Monday, December 17, 2018

PA: The Good News You May Have Missed

Pennsylvanians may remember our old buddy John Eichelberger, GOP State Senator from Blair County. He ran the Senate Education committee, and... well, he was not a friend of public education.

Eichelberger was an upstart candidate, running against the GOP establishment and goosed along by the infamous late-night legislator pay raise. His attacks on teachers and public ed were many. He was the DeVos point man to try pushing vouchers, trashing the teacher pensions, and, in one of his more inspired moments, trying to make teacher sick days something that would have to be negotiated in local contracts (because teachers don't really need or deserve them anyway). For good measure, he also once suggested that Philly was wasting money by trying to get its (mostly black) students to go to college.

This frickin' guy.
Lots of Pennsylvanians have heard stories. One of my own board members came back from Harrisburg with a story of Eichelberger replying to a request for better financial support by snapping that they had already given enough money to "you people."

It was a busy election year, so that's my excuse for not noticing till someone just pointed it out to me that Eichelberger's time in Harrisburg is done. Done done done finito doneso.

He was actually primaried out in what has to be at least partially an act of political vengeance; Eichelberger trashed the Shuster family to get in office, and they helped back his primary opponent, who rode into the spot on a big pile of dark money. That opponent, physician John Joyce, walked to a massive victory over the Democratic challenger in the general election.

Now, Joyce is no prize; he's about as right-winged as you can get. But here's one thing about him-- he has no particular intertest in education. His list of campaign issues doesn't even include it.

We are actually in a period of mystery and suspense in PA education policy. Both the Senate and House education chairs are up for grabs, and nobody seems to feel particularly grabby. Nor apparently are there any obvious choices for the job. The one thing we know for sure-- whoever it is, it won't be John "No Money for Public Education" Eichelberger. Stay tuned, campers.


How To Avert A Strike

It's an odd thing-- we almost always talk about teacher strikes as if they are a choice of teachers and their unions. Yet, the power to avert a strike lies on the other side of the table.

Here's what management needs to understand.

Teachers don't want to strike. No union committee sits down and says, "Well, the board is ready to talk to us with a batch of proposals to get this contract under way-- but screw that. We really want to strike instead." I've been through two strikes in my career-- one as local president-- and I'm here to tell you that generally speaking, teachers would rather do almost anything else in the entire world than go out on strike.

So if your teachers are striking, it's because the board has convinced them that nothing else is an option.

If you are a bad member saying, "I wish they would do anything rather than walk out," I am going to ask you what other options you will give them. Will you agree to meet to bargain in good faith? Will you agree to send negotiators who could speak for the board? Will you make an honest effort to consider varied and creative solutions? Will you deal with them honestly and straightforwardly? Will you agree to do whatever it takes to negotiate a mutually agreeable solution and not waste anyone's time?

If a teachers' union is striking, it means they only see two options available-- agree to whatever the board wants, or strike.

Now, I won 't lie. There have been union locals that have been so unwilling to strike that they have buckled and agreed to accept what was offered. But if you think the school districts didn't pay a price in morale, you're kidding yourself.

This is the funny thing about strikes-- the power in the district-teacher relationship is distributed in such a way that only the district can provide an alternative to striking. Only the district can say, "Here's a thing we can do that we believe will get us to an agreement." Well, the union can say it, but only the district is in a position to make it happen.

No, if you're a school district that wants to avoid a strike, then offer an alternative. Pro tip: "This is our final offer" is not such an offer. It is a dare that means "Take this offer or go on strike." Do districts sometimes provoke a strike because they think they will win the strike? They surely do-- and they are fools, because nobody wins a strike.

The dream sometimes is to "break" the union and the teachers. People who follow this strategy are also fools, the kind of idiots who think that an organization, a school district, works best when powered by broken people. This only makes sense if you think the point of the organization is to feed the ego, power and wealth of the people at the top. This only makes sense if your organization is run by broken people who want to break the world and see it burn.

2018 has been a big year for teacher strikes. That tells us far more about the people in power than it does about teachers, because one things about teachers has never changed-- they don't want too strike.  If you want to stop them from striking, then offer an alternative, and not a threat.

Sunday, December 16, 2018

ICYMI: Sleeping In Edition (12/16)

Since you don't get the whole day to read through the list, I'll keep things relatively short.

The Cautionary Tale of Correspondence Schools

Some edu-history of an oft-forgotten chapter with interesting implications for modern reform ideas like personalized [sic] learning. A long read, but an fascinating one.

Christmas Time: A Minefiield for Teachers

Nancy Flanagan reminds us why the holiday season is extra fraught for those who work in classrooms.

School Choice Deception

One more way that Florida insures that students with real needs will get no real help.

