Thursday, October 9, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Things Charters Get Right #1: More Time For Staff
Well, it's been a while. I have a new school, a new home, and new thoughts. Well maybe some of the same thoughts, too. I'm going to try to post some ideas I've had about my new setting, as well as some bigger picture stuff related to the presidential campaigns and the recent conventions.
Here's a first thought on an obvious way charter schools get it right (compared with traditional public schools): more required work time before the schoolyear begins. This year I reported for work on the last day of July. That is a full 34 days before I found myself, clipboard in hand, in a classroom with live eighth graders. Contrast this with the day I would have been required to report (August 28, a mere five days before students) had I remained in a traditional public school.
There is little room for argument here. Five days? Two of which the school will actually be open for your use? Two days in the building to set up your classroom, hold P.D. (this is one of the few opportunities all year to actually learn something new about teaching), learn the discipline code, establish grade-level routines, meet as a department, not to mention all of the other administrative duties that fall through the cracks?
Working with children, especially high-need, years-behind, institutionally-excluded children, requires consistency, confidence, and competence among the staff. To me this is impossible to build in two days. Consider that during August, my staff had a two hour meeting to discuss the minute-by-minute proceedings of the first hour of the first day of school. Try penciling that in as part of your two days among everything else that needs to happen.
And the pay-off is obvious. In order for children to do the right thing, they need to, first and foremost, know what that thing is; this can't happen unless all adults are on the same page.
Add to all of this that in August I also hammered out a year-long curriculum, my first major exam, and three weeks worth of lesson plans. True, this was always part of my August plan when I was with the Board of Ed, but to work in a collegial, professional environment in which I can collaborate and get feedback is a major improvement. Not to mention, being compensated for this time helps, as well.
Here's a first thought on an obvious way charter schools get it right (compared with traditional public schools): more required work time before the schoolyear begins. This year I reported for work on the last day of July. That is a full 34 days before I found myself, clipboard in hand, in a classroom with live eighth graders. Contrast this with the day I would have been required to report (August 28, a mere five days before students) had I remained in a traditional public school.
There is little room for argument here. Five days? Two of which the school will actually be open for your use? Two days in the building to set up your classroom, hold P.D. (this is one of the few opportunities all year to actually learn something new about teaching), learn the discipline code, establish grade-level routines, meet as a department, not to mention all of the other administrative duties that fall through the cracks?
Working with children, especially high-need, years-behind, institutionally-excluded children, requires consistency, confidence, and competence among the staff. To me this is impossible to build in two days. Consider that during August, my staff had a two hour meeting to discuss the minute-by-minute proceedings of the first hour of the first day of school. Try penciling that in as part of your two days among everything else that needs to happen.
And the pay-off is obvious. In order for children to do the right thing, they need to, first and foremost, know what that thing is; this can't happen unless all adults are on the same page.
Add to all of this that in August I also hammered out a year-long curriculum, my first major exam, and three weeks worth of lesson plans. True, this was always part of my August plan when I was with the Board of Ed, but to work in a collegial, professional environment in which I can collaborate and get feedback is a major improvement. Not to mention, being compensated for this time helps, as well.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
thoughtful
College Friend: So, tell me about the new school you are going to work at next year.
Me: Well, for starters, it's a middle school and it's farther uptown-
College Friend: Oh, so does that mean it's going to be more dangerous?
Me: [rolling my eyes]
College Friend: What? I'm just concerned for your safety!
Me: Yes, most racist people are.
Me: Well, for starters, it's a middle school and it's farther uptown-
College Friend: Oh, so does that mean it's going to be more dangerous?
Me: [rolling my eyes]
College Friend: What? I'm just concerned for your safety!
Me: Yes, most racist people are.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Geoffrey Canada
About to go on vacation for a week. As I leave, here is a video from one of my personal heroes: Geoffrey Canada (founder of the Harlem Children's Zone, awesome non-profit).
(Skip the first 23 or so minutes to get to Geoff.)
