A Hurricane in Indianapolis

Indiana is facing hurricane level takeover of its public school system without the use of an actual hurricane.

Brandon Brown, CEO of The Mind Trust, a group of business-minded reformsters who have attached themselves, leechlike, to Indianapolis schools. Brown has spent 17 years "in education," which translates to a two whole years in Teach for America followed by various reformster groups. 

In The74, Brown can be found delivering a bunch of corporate argle bargle about HEA 1423.

Brown opens by citing the example of post-Katrina New Orleans, which became the first major city to "restructure its school system." Kind of like the way rockets sometimes employ "rapid unplanned disassembly." "In the two decades since, however," writes Brown, "no city has attempted such an ambitious structural reform." It's true, just as few rocket makers have deliberately pursued rapid unplanned disassembly. 

But Brown is happy to announce that the Indiana General Assembly is on its way to replicating the effects of a natural disaster with the bill's "dramatic restructuring of public education."

Brown's description of the vast benefits of this rapid unplanned disassembly of the district is remarkably vague and free of plain language, but there are two major pieces that one can glimpse dimly through the fog of jargon.

The bill would establish the Indianapolis Public Education Corporation, a nine-member board appointed by the mayor. The IPEC would be the super-boss-daddy of all Indianapolis schools, both public and charter. It looks a lot like the old portfolio model, which Mind Trust has been pushing and expanding in Indianapolis for years. The model is based on the idea of an investment portfolio, where you keep juggling investments in and out of the portfolio depending on how well they pay off. (Longer explanation here.)

I wrote this next paragraph in 2019:

Portfolio models are privatization writ large. In places like Indianapolis, the portfolio model has been pushed and overseen by a group of "civic-minded" private operators. The Mind Trust of Indianapolis flexed its political and financial muscle and elbowed its way into "partnership" with the public school system, pushing for the expansion of charters in a manner perhaps calculated to destabilize the public schools and create financial peril for low-scoring schools. There is a certain gutsy aggressiveness to how portfolio models are established. Step One: Bob sets up a snack vending stand in the lobby of a local restaurant. Step Two: When the owner complains about how Bob is draining business, Bob smiles and says, "Look, let's just become partners under one brand. And I just happen to know a guy who would be great to run it."

Now we're at the step where Bob says, "You know, there's no reason I shouldn't get paid the same amount for my popcorn balls that your restaurant charges for steak. Also, how about some help with this dinky stand I'm stuck in."

Because the IPEC has a couple of mandates under the bill. One is to "create a unified transportation plan." Another is "Developing a system-level facilities plan that would maintain, and potentially own, buildings for all schools that choose to opt in." IPEC should also levy property taxes "for both operating and capital costs so that all public schools within IPS boundaries benefit equally." And also creating a "unified performance framework" so that persistently low-performing schools would be shut down (see Portfolio Model). 

Says Brown, "The changes will effectively put charters and traditional public schools on the same footing — both in terms of the money spent per student and the consequences for poor performance." Or as he says later in the piece, "IPS will now become another school operator alongside charter schools, and district schools will compete on the same playing field and be held to the same accountability standards."

So taxpayers will now get to fund charter schools directly, as well as provide transportation. The IPEC would get to close down public school buildings, or hand them over the charter operators. Between the lines, it appears that IPEC would have all operational and financial power, and school operators would just manage the teaching part (until, of course, someone with their hands on the purse strings decides they have some thoughts about the teaching part).

It's not just that this is a takeover of the public system (also, any charter schools that don't want to play in this game don't have to). This gives us once again one of the major features of privatization under the fiction of school choice--

Disenfranchising the taxpayers.

IPEC will be appointed, not elected, and it will in turn make sure that charter schools, run by boards that are not elected, will get a hefty share of the taxpayer money. What do the taxpayers get to say about how their money is spent? Not a damned thing, particularly if they don't have any school age children. Brown promises "greater efficiency and coordination," but not accountability, transparency, or a voice for the people who pay the bills. 

Brown promises "a single point of accountability," but the reality is that a portfolio system, run by nine mayoral appointees, has no point of accountability to the taxpayers. 

Brown says he hopes this model catches on and spreads to other cities. Just think-- you, too, can have your own corporately manufactured natural disaster. 

Small Town Accountability

One of my mother's nurses is a former student of mine who now works at the assisted living home where Mom now lives.