Die Hard

Life is not an action movie. Don't arm teachers.

2018: What Happened To The Year of the Teacher?

Hey, wasn't this supposed to be our year? Steven Singer figures out what exactly happened.

Shut Up, Bloggers

The rhetorical approaches bio silencing dissent.


A Book About Rural Ed: No Longer Forgotten

Andy Smarick and Mike McShane, they of the AEI-Bellwether-Fordham axis of reformerdom, have put together a book about "the triumphs and struggles of rural education in America," and I grabbed a copy because rural education A) is hardly ever part of the Education Debates and B) is mostly where I've spent the last fifty or so years, both as student and teacher.

This collection of eight papers essays reads a little like the stack of end-of-semester research papers for Rural Ed 101, which is another way of saying that a certain amount of devotion to and interest in the topic is required to read this puppy. Some portions are interesting, some worthwhile. I've read this so you can decide whether you want to. Let's break it down.

First, about that title.

No Longer Forgotten, either intentionally or un, is a title that captures one of the problems of rural education (actually, of rural pretty much everything). Don't see it? Well, think about who would have announced that North America was "no longer undiscovered." It would be the people who were already living there before 1492.

Nobody who lives in rural America ever forgot about it. The title announces, for better or worse, that this work is going to be centered on the non-rural folks; it will be about rural education seen from the outside.

As I said, this is not unusual. Rural spaces are almost always framed as outside. My own neck of the woods is frequently framed, by government bureaucrats, politicians, media, and even companies like supermarket chains, as outside Pittsburgh, as if we were an extension of that metro area. We are actually 90 to 120 minutes away from the 'burgh, depending on where exactly you're headed. But nobody ever centers their discussion of a state on rural areas and frames big cities as outside that center. And to add insult to insult, the usual discourse also assumes that rural folks see themselves as "outside," that we would all live in the big city of we could, but for some set of reasons, we have been kept from the urban life that we secretly covet.

At any rate, the title is exacting in its promise-- this will not be a book about rural education so much as a book about people outside rural education looking in. Not saying that's nefarious. It just is-- and for rural and small town folks, that's a familiar stance.

Intro

There are a lot of things we don't really know about rural education and the problems rural education faces. We should probably do something about that.

Look, I've got 163 pages to get through here. I'm going to try not to lollygag.

1. Statistical Portrait of Rural Education (Nat Malkus)

One of the virtues of this book is that for the most part the authors have done actual research. This is not like one of those TNTP "papers" that cites in-house sources and advertising copy. So this chapter has some interesting and solid data about rural education, broken into four sections-- definitions, pre-school experience, schools, and post-school experience (incidentally, guys-- you've got a typo on page 10 where you refer to sections three and four by the titles of sections one and two-- see? I really do read this stuff).

The chapter leans on the National Center for Education Statistics (NCES) for data, so it uses their definition, which is a bit fuzzy-- basically everything that isn't a city, a suburb or a town. Malkus notes that rural areas come in many flavors and that we can divide the country into four distinct segments. My takeaway: What we should remember as we read is that any reference to "average" is useless and represents literally no actual schools or places (but Malkus keeps using both regional and national average numbers.)

Of interest: Rural children have slightly more two-parent families, but in terms of day care and kindergarten readiness, they are not noticeably different from rural kids. Rural schools are mostly white, but in the South the percentage of rural Black students is way higher. Hispanic students are a slim minority in the Northeast, but a whopping 30% in the West. The Northeast shows the widest socioeconomic gaps between rural and urban districts. Rural parents are way more involved in school (and church). There's a bunch of data about who scores better on high stakes tests, but of course we still have no evidence that those scores really mean anything, so no lollygagging here. Just regular gagging.

Rural schools graduate more students, but send fewer of them to college. Well, or not, depending on which segment of the country you're in.

2. African-American Education in Rural Communities in the Deep South (Sheneka M. Williams)

In this brief chapter, Williams breaks the Deep South into three areas and tells an inspirational story from three students who came from each of the areas. The stories underline the grit of the individual (she doesn't use the G word, but the narrative is familiar) and the powerful influence of a teacher, but Williams doe also call for sufficient resources for schools to complete their work. She organizes her chapter around the idea of Geography of Opportunity and ends with a call for research about opportunities for rural African-American students. Sooo… choice. Because reasons.

3. From Basketball to Overdose Capital: The Story of Rural America, Schools, and the Opioid Crisis (Clayton Hale and Sally Satel).

Some quick history of the rise of opioid addiction in rural areas. There are some startling statistics here about things like the number of children growing up with an addicted parent. And although we don't have an explanation for it, rural areas really do have a far greater opioid addiction problem than urban areas. The authors take a look at high school use and recovery in special programs. 52 endnotes in this chapter.

