Giving Thanks

I know that Thanksgiving was last week, but as I was light-headed with the liver cleanse I was on, I didn’t get around to posting what I am thankful for this year.

I am thankful that I work at a school that sees children as children and not as test scores.  We give kids what they need based on where they are, and they grow.

I am thankful for colleagues who are truly passionate about the profession.  I teach with people who like what they do and work their hardest at it.

I am thankful for a principal who, though not perfect, supports me and her staff in doing what’s best for kids.  We have the freedom to try things and learn from our failures instead of worrying about a negative evaluation.

I am thankful for an incredible support staff–office, tech, aides, financial officer.  They hold kids at the center of their thinking just as much as the teachers do, and it helps the kids soar.

I am thankful I seem to have found my joy again after setting aside all of those things in education that frustrate me but about which I have no control.  I feel more like me than I have in a long time.

I am thankful for involved parents who send me supplies if I need them and who check in with me to find out how my brother is doing after his diagnosis with brain cancer.  I am truly blessed with a great parent group this year, and their support has been tremendous.  Must be why their kids are so amazing.

I am thankful for my health, for having a job in this economy, for family and friends who make my life infinitely better.  I am far from rich, but I am incredibly blessed.

And I am even thankful for our littlest cat, Pie, though she tries to ride the other cats like ponies and herds them away from the food dish.  Her sweet, warm body on my chilly toes as I write this makes up for a lot.

Raising Expectations

Eleanor Roosevelt was one savvy lady.  Her quote, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” is an especially good one, yet for a few weeks, I certainly gave my consent.

One of my classes, though incredibly bright, is also very challenging.  They openly tell any adult who will listen, “Yeah, you can’t give us a seating chart because we’ll just talk to whoever is next to us.  No one can make us be quiet.”  It had gotten to the point where class was a battle to keep them focused on our content rather than their social lives.  It wasn’t as if I could just deal with a handful of kids either; 95% of the class was a part of the problem in some way, either by being off task or supporting their friends who were off task.

The problem wasn’t really during instruction, it was during work time.  When reprimanded, they’d snarl and lie and tell you they were talking about the task, though what Pokemon has to do with the Constitution is beyond me.  When I talked with them about the changes I needed to see, they’d poke their lips out and say, “You just like the other class better than us.”

It infuriated me, and the more frustrated I became, the more they pushed back.  We reached the Thursday before our week-long Thanksgiving break when I reached my limit.  I was trying to explain the learning contracts they would be creating, and all through the classroom, they’d blurt out random, ridiculous, things.

I told them it was clear I had no power in the classroom and that they did not need me for anything.  I said that they seemed to think they knew how to proceed with the learning contracts since blurting out silly things was more important, so since I had some grading to catch up on, they could do whatever they wanted and I’d do something productive.

It was silent.  I let them squirm for a while, and then I proceeded with no further interruptions.

I changed the configuration of the desks after school that day and decided that the task I was giving them on Friday would need to be turned in by the end of the class period unless it was clear that they’d used their time well and got permission from me to finish it over break.  I knew it would be a challenge to finish during the 45-minutes they’d have to work as did they when they saw it.  It resulted in the desired effect–kids on task and taking their work seriously–and all kids who needed it earned the privilege to finish at home.

I also called several key parents, the ones I knew would respond swiftly and strongly.  On one call my student “John” answered the phone.  His parents weren’t home, but when he found out it was me, he sort of choked.  I advised him to tell his parents why I was calling before I reached them, and asked him why he thought I was calling.  He responded, nailing the reasons, and I told him I expected better.  On Friday, his behavior was noticeably different.

Over the holiday, I thought about what needed to happen, and I realized that the more they pushed, the more responsibility I took for their learning and behavior, making accommodations and trying to figure things out instead of putting it back on them.  These were capable, bright, funny kids, and I’d allowed them to push me to the point where I was looking at them as if they were incapable of better.  I decided to raise the bar and treat them like the students I knew they really were:  smart, kind, respectful, and capable.

It has only been two days, but the class is noticeably different.  We go at a faster pace, and the expectations for their work and their behavior are higher.  The student I’d talked to on the phone came in on Monday with a revised project, telling me that he wasn’t asking me to reconsider his grade, he just wanted to turn in something that reflected what he was truly capable of.  Overall, students seem happier, more focused, and engaged in what we are doing.

I think the temptation we have when students aren’t meeting our expectations is to accommodate them because we want them to do well.  However, before we do that, we have to ask, “Can they actually do what I am asking to do?  Are they choosing not to do it for some reason, or is this actually something that’s not doable for them?”

Yes, accommodate when necessary, but don’t cripple kids when they are capable.  Raise the bar, tell them you know they can do it, and mean it.

