You don't always choose the emotions you feel, but you do get to choose which ones you express. Emotional intelligence depends on the will to recognize harmful emotions and the skill to avoid inflicting them on others.#SundayThoughts
One of the early mistakes I made when working with students who were upset (often understandably so) about a situation is that I either 1) minimized their emotions or, when that didn't work, 2) indulged a way of dealing with emotions that was unproductive for both the child and myself.
The way to find the balance between the two lies in communicating the concept Wharton Professor Adam Grant describes above. That is, one always has a choice about what comes out of your mouth.
This is incredibly hard for children to actually do because their frontal lobe — the part of the brain that, among other processes, regulates impulse control and emotion — isn't fully developed and won't be until their early twenties. (Side note: This is why RAs often have the most interesting stories from college.)
That said, a big thing about teaching for a living is convincing/instructing/cajoling people into developing worthwhile skills that they otherwise would resist. I can attest that students can make real progress in expressing their emotions in healthy and productive ways. It's hard because there's nothing fun or fast about this kind of teaching.
Once I knew the words to say to a student, the next challenge was repeating them again and again. The proverb "fall down seven times, stand up eight" became a mantra. I remember directly saying this to one student after he asked me how many times I was going to tell him to count to ten and speak without shouting when confronted with a situation. (He, uh, wasn't great at holding his tongue or controlling his volume.) He came back a day later and made a connection between the phrase and the manga he favored. Didn't entirely fix the issue, but he got a lot better.
I don't understand manga but the kids really dig it.
Happy coincidences involving pop culture references you're too old to understand are one of the myriad ways working with teenagers is a strange and beautiful job.
A few days ago, I listened to Radiolab's podcast "The Bad Show." It explored bad behavior in a couple of different ways. The segment that stuck with me was their take on the famous Milgram experiments on the lengths people will go to follow directions.
First, the context. An fake experiment on using electric shocks as a motivator for learning is staged. A regular citizen is brought and instructed by an administrator to give increasingly high shocks to a "learner" (actually a voice actor on a recording) if that person incorrectly answers parts of a memorization exercise. The "learner" purposefully starts making mistakes, forcing the regular citizen to decide to administer the shocks.
The real experiment is to see when the person administering the shocks stops the experiments. That person is forced to hear the "learner" scream in pain and beg to stop. Labels on the "machine" show that the person is administering deadly shocks to the learner.
The experiments were spurred by examining the idea: "How could so many German citizens be cogs in the Final Solution?" Nowadays, the experiments have been applied to subsequent genocides and also cover territory like: "How could so many Enron employees participate in a massive fraud?"
The headline of the experiment is that a disturbingly high percentage of people will basically do what they're told by a person in authority -- or even one who looks like she or he is in authority.
Milgram conducted dozens of variations of the experiment. Did it make a different in what the "administrator" was wearing? What about the age of the person giving instructions? What happens if the administrator gives rationale? What about if the administrator issues an order? What "The Bad Show" discusses are two important, oft-overlooked subtleties in the findings:
1) What got the highest rates of compliance was when the administrator justified the experiment in terms of contributing the greater good. If the citizens thought they were doing their part to advance the science of learning, around two-thirds of them were willing to shock the learner enough to kill them.
2) Giving direct orders was the least successful way of gaining compliance in killing people. About two-thirds of all citizens rebelled when giving a direct order to keep sending deadly shocks.
***
The implications of these results are exciting and horrifying. One could take them in a dozen different directions. For example, I couldn't help but see echoes of them in the Maryland football scandal where a coach inadvertantly ordered a player to exercise himself to death.
For today though, I want to focus on way the experiments' implications could be used in a positive way -- managing people, specifically students. (Writing this blog has a way of quickly exposing the limits of my lived experience.) In a way, me learning how to lead a classroom more or less confirmed Milgram's results.
When I was a rookie teacher, one of the benchmarks that I set for myself was being able to give an behavior instruction with no rationale and get compliance from the students. An order, basically. I'm not sure how or why I got in my head that being able to order kids around was a mark of a teacher with a well-managed classroom. Then again, a lot of my ideas back then of what made for a good teaching were 100 percent wrong. I was always able to get a few to comply, but enough would rebel that in short order the lesson would go off the rails. I never got to the point of being able to consistently, successfully order kids around. This is because as I got better at my job, I realized I didn't need to do it. It's sort of similar to the famous photo of cyclists smoking cigarettes while riding in the first few Tour de Frances. Turns out smoking cigarettes is counter-productive if one is riding 100 miles a day! Also counter-productive: barking orders at adolescents.
