Christopher Tienken is a name you should know. Tienken is an associate professor of Education Administration at Seton Hall University in the College of Education and Human Services, Department of Education Leadership, Management, & Policy. Tienken started out his career as an elementary school teacher; he now edits American Association of School Administrators Journal of Scholarship and Practice and the Kappa Delta Pi Record.He and his colleagues have done some of the most devastating research out there on the Big Standardized Tests.
Tienken's research hasn't just shown the Big Standardized Tests to be frauds; he's shown that they are unnecessary.
In "Predictable Results," one of his most recent posts, he lays out again what his team has managed to do over the past few years. Using US Census data linked to social capital and demographics, Tienken has been able to predict the percentage of students who will score proficient or better on the tests.
Let me repeat that. Using data that has nothing to do with grades, teaching techniques, pedagogical approaches, teacher training, textbook series, administrative style, curriculum evaluation--- in short, data that has nothing to do with what goes on inside the school building-- Tienken has been able to predict the proficiency rate for a school.
For example, I predicted accurately the percentage of students at the district level who scored proficient or above on the 2011 grade 5 mathematics test in 76% of the 397 school districts and predicted accurately in 80% of the districts for the 2012 language arts tests. The percentage of families in poverty and lone parent households in a community were the two strongest predictors in the six models I created for grade 5 for the years 2010-2012.
Tienken's work is one more powerful indicator that the BS Tests do not measure the educational effectiveness of a school-- not even sort of. That wonderful data that supposedly tells us how students are doing and provides the measurements that give us actionable information-- it's not telling us a damn thing. Or more specifically, it's not telling us a damn thing that we didn't already know (Look! Lower Poorperson High School serves mostly low-income students!!)
In fact, Tienken's work is great news-- states can cut out the middle man and simply give schools scores based on the demographic and social data. We don't need the tests at all.
Of course, that would be bad business for test suppliers, and it would require leaders to focus on what's going on in the world outside the school building, so the folks who don't want to deal with the issues of poverty and race will probably not back the idea. And the test manufacturers would lose a huge revenue steam, so they'd lobby hard against it. But we could still do it-- we could stop testing tomorrow and still generate pretty much the same data. Let's see our government embrace this more efficient approach!!
While you're waiting for hell to freeze over, take a look at this video featuring Teinken. It's a quick simple look at what we're screwing up with ed reform and assessment (it does spend a lot of time lovingly gazing at Tienkin's face, but it's very accessible for your friends who wonder what the fuss is about-- particularly those who are a little more right-leaning).
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Saturday, May 9, 2015
CNBC: Gates Needs a Burger
I am writing this with a rag in one hand so I can wipe my apoplectic spit off the computer screen. I am watching a "Squawk Box" clip. That's a show on CNBC, which is, they say "the ultimate 'pre-market' morning news and talk program, where the biggest names in business and politics tell their most important stories."And apparently yesterday's important story included letting Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger shoot off their amateur hour mouths about public education. If you want a more measured and grown-up take on this, I recommend Valerie Stauss, an actual journalist at the Washington Post.
I don't get it. After years of this, I still don't get it. Was Bill Gates elected to some education-related office? Was he appointed by somebody who was elected? Did he develop a reputation for educational expertise based on his experience, knowledge, research, demonstrated success-- anything? So why the hell are we still listening to him? I mean-- I'll give him this. While other rich guys are busy buying elections, so they can have power over the people who have power, Gates has simply skipped ahead and bought the power.
But after examining the clip, I think it's possible that Buffett and Gates had a bet-- "Let's see who can make the most insupportable statements about education in under eight minutes. Winner gets Rhode Island."
Gah. The clip is over at Strauss's blog, and other places. I'm going to watch it for you. I recommend you not watch it yourself, because it's a beautiful weekend and there's no reason to ruin it.
"One piece of good news is that the charter schools are doing a very good job," says Gates, and I have to take my first swipe at the screen, though that was just a spit take, because it's things like this that make me wonder-- is Gates bullshitting us, or is he so insulated from doing real research himself that he doesn't know he's full of baloney?
But on he goes. The inner cities have high drop-out rates and not many on-to-college students, "but the good charters have overcome that." The secret? Long school day, long school year, different way of working with the teachers (which-- what??) has totally fixed the problem. Gates skips over "managing to only serve the students that make you look successful" as a secret of success, nor does he get into what the growth of money-sucking charters does to the health of the public schools where all the other non-success-making students still attend.
Gates acknowledges that charters only account for a small percent, so we have to spread those best practices to get real change.
Our hostess asks, "How do you do that...um(shrug) in the public school system?" with a tone of voice and expression that would also fit "How do you get that little fat girl to win Miss America when she's also ugly and stupid?" I mean, God, you know, it's the public school system-- how do you get them to do anything well, ever, amiright? (Pause for wiping off screen.)
School boards have power, so they need to be convinced. Teachers unions have a lot of power, so they need to see the models that are working and I'm thinking, "Hey, Bill!! Right there is your problem because to do that you would need a model that works!" and he acknowledges glory hallellujah that teachers want to be part of a model that's working and we need more conversations-- and here he lists the three "entities" that I guess matter which are "government, school boards, unions" so parents and students, too bad for you. It is also not clear if Gates distinguishes between unions and teachers. He has to have noticed by now that his attempt to finance compliance from the national union leadership did not lead to everybody falling in line. He does look a tiny bit sad in this clip; that is probably because he is so depressed that Lily Eskelsen Garcia and Randi Weingarten pledged not to take any more of his money at the NPE convention. He's probably all broken up about that. Then there's just argle bargle wrapup word salad.
