politics and teaching

 Lately when it comes to education, the country has been focused on the goal of measuring good teaching--and I think most people would agree that it's not an easy thing to do.  Some (such as Nancy Flanagan of Teacher in a Strange Land) have noted that teachers have been mostly left out of the process, though we are known to play the single most important role in a child's education.  There is another group of key players that has had even less voice in how we measure good teaching: the students.

My virtual colleague from the Teacher Leaders Network and blogger at the DailyKos, Kenneth Bernstein, brought this AOL News article by Kelly Middleton to my attention.  There, students were surveyed about what makes a great teacher.  Their responses (copied below directly from the article) are quite interesting:

  • Know us personally, our interests and strengths
  • Let us know who they are as individuals
  • Smile at us
  • Encourage us to participate in school activities
  • Spend time beyond class time to help us be successful in their class
  • Give us descriptive feedback on assignments
  • Tell us why
  • Share how what we learn is connected to real life
  • Apologize when they make mistakes
  • Give meaningful work
  • Are energetic, enthusiastic and enjoy their job

As I prepare for a new school year, this list is a welcome reminder to me of what matters most to many students.  As Ken pointed out, students did not cite raising their test scores as a major factor in a teacher's quality.  That in itself is no surprise to me, nor does it necessarily discount the value of test scores in measuring student learning... however, if we only look at test scores, it seems we are discounting the students' experience.  

Much of what the students listed would go under the category of building positive student-teacher relationships.  However, it seems there is little movement to encourage teachers to build better relationships with our students.  On a very qualitative level--though I wonder if we could get some numerical, survey-based data on this--I feel that the focus on data and test preparation has created a new kind of distance between today's teachers and students.  

Educators in New York regularly refer to specific students as numbers: "She's a 1; he's a high 2..." etc.   And as I spend more time looking at student work for data on what percentage of the class has mastered standard X and deciding how to respond, I have less time to give meaningful qualitative feedback on student work, which is something students reported to be valuable in the above list.  

The nature of high stakes testing and all of its consequences makes working in a high need school (and maybe other types of schools, though I'm not sure) much more stressful than it was when I started teaching 6 years ago.  Are we smiling less?  That might be worth studying as well.  

Extra-curriculuar activities are being cut in city schools and nationwide in place of more math and ELA instruction, so there are fewer activities to encourage students to participate in.   Teachers are often discouraged from spending time on meaningful work that might not apply directly to standards measured on state tests. Remember, tests only measure what can efficiently be standardized.  That leaves out a a great many areas of meaningful academic work (writing fiction and writing poetry, in my discipline, for example).  

Students value a teacher who tells them why.  My guess is that the answer, "Because it's on the test," has become much more common and will continue to do so as long as test scores are the go-to measure for teaching and learning.  This is not to say that tests do not provide valuable data for us about student learning.  I just think that, for lack of a better way to measure good teaching, the country is going too far in the use of test scores.  

As I look at what the students say makes a great teacher, I worry we may be we may be discouraging the development of such warm and thoughtful teachers.  It seems like so much energy is going to distract us from these things: smiling, words of encouragement...there is no guidance in that direction from those policies which seek to guide us teachers.  

We also must not forget that we have a staggering national high school dropout rate (close to 50%).  My friend who teaches in Oakland at a second chance school, for high school students who've already dropped out and want to come back, did some research on her students' experiences that led to their dropping out.  Overwhelmingly they had felt all alone in their education, lacking a strong relationship with any adult at school.  Ability and time to form relationships with students needs to be given some formal value.  If we constantly measure learning outside of any real context, we are really going astray of what our students need, which is real connection--both to academic content and to their teachers.   

[image credit: http://www.daisakuikeda.org/main/educator/edu/edu-04.html  This website is very interesting, about a model of education called Soka, which is based on positive relationship between teacher and student.]

    With the reauthorization of ESEA in the works, and an education speech by President Obama scheduled for Thursday, a coalition of civil rights groups, has weighed in on education reform in this timely report issued Monday (also discussed in this article in the Washington Post).  Big shifts are happening--and indeed have taken place over the last decade--in public education, and the issue of equity and civil rights is often addressed only superficially and gets buried in debates over particulars.  I am glad to see experienced civil rights advocates formally enter the policy debate.  

    For an excellent analysis of the points in the report, see Renee Moore's newest post at TeachMoore.  She writes from the perspective of a teacher leader and a parent.  


     What's a High Needs School?

    Since I entered teaching, I've worked in what are classified as urban, "high needs" schools.  Lately I've been asking myself, what exactly does that mean?  

    The high need schools in which I've built my teaching practice serve student populations that receive universal free lunch from the government.  This means that 100% of their families live (or at least report income) at the poverty line.  I researched the federal guidelines for this designation, and found that for a single parent and one child, it is $14,570 per year.  And for a household of 5 this means $25,790 annually.  