His thoughts on teaching, the UFT, teacher pay, school year/school day, testing, etc. I think are all spot-on. He raises some issues that are complicated (How will the union evolve to push student achievement forward? How do we reward "good" teachers? Never mind of course, how do we decide who "good" teachers are?) I feel he is articulating the anger and feelings of the public with regard to education, particularly in New York. His sense of urgency is admirable.
I think he misses the boat a bit on vouchers. The main problem, as I see it, with vouchers, is that there is no evidence that says that a private school is going to be effective in educating a 16-year-old that reads/does math on a fourth grade level, which is what many urban public high schools must deal with. Teaching that 16-year-old takes a lot of work, including instructional expertise, specialized resources, and likely, extra time, that most private schools lack.
I agree mainly with this point: whatever it ends up looking like, education will be what it is until there is an incentive structure in place that will pull talented people into the profession and keep them there.
(Skip the first 23 or so minutes to get to Geoff.)
His thoughts on teaching, the UFT, teacher pay, school year/school day, testing, etc. I think are all spot-on. He raises some issues that are complicated (How will the union evolve to push student achievement forward? How do we reward "good" teachers? Never mind of course, how do we decide who "good" teachers are?) I feel he is articulating the anger and feelings of the public with regard to education, particularly in New York. His sense of urgency is admirable.
I think he misses the boat a bit on vouchers. The main problem, as I see it, with vouchers, is that there is no evidence that says that a private school is going to be effective in educating a 16-year-old that reads/does math on a fourth grade level, which is what many urban public high schools must deal with. Teaching that 16-year-old takes a lot of work, including instructional expertise, specialized resources, and likely, extra time, that most private schools lack.
I agree mainly with this point: whatever it ends up looking like, education will be what it is until there is an incentive structure in place that will pull talented people into the profession and keep them there.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
biased test questions - integrated algebra
A lot of people have been talking, and will be talking for a while, about the Integrated Algebra curriculum/exam in New York this year. For now, consider the following question (#31) from this brand-spanking-new exam:
"Tom drove 290 miles from his college to home and used 23.2 gallons of gasoline. His sister, Ann, drove 225 miles from her college to home and used 15 gallons of gasoline. Whose vehicle had better gas mileage? Justify your answer."
Two questions:
(1) Do you think this question is harder for students whose parents do not own cars? Or perhaps, have not spent considerable time in cars?
(2) If yes, does this make the test "unfair"?
(1) Do you think this question is harder for students whose parents do not own cars? Or perhaps, have not spent considerable time in cars?
(2) If yes, does this make the test "unfair"?
Upon seeing the question, the eyebrows went up, the blood boiled as I thought about my kids from upper Manhattan who, in general, do not spend time in cars. Buses, subways, yes; cars, not nearly as much. They don't gas them up, don't drive them around, don't have a sense of what gas mileage really is. I don't think this is even about being economically disadvantaged; people in the five boroughs do not drive as much as people outside of the five boroughs. I don't own a car. Most people I know don't either, even if they could afford one.
In the end it's yes and yes. The question is far harder if you've never filled a car with gas and driven it around. Let alone if you don't even know what the phrase "gas mileage" means. My best students struggled with this question. Put the phrase in the performance indicators or write a fairer question, New York.
I've always thought it would be interesting to write an exam that had a bias the other way, where my kids would "get" all the questions and everyone else would struggle with vocabulary, context, meaning. Is there a way to "invert" this question?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
when do children follow rules?
A lot has been made recently of complex/"strict" rule systems and other infrastructure at charter schools and B.O.E. schools around the country. My own two cents? Children meet teacher/school expectations when...
(1) they can "do it" (that is, they possess mental/physical/social/emotional capabilities for meeting expectations)
(2) they know/understand how to "do it" (that is, they know exactly what the expectations are)
(3) they want to/have to "do it" (that is, they feel compelled extrinsically, intrinsically, or morally)
More about these underlying philosophies to come. They will show up everywhere. I don't think they're really any different from the reasons why adults do the things they do. But effective strategies have to involve a mix of these elements.