Munger (they guy you probably haven't heard of) then gets to expound on his Theory of McEducation:
It’s fun by the elite academic types in America to say McDonald’s is the wrong kind of food and its the wrong kind of this, and the jobs don’t pay very much and so forth. I have quite a very different view. I think McDonald’s is one of the most successful educational institutions in the United States. They take people and give them a first job which enables them to get a second job. They do a very, very good job of educating troubled young people to be good citizens. And they are probably more successful than charter schools. (This elicits a hearty chuckle from everyone)
My emphasis. So there you have it. Close all the inner-city schools and just open more McDonald's. Because if you are a troubled poor kid, everything you'll ever need to know in life you can learn at Micky D's. Why, I'll bet the minute this segment was over, Gates called his wife and said, "Pull the kids out of school--we're just going to send them to work at McDonald's. And grab an Arby's application, too, so that we can have a safety school."
(Wipe screen repeatedly). Seriously-- would any wealthy parent in this country tell his kid to go work at McDonald's because that's the best education he could hope for?? No, what Munger is saying is that, for the lower classes, the lessers, the not-so-white and not-so-well-off students, McDonald's is plenty. It's the best that Those People could aspire to.
Buffett chimes in with tales of a McDonald's where he apparently starts his day so often that they know him by name. "Those people are learning very good habits" like showing up on time and, as God is my witness, he includes "they have to learn how to count money" and "they have to learn how to smile at people" and now Gates is giggling a little bit, thinking perhaps, "I took the time to put on a sweater instead of a tie and we still look like rich, patrician asshats up here. Isn't life funny. If it mattered in the slightest what people thought of me, this would be a trainwreck. Thank God this is just CNBC and nobody who isn't One Of Us is actually watching."
Buffett now gets his turn to be pretend education czar (that's really the question). He allows as "we're spending the money" so the resources are clearly there, and I just drape the rag over the screen while I ask if it's his experience in say manufacturing or other businesses, is it his experience that cost is determined by what people want to pay. When he stops at his favorite McDonalds, does he say, "Look, seventy-three cents ought to be enough for my sausage McMuffin. I'm certainly spending the money, so give me my food." Does he shop for cars by saying, "I think ten grand should be enough for that Benz, so hand it over." In what world do you get to say, "I haven't researched this, but I only feel like paying so much, so give me the product for that price." Nor--NOR-- does the fact that we've spent a whole pile of money nationally mean that the pile of money is being properly distributed among the umpty-thousand individual schools. (Take off rag, wring out, continue.)
Now he says something that is actually interesting:
If the only choice we had was public schools, we'd have better public schools.
His point is that the wealthy have opted out, and so the very people who would have the power and juice to demand system improvements no longer have any skin in the game. We end up with two systems. The rich get the education they want for their kids, and some help out, out of conscience, but they don't make sure that public schools provide the education they'd demand if their kids were there.
It's an interesting point, but our hostess redirects back to the We Haz Moneys point, saying, "But it's not an issue of money," so what is public ed losing from defecting rich folks and Buffett is on the question of how much money and now we'll all agree that it's a buttload of money per child, almost as much money as Buffett made while he was speaking that sentence. And then he's back on point-- when rich folks don't have kids in public school, they don't engage with intensity.
The ball is tossed back to Gates, who fumbles for a bit and then lands on "You want in every community the top people to really be aware of what is the dropout rate--" So wherever you are, look up your Bureau of Top People, because if there's any continuing theme about the reformster approach to education it is that the world is made up of Betters and Lessers and the world would be a better place if the Betters had the power to Run Things Properly and shower noblesse oblige on the Lessers. And, oh wait, here's the rest of the sentence "-- and why these inner city schools do such a poor job." Because the drop out rate in inner city neighborhoods can be traced entirely and completely to the schools and nowhere else. And there's some noise about "this" being an important issue (dropout rate, maybe) and then "We're not making as much progress as I'd like." Because the ultimate metric of success here will be whether or not Bill Gates is satisfied.
This has been the toughest area of everything the foundation has worked in. Hostess asks, "Why do you think that is" and I just hold the cloth in front of my face because I can feel the apoplexy rising.
Gates figures it's entrenched interests, a very big system, over $600 billion a year being spent (what?), and it's very resistant to change and I'm thinking, well, yes. It's crazy how some systems like, say, my local hospital won't just let me walk in off the street and tell them how the whole system should be rearranged and how the money should be spent and how the doctors should operate. They are so entrenched and resistant to listening to me just because of some foolishness about how I have no experience, training, expertise or knowledge of how their system works.
Remember that stuff about convincing school boards and showing teachers? Gates says the best results are where the mayor has just taken over and cut everyone out of the decision-making process, because democracy is such a huge pain in the ass. Gates thinks it's best with just "one executive" in charge, but I am still stuck on that "best results" part because I can't think of any city where that's true, but he ticks off New York, Chicago, and as it turns out, those are the only cities he meant and so I'm wishing the interviewer would ask, "So what in God's name do you mean by 'best results,' because there's no reformy success stories to point to in either city" but I'm betting that's not happening.
Munger gets a non-question-- "What do you think about higher education at this point?" He says our system is "the best in the world," though he does not clarify whether he's think of Harvard or Hamburger U. That is why he works with higher education, because he doesn't do well with constant failure ("I tire easily" he says and we all have a good chuckle about that, and I will just shove the rag in my mouth for now). Therefor he doesn't try to fix the public schools in our worst neighborhoods. "You have to be a saint or a Gates to do that," and my apoplectic spit rag bounces off the screen as I yell, "Or one of the millions of public school teachers who have devoted their entire adult lives to working there, you unctuous twit!" And that gets a huge laugh from our hostess and the others because, yeah, how hilarious is it that anybody would try to help poor public schools because that's just not something that ordinary mortals can do EXCEPT FOR THE MILLIONS OF TEACHERS WHO KEEP TRYING TO DO IT WHILE BEING INCREASINGLY HAMPERED BY MEDDLING AMATEURS LIKE YOU RICH SELF-IMPORTANT ASSHATS!! And now we will have a great laugh about how he said saint OR Gates, because it's hilarious to suggest that Bill Gates is not a saint.
Munger circles around to clarify that he works with universities because "I really like-- I'm better at making the top better than at fixing insoluble problems" and our context clues would suggest that poor inner city schools are an insoluble problem. Dude, do you even hear yourself??
