mentoring and collaboration

My TLN colleague, Marsha Ratzel, pointed me to this post by Ewan McIntosh, that claims, "Collaboration is the key influence in the quality of teaching."  At the same time, he argues that most collaboration doesn't work.  

In my experience, collaboration works, because teachers who engage in meaningful--not surface-level--collaboration, are part of an intellectual community of teachers, even if that community involves primarily just a few people.  Teaching is both art and science.  Looking to both those disciplines, we can see that very few scientists or artists would really be successful without being involved in communities built around the work being done in their fields.  

Scientists know other scientists' work and build on it.  It's not about, "Hey wouldn't it be cool if we worked together on this project so we can say we worked together?" It's more like, "Hey, didn't you try something with this type of material in this type of environment before? How did it turn out, and what would you recommend I use for my project?"  Scientists benefit from each other's experiences and thinking.  This sharing happens both in person and through the reading and writing of articles and research studies in the field.  

Artists I know are interested in other people's art and build on one anothers ideas, both intentionally and without realizing it. There's a conscious discourse going on among artists and including art critics. Artists inspire and support one another, even though they often make their actual art alone. 

Teaching in a collaborative setting has teachers work in relation to one another in discussion, sharing of experience, resources, criticism, failures and possibilities. As long as we have a means to communicate, we do it naturally, because we share common ground and we are interested in exploring our differences. 

 

[image credits: nature.com, greenprophet.com] 

 

 

At the Teaching Ahead Roundtable this month, seven teacher leaders, including me and fellow TLN blogger Dan Brown, have shared their suggestions for improvements to teacher praparation.  I focus my piece on preparing new teachers not only to teach but to become members of their school communities.  These thoughts come out of a series of discussions over the last year with Bank Street alum and faculty about the future of teacher preparation.  It's clear that teachers who understand their students and have established identities in their school communities have a leg up on new teachers who come with a blank slate--this reality shouldn't be ignored by organizations charged with preparing teachers.  Gaining knowledge of students and their communities takes time, and the process should start before teachers begin the intense work of daily teaching.  

I've written about the ideas of my fellow Bank Street alums on entering a school community before, here. In the Teaching Ahead piece, Teacher Preparation with Strings Attached, I emphasize that if we value the knowledge teachers gain about their students & families, and their school and neighborhood, then a teacher's commitment to a particular school becomes more significant... check out the conversation!  

[image credit: fineartamerica.com]

In my free time, I've been playing in a band. (violin, mostly)  It's been exhilarating, lots of fun, and also full of challenges. The most amazing thing about it, of course, is the feeling you get when you've put in the work and then one day in practice you suddenly hear how good it sounds.  It's a group effort--each individual player knowing what they are doing and being prepared, listening to one another and the total sound, and responding and communicating effectively.  There is an intuitive nature to playing music well in a group, a creative component, and a technical one.  There is also a need for individuals to take on various leadership roles to keep the group moving forward, creatively and practically.

Many bands fail because they can't come together or stay together around these key elements.  They struggle to manage themselves, make decisions and comprimises, or understand another's point of view.  When musical groups do succeed at these things, the effect is one of the most amazing things life has to offer--great music.  

As I teacher, I just keep asking myself, am I preparing my students to work in a group like this?  Would there be more good live music out there if school were designed to help students organize themselves around creative endeavors, that involved technical know-how, creativity, practice, and leadership?  How much great stuff *period* would come about if school were really a practice ground for students to work on authentic, collaborative projects with real-world application?

 

[image credits: 1. Renee Scotland   2. zedge.net]

I'm sure every one of us has sat through a class, as a student or an observer, and thought, "Gee this teacher must love the sound of his or her own voice."  We watch the students tuning out the teacher's words, waiting until it's time for them to participate or "work."  Some students take the opportunity to entertain themselves or each other, while simultaneously checking to see if they can get the teacher off track.  I'm certain we have also all been that teacher.

The teacher's voice is an important piece of the teaching puzzle, but it's not the key to student learning. When the balance tips too much in the direction of the teacher's voice, it can actually hinder student learning, by diminishing space for students to think, comprehend, solve problems, collaborate with one another, and find words to express their thoughts. 

Just before I entered my second year of teaching, one of my mentors from Bank Street, the wonderful Anna LoBianco (who passed away so sadly) reminded me and my cohort of new teachers to monitor our talking time.  "In the first weeks of the year," she said, "Ask yourself how much of the class period am I speaking?  What percentage of the class period are my students speaking?"  The ideal balance of teacher vs. student voice in a classroom where students are actively engaged probably includes far less teacher talk than our natural inclinations might suggest.

It's helpful to monitor our talking time before, during, and after teaching.  