My car used to be serviced by a former student. When we eat out, we're often waited on by a former student. I taught side by side with many former students. Yesterday, the Board of Directors had a playdate with their friend, who is the son of a former student. I go to church with former students. I meet former students in the grocery store. 

My lawyer is the father of one of my former students. So was my previous doctor. So was the presiding judge in county court. We could discuss a whole category of families where I have taught multiple generations. The guy whose company painted our house is the father of former students, and is married to a former student.

I could go on and on. This is teaching in a small town. 

Not everyone cares for it. Some teachers deliberately live away from the community in which they teach, hoping for some privacy and a life that is separate from their teaching work. 

It's a level of transparency and accountability that no system cobbled together in a big urban school district will ever match. If parents (or other taxpayers) want to ask you, to your face, why you are doing X or what was the point of nY, they can do it. As a teacher, you have to live with the knowledge that you may have to really explain and justify yourself. And as your students grow up and graduate, many leave, but many stay, and even the ones who leave come home for family holidays. You get to have conversations with former students while they are in college, talking about what they did or did not find themselves prepared for. And the challenge becomes personal, too. If you were an unbearable jerk to your students-- well, you are going to be living around them literally for the rest of your life. Are you a highly effective educator? There are a whole lot of people who have an assessment, and they have shared it. A VAM score is a tiny fart in a big wind compared to, "My kids and my grand-kids had her for class, and she was absolutely [insert adjective here]."

Your students do not apear out of the mysterious mists, to return to some great unknown at the end of the day. They are real humans who live in a real neighborhood.

This can also help you do your job. When you know more about the family's challenges, you can better appreciate where your students are coming from and what they're carrying with them on the journey.

When folks talk about teachers not bringing their personal stuff into the classroom, small town teachers chuckle. You want LGBTQ persons to stay closeted and invisible? Lots of luck. In a small town, your students know where you go to church, who you marry--heck, who you date, where you go to eat or drink. Unless you never mention your politics to a soul, they know that, too. I've been writing a local newspaper column for almost 28 years. For many years, one of the social studies teachers in my school was also the mayor of the town. 

It's not always a great thing. Rumors can fly, and you may at times wish for the space and privacy to deal with your own problems and mistakes. And sometimes you have to watch some of the process play out in front of you. Here's a real conversation from my classroom many years ago:

Me: Expressing some admiration of a female artist

Student: Watch out. You'd better not let Mrs. Greene hear you talking like that.

Another student: He's divorced, you dummy.

Being closely tied to a small community can also be difficult if it's a community that does not collectively value education all that much ("My family has never needed all that book learning.") But at least you know what you are working with (or resigning from).

I have never been able to think of how to scale up the small town model of accountability, to create a system where teachers and administrators have to deal face to face, on a daily basis, with the taxpayers that they serve. I sure wish I could. It's more personal, more immediate, more effective than trying to collect a bunch of "data," mold it into some sort of consumable shape, and that get those data patties served to people who ought to care. 

You will find small town school systems out there trying hard to act like they're big city districts, working to be more impersonal and cold, on purpose. That seems backwards to me. But then, most of modern education reform is aimed directly at large city school systems and is poorly suited to small town education (but that's another post). 

I'd love to see a day when large districts try to learn from small ones. We could have an education conference, do meetings in local fire halls, house attendees at a couple of local hotels, eat at some local restaurants. I know a few people who could help set it up. 

ICYMI: Oh Great A New Frickin' War Edition (3/1)

It's hard to really capture the many levels on which the US attack on Iran is just stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. I'm not going to get into it here-- there is plenty of press about it and you probably couldn't miss it if you wanted to. But I surely hope that you are badgering your Congressperson.

In the meantime, the business of helping a country be less stupid remains super-important, so we will continue to pay attention. Here's your list for the week.

Center for Christian Virtue is the new White Hat Management, just as Jesus intended

You may remember White Hat Management, an outfit that really mastered the art of scamming their way to rolling up taxpayer dollars via school choice. Stephen Dyer says someone else is also showing that kind of self-enriching skill-- but with more Jesus.

Ohio school district bans ‘Hate has no home here’ poster from classroom

One Ohio district apparently doesn't want to get caught discriminating against the haters. Cliff Pinckard reports for Cleveland.com.

Private-school owners: Florida’s biggest voucher-funding group is hurting us

Florida's voucher-funding system is a mess, and some private school operators are getting big sad about it. Natalie La Roche Pietri reports for the Miami Herald.

