Zephyr Teachout is a badass.
You may remember her from the last New York gubernatorial primary, when she humiliated Andrew Cuomo and stomped on his Presidential dreams by making him fight for his life in a primary race that was supposed to be a walk. The Vermont-born law professor is energetic, positive, and a strong voice for public education-- among other things. She's an old-school Democrat, by which I mean she's not dependent on the kindness of hedge fund millionaires. (All of which is why it's one of Randi Weingarten's unforgivable offenses to have conducted last minute phone blitzing for the Cuomo campaign).
Teachout is back at it, campaigning for the 19th District Congressional seat in New York. Teachout's main opposition appeared to be a long-shot GOP John Faso who was trying to fend of GOP Andrew Heaney in the primary-- and then the hedge funders started piling on.
John Faso is a long-time NY pol. He has served as minority leader of the NY State Assembly, and made a run at Governor in 2006. He beat Bill Weld in the primary (yes, the same one who is currently Libertarian VP candidate) but lost to Eliot Spitzer in the general election. Faso is a huge fan of charters and one of the cheif architects of New York's charter laws. And hedge fund guys apparently love him a lot. Robert Mercer, hedge fund manager, contributed half a million dollars to Faso's superPAC to get him through the primary election season.
And now Paul Singer has joined in with another $500,000 to try to defeat Teachout. Singer ranks 327 on the Forbes 400 list of richest Americans. He's a hedge fund manager who specializes in "distressed debt acquisition" meaning he is, in fact, a vulture fund manager, looking for good buys in debt that he can then squeeze for big profit (his firm made a killing snatching up Peru's national debt and then squeezing the country to pay up).
So this is what the current version of campaign law gets us-- a contest in which two guys can pony up a million dollars to buy up a political position to represent a place they don't even live. In America, if you're very rich, you can go shopping for political races to tilt your way.
Teachout has been raising money the old-fashioned, Bernie Sanders style method-- from actual small-money citizens donating to her campaign.
But her campaign has taken a definite new-style twist. Teachout is calling for a debate. But not against Faso, but against the real opponent in her race;
Of course, Singer is not going to respond. The whole point of being about to pump millions of dollars via superPAC into an election is that it allows rich guys to install their ideas in government without having to go through any of that annoying public election stuff. It allows guys like Singer to buy a guarantee that their voice will be heard loud and clear by the important decision-makers without ever having to talk to the common crowd of taxpayers and voters and the general public. A public debate for the voters is all about democracy, and spending a cool half-million to get your guy elected is all about circumventing democracy.
If you would like to support and old-fashioned non-millionaire candidate as an old-fashioned voter with some old-fashioned small contributions, you can find the Teachout campaign website right here.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
Resolve To See
For the next couple of weeks, as the beginning of my school year approaches. I'm going to write to renew my resolve to keep focus in my practice. This is one of that series of posts.
I'm not sure that anybody has it harder in school than the invisible kids.
Bullied students are a subset of the invisible students. Bullied students are seen-but-not-really. They are seen for the one characteristic for which they are singled out and mistreated, but rarely seen as actual complete fully human beings.
There are also the students who are completely invisible. Unseen, unknown, just passing through the halls of the school. Their presence and their absence make the same impression on the people around them.
There's a sad but fair argument to be made that all of this invisibility is practice for the adult version, for entering the grown-up world where we talk past or at each other and simply reduce other people to just one or two characteristics, treating our fellow humans as if they are cartoon versions of human beings. We reduce the people we disagree with to gnarled caricatures. We reduce the people we don't mind being around to flat masks, one or two simple characteristics that we can quickly reference before we move on. And we reduce people that we don't want to bother with to nothing at all. Not even ignored, because you can only ignore something that you acknowledge is there. Just invisible.
I suspect it's easier for us to slip into that mode in school because we deal with a relatively narrow slice of humanity. I teach teenagers, and while there are some things that have changed over the decades, teenagers remain for the most part pretty teenagery. On top of that, certain physical and personality types recur over the decades. It's not hard to slip into a state of just reacting to a student as That Kid Again.
But boy, do they want to be seen. I mean, really seen. They love it when someone sees who they are, what their strengths are, what their fears are, what they really have going on. And it is a tricky game because one thing about teenagers is that great old deep-seated Bruce Banner-esque fear-- "If anyone knew what I was really like-- I mean, really like-- they would all avoid me like the plague."
You're not always going to see right down to the depths of every student's soul, and that, I am quite certain, is a Really Good Thing for many reasons. But I can be sure to see every kid, every day, even if it's for jst a second.
I can stride through the halls on some Critical Mission (like copies or fetching connecting cables) and breeze right past a hundred students with my head down and not a sound. Or I can take the second to make eye contact, smile, say hi or good morning or glad you're here today or just some quick joke-- and all I'm really saying is "I see you."
I think this is the power of those teachers who stand at their classroom door and greet every student (I admire those teachers, but I am not that organized). It guarantees every student that he or she will be seen.
I mean, just imagine how miserable it would be to getup in the morning and know that you are going to a place where not a single person will see you, not a single person would notice if you weren't there. How soulcrushing must that be. And as teachers, we absolutely have the power to change that.
