Subtitle: and why I'm not sure I care.
I realized the other day that as I get older and more experienced as a teacher, it has added absolutely nothing to my classroom management skills. Well, scratch that. Wrong phrase. Experience has added absolutely nothing to my abilities to fairly discipline my students when needed. Recently, I've thought a bit about why that is.
First is the way I present myself in the classroom. This has a lot to do with it. Were I 6'7", 280 lbs. and could shoot lasers out of my eyes, I'd probably be a little better at having my students settle down when necessary. But I'm not. I'm 5'8", 150 lbs. (soaking wet), and I sit on tables and desks to talk with my students, with no laser-eyeballs. Not that this means I'm not going to be able to have my students listen to me, but it's a piece of the puzzle.
Secondly, I don't have a thunderous voice. I have a fairly mild-mannered way of speaking, and that adds to the thought that I'm a mild-mannered person who can be taken advantage of. Mild-mannered? Yes. Able to be taken advantage of? No. But again, a piece of the puzzle.
Thirdly -- and this is the big one -- I honestly believe that my students best learn -- in ALL aspects -- by making choices and having natural consequences happen. This means that they may choose to do their homework or not. I'm not going to force them. They may study or not. This also means they may choose to pay attention or not. I'll ask them to make the best choices, and I'll give honest reasons why they should. But ultimately, if they're going to zone out or misbehave in class or what have you, that's their choice. My main issue is when it affects the choices others are trying to make as well. That's where consequences need to come in.
And this is where I have difficulty. I'm not completely certain how to continue to have natural consequences when someone's talking is impairing someone else's learning. I'm not going to remove them from the classroom. I'm not going to give them all the attention they want. But I also can't let them continue to disrupt the class. Overall, I believe I need to do a better job of engaging them, but there are still times in every classroom that everyone needs to be able to silently pay attention to another person in the room, be it teacher, classmate, or whomever. I'm not sure how best to accomplish this.
We talk a lot in my room about why we need to act certain ways in certain situations. The consequences of our actions, especially when it comes to others. But how do I enforce this? It seems like any external consequence (demerits, detentions, name-on-the-board, whatever) cheapen the authenticity of my classroom. Is it possible to have an effective classroom management plan in place with real consequences that is also authentic?
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Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Why I'd Rather Give a Student Some Intense YA than THE HUNGER GAMES
If you're not sure what this post will be about, please go re-read the title. And yes, follow the insinuation that The Hunger Games is not intense young adult literature. Sure, it's a fascinating read, and kids are eating it up. I love the fact that there's a popular series out there that is pulling in regular readers and reluctant readers alike. And schools are embracing this, as it is so common to see 7-12 graders reading this series.
And part of that sickens me.
Why? Because these are the same schools who may be pulling books from classrooms or libraries because they are "objectionable" in their themes or content. I can understand that not every book is for every person. But if there's one thing a really good YA book does, it offers a safe place for the reader to engage in some difficult scenarios.
I'm not going to re-invent the wheel talking about this. Check out what Laurie Halse Anderson (LHA) has to say about this: http://madwomanintheforest.com/teachers/censorship-book-banning/ Open up the "Challenges to TWISTED" part.
Let's use Twisted as an example. First off, this book is not for everyone. There are many students who may not be great with this book. However, there are many more, typically reluctant reader boys, who need this book.
Why? This book talks, openly and honestly, about hormones, sex, suicide, teenage drinking, divorce, parent issues, bullying, and the struggle to find your own voice. And you know it does with these things? IT RESOLVES THEM. By that, I don't mean LHA puts a nice bow on each of them and says "this is what this means and how it should be handled." I mean she follows the choices of the characters through the consequences that result. So instead of having underage drinking happen and nothing result, we see where that can lead, in a very real way. Actions have consequences, and most of the book is about watching those consequences become wrapped up in each other, and finding a way to overcome them and get life back together.
In The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins introduces a lot of other touchy subjects: murder, Communism, oppression, slavery, power, lying to further your own causes, suicide, sex, defying authority to name a few. And you know what? Most of these are left unresolved. Suicide is discussed as a positive option to giving in to an oppressive government. And this isn't dealt with; it's just there. Nearly every character lies, and in fact this is used to move the plot along. This is never resolved. Sure, we see some consequences, but many are just brushed over to continue the plot of the story. The brutality of murder is probably the only one from that list above that is adequately touched on.
To me, as a teacher, this is more dangerous than anything in Twisted. To read a dramatization of tough choices when the only consequences are the ones that lead to the desired resolution is not creating a realistic worldview for our youth.
