Updated in September of 2019.
The Physical Makerspace
Here is a partial view of the makerspace in Room 210 on November 27, 2018:
The physical space changes often. It is finally a reflection of our pedagogy, which was described as far back as 2015 like this:
Grade abatement isn’t a grand and unifying theory that solves the problem of grades and grade obsession; it is, instead, the kind of art where the shaping of instruction is the instruction. It evolves because it is in use.
That linked post is itself a showcase for iterative pedagogy. Some of the raw stuff in that post has been refined; some elements have been jettisoned; some has been kept intact. We shape this space by using it.
The physical setup reflects the same sensibility. It can be rearranged every morning to fit my plans — let’s circle students up for discussion; let’s separate students for timed writing — but it should, most of the time, shift to fit students’ plans. Here is a tour of the space cobbled together as part of the testimonial site:
The photos in that tour are a little older than the photo at the top of this post. If you look closely at the latter, you’ll see copies of our skills and traits laminated and fixed to each table. There is also a copy of a check-in checklist, which starts with a consideration of the physical space and continues with a form for goal-setting and mindfulness.
When the physical space is modular, that daily calibration is essential.
Daily Calibration
That daily check-in form might be the key to focus for all students. Here is a pre-filled version of the check-in form that anyone can view:
That takes only a few moments at the start of each class period, but those few moments build powerful habits and generate useful data. Consider this screenshot of student feedback:
The first two columns’ data come from the following parts of the form, which are drawn from the excellent educator resources at Stop, Breathe & Think:
While these sections are optional, they can center students physically and mentally, giving them a greater chance of shifting cognitively from whatever came before — an exhausting gym class, a frenetic lunch period, etc. — into the work of a makerspace.
The next columns of data are goals and miscellaneous feedback or updates from students. This is incredibly powerful information to have at the start of the class period, and not just for teachers. For students, this is a way to orient themselves in the middle of a day that pulls them in a dozen different directions.
Completing this form is, therefore, incredibly important. To address students directly: This is a habit that you need in life. Goal-setting and mindfulness will help you navigate academics, relationships, and the equally Sisyphean grind of many jobs. You can and often should pause momentarily to take stock of your physical and mental wellbeing. You can and often should set an immediate, achievable goal.
Off the Floor
If you look again at the picture of Room 210 at the top of this post, you’ll also see a set of assigned seats for each table. This runs somewhat contrary to the idea of student-driven collaboration, but it’s often required when we’re faced with those flying guillotines. For years, I’ve tried different iterations of assigned seats. For a while, these iterations improved accountability and focus; overall, they undercut the purpose of the space.
We have to consider the needs of the space. When students arrive, that seat is where they shift cognitively. They set a specific goal for the period, either formally or informally, often by completing the above “calibration” form. They note briefly how they are feeling mentally and physically.
To again address students directly: When you sit with friends at the start of a period, your mindset tends to be less focused. If I need to announce something or review directions, you tend to miss that information. Regardless of the paradigm shifts in play here, this is still a public high school; you need to make a conscious effort to set aside the million distractions around you.
What we want is a way for each student to slough off distractions, set an immediate goal, and get to work — eventually without needing a teacher to call for attention. Think of it as putting on a lab coat and safety equipment in a more traditional makerspace. You wouldn’t walk in and casually fire up a blowtorch. You would check in first.
Remember the true purpose of this space: to use its resources to solve authentic problems, most often through reading and writing in the Humanities. The seats are just furniture to hold us off the floor while we do that. The people around us are resources and supports while we do that. All it takes is deliberate action and a sort of sedulous self-awareness — not an easy habit, but a necessary one.
I understand why starting in the same assigned seats would aid in our classroom productivity, as it instills the sense of structure in the classroom. However, I am curious as to how the mental and physical check-ins benefit us in the makerspace. Are they solely a journal for us to reflect how we are feeling at the beginning of class, or is there actually something else that it mentally does for us? Is there anything specific that you will do with this information, or make mental notes as to how your students are?
All good questions. I got the idea from a teacher named Mari Venturino, who has kindly shared her work online. My reasoning is the same as hers: It gives a platform to students who might otherwise be silent, and it helps students focus on themselves at the start of a class period. I had to ask what this sort of check-in form should look like in high school, which is why I’m not asking about sleep and meals (which might be triggering or unwanted for some folks, anyway). Instead, we’re using an established tool for mindfulness that has a simple body/mind check-in already, plus a daily goal. Setting a daily goal is part of many makerspaces, since the work is often open-ended.
On my end, it’s helping me see patterns. Students who are struggling mentally or physically can communicate that over time, and I can offer help or direct them to someone else who can offer help. Student goals, too, develop over time. Several students are writing unclear goals (“Do my work,” “Get work done”), which helps me see at least one facet of their understanding or investment. The subsequent conversations I have with those students about goal-setting will lead to better in-class work.
I also hope that it’s validating to know that every day at least one adult is asking you to record how you’re doing in a specific way. You have a choice in what you say in response, but you know that your feedback is read and valued. Sometimes, it’s as simple as being able to wish a student well on a test they’re taking next period, because I see it mentioned in that check-in form. Sometimes, it’ll lead to a 30-minute conversation about a confusing aspect of an assignment, which sets up the proxy work we rely on in here.