If we pay attention, we can see who our students are. We can see what they're proud of, what they value, what their quirks and style and sense of humor are about. And once we really see them, we can meet them, and let them know they are valued. And the beauty of it is that it doesn't really take more time than just brushing by. "Good morning" isn't any easier to say than "Hey! That hair looks better pink than blue," but the latter lets the student know they've actually been seen, that their presence on the planet actually made a difference, however small, to someone.
And I'm not talking about anything intrusive. Everybody knows That Person-- the one who tries to pretend to say "I see you," but who is really saying, "Look at me!" Teachers should not be That Person. Students are not there to meet our emotional needs.
But it is easy to sleepwalk through large chunks of life without paying attention. It's easy, but it's not desirable, and it is a particularly bad idea for us as teachers. For some of our students, we may be the only human being who actually sees them today. That's an easy gift for us to give them. Pay attention. See. Life is so much more interesting when you are awake for it, and yes-- that means that not only are you giving students the gift of being seen, but you are modeling for them how to live a life less boring.
Which is why I hammer this into my brain every year. It may be less of an issue for you elementary types-- your kids are high on life and excited about everything. But my teens will, in a just a couple of weeks, begin the process of trying to suck all the energy and color out of the world. That's okay. They are who they are. And I've learned that if I actually open my eyes, look at them, see them for the full rich human beings they are, it turns out they're pretty great.
I'm not sure that anybody has it harder in school than the invisible kids.
Bullied students are a subset of the invisible students. Bullied students are seen-but-not-really. They are seen for the one characteristic for which they are singled out and mistreated, but rarely seen as actual complete fully human beings.
There are also the students who are completely invisible. Unseen, unknown, just passing through the halls of the school. Their presence and their absence make the same impression on the people around them.
There's a sad but fair argument to be made that all of this invisibility is practice for the adult version, for entering the grown-up world where we talk past or at each other and simply reduce other people to just one or two characteristics, treating our fellow humans as if they are cartoon versions of human beings. We reduce the people we disagree with to gnarled caricatures. We reduce the people we don't mind being around to flat masks, one or two simple characteristics that we can quickly reference before we move on. And we reduce people that we don't want to bother with to nothing at all. Not even ignored, because you can only ignore something that you acknowledge is there. Just invisible.
I suspect it's easier for us to slip into that mode in school because we deal with a relatively narrow slice of humanity. I teach teenagers, and while there are some things that have changed over the decades, teenagers remain for the most part pretty teenagery. On top of that, certain physical and personality types recur over the decades. It's not hard to slip into a state of just reacting to a student as That Kid Again.
But boy, do they want to be seen. I mean, really seen. They love it when someone sees who they are, what their strengths are, what their fears are, what they really have going on. And it is a tricky game because one thing about teenagers is that great old deep-seated Bruce Banner-esque fear-- "If anyone knew what I was really like-- I mean, really like-- they would all avoid me like the plague."
You're not always going to see right down to the depths of every student's soul, and that, I am quite certain, is a Really Good Thing for many reasons. But I can be sure to see every kid, every day, even if it's for jst a second.
I can stride through the halls on some Critical Mission (like copies or fetching connecting cables) and breeze right past a hundred students with my head down and not a sound. Or I can take the second to make eye contact, smile, say hi or good morning or glad you're here today or just some quick joke-- and all I'm really saying is "I see you."
I think this is the power of those teachers who stand at their classroom door and greet every student (I admire those teachers, but I am not that organized). It guarantees every student that he or she will be seen.
I mean, just imagine how miserable it would be to getup in the morning and know that you are going to a place where not a single person will see you, not a single person would notice if you weren't there. How soulcrushing must that be. And as teachers, we absolutely have the power to change that.
If we pay attention, we can see who our students are. We can see what they're proud of, what they value, what their quirks and style and sense of humor are about. And once we really see them, we can meet them, and let them know they are valued. And the beauty of it is that it doesn't really take more time than just brushing by. "Good morning" isn't any easier to say than "Hey! That hair looks better pink than blue," but the latter lets the student know they've actually been seen, that their presence on the planet actually made a difference, however small, to someone.
And I'm not talking about anything intrusive. Everybody knows That Person-- the one who tries to pretend to say "I see you," but who is really saying, "Look at me!" Teachers should not be That Person. Students are not there to meet our emotional needs.
But it is easy to sleepwalk through large chunks of life without paying attention. It's easy, but it's not desirable, and it is a particularly bad idea for us as teachers. For some of our students, we may be the only human being who actually sees them today. That's an easy gift for us to give them. Pay attention. See. Life is so much more interesting when you are awake for it, and yes-- that means that not only are you giving students the gift of being seen, but you are modeling for them how to live a life less boring.
Which is why I hammer this into my brain every year. It may be less of an issue for you elementary types-- your kids are high on life and excited about everything. But my teens will, in a just a couple of weeks, begin the process of trying to suck all the energy and color out of the world. That's okay. They are who they are. And I've learned that if I actually open my eyes, look at them, see them for the full rich human beings they are, it turns out they're pretty great.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Resolve To Listen
For the next couple of weeks, as the beginning of my school year approaches. I'm going to write to renew my resolve to keep focus in my practice. This is one of that series of posts.
It is easy to stop listening.