It appears we're just trying to run out the clock now. Buffett takes another shot at his point, observing that he and Charlie went to public schools because there were no private alternatives, and Buffett's dad cared so much about the schools that he ran for school board (and, you know, you don't even get paid for that), and that intensity of interest makes a difference. But in too many cities, the rich have opted out of the public school system (once again, it's not clear if Gates has a reaction to that). I know he said that already, but as I sit here feeling a little dehydrated, that strikes me as the one useful observation here, particularly as the reformster movement can be seen as a way not to improve public school, but to make it easier for the Betters to opt out of going to school with the Lessers.
It's an exhausting 7:35 minute clip, highlighting to what an astonishing degree that Gates in particular is just living on some other planet. I hope they have a Hamburger U branch campus there.
Leave Those Kids Alone
While we're busy talking about how to implement Pre-K next fall, let's remember one important thing:
Early "academic" instruction is bad for children.
If you like, you can turn to the anecdotal evidence. This does not require deep research. Talk to any first grade teacher, kindergarten teacher, or parents of small children. You hear the same story over and over and over and over again-- today, one of the biggest challenges of the early years is to keep the child from hating school, from fearing school, from associating school with misery. Plenty of teachers do it, but it is a measure of our times that doing so these days requires deliberate strategies, often including small and large acts of rebellion. It is hard to over-state how tragic this is. The one thing teachers of small children never had to do was whip up interest in school. You could ask a group of six year olds, "Who wants to jump off the building into a pile of smelly bananas for me?" and they would be lined up before the first peel turned brown. Small children are natural free-range learning machines. Trying to force them into regimented academic instruction is like beating a chocolate lab because he won't fetch with more care and dignity.
But never mind the anecdotal evidence. Instead, let's use data and science and all those things that our reformy overlords claim to love.
Even the mainstream is getting this. Psychology Today has a piece by Peter Gray, a research professor at Boston College who has written, among other things, a psychology textbook.
Gray cites several research studies, some not exactly obscure.
For instance, in the 1970's the German government did a study of play-based kindergarten vs. direct instruction kindergarten. "Despite the initial academic gains of direct instruction, by grade four the children from the direct-instruction kindergartens performed significantly worse than those from the play-based kindergartens on every measure that was used." That's every measure-- they did more poorly academically and they were less socially and emotionally capable.
A large scale US study of poor African-American children found the same thing. The direct-instruction kindergartners had an initial leap ahead, but by fourth grade were behind their play-based peers academically.
Gray also recommends the paper by the paper published by the Alliance for Childhood and Defending the Early Years. "Reading Instruction in Kindergarten: Little To Gain and Much To Lose" also surveys many studies in the field, and the results are consistent--
Early direct instructions is not helpful. It is not even a neutral ineffective waste of time.
Early academic direct instruction is harmful to the future development of children.
Of course, there are many drawbacks to play based instruction. Wait, did I say "many"? I actually meant "one." And the one drawback to play-based instruction is that there's no good revenue-generating data-collecting standardized test for measuring it.
That's the front on which this battle will be fault. "Oh, sure. Play-based instruction is swell," reformsters will say. "But we still have to have data about how they're doing, so in April we're going to sit these children to give them a standardized test. Because data. And did you see this nice pen-and-pencil set the guy from Pearson gave me?"
And so we'll continue to pollute the early years with test prep. And test prep for small children is the worst, because we have to teach them what a test is and what is going on in this bizarre, artificial activity, not to mention why they should even care. While we're at it, let's just teach them that Santa is dead, too.
Early "academic" instruction is bad for children.
If you like, you can turn to the anecdotal evidence. This does not require deep research. Talk to any first grade teacher, kindergarten teacher, or parents of small children. You hear the same story over and over and over and over again-- today, one of the biggest challenges of the early years is to keep the child from hating school, from fearing school, from associating school with misery. Plenty of teachers do it, but it is a measure of our times that doing so these days requires deliberate strategies, often including small and large acts of rebellion. It is hard to over-state how tragic this is. The one thing teachers of small children never had to do was whip up interest in school. You could ask a group of six year olds, "Who wants to jump off the building into a pile of smelly bananas for me?" and they would be lined up before the first peel turned brown. Small children are natural free-range learning machines. Trying to force them into regimented academic instruction is like beating a chocolate lab because he won't fetch with more care and dignity.
But never mind the anecdotal evidence. Instead, let's use data and science and all those things that our reformy overlords claim to love.
Even the mainstream is getting this. Psychology Today has a piece by Peter Gray, a research professor at Boston College who has written, among other things, a psychology textbook.
Gray cites several research studies, some not exactly obscure.
For instance, in the 1970's the German government did a study of play-based kindergarten vs. direct instruction kindergarten. "Despite the initial academic gains of direct instruction, by grade four the children from the direct-instruction kindergartens performed significantly worse than those from the play-based kindergartens on every measure that was used." That's every measure-- they did more poorly academically and they were less socially and emotionally capable.
A large scale US study of poor African-American children found the same thing. The direct-instruction kindergartners had an initial leap ahead, but by fourth grade were behind their play-based peers academically.
Gray also recommends the paper by the paper published by the Alliance for Childhood and Defending the Early Years. "Reading Instruction in Kindergarten: Little To Gain and Much To Lose" also surveys many studies in the field, and the results are consistent--
Early direct instructions is not helpful. It is not even a neutral ineffective waste of time.
Early academic direct instruction is harmful to the future development of children.
Of course, there are many drawbacks to play based instruction. Wait, did I say "many"? I actually meant "one." And the one drawback to play-based instruction is that there's no good revenue-generating data-collecting standardized test for measuring it.
That's the front on which this battle will be fault. "Oh, sure. Play-based instruction is swell," reformsters will say. "But we still have to have data about how they're doing, so in April we're going to sit these children to give them a standardized test. Because data. And did you see this nice pen-and-pencil set the guy from Pearson gave me?"
