education and teaching

Chinese Math

Thursday 26 April 2007 | 0 Comments

America, in general, is lagging far behind a lot of the world regarding education, and this is particularly true with science and math.

Who’s ahead of us? It might be easier to ask who isn’t ahead of us.

Not surprisingly, the Chinese, in their quest for world domination (Mwa-ha-ha!), not only have cheap labor on their side; they also have a higher level of mathematics achievement, I’d venture.

The BBC recently put up two questions from two tests: one, a test intended for first-year university students in English schools; the other, a question from a Chinese pre-entrance exam.

Here’s the English problem:

That’s pretty simple. Even I, having used no geometry for close to twenty years now, can do that with no problems.

Here’s the Chinese problem:

From BBC.co.uk

Limitations

Tuesday 27 March 2007 | 0 Comments

The other day, I got a comment at another website that meant more to me most other comments I’ve received put together:

Hello! I want to say thanks, because you was (no, are still) very good english teacher… you’s lessons helps me very much, now I’m live in Ireland, and I m still learn… If you want to write me: [email and name redacted]: 1,2e ”zarzadzanie inf, terrorysci…”bye

In a class of “difficult” students (who, in retrospect, were angels), this young lady was one of the few students I could count on consistently. She caused any disruption; she rarely came to class unprepared; she rarely wasn’t smiling and happy.

Naturally, I wrote back. And of course I got this in return:

A message that you sent could not be delivered to one or more of its recipients. This is a permanent error. t the moment you cannot send a message to [reacted], try again later ¹: retry timeout exceeded

I tried again, knowing it was a futile effort. Still, the thought that it might not go through, and she’ll think my response to her invitation to contact her was, “Um, no thanks,” irritates to no end, so I tried. And yet again.

And so, I. Z., if you are reading this, please know: I wrote you back, but onet.pl is cranky and often does not take email from my account.

Which leads me to a question for all tech folks who read this (both of you): What could be causing a consistent problem with delivering email to Polish servers from a given account here in the States? I’ve asked tech support for my web host — they think I’m crazy. But consistently email sent from any address that uses the server this site is hosted on gets bounced back, or simply disappears. As in, “Did you get that email?” “What email?”

What I wouldn’t give, sometimes, for a return to consistent use of regular mail for correspondence…

-1 ↩

Learning to say “Okay”

Friday 16 February 2007 | 2 Comments

For many of the young people in the program where I work, one of the formal goals that forms part of the forest of paperwork about them is "Learn to say "Okay.'" What that means in practical terms is fairly simple: many of them are unable to accept criticism -- broadly defined as anything even apparently critical of them or their actions -- of any kind from adults.

A scenario from not so long ago illustrates how many things are going on that can make it difficult for someone just to say, "Okay."

Two boys, in class, are doing something disruptive. Fidgeting with something, throwing it back and forth (maybe a jacket?) or something. I couldn't see clearly what it was, but it caught my attention and I deemed it a distraction.

"Hey, guys, stop doing that, please."

"Doing what?" one asks simultaneously with the other's plea of innocence: "I wasn't doin' nothin'!"

Now it really doesn't matter what they were doing. It really doesn't matter if they were doing anything at all. The best response to bring the whole exchange to an end, to prevent it from escalating into something more serious, to ensure not getting into trouble, is to say, "Okay."

"If you have a problem with that," we tell them, "you can talk to the teacher afterward. If you don't know exactly what the teacher is asking you to do, you can ask for clarification after saying "Okay.' But getting defensive, taking it personally, exaggerating it into a personal affront will only make the situation worse."

And so going back to the above scenario, I reminding the boys that one of the skills they're working on is simply saying "Okay" and moving on.

"I ain't sayin' "Okay' to something I didn't do!" one replied indignantly.

"Why not?" I asked. "In saying "okay' you're not admitting to guilt. You're not doing anything other than acknowledging that you heard and understood what the person in authority -- be it a teacher or not -- is saying."

"But I didn't do nothin'!" he protested.

"But that doesn't matter." I responded. "In protesting it, particularly in the manner you're doing now, you're not doing anything to help your situation."

"Are you telling me that if someone accused you of doing something..."

"Whoa, wait -- I'm not accusing you of doing anything. I simply asked you both to stop. If you weren't doing anything, then clearly I wasn't talking to you. Even if I was addressing you alone and said "Stop doing that" and you were behaving perfectly, the best response is to say, "Okay' and move on."

"Move on?! You're the one making an issue of this" he said, voice pitching upward into a virtual screech, eyebrows raised just enough to say -- inadvertently or purposely -- "You're an idiot for saying that."

"No, I'm using this moment to remind you of a skill you're working on and to try to get you to practice it."

