Ariel Sacks

Ariel Sacks teaches eighth grade English and serves as a team leader at a middle school in Brooklyn, NY.

I've been reading over the results of the 2009 MetLife Survey of the American Teacher.  One result which did not surprise me was that the majority of teachers and principals believe "greater collaboration among teachers and school leaders would have a major impact on improving student achievement."  

The details about the kinds of collaboration, however, are pretty interesting.  The types of collaboration that are reportedly most common in schools today: "teachers meeting in teams to learn what is necessary to help their students achieve at higher levels; school leaders sharing responsibility with teachers to achieve school goals; and beginning teachers working with more experienced teachers."

The least frequent type of collaborative activity? "Teachers observing each other in the classroom and providing feedback. Less than one-third of teachers or principals report that this frequently occurs at their school."  This gave me pause... Maybe because it hits close to home.

I personally believe teachers observing each other and providing feedback could lead to great progress. Administrators at my school often encourage teachers to visit one another in the classroom, both formally and informally.  Though it has happened before on various occasions, it never seems to stick as a practice.  

Right now, I facilitate regular meetings among the middle school English teachers in my school.  We have recently discussed the idea of conducting inter-visitations.  We all agree it is a good idea, but admit that we somehow never get around to it.  Time is always the excuse, but I'm not sure that's really why, since we can easily cancel a meeting, as we've done in the past, to make time for it.    

Since the survey suggests that this roadblock exists on a national level, I'm taking some time to unpack my thoughts about what could be impeding the development of peer observations among teachers.

1. History: First, consider the history of classroom observations.  Teachers have taught in isolation from one another.  The only people who generally came into classrooms were the principals. The purpose of those visits? To "supervise" the teacher most likely. Such visits had all the potential to undermine the authority and/or autonomy of the teacher, in ways both subtle and explicit.  Many principals have changed to a more supportive, less authoritarian approach to supervising teachers, but the taste of so many years of hierarchy lingers.  

Even though peer-to-peer observations would seem to have nothing to do with this history, I have a hunch that most teachers still have "the principal's visit" as their only frame of reference for hosting another adult in their classroom.  And frames of reference do matter.  

Let's pretend that the only pet you've ever known was a dog and that dog attacked you, more than once. Since that day, you haven't liked dogs.  One day, your partner brings home a cat and tells you, "Relax, this is a completely different animal."  Don't you think you might be a little mistrustful, at least at first?  Better yet, let's say your partner simply suggests that you get a cat.  Is it understandable that you'd be a little reluctant, or that perhaps, it wouldn't be at the top of your list of things to do?

Art: Next, we have to come to terms with the fact that, as much as we'd like to treat teaching as a clinical practice--which is a helpful model in many ways--teaching is also extremely personal.  There is an art to it, and in the words of the great singer, Erykah Badu, "I'm sensitive about my sh**!"  We are sensitive about this work we put our heart, souls, and imagination into, as well as our brains.  Although there are many best practices from which we can learn, there is also the reality that what works in one moment might not work in the next.  What works for one student might not work for another.  What works for you might not work for me.  

We teach in public schools, but having someone come into your classroom often feels more like having someone come to your home.  You want to make sure your dishes are done, dirty laundry is not lying around, etc.  You want to be ready.  I can't fully explain why, but even when the plan is exactly the same, the art is a little different when it's not just you and the students.  

Spirit: Finally, we need to recognize that every single person in the room has a presence that affects the dynamic of the class.  The spirit with which a visitor enters a classroom can matter greatly, and the spirit with which the teacher responds to the visitor matters too.  Kids have keen observational skills, and they know when a visitor is judging them, or judging their teacher.  When a visitor enters and the teacher becomes nervous, kids know it.  Likewise they sense when an adult is there to support them and support their teacher.  When the teacher and students feel "seen" in a positive way, everyone responds in kind.  

For example, my advisor from Bank Street College observed me regularly in my classroom through my first and second year of teaching.  She always brought such a positive attitude into the classroom and interacted well with my students.  She made us all feel like we were doing something important and special.  Even when things seemed to be going badly, she found positive things to focus on, as well as asking me questions about what I thought had gone wrong. This was tremendously helpful and gave me confidence with my students.  After a while, I learned to deliberately build on what was working, even when she wasn't there to point it out.  As a mentor to a new teacher, I tried to emulate my advisor's approach, always attempting to have a positive effect on her classroom while I was there.  This way I would see her at her best, and she would feel comfortable talking openly with me about her practice.  

