The Tempered Radical
Regular Radical Reader Nate Barton over at A Drop of Reason pointed me to this YouTube video created by a North Carolina special education teacher who is protesting the inhumanity of standardized testing for children with serious learning disabilities today:
Even as teachers like these are lauded as heroes by equally passionate peers, I'm just not sure how to feel about these kinds of "statements" by teachers. (Nate would argue that I'm a bit too tempered for my own good!)
Beyond the conversation we could have about the increasingly participatory nature of media or the importance of modeling conflict resolution for our students, my biggest worry is that messages like these cheapen teachers in the eyes of the general public even though they have great resonance. Heck, ask any special educator that you know and they'll tell you that requiring children with disabilities to meet standards they can't reach destroys their humanity.
Ask any legislator or business leader in North Carolina if they'll hear that message through the thick layers of sarcasm in this video and the answer is likely to be a resounding no.
And that's a lost opportunity.
I think that teachers often miss the PR value in addressing legitimate concerns in a professional manner. Instead of becoming articulate advocates for positive change, we uncork with screeds, respond in anger, or talk down to our listeners.
That tendency turns decision makers against us. I'll never forget sitting in a teacher leadership seminar with a group of influential policy wonks once and being shocked as they described their complete disdain for having conversations with practitioners.
"Are you kidding?" I asked. "After all, everyone loves teachers, right? Besides, isn't first hand classroom experience essential to making good decisions?"
"Wrong," argued one participant. "As soon as I see a teacher coming, I groan because I know I'm going to get the BMW." To her, teachers were defined in degrees of moaning and whining. The longer they went on, the less likely she was to ever want to invite them back----and rarely did she ever want to invite anyone back!
I guess what I'm saying is that I've worked incredibly hard to break down these kinds of negative stereotypes about teachers. When a challenge is facing those who set policy and drive the decisions in our buildings, I want them to believe that educators can play a meaningful role in developing solutions---and I think that gets less likely every time a teacher forgets to check his frustration at the door.
Pushback?
Sometimes, my colleagues groan when I propose new uses for technology. "That's just Bill being Bill," they say, "Where there's a will, there's just gotta be a digital way with that guy!"
And while their groans drive me a bit crazy sometimes, I really am convinced that digital tools have a ton of potential for helping professional learning communities do powerful work more efficiently.
My most recent efforts have been focused on using digital tools to facilitate asynchronous conversations between learning teams. While digital dialogue may seem initially strange in a profession driven by human relationships, I'd argue that electronic forums can make conversations on challenging topics more approachable to all faculty members.
In my eyes, asynchronous conversations offer three direct advantages to schools functioning as professional learning communities:
Asynchronous conversations give individuals the freedom to participate in ongoing conversations at times that are convenient:
If your school is anything like mine, it is probably an incredibly busy place where teachers and teams on different grade levels and in different subject areas can go for days or weeks without seeing one another. As strange as it may seem, the barriers of time and place are as great a challenge for the teachers within my building as it is for cohorts of colleagues working across continents.
Asynchronous conversations allow busy professionals to communicate at times that work within their own personal and professional schedules. Posting questions, seeking advice, sharing resources and supporting one another can be done early in the morning, during planning or late at night. Stated simply, asynchronous conversations can connect teachers regardless of their teaching schedule—or your school's meeting schedule.
Asynchronous conversations allow teachers to quickly and easily work with a large cohort of teachers as members of a learning community: Research has shown—and you have long known—that the best support opportunities for teachers involve partnerships with others in cohort groups. Collaboration just plain makes professional growth more meaningful, and teachers who are from similar grade levels and content areas offer the best guidance and support to one another.
Asynchronous conversations facilitate the work of cohort groups. Conversations can happen quickly and easily, in a targeted and focused manner that is often lacking in large group settings. In digital discussions, individual questions can be posed and answers can be provided in an efficient and effective way as participants self-select areas of conversation pertinent to their own needs and interests. Finally, reflection happens fluently as group members offer different perspectives on similar topics.
Asynchronous conversations give teachers the ability to participate in a semi-anonymous, pressure-free setting: Let's face it: Faculty meetings can be pretty intimidating places—especially when your school is working through powerful conversations about teaching and learning! Passions inevitably run high, Type A personalities take over, and half of your staff end up sitting silently waiting for the dust to settle. It's not that they don't have meaningful things to share. It's just that they need a chance to breathe, to think, and to speak!