Cleansing Our Teacher Selves

My acupuncturist, who is really a lovely man despite the things I have muttered under my breath about him over the past couple of weeks, recommended a month-long liver cleanse to me to address some stubborn health related issues we haven’t been able to get rid of through other means.  I agreed, trading in a month of my life with the hope that among other things, I’d finally be able to get rid of the painful cystic acne that hangs out on my chin from time to time.

Although the cleanse includes an herbal supplement and rice protein shake (yummy!–NOT), the main part of this program is the elimination of all possible food-borne allergens or irritants from one’s diet.  I can eat as much as I want from the allowed foods, though for one week I was reduced to only choices of fruits, vegetables, spices, and olive oil.  The idea is that you give your digestive system and liver a break, and when the cleanse is over, you add the sometimes-allergenic foods back into your diet one at a time, taking note of any adverse reactions you might have to what you’ve eaten.

I’m on Day 16 of a 28-day cleanse, and while I entered into this with my eyes open and a willing spirit, it’s a challenge.  I want my wheat, my cheese, my corn tortillas.  I want the juicy, medium-rare hamburger with tomato confit and gouda and a side of truffle fries from my favorite local farm-to-table restaurant.  I want all the foods I am used to, and yet…I find myself really enjoying the flavor of an apple or my homemade hummus on a rice cake.  Not only that, but I fall asleep easily at night, I have no congestion to speak of, and the nasty little pustules that like to take up residency on my chin have disappeared.  I can feel how good this is for my body.

I think sometimes as teachers we have to do our own sort of teaching cleanse, one where we set aside anything distracting us from the work we do with kids and our love of it.  It is easy to lose sight of those things on a diet of disinterested or nasty parents, overcrowded classrooms, and the often ridiculous demands of central office.  We can sink under the weight of a kid not responding, of feeling powerless and unappreciated.  It makes us question why we remain in the trenches, and becoming a barista at the local coffee shop or working in a bakery (as a teacher friend of mine just did to take some time off from the classroom) starts to look like an attractive option.

It is times like those when, to save our sanity, our joy, we have to set aside all of those toxic things and try to focus on the parts of what we do that we love and have control over.  It doesn’t mean we are giving up the fight forever or pretending those bad things don’t exist; it just means that we’re giving ourselves some time to heal and nourish ourselves so that all that is toxic doesn’t end us or the valuable work we do with children for good.

It isn’t easy; but then, nothing worth having ever is.

Teaching to the Test

Earlier this month Education Week published an article written by Kelly Gallagher titled, “Why I Will Not Teach to the Test.” The primary idea of the article is that there are too many standards to address in-depth, so the result of teaching to standardized tests is a very shallow knowledge of content.  If we want kids to really learn what the standards call for them to learn, then we need to reduce the number of standards and give them the time they deserve.

One such standard from 10th grade California history is, “Relate the moral and ethical principles in ancient Greek and Roman philosophy, in Judaism, and in Christianity to the development of Western political thought.”  Gallagher asks how long it would reasonably take a 10th grader to really learn and understand this content.  The standard itself is a worthy goal, but how many standards like this one can a teacher reasonably cover well in a year?  By well I mean that the student can do more than parrot back an answer, they can fully explain, provide specific examples, and make their own connections to the content.

Sure, a teacher could have kids read a text that told summarized the ideas and told them the answer, but is memorization learning?  I memorized a lot of things as a student that still have no meaning to me.  There is a huge difference between knowing the facts about the events leading up to the American Revolution and understanding how we moved from some grumbling after the Proclamation of 1763 to organized rebellion after the Townshend Acts prompted colonists to send delegates to the First Continental Congress, resulting in the decision to maintain local militias and arms, leading to the British attacks on Lexington and Concord.

Neither does knowing the parts of speech or the parts of an essay mean that a child can write well, yet assessment of students continues to center on what can be measured on a multiple choice test, namely the trivia of the discipline.

To illustrate the madness of where we’ve gone as a nation with testing and standards, I’d like to share a story about a friend of mine who teaches in Virginia.  This woman is a truly gifted literacy teacher.  During her time at our school, she turned out kids who were proficient, avid readers and writers.  Since our focus is not on the tests but on teaching content deeply, she was able to do this at our school.  Now that she’s in a more traditional setting in another state, she finds herself handicapped.  When her principal saw her teaching writing to her elementary class, he called her in and told her to stop because it wasn’t in the standards for her grade.

The idea is insane, but it is happening all over our nation in the name of high expectations.  Our kids may end up able to play a mean game of Trivial Pursuit, but when they actually have to think and apply what they’ve learned, how will they fare? 

Why Do You Teach?

It is easy to become discouraged when it seems teachers are the ultimate scapegoat for everything wrong in the world.  It is enough to drive half of all teachers out of the profession within the first five years of teaching. And yet, many of us do remain in spite of all of the challenges.

