education and teaching

An Agenda

Friday 13 October 2006 | 0 Comments

Yesterday, one of the boys in our program asked if he could use the computer for a little while. “No problem,” I said. He’s had a great week, and it was a slow morning.

The week was much improved over the past. We were both frustrated about how things were going in my class — he much more than I. At the end of the last six weeks, when we were working on science (now we’ve switched to social studies for the second six weeks), M-Jezzy (his nom de plume at our program’s blog) was trying to make up some missed work, and getting very frustrated about it.

“Man, I just hate science,” he exclaimed.

“That’s fine,” I said. “Not everyone likes science. What we can do, though, is use that as a way to make up some of your work.” I instructed him to log into our blog, akacoolpeople.com, and write about science and why he hates it. “Explain three reasons you don’t like it, and we’ll count that as one of your missed assignments.”

He wrote,

I do not like science at all. And i,ve got three reasons why. One reason is because it is so confusing. likewhe gives the homework out. I dont know what he is talking about beause. They would be so many things that he is talking about. An the other reason iswhen he gives the i want know what to do because. It will be so many things that you would have to look for an you would have to do so much research. And the last reason is the things that he teaches in class i dont know wat in the world that hebe talking about. Likewe was talking about an atom an what i have to study about it is so hard because. The atom has so many things in it. And you will get mixed up with all the parts of an atom. Beceause you will not know how to put them in oder. An if you get this and you are really feeling wat i am saying to you then mail me back M-JEZZY out. I hate science so bad i wish i did not have it at all. (science)

I read it and thought, “What an indictment of me. I obviously don’t explain things for him, and I can’t even make myself clear when assigning homework.”

Depressing.

But fixable.

I talked to the head teacher about it; I talked to the program director about it; I talked to the head counselor about it. The consensus: M-Jezzy does not deal with ambiguity well (as if anyone really does). Like most people, he wants to know where he’s going and what he’s going to have to do to get there.

Starting this week, I began something new. Something obvious. Something basic. Something I should have been doing all along. I blocked off a portion of the white-board and wrote an outline of what we’d be doing, including information about what kind of activity it would be.

Next class, M-Jeezy was like a different young man — much more attentive, much more focused, much more involved. He asked penetrating questions, and he didn’t giggle too much.

A success, I thought.

Back to yesterday morning. M-Jezzy sits down at the computer and logs into “aka cool people,” and starts typing. This is what he writes:

now sence my teacher was started to put the agenda on the board i am starting to learn more in class and i know no wat to do.And i am not getting confused write me (Agenda)

I can’t remember the last time I felt so good.

Yet it was not what M-Jezzy wrote that made my day — it was that he did it spontaneously.

Fighting Back the Smile

Wednesday 11 October 2006 | 0 Comments

Sometimes, the kids say things that are humorous, but not necessarily because they're trying.

Yesterday, I was talking to a young man about an altercation we'd had. I was trying to get him to see that he was arguing with me.

"I wasn't arguing with you!" he exclaimed, offended.

"Well, be that as it may, you're arguing with me now."

His eyes got really big -- wide with disbelief. "I am not arguing with you," he exclaimed as if he were shocked that I'd even suggest such a thing.

Please Don’t Give Us Homework!

Tuesday 10 October 2006 | 0 Comments

There’s a “movement” to abolish homework, according to the San Francisco Chronicle.

Vigorous scrutiny of the research, they argue, fails to demonstrate tangible benefits of homework, particularly for elementary students. What it does instead, they contend, is rob children of childhood, play havoc with family life and asphyxiate their natural curiosity. Learning becomes a mind-numbing grind rather than an engaging adventure.

Who said all homework was mind-numbing? Perhaps these teachers should be thinking of more original alternatives than photocopied worksheets and such.

Who said homework has to impact family life? Here’s an idea — the parents become more involved in their children’s education and work with them.

Is this more of the no-wrong-answer-fuzzy-math theory of education?