Not a successful racing strategy
What I learned from much better teachers is that well-managed classrooms have a rationale -- implicit or explicit -- for everything that happens in executing a lesson. The teacher has set things up so the class doesn't need to rely solely on the authority of an adult for it to function. This creates a virtuous cycle where the teacher can achieve maximum compliance with a light touch. The students trust the teacher's direction, therefore the teacher can do all sorts of other things -- give suggestions, solicit peer feedback, restating rationale, clarifying or simplifying directions -- instead of issuing a series of orders (with explicit or implicit negative consequences) to achieve the day's goal. Great leaders get the behavior they want by investing people in a clear vision, giving simple directions, depending more on persuasion than authority, and setting up strong systems to create a culture where people want to be best their best selves. If you observe one of these classes (or team or working groups), then you'll notice something interesting when there's off-task behavior. The person or people doing the non-compliant behaviors quickly give up because it's exhausting -- like swimming against the tide. Thanks to Milgram, we better understand the power -- for good and for ill -- of investing people in a grand vision. The experiments showed that we are hard-wired to follow directions more often than not when we believe we a part of something big and great. It also illustrates the power and perils of being the person in charge. These are morally neutral observations. What is up to us is our awareness of what we're asked to do and conversely, what we're asking of others when we lead. The difference between knowing we humans have a tendency versus treating behavior as fait accompli is what makes a moral choice so hard in the first place.
A few assorted thoughts before I get to the point of this post: - Wealthy people spending money to help at-risk kids get a better education is a Good Thing. - Wealthy people focusing education philanthropy on young kids instead of, say, funding a fancy collegiate athletic facility is also a Good Thing. - It is astonishing that LeBron James has such a sterling reputation despite being in the spotlight since middle school, contending with God knows how many people attempting to profit off of his talent, plus handling the various pressures a world-class professional athlete faces, AND raising a family. The only minor public misstep he's made was a tone-deaf television special when he was 26. I made all sorts of dumb decisions when I was 26. Thankfully, none were broadcast on ESPN. *** I wanted to expand on comments I made in response to some questions about the Akron public school LeBron James funded (and is providing some ongoing operations cash).
The school, called iPromise, is a regular public school in Akron. It's charter-ish in a couple of ways. It's a selective school, though not in the way "selective" is commonly known. Kids who are a year or two behind are eligible to attend. Also, the Akron school board has given permission for the school to have a longer school day, some additional staff, and some summer sessions. Classes are limited to 20 students, which is smaller than most public schools (traditional and charter), though slightly larger than most private schools. There's also some social-emotional support programs that, at first glance, seem similar to best practices piloted by Nashville-based charter Valor Collegiate Academies. (Full disclosure: I used to teach there before I was hired as an administrator at another school.)
To ensure long-term opportunities, James has partnered with the University of Akron to underwrite the students' tuition if they complete the middle school program and choose to attend U of A. *** In addition to what's above, the iPromise' school's "wraparound services" have garnered a lot of press. I follow school news pretty closely so I've heard the term in a variety of contexts. Sometimes it's by charter advocates when a new school is being proposed. On the opposite end, I've heard from folks who are trying to turn around a persistently struggling school-board controlled school (usually before the state or district begins action to shut the school down). The most frequent use is a sort of hand-waving from people who argue that additional wraparound services are what's needed to improve a given school's mediocre academics. Because the term is vague and sounds nice, it gets tossed around by people advocating for a bunch of different ed policies. So, let's break down what should and shouldn't be expected of wraparound services. First, a better definition and some stipulations: 1) In most cases, wraparound services focused on students are: school counseling, school-based social workers, after-school childcare, and some basic health care. 2) All of these services are great and necessary. 3) Every school needs more of them. 4) The outcomes of these services are notoriously hard to measure. 5) The best result of most services is when they help mitigate reasons why a student wouldn't be able to fully participate in a class. 6) Providers of wraparound services can a do a terrific job with a kid and that student will still likely exhibit some significant challenges -- low grades, behavior issues, inconsistent attendance, etc. What I want to shout any time I read articles that describe a school's wraparound services but say little about a school's instruction: Wraparound services should not be confused with the main purpose of any school: teaching kids.
At different junctures in my career, I oversaw some wraparound services at a few different schools. I can say that nearly every counselor and social worker with whom I've worked has gone above and beyond to provide care beyond their job description. (Even then, some students have needs that exceed a school's capacity to meet. This could be where, for example, specialized schools or inpatient treatment programs come in.)