The boy couldn't accept that saying "Okay" even if you're completely innocent is anything more than an admission of guilt. And to prove his point, he brings up a most fascinating example: "So you're sayin' that if you walking down a street and cops come up to you and say, "You look like this guy who just robbed a bank,' and arrested you, that you'd just say, "'Okay.'"

The discussion is starting to get less and less productive as we range farther and farther off topic. Or are we off topic? Is this how the boy equates all these things? I decide to play along.

"Yes, I would. Or at least I hope I'd have a cool enough head to say that."

"But you didn't do it. Are you saying that if they said, "You robbed this bank,' that you'd just say nothing, that you wouldn't tell them you're innocent? They'll take you to jail and what -- you'll end up spending ten years in jail for something you didn't do?!"

Right here, though I suspected it moments earlier, I realize the young man didn't have a firm grasp on the workings of our criminal justice system. And another thing begins dawning -- we're really getting off track. Does this help the young man understand the situation? Is he just trying, like so many of the boys do, to get me so wrapped up in a discussion argument exchange that it's just a matter of whoosh! blink! and the whole class is over? I decide, somewhat against my better judgment, to continue.

"Just because they arrest me doesn't mean I'll be spending ten years in jail. There's a trial first, and in the meantime, I can be released on bail. But think of what they say, what you hear on TV, every time they arrest someone." Almost together we recite the Miranda warning. Then I continue, "Now if I'm an idiot, I'll start blathering on about how I'm innocent and how I didn't do anything and then, in court, that will be used against me, because the irony is, it makes me look guilty. If I'm smart, I'll shut my trap completely until I can get a lawyer."

"But if you didn't do nothin'""

"Especially if I hadn't done anything," I replied.

Finally things are winding down, and a boy enters from the other group.

"Hey, Mr. S, let's ask him if he'd just say "okay.' 'Eric, if someone framed you.'"

And now everything is mixed up. Nothing is as it started. We're no longer talking about whether or not saying "okay" helps you in a situation even if the request is relatively arbitrary; we're no longer talking about whether or not saying "okay" is an admission of guilt -- we've moved off into the netherworlds of arbitrary, six-sixty-degrees-of-separation tangents that suck up time and accomplish nothing.

Or is it simply that he doesn't understand what I mean? Are all these scenarios that we've been bouncing off of each other identical to him?

In the end, he simply says, "Well, if that's a skill, I guess it's a skill I won't use."

And I think, "Okay -- we'll try again tomorrow."

Stating the Obvious

Monday 05 February 2007 | 0 Comments

"You've got kind of a big nose, huh?"

The words fell like grenades as the three of us bobbed about the shallow end of the pool. My best friend was talking to my new girlfriend my first girlfriend, truth be told who'd been the axis of my existence for the previous week of band camp.

The words hit her fairly hard, too, for her eyes teared up and she swam away.

I said something icy and hateful to my friend and swam off to comfort my lady.

Truth be told, she did have a nose that was a bit on the large size, though of course I was not foolish enough to admit it when my friend protested later, "But she does have kind of a big nose."

"You didn't have to say anything," I thought. I said, "No, she doesn't!"

She herself admitted it sometime later, with a laugh, even.

We were all twelve, and yet somehow my friend had not yet learned that you don't have to say everything you're thinking.

Many of the boys I work with daily, at age fifteen, even sixteen, still have not learned that either. If I go into work with a bit of razor burn, I get comments. Endlessly. If they think my clothes are somehow unfashionable, they let me know, then stand around in a circle and laugh about it as I stand there.

It's funny -- when I was their age, I did the same thing. But my friends and I talked about teachers' razor burn or mismatched wardrobe in hushed tones, and we would never be presumptuous enough to think that we could mock the teacher as if he were a peer. But that is exactly what many of the boys at the center do.

The worst was the first time I cycled to school. When they saw me in typical cycling clothes everything spandex, basically they howled with laughter. "Oh my God!" one literally screamed. "Look what a faggot Mr. S looks like!"

Part of what I try to do on a daily basis, then, is to encourage them to whisper among themselves instead of talking among themselves. And this is particularly frustrating, because it seems to them that I'm simply annoyed by their behavior and trying to punish them in some way or other. Quite frankly, it's easy to ignore such immaturity (and that's really all it is), but that's not my job -- and therein lies the frustration.

Snow Day

Monday 29 January 2007 | 0 Comments

I woke up this morning to a fiery throat, thinking immediately, "Maybe I'll come home early -- as in, shortly after arrival -- if we're not terribly short-staffed." Much to my delight, I looked outside and saw a powered sugar dusting on everything and thought, "No school, I'm sure." And sure enough, no school. There's less than an inch of snow on the ground, but no school.

I think back to the years I spent in Poland, buried in snow from December (sometimes November) to March. I believe we missed one day because of weather. If I recall correctly, students are not legally obliged to come to school if it's colder than minus 18 Celsius (0 Fahrenheit), but many come anyway.