(1) they can "do it" (that is, they possess mental/physical/social/emotional capabilities for meeting expectations)
(2) they know/understand how to "do it" (that is, they know exactly what the expectations are)
(3) they want to/have to "do it" (that is, they feel compelled extrinsically, intrinsically, or morally)
More about these underlying philosophies to come. They will show up everywhere. I don't think they're really any different from the reasons why adults do the things they do. But effective strategies have to involve a mix of these elements.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
it's just that simple
Ad for NYC Teaching Fellows near school:
In case you can't read the fine print: "I show kids that I'm willing to do whatever it takes for them to succeed."
Oh man. Wish I had thought of that! It's that simple. Just show 'em you care. The rest will take care of itself. Trust me.
In case you can't read the fine print: "I show kids that I'm willing to do whatever it takes for them to succeed."
Oh man. Wish I had thought of that! It's that simple. Just show 'em you care. The rest will take care of itself. Trust me.
Monday, June 9, 2008
real life math
Friend and I stop for a beer in the afternoon, drawn in by the following deal on a chalkboard:
It turns out that a cana is priced at $2.50 and a regular old pint is $5.00. The special deal puts the Cana at a quarter of the price of a pint, provided you drink at least two. In fact, you can get no less than four canas for the price of one pint. Excellent? Certainly seems that way, until you consider the size of the cana versus the pint. It gets a little dicier. The cana is freaking tiny. Exhibit A:
(That would be pint on the left, cana on the right.)
So what is the better deal? Four canas or one pint?
Comparing volumes is usually an estimation killer, since, in my experience, the brain is usually pretty bad at estimating volume. This is probably because quadratic relationships are somewhat "unnatural", at least when compared with linear ones.
But we push through. We call each glass a cylinder (imperfect, but it'll have to do). The pint's diameter registers at one of my pointer fingers, almost exactly. Conveniently, my finger is divided neatly (intelligently designed?) into three pretty equal sections; the cana's diameter is almost exactly two-thirds of the same finger. So we can call the radius of the cana two-thirds of the radius of the pint. Similarly, the height of the cana works out to be about two-thirds the height of the pint.
We're good to go. Let's call the pint volume V, the pint radius R, and the pint height H. Similarly, the cana volume will be v, the cana radius r, and the cana height h.
The pint volume is given by:
The cana volume is given by:
We've established relationships between R and r and H and h:
Now we can substitute into the equation for v:
Simplifying the squared business:
Finally multiplying all fractions:
Which leads to final comparison of v and V:
This works out nicely; eight-twenty sevenths is pretty darn close to one-third (nine-twenty sevenths). So we are getting a deal (well, friend is, since I opted out), since four canas equate with the price of one pint, but three canas has already equated the volume in one pint.
Not bad for a Saturday afternoon. Facility with fractions and formulas. We hit quite a few Integrated Algebra performance indicators.
"Cana Two For One".
It turns out that a cana is priced at $2.50 and a regular old pint is $5.00. The special deal puts the Cana at a quarter of the price of a pint, provided you drink at least two. In fact, you can get no less than four canas for the price of one pint. Excellent? Certainly seems that way, until you consider the size of the cana versus the pint. It gets a little dicier. The cana is freaking tiny. Exhibit A:
(That would be pint on the left, cana on the right.)So what is the better deal? Four canas or one pint?
Comparing volumes is usually an estimation killer, since, in my experience, the brain is usually pretty bad at estimating volume. This is probably because quadratic relationships are somewhat "unnatural", at least when compared with linear ones.
But we push through. We call each glass a cylinder (imperfect, but it'll have to do). The pint's diameter registers at one of my pointer fingers, almost exactly. Conveniently, my finger is divided neatly (intelligently designed?) into three pretty equal sections; the cana's diameter is almost exactly two-thirds of the same finger. So we can call the radius of the cana two-thirds of the radius of the pint. Similarly, the height of the cana works out to be about two-thirds the height of the pint.
We're good to go. Let's call the pint volume V, the pint radius R, and the pint height H. Similarly, the cana volume will be v, the cana radius r, and the cana height h.
