What's Your Mission?

This morning in day 14 of our 15 day Summer Institute we started exploring our own ways to reform education. We examined the issue from a variety of perspectives. We looked at the rhetoric of the national agenda, from the fiery mission of angry teachers, and through the academic lens of teacher researchers. We asked a lot of questions and came up with some actual answers. 

Through the care of my colleague I was actually asked what I would do if I could change the entire system of education. The question was provocative, and led me to realize that I am thankful to not have to answer the question. I came up with more wondering than answering, and I realized that I only know how to change what I can control. Focusing on large scale reform feel futile because of what I know about what I don't know.

I don't know what would work best for every student, every teacher, and every school in the country, but I do know that a one size fits all approach will not work. I know that great teachers are highly trained, highly educated professionals, who devote their entire professional lives to becoming the most effective teachers and mentors they can be. I know that great teachers care deeply about doing good work, that we are not lazy, and that we go above and beyond the perceived duties of our jobs. I also know that test scores do not show the entire picture of a school, a student, or a teacher. I know that too much is being put on the plates of schools, that we are being expected to solve problems well beyond our reach, and that each new reform further ties our hands. I know that the stress created through reform last year was damaging to schools, teachers, and most importantly to children.

So, if I were in charge I would loosen the reigns. I would stop protecting those teachers who are just in it for the summers off and the early end of the work day, and support those great teachers who do great work. I would really examine the data comparing our students to students in the rest of the world. I would consider the populations we compare our students to, the methods others go to to get their results, and the effect of poverty, compulsory education with college and career readiness standards for all, and a pervasive practice of social promotion on our own test scores. I would act with the knowledge that teacher accountability, and high standards is only one small piece of the education reform puzzle. And I would openly and freely admit that as long as we continue to ignore the devastating consequences of poverty we will never be able to "fix" education. 

There are so many parts of this that are beyond my control as a classroom teacher, but I also know that I gave up part of the power of what I can control through this year's ed reform initiatives. This past year I was pulled out of my classroom for reform related meetings, trainings, and work sessions for 9 school days. In my classroom I spent the equivalent of 8 class periods focusing entirely on test preparation that was out of the context of authentic learning. I administered 690 minutes worth of high stakes testing in my classroom alone. That means that 22 hours of my 120 instructional hours was spent on educational reform. That is 18% of my student's class time being devoted to these tasks. 

That is unacceptable!

So, for this year I am on a mission. Here is my teacher mission statement:

I am a highly skilled, thoughtful and passionate professional who has been given the opportunity to change the lives of my students, but I only have 180 days to do that in. Every moment of those 7,200 is critical. I vow to make every one of those minutes count. I refuse to have that time wasted by anything that is not in the best interest of the students that I have the honor to teach. They deserve my attention, and my presence; for that there is no acceptable substitute!      

So, what is your mission?

Psst...Can You Keep a Secret?

In the last three weeks, I have been forced to sign two highly intimidating confidentiality agreements. These agreements have been a pre-requisite to my responsibilities at my job. Although I have not wanted to, I have had to pledge that I would not share any of the content I was presented in my tasks, or even speak about the tasks I had been asked to complete. I essentially agreed that once the task was complete I would metaphorically erase all knowledge of the experience to protect the integrity of the task. In fact, by even just publicly mentioning that I have signed these agreements I have probably already broken them, and could be held legally liable for my actions. You’re probably thinking that I have some high level government job, or that I work in a health care field where I am entrusted with protecting the confidentiality of my patients, but that is not the case.

I am a public school teacher who was recently forced to administer and score the New York State Common Core exams for 2013.       

By now you’ve probably seen the myriad articles criticizing this year’s high-stakes standardized testing. You’ve probably read about the problems associated with the test: the lengthy reading passages about arcane topics, the grammatical errors within the readings and the questions, the convoluted multiple choice questions with more than one reasonable answer, the lack of adequate time for students to complete the tasks they were given. 