For me, the reason I stay is because I really believe I make a difference for kids.  It’s heart work as well as hard work, and baloney aside, I love almost every minute of it.

So, why do you still teach?  What inspires you to renew your contract each year, to get a little excited as you plan for the first day, to push through the not so great aspects of our profession?  Share your thoughts in the comments section!

The Little Things

Today we had a thunderstorm.  Those of you not in Southern California might be thinking, “And?”  You need to know that rain here is an actual news story, and thunder and lightning are certain to be a leading story in this evening’s news.  In fact, it is the number one story on tonight’s six o’clock news.  Before today’s storm, I have heard thunder exactly three other times, each time only single claps.

It is so rare, in fact, that my first year here, the Kindergarteners were so upset that they had to debrief with them and one of my eighth graders climbed under his desk.

But today it’s been raining and thundering off and on since a little after 10:30.  The first thunder-clap happened while my kids were writing, and I had to explain what it was.  Once they realized it, they begged me to let them go outside to try to see lightning.  “I’ve never seen lightning before,” one of my eighth graders confessed.  Several others nodded in agreement.  “Please,” they implored.  “I want to see what it looks like!”

Now, I am from the Midwest where the sky goes green-black and tosses hail mercilessly upon the earth.  The light rain and occasional grumble from the sky did not impress me.  However, it is a Big Deal to kids who wish longingly for rain under the endless sunny sky.

So, we went outside, and I helped them find the best vantage point to find lightning.  They chattered with excitement, breathing in the fresh air, and waited patiently to catch a glimpse.  Finally, it happened:  a bright flash of light right in front of them followed a few seconds later by a loud boom.  They clapped their hands, danced around, and tried to figure out how far away the lightning was by using calculations they’d heard about but never used before.  It was more than a little magical.

Taking ten minutes out of our humanities class might seem frivolous in this age of accountability and testing, but I disagree.  It bought a lot of goodwill, enthusiasm, and a visit back to a younger age when everything was fascinating and worthy of study.  We still accomplished everything we needed to, and we shared an important moment in their lives.  Sometimes looking at lightning is more important than what we’ve got planned in class.  Not always, but sometimes, and it’s important to embrace those moments for the things they teach.

Martyrdom and the Art of Holding the Power Structure Accountable

We do so love those Hollywood movies and TV shows about teachers who succeed despite all the odds, especially when they are set with challenging populations.  We watch real-life teachers like Jaime Escalante and LouAnn Johnson put their personal lives and even health at risk because they spend all of their time and money on saving and teaching their kids.  We cheer them on, think not very nice things about the other teachers around them who seem to have given up, and feel darn good at the end of it all that there are teachers like that in the world.

What we rarely do is question WHY anyone has to go to those lengths to educate children.  Why must a teacher spend her own money for supplies and materials to use in the classroom?  WHY is it more important to sacrifice one’s own family and husband for the sake of lesson planning and correcting papers, and WHY do we feel good when we see that teacher on the screen doing just that?  WHY are systems not designed better for students and teachers so that the extreme measures are the exception rather than the norm?

Why do we insist on repainting the old, broken system and calling it New and Improved?

The next time you see one of those feel-good teacher movies, ask yourself where the central office, politicians, and administrators are.  Ask yourself what is getting in the way of the teacher doing his or her job (hint:  it’s really not the students).  Then, ask yourself what you are willing to do to hold administrators, central office, and politicians accountable for their part in any failure of our school systems.

I am willing to do my part, but I will not end up divorced, in danger, and penniless to prove my worth as a teacher.  I do not have the authority to change a system where English teachers see between 150 and 200 students each day, where the total budget for classroom supplies and materials for a teacher are around $200, and where I am told what, how, and when to teach concepts BUT held accountable if it does not work out.

Fortunately, I do not have to.  I work in a school where the stakeholders left the broken system and created one that supports student and teacher growth through best practices.  However, too many of my colleagues do not have that luxury, and kids and teachers are suffering.  It is time to put pressure on those in power to make the changes necessary to support good teaching and learning.

Just One Thing

My partner teacher this year is a brand new teacher, and he is feeling decidedly overwhelmed and nervous by the task ahead of him.  He has all these big ideas about the mathematics classroom he wants to create, but he has limited time and resources to make it all happen right away.  My advice to him was to first, breathe, and second, to give himself permission to be imperfect.  No one, no matter how smart and talented, is going to master teaching their first year.

One of the best things anyone ever did for me as a new teacher was to give me permission to focus on just one or two manageable goals for the school year.  It didn’t mean I didn’t try my best at everything I did, but I put my best thinking and effort on learning more about and implementing strategies in just one or two areas.  As an inner city teacher, I spent my first two years mastering classroom management.  I read articles and books, and I picked the brains of countless generous people on listservs.  As a result, the lessons I put together were more successful and therefore my kids more successful.