The pint volume is given by:
The cana volume is given by:
We've established relationships between R and r and H and h:
Now we can substitute into the equation for v:
Simplifying the squared business:
Finally multiplying all fractions:
Which leads to final comparison of v and V:
This works out nicely; eight-twenty sevenths is pretty darn close to one-third (nine-twenty sevenths). So we are getting a deal (well, friend is, since I opted out), since four canas equate with the price of one pint, but three canas has already equated the volume in one pint.Not bad for a Saturday afternoon. Facility with fractions and formulas. We hit quite a few Integrated Algebra performance indicators.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
How hard is graphing y > 2x + 1?
Coming up this week (for my Integrated Algebra students) is that algebraic mother lode: graphing linear inequalities (A.G.6: Graph linear inequalities, for the standards-aligned). This has been saved for the year's end since it is such a killer. The problem is, from the state's point of view, it should be easy for a ninth grade student. It should be, based on the state math performance indicators.
What do you have to do if you want to graph y > 2x + 1? (If you are a college-educated adult and have no idea what I'm talking about, this raises some other juicy questions about math education/retention/cultural significance.) Well, for starters, you have to recognize that you are going to need to graph the line y = 2x + 1. This sort of graphing is taught in seventh grade (7.A.7: Draw the graphic representation of a pattern from an equation or from a table of data) and again in eighth grade (8.G.17: Graph a line from an equation in slope-intercept form (y=mx+b)). This will no doubt call on you to plot points in the coordinate plane, something begun in fifth grade (5.G.12: Identify and plot points in the first quadrant).
You've also got to recognize also that since this is a strict inequality (>) you need to graph using a dashed line. (Why? Because the line does not include points in the solution set of the inequality.)
Finally, choose a point that is not on the line, plug in the numbers in the inequality (5.A.3: Substitute assigned values into variable expressions and evaluate using order of operations) and then evaluate the truth of the resulting inequality (4.A.3: Find the value or values that will make an open sentence true, if it contains <>) . If it is true, shade in that side of the line; if false, shade the other side.
And that's it. We'll let alone the case where y is not isolated (a further algebraic challenge) or the case of the system of linear inequalities (yup, two or more at once).
But for most students I teach, culling all of these skills at once is a lot to ask. If a student is weak in just one of these skills, and many are weak in several, the whole operation fails. Graphing a linear inequality becomes a labor that can last half a period, and most often contains at least one error. It can cause such frustration even though it is really just a combination of things my students already, supposedly, know.
So what's the problem? What happened to these students in fourth, fifth, seventh, and eighth grade? Were their teachers checked out? Did they leave these standards out of their instructional plans? Were their lessons poorly planned? It's possible, but I doubt this is a leading reason.
I believe that there were days in 2006 when my students were expert graphers. I think there was a day or two in 2004 when students were evaluating expressions with the best of them. Their teachers led them along through all the proper steps and understandings, and the students could do it. But this is not good enough today, in ninth grade algebra.
Based on my limited experience, I'm tempted to say the problem is the kind of understanding my students come to high school bearing. While students may have, at one time, under the right circumstances, with the proper scaffolding, etc. etc. known how to graph, plot points, evaluate expressions, and determine the truth of inequalities, they never truly understood the meaning of these skills. If my students are reaching into a vat of collected, memorized skills, and pulling them out, one at a time to graph y > 2x + 1, then of course it's hard. They could pull the wrong one. They could pull out a skill that is dusty, rusty and incompletely memorized. They are constantly in fear of "doing the wrong thing" or doing it "the wrong way".
If, on the other hand, they see a coordinate plane and recognize it as a sea of points, each of which registers true or false in the inequality; if plotting points is "second nature"; if the coordinate plane is readily divided by linear equations with differing slopes; in short, if students have a thorough understanding of what these various elements represent, then graphing inequalities will happen quickly and easily, conforming to a body of knowledge already obtained. The prerequisites need to be understood deeply and richly.
How do we instill this in children? I don't know. I'd like to know. I'm working on it.
Have students learned if they forget later?