And so we'll continue to pollute the early years with test prep. And test prep for small children is the worst, because we have to teach them what a test is and what is going on in this bizarre, artificial activity, not to mention why they should even care. While we're at it, let's just teach them that Santa is dead, too.
The Narrow Path
Yesterday was grad project day at my school. On this in-service day every year our seniors come in to present for evaluation their senior projects. It is, for many of us on staff, one of the best days of the year.
Pennsylvania installed a graduation project requirement years ago, leaving every school free to decide what their local version would be. Some required every student to write a paper (and the English department to grade all of them-- thanks a lot), some required a service project, and some incorporated the project into classwork students were already taking.
We took a different approach, allowing students to select from five different types of projects-- everything from a career research project to service project to building a cabinet to performing an original work. The project is student chosen, and as you might imagine, some students choose more wisely than others. But as I tell them at their project kick-off meeting, if the project is a waste of their time, they have nobody to blame but themselves. This is one time that a major element of their school career is based on what they value, not on what the school values. If you want to see all the nuts and bolts, follow the link at the bottom of this page (please excuse the comic sans).
Do some students half-ass it, or create some desultory bland project? Sure. But we also see so many awesome things on this day. Numerous beautiful pieces of cabinetry. An album of photographs. the models our students with hair and make-up by the photographer. A home-built log-splitter. A delicious meal. A refurbished game room for children staying at a battered women's shelter. A student weeping as she tells the story of going to Puerto Rico to meet her extended family. A student explaining the training he goes through to be a volunteer fireman, and what he thinks about going into a burning building to rescue a person.
Every grad project day reminds me that our students are so much more than the handful of classes that we teach, and that when they are allowed to display their competencies on their own terms (and those competencies fall outside "sit in desk for forty-five minute increments all day"), the vast majority of them turn out to be pretty great people. They are passionate about stuff-- it's just not all stuff that has a direct and clear connection to classroom and School Stuff.
We complain that the Big Standardized Tests measure just a small sliver of what we do in schools, and we are right to do so. In fact, the meagerness of BS Tests is doubly inadequate, because these students live lives so much bigger than the small sliver of existence that we deal with in school.
We are also right to complain about the narrowing of school under the reformster regime, reducing education to a narrow path for narrow purposes. That has happened, and it's not a good thing-- not for students, schools, or the nation.
But let's be honest. Public education in this country has always flirted with the narrow path, the idea that what we could fit within our school walls was a complete and sufficient view of life and the world and what it means to be fully human in that world. The architects of Common Core and NCLB did not try to take education in a completely new direction; we've been dallying at the trailhead of the narrow path for-- well, forever.
What we see on grad project day is that there are so many and varied versions of success, and that, in many cases, we would never have seen them in our classrooms. Grad project day always prompts me to reflect, to remind myself that part of my obligation as a teacher is to make sure that the path through my classroom is as broad as I can make it, to make sure that I have left as much space as I can for the full range of who my students are and who they aspire to be. There is so much to see and do, and the view from the narrow path is so limited and restrictive.
Pennsylvania installed a graduation project requirement years ago, leaving every school free to decide what their local version would be. Some required every student to write a paper (and the English department to grade all of them-- thanks a lot), some required a service project, and some incorporated the project into classwork students were already taking.
We took a different approach, allowing students to select from five different types of projects-- everything from a career research project to service project to building a cabinet to performing an original work. The project is student chosen, and as you might imagine, some students choose more wisely than others. But as I tell them at their project kick-off meeting, if the project is a waste of their time, they have nobody to blame but themselves. This is one time that a major element of their school career is based on what they value, not on what the school values. If you want to see all the nuts and bolts, follow the link at the bottom of this page (please excuse the comic sans).
Do some students half-ass it, or create some desultory bland project? Sure. But we also see so many awesome things on this day. Numerous beautiful pieces of cabinetry. An album of photographs. the models our students with hair and make-up by the photographer. A home-built log-splitter. A delicious meal. A refurbished game room for children staying at a battered women's shelter. A student weeping as she tells the story of going to Puerto Rico to meet her extended family. A student explaining the training he goes through to be a volunteer fireman, and what he thinks about going into a burning building to rescue a person.
Every grad project day reminds me that our students are so much more than the handful of classes that we teach, and that when they are allowed to display their competencies on their own terms (and those competencies fall outside "sit in desk for forty-five minute increments all day"), the vast majority of them turn out to be pretty great people. They are passionate about stuff-- it's just not all stuff that has a direct and clear connection to classroom and School Stuff.
We complain that the Big Standardized Tests measure just a small sliver of what we do in schools, and we are right to do so. In fact, the meagerness of BS Tests is doubly inadequate, because these students live lives so much bigger than the small sliver of existence that we deal with in school.
We are also right to complain about the narrowing of school under the reformster regime, reducing education to a narrow path for narrow purposes. That has happened, and it's not a good thing-- not for students, schools, or the nation.
But let's be honest. Public education in this country has always flirted with the narrow path, the idea that what we could fit within our school walls was a complete and sufficient view of life and the world and what it means to be fully human in that world. The architects of Common Core and NCLB did not try to take education in a completely new direction; we've been dallying at the trailhead of the narrow path for-- well, forever.
What we see on grad project day is that there are so many and varied versions of success, and that, in many cases, we would never have seen them in our classrooms. Grad project day always prompts me to reflect, to remind myself that part of my obligation as a teacher is to make sure that the path through my classroom is as broad as I can make it, to make sure that I have left as much space as I can for the full range of who my students are and who they aspire to be. There is so much to see and do, and the view from the narrow path is so limited and restrictive.
Friday, May 8, 2015
Mississippi Reader
Dear Chris,
Hey, cousin. Sorry I'm behind on writing, but just read this article--More than 5,000 Mississippi third-graders could be held back this year for low reading scores. Yeah, my buddies and I are freaking out. It's all we could talk about at lunch yesterday; Fat Joey couldn't even get down his entire juice box, he was so upset.