Senators find out what you get when you ask for "disruption" in education.

South Carolina legislators wrote themselves a big ole taxpayer-funded school choice law, but now they are sad that some folks are getting money that the legislators didn't intend to give money to. Steve Nuzum explains.

Overselling the Mississippi Miracle

Jennifer Berkshire reminds us that while Mississippi may have helped its fourth graders get better reading scores, it is still a systemically bad place for children to grow up.

The Great AI-in-Education Paradox

Paul Thomas looks at one of the mysteries of the great AI push for education-- if students learn about AI by using AI, how do they learn anything?

Public School Profiteering in Stockton

Thomas Ultican takes us to Stockton, CA, for yet another demonstration of how to get rich in the charter school biz.

Lost in the Noise: A Major Shift in Florida School Choice

It was certain to happen-- turf wars over the highly profitable school privatization biz in Florida. Sue Kingery Woltanski has the inside scoop.

The 100-Point Scale Is a Design Flaw

Matt Brady explains why the 100 point grading scale is a flawed design. 

Gifted and Talented Redux

Nancy Flanagan considers the proper role of gifted programs (and why it's such a touchy subject for some folks).

Secret Agent Man

Audrey Watters offers a wealth of links this week, looking through the world of Ai and training and literacy and other messy ed tech detritus. Have you subscribed to her newsletter yet, because you should.

McMahon Continues Dismantling Dept. of Education. Will She Succeed?

Jan Resseger breaks down the latest rounds of assaults on the education department. 

Google and ISTE+ASCD announce new partnership to destroy US education

I covered this news, but Benjamin Riley really brings an appropriate amount of rage to the discussion.

Massachusetts Board of Higher Education Betrays Working Class Students

Maurice Cunningham looks at the Massachusetts Board of Higher Education's plan to offer second-rate degrees to working class students. Not a great idea.

Meta patents AI that keeps users posting after they die

I used to joke that I would teach until death and then have my body stuffed and mounted with animatronics so I could keep working in my classroom. Apparently META is now on the case. Once again I am struck at how little superficial data they feel they need to replicate you. Ick. 

This week I was in The Progressive, looking at a group of Democrats who might actually support, sort of, public education. And at F9orbes.com, a look at one more school choice defeat in Kentucky, and a Pew survey with information about teens and AI. 

I am not really a Sufjan Stevens fan, but I do love this song which just hits me somewhere in here. 

I would be delighted for you to sign up for my newsletter. I can send you what I write, you can read it from your email, and both of us can spend less time on social media.

The Unchanged Century Myth

There it was again. In a launch event for a new staffing program idea, the contention that schools haven't changed in a century. The Ford Model T “represented breakthrough technology more than 100 years ago that wouldn’t serve us well today,” says the slide (which shows, ironically, a photo of a 1934 Ford Coupe, stripped down for that hot rod look), and goes on to draw the parallel with how schools also haven't changed in a century.

Everyone with a education-flavored product or miracle reform to pitch likes to make this claim, unless, like Education Secretary McMahon, they are pitching the reverse-- 60 or 70 years ago American education was awesome, "a shining light guiding generations, built on faith, heritage, patriotism."

Both views are really wrong. To say that schools are basically the same is like claiming that, because they still use four wheel and seats, automobiles are fundamentally unchanged over the last century. To say that schools have devolved from an earlier golden age is to insist that you would like to trade your current vehicle for a Model T (complete with the hand crank for starting it). The argument about the unchanging century is like arguing that houses have not changed since colonial times, because they still have walls, a roof, and a door for getting in and out. 

A Department of the Interior, Bureau of Education report gives us some info on what schools were like in 1926. 

They were, of course, highly segregated. And not just in the ways you're thinking of-- depending on where you were in the country, there may have been a school just for Italians or other immigrant groups. But while segregation was still the law of the land, the report only shows 84 schools for Black students, located in 22 states. 

Nor were the schools particularly well-used. The report says that of those youths of high school age, only 53% actually attended school. The notion that these schools were intended to get students ready for industrial jobs doesn't make sense--the young humans intended for industrial work were already doing that work instead of going to school. "The public high school will continue to grow," said the report, "but probably at a rate not nearly that of the growth of population." The report also noted that big changes were underway, including the creation of junior and senior high schools, plus

The reorganization and enrichment of curricular material and the construction of buildings suitable to the needs of reorganization are being pushed forward at a rapid rate. All this is done in a serious attempt to make the secondary school better fit the needs of the pupil and of the community as well. 