I have also been a subject in a number of research studies on teaching.  Mostly the observers have come in with a positive outlook that has a slightly positive effect, if any, on the classroom environment.  But I'll never forget one researcher, who came in every week for a few months, and always sat with a scowl, taking notes furiously.  I had the feeling I was being judged, and I'd often feel angry after she left, though I never said a word about it.  Coincidentally--or not--it also seemed that class never went as well as I hoped when she was around.  After a while, my students started to feel judged as well. Even though she had introduced herself to the class at the beginning of the study as a researcher, my students started asking with a scowl that matched hers, "Who is that lady?"  Once a student asked her straight out, "Why are you here?"  

All this is to say that if we want to move in a direction where teachers are observing one another regularly, we need to do so in a way that recognizes all the layers that are at work in this shift.  

Back at my school, the English teachers and I have decided that we will visit one another on an invitation-only basis.  That way we are each mentally prepared for the visit, and we can select lessons or classes we may want specific feedback on, rather than having someone pop in at random.  I think it's important that we made that decision together, and that no one is forcing anyone.  I am curious what we will learn.

[image credit: websofvegas.com]

 In my previous post, What Needs to Change, I question why it is so difficult to find classrooms where students are learning from authentic experiences, when research shows that humans learn best through experience. TLN member, Nancy Flanagan of Teacher In a Strange Land, left a comment pointing me towards a recent NY Times article, Playing To Learn, by Susan Engel. In it, Engel describes the constructivist classrooms and curriculum she believes our children need and calls upon the Obama administration to advocate for "a curriculum designed to raise children, rather than test scores."

Nancy wrote:

"There's been considerable discussion lately over Susan Engel's piece in the NY Times over constructivist learning, with some people claiming that students don't really learn much by free interaction with materials and texts, developing and testing their own ideas. There is often a sense that kids with privileged backgrounds, whose parents have inculcated considerable content knowledge, might benefit from applying that knowledge to real-life tasks. But kids from less advantaged homes should really be given traditional, direct-instruction lessons around core content.

Since you're in an excellent position to judge, I'm wondering what you think about that..."

I thought I'd post my response:

Nancy, thank you for the great question. I agree wholeheartedly with Engel's argument. To those who believe that poor kids need direct instruction on the basics before doing anything else, I would say that that is exactly the model has been the status quo for decades and it's not working, especially or poor kids. There are many, many disengaged children and adolescents in public schools, which I think accounts for our nearly 50% percent national high school dropout rate. Something has to change. Also, Engel clearly states that kids need time to master computational skills. There's nothing that says you can't learn basic skills in a constructivist classroom. But I have students who have been taught certain basic skills over and over again every year and still don't know them by 8th grade. Why? Most likely because they had no meaning or context. They were memorized and tested and then mentally filed under, "I don't care anymore."

That said, there are two thing about constructivist teaching that critics must understand:

1. It is not as simple as it may sound. Experiential learning is not giving students a classroom full of materials and telling them to go learn. On the contrary, it takes a highly skilled teacher to structure and lead this type of learning successfully. That means significant, quality training upfront, on the job, and ongoing professional development for teachers (hmm... sounds expensive, but not if we shift funds from testing, data, and text books over to teacher training and support). It is also essential that the educators who train teachers in this model have significant and relevant teaching experience themselves.

 2. The learning in a constructivist classroom is deeper and more lasting than the learning of facts and formulas through direct instruction, but it takes more time. As Engel suggests, we cannot have arbitrary due dates for a list of skills or standards each year. We need to think more long term and give kids the time it takes to learn meaningfully.  