Now, I think The Hunger Games are good reads if you're looking for something to read. But they're not going to change anybody's life. Good young adult literature has the ability to change someone's life for the better. However, it's often not given that opportunity to do so, because it is removed from the shelves before anyone who needs it has a chance to read it.
If we really did not allow our students to read anything with themes beyond the life experiences they've already had, there would be no reason to read anything at all. Not that it would matter; nothing would be read anyway.
And part of that sickens me.
Why? Because these are the same schools who may be pulling books from classrooms or libraries because they are "objectionable" in their themes or content. I can understand that not every book is for every person. But if there's one thing a really good YA book does, it offers a safe place for the reader to engage in some difficult scenarios.
I'm not going to re-invent the wheel talking about this. Check out what Laurie Halse Anderson (LHA) has to say about this: http://madwomanintheforest.com/teachers/censorship-book-banning/ Open up the "Challenges to TWISTED" part.
Let's use Twisted as an example. First off, this book is not for everyone. There are many students who may not be great with this book. However, there are many more, typically reluctant reader boys, who need this book.
Why? This book talks, openly and honestly, about hormones, sex, suicide, teenage drinking, divorce, parent issues, bullying, and the struggle to find your own voice. And you know it does with these things? IT RESOLVES THEM. By that, I don't mean LHA puts a nice bow on each of them and says "this is what this means and how it should be handled." I mean she follows the choices of the characters through the consequences that result. So instead of having underage drinking happen and nothing result, we see where that can lead, in a very real way. Actions have consequences, and most of the book is about watching those consequences become wrapped up in each other, and finding a way to overcome them and get life back together.
In The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins introduces a lot of other touchy subjects: murder, Communism, oppression, slavery, power, lying to further your own causes, suicide, sex, defying authority to name a few. And you know what? Most of these are left unresolved. Suicide is discussed as a positive option to giving in to an oppressive government. And this isn't dealt with; it's just there. Nearly every character lies, and in fact this is used to move the plot along. This is never resolved. Sure, we see some consequences, but many are just brushed over to continue the plot of the story. The brutality of murder is probably the only one from that list above that is adequately touched on.
To me, as a teacher, this is more dangerous than anything in Twisted. To read a dramatization of tough choices when the only consequences are the ones that lead to the desired resolution is not creating a realistic worldview for our youth.
Now, I think The Hunger Games are good reads if you're looking for something to read. But they're not going to change anybody's life. Good young adult literature has the ability to change someone's life for the better. However, it's often not given that opportunity to do so, because it is removed from the shelves before anyone who needs it has a chance to read it.
If we really did not allow our students to read anything with themes beyond the life experiences they've already had, there would be no reason to read anything at all. Not that it would matter; nothing would be read anyway.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Why Cutting Teacher Salaries and Merit Pay Cannot Co-Exist
There has been a lot of discussion and debate lately about teacher pay (though really, more mud-slinging than debate, from both sides involved). There's talk of "shared sacrifice" and how teachers are overpaid, and blah-de-frickin'-blah. The thing is, nobody wants to pay anybody less money. But the economy warrants such discussions. Okay.
But wait. Weren't we having the same conversations, just a few months ago, about merit pay? How good teachers should be paid more? There are certainly things to be said about both of these things -- cutting teachers' salaries and raising good teachers' salaries -- but let's look at just one big idea of each, with the understanding that neither idea consists of only the one piece I'm going to pull out. But it's a big piece of each of them.
Cutting salaries. One of the big ideas here is that teachers make more than their fair share of the public sector pot, so it makes sense to cut 'em a bit, especially in benefits and retirement, as that's what a lot in the private sector did a few years back (or never had in the first place). Underneath this, though, is the understanding that those who truly want to teach will teach so long as they can afford to do so. So as long as we don't cut too much (though for some, any cut will be too much), we'll still have those passionate teachers. And, don't you know, passionate teachers tend to be the ones more likely to engage their students, and those students will be better off. They may even test better. There's likely research to support this, but I don't have it on hand. The argument remains: cutting teacher pay will not cut our good teachers. They're motivated intrinsically by their own drive to teach and to teach well.
See where I'm going with this?
Merit pay. One of the big ideas here is that teachers who have proven themselves to be more effective (big can of worms there, but that's for another time) deserve to be paid better. Their results are better, they have shown to be more of a master of their craft -- let's reward them. And then, in turn, teachers will strive to become better so they can also earn some of this higher pay.
Wait. Let's rewind a bit here. If teachers are going to strive to become better to achieve a higher income, then that means that we're assuming good teachers are extrinsically motivated. They're going to be motivated by the money more than they are just the intrinsic motivation to teach well. Is this the same group of good teachers that is intrinsically motivated to not leave the profession under a lower salary?