K laughs at the reaction here to the slightest bit of snow. There are two reasons, I explained to K. First, most places don't have the equipment to remove snow city-wide. And given the fact that so few people have experience driving in snow, the slightest bit makes them nervous.

A colleague at work provided the second explanation: that there's a certain phobia with local school boards about lawsuits, and so they cancel school at the slightest hint of bad weather.

Both reasons are completely foreign to K.

Many roads in Poland are literally packed with ice through most of the winter, so the thought of being spooked by a couple of centimeters of snow is absurd to her.

And the fear of lawsuits?

Only in America, she smiles.

Update

I went out for a walk at about eight. Suddenly, it was fairly clear why school was closed.

Just a few feet apart, three cars that slid off the road.

For the Want of Punctuation, Calm Was Lost

Friday 26 January 2007 | 0 Comments

We'll call him Doug. He's one of the young men I work with -- a young man who's made a lot of progress in the last few weeks. An exchange with him a few weeks ago taught me -- again -- the importance of speaking judiciously, and it suggested something of this young man's past.

We were writing up reports from a short experiment we'd done, and I thought I'd use the chance to teach the boys something about spreadsheet software. We were beginning to enter all the data into a spreadsheet, and I suggested to Doug that he add a title.

"What do I call it?" he asked, his voice a bit edgy.

With Doug, I've noticed that confusion leads quickly to frustration, and frustration can lead to crisis. When I hear the edge in his voice that suggests all is not well, I slow down, and I also mention to Doug that I've noticed he's getting frustrated, and I encourage him to keep his cool "like I know you can."

To answer his question, I suggested he think back to the topic we'd been learning about in the previous lesson (namely: friction). He couldn't remember, and he was clearly not entering a "teachable moment."

I continued trying to jar his memory, asking him some fairly basic questions that were similar to ones we'd worked on in class. One of them, I recall, was, "Well, Doug, what happens when you try to walk on ice?"

He looked at me as if I were a complete idiot. When he didn't answer, I asked him to hazard a guess.

He exploded.

Man, you know what happens when you try to walk on ice! I know what happens when you try to walk on ice! Everybody knows what happens when you walk on ice! Why are you asking me that?! What are you talking about. I just want to get some help and you go off asking me stupid questions!

His voice had gone from being merely edgy to being positively aggressive. Everything in his body language screamed, "You're an idiot!"

Since instruction in social skills trumps academics, I stepped out of my role as science teacher and explained what had just happened.

When you say those things in that tone, with that facial expression, your words are telling me one thing, but your body is saying something else. It's saying to me, "You're stupid."

It's just a small step from, "It's saying to me, 'You're stupid.'" to "You're saying to me [that] you're stupid."

Doug heard the latter; I intended the former.

Instant crisis.

"Man, don't you fucking call me stupid!" -- and several variations of that same sentiment before I could calm him down.

At first, I was completely taken aback. I had foreseen the misunderstanding and thought I'd chosen my words with sufficient care. My gut instinct was something I'm a little ashamed to admit now: "You just hear what you want to hear! You're just looking for an excuse to act out!"

Writing about it in my journal that night, I realized my error. You can't verbally indicate those quotation marks (or inverted commas, if you prefer) with perfect clarity. When I wrote the sentence, I saw how easily it could have been misconstrued.

Better would have been, "It's like you're telling me that I'm stupid."

All that aside, I can't help but wonder if there was much more going on. Most of the kids I work with come from environments that are so far from the norm -- let alone the ideal -- that it's shocking. For all I know, almost every time Doug has heard the word "stupid" coming from an adult's mouth, it was directed at him.

Once I calmed Doug down and explained what I really meant, I realized I did have a teachable moment then.

See, Doug, when you thought I called you stupid, you really didn't like it, right? And you really didn't want to be in my presence, let alone have me help you. When you let your body language accidentally tell people that they're stupid, they don't like it, and they'll be less inclined to help you. Understand?

Doug screwed up his mouth while he thought about it, then mumbled "Yeah." And though I might be imagining things, I could have sworn that for the rest of the lesson, Doug was doing his best to stay aware of his body language.

As often happens in jobs like mine, its those little moments that make all the less-than-ideal on-job experiences worthwhile.

The Process of Education?

Monday 13 November 2006 | 2 Comments

Via Autism Vox, I found this post: “The Process of Education.” In part, it reads,

shouldn’t the people who fail school be kicked out? I mean, if someone fails a class and makes no effort to regain good grades, that person is assuredly not going to contribute to society. It really would save a lot of money and time if those people were just simply expelled; they obviously do not care about their well-being and education. it’s a waste of money for us all, and morons like that tend to annoy me, anyways. And the same goes for mentally challenged children. Just let them die. We, in this world, cannot waste any more money educating these worthless brats. And I’m not talking about ADD or ADHD. Those things can be channeled by a person and used for their advantage. What I’m talking about are the more serious illness. Autism, for one. People with autism shouldn’t even be educated, and if I was a parent of an autistic child, I would really be ashamed. We don’t need to waste any more precious money educating people who won’t learn (Process of Education)

Dr. Chew deals with the uneducated absurdity of this comment here, but I wanted to touch on something a commenter said in reply:

It’s high school, it’s more a social experience than anything. High school builds character and knowledge where you manage to grasp it.