But even at their best, counselors shouldn't have to shoulder a teacher's responsibility. Sometimes it's a victory for a student to be present at school and doing just enough to pass a class. Once a kid is in class, the overwhelming factor in determining how a student does is the teacher. From there, the major factors in ensuring a teacher does her/his job well are the leadership, instructional coaching, and culture of the school. (I'm simplifying a lot here. Scores of books have been written on what it takes to do each of those factors well and, even then, I've never seen or worked in a school that has it completely figured out.) So, a school could have the greatest wraparound services in the world, but if the school's focus isn't on instruction, then the school isn't fulfilling its mission. The cool thing about education is that when another school succeeds, it's good for everyone. School achievement is the opposite of a zero-sum game. I'm rooting for the iPromise school because it could improve the lives of thousands of Akron kids over the years. Kudos to James for providing startup funding and ongoing support**. Just keep in mind that the main -- though not only -- determinant of success will be the factor that's gotten the least media attention: the teachers and administrators doing the work of teaching the kids. **I've read some criticisms of James because he isn't funding the whole thing. Ohio law sets limits on how much a private citizen can fund a public school.
First lesson of classroom management: Let 'em think you're always watching.
One of the underrated parts about being a stay-at-home dad is that infants sleep a lot. Consequently, I've had a fair amount of time to reflect on how a decade-plus of teaching impacted my life. Because this blog is nothing if not self-indulgent, I'll write about it every so often. Running a classroom forced me to learn skills that I would've never picked up otherwise. Teaching a roomful of adolescents has a way of forcing one to quickly adapt. What follows is meant as part reflection and part mediation on how skills learned as a teacher can also be useful outside of a classroom. If you're an educator (or just spend a bunch of time around kids) and reading this, you likely know this stuff already.
*** I had to learn to see the class.
There are a lot of tricks and techniques to running a classroom. I first, though, had to develop the skill where kids get the sense that the teacher "has eyes in the back of his head."
I was initiallyawful at this. You know those people who say they're natural multitaskers? Maybe they joke about having ADHD? I'm the opposite. I can tune out the world in an instant. (N confirms this.) It helps when one is grading papers or wants to finish reading a book. It's kryptonite when one is managing 28 or so adolescents at once.
When I was struggling as a teacher many years ago, my principal observed one of my classes. He listed several misbehaviors that I hadn't addressed. As he was doing so, he looked at me and paused. "You didn't even see any of this, did you?"
I shook my head. No, I wasn't even aware they had occurred.
So began a crash course in something basic, yet taken for granted. Here's what I learned about truly seeing the classroom: 1. Stop talking so much. I couldn't talk and effectively observe at the same time. I learned to give directions in under three minutes and break up directions if they lasted longer than that -- or if I noticed kids getting the glazed look on their faces. (Sometimes the glazed look came on so quickly, especially in a post-lunch class, that I had to get a direction out in under 30 seconds.) 2. Use the corners of the room. This is one of the techniques that seemed obvious in retrospect, but I was like most teachers -- anchored to the front of the room. Standing there meant that I had to cover 180 degrees of sight-lines and there was always a section I couldn't see. The corners allow a person to see the entire classroom with only 90 degrees of head movement. 3. Empty my hands. Don't try to do anything when kids are supposed to be working. Don't write on the whiteboard, check my computer or phone, or grade papers. Organize the class so that everything I needed was out and ready. (This took quite a bit of effort for my naturally disorganized self.) 4. When there's even a minor disruption, observe for a few seconds (at least 10) before intervening. Often the student I thought instigated the disruption was actually responding to someone else. *** I've learned a bunch of other lessons, too, but everything flowed from first seeing what the children were actually doing in my class. I found it translated to parenting, too. My three-year-old can barely process one direction at a time, so talking to him for any longer than that just wastes time and builds frustration for both of us. Pausing a few seconds and watching him, even when he's misbehaving, is useful in figuring out the root cause of the behavior. He also has a radar-like ability to know when I'm paying more attention to my phone than to him -- this is when he magically finds something that 1) will break or 2) is sharp or 3) both. Learning to focus my attention and curtail distractions has probably saved my child several trips to the emergency room. That thought is simultaneously gratifying and frightening. God only knows what would've happened if I had done something else other than teach.
