Tag: public education

‘D’ Is For ‘Dilemma’

~ Blue Cereal

House Glove‘D’ Is For ‘Dilemma’

I remember sitting down to my very first teacher certification test a quarter-century ago. I’d reported to some obscure little “testing center” hidden in an office complex I’d passed a hundred times without noticing and brought along all the right paperwork. I was armed with a reasonable knowledge of history and plenty of pedagogical theory, with a side of buzzwords and popular edu-trends of the time.

The first section of the exam was multiple choice. I read the first question and marked ‘D’. The second question I felt confident of as well; it also happened to be ‘D’. So was question three. And four. And five. 

I stopped after the tenth question and scrolled back through my answers so far. They were all ‘D’. 

I was fresh out of teacher school and had completed “Tests and Measurements” only the summer before. I knew darn well that no legitimate exam creation process would play those sorts of games with the answers – ten ‘D’s in a row. It was also considered poor form to do anything to undermine the test-taker’s confidence right out of the gate. Ideally, for example, exams should begin with relatively straightforward questions and only gradually increase in difficulty. “Trick questions” were discouraged in any context, but certainly shouldn’t be thrown in right at the beginning. 

I must have been missing something.

I went back through all ten again but still felt fairly certain of my responses. There were one or two that MIGHT have been one of the other options, but ‘D’ still made more sense in each case. So… I kept them and moved on. 

The rest of my responses were more or less varied in the usual way – plenty of ‘A’s, ‘B’s, and ‘C’s, along with a few more ‘D’s. I must have done OK; my overall score on that section was well above the necessary cut-off and seemed impressive enough at the time.

Apparently, the first ten answers were all ‘D’, no matter what good pedagogy or standard educational practices said.

Next Slide, Please 

It’s almost a cliche by now to note how often professional educators are required to endure some well-intentioned drone (usually from “downtown”) reading – word for word – a PowerPoint presentation of 60 – 70 slides. If you’re lucky, they even include a few single-panel comics… which they read and explain as well. Often they’ll hand out the entire presentation on paper so you can read along – as if THAT somehow makes it better. 

On at least two occasions, I sat through ninety minutes of this specifically on the topic of making our classrooms more interactive and engaging. We were scolded in classic Ferris Bueller style (minus even the token efforts at interaction – “Anyone? Anyone?”) about how bad it was to rely on direct instruction. Kids apparently don’t have the attention span for such things – it’s boring and bad pedagogy. The person droning on about this even offered to come help us develop more engaging lessons if we wished. 

There was absolutely NO sense of irony indicated. 

Some of you may remember when “Prezi” first became a thing. The folks from “downtown” were so excited! I remember vividly the first Prezi presentation I watched and all the many features it included. They started with a page of text… then zoomed way, WAY in on different text, then it swooped over in a circle to some new text before zooming back out to a different part of the original text – all while reading each word to us slowly and methodically. They even described what was happening: “we can now zoom in on this ‘T’ and it says…”

Let’s Go To The Rubric 

One of the most bewildering moments in the world of teacher enlightenment came when we were assigned to create rubrics for several different types of assignment. (For any of you unfamiliar with the term in this context, a rubric is an effort to bring clarity and standardization to grading subjective work – art, writing, projects, etc. It allows teachers to bring clarity to their expectations – or at least reduce everything to the same sorts of numbers we use when grading multiple choice quizzes.) The administrator in question wanted more “unified” expectations across the curriculum, starting with a rubric we could all theoretically use to grade student writing. 

The problem, of course, is that there are many different types of writing, and what English is looking for in a creative narrative may not be the same as what AP U.S. History demands from a historical argument. Such distinctions were lost on the powers-that-be, however, who insisted that surely there must be some shared priorities – like spelling and grammar, for example. He was correct that we were in agreement on this issue. While we all cared about clarity in student writing, none of us prioritized spelling or grammar over content or overall organization. 

I’m pretty sure he was convinced at that point that we were being difficult on purpose. 

Eventually we moved on to a different sort of assignment – say, a multiple choice exam. What sort of rubric could we create to promote more unified grading of multiple choice quizzes and tests?

We weren’t sure how to even respond to that one. The very idea demonstrated such a gross lack of understanding of rubrics and what they do that we were genuinely speechless. What’s the professionally appropriate way to tell a superior that you’re not sure how to do what they’re requesting because it’s inane?

Cross My Heart

Such issues become even more maddening when they involve classroom management or discipline. Ask any teacher and you’ll no doubt find a wide and troubling range of examples for the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to administrative responses when students are referred to them for various violations. There are districts for whom “restorative justice” simply means sitting around sharing feelings anytime a student commits a serious violation, then sending them back to class presumably fully redeemed. Other times, administration confuses “zero tolerance” for “consistent expectations,” refusing to let reality or context interfere with their approach towards students OR faculty.

