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education and teaching

Table Rock

Monday 01 September 2008 | 4 Comments

I've been writing all day. Planning lessons (putting the finishing touches on a unit about the memoir in which we study Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings) and preparing materials for my PAS-T notebook. The former I don't mind; the latter is a hastle.

PAS-T is an acronym for "Pain in the..." -- no, rather it's "Performance Assessment System for Teachers". It is, in short, a pile of paperwork that I am to provide three different evaluators as they come through my classroom two times each throughout the year for formal observations. My PAS-T notebook is to include things like,

  1. Summary of plan for integrating instruction
  2. Class profile
  3. Annotated list/samples/photos of instructional activities/materials/displays
  4. Lesson/intervention plan
  5. Summary of staff consultations
  6. Syllabus
  7. Lesson plan(s)
  8. Differentiation
  9. Annotated photos of class activities
  10. Sample handouts/transparencies/Thinking Maps
  11. Student samples of technology integration
  12. Record-keeping/monitory system
  13. Labeled and dated grades
  14. Teacher-made tests/assessments
  15. Example grading rubric
  16. Grading procedures
  17. Student work with feedback
  18. Progress reports/letters for parents/students
  19. Survey and summary
  20. Class rules with description of development procedures/reinforcement system
  21. Classroom diagram with comments/alternative room arrangement
  22. Class schedule
  23. Explanation of behavior management philosophy/procedures
  24. A printed copy of the teacher's home page
  25. Log of rapport building efforts (notes, calls, conferences)
  26. Copy of newsletter
  27. Agenda from orientation/fieldtrip
  28. Documentation of Technology Proficiency or letter of intent
  29. Resume
  30. Certificates, agendas, support materials from presentations given
  31. Certificates, agendas, support materials from presentations attended
  32. Documentation of membership/participation in professional organizations
  33. Performance goal setting forms
  34. Chart of student progress throughout year
  35. Analysis of grades for marking period
  36. Log of collegial collaboration
  37. Documentation of meeting established annual goals

It is difficult to think of this as more than busy work. I mean, how useful can a classroom diagram with comments be to an evaluator who's sitting in my classroom?

I'm all for accoutability, but this is starting to feel like an extra burden.

Still, I will perservere, and I will get only "Exemplory" ratings because anything else would drive me mad. If I'm to jump through hoops, I want to jump through them while juggling chainsaws and lecturing on Kant -- I want to blow people's minds.

Fortunately, I didn't spend the whole weekend at a desk; we spent some of it at a table, so to speak: Table Rock State Park, which means more hiking and more waterfalls.

Such a burden.

A few more pictures are available at Flickr.

Resources

Friday 15 August 2008 | 2 Comments

We often hear schools' complaints about the lack of this or that resource. I always assumed that was because of lacking something more fundamental: money.

I found out yesterday how wrong that simplistic thinking could be.

My wife brought me a computer from her office some time ago. "It doesn't have any memory," she said, "And there's no operating system installed, but maybe you can use it."

Can I use it? Of course I can use it. No teacher complains about having too many computers for his students.

The plan was simple: at the beginning of the year, I would take some of the funding I get from the state for supplies, buy a half-gig of memory, load some form of Linux on it, and I'd have a new computer for my room.

In talking to a fellow teacher, though, I learned that it might not be so simple. I went to our school's IT guy for clarification.

Short answer: sure, I can use it, but no student can touch it.

It seems we have a contract with a particular computer manufacturer that stipulates two things:

  1. Each computer for student use must be purchased through through Distributor X. That rules out using my computer.
  2. Each computer for student use must be running Windows XP. That rules out the closet full of laptops I discovered we have, sitting unused because they have Windows 2000 on them.

Now, it seems to me that if Computer Manufacturer X was really interested in educating students that they wouldn't really care whether or not we use other computers or use other operating systems. It seems that teachers wouldn't be punished for taking some initiative to get more materials for students.

But underlying that would be a mistaken understanding of the nature of the capitolistic drive, wouldn't it?

Busy

Wednesday 13 August 2008 | 1 Comment

School is starting up again. I've been moved to a new room, which means reorganization. I'm teaching new courses, including English I Honors -- a high school class taught in eighth grade. Translation: bright, motivated students. Additionally, I'm coaching the girls' volleyball team this year. And I'm going through my formal evaluation this year.

In other words, no time. For this, or anything else.

Ideas abound; time doesn't.

Year’s End

Wednesday 04 June 2008 | 2 Comments

I'm sitting on the back porch with a bit of scotch and a cigar, reflecting on the day-the last day of school. It ended on a positive note, with a few very positive emails from parents and relatively peaceful final classes. It's fairly amazing how all perceived animosity burns itself out in those final days and students and teachers alike seem more able to see the positive side of school -- not to mention each other -- than they have for weeks, or even months.