My follow through hasn't been great. I wanted to write at least three or four times a week once school returned to its regular schedule. That, obviously, hasn't happened. However, I suppose the corollary to "don't let perfect be the enemy of the good" is also to not let a temporary setback become a permanent failure. With that spirit, a few things that have been bouncing around my head: * One of the more interesting ed ideas I've heard is from Matt Candler of 4.0 Schools. The theory is to push new ideas is in schools by creating a quick prototype at small scale, gathering feedback, then iterating quickly. In the podcast "The Leaders' Table," Matt points out a flaw in the mindset of many folks who work in the high-performing charter schools world. We want to come up with the perfect (and massive plan), then roll out an idea at scale. As a veteran of starting new grades six times, I can advise that this never works out. (Something about "the best laid schemes o' mice and men...") Inevitably, iteration happens but the lag time is, at best, weeks. More often, it's school year to school year. Matt argues that we'd all better off by getting an idea to the minimum level needed to make it live, then beta testing with a short window and small group of students and/or teachers. * In light of this, I've been thinking about the teacher's role in running a class so that students are mentally carrying the weight of the content. Another way of thinking about is moving from seeing teaching as something that is done to students; instead, a teacher works with students. This, obviously, is not the easiest thing to pull off. The major barriers I face can be distilled to 1) I, as the teacher, have more content knowledge than the students and 2) creating strong enough cultural norms in class so that all students fully own their learning. Curating various social studies resources and savvy use of students' Chromebooks has alleviated issues around #1 so that I can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The second concern is more vexing. The students for whom this more self-guided learning functions best also tend to be strong readers and already have great grades. I note that students who are struggling readers and/or struggle with motivation at school can fall further behind compared to their experience in a tightly-run teacher centered class. As a way to address this, I've been testing the optimal balance of using fluency tools like Quizlet versus games like Kahoot versus direct teaching. Here's what I've found so far: - Mastering the terminology of a unit feels slow at first, then pays off in the last weeks of a unit. I now have students start a unit by spending 3 minutes of class per day in the first week doing Quizlet flashcards individually. - In the second week, I start using games like Kahoot. The best questions are at the "stamping the learning level" -- i.e. "What" and "Who" and "How" questions. - Direct teaching is best for connecting thematic elements of the unit. As shown by my exit ticket data, students absorb direct teaching better in weeks two and three of a unit. Spending much time on thematic elements in the first few days of a unit seems to be relatively unproductive versus having students build their knowledge base. If I were teaching a language, the equivalent would be heavy focus on mastering vocabulary, then moving verb tense and sentence structure only after a base of 100 commonly used words is built. The class still feels too teacher-centered. I'd love to figure out a way for students to have higher-quality interactions with the materials earlier. This could look as simple as analytical conversations in a turn-and-talk, then building to a short piece of analytical writing. However, I've seen that doing this too early just causes the students to parrot whatever I directly taught or just offer a recitation of various facts they've picked up.
Today was probably my worst day of teaching this year. Here's why:
I tried to cram too much in one lesson, so it felt disjointed on my end. The students likely didn't retain the most critical information because there was too much of it. This is best illustrated by attempting to slake your thirst by putting 20 oz. of water in a 12 oz. glass.
I didn't consider the entire lesson from a student's perspective. Specifically, I didn't fully think through how they would process the information. Therefore, sometimes the students were put in a position of listening for too long a period without a chance to speak and write. This also hindered me knowing what they learned because the questions I did have them write about weren't the most critical to understanding the lesson. In short -- I focused on what would be doing at the expense of being clear regarding what I wanted them to do.
I failed to order the information so it was clear which were the foundation pieces of knowledge, then how various pieces connected. The connections that were there were haphazard so it's likely most students' first impression were formed in very different ways. This is similar to having a poor foundation to a house. The only way to really fix is just go back and do it again.
*** When these days (inevitably) happen, I think back to early in my career. When a lesson went sideways then, it meant that student behavior would be so off that I'd usually need to call in another teacher or assistant principal. On those days, I would leave school emotionally drained. I'd procrastinate on planning because I'd still be angry. I'd go to bed feeling a pit in my stomach, knowing that I'd set myself up to have the same problems the next day. Teaching is better now. My worst day now far surpasses my best day then. Now, I'm mostly just annoyed when I don't do that great of a job. I hate it when I see kids who are trying to learn, just not quite getting there, and it's my responsibility. I understand this is a part of the job -- of any job, really. Just thought it's worth marking the days in the classroom that aren't typically captured in an exemplar teaching clip or make it to YouTube because kids are chucking chairs at each other. I won't be nominated to be profiled in Teach Like A Champion anytime soon, but you shouldn't see my class on Vine either. (If you do, let me know, so I can confiscate the phone tomorrow) Onward and upward!