Oh, it's easy to act like you're listening, to look like you're listening. People take management classes on how to fake listening (not that it's described in those terms), to pretend to listen as a way to get "buy-in," to get people to imagine that they had something to do with what ultimately happened.
And it's easy to slip into the habit of just letting others' words wash over you as you wait for the chance to say what you want to say. It's really easy to do that in a classroom if you actually have a plan for what you intend to say today. You can actually become impatient with students who are still talking while you are anxious watching the clock and thinking about the Three Important Aspects of American Critical Realism that you planned to talk about before that bell rings in just seven minutes and forty-seven seconds and dammit, Pat, just stop talking so I can start talking!
And there's more to listening than just the pedagogical and instructional parts. There are the interruptions, the times between class, the moments that seem off the wall. They can seem random, annoying, disruptive, and yet they mostly are encrypted versions of messages that students are either unwilling or unable to deliver more directly. I can slap a student down and silence them (or at least try to). I can give the words a shallow listen and hear nothing but a challenge to my own authority in the classroom.
Or I can strive to really listen, to really hear whatever message is buried in the artless, graceless, or combative words that student flings in my face.
Here's what I believe about all humans, of all ages--
People want to be heard. They generally want to be heard when they speak, but if they don't believe they are being heard, they will keep raising their voice until they are heard. If someone is screaming at you, the most likely explanation is that they believe you have not heard them.
It is cliche and often reduced to the kind of stupid training that human resources departments love it, but actually listening to people is hugely powerful. I cannot tell you how many difficult and challenging moments I have seen defused and defanged by someone who simply listened.
Listening doesn't have to be agreement. Particularly in a school, we will encounter parents and students (and other teachers and even administrators) who just want to know that you get what they're saying-- even if you ultimately decide to keep your own council. There are people who constantly make life extra hard for themselves because they believe that to acknowledge what another person says requires you to agree with that person, and so they refuse to give up an inch of ground, to ever even admit that they understand what the other person is saying. That's a mistake.
People want to be heard. Young people, who often find themselves in a world where they are powerless and small, especially want to be heard. This can take time and it can't be planned for (see previous resolution) but it is absolutely essential. If you want a practical reason, then remember that when a student believes you've really heard them, that student will be far more cooperative and open in the future. A sacrifice of ten minutes of listening now can save you literally hours of positive instruction in the rest of the year. If you want a professional reason-- well, this is what students will remember. When you hear people talk about That Teacher Who Made a Difference, the critical element of the story often boils down to, "That teacher actually heard me. That teacher actually listened."
Listening takes nerve. Listening without judgment or condemnation or correction or interruption requires nerves of steel. And I'm an English teacher, which means I am "listening" every time I collect a writing assignment and read it. But if I can listen, and thereby provide a safe space in which a student can really say what he really wants to say, then I've established a place that is open and honest and safe, and there is no better space in which to really teach.
Listening, ultimately, means giving up control, letting another voice be central, be the lead. For those of us in the teaching biz, those of us who are often inclined to believe that our success depends on our control of our classroom, true listening can be a huge challenge, a monumental risk. But it is a risk that can pay huge rewards for our students. It's a risk-- and a responsibility-- we have to embrace.
It is easy to stop listening.
Oh, it's easy to act like you're listening, to look like you're listening. People take management classes on how to fake listening (not that it's described in those terms), to pretend to listen as a way to get "buy-in," to get people to imagine that they had something to do with what ultimately happened.
And it's easy to slip into the habit of just letting others' words wash over you as you wait for the chance to say what you want to say. It's really easy to do that in a classroom if you actually have a plan for what you intend to say today. You can actually become impatient with students who are still talking while you are anxious watching the clock and thinking about the Three Important Aspects of American Critical Realism that you planned to talk about before that bell rings in just seven minutes and forty-seven seconds and dammit, Pat, just stop talking so I can start talking!
And there's more to listening than just the pedagogical and instructional parts. There are the interruptions, the times between class, the moments that seem off the wall. They can seem random, annoying, disruptive, and yet they mostly are encrypted versions of messages that students are either unwilling or unable to deliver more directly. I can slap a student down and silence them (or at least try to). I can give the words a shallow listen and hear nothing but a challenge to my own authority in the classroom.
Or I can strive to really listen, to really hear whatever message is buried in the artless, graceless, or combative words that student flings in my face.
Here's what I believe about all humans, of all ages--
People want to be heard. They generally want to be heard when they speak, but if they don't believe they are being heard, they will keep raising their voice until they are heard. If someone is screaming at you, the most likely explanation is that they believe you have not heard them.
It is cliche and often reduced to the kind of stupid training that human resources departments love it, but actually listening to people is hugely powerful. I cannot tell you how many difficult and challenging moments I have seen defused and defanged by someone who simply listened.
Listening doesn't have to be agreement. Particularly in a school, we will encounter parents and students (and other teachers and even administrators) who just want to know that you get what they're saying-- even if you ultimately decide to keep your own council. There are people who constantly make life extra hard for themselves because they believe that to acknowledge what another person says requires you to agree with that person, and so they refuse to give up an inch of ground, to ever even admit that they understand what the other person is saying. That's a mistake.
