Ariel Sacks


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!]

After reading Nancy Flanagan's post at Teacher In a Strange Land about Public Agenda's report on Teaching for a Living: How Teachers See the Profession Today, I am questioning whether I fit into the contented, idealist, or disheartened category of teacher.  Like some of the teachers she mentions, I think I may shift between the three perspectives over the course of a single day.  However, a few months into my sixth year, I am pretty sure I'm becoming less idealistic and possibly less contented than I used to be.  

What does that mean and why is it happening?  Well, when I first entered teaching, I was just excited to be there. Everything I did was experimental. I was aware that the conditions of my school were far from ideal, and that I was a beginner, and I was mentally prepared to succeed or flop any day. I was eager to capitalize on success when I met it and also content to cut my losses and learn from my mistakes when I failed.  The pace of my own learning was as exhilarating as that of my students.  Success happened in moments, and I cherished them. At the end of two years of teaching one group of students for 7th and 8th grade, I saw evidence of major long-lasting growth.  I also was able to pinpoint things I had not achieved with my students and plan for the next year.  When I was frustrated, it was usually with the fact that I lacked voice within my top-down structured school.

Over the years I figured out some things that seemed to work.  I began to reuse and refine those practices.  As satisfying as that was, I also began to expect success most of the time.  I also raised my standards for what success in the classroom should look like.  At the same time, I was indoctrinated into a culture that increasingly looks to test scores to measure learning and the success of teachers.  I went from teaching my students for two years to teaching them for one.  I expected success sooner, faster, and all the time.    

Additionally, I switched schools in order to work in a place where teachers had more voice in curriculum and decision making processes.  With a new school came adapting my teaching--which is a student-centered, responsive approach, where students themselves matter a lot--to a different and less familiar population of students. Eager to have more voice my school, I took on leadership roles, and began spending more energy on team and school-wide issues than I ever had before.  My involvement with the Teacher Leaders Network has also opened me up to the world of education policy and edu-blogging. Practically speaking, teacher leadership has meant cutting back on the amount of time and energy spent on my own teaching practice. At the same time, I couple that with higher and higher expectations of my own teaching and less tolerance for failure of any kind.

I was never a total idealist about teaching and I was never fully content with my own teaching, my school, or the teaching profession as a whole.  What worked for me was that I never took success with students for granted.  And I never beat myself up when something didn't go as well as I expected.  Now I do both of those things regularly, which is a recipe for becoming one disheartened teacher.  

I guess the first step is acknowledging there is a problem.  I'll be working on how to shift my outlook so I can keep on enjoying this work. Advice is welcome :)

[image credit: roddzblog.wordpress.com/ 2007/05/]

Tomorrow I'll be at the NCTE convention in Philadelphia doing a poster presentation with my mentor from Bank Street, Madeleine Ray, on the Whole Novels Program, a student centered literature program we've been developing for some years.  In honor of that, I'm posting a piece I wrote last year about my favorite part of the Whole Novels Program--discussions. Here it is.

It is my
favorite time again--discussions of the novel the class has just finished
reading. I pull two tables together on one side of the room to form a “discussion
table,” and call half of the class to the table. The other students have
independent work to do quietly; halfway through the period the two half-groups
will switch.  Students know that
there will be three days of successive discussions, and that only students who
have completed the reading are eligible to join.  A few students catch up on unfinished reading in a corner so
that they may enter discussions the following day, or even by the end of the
period. 

This is a
tradition I became a part of six years ago as a student teacher at Bank Street
College, working with faculty advisor, Madeleine Ray, who teaches this methods
each year in her Children’s Literature course.  When I was student teaching in an English class, she
instructed me to try allowing the students to read and experience an entire
novel on their own.  The point was
to hold off on discussions and public interpretations until they had read the
entire work.  Then, she urged, let
the students discuss the work openly, as adults do in book groups or as art
critics would do at an opening.  “Don’t
script a list of questions for students to answer,” she said.  “Just ask them what they notice, what
they think and go from there.” 