4. The Power of Place: Rural Identity and the Politics of Rural School Reform (Sara Dahill-Brown and Ashley Jochim)

Okay, this is a chewy bit of a chapter, perhaps the hub of the whole book. The authors ascribe the shaping of "school reform politics" to teachers' unions, policymakers, and general government actors like mayors, and then sets out to show why these folks are "less well-positioned to support rural school reform." They have a variety of issues to list, but they set the key as understanding and navigating the tension between rural insiders and urban outsiders.  Let's see what we think.

You might have assumed, say the authors, that reformsters focus on urban schools because rural ones are doing so well. But despite better-than-urban academics, rural schools have problems. Low college attendance rates. Gaps between rich and poor, as well as between white, black and brown. Rising poverty. Fewer jobs. High poverty rates-- and persistent ones at that. Health problems. And because of all those, a loss of the best and the brightest youths to other places. So why, one wonders, don't reformsters make more of a rural push. Spoiler alert: the writers will miss what is probably the most important reason.

We arrive now at outsiders and rural identity. When rural ed reform does come up, say the authors, the terms of the debate are set by urban folks (see above comments on book title).

The writers first throw blame at Progressives (from a century ago) for distrusting rural folks, and tag the rural distrust of city folks as an after-effect of those early-20th-century Progressive reforms, that the "legacy" is the rural belief that reforms are done to rural communities by outsiders. Maybe, but it's not as if lots of things haven't happened in the last century to cement that feeling among rural folks.

But the writers say the rural feeling of powerlessness is misplaced, that rural folks have in fact exerted great power when it comes to resisting ed reform. Rural folks are, they say, major players in ed reform, and yet they are not central to the discussion.

The rural insularity, however, drives more than this. It is the "hidden politics," the sense that city folks are driving the bus. That might be, I'd suggest, because mostly they are. Rural communities are also more cohesive, more certain of shared values (and, the chapter says, more Republican). We've seen that since the book was written, in political events such as the power grab in Wisconsin in which political leaders argued that big city folks in Milwaukee don't share the values of "real" Wisconsin folk.

All of this means, say the writers, that ed reform depends on building local coalitions (may I snarkily note that this would, indeed, be a different strategy than the one they've employed in so many urban settings). So next they look at some of the factors to consider when making reform inroads into rural areas.

School boards are mostly the same. You might expect them too be more unified than fractious because of their ruralness (but only if you have never, ever attended a rural school board meeting). The real difference is that rural school board members often run unopposed-- not, I would argue, because they are so beloved, but because not a lot of people want the job. Lot of hours, no pay, no perks.

Rural districts have fewer interest groups, so no chance to build reformy coalitions. But, oh, those formidable teachers unions, except that rural unions aren't very formidable. There's much about this they get sort of almost right. They should have called me; I was a rural teacher union president during a strike. Rural districts also have few financial resources; corporate ed reform sponsors are few and far between. Race and demographics are a big issue; population in rural areas is dwindling and immigration is a real source of revitalization-- but it also brings new outsiders to town, and new concerns.

State and federal reform initiatives are more trouble than help. Reforms have been aimed at urban areas, and often highly impractical for rural schools (e.g. Duncan's requirement for firing half of a failing school's staff).  Superintendent have odd roles and limited power. Blah blah blah.

Here's the odd thing about this chapter-- most of their facts are reasonably correct, or at least correct-adjacent. But their analysis of why ed reform, and choice in particular, hasn't made more rural inroads has a huge blind spot.

Charters are not policy based or education based. They're market based. They are businesses. And I'm not casting new stones here-- part of the argument for charters has always been that they would unleash the power of the free market. Businesses go where there is a good market. If you have a product to sell, would you rather go to a market with five million potential customers, or one with five thousand potential customers? Duh. Rural areas mostly don't have charter schools for the same reason they don't have a Tiffany's next to the gas station-- the people who start and run these businesses would rather go somewhere they have a better chance of making money. It's true that a charter pioneer will have to deal with issues like "What about the football team" and the tightly-connected local grapevine, but first somebody has to actually want to come start a rural charter, and hardly anyone in the charter business smells enough money to bother.

And while all of the chapters observations about the ins and outs of rural political life are okay, they don't really matter. Come to Pennsylvania, where the people behind cyber schools simply did an end run around all of that. The secret of their success is simple-- grease up some well-lobbied support at the state capital, make your pitch directly to parents, and ka-ching!

The chapter ends with a call to do more research, study up, pay attention, actually care about rural education. But education reform is still largely driven by money, and money is what rural areas don't have.

