When you look at the commercial marketing blitz that trails along behind the giant blocking forearms of Common Core, what's surprising is that it's not bigger.
True-- "CCSS" has been stamped every printed object that a school might potentially buy. Every book and worksheet now touts its CCSS-ness. Heck, there are elementary level bulletin board decorations out there that are CCSS ready.
But I think the Architects of the Reformatorium have missed some opportunities. Why not the Official Soft Drink of CCSS? Why not a CCSS clothing line-- polo shirts will probably sell well, but I see a natural market for CCSS straightjackets as well. When can I expect to see a Happy Meal with CCSS action figures inside? I can think of many fun things to do with a little plastic David Coleman action figure. Many, many fun things.
Think of the licensing opportunities. Plush Arne Duncan dolls. CCSS board games-- as your piece moves around the board you must stop every other square to take a test, then at the end, each piece is repeatedly weighed to see which has added the most value while going around the board. A CCSS blimp [insert your own hot air joke here]. So many missed opportunities.
I do see, however, one important marketing idea they have not missed.
Much has been made of the copyrighting of CCSS, the fact that nobody is allowed to modify it or alter it but the actual copyright holders. I can think of many small reasons to do so, but I can think of one huge one.
Fast forward to two or three years from now. "We've been carefully examining the data from the first rollout of CCSS," announces Arne Duncan (or some plush stuffed object that has replaced him), "and we're happy to announce that a blue-ribbon committee of top-level corporate stooges have incorporated some of what we've learned into new and improved standards, a draft of which we totally waved in front of some teachers for five minutes. So we are now proud to introduce Common Core State Standards 2.0!"
And then, in order to stay current aka keep their government $$, school districts across the country (well, public ones, anyway) will need to upgrade their software, books, materials, programs-in-a-box, training programs, etc etc etc ka-ching ka-ching ka-ching.
When it comes to marketing and money streams, tie-ins, licensing, and spin-offs are great. But nothing beats planned obsolescence.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Seriously, Arne
Arne Duncan and I agree about something.
It's only one thing, but considering the horrid hash of the interview that Duncan gave Allie Bidwell at US News, that's one thing more than I would have expected.
It's a bit baffling, really. Duncan's only skill as Secretary of Education used to be that he could talk a good game, even if his words bore no connection whatsoever to the actual policies he pursued. Nowadays, he can't even do that. (I will note that via Rand Weingarten via twitter, Duncan apparently pleads having been misquoted in some portions of the article.)
But at one point in the article, we find this:
Part of the reason students in other countries outpace American students on these exams, Duncan said, is simply because they are more serious about education, not just in their cultures, but in their policies.
Okay, now that I look at it again, I realize that I agree with half of one thing that Duncan said, because the imbedded assumption that students in other countries outpace American students, is an assertion vague enough to be both meaningless and easily disproven. But the other part of Duncan's point has merit.
I agree that we Americans are not serious about education, both in culture and in policies. However, while Duncan and I may agree on the point, we have completely different ideas about what proves it.
If we were serious about education, we would not allow our public school system to be hijacked and dismantled by rich and powerful amateurs.
If we were serious about education, our media would direct its questions about education to teachers. We would all know the names and faces of the best teachers in this country, and they would be the ones being offered 50K a pop to talk about schools.
If we were serious about education, we would not stand for having it "measured" by means as frivolous and meaningless as the barrage of high stakes tests we subject students to.
If we were serious about education, we would fight like hell to keep the federal government's grubby grabby hands out of our state and local systems.
If we were serious about education, we would make heroes out of the people who provide it and protect them from the attacks of people who didn't know what the heck they were talking about.
If we were serious about education, we would make sure that schools had the top funding no matter what, even if that meant that other segments of government had to hold bake sales.
If we were serious about education, we would treat as a bad joke the notion that well-meaning untrained rich kids had any business spending a year or two in a classroom for resume building.
If we were serious about education, we would laugh the Common Core out of the room. Hell, if we were serious about education, we would never have proposed the Common Core in the first place.
If we were serious about education, we would never entrust our nations educational leadership to men who have no training or experience in education at all and who only listened to other men with no training or experience in education at all. If we were serious about education, we would demand leadership by people who were also serious about education, and we would demand leadership based on proven principles and techniques developed by people who truly cared about the education of America's students.
In short, Arne, if we were serious about education, we would not have you and your cronies running the Department of Education and popping up as "leaders" in the national discussion of education any more than we would be asking Robin Williams and Justin Bieber to straighten out the war in Afghanistan. If we were serious about education, we would send the whole wave of privateers masquerading as reformers scuttling back to their hedge funds and corporate tax havens.
