Level Questions (More Interesting Than They Sound!)

June 7, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Level One, Level Two, and Level Three Questions

It is sometimes helpful to talk about ‘Levels’ of Questions. This concept is not new, and different workshops or different subject areas define the levels a little differently. That doesn’t matter – what matters is clarifying them in a way you can live with in order to give your students a tool for asking better and more diverse questions. These aren’t things I’d quiz my kids on per se – at least not in the sense of having them put stuff in categories and count them right or wrong. They’re tools, not scientific classifications.

Level 1 Questions

Deal with factual information you can find printed in the story / document / whatever. They usually have ONE correct answer. In other words, Level One Questions Are Answered With Facts.

Level 1 Questions often…

clarify vocabulary or basic facts
check for Understanding
ask for more information

It is often difficult to ask or answer Level 2 Questions without plenty of Level 1 information!

Examples: Who led Confederate forces at the Battle of Gettysburg? When did Abraham Lincoln die? How many people died of disease or other non-combat causes during the Civil War? Where is Antietam?

Level 2 Questions

Deal with factual information but can have more than one defensible answer. Although there can be more than one ‘good’ answer, responses must be defended or opposed with material FROM the story or related materials. In other words. Level Two Questions Are Answered Using Facts.

Level 2 Questions might…

require “Processing” of Information—analyze, synthesize, evaluate, articulate
require making inferences from the text
seek understanding from someone who knows more or has larger perspective
challenge the author (why did you include this but not that, or why was this phrased a certain way?)

Level 2 Questions are often the Meat & Potatoes of Social Studies, and require Level 1 information as support. They seek informed opinions. They are often the stuff we most wish our students could ask, ponder, or answer intelligently.

Come to think of it, they’re the stuff we wish other adults could ask, ponder, or answer intelligently as well.

Examples: Why did the North win the Civil War? Was Lincoln justified in suspending some rights during the war? To what extent was slavery the true cause of the war? How did the North’s war aims change over the course of the war and why?

Level 3 Questions

Deal with ideas beyond the text but which might be prompted by the story / document / whatever. The assigned material is a ‘launching pad’ for these sorts of questions, but responding to them requires going well beyond the original material. In other words, Level Three Questions Have Answers Which Go Beyond The Facts.

Level 3 Questions are useful as…

“Big Picture” Questions, to make connections
interest-builders, discussion-starters, and thought-provokers
ways to get your teacher off topic so you don’t have as much work to do

English Teachers love Level 3 Questions, but in the Social Studies we use them more carefully. Sometimes they’re more appropriate for discussions with your parents, pastors, or best friends. Other times they’re the most important questions there are.

Examples: Is war ever justified? Did Robert E. Lee go to Heaven? What important enough to be worth killing someone over? Is it true Lincoln’s ghost is still haunting the White House? How would the U.S. be different today if the South had won the Civil War?

Sometimes what ‘Level’ a question best fits depends on how much you know – or how much information to which you have access.

Don’t get too hung up on correct categories so much as expanding the sorts of questions students ask. It’s also important they recognize the difference between arguments over the facts, arguments over how to best interpret the facts, and arguments which can’t be resolves using only facts. I mean, how different would our political worlds be if grown-ups could make this distinction once in awhile?

After Level Questions become comfortable, I find it helpful to vary their angles a bit.

“We have an expert visiting us tomorrow to talk about this subject. If we want to make our teacher look good – and we do – we’ll want to be able to ask thoughtful questions of her. So, pretend this subject is brand spankin’ new to you (like you do every time we review something we’ve covered for two weeks) – what other information would you request if you really, really cared? What parts would you want to know more about, if this were genuinely interesting to you? What could you ask that sounds like a question, but is really just you showing off how much you already know and understand? Finally, what could you ask the expert which would prompt involuntary ‘ooooh’s and ‘aaaahhh’s from the rest of us, it’s so thoughtful and relevant?”

Sometimes what ‘Level’ a question best fits depends on how much information you have available or to which you have access. Don’t get too hung up on correct categories so much as stretching the sorts of questions students ask.