Plan your talking.  First, when planning lessons, think about where in the period you will talk to the whole class.  Also identify those places where your presence should be used in other ways--observing the class working (try taking notes on what you see), moderating a discussion where students have the floor most of the time, or helping individual or small groups of students.  Unless your plan is for an actual lecture (which I believe very occasionally can be a beneficial format for student learning), the balance should be heavily tipped toward the students. 

Plan out your talking points in advance. In the first few weeks of school, I often write out my talking points word for word in my lesson plan. In the classroom, I almost never actually refer to the plan, but I find the act of writing through what I will say helps me be more polished and economical with my airtime, and less nervous.

Monitor in the moment. Beyond the plan, it's important to monitor our talking time during the teaching period.  In general, choose your words carefully and learn to be short-winded.  Less is often more. When students ask questions during whole-class teaching time, ask yourself, "Is this a question I need to answer or can I ask a student to answer it?  Is this a question that the whole class needs the answer to right now, or can I follow up with this student individually?"  When a student makes an interesting comment during discussions, instead of jumping to respond to or evaluate it yourself, try asking, "What do the rest of you think?" If you pose a question and get silence in response, apply "wait time."  Do not jump give in to the temptation to discuss your own thoughts.  Give students time to think and let them act on that same temptation you feel. Do not look mad or impatient. They are probably shy and worried about being wrong. Look approachable and unhurried.     

Avoid overexplaining things.  If directions are written down, give a brief overview of what students will be doing and then let them work through it, offering help to those who need it. If a student ruffles you feathers, avoid lecturing them in front of the class.  Ask them to talk to you privately on the side.  

Notice how loudly you tend to talk.  If you find yourself shouting, try lowering your voice and watch the class perk up to attend to what you are saying.

Reflect afterwards.  When you get a chance, reflect on how your voice feels in the classroom. Try to recognize when you've talked too much, or rambled.  Learn to trust your gut on this matter and decide what you want to change. You may adjust your planning for that week to include opportunities for students to speak.  Or work on being more concise by planning tomorrow's talking points in advance. You might decide to talk less loudly while making sure you don't talk over students' voices.  

These tips are not meant to suggest that the teacher's voice is unimportant. On the contrary. Think of your voice as fuel. You need it to make the engine of your classroom run.  Just don't waste it on unnecessary trips to the corner store when you could have just walked or waited til your big grocery trip or asked someone else to pick up your item.  Don't engine idle. If it's not your turn to talk, turn your engine off for a few minutes to listen or watch.  Your students will get a message that in this classroom, all voices are essential.  

 

[image credits: (1) smcubedconsulting.com  (2) commwes.com]

In my last post I shared some resources for an experiential poetry lesson I've been developing and implementing in my classroom for years.  This was actually the first time I've posted my own resources for others to download.  As much as I love the idea of open source curriculum and educational tools, I do harbor some mixed feelings about giving away my tools. 

On the one hand, if something that I know could benefit other teachers and their students, the altruistic part of me wants to help.  But there's another voice that says, "This knowledge is worth a lot and I worked very hard to acquire it.  I also paid for top notch training at Bank Street College, an investment in my ability to teach that was well worth it, but that came with hefty loans I still pay off every month.  And I don't really get paid enough for what I currently do to feel like I can just give away what I've got." 

It's a tricky thing, and I know many will disagree with me.  I know a musician who plays and produces music.  He does it because he loves it.  He loves the feeling of making music, the process of recording it well, and seeing people enjoying his music.  But this doesn't mean he does it for free.  If he works for years creating and perfecting an album, he will intend to sell that album. Sure, he'll give a few songs away for free, but there's a limit to that for two reasons.  1. Music is his means of making a living. Therefore, he cannot give his music away for free all the time.  2. Even if he could, on principle, the demanding, skilled work put into making the music is worth something in the world and should be in the marketplace as well.  Perhaps money is not the most creative way to value something as beautiful as music, but it's a very *real* way to value it.  If he gives his music away for free, this will cause him to cease to be a full time professional musician.  He will have no choice but to get a different job and continue music only as a hobby--less music for everything then. 

As a teacher, I do make a salary of course, but compared to the level of skill, stamina, brains and training necessary to pull it off well, the teacher's salary just doesn't compare to other professions.  So, while I'd like to feel that I would just hand a stranger everything I know in a handbag if I could, the truth is I most likely would not. I have already started the process of supplementing my teacher's salary by writing, consulting, giving workshops on curriculum and other teaching matters.  I wouldn't do these things if I didn't enjoy them, but by the same token, I would probably do a lot less outside work if I made a six figure salary. 