So, I agree, Arne. We are not serious about education-- not in country, not in our policies, not in our media, not in our government.
The good news? I think we're getting a little more serious every day.
It's only one thing, but considering the horrid hash of the interview that Duncan gave Allie Bidwell at US News, that's one thing more than I would have expected.
It's a bit baffling, really. Duncan's only skill as Secretary of Education used to be that he could talk a good game, even if his words bore no connection whatsoever to the actual policies he pursued. Nowadays, he can't even do that. (I will note that via Rand Weingarten via twitter, Duncan apparently pleads having been misquoted in some portions of the article.)
But at one point in the article, we find this:
Part of the reason students in other countries outpace American students on these exams, Duncan said, is simply because they are more serious about education, not just in their cultures, but in their policies.
Okay, now that I look at it again, I realize that I agree with half of one thing that Duncan said, because the imbedded assumption that students in other countries outpace American students, is an assertion vague enough to be both meaningless and easily disproven. But the other part of Duncan's point has merit.
I agree that we Americans are not serious about education, both in culture and in policies. However, while Duncan and I may agree on the point, we have completely different ideas about what proves it.
If we were serious about education, we would not allow our public school system to be hijacked and dismantled by rich and powerful amateurs.
If we were serious about education, our media would direct its questions about education to teachers. We would all know the names and faces of the best teachers in this country, and they would be the ones being offered 50K a pop to talk about schools.
If we were serious about education, we would not stand for having it "measured" by means as frivolous and meaningless as the barrage of high stakes tests we subject students to.
If we were serious about education, we would fight like hell to keep the federal government's grubby grabby hands out of our state and local systems.
If we were serious about education, we would make heroes out of the people who provide it and protect them from the attacks of people who didn't know what the heck they were talking about.
If we were serious about education, we would make sure that schools had the top funding no matter what, even if that meant that other segments of government had to hold bake sales.
If we were serious about education, we would treat as a bad joke the notion that well-meaning untrained rich kids had any business spending a year or two in a classroom for resume building.
If we were serious about education, we would laugh the Common Core out of the room. Hell, if we were serious about education, we would never have proposed the Common Core in the first place.
If we were serious about education, we would never entrust our nations educational leadership to men who have no training or experience in education at all and who only listened to other men with no training or experience in education at all. If we were serious about education, we would demand leadership by people who were also serious about education, and we would demand leadership based on proven principles and techniques developed by people who truly cared about the education of America's students.
In short, Arne, if we were serious about education, we would not have you and your cronies running the Department of Education and popping up as "leaders" in the national discussion of education any more than we would be asking Robin Williams and Justin Bieber to straighten out the war in Afghanistan. If we were serious about education, we would send the whole wave of privateers masquerading as reformers scuttling back to their hedge funds and corporate tax havens.
So, I agree, Arne. We are not serious about education-- not in country, not in our policies, not in our media, not in our government.
The good news? I think we're getting a little more serious every day.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Unintended Charter Consequences
Grabby McMoneybuckets, owner-operator of a string of charter schools, dreams of the day when he won't have to answer to Slim McWhistle, local school board member. If he could just be free from both the usual state regs and the need to keep his authorizing body happy, life would be sweet. But Grabby should be careful what he wishes for...
The rising tide of charter naughtiness-- everything from stunning incompetence from shameless criminal activity-- is not an unexpected consequence. When you leave large piles of money lying around and post neither watchmen nor guard dogs nor even a grumpy chipmunk to keep an eye on them, you can expect some folks will take advantage of them. If you have the time and the stomach, I recommend Charter School Scandals, a website that provides an encyclopedia of corruption and misbehavior. I was going to pick some specifics, but there are just too many examples to choose from. The best news for anti-charter folks is that "charter school" is becoming synonymous with "banana republic of education." I am expecting it to turn up as punchline somewhere soon.
No, I think this fully predictable outcome is heralding the unexpected consequence that is just over the horizon.
Googling the word string "investigating charter school" returned 16,500 results. Sometimes charters are spanked and shut down by the local district that authorized them. But in some states like NY, that authorizing body operates on the state level. And in many cases, the misbehavior itself is state-level in scope and sanction.
In Pennsylvania, closing a charter generally involves an appeal to the state charter board, and some of the sanctions that have actually been brought to bear involve state entities like the ethics board. More spectacular spanking have been administered not by the state, but by the feds, for example when the USDOJ indicted charter operator Curtis Andrews for fraud. Move up to the giant Gulen mess and we're looking at FBI involvement in charter school oversight. Misbehavior keeps leading to court involvement.