    In New York City, those figures make for staggeringly difficult conditions for raising a family.  These numbers reflect "the struggle," a concept that never really goes away.  This is where students grow up exposed to or experiencing the various symptoms of poverty--poor or unstable housing, violence, crime, poor health and nutrition, depression--all of which are competing factors in a child's ability to focus in school. I do believe strongly that any child can succeed academically given the right opportunity, but the stress level alone associated with many of these issues makes it much more difficult.  

    What confuses me at the moment is why there are so many schools that serve 100% children of the poor.  It would be one thing if most of the city was poor, but that is not the case.  It would be one thing if some districts were poor and others wealthy, but that is not the case either.  Districts tend to be spread across several neighborhoods of varying economic levels.  So why is it that one handful of schools is charged with educating children who struggle getting their basic needs met, and other schools serve mostly middle class children who mostly come to school well-provided for? Why do so many poor students in New York City find themselves in classes made up of exclusively other students facing similar economic situations? What message does that send? 

    In today's education scene, key players seem comfortable looking in the windows of high needs schools and questioning or making suggestions as to how they are funded, staffed, supported, and held accountable (all of which are valid points of discussion).  But what about the frame itself for this picture?  Aren't we looking at the old ill of segregation and failing to confront it?  

    In New York City, students have to apply to schools, starting in elementary, and most schools screen their students.  "Better" schools have good reputations, get "better" applicant pools, and can choose from the most prepared students (using academic, discipline and attendance records).  Schools with poorer reputations end up with students that the better schools didn't choose.  It is not a coincidence that those students tend live at the poverty line and receive free lunch.  

    Great work happens inside high need schools.  Committed teachers, students and school leaders regularly transcend the expectations society has of them, putting the dream of educational opportunity for all into action.  At the same time, in many such schools, we are overwhelmed by the level of need, both academically, socially and psychologically.  There are many children who get "left behind"--not by hard-working teachers, guidance counselors and administrators doing their best every day--but by a system that is still separate and unequal.  And no matter how much we test students and hold teachers and principals accountable for the results, we're missing something if we don't also deal with the segregation in our schools that perpetuates and even intensifies long-standing inequalities inside our nation.   

    [image credit (border added): 

    bluesoul.wordpress.com/ 2008/11/27/urban-vector/]

     A yoga teacher I know urges his students to be observant of themselves, but "get rid of the stick."  This has been an important concept for me lately both personally and professionally. The idea is to take time to notice things--both obvious and subtle.  Notice how you feel as you walk into the school building in the morning. Notice how you feel as the bell is about to ring to end first period. Notice how you feel when a student asks for your help. Notice how you feel when you tell a student to put her food away when she is eating in class. But leave the stick out of it.  

    If I notice something I'm uncomfortable with, my reaction may be to chastise myself mentally for what I could have done differently or earlier or better.  Or I may have the urge to chastise someone else for not meeting an expectation I had of them.  But in the end, the stick just creates more discomfort where there already was enough to begin with.  It distracts us from the process of learning from experiences.  

    When we take the time to notice things, we are creating an opportunity for ourselves to illuminate the choices we make on a regular basis, some of which we may not even be aware.  Lately, I've even been taking time to notice what I notice.  Do I take as much time to notice the progress one student makes, or how well a lesson went, as I do berating myself about a student who was messing around period 4?  How I fill up my mental space involves choice as well.  I've been trying to make the choice lately to notice the positive as much as the other things that beg my attention.  

    At the same time, feelings of discomfort can reveal choices I've been making that need to change.  For example, I noticed that I felt irked when I had to tell a student to put her food away--in that moment, I felt irked by the food as well as the student.  I realized I felt that way because I'd been telling the same student to put her food away almost daily, though she is fully aware that it's against school rules to eat in class.  

    The trap was that I kept seeing the situation through the lens of the choice my student had been making--to flout school rules.  But in that moment I was able to note the choice I'd been making--to "remind her" of this rule every day, and then forget about it 'til the next day.  Ha!  Instead of whipping out the figurative stick on either her or myself, I simply identified that I needed to make a different choice so I could refocus my attention and interactions with her back on our real purpose: teaching and learning.  I pulled her aside later that day and told her what I'd noticed.  I told her that it was necessary that she follow school rules so we can spend time on what's most important during class time.  She got the point and understood that failure to correct the problem would cause me to take further action, which she does not want.  We also talked about her eating breakfast at home instead of buying it at the store on the way to school.  She is no longer eating in class, and making that change was pretty painless :)

    Too much of the culture of schooling is based around using the stick to modify and control students. And it's no wonder because the same is true for teachers... and principals.  I'm thinking about how we could shift toward illuminating choices instead.  How can our schools be set up to help students to see the choices they make and how these make them feel and learn to make better choices?  How can schools be set up for teachers to practice this as well?  Principals?  