5. Rural Poverty and the Federal Safety Net (Angela Rachidi)

As I was saying...

I had to double-check Rachidi's credentials, because in this chapter you have the unusual spectacle of an actual AEI conservative thinky-tank person making a case for the federal safety net.

This is a meaty chapter, with some charts and everything, looking at the state and underlying conditions of rural poverty which, it turns out, has a lot in common with urban poverty. There are some novel theories thrown around ion this chapter, like the idea that rural folks feel greater shame about accepting assistance and suffer more because of a weaker system of counseling and mental health care, and that all of this has made them feel super-helpless, which has led to redefining their moral code so that drugs etc are okay.

But Rachidi notes that the weight of poverty falls on schools, which need a safety net to help so that they can spend more energy educating and less providing social services. In particular she backs up the idea that poverty pouts stress on children which makes educating them hard, and one hopes she has a chance to talk to the many "poverty's just an excuse" ed reformsters out there.

In the end she makes sure to call for economic development because the federal safety net can't do it alone. But it can do something, not just for individuals, but for the community as a whole--,and what it's doing is necessary and helpful.

6. School Finance in Rural America (James Shuls)

It's all about trade-offs.

At issue is not simply deciding whether more money should be given to education than to other social services or whether more assistance should be provided to urban schools than o rural schools. The issues here get at inherent desires to provide adequate education for all students and desires to promote equity. They also touch on notions of local control.

And as with all education, the tradeoffs rest on the policy goal of holding education spending to a bare, bare minimum.

Shuls notes there are huge financial variations between districts, particularly if use measures like per-pupil expenditures. It takes us back to a large and legitimate question-- should tiny school districts be allowed to exist by the state? This is a real issue-- my own tiny county (pop 50K) holds four school districts. There is widespread agreement that it makes sense to combine at least a couple of them, but no political will among a couple (well, one) of the school boards. If the state forced it, there would be a great deal of noise about government overreach, and so taxpayers pay extra just veto maintain traditional boundaries between districts. Is that a right that should be recognized?

Rural districts lack money for many reasons, says Shuls. Undervalued real estate. An unwillingness to raise taxes. Shuls misses one here-- in Pennsylvania the state has made it difficult for districts to increase taxes past a minimal point. But then, Pennsylvania has a large senior citizen population, and as Shuls notes, older folks vote, and they don't like paying taxes when their kids are all grown. State funding formulas may favor urban areas (or, as in Pennsylania's case, nobody at all).

Shuls' most useful observation is that school finance is not objective. With all those numbers it may look very facty, but ultimately it involves making choices that cannot be determined objectively one way or the other, but depend on the values that a state or community is expressing through policy.

7. Staffing America's Rural Schools (Daniel Player and Aliza Husain)

Sigh. We start with the notion that "no empirical relationship has been established as consistency and conclusively as the link between teacher quality and student achievement" and I could spend a whole post talking about the many ways that this statement is wrong.

Attracting and retaining teachers is hard, and rural areas might lack cool cultural stuff or major sports teams or a Tiffany's next to the gas station. But since the vast majority of teachers end up close to home, most rural teachers come from a rural background, and they already understand what that life is like, though college might raise their sights a bunch.  Anyway, according to their research, the authors find that teacher shortages [sic] aren't much worse in rural areas than anywhere else.

One interesting point in this chapter is that "alternative certificate" teachers are found less in rural settings. But rural teachers are less likely to hold advanced degrees. And rural teachers are mostly white.

Also there are policies that might be a problem. Oh, Lordy-- we're going to just toss VAM out as if it's not garbage and say the "disadvantage" is that schools can't tell if the teacher's any good for a few years. No no no no. VAM will never tell you anything useful about an individual teacher, ever. One thing they do get right is that various demand-side policies-- getting rid of "bad" teachers through various techniques-- depends on an imaginary pool of awesome teachers who are looking for work.

So how do rural schools attract and retain? They can pay more. They can "grow their own" locally. They can come up with creative alternative paths. Or they can just change the job to something like "monitor overseeing computers for the students."

Nothing special to see here, and plenty of old fallacies repeated-- especially the idea of a teacher shortage. There is no teacher shortage. There's just a shortage of people making the job appealing enough to attract and retain qualified people. How is it that people on the "unleash the free market" side of the education debates cannot remember, for this one issue, how the free market works? Let me repeat my old line: if I can't buy a Porsche for $1.98, it does not follow that there is a car shortage.

8. Right Place, Right Time: The Potential of Rural Charter Schools (Juliet Squire)

So, why haven't charters penetrated rural areas more fully? (Which is, I think, the question in which this book is most interested.). Fun fact-- as of 2014-2015 there were 769 rural charters.