The charter movement offered us schools that weren't accountable to the usual rules, but what they've delivered is a raft of schools that simply hunt down bigger and badder rules to break. And that has the unexpected side effect of creating a new school system that operates on the state and federal level.
I don't think this was intended as a way to further the federal-control agenda. But we're sliding slowly toward the day when a whole sector of US schools are run, not by local school boards, but by federal courts. Parents are increasingly vocal in their demands that somebody, anybody, take a look at what charters are doing. Attempts (like Pennsylvania's SB 1085) to free charters from the usual local authorities will actual result in charters having to play to a tougher house. Instead of sparring with a Slim, Grabby will increasingly find himselves answering to Justice McFed.
This new level of oversight may exacerbate our education incest problems, and that cozy revolving door between privateers and bureaucrats has become bad enough to merit its own watchdog organization. More legal problems means more high-government oversight of charters. Charters could respond to the additional oversight by trying to behave better, and many of them do. But they could also respond by trying to get more grease on more palms.
The attempt to free charters from oversight will get us more federal involvement in schools, and more corruption in the larger system. Grabby is soon going to be nostalgic for the days when Slim was his biggest problem.
The rising tide of charter naughtiness-- everything from stunning incompetence from shameless criminal activity-- is not an unexpected consequence. When you leave large piles of money lying around and post neither watchmen nor guard dogs nor even a grumpy chipmunk to keep an eye on them, you can expect some folks will take advantage of them. If you have the time and the stomach, I recommend Charter School Scandals, a website that provides an encyclopedia of corruption and misbehavior. I was going to pick some specifics, but there are just too many examples to choose from. The best news for anti-charter folks is that "charter school" is becoming synonymous with "banana republic of education." I am expecting it to turn up as punchline somewhere soon.
No, I think this fully predictable outcome is heralding the unexpected consequence that is just over the horizon.
Googling the word string "investigating charter school" returned 16,500 results. Sometimes charters are spanked and shut down by the local district that authorized them. But in some states like NY, that authorizing body operates on the state level. And in many cases, the misbehavior itself is state-level in scope and sanction.
In Pennsylvania, closing a charter generally involves an appeal to the state charter board, and some of the sanctions that have actually been brought to bear involve state entities like the ethics board. More spectacular spanking have been administered not by the state, but by the feds, for example when the USDOJ indicted charter operator Curtis Andrews for fraud. Move up to the giant Gulen mess and we're looking at FBI involvement in charter school oversight. Misbehavior keeps leading to court involvement.
The charter movement offered us schools that weren't accountable to the usual rules, but what they've delivered is a raft of schools that simply hunt down bigger and badder rules to break. And that has the unexpected side effect of creating a new school system that operates on the state and federal level.
I don't think this was intended as a way to further the federal-control agenda. But we're sliding slowly toward the day when a whole sector of US schools are run, not by local school boards, but by federal courts. Parents are increasingly vocal in their demands that somebody, anybody, take a look at what charters are doing. Attempts (like Pennsylvania's SB 1085) to free charters from the usual local authorities will actual result in charters having to play to a tougher house. Instead of sparring with a Slim, Grabby will increasingly find himselves answering to Justice McFed.
This new level of oversight may exacerbate our education incest problems, and that cozy revolving door between privateers and bureaucrats has become bad enough to merit its own watchdog organization. More legal problems means more high-government oversight of charters. Charters could respond to the additional oversight by trying to behave better, and many of them do. But they could also respond by trying to get more grease on more palms.
The attempt to free charters from oversight will get us more federal involvement in schools, and more corruption in the larger system. Grabby is soon going to be nostalgic for the days when Slim was his biggest problem.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
On Studentfirst Grades
I'm pretty sure that Michelle Rhee, celebrity spokesmodel for ed reformy stuff, is a Kim Kardashian kind of problem. The best response to today's ridiculous grade release, as with most of what Rhee does, is to not talk about it as if it is the most important things that happened in the education world today, stop linking to it, and generally stop turning her into the most successful clickbait on the interwebs since Justin Bieber danced with a panda cub.
Seriously. Kids were shot up today in NM, and the internet is burning up with the latest Rhee-volting development. The woman has never successfully done anything, at all, and yet every time we react to her like someone just slapped us with an armadillo, it makes her look like a Really Important Voice. What might happen if we all just refused to mention her for a week?
That is all.