17,710 high schools reported in 1926, compared to just over 10,000 in 1910. The schools reported just over 3 million students (2.6% of the total US population), up from 1.8 million in 1920. There were 4,873 school libraries (with just over 8 million books). Attrition rates were huge-- only 55% of first years made it to the fourth year. 

High school teachers in the 1925-26 school year? 163,555 in the whole country, varying wildly by state. New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio and California were the only states in five figures, while ten states had under a thousand. Some of those low counts are unsurprising (Arizona, 500; Nevada, 189; Wyoming, 550) but others-- Delaware reported 272 high school teachers!

The 1920s were actually a time of many shifts-- the 1920 census was the first to show more citizens living in big cities than in the countryside or small towns-- and the report pays attention to the differences between schools in places over 2500 population and those under 2500. 

There's a plenty of fascinating data in the report, but you get the idea. The Encyclopedia Americana 1920 edition noted that while fifty years ago, schools focused on basics of reading, writing and arithmetic, but were busy adding new subjects of study. "The vast changes in our social conditions have reacted on the whole theory and practice of education." Schools took on a social role as a means of improving one's circumstances through education. Two year teacher programs in college were replaced with four year programs; it was barely considered a profession. And in many places, there was a push back against those darn godless progressive ideas in education, as exemplified by the Scopes trial (1925). 

There were fewer students in school, but more students in individual classrooms. There was far less material to cover, but no accommodations to make for students with special needs, and those students mostly just dropped out. 

McMahon's Golden Age of Education circa 1950 was, of course, an age before Brown v. Board, so fully and deliberately segregated (as opposed to post-Brown deliberate and sneaky segregation). In 1960, enrollment of 5-13 year olds was hovering around 95% for white children, with nonwhite behind by around 2%. For 14-17 year olds, the enrollment numbers were around 90% for whites and 85% for nonwhites. In 1965, administrators reported that only about 40% of students with disabilities got an education (and if they did, it was while being warehoused in some corner of the building). 

The 1960s saw the beginning if international testing (like the PISA we now know and love) and back in those golden days the US was still below the median.

Classroom tools and materials were still rudimentary. Technology was expensive. Teachers were poorly paid. 

In the past hundred years, schools have seen a multitude of changes that encompass what we teach and when we teach it. We have seen changes in how we teach, both in terms of pedagogical techniques and instructional technology. We have seen changes in who we teach, both in terms of trying to reach all students and in terms of trying to actually teach students who were previously ignored. And we have seen changes in the intent of education, of what we think it is for. 

Do schools still run on four wheel and seats for the passengers? Sure. Have they "failed to change" over the last 100 years? I don't think so.

That said-- are schools an institution whose inertia is frustratingly large? They surely are (and I say that as someone who many times tried to push change on the inside). They are by their nature small-c conservative institutions. 

And as much as I find that a pain when the change is something I want, I still think it's better that way.

Educational practices get to be tested by time, and tested carefully because it's best not to sacrifice an entire cohort of students to experimentation. When Bill Gates said it would take ten years to find out whether the Common Core was a good idea or not, hackles went up all over the nation because ten years is a generation's education, a too-big-to-lose gamble that can never be recouped. Reformsters too often talk about student achievement levels like they are just the rise and fall of the stock market or the tide, with everything staying in place, just moving up and down. But that's not it. A bad experiment with teaching reading to third graders results in a bunch of third graders who are shortchanged forever. It's why some folks are rightfully upset about the pandemic-forced experiment in distance learning at scale-- it was quick, unplanned, and not very successful.

The tech mantra of move fast and break things is not suited to education, because the things we're talking about breaking are the educations of young humans.

Experimentation is often slow and careful, and it should be that way. Does that mean that sometimes schools hold onto suboptimal practices longer than they should? Sure. But the argument that schools have never changed and the argument that schools have changed for the worse since the golden age are both specious and unmoored from reality. Changes in education come best with time and thought and testing and paying attention to the experts in the classroom, not from yielding to whichever brand of panic-mongering is trying to stampede education in a particular direction RIGHT NOW!