People want to be heard. Young people, who often find themselves in a world where they are powerless and small, especially want to be heard. This can take time and it can't be planned for (see previous resolution) but it is absolutely essential. If you want a practical reason, then remember that when a student believes you've really heard them, that student will be far more cooperative and open in the future. A sacrifice of ten minutes of listening now can save you literally hours of positive instruction in the rest of the year. If you want a professional reason-- well, this is what students will remember. When you hear people talk about That Teacher Who Made a Difference, the critical element of the story often boils down to, "That teacher actually heard me. That teacher actually listened."
Listening takes nerve. Listening without judgment or condemnation or correction or interruption requires nerves of steel. And I'm an English teacher, which means I am "listening" every time I collect a writing assignment and read it. But if I can listen, and thereby provide a safe space in which a student can really say what he really wants to say, then I've established a place that is open and honest and safe, and there is no better space in which to really teach.
Listening, ultimately, means giving up control, letting another voice be central, be the lead. For those of us in the teaching biz, those of us who are often inclined to believe that our success depends on our control of our classroom, true listening can be a huge challenge, a monumental risk. But it is a risk that can pay huge rewards for our students. It's a risk-- and a responsibility-- we have to embrace.
Born To Teach
The romantic notion has always been there, and plenty of teachers feed into it-- some people are just born teachers.
But the belief in born teachers has two seriously destructive side effects, one of which is becoming obvious and the other, perhaps less so.
Training
If teachers are born and not made, then teacher certification programs are a waste of time. A smart person with an ivy league degree and five weeks of training could be a teacher, right? The belief also manifests in the argument that we should open the teaching profession to all sorts of alternative certification programs because that guy working as a civil engineer or that woman working as a computer programmer-- it could be that they are just born teachers who need the chance to put their God-given gift to work.
This line of reasoning is reaching its predictable conclusion in places like Utah, the latest state to deal with its teacher "shortage" by letting any warm body with a college degree walk into a classroom.
There is a similar belief out there-- the belief that really, nobody is actually a born or trained teacher because teaching can actually be reduced to a simple set of tasks that anyone can perform. We've got this great unit-in-a-box from Pearson, and any warm body can follow the instructions. We've got this super-duper adaptive learning software from the computer, and we barely need an adult human in the room at all. So when you come right down to it, teaching isn't anything special and everyone is born with the necessary capabilities.
If there is no training component to teaching, nothing to learn about the material or child development or educational techniques or pedagogy or instruction, then we can either stick any meat widget in a classroom, or, if we believe there's a gift, we don't so much need a training program as we need a method of sifting through the general population to find the people with the teacher gene, the inherited gift. Maybe a sorting hat.
Choice
We've seen the effects in training and the general assault on the profession as one that requires training and professionalism. But we're seeing another effect as well. Here's how the line of reasoning goes.
If Chris is Born To Teach, then that's what Chris is going to do. And that means that as employers, as policymakers, as contract negotiators, we don't ever have to think about making the job attractive to Chris. Chris was born a teacher, so it's not necessary to do anything to convince Chris to be a teacher or stay a teacher.
If teachers are Born To Teach, then the education field is not, say, competing with law and medicine and taxidermy and engineering and any number of other professional fields that Chris might be perfectly well-suited for.
If teachers are Born To Teach, nobody ever has to deal with them while thinking, "Damn, if we screw this up, they might all just leave and go do something else for a living."
If teachers are Born To Teach, they are essentially helpless, trapped by their inborn proclivity to settle for whatever they are offered because surely they can never choose to leave a classroom (and if they do, that just proves they weren't really born to be teachers).
This underlying assumption-- that teachers can't be anything else, can't leave, can't choose another profession-- underlies everything from contract negotiations to policy design.
Shortage
Even now, as state leaders across the country scratch their heads at the ongoing teacher shortage, we see this set of assumptions in play. And it's just stupid. The convenience stores in my town understand that nobody has to work for them, and when people don't want to work for them, they have to make the job more appealing to get people to apply for a position-- or stay in the position they have.
But no matter how many times teachers say some version of, "You know, I don't have to do this. I can make a living some other way," education leaders don't hear it.
After all, teachers are Born To Teach. What else would they do?
Well, we're finding out.
Because the answer is-- Lot's of things. Things that pay well enough to support a family. Things that allow the autonomy to exercise professional judgment, to use your brain and your wits. Things that get you to a work environment where you are treated with respect and like a grownup.
What kind of difference would it make if, in policy discussion, we never used the word "teacher" again. What difference would it make if we started talking about people, and about how to encourage people to get the training needed to teach well, and about how to keep those people working in the classroom, and just generally stopped talking about "teacher" as if that were a specific type of meat widget that has no control over its purpose.
I love teaching. I have the best job in the world, and I wouldn't trade a second of my career (well, maybe a couple of seconds) for anything. It fits me so well, and makes me feel as if every part of who I am creates a clear and vivid line that points directly at that classroom. But I also believe that it does take a level of dedication and training and hard work and professionalism and study and growth to teach and to teach well. I also believe that we have to stop talking about teachers like they are a special brand of unicorn that arrives shining magically from the moment they emerge from the womb. The idea that people are Born To Teach hurts us as a profession, it hurts the schools where we work, it hurts the students who are waiting to be taught, and these days, it is hurting us as a nation.
But the belief in born teachers has two seriously destructive side effects, one of which is becoming obvious and the other, perhaps less so.