Seriously. Kids were shot up today in NM, and the internet is burning up with the latest Rhee-volting development. The woman has never successfully done anything, at all, and yet every time we react to her like someone just slapped us with an armadillo, it makes her look like a Really Important Voice. What might happen if we all just refused to mention her for a week?
That is all.
Should I Quit?
I've been there. A little over a decade ago, I was a local union president through contentious contract negotiations that started with contract stripping** and ended with a strike. I learned just how little some community members valued what we do. I learned it because some of them stopped me on the street or called me at home to tell me. And not just the foaming-at-the-mouth angry ones-- those were actually easier to take because I knew they were angry and upset by the situation and, hell, so was I. No, the tough ones were the people who wanted to explain to me in cool, calm, rational terms why teachers just didn't deserve the kind of money, autonomy or support that we were asking for.
So I stared into the abyss for about three years, and when it was settled, I started looking-- seriously looking-- at other career options.
I have asked that question-- should I quit?
I'm offering this piece today as a balance to yesterday's column, which some saw as too sunny. I heard from many people who would tell any aspiring teacher to give up that dream. And we all hear daily about the teachers who decide it's time to get out. I can't tell you how to answer that question for yourself, but I can tell you how I did, and didn't, do.
I didn't stay because I didn't want to be a quitter. Quitting doesn't make you a quitter, and staying in a situation that is toxic does not make you noble.
I didn't stay because I had to do it for the kids. I am not indispensable. I'm a pretty good teacher, and I can be replaced with another pretty good teacher. Some day I will have to be.
I would not quit because teaching made me unhappy. My job is not responsible for making me happy. My students are not responsible for making me happy or feeding me emotionally. The person responsible for my emotional health and happiness-- well, that's my job.
Quitting or not quitting, for me, came down to just one question-- can I do the work that I set out to do? I got into this profession to help students get better at reading, writing, speaking and listening. I got into this profession to help students become a better version of themselves, to help them find a way to be fully human in this world. So my question was, could I still do that work?
There are many things that can get in the way. A district that starves the classroom of useful resources. A set of rules that makes employment contingent on working against those goals. A building environment so toxic that the atmosphere prevents any growth. An environment so riddled with obstacles that simply getting past them leaves no energy left for actually doing the work.
In the end, being unvalued and disrespected didn't factor in my decision. Dealing with people who didn't get it didn't factor in. I could still do the work I had set out to do, and so I stayed.
My relationship with my job changed. I became more protective and feisty about my personal teaching mission. I became more willing to challenge authority or (because I have passive-aggressive behavior down to an art form) more willing to defy the system quietly to do what I believe is right. I got out of union leadership, which had brought me all too often in contact with the most difficult people both outside and inside the profession. And I became more deliberate in cultivating support systems and rewarding activities in my life outside the building.
It took a good three years for me to come back from the edge, to stop scanning employment ads and thinking, "Hmmm, maybe..."
As I said, I can't tell anyone else how to make this decision. I know lots of folks face it. I know big urban districts bring a level of bureaucratic cray-cray that my small district can only dream of. And I know most of all that the people who used to stop me on the street or call me at home now sit in state and federal capitals and even in the superintendent's office of some districts. The people who can make teaching miserable have unprecedented power. I don't begrudge anybody the decision to quit, and I try not to judge. It is an ugly new world. But no matter how ugly the world gets, it still needs teachers, and I still want to be one.
**Contract stripping is a negotiation technique where management proposes to cut off your arms and legs and then pretends that only cutting off your arms constitutes a "concession." It's a great way to negotiate without giving up a thing. In our case, the opening salvo of negotiations was to strip dozens of language items from the contract.
So I stared into the abyss for about three years, and when it was settled, I started looking-- seriously looking-- at other career options.
I have asked that question-- should I quit?
I'm offering this piece today as a balance to yesterday's column, which some saw as too sunny. I heard from many people who would tell any aspiring teacher to give up that dream. And we all hear daily about the teachers who decide it's time to get out. I can't tell you how to answer that question for yourself, but I can tell you how I did, and didn't, do.
I didn't stay because I didn't want to be a quitter. Quitting doesn't make you a quitter, and staying in a situation that is toxic does not make you noble.
I didn't stay because I had to do it for the kids. I am not indispensable. I'm a pretty good teacher, and I can be replaced with another pretty good teacher. Some day I will have to be.
I would not quit because teaching made me unhappy. My job is not responsible for making me happy. My students are not responsible for making me happy or feeding me emotionally. The person responsible for my emotional health and happiness-- well, that's my job.