Some thoughts on anger and working with kids *** I think a lot about what should be a new teacher's first priority. The first year is overwhelming, the first few weeks especially so, and folks can only process a little at a time. When we're learning something new, we can barely do one thing at a time.
So what should that be? Depends on the person, of course, but as a general rule, focus on maintaining emotional constancy. To translate that from teacher-ese: check your anger. *** Anger often comes from being surprised. You weren't expecting the kid to interrupt you or say that smart-aleck remark, or use profanity, so you're caught off guard. Your face becomes flush, your voice raises in volume, the edge sharpens on the tone. You cease to see the child as a child. You take seriously what a 12-year-old says to you. It's personal. You say something in an effort to gain control. This, of course, is the first true mistake because you chose to play the game. From here, all of the outcomes are bad. With some games -- three-card monte on an NYC sidewalk, poker at the high-stakes table in Vegas come to mind -- the best option is not to play. Losing your temper makes matters worse every single time. ***
I occasionally get asked about how to deal with a student who shows frustrating behavior, then emotionally escalates. What works may strike you as counter-intuitive, but here it is: give the kid time and space, then having the conversation. It's rare that one can talk a child out of being upset. Rather, what happens is that the adult joins the child in being upset and this further escalates the child. This, obviously, isn't easy. It's hard to keep a class going while a student says or does things that break all sorts of rules. If a student is highly escalated and jeopardizes the physical or emotional safety of others, you may need to get help. You may need to do that while your face is flush and you struggle to keep an even tone. You may have to ignore insults about your looks, gender, race, voice, or clothes. This is hard and takes a toll. Beyond making sure you get enough rest and you've got a few good listeners in your life, I don't have much in the way of solutions. Two things are highly likely to happen in the aftermath: 1) The student will eventually become calm. No one stays mad forever. 2) He or she will feel awful about what was said. As terrible as you feel, it's exponentially worse for the student because it's humiliating to lose self-control in front of others. Even if the student doesn't show it, he or she feels it. What do to about the other kids: Even if other kids are giggling or laughing, it's a nervous response more than anything. At that moment, the other kids are craving to see that an adult is in charge and isn't fazed by what's happening. *** A lot of writing on classroom management is focused on tactics or pedagogy. Use such and such routine or plan a better lesson. Routines and planning are critical to making a classroom function. However, given the limited capacities of people, focusing on keeping a cool head should be the first priority. Everything else flows from that.
What can educators learns from Hollywood? Reading this interview with director Steven Soderburgh (via Andrew Sullivan), I picked up on some themes:
One thing I do know from making art is that ideology is the enemy of problem-solving. Nobody sits on a film set and says, “No, you can’t use green-screen VFX to solve that because I’m Catholic.” There’s no place for that, and that’s why I’ve stopped being embarrassed about being in the entertainment industry, because I’m surrounded by intelligent people who solve problems quickly and efficiently, primarily because issues of ideology don’t enter into the conversation.
Soderburgh is comparing filmmaking with Congress, but the same point can be made about how we run schools. Compare the ideology and dogmatism infusing many policy discussions versus the ruthless pragmatism exercised by the best teachers. I'm of the camp that thinks gifted educators are, at heart, artists who use technical skills and collaboration to create something that is, at best, only partially defined by numbers. Filmmaking is in some ways similar, which is why it's fascinating to read Soderbergh's take on the real assets of competent moviemakers:
And these people excel at problem-solving—that’s 99 percent of the job. I look at Hurricane Katrina, and I think if four days before landfall you gave a movie studio autonomy and a 100th of the billions the government spent on that disaster, and told them, “Lock this place down and get everyone taken care of,” we wouldn’t be using that disaster as an example of what not to do. A big movie involves clothing, feeding, and moving thousands of people around the world on a tight schedule. Problems are solved creatively and efficiently within a budget, or your ass is out of work.
(Emphasis mine)
Soderbergh exaggerates in regards to prepping for Hurricane Katrina, but his overall point holds up: execution trumps everything. In both making movies and running schools, there's a tight schedule with lots of stuff happening at once. There's a budget. There's a deadline. Results are both measured with numbers and also judged as something better described than quantified. Filmmakers value box office, but know it shouldn't be the sole judge of a great movie. (The Shawshank Redemption is one example of this.) Educators know test scores matter and we also want students who will become thoughtful, informed, and kind citizens (note the work schools like KIPP and YES are doing with character education).