Asynchronous conversations allow teachers to carefully consider their comments before sharing with the entire faculty. They can revise and polish ideas, think carefully about their responses, and participate without waiting to get a word in edgewise.
Teachers engaged in electronic conversations come to know the positions of their peers while working from the privacy of their own homes. No one feels rushed or threatened in digital forums—and no one has to "think quickly" before sharing opinions.
This ability often makes educators feel "safe" while sharing alternative viewpoints—and conversations that elicit alternative viewpoints result in defensible consensus far more often than the one-sided affairs that faculty meetings can sometimes become!
So what exactly can an asynchronous conversation between members of a learning team look like?
Check out this Voicethread presentation that is being used to focus conversation around the vision statements of a learning community:
Pretty powerful stuff, huh?
Did you notice how the participants in the conversation were freely challenging one another's thinking? That is the kind of collective dialogue that is often missing from full staff faculty meetings. Also interesting is how some participants chose to use their real names, while others chose to work with pseudonyms----and how participants used text, audio and video comments to make their points.
Why does this matter?
Because digital conversations can provide the members of your faculty with multiple avenues for participation that align with their personal levels of comfort---both with technology and with their peers. Digital conversations also allow school leaders to get a better sense for the general thoughts and understandings of their faculties----and provide teams with a permanent record of their developing thinking and collective decisions.
Think about how similar conversations can benefit the work in your building. Would your teachers embrace digital opportunities to interact? Would having time to think through responses and interactions result in more meaningful contributions to your building's professional conversations?
Do some members of your learning team end up isolated in full faculty discussions by more assertive teachers? Do you find that teachers shy away from sharing controversial opinions for fear of alienating colleagues? Would participating become "safer" electronically?
Or am I just crazy in thinking that digital conversations can play a meaningful role in the work of professional learning communities?
(Image credit: Dialogue of the Day by ElektraCute, licensed Creative Commons: Attribution)
Darren Draper over at Drape's Takes has an interesting conversation going right now about whether or not teachers and edubloggers cross the line into undesirable self promotion of their own work in their blogs and in social networks like Twitter. His central questions---which sparked a pretty strong conversation in the comment section---were:
- When do a person's advertisements (on various social networks) for activities they may be promoting become an undesirable display of self-promotion?
- What are the rules of etiquette - if any - that might apply to the combination of educational blogging and Twitter use?
Being a blogger, teacher and social networking junkie myself, I had to jump in the conversation. My initial thoughts had to do with intent. I wrote:
This is a tough one, Darren. For me, it's not about the quantity of self-promoting posts that one makes.
Instead, it's about intent. Does the person self-promote simply to get people to see how brilliant they are, or is their intention to draw others into a conversation about their ideas.
In the initial "tweet," intent may not be evident---but after following someone for a while, that becomes pretty clear. If a person never engages in dialogue with others....never links to others....never responds to others in their blog posts, then their self promotion is singular and isolated----and offensive.
But if someone who is constantly engaging with others as an equal participant----and sees the ideas of others as valuable enough to respond to in their own work, self promotion is nothing more than pointing friends to interesting thoughts.
I actually like when the people that I follow self promote their work in Twitter, primarily because I sometimes fail to catch up with them in my RSS feed. The immediacy of Twitter draws my attention and makes their post stand out from the crush that my feeds can become.
Do you think that the idea of "offensive self promotion" takes care of itself in the very act of "following?"
Do we simply "un-follow" those who's level of self promotion bothers us or whose intent we question?
Better question: Is the standard for reasonable self promotion something that varies by reader?
But then I got to thinking that Darren's concerns about self promotion seem to reflect a bigger trend towards equality in schools:
Actually, I've been thinking a ton more about your post in the past few hours (thanks for the cognitive dissonance!) and I had another interesting question:
Do you think the egalitarian tradition in education causes edubloggers to worry more about self promotion than people in other professions?
I know that in most every building where I've ever worked, the "top performers" were always considered outcasts by their peers. They were called "apple polishers" and shamed any time they earned recognition for doing something great.
Sometimes I wonder if the lack of a clear vision/picture of "excellence" in teaching makes it difficult for anyone to "stand out," which by default means that self promotion is bad.
That's one that I've got to role around a bit more in my head----but I wonder if you're on to something bigger than blogging. I wonder if our feelings towards self promotion via Twitter are really evidence of a broader trend towards "false equality" in teaching.