I’d never grade my kids specifically on putting questions into the ‘right’ categories. What I do hope to help them think about, however, is the importance of understanding WHAT sort of question is being asked – whether we’re trying to dig around in history or address modern-day dilemmas. So often we think we’re arguing when we’re not even confronting the same sorts of questions.

For example – global warming. To discuss global warming and what, if anything, to do about it, we first need to determine what facts are available. We may argue about the facts, but at least we’ll be wrestling through the same issue. That’s Level One information, and it matters in this discussion.

We also need to figure out the best way to interpret those facts, once agreed upon. What do they mean, why are they what they are, etc.? Again, we may not agree, but at least we’ll be on the same subject. That’s a Level Two conversation.

Finally, what should we do about the facts and our conclusions? Is the issue important? What’s likely to happen if we purseu Course A vs. Course B vs. Course C vs. just ignoring it? That’s a whole other type of conversation to have – a Level Three issue.

Too often, we never get past one person arguing about what changes we need to make while the other hasn’t yet accepted the basic facts being used as support. Or we think we’re debating what the facts mean when in reality we’re debating the nature of reality or the ethics of hoping the supernatural will intervene at some point.

Getting on the same level of discussion in no way guarantees consensus, but it’s an essential element of any meaningful progress towards deeper understanding or potential agreement.

On a smaller, ‘let’s just pass high school first then worry about that other stuff’ scale, Practicing Inquiry helps foster interest. It increases recognition and retention of essential information. It’s foundational to critical thinking. Finally, it’s a critical element of effective reading – Cornell Notes, Dialectic Journals, Annotation, Think-Alouds, etc., all build on the idea that reading is an interaction with the text, and that questions are an essential part of that interaction. But that’s for another page.

Asking Good Questions (And You Don’t Have to Mean It)

June 6, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

One of the fundamental skills I try to teach my students is to ask good questions. And they don’t have to mean them.

I mean, it’s great if they do. If there’s something in class which catches their attention – even for a moment – by all means, they should speak up. “Why yes, Jacobie – we DID used to value ‘due process’ in this country… long, long ago.”

But even if they’re not naturally engaged, I assure them, if they’ll throw themselves into it, and FAKE their interest and concern WELL, that works just about as well as true interrogative conviction.

We discuss the psychology behind this and look at examples. I mean, how many romantic comedies have you endured in which the two leads PRETEND to be in love – to get a job, to win a bet, to secure immmigration papers, etc.? What’s going to happen by halfway through the movie? Every time?

“Oh, but movies aren’t real life,” says the clearly-not-a-history-teacher reading this. Alright, then – how many actors and actresses, having played romantic leads, emerge convinced that they are, in fact, IN LOVE? They’ve been pretending hard enough that it “takes” – they end up believing it, and acting on it (as it were). Supermarket tabloids depend on this phenomenon.

Cedric Diggory and that girl from Twilight? They’re not in love. Never were. No one’s “in love” with Kristen Stewart – it’s not possible. She has neither emotions or a soul. But they played “in love” enough in the dozen or so Twilight movies that they no longer knew the difference.

But Blue, you say, actors aren’t the brightest people – that’s not a fair example.

OK, to history then.

Throughout human history, hundreds of cultures over thousands of years have promoted some form of arranged marriage. You turn 14, and your parents introduce you to third-cousin BeauBeau. “BeauBeau, this is Beulah – your betrothed. Beulah, this is BeauBeua – your defender and provider and ruler of all you are. You are now eternally – BEAUBEAU STOP PICKING THAT OR IT WILL NEVER HEAL! – now eternally bound before God through your love and devotion to one another.”

You know the historical success rate for arranged marriages? Upwards of 90%, depending on your sources. I respectfully suggest this is largely because not being in love – not being “interested”, in our analogy – is simply not an option. She’s gonna cook, you’re gonna hunt, and together you will make babies, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

You thus throw yourselves into it with fervor.

More often than not, a few years down the road, you realize you’ve actually grown quite attached. Sometimes you’ve even fallen in love along the way. The intentional has become internalized.

