes and learn from them. The best skill we can learn as educators is to reflect and accept when we were wrong, and writing out these mistakes was humbling to be honest. Looking back I cringe and shake my head. But maybe the biggest take away is that regardless of each poor outcome or chaotic day in my classroom, I always saw value in personalization itself (even if I wasn’t doing it very well). As the years have gone on, I have only grown more committed to creating a personalized learning model for my students. And that comes from the immense joy I’ve felt in teaching this way. So for today, I end with a final thought… Implementing personalized learning is a journey, and a tough one at that. It means abandoning prior beliefs about teaching and surrendering up control. It also means knowing when to slow down. But in the end, its a journey worth embarking on. I am most joyful as a teacher when the attributes of personalized learning play out:
Even amidst the mistakes, these are things I have seen along the way, and they keep me on the journey. Sincerely, CwikFirst, an update from last time... I did make adjustments to my conversion chart. Primarily to the lower scores. I realized that if a student showed me one proficient artifact, they should be sitting at what my district constitutes a Novice level. Here is the updated one...  In other news... my intention of blogging more this year is not off to a great start. In fact, the only reason I am probably posting now is because we have two days off for teacher's convention. I told myself I would post some content, including another interactive video. (Mostly because I'm going to need that for class in a few weeks).
But I'm not going to beat myself up about it. I've been tackling some pretty significant personal challenges with my weekly goals. Here's to 2024 and big dreams of weekly blogs and all the content. :) I've got my iced coffee. A fuzzy blanket. And two sleepy kitties. Time to get some work done. Over the last few weeks I have been trying to pin down what this year is going to look like. The biggest lesson I've learned in this personalized learning journey has been that each year gets a new batch of tweaks and shifts. And so I've been tackling some of those changes. (My school is also moving to block scheduling, so adjustments are needed). I described my previous method here, in terms of the progression of learning, but now I am excited to tackle a new approach I am calling my 5 Artifact Method. Essentially, students have five possible artifacts. Depending on how many they submit and the skill demonstrated, they earn a different percentage. Below is an illustration I made to help the kids (and you) understand). For each standard, they will (ideally) do a full cycle.  Because I still teach in a traditional grading system (Quarterly Grades, Percentages), I have spent the last few years trying to marry standards based grading with that format. In this last year, I moved to using a conversion chart. However, I quickly learned that my conversion chart was flawed. Students could get an A by doing "just enough." It also left many of them borderline when grades had to be reported. So I sat down to rethink what this conversion will look like with the 5 Artifact Method. Here is my draft...  The hardest part about creating one of these conversion charts is that I won't know it isn't working until... it isn't. Now, usually, I have no problem making shifts and changes based on feedback from the kids, but when it comes to grades, I feel a lot of pressure to be consistent throughout the year. So I'm posting it here. Perhaps someone else can see the problems I am not. (And I'd appreciate if you pass them on). Sincerely, Cwik.I can't tell if I am standing on cliff's edge or mid-climb. As my last few posts make perfectly clear, I have been struggling with motivation and apathy this year. Creating content, even just planning for my own lessons, has been a chore that frankly kept getting pushed down the list. The bell ringers I created, for instance, were meant to be finished by the start of the year, but were only completed last month. However, in the last 30 hours, I have found within myself a sudden shift. After a long time feeling much the opposite, I am feeling inspired again! And the universe seems to be feeding it. Yesterday, I had a moment of sheer kismet - where timing and circumstance perfectly aligned - that I'd like to share. As I was doing my morning journaling - nothing fancy, just my usual daily stuff - I was struck with the idea to create interactive YouTube videos and create coordinating note sheets to support my students and