I've been feeling bad for you down in Florida, and we both remember what happened to Cousin Alice in North Carolina. I just didn't figure it was really going to happen here.
You and I-- we've both been enjoying third grade. It's been the best grade so far-- better time for recess (well, at least back in September before they cancelled recess so we could do more test practice) and I love my teacher. She is so awesome and I just want to see her look at me like she's proud. Kind of like my mom-- I swear, I would walk through fire for that woman and her peanut butter sandwiches. And man-- it is so much fun to learn stuff. Third grade is just the bomb.
You remember my plan. I was just going to not learn to read. Just kind of a goof. True, I want to make Miss Chalkthumper proud, and I want to make my mom proud, and I love it when my dad hugs me and says, "Good job," and it's just so much fun to, like, understand stuff! I could understand stuff extra hard, all day, like a boss.
I was just going to not learn to read. Stand up for myself, stick it to the man, not live in little boxes, not actually try to learn that stuff.
But now they tell me we have to learn to read, or at least learn to pass the reading test, or else we can't go on to fourth grade. Well, hell, that just changes everything!! I wasn't going to try to learn to read, but now that my fourth grade promotion depends on it, I will totally take a different approach to school and like try and stuff (which I so wasn't going to before they threatened me).
I'm sorry I ever made fun of you for living in Florida and having to actually try in third grade. And I'm really sorry about Cousin Alice, who my mom says is just not very bright so they just sit her in a room every day and tell her they expect her to stop being dumb, so stop already. No wonder she sits in the corner and won't talk to anybody at family reunions.
But I guess if they threaten me, I have to learn to read whether I feel like it or not. It's funny-- I always thought that mostly what got me to do things in school was just that it was so much fun and making my teacher and my parents proud made me happy; I might even do a special project just for a pack of gummi bears. But I see now that threats and punishment are what reallymake me want to do my best. I just hope the idea doesn't spread through the whole school. Otherwise in fourth grade they'll probably tell us we have to learn calculus or else they'll beat us. man, school just gets harder and harder.
Later--
Your cousin,
Pat
Hey, cousin. Sorry I'm behind on writing, but just read this article--More than 5,000 Mississippi third-graders could be held back this year for low reading scores. Yeah, my buddies and I are freaking out. It's all we could talk about at lunch yesterday; Fat Joey couldn't even get down his entire juice box, he was so upset.
I've been feeling bad for you down in Florida, and we both remember what happened to Cousin Alice in North Carolina. I just didn't figure it was really going to happen here.
You and I-- we've both been enjoying third grade. It's been the best grade so far-- better time for recess (well, at least back in September before they cancelled recess so we could do more test practice) and I love my teacher. She is so awesome and I just want to see her look at me like she's proud. Kind of like my mom-- I swear, I would walk through fire for that woman and her peanut butter sandwiches. And man-- it is so much fun to learn stuff. Third grade is just the bomb.
You remember my plan. I was just going to not learn to read. Just kind of a goof. True, I want to make Miss Chalkthumper proud, and I want to make my mom proud, and I love it when my dad hugs me and says, "Good job," and it's just so much fun to, like, understand stuff! I could understand stuff extra hard, all day, like a boss.
I was just going to not learn to read. Stand up for myself, stick it to the man, not live in little boxes, not actually try to learn that stuff.
But now they tell me we have to learn to read, or at least learn to pass the reading test, or else we can't go on to fourth grade. Well, hell, that just changes everything!! I wasn't going to try to learn to read, but now that my fourth grade promotion depends on it, I will totally take a different approach to school and like try and stuff (which I so wasn't going to before they threatened me).
I'm sorry I ever made fun of you for living in Florida and having to actually try in third grade. And I'm really sorry about Cousin Alice, who my mom says is just not very bright so they just sit her in a room every day and tell her they expect her to stop being dumb, so stop already. No wonder she sits in the corner and won't talk to anybody at family reunions.
But I guess if they threaten me, I have to learn to read whether I feel like it or not. It's funny-- I always thought that mostly what got me to do things in school was just that it was so much fun and making my teacher and my parents proud made me happy; I might even do a special project just for a pack of gummi bears. But I see now that threats and punishment are what reallymake me want to do my best. I just hope the idea doesn't spread through the whole school. Otherwise in fourth grade they'll probably tell us we have to learn calculus or else they'll beat us. man, school just gets harder and harder.
Later--
Your cousin,
Pat
Being an Audience
And here we are again-- a nationally famous comedian speaks up, and suddenly all sorts of folks are paying attention, even though actual classroom teachers have been saying the same stuff for years.
Mind you, I'm not complaining that John Oliver (like Louis C. K. before him) has put some education concerns in front of the nation's flea-like attention span. And he and his crew did a really good job of putting together a wide-ranging, yet punchy and clear, explanation of the issues.
So why is the world listening to him, at least for a few moments, when they didn't listen to the rest of us? I think the answer can be understood in one word.
Audience.
People get listened to because people are already listening to them.
This is partly a crowd-based hive-mind in action. Everyone else is listening to that guy? Then I will listen to him, too.
But it's also basic media motivation in action. Magazines feature well-known names not because some editor is thinking "Ten million twitter followers?! Muffy de Celebutante must be very wise," but because some editor can do the math-- if Muffy's on the cover, ten million pairs of eyeballs may follow her there.
When some newshuman calls up Diane Ravitch to represent a side of an education debate, I'd like to think that it's because she is well known as a wise and thoughtful speaker who knows what the hell she's talking about. But I'd be a fool not to think that her blog's twenty million hits doesn't have something to do with it.
When She Who Will Not Be Named was on every cover and in every article about education, it was not because she had failed as a teacher, as a superintendent, and as an advocacy group leader. It was because she could be counted on to draw a crowd.
Folks like to say that we're in the internet age, and knowledge is the new currency. Maybe, but I suspect it may also turn out that we are in the attention age, and having eyeballs aimed at you is the new currency.
I think that's worth remembering, because it's hugely empowering-- each of us has, figuratively or literally, a pair of eyeballs and the ability to aim them.