We have a completely different system in American culture. We follow the “tingly feeling” system. I start feeling tingly for you; you get a little tingly for me… eventually we decide to mingle our tingles.

But then… tragedy. A year or two down the road, the tingle has faded. Maybe vanished. Worse, you’re feeling tingly towards someone else (maybe Cedric Diggory, who’s foolishly trying to tingle with Kristen Stewart. SHE CAN’T TINGLE, CEDRIC – WE’VE COVERED THIS.) I’m feeling a bit tingly towards @sluttyunicorn17 who I met online #dontjudgeourlove.

We’re not tingling together anymore! Our love… it is dead – like our interest in Oklahoma History, or Kristen Stewart’s eyes, for example.

Because divorce is expensive, we go to a marriage counselor, who will tell us – in essence – that we need to fake it harder.

She’ll dress it up as ‘reflective listening’ and ‘love languages,’ which is fine, but they all come down to a simple principle – you need to pretend harder to care even when you don’t right that moment. Do this long enough and odds are good you’ll start to feel it again. At least partially.

Once introduced, this is an ‘open charade’ in class, all year. If students will pretend to be interested in whatever history we’re studying at the time – the people, the events, the issues – chances are good they’ll become more interested… at least slightly. Comprehension improves, as does retention – the kind of things you’d expect when genuinely interested. Like exercising or practicing the piano, meaning it deeply is great, but doing it because it needs done is almost as effective in practical terms.

Such is reality – it’s the thinnest of gildings, yes?

My first several wives would argue that I’m not the best source of relationship advice – but pedagogically I’m on solid ground. Nothing tricks your brain into learning like pretending you care and asking really good questions. And nothing’s more exciting for a teacher than teenagers coming up with meaningful, unexpected, thoughtful questions – sometimes questions you can’t possibly answer! Maybe, with enough information, enough time, enough understanding, they could begin to answer them – or maybe not. Isn’t it great?

Usually we begin with something easy – provocative, but accessible. I like photographs as a first step:

How many questions can you come up with? Come on, don’t just move on – try for a moment. Ten good questions? Twenty? The more questions we ask, the more details we notice. We think of things we wouldn’t have thought of if we were just ‘observing’. Here’s another:

Stop and see how many you could ask. The first dozen or so are usually fairly predictable – when was this taken? Where are they? Who’s the man? Why is he giving these boys cigarettes? Is this a locker room? Is he smiling? Have they smoked before? Was smoking not evil at this time? Is he Philip Morris?

Eventually, though, some really interesting things begin to emerge – how do we reconcile the racial diversity of the boys with the time period indicated by the clothing, hair, and b&w photo? Is this a boys’ home of some sort? Are these actually cigarettes? Where’s the lighter? Are they candy? Is this a reward for something, or a lesson of some sort? What was the photographer intending to convey? And who IS that MAN?!?

It works with other types of visuals as well…

“Government Bureau” (George Tooker, 1956)

The key is to S L O W D O W N and prompt everyone to be involved. How you do that is up to you, but we have to let curiosity have time to brew. It doesn’t have to be curiousity specifically ABOUT anything represented here – just the experience itself is a good foundation for everything else ever.

Scoff if you like, but you haven’t lived the good life until you’ve had to regain control of a room of teenagers (or teachers) arguing the implications and inferences of a good table full of numbers or the most important questions to ask about a swell bar graph. Seriously – who doesn’t love a good bar graph?

It works with text as well, if you’re so inclined…

I have a story that goes with this one, actually. See, I found out at the last minute one year that I was going to teach 10th grade U.S. History, and I had never really –

Actually, that one’s better in person.

You don’t have to use these of course, or these kinds of visuals or text samples, or this many, or whatever. I am a big fan, however, of starting with ‘non-threatening’ material when learning and practicing a new skill. I like to start with stuff I find amusing or strange, and transition into the legit stuff. Whatever gets THEM doing more ASKING is YAY!

RELATED POST: What Was Your Question?

RELATED POST: Who’s Asking? (from Alfie Kohn on AlfieKohn.org)

Why Kids Learn (a.k.a ‘The Seven Reasons Every Teacher Must Know WHY Kids Learn!’)