Squire, whose reformy credentials are deep (AEI, PR for charter chain, NJ tech stuff, and now Bellwether Partners), gives three main reasons for charters failure to rurally launch-

First, the "operational challenges" of opening a charter in a rural area with low population density. That's about as close as anyone's going to get to saying, "Because the market isn't strong or deep enough to make business sense."

Second, the locals don't know enough about charters. Since Squire announces herself as part of the "charters are public schools" crowd (no, they aren't), I'm not sure her point isn't really that the locals haven't absorbed the correct PR marketing messages.

Limited support and strong opposition to rural charters in some states, which is her sideways manner of noting that some local folks and even some politicians have noticed that a charter would be a huge drain on local schools. Your mileage may vary by state. In Pennsylvania, local rural districts have noticed that cyber charters are bleeding them dry; a few years ago, my home district closed two schools in hopes of saving about $800K in the same year that the cyberschool bill was around $800K.  So local districts have surely noticed, but they can't get anyone in the state capitol to listen to them. (To her credit, Squire's chapter includes a sidebar diplomatically acknowledging that cybers are not doing the job.)

Squire still sees opportunities, and I happen to agree with exactly one. Just up the road, a small town lost their elementary school when the larger district shut it down. So they re-opened it as a charter, kept local control, kept a school for their community. That's cool. She also suggests charters for populations with special needs. Maybe-- if you can find enough people interested in the same services to fill a school.

But her other ideas-- like someone could start a charter to "induce improvements and provide an alternative to beleaguered district schools"-- that's a lobbyist's argument, not an educators. Nor do I imagine a charter operator saying, "I want to start a charter to induce this district to do better." Nor do you make a beleaguered school better by beleaguering it some more. This is also a business argument, a reframing of "We think these guys are vulnerable. Let's see if we can take their market share." This is not an argument that serves education in general or students in particular.

Another argument is also hilarious-- use charter conversion (aka takeover) to increase autonomy. Whose autonomy? Not the teachers' or the schools' or the taxpayers', certainly. Maybe the charter operator's.

Conclusion

Are you still reading? God bless you.  If you find yourself with the book in your hands, you could do worse than to start with the conclusion, which basically summarizes all the rest.

So

I'm glad that attention is being paid to rural schools, because hardly anybody ever does. This volume provides some useful info and some valid pictures of rural ed, and some not-so-valid pictures. It never directly addresses the central obstacle for reformsters in rural settings.

If you send a package to your uncle in Deep in the Holler, Pennsylvania via UPS or FedEx, they take your package part of the way there and then hand it off to the United States Post Office, because delivering packages to Deep in the Holler, PA is not cost-effective. A free market business makes a plan about how it can make money serving some customer and not serving others. Those others often live in rural areas. Every once in a while someone finds a way bro bundle those rural customers in a cost effective way, like WalMart or Dollar General, and like those two enterprises, businesses aimed at the rural market are not known for their commitment to top notch quality.

All of this factors into reformsters' approach to rural areas. Many of the issues laid out in this book are Real Things. Outsiders who want to come in and do reform to the locals will be met with resistance. Schools are a key part of community identity and are therefor resistant to being disrupted. Money is tight and charter schools make it tighter. Navigating the tension between educating students to strengthen the local area and educating them to escape it is challenging. Race and class are playing out in new and troublesome way.

These are all true things (and reasons why rural charters are a bad idea). And it is also a true thing that charter operators are in no hurry to move into a market where it will be hard for them to make money. And truest of all its the all the urban-focused folks working policy and reform haven't tried very hard to understand the rural landscape, and consequently say and do things that super-don't fit.

But to address rural education is to make reformsters look in the mirror and answer the question, "What do you really want to accomplish?" And even after all these years, reformsters are remarkably fuzzy on this question. Bring social justice to America? Rescue America from the imaginary threat we've been anticipating for thirty-five years? Bring the benefits of the free market to one at all? Liberate some of those tax dollars so that entrepreneurs can make a buck?

Especially when it comes to rural education, reformsters don't seem to have a clear answer. As with all reform, part of the fuzziness is a deliberate choice by people who know that "I want some of that money" or "I want to rename schools in my own image" don't play well.

If outsiders roll into town to bring the joyous disruption of free market ed reform to rural areas, they are going to be met with simple questions like "What are you doing here?" and "What do you want?" This volume answers and asks a lot of question s, but it doesn't answer those, and until the tiny number of reformsters who don't dismiss rural education as being too small a market to bother can answer those questions, they'll stay stuck, which honestly is better for everybody.

