Facebook

Facebook is a wonderful thing, isn't it?  I have connected with people I haven't seen since elementary school!  I love seeing how people are doing, catching up, viewing photos, etc.  I absolutely love it.

Facebook has also had some implications for me and my career.  Some good, some not-so-good.  Let's start with the good.  Facebook has allowed me to stay informed on research and issues in education.  All I have to do is "Like" certain pages, and I receive a constant flow of research, articles, blog entries - it's fantastic!  And of course, that "Share" button is wonderful too.  One click and I can share with anyone who is interested.  I have had some great discussions with colleagues, family, and friends as a result.

But then there's the bad side.  (There always is one, isn't there?)  In trying to share information, I learn how naive and ignorant some people are.  What is it about being on Facebook that allows people to let those walls down and say whatever comes to mind with no forethought?  I am amazed by how many people have no difficulty operating at the opinion level, especially about education.  It does not matter how much research I cite, how long I have been teaching, the number of credentials and degrees I hold - none of this seems to matter.  Personal experience is a powerful thing, and as far as education is concerned, it is all that seems to matter for some folks.

So what do I do?  I try to engage in a discussion, support what I say with research, blah blah blah.  It makes little to no difference.  Lately I just get mad, and let my temper get the better of me.  I know it is important to fight the good fight, but I am getting tired.  Tired of being asked to do more for less.  Tired of politicians making decisions about what goes on in the classroom.  Tired of students being tortured by a plethora of standardized testing and prep.  Tired of people who know nothing about education thinking they know better than teachers.  Tired.  So tired.

I believe that if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.  But other than sharing information and trying to have constructive dialogue, what else can I do?  What else can any of us do?  How do we join together as a powerful force to shift the tide in which we are drowning?  How do we solve this problem?  We have an amazing tool in Facebook.  How do we use it in a positive way to build knowledge and support education?

Research.... Timely!!!!!

One of my Facebook friends put this up on my page for me.  Ties in to my last post.  I hope more of this research is published soon!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2010/aug/13/exam-test-results-teaching-style

Informing Our Own Practice

Here we are at the end of summer, ready to take on a new school year. I have spent this summer doing a great deal of reading and reflecting.* After seeing my students’ standardized test scores**, my first reaction was to crawl under a rock and hide. But now I am looking at it differently.

Last year I did more to “improve test scores” than any previous year. My students spent a half hour per day on a computer program geared to increase standardized test scores. Really, this was an hour of test practice. Since only one half of my group could be on the program at once, my plan was to see small reading groups with the other half of the class. However, I spent every day having to leave my reading groups to troubleshoot computer problems. Reading groups became a distant memory. I chose instead to have students work on language arts and math test preparation activities. We worked on standardized test questions released by the state ad nauseum. In addition, I went over every single math chapter test with my students, most of which match the standardized test in format, to ensure students were ready for “the test.” I shudder to think of how much instructional time I lost, or I should say my students lost, by engaging in these types of activities.

Well, you know what happened. My scores tanked. Now, I know every group of students is different with different needs. But as I reflect on last year, I do not recognize myself as a teacher. Little by little, my professional practice has been violated and eroded by mandates and test scores. You figure it’s OK to give in a little bit. But a little bit here and a little bit there adds up to a boring, disengaging, meaningless curriculum. It stings. But looking in the mirror is what we need to do as professionals, and this is what I have done. Teachers cannot blame the students. We need to look at what we can do to improve our craft. It is important to point out that how we engage in this process is critical.

So what is the answer? I submit it is informing our own practice based upon our own research, reading, collaboration, and sharing. We need to engage in critical pedagogy – ask questions and ensure that what we do is rooted in what is truly best practice for students. I am very skeptical when I hear presenters say, “Research shows….” and then go on to spout off this and that in order to justify what they are presenting. What research? Conducted and commissioned by whom? Are we talking one or two studies, or the preponderance of studies? How recent is the research? Is this a new finding, or one that has existed for years? Are the studies quantitative or qualitative in nature? What is the size of the research group? How strong are the effects? OK, I could go on and on, but you get the idea. As teachers, it is our obligation to be critical and ask questions. We are being asked to change our practice – there had better be some damn good reasons why.