So is my perceived need to hold on and use my teaching knowledge and experience in the marketplace just a work-around in response to an inadequate salary scale?  Would it be better if I became a master teacher and made $150,000 a year and shared everything I could for free?  Or is there something about being both a teacher and a free agent--a social entrepreneur of sorts, with the ability to apply my unique set of skills and competencies to contexts that need them for a fair price--that might be valuable?  In the model of the well-paid master teacher, what is the vehicle for the sharing of expertise?  

I'm honestly kind of on the fence about which model would be better, but I'm attracted to the idea of having more freedom and variation within the teaching profession, in terms of roles, schedules and compensation.

I believe these questions are at the heart of the debate about teacherprenuerism.  Here is Barnett Berry's Edweek article introducing the idea.  Here is my presentation about teacherpreneurship at the Big Ideas Fest.  Here, is fellow TLN'er, Nancy Flanagan's critique of the teacherpreneur concept. 

Thoughts?

 

[Image credit:selfpursuit.com]

 

 

 

This year, I've worked with a group of fellow alumni of Bank Street College of Education on developing ideas for what teacher preparation should look like in the future. We discussed this along with a parallel group of Bank Street faculty members, as well as visiting scholar, Barnett Berry, to build on ideas from the book he and I and 12 other teachers co-authored, Teaching 2030

We pulled together our recollections of what was best about our teacher preparation experience--ie what to keep moving forward--and what was missing.  At Bank Street we had wonderful advisors who led cohorts of teacher candidates make sense of our student teaching experiences, where we got to learn from master teachers.  We also had strong foundations in child development and curriculum building.  These were the essential elements of our teacher preparation experiences. 

There were a few things we felt unprepared to face as we entered teaching. Most notably, we all believed that preparation to work in the specific neighborhoods in which we ended up teaching was very much needed, but we'd had to go about this task ourselves in our own ways.  We agreed that understanding where our students were coming from, their linguistic and cultural backgrounds, and the resources and issues in their neighborhoods is of tremendous value once you're in the classroom. This understanding on the part of the teacher can be the unspoken ingredient that makes the difference between whether or not students trust the teacher and even whether or not the teacher is seen as effective in their early years.  


No part of teacher preparation mentioned above is dispensable. It's just that mentorship, child development, and curriculum are generally understood to be necessary, while understanding student contexts/communities is often not. The image on the left was created in one of our meetings by Bank Street alums Renata Robinson-Glenn, Sam Rosaldo, and Nancy Toes Tangel (with suggestions from the 2030 team) to show the significance and interdependence of these pieces of a students' experience.

Teacher candidates need to be conscious early on about the ways that the teachers must interact directly and indirectly with the communities from which students come.  We thought having alumni share about the contexts in which they teach, how they got to know their students' worlds, and how this informs their teaching would be a good place to start.  In student teaching placements, teacher candidates should be asking questions about this and making observations in the surrounding neighborhood in addition to in school.  

Advisors would make sure that candidates had the opportunity to teach and investigate a variety of contexts during the student teaching.  Then when it was time to apply for jobs, advisors could help teacher candidates make informed decisions about where they wanted to work, including their knowledge of the community in terms of culture, needs and resources, and their knowledge of themselves--what makes me a good match for these students? How long am I planning o stay? What is my level of commitment and how might that affect my students and families' willingness to trust me? These are all questions teachers should consider when deciding on their first job. 

We'd like to see a course, probably taking place the summer before candidates begin in their the first teaching position, devoted to getting to know the school and it's surrounding community--or the various communities from which students come in the case of schools that draw from several neighborhoods.  They would research the neighborhood's history and demographics, find out about community organizations, businesses, and politics.  These experiences would be part of what we call the observation stage of preparing teachers to work with families and communities.  

Ideas on the middle and final stages of preparing teachers for this valuable aspect of our work will be coming in our forthcoming piece on Teacher Preparation 2030.  I will include links and more info. soon.

 

As I returned from the retreat at Center For Teaching Quality in North Carolina with the team of teachers who co-wrote Teaching 2030 and teacher advocate, Barnett Berry, I thought about the fact that when we collaborate well with others, the results are greater than the sum of the parts simply put together.  It is an old lesson, but it never ceases to amaze me.

We saw this happen when we first attempted to structure the book: after having a series of provocative and inspiring conversations together at our first face-toface retreat, we all went away and wrote essays on specific topics we'd discussed.  The result was a collection of interesting essays thrown together under the title Teaching 2030.  When we reconvened, we agreed that this format was not the realization of our vision of 2030.  It was a tired structure.  Turning this problem over and over, we decided the ideas might be better presented as a conversation between all of us.  We allowed our essays to be chopped, excerpted and remixed throughout with Barnett's narrative voice pulling it all together. The result, Teaching 2030: What We Must Do For Our Public Schools--Now and In the Future, is far superior to the original idea that kept our ideas separate and compartmentalized.