A lot of fluff was in my high school days and I’d like to think (I say like because someone has to pay for that shit to keep going) that whatever class you’re going into has a small impact on your overall character and in some way you’ll expand yourself. I was in all sorts of fine arts classes from art itself to woodworking, computers, ceramics, to auto body, and from my standpoint right now I’m glad I went through those classes so I at least have some knowledge in a different area of life. I understand that I may never again have the need to wedge an aerated piece of clay air tight again but at least I know what it is. (Source)

High school is a social experience? Sadly, I agree. And this individual (one “shaharazhad”) even touches on part of the problem: a completely fracture curriculum. In the name of diversity, we’ve spread our education so broadly that it’s almost paper thin.

Now, thanks to No Child Left Behind (NCLB in all in-school communications), we’re reaching over to the opposite extreme, at least in primary school. We’re focusing so much on math and reading that we’re neglecting a lot of other subjects that might be called “fundamental.” NCLB tries to solve the problem of low achievement through testing and conditional funding. What about lengthening the school day and increasing the number of days children spend in school?

Suspension

Wednesday 18 October 2006 | 2 Comments

The typical suspension length at my high school was three days. I'd heard of year-long, but I never actually heard of anyone getting it. It was always out-of-school suspension as well. To my recollection, there was no such thing as in-school suspension at my high school.

There is certainly a move away from out-of-school suspension, for a variety of reasons.

The unappealing idea of students serving out-of-school suspensions roaming their communities during the day, possibly getting into more trouble, prompted some schools to create or expand their in-school suspension programs. In Louisiana, state officials became so concerned about suspended students missing instructional time that the legislature began funding in-school suspension programs.

The Kentucky Department of Education encourages school districts to develop policies that include well-rounded academic offerings for those students who stay in school during suspension. (Education World)

But it still exists. If it didn't, I wouldn't have a job, for a majority of the clients in our program are there because of year-long, out-of-school suspension.

Out-of-school suspension (for simplicity, just "suspension" hereafter) is the lazy way out, though. It puts the burden of educating the most troubled students on someone else. In our organization's case, that "someone else" receives most of funding through "professional begging" -- that's what the organization's director likes to call his continual grant writing.

Suspension addresses only the behavior; it does nothing to correct the causes of the behavior. To be sure, those causes are myriad and most of them out of the effective reach of a public school system. If a child has been suspended for the remainder of a school year, the situation has reached a point at which therapists are probably necessary. Short of dealing with the causes, school systems are simply putting off the inevitable: a sense of failure so deeply ingrained and reinforced that the child gives up on doing anything other than fulfilling everyone's expectations.

An old saying comes to mind: "If you think you're going to succeed, you're probably right; if you think you're going to fail, you're still probably right." School systems that kick the tough kids out of school are feeding into the latter. Then organizations like ours have one more shell to break through before we can start reinforcing the former.

Perspective

Saturday 14 October 2006 | 0 Comments

In the switch from science to social studies at the day treatment program with teach in, I’ve gone from trying to follow the appropriate grade-level curriculum in science to allowing the kids (and myself) a bit of freedom in what we’re covering now in social studies. (We switch subjects every six-week grading period.) On talking to the lead teacher, I realized that it’s not as critical that we follow the curriculum because there’s such a mix of kids.

M-Jezzy, of science fame, has been asking about slavery. How did it begin? Who started it? How’d they get the slaves?

In explaining that we’d be looking at slavery next week, I got a response I’d been thinking I might hear, but had hoped to avoid nonetheless. Basically, a young man asked, “What can a white guy teach black people about slavery?” Now, to his credit, it was very polite — surprisingly maturely and subtly phrased, in fact. It was more like, “I don’t mean any offense or anything, but, you know, I’d rather hear about slavery from someone who’s experienced it, someone whose people experienced it.”

“That’s a very good point,” I said, thinking, “Am I glad I did some research before mentioning this,” for that’s exactly what I found:

In the 1930s, the Works Progress Administration (WPA) sponsored a federal project dedicated to chronicling the experience of slavery as remembered by former slaves and their descendants. Their stories were recorded and transcribed, and this site presents dozens of select sound recordings and hundreds of transcriptions from the interviews. Beyond the content of the interviews, little to no biographical information is available on the individuals whose interviews appear here.

These interviews are available at PBS’s site for their series Slavery and the Making of America.