If we are given more time to work with students to achieve meaningful, developmentally appropriate skill and content goals, I have no doubt that experiential learning will yield, (sigh), yes, higher test scores. As I wrote about here, my highest test scores in 6 years of teaching were the scores received by groups of students after two years with me, as seventh and then eight graders. I didn't do anything differently with those groups, I just did it for longer. Their motivation to learn and the connections they were able to make across the two years of meaningful, student-centered curriculum were incredible. But these results don't happen to the same degree in one year's time. (I usually spent the better part of the first year helping kids to understand how to ask questions and learn from experience and discover how powerful the process is. By the second year kids were ready to dive in right away.)

 3. Public schools that serve disadvantaged children must compete fiercely with the profound factors that deter their students from academic achievement. To list a few, unstable living conditions, lack of parental attention, lack of nutrition, and post-traumatic stress syndrome all make it far more difficult for your average student living in poverty to pay attention, put forth effort all day long, and contribute positively to the group life at school. Therefore, schools that serve poor children must have MORE compelling, NOT less compelling curricula than their middle class counterparts. The physical environment of the school must be more aesthetically appealing and comfortable rather than less so. They must help students develop social and emotional skills as well as academic ones in order for their students to truly embrace goals beyond basic survival. The scheduling of the day must be more supportive to the health and development of the child--including recess and the arts--rather than less so, where we cram hours of just reading and math into students and then lengthen the day for extra test prep. Most schools like this are just not competitive in the minds of the children we are trying to reach.  Other forces will win out over education, unless schools do a better job of competing for student attention and trust.

[image credits:

boy with telescope: weblo.com

Jackon Pollock painting: peculiarvelocity.files.wordpress.com

a child's attention: skelliewag.org

more time: explodingdog.com]

I happened to have a conversation with a stranger this past weekend at a friend's get-together.  She is a middle-aged woman.  When I told her I was a teacher, she smiled. "How long have you been teaching? she asked.

"Six years," I said. 

    "Oh, wow," she said surprised. "That's a long time." 

        It is? I thought. 

        "Do you like it?" she asked.

        "Most of the time," I said. "It's very hard work, but I do like it."

        "You like the kids, I mean?" she asked.

        "The kids? Oh sure! Adolescents can be trying, but they're great!"

        "That's wonderful," she said. "Some of my friends who are teachers are just so unhappy with it; with the board, I mean..." 

        "Well, I can understand that. There are a lot of problems with NYC public schools, but I don't think it's the kids."  

       "What is it then?" she asked.

        I thought about it. There were so many answers to that question, but this is what I came up with.

        "Two things come to mind.  First, the schools are very outdated.  We are still trying to get every kid to learn the same arbitrary things at the same arbitrary time in lock step, as if they were factory workers on a conveyer belt and learning were as simple as fastening one metal piece to another and passing it to the right. Research shows that humans really learn through experience, yet it is very hard to find a classroom where there are authentic experiences for kids to learn from.  On top of that, kids today are also experiencing the world in new ways through technology and internet connectivity, but we mostly shut off those modes of experience in classrooms.  We have to update our classrooms and pedagogy to capitalize on what we know about how the human brain works and how kids today are interacting with the world that will soon be theirs.  

    "The second problem is the way decisions are made within the education field. Teachers are the single most important factor in a child's learning, and we are the ones who make a million decisions daily inside our classrooms.  Yet we are given next to no input into the larger-scale decisions designed to impact our teaching and our children's learning.  In fact, the people making those decisions--politicians, policy makers--usually have little or no actual teaching experience, yet they operate under the assumption that they know what's best for us, our students, and our classrooms. Why?  Where is the logic in that? There is a huge disconnect between the board of education at the city, state and national level, and classroom teachers, which is keeping education reforms from bearing any fruit for actual students."

        I was glad that what I was saying seemed to make sense to her.  She explained that her teenage son had a lot of trouble in NYC public schools.  This year she had finally made the decision to send her son to a boarding school for kids who had failed in traditional school settings.  So far it was going well. Luckily, she had the financial means to do this.  

        What will happen to all the other kids who are failing in/being failed by our outdated school system?  Does anyone really believe that all the government funding being pumped into testing and data systems is going to give failing kids a better chance?

