Hey John,

First, let me congratulate you on your getting your PhD. You’ve obviously earned it, and you continue to be an invaluable asset to all your different communities, especially in the early childhood arena so in need of advocacy in a major way.

While the title “PhD” has often been reserved for those in the field of medicine, a friend told me that it originally meant that, no matter what the field, the person was a master teacher. Sure enough, I look on Wikipedia and see:

In the universities of Medieval Europe, study was organized in four faculties: the basic faculty of arts, and the three higher faculties of theology, medicine and law (canonical and civil). All of these faculties awarded intermediate degrees (bachelor of arts, of theology, of laws, of medicine) and final degrees. Initially, the titles of master and doctor were used interchangeably for the final degrees, but by the late Middle Ages the terms Master of Arts and Doctor of Theology/Divinity, Doctor of Laws and Doctor of Medicine had become standard in most places (though in the German and Italian universities the term Doctor was used for all faculties). The doctorates in the higher faculties were quite different from the current Ph.D. degree in that they were awarded for advanced scholarship, not original research.

Understanding this history made me think that, as teachers, our practice constantly pushes us to do better, understand more, and broaden our scope as the children in front of us change. In a way, this is our “advanced scholarship.”

In New York State, teachers are generally required to get a masters in education to continue teaching. Many of the complaints coming from teachers who go through the program have to do with the heavy dependency on philosophy and not enough on practice. What does real classroom management look like? How do I explain why we have negative exponents? What’s the most effective way to show kids the scientific method?

We would do well to discuss the future of education schools in the vein of necessity.

For instance, a masters’ in education can lean more towards practice, and, in certain situations, localize the message so teachers can start using the best practices they’ve learned immediately. They can get some of the philosophy, but let that philosophy stay embedded in practice. As we become veterans, some of us stay curious about the “why,” meaning we want to either pursue positions that let us teach other teachers or broaden our scope. For those of us who are extra-curious, we can have PhD programs (as we do now) that address this population.

I also believe that, because we already engage in advanced scholarship, we would already have built-in tracks for following up with a PhD while teaching. That is, without breaking the bank or getting a fellowship, thus pulling us out of the classroom.

What do you think, good doctor?

The figure above is a diagram representing the difference between efficacy expectations and outcome expectations (Bandura, 1977).

Jose-

Thanks for pointing out Sabrina’s Good post. I would not have caught in the midst of my daily grind and finishing up my graduate work. The key phrase I took away from her post was when Sabrina said, “the education-supporting public more generally must become more comfortable with ambiguity and unknowns.” I don’t necessarily agree.

The point of the data points for the general public really seems to be, “How do we identify great (or bad) teachers?” (Depending on your narrative frame). I don’t think that is the question we really need to be asking. I think we really need to ask the follow-up question, “If this is a good teacher what are they doing that is different?” I think this is where the ambiguity is; in why we want and need data.

I use data all the time in my classroom. It is valuable and helps me to be a more effective teacher. If I were a principal or superintendent, or policy maker I think I would feel the same way. I think the ambiguity that would surprise most of the general public is that many teachers “do” the same thing and get different results. I used to teach letters, using the exact same songs as hundreds of thousands of teachers, but my assessment gain scores with my urban African American students in the spring were higher for my kids than other teachers who used the same songs. Why? In looking to find out why the results are different I think we might discover that the difference is in the intangible questions like, “why do I teach”, “who am I as a teacher”, “how does this teacher relate to students and or parents”, or even, “who does this teacher think he/she is?” This is where the data points become blurry. It is also where qualitative methods of data collection become important. In your post you said,

We can keep as many sheets in a binder as we wish, but it won’t matter unless we can elevate the conversation about our students, ensuring that we have a cohesive belief about the way schools should run. One of those ideas ought to be making sure we de-emphasize data and re-emphasize the intangibles. Like learning, for example.

Elevating the conversation is an apt way to talk about the struggle between the two narratives education maintains. Data points are supposed to represent ground level information but test scores don’t necessarily represent what is happening between students and teachers. We do need to elevate the conversation and I think we can by digging deeper and asking teachers, “Why”. Maybe we need to de-emphasize the quantitative data and start emphasizing the qualitative. I wonder what would happen if we started using teacher self reflection as a measure of effectiveness? Oh wait, the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards already does that.

So, as form of post script: Congratulations to all those teachers who received their NBCT status this past week, thank you for making “Why” important.

“Goodbye, said the fox. And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Bandura, A. (1977). Self-efficacy: Toward a unifying theory of behavioral change. Psychological Review, 84(2), 191-215.
doi:10.1037/0033-295X.84.2.191

Jose-

I really “felt” the frustration of your piece on F-2-F relationships and digital connections. I have found getting to know other educators online before meeting in person incredibly rewarding and a little dangerous. It is a strange phenomenon that almost makes it seem like we have been standing in the same room, talking, getting to know each other, etc. and then when we finally meet something happens. The human spark of community connects all the neurons we have been using in our brains to our bodies.