It being my first year teaching in the States, I did a lot of experimenting. I used in-class journals, Moodle, various writing workshops; I tried different forms of classroom management: some experiments were frustratingly unsuccessful, while others were more effective than I'd ever dreamed they'd be.

It was a year of relearning how to be a classroom teacher. It was a year of relearning all the wonderful things from adolescent psych about what thirteen-year-olds can, can't, will, and won't do. It was a year of fighting bureaucracy that I didn't know existed in American schools. It was a year of relearning content-area knowledge, like how to spell "onomatopoeia."

In trying to determine whether it was a successful year, I'm left wondering what "successful" means. How do I as a teacher measure success? My MAP test scores were higher in all classes in the spring than they were in the fall. Does that constitute success? NCLB says it does. I had a student who was brilliant and brilliantly troubled, and I never managed to make a chink in her armor so that we could string together more than two consecutive learning-filled days. Does that constitute failure? I taught some vocabulary well enough that some students were referring to other students' disruptive behavior as "superfluous." Does that constitute success?

This year I realized again what I'd learned years ago in Poland: the immediate, clear successes are few and far between. But there's no way to know what seeds were planted. Teaching in a small village in Poland afforded me the opportunity to see what seeds I'd planted, because students would often come back years later and tell me what they were using their English for. Some got jobs abroad because of their English; some fell in love with foreigners because of English; several became English teachers. So I simply have to trust that I did accomplish good, that I did teach the 90+ young men and women in my charge for 180 days something, and maybe even something more than English.

Free Will and the Middle School Soul

Friday 02 May 2008 | 0 Comments

"You can't make me do that! You can't make me do anything!"

I've heard this only a few times, from students who don't particularly want to do something and resent the fact that I'm trying to "make" them.

"You're right. I can't make you do that," I respond, and then explain what the student's choices will influence my choices. Sometimes that motivates, sometimes it doesn't.

Free will is a tricky thing in the middle schooler. It exists -- rather, it flames -- and then it disappears in a whimper -- rather, in flash. Suddenly, I am making students do all sorts of things.

They shout out rude things because I made them: I unjustly accused them, you see.

They lash out at me because I made them: I asked them to do something they didn't want to do, you see.

One has even threatened me because I made him: I told him to get up and leave his group of friends because of excessive talking.

If only I could figure out a way to make them do what I want them to do...

Attention Span

Wednesday 19 March 2008 | 3 Comments

At an in-service a couple of weeks ago, we received the little research tidbit that middle-school-aged students have a maximum attention span of some eleven minutes or so. The implication -- made very explicit by the presenter -- was that our lessons should have activity changes every fifteen minutes or so. You know, in order to keep students engaged and focused.

No mention was made about trying to expand and stretch students' attention span and ability to stay on task for more than a relative nanosecond. And the notion that we could just say, "Look -- today you're just going to have to focus on this for more than a few minutes" was implicitly ruled out.

Which is good, because in high school, college, and beyond, all you really need is an ability to focus for about fifteen minutes in order to be successful.

Religion, Education, and the End Times

Monday 25 February 2008 | 0 Comments

A client at the day treatment program I used to work at asked me an odd question one day.

"Is it true that people are going to have computer chips implanted in them at some time?" the boy asked, "Because my foster mom said that that was going to happen."

"Ah," I thought, "you just told me an awful lot about your foster mom."

What I actually said was somewhat more toned down: "Nah, John, that's not necessarily going to happen, and even if it does, it probably won't mean what your foster mom seems to think it will mean."

And immediately I thought that perhaps I'd said more than I should have, for it seems to be a theological/religious statement I made. I did qualify it: "not necessarily" and "probably." Still, I'm sensitive about discussing anything having to do with religion with students.

When student teaching, I had an interesting exchange with a student about this. He was concerned that I had crossed some line by explaining the Christianization of Britain. I differentiated teaching and proselytizing. "If we'd been discussing the Turkish empire, I would have discussed Islam. If we'd been talking about the partition of India, I would have discussed Hinduism and Islam."

After all, who am I to make judgments about whether or not the Beast is rising? Who am I to say that chip implants will not necessarily be a sign that the Beast?

I wonder if I didn't overstep some boundary with that...

Sales Reps

Tuesday 19 February 2008 | 8 Comments

I am a sales rep. I have to get my students to buy into what I'm trying to teach them. Psychologists call this motivation; educational professionals from central office call it "activating strategies". It all amounts to the same thing, though: convince your students that what you're teaching them is

  1. interesting,
  2. useful, and
  3. worth their time.

I don't really recall any teachers doing that with me. I don't remember having "activating strategies." We walked into class and the teacher told us what we were going to be doing that day. I don't recall the teacher worrying so much about whether she's "hooking" us. I, for one, paid attention because I knew at some point, there would be some payoff. It was more difficult in some classes than in others, particularly in middle school (or junior high as it was called then), but I had some kind of strange faith that the teachers knew what they were doing, and that I would, eventually, use all this stuff.