[image credit:fotosearch.com]


I've been finding the general scene in education quite overwhelming lately. In short, I believe we're moving in the wrong direction and have been for quite some time, and that this movement is coming from the very top of the hierarchical structure that attempts to control public education in the United States and trickles on down to the state and local governance, and to the districts, schools, and classrooms.  I tend to keep a positive outlook on most things, so this is a difficult reality to come to terms with.  Once I admit that, what's next?  

In my 8th grade English class we've been analyzing and writing about the themes of oppression and resistance in literature.  As a review, I gave students a quick exercise: write down a few examples of oppression in the world and a few examples of resistance.  In my morning class, a student asked me, with a look of confusion and even fear on his face, "Hey, Ms. Sacks, wouldn't school be an example of oppression?" 

"An interesting question," I said. "What makes you say that?"  

"Well, in school we're forced to do a lot of things and can't do other things."  

"You have a point," I said.  Later, when students shared, "education" was given by a few students as an example of resistance.  

In another class later that day I heard a table of students having a discussion about whether school was an example of oppression or resistance.

I decided to change my plans for the next day and give an in class writing assignment.  The question was, "Is the institution of school in the 21st century oppressive, or is it a key to resisting oppression, or is it both?"

I thought I might be shooting myself in the foot.  Thirteen year olds are adept at righteously criticizing anything and anyone that stands in the way of their independence.  I braced myself for a barrage of criticisms about how unfair the school rules are, thinking that this would still be a worthwhile question for students to explore.  

I got a little of what I expected: 

"School is oppressive because students have to wear uniforms."  

"School is oppressive because they force us to do work when we don't want to."

There were many positive views on education as well--more than I expected:

"School is the key to resisting oppression because there are people who can help you with your problems."

"School keeps you off the streets."

"The teachers fill our minds with positive thoughts."

"School helps you resist mental oppression by learning new things."

"Education helps you have a good career and life."

What took me by surprise, however, was that the students who believed that school was oppressive mostly wrote, passionately, about how students oppressed other students:

"School is oppressive because of the bullies who bother you every day."

"School is oppressive because of the students who call you racist things for your color or your culture."

"School is oppressive because of all the girl drama."

"School is oppressive because of the fights and violence."

"School is oppressive because of how kids treat each other and act out, so others can't learn."  

Though most students recognized that school was both oppressive and one of the keys to resisting oppression in their lives, the majority seemed to feel that other students were their biggest burden in school.  

This was a potent reminder that while teachers and administrators spend PD meetings analyzing data and our most recent assessments using the latest methods, students live much of their lives in our buildings with precious little attention paid at the systemic level to how they are treating each other. 

On the one hand, this has been somewhat the norm for middle school.  I remember my own middle school experience in the late 80's, where a distinct hierarchy of students existed.  Kids at all levels of the hierarchy experienced social anxiety. I also remember certain teachers upholding the hierarchy in subtle ways. I thought the middle school movement and progressive education in general made some progress in addressing the social emotional needs of early adolescents, especially throughout the 1990's.

My students' response to my question could be seen as an example of internalized oppression. Our education system neglects the social emotional development of kids in a wide variety of ways, often in the name of accountability--from making higher test scores the top instructional priority with a "by any means necessary" mandate, to increasing class sizes and cutting art, music, and recess out of the school day.  One of the unintended results is the breakdown of healthy school communities, leaving many kids angry, fearful, isolated, disempowered.  One way kids can attempt to feel powerful in such an environment is by putting other students down.  

In my next post, I'll share one way we've resisted this oppression in my classroom.  

Meanwhile, is it out of the realm of possibility for policy makers to recognize the tremendous value of educating our nation's youth to be socially and emotionally healthy human beings? 

[Image credit: rps.psu.edu] 

A fantastic conversation is happening right now at Dan Brown's blog, "Get in the Fracas," about reading for pleasure as key factor in student success, especially on standardized tests.  He draws on research by Veda Jairrels about how voluntary reading is the crucial piece that is missing for many African-American students and accounts for the "achievement gap" between black and white students.  I highly recommend reading the post and comments. 