I know teachers, good teachers, who would work harder for more money. They're in the minority. I know teachers, good teachers, who would leave the profession if they were paid less, even if they could survive on the new pay. They're in the minority. Most of us (good teachers) are not going to be severely impacted by changes in the pay scale. What we will be is outraged over being treated like pieces of a puzzle instead of people. We're outraged that our students are treated as mice in a maze, tested over and over and over again, and now it's finally our turn to be outraged on behalf of ourselves. We're outraged that even when we agree to pay cuts, it's not enough, and we need to not be allowed to bargain as a group.
Have the discussions that need to happen. Balance a budget. But treat those who are being tossed in front of the bus with some respect.
But wait. Weren't we having the same conversations, just a few months ago, about merit pay? How good teachers should be paid more? There are certainly things to be said about both of these things -- cutting teachers' salaries and raising good teachers' salaries -- but let's look at just one big idea of each, with the understanding that neither idea consists of only the one piece I'm going to pull out. But it's a big piece of each of them.
Cutting salaries. One of the big ideas here is that teachers make more than their fair share of the public sector pot, so it makes sense to cut 'em a bit, especially in benefits and retirement, as that's what a lot in the private sector did a few years back (or never had in the first place). Underneath this, though, is the understanding that those who truly want to teach will teach so long as they can afford to do so. So as long as we don't cut too much (though for some, any cut will be too much), we'll still have those passionate teachers. And, don't you know, passionate teachers tend to be the ones more likely to engage their students, and those students will be better off. They may even test better. There's likely research to support this, but I don't have it on hand. The argument remains: cutting teacher pay will not cut our good teachers. They're motivated intrinsically by their own drive to teach and to teach well.
See where I'm going with this?
Merit pay. One of the big ideas here is that teachers who have proven themselves to be more effective (big can of worms there, but that's for another time) deserve to be paid better. Their results are better, they have shown to be more of a master of their craft -- let's reward them. And then, in turn, teachers will strive to become better so they can also earn some of this higher pay.
Wait. Let's rewind a bit here. If teachers are going to strive to become better to achieve a higher income, then that means that we're assuming good teachers are extrinsically motivated. They're going to be motivated by the money more than they are just the intrinsic motivation to teach well. Is this the same group of good teachers that is intrinsically motivated to not leave the profession under a lower salary?
I know teachers, good teachers, who would work harder for more money. They're in the minority. I know teachers, good teachers, who would leave the profession if they were paid less, even if they could survive on the new pay. They're in the minority. Most of us (good teachers) are not going to be severely impacted by changes in the pay scale. What we will be is outraged over being treated like pieces of a puzzle instead of people. We're outraged that our students are treated as mice in a maze, tested over and over and over again, and now it's finally our turn to be outraged on behalf of ourselves. We're outraged that even when we agree to pay cuts, it's not enough, and we need to not be allowed to bargain as a group.
Have the discussions that need to happen. Balance a budget. But treat those who are being tossed in front of the bus with some respect.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Let's Try Something
In response to some who have said teaching is a "part-time" job (either because it's not 12 months a year or because the days are short), I'm proposing an easy experiment. Keep track of how much you work this week. And, if you'd like, for the following weeks. You could keep track of time actually in your building, total time spent working, or both. If you're not a teacher, please list your profession as well. I know teachers work a lot, but I'm sure other occupations have very long weeks as well, though I'm not as familiar. Feel free to come back here and post weekly updates, so we can get a fairly decent sample from various weeks.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
On Grades
Ask any teacher you know the following question: "What is the thing you dislike most about teaching?" If there are no major events happening to the profession at the time (for instance, now the answer "lack of respect" might be more common than it was 15 years ago), I bet a high majority (let's say 75% or higher) of teachers would answer with "grading."
We need to take care of one thing before you read any further: grading and assessing are not the same thing! Assessing is an integral part of teaching. It provides the road map to each student's success. It gives the feedback teachers need on where their students are, and what they have learned and what they have not yet learned. It is how teachers know what to teach to their specific and unique students.
Grading, however, is the practice of assigning a score to these assessments (which leads to another discussion of formative v. summative assessments and the role grading plays, but that may be for another day). These scores may or may not be truly representative of the learning that has taken place.
In fact, I would venture to say that grades are more often not a true representation of learning than not. I say this because grades too often try to fit the student into a box created by the teacher to measure the student. I think grading actually interferes with learning for 3 main reasons.