Anyone who’s been in education for more than a few years has encountered their share of bizarre district mandates untethered by reality. I’m currently tasked with raising students who rarely if ever attend school by multiple reading levels by the years’ end – as if sheer determination and some creative lesson plans could transform a fifth grade reading level to that of the average ninth grader in even the best of circumstances. I don’t worry about it, however, because it’s inane. It’s so undoable as to be meaningless. Like my students, I may not always buy into even the legit stuff – but I’ll definitely ignore the impossible.

What’s Your Point?

I generally avoid expressing frustration with school boards or administration. (Not that I haven’t periodically vented a bit when I thought there were larger points to be made.)

We have too many common oppressors from outside the system to turn on one another, at least publicly. And besides, many of the folks working in those positions are sensible, well-intentioned professionals. Just like teachers in general, it’s unfair to demonize them based on the idiocy of a handful of their peers.

I bring up these few examples of nonsense I’ve encountered over the years to make a point many have made before and which I hope others will continue repeating as often as possible going forward: it doesn’t matter what you demand until you can demonstrate that you have some idea what you’re talking about. 

This is just as true with teachers as it is with students. My expertise in a subject area may not always secure enthusiastic cooperation from teenagers, but my ignorance pretty much guarantees problems. I may have an entire arsenal of policies and expectations intended to coerce them into doing what I say, but unless I manage to build some degree of rapport, I’ll have to rely on the authority of others to handle my problems (of which there will be many). 

The number one thing districts or administrators can do to secure more support and cooperation from their teachers is the same as what we’re told to do with students – build some credibility. Spend some time listening more than talking. Don’t pretend to know more than you do. Assume we can tell the difference between genuine interest in our perceptions and expertise and yet another survey about building climate or district priorities. Stop basing so many of your decisions on petty disputes with individuals or what looks best on your resume. Most of all, be genuine. You don’t have to sacrifice professional boundaries to not be full of $#!+. 

Just like in the classroom, you don’t have to be perfect, but you do have to be sincere. Until you’ve built up a positive track record with all involved, job title alone is insufficient for securing buy in.  

You may get token compliance, but genuine cooperation? Not so much. 

Teachers aren’t always easy people to deal with, but then again, neither are students. That’s the gig. If you can’t be genuine about it, or you lack the necessary skills and knowledge to do more than fake it, maybe it’s not for you. There are many professions where you can rely on misdirection and obfuscation without doing any real damage, but this isn’t one of them. In short, whether you’re a superintendent, a department manager, a curriculum director, or a building principal, please take a moment and ask yourself what you’re really doing, and why. 

Then ask the folks working “under” you how you could be doing it better. And mean it this time.

In Loco Parentis

~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

We The Parents

Let’s start by addressing the gaslighting elephant in the room:

I have no interest in parenting your children. 

I have a legal and ethical obligation to teach them, and to some degree train them, for an hour or so each day. I’m responsible for their safety and all that good stuff while they’re here. And yes, I end up caring about many of them and occasionally listening when they have something on their minds. 

But subverting you or replacing you? Yeah, not so much. 

First off, that’s way too much work for what I get paid. I’ve raised my kids, and while they’ve both turned out pretty well, that’s largely in spite of my parenting rather than because of it. Secondly, there’s too much else I’m supposed to accomplish during the limited time I have them. Honestly, even if I wanted to shatter their faith, change their gender, or make them feel horrible about being straight, white, and privileged, I’m having enough trouble getting them to check Google Classroom when they miss class or bring their books on silent reading days. 

If we get those things under control, maybe then I’ll spend some time demonizing America or persuading them they might be way gayer than they think. 

There are two things about which many of you are apparently all worked up which I suppose I should take partial “blame” for (three if you count my terrible abuse of prepositions just now). The first is that I do, in fact, sometimes use texts in class which disagree with your personal, heartfelt beliefs. The second is that despite my determination to avoid it, I periodically listen to your kids when they’re upset without immediately calling you or state authorities every time. 

I’ll wait while you email Tucker Carlson. 

The first issue has been well-covered in other blogs you don’t read and news stories from organizations you don’t trust. The short version is that I have way more faith in your kids than you apparently do, and hope they’ll one day be able to function in a complicated, diverse world. I have no interest in making them feel “guilty” for being white (that’s not really a thing, by the way), but I do believe they’ll be more successful personally and professionally if they have some understanding of why many people of color still seem so annoyed by so many things. I wouldn’t even know how to convert them to Islam or any other religion, but I am convinced they’ll be better able to navigate the world around them if they’ve been exposed to some of the basics of other cultures and faiths. (If I were a religious person, I’d also argue they’ll be better able to defend their own faith when they’ve gained insights into the beliefs of others.) I’m pretty sure I lack the ability to turn them gay or spark some previously-buried interest in gender transformation, but personally I’d rather they not self-harm, turn to drugs, or commit suicide based on a misplaced sense of guilt or shame over being whoever they are. 

