education reform

Tavis Smiley, in his show with Geoffrey Canada, CEO of Harlem’s Children Zone, and Davis Guggenheim, director of Waiting for Superman:

Some of this Geoffrey, you came out of the classroom, before you were running a school you were a teacher. Some of this to me, I think words have meaning, I think language is important. I want to be frank about this, this term “Race to the Top” which is this administration’s approach to this. This term “Race to the Top” disturbs me. One, education, pardon my English, ain’t a race. It’s not a race; it’s a guarantee. Every kid in this country ought to have access to an equal high quality education. The very notion of a race to the top means by definition that somebody’s going to win, somebody’s going to lose, if it’s a race. I don’t understand how we’re going about solving the problem starting with the language and the process itself.

I really enjoy the fact that Tavis Smiley, (1) let’s his feelings be known, and (2) challenges his guests. It makes me happy that these things happen, but truthfully, in these situations, as a good host, he offers his guests the opportunity to rebut his statement and make their argument stronger.

I haven’t seen Waiting for Superman. Much, if not all, that I’ve heard from the really good teachers that I am connected to, the classroom teachers who spend much more than 8 hours a day dedicated to their craft, their students, their community, is negative. I don’t recall a single one talking about the positive movement that could come to education with this movie. I’ve heard positive publicity from Oprah and NBC’s Education Nation, both of whom are absolutely massive movers of misinformation and superficial thinking.

I also haven’t seen Race to Nowhere, a movie also about education reform. I haven’t heard much about it either, from the classroom teachers or from the media hype machine. I may not see either, simply because I fear being emotionally worked up without being able to respond intellectually. I’m a whole lot more likely to react out of irrationality and anger rather than respond after deep thought. (That’s something that I’m actually working on here.)

So how do I respond to this situation? I don’t know. Mostly what I notice is that the teachers in my school, the smallest building in our district, far on the outskirts of the city, don’t seem to be aware of some of these issues. Truthfully, I need to be more aware of the local issues that are present within our district and city, while I also want the teachers in my small school to be aware of these larger issues that seem to be setting fire to large cities that eventually may affect our small school.

On a barely related note, these are the things I’ve learned about Davis Guggenheim from his Wikipedia entry, in no particular order: he's married to Elisabeth Shue, who's been "hot" since Karate Kid; he was born in St. Louis, MO; he directed and produced An Inconvenient Truth, also a fairly provocative documentary; "he directed Barack Obama's biographical film, which aired during the Democratic National Convention;" he directed It Might Get Loud, a really cool documentary about the electric guitar, told from Jack White, the Edge, and Jimmy Page, and given to me by my brother; and he was an executive producer of the movie Training Day, a movie which scared me in its fierceness and brutality. 

newspaper

I'm trying to get things going with the school newspaper. I really don't have a plan other than creating a space and a time for the kids to write about what they want, create something that they want, and to put it out for the school. There are some things that do "need" to happen. That need extends from my perception of what the other teachers expect. Certainly there are comparisons all the time, statements regarding how things are and how things were, and judgments made about each. I'm competitive by nature, and I don't want to hear something negative about my work. I want to do a good job. I would gladly accept someone pointing out faults or shortcomings of the newspaper, while also telling me what they think could/should go in there; I wouldn't accept the murmurings and whispers about the faults and shortcomings. More than anything, I want to listen to the students and what they want in the newspaper. I want to get them writing, creating, editing. That was the most fun time today, turning them loose on the computers with "assignments" that they chose or they created, and seeing them go to work. They encouraged one another; they challenged one another. It was a really fun experience. I'll be having that time and space available every Wednesday--whoever wants to come is welcome. I think that'll create something really, really cool. And I believe that will make my job better, meaning more enjoyable, and I think it will make PV a better place. I've got to believe it, otherwise I'm not sure I have a reason for doing it.

25 words

Sara jumped right in to the 25 word story hashtag on twitter, and I am totally jealous of her writing ability. I wish I was that creative and that crafty with words. I've been thinking and composing for some time with a 25 word story in mind, but I'm not courageous enough to post to twitter. So here, tonight, I'm cranking through some stories. Maybe I'll grow more confident as I continue to try, and actually publish them.

Story: It wasn’t just sillybandz arrayed across her desk, it was also her hope for a future: an airplane, the sun, seashells, high heals, a sailboat.

Memoir: One image from my evening: sitting cross legged in my living room, munching on corn-on-the-cob, watching soccer, and monitoring the tweet stream. 

Story: It wasn’t the sourness of the pickle that caused her face to screw-up. He did really just say, “I think I shat my pants.”

Memoir: Size fourteens are strewn about in every room of the house, testimony to tired feet and lazy legs. Exhaustion means I can fall asleep anywhere.