September 16, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

I’ve been in the classroom for 16 years and doing this blog for about 18 months. I don’t have a Master’s Degree in anything, nor am I pursuing one. I don’t like most edu-books and haven’t done independent research on how or why kids learn or don’t. I consider myself thus supremely qualified to write on this topic.

There will be no footnotes.

There are 7 Basic Reasons Kids Learn. I number them to increase clicks to this post and to lend artificial credibility to what is essentially an opinion piece.

1. They Learn Accidentally

Kids learn while playing, or while caught up in other things. Everything from blocks and unstructured time as a little person through video games or online arguments as a teen – information, good or bad, is created, encountered, or absorbed. This one is so very important and can be crazy effective – but it’s the one most threatened by the Cult of Assessment and our own unwillingness to Defy the Beast.

It also gets trickier to create these opportunities intentionally as students get older.

2. They Learn From Family & Loved Ones

We all know the value of parents reading to their children. In a perfect world they take them to museums or musical performances, or travel places promoting conversation and reflection. How many times a day does a parent or sibling overtly attempt to explain a ‘why’ or a ‘how’ to a little kid?

But they learn all sorts of other things as well – attitudes towards authority, or learning, or society. How to solve problems (in good ways or bad). What matters and what doesn’t. Where they fit in the world.

What they’re worth as an individual.

This is the stuff we’re quick to bring up when people start blaming teachers for everything, and probably the biggest factor shaping what a child KNOWS and who he or she IS over which we have almost no control.

We also go to it as a cop-out when our calling becomes difficult. Sorry, educators – but it’s true.

3. They Learn Because They Like The Subject

This is the ideal. Those kids who keep wanting to know if they can leave your class to go finish something in Engineering? They tend to get good at engineering. That girl who reads voraciously? She tends to get pretty good at reading. And don’t get me started about young people truly devoted to their choir, marching band, baseball team, or speech & debate.

Booyah.

Of course, we have almost no control over this going into a new year. And it’s easy to ruin this passion even in the best of them if we’re not careful – which is terrifying. But still we try to nudge and ignite and encourage, right?

Wait – we DO try to fan these embers, YES?! Hello?

4. They Learn Because They Like The Teacher or Peer Group

I have mixed feelings about this one.

There are students who find me far more entertaining and caring than my friends and loved ones can fathom, based on what they know of me in my other, supposedly ‘real’ life. Because of this, these students will often attempt things they wouldn’t otherwise try – books out of their comfort zone, writing until their hands hurt, talking through a skill AGAIN so that I can give them full credit.

They will play school because of all the love and acceptance flying around, just like in those horrible motivational memes and Garfield posters. “They don’t care how much you know…”

At the same time, I worry this won’t transition to the next teacher they get, who may be perfectly adequate, but to whom they don’t feel the same connection. I don’t want them to be good at my class (and let it stop there) – I want them to get better at being learners, no matter what the circumstances or personalities involved. I want them to become better versions of themselves.

I know, I know – but I’m idealistic and delusional that way. Shut up.

5. They Learn Because Of Grades / Fear / Pressure / Rewards

This may begin from above – parents, or even the school system itself – but often becomes internalized. Either way, this is a stress-driven type of learning with little lasting value.

It might be about staying eligible for band or sports or whatever they’re into and like. It’s often about a sense of survival, and ‘getting through’. Sometimes it’s also about college acceptance, parental approval, career success, or other specific stressors – other times it’s more panophobic. They couldn’t say exactly why, but face a consuming terror of veering off the assigned path.

I did informal surveys of many of my best students last semester, and discovered that these ‘best’ kids in terms of grades, behavior, organization, and personal responsibility, almost universally hated or at least disliked everything about their school day. A few had one teacher or subject they found tolerable, and most had activities or extra-curriculars in which they found fulfillment, but the bulk of each day and long hours into each night were have to, have to, have to.

It was all about the grades. The future. The system. The idea that there would be anything of value to be learned along the way they found… quaint. Of course they resisted being quite so blunt, being the ‘good kids’ and all – you don’t have 104% in every class by proudly slandering the system.

