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Darling Hammond lays out five key elements to change education and move it into an equitable and more productive place:
1. Meaningful learning goals 2. Intelligent, reciprocal accountability systems 3. Equitable and adequate resources 4. Strong professional standards and supports 5. Schools organized for student and teacher learning I mean, it’s hard to argue against this in any capacity. This really does seem like the way forward. It’s fair, ethical, progressive, system-oriented, and I would think exceptionally beneficial for all stakeholders. And, of course, there are some problems: We haven’t done equity well as a society. We don’t collaborate well as a educational system. We don’t value our teachers and their work, financially or conceptually. So it’s not that we *can’t* do these things. It’s that culturally we aren’t there. And all three of the problems relate to a different type of cultural issue. We have underlying issues, fears, ignorance, defensiveness, and issues with values. Can I just say this? You know what sucks? We have devoted our lives to this work. Most of our cohort has kids that are in our systems. And it can feel like we are moving in quicksand— while our children grow exponentially. We just don’t have time to figure this out and change culture. We don’t have time. Kids (and our own children) are waiting. But we just... can’t... seem... to... pull... it... together... For them. It gets a little old seeing social media posts about teachers and schools that are negative. It gets a little old to see that health insurance for a teacher’s family is $2k a month. It gets a little old hearing teachers grumble about doing *true* PLC work. It just gets old. Because in some way, all of these things are getting in the way of kids’ growth. Everyone works so hard. But we do not work as a system and as a society. We are not united. And we do not have a growth mindset. How can we expect our kids to model our wishes for them when we can’t get our own crap together? I look at our cohort. We are not the norm. We have a growth mindset. We are getting our Master’s in a subject that is as student-focused as is possible. It only marginally will affect our pay. But dammit, we want better for our kids. And I care for and respect our group for that. Because we put our time and our money where our mouth is. Our desire for change is not lip service. We are modeling it in literally the most difficult of times. We are in survival mode and at the most basic of the hierarchy of needs— yet pushing forward, exhausted. Our group is walking the walk. And until the larger group of politicians, legislators, social media warriors, parents with affluence and influence, and teachers with misguided intentions pull together, our collective walk will be for all intents and purpose be the same as being on a treadmill: we will be expelling energy, going nowhere.
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In my head I read that title a bit like the song by Lou Bega... Alright, I think I lost you. But let’s get found. I was reading a little about Chaos Theory today. I am going to quote a chunk here: Last week, at a “workshop/institute/conference” I am attending for a few weeks this summer, Christian Talbot spoke to us about “chaos theory” and the creative need for tension in any collaboration. The theory goes, simply, that any collaboration must begin with chaos. Butting against each other is a conflict of ideas–and often a conflict of personalities. As the collaborative project goes forward, this tangle of conflicts begins to stretch out into a diametric pattern of varying depths with one single thrust being countered by another until ultimately the collaborators move directly towards the goal. Talbot insisted that the initial conflict is essential, even positing that if there is no conflict the final outcome can not be as robust as it possibly could have been. This quote above was from a blogger by the name of J P Bohannon. He went on to write about the Beatles and the creative tension there— and he poses the idea that a little chaos is necessary in organizations in order to become great. That really resonated with me. I think we are experiencing that now in education. As a society for sure... but, in our field, we are in a true, rare, clear moment of change. Our careers have shifted dramatically. We will have those that want to return to the way things were someday, and we will have others that see this global pandemic and our subsequent changes as a path forward for how we look at education. And certainly in that push-and-pull there will be creative tension. And we need both sides of this to reach a degree of clarity. This moment in time is wasted if we do not. Around our nation in all aspects of education, we are rethinking the end goal. It’s long overdue. It’s so easy to teach our classes the way we were taught— and in that, we fail to adapt to our current climate. I suspect that’s been going on forever. In Eddie Obeng’s Ted Talk, he says that we have doubled our population over the last 40 years, but haven’t kept up with our approach to innovation. That is precisely where we are at now. We needed a catalyst to FORCE change. I would never want a global pandemic... EVER... but there is no denying that it serves as that type of catalyst. Being on the forefront of that creative and intentional work, now, is critical work in our field. And we will be putting our heads together— often in disagreement— over the next several months and years. But I do think exponential growth will ensue. We will be better teachers and our students will be better learners. And we will trim out the excess for our students in the process. We will be more streamlined and more creative, because a distance learning platform will necessitate that. It will look quite a bit different, and that’s a good thing.
And like Lou Bega says, “If it looks like this they you doing it right.” I had this coach in college that was a pretty fascinating guy. If we made mistakes the same way time after time, he would pull you aside. He’d look at you behind his sunglasses and pause for a moment (the pause felt really important when I think about it). He would yell to you, “well? Are you a monkey, or are you a dinosaur?” And of course I learned to reply that I am a monkey— the determining factor, of course, is that monkeys evolved. They learned from their mistakes (work with me here, dear reader) and they were able to adapt. I think this has had a lasting effect on me; I am really aware of growth and adaptation not only in myself and my practice, but in those around me.