In an era of more rigorous academic standards and vertebrae-straining backpacks, most American schools seem to be assigning more homework in earlier grades. For two decades, experts have propelled this trend with dire warnings that students in nations such as Japan are besting Americans because they diligently do more homework.

The problem is not the amount of homework we are or aren’t giving our students. It’s the time spent in actual instruction, particularly at the high school level.

The Japanese school year starts in April and consists of three terms, separated by short holidays in spring and winter, and a one month long summer break. (Source)
Japanese students spend 240 days a year at school, 60 days more then their American counterparts. Although many of those days are spent preparing for annual school festivals and events such as Culture Day, Sports Day, and school excursions, Japanese students still spend considerably more time in class than American students. (Source)

So it’s not just the amount of homework. Imagine that…

Take Five

Monday 09 October 2006 | 0 Comments

One of my favorite albums is Dave Brubeck's 1959 classic Time Out, with probably his most famous piece, "Take Five." The quintuple time signature (5/4) could give it a somewhat jerky feel, but Dave's light touch smooths the piece and provides minimalistic base for Paul Desmond's now-timeless melody.

Playing in 5/4, I would imagine, is all about self-awareness. It's such an odd time signature and so rarely played that I would think it takes a conscious effort to stay in time.

It's almost as if Brubeck and Desmond were writing a soundtrack for events forty-seven years in the future, a commentary on some of the difficulties the kids I work with have, and how they deal with it.

"Why don't you just take five?" A question that comes from my lips almost daily. "Take five" means, in our program, getting up and walking to the front foyer and taking a break from a situation that is in some way upsetting. Staff can tell the kids to take five if the staff member feels things are getting out of control, and the kids can simply say, "I need to take five."

I imagine that the circumstances leading up to those "take-five" moments feel a bit like the 5/4 time signature played badly: jerky, unpredictable, out of control.

From the outside, it often seems like the smallest thing has set a kid off.

Sometimes, I have to ask a kid to stop talking so I can finish explaining something, and boom. "Why are you always on my back?!"
Occasionally, a couple of kids are talking, so I stop talking and just wait for them to finish. And then wait for there to be silence so I can continue. "Man, why you just standin' there?! I wanna get this class over with." Usually, the one who says this is one who was talking.
Every now and then, insisting that a kid correct his work -- providing negative feedback, in other words -- upsets him to the point of distraction, even if I'm sitting there working with him. Indeed, this can make it worse.

In all these situations, and many others, I find myself thinking, "What's going on here? Why is this simple request to be quiet or to correct a wrong answer so upsetting?"

Such moments are harsh reminders of the simple fact that I see only a small portion of their lives -- almost incalculably small. These behaviors didn't appear instantaneously, and they were reinforced by events that I'll never know about and could do nothing about even if I did.

Bottom line, the reaction doesn't make sense, and the reason why they're occasionally reacting in such ways is the same reason they're in our program and not still in school.

Curriculum Concerns

Sunday 08 October 2006 | 0 Comments

In planning my lessons and the general shape of my course, there are a few things I have to take into consideration.

The state curriculum
Since most of the students are in eighth grade, I generally follow the eighth grade curriculum.
The standards the program director wants implemented
Hands-on is what he suggests, and I try to make as much of my teaching “hands on” as possible.
The materials and facilities at my disposal
Our program is relatively new, and while there are plenty of teaching materials available to me, the facilities are somewhat lacking. To everyone’s relief, this is due to change within the year.
The worldview and experiences students bring into the classroom
Most of the young people in the program don’t necessarily see the importance of education. Further, because they’ve been thrown out of school, they do not have a lot of trust in the educational establishment, which I obviously represent to them.

For these first six weeks, I taught basic chemistry. It’s part of the state curriculum; it’s very hands-on; at the level I’m teaching it, the course doesn’t require a lot of materials.