Education is a house that is always filled with young humans, so burning it down is not a viable option. Radical revolution has to be tempered by concerns for the people living in the house. And yet, over the decades, the house has added electricity, indoor plumbing, all sorts of climate management, new architectural ideas. A colonial walking into a modern smart home would be awestruck (even if Grampaw is loudly complaining "Well, my house and my neighborhood in 1950 was much nicer).

There will always be a push for revolution, and there will always be a pull to take the whole business backwards (e.g. cursive writing mandates). Somewhere between "you changed too much" and "you never changed at all" is the reality, and anyone who really wants to make a positive difference in education needs to live in that reality. Anyone tossing out the panicky extremes is just trying to sell something; anyone who is arguing both extremes at once is just running a con. 

A Federal Book Ban Bill

Well, you knew this was coming. 

Representative Mary Miller (IL-15), Chairwoman of the Congressional Family Caucus, has introduced a federal book ban bill. 

HR 7661, the "Stop the Sexualization of Children Act," seeks to amend the Elementary and Secondary Education Act by forbidding any federal money going to "develop, implement, facilitate, host, or promote any program or activity for, or to provide or promote literature or other materials to, children under the age of 18 that includes sexually oriented material, including any program, activity, literature, or material that exposes such children to nude adults, individuals who are stripping, or lewd or lascivious dancing."

The bill includes certain exemptions from the list of Forbidden Naughty Stuff.

Science stuff (there's an inclusive list of sciences), texts of major world religions, classic works of literature, and classic works of art. Those are all okay.

What counts as "classic" literature and art, you ask? About what you'd expect. 

Classic works of art are defined as anything in Smarthistory guide to AP Art History. That's not bad.

Classic works of literature? The official lists are from three sources. The 1990 Encyclopaedia Brittanica Great Books of the Western World. Emphasis mine.

Also, two articles. "Classics Every Middle Schooler Should Read" by Thomas Purifoy, Jr., and "Classics Every High Schooler Should Read" by Mary Pierson Purifoy. These are from Compass Classroom, a Christian homeschool support company that calls you to "Teach your kids to think Biblically about the world with our video courses." They even have a handy guide to using taxpayer-funded voucher money to pay for their stuff.

Their "classics" lists are just what you would expect. The middle school list is 29 items long, and includes The Scarlet Pimpernel, Treasure Island, Robinson Crusoe, The Scarlet Letter, The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, and its most modern entries, All Quiet On The Western Front and To Kill a Mockingbird. Several are tagged as maybe "a little violent for some audiences" (Huckleberry Finn, Animal Farm) while others are marked as having "sexual content that may be a bit mature" (Mockingbird, Scarlet Letter, The Odyssey). 

There's some very heavy lifting for middle schoolers in there, and I have real concerns about someone who finds sexy parts in the Hawthorne, but the real tell among these two-sentence blurbs is the one for the Last of the Mohicans, which declares "This incredibly moving novel tells the story of the impossible love between an Indian brave and a British girl despite the war raging between their people." There's no such romance in Cooper's novel, however, the 1994 film has that plot element. 

The high school list is longer, and comes in four sections. Antiquity hits all the ancient dead white guys (plus CS Lewis's retelling of the Cupid and Psyche myth, Till We Have Faces). Then we get Christendom, covering more recently dead white guys, Bede through Shakespeare. Then American History, which throws in some Dickinson and Bradstreet with all the dead white guys. Nobody from after the 19th century, unless you count Robert Penn Warren's history of the Civil War. Finally Modernity, which also is mostly 19th century with a few 20th century authors thrown in (Tolkien, Huxley, Faulkner, Fitzgerald).

You get the idea. Strictly Western literature, relentlessly white, almost exclusively male. That's your list of classics that are okay to use. And anything else that doesn't have sexy parts.

"Sexually oriented material" is banned, as defined by Section 2256 of Title 18 of the US Code, which includes any kinds of depiction, description or simulation" s of any kind of sex plus any "lascivious exhibition" of a person's naughty bits. Which takes us a bit past actual pornography, which was already not allowed for minors.

And there is one more big kicker. 

This bill also defines "sexually oriented material" as any material that "involves gender dysphoria or transgenderism." So a federal law that requires transgender persons to be rendered invisible.

But thank goodness we've outlawed strippers in school, because that was surely a problem that needed to be solved. Also, there is no exemption for historical documents, so I guess history students don't get to study the Epstein files.