new AP Language teachers. I stopped mid-thought in my journal to jot down the concept. It felt like a little jolt of electricity to have an idea again! Then, fate stepped in when I sat down to get some work done later that day. Earlier this month, I started completing a grad course. (The last one to max out my salary!). As I moved through the material - a very well designed PD option by Darcy Bakkegaard - I was revisiting some tools. In particular, Canva. I've used Canva before (...its how I made my sick phone background), but as I opened the application, I was reminded of the idea I had that morning. Canva was the perfect place to start in creating engaging YouTube content. Needless to say... I became obsess. (My coworkers call this "Going Steph" on something). I spent hours yesterday creating a new video, based on old PowerPoints I'd been using. It didn't feel like work; it felt creative and exhilarating. Then... fate struck again! Thread, the new social media platform, launched. I honestly couldn't believe my luck (especially since I had heard nothing about it). I abandoned Twitter about a year ago - not that I was all that good at it - for obvious, billionaire reasons. Thread opened up the professional learning community for me again that once upon a time, allowed me to share my materials, help other teachers, and just connect. The excitement circulating the app last night was wholly exciting. As all these stars aligned: the idea, Canva, Thread, I was reminded that I do have goals left to achieve. That may sound dumb... I'll explain. Having landed my desired position at work (instructional coaching alongside teaching), I'd run up against a wall professionally. I was exactly where I wanted to be as an educator, so I had been wallowing in "What's next?" and "Where do I go from here?" Yesterday, reminded me of all the places I still have yet to go professionally and all the opportunities that still lie before me. Call me naïve, but it was invigorating. And I'm grateful for it. So today, I am off to the races, writing up plans and setting goals to get closer to what I ultimately want. It feels like coming back from the dead, to be honest. Now, I am a firm believer in respecting your boundaries as a teacher and keeping summer sacred, so please don't take this as a flex or some humble brag about how hard I am working. For the first 9 years of my career, I found joy in creation, professional learning, and planning new material during the summer. It wasn't work - it was fun. Losing that after COVID was a deeply sad loss for me. And if I'm honest, I was afraid that joy would never return. But here it is, in my lap. And I'm really, really excited. I just hope its a boost on my professional climb, not an cliff I'm about to fall from. sincerely, cwikI am finally sitting, with my feet up, and experiencing something I feel I haven't had in 9 months - time. Like most teachers, this year was one of survival. I didn't find myself with much time to build resources outside of those I needed for class or as a coach. Between my three sections of AP Lang, coaching, planning advisory for the school, taking on yearbook when another teacher resigned, and all the other things that fell into my lap this year, I felt in a constant state of hyperproductivity. I started every day with my list of Must-Dos and May-Dos and dug in until the end of the day. By the end of these days, I was ultimately exhausted. There wasn't much capacity for anything more. That said, I am happy to share that I did complete one big task: my yearlong bell ringer pack. That's over 190 bell ringers, aligned to all 22 of the AP Lang learning targets / essential skills. A little bit here and there, I created 22 individual packs, as well as the full set. Now, as usual, the bell ringer pack is available in my TpT store, but also per usual, I wanted to share some here for any readers or supporters. Below are four of the 22 packs. And immediately as posted these items, my mine is spinning as I consider what is next. Previously, I mentioned that I would like to create assessments for each of the learning targets. As I am auditing my own class assessments, this might be a good way to offer more choice to my students. But we'll see! For now, please consider purchasing my bell ringers. I am excited to use them to break up our block periods next year. Recently, I have started documenting some of my journey with personalized learning. It might amount to nothing, but my dream is that one day I can fill a void in the current professional literature on personalized learning - that is, a lack of books on how to personalize an English classroom.