So what do you think? Do we tend to frown on teachers who appear to "self-promote?" Do teachers hold one another to a higher standard in the self-promotion department than other professionals would hold their peers?
Why?
If we are passionate about elevating teaching as a profession, should we begin to openly recognize excellence and push for more "horn-tooting" within our ranks? Can we really argue that we're a profession when we're not willing to admit that some of us do this job better than others?
Interesting questions, huh?
(Image credit: Confused Computer Keyboard by Ladyheart, licensed Creative Commons Attribution)
I've spent the better part of the past few weeks wrapped in thought about whether or not my middle grades classroom meets the developmental needs of the preteens that I teach. My struggles started when I sat down with the National Middle School Association's This We Believe—a document outlining the characteristics of highly effective middle grades learning environments.
The first challenge to my classroom practices started with this quote:
Young adolescents reveal growing capacity for thinking about how they learn, for considering multiple ideas, and for planning steps to carry out their own learning activities. Such evidence heralds growth toward more mature and abstract ways of thinking. However, because cognitive growth occurs gradually and irregularly, most middle level students require ongoing, concrete, experiential learning in order to develop intellectually.
These thoughts reflect the kinds of learning experiences that I've largely left behind in the past few years in my quest to produce results on our end of grade tests. "Ongoing, concrete, experiential learning" takes time that I just plain don't have if I'm going to get my kids to score well on the formative assessments that I'm required to give every three weeks—and "planning steps to carry out their own learning activities" isn't exactly essential when multiple choice questions are the only form of assessment used to judge learning.
I guess what I'm wondering now is whether or not our nation's focus on results has hurt preteens more than anyone else. Has our emphasis on standardized testing created middle schools where instructional practices run completely counter to the developmental needs of the children that they serve? What exactly would "adequate yearly progress" look like for kids whose "cognitive growth occurs gradually and irregularly"?
I guess I'm ashamed of myself for tailoring my instruction to better match the tests that we're required to give rather than to match the developmental needs of my students—but I'm also buckling under the pressure of having the lowest scores on the hallway year-after-year.
Whose fault is that?
I was also challenged by this quote:
Successful middle schools are grounded in the understanding that young adults are capable of far more than adults often assume. Educators recognize that students are curious and concerned about the world and their place in it, and they understand that students thrive when engaging in genuine activities that make a difference in their schools and communities.
Easily what I love the most about my kids is their passion for issues that involve justice and injustice. Even though they're twelve, each is intellectually curious, idealistic and motivated by action. They're cause-driven creatures who will stick up for the little guy regardless of the situation.
What I wonder is whether I'm doing enough to channel this passion towards the borderless challenges that are facing the world today. Poverty, deforestation, loss of biodiversity and pollution have devastating effects across continents—and are going to require solutions shaped by countries working in partnership with one another. As a result, the citizens of tomorrow must see themselves as responsible contributors to international efforts to protect our world.
With a bit of effort, couldn't global problems and solutions explored from the lens of global responsibility serve as a motivating vehicle for delivering my required curriculum?
Finally, I was challenged by this quote:
Achieving high academic performance for every student requires more than just raising standards or gaining an adequate score on a standardized test. It means empowering students to learn, to become intellectually engaged, and to behave as responsible citizens. It calls for them to develop initiative and responsibility so they can reach their potential.
While it may make me a few enemies, I think I can safely argue that many schools are far from empowering places that encourage students to develop initiative and responsibility. In fact, I'd bet that if we surveyed our students, they'd feel anything but empowered.
Why?
Because we regularly ignore the tools that have become a part of their daily lives beyond schools. Students who are driven by interactions with peers sit silent for large swaths of hours while in school. Opportunities to collaborate with digital tools are seen as little more than distractions in our classrooms. Quite simply, we unplug our students as soon as they enter the schoolhouse door, showing no appreciation or respect for tools that they've readily embraced.
Now, I can't completely blame teachers for our failure to create learning environments that are responsive to the changing nature of today's student. Educators prepared during an earlier era are often intimidated by digital tools and unaware of potential classroom applications for services that are becoming ubiquitous beyond the schoolhouse walls.
What's more, limited time for professional development and inconsistent access to functioning technology discourage teachers from learning more about the tools that most motivate our kids. Finally, schools are often paralyzed by fear—afraid to move forward with 21st Century instruction because of risks widely reported but poorly understood by the general public.