Maybe you’ve heard about the anxiety and health concerns brought out by the high-stakes testing. Record numbers of school nurses have reported symptoms of dehydration during state testing, since schools will not let kids have water during their 90 minutes of testing for fear of accidental destruction of a test. There are reports of kids crying, and vomiting during the test. In fact, some states have had to formalize their official policy for what to do when a child vomits on the test. In my school we even had a student who had such a severe panic attack they had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance. 

The criticism is not just anecdotal. Critical articles seem daily fare for the education sections of news outlets. The criticisms started before the tests had even been administered, and have not slowed since (Parents, teachers, and students have all spoken out. These are just a sampling of the responses that have been published in the past three weeks). And the problems are not limited to New York. In Indiana, Oklahoma, and Minnesota criticism of the actual test is being overshadowed by the reports of critical computer problems that made taking the exams impossible.

Any one of these complaints is reason enough to take a close look at our current obsession with standardized testing, but I want focus on the idea of the secrecy involved in the entire testing process. New York has signed on to a 5 year contract with Pearson Education, a contract that has cost the state $32 million dollars. One of the conditions of this contract is the these exams be "secure tests". The testmakers have gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure that not a single word of these exams be leaked to the public. The tests are kept under lock and key until 1 hour before administration, teachers and test administers sign confidentiality agreements at every turn, and students as young as 8 years old sit through daily readings of a list of the contraband electronic devices they must surrender during the test. The concern over the security of these tests does not seem to relate to cheating, if it did wouldn't there be some demand that students be seated in rows, or that tests be administered in gymnasiums (like the SAT or other college entrance exams)? As it stands, students are still allowed to test in their classrooms or other "well-lit, well-ventilated areas", and test administers are simply given a charge to monitor for and report potential cheating to their principals. No, we are not trying to secure the student outcomes, we are trying to secure the actual test. We are not protecting student interests, we are protecting Pearson's interests.

Creating a rigorous, reliable, high-stakes exam that combines multiple stand alone and paired reading passages of authentic texts, multiple choice questions, short writing questions, and text based essays is no easy feat. First there's the actual test creation, followed by "field-testing" of exam questions to determine how the plan will fly when put in front of live children, and then the creation of scoring materials that use actual student responses to create a complex series of "anchors" so that live scorers can "align their thinking" and provide reliable scores. Each test presented to students in New York this year contained a number of actual assessment questions as well as built in "field test" questions, so in essence while Pearson was creating a high-stakes testing environment for the assessment of students and their teachers (as per the new APPR requirements that link student scores to teacher outcomes) they were also creating a lab where students were serving as guinea pigs for future tests. Only Pearson knows which questions were "field test" questions and which were actual questions. Based on the quality of what was put in front of students this year, teachers can only hope that about half of the questions will be thrown out as failed field test questions, but we'll never know, and thanks to our confidentiality agreements, we can't even talk about those questions.

Providing specific feedback on any reading sample or question, even for the purpose of helping to create a better exam in the future is in breach of the agreement.

I usually try to keep my cynicism in check, but in this case there is something suspect in this secrecy. To pilot an entirely new plan, or to "cross a bridge while we are still building it" as one key figure in ed reform has said, while simultaneously eschewing feedback on the process, product and long-term implications, feels disingenuous to the goal of free-thought and public education. Instead we have a system where protecting the interests of a corporation is trumping the protection of the interests of an entire generation of children. And that makes me tremendously uncomfortable.

Pearson has a lot riding on the success of these exams, $32 million in New York alone. And the response to this first attempt is lackluster. We can only hope that next year's plan fixes some of the problems that were brought out this year. But if it doesn't, it won't matter, since we still probably won't be able to talk about it.