But learning and loving and new worlds of ideas weren’t really factors. If anything, those would be distractions to winning at the game.

6. They Learn Because of Long-Term Goals

This one is pretty rare if you eliminate the vague terrors in play above. There are a few, however, who are specifically chasing a degree in veterinary medicine, motorcycle repair, or that study abroad opportunity in Monaco. They press on because they know what they want.

At least, they think they do – which for our purposes works just as well.

On the one hand, these kids aren’t necessarily driven by a love of learning… on the other, though, they are at least self-motivated, making the learning they accept as necessary a bit richer and more meaningful.

7. They Learn Against Their Will

If you torture them enough, confine them in stale rooms and badger them into compliance…

If you test them repeatedly, then pull their electives, their after school time, their freedom to sit with their friends at lunch, until they pass…

If you manage through attrition to wear away or cripple enough about themselves they’d otherwise find meaningful, strong, beautiful, or useful…

If you constantly elevate those who comply, who understand, who feel and think as we demand, and denigrate those who can’t – or who for whatever reason won’t…

They may eventually give you enough to count as learning. They may remember enough to secure their release from the system. They may even move on to the next round of ‘education’.

But they’ll never forgive you, or the system, or those who participated in the process. You know why?

Because they’ve learned.

In Defense of the 5-Paragraph Essay

May 21, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 4 Comments

Although it is an imperfect beast and its overuse can be limiting, or even harmful, the “5-Paragraph Essay” should not be so unfairly maligned. It provides useful scaffolding for students learning to support logical arguments rather than ramble about their impressions and feelings, promotes clarity and focus for students as they attempt to formulate and support those arguments, and offers the security of structure and a type of ‘safety net’ for young writers not always certain how to best proceed.

Like any set of ‘tools’ or ‘guides’ we provide young learners, the “5-Paragraph Essay” can provide essential structure for students learning how to make and support historical, scientific, or other academic arguments. Children are often given coloring books in order to facilitate artistic expression, or encouraged to play sports in which the field is outlined in chalk or painted lines and coaches from both teams move among the players guiding or correcting them until they’re able to do without such structures. Even as an adult, I’m far more likely to make brownies or muffins from a box with clear directions and limits than to take my chances with a bowl, some ingredients, and a dream. It does not limit a musician to begin by learning scales or how to form standard chords – it gives them a foundation on which to build while they become more skilled. Structure is not by itself good or evil; it’s only when we confuse ‘tools’ with ‘unbreakable rules’ that we limit students rather than guide them.

That same structure helps to provide clarity and focus as students learn to distinguish between expressing themselves and making a logical argument. David Coleman, the primary author of Common Core and current Czar of the College Board, took some heat a few years ago after saying “people don’t really give a $#!+ about what you feel… can you make an argument with evidence{?}”** As horrifying as this was to the warm and fuzzy among us, his point was valid enough regarding the importance of being able to say something useful, clearly and concisely, and back it up with facts and reason. It’s a lost skill in our culture, rarely even attempted by our social and political leaders. I know few pilots or surgeons who complain about having to run through checklists before taking off or cutting in; the process prevents careless errors and helps focus attention. While the graphic organizers and other supporting requirements I use to help students build a “5-Paragraph Essay” can’t guarantee clarity or logical thinking, they go a long way towards revealing fuzzy thinking or spotlighting disjointed bits of unconnected information. Unsupervised play and avant-garde musical choices have their place, but such open-endedness can prove crippling to the long-term success of those never ‘limited’ by rules or musical orthodoxy.