I've worked in district and charter schools and have been asked what's the big difference? From my perspective as teacher, there is a difference, but it has little to do with different types of school governance. Rather, the difference is how diligent the adults are about problem solving. Some school environments facilitate solutions, others build barriers. The best charter and district schools find ways to create the former. Poorly run schools of both stripes do the latter. This is why some charter schools succeed, some are mediocre, and others are worse than district schools. The governance model simply allows for more experimentation in solving the puzzle of how best to teach children. It doesn't guarantee anything about the abilities of the adults running the school.
All schools -- district and charter -- can learn something from successful filmmakers. Just like a movie, each school tells a story. The process of telling that story will involve numerous problems to be solved. The story will either be told well or poorly. The governance model of the school won't decide that. The adults who are solving the problems will.
Local education technology company LiveSchool has raised $1.65 million through an equity offering, according to a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission.
The Nashville Capital Network led the round of funding.
LiveSchool offers a classroom management app to help teachers manage day-to-day classroom activities, such as tracking student behavior, contacting parents or issuing hall passes.
The charter school where I work has helped LiveSchool pilot this app. (Note: some other schools in our network use student management systems from other companies.) Several other charter schools in Nashville were also involved in the beta testing of LiveSchool. I'm not sure if the company has any client schools in the district, though I'm sure that will eventually come, if it hasn't happened already. Apps like this one that improve the flow of record-keeping and paperwork -- particularly in essential but mundane tasks like tracking demerits and hall passes -- make a big difference in managing a school. Student management systems aren't the type of reform that will be debated by the Tennessee legislature, but this is the type of nuts-and-bolts change that makes a difference in teaching kids. When data is more accessible, consistent, and easily visualized, teachers can do their jobs better. Matt is a smart guy and I hope this money helps the company refine the product and grow. It would be great if Nashville become not only a hub for innovative schools, but innovative educational technology, too. Note: neither I nor the network of schools where I work are formally endorsing LiveSchool. Just proud to see a cool business launch in Nashville.
I've got a radical idea for improving schools. On paper, it won't cost more money. A bunch of schools are already doing it. Also, pretty much every other industry does this some form or fashion. So, as I said, radical by the standards of education policy. Here it is: District superintendents should allow principals to choose their staffs. We in Nashville are watching an example of how this could work right now. After a crappy season, Titans coach Mike Munchak is "reorganizing" his staff. That is, he's firing some people and hiring others. Several coaches were given no more explanation than "the team is going in a different direction." Among these is longtime special teams coach Alan Lowry, best known as the architect of the most famous play in team history, the Music City Miracle. It's not like Lowry forgot how to coach football this year. But his contract had expired and observers speculate that the special teams unit needed shaking up.
This never gets old.
Tennessean sports columnist David Climer criticized Munchak's moves, but then wrote the following:
While some of Munchak’s decisions may seem odd, let’s be clear: Considering his situation, he must be given complete freedom to adjust his coaching staff in whatever way he sees fit. His job is on the line, so he must be allowed to win or lose with the assistants of his choice. If he thinks he can upgrade his staff, so be it.
(Emphasis mine) So why does a football coach get the freedom to choose a staff, but many schools refuse to let their principals do the same? Back in my Philly days, I asked that question to a colleague. She looked at me as if I'd grown a third eye. "What would happen if a principal came in here and just cleaned house?" she asked, expecting that the answer was self-evident. Except that the particular school where I worked had been failing by every possible measure. We had the educational equivalent of a 2-14 season. If ever there was a school that was fit for a Indianapolis Colts-style makeover, this was it. Of course, school district management being what it is, the district fired the previous administration while staff stayed (unless they decided to leave of their own volition). This worked wonders in undermining most of the authority any administration would've had. Teachers could do the same thing they'd always done (admittedly a good thing in a few cases, but a recipe for repeating failure in most others). Whether a teacher was competent or not, none of us had reason to treat the new administration as anything other than the next group through the revolving door. I think I talked the principal five times during the entire year. Now I work in a charter school. If she wants, the principal can fire me. Is that likely to happen? No. There are lots of good reasons why principals, even ones who were new to a school, wouldn't want to fire the staff en masse. The point is that a school leader should get to choose of who works for them. There's quite a difference between saying that something would be a bad idea -- like firing an entire staff -- versus prohibiting someone from doing it. That difference is trust. And if a superintendent doesn't trust a principal, then why is that person allowed to lead a school? (I can see the eye-rolling from veteran teachers regarding that last point. Bear with me -- I'm talking about how things should be.) I know that there are some terrible principals out there. (In my stint there, I learned the hard way that the School District of Philadelphia was notorious for hiring them.) The solution for hiring poor principals, though, isn't to make sure that they're powerless to change much of anything. That sort of arrangement can (and does) repel a whole lot of competent candidates. As for what to do with bad principals? Hold them as accountable as, say, the typical NFL coach. If the Titans don't go the playoffs next year, everybody expects owner Bud Adams to fire Munchak. The same idea should be applied to principals. If they don't get results, replace them. Staff turnover is commonplace in other industries, particularly those were leadership is so closely aligned to performance. Indeed, school superintendents are held accountable for results even when they don't influence student achievement nearly as much as principals and teachers. We understand the principle of giving freedom to lead in exchange for accountability when it applies to sports. Why doesn't it seem to apply to so many of our schools?