    Are there places where we would just bump up against walls with this?  For example, in the story I told above, what if the "no eating in class" rule were something truly oppressive, like, "no looking out the window in class"? Then how does choice play out?  Or for a teacher, if the rule were, "No designing your own curriculum"? Hmm...

    [image credit: chickyog.net]

     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] 

     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]

     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]

    I just returned from the Bay Area of California, where I spent a week enjoying the last moments of real summer vacation, before entering heavy preparation mode for the new school year.  I breathed fresh air, slept in the mountains, saw wild horses, took a dip in hot springs, and met some cool people while out here. 

    I crossed paths with two children who reminded me that there is no one right way to educate. 

    G and his parents live most of the way "off the grid" in the mountains of Ukiah two hours north of the city.  I met G in a room in the barn on "the Property," that is part kitchen, part living room, part library and part music room.  He looked to be about 17.  He was fixing himself lunch and reading a thick, small print, college-looking book called "The Rules Of Writing" or something to that effect.  Also in his pile of reading materials were books on architecture and biology.  He explained that he was taking courses at Junior College.  

    In the course of conversation I shared that I taught 8th grade English.  

    "So you teach writing?" he asked.

    "Yes," I said.  

    "That's sort of my weak point," he said, and pointed toward the book on the Rules of Writing. 

     I told him, "The more you write, the better you become at it."  He nodded. 

    Then his father said, "So, 8th grade...that's about the class he'd be in if he had gone through normal schools."  I was confused.  "Yup," he said. "He's forteen."  

    Wow!  He seemed much more mature than most 14 year olds I know, and in one way that especially caught my attention--he was mature about his learning.  His father said G had always loved learning, because he'd learned through playing and experiencing the world, especially the outdoors, and through various types of apprenticeships.  A year ago, he expressed interest in taking classes, so he enrolled in a k-12 program at the Junior College.  He'd done well so far and seemed to be able to transfer his motivation to learn to the formal classroom context.  

    G's path wouldn't work for everyone.  He benefits from the unique environment of his upbringing and values and care of his parents.  But its a reminder that the lock-step grade levels and benchmarks we become obsessive about in public schools are quite artificial.  

    Another moment that spoke to this very same issue came when I met A, a friend's 7 year old son, who was going into third grade.  I noticed that he seemed to have strong verbal skills and a wide vocabulary.  He was able to hold a conversation with us adults at the dinner table for a while without getting completely bored.  

    At some point, I asked A one of my favorite questions for kids: "Do you like to read?"  I was expecting him to tell me he just finished the entire Harry Potter series, based on how he spoke.

    "I can't read," he said, matter-of-factly.  I paused in momentary shock, not sure how to respond. What was I going to say?  Then I remembered hearing earlier that he attended a Waldorf school, where I knew kids learned to read in 3rd grade.

    "Oh, that's right, you go to Waldorf," I said, feeling silly. He seemed unphased.  

    Then my friend asked him, "A, Do you like to listen to stories?" 

    "I lovelistening to stories," he said, 

    with the passion I often hear when kids speak about video games.  

    "We're on the third Lord of the Rings book now. I love Lord of the Rings," A said.  

    I thought about what this meant.  A's mother had been reading to him since he was little.  He now had the patience and story background to sit through thousands of pages of dense prose and to fully enter the world of the books.  He got true enjoyment out of this.

    I thought how strange it must be for him not to be able to read yet, not even signs or menus.  And yet, how exciting will this year be for him, when he finally gets to unlock the world of reading for himself. And how different it will be to do this when his vocabulary is already impressive, his knowledge of the world is as wide as it is.  I have a feeling his motivation to read on his own will be very strong.  

    The Waldorf way might not be best for everyone. It relies on strong parental buy-in and involvement, from which not every child benefits.  But meeting A was another reminder that there are so many different ways to learn.  If a student cannot read by third grade in the public schools, he's almost definitely going to be labeled learning disabled.  The Waldorf schools turn that practice on his head.  

    Why are our schools so obsessed with rushing children through their education?  Why are public schools so averse to giving kids time to play?  To teaching through play?  It seems to me that we picked up these habits of mind, because we are charged with educating large groups of children as efficiently as we can.  In other words, the factory model.  I don't think it's coincedental that in this model students as young as third grade suffer from lack of motivation... and that when given time and space to learn in his own way, G is actually far ahead of most 14 year olds...or that A loves listening to Lord of the Rings while most 2nd graders, who can breeze through I-Can-Read books, would not have the patience.  

    I believe that in the future we will move beyond the factory model of schooling.  But as for the present, one thing's for sure: the end of the year testing that has become obligatory starting in early elementary school and going through high school (and losing half the country's youth along the way), is taking children farther and farther away from authentic learning experiences and the joy that comes from them. 

    [image credit: www.elvincountry.com/ tags/volunteer-vacations]

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