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The role of structure in providing security and freedom was brought home to me clearly and eternally by ‘Melissa’, a high school sophomore in my first year teaching. After exhausting all three or four teaching techniques I knew, I assigned a chapter for students to read and then ‘do a project over’. When they asked what sort of project, I responded they could choose anything they thought would help demonstrate that they understood. They were in 10th grade, I reasoned – they knew what sort of projects they liked by this point. After several moments of confused murmuring and dazed expressions, Melissa raised her hand and politely but indignantly informed me that, “Mr. K! Sometimes fences set us free!” I’ve learned to appreciate the default settings of some of the video games I play, or the way the word processor on which I’m typing this automatically selects certain orientations, fonts, margins, and other settings unless I tell it to change them. I don’t feel limited, I feel supported. High school students are a scattered, confused, drifty and easily terrified bunch any time they’re asked to think or branch out, and structure can provide safety in that venture. As long as there’s always a clear distinction between ‘defaults’ (which can be altered when circumstances change) and ‘rules’ (which apply for all time in all circumstances), fences do indeed set them free. [[{“type”:”media”,”view_mode”:”media_small”,”fid”:”988″,”attributes”:{“alt”:””,”class”:”media-image”,”typeof”:”foaf:Image”}}]]

So while there are many good arguments against my complex thesis, whether the ‘Although’ makes you cringe or you’d rather I’d been more general or more specific, used fewer sentences or more, it’s a workable thesis which can be easily emulated in many – but never all – different situations. If you don’t like my structure, I’d encourage you to create another in its place rather than dismiss the idea altogether. The “5-Paragraph Essay” is certainly not the final goal of writing or reason, and it’s certainly not the ideal tool for personal expression, but neither should it be the whipping post of Academia, condemned to languish alongside Wikipedia and Direct Instruction as a shameful relic of some dark, inbred time we’d rather forget.

**A slightly fuller version of the Colman quote is below, in case this is new to you. Don’t tell anyone, but my first reaction when I read this was to laugh. I don’t know that I’d make this into all-encompassing edu-policy, but he made a hard point humorously. How can I argue with that?

Do you know the two most popular forms of writing in the American high school today? …It is either the exposition of a personal opinion or the presentation of a personal matter. The only problem, forgive me for saying this so bluntly, the only problem with these two forms of writing is as you grow up in this world you realize people don’t really give a $#!+ about what you feel or think. What they instead care about is can you make an argument with evidence, is there something verifiable behind what you’re saying or what you think or feel that you can demonstrate to me. It is a rare working environment that someone says, “Johnson, I need a market analysis by Friday but before that I need a compelling account of your childhood.”

RELATED POST: Why Assignment Sheets Might Be Killing Your Students’ Writing (from the edu-blog Three Teachers Talk)

RELATED POST: Unlearning the Five-Paragraph Essay (from the edu-blog Word Doctor)

Teach Like You

May 19, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

I’m a fairly narcissistic fellow. I don’t mean to be, it’s just that I’m vain and self-absorbed. At least I have the skills, style, and cojones to make it work for me. I make no apologies; every rose has it’s – oh, are you still here? I hadn’t noticed.

There’ve been a slew of books and workshops in recent years promising to help you teach like a pirate, like a rockstar, like a hero… I received something rather spammy recently promising to help me become a more exciting presenter and unlock a fabulous career leading teacher workshops. Just call Robert in Wisconsin at ###-###-####!

I’m not knocking any of these books or workshops. I haven’t read or attended any of them, but I see happy teachers carrying on about them on Twitter and such… they sound great.

Except the one with Robert in Wisconsin. WTF, Bob?

It’s just that I don’t want to be a pirate, or a rockstar, or a hero. I want my kids to learn a little history, ask some better questions, and maybe learn to like reading a little. And I want to do it as… me.

I’m pretty entertaining, and I have a degree. That should buy me some leeway, yes?

Of course, you don’t need to buy books or go to conferences to hear how you should be doing everything differently. There are no shortage of researchers scolding us for forcing our kids to recite from their McGuffey’s Readers and practice multiplication tables on their chalk slates, or whatever it is they think we do.

Seriously, if I read one more heavily-footnoted interview with yet another person who’s discovered that worksheets have limited effectiveness and some people are boring when they lecture, I may become violent. Can we steer some of the funding for these redundant studies into something more useful – maybe fresh blue ink for the mimeograph machine or another History Channel Documentary on VHS?

They’re not all bad, of course. Many make some fascinating observations and connections. They challenge us to reconsider some of our assumptions about kids and how they learn, or ourselves and how we teach.

