erasing with snow

I love February and her clear, sunny, snow covered days. February snow is different from the other winter months. In November and December the snow is wetter and temporary, teasing skiers and angel makers. When snow falls in February, it glistens, and blankets the landscape, calming and quieting  neighborhoods. In the silence I can hear myself. I'm reminded of how much I need silence to be able to sift through the layers of my thoughts and reach the source of my creativity.

Over the years, I have learned to give myself the time to pause and let those who I am in conversation with know that I am processing. I joke with my students how it would be nice if we could have some sort of icon pop up above our head, like the hour glass symbol on a computer screen, to indicate that even though it may look like we’re just sitting here, we're actually working on a solution.

I do see resemblances of that icon when a student scrunches their nose, taps their pencil, sighs with a drawn out 'hmmm', or bounces their leg (or their entire body). For others I sense a pause when they meet the challenge and determine their strategy, searching for the motivation and path to move forward. I feel like a detective of sorts, looking for the clues; how quickly did they pick up their pencil to work on the problem, did the rhythm in their breathing change, did they rub their brow or look in a certain direction? Like a dance, I wait for the right moment to interject my question and interrupt with guidance. How long I wait depends on several key things; one being how they erase.

Over the past several years I’ve seen the two basic erasing techniques, with variations in-between. They are the "grunt and attack" method and the “sigh and dust” approach. The “grunt and attack” method conveys the frustration with getting all the way to the end of the problem and needing to start all over again. It’s an all or nothing thinking approach to the problem with the process needing to be correct every step of the way or else it isn’t as clear. Their work is like creating a sandwich and if they add the wrong condiment they’ll need to start all over or they just won’t be able to digest it. With these students I choose to interject right after they have made a mistake. I interrupt with, “Take a look at this step” or “I’m not sure you wrote what you are thinking”. They don’t mind the disruption and prefer to catch the mistake before they carry it forward.

The “sigh and dust” approach is typical of a student who views the problem as a whole. They can compartmentalize their problem solving, keeping each step separate from the one before. Their work is like a puzzle and they are able to take out what doesn’t fit and replace it with what does. Afterward, when directed to a mistake, they sigh, gently erase only what was wrong and plug in the correct values. My part is to patiently wait until they have either moved away from the paper or set their pencil down. Then I begin by telling them what they have done right and pointing out what step needs to be reviewed asking them to take a moment and refocus.

Taking time to reflect and refocus can have a different rhythm for each learner. Having that time in silence, like on this snow covered February day, is a key to the heart of learning.