What do you have to do if you want to graph y > 2x + 1? (If you are a college-educated adult and have no idea what I'm talking about, this raises some other juicy questions about math education/retention/cultural significance.) Well, for starters, you have to recognize that you are going to need to graph the line y = 2x + 1. This sort of graphing is taught in seventh grade (7.A.7: Draw the graphic representation of a pattern from an equation or from a table of data) and again in eighth grade (8.G.17: Graph a line from an equation in slope-intercept form (y=mx+b)). This will no doubt call on you to plot points in the coordinate plane, something begun in fifth grade (5.G.12: Identify and plot points in the first quadrant).
You've also got to recognize also that since this is a strict inequality (>) you need to graph using a dashed line. (Why? Because the line does not include points in the solution set of the inequality.)
Finally, choose a point that is not on the line, plug in the numbers in the inequality (5.A.3: Substitute assigned values into variable expressions and evaluate using order of operations) and then evaluate the truth of the resulting inequality (4.A.3: Find the value or values that will make an open sentence true, if it contains <>) . If it is true, shade in that side of the line; if false, shade the other side.
And that's it. We'll let alone the case where y is not isolated (a further algebraic challenge) or the case of the system of linear inequalities (yup, two or more at once).
But for most students I teach, culling all of these skills at once is a lot to ask. If a student is weak in just one of these skills, and many are weak in several, the whole operation fails. Graphing a linear inequality becomes a labor that can last half a period, and most often contains at least one error. It can cause such frustration even though it is really just a combination of things my students already, supposedly, know.
So what's the problem? What happened to these students in fourth, fifth, seventh, and eighth grade? Were their teachers checked out? Did they leave these standards out of their instructional plans? Were their lessons poorly planned? It's possible, but I doubt this is a leading reason.
I believe that there were days in 2006 when my students were expert graphers. I think there was a day or two in 2004 when students were evaluating expressions with the best of them. Their teachers led them along through all the proper steps and understandings, and the students could do it. But this is not good enough today, in ninth grade algebra.
Based on my limited experience, I'm tempted to say the problem is the kind of understanding my students come to high school bearing. While students may have, at one time, under the right circumstances, with the proper scaffolding, etc. etc. known how to graph, plot points, evaluate expressions, and determine the truth of inequalities, they never truly understood the meaning of these skills. If my students are reaching into a vat of collected, memorized skills, and pulling them out, one at a time to graph y > 2x + 1, then of course it's hard. They could pull the wrong one. They could pull out a skill that is dusty, rusty and incompletely memorized. They are constantly in fear of "doing the wrong thing" or doing it "the wrong way".
If, on the other hand, they see a coordinate plane and recognize it as a sea of points, each of which registers true or false in the inequality; if plotting points is "second nature"; if the coordinate plane is readily divided by linear equations with differing slopes; in short, if students have a thorough understanding of what these various elements represent, then graphing inequalities will happen quickly and easily, conforming to a body of knowledge already obtained. The prerequisites need to be understood deeply and richly.
How do we instill this in children? I don't know. I'd like to know. I'm working on it.
Have students learned if they forget later?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
lunch scenes
From today: Gunshots that dispersed all the normally happy kids at the park out my classroom window during period 5. Also, I ate lunch.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
sold
Well, as of yesterday, I am officially leaving my school, going to give it a shot at a charter school in Harlem (don't worry, not this one).
This was the worst choice I've ever had to make. I think I know what my kids need. And if I've done nothing else, I've tried like hell to give it to them. I've spent three years thinking of almost nothing else. And now I'm just another TFA guy who left. That's it.
I'm not sick of the kids. I love them. I want them to have a great math teacher more than anything else. When they do the "wrong thing", academic or otherwise, a little part of me (or, many times, all of me) cries because I know I did the wrong thing. And wrong thing upon wrong thing upon wrong thing has become too much for me to bear. I haven't given up on them. I have a ton of respect for all of my kids; so much that it breaks my heart to know they have an inadequate math teacher. In a way, I've given up on me. I don't have the answers, and I came to realize that I don't think I'm going to find them at my school, at least not at a pace I could be satisfied with. I've lost hope that I can be the teacher I see in my head here.