Attention is the power we get to exercise, and how we exercise it matters. I stopped mentioning She's name because it swelled her google count, made her appear to have status and importance. It added to her audience. For the same reason, I do not link to The Website To Which I Will Not Link, because every hit they receive makes them look more important, like they are commanding a larger audience. The absolute worst thing that could happen to them is not a firestorm of disagreement and controversy; the absolute worst thing that could happen would be having to report to their wealthy corporate backers that there were only seventeen hits on the site last month.
Being a mindful netizen is like being a mindful consumer. You are not going to Change Everything with your personal clicks, but every click is a push in a good direction or a bad one. If you head over to TWTWIWNL every hour just because it pisses you off, bad news-- you are helping make them look great. You are giving them the power to say, "We are an important voice in the ed debate, as witnessed by our traffic counts. People should listen to us. Regular media should amplify us."
You may think that you can have little power in this ongoing debate, but you have, at a minimum, the power of being an audience. You can read regularly the writers whose voice you value. You can amplify those voices by posting links and tweeting and emailing. If you think, "Boy, more people should be paying attention to that lady," well, then, you can be part of the solution to that problem.
Do we occasionally need to hold up egregious posts and articles for well-deserved coal-raking? Sure. But when you drive 1,000 angry readers to the Regularpressmagazine.com website, don't imagine that the publisher is crying, "Oh, so many people are yelling at us." Mostly he's saying, "Hot damn!! That got great traffic. The advertisers will love this. Write up some more just like that!" Trolling really is a thing, because clicks are clicks and audience is power.
Be an active audience. Tweet. Retweet. Link. Post. Pass along what speaks to you. Amplify the voices that are saying what you think needs to be said. Your attention raises the profile of the people you support. That's how a movement grows more voices. Maybe, even, voices as well-respected as the voices of prominent comedians.
Mind you, I'm not complaining that John Oliver (like Louis C. K. before him) has put some education concerns in front of the nation's flea-like attention span. And he and his crew did a really good job of putting together a wide-ranging, yet punchy and clear, explanation of the issues.
So why is the world listening to him, at least for a few moments, when they didn't listen to the rest of us? I think the answer can be understood in one word.
Audience.
People get listened to because people are already listening to them.
This is partly a crowd-based hive-mind in action. Everyone else is listening to that guy? Then I will listen to him, too.
But it's also basic media motivation in action. Magazines feature well-known names not because some editor is thinking "Ten million twitter followers?! Muffy de Celebutante must be very wise," but because some editor can do the math-- if Muffy's on the cover, ten million pairs of eyeballs may follow her there.
When some newshuman calls up Diane Ravitch to represent a side of an education debate, I'd like to think that it's because she is well known as a wise and thoughtful speaker who knows what the hell she's talking about. But I'd be a fool not to think that her blog's twenty million hits doesn't have something to do with it.
When She Who Will Not Be Named was on every cover and in every article about education, it was not because she had failed as a teacher, as a superintendent, and as an advocacy group leader. It was because she could be counted on to draw a crowd.
Folks like to say that we're in the internet age, and knowledge is the new currency. Maybe, but I suspect it may also turn out that we are in the attention age, and having eyeballs aimed at you is the new currency.
I think that's worth remembering, because it's hugely empowering-- each of us has, figuratively or literally, a pair of eyeballs and the ability to aim them.
Attention is the power we get to exercise, and how we exercise it matters. I stopped mentioning She's name because it swelled her google count, made her appear to have status and importance. It added to her audience. For the same reason, I do not link to The Website To Which I Will Not Link, because every hit they receive makes them look more important, like they are commanding a larger audience. The absolute worst thing that could happen to them is not a firestorm of disagreement and controversy; the absolute worst thing that could happen would be having to report to their wealthy corporate backers that there were only seventeen hits on the site last month.
Being a mindful netizen is like being a mindful consumer. You are not going to Change Everything with your personal clicks, but every click is a push in a good direction or a bad one. If you head over to TWTWIWNL every hour just because it pisses you off, bad news-- you are helping make them look great. You are giving them the power to say, "We are an important voice in the ed debate, as witnessed by our traffic counts. People should listen to us. Regular media should amplify us."
You may think that you can have little power in this ongoing debate, but you have, at a minimum, the power of being an audience. You can read regularly the writers whose voice you value. You can amplify those voices by posting links and tweeting and emailing. If you think, "Boy, more people should be paying attention to that lady," well, then, you can be part of the solution to that problem.
Do we occasionally need to hold up egregious posts and articles for well-deserved coal-raking? Sure. But when you drive 1,000 angry readers to the Regularpressmagazine.com website, don't imagine that the publisher is crying, "Oh, so many people are yelling at us." Mostly he's saying, "Hot damn!! That got great traffic. The advertisers will love this. Write up some more just like that!" Trolling really is a thing, because clicks are clicks and audience is power.
Be an active audience. Tweet. Retweet. Link. Post. Pass along what speaks to you. Amplify the voices that are saying what you think needs to be said. Your attention raises the profile of the people you support. That's how a movement grows more voices. Maybe, even, voices as well-respected as the voices of prominent comedians.
Teachers Policing Teachers
Should teachers be calling out, or even reporting, their fellow teachers? Should teachers be responsible for policing our own ranks?
After all, when Mr. McStumpnugget sits in that room, sucking relentlessly for years, the rest of us suffer. We pay a price because, for many people, Mr. McStumpnugget becomes the face of teaching and every time there are contract negotiations or discussions about teacher accountability, people are thinking about how much they want to stomp on him. And if he teaches next door, or upstream of us in the same department, we end up teaching downwind of the Pig Farm Poop Lagoon. Outside of his students' parents, I'm not sure there's anybody who would like to see Mr. McStumpnugget shape up and/or ship out more than I.
So why am I not out there working the problem? Here are a few answers to that question.