Friday, December 14, 2018

In Praise of Inconsistency (TL;DR)

At my school, there was an academic question that would come up fairly regularly-- should all teachers use the same style guide for writing essays and papers?

The argument in favor of consistency is that it's easier on the students. Not only that, but with only one set of rules to learn, they might actually learn how to use it properly. It would also create a sense of unity across the classes and disciplines, making the whole institution seem like a unified whole.

Lord knows it would make teaching easier in some respects (though I have a confession to make-- for the past several many years, I stopped doing any direction at all of MLA documentation, mostly because I could use the time for other things and no matter how cleverly I taught the stuff--and let me tell, you, I have some incredibly droll sample fake bibliographies-- my students just went ahead and made stuff up anyway-- so for the tail end of my career I just said, "Use MLA style. Look it up on the internet, and if you get it wrong, it will count against you"-- but I digress).

I was never on the side of consistent standards (surprise). I attended a liberal arts college and had to take courses in at least nine different disciplines. Writing is messy and as I always told my students, there's really only one rule: The format preferred by the person giving you your grade is the correct format. Nobody ever won an argument about a paper grade with her college professor by saying, "But my 11th grade English teacher said I should do it this way."

Now I can add another argument to my side. In my new life as stay at home dad and writing side hustler, I do writing and editing work for five different bosses, and no two of them want things exactly the same way. Nor am I about to write to all of them and demand that they adopt a common set of rules to make my life easier.

I have four children, three grandchildren, and a lifetime total of two wives. None of them have needed exactly the same things in the same way at the same time (not even the twins, who began as a single fertilized cell and are now two entirely different people). I have a large extended family, a bunch of in-laws, and bunch of ex-in-laws who are still my son and daughter's family, so they are still mine. I have had many hundreds of students, and I've lived in one small town for almost m entire life, so I know a bunch of people. Every single one has been different from every other one.

There's a Talking Heads song called "Heaven" and the lyrics include

When this party's over, it will start again. It will not be any different. It will be exactly the same.

When this kiss is over, it will start again. It will not be any different. It will be exactly the same.

and finally

Heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens.

It's a subtle smart challenge to our notion of perfection, which is imagined as perfect consistency, a static state in which nothing ever happens, because everything is exactly the same. Perfectly consistent. It sounds alien and awful.

We could turn back to the oft-quoted "Do I contradict myself? Very well, then. I contradict myself. (I am large. I contain multitudes.)" or "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." I'm partial to "Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today." They all represent just one side of the American conversation; we love mess, and we strive constantly to wipe it out, and I get that because I do the same in my own life. Perhaps this is one of those things where our lives are strings that only sound notes of depth and beauty when stretched taint between the two poles.

Of course, much of it is fear. For whatever reason, we believe that order and neatness and consistency protect us, while chaos and mess harbor all manner of dangerous beasts. We get that way in the classroom-- if there's too much disorder, too much chaos, then Something Very Bad will happen. That fear may not be ungrounded, but what is ungrounded is the belief that neat order will save us. It won't. Order gives birth to just as many monsters as chaos. Neither is safe.

The understanding that there is no safe place is both terrifying and liberating , because now we can start to deal with the real fear. Because "Something Very Bad will happen" is really short for "Something Very Bad will happen and I won't be able to handle it." The first half of that proposition is hard to affect, but the second part-- the second part is where our power lies.

The power reveals itself in odd places, like the warmth of nostalgia that grows in the same patch where fear and chaos grew up. I'm not talking deep stuff here. Elvis was a terrifying threat to civilization, but then he didn't destroy civilization and in the rear view mirror of nostalgia he was suddenly bathed in a warm friendly glow. Martin Luther King Jr was a terrible threat and a dangerous radical then, but now he's an exemplar of a Great American. Every President (so far) travels an arc from "Oh my God he's going to kill us all" to, years after he's left office, "He was an okay guy after all." When the worst doesn't happen, we get all warm and fuzzy about things we used to consider chaotic danger.

That is the other scary part of chaos and inconsistency-- they make it hard to know what's going to happen next. What's coming? Will we be able to handle it?

These are the questions our students ask, somehow, all the time. Our impulse is often to  cocoon them in a stable, ordered, static, controlled, neat environment. We try to send the message that nothing too terrible is going to happen to them here (though at times we really, really botch the job). That's not wrong-- they're children, they can use a little protection, and we need to pull on that end of the string to make the music. But we need to pull on the other string as well-- whatever is coming, you can handle it. You are strong. You are resilient. (Note: we do not send that message by approaching them in a place of "you have a grit deficit we need to fix"). We need to show our students their own toughness so they can believe that they are equal to the task.