There’s a whole related argument to be had about whether or not it’s sometimes in the best interest of the child to undercut their parents’ extreme ideologies. (“Is it OK to teach the child of a misogynist that women have the same inherent value in the eyes of the law as men?” That sort of thing.) That’s a bigger, even more emotionally loaded question, and not relevant at the moment BECAUSE SCHOOLS ALREADY BEND OVER BACKWARDS (and sometimes forwards) TO AVOID DOING THIS. Having that discussion would require mutual respect and an acknowledgement of complexity that I don’t think we’ve established just yet – so we’ll set that aside for now and instead address the second issue I mentioned above – teachers who “counsel” kids in various ways. 

*sigh*

I’ve written before about the impossibility of ignoring a child’s physical and emotional health, even if all we care about are standardized test scores. I’ve tried to explain some of the complexities of wooing teenagers to actually learn the stuff we’re tasked with teaching them, and even resorted to complaining a time or two about the way some parents approach their children’s teachers. It occurs to me, however, that I’ve yet to drop the sarcasm and frustration long enough to simply try to explain something I feel should already be obvious to everyone involved.

It’s good when your child talks to caring adults, even when they’re not you. Sometimes especially when they’re not you. 

Taking this as a reflection on your parenting or a subversion of your values is – and I don’t know how else to say this – tragically insecure. My ex-wife (the mother of my now-adult children) and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye about things (hence the ‘ex’ part), but I still remember her reaction when we discovered our then-teenage daughter was sharing uncomfortable details about her home life during some pretty rough years with one of the adult leaders at her church. Rather than get upset, her mother told me how thankful she was that our daughter had found a trustworthy adult outside of the drama to help her process and navigate the feelings and fallout which resulted. 

Why did she react that way? Because she cared more about the well-being of our child than she did her ego or mine. Because she recognized that while the relationship of parent and child is unique and sacred, there’s some truth to the whole “it takes a village” mindset as well.

When your kid talks to me about their personal problems, I don’t think about what a bad parent you must be – I think about how difficult it must be for them to navigate complicated situations and emotions at 14 or 15 years of age. I’ve been working with young people for over two decades, and I’ve figured out by now to take everything they say with a shaker or two of contextual salt. With all due respect, it’s not usually about you, or your rights, or your power. Sometimes it’s about them and their need to sort things out or handle their feelings in a non-destructive way.

Yes, if they tell me they’re being abused or harming themselves or going to hurt someone else, I have to call an 800 number and everything is going to suck from there forward no matter what happens next. Most of the time, though, that’s not what they say. Most of the time, they just need a fresh perspective on how to manage the stresses of school, or why their mom is always mad at them, or how come they can’t focus in class, or what is wrong with their math teacher who needs to stop tweakin’ and doin’ too much.

They don’t unload to me because I’m trying to be their parent; they unload to me because I’m not. 

See, I don’t have to get them up in the morning when they’re being impossible. I don’t have to deal with the fallout of their poor relationship choices. I don’t have to feel guilty when they get in trouble at school or feel like anyone’s judging me for how they behave. I don’t have to feed them or clothe them or take care of them in any meaningful way beyond learning some reading, writing, and math, and secretly trying to turn them into transgender Muslim socialists. 

(I’m kidding about that last part. No, seriously – I am. Dammit… there goes another email to Tucker Carlson.)

That gives me an advantage in some situations. I’m less threatening. I’m less invested. I care about them, and want what’s best for them, but they don’t “answer to me” in any long-term way. They’re not afraid of disappointing me in the same way they often are with you. It’s not a better relationship than you have with them; it’s a different relationship. One I take very seriously, even though it scares me to death. It’s not a responsibility I want, and the entire system is just waiting for me to make the wrong call in the moment and crush me if it can. But I’m also trying to get them through metaphors and appositives and a functional thesis statement, and sometimes they simply can’t focus on such things until we’ve done something about the rest of Maslow’s hierarchy. 

I’m not competing with you. You want them to graduate? Me, too. You want them to cooperate better with authority (including yours)? Me, too. You want them to learn how to manage their emotions and find solutions to their struggles that don’t involve self-harm, sex-for-approval, or violence against others? Me, too. You want them to grow up to function in a complicated world? To do better than you did at their age? To be “happy,” whatever that means? Yeah, me too. You want them to share your worldview forever and never be challenged by other beliefs or opinions? 

OK, on that one we may not be fully aligned. But still – 6 out of 7, am-I-right?

For what it’s worth, you’re always welcome to come sit in on class and see what we’re actually up to. You have full access to everything I assign to your child – it’s on Google Classroom or Canvas or whatever. I’m happy to discuss why I use the materials I do, as well as share what’s worked and what hasn’t and look for better options. I’m honestly rather excited when a parent wants to collaborate with me to figure out what might best serve their little darling. It happens far too rarely. Sorry if that’s more trouble than yelling at the school board or sharing the latest demagoguery by your elected leaders on Facebook, but it might be way more effective. 

