Back in the spring I added an exciting addition to my classroom: a word-of-the-day tear-away calendar I purchased for seventy-five percent off from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I placed it near the tissue box — reading material for the nose-blowers. It quickly became part of my morning routine to tear away to the next entry and read the day’s bit of vocab. For a while I was content.
Then came the later weeks of May. A stretch of several meaningful classes remained, but my activities were slowed by spotty attendance and even spottier student motivation. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary or unexpected (who isn’t worn out after weeks of SOLs, APs, and final projects?), but I was not satisfied. I always teach my students that the most memorable part of a sentence is the end — and I think this principle is true for the time spent with someone. First impressions matter, but those last interactions linger the longest. I had enjoyed my year with these students, and I didn’t want to end the year on such a weak note.
As I pondered this problem one morning, I had an idea. What if my students contributed to my very own personalized tear-away calendar? If each of my students created two entries, I’d have more than enough entries for the 180 school days.
I created a template on Google docs that gave a student three tasks: a word of the day , a historical fact of the day (preferably related to English class), and a poem/fable/koan of the day. I asked the students to note their name at the bottom. To better facilitate their search for truly obscure words I required them to use actual hard-cover dictionaries instead of their Chromebooks.
After explaining the activity I approached each student with a clipboard and a 2019/2020 calendar. Each student was in charge of two days: one day was assigned by me and one day they were allowed to claim for themselves if it was available. I did make the assignment work points, as I suspected a deep abiding affection for my class and this project would not be sufficient motivation.
As with all end-of-the-year assignments, some were completed more diligently than others.
For me, though, the biggest challenge was printing and assembling it. One hundred and eighty individual documents take a long time to send to the printer. And because I let students choose a date for themselves, they did not print in chronological order. When I was done with the printing, I had a mass of jumbled months and days.
And speaking of mass — this thing was hefty. When fully assembled, my student-created tear-away calendar was a monstrosity, weighing ten times as much as its tiny little pad-sized inspiration. I’d need to drill into the cinder-block if I wanted to hang it.
The organization was easy to solve: I simply presented the assemblage of unorganized papers to my most fastidious student, who was visibly shaken by the disorder. Fifteen minutes of furious scrambling later, order was achieved.
As for the weight issue, I simply hang a month worth of entries at a time with the help of Command strips.
Now I have a much more fulfilling morning ritual. The information is broader, for one. Not only do I get to add a new word to my lexicon, but also a historical fact to note, and a poem to savor. Then there’s added plus of noting the student’s name in the bottom left corner and reflecting on their contributions.
I have a tendency to quickly forget. I’ve found this to be a great way to keep alive the memory of an outstanding year. If I see the student in the hallway during the day their entry is up, I’ll make them come in my classroom to appreciate it, much to their delight and appreciation.
For now, I am content. It’s a project that gives me great satisfaction, and I plan to do it again in those lackluster final school days of the early summer.