Beginning tomorrow, I’ll be switching to social studies. If I follow the state guidelines, I’ll be teaching North Carolina history.

In both cases, I wonder I am (or will be) teaching anything useful to these kids. Who cares if they can tell how many protons a given element’s going to have in its nucleus? Who cares if they have a vague understanding of North Carolina history? How’s that going to help them in a future that likely doesn’t include college and might not even include a high school diploma?

Even more troubling is the thought that I’m not their permanent teacher. I — like the rest of the staff — want them all out of the program as fast as possible. That being said, shouldn’t I be teaching them things that will help them succeed better once they do return to “regular” school?

The frustration mounts when I consider the academic level of many of our “consumers” (as the kids have to be referred to in Medicaid reports). Sadly, not one is on grade level; tragically, several are two, three, even four years behind. And I could add perhaps “predictably” to those sentences: if they’re having problems coping with anger and frustration, problems with showing respect toward others, they’re certainly not learning very much.

Of course, the first obvious answer is to throw out the state curriculum, to some degree. Going strictly by the book is not going to reach these kids — the fact that they’re in our program to begin with is ample evidence of that.

Second, meet the kids where they are in their academic achievement and — most critical — interests. At the moment, I have groups of four students when everyone is present and accounted for. Sometimes, I have two students. That means I taylor something specifically designed for each student and monitor them all as they work.

There’s not much I can do about changing their worldview except by giving them an example of a different one. And so I try to be enthusiastic even when — indeed, especially when — they’re dead in their chairs.

Sometimes I feel that being an example is about all I can do — and that’s not meant as a comment about their inability, but mine.

akacoolpeople.com

Wednesday 04 October 2006 | 1 Comment

I work at a day treatment facility for troubled youth. They wind up in our program either through long-term suspension or via adjudication.

It can be a tough bunch of kids.

Recently, I set up a blog for the whole program with the aim of using it as a way for students to write for an actual audience, instead of just writing for the teacher, as is often the case.

But for that, we need an audience.

That’s obvious enough.

Since I’m just trying to get the kids excited about the idea of writing on a regular basis, I’m not having them do much of any correction. Small steps”

Read it with a smile. So I’m asking any willing readers to pop over to akacoolpeople.com and read what the kids have written so far, make a few comments (even if it’s “Hey, that sounds really great!”) and – most importantly – to keep checking back from time to time to make comments. It’ll be slow for a while (right now, there are only a few posts – two of them mine), but I’m hoping that as kids get comments, it will encourage them to write more. (And obviously enough, I’m looking for comments to the kids’ posts, not my own!)

Additionally, if you yourself have a blog or web site and would be willing, give “aka cool people” a mention and see if you can steer some more traffic our way.

Thanks in advance for your help.

Resistance

Monday 02 October 2006 | 0 Comments

Some days, working with troubled youth means everything is an encounter. Everything is an issue. Everything offends. Everything upsets. Hairs are split, then split again, and yet again.

2k

Monday 25 September 2006 | 2 Comments

One of the young men I work with was doing afternoon chores today, and he asked me to show him how to tie up a garbage bag. When I finished, I asked, “Would you like me to help and take the trash out for you?”

“If you would, please.”

Such a simple response — something most of us might not pay much attention to. But when working with kids who sometimes demonstrate that, through no fault of their own, they have somewhat limited social skills, I notice.

Indeed, it’s my job, among other things, to notice.

I pointed out that I felt he’d earned 2,000 points for that interaction. He pulled out his point card and jotted them down, and after I signed it, I asked, “Do you know what you did to earn those points?”

He explained that he’d been polite.

“Correct.” I asked, “Do you know why it’s important to accept help politely like that?”

“Not really.”

Indeed, why? I paused for a moment, thinking about it. Why is it better to say, “If you would, please” than respond, “Yeah,” or “If you want to,” or any number of less-than-perfect formulations. It’s one of those things many of us parse without thinking, a response we expect to hear.