If, you know, we both want the same things for your child.

Relationships (Repost)

~ Blue Cereal

Distance LearningGood morning. Welcome to our first back-to-school faculty meeting. We have several important items on the agenda today, then we’re going to fill the afternoon with pointless activities we found online because the district says we have to professionally develop until at least 3:00 whether we need it or not.

As some of you know, we had a bit of unpleasantness last spring which we’d like to avoid happening again this coming year. A teacher who is no longer with us crossed a few boundaries and before you knew it, we were leading off the local evening news – and unfortunately it wasn’t for our horrible test scores this time.

With that in mind, I’d like to draw your attention to the pink handout in front of you. These are some of this year’s revised guidelines for teacher-student interactions. I won’t read it all to you (it’s not PowerPoint), but I would like to point out a few highlights.

First and foremost, no touching. If you need to get a student’s attention, use your words. If you wish to encourage them… well, it’s best if you avoid that altogether. Some of you have fallen into a very bad habit of putting a hand on a shoulder or patting a student on the back as you walk by. You may intend this as an innocent gesture or believe that young people need some sort of positive physical contact in their lives, but the risk is simply too great.

This also applies to handshakes as they walk in the door, whether you’re in clear view of dozens of other faculty members or not. Also, several of you have asked about student-initiated contact. Sometimes when a student sees a favorite teacher from last year, particularly if they were an important presence in their world and they haven’t always had that sort of attention or concern from the adults who should be paying attention to them, that student will come up and try to side-hug or even fully embrace that teacher.

After the situation with Mr. Barnaby last year, I’m afraid this is absolutely unacceptable and may lead to dismissal. What’s that? Oh, the “alleged” situation. I don’t know why we have to call it that. Parents were angry on social media – what more proof of actual wrongdoing do we need?

Anyway, back to the pink handout, just below the cute cartoon with the teacher in the dungeon. What should you do if you recognize that a student is approaching you for a possible handshake or hug? Well, you have several options. One is to make eye contact, extend your palm forward, and firmly pronounce, “No! No No No!” If this doesn’t work, we recommend moving away at whatever pace necessary to avoid physical contact.

Question? Yes – breaking into a full run at the approach of any affectionate student is not only permitted, but ideal as long as you avoid contacting others in your effort to flee.

Don’t forget to keep shouting “No!” We’re teachers; we want them to learn from every situation. With that in mind we’ve also placed small, conveniently-sized mace sprayer-thingies in your mailboxes, although these should only be used if other efforts to avoid human connection are unsuccessful. They are NOT to be used as a “team-building” activity during your monthly PLC meetings, as occurred in one department last year. I’m pretty sure Mr. Barnaby was involved in that episode as well, come to think of it. 

Bubble WomanThe second thing I’d like to point out are the communication guidelines we’ve instituted. Teachers should absolutely avoid connecting with students on social media in any form. We’d prefer you not communicate with the world around you at all – at least not about anything of substance. You may post recipes or pictures of student activities with all names and faces blurred out, but nothing personal, political, social, or humorous. No matter how benign, there’s a chance someone in the community will find it and erupt in faux outrage, convinced that if you’re sharing it on Facebook with a small group of select friends, you’re probably brainwashing minors with it all day, every day, because that’s what liberals do.

If you wish to have political opinions, prefer one sports team over another, promote American values, or like your grandbaby more than someone else’s grandbaby, maybe you should have thought of that before you became an educator. We’re not here to connect what we teach with real life or present ourselves as involved citizens. This is school.

New this year are the guidelines governing interactions within the school day. It’s come to our attention that a number of students have been approaching their teachers with issues not directly related to the curriculum. Sometimes these conversations seem benign enough – “Have you seen this movie?” or “Did you hear what happened to that celebrity, so-and-so?” Other times, though, they involve their personal lives, their hopes, fears, families, friends, relationships, goals, strengths, weaknesses, or other completely inappropriate topics for school.

If a firm stare and verbal warning doesn’t dissuade these inappropriate interpersonal interactions, you should immediately refer them to their school counselor, who will give them a career survey to complete until they forget what they were wanting to talk about. As with the “touching” issue above, feel free to run away screaming “No! No! No!” until the student is sufficiently re-engaged with that day’s assignment.

I suggest explaining to them how that day’s lesson correlates to state standards and maybe remind of them of how much better their life could potentially be in 10 – 20 years if they succeed in your class today. Whatever their personal issues, that should pretty much address them. Who doesn’t want to be successful a decade or two from now?

For anything more serious than movies, books, or music, call the 800-number we had carved into each of your desks over the summer. This will connect you with an overworked federal agency tasked with getting you out of these conversations. While technically this number is intended to be used for reporting suspicions of abuse or concerns about violence or suicidal behavior, we recommend using it every time a teenager brings up a recent breakup with their boyfriend, sounds worried about their ability to do well in school, expresses sadness or confusion related to difficult circumstances at home, or exhibits any other emotion not directly related to that day’s assignment.