So where are we now? I’m pretty confident that there is a need for what I plan to research. I really was interested in equity, too, but I am legitimately concerned that we are losing good teachers to other professions over workloads and I am in a position to maybe help that. I just finished year 19. I am a school leader. I have a great resume. And perhaps this is something I can do to help make the culture of learning shift from that of self-imposed martyrdom to classroom partnership. The students I will be working with will be glad to help. I will share with them what I am after and they will be honest and help me figure this out. We also have a fixed-point end product/goal in our AP Exam. We will use that as our North Star— if we aren’t making progress in that direction, we will know. My evolution point has been that I think I need students to be really aware of their learning in order for me to pull this off. I need to get clear feedback on what is working— because, after all, I am looking for a system that is manageable and effective for all of us in the classroom. Data will help. I will get data from test performance. But... the perception of what is working is huge. Here’s how I feel when I read a ton of material: I feel jumbled. Yes, I read a ton. And that means I have to have a mechanism for this feeling. When I get an overload of material— my reaction is to lower the material to the point where it is usable for me. If material is not usable for me, I have no time and space for it. That’s how I process. For better or for worse, that’s how I work in the classroom. Clarity is the ultimate goal. Clear is kind. Clarity allows for action. Clarity allows for intentionality. When I read a ton of research and philosophy, if I am not reducing the reading to the lowest common denominator between the words and my ability to use it, it is time wasted. Clarity inspires me. The ability to act on clarity really inspires me. It makes me feel accomplished. Here’s a related observation: when anything in my life is complicated, I try and take a step back and see the big picture. Why is this thing complicated? What can be done about it? Sometimes when I take a step back I don’t know the answer. So I take another step back. And, if needed, I do it again. It’s like a Google Earth app for my mental process. Eventually, you take a step away from what is complicated and get to a point where clarity is achieved. You see the problem for what it is at some point. It is in that precise moment that I feel I can act, be productive, and make a problem less complicated. It is this moment that I strive for. I find myself doing this with Dervin, Clark, the SITE model, etc. And yes, to some degree Baggio— though Baggio is a little more surface level. When I read them all I get something, but I have not yet got to the point where I have connected all the dots. I mentally am pulling back— using my google Earth analogy— to connect them right now. What I would like to research is how feedback can be mutual between myself and my students— and how it can be highly effective with the time we have. And what I am pulling from my end user is that this work needs to be clear, focused, and that my end user must be an active partner in this work. If not, we are not maximizing our time together. My end user will not benefit and the teacher will not be successful. So much of what we do in the baseball program absolutely applies to what we do in the classroom. I know I sound like a “jock” saying that, but I am also an academic— so please bear with me. I have spent about two decades looking at this parallel and it absolutely applies. Let me dig in here. With baseball, we have to know what we want to achieve by the time we get to the end of the week as we prepare for games the week after. What do our players need to know? What challenges will they face? What are our strengths? Where are we weak? What points of confusion can we anticipate in advance? How do we achieve growth in the allotted time? Given this, we backwards map the week out. We adapt as we go through it. We build skills that scaffold and support. We talk with players individually, have two-way communication about what we are trying to accomplish, and give feedback. And when we play a game, we put our new skills out on the field. We are assessed. And this assessment is very public. Our players and coaches will be assessed by everyone on the field and on the scoreboard, and this assessment will make it’s way into the paper and into social media. It is public, it is stressful, and it is exhilarating. And, we learn from it. We adapt. And we build. We make our goals clear— because only when we are all on the same page can we grow at an exponential rate. I live for this growth. It absolutely drives me. To know me, is to understand this. So it goes on the field, and so it goes in the classroom. This is pretty obvious. Learning is a partnership.
Ooookay??? you might respond with. You may also question a teacher that feels the need to explain that learning is a partnership. BECAUSE IT’S INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS However, I am confident in saying that this partnership is not always on the table for students to access and understand. And THAT is a problem. Our student/teacher partnership is most often the teacher explains X Y Z standard and how X Y Z standard will show up on BIG ASSESSMENT 1 or FINAL ASSESSMENT 2. Students then fall in line to learn it. Teachers fall in line to teach it. And the partnership is built on the State’s standards and the teacher’s obligation to teach them. It’s a stale partnership, wouldn’t you say? Are the learner’s needs being met? Are the teacher’s goals being satisfied? It’s pseudo-education. Ruth Clark’s models for teaching and learning fascinate me. It just makes so much sense to read and internalize her logic. To understand— with absolute clarity— the end goal and it’s vital significance to both the learner and institution is the heart of her work. Clarity. Significance. To the partnership. Both SITE and ARCS models of instructional design support this central concept. And while— again— it’s obvious, sometimes it’s really not prioritized in the classroom. Sometimes we trudge forward. And when we are at our best, we realize we somehow made it a partnership but perhaps not as intentionally as we should have. I’m really interested in feedback cycles. REALLY interested. How can I make that a more profitable partnership? How can I make the learning more intentional and get more “bang for our buck” with the time and actions we all take? I realize that the end result cannot be whole without a really focused deep dive into making the partnership meaningful for my students. Okay— that was a hefty amount of theory. And as we know, theory isn’t worth the weight of the paper it’s printed on... UNLESS attached to action and practice. In a general sense, Madsbjerg was really invested in the idea that there is a THIRD type of understanding beyond objective and subjective. Intersubjective understanding— according to Madsbjerg— is when the mood of a room or the sense of how close to stand to someone is understood and communicated. In my classroom that type of understanding (really, awareness) is important. I mean, as teachers we are experts in people. At least we should be. We teach people first, not our subject. And that awareness is key!