Training
If teachers are born and not made, then teacher certification programs are a waste of time. A smart person with an ivy league degree and five weeks of training could be a teacher, right? The belief also manifests in the argument that we should open the teaching profession to all sorts of alternative certification programs because that guy working as a civil engineer or that woman working as a computer programmer-- it could be that they are just born teachers who need the chance to put their God-given gift to work.
This line of reasoning is reaching its predictable conclusion in places like Utah, the latest state to deal with its teacher "shortage" by letting any warm body with a college degree walk into a classroom.
There is a similar belief out there-- the belief that really, nobody is actually a born or trained teacher because teaching can actually be reduced to a simple set of tasks that anyone can perform. We've got this great unit-in-a-box from Pearson, and any warm body can follow the instructions. We've got this super-duper adaptive learning software from the computer, and we barely need an adult human in the room at all. So when you come right down to it, teaching isn't anything special and everyone is born with the necessary capabilities.
If there is no training component to teaching, nothing to learn about the material or child development or educational techniques or pedagogy or instruction, then we can either stick any meat widget in a classroom, or, if we believe there's a gift, we don't so much need a training program as we need a method of sifting through the general population to find the people with the teacher gene, the inherited gift. Maybe a sorting hat.
Choice
We've seen the effects in training and the general assault on the profession as one that requires training and professionalism. But we're seeing another effect as well. Here's how the line of reasoning goes.
If Chris is Born To Teach, then that's what Chris is going to do. And that means that as employers, as policymakers, as contract negotiators, we don't ever have to think about making the job attractive to Chris. Chris was born a teacher, so it's not necessary to do anything to convince Chris to be a teacher or stay a teacher.
If teachers are Born To Teach, then the education field is not, say, competing with law and medicine and taxidermy and engineering and any number of other professional fields that Chris might be perfectly well-suited for.
If teachers are Born To Teach, nobody ever has to deal with them while thinking, "Damn, if we screw this up, they might all just leave and go do something else for a living."
If teachers are Born To Teach, they are essentially helpless, trapped by their inborn proclivity to settle for whatever they are offered because surely they can never choose to leave a classroom (and if they do, that just proves they weren't really born to be teachers).
This underlying assumption-- that teachers can't be anything else, can't leave, can't choose another profession-- underlies everything from contract negotiations to policy design.
Shortage
Even now, as state leaders across the country scratch their heads at the ongoing teacher shortage, we see this set of assumptions in play. And it's just stupid. The convenience stores in my town understand that nobody has to work for them, and when people don't want to work for them, they have to make the job more appealing to get people to apply for a position-- or stay in the position they have.
But no matter how many times teachers say some version of, "You know, I don't have to do this. I can make a living some other way," education leaders don't hear it.
After all, teachers are Born To Teach. What else would they do?
Well, we're finding out.
Because the answer is-- Lot's of things. Things that pay well enough to support a family. Things that allow the autonomy to exercise professional judgment, to use your brain and your wits. Things that get you to a work environment where you are treated with respect and like a grownup.
What kind of difference would it make if, in policy discussion, we never used the word "teacher" again. What difference would it make if we started talking about people, and about how to encourage people to get the training needed to teach well, and about how to keep those people working in the classroom, and just generally stopped talking about "teacher" as if that were a specific type of meat widget that has no control over its purpose.
I love teaching. I have the best job in the world, and I wouldn't trade a second of my career (well, maybe a couple of seconds) for anything. It fits me so well, and makes me feel as if every part of who I am creates a clear and vivid line that points directly at that classroom. But I also believe that it does take a level of dedication and training and hard work and professionalism and study and growth to teach and to teach well. I also believe that we have to stop talking about teachers like they are a special brand of unicorn that arrives shining magically from the moment they emerge from the womb. The idea that people are Born To Teach hurts us as a profession, it hurts the schools where we work, it hurts the students who are waiting to be taught, and these days, it is hurting us as a nation.
ICYMI for August 14
Yeah, I don't have a clever way to tie all this together. These are just some worthwhile reads.
Student Test Scores: How the Sausage Is Made and Why You Should Care
How can I not feature a Brookings article when they finally manage to post something that's not complete baloney? This is a little technical, but overall a pretty good explainer for standardized test scoring
I Am Kind of in It for the Money
Tired of pieces about how teachers are noble and only in the profession because of the deep emotional rewards and so we'll be happy to do the job for $1.98? Here's a counterpoint.
5 Non-negotiables When Designing Instruction
Not the greatest writing instruction post in the history of the world, but still something to chew on as we head back to school.
Choice and Segregation
How the spread of charters destabilized one school district and undid decades of progress on desegregation.
Frack the Vote
Details on one more local election being flooded with dark money from the voucher wolves. No, you don't live there, but we all need to be studying up on how this game is played, because your home court may be the next one to get hit.
Class Privilege 101
Blogger Rita Rathbone makes a guest appearance at Edushyster to talk personally about the culture shock of poor students in the middle class world of college.
No Excuses Amistad School Teaches Joyless Compliance
Depressing look behind the walls of a "no excuses" charter from someone who taught there. This is why these schools need to go away.
We Act Like We Don't Want Talented People To Become Teachers
The Gawker, of all things, runs a piece about teacher pay. You will probably want to avoid the comment section.