I’m a huge fan of rethinking what we do in our classrooms. I make a decent living leading workshops and peddling my teaching philosophy, sometimes for edu-entities and sometimes just as lil’ ol’ me. We should ABSOLUTELY step out of our comfort zones from time to time. It’s unforgiveable to plan our class time around what we have saved from LAST year rather than what might work best with THESE kids THIS year.

And there are some GREAT teacher books! That ‘Weird Teacher’ one has me so challenged and encouraged and validated all at the same time that there were actual tears at one point. Occasionally I’m even inspired by something shared by state edu-staff, or my own district superiors. Turns out there are a bunch of really smart, experienced educators around who love helping the rest of us impact our evasive darlings.

Sometimes their ideas are better than mine. And sometimes research is right about stuff. I have much to learn about some of my students and how they think, feel, and perceive – so here’s to training, challenging, changing, and reviving.

BUT (and I have a big ‘BUT’)…

I hereby declare my official hostility towards anyone who gets paid to tell teachers they’re doing it wrong. I don’t care if they’re researchers, reformers, authors, or bloggers – kiss my class agenda, edu-snobs.

My ethical obligation to regularly seek better ways to reach more kids more deeply does NOT validate your desire to lecture me or talk down to me or my comrades. Quite honestly, if your research and ideas and pedagogy are THAT great, you wouldn’t need to be so condescending about it – we’d run to you hungry for more.

Which, by the way, is pretty much what many of you keep telling me about my teaching methods. You know – if I were doing it right, I wouldn’t have to work so hard to coerce and browbeat them… like you’re doing to us?

You see, sharing ideas, stories, successes and failures, speculation and goals, are what professional development and collaboration and edu-blogging are all about. Maybe this time I’m at the front of the room and next time you’re showing us something your kids created, but at no point is it about being better, or smarter, or anyone ‘fixing’ anyone else.

Because at the end of the day, teaching is as much art as science. It’s as much educated guesswork as strategy. Given that you’re you and I’m me and that quirky new girl is the quirky new girl, consistency may be limited.

More significantly, my kids are my kids and your kids are yours. We may be in different rooms, different districts, or even different states, confronting different cultural variables, working with different resources, building on very different backgrounds and expectations… we’re lucky we ‘speak the same language’ at all.

When I’m in my classroom, my number one ethical and professional obligation has absolutely nothing to do with your studies, your strategies, and sure as hell not your tests – mandated or not. I’ll certainly consider the input of my department and my building leadership, but even those should take a back seat to what I think and feel and believe will be best for MY kids, today, right now.

And you have the same obligation.

I hope you play along in my workshops and that you consider my thinking, just as I appreciate yours. I hope you’re open enough to risk and change and stepping outside comfort zones to evolve as an educator and a professional, even when you’re getting by just fine already.

But when it’s go time, follow your gut. Do what you know is best for you kids, now and down the road. Do it however you think will best work for them, from you. Don’t think about your evaluations, your VAM, your scores on this or that assessment, or even your career. If there’s testing to consider, then consider it – but not at the expense of what your gut tells you is best for your students.

We’ve become SO comfortable doing things we know are bad for our kids because they’re ‘required’. Maybe we’re afraid, or maybe we simply hide behind what everyone else is doing. Is this such a rewarding career in terms of money, power, and glory, that we’ll sacrificing the very things that made it matter to begin with in order to keep it secure? Must be a helluva extra duty stipend.

Teach like a rockstar if that works for you – or like that Freedom Writers lady or Marzano or To Sir, With Love. Challenge yourself and those around you to evolve, to up our game, and to WIN THEM ALL somehow.

But don’t you dare do anything that doesn’t ring true in your gut because I told you to, or because it’s required. Don’t you dare dismiss your inner strategist because what you’re envisioning might be stupid, or doesn’t align with something official, or might get you into trouble.

We’re trying to save kids in an unsaveable world. We’re trying to do the impossible with the insufficient. I’m not sure how many ‘right’ ways there are to attempt such madness. I’m confident the ‘wrong’ way is to try to do it as someone else.

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