But by doing so, I worry that we are leaving students to learn lessons about "behaving as responsible citizens" on their own. In a world where the lines between public and private life are blurred for children who've grown up with interactive technologies, cyber bulling and irresponsible use of digital media are becoming increasingly common.
Shouldn't each new story of students who post content designed to embarrass or insult peers or who use digital forums to harass others convince middle grades educators that the time has come to extend lessons about personal responsibility into conversations about the responsible use of online applications?
I also worry that we're becoming increasingly irrelevant to our students because of our determination to hold on to the traditional views of "teacher as expert." Instead, we should be showing our students how to use digital tools to access knowledge and information. Empowerment should include attempts to embrace the kinds of independent learning experiences that are possible when digital tools form the foundation of one's personal learning network.
I guess I was hoping that working through this post would help me to come to some kind of resolution over the work that has formed the foundation of my professional career—but it hasn't. In fact, if anything, I'm left with nothing but questions.
Are my struggles to create a developmentally appropriate learning environment for my students unique? Are they a result of my own failures—or are they a result of systematic failures in the approach taken towards middle grades education in my state and nation?
Is there an inherent disconnect between the kinds of learning experiences valued by parents and community members and experts on adolescents like the National Middle School association? Is it possible to bridge the gap between what is and what should be?
Who bears responsibility for taking the first steps towards creating the kind of middle schools that would allow my students to thrive?
(Image Credit: Island Project by Sleestack66, licensed Creative Commons: Attribution)
Note to Readers: As a guy who as often been driven by challenging thoughts, some of my favorite readers are those who push against my thinking. In recent weeks, that reader has been Nate Barton, the author behind A Drop of Reason.
What makes Nate an important member of my personal learning network is that he steps a bit further than I do when advocating for powerful change in schools---as he does here in the first Guest Blogger post ever on The Tempered Radical.
Take some time to welcome Nate to the conversation by responding to his thoughts in the comment section and by adding his blog to your feed:
The Urgency of Now
By Nate Barton
I have always considered myself to be an incredibly patient person. I can remember distinctly fishing with my mother off an old dock in the Florida Keys, listening to her lessons about the importance of patience in a good fisherman.
Little did I know that she was systematically planting that seed in my brain with the hopes that it might grow someday into a great oak of patience. To this day I can sit for hours on the edge of a dock simply waiting for that small plunk of my line being tugged down.
Occasionally, however, I wonder if I have ever been a patient person.
I remember spending my sophomore year of college railing against the idea that I needed to put in a certain amount of focused study time so that I might acquire a degree. After all, I felt prepared for my profession long before my senior year. I had worked with children from the point where I was barely discernible from children myself. As far as I was concerned, I was ready to teach from the time that I decided that I wanted to teach.
With regards to the current state of education in America I find myself falling more and more into this same pattern of impatience.
Bill and I seem to disagree with regards to how change within the 'system' (our definition) might come. It would seem that I may be fostering an impatience that borders on social unrest--in fact, if you ask many of my closer colleagues about a revolution in education, they would have little difficulty directing you back to me---while Bill is far more willing to be patient and wait for change.
I wanted to highlight our differences so that others might shed some light on the virtues of his patience versus my apparent impatience. Interestingly, though, I find it a daunting task to point out our differences, as essentially I feel that we are standing on the same ground. Here are some examples:
'...performance measures are never extended to teachers of tested subjects. No one comes in my room and watches my students interact in meaningful conversations with one another. No one ever sits down and challenges their thinking about a particular novel or piece of text to see if they can analyze an author's purpose or notice elements of bias.
Instead, they count on the test to do those things---which I'd argue is simplistic at best.'
'I think that our nation's embrace of standardized testing has had the same impact on teaching and learning. We've stripped our classrooms of anything that doesn't have a proven connection to increased scores.'
'---the community is moving from a system of assessment that completely relied on the professional judgment of the classroom teacher to a system that is more 'concrete' and 'defensible.' By default, this decision implies that the decisions of teachers are insufficient as accurate measures of student learning.'
Frequently, I come away from a Bill Ferriter blog post with a sense of urgency...a sense of let's do something...a sense of excitement because I realize I am not alone in my frustrations with what is. I've left him comments on several occasions:
'Why can't we challenge the system that is drowning the optimism and creativity of both new and old teachers?' Generally the reply is, 'What can we do?' or 'Just wait a few years and maybe it will change.' Even you [Bill] have suggested resilience will be important. This, for me, is a difficult pill to swallow.
