Dear Wit & Wisdom: We Need to Talk About Your 90-Minute "90-Minute" Lessons

There are few things in education more optimistic than the estimated lesson times in a curriculum guide.

I'm convinced they're calculated in an alternate universe. You know, the one where no one needs to sharpen a pencil, nobody asks to use the bathroom, and every child instantly understands the directions the first time.

Then there's Wit & Wisdom.

Don't get me wrong. There is a lot to like.

The texts are rich. The vocabulary is strong. The lessons encourage students to think deeply instead of just hunting for answers. As someone who believes students should build knowledge, I appreciate what the curriculum is trying to accomplish.

But...

Can we have a conversation about the pacing?

Because there is absolutely no way some of these lessons fit into a 90-minute literacy block.

I'm not saying it's difficult.

I'm saying it's mathematically impossible.

Let's walk through a typical day.

"Turn and talk."

Wonderful.

Except one student is still looking for their partner.

Another forgot the question.

One is telling their partner about their hamster.

Someone sneezed.

Someone else suddenly remembered they have a loose tooth.

Three minutes have become eight.

Now it's time for a close read.

Except this is second grade.

We're decoding.

We're discussing vocabulary.

We're rereading.

We're making connections.

We're asking questions.

We're explaining our thinking.

We're redirecting the child who has somehow turned their pencil into a helicopter.

Again.

Then we move into writing.

Except writing in second grade isn't simply "write your response."

It's...

"What are we writing?"

"Where do I put my name?"

"Can I erase?"

"How do you spell because?"

"My pencil broke."

"My neighbor is breathing."

You know.

The usual.

By this point the curriculum says we should already be halfway through the lesson.

Meanwhile, the classroom clock is laughing at me.

The biggest challenge isn't the quality of the lessons.

It's that they seem to assume every student learns at exactly the same pace and every classroom runs like a perfectly choreographed Broadway production.

Mine does not.

Mine is more like community theater with occasional improv.

The irony is that the best parts of Wit & Wisdom are the discussions.

Those conversations where students finally connect ideas, make inferences, and surprise you with something brilliant.

Those moments take time.

Good thinking isn't fast.

Good discussion isn't fast.

Good writing definitely isn't fast.

So every time I rush because the pacing guide tells me I should already be on Lesson 14 instead of Lesson 11, I feel like I'm cheating my students out of the very thing the curriculum values most.

I've learned to make peace with that.

Sometimes we spend an extra day.

Sometimes we trim an activity that isn't essential.

Sometimes we let a great conversation continue instead of cutting it off because the schedule says it's time for grammar.

And you know what?

The world keeps spinning.

The students still learn.

In fact, they often learn more.

So if you're a teacher who looks at those lesson times and wonders if everyone else has secretly discovered a way to bend the space-time continuum, let me reassure you.

You're not behind because you're a bad teacher.

You're behind because you're teaching actual children.

Not robots.

Not curriculum writers.

Children.

And children have questions.

They need repetition.

They need movement.

They need encouragement.

They occasionally need to tell you about the bug they found at recess right in the middle of an important discussion about informational text.

Teaching is messy.

Learning is messy.

No pacing guide has figured that out yet.

Until then, I'll keep doing what teachers have always done.

I'll teach the students in front of me instead of the stopwatch beside me.