Quitting or not quitting, for me, came down to just one question-- can I do the work that I set out to do? I got into this profession to help students get better at reading, writing, speaking and listening. I got into this profession to help students become a better version of themselves, to help them find a way to be fully human in this world. So my question was, could I still do that work?
There are many things that can get in the way. A district that starves the classroom of useful resources. A set of rules that makes employment contingent on working against those goals. A building environment so toxic that the atmosphere prevents any growth. An environment so riddled with obstacles that simply getting past them leaves no energy left for actually doing the work.
In the end, being unvalued and disrespected didn't factor in my decision. Dealing with people who didn't get it didn't factor in. I could still do the work I had set out to do, and so I stayed.
My relationship with my job changed. I became more protective and feisty about my personal teaching mission. I became more willing to challenge authority or (because I have passive-aggressive behavior down to an art form) more willing to defy the system quietly to do what I believe is right. I got out of union leadership, which had brought me all too often in contact with the most difficult people both outside and inside the profession. And I became more deliberate in cultivating support systems and rewarding activities in my life outside the building.
It took a good three years for me to come back from the edge, to stop scanning employment ads and thinking, "Hmmm, maybe..."
As I said, I can't tell anyone else how to make this decision. I know lots of folks face it. I know big urban districts bring a level of bureaucratic cray-cray that my small district can only dream of. And I know most of all that the people who used to stop me on the street or call me at home now sit in state and federal capitals and even in the superintendent's office of some districts. The people who can make teaching miserable have unprecedented power. I don't begrudge anybody the decision to quit, and I try not to judge. It is an ugly new world. But no matter how ugly the world gets, it still needs teachers, and I still want to be one.
**Contract stripping is a negotiation technique where management proposes to cut off your arms and legs and then pretends that only cutting off your arms constitutes a "concession." It's a great way to negotiate without giving up a thing. In our case, the opening salvo of negotiations was to strip dozens of language items from the contract.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Should I Be a Teacher?
Every teacher faces that moment when a student announces, sometimes with fear, sometimes with excitement-- "I want to be a teacher!"
This has become a touchy topic. All across the country, teachers are abandoning the profession. Our retention rate for new teachers is terrible, and every day seems to yield one more article entitled "Why I Had To Give Up" or "How I Was Driven from My Job" or "Holy Schiekies on a Schingle, I'm About To Rip All My Hair Out If I Don't Get Out Now." At times, it feels like we are at some creepy cabin in the wood where some monster keeps dragging teachers off into the dark, one by one.
So when some new blood announces his intent to join us in the isolated cabin, even the most dedicated teacher feels at least a small urge to say, "Run away! Save yourself!!"
I get it. I do. Even an only-partly-conscious teacher is aware of how much fire we are under in so many ways. And you don't have to be some kind of grizzled veteran (you know-- the kind we need to fire right away so that we can replace them with enthusiastic young temps) to know that in some ways, this is the worst it's ever been.
But I still feel sad every time I hear about one of my colleagues telling a student, "No, no. Whatever you do, don't become a teacher."
I still believe in teaching. I still believe in public education in this country. But at the same time, I don't think it's for everybody. Here are some warning signs that the profession might not be for you.
I don't like to rock the boat. If the people in charge tell me to jump, I won't even be lippy enough to say "how high?"
There was a time when teaching was a good profession for mild-mannered go-along folks. That time has passed.
It's not just that you are going to have to stand up for yourself when you are directed to do things that are unethical, illegal, or just educational malpractice. At some point in your career, you are going to have to be an advocate-- perhaps the only advocate-- for a child. Filing the right paperwork and trusting the Powers That Be to do the right things will not be enough. That child will need a champion. Most of your students will need a champion.
I'm not advocating that you see yourself as some sort of knight in armor battling monsters under every rock. I'm not suggesting that you view all your interactions with administration as Us vs. Them antagonism-- that's just terrible for everybody. But you are going to be surrounded by allies and obstacles, and you must be ready to push through those obstacles, whatever form they may take.
I always liked [insert subject here] and now I guess what I can do with it is be a teacher.
No no no. Teaching is not a default profession. Not any more. If you think it's something you can just wander in and do because, well, it's a job, then teaching will eat you up and spit you out faster than a vegetarian with a mouthful of cow tongue.
It isn't just that you'll lack the toughness. It's that a teacher has to know what he's doing. By which I mean, you must know why you're teaching what you're teaching. You must know what the point is, what the purpose is. You cannot cover Chapter 2 from the Widget textbook because, well, that's what widget teachers do, you think. You will never be able to teach Chapter 2 effectively until you know why you're teaching it.