I just posted this response:

Reading for pleasure is such a key factor AND indicator of learning and intellectual growth because when a child reads voluntarily he or she is focused on the reading experience and not the grade, desired test score, or approval of the teacher. Our schools and school system are built around the idea that kids will respond to extrinsic motivators to learn. Research shows that extrinsic motivators (incentives, grades, etc.) work when the task is very simple, not requiring critical thinking. But when the task is more complex and requires critical thinking, the extrinsic motivator has a negative effect on the learning. That is because it moves the child's focus to the grade or desired outcome, instead of the content and experience itself. (See Daniel Pink's new book, Drive, for this research. Also this Ted Talks video.)

Back to reading for pleasure: the Readers (as Brown describes--those who read for pleasure but often do not complete class assignments) are building genuine intellectual experience in their reading, whereas the Worker Bees (those who complete all assignments but understand very little) are just trying to earn the grade and/or please the teacher and other people in their lives.  They are far removed from the real process of learning. 

I believe that intrinsic motivation to learn is the crucial factor in academic success. Reading for pleasure is not the only way kids can develop and work off of intrinsic motivation, but it is a really important and rewarding place to start. I agree with Jairrels that including the parents in the process is extremely valuable. [I want to say it is essential, but some students really do not have family situations that allow this, though they can definitely still become readers.  Parent involvement also becomes more complicated when parents do not speak English or are not literate themselves-nonetheless, I have not found this to be a barrier to students developing a love of reading.] Some of my most rewarding experiences as a teacher have been when I've connected with parents around my reading curriculum, so that parents understand their child's reading interests and actually get involved in their reading lives directly, by reading together, or through conversation about the reading. 

Last year I had a student I'll call Jamar.  Jamar was a sweet, very sociable kid, who always expressed a desire to do well in school, but who, in reality, was pretty disengaged with his school work.  He had a lot of trouble focusing and following through on assignments.  His grades in most classes including mine regularly hovered between a D+ and an F.  His skills more or less matched those grades.  My homework all year long is reading.  We alternate between students choosing their own books and me assigning whole class novels.  Every night, students are to read at least 10 pages and write 3 post-it notes inside the book with their responses.  (I also allot class time for this.)  I make lots of phone calls home to let parents know what students are reading and especially to alert them when their child is not doing it.  

Jamar was reading very little, especially at home. I had made a few phone calls to his mother about it. As it turned out, she was out of work on disability and so she had plenty of time to spend with Jamar in the evenings.  This time I was calling about a novel the whole class was reading, The Dream Bearer by Walter Dean Myers.  It was due in two days and Jamar needed to complete it in order to participate in seminar-style discussions.  His mother said, "That's it. He's gonna read this book."  The next day, Jamar skipped into school early.  "Ms. Sacks, you're not going to believe it. I am SO tired. I was up til 2am reading that book with my mother!  But you know what?  The book is really GOOD! And you're gonna love reading my post-it notes!"  

The following day the book was due, and Jamar came in boasting to everyone that he'd finished.  His participation in discussions that week was exemplary.  His insights into the book were deep and well-evidenced.  A new voice--both knowledgeable and inquisitive--emerged from him that day.  I called his mother to tell her how wonderfully he'd done with it and thanked her for her help. She said, "You know, I'm home with him every day. I always ask him what homework he has and he says he already did it.  This is the first time I got to really work with him on anything."  She also told me how much she'd enjoyed reading the book with him and asked me what other books I had that might be similar that she could read with him. 

The amazing thing was that Jamar was not the same student after that moment.  Something had clicked. He became much more engaged with his work, not just the reading, and not just in English class.  He had benefitted from the real intellectual experience of reading and was able to speak from that experience in an academic context.  The power of that work and the deepening of his relationship with his mother was great enough to turn him on to learning.  

[image credit: homelink.cps-k12.org]

 On TLN, we have a tradition of posting our New Year's resolutions. Usually I am pouring with ideas and professional goals, but this year I found it difficult.  Then, as I was reading other people's goals, I remembered...I am in the midst of carrying out a big goal I set for myself in August before the school year started.  What I need to do now is check in on them and regroup for 2010.   

The most tangible goal I set for myself this school year was to improve my assessments.  I wanted to make sure I could clearly track the learning of my students.  Why? Partly, for my own piece of mind--in this age of "accountability," I wanted to be sure of what my students were learning and be able to say say clearly what each student knew how to do and what each student needed to work on.  I wanted to be able to answer to people who say, "How can you prove what your students are learning, if not using standardized tests?"  