I propose a revolution. Why must we sit idly by to wait for some disconnected bureaucrat to change the system that only we know so well? Revolution sounds dangerous but it needn't be. I believe it begins as a conversation, a meeting of the minds. We'll likely all begin at the same place. I just feel like there are so many terribly smart teachers who get steamrolled because of the same strongly held belief...
I am here for the children, not the money, not the accolades, not the political system that tells us every year around election time how important we are, but the kids. I've no doubt that if we were able to stand up, together, that we could be heard. Let the revolution begin.'
Today I read a Ferriter response to Matt Johnston, over at Going to the Mat, that seemed to highlight the primary difference in our thinking. He wrote:
'I also believe that teachers have felt disempowered for so long---in many ways, our work is blue collar in the sense that we do what we're told and get written up if we don't----that we've given upon getting involved in the decision making process.'
I agree, Bill, that we have in many ways become affected by a sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Education has taken our legs out from under us for so long that we no longer feel enabled to stand up to challenge the decision making process that directly effects our profession, our careers, and, most importantly our children.
Our difference lies in how to affect change in this mindset.
I would propose that change should be radical. Radical to the likes of a revolution---and while I do not have a clearly delineated plan for our revolution, I believe that if enough teachers put their heads together we could save our schools and put our country back on the cutting edge.
While Bill's patience may be admirable, I believe the time for pragmatism is past. We owe it to our students to act.
I would however like to thank him for this opportunity to speak out to a broader audience. I hope that I have done the Tempered Radical justice. If you are inclined, please take a look at other thoughts that I have about teaching and learning at A Drop of Reason.
Thanks again Bill.
(Image credit: Classic Water Drop Shot by Randy Son Of Robert, licensed Creative Commons: Attribution)
Scott McLeod over at Dangerously Irrelevant started an interesting strand of conversation today when he shared a collection of facts showing that the smartest teachers often leave the classroom first, leaving schools with collections of "low ability educators" who have little impact on student achievement.
Scott's central question:
Let’s assume that, generally speaking, these studies are correct: 1) smart people are less likely to stay in teaching (thus resulting in a concentration of teachers with lower academic ability), and 2) the academic ability of teachers impacts student learning outcomes. Now what?
The conversation in the comment section of McLeod's post has been lively to say the least, drawing out some of the edusphere's most active thinkers. For me, the Eduwonkette's comments had particular resonance. Among other things, she wrote:
Re what to do: Teachers with high scores have better salary options out of teaching, so we will need to change compensation practices if we want to keep these folks in education.
Do you think this is the key issue in the whole conversation? Are we woefully unprepared to keep top performers in education because we have a stagnant compensation system---and our professional organizations fight to protect that system at every turn?
Think about the benefits that teaching offers: affective rewards, job security, pensions (in most places). Pretty attractive to a candidate in 1973, right? After all, that was an era when pretty much everyone got one job and held onto it for life.
Today's professional has no expectation of the 30 year career at all. What's the statistic? Most people have 8 different jobs by the time they're 30? The top performers in education today don't find inherent value in the kinds of perks offered by our profession----and they don't have any qualms about walking away from job security and a pension.
The kicker, then, seems to be redesigning the compensation (which includes more than simply salary) system in education to more accurately reflect today's vision of a "career."
Does this resonate with anyone else? Is it a pipe dream that we'll never be able to bring to reality?
What's the first step towards seeing compensation redesigned---and who's got to take it?
(Image credit: Mo Money Mo Problems by greggoconnell, licensed Creative Commons: Attribution)
I was reading Clay Burell's blog the other day and came across a fun diversion. He's decided to use his Tweet Cloud as a source for random "poetasting."
For those of you who aren't Tweeting yet, Twitter is a public instant messaging service that anyone can use to build networks of learners with shared interest. Networks then become a source for instant support and advice. I've become a big fan of Twitter because I'm connected to some really incredible educators who share resources with one another all the time.
Talk about 'just in time" professional development.
Twitter Clouds are a visual representation of the words that appear the most frequently in the short instant messages that users share with their Twitter families. Large words are those words that appear the most frequently in one's messages. As the frequency of a word decreases, so does it's size in one's Twitter Cloud.
