matching tracksuits

In many ways, school is about measuring things. We measure how many questions you get right. We measure how your grades have risen or dropped. We measure how much faster you are at running 60 yards than you were last year. We measure, measure, measure; we count, count, count. We try to turn everything into a number that we can then compile with other numbers and run some analysis on (standard deviation anyone?) and pass those numbers on to people higher up than us, people with six-figure salaries who haven’t been in a classroom for ages yet who take those numbers and make some prescriptive pronunciations from them and tell us how we can make our numbers better. Numbers, numbers, numbers, even if the subject we teach is a million miles from numbers.

That is the reality of education in 2023. Where did this come from? How did we get so consumed with the idea of data? (Never mind the fact that much of that data is of spurious quality—numbers are numbers.) Why weren’t we so data-obsessed when I was in school? When I was student teaching? When I first began teaching in the States? Simple: we didn’t have a way to produce all those numbers on a regular basis because it was all pencil and paper. Now that we have computers and websites that can collate and count and assess and analyze numbers, numbers, numbers, we seem to think those numbers are the most important thing about education. We have meetings almost every week in which we’re supposed to discuss our numbers and how to improve our numbers and how to prepare our students better for the next measure that will produce more numbers that we can then dump into the computer and crunch and analyze some more. Numbers, numbers, numbers. It’s all we do anymore.

But I didn’t get into education to crunch numbers. I didn’t become a teacher to make spreadsheets and analyze them. I didn’t become a teacher to spend all my time thinking about numbers connected to arbitrary measures that are often inaccurate and misleading.

I didn’t become a teacher to do data.

Chess and Reading

Monday 13 November 2023

I had a thought during chess club today: many of the kids who come for our meetings are, for lack of a better word, nerds. That's how others see so many of them. Social misfits, uncoordinated socially and physically. I think it's fairly safe to say that a lot of the kids who come to play chess don't always feel like they fit in. During PE class, one or two might suffer mini- (or not-so-mini-) anxiety attacks at the thought of participating in a physical activity. During social time, one or two might feel completely lost when around the "cool" kids. When tensions flair in a hallway, one or two might cast a quick glance at the kid who bullies others, wondering if they'll be the new victim. One or two. Or more.

And it occurred to me as we finished up, and I heard one boy as he was leaving saying, "I love chess club," that this might be one of the few times some of these kids feel absolutely in the right place with the right people. It might be the one time they feel like they fit.

In the evening, the Boy and I sat in the basement reading. He's put off an assignment for far too long, and tonight we started making headway to the Friday deadline.

The first hurdle: where did you stop?

"I don't know. I can't remember."

"Don't you have a bookmark?" How can anyone keep track of reading without a bookmark?

"No."

"Which chapter was the last you remember reading?"

"I don't know. I can't read Roman numerals."

I take a quick glance: chapters are numbered with a bunch of confusing letters, so I teach him how to read Roman numerals.

Finally, we get everything squared, and he begins reading. His goal: ten chapters. His accomplishment: ten chapters.

Another from Last Week’s Hike

Sunday 12 November 2023

E and I got to inspecting a termite-damaged log on our hike. K was fast enough to catch the moment.

Soccer

Saturday 11 November 2023

Today was the first day of the end-of-the-season tournament for E's soccer team. He didn't participate last year because his team didn't participate: it's an additional event, with additional fees.

We went into the first game hopeful: the boys had beaten them a couple of times in scrimmages, but this, I believe, was the first time they played an actual game. It was tied 2-2 when the referee made an awful call, calling a foul on our goalie when it was clearly a legal play. He'd dropped to the ground to reach out and stop the ball, and the attacker fell on him. How that was a foul I'll never know. No one will ever know. But the ref awarded the other team a penalty kick, and that put them over: our boys lost 2-3. Technically, they didn't. But technically doesn't count.

The Boy was devastated. For the first time this year, he was on the verge of tears about the game. "We tied them!" he insisted, and I agreed. Still, what's done is done: refs make awful calls all the time.

The boys' second game went much better, with a stunning 6-1 win. They'd played that team twice before, beating them both times. So we go into tomorrow's games 1-1. We'll see how it goes.