So what will change for me this year? First, I am going to return to teaching practices that I know are effective and grounded in solid research. Second, I plan on incorporating some new practices based upon the reading I have done this summer. Third, I am going to listen to my students to ensure theirs is an education guided by their voices, not by standardized testing. I am looking forward to a great year.

*Books I have read this summer:

Black Ants and Buddhists: Thinking Critically and Teaching Differently in the Primary Grades by Mary Cowhey

No More “I’m Done!” – Fostering Independent Writers in the Primary Grades by Jennifer Jacobson

Teaching Reading in Small Groups: Differentiated Instruction for Building Strategic, Independent Readers by Jennifer Serravallo

-Note: While the first two books state they are geared toward primary grades, I recommend them for every grade level. The examples given may be in primary classrooms, but the lessons and ideas can be utilized at every grade level.

** In the state of California, criterion-referenced tests are utilized instead of norm-referenced tests.

National Standards: Friend, Foe, or Irrelevant?

As more and more states adopt the Common Core National Standards for K-12, I find myself unsure about my feelings toward these standards. My gut feeling when I first heard about them was: they are evil. One size fits all is never a good thing. Then I thought that maybe the standards will raise the bar for students in some states, and that is a good thing. In California, the Common Core standards are actually easier for my grade level than what I have to teach now (which is good considering many of the current standards are 100% developmentally inappropriate). Then again, the adoption of the Core allows for states to change the Core by 15%. Who knows what that might mean in California.

Cognitive psychologist Daniel Willingham points out that there is no correlation between the quality of state standards and NAEP scores (http://voices.washingtonpost.com/answer-sheet/daniel-willingham/willingham-whats-missing-from.html#more). Willingham contends that either standards are irrelevant to schooling, or that academic outcomes are determined by a multitude of factors. He thinks the latter is the case. Standards help, but they are not enough.

I agree with Willingham. Education of our children is a complex issue, yet No Child Left Behind and now Race to the Top treat it so simplistically. It all boils down to test scores - high stakes testing. As David Berliner illustrates in his book Collateral Damage, high stakes testing only corrupts education. And with standards being "an inch deep and a mile wide," students learn very little that they will retain and actually use.

After reading up on the national standards and having conversations with fellow educators (most recently Mary Cowhey, author of Black Ants and Buddhists), I have come to the conclusion, at least for myself, that standards are irrelevant. I am not saying standards are not important - I think it is important that we have meaningful and attainable standards. But whether these standards are the state of California's or the Common Core's does not matter. (Although I do think both need to be narrowed down a great deal.) What matters is HOW the standards are taught. No matter what the content happens to be, if that content is not taught in a meaningful, relevant, and comprehensible manner, the students will not learn. Oh sure, they might memorize facts and formulas for a test. I did that all through college. Once the test was over, the knowledge was gone. Except of course for the classes (that I can count on one hand) where the professors actually taught. Standing up there and lecturing is not teaching. The only person interacting with the curriculum is the lecturer. Bubbling in answers does not assess learning. It only shows how strong of a test-taker you are.

As Susan Ohanian puts it, "Let's stop focusing on the hole and pay more attention to the bagel." Let's start creating spaces for learning where students engage in curriculum authentically. Let's have standards that allow students to delve "an inch wide and a mile deep." Let's make sure we teach students, not content.

Summer Guilt

For the first time in 21 years of teaching, I have no work to do over the summer. I taught summer school my first ten years, and have had consulting jobs every summer since. Last summer was my first real "work-free" summer, but I brought home tons of stuff to do, just like I always do. This summer I made a conscious decision to leave it all in my classroom. Of course, I had plenty of projects I could have brought home this summer, but I chose not to.

So now, my summer guilt has changed. I used to always feel guilty because I brought home so much to do. It was always like a cloud hanging over me. Tons of work to do. And I never finished it all. Now, I have this guilty feeling because I didn't bring any work home. I guess I can't win, huh?

Why is it that so many of us in this profession never feel like we do enough? You know how your days are when you leave school. The question is never, "Am I done?", but "Where should I stop for today?" And let's not forget the bag of good intentions; the shoulder bags of work you bring home at night and on weekends - always more than you could possibly do. More guilt.