Story: She couldn’t understand the words he chose. She knew it was coming. She actually thought she felt the same. But his words left her unsettled.

Story: Her back was turned and no one else would tell. They quickly exchanged papers. This time, he got the A and she got the D.

Story: He wouldn’t call it greed, poor judgment, or dishonesty. He would call it bad luck or blame it on someone else. He would never learn.

I think I'm going to try this out with my students. I've done $2 summaries, where every word "cost" 10 cents, so they basically have 20 words to write a summary of the learning for the day. But a 25 word story is challenging because they've got to be creative with the language, not just summarize. I guess I think both activities are good for being precise in the use of language--summarizing is an important skill, but so is telling a story.

it's been a while

It's been a while since I've stayed up until 1:00 am and enjoyed it, but today is different. The work has been worthwhile, the reading meaningful, and the conversations rich.

Thanks for that, friends and neighbors. Without you, the work would be scattered, the readings uneventful, and there would be no conversation. So, again, I say, thank you.  

what a long week

It’s been a full week for me, and it’s time to do some intentional reflection. I need to learn from this, and I need to document it so that I don’t forget.

1. Went back to the doctor on Monday. I don’t have a bug, or an infection. I don’t have celiac disease. So they’re going with severe anxiety disorder. We’re going to try Paxil (an SSRI, and the fifth or sixth medication since I’ve started this ordeal) and a behavioral therapist (read: psychiatrist). This is why they say doctors practice medicine.

Honestly, I was scared of this. I guess I was scared of anything though, really. If I’m going to admit my circumstance, I’m going to admit my reaction to it. I want an easy answer. I want them to tell me nothing is wrong with me, and that I can go home with no worries. I don’t want to deal with this stuff—fear about how things will go, unsure of my responsibilities or abilities, and the accompanying physical manifestations of those anxieties. I want to feel young, to be confident, to not have any worries. I want to be a good teacher, to be a good teacher-leader, to be a good steward of the things I have. I want to be healthy. OK—that’s enough of that.

2. Wednesday we had a follow-up to our OWP Teacher Inquiry Institute. Keri and I met on Tuesday to go over the agenda and plans. We were rather unfocused, mostly because I’m weighed down by other things on my mind. We’re two extraordinarily busy people. Here I’ll speak for myself: I’m not great at being very disciplined in how I use my time. I want to do this, and I want to do that. But what I get done is only a fraction of my original intent. This was the case on Tuesday night.

Wednesday night was a bit hectic because of school and computer issues and things never quite going as planned. (See previous paragraph.) But we had a great dinner from Pickleman’s, which was delivered and made things oh-so-much-easier on Keri and I (and hopefully the participants) and then we dove right in to our inquiry. It was then that I was reminded of why I am a part of the NWP and work so hard for the OWP. It’s all about the people.

Gathered together were 15 teachers hell-bent on figuring out ways to do their job better, ways to serve their students and their communities better. Some drove more than 2 hours to be there. These teachers ask questions of their practice, ask questions of themselves, seek out relevant research regarding their questions, and collaborate with other teachers in order to look with new eyes and to be challenged in their thinking. It’s a huge pleasure and privilege to work alongside them.

We’ll be meeting together in October, have an online meeting in November, and then meet in December to have preliminary reports to share. I’m really looking forward to being a thinking partner with these teachers more throughout the semester. I’m really looking forward to reading and hearing their findings in December. And I’m hoping we can compile those findings and share them online, even if simply through Google Docs.

My big epiphany for the evening was in participating in the protocol with Casey and Keri. Keri and I are the facilitators, and we aren’t necessarily doing an inquiry project, although we are. Mine consisted of my autoethnography, which I wrote during the summer. That is finished now, so honestly I feel like I’m off the hook and free to simply be a thinking partner and witness to the amazing learning that is happening. Keri is leading the research portion of the LSRI VI grant that the OWP received for the professional development partnership we now have with SPS. Anway, Casey and Keri basically cornered me and told me to go through the protocol with them, even though I had nothing on my mind. I begrudgingly acquiesced to their requests, and fumbled through my perceived problem—immature male students with little-to-no self-awareness or regard-for-others as human beings (in a social setting) which, in my mind, carries over into their writing, leading them to have little-to-no concept of the importance of audience and purpose when writing. It was ugly (my protocol attempt), and it reinforced an idea that I think I already knew.