There's often a gulf between how ed reform ideas look on paper and how those ideas play out at the classroom level. In other news, sugar tastes good and the Cubs won't win the World Series this year. So I'm going to be discussing over the next few posts how some of the big reform pieces have affected my classroom. I'll start with an update about how Tennessee's new teacher evaluations impact me. The headline is that the new evaluation process significantly improved my teaching. I've been evaluated by the old system in a district school and the new system in a charter school. I got better scores on the former; the latter was more honest and actually helped me do my job better.
That's due to both the rigorous rubric and how the dean of instruction at my school scrupulously implemented it. Sure, I could quibble with a few details, but the process as a whole is solid. It's impossible to construct an evaluation process that leaves everybody happy. Given the purposes of evaluation, it's going to bruise egos. Mine certainly was -- and that's a good thing for both myself and my students.
"If there's anything more important than my ego on this ship,
Are are we also polarized about the purposes of public education? I am not sure whether we are polarized, indifferent or excluded from the conversation, but we have a real problem. The goal of school is to help grow American citizens. Four key words: help, grow, American, citizen. Think about those words:
Help: Schools are junior partners in education. They are to help families, the principal educators.
Grow: It’s a process, sometimes two steps forward, one back. Education is akin to a family business, not a publicly traded stock company that lives and dies by quarterly reports.
American: E Pluribus Unum. We are Americans, first and foremost.
Citizen: Let’s put some flesh on that term. What do we want our children to be as adults? Good parents and neighbors, thoughtful voters, reliable workers? What else?
Merrow hits a lot of good points in the whole article. You should read the whole thing. I don't disagree with anything he wrote above. That said, I've got some footnotes about the role of luck and what public schools can do about it.
On "Help": Schools aren't going to take the place of families. However, we are charged with educating the students we have. These kids -- through no fault of their own -- may come from broken families, from impoverished households, from parents working two or more jobs, from caregivers who value education but were never able to acquire one themselves. As a result, we have two options:
Option #1: We can shift into blame mode. We can search around for a villain -- poverty, parents, politicians -- and talk about how educators can't really do anything until that villain goes away.
Option #2: We can do the best we can to compensate. For kids who lack stability at home, school can be an oasis of calm. Teachers can't replace parents, but I see every day the power of a school where each child is known by each adult. I've also worked in schools where that didn't happen. Anonymity is the first step towards falling through the cracks.
On "Grow": Merrow is exactly right. The only thing I'd add is that we should have multiple measures, subjective and objective, to chart the "two steps forward, one back." As the fifth norm on a poster in my classroom states: "It's OK to make mistakes as long as you learn from them." In my experience, the difference between functional and dysfunctional schools is that the former uses data to pinpoint where the mistakes are, then does something about them. The latter does neither. Accountability isn't the enemy. It's the inertia that results in its absence.
On "Americans": I agree one hundred percent. Our schools are the fuel of our democracy. This is one of many reasons that I agree with both Michelle Rhee and Diane Ravitch -- teaching should be a top-tier profession in the U.S. and teachers should be compensated as such.