Why I'm Standing By the Core

     I've spent a lot of the past two years being very skeptical about the Common Core and the ad hoc full force shift that education in our nation has taken. At times, I've been miltant and strongly opposed, at times I've been panicked and guided by fear, but I am starting to break through all of those reactive stances to be able to bring myself to a place of really evaluating what we're facing and determining whether I can support what is being presented. I still have moments where my personal pendulum swings from skeptical to irrate on subjects like APPR, the flood of new testing that Common Core is ushering in, and what I see as the barely veiled agenda to deteriorate the public education system of America in favor of a for profit model dependent on charter schools and big business. But, when it comes down to the fundamental question of whether or not I can support the new Common Core Learning Standards, the answer is yes.

     Here's what I have experienced in my own classroom this year as a teacher trying hard to adapt the Common Core to best meet the needs of my students. The work that we do is extremely focused. Before the Common Core, my curriculum was a mass of almost 200 disjointed performance standards. There seemed to be little to tie any of these ideas, strategies, and skills together, and the result was a kind of "teach by the wind" style that was fun, and worked most days, but never really lent itself to the opportunity to come back and do in depth work with any one idea or skill.

      But the Common Core has changed that for me. I appreciate the clarity of a skills based approach to learning. By stressing the most essential skills for students to be successful, and then building on those skills grade by grade, I can see how to focus my teaching to get the most out of every limited minute. Every day in English class, we work on the same skills. We work on reading closely and carefully. We work on writing clearly and coherently, we work on bringing our reading lives and our writing lives together. This was what I wanted to accomplish as a teacher before the Core. The difference is that before I couldn't figure out how to put all of the pieces together coherently, and now I feel like I have a roadmap for how to do that.

     One of the biggest concerns I hear people voicing about the Common Core is a fear that the core will standardize education so much that we will lose the art and skill of teaching in the work. I can understand this fear. With school districts quickly adopting modules, canned programs, and data tracking devices this is a valid concern, but one that I have not seen coming from the Core itself. Maybe I am simply lucky to teach in a district that is not shoving a program onto my teaching. That seems to be a failure of leadership rather than a flaw of the Core. The new standards are not a new curriculum, they are not a new program, they are simply a framework of skills that we expect students to work on. I have been able to adapt these new guidelines to help sharpen my teaching. I haven't abandoned my philosophy or my best practices. My students still write to learn, they still read voraciously of their own choice reading, they still engage in self-directed writing workshops, they still develop interesting research questions, but what they get from me is more intentional teaching. This is an improvement that I stand behind wholeheartedly.

       Today I got into a discussion with a social studies teacher who was chafing at the idea of stressing the need of text based evidence and appropriate citations in every piece of writing that students do. He thought this the antithesis of authentic thinking, and didn't think it appropriate or necessary to be done on a regular basis. He could see the sense in something like a research paper, but hesitated to bring the expectation into regular practice. He expressed fear that teaching this way would create automatons incapable of independent thought beyond the text.

       I get this, because I've been there. I've had those same fears, that a highly skills based approach will stifle creative thinking, but I've shifted my thinking. We owe it to our students to give them all of the skills they need to be successful learners. That means training them to think creatively and critically, but also teaching them to follow the rules of being a successful student. As I see it, the content, ideas, and big thinking of a curriculum are the nails, while the skills, just like those stressed in the core, are the hammers. One without the other is pretty useless.

       I have a lot of clarity right now on the Core and the expectations it puts on teaching and learning, and personally I can stand behind it. We have work to do, and many of the effects of the Core are ones that I think it essential to examine, but from where I sit I can see with good sense and sound professional judgement how this plan could benefit education.

SOL #2: Teaching and Activism

This year I have noticed a troubling trend in my teaching that links up with a certain professional opportunity I became a part of. For years I have been hearing other teachers who I respect greatly rave about an ongoing literacy PLC hosted through our BOCES. They have talked about how transformative it is, and how much the discussions have led them to great teaching.

So, naturally I jumped on the opportunity to join this community when the latest group started. However, I quickly found that the focus of the group had changed. Instead of being a great collaborative environment where everyone was able to share best practices and have real discussions about great teaching, the group has become a training ground for what I am referring to as the "Common Core Army". 