First up: late work
Work is assigned to a student, and it's due in. . .let's say 3 days. Or, better yet, there's a big summative assessment end-of-unit test. But what if that student's not ready to demonstrate their knowledge yet? Oftentimes, it doesn't matter (full discussion on late work pending, but check this out in the meantime), because we assigned the deadline and by golly, the material had darn well better be learned by then! Or else!
. . .
. . .
Or else what? Or else the student will never learn it? Or else they will always be lumped into the group that couldn't quite get it? Oh wait, that brings up number two:
Tracking.
I'm not talking about formal "these are the smart kids (but don't call them smart kids!), these are your average kids (but gosh, "average" sounds so. . .[what, average?]), and these are your slower kids (hey, you can't call someone slow! It'll destroy their self-efficacy!) tracking." I'm talking about informal "this student is generally an A student, this one a B student, etc." tracking.
But wait -- some students are A students, or B students. Even when we don't label them that, it's how they perform.
Really? So we can't put these students into groups, so we'll put them all in the same classroom and still end up slapping a label on them. But instead of "gifted" or "exceptional" or "at level" or whatever the latest PC term is for a slow learner (quick aside -- I think "slow learner" gets it best. They're still capable learners, just not at the same pace: see "late work"), we put a label on them of "A student," "B student," etc? This does not allow the student adequate room for growth.
Case in point: imagine a student who completely bombed the first half of a marking period. I mean, just was awful. Didn't turn work in, didn't participate in class, and had a grade that reflected this. We've all probably had this student. Well, imagine this student then turns the corner. Work starts being done. Learning clearly improves. This student is now passing tests and participating in class. So the end of the marking period comes, and it really would be great to give this student a grade that reflects where they are at that moment. But because of how low they were at first, they have no hope of passing the class. It doesn't matter if it just took them awhile. They were a failing student, and no matter what they did, they were not going to earn enough points to pass. They remain a failing student. And now, fresh slate, but they're right off a marking period that they failed, instead of a "C" or so which may have been a better representation.
Sure, the grade could just be changed, but isn't that defeating the whole purpose of grading in the first place?
Lastly, it just doesn't make sense.
Grading doesn't make sense? Sure it does! It's how we can measure student learning!
Okay, fine. It's how we can measure student learning. But is it the only way? I would say no. We can find other metrics to use than letter grades (more on that further down). But it doesn't make sense because it is a completely false incentive. Students don't "learn" to learn. They "learn" to earn a grade. I did a K-W-L recently, and the students honestly said they wanted to know enough information to pass the test. And then what did they say they learned? Enough information to pass the test and then forget it. And you know what? They were spot-on with this self-assessment. That may be more of an argument against unit tests, but I think it applies here, too.
If they're working for the grade, they don't care about the learning, they care about the grade. If the grades are taken away -- what's left? The void is going to be filled with something. If you think chaos will ensue, I don't think you give your students as human beings enough credit. Humans are curious. I don't want to sound all Piaget on you here, but we want to make sense of the world. If grades are gone, who owns the learning process? I don't think it's the teacher. I'm pretty sure it becomes sole possession of the student -- where it ought to be.
This is quite long now, so I'll try to wrap it up. Grading is really hurting our students' learning, and I think all teachers know it. Deep down, we know that even if grades provide the motivation our students need to desire to learn, it's a false motivation and it completely throws what they're trying to learn off course.
So what do we do? We find a new way. How about honest feedback? How about we actually talk with our students about what they're learning? How about we invite them, especially the older students, into the assessment process? "What did you learn here?" is no longer an exploratory question, but a raw, honest question. "No, really, what did you learn?"
I don't think this will work for all students, at least not right away. But I think we need to stop making grade-junkies (apologies to Alfie Kohn) out of our students, and put them back in the driver's seat of their learning. And then we teachers can spend our time doing something more productive for the students.
We need to take care of one thing before you read any further: grading and assessing are not the same thing! Assessing is an integral part of teaching. It provides the road map to each student's success. It gives the feedback teachers need on where their students are, and what they have learned and what they have not yet learned. It is how teachers know what to teach to their specific and unique students.
Grading, however, is the practice of assigning a score to these assessments (which leads to another discussion of formative v. summative assessments and the role grading plays, but that may be for another day). These scores may or may not be truly representative of the learning that has taken place.
In fact, I would venture to say that grades are more often not a true representation of learning than not. I say this because grades too often try to fit the student into a box created by the teacher to measure the student. I think grading actually interferes with learning for 3 main reasons.
