If money were no object and if I were Queen of Education, here is what I would do.
Next year I'm taking on something new and intimidating. I and three other teachers (history, algebra, and study skills) are taking most of the students from our feeder middle schools who failed two or more eighth-grade classes. Most of them will be boys, most minority, most who qualify for free or reduced lunch – although except for the gender, those qualifiers describe the majority of the students at my high school. Since passing ninth grade is one of the strongest correlations for staying in school and graduating, this is an important task.
Mostly, I'm excited even though part of me is sad that I had to give up my honors classes to do this and part of me is terrified that I will not be able to get the kids hooked.
I've been looking for more ways to bring kinesthetic activities into an English classroom where basic skills in reading and writing are a top priority, and believe me, there just aren't that many kinesthetic activities when it comes to the actual tasks of reading and writing. Kinesthetic projects and responses to literature I have aplenty. Actually getting them moving when they're reading and writing is pretty difficult – especially at the high school level.
We've also been exploring alternative assessment and trying to figure out how that will fit in. One of our discussions right now is how we will balance responsibility and mastery. We're playing with the idea that student can pass our final exams with a 75% or better, it won't matter whether they turned in assignments or not, as long as the tests prove mastery in skills and content. But if we do this, are we setting them up to fail when they move on to more conventional teachers?
There are still a lot of discussions to be had and decisions to be made, but I'm working with an outstanding group of teachers who are all strong relationship builders, and to me, that is the most important "skill" we need to make this work.
All in all, we are up for this challenge. It's either going to be the most rewarding, exciting year of my career, or it will be the year from H-E-double-toothpicks. But the glass is always half full to me, so I'm counting on the former.
I flunked a kid today. Held him back. Retained him. It was as bad as you can imagine, only a little worse. Getting held back is a big deal to a third grader, and we don't take it lightly.
Our meeting was set for 2:30, the afternoon of a non-student day, arranged after a series of emails and phone calls designed to lay the ground work. Of course, the decision itself was the result of a lot of processing and agonizing, trying different interventions and new strategies. And I know in my heart that it was the right decision.
Still, I woke up this morning in a horrible mood.
My class took the WASL last week. Things were going well; I had an ample supply of fresh pencils, a different snack every day, we had completed the practice tests full of retired prompts, the parents were told the benefits of proper nutrition and adequate rest. I had done everything I was supposed to have done to prepare my students. Or so I thought.
I like technology. Some say I adore it. But I do have limits. I am not bound by technology simply because something has a circuit board. For example, I have not found a decent calendar program that can display the many nuances that my monthly schedule takes. For this, I use paper. I make notes on paper, too. I gave up my PDA years ago after it failed to be as effective as paper. My PDA came close, but I knew it was not a match. I think knowing when to use a tool (and when not to) is crucial to efficiency.
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The other day I was interviewed for a profile in our school newspaper. I tried to answer most of the questions from a perspective more professional than personal, and the stumper was this: “If you could have one wish, what would it be?” After an evening of pondering, I realized my answer was so simple that I was surprised it didn’t jump to my mind immediately. I would wish that every student have a desire to learn that matches my desire to teach them.
As an English teacher at a low-income high school, I know that in some cases, I am the only provider of inspiration to achieve beyond the minimum requirements; many of my kids have grown up with little or no intrinsic motivation to be high achievers in school. How does this relate to WASL? When my tenth graders heard that the WASL was going to vanish, I heard questions that astounded, confounded, and frustrated me. One young man asked, “Does that mean we don’t have to write any more essays?” The question itself drew a cheer from his peers. The fact is, the WASL provides a measurable and achievable extrinsic motivation that many of my students need.
By Travis & Tom
The plan to replace the WASL was
unveiled on the OPSI site yesterday. For many, this headline will create a
smile. But dig deeper, read the press release and overview and see what you think.
It’s hard to get the image of shiny, brightly colored cereal packages
emblazoned with cartoon characters out of our heads, each with their own
self-indulgent promise of “Tasting
great!” or “10% more!” or “New and Improved!” It seems like the world’s use of exclamation marks can be
found in the cereal aisle. But of course, when you open the new box and pour it
into your old bowl and eat it with your old spoon, it usually tastes a lot like
the old cereal.
by Tom
Five years ago, Washington Superintendent of Public Instruction Terry Bergeson was running for re-election in what was to be her second-toughest campaign. She was challenged by Judith Billings, who had the job before Terry took over in 1996. My mom called to tell me that there was going to be a debate between the two candidates at our local community college and she wanted me to take her to watch it. So I did, and on the way over she asked which candidate I was supporting. "Billings," I told her, but mostly because she had the support of the WEA, and I've always been a union guy.