Many
teachers wince at this suggestion, predicting that their students will fail at
the task, or that they, as teachers, will fail to teach the content they feel
obliged to cover.  I also
questioned if it would be possible.

Over the
years, I’ve developed structures that help me hold students accountable for
completing the reading and others that help struggling readers succeed in the
process.  I’ve found that this core
framework for the study of literature is one of the most sucessful and
rewarding pieces of my teaching practice.

“Welcome to
our first novel discussions,” I say to my group of nine students sitting around
the table holding their novels, packed with post-it notes where they’ve
recorded their thoughts over the last 2 ½ weeks of reading. I explain, “First,
we will go around the circle and hear once from each student. After that, the
discussion is open. The student to my left goes first. You can say anything you
want about the book…tell us your general impressions of it, something you loved
or hated, a character or scene you want to comment on, something you noticed or
wondered…” 

And the
discussions begin.  Everyone gets a
turn.  Students fight to hold back
their responses until we’ve gone around the circle once. Then the discussion
accelerates as students unleash their insights into characters, challenge one
another over what really happened and why, whether the book was compelling or a
bore, and frantically searching for the pages that hold proof of their points…
All the while I take notes on everything that is said, only occasionally asking
a question, or reminding students to take turns and make sure to hear from
everyone. 

During these
discussions, year after year, I have the wonderful sensation that time around
us has stopped—we are consumed by the experience—until then the bell rings (or
the timer goes off, indicating that it’s time for the groups to switch).

            “Class
is over?” a student usually asks, confused. 

            “Yes,”
I say. “But we’ll continue tomorrow. 
Before we go we need to decide on a homework assignment based on today’s
discussion.” A student usually comes up with a question or challenge for the
group to write a paragraph about. 
If there are competing ideas, I ask students to write on something they
would like to discuss tomorrow, in round two.  This may include locating a specific passage in the book
that supports their position for the group to reread and analyze. By the end of
the year, students create these types of assignments for themselves without my
prodding. 

That night,
I spend the extra time it takes to type up the notes from today’s discussions,
and bring a copy for each student to read at the beginning of the round
two.  I give them a few minutes to
read over the notes.  They are
thrilled to see their words in print! 
“As you read, highlight anything they want to return to in today’s
discussion.” We begin by again allowing everyone to speak once.  Then it’s open and the discussion picks
up both speed and depth.  On day
one, students mostly offer strong visceral opinions about characters or the
book as a whole.  By day two or
three, the students progress from analyzing characters, their relationships and
conflicts, to analyzing more subtle themes and subtexts in the work.  They become aware of the author’s craft
and purpose, and are able to critique them. 

Due to
popular demand from students, this time every class continues discussing for
four days straight.  We could have
gone on even longer, but it was time to work on portfolio projects—students
wrote essays on the novel, based on the ideas from our discussions. 

To close, I
gave students a quick anonymous survey that asked, What was it like to be
part of the discussion groups this week? Describe the experience.
  The responses were all favorable, and some were especially
telling of why:

·      It was good.  I got to say what I think.

·      It was a good experience because
we all got to express what we feel about the book.

·      It was great and controversial.

·      It was interesting because we got
to see what each was thinking.

·      It was good because I got to hear
others’ thoughts about the book and know they are thinking the same thing I’m
thinking.

·      It was fun and cool that people
actually got to hear what I had to say.

·      It was like being in a meeting,
cooperating with others, talking about a girl our age.

·      It was good because it was just an
open conversation.

·      It feels like I am making progress
100%.

These
comments remind me that it’s not every day that we allow kids to really say
what they think in school and be heard. 
Adolescents will tell you if they don’t like your outfit, and some will
tell you if they’re bored.  But
when it comes to academic material, even the most outspoken students have been
trained for years to look for the answer that pleases the teacher. 