Miller offered this comment in her news release about the bill:

Parents deserve complete confidence that their tax dollars are being used to promote academic excellence — not to expose children to harmful and explicit material that undermines their innocence. My legislation draws a clear and enforceable line to ensure our schools remain focused on education, not explicit ideological agendas or radical indoctrination.

The line is not particularly clear at all, and in fact offers no guidance on how it would be enforced-- who reports the allegedly naughty book, and who on the federal level decides if it is, in fact, naughty. 

The American Library Association responded swiftly to the bill

Parents, not politicians, should guide their children’s reading. In our school, campus, and public libraries, materials are selected by trained literacy professionals who understand child development and community needs. Their work is grounded in one clear purpose: helping young people become lifelong readers.

H.R. 7661 isn’t fundamentally about protecting kids. It’s about giving politicians broad authority to restrict whose stories are allowed on our shelves. That should concern anyone who believes in the freedom to read and the right of families to make decisions for themselves.

That sounds pretty much on point. 

The bill has a bunch of familiar names for co-sponsors (Fine, Gosar, Tenney, Roy, Self, among others). I have no idea whether the bill has traction or if it will die a well-deserved death, but if you've got a spare minute this weekend, you might give your Congressperson's office a call. The Capitol switchboard is 202-224-3121. 

Federal Voucher Myths

The folks at the Network for Public Education have released a quick explainer about the federal voucher program, the program that Betsy DeVos always dreamed of implementing. Share this with someone who's wondering why your state shouldn't just go ahead and opt in.

 

Is Teacher Quality Portable?

You may be old enough to remember this awesome idea from the annals of reformsterdom--

Let's use magical VAM scores to evaluate teachers. Then we'll take the super teachers with awesome VAM scores and we'll move them to struggling schools, and they will cause test scores at that school to go up and up and up. 

It was always a dumb idea in so many ways. For one thing, VAM scores are a big pile of baloney that are only slightly more reliable than evaluating teachers by giving horned toads Ouija boards to operate under a full moon. For another, it assumes teacher excellence is portable, that a teacher who does well in one school will be equally awesome in any other school. Give that teacher a different boss, a different school culture, a different type of student, a different surrounding community, and different co-workers and it won't matter a bit.

This is a bit like arguing that the teacher in the classroom with no roof keeps getting wet during the rainy season, so let's get a teacher who is always dry in her classroom and move her to the roofless classroom. Will she stay dry? 

As Matt Barnum reports in Chalkbeat, some research from 2013 said yes. They were looking at the federal program that offered "effective" teachers (aka "teachers of students with good test scores) to move into a low-performing high-poverty school. The federal Ed Department's research wing (back before Dera Leader gutted it) found that test scores went up a bit. But now new research suggests that the 2013 paper missed something.

This new working paper-- "Is Teacher Effectiveness Fully Portable? Evidence from the Random Assignment of Transfer Incentives"-- uses some dense and, honestly, off-putting language, but the results are simple enough-- when you move the dry teacher into the roofless room, she might stay a little bit dry, but not nearly as dry as she used to be. Or as the academics put it--

Using a difference-in-differences framework, we estimate that incentivized-transfer teachers’ value added dropped by 0.12 student standard deviations.

Meaning that the effective teacher did not bring all of her effectiveness with her. Maybe she pulled the class up a bit, but not nearly as much as she was elevating her class in her former classroom. The study looked at 80 high-rated teachers; when they moved, their effectiveness rating fell from the 85th percentile to the 66th. 

Why did this happen?

This decline appears to be driven by lower match quality, negative indirect school effects, and the loss of student-specific human capital.

I told you their language was sometimes off-putting. Lord save students from anyone who refers to them as "student-specific human capital." But the point is sound. Different (and new) teaching colleagues, different students (aka students at a struggling school with fewer resources), and different context in which one might not fit as well-- in other words, any teacher you put in the roofless room gets wet. If they're very good, they may be able to get teaching done while they're getting wet. The old notion that you don't have to repair the roof-- just stick a dry teacher in there-- is and was a terrible theory.

I don't want to pay a lot of attention to a study that relies so heavily on the notion that the Big Standardized Test is a valid and reliable measure of educational quality, and I note that one of the co-authors is from TNTP, creators of the execrable "Widget Effect" paperish thing. But if research like this will convince some folks that teaching is, in fact, a "team sport" and context and specifics do matter and that we can't "fix" struggling schools by porting in Very Special Savior Teachers, then by all means, let's put this research in front of those people.