When is it enough? Does the guilt go away? Is there something wrong with me? I strongly believe that if you ever feel you know it all as a teacher you need to leave the profession. There is always more to learn, ways to improve, and surprises that await. But this is different - this feeling that I am never doing enough, that I should always be doing more.

I am wondering how the current situation will affect me and my "enough" feelings. As the budget crisis worsens and worsens, we are being asked to do more and more with less and less. The job seems to get more and more impossible the longer I do it. What is the answer? Is there an answer? What are your feelings?

What Happened to Me?

I wrote what follows back in 2004, then added to it in 2005. Reading it now in 2010, I don't think much has changed (unfortunately). Insanity still prevails, and students and teachers still suffer at the hands of the decision-makers.

What Happened to Me? I Used To Be A Good Teacher!

I am a third grade teacher. Or at least I used to be.

I got off to a rocky start in teaching. I struggled with management. I had classes full of English learners and no strategies with which to teach them. I frantically tried to educate myself. I tried anything and everything to make learning meaningful and relevant for my students. The most important change occurred when I became trained in Project GLAD. I learned how to integrate curriculum, utilize the knowledge of the students as a starting point, and to build on their strengths. I learned about language acquisition and brain-based teaching. I learned that no matter what their background or socioeconomic status, students come with rich experiences and literacy skills.

By my third year of teaching, I was nominated Teacher of the Year for my school. I went on to be my district’s teacher of the year. From that point on, things started to happen for me. I coauthored an article. I became a mentor teacher for my district. I became a Project GLAD trainer. I received several awards. But the best part was the teaching itself, and the responses I received from my students and their families. They always thanked me for the job I did. I often received thanks from the mothers of little boys; they thanked me for getting their sons to like school again.

I loved my job. My kids loved to come to school. And the parents were happy with the education their children were receiving. My students’ days were filled with hands-on activities, meaningful literacy activities, student-centered instruction, and the walls were full of the language of learning - their language, their learning.

But in the late 90’s, things changed. AB 1086 passed in California. Suddenly politicians and policy makers were deciding how I should teach. I had to attend mandated trainings. These trainings pushed the teaching of select isolated skills out of context. There was a heavy emphasis on phonics and phonemic awareness, almost to the exclusion of all else. Everything I knew and had read about how children learn did not fit with this new “model.” I was worried.

By this point I had obtained my master’s degree. The program heavily emphasized critical pedagogy. I had learned the importance of being critical, asking questions, and always keeping in mind “for who and on whose behalf” I was working (Paulo Freire). So I was critical. I asked questions. I requested the data, and challenged it. No one was going to tell me to change what I knew worked best for kids without some darned good reasons.

As educators, we always encourage our students to be critical and ask questions. I learned early (the hard way) that this is not what administration wants from its teachers. My questions and requests for information were met with contempt and reprimands. One administrator actually waved her finger back and forth in my face the entire time she lectured me. I learned so much. I learned do not ask questions. Do not be critical. Do not model the behavior we expect from our students. Go along to get along. And I did. God help me, I did.

Luckily, I didn’t completely shut down. I decided to engage in critical dialogue in other circles away from my district. I joined a teacher research group. I wrote an article. I wrote a chapter in a book. I started teaching part time at the university level. But I did not share my writing or my coursework content with anyone in my district except for close friends. I still haven’t. I did not want a finger waved in my face again. I still don’t.

So here it is now, 2004. Things are a lot worse for kids and their teachers. No Child Left Behind (NCLB) and the National Reading Panel (NRP) Report are here. Things are worse than ever.

I am no longer permitted to utilize textbooks as resources. They are viewed as scripts to be followed. I am told when and how to use my materials. I am told when and how to assess my students. The needs of children are no longer at the forefront of the discussion. Standardized test scores and multiple measures are what’s important now.

My stomach hurts most mornings when I go to work. For most of the day, I do not enjoy teaching. And for most of the day, my kids do not enjoy learning. Well, I don’t know if you can really call it teaching and learning. It’s more like test preparation most of the day. As teachers, we can only make this kind of curriculum so exciting. There are limits to what you can do with such a narrow and limited instructional focus. I do have one little window of time each day that I can call my own, and I use the strategies I know work for kids. My kids love that part of the day, and learn so much. So do I. But it’s not enough. Not enough to make up for the rest of the day.