** As Basher in Ocean's 13 asked, "Do you know what Chuck Berry said every night before counting 1, 2, 3, 4?"
On "Citizens": My only addition to Merrow's list is that our schools should help each child reach his or her full potential. The tricky thing about teaching is that it's impossible to know what that is. Thank God that my future wasn't based on what I did as a 14-year-old. (The Fifth Amendment excuses me from giving details about this and, hopefully, my parents have forgiven and forgotten. Or at least, forgiven.) Now, as a teacher of 14-year-olds, I have to balance holding students to high expectations and being understanding as they inevitably fall short some of those expectations. We teachers can't hold a grudge, even with the kids who require near-constant coaching. The problem is that for too many kids, particularly those trying to break out of poverty, the mistakes they make as adolescents haunt them for the rest of their lives. This, to me, is the worst thing about poverty in the United States -- it's life with not much of a safety net.
To create the citizens we want to have, it's incumbent on us -- especially those of us born into stable families, secure incomes, and a predictable path to an education -- to use those privileges to help others who weren't so lucky.
Because that's the thing -- luck plays a bigger role than it should in determining whether a child becomes who he or she is capable of being.
Luck decides who a kid's parents are, but the the idea behind public education -- beyond facilitating the development of "good parents and neighbors, thoughtful voters, reliable workers" -- should be to offer a children an opportunity and a choice to determine who they'll be. Public education will never entirely compensate for the advantages and disadvantages of who one's parents are. This doesn't mean that we shouldn't do a much better job than we're doing now.
Daniel Lautzenheiser at Ed Week describes what happened when two schools shared the same building in Harlem:
If there's ever a tangible physical reminder about the differences in education quality in a particular locale, it is found on the floors of a school building on West 134th Street in Harlem. Literally on the floors. There, a line of tape runs down the hallways. On one side isDemocracy Prep Charter School, which in 2010 was the best middle school in New York City. On the other side, until recently, was the Academy of Collaborative Education (ACE), which that year happened to be the worst middle school.
The student population was identical -- about 100 to 125 6th graders. The schools even opened in the same year -- 2006. The only difference were the adults in the building and how they decided to educate the children entrusted to them.
From day one, the two middle schools moved in literally opposite directions in terms of student performance (as measured by the DOE chancellor's annual Progress Report) and parent and student satisfaction (as measured by NYC School Surveys). A short three years in, in 2009, ACE received a "D" score on the chancellor's Progress Report and was ranked the worst middle school in central Harlem, while Democracy Prep received an "A" and was ranked the best.
The charts below from the chancellor's Progress Reports and School Surveys succinctly show these trends. Chancellor's Progress Reports:
ACE
Democracy Prep
Score
Letter
Enrollment
Score
Letter
Enrollment
2007-2008
43.4
C
221
91.7
A
197
2008-2009
35.7
D
254
99.8
A
325
2009-2010
13.7
F
194
100
A
326
*In 2010-2011, ACE's enrollment dropped to 129 while Democracy Prep Charter increased to 340 2009 School Survey of Parents, Teachers, and Students:
ACE
Democracy Prep
Academic Expectations
4.9
8.9
Communications
4.1
8.2
Engagement
3.8
8.4
Safety and Respect
4.4
8.8
The NYC Department of Education shut ACE down after four years of failing students. Democracy Prep took over the rest of space, though one can reasonably assume that the reason DP's enrollment was rising in the years before that was because ACE's student could look down the hall and see what school should be like.
The fact that DP is a charter school matters, but only in the sense that DP had been allowed to hire great administrators and teachers and develop them into a high-performing school. The charter label didn't give them any advantage -- just an opportunity to demonstrate that a ZIP code shouldn't also be academic destiny.
This goes back to the idea that we should find where the high-performers are -- district or charter -- and expand what's working. And if someone's not getting the job done -- flagrantly, repeatedly -- then reallocate those public dollars towards an organization that is.
The rise of charter schools has accelerated some enrollment declines. The number of students fell about 5 percent in traditional public school districts between 2005 and 2010; by comparison, the number of students in all-charter districts soared by close to 60 percent, according to the Department of Education data. Thousands of students have moved into charter schools in districts with both traditional public and charter schools.
Although the total number of students in charter schools is just 5 percent of all public school children, it has had a striking effect in some cities. In Columbus, Ohio, for example, enrollment in city schools declined by more than 10 percent — or about 6,150 students — between 2005 and 2010, even as charter schools gained close to 9,000 students.
The only thing that bothers me is treating charter schools as if they weren't also public schools. They are. In Tennessee, charter schools must offer open enrollment, follow all special education regulations, and all of the other laws that keep our public schools, well, public.
A better way to frame it is that parents are seeking better options within their public system. In Nashville, charter and district-run schools' enrollment are counted together -- which makes sense! -- and what do we see? Metro's enrollment is rising this year to more than 80,000.