It make sense naturally, the group facilitator is our regions' connection to the state. She understands the new demands, and willingly embraces them. She wants to train us to be leaders in our schools, and since this is (seemingly) the only thing that matters in schools right now, she wants us to be as skilled as she is. 

But I have my doubts. I doubt that the Common Core is the way for every student. I doubt that the Common Core will actually make a difference. I doubt that the modules developed through the Gates Foundation are not homogenizing teaching. I doubt that drinking the Common Core Kool-aid will help students learn or schools grow. I doubt that the link between CC and APPR will result in anything except the disillusion of free and public education. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I have my doubts. I am far from a good little soldier in the Common Core Army.

      I've tried to be compliant, and test the techniques from the group in my own classroom, and I am not pleased with the results. Most of the things I try leave my most competent students bored and my struggling students frustrated and anxious. When I come back from these meetings and start teaching "Under the influence of the Common Core" things stop feeling authentic. My teaching and my classroom lack the spark of creativity that has kept me teaching and constantly revising what I do.

This morning I went back and read an old post from Two Writing Teachers where Stacey was sharing some advice from Lucy Calkins about teaching as a form of activism. The idea that stuck out the most is this,

We need to be able to teach according to our beliefs. If our teaching doesn’t represent our best current notions about what matters in classrooms and in life, if our teaching doesn’t represent our most cherished hypothesis about education, then how can we hold ourselves responsible for and learn from the results of our teaching?   

For the rest of the month and the rest of the school year I am making a commitment to teach every day to my "most cherished hypotesis about education". 

For me, that means resigning from the Army of the Common Core, 

getting back to an authentic workshop classroom, 

and not signing up for year two with the BOCES community.

Why I Resent The Common Core

About half of my students come to me as "readers", those who carry books with them through their daily lives, visit libraries, and escape into reading before bed. Many of them come to me as former "readers", those who enjoyed books as littles, but lost the bug once reading for recreation became more challenging than TV watching, video game playing, or just living out an overpacked schedule. 5 weeks into the school year the majority of my students are playing the part of "reader", choosing books that motivate them, reading every night, and writing and talking about that reading in and out of the classroom. They have wide and varied reading tastes, but for the most part they have one thing in common. They are lovers of stories. Most of them read fantasy fiction as their preferred genre, and when asked why they think fantasy is so popular, many write wistfully about loving to escape into impossible worlds. It is impossible to not encourage this love fest my students are having with reading.

A few years ago, this would have been an amazing testament to my teaching superpower, but in the past few years my job description has changed. I have been told quite clearly that these beloved stories (or "narratives" to use the domain specific vocabulary) must only be 1/3 of the puzzle. I am told that I must find an authentic and true balance between stories and more academic reading pursuits, as if stories are non-academic. While I understand the motivation behind the CCSS, and feel myself being pulled by the challenge of finding great informational and argumentative texts to support my teaching in an authentic way, I can not let go of the fact that I teach an English class, the one place where students have traditionally been encouraged to focus on narratives. The rule follower in me feels guilt that I have yet to be able to balance these three types of reading. In my classroom the narrative is still king because my students still revere it, and the fact that I am supposed to discourage that makes me resentful.

Putting aside motivation, and the dearth of high quality informative or argumentative text available for adolescents, there is the simple factor of time to consider. I see my students for 40 minutes a day. That works out to 72 hours a year. In Readicide, Kelly Gallagher shares a frightening statistic that the average 15-24 year old does 7 minutes of recreational reading. If you do that math that works out to 114 hours a year that have the potential to be filled with ANY reading, let alone a healthy mix of reading. When put through that lens one can see that we are fighting a losing battle with reading, a battle that I am trying to fight with any weapon I have. For now, the weapon of choice is stories, and I am not going to feel guilt over that.