Actually, I am
I have a good relationship with my principal, so I can bitch about Mr. McS. I might even have a good enough relationship with Mr. McS that I can easily say, "Dude, if you show one more movie, I am going to jam gum in all your room's power outlets." I may be helping and supporting his students. I might even be teaching parents how to most effectively register their complaints (because their complaints will always carry more weight than mine). I may even be having regular face-to-face confrontations with Mr. McS.
None of this is happening out in public. Maybe you have a burning desire to have M. McS publicly shamed, but I don't see any value of it.
And to tell the truth, it will be a long road before I get to this point. When it comes to calling out my fellow teachers, there are several things that make me slow to stand up and start whaling away.
Different strokes
It's hugely important to distinguish Teach Well from Teach Just Like Me. I can point to teachers who have a classroom approach completely different from mine. They are so authoritarian or loose or personal shary; they spend time on things I don't think deserve classroom time. They run their classrooms in ways I would not in a million years. But before I start bitching about how awful that teacher is, I had better ask a simple question-- are students thriving and succeeding in her classroom?
And here's the thing about that question-- the answer is almost always, "Yes."
An awful lot of the reformster program seems bent on standardization, on having teachers who work pretty much the same way. That strikes me as completely backwards. The more your building is packed with different styles, methods, approaches, temperaments and techniques, the better the chance that every child who passes through the building will find at least one teacher to connect with in a meaningful way.
That also means most students will find someone they don't connect with at all. Walk into any building in the country, and you cannot find a single teacher that was not, at some point, profoundly and deeply hated by several students.
The test remains-- do some students thrive in that teacher's classroom. What "some" means is always going to be debatable, but this is still the most important question. And based on that question, there are many teachers with whom I disagree, but that doesn't mean I think they need to be fixed.
Rough patches
Teachers, like all humans, have lives. I would love to believe that while my previous marriage was melting down that I was still bringing my A game to the classroom, but I think it's safe to say those days were not my professional peak. Nor do many of us look back at our first few years and think, "Boy, I wish I were as good today as I was back then." We have all been there. So when a colleague is hitting a rough patch, the tendency is to try to help her through it, not get up in her face.
Administration
Because most schools have no formal structure in place for dealing with colleague issues, much of this comes down to administration. Not everyone has a working relationship that allows her to walk into the principal's office and say, "I am concerned/frustrated/pissed off about Mr. McS." In fact, if you are working in a school where the principal personally hired Mr. McS, expressing professional concerns about him may simply be a quick path to professional self-immolation.
Meanwhile, even the most reasonable principal on the receiving end of negative input about a staff member must now decide whether he's listening to a useful professional observation or an angry squawk born of some real or imagined slight.
The Missing Link
As I just suggested, the missing link is some sort of formal process. My hunch is that almost no schools in America have any sort of mechanism in place for teachers to police their own ranks. The oft-stated notion that teachers have their own thin blue line or code of silence about fellow teachers that "everybody knows" should not be in the classroom-- that perception is fed by the fact that even if a teacher wants to call out another teacher, there's no real way to do it.
So what's the fix?
The power structure of a school is a weird thing-- it looks basically like a really big pancake with a cherry on top (the cherry would be the building administration). Unions have long resisted the idea of letting teachers do any sort of evaluation of other teachers because they have (rightly, I think) sensed that allows power dynamics to potentially run amuck and tear the pancake to tatters. At times, the relationships and group dynamics in my building have been toxic enough; had we thrown a teacher's power to police other teachers into the mix, we would probably disappeared in a chalk-colored mushroom cloud.
But-- teachers have information about other teachers that nobody else has. Let me tell you a story...
Years ago I worked with a woman who most people thought was a flake. Her room seemed chaosy. She seemed frazzled much of the time. Her own students thought they were just wasting time and screwing around in her class. But I taught directly downstream of her, and year after year, I would inherit her students and year after year, when we pre-assessed a unit, they would Know Stuff. I would ask them how they already knew those things and they would scratch their heads and say, "Well, I guess we learned that last year from Mrs. NotHerRealName?" They hadn't thought she was getting the job done. I'm not even sure she knew if she was getting the job done. But I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was getting the job done.
Of course, there was no formal avenue for me to say so. Just as there is no formal structure in place for me to file a professional complaint about Mr. McS. We don't have a system that allows either. I can only bitch and moan unofficially, which is its own set of problems.
So what's the answer to getting teachers to police other teachers? The answer is
That's the wrong question
The goal should be to create a system that includes teachers, students, administrators and community members is an ongoing process of helping each teacher be the best that she can be.
One of the many, many, many, many problems with teacher evaluation systems like Andy Cuomo's two-observations-and-a-test-score approach is that they won't even find the problem teachers you're looking for. All Mr. McStumpnuggets has to do is land some test scores and not suck for two observations and he can go on being a nightmare for the entire rest of the year (especially in Cuomo's model, which expressly forbids including any other information in the teacher evaluation).
Finding bad people and throwing them away is backwards, both for teachers and for students. The goal is for everyone to become the best they can be. If someone's Best They Can Be is not suitable for teaching, then let's deal with that. But let's not be surprised by it after a single observation or a sudden negative report from a fellow teacher.
Teacher evaluation ought to be about helping teachers improve and grow, not about trying to play gotcha with the people we suspect of suckage. The beauty of a system that works to lift every teacher up is that it models what we should be doing in the classroom-- working together to lift everybody up. Our goal should not be to try to catch people being bad, but help them more often be good.
I would be interested to read about any models out there of such a program-- I'm sure such things must exist where teachers and administrators collaborate to create an atmosphere of excellence where everyone has the tools, support, and help they need to thrive and grow. In such a school, having teachers "police" each other would be both unnecessary and beside the point.
After all, when Mr. McStumpnugget sits in that room, sucking relentlessly for years, the rest of us suffer. We pay a price because, for many people, Mr. McStumpnugget becomes the face of teaching and every time there are contract negotiations or discussions about teacher accountability, people are thinking about how much they want to stomp on him. And if he teaches next door, or upstream of us in the same department, we end up teaching downwind of the Pig Farm Poop Lagoon. Outside of his students' parents, I'm not sure there's anybody who would like to see Mr. McStumpnugget shape up and/or ship out more than I.