I no longer consider myself a good teacher. I rarely receive notes and letters like the ones in my early years of teaching. I now get complaints. I now have behavior problems. I now have lots of test results. I now go through a lot more tissue. I should buy stock in Kleenex. I cry a lot.

What I have come to realize is this: teachers will never be treated professionally unless we start becoming vocal. We cannot “go along to get along.” We know what works for our students, and we need to stand up and fight for what is right for our students.

I am angry with myself. I am deeply disappointed in myself. How did I let this happen? Why did I go along to get along? Why didn’t I stand up and say no? I suppose there is no point in mulling this over. What’s done is done. What matters now is what I do next. What matters for all of us is what we do next.

I feel I have gained a great deal of strength recently. I think this is due to several factors:

• Having “faithfully implemented” the mandated language arts program, I now feel I can speak to its weaknesses and alter my instruction without guilt. Knowing the enemy is powerful. And it is important. We must be very familiar with the enemy if we are to successfully fight it and triumph.

• The amount of reading and research available to teachers to assist us in doing what is best for kids is phenomenal. I have been engaged in a great deal of reading. I now have an arsenal of knowledge to defend what I do and prove why it is better for students than the mandated curriculum and strategies.

• I have gone through a great deal of pain. Obviously, it is difficult to look at yourself in the mirror and realize you have succumbed to the powers that be and sacrificed meaningful instruction for students as a result. The guilt is almost unbearable. But through that pain and guilt, I have become a stronger person and a stronger teacher. It is part of what has made me who I am, and what I will hopefully start to be again: a good teacher.

Will I become a good teacher again? I hope so. But the mandates are strong and those who are willing to speak up are few. If teachers continue to close their doors and stay silent things will never change. I have recently started to find my voice again and share my concerns. Even though every teacher I know feels the way I do, they do not say anything. So what does that make me? How do I look to the powers that be in my district? I am a squeaky wheel, a troublemaker, a problem to be dealt with quickly or ignored altogether. Those who do not follow the mandates and testing insanity without question are not treated as critical thinkers. They are not treated as student advocates. Their opinions are not valued and listened to with open minds and open hearts. These people are reprimanded, punished, and often find themselves unemployed. Just ask Steve Orel, James Hope, Joanne Yatvin, Teresa Glenn, or any of the other authors whose stories are told in the book Silent No More. These people have paid the price. Why? They all worked in isolation to improve conditions and promote fairness and equality for all students. Their stories are inspirational, yet so sad and depressing. How can we stand up without being beaten back down again? A voice of one is easy to subdue and squelch when you have entire institutions or administrations against you.

But what about a chorus of 10? 15? 100? What if we all got together and screamed “Stop this insanity!”? Would anyone listen? I bet they would. Could they attack all of us? Could they fire all of us? My guess is no. Or at least my hope is no.

All I know is, we have to take our profession back. Well, I often wonder if we ever really had it in the first place. Teaching is such an unusual profession. We are isolated from each other most of the day. We do not have time to work together and collaborate. We certainly do not have time to conduct our own research and write our own articles. And when we do, we are told what we have to offer is not “scientific,” and therefore cannot be a part of the knowledge base. We are marginalized in our own profession. Does this make sense? Does this sit right with you? It sure doesn’t with me.

Stop the Bandwagon, I Want to Get Off! (2005 Update)

Well, here it is, a year later since I wrote the above. What did I do? What happened?

Good news and bad news. The good news is I did take the adopted materials and began to use them more as resources rather than Bibles. The students are more responsive and seem more engaged this year. Is it anywhere near what I used to do? No. But it’s better than what it was last year.

I was filled with hope this year. Our school seemed to be embracing student-centered strategies that were truly grounded in legitimate research. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, that light was a train.

Data analysis. Curriculum calibration. Test coordinators in our faces. Focus walls. Reciprocal teaching. Numeracy. Mandated strategies. Now, as much as I love GLAD, I do not believe it should be mandated and piecemealed out. As a matter of fact, none of these strategies and programs are bad. But what on earth makes anyone think we can do ALL of them and still be effective? Something’s gotta give, people! One guess what it is. That’s right, a quality education for our students.

I think my favorite moment of the year came rather early on. The test coordinator came to talk to every grade level at the Title I schools. (Hmmm…..) When it was my grade level’s turn, I went in with an open mind. I had never met this person. Maybe he had something to say that would be helpful. Then again, maybe ….