Obviously, I've always had to grade students, and I've used a combination of rubrics, simply assigning grades, just giving comments, etc.  This year, I have put many more hours than ever before into grading everything stringently using rubrics I created and keeping track of the trends and where individual students need help.  At first it was interesting and somewhat motivating for me, but soon I felt myself b-u-r-n-i-n-g  o..u...t........ I kept going, though. 

My conclusion at the close of 2009 is that I have not learned anything ground-breaking from this extremely time-consuming (left-brain heavy) process of "accounting" of my students' learning.  I realize that I was always using student data (though not always in numerical form) to inform my instructional decisions.  I always had a pretty good grasp of what my students understood and didn't understand because I looked at their work.  

In fact, this assessment process has made my vision of my classroom somewhat more myopic than usual.   For example, if you ask me what a particular student knows or doesn't know about, say, point of view in literature, I have to consult the numbers in my grade book, whereas before I could probably tell you off the top of my head.  This is because I've forced myself to focus on the empirical side of assessment (the numbers) and less on the actual student! I am less tuned in to the "soft" aspects of teaching, such as how I am motivating my students, and how much joy and creativity there is or isn't in my classroom.  I *count* that as a loss for both my students and me.  

I did discover a few good things about this practice.  The rubrics were often helpful as a tool to communicate clearly to students what they needed to work on. When I've given students opportunities to revise or redo the work, many of them have done voluntarily, which is a big success. I notice this form of feedback is most helpful with students who are already at least somewhat achievement-oriented. Students who generally struggle with academic skills and engagement, however, seemed to disengage more than usual when they found everything was graded strictly based on the 8th grade standards.  This raises some questions for me that I will share below.

2010: As a result of my learning this fall, I will use rubrics when I want to communicate to students about their progress on a specific objective, especially when I will be giving them new opportunities to achieve greater mastery the concept or skill.  Ideally, though, I want to structure my class so that my students get to a point where they can assess their own work, where I do not always have the final word about what's best.  

In 2010, I will not continue to keep track of student learning using rubrics to create numerical data just for the sake of it, or to answer to some higher power.  If I am the single most important factor in the learning of my students, then need to do what enables me to be the best teacher I can be, which means NOT getting burnt out in the process. Moreover, I need to approach teaching in a way that feeds my spirit. I need to use my intuition to stay in tune with the pulse of the class as a whole and build relationships with all my students.  I resolve to welcome formal and informal occasions for joy, humor, and creativity in my classroom. I am fairly certain that these are no less important than mastery of standards.  

Questions: I'm still torn about whether actual grades and rankings are ultimately helpful.  In From Degrading to De-GradingAlfie Kohn explains the well-researched fact that grades take the child's attention away from the learning itself, which is detrimental to all learners, from struggling to gifted. Written or verbal feedback, he says, is very helpful, but grades--which rank the work, whether we use letters or points, or percentages--make students focus on the grades, not the work. What would happen if I stopped giving grades and only gave written feedback?  What if I gave and scored quizzes, but at the end of the term asked kids to look at their work and feedback and assign themselves a grade and explain their rationale for it.  How would they fare? 

In the use of rubrics, I question the practice of deciding beforehand what every student should learn from each assignment.  For certain objectives and certain assignments, yes.  But everything? For every student? Isn't that an attempt to standardize the learning that takes place in our classrooms?  What about play? Innovation?  What's the right balance between accountability for student mastery of pre-determined standards and the need for students to explore, discover, and learn in a way that is authentic and honors their individuality?

[image credits: www.readingpl.org/, eduspaces.net, www.flickr.com/photos/ bingramos/126661740/]

 My wonderful colleague, who teaches 8th grade science next door, got a parakeet for her classroom this year.  It is small, cute and yellow and sings songs softly. Students were very excited when she introduced him and they have treated him with care for months.  Students especially love the privilege of having the bird cage rest on their table while they work.  

On Thursday afternoon, my colleague was at a PD and a substitute covered her class. Sometime during that class, a student sprayed the bird in the face with white-board cleaning fluid--which is basically alcohol. The bird's eye became red and enflamed, the area around it was swollen, and it's body language indicated it was quite sick.  