First up: late work
Work is assigned to a student, and it's due in. . .let's say 3 days. Or, better yet, there's a big summative assessment end-of-unit test. But what if that student's not ready to demonstrate their knowledge yet? Oftentimes, it doesn't matter (full discussion on late work pending, but check this out in the meantime), because we assigned the deadline and by golly, the material had darn well better be learned by then! Or else!
. . .
. . .
Or else what? Or else the student will never learn it? Or else they will always be lumped into the group that couldn't quite get it? Oh wait, that brings up number two:
Tracking.
I'm not talking about formal "these are the smart kids (but don't call them smart kids!), these are your average kids (but gosh, "average" sounds so. . .[what, average?]), and these are your slower kids (hey, you can't call someone slow! It'll destroy their self-efficacy!) tracking." I'm talking about informal "this student is generally an A student, this one a B student, etc." tracking.
But wait -- some students are A students, or B students. Even when we don't label them that, it's how they perform.
Really? So we can't put these students into groups, so we'll put them all in the same classroom and still end up slapping a label on them. But instead of "gifted" or "exceptional" or "at level" or whatever the latest PC term is for a slow learner (quick aside -- I think "slow learner" gets it best. They're still capable learners, just not at the same pace: see "late work"), we put a label on them of "A student," "B student," etc? This does not allow the student adequate room for growth.
Case in point: imagine a student who completely bombed the first half of a marking period. I mean, just was awful. Didn't turn work in, didn't participate in class, and had a grade that reflected this. We've all probably had this student. Well, imagine this student then turns the corner. Work starts being done. Learning clearly improves. This student is now passing tests and participating in class. So the end of the marking period comes, and it really would be great to give this student a grade that reflects where they are at that moment. But because of how low they were at first, they have no hope of passing the class. It doesn't matter if it just took them awhile. They were a failing student, and no matter what they did, they were not going to earn enough points to pass. They remain a failing student. And now, fresh slate, but they're right off a marking period that they failed, instead of a "C" or so which may have been a better representation.
Sure, the grade could just be changed, but isn't that defeating the whole purpose of grading in the first place?
Lastly, it just doesn't make sense.
Grading doesn't make sense? Sure it does! It's how we can measure student learning!
Okay, fine. It's how we can measure student learning. But is it the only way? I would say no. We can find other metrics to use than letter grades (more on that further down). But it doesn't make sense because it is a completely false incentive. Students don't "learn" to learn. They "learn" to earn a grade. I did a K-W-L recently, and the students honestly said they wanted to know enough information to pass the test. And then what did they say they learned? Enough information to pass the test and then forget it. And you know what? They were spot-on with this self-assessment. That may be more of an argument against unit tests, but I think it applies here, too.
If they're working for the grade, they don't care about the learning, they care about the grade. If the grades are taken away -- what's left? The void is going to be filled with something. If you think chaos will ensue, I don't think you give your students as human beings enough credit. Humans are curious. I don't want to sound all Piaget on you here, but we want to make sense of the world. If grades are gone, who owns the learning process? I don't think it's the teacher. I'm pretty sure it becomes sole possession of the student -- where it ought to be.
This is quite long now, so I'll try to wrap it up. Grading is really hurting our students' learning, and I think all teachers know it. Deep down, we know that even if grades provide the motivation our students need to desire to learn, it's a false motivation and it completely throws what they're trying to learn off course.
So what do we do? We find a new way. How about honest feedback? How about we actually talk with our students about what they're learning? How about we invite them, especially the older students, into the assessment process? "What did you learn here?" is no longer an exploratory question, but a raw, honest question. "No, really, what did you learn?"
I don't think this will work for all students, at least not right away. But I think we need to stop making grade-junkies (apologies to Alfie Kohn) out of our students, and put them back in the driver's seat of their learning. And then we teachers can spend our time doing something more productive for the students.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
"Are you sick of higly-paid teachers?"
We've all seen this in one form or another, whether it be the current derivation (recently most frequently found here -- requires a facebook account to view), or some other form of the same argument through chain e-mails or other forms over the years.
It needs to stop.
It's whiny and pedantic. It's making a terrible argument as a joke to get people to think and talk -- and it is getting people thinking and talking. The problem is it's getting teachers and their friends saying things like "this is the boost I needed today," or "yeah, we are underpaid," somehow basing this off of the numbers presented in the note, and having those who really are sick of highly-paid teachers say things like this:
"If king for a day, I would eliminate “Education” degrees - one of the most irrelevant degrees today. I want a teacher with a major in a real subject matter (science, math, English, etc) and not a degree in “how to teach”. I've read articles that entrants into “education” colleges are in the lowest 25% percentile - so the kids are being taught by the lowest intelligent grads."