State law mandates the agency investigate, which in turn automatically alerts local police, the fire department, child services, local media, the PTSA’s Facebook Group, the federal housing authority, and at least one associate producer working for Maury. Until they arrive, it is essential that you refuse to respond to or otherwise discuss with this student anything on their mind or hampering their ability to focus on school. You are NOT a trained counselor. It’s not as if simply listening and showing you care is going to do anything. I’m sure you mean well, but the risk is simply too great. (Remember Mr. Barnaby.)

The Wall StudentsThe final section I’d like to discuss on your pink handout involves lesson planning. We’re going to start asking you to submit written lesson plans for approval at least one week in advance each week. It’s come to our attention that some of you – and I’ll confess that the English and Social Studies departments are particularly culpable here – have been making explicit or implied connections between subjects you cover in class and events going on in the community, the U.S., or the world today. This is simply unacceptable.

We are not here to manipulate students into thinking or feeling the same way we do about current events, and the only way to safely circumvent any gray area on this is to avoid doing anything intended to make them think or feel at all. Our legal counsel has suggested we leave thinking and feeling up to their parents, clergy, or therapists in order to shield the district from potential culpability. It’s best they not connect with you, that you don’t connect with them, and that nothing you say or do in class – however well-intentioned – connect with anything happening in their lives outside of school or the real world around them.

It’s simply not our place.

Alright, that’s it for the pink handout. Any questions?

Good. Let’s take a short break and when we come back, we’ll be looking at the green handout – “The Importance of Relationship in Learning.” They don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care, amiright?

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Teacher Evaluations (Hammers & Nails)

~ Blue Cereal

Reality TV MontageThere’s a difference between caring how well you’re actually doing your job and caring how well you do on official evaluations. Ideally, the two at least overlap – like a Venn Diagram or pop and hip-hop. That’s not always a given, however. In practice, it’s often more like the relationship between reality and reality TV.

I know a teacher I’ll call Mr. Lutum. Mr. Lutum has been teaching forever – long enough that he began to fear he’d grown a bit stale. After some soul searching and a few months of crippling doubt and despair, he decided that if he were going to continue teaching, he at least needed a fresh start and a serious change of scenery.

He took a position in a high poverty, majority-minority district in the building people only work at until they have enough seniority to go elsewhere. Lutum figured he’d put his lofty rhetoric and progressive ideals to the test and see if he actually had the chops to work with kids who are nothing like himself – hopefully without becoming either cynical or patronizing. It was around this time I met Mr. Lutum at a local workshop and we began staying in touch – first just talking teacher talk, and eventually carrying on about other things.

We’re both in northern Indiana, and both of us moved here from other states. One thing we’d noticed is that in ultra-conservative states, the official solution to almost any problem is “punish them more.” If that doesn’t work, “punish them harder” or “punish those around them” pretty much exhausts the limits of legislative imaginations. None of that restorative-nurturing-touchy-feely nonsense here! All problems are nails – poverty, mental health, crime, poor schools, crumbling infrastructure, general malaise and despair. Fortunately, the state has a big hammer and uses it regularly and gleefully.

In their defense, they genuinely believe this demonstrates their concern over social ills and the like. It’s WJWD.

Local governments – right down to school boards and building administrators – have learned that, as middlemen of sorts, they have two basic options. They can become hammers themselves… or end up nails. The practical result of this is that in the local public schools, “accountability” and “high standards” have little to do with figuring out what works, and much to do with demonstrating that bent nails will not be tolerated. (Or straightened.)  

The community is poor, families are broken, the economy is a mess, and relationships between parents and schools, citizens and police, business and society, are largely dysfunctional and periodically hostile. The state is criticized for not doing more to help local schools, who are in turn criticized for not doing more to revolutionize the lives and circumstances of each and every child within their boundaries via grammar worksheets and basic math skills. By way of showing their true commitment to educational progress, the schools shut down for standardized testing nearly every month for at least a few days.  

In their defense, most schools are reacting to state mandates, threats, and demands. Because there are so many things they can’t control – home lives, poverty, culture, lack of interest, a global pandemic – they’ve doubled down on the things they can, which brings us to one of their favorite categories of nails – teachers in low-performing districts. “It’s time to accountability you with some high expectations, beehatch. It would take forever to get to know you and your classrooms, explore the dynamics of your interactions with kids or the systemic challenges you face which prevent you from accomplishing more. What we can do, however, is mandate this pretty impressive rubric to judge your classroom performance based on a 30-minute observation by someone desperate to stay a hammer twice a year.”