Again, it might amount to nothing but a collection of Google docs with my ramblings about why and how, but its important to me that I am always on a mission. That I have a focus which I care about. In the process of filling these pages, I keep coming back to the idea of pacing, or in this case, self-pacing a classroom. It’s also taking up a lot of brain space because next year, my school is transitioning to a block schedule - which means my current approach definitely needs re-design. (The thought of students pacing themselves for 75 minutes haunts my dreams). But - even with the need to reconsider - I have already felt a shift in my own beliefs about flexible pacing over the years. First of all and much to my surprise… my kids like deadlines. One semester I kept them entirely self-paced, with the kids allowed to move through all units at their own preferred pace. When I surveyed them after, they overwhelmingly said that more deadlines would have been helpful for them. In response, I took a step back from entirely allowing them to pace their own learning. Now, I allow them to pace themselves within a unit, but I have suggested deadlines AND a hard “blackout” deadline for each unit. It allows them to practice some self-pacing, but also keeps them from getting so behind that they end up in a terrible situation at the end of a semester. Students also tend to rush through material. I have an open re-attempt and revision policy, which means that kids take assessments with less anxiety about their grade. (Very important in an advanced class…). One downside to this is that they tend to rush through preparing for these assessments. They choose between videos, reading and small groups to learn the content, but in so many cases, they are barely engaging with these options. They are just checking a box for me. This results in them frequently having to re-attempt and revise assessments. While I have no problem with that (and actually see a ton of value in having to revise and try again), I’d rather they learned the material before the assessment instead of through trial and error on assessments. (And if I’m being selfish… it would save me time on feedback and grading). Perhaps most unsettling for me is that self-pacing isolates kids. While my kids are regularly working together on class activities or working through material in-step with a small group, overall, a self-paced format isolates them from one another. On any given day, a small pocket of kids are a week or more ahead and another pocket is a week behind. The distance between these two groups of students is immense. While I would love for the kids who are ahead to help those who are behind, I have never found a routine or procedure that doesn’t make this entirely embarrassing for both. Beyond that, multiple days I feel like an online class monitor - just sitting in the back and checking their progress on Schoology. In fact, last week another teacher came to my room to grab a student and she apologized. The kids were so quiet that she thought they were taking a test. In fact, they were all working on their material, but they had no reason to interact with one another. Too often, the only way they are engaging with each other is for unproductive chatter. In a post-COVID era, it’s my responsibility to bring students back to the table, so to speak. While they are well trained in independent work, we all know their ability to engage with others will take them further in life than any amount of time management skills. So with the change of schedule next year, I am carefully reconsidering the value in self-pacing. That said, I feel I must acknowledge that there are advantages…
What it really comes down to, therefore, is what is more important - that kids engage with one another or that they practice managing their own time. The challenge for me is to adjust to a version of personalized learning that can allow for both, because in all honesty, both are non-negotiable. One idea that I am dreaming up right now is to incorporate collaboration into their choice learning. For instance, the students who prefer to watch videos could watch their videos, but then they could be asked to collaborate on a practice task like a structured summarizing activity. This would create something similar to tracks or pathways for students, based on how they like to learn. The drawback is that everyone needs to be on the same step of their learning… so the self-pacing is pretty much gone. How can I find a way to make this happen where students can either take more time after these practices to review or for me to re-teach, or they can move on to the assessment. Figuring out what this looks like is my next big step. What are your thoughts on self-pacing? Is it worth the challenges? As my last post may have implied, I have been buried under a dark cloud that has kept me from tackling new projects and meeting new goals. Just doing the “must dos” of teaching and coaching kept me from doing anything beyond those necessary tasks, but I am feeling the rejuvenation of a good break. I am ready to set some new goals for 2023, and as always… I’m aiming high.
I am genuinely so happy to feel like myself again, and though I know tomorrow brings me back into the thick of stress and exhaustion, I am optimistic. These goals are part of my own personal health and wellness goals. In tandem, I truly think I can see a better semester ahead. For my readers, I hope you are feeling a similar breath of fresh air. 2023 is the year we can reclaim our passion and remind ourselves why we do this incredibly important work. As I’ll be telling myself every day, we do something that truly matters every single day. I haven't posted since June.
I have not accomplished any impressive curriculum projects. I have not even updated my Teachers Pay Teachers store in months. The reality - which I'm sure all other teachers feel - is that I don't have a single ounce of energy to expend on anything extra. I have nothing more to give outside of my coaching responsibilities and teaching my three classes. I want to create amazing materials for my readers, but there has not been a single weekend when I felt I had the energy for it. I work out 4-5 times a week, and still, I have no energy to do anything beyond the bare minimum. For me, its a rare form of self-punishment to keep myself from being creative or from building new things. But that's where we are at. We are surviving. Checking in for just a second today to share something I am working on.
Last month, I started putting together bell ringer packs to fit each of the 22 learning targets in the AP Language and Composition CED. Each pack includes 9 different bell ringers to suit the learning target, and ultimately, there will be enough bell ringers to fill an entire 190 day course. My plan is to include these in my free resources, but for now, the first 8 packs are available on my Teachers Pay Teacher store. |
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February 2024
AuthorSteph Cwikla has been a teacher since 2012, focusing on ELA curriculum. Now, she also works as an instructional coach, helping other teachers improve engagement and instruction. |
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