"If I were czar, I would require **all** teachers to take and pass Calculus I for engineers and science majors. They would sit in the same classes, shoulder to shoulder, with the geeks.
Do teachers need Calculus to teach? No, of course not, but it would assure that they had a high enough IQ to be entrusted with a classroom of children. It would help prevent having math phobics teaching classes and passing their bias on to their students. And...Maybe having taken and passed Calculus the teachers would reject the nutty methods that are being used today to teach math.
Also...I would require all teachers to take and pass, once every three years, the GED for high school drop outs. If they can’t pass the GED then they shouldn’t be anywhere near kids as a teacher.
It is my guess that large numbers of government teachers would fail the GED, even if given a month or two to prepare. They would likely fail the math portion."
This is the reality. This is how some real people honestly view teachers and education (for more negative comments, check out Free Republic). These comments are based in falsehood, but they're real comments brought forth by this note. That brings me to my main point: this note is damaging to the teaching profession.
It's damaging because it unfairly compares the profession of teaching to the job of babysitting. Teachers know this is tongue-in-cheek, but the connection is still there. Nobody really thinks teachers are glorified babysitters, but here we are, making that argument, jokingly or not. The fact is, teachers are the brunt of a lot of criticism these days. Some of it deserved, and a lot of it not. We don't need to force our way into more undeserved criticism. We need to build up the profession.
Instead of arguing about pay in this manner (any job could do that, and it would show that all jobs are grossly underpaid), how about we proclaim the things we do as teachers? How about we talk about the training we all receive -- most of it while we are in the profession? How about we talk about the time we truly put in (one post at Free Republic mentioned requiring teachers to work 10 hours a day -- anybody else laugh at this being an underestimate?)? How about we stop making comparisons to the business world (since we're not in the business world), and start making professional comparisons? By this, I mean go ahead and compare us to lawyers and doctors and other professions. We, like them, are professionals, and have high standards. If a doctor screws up, there's a mighty lawsuit on his/her hands. If we screw up, we should also be held accountable. If this is the reality (which I purport that it is), we need to stop running from this.
Of course, the other reality, that we need to make known, is that there is currently no fair way to judge a teacher. There's no objective method that works. If a doctor were judged by the patients he/she has who don't survive after treatment, every doctor would be fired. Some just can't be saved, no matter how hard he/she tries. This is understood. The same is true of teaching, yet that is not understood. I don't know a single teacher who gives up on any student, just like I don't know a single doctor who gives up on any patient. But they don't all make it. That's the reality.
The other part of this reality is that teachers are only a piece of the puzzle that makes up a student's education. There are teachers, support staff, administrators -- these are all the paid positions. There are also parents and friends, who are probably more valuable to the individual student than all the paid positions. There is no formula, no equation that accounts for all of this and ends up with a grade for a teacher. There probably never will be.
And there shouldn't be. Teaching is a profession, not a job. We want that respect. We feel we've earned it. We need to act like it, even when the rest of the world doesn't treat us that way. That's what will make it a profession.
It needs to stop.
It's whiny and pedantic. It's making a terrible argument as a joke to get people to think and talk -- and it is getting people thinking and talking. The problem is it's getting teachers and their friends saying things like "this is the boost I needed today," or "yeah, we are underpaid," somehow basing this off of the numbers presented in the note, and having those who really are sick of highly-paid teachers say things like this:
"If king for a day, I would eliminate “Education” degrees - one of the most irrelevant degrees today. I want a teacher with a major in a real subject matter (science, math, English, etc) and not a degree in “how to teach”. I've read articles that entrants into “education” colleges are in the lowest 25% percentile - so the kids are being taught by the lowest intelligent grads."
"If I were czar, I would require **all** teachers to take and pass Calculus I for engineers and science majors. They would sit in the same classes, shoulder to shoulder, with the geeks.
Do teachers need Calculus to teach? No, of course not, but it would assure that they had a high enough IQ to be entrusted with a classroom of children. It would help prevent having math phobics teaching classes and passing their bias on to their students. And...Maybe having taken and passed Calculus the teachers would reject the nutty methods that are being used today to teach math.
Also...I would require all teachers to take and pass, once every three years, the GED for high school drop outs. If they can’t pass the GED then they shouldn’t be anywhere near kids as a teacher.
It is my guess that large numbers of government teachers would fail the GED, even if given a month or two to prepare. They would likely fail the math portion."
This is the reality. This is how some real people honestly view teachers and education (for more negative comments, check out Free Republic). These comments are based in falsehood, but they're real comments brought forth by this note. That brings me to my main point: this note is damaging to the teaching profession.