I’m a thinker, but not an “out loud thinker.” I don’t process with others until I’ve spent a lot of time with an issue. I think Keri has a minor understanding of this about me, but I think many of my OWP colleagues don’t quite understand that all that talking that they may do to work through or into an issue isn’t something that I do. If I’m talking, I’ve probably spent hours thinking about something in my head. I don’t want this to be perceived as good or better, or right or wrong. It’s just how I am. My father is the same way. He often talks to himself, but not audibly, as he considers scenarios and situations and possibilities. We catch him deep in thought, mouth jabbering away, ignorant of our presence, processing something. I’m very much the same way, but more often than not I talk out loud to myself. It’s an advantage of living alone.

Wednesday night, having to talk my thoughts out, without having them fully formed, was really uncomfortable for me. I could have written them and shared them with Casey and Keri and felt much more comfortable. But that wasn’t an option. I guess that’s just an indicator of my personal preference, my desire for independence and isolation. Maybe not.

3. Thursday night was Open House at school. Usually this is something that would make me nervous—sweaty palms, dry mouth, rushing around to get crap put up on the walls and make the classroom look really nice. Not this time. I had some pictures I printed with the classroom laser printer (cheap looking, black and white) with some captions I wrote in red and blue Sharpie. I logged on to a few computers and pulled up the class website and the class wiki, and I put out some textbooks (which we don’t use) and Haroun and the Sea of Stories (which I’m reading to the class). That’s it.

Somehow I wasn’t worked up about this. I wasn’t worried. Maybe the Paxil is working already, but I don’t think so. It was great to meet the parents, to put faces with names and to make connections in meaningful ways. It was neat to see the students showing off their classrooms to the parents. It was fun to see the parents look in wonder at all the computers.

Several specific points stand out to me from the night. The first is testimony to what we do as teachers in the 8^th grade at PV. Several former students came back to visit the 8^th grade teachers, and all of them made comments about going to school without computers and how odd it was at first. They talked about having to go to a computer lab, and how the concept seemed so weird to them. They even shared how the teacher was giving them instructions on how to do certain things on the computer, and a girl asked, “Why are you going over this, doesn’t everyone know it already?” without realizing that many of the students in the high school did not go to PV and did not have the luxury of eMINTS computers and experience on the computers. This made me really, really, really happy (for my students). It validated the work that we do on a daily basis, and the work we do in the summer to make sure the tools we do have are functioning well. I think this is also testimony to the fact that exposure to and experience with technology (computers, digital cameras, recorders, etc.) and in a constructivist/project based learning environment gives our students a huge advantage over those without the same exposure and experiences. That should be rather obvious though, I think. 

The second is a sad fact. So often I met parents with different last names, or grandparents caring for children. It makes me really sad for the kids. It makes me wonder what life would be like it these kids had two parents in the home who both valued education and both spent time investing in their kids’ lives. It made me think that teachers and administrators and politicians wouldn’t have to be arguing about education reform, because a lot of that stuff would take care of itself.

4. Today was the Summer Institute Renewal. Keri talked quite often about this being a beginning, rather than an ending. This seemed like a really great thought, because as the OWP grows, we need more and more teachers to take leadership roles. How we accomplish this is my big question.

I didn’t really have anything to do with the planning of the event, so it was refreshing to walk in and simply take instructions about what to do and when to do it. I must admit though that I was a bit worried about how things were going to turn out, even though I do have faith and trust in my fellow teachers, and believe that there are few things better than getting motivated teachers together in the same room. When that happens, good things will happen, even without plans. But plans we did have—writing, sharing, more writing, more sharing.

It was an amazing and wonderful day. Teachers came together to show off what they had done in their classrooms early on in the year. Some brought student work. Some shared stories. We listened. We laughed. We asked one another challenging questions and shared our own learning from previous/similar experiences.

I was struck on several occasions by the potential for wonderfully instructive vignettes to be written by these teachers. Sara Allen has made huge strides with students as they free write in her 5^th grade class. Art Daniels is using journaling in response to deep questions in his Biology class. Tanya Hannaford is experiencing a change since she’s begun to write alongside her students, rather than offering her own model text written ahead of time. Sarah Keeth has been validated as a teacher through the collaboration of the OWP, and is seeking out a book study group and/or writing group. Betsy McQueen is leading elementary teachers in their PLC, and through their experiences, the classrooms in her building are changing.

I finished the day so happy. The Summer Institute could have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Really. But now I look back and see how teachers have been changed, and learning within the classroom has been changed because writing has been introduced and used and taught in so many different, promising ways. I’m energized because of this. Truthfully, more than anything else, I want to continue serving these teachers. I want to continue to offer space and time for collaboration. I want to get the good word out to their principals and administrators about what they’re doing and how amazing it is. I want to continue to be a part of something that may not be huge, but is making a huge difference in the classrooms across southwest Missouri.

I know that’s several poorly written sentences all in a row, but it’s my thinking. Thanks for listening, if you’ve made it through all that.