Let's see what my Twitter Cloud can reveal about who I am as an educator and a person:
I'm completely jazzed that the biggest word in my whole cloud is "kids." It really shouldn't be any other way, right?
I also like seeing the names of those who are influential to me repeating over and over: @cburell, @snbeach, @wfryer, @willrich45, @mrmayo, @metaweb20, @arthus, @kjarrett @pjhiggins @jutecht, @intrepidteacher etc....all thinkers who I enjoy learning from. Doesn't this represent the true power of using Twitter to build a personal learning network?
And like Clay, there's creepily accurate reflective elements throughout my Tweet Cloud:
From the guy who can't keep up with all of his usernames and passwords:
21st account added.
From the guy who is working to let student voice shape his thinking about digital tools:
Amazing, @arthus!
From the guy whose classroom doesn't look anything like it did at the beginning of his career:
Century changing, check classroom!
From the guy who is driven by interactions with other deep thinkers:
Collaborative commenting, content, conversations....completely cool.
From the guy who's not afraid to ruffle a few feathers with controversial thoughts:
Debate [is] definitely delicious.
From the guy who is pushing to see Web 2.0 tools become more common in his county's classrooms:
From the guy who gets pretty much all of his professional development by reading blogs:
Enjoying favorite feeds. . .
From the guy who keeps finding new ways to use Google Tools in his work:
Getting Glad...Going Google, Great!
From the guy who loves having the ability to create content:
Make, Makes, Making
From the guy who loves the social nature of his middle grades students:
Middle----Needs Networking!
From the guy who has worked to influence educational policy for a long time now:
Planning political post.
From the guy who believes in intellectual philanthropy and freely sharing the content he creates:
Posted presentation, project public!
From the guy who likes questions better than answers:
Quality Questions, Quick!
From the guy who believes in the power of professional learning communities:
Reading relationship resources.
From the guy who ends up in a thousand conversations about digital tools:
teaching teachers tech
From the guy who is constantly searching for time to reflect:
think...thinking....thought time today!
From the guy who is willing to give any digital tool a whirl:
Trying today's tools.
And perhaps the phrasing that describes me the best:
Wonder...Wondering...Work...Working....WRITING!
Saint Carl and his act of civil disobedience is still roiling through my mind---and it's generated a bit of conversation in the comment section of my recent post arguing that to follow Carl's lead and walk out on standardized tests is an arrogant action that dismisses the broader perspectives of the communities that we serve.
Perhaps the most interesting comment comes from Nate, who seemed a bit frustrated with my writing when he wrote:
Bill-
I have come to understand that you truly are a tempered radical. I would like to recommend that you peruse the following book by Ken Robinson: Out of our Minds. This book was originally published in 2001 and I believe that it illustrates the fierce urgency of now. I don't know that I would agree with Chew's take on affecting change, but I do believe that change will most likely not come from within the current system.
One of the things that I found interesting in Nate's comments was the sense of disappointment that I wasn't advocating wholesale action on the part of teachers to stand up to "the current system"---which he obviously believes is behind all of America's failures.
Nate's opinions seem to represent the general thinking of most teachers towards education. We constantly talk about "the system" as some nebulous, dark entity that is manipulating schools from behind a dark curtain somewhere. Most of the time, we figure that ol' Madge Spellings and W are hidden behind that curtain pulling the strings of the marionet, too.
What we fail to realize is that "the system" is really network of people that includes parents, business leaders, teachers, community advocates, retirees---all of whom have equal opportunity to select leaders that have clearly delinated plans for education. Even if Nate's right (And who can't envision a legion of W's henchmen manipulating public will. Dick Cheney would make a great Sith Lord, after all), to overlook the fact that these leaders----and the entire legislative branch of the federal government---were selected by the general public is supremely arrogant.
While I don't currently agree with the choices that are being made by "the system" (my definition), I'm open to the idea that I am only one small part of that group decision making process----and I respect "the system" (my definition) enough to consider that their perspectives should be valued and considered.
If "the system" (my definition) decided that the ideas of the current "administration" (another nebulous term that often incorrectly leaves out the hundreds of Senators and Representatives that vote on educational items too) are worth pursuing, shouldn't we at least consider the possibility that testing should play a role in educating our children?
Doesn't considering "the system" (Nate's definition) as a manipulative group of black hats with bad intentions suggest that voters and community leaders are woefully under-informed and completely incompetent?