It is a long, long road from "I think I'll teach about widgets" to "I am going to teach this concept on page 13 in order to achieve this exact goal for my students." It's not an impossible road to travel, but it is harder than ever because everything that state and federal governments have to say about teaching goals and purpose is messed up and wrong and aimed in all the wrong directions. If you don't know why you're standing in that classroom, there are many many highly authoritative sources just waiting to tell you the wrong answer.
We get summers off, right?
Oh, just go away.
I'll just try it for a while.
The Humane Society won't even let you just try out a puppy for a few weeks. And children are not puppies. The profession does not need drive-by do-gooders or edu-tourists ready to go slumming among the little people for a short time. A school building is just a building. A school is a community of teachers and students, and even the students are just passing through. Schools need teachers who are in it for the long haul, who will provide stability.
So don't date a single parent and tell the kids that you'll just play at being their step-parent for a little while. Don't propose to your girlfriend by saying, "Let's try out this engagement thing for a little while." And don't try being a teacher for a while. Do it, or go away.
So should I be a teacher? Seriously? Can I get an answer?
Teaching is hard work. It is no longer stable and dependable work, and the jobs are drying up. People will call you names and blame you for things you could never do anything about. The pay is not great, and there will not be some great outpouring of love and support to make up the psychic difference. On top of that, you will work in isolated circumstances and sometimes find yourself working for idiots who will evaluate you based on terrible, stupid systems.
Teaching is not the only job in the world that sets less-than-ideal conditions. There are lots of reasons that teaching sucks. But in this respect, it has merely become like many other professions, where the work is hard to get and hard to do. And the answer to "Should I do this" is the same for teaching as it is for jet piloting or deep sea diving or playing in a heavy metal polka band--
Do it if it's what you want to do.
If it's what you want to do-- HAVE to do-- then go for it. There will always be time to give up later if you must, but in the mean time, is this what you want to do? If so, do it! If it's what you must do, if it's what you're driven to do, if it's what you're passionate about doing-- then do it.
I became a teacher because I had to. I had to in the same way that I have to write and I have to make music and have to exercise. Because if I don't, I don't feel myself. Teaching, as crazy-making and challenging and frustrating and miserable as it can be, makes me feel fully me. It hooks me up to my students and my community and the world around me in a way that nothing else can.
It is work that must be done. I think of it a little like jury duty-- do you want this essential job done by somebody who treats it with serious dedication? Are you that person?
If it makes you feel something like that, damn the torpedoes and slap that pedal to the floor. Should you be a teacher? I don't know. If you WANT to be a teacher, then you should not let anything stop you, including grumpy old educators who are worried about the future. Would I do it all over again, if I knew what I know now? I sure as hell would. I am a teacher, dammit. Maybe some day I'll be ready to hang it up, but even if that day comes, I won't regret any of the days that came before. If you can imagine feeling like that, come join me.
This has become a touchy topic. All across the country, teachers are abandoning the profession. Our retention rate for new teachers is terrible, and every day seems to yield one more article entitled "Why I Had To Give Up" or "How I Was Driven from My Job" or "Holy Schiekies on a Schingle, I'm About To Rip All My Hair Out If I Don't Get Out Now." At times, it feels like we are at some creepy cabin in the wood where some monster keeps dragging teachers off into the dark, one by one.
So when some new blood announces his intent to join us in the isolated cabin, even the most dedicated teacher feels at least a small urge to say, "Run away! Save yourself!!"
I get it. I do. Even an only-partly-conscious teacher is aware of how much fire we are under in so many ways. And you don't have to be some kind of grizzled veteran (you know-- the kind we need to fire right away so that we can replace them with enthusiastic young temps) to know that in some ways, this is the worst it's ever been.
But I still feel sad every time I hear about one of my colleagues telling a student, "No, no. Whatever you do, don't become a teacher."
I still believe in teaching. I still believe in public education in this country. But at the same time, I don't think it's for everybody. Here are some warning signs that the profession might not be for you.
I don't like to rock the boat. If the people in charge tell me to jump, I won't even be lippy enough to say "how high?"
There was a time when teaching was a good profession for mild-mannered go-along folks. That time has passed.
It's not just that you are going to have to stand up for yourself when you are directed to do things that are unethical, illegal, or just educational malpractice. At some point in your career, you are going to have to be an advocate-- perhaps the only advocate-- for a child. Filing the right paperwork and trusting the Powers That Be to do the right things will not be enough. That child will need a champion. Most of your students will need a champion.