The success
of this process for discussion of literature makes it clear that if we really
want our students to think for themselves, we have to be open to what they will
say.  I may want to discuss the
symbolism of the cowry shell in chapter 10, but this does nothing anything for
the students  We cannot be the one
thinker in a room full of followers! 
Instead, we must be charged with devising ways to create space and
opportunities for our students to share and pursue their own thoughts. 

It can be
hard to resist the traditional role of teacher as chief thinker, which is as
ingrained in teachers and schools as it is in our students.  Letting go of it, however, is
liberating, and the rewards for students are even greater.  Finally, no one spends class waiting
for the bell to ring. 

[image credit: fhscrystalg.googlepages.com/]

Last week I posted what was essentially a "vent" about the ATR's who've been placed at my school, who are not being used to fill vacancies, but who are being used as substitutes instead.  It was also posted at Gotham Schools, where you can see the heated responses I received.  The level of anger in the comments has been troubling, (1) because it is not productive and (2) because it is evidence of the feeling of powerlessness among teachers in the debate about public education.   

After a few days of discussion and many accusations of being Anti-Teacher by readers at Gotham Schools, I've arrived at this point and posted this comment there this morning. 

"Marty is right. At this point if an ATR or any teacher at my school is not fulfilling basic requirements of his or her job, it is the job of the principal to take action using due process. It is also the job of my principal to explain expectations and procedures to the ATRs placed at my school and give them the support they need to do their jobs.

I did not write about my situation in order to suggest that ATR’s lose their jobs. I am sorry if that has been the effect of my post. I see now the damage that could cause–I become political fuel for the people who want to save money by getting rid of “expensive” experienced teachers who’ve done nothing wrong, but work in a school that was closed down, or where funding was cut. Although it happens in other professions a lot, and people are left to find new jobs on their own, I value the job security our contract provides and our union protects. Teaching is too personal and full of risk-taking to have to worry that you could lose your job if the principal doesn’t like you or a choice you made. There needs to be due process for all of us.

I am going to take Rhoda’s advice and not discuss the situation at my school any more than I already have. In my opinion, the situation is unacceptable on a number of levels, but that may not be for discussion here.

I think Renee brings up some productive direction: 'From what you all have described, it sounds more like this ATR system might be a way for principals or higher administrators to eliminate people they may simply not like (???) as well as those who are not doing a good job. But, the process begs the question, if the person were in fact doing such a bad job, why not just put up the evidence of that and have the person removed from the profession period, rather than continue to pay them a salary? Perhaps what we really need is to examine our processes of evaluating teachers to ensure that those who are doing the work of teaching get rewarded (and protected from unfair dismissal or job loss) and that those who are not get removed.'

It seems like policy makers want to change teacher evaluation and the only thing they seem to be thinking about is using test scores, which I think would be a huge mistake.

Is our current evaluation system working?

What should be the goal of teacher evaluation? Feedback for the teacher? A way to identify and support ineffective teachers? A way to terminate ineffective teachers? A way to encourage and reward effective teaching?

If our current evaluation system is not working, what changes could be made to it that would benefit teachers and students?"

[Image credit: growchangelearn.blogspot.com]

 Strange happenings... There are ATR's in the teacher's lounge of my school. Let me explain.

As you probably know, starting this summer the Mayor put a freeze on hiring of any non-DOE teachers. So teachers who just moved to the city, as well as newbies out of any teacher prep program, including NYC Teaching Fellows and TFA, have all been left with no job prospects in the public schools.  This is because of the ATR's, who are teachers who have been excessed--NOT fired--from their positions.  

Excessing happens when funding for a position closes up or a school closes down.  Now, it is pretty difficult to fire a tenured teacher.  It requires lots of documentation from the principal, multiple chances for the teacher to redeem him or herself, and there is strong legal representation for all teachers provided by the union, so even in the clearest of cases, it can take a few years. Many principals take the easy way out and simply dry up the position, thereby excessing the unwanted teacher.  Often this is nothing more than a bad match between teacher and principal/school, and such teachers secure positions at other schools quickly.  In other cases, the excessed teacher doesn't find a position at another school, but continues to receive his or her salary from the DOE as per the contract--if you're not fired, then you still have a job, even if that job is actually no job at all.