To make matters worse, my school is a bizarro world kind of place where I walk home every day wondering how I could ever be effective, but I am constantly put on a pedestal for being a model teacher. I receive a ton of praise from a ton of people. I get smiles, slaps on the back, thank yous, technology, and the freedom to do whatever I want. I'm not tooting my horn; this drives me nuts when I see and I know how much my kids aren't learning about math, self-respect, personal responsibility, pride, teamwork, justice and active citizenship. To name a few.
Why didn't they learn it? Because I didn't teach it to them. Because I don't know how to pull it all off.
So what do I want? I want to get better. I want to be more effective. I want to be that teacher. I became convinced where I'm going next year will help with that. Maybe I will get my ass kicked. Likely, I will. But if it makes me learn and get better, so be it. And then maybe I can take what I've learned and go somewhere, build something, do something. While dealing with my own inner charter turmoil somehow.
When I first joined TFA, before I ever even picked up the chalk, I had dinner with a guy who was leaving at the end of his two years. He told me, "I just can't be around all this failure." I see it now too, only the failure is all mine.
This was the worst choice I've ever had to make. I think I know what my kids need. And if I've done nothing else, I've tried like hell to give it to them. I've spent three years thinking of almost nothing else. And now I'm just another TFA guy who left. That's it.
I'm not sick of the kids. I love them. I want them to have a great math teacher more than anything else. When they do the "wrong thing", academic or otherwise, a little part of me (or, many times, all of me) cries because I know I did the wrong thing. And wrong thing upon wrong thing upon wrong thing has become too much for me to bear. I haven't given up on them. I have a ton of respect for all of my kids; so much that it breaks my heart to know they have an inadequate math teacher. In a way, I've given up on me. I don't have the answers, and I came to realize that I don't think I'm going to find them at my school, at least not at a pace I could be satisfied with. I've lost hope that I can be the teacher I see in my head here.
To make matters worse, my school is a bizarro world kind of place where I walk home every day wondering how I could ever be effective, but I am constantly put on a pedestal for being a model teacher. I receive a ton of praise from a ton of people. I get smiles, slaps on the back, thank yous, technology, and the freedom to do whatever I want. I'm not tooting my horn; this drives me nuts when I see and I know how much my kids aren't learning about math, self-respect, personal responsibility, pride, teamwork, justice and active citizenship. To name a few.
Why didn't they learn it? Because I didn't teach it to them. Because I don't know how to pull it all off.
So what do I want? I want to get better. I want to be more effective. I want to be that teacher. I became convinced where I'm going next year will help with that. Maybe I will get my ass kicked. Likely, I will. But if it makes me learn and get better, so be it. And then maybe I can take what I've learned and go somewhere, build something, do something. While dealing with my own inner charter turmoil somehow.
When I first joined TFA, before I ever even picked up the chalk, I had dinner with a guy who was leaving at the end of his two years. He told me, "I just can't be around all this failure." I see it now too, only the failure is all mine.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
What Matters
Great to run into a block from school walking to get lunch/trying to figure out how to let 'em know MATH MATTERS...
Where is everyone....
Period 7 (right after lunch). Started at 1:31. No one there. Hallway full, hallway clears. 1:35. No one. We're eight minutes deep (that's right, 1:39) before I get one student. A total of three show up, out of what is a paltry 21 on the roster, the last one at about 2:00.
What do I think while I'm waiting? What did I do to make this happen. Why isn't my class the exciting, wonderful place that "brings math alive", that no one would ever cut, for fear of missing out on a miraculous moment of learning? Or, in another light, why isn't my class the place where students feel at all times the searing laser of accountability, fueled by high expectations, where cutting would seem like academic suicide? I know, because, despite all of the hours and tears I've poured in, somehow I've poured them the wrong way, and my classroom didn't end up, in May of my third year, the way I wanted it to for my students. And knowing (1) what my students need (2) that I have wanted nothing ever at all more than to give it to them (3) that I haven't given it to them is usually more than I can take.