Students were upset and anxious about the situation.  Many thought that the bird would die. But no one owned up to the deed.  The majority of the class seemed unsure which of 3 or 4 boys who were goofing around near the bird had done it. 

The deans and principal investigated and narrowed it down to two boys.  Neither of the boys is an extremely malicious or violent student.  It seemed to have been a matter of extremely poor judgment, a negative response to perceived lack of boundaries, and lack of self-restraint. 

One of the boys, while being questioned, said, "It's not that big of a deal. We can just buy her another bird; they only cost 8 dollars."

This response caught my attention.  Mind you, this is a student who lacks impulse control, but who is very bright and who shows care for others.  Though a bit of an enigma, (his writing is, without fail, no matter what I try, the longest, most interesting, run-on sentence you've ever read) he is one of my favorite students.  How could he so totally miss the point here? 

On the one hand, this was a thirteen-year-old child's attempt to right a wrong situation.  On the other had, I also wonder if his sentiment is symptomatic of today's out-of-control consumer culture and the disconnect of the urban environment from the natural world.  

Broken bird?  Buy another one.  

As it turns out, the bird is recovering... but I'm a little concerned for our children.  Are they getting the message that anything in the world can be bought?  That problems--crimes, even--are easily fixed with money?  And that the price of something dictates its worth?

[image credit: blogs.thatpetplace.com}

 I just read this op-ed by Bob Herbert, "In Search of Education Leaders" in the New York Times about a new doctoral program at Harvard in "Educational Leadership" that will be tuition free.

If you haven't seen it, it is worth checking out. 

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/05/opinion/05herbert.html?hp

It left me slightly confused.  First, I think Herbert does a good job of showing readers why there is a need for huge change in education, and for with the vision and skills to lead it.  What confuses me is whether or not Harvard's program will create education leaders who are any different than those we already have. In the NY Times article, the dean of the program, Kathleen McCartney says, “If you look at people who are running districts, some come from traditional schools of education, and they understand the core business of education but perhaps are a little weak on the management side. And then you’ve got the M.B.A.-types who understand operations, let’s say, but not so much teaching and learning.”

So it seems the program aims to produce well-rounded ed reformers who understand both business and management as well as teaching and learning.  That leaves me wondering how these candidates are going to learn about teaching and learning in a doctoral program at Harvard?  There is no mention here (or anywhere else I searched) of the role of teachers in this vision.  There is nothing that says a candidate needs to have taught in classrooms, especially those that serve Black and Hispanic students, the population Herbert says is most in danger of not getting a decent education, an important piece of his case for new leaders in American education.  

I myself read this news and thought, so let's say I were interested in the vision of this program.  What does it mean to be an education leader and how does this fit with my desire to also be a teacher?  An article at Boston.com states, "The program aims to train graduates for senior leadership roles in school systems, government agencies, nonprofit organizations, and the private sector."  Does this mean that graduates of this program will not be teachers, teacher leaders, or even principals, all of whom work in actual schools and and are responsible for educating actual students?   

On the one hand, I get it.  We live in a hierarchical society.  Government itself is hierarchical and the people at the top are mostly NOT equipped to tackle the issues of education in the 21st century, though they need to be. That's what creates the imperative for innovative new programs to help fill in the gaping holes education policy makers are currently staring down into or trying to cover up.  The reality seems to be--at least at present time-- that if you work in government, you probably cannot also be a classroom teacher.  Nonetheless, I'm skeptical about the idea that graduates of this program will be in any better position to transform American education than current education reformers are so long as teachers are left out.   

Turning the question around, could a classroom teacher--or group of classroom teachers--become a major force in education reform?  I think yes.  Teacher Leaders Network and, in a different way, unions seem to be examples of this.  I'd be much more optimistic if I knew that a group of teachers were entering Harvard's program and would graduate having created and prepared to take on hybrid roles--splitting their time between actual classroom teaching and working closely with senior "educational leaders" to help transform education.  

Who will create that program? 