Student Test Scores: How the Sausage Is Made and Why You Should Care
How can I not feature a Brookings article when they finally manage to post something that's not complete baloney? This is a little technical, but overall a pretty good explainer for standardized test scoring
I Am Kind of in It for the Money
Tired of pieces about how teachers are noble and only in the profession because of the deep emotional rewards and so we'll be happy to do the job for $1.98? Here's a counterpoint.
5 Non-negotiables When Designing Instruction
Not the greatest writing instruction post in the history of the world, but still something to chew on as we head back to school.
Choice and Segregation
How the spread of charters destabilized one school district and undid decades of progress on desegregation.
Frack the Vote
Details on one more local election being flooded with dark money from the voucher wolves. No, you don't live there, but we all need to be studying up on how this game is played, because your home court may be the next one to get hit.
Class Privilege 101
Blogger Rita Rathbone makes a guest appearance at Edushyster to talk personally about the culture shock of poor students in the middle class world of college.
No Excuses Amistad School Teaches Joyless Compliance
Depressing look behind the walls of a "no excuses" charter from someone who taught there. This is why these schools need to go away.
We Act Like We Don't Want Talented People To Become Teachers
The Gawker, of all things, runs a piece about teacher pay. You will probably want to avoid the comment section.
Saturday, August 13, 2016
UT: Fewer Teachers, Please
I keep waiting to hear something from one of the proponents of free market for education.
After all-- no other part of the trained labor market works like this. If a hospital can't find enough doctors to fill its staff, nobody says, "Well, okay-- let's just let anyone with a college degree work in the operating room."
If you're looking for someone to rebuild your porch, but you only want to pay $1.50, you'll have trouble finding anyone to hire. The first solution that will enter your mind would not be, "Well, I'll just hire some fourth graders instead of experienced construction guys."
If you can't find someone who is willing to babysit your kids, you and your fellow parental unit don't sit down and say, "Well, our problem is that we're defining 'babysitter' too narrowly. Who says it have to be a human? Who says we couldn't just leave our two-year-old at home with the dog? Sure-- the DOG can be our babysitter."
No, as any free marketeer can tell you, if someone will not sell something to you under certain conditions, whether we're talking about buying labor or a toaster, you must offer better conditions. If nobody will sell you a Porsche for $2.99, that does not mean there is an auto shortage.
But in Utah, the state school board has just thrown up their hands and said, "Let's just get our spleens operated on by a twenty-one year old with a music degree."
Starting Monday, any warm body with any college degree-- and no additional training-- can be hired as a teacher.
"I don't view this as an attack on traditional teachers," Thomas said.
That's Dave Thomas, State School Board vice chairman, who ran as a "common sense conservative." Thomas's resume includes State Senator, but by profession, he is a Civil Deputy County Attorney. [Update: Also, he's apparently also a charter school operator-- see comments below] I am wondering how Thomas would feel if the court said, "We're having too much trouble finding actual attorneys to try cases, so we're going to start letting anyone with a college degree come in here and try cases? Training? Nah-- college degree should do it."
The board says it's not so bad because local districts can still set whatever job requirements they want. But let's think about this? Which districts will be able to recruit actual teachers by offering better conditions for employment, and which districts will be left even further behind in a talent bidding war? Which districts do you suppose will end up filling classrooms with unqualified faux teachers? Yes, this is a plan that will further shaft students and families of poorer communities.
And because it will drive teacher pay further down, and make working conditions worse (which actual experienced and trained teachers will really enjoy working in a hall with a constantly changing roster of not-ready-for-prime-time faux teachers?) It will destabilize schools-- look, we tried just the lightest version of this in PA with a system for letting anyone with a college degree become a substitute, and the turnover is huge because-- shocker-- a lot of civilians who haven't been in a school since they were eighteen nor spent any time studying or training about education--a lot of those people find actual school a lot harder and different from what they imagined.
And it is, absolutely, an attack on "traditional" (aka "actual") teachers. Utahns may feel some desperation about the teacher shortage, but telling the teachers you've got, "Yeah, we're not going to get you real colleagues, because you're probably not all that special anyway. We don't really take you seriously. Now don't you feel like a sucker for spending time and money on a teaching degree? Oh, and if you don't like it-- we can replace you really, really easily"-- that's going to feel a lot like an attack.
Utah will reap the same reward you get when you need surgery and instead some amateur slaps some duct tape on your injury-- you've made matters worse, not better, because you've used a fake solution and you haven't addressed your problem.
If Utah can't find enough teachers, the question to ask is not "Well, can we just redefine 'teacher' and lower the standards?" The question to ask is, "Why don't people want to take teaching jobs in our state?" And then address your actual problems. Because, despite the state motto, if I were a Utah teacher, I would not be feeling all that elevated.
After all-- no other part of the trained labor market works like this. If a hospital can't find enough doctors to fill its staff, nobody says, "Well, okay-- let's just let anyone with a college degree work in the operating room."
If you're looking for someone to rebuild your porch, but you only want to pay $1.50, you'll have trouble finding anyone to hire. The first solution that will enter your mind would not be, "Well, I'll just hire some fourth graders instead of experienced construction guys."