I kept up the practice of one or two goals each year, and it focuses my own learning for the year.  This year my goal is to help my students persist with more challenging text.  My students are voracious readers who read at or above grade level.  However, anything where they have to work a little for the meaning causes them to groan and give up in favor of easier text.  I want to give them strategies to work with more complex texts while helping them see the rich payoff this type of reading offers.

What are your professional goals for the year?

Back to School

Teachers at my school officially reported back yesterday, August 30, but the truth is, most of us have been up at school on and off for the past month.  We are fortunate enough to have access to the school site year round, and we avail ourselves of the opportunity to work at our leisure.

We have been cleaning out classrooms, rearranging furniture, reorganizing supplies and our classroom libraries.  We have also taken the time to sit and talk with each other, discussing best practices and getting ideas for how to approach particular units of study.  This year, with the hiring of six new staff members, we have helped them get acclimated to the way we do things at the school, helping them figure out parent communication and volunteers, using their class funds, and preparing for the first day.

The thing most people do not know about teachers is that they are never NOT teachers.  Even when we are on vacation, we spend time at school and think about how our side trip to the world’s largest ball of yarn inspires some new thinking in our classrooms.  We work hard, and we never, ever aren’t teachers.  It’s always with us.

I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I would like respect for the hard work I do instead of the snarky comment, “It must be NICE having summers off.”  There’s no such thing in good teacher land.

Does Jumping Through Hoops Create Better Teachers?

I am exhausted, and not entirely for the reasons you might think.  Yes, I returned to work yesterday, but that isn’t the reason, team building GPS challenge in the park not withstanding.  No, I didn’t whoop it up this summer with parties or home renovations.  It’s not even the return to an early morning wake up call.  What is it?  It’s all the hoop jumping I did to clear my credential.

I want to clarify upfront that I believe the state is doing its best and is attempting to put forth policy that has a positive impact on our schools and the teaching profession.  Most policies come from good intentions, and this is no exception.  I just do not believe the policy is doing what it is intended to do, which is to ensure that only high quality teachers receive credentials.

Let me say that, as a teacher, I am in no way complaining about continuing education, professional development, or high standards for teachers.  One of the requirements of clearing my credential was 150-clock hours of professional development.  I had far more than twice that number even though I didn’t list nearly all of it–I didn’t feel adding more pages when I’d already more than met the standard was necessary.  No, I think expecting teachers to work hard and show growth as professionals and with their kids is a good thing.

My issue is with the subtle assumption that teachers aren’t really qualified and must continue to hoop-jump to prove their worthiness.  I received straight A’s (three of them 100-percents, the other a 99.5%) in my English learner credential program, one of the requirements for clearing my credential.  However, though that took me six months and was a lot of work, it was by far one of the easiest items to check off of my list.  I spent no fewer than six weeks trying to get a letter from my former school district certifying the number of years I’d taught there (when I’d first called, the lady told me they “didn’t do that anymore”), gathered up my professional development hours and got the required signatures, and found copies of old performance evaluations (which, on their own, should have been enough to certify the minimum number of years of experience I needed to qualify for the clear credential; in reality, I had seven more years of experience than I actually needed).  Once I finally received my letter from my old district (via PDF with a hard copy to follow), I put the package together and went to the local county office of education where they told me the state might kick the package back because I didn’t have the original, inked copy of the letter.

Seriously?  I have more than 500 hours of professional development listed, outstanding performance evaluations, straight A’s in my English learner program, and an inked copy of my letter might throw a wrench in it all?

At one point I found myself fantasizing about being a barista at a coffee shop or one of those people who sits in a cubicle all day making collection calls.  And then I wondered how many teachers have gotten tired of the hoops and have done exactly that.  How many good teachers have walked away because of the credentialing process?

Because I’m here to say, the hoops weren’t hard, they were just a lot and annoying.  None of what I had to do (aside from the professional development which I’d do with or without the state requirement because it helps me do my job better) made me a better qualified teacher.  I also guarantee that it didn’t really screen out any bad teachers because if they have jobs, their evaluations are probably decent, and bad teachers are just as capable of jumping through hoops as the good ones.  How do I know this?  I did group work with teachers who had already cleared their credentials who were earning their English learner certificate and who, quite frankly, scared me with their lack of basic writing skills and instructional knowledge.  I think of the reading teacher who didn’t know any reading strategies to include in our paper (“The computer does it all,” she said) or the more than one teacher who openly stated that “those” people should go back home because we shouldn’t have to educate them.

I think a credentialing process is necessary, but I do not think it is the effective tool to get rid of poor teachers.  Poor teachers can meet every requirement the state has if the district in which the teacher is employed does not have the guts to get rid of them.  I am not talking about using test scores or putting in more hoops; I am talking about expecting growth from teachers and their students and about telling the truth about which teachers are cutting it–and which are not.