It's damaging because it unfairly compares the profession of teaching to the job of babysitting. Teachers know this is tongue-in-cheek, but the connection is still there. Nobody really thinks teachers are glorified babysitters, but here we are, making that argument, jokingly or not. The fact is, teachers are the brunt of a lot of criticism these days. Some of it deserved, and a lot of it not. We don't need to force our way into more undeserved criticism. We need to build up the profession.
Instead of arguing about pay in this manner (any job could do that, and it would show that all jobs are grossly underpaid), how about we proclaim the things we do as teachers? How about we talk about the training we all receive -- most of it while we are in the profession? How about we talk about the time we truly put in (one post at Free Republic mentioned requiring teachers to work 10 hours a day -- anybody else laugh at this being an underestimate?)? How about we stop making comparisons to the business world (since we're not in the business world), and start making professional comparisons? By this, I mean go ahead and compare us to lawyers and doctors and other professions. We, like them, are professionals, and have high standards. If a doctor screws up, there's a mighty lawsuit on his/her hands. If we screw up, we should also be held accountable. If this is the reality (which I purport that it is), we need to stop running from this.
Of course, the other reality, that we need to make known, is that there is currently no fair way to judge a teacher. There's no objective method that works. If a doctor were judged by the patients he/she has who don't survive after treatment, every doctor would be fired. Some just can't be saved, no matter how hard he/she tries. This is understood. The same is true of teaching, yet that is not understood. I don't know a single teacher who gives up on any student, just like I don't know a single doctor who gives up on any patient. But they don't all make it. That's the reality.
The other part of this reality is that teachers are only a piece of the puzzle that makes up a student's education. There are teachers, support staff, administrators -- these are all the paid positions. There are also parents and friends, who are probably more valuable to the individual student than all the paid positions. There is no formula, no equation that accounts for all of this and ends up with a grade for a teacher. There probably never will be.
And there shouldn't be. Teaching is a profession, not a job. We want that respect. We feel we've earned it. We need to act like it, even when the rest of the world doesn't treat us that way. That's what will make it a profession.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Presidential Medal of Freedom
I enjoy sports. I enjoy them a lot. The competitive nature, the mathematics, the essence of humanity sometimes coming out in the field of play (not mentioned here: greed, pompousness, vacuum of money). As a fan, I watch some sports chat shows (notably Around the Horn and PTI on ESPN over dinner). They've mentioned lately two recent Presidential Medal of Freedom winners: Bill Russell and Stan Musial. Bill Russell is certainly deserving for what he accomplished as an athlete and coach, and especially for what he has done for civil rights. If I was in charge, I don't know if I would have awarded anything like this honor to Stan Musial, but I'm sure there could be far worse honorees.
But I digress from my main point. I went to check on who had won the Presidential Medal of Freedom (pretty much the greatest award a non-military U.S. citizen can be given), particularly in the field of education. 15 people have been honored for their work in education since the award's resurrection by JFK in 1963. Of these, best on some quick research, one -- ONE -- has done most of his/her work in K-12 education: Margaret McNamara, the founder of Reading is Fundamental (which, by the way, is in severe danger of losing all federal funding). That means no curriculum designers, no K-12 teachers, no K-12 administrators, nobody who is in the schools day in and day out. I think this is ridiculous. I also think this is likely to change in the coming years, because of the ubiquitous nature of blogs, Twitter, et al. So, who is going to be the one to break through? We all have a wealth of information, and a wealth of talent. This all adds up to the ability to make a lot of positive changes. For my money, I'd nominate Dan Meyer for his "What Can You Do With This?" idea. Bottom line: it's time that we, as teachers, make the impact we truly can. Social media has made this more possible than ever. Let's go grab the horns.
But I digress from my main point. I went to check on who had won the Presidential Medal of Freedom (pretty much the greatest award a non-military U.S. citizen can be given), particularly in the field of education. 15 people have been honored for their work in education since the award's resurrection by JFK in 1963. Of these, best on some quick research, one -- ONE -- has done most of his/her work in K-12 education: Margaret McNamara, the founder of Reading is Fundamental (which, by the way, is in severe danger of losing all federal funding). That means no curriculum designers, no K-12 teachers, no K-12 administrators, nobody who is in the schools day in and day out. I think this is ridiculous. I also think this is likely to change in the coming years, because of the ubiquitous nature of blogs, Twitter, et al. So, who is going to be the one to break through? We all have a wealth of information, and a wealth of talent. This all adds up to the ability to make a lot of positive changes. For my money, I'd nominate Dan Meyer for his "What Can You Do With This?" idea. Bottom line: it's time that we, as teachers, make the impact we truly can. Social media has made this more possible than ever. Let's go grab the horns.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Homework is Essential?