If you can't find someone who is willing to babysit your kids, you and your fellow parental unit don't sit down and say, "Well, our problem is that we're defining 'babysitter' too narrowly. Who says it have to be a human? Who says we couldn't just leave our two-year-old at home with the dog? Sure-- the DOG can be our babysitter."
No, as any free marketeer can tell you, if someone will not sell something to you under certain conditions, whether we're talking about buying labor or a toaster, you must offer better conditions. If nobody will sell you a Porsche for $2.99, that does not mean there is an auto shortage.
But in Utah, the state school board has just thrown up their hands and said, "Let's just get our spleens operated on by a twenty-one year old with a music degree."
Starting Monday, any warm body with any college degree-- and no additional training-- can be hired as a teacher.
"I don't view this as an attack on traditional teachers," Thomas said.
That's Dave Thomas, State School Board vice chairman, who ran as a "common sense conservative." Thomas's resume includes State Senator, but by profession, he is a Civil Deputy County Attorney. [Update: Also, he's apparently also a charter school operator-- see comments below] I am wondering how Thomas would feel if the court said, "We're having too much trouble finding actual attorneys to try cases, so we're going to start letting anyone with a college degree come in here and try cases? Training? Nah-- college degree should do it."
The board says it's not so bad because local districts can still set whatever job requirements they want. But let's think about this? Which districts will be able to recruit actual teachers by offering better conditions for employment, and which districts will be left even further behind in a talent bidding war? Which districts do you suppose will end up filling classrooms with unqualified faux teachers? Yes, this is a plan that will further shaft students and families of poorer communities.
And because it will drive teacher pay further down, and make working conditions worse (which actual experienced and trained teachers will really enjoy working in a hall with a constantly changing roster of not-ready-for-prime-time faux teachers?) It will destabilize schools-- look, we tried just the lightest version of this in PA with a system for letting anyone with a college degree become a substitute, and the turnover is huge because-- shocker-- a lot of civilians who haven't been in a school since they were eighteen nor spent any time studying or training about education--a lot of those people find actual school a lot harder and different from what they imagined.
And it is, absolutely, an attack on "traditional" (aka "actual") teachers. Utahns may feel some desperation about the teacher shortage, but telling the teachers you've got, "Yeah, we're not going to get you real colleagues, because you're probably not all that special anyway. We don't really take you seriously. Now don't you feel like a sucker for spending time and money on a teaching degree? Oh, and if you don't like it-- we can replace you really, really easily"-- that's going to feel a lot like an attack.
Utah will reap the same reward you get when you need surgery and instead some amateur slaps some duct tape on your injury-- you've made matters worse, not better, because you've used a fake solution and you haven't addressed your problem.
If Utah can't find enough teachers, the question to ask is not "Well, can we just redefine 'teacher' and lower the standards?" The question to ask is, "Why don't people want to take teaching jobs in our state?" And then address your actual problems. Because, despite the state motto, if I were a Utah teacher, I would not be feeling all that elevated.
FL: Attacking Children and Teachers
AP reporter Gary Fineout did yeoman's work yesterday, live tweeting the Florida hearing about the retention, in some districts, of third grade students who passed their courses but didn't take Florida's Big Standardized Test (the FSA). There were many low-lights as the hearing unfolded, but this had to be the lowest:
Yes, that would be the representative of the state's department of education saying that report cards are meaningless.
I'm trying to imagine the wacky good times in faculty meetings and in-service days across Florida next week, as That Person on staff raises their hand and asks the superintendent, "Now that we know the official state policy is that report cards are meaningless, will we just be discontinuing them? Can we replace them with ribbons or maybe give each child a mug that says Good Job?" Does the state's disavowal of report cards mean that teachers no longer have to spend the time to record grades at all-- because that could free up all sorts of time, and allow districts to dump all that costly grade-recording software. Or can teachers just assign grades randomly? Play a little AC-DC?
(Oh, and for those of you who are thinking, "Well, if only the test matters, then why not give the test in September and let every kid who passes it skip the grade," all I can say is, just wait until Competency Based Education hits Florida...)
Especially in the districts like Orange County that are actually pursuing this stupid policy, I hope that teachers stand up, look their superintendent in the eye and ask, "Do you agree with the state that the report cards I fill out for my students are meaningless? Do you agree with the state's contention that the work I do in assessing students is junk and has no value or should carry no weight? Do you agree with the state that my professional judgment as a teacher is worthless?" And if the superintendent hides in the office (which would be wise because really, how could any self-respecting superintendent face their teaching staff after this bullshit) feel free to send them a copy of this.
But kudos to the state for turning what was merely an attack on children and the rights of their parents into a wholesale attack on the integrity and competence of all teachers in the state. Because if report cards are meaningless, it can only be because all teachers are incompetent boobs. Well played, Florida education department.
The hearing included other lowlights as well. Children and their parents came to testify and all of the district lawyers filed objections-- because if you have to actually look at the children that you're doing this to, the small humans that you are, as the judge put it, "taking hostage," it's a lot harder to justify your brain-dead, abusively stupid policy. You end up looking almost as bad as you should look. Ultimately the children and families did testify.
The judge seems sympathetic and may rule within a week. Meanwhile, state and district school leaders in Florida don't know what the hell they're doing. One district said the FSA is mandatory; another said it isn't. The state department doesn't know what its regulations say. And all of these people are going to grind up some nine-year-olds just to prove that they are too the bosses of everyone in Florida and everyone must comply or else.