What do I think while I'm waiting? What did I do to make this happen. Why isn't my class the exciting, wonderful place that "brings math alive", that no one would ever cut, for fear of missing out on a miraculous moment of learning? Or, in another light, why isn't my class the place where students feel at all times the searing laser of accountability, fueled by high expectations, where cutting would seem like academic suicide? I know, because, despite all of the hours and tears I've poured in, somehow I've poured them the wrong way, and my classroom didn't end up, in May of my third year, the way I wanted it to for my students. And knowing (1) what my students need (2) that I have wanted nothing ever at all more than to give it to them (3) that I haven't given it to them is usually more than I can take.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Happy Memorial Day
I hope you are having a sunny/fun long weekend. Mine's been nice and relaxing.
A quick plug for a book I just finished: The Teaching Gap, by Stigler and Hiebert. It offers a really interesting comparison between middle school math education here, in Japan, and in Germany. It also treats teaching as what I think it really is, what the authors describe as a "cultural" practice. That is to say, our society's view of what teaching and learning are is so deeply entrenched, change is difficult to bring about; in particular, change is impossible using traditional, university research-based, wonkish, top-down approaches. The authors argue for an approach, modeled on the Japanese lesson study program, that begins with individual classes and lessons and builds outward.
In the the end, the authors contend, change will only ever be slow and gradual, which presents its own set of problems with a public that is impatient and indicators that fail to register small changes. While I'm not sold that the Japanese have perfected teaching, the comparison of what happens here, as opposed to Japan, is pretty eye-opening, and the alternatives proposed by the authors are worth some thought. Plus, it's a quick read.
PS: The stock exchange trip was tremendous. The kids were amazing and really into it. Still hearing some backlash from those who couldn't go, but it's dying down...hopefully...
A quick plug for a book I just finished: The Teaching Gap, by Stigler and Hiebert. It offers a really interesting comparison between middle school math education here, in Japan, and in Germany. It also treats teaching as what I think it really is, what the authors describe as a "cultural" practice. That is to say, our society's view of what teaching and learning are is so deeply entrenched, change is difficult to bring about; in particular, change is impossible using traditional, university research-based, wonkish, top-down approaches. The authors argue for an approach, modeled on the Japanese lesson study program, that begins with individual classes and lessons and builds outward.
In the the end, the authors contend, change will only ever be slow and gradual, which presents its own set of problems with a public that is impatient and indicators that fail to register small changes. While I'm not sold that the Japanese have perfected teaching, the comparison of what happens here, as opposed to Japan, is pretty eye-opening, and the alternatives proposed by the authors are worth some thought. Plus, it's a quick read.
PS: The stock exchange trip was tremendous. The kids were amazing and really into it. Still hearing some backlash from those who couldn't go, but it's dying down...hopefully...
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
What Breeds Belief?
Tomorrow, another math teacher and I are taking 20 kids to the American Stock Exchange. Due to some unfortunate incidents in the past, field trips at my school are limited to a maximum of 20 students, with at least two adult chaperones. So, I had the unfortunate task of choosing 10 (my half of the 20) out of the 45 ninth graders that I teach to attend the trip, based on no particular criteria.
By the time students realized, today, that some students had been chosen for this trip, and others had not, there was a very negative vibe in my period 4 class. One student continuously repeated "I can't go on the business trip because I'm not a business man." He went on to make statements such as, "It's 'cuz we're Black and Latino, that's why" and "It's 'cuz we're from the ghetto and you don't want to take us ghetto kids on a business trip".
This isn't the first time these issues have come up in class. I came right back with all the typical teacherspeak that I knew. I tried to "address" the issue of race. I tried to officially explain why I had to choose certain students. To a certain extent, this "worked".
While I know that his and other comments were meant to be less than serious, I know that there is a lot behind what he was saying. Many of my students may be 15, but they are all already aware of what you might call "society's perception" of students that look, act, and talk like they do. They will make statements about our school being a "ghetto school". Ask any one of them if they would ever want to be a teacher; the response, "No, I wouldn't want to teach kids like these." They know that the world outside of our school doesn't expect a ton from them; it doesn't really want to be near them, sees them in the subway and might be a little wary of them, too.
While I have reiterated time and time again how much I believe in my students and of all they are capable of, and many of my dedicated colleagues have done the same, incidents such as this one remind me of how powerful the opinions and expectations of "society" are. Expressed through varied and intricate channels, these expectations are a lot to combat, and can be quite defeating for educators who seek to inculcate in students a sense of hope and possibility.