This visit was no different.  We were back in the same space to figure out how to move forward with the ideas in the book.  We intended for the book to be a place to begin the work of creating the schools we imagine, not an end to the conversation.  We had the amazing Sunni Brown with us, taking notes on everything we discussed in gorgeous visual form:


 We spent a long time discussing the idea of "teacherpreneur," which I wrote about in the book and presented a vision of at the Big Ideas Fest 2010. (Video coming soon...) In the picture above, we were sharing ideas about the various possible resumes and job titles of a teacherpreneur.  There is now a lively conversation going on at The Future of Teaching about what a teacherpreneur is and isn't, and how it might differ from a "teacher leader."  Check it out!  

In my next post, I will share some ideas on the future of teacher preparation, which I've been developing with a group of fellow Bank Street alums over the last few months and were pushed forward by great suggestions and questions from my TS2030 colleagues this weekend.

In the meantime, back home, I need some time to process.  It's been a whirlwind of collaboration, and I have a lot to chew on.  How does all this future talk affect me right now?  At present, am I a teacherpreneur?    

 

 

I am at the Big Ideas Fest, a progressive education conference in Half Moon Bay California.  It is such a creative environment here, that last night as I finished preparing for the presentation I gave this morning, I created a visual map in my notebook of the career trajectory of a teacherpreneur.  Initially, I did this to help me understand it better, but it came out rather well and so I included it as a slide in my presentation. Some people were asking for it, so for now, here it is. 

I will explain this whole concept in more detail later, and soon I'll be able to link to the video of my presentation.  I have to get to my next session!  Enjoy, and feel free to comment or ask questions.

[image created by Ariel Sacks]

Having just completed my sixth year of teaching, I am noticing an interesting trend among my teacher friends who are at similar points in their careers.  It has to do with a shift in what we want from professional development experiences. One thing many of my teacher peers and I are looking for is valuable feedback on our teaching.   

As I trace my own development, I see distinct changes in what I felt I needed from other people to be successful.  I can look at it in these stages:

1. In my first and second years of teaching, I was looking for a blend of practical support and permission to experiment from mentors, supervisors, and more experienced colleagues.  I was looking for inspiration from traditional and untraditional sources for things to try immediately, like the next day, in my classroom.  I also sought out empathy and moral support from anyone who understood the serious ups and downs of beginning teaching.  

2. Once I began to know my way around my classroom and curriculum, I wanted to be left alone to work creatively and develop independently.  I read a lot about teaching on my own, and occasionally took courses of my own choosing.  Eventually, I wanted opportunities to share what was working in my classroom.  At the same time, I was extremely wary of anyone who wanted to tell me how to teach, especially by individuals who did not know my school context and had the potential to take a bulldozer approach, or who did not share my desire to educate my students to think critically.  I developed camaraderie with my colleagues.  We listened to one another, offered advice, and shared resources; at the same time, we held protective attitudes toward our own practices, not wanting anyone to come and tell us what and how to teach or bulldoze the progress we'd already made.  

3. Now, I'm reaching a new place.  I've had ample time to develop more or less independently.  Now I'd like to know what someone else thinks and sees in my teaching; I'm open to someone pointing out things that I might never notice on my own, or asking questions I might never ask myself.

If I could imagine the ideal person to give me feedback on my teaching, he or she would have these qualities:

  • an experienced and effective teacher--preferably with at least ten years of experience 
  • ideally an English teacher, so I can get discipline specific feedback
  • able to give feedback with the understanding that I am a professional who takes pride in my work; that the choices I make in my teaching are informed decisions with rationales behind them; I want to be questioned, but in a way that values the experience and knowledge I've gained thus far
  • values a student-centered approach to teaching; committed to helping me develop this
  • asks good questions
  • believes that there is not one right way to teach; not trying to clone him or herself; able to adapt his or her valuable experience to different classroom contexts

Off the top of my head, I can count five of my teacher peers who are moving from positions where they received little feedback and little support as teachers, to positions where their classroom practices will be monitored more closely and they will be given more feedback.  There seems to be a fair tradeoff--give up some freedom, get more support.  

At the school where I'll be working next year, a National Board Certified English teacher will observe me and the other humanities teachers in our classrooms and debrief with us individually every two weeks.  A few years ago, I might have run the other way.  I wanted freedom and placed little value on support. Now it sounds just right.  I feel confident enough in my identity, values and practices as a teacher, but also clear enough on my need to grow and improve, that I welcome someone else's perspective and advice on my practice toward a common goal of increasing and deepening student learning.  

[image credit: http://www.fergusonmoving.com/contact-us/submit-feedback/]

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]

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