I'm not advocating that you see yourself as some sort of knight in armor battling monsters under every rock. I'm not suggesting that you view all your interactions with administration as Us vs. Them antagonism-- that's just terrible for everybody. But you are going to be surrounded by allies and obstacles, and you must be ready to push through those obstacles, whatever form they may take.
I always liked [insert subject here] and now I guess what I can do with it is be a teacher.
No no no. Teaching is not a default profession. Not any more. If you think it's something you can just wander in and do because, well, it's a job, then teaching will eat you up and spit you out faster than a vegetarian with a mouthful of cow tongue.
It isn't just that you'll lack the toughness. It's that a teacher has to know what he's doing. By which I mean, you must know why you're teaching what you're teaching. You must know what the point is, what the purpose is. You cannot cover Chapter 2 from the Widget textbook because, well, that's what widget teachers do, you think. You will never be able to teach Chapter 2 effectively until you know why you're teaching it.
It is a long, long road from "I think I'll teach about widgets" to "I am going to teach this concept on page 13 in order to achieve this exact goal for my students." It's not an impossible road to travel, but it is harder than ever because everything that state and federal governments have to say about teaching goals and purpose is messed up and wrong and aimed in all the wrong directions. If you don't know why you're standing in that classroom, there are many many highly authoritative sources just waiting to tell you the wrong answer.
We get summers off, right?
Oh, just go away.
I'll just try it for a while.
The Humane Society won't even let you just try out a puppy for a few weeks. And children are not puppies. The profession does not need drive-by do-gooders or edu-tourists ready to go slumming among the little people for a short time. A school building is just a building. A school is a community of teachers and students, and even the students are just passing through. Schools need teachers who are in it for the long haul, who will provide stability.
So don't date a single parent and tell the kids that you'll just play at being their step-parent for a little while. Don't propose to your girlfriend by saying, "Let's try out this engagement thing for a little while." And don't try being a teacher for a while. Do it, or go away.
So should I be a teacher? Seriously? Can I get an answer?
Teaching is hard work. It is no longer stable and dependable work, and the jobs are drying up. People will call you names and blame you for things you could never do anything about. The pay is not great, and there will not be some great outpouring of love and support to make up the psychic difference. On top of that, you will work in isolated circumstances and sometimes find yourself working for idiots who will evaluate you based on terrible, stupid systems.
Teaching is not the only job in the world that sets less-than-ideal conditions. There are lots of reasons that teaching sucks. But in this respect, it has merely become like many other professions, where the work is hard to get and hard to do. And the answer to "Should I do this" is the same for teaching as it is for jet piloting or deep sea diving or playing in a heavy metal polka band--
Do it if it's what you want to do.
If it's what you want to do-- HAVE to do-- then go for it. There will always be time to give up later if you must, but in the mean time, is this what you want to do? If so, do it! If it's what you must do, if it's what you're driven to do, if it's what you're passionate about doing-- then do it.
I became a teacher because I had to. I had to in the same way that I have to write and I have to make music and have to exercise. Because if I don't, I don't feel myself. Teaching, as crazy-making and challenging and frustrating and miserable as it can be, makes me feel fully me. It hooks me up to my students and my community and the world around me in a way that nothing else can.
It is work that must be done. I think of it a little like jury duty-- do you want this essential job done by somebody who treats it with serious dedication? Are you that person?
If it makes you feel something like that, damn the torpedoes and slap that pedal to the floor. Should you be a teacher? I don't know. If you WANT to be a teacher, then you should not let anything stop you, including grumpy old educators who are worried about the future. Would I do it all over again, if I knew what I know now? I sure as hell would. I am a teacher, dammit. Maybe some day I'll be ready to hang it up, but even if that day comes, I won't regret any of the days that came before. If you can imagine feeling like that, come join me.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Why Big Data
There are many fine fairy tales wrapped up in the big ball of reformy stuff rolling down Education Mountain these days. But one aspect of that reformy mess hasn't yet come up with any sort of plausible cover story at all.
National standards? I get that some people find the idea of country-wide consistency appealing. TFA? The idea that fresh-faced enthusiastic idealists can help in this country, kinda like the Peace Corps is attractive. Charter schools? A great harnessing of the American entrepreneurial spirit to provide unique educational experiences sounds exciting. Most of reformy stuff is sold with fairy tales which, while absolute unvarnished (well, actually, heavily varnished) baloney, have an understandable appeal.
Except Big Data.
Big Data has not even made sort of an attempt to create a rosy picture of our datafied future that would be enticing.