So here's to chaos, disorder and messiness. And here's to the music we make when we are stretched tight. Here's to facing it and here's to rising up, stronger the next time because we saw how strong we could be the last time. Do we contradict ourselves? Tough. Deal with it. A million paths, a messy map, and the chaos road-- it's the only way to get to heaven.

Imagine

Has it been six years? It seems forever, and yet it seems yesterday.

There will be many retro pieces today, looking at the events at Sandy Hook, the children, the families, the killer, the damaged whack jobs who have denied its existence, and of course many reflections about the turning point where we chose as a culture not to turn.

I'll leave all of that to others. I just want to imagine.

Imagine a country where people rose up and said decades ago, "Guns are nice and important and all, but nothing is more valuable than the lives of innocents. We're going to have reasonable gun controls in this country before another young life is lost." Don't imagine it happening after Sandy Hook. Imagine it years earlier, after the death of just one or two children by gunfire. In this world, Sandy Hook is just one more small school most people never heard of.

Imagine that when people marched against abortion, they simultaneously marched against gun violence. "We are pro-life," they yelled, "and that means that we want to see every step necessary to preserve the lives of children." Imagine a world in which pro-life activists chained themselves to the gates of gun factories and shamed gun company executives on their way to work every day.

Imagine that these attitudes were part of a culture wide valuing of children, a culture that loved children so much that it took extraordinary steps to preserve their lives. The government provided free health care for every single child, regardless of family income. People brought their children here from other countries for our free health care and we said, "Great. Bring them. Children are so precious and valuable that we wouldn't sleep knowing that there was a suffering child in the world that we could have helped, but didn't."

Imagine that this love of children extended to education. In fact, imagine that education was one of the biggest budget items for federal and state spending. "Nothing is too good for our children," said political leaders. "We will make sure that every school has nothing but the newest and best facilities and enough qualified teachers that class sizes can be small. Every child has the personal attention of excellent teachers, and that goes double for children growing up in poor neighborhoods." Not all the politicians believed this, of course, but in this world, the only way you could get elected was by being a good friend to public schools. And no, there aren't any charters or vouchers in this world-- why would you need them when every public school had the very best in resources, staff and facilities, with the necessary resources to meet the individual needs of each child. "Man," groused the Pentagon in this world. "I wish we could get the kind of unwavering support public schools get. We have to fight and scrape and argue for every cent."

Imagine a country where all resources are directed to giving each child a healthy, happy childhood, complete with not just education, but counseling support, medical support, food support, resources to support the neighborhoods where they live-- in short, a culture that took such good care of families that children grew up to be healthy well-educated unbroken adults.

Imagine, in short, a country where people don't look at education and say, "Well, what's the least we can get away with spending on education for Those People's children?" Imagine a country in which people don't say, "It's unfortunate that children must suffer for the bad choices their parents made, but there it is. Tough." Imagine a country in which our policy is not,  "Well, if you wanted good health care and food and housing, you shouldn't have decided to be poor."

Imagine a country in which we do not look at the bodies of twenty innocent children and six adults who were looking after them and say, "Well, that's sad and all. But the right to stockpile a bunch of weapons that have no purpose except to kill other humans-- that right is more important than trying to save a bunch of children. Dead children are just the price of the freedom to kill people."

As a country, we like to make a bunch of noise about how swell children are. Hell, now that Tis The Season, we are positively awash in beautiful sentiments about children. But it's noise. Talk is cheap, but inaction is really expensive. Today, unfortunately, is one more day to remember just how much it costs us.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Why What Works Doesn't Work

One of the dreams of reformerdom has been to identify classroom practices that are solid, successful, even foolproof, and to send them out into the world so that every teacher can use them in her own classroom. Students learn, angels sing, and education is one step closer to being neat, scientific and efficient, and one step further away from being a big higgledy piggledy mess.

This may strike you as a pretty picture, or it may not-- it doesn't really matter, because it is never going to happen.

Mike Petrilli (Fordham Institute) has been working on a series of essays about shifting reformy attention from policies to practices, and today's entry is about What Works, and it almost perfectly encapsulates what folks get wrong about this whole business. But he is searching for an answer to the puzzle.

There are many debates in education policy that will never be settled by science because they mostly involve values, priorities, and tradeoffs...Instructional practices, on the other hand, are different. Or should be. Consider elementary schools, those magical places where we work to turn pre-literate, pre-numerate kindergarteners into avid readers, writers, and problem solvers, ready to tackle the Great American Novel in middle school, capable of writing a clear five-paragraph essay, and possessing a mastery of math facts and an early understanding of algebraic reasoning.

The stock photo for the piece even features a microscope, to underline how scientific this process should be.