But let me leave you with this clip that popped up during the discussion of the hearing yesterday. It'[s video from a meeting of the Keep Florida Learning Committee. In it, a parent objects, pretty politely, to the use of test results to punish students, teachers and schools. Pam Stewart, Florida's education chief, says that, gosh, test results are never used to punish anybody. That is astonishing enough, but stick with it, because then whatever functionary who's recording the discussion on paper asks the parent to rephrase, because "punish" is just so mean and judgy and suggests that the benevolent overlords of the department have ill intent. God forbid that anyone in the department have their feelings hurt.
I hope a few more people are impolite. I hope superintendents and Pam Stewart and the department are inundated with videos from real live nine-year-olds who are being punished for their test non-compliance. I hope teacher challenge them, directly and vocally, on their dismissal of the teachers' ability and professionalism. Mostly I hope this stupid, stupid rule is thrown out. Not just thrown out, but thrown out accompanied by a public tongue-lashing for the terrible, no-good, really bad, awful superintendents and state officials who thought it would be a good idea to make third grade honor students repeat third grade just to prove that parents, teachers and students must bow before and comply with the state.
Lawyer for @EducationFL said that reports card are meaningless and don't show if someone can read at grade level— Gary Fineout (@fineout) August 12, 2016
Yes, that would be the representative of the state's department of education saying that report cards are meaningless.
I'm trying to imagine the wacky good times in faculty meetings and in-service days across Florida next week, as That Person on staff raises their hand and asks the superintendent, "Now that we know the official state policy is that report cards are meaningless, will we just be discontinuing them? Can we replace them with ribbons or maybe give each child a mug that says Good Job?" Does the state's disavowal of report cards mean that teachers no longer have to spend the time to record grades at all-- because that could free up all sorts of time, and allow districts to dump all that costly grade-recording software. Or can teachers just assign grades randomly? Play a little AC-DC?
(Oh, and for those of you who are thinking, "Well, if only the test matters, then why not give the test in September and let every kid who passes it skip the grade," all I can say is, just wait until Competency Based Education hits Florida...)
Especially in the districts like Orange County that are actually pursuing this stupid policy, I hope that teachers stand up, look their superintendent in the eye and ask, "Do you agree with the state that the report cards I fill out for my students are meaningless? Do you agree with the state's contention that the work I do in assessing students is junk and has no value or should carry no weight? Do you agree with the state that my professional judgment as a teacher is worthless?" And if the superintendent hides in the office (which would be wise because really, how could any self-respecting superintendent face their teaching staff after this bullshit) feel free to send them a copy of this.
But kudos to the state for turning what was merely an attack on children and the rights of their parents into a wholesale attack on the integrity and competence of all teachers in the state. Because if report cards are meaningless, it can only be because all teachers are incompetent boobs. Well played, Florida education department.
The hearing included other lowlights as well. Children and their parents came to testify and all of the district lawyers filed objections-- because if you have to actually look at the children that you're doing this to, the small humans that you are, as the judge put it, "taking hostage," it's a lot harder to justify your brain-dead, abusively stupid policy. You end up looking almost as bad as you should look. Ultimately the children and families did testify.
Orange County mother Michelle Rhea started crying on the stand, says her child is a good kid. "Her report card does mean something."— Gary Fineout (@fineout) August 12, 2016
9-year-old from Maitland tells judge she was sad when she heard she wouldn't be in 4th grade with her friends— Gary Fineout (@fineout) August 12, 2016
Grandmother of a 9-year-old Hernando County student being held back says she took accelerated reader tests that put her level at 4.6— Gary Fineout (@fineout) August 12, 2016
One of the children is now crying after hearing her grandmother testify - judge asks if she wants to says something. She says no.— Gary Fineout (@fineout) August 12, 2016
The judge seems sympathetic and may rule within a week. Meanwhile, state and district school leaders in Florida don't know what the hell they're doing. One district said the FSA is mandatory; another said it isn't. The state department doesn't know what its regulations say. And all of these people are going to grind up some nine-year-olds just to prove that they are too the bosses of everyone in Florida and everyone must comply or else.
But let me leave you with this clip that popped up during the discussion of the hearing yesterday. It'[s video from a meeting of the Keep Florida Learning Committee. In it, a parent objects, pretty politely, to the use of test results to punish students, teachers and schools. Pam Stewart, Florida's education chief, says that, gosh, test results are never used to punish anybody. That is astonishing enough, but stick with it, because then whatever functionary who's recording the discussion on paper asks the parent to rephrase, because "punish" is just so mean and judgy and suggests that the benevolent overlords of the department have ill intent. God forbid that anyone in the department have their feelings hurt.
I hope a few more people are impolite. I hope superintendents and Pam Stewart and the department are inundated with videos from real live nine-year-olds who are being punished for their test non-compliance. I hope teacher challenge them, directly and vocally, on their dismissal of the teachers' ability and professionalism. Mostly I hope this stupid, stupid rule is thrown out. Not just thrown out, but thrown out accompanied by a public tongue-lashing for the terrible, no-good, really bad, awful superintendents and state officials who thought it would be a good idea to make third grade honor students repeat third grade just to prove that parents, teachers and students must bow before and comply with the state.
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