Today, though, we talk about hooking students, competing for their attention, differentiating our instruction to keep it fresh and interesting. These are all good and worthy things, but when they start to be the focus of evaluation and training, it starts to be a little much. Add to it standardized testing and NCLB accountability, and you start to get the feeling that students' failure to learn something is your fault, and your fault alone.

Even not doing homework is your fault. You see, when a student flatly says, "I'm not going to do it," you have to "find another way to structure it so the student can learn it." He refuses to do the homework; you have to trick him into learning the information another way.

You didn't differentiate to account for different learning styles; you didn't hook your students; you didn't provide think-pair-share debriefing.

How about, "The students just didn't do the work"? How about, "The students just didn't care"? Well, you have to find a way to get them to do the work; you have to find a way to make them care.

I'm not sure a teacher's job is to motivate, though. We spend all the time motivating and massaging and coaxing, and in the meantime, the Chinese and Polish students who sit in quiet, disciplined rows for hour after hour outperform our students in that Holy Grail of NCLB achievement, standardized testing.

The difference is, to some degree, cultural -- a thought that is both soothing and depressing.

The Bard on the Wane

Monday 04 February 2008 | 2 Comments

In a study entitled "Vanishing Shakespeare," the American Council of Trustees and Alumni found that 55 out of 70 "English departments at the U.S. News & World Report's top 25 national universities and top liberal arts colleges, as well as the Big Ten schools and select public universities in New York and California" don't require English majors to take a course in Shakespeare. Instead, we're replacing the Bard with Madonna:

Increasingly, colleges and universities envision a major in English not as a body of important writers, genres, and works that all should know, but as a hodgepodge of courses reflecting diverse interests and approaches. See Appendix B.) After redesigning the English major at the University of Pennsylvania, for example, the department's undergraduate hairman told The Daily Pennsylvanian student newspaper that We might not agree on what we think English is, but we could all agree that our curriculum should reflect the makeup of our faculty. Such a philosophy results in course offerings being driven not by the intellectual needs of students, but often by the varied interests and agendas of the faculty. As a consequence, it is possible for students to graduate with a degree in English without thoughtful or extended study of central works and figures who have shaped our literary and cultural heritage.

It's difficult for me to imagine not studying Shakespeare as an English major. Shortly after I graduated, the professor who taught the Shakespeare course at my small liberal arts college introduced a second Shakespeare course in which students spent a whole semester studying a single play, with the ultimate aim of performing it. It was offered every other year, with a more traditional, 12-play Shakespeare course offered on off years. I wish I'd had the opportunity to take both.

But not to study his work at all? "A degree in English without Shakespeare is like an M.D. without a course in anatomy. It is tantamount to fraud."

"Vanishing Shakespeare"

Sunshine After the Rain

Sunday 03 February 2008 | 2 Comments

I’d just finished a tough second period. Most classes with second period are tough — it’s just that kind of class. I was a little down about how much of a disaster that period could be when I decided to walk down to the cafeteria for a cookie.

The next-door social studies teacher emerged as I was walking by and told me about an unexpected exchange he’d had with a student.

“Latonya was talking in class,” he began, “And I told her to be quiet.”

Latonya (not her real name, of course) is a bright young lady in my related arts class. I’m teaching “Self-Advocacy,” which is basically social skills. And while Latonya is a very sweet young lady when she wants to be, she has a reputation for being tough on teachers.

In fact, the first time I met her was when I was calling her down for inappropriate behavior in the hallway and she began telling me how stupid my judgment was. When she first found out that I was teacher her third quarter related arts class, she said, “No way I’m staying in that class.” But by and by, talking very occasionally in the hallway or while outside before lunch, she came to change her opinion of me, and I of her. Before long, she was asking me when she’d be in my class, saying, “Mr. S, I can’t wait to be in your class.”

Now she’s in my class, and she’s one of the few who genuinely wants to learn how to make their school days more successful. She listens; she participates; she behaves wonderfully. But it’s not an academically challenging class, and I was curious how she was doing in other, “real” classes.

It seemed I was about to find out.

“You told her to be quiet, and…?”

“And she said, ‘Okay.’ And did it.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mr. W. continued: “I was so surprised that I just looked at her and said, ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Mr. S. teaches us to just say “okay” whenever a teacher asks us to do something,’ she explained.”

It’s hard to explain the odd elation I felt. Part of it was for me — “Hey, I taught someone something!” It was important to feel positive after having had such a negative lesson. Most of the elation I felt was for Latonya. For someone whose auto-pilot sends her into fits of denial and aggression when confronted by a teacher like that, she accomplished something ineffably significant in just saying, “Okay.”

When I saw her in the hall during the next break, I told her how proud I was of her.

I wish I had a picture of her expression.

I walked back down the hallway, thinking, “These are the moments that keep me going in this job…”