All of which, believe it or not, reminds me of Barack Obama's semi-famous "race speech" from March 18. One fact only teachers will ever really know is that it's not good enough to stand in front of a segregated classroom in a segregated school and remind students to "help themselves". As Obama brilliantly noted, "embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change". While I may convince many of my students that they can do more and do better, what is the meaning of this if they do not believe that society will ever expect more of them? Or if they do not believe that society even has a place for them? Or that society wants them anywhere but the neighborhoods they now inhabit?
Perhaps the most pressing question: Do my students have any real reason to believe any of these things?
By the time students realized, today, that some students had been chosen for this trip, and others had not, there was a very negative vibe in my period 4 class. One student continuously repeated "I can't go on the business trip because I'm not a business man." He went on to make statements such as, "It's 'cuz we're Black and Latino, that's why" and "It's 'cuz we're from the ghetto and you don't want to take us ghetto kids on a business trip".
This isn't the first time these issues have come up in class. I came right back with all the typical teacherspeak that I knew. I tried to "address" the issue of race. I tried to officially explain why I had to choose certain students. To a certain extent, this "worked".
While I know that his and other comments were meant to be less than serious, I know that there is a lot behind what he was saying. Many of my students may be 15, but they are all already aware of what you might call "society's perception" of students that look, act, and talk like they do. They will make statements about our school being a "ghetto school". Ask any one of them if they would ever want to be a teacher; the response, "No, I wouldn't want to teach kids like these." They know that the world outside of our school doesn't expect a ton from them; it doesn't really want to be near them, sees them in the subway and might be a little wary of them, too.
While I have reiterated time and time again how much I believe in my students and of all they are capable of, and many of my dedicated colleagues have done the same, incidents such as this one remind me of how powerful the opinions and expectations of "society" are. Expressed through varied and intricate channels, these expectations are a lot to combat, and can be quite defeating for educators who seek to inculcate in students a sense of hope and possibility.
All of which, believe it or not, reminds me of Barack Obama's semi-famous "race speech" from March 18. One fact only teachers will ever really know is that it's not good enough to stand in front of a segregated classroom in a segregated school and remind students to "help themselves". As Obama brilliantly noted, "embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change". While I may convince many of my students that they can do more and do better, what is the meaning of this if they do not believe that society will ever expect more of them? Or if they do not believe that society even has a place for them? Or that society wants them anywhere but the neighborhoods they now inhabit?
Perhaps the most pressing question: Do my students have any real reason to believe any of these things?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
First Post
After two previous failed attempts to begin a consistent blog, I'm giving it a shot again. This is mainly because I've recently found myself inspired by the educational blogging community. In particular, this post by TMAO really hit me in a big way. I would estimate that I read the last paragraph about twenty times, then probably reviewed it in my head about 100 more over the course of the last couple of days. The more I teach, the more I understand what the kids need and what it takes to be effective; yet the more I teach, the less I feel happy and capable of doing that work that needs to be done.
Over the course of the last few years, I've developed and come to relish a dream to one day open and run a school of my own. I've always wanted to be going there, building towards a model of schooling that I believe in that works. Now, I wonder if I'll ever get there, as I start to feel a little more tired and downtrodden each day.
As I hang on for another year (possibly in a different setting, more on that in the future) I hope to engage in some meaningful discussions and posts about the role of teachers in an effective educational system. If teachers are the answer, and I strongly believe they are, how do we get them to enter the profession and stay there? What is a sustainable model of excellent schooling?
Over the course of the last few years, I've developed and come to relish a dream to one day open and run a school of my own. I've always wanted to be going there, building towards a model of schooling that I believe in that works. Now, I wonder if I'll ever get there, as I start to feel a little more tired and downtrodden each day.
As I hang on for another year (possibly in a different setting, more on that in the future) I hope to engage in some meaningful discussions and posts about the role of teachers in an effective educational system. If teachers are the answer, and I strongly believe they are, how do we get them to enter the profession and stay there? What is a sustainable model of excellent schooling?
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