Teacher Evaluation RubricTeacher evaluation rubrics usually involve detailed sub-categories cascading for pages under ranking columns with names like “Excellent,” “Adequate,” “Could Be Better,” “My God You Suck,” and “Not Observed.” These are laid out in a giant spreadsheet or in an iPad app with descriptions of where a teacher might land on each measured characteristic.

For example, “Lesson Organization”:

EXCELLENT:  Lesson is clearly laid out with pre-teaching or connection to previously learned materials, new content or skills, and formative or informative assessment to determine the extent to which students have mastered the new material. Instructor demonstrates effective differentiation and connects content and skills to students’ lives, learning styles, and future endeavors in meaningful ways throughout the lesson. Teacher has clear plans for students who excel quickly, who understand adequately, who struggle with the material, or who remain unaware or detached and implements each of these strategies with the appropriate students simultaneously.

ADEQUATE: Randomly insert the word “somewhat” into previous description so the distinction sounds quantitatively meaningful.

COULD BE BETTER: Replace “somewhat” with “rarely” but nod severely as you do to demonstrate thoughtful concern.

MY GOD YOU SUCK: Teacher is moderately conscious and may or may not have traces of drool working its way dramatically down their chin. There is little or no pre-teaching or connection to prior learning and teacher doesn’t appear to know students’ names, personal histories, family stories, emotional issues. Plus, I’d swear there were at least two kids playing on their phones which she totally ignored! Remediation consists primarily of discouraged sighs and instructions to “look, just give me something, OK?” before teacher crawls under desk and weeps in despair.

Teacher StressHere’s the other thing: it doesn’t matter if there’s a pandemic or if every teacher in the building is a Mr. Miyagi, Dewey Finn, or John Keating. “High expectations” means a percentage of them have to be scored harshly because “high expectations.” It’s like a college course being graded on a curve and there were going to be 3 ‘A’s, 10 ‘B’s, 12 ‘C’s, 10 ‘D’s, and 3 ‘F’s no matter how well or poorly individuals might actually do. Oh, and your grade for the entire course is based solely on page 3 of one of the 12 essays you’re required to do that semester.

Last year was Lutum’s first year at this particular school, and – as was somewhat expected – the learning curve was steep. It’s one thing to know the culture and dynamics of a building are quite different than what you’ve experienced before and another to manage those dynamics effectively. As the latest newcomer, he was an unknown quantity and thus had zero credibility in the eyes of most students. He was regularly challenged both directly and indirectly and had to up his game a bit with classroom management and personal interactions. Then came time for formal administrator observations and his first evaluation.

“I normally don’t care about that kind of thing,” he told me. “I’ve always believed that if I’m doing what I think is best for my kids, things like state tests or administrative paperwork either take care of themselves or simply have to be endured. I was a little uncomfortable this time, however, partly because I knew things weren’t going all that well in class, but also because my supervising administrator had shown little interest in getting to know me (or any of the other teachers) beyond periodically walking the halls to make sure we were on duty during passing periods and that our doors were locked during class.”

Lutum was scheduled to be observed during his 2nd period – a class of about 25 freshmen. Halfway through 1st period, an announcement came over the intercom to dismiss all band students for dress rehearsal in preparation to some contest they were attending that weekend. That meant that the 8 – 9 students most likely to participate (or to even know what was going on) were leaving. Normally, Lutum would have changed what he did in class that day to reflect the change of circumstances – try to keep it meaningful for those who remained – but the evaluation rubric doesn’t have a category for “what’s best for the kids actually present.” He’d have to plow ahead and get those boxes checked, students be damned.

Eval StopwatchIt didn’t go well. He was marked down for things like insufficient connections to prior knowledge – despite the evaluating administrator arriving 10 minutes after the lesson started and the kids not actually having much in the way of applicable prior knowledge. Two kids were doing other things on their iPads which he couldn’t see but the administrator could, meaning he lacked “awareness.” Other than that, it was lots of blank stares and hostile body language. (Also, the kids didn’t seem that glad to be there either.)

He spent the next few weeks trying to assemble documentation to get him up to a score that prevented a required “plan of improvement” and vowed to do better in the Spring, knowing he’d not see or hear from his administrator before it was time to schedule the next evaluation.

Then the pandemic hit.

Evaluations last fall were based on his Canvas page, and again he was slammed for things like insufficient differentiation – meaning, I guess, that his prerecorded online lessons didn’t adapt throughout each period to the individual needs and responses of the students who weren’t doing them. He asked his evaluating administrator about this and he was at least sympathetic. “Hey, look – I have to be able to document it to give you ‘Adequate’, and I’m not seeing it. If you can show me something that qualifies, I’d love to change it.

Again he spent a few weeks trying to nudge the score up past “please don’t fire me” and began wondering why he gave up the easy gig in Michigan where everybody loved him and he had tenure.