So why am I not out there working the problem? Here are a few answers to that question.
Actually, I am
I have a good relationship with my principal, so I can bitch about Mr. McS. I might even have a good enough relationship with Mr. McS that I can easily say, "Dude, if you show one more movie, I am going to jam gum in all your room's power outlets." I may be helping and supporting his students. I might even be teaching parents how to most effectively register their complaints (because their complaints will always carry more weight than mine). I may even be having regular face-to-face confrontations with Mr. McS.
None of this is happening out in public. Maybe you have a burning desire to have M. McS publicly shamed, but I don't see any value of it.
And to tell the truth, it will be a long road before I get to this point. When it comes to calling out my fellow teachers, there are several things that make me slow to stand up and start whaling away.
Different strokes
It's hugely important to distinguish Teach Well from Teach Just Like Me. I can point to teachers who have a classroom approach completely different from mine. They are so authoritarian or loose or personal shary; they spend time on things I don't think deserve classroom time. They run their classrooms in ways I would not in a million years. But before I start bitching about how awful that teacher is, I had better ask a simple question-- are students thriving and succeeding in her classroom?
And here's the thing about that question-- the answer is almost always, "Yes."
An awful lot of the reformster program seems bent on standardization, on having teachers who work pretty much the same way. That strikes me as completely backwards. The more your building is packed with different styles, methods, approaches, temperaments and techniques, the better the chance that every child who passes through the building will find at least one teacher to connect with in a meaningful way.
That also means most students will find someone they don't connect with at all. Walk into any building in the country, and you cannot find a single teacher that was not, at some point, profoundly and deeply hated by several students.
The test remains-- do some students thrive in that teacher's classroom. What "some" means is always going to be debatable, but this is still the most important question. And based on that question, there are many teachers with whom I disagree, but that doesn't mean I think they need to be fixed.
Rough patches
Teachers, like all humans, have lives. I would love to believe that while my previous marriage was melting down that I was still bringing my A game to the classroom, but I think it's safe to say those days were not my professional peak. Nor do many of us look back at our first few years and think, "Boy, I wish I were as good today as I was back then." We have all been there. So when a colleague is hitting a rough patch, the tendency is to try to help her through it, not get up in her face.
Administration
Because most schools have no formal structure in place for dealing with colleague issues, much of this comes down to administration. Not everyone has a working relationship that allows her to walk into the principal's office and say, "I am concerned/frustrated/pissed off about Mr. McS." In fact, if you are working in a school where the principal personally hired Mr. McS, expressing professional concerns about him may simply be a quick path to professional self-immolation.
Meanwhile, even the most reasonable principal on the receiving end of negative input about a staff member must now decide whether he's listening to a useful professional observation or an angry squawk born of some real or imagined slight.
The Missing Link
As I just suggested, the missing link is some sort of formal process. My hunch is that almost no schools in America have any sort of mechanism in place for teachers to police their own ranks. The oft-stated notion that teachers have their own thin blue line or code of silence about fellow teachers that "everybody knows" should not be in the classroom-- that perception is fed by the fact that even if a teacher wants to call out another teacher, there's no real way to do it.
So what's the fix?
The power structure of a school is a weird thing-- it looks basically like a really big pancake with a cherry on top (the cherry would be the building administration). Unions have long resisted the idea of letting teachers do any sort of evaluation of other teachers because they have (rightly, I think) sensed that allows power dynamics to potentially run amuck and tear the pancake to tatters. At times, the relationships and group dynamics in my building have been toxic enough; had we thrown a teacher's power to police other teachers into the mix, we would probably disappeared in a chalk-colored mushroom cloud.
But-- teachers have information about other teachers that nobody else has. Let me tell you a story...
Years ago I worked with a woman who most people thought was a flake. Her room seemed chaosy. She seemed frazzled much of the time. Her own students thought they were just wasting time and screwing around in her class. But I taught directly downstream of her, and year after year, I would inherit her students and year after year, when we pre-assessed a unit, they would Know Stuff. I would ask them how they already knew those things and they would scratch their heads and say, "Well, I guess we learned that last year from Mrs. NotHerRealName?" They hadn't thought she was getting the job done. I'm not even sure she knew if she was getting the job done. But I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was getting the job done.
Of course, there was no formal avenue for me to say so. Just as there is no formal structure in place for me to file a professional complaint about Mr. McS. We don't have a system that allows either. I can only bitch and moan unofficially, which is its own set of problems.
So what's the answer to getting teachers to police other teachers? The answer is
That's the wrong question
The goal should be to create a system that includes teachers, students, administrators and community members is an ongoing process of helping each teacher be the best that she can be.
One of the many, many, many, many problems with teacher evaluation systems like Andy Cuomo's two-observations-and-a-test-score approach is that they won't even find the problem teachers you're looking for. All Mr. McStumpnuggets has to do is land some test scores and not suck for two observations and he can go on being a nightmare for the entire rest of the year (especially in Cuomo's model, which expressly forbids including any other information in the teacher evaluation).
Finding bad people and throwing them away is backwards, both for teachers and for students. The goal is for everyone to become the best they can be. If someone's Best They Can Be is not suitable for teaching, then let's deal with that. But let's not be surprised by it after a single observation or a sudden negative report from a fellow teacher.
Teacher evaluation ought to be about helping teachers improve and grow, not about trying to play gotcha with the people we suspect of suckage. The beauty of a system that works to lift every teacher up is that it models what we should be doing in the classroom-- working together to lift everybody up. Our goal should not be to try to catch people being bad, but help them more often be good.
I would be interested to read about any models out there of such a program-- I'm sure such things must exist where teachers and administrators collaborate to create an atmosphere of excellence where everyone has the tools, support, and help they need to thrive and grow. In such a school, having teachers "police" each other would be both unnecessary and beside the point.
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