I thought for a moment, but not long. To be honest, I’m beginning to develop a skill for this explaining of social conventions.

“Because the next time you need help, I’ll be more likely to offer it. If you’d just said, ‘Yeah, if you want,’ I probably wouldn’t have felt that you really appreciated my help. But saying it like you did showed me that you really appreciated it, and so I’ll be more likely to offer to help you the next time I see you working on something.” Not a bad reason.
He accepted it and moved on.

The question is, will he remember it next time?

I’m starting to be optimistic enough about my job to think it’s quite possible. Dare I say, likely?

A’s

Friday 22 September 2006 | 0 Comments

In science class, we’re learning about the atomic world and what makes different elements different. To their surprise, it’s just the number of protons. Some are somewhat interested, but we’re not yet to the interest level that produces questions like, “You mean mercury could turn into into gold if we just took away one proton and one electron.”

What I wouldn’t give for a question like that. But we’re getting there.

One thing I’ve done to try to keep interest levels up is to make as many lessons hands-on as possible. Thus, last Friday we put all our new knowledge to work by making clay models of atoms. Each student chose an element (from a list I provided — I didn’t want anyone coming up with protactinium, for example) and then devised a way to make a model. Forgetting about the number of neutrons, we made semi-anatomically-correct models of sodium, oxygen, neon, and others. And at the end of the lesson, I announced there would be a quiz Monday.

The young men I work with probably have made very few A’s in their lives. This is not because of a lack of ability or intelligence, but the fact that their behavior problems get in the way of learning. And so, to this point, the grades have been relatively low as I learn how to tweak my lessons and quizzes and homework assignments just so — they must be instructive, vaguely interesting, challenging, yet not defeatingly so.

The quiz was simple: I put each clay model on a piece of paper that had a number in the corner, gave the students a periodic chart and sheet of paper, and told them to identify the elements. I let them take the time they needed, because when I saw some counting protons, others counting electrons, I thought, “This could be it — the quiz everyone passes.”

Not only that, but everyone got an “A.”

There was some bravado, as showing pleasure at having aced a quiz would have been a sign of weakness to some of these kids. But their eyes told me that they were pleased.

With that positive start, it was difficult not to have a productive lesson

Math

Tuesday 19 September 2006 | 2 Comments

There’s an op-ed piece in today’s New York Times about the ineffectiveness of “fuzzy math” instruction:

One of the most infamous fads took root in the late 1980’s, when many schools moved away from traditional mathematics instruction, which required drills and problem solving. The new system, sometimes derided as “fuzzy math,” allowed children to wander through problems in a random way without ever learning basic multiplication or division. As a result, mastery of high-level math and science was unlikely. The new math curriculum was a mile wide and an inch deep, as the saying goes, touching on dozens of topics each year.

I was shocked about this time last year when I was substitute teaching for a few weeks at the level of math juniors and seniors were working on. “We did that in fourth grade,” was K’s response.

K, studying for a national licensing exam for the last few weeks, recently revealed that the math she was working was “fun.” Matrices and such. “When did you learn that?” I asked, fearful of how her response might indict American education.

“Well, we started learning about it in primary school.” Around seventh grade (at the time, primary school in Polska was K-8).

Now some American educators are aiming for algebra by the seventh grade:

Under the new (old) plan, students will once again move through the basics — addition, subtraction, multiplication, division and so on — building the skills that are meant to prepare them for algebra by seventh grade. This new approach is being seen as an attempt to emulate countries like Singapore, which ranks at the top internationally in math.

The question is, what are students in Singapore studying in seventh grade math? I’d be willing to bet that, like in Poland, they’ve left algebra far behind by seventh grade.

The answer to catching up with some parts of the world in the education level of our schools lies not only in curriculum changes – rearranging deck chairs in the oft-used cliche. The answer depends, in part, on more educational time: a longer school day and a longer school year.