Since Spring Break, Lutum has had 8 – 10 in person students each period (while still expected to keep up with virtual learning for the rest.) Last week was the first time this year he was scheduled to be observed in person. He made sure there were no extra band rehearsals or major sporting events scheduled and spent the two weeks beforehand trying to establish some classroom dynamics as students began wandering randomly back from virtual learning to in person school. He chose the period right before lunch when students were awake enough to participate but weren’t as hyper as they got after whatever fights broke out at lunch.

A few days beforehand, his evaluator emailed that he couldn’t make it that hour – could they do 1st period? Not wanting to seem insecure or unprepared, Lutum agreed.

Mr. Woodman Trading CardThe day before the visit, the building principal came on the intercom and announced that tardies were out of control and that teachers were to lock their doors when the bell rang – no exceptions. Those students would report to detention for the rest of the period. (1st period, unsurprisingly, has more tardies than any other hour.) That announcement was followed by a list of all the busses running late that day. There were always at least 3 – 4; that day Mr. Lutum estimates it was more like 7.

It had been a few weeks since they’d covered “irony” in class, but maybe that should have been the lesson he’d prepared for observations. Once again, he wasn’t going to have enough students to demonstrate anything on the checklist. Well, maybe Brittney. She’s always there early. Nice kid. Clueless, of course, but enthusiastic. Yeah, allusions and metaphors will go great with just her. The breakout groups activity would be particularly impressive, and her first chance to be group leader. Of herself.

He could have tried to reschedule, but why? Hammers need nails. They have no use for screws, widgets, duct tape, or clamps. At some point the nail has to either stop trying to pull away and accept its fate or figure out how to become a hammer – something Mr. Lutum was unwilling to do.

“Bring it on,” he told me. “I figure no one else is lined up begging for this job. Let’s get the part over with so I can get back to trying to figure out how to help the kids actually in front of me, and if they want to start a paperwork trail to fire me, so be it.”

I guess a single nail sticking up does look a bit like a middle finger. And I’m OK with that.

Postscript: It went fine. Ludum had 5 kids show up and found out later when they saw an administrator in the room most had assumed they were in trouble of some sort. They didn’t have great answers but they upped their game considerably and tried to look attentive (and not like nails). He’d forgotten to tell them what was happening that day and had no idea they’d be panicked by a principal visit. Turns out he’s still learning a few things about his new school.

Hammer & Nails

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Five Sources

~ Blue Cereal

Twisted VoyagerWe’ve been reading up on Supreme Court cases involving “student rights” in one of my classes. Most of the readings and videos have involved the biggies – student speech, mostly, and some search and seizure. I recently asked them to pick a topic related to student rights in school, and of course offered a list of possibilities for those not particularly motivated to come up with their own. 

We’re not looking to do a serious research paper at this level. Mostly, I want us to go through the motions of gathering information, understanding the issues, and recognizing the difference between an informational or expository text (“here’s the current law about X, plus examples”) and a persuasive or rhetorical text (“here’s what the law or policy should be, and here’s why”).

The first day was all groundwork – some videos summarizing various cases and a little discussion about possible topics. Day two was intended to be straightforward, but essential. Students needed to come up with FIVE SOURCES they were going to use for information about their topic. Books or periodicals would be fine, but realistically I knew we were talking websites. I briefly addressed “valid” vs. “invalid” sources, but for something like this I wasn’t overly picky. 

Honestly, there are SO many “student rights” sites out there, so many news stories citing various court cases and issues, so many legal advocacy sites with sections about students and education, it should be difficult NOT to find valid sources of information at the level I’m looking for. I figured most would be done in 15-20 minutes. I asked them to email me their five links or share a Google Doc (for easier follow-up on their part) and we’d discuss their topic and sources before they move on. 

We’re not doing a doctoral thesis here; we’re trying to learn whether or not dress codes are sexist or when principals can search your backpack. I was only taking it slow because this foundational step was so important. 

Sources, Shmorces…

By the next day, I only had a handful of completions. By itself that wasn’t so shocking; my students aren’t always a particularly self-motivated group. But I’d watched them working, and writing. I’d overheard what sounded like productive, on-topic discussions. I knew the product I was asking for was NOT all that demanding, and yet…? 

I started taking a closer look at all the activity I thought I’d observed. 

Several were overdoing it – summarizing entire web pages or the issues covered on each. That’s a good problem to have; obviously, they need to eventually read the information in their sources. Most, however, had simply started writing about their topic – what they thought, why this or that policy was unjust, ect. They were on fire! Except… they weren’t doing the assignment. 

“Looks like you have a lot to say. That’s good. But… where are your five sources?”

“My what?”

Now, this is something many educators will immediately recognize. You can explain something quite explicitly while the same instructions are projected on the screen behind you and in large font on the paper in front of them. You can restate those same directions in multiple ways, give examples, and make sure they know how to refer back to them if necessary. Ten minutes after you turn them loose to work, a third of them haven’t started because they have no idea what they’re supposed to do. Of those, several are already mad that you never explain anything. 