I suspect that at least some of Nate's dismissive scorn (He wrote: I have come to understand that you truly are a tempered radical.)---which are thrown in my direction every time I question stagnancy in our profession----comes from the fact that I'm willing to argue that teachers might just be wrong every now and then.
There seems to be this unwritten rule in conversations between educators that teachers are automatically right in conversations about kids. If we feel strongly about something, then it must be so. As a result, we end up speaking in what David Jakes once described as an echo chamber. Group think becomes truth and we fail to grow as a profession.
And we end up looking like the same stubborn clods that we accuse "the system" (Nate's definition) of being!
In some ways, Nate, the most radical writing I do comes when I push our profession to think about the flaws in our own positions---which includes the assumption that teachers automatically "know more" about kids than the communities that we serve.
(Image credit: Evil monkey from the movie about the evil monkey that smiles awkwardly by Scragz, licensed Creative Commons: Attribution)
I guess I'd be remiss if I didn't take a few minutes to write about Carl Chew, the Washington State middle school teacher who refused to give his state's standardized test and was suspended for his actions, right?
After all, he's being touted (and touting himself, I might add) as education's very own Paul Revere. Over the course of the past 12 hours, I've had no less than four different teachers declare that Chew is their hero. "He's brave enough to take a stand," the story line goes, "And it's a stand that you aren't willing to take."
The way teachers talk, you'd think this guy was on the fast track to Sainthood or something. Move over John Paul. Chew's now first in line. He worked miracles and we've got proof.
Can you tell that I'm not a member of the "Chew for President" Brigade?
And while my thinking is still incomplete on this one, here's where I currently stand:
I think that refusing to give the state test is a pretty arrogant and egocentric thing to do. It seems to scream, "Testing is bad. My opinion is the only one that matters. You can't possibly know as much as I do about what's right and what's wrong for kids----even if you have raised them since the day they were born. I AM TEACHER, HEAR ME ROAR!"
The problem is that we're not independent agents who can make decisions divorced from the broader communities that we serve. Taxpayers invest a heaping load of cash into public schools---which by default ought to give them a bit of say so over what happens in our buildings, don't you think?
Whether we like it or not, we're public employees----and public employees have a responsibility to work with, rather than against, the public's wishes. In most places, elected officials determine the curriculum and elected officials determine the methods we use to assess that curriculum. To willfully ignore the methods selected by elected officials essentially says that we don't respect the values of the communities that we serve.
Don't get me wrong. I'm no fan of testing at all. Need proof? Check out this post, written just two weeks ago. In many ways, testing has destroyed what I do in my classroom each year, changed the dynamic of teaching and learning completely, and has done far more damage that it has done good.
But it is a system selected and believed in by the people who pay my check. And (in theory) it's based on the values and beliefs of a group of people that go far beyond me. For those reasons, I choose to honor and respect the system even though I don't totally believe in it.
That doesn't mean that I don't work to see the system changed. As much as anyone, I work to make my thinking on testing transparent, knowing that I've got a credible perspective that can inform the conversation.
The difference between my approach and bra-burners like Chew is that I am readily willing to admit that I only have one perspective on this issue, and while it's especially valid considering my proximity to the classroom and my first hand experience with the impact testing has had on teaching and learning, it's still only one perspective.
Why can't teachers understand that the best decisions are those that are made when a variety of perspectives are considered and respected as plans are developed and implemented? And why can't we believe that someone beyond us might just have something valuable to add to the conversation about our kids?
Eventually, I believe our community will come to consensus about what effective assessment looks like. Chances are, that system will be more sophisticated than the test-driven system we're currently addicted to. I guess my opinion comes from the belief that everyone---not just teachers---cares about what's good for our kids.
And I believe that a system developed together breeds consensus---something sorely missing from conversations about education....and something made less likely when teachers like Chew show disregard for the values of the communities that they serve.
Needless to say, I'm waiting to be torched.
(Image Credit: TM1 by Edouardo, licenced Creative Commons: Attribution)
The weekly Education Carnival is up and running over at The Education Wonks. Be sure to stop by for a solid week's worth of digital cotton candy goodness. While you're there, check out my submission comparing middle school dances to the curriculum!
It was a bit that I enjoyed writing greatly.
(Image credit: Untitled by Moogoo, Licensed Creative Commons: Attribution)