Petrilli rattles off a long list of practice type questions-- how do we do small groups? how do teachers best manage classrooms? how can students be taught to write effectively? And so on. It's a long list and rightly so, but it leads him to this:

The best part about these questions is that their answers are knowable.

Ummmm.... Yes, and no. He outlines a process: Teachers develop key instructional questions to get empirical answers to (see above list. Scientists design studies and develop hypotheses to find answers to those questions. Professional educators sift through the results and decide on the strength of the evidence what should be widely adopted as preferred practice in guidelines for educators.

Why not, he says. That's what other fields do, like, most notably, medicine.

He acknowledges that some people won't like that analogy, and he's correct. I'm one of them. It's not just the "teaching is part, not all science" business. It's that teaching is way more complicated than medicine.

The scientific foolproof everyone just follow the policies and procedures approach will not work. The simplest evidence can be provided by evert single secondary subject area teacher who can tell you a version of the same story:

"I used this lesson with my second period class and it was awesome-- the kids were completely hooked, I was on fire, everyone totally got it and got into it. Then sixth period I used the exact same lesson and not bombed. The kids hated it, nobody learned anything, it was a disaster."

This has happened to every single teacher in the history of ever. You simply can't set a particular classroom practice in stone and count on it to work every time. Certainly not for every teacher. The learning in a classroom occurs at the intersection of all the humans in the room, plus all the long-term and short-term baggage they brought with them, plus the material itself, plus the time of day, plus the lunch menu, plus plus plus plus. Yes, it would be just like medicine, if doctors treated thirty people at a time and every disease presented differently and responded to different treatment every time it appeared.

Petrilli offers as an alternative Dan Willingham's comparison to architecture, where there is a great deal of variety and creative difference between works, but certain physical rules that everyone has to follow. That's better, but still...

This nice collections of What Works that various government agencies mostly gather dust not because teachers wonder about the evidential base. They aren't asking "I wonder if this works." They're asking, "I wonder if this will work for me, with my particular students." The selling strength, rightly or wrongly, of the teacher-selling-lessons site is that the answer, "Yes, I have used this with actual human students in a classroom somewhat like your many times."

Clearly there are good and less good and really not very good practices. But if I wanted to measure and chart such things, I would skip architecture and turn to chaos theory and the idea of strange attractors. If we could chart all the practices that mostly work most of the time, our graph would not show a point, but a cloud, clustered around, but not strictly attached to a shape. There would be outliers-- points on the outskirts of the cloud, and some far away from it (as I have heard, only, from three different sources in the last three days, "Everything works in some places, but nothing works in all places").

It's a fair criticism that some of what we do know about brain science doesn't carry as much weight in some classrooms as we might like. But there is a real danger in trying to make this Hard Science model fit educational practices-- and we already know about it because the exact same problem infected the policy ideas that Petrilli wants to step away from.

Petrrilli earlier held up the five paragraph essay on a list of basic skills that is "uncontroversial," that everyone agrees students need to have. Except we don't. While I was in the classroom, I would have been happy to have the power to kill the five paragraph essay dead-- especially in the elementary classrooms. But some teachers and administrators like the five-paragraph beast because it's easy to evaluate. Assessing writing is hard. Really, really hard. Assessing whether or not somebody followed a five-paragraph template is easy. And using "scientific" methods to determine the best way to get students to follow the template is easy, too. So once again, here we are scoring bullseyes on a target we shouldn't even be shooting at.

Campbell's Law infects classroom practices just as easily as it infects policies about test-centered accountability. Telling ourselves that we're okay because we've got hard science and data is exactly how education ended up so deep in the Big Muddy over testing. It is the parable of the drunk and the car keys, the guy who is searching under the lamppost instead of where he dropped the keys because the light under the lamppost is better.

Since the beginning of the modern era, reformsters have been notable for their aversion to mess. Teaching is too messy. Democratically elected school boards are too messy. Human beings are too messy. Sorry. That's life. Reform's enthusiasm for eradicating mess is dangerous and destructive, like the person who loves Latin but forgets that all that was required for Latin to become perfect was for every native speaker of the language to die.

You can no more create a binder full of classroom practices that are scientifically proven to work than you can create a scientifically proven courtship and marriage manual. Yes, some practices are more likely to work more often for more practitioners than other practices are, and yes, some practices are probably not going to work most of the time, mostly. But there will always be outliers and exceptions, and there will never be guarantees. Never.

Petrilli's desire to collect better evidence for more practices is a worthy endeavor, and it certainly would help to have more mechanism to separate tested medicine from snake oil. But teaching is always going to be fuzzy and messy and any system set up to talk about "what works" needs to not simply acknowledge that, but embrace it. You can hope for a nice tight blueprint, but you're really looking at Jackson Pollock.