Baggio in the first three chapters wanted to share that only “you” can construct your thoughts. That the learner is a critical stakeholder in the way they learn— that partnership really— is at the heart of the writing. Here is a key takeaway: “the new role of teachers, then, is not one of subject matter expert but rather of facilitator of an environment that supports the construction of knowledge.” She goes on to make clear that adults NEED to know why they are learning and that humans need visuals. Thus, Baggio taps into the reality of where we are at with upper level high school academics: kids need to know what is at stake— and the visuals are helpful in communicating in ways we don’t always embrace. There is a lot of “bang for your buck” here and attention must be paid. Interestingly, the emergence of Tweets and memes into the perception of our world supports this. With SO MUCH info available to students, we gravitate towards that type of material. We get what we need and move on. Baggio continues to offer leaning theory with the Trilogy of the Mind. She suggests that my job as a teacher is to match learners with an experience that helps them learn. And you know what? this resonated with me. That’s really all the job is. To facilitate the work. We can’t read for a student. I mean, we can, but the acto of reading in and of itself is passive— the active portion MUST be done by students and our facilitation of that event— when we have buy in and attention and meaning— provides opportunity for learning. Ruth Clark showed how business has to train effectively and efficiently in order to thrive. A bad training program for new workers is costly. And business is all about the bottom line. With this in mind, Clark lays out what is essentially a lesson plan format. I enjoyed seeing our work— education— shown through this medium of business. I often compare what we do in the classroom to what we do as coaches on the field. We don’t have a choice but to be great. We can’t fail kids. We can’t send them to summer school. We get who we get and we have to determine where they are at and take them through the stages that Clark shows in her business lens. Stanford’s Bootcamp toolkit is a rich field of strategies and examples that support the Seven Mindsets of learning. Reading it and considering my practice made really appreciate the options we have in a classroom, especially in my subject matter of ELA. Bottom line: All of this connects in the sense that organization is key. And I think we can always improve there. As we hear around Napa High: clear is kind. And organization is nothing if not clarity. https://youtu.be/cHZl2naX1Xk This is a live look at EDU791 understanding— and sense-making, with Dervin Let’s get the obvious out of the way: the reading on sense-making... well, was ironic. It will take several reads to... make sense. BUT I THINK THAT IS THE POINT In Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried our protagonist moves in and out of battle— going home but not being home, encountering jungle and protests— and that experience is meant to mirror that of a soldier in Vietnam. Readers— confused but hanging on every word— experienced the confusion of guerrilla warfare within the pages of a book. They not only read but EXPERIENCED the words. It was the grown-up version of The Neverending Story. I think that was Dervin’s plan on a meta level. Of course, the research is sound. The exemplars are helpful. But there is no doubt that even the best of readers— and here’s the money point, people— the readers would have to be aware *of their own process* of making sense as they read because the material is so dense. Initially I wanted to blast Dervin for ruining my Saturday morning. Now I think I understand a bit better. There was an experience to be had. To use Michael McDowell’s phrasing, “we were being thrown into the pit” and we had to use our own process to get out. So what does this all mean? Learning happens, but often without understanding the process— at least on the end of the learner. When you actively have to engage your toolkit, on a meta level there is an additional awareness that kicks in. You have to find your way out of the pit. In a classroom I would probably break up students into groups and break the content into pieces and ask them to work together for a period of time... ask them to annotate... and then ask students to share the experience with their small group. They would all be confused about content. However, when they talked about what they did when they were confused we would be able to enter into something entirely different. And that (I hope—as I have based my entire reading off of this philosophy) is where we would be able to learn about how we learn. di19 years in... and I *still* am not absolutely sure on how to best do feedback loops for student writing. Drive through any high school staff parking lot in American at 5pm on a Friday afternoon during the school year and you will see the problem: a well-meaning teacher-- one that has given selflessly of themselves-- will literally be hauling student essays home for the weekend. Historically, that teacher will immerse themselves in the tedious work of carefully providing comments all over these essays. They will work the weekend and come back to school Monday morning, essays-in-cart.
And that teacher is exhausted. This same teacher will dutifully hand back essays and watch as the class consumes the returned essay. Some students will pour over comments. But most-- and this is the kicker-- most will look at the ending comments by the teacher and the grade. The paper goes in the backpack and "learning" has happened. Right? Or not right. And that's my focus here. There has to be a better way for both our teachers and our learners. There must be a better way to accomplish growth in writing. We have to protect our teacher and grow our student and it is my belief that there are high-leverage, intentional, creative solutions to accomplish this. |