It’s not personal. You get used to it. 

But this wasn’t silent confusion. These kids were writing! Several were quite emotional. Most responded with annoyance and confusion when I tried to steer them back to those FIVE SOURCES. Save what you’ve written! You might decide to use it. But first, we need to know stuff. What does the Constitution SAY? What have the courts already DECIDED? We can agree with it or disagree, advocate or accept, but we must start with existing KNOWLEDGE on which to build our opinions!

Their bewilderment and frustration were palpable. BUT I ALREADY KNOW WHAT I WANT TO SAY! Yes, I see that – and I want for you to be able to say it. I’m just asking that these strong opinions of yours begin with some facts and information. 

Eventually, I thought they’d heard me. Maybe I hadn’t explained it as well as I thought the first day. They mutter what passes for agreement. I walk on. 

And you know what comes next. 

Ground Fog Day

Day Three. We should be outlining by now. Discussing topic sentences and supporting details. Instead, I’m walking around the room trying to figure out why we’re still not turning in those FIVE SOURCES. One pair (I finally caved on letting them work together) has given me a list of homepages – forbes.com, vox.com, etc. I try to explain that I need the actual URLs of the specific articles, which prompts them to sulk and refuse to do anymore that day. Another gives me a handwritten list of very long URLs, which I suppose technically meets the requirements, but WHO DOES THAT AND WHY?!?!

Mostly, however, it’s a brand new start in all the worst ways. What are we doing again? So we have to do research papers? Can I use the essay on Vikings I did for World History first semester? Again I’m left referring back to the same very basic instructions… and insisting they need FIVE SOURCES. Sources? For what? How many? Five?! So any five websites about anything? Mister, you’re not explaining this very well. 

Most are genuinely stuck. Bewildered. Stymied. Buffy and Willow and Xander, wrestling with Spike’s assertion that Ben IS Glory and Glory IS Ben. There’s simply too much dark magic in play to allow their brains to grasp – let alone retain – such madness. FIVE SOURCES? Related to a student right of our choice? So what are those posted directions and samples for? What are we doing again? 

Lost Connections

Most educators know how bewildering kids can be. We love them anyway, and it’s not usually the same from day to day or from student to student. In this particular case, however, I’m convinced that the sticking point was more than usual teenage cluelessness. I think it’s the nature of the requirement triggering the crisis. I might as well have asked them to recalibrate their heartbeats to produce more of a polka rhythm, or required them to eat only color and write with one-dimensional fruit. Starting today, work will only be accepted in Morse Code. Grades are determined by the square root of your age as a negative number divided by zero. And informational writing must be supported by FIVE SOURCES. 

Information. Existing facts. Building our arguments on knowledge and reason. Assume a common foundation of documented truth and empirical understanding. Know stuff FIRST. Then feel. Then rant. Then insist, explain, or decry. 

That’s just not how we do things anymore, is it? They’re high school freshmen – I’m not mad at any of them or despondent over the process. Every lesson has its unexpected wrinkles, and they’re not always the same from year to year or class to class. But I don’t think they’re alone in their bewilderment. If one of our goals in public education is to prepare students for the “real world,” I’m not even sure that insisting on facts and reality as the foundation of their informational or persuasive writing is doing them any favors. Facts and reality don’t seem to carry much weight these days. They get in the way of too many emotions, agendas, and belief systems. 

Why Ruin It With Reality?

We’ve watched over the years as our primary social and political arguments have shifted from disagreements over methodology (“Which approach is most likely to accomplish the goals we largely share?”) to tribal warfare over basic reality (“Did Trump lose the election due to fraud? Is violent overthrow of democracy a valid form of peaceful political protest? ARE BIRDS EVEN REAL?”) Reaching across the aisle has become more and more like a mid-season Star Trek episode; someone always ends up in a different time-space continuum. Emotions are strong, and tied firmly to belief, and religion, and tribal associations, and convictions regarding values and one’s own sense of self. What they don’t seem overly concerned with is objective reality. 

My kids will eventually give me those FIVE SOURCES, but at the moment they’re products of the times in which they live. It’s legitimately difficult for them to fathom the idea that their opinions and emotions should at least take facts, history, and reality into account. It’s not just that they don’t want to do it – they can’t easily get their heads around why anyone would expect such a thing. My instructions are inconvenient and irrational – the bizarre babblings of a madman. “FIVE SOURCES,” he says. Honestly, he won’t shut up about it. Cleary he doesn’t understand – I ALREADY HAVE STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS. Why would we slow all that down, complicate my position with these… these… what did you call them again? “Facts”? 

I realize it’s old school. Outdated. Perhaps even detrimental to their future success. But we’re going to get those FIVE SOURCES before moving forward if it takes all month and nearly kills us all. I can’t do anything about the rest of the country, but for now… THIS group is going to at least START with facts and reality. Where they go next is entirely up to them.