"Homework is an essential part of learning." This was just said to advertise a bit on helping your child remember more that will be aired on a local morning show tomorrow morning. This was said, without qualification, and without hesitation. Most people, both in and out of the world of formal education, probably wouldn't bat an eye at this. But it hit me, as I'm sure it will many others, like a slap across the face with a sack of bricks.
Homework, an essential part of learning? I'm sure many would concede that homework is an incredibly common part of school, if not essential. I myself assign homework most nights in most classes. But you know what I'd like to do more than assign homework?
Not assign homework.
I hate assigning homework. I hate discussing a concept with my students, either through class discussion or group exploration, and then saying to them "Great! As a class, you guys understand this. Now, here are some exercises (rarely, they're problems) for you to work on in small groups in class for the remaining 10 minutes, or by yourself at home. Oh, and the odd answers are in the back; I know that, you know that, so you better not get those wrong. Have that done tomorrow morning." I don't understand how this makes sense. Yet I do it. My students don't like it (most of the time), they don't do it to learn -- they do it for the grade.
So what's the point here? Am I just ranting a bit over something I saw on TV while I have a fever (yeah, possibly)? But are we still doing homework? Really, teachers? Homework was a great idea when we got out of the chalk-and-slate world and into textbooks, paper, and pencils. Learning exists beyond the walls of the classroom, now more than ever. If we box our students into doing exercises for homework, what are we missing out on?
What if the "homework" (we need a new name for that, by the way) was a way for the students not to take the classroom home with them, but a way for them to bring their world into the classroom? We can solve equations anywhere. Why waste time that they could be gathering data and wondering about the world around them on that? Homework can and should be for students to gather pictures, videos, and other evidence of the world around them to support what's going on in class. We can't be in all of their lives (nor should we be -- that'd be creepy and potentially illegal). But they are. They can bring that to the room (they do anyway, emotionally). How can we make use of this?
Wow, that got a bit off-topic and rambling. No more blogging while sick. But the point is this: is homework an essential part of learning? Essential? I don't think so. If we have it, let's make it worthwhile.
Homework, an essential part of learning? I'm sure many would concede that homework is an incredibly common part of school, if not essential. I myself assign homework most nights in most classes. But you know what I'd like to do more than assign homework?
Not assign homework.
I hate assigning homework. I hate discussing a concept with my students, either through class discussion or group exploration, and then saying to them "Great! As a class, you guys understand this. Now, here are some exercises (rarely, they're problems) for you to work on in small groups in class for the remaining 10 minutes, or by yourself at home. Oh, and the odd answers are in the back; I know that, you know that, so you better not get those wrong. Have that done tomorrow morning." I don't understand how this makes sense. Yet I do it. My students don't like it (most of the time), they don't do it to learn -- they do it for the grade.
So what's the point here? Am I just ranting a bit over something I saw on TV while I have a fever (yeah, possibly)? But are we still doing homework? Really, teachers? Homework was a great idea when we got out of the chalk-and-slate world and into textbooks, paper, and pencils. Learning exists beyond the walls of the classroom, now more than ever. If we box our students into doing exercises for homework, what are we missing out on?
What if the "homework" (we need a new name for that, by the way) was a way for the students not to take the classroom home with them, but a way for them to bring their world into the classroom? We can solve equations anywhere. Why waste time that they could be gathering data and wondering about the world around them on that? Homework can and should be for students to gather pictures, videos, and other evidence of the world around them to support what's going on in class. We can't be in all of their lives (nor should we be -- that'd be creepy and potentially illegal). But they are. They can bring that to the room (they do anyway, emotionally). How can we make use of this?
Wow, that got a bit off-topic and rambling. No more blogging while sick. But the point is this: is homework an essential part of learning? Essential? I don't think so. If we have it, let's make it worthwhile.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Escape from the Textbook Notes
My notes from the Escape from the Textbook Conference stream. All times are Eastern.
12:16 We're getting started. On time (essentially). I like it!
12:16 We're getting started. On time (essentially). I like it!
Escape from the Textbook
This is a late notice, but there's a live stream of a conference called "Escape from the Textbook" that begins at 12:15 Eastern. It goes basically all day, until 6 (it's actually west-coast based, so that's why the late times). Check it out if you get a chance; I know I will!
http://www.escapethetextbook.org/live-stream
http://www.escapethetextbook.org/live-stream
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