One of his first questions was, “Your language arts test scores went down for your English learners. Why?” My reply was, “Yes, we expected that. The adopted materials do not effectively meet the needs of our EL population, but the district mandated faithful implementation of the materials.”

Guess what his reply was? “I don’t want to hear excuses.” Hey buddy – you asked the question. Sorry you don’t like the answer.

This pretty much sets the tone in my district, as I am sure it does in many all over the country. Mandates abound from the feds, the state, and the district. Guess how often our district administrators visit our school? Once a year. That’s right. Once a year. And based on these annual visits (which average about 60 seconds per room, and not even half of the rooms), decisions are made about what we should be doing in our classrooms.

My second favorite moment came later in the year. Several of the schools that didn’t make AYP in our district went through “curriculum calibration.” This is a rather costly exercise to determine whether or not teachers are teaching the grade level standards. Guess what? Our school teaches the grade level standards! Darn, I guess you can’t blame those low test scores on those worthless teachers at that Title I school who don’t know what they’re doing. Too bad – that’s such a popular place to lay the blame.

And, of course........

The Blueberry Story: The teacher gives the businessman a lesson

“If I ran my business the way you people operate your schools, I wouldn’t be in business very long!”

I stood before an auditorium filled with outraged teachers who were becoming angrier by the minute. My speech had entirely consumed their precious 90 minutes of inservice. Their initial icy glares had turned to restless agitation. You could cut the hostility with a knife.

I represented a group of business people dedicated to improving public schools. I was an executive at an ice cream company that became famous in the middle1980s when People Magazine chose our blueberry as the “Best Ice Cream in America.”

I was convinced of two things. First, public schools needed to change; they were archaic selecting and sorting mechanisms designed for the industrial age and out of step with the needs of our emerging “knowledge society”. Second, educators were a major part of the problem: they resisted change, hunkered down in their feathered nests, protected by tenure and shielded by a bureaucratic monopoly. They needed to look to business. We knew how to produce quality. Zero defects! TQM! Continuous improvement!

In retrospect, the speech was perfectly balanced - equal parts ignorance and arrogance.

As soon as I finished, a woman’s hand shot up. She appeared polite, pleasant – she was, in fact, a razor-edged, veteran, high school English teacher who had been waiting to unload.

She began quietly, “We are told, sir, that you manage a company that makes good ice cream.”

I smugly replied, “Best ice cream in America, Ma’am.”

“How nice,” she said. “Is it rich and smooth?”

“Sixteen percent butterfat,” I crowed.

“Premium ingredients?” she inquired.

“Super-premium! Nothing but triple A.” I was on a roll. I never saw the next line coming.

“Mr. Vollmer,” she said, leaning forward with a wicked eyebrow raised to the sky, “when you are standing on your receiving dock and you see an inferior shipment of blueberries arrive, what do you do?”

In the silence of that room, I could hear the trap snap…. I was dead meat, but I wasn’t going to lie.

“I send them back.”

“That’s right!” she barked, “and we can never send back our blueberries. We take them big, small, rich, poor, gifted, exceptional, abused, frightened, confident, homeless, rude, and brilliant. We take them with ADHD, junior rheumatoid arthritis, and English as their second language. We take them all! Every one! And that, Mr. Vollmer, is why it’s not a business. It’s school!”

In an explosion, all 290 teachers, principals, bus drivers, aides, custodians and secretaries jumped to their feet and yelled, “Yeah! Blueberries! Blueberries!”

And so began my long transformation.

Since then, I have visited hundreds of schools. I have learned that a school is not a business. Schools are unable to control the quality of their raw material, they are dependent upon the vagaries of politics for a reliable revenue stream, and they are constantly mauled by a howling horde of disparate, competing customer groups that would send the best CEO screaming into the night.

None of this negates the need for change. We must change what, when, and how we teach to give all children maximum opportunity to thrive in a post-industrial society. But educators cannot do this alone; these changes can occur only with the understanding, trust, permission and active support of the surrounding community. For the most important thing I have learned is that schools reflect the attitudes, beliefs and health of the communities they serve, and therefore, to improve public education means more than changing our schools, it means changing America.

by Jamie Robert Vollmer