[image credit: life.com]

Over Thanksgiving break, I planned to launch a new novel study. Boys will read The Dream Bearer by Walter Dean Myers and girls will read Like Sisters On the Homefront by Rita Williams Garcia.  This is always a very successful study for the students, because they find the novels compelling and the gender split adds some developmental dimension to the experience (This is the only time in the year I split by gender. More on that another time.)

As excited as I was to start the novel study, I felt that over the last month or so, things had gotten too ragged in my classroom. Students seemed lax about their own behaviors--in conversations with them later, students knew exactly what they had done wrong, but just seemed to lack self-consciousness or motivation to act appropriately in class. I'm talking about the usual 8th grade stuff--socializing excessively during class, antics that interrupt lessons or set off other students, etc., etc., etc.  These behaviors were upsetting the momentum of the learning and the group dynamic.  

At the end of every period I have the class assess itself as a group in 5 categories on a scale of 1-4: 

  • Agenda (did we complete it?), 
  • Quality of Work (this is for the class as a whole, not individual students)
  • Jobs (official jobs in each class are Teacher's Assistant, Supply Manager, Director of Maintenance, and Librarian--did they do them?)
  • Golden Rule (Harm no one in word or deed--did we follow it?)
  • Neatness (how did we leave the classroom?)

The self-assessment chart serves as a good data source for me.  Students are very honest when completing the self-assessment, because it doesn't count as a grade, so there's no motivation to cheat.  I saw the scores decreasing and decreasing--and it was only November.

20% of my students' final grade is reserved for a category I call "Member of a Learning Community."  In my mind, it's very clear what this includes: coming prepared to class, participating in lessons, meetings and discussions, active listening, supporting peers, following the Golden Rule, good work habits, professionalism, etc., and I have communicated this to students.  However, I needed to find a way to make students' individual grades in this category more visible to them, more immediate and short-term, and empower them to improve in specific ways.  But logistically this can be challenging. 

I remembered something a student teacher I had last year from Bank Street College shared with me from another cooperating middle school teacher she'd worked with that year--Sharon Kramer, also a Bank Street-trained teacher who teaches in NYC public schools.  I had debated implementing it in September, but thought nah, I'll be alright without.  Now things are falling apart a little bit, so it's time for a change.  

So it's only been 2 days, but this new system has been really positive.  The atmosphere of the class is quite different.  Kids are more focused, more self-aware and we've picked up the pace a lot.  Maybe it's the new novels, or the new system, or a combination.  Any which way, I'm happy about the change. I'm happy I found the courage and time to take a risk and switch things up.  

The new system: Each table has a student leader who keeps track of participation points on a chart using a code for the members of the table. Every student begins every period with 60 points.  Positive behaviors and negative behaviors are assigned + or - point values and a code letter.  For example, coming to the meeting area within 60 seconds of the bell ringing (M) is worth 10 points.  Cursing (C) is worth -10 points, and so forth. Students gain points for great group work, helping another student, leaving their table area beautiful, etc.  Students lose points for eating in class, coming late, not having a writing utensil, breaking the Golden Rule, etc.  I made it so there are equal number of positive and negative behaviors.  (I've been training students to calculate grades based on those letter codes, which as some basic math value as well!) 

The table leader rotates weekly. At the end of the day I tally up the points and make any corrections if need be.  Every day students see their official grade from the day before. At the end of the week each student averages their scores from each day together and gets a grade out of 100, which I will enter into my online grade book.

It's not rocket science, but I think it helps kids be clear on what they are choosing to do and the consequences of those choices, good or bad.  Also, there are many ways within a single period to redeem a falling grade, and this makes that visible.  However, if a student has made poor choices throughout a period, it also becomes clear that he or she can't simply work for 5 minutes and redeem the grade.  It helps kids check each other, which is much much better than me playing the cop.  I hope and suspect students also see more clearly how their actions affect their learning and the rest of the class.  Maybe that's something we could have a class discussion about soon.  

I've never really been a fan of point systems for behavior.  Ideally, we will use this for a while and then outgrow it.  But for the moment, it's the structure and clarity my students need in order to do their best work and become members of a learning community, not just students in a class. 

[Image credit: a student deep in thought on a trip to study the neighborhood. This is how I want my students to feel in class every day!]

Syndicate content