It is the difference between knowing what someone thinks and experiencing someone. My friendship with you and many of our Teaching 2030 colleagues are connections that sustain me. I don’t think that connection would sustain me if we hadn’t met in person though.

I guess the risk of this would be if someone’s online presence isn’t necessarily close enough to their true humanity. Then that sudden connection and closeness built online would become an irritant because of the mismatch of experience of the body and experience of the intellect. We often say things online, on facebook etc., that we would never discuss in a living room, like politics. I think we can also go a little overboard online sometimes when in person, our body would tell us, hold back, you have to communicate experience through more than words and links. You have your whole body without the luxury of hyperlink what infuriates you.

Through my work in my dissertation I recently came across a phenomenological researcher from Canada, Max van Manen, who seems to really perceive and want to know about the experiences of teachers. I found a recent article he wrote that considered interactions writing online versus writing with pen and paper. In this article he raises questions about pedagogy in online spaces and how these questions can inform online learning. He has also written extensively about what I consider the heart of teaching, the relationship between students and teachers. If you have time, check out The Tone of Teaching to discover how deep this dude is.

Image: http://blog.pgi.com/tag/face-to-face-meetings/

I have a confession: before this kind of thing was cool, I’ve met over 300 of the people I knew online in person.

The first person I did that with went alright, but then they did something which made me reconsider meeting anyone that way ever again. The second person, thankfully, didn’t exhibit such anti-social tendencies, and we’ve been cool ever since. Meeting him let me meet other friends of mine, and my network kept growing, both online and in-person.

Nowadays, people have little qualms about making friends online and meeting them in person. To wit, the Teaching 2030 team still has strong ties, even though we rarely get to see each other collectively. Part of that came from having a common goal and vision, but another part of it is building the right conditions to assure that everyone can come together for this common goal.

Whether we meet virtually or face-to-face, knowing the personnel matters.

In the best ones I’ve seen, all the rules were understood and grew organically from the conversations that happened. These norms helped develop it (for the better), and people who didn’t conform learned how to … or left. In an understated way, teachers held each other accountable for a high sense of professionalism and courtesy. It’s never perfect, but once the group understands the relationships, they don’t necessarily need to say anything.

Yet, it’s also important to restate the norms once a group reaches a certain point. At first, I couldn’t understand that common sense / courtesy is not common, but, probably more appropriate, not everyone understands how a professional environment develops. Some of us still need to learn that voice, whereas others have it but don’t always get to share it in other arenas.

First and foremost, though, the relationship between that person and the others in the group needs to grow, needs trust, and respect. The most effective environments have people who know this, whether they meet face-to-face or not.

Hey John,

One hot button issue that’s come up in recent weeks is the idea of character education. Last night, I ranted on the beast that the term “character education” has become. At some point in this country, character education meant giving a healthy deference to assuring that children develop their socio-emotional as well as academic components. In my upbringing, that meant camping trips, but it also meant community service, morning homerooms, and integrating values into every class possible. Developing a school culture on altruism and positivity does good for young men and women still forming their identity in their adolescence.

What it’s become, however, unnerves me.

I propose that, those of us who’ve seen what’s happened with character education instead use the term “responsible citizenship.” I recently Googled the term “responsible citizenship” and found a plethora of definitions, but they all coalesce around the idea that we must teach children to actively participate in their environments and contribute positively to them. Some might take this term and highlight just the “responsible” portion, limiting the discussion to solely taking blame for one’s own actions. I submit to you that we must also emphasize citizenship, meaning we think critically about our roles in society and inform ourselves of what surrounds us to make better decisions about how our communities run.

Naturally, the breeding grounds for this responsible citizenship model should be schools. Many of them don’t.

Character education (at this point) means children have to go through metal detectors to make sure they don’t have any weapons; responsible citizenship means adults have already set an expectation in the building that such weapons aren’t allowed and the children respect it. Character education (at this point) means they’re good, contributing students if the dean doesn’t actually know them because they comply with almost all the rules; responsible citizenship means everyone in the building knows everyone on some level, flaws and all. Character education means children rarely make a sound and fold their hands at their desks unless called upon; responsible citizenship means they learn how to contribute and have dialogue with fellow classmates and adults, even if their notions challenge the adult in the room.

Character education assumes a stark delineation between the adults and the children in the room; responsible citizenship assumes adults have relinquished some of their authority in favor of a clear exchange of values, understandings, and vision for all of our children.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.