My school had a number of vacancies at the end of last year.  We were able to hire a bunch of experienced NYC teachers who were fleeing their schools for the greener pastures promised by my school (I hope we're delivering!)  But a few positions remained open.  My principal interviewed 37 ATR's. That's right, 37.  She said they were the most depressing interviews she has ever done, and that she "could not, in good conscience, hire any of them."  

Why were the interviews so bad?  Are these teachers really the dregs of the profession?  Or is it that they've become all too comfortable being ATR's with no teaching position and do not want to go back to the classroom?      

Two weeks into the school year, we still did not have a math teacher for my grade.  A string of subs covered the math class, while we attempted to wait the hiring freeze out.  

A few weeks later, the city decided to place all ATR's in vacancies throughout the city.  We received three from a high school that was shut down.  These three teachers, all middle aged, have 10-15 years of experience and get paid much more than I do.  However, they do not want to be at my school, and they know they are not wanted either.  In the classroom, they behave like incompetent substitutes. No order, no real planning, no real teaching.  Some have been rude to students on occasion.  Students get rude right back to them (and you know how middle schoolers can be when they feel disrespected).  It's not good. 

Finally, we found a solution.  The hiring freeze has been lifted in the area of special education.  One of our special education teachers is certified to teach any middle school subject.  She agreed to take over the math position, although she's never been a head teacher before.  We are now in the process of hiring a new special education teacher.  

Meanwhile, we still have the three ATR's...in our classrooms covering whenever someone's absent, and on our payroll as the most senior people in the building.  

In the teacher's lounge they are like refugees.  It's weird.  I feel bad for them.  They seem like they have come from a school that was, like many large urban public schools, more of a war zone than a learning environment.  They seem almost traumatized, and ready to attack at any moment.  

One of the ATR's is covering for a special education teachers who is on maternity leave.  If no teacher is absent, I can count on her to be in my room while I have my CTT class. (When she's not there, I'm on my own...another story for another post.)  She's actually a nice woman who is trying to do a decent job.  She observed in my classroom, while students busily did their work, then came to the meeting area to respond to a poem.  She visibly relaxed and her facial expression changed when she saw my students' real capabilities.  Now she greets me in the morning and tells me whether she'll be in my class or not that day.  She asks me about the curriculum, and is trying to work more with the students.  It's nice to see the shift, but honestly, I feel like I'm training her, while she gets paid twice my salary. 

Another ATR as been assigned to teach an 8th grade advisory, since our (now) math teacher cannot, because she's still in charge of all middle school IEP's and needs time in her schedule for it, and I cannot because I am team leader and department chair and need time in my schedule for that.  However, this ATR just hands out whatever materials we give him, and sits in the room and reads a book.  

So who's responsible for this situation?  I do not fault the mayor.  It's a smart business move to stop paying for teachers who have no positions, especially in a recession.  However, given the turnover rates in high poverty schools, you know which schools had to take the ATR's instead of the usual TFA'ers (who can be just as inept, but are usually far more committed and faster learners). 

But who is responsible for these ATR's apparent low ability to teach?  Look at the environment they must be coming from.  Is it their fault they were teaching under horrible conditions and probably received no support?  And, although, I believe principals need a real reason to fire a teacher, perhaps the union is at fault when the process for firing inept teachers takes years.  Kids lose out during those years.  And which principal gave these teachers tenure so many years ago?  Were they different teachers back then?  

I feel like I'm in the twilight zone.  Should I just "suck it up" and teach this woman what I know?  Like  said, she's actually a nice person who seems eager to learn.  Should I train this man to run an advisory?  My kids deserve that...

[Image Credit: sodahead.com]

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