What is the appeal supposed to be? Am I supposed to imagine that I am sitting in my classroom, I am holding my head in hands thinking, "Damn, but after months of seeing these students face to face, I haven't the faintest clue what they have and have not mastered. If only there were a test I could send off to some super-cool data place far from here, and then they would send me back a report, and then I would know how my students are doing. Because what that job needs is somebody who is not in the room with them and never sees them and spends no time with them and is not actually a human being."
No, that's not the Big Data fairy tale.
Maybe it's supposed to be, "Give us all this data and we will be able to tell how students all across the country are doing, thereby effecting better instructional choices." Except that isn't a remotely convincing fairy tale, because in what universe does a classroom teacher say, "I can't really write my lesson plans for next week until I know how students in Alaska and Arkansas did on last spring's test."
Or occasionally we get something about personalized learning, which is just the newest version of the teaching machine idea floating around for decades. Because I can best compute a study program for you if I have information from millions of students who aren't you.
No, there's no convincing fairy tale about Why We Need Big Data, because Big Data has nothing at all to offer students, classroom teachers, or local school districts. There are only two remotely plausible reasons for the wholesale national collection, storage and sifting of student data.
1) Big Data wants the same thing in schools that they want in facebook and google. They want to collect maximum data because they can crunch it, use it for marketing purposes, and sell it to other people who want to do the same.
2) Big Data needs national data to make national decisions about national curriculum and national instructional strategies. The only school district that needs national data to make district instructional decisions is a national one.
We can continue to ask the Big Data giants like inBloom etc how much money they're making, why they get to end-run federal privacy rules, if they have solved any of the security problems, and who is holding the controls to this giant database. But the biggest question that remains unanswered with even the sort of pretty lie used to cover the tracks of other reformy stuffs is this one-- exactly WHY do we need to do this in the first place?
UPDATE:
Within an hour of posting this, I was directed to this article (hat tip to Laura Sanchez) which clarifies one other reason to want Big Data in schools-- by the time you have graduated, Big Data will already be telling future employers whether they want to hire you or not. Big Brother, it turns out, was a slacker.
National standards? I get that some people find the idea of country-wide consistency appealing. TFA? The idea that fresh-faced enthusiastic idealists can help in this country, kinda like the Peace Corps is attractive. Charter schools? A great harnessing of the American entrepreneurial spirit to provide unique educational experiences sounds exciting. Most of reformy stuff is sold with fairy tales which, while absolute unvarnished (well, actually, heavily varnished) baloney, have an understandable appeal.
Except Big Data.
Big Data has not even made sort of an attempt to create a rosy picture of our datafied future that would be enticing.
What is the appeal supposed to be? Am I supposed to imagine that I am sitting in my classroom, I am holding my head in hands thinking, "Damn, but after months of seeing these students face to face, I haven't the faintest clue what they have and have not mastered. If only there were a test I could send off to some super-cool data place far from here, and then they would send me back a report, and then I would know how my students are doing. Because what that job needs is somebody who is not in the room with them and never sees them and spends no time with them and is not actually a human being."
No, that's not the Big Data fairy tale.
Maybe it's supposed to be, "Give us all this data and we will be able to tell how students all across the country are doing, thereby effecting better instructional choices." Except that isn't a remotely convincing fairy tale, because in what universe does a classroom teacher say, "I can't really write my lesson plans for next week until I know how students in Alaska and Arkansas did on last spring's test."
Or occasionally we get something about personalized learning, which is just the newest version of the teaching machine idea floating around for decades. Because I can best compute a study program for you if I have information from millions of students who aren't you.
No, there's no convincing fairy tale about Why We Need Big Data, because Big Data has nothing at all to offer students, classroom teachers, or local school districts. There are only two remotely plausible reasons for the wholesale national collection, storage and sifting of student data.
1) Big Data wants the same thing in schools that they want in facebook and google. They want to collect maximum data because they can crunch it, use it for marketing purposes, and sell it to other people who want to do the same.
2) Big Data needs national data to make national decisions about national curriculum and national instructional strategies. The only school district that needs national data to make district instructional decisions is a national one.
We can continue to ask the Big Data giants like inBloom etc how much money they're making, why they get to end-run federal privacy rules, if they have solved any of the security problems, and who is holding the controls to this giant database. But the biggest question that remains unanswered with even the sort of pretty lie used to cover the tracks of other reformy stuffs is this one-- exactly WHY do we need to do this in the first place?
UPDATE:
Within an hour of posting this, I was directed to this article (hat tip to Laura Sanchez) which clarifies one other reason to want Big Data in schools-- by the time you have graduated, Big Data will already be telling future employers whether they want to hire you or not. Big Brother, it turns out, was a slacker.
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