Category Archives: Education Policy

The Superintendent’s Budget: My Takeaways

I live in Vancouver and teach in Camas. You might have noticed that many schools in my region didn’t start on time this year.

While we eked out a last-minute settlement in Camas (full disclosure, I was on the bargaining team and am the immediate past-President of our association), our neighbors on all sides of us had to head to the picket line in order to settle their contract issues. At the time I’m writing this, there are still several classified unions representing secretaries, support staff, and other vital members of our educational teams who are working without a settled contract.

In the October 9th News Release from OSPI where Superintendent Reykdal shared his proposed state school funding priorities, he called out the struggles Southwest Washington faced under the revised funding model… which many people recognize as the reason that so many educators’ unions ended up picketing instead of starting the school year on time. That model is one I’ll get to in just a minute, though.

While Superintendent Reykdal identifies some important funding priorities, he also properly identifies the root of the problem in our present system: revenue. While the shift to the statewide property tax was intended to be some sort of great equalizer in funding, it did not have that effect. Besides the mythical 3.1% cap on salary increases (which was finally in early August dismissed by Reykdal in a memo to districts), limits on levy capacity became the stalling point at bargaining tables around Southwest Washington, and despite double-digit-percentage increases in total incoming revenue, skittish district leaders were spooked by the shakeup of the levy structure… so much so that at many tables, the initial counter-offers from district leadership constituted de facto pay cuts for educators, despite net gains in total revenue available for educator salary.

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Later Start Times and the Afternoon Drag

My district made a research-driven decision this year: We flip-flopped the start times of our elementary and secondary schools. Now, for the K-5 set, the bell rings at 8:00am (compared to last year’s 9:00am start) and for the secondary crew class starts around 8:45am (instead of an hour earlier).

Being a high school teacher and a morning person myself, I grudgingly accepted this shift to an almost 9:00am start (the day is practically half over by 9:00am!). I get the research all over the place about later start times for teens. The CDC has a page clearly stating their position, titled “Schools Start Too Early,” the New York Times Opinion page weighed in, and there is apparently a bunch of research supporting the premise that teens need to sleep in later.

Try as I might to find research to pile behind my confirmation bias, all I could seem to find were arguments that kids will “just stay up later” or that earlier start times leave room in the evenings for extracurriculars or jobs. Alas, no research at all that earlier start times can actually benefit kids.

So the problem I face now is the long stretch after lunch, and the reality that the time when kids are tired (from having just eaten) or wired (from having just eaten) is a greater proportion of my and my students’ day than it used to be. Granted, back in the olden days of last year when students had to rise so early for first period, there was the struggle of managing the bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed and the faces-on-the-desks-and-drooling in the same classroom just as I now face the dichotomy of postlunch tired and wired.

This new after-lunch slog just feels different, though. It’s probably me (reminder: morning person) but after-lunch-learning looks a whole lot different than before-lunch-learning.

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Going Global

My teacher leadership journey has evolved from an inability to say no to a training, a committee, or an extra responsibility, into an ongoing urge to seek out new and innovative opportunities for learning. It’s not a journey that suits everyone, but, for me, constant growth and learning is as integral as the air I breathe. So, I keep looking for the next teacher leadership opportunity around the bend.

This summer I received the news that I was chosen for the Fulbright Teachers for Global Classrooms program (TGC). This wonderful opportunity will allow me and my cohort of 75 other teachers around the country to travel next spring to visit teachers overseas. Of course, I’m thrilled! I am always looking for ways to broaden my horizons as a teacher, and going “global” seems like the ultimate leap forward.

The program requires me to complete a course of study in global competence in the classroom, and, one week in, I am completely blown away. I feel like a whole world of teaching skills and strategies has opened up to me. I feel both validated in my beliefs as a teacher and severely challenged in my methods. It’s, well, a sea change for me.

Let me catch you up. I will use elements from ASCD’s Global Competent Learning Continuum to explain. This is a rubric that measures a teacher’s global competencies. You can explore the full continuum here.

Teacher Dispositions
1. Empathy and valuing multiple perspectives
2. Commitment to promoting equity worldwide

When it comes to the the dispositions outlined by the continuum, I find myself approaching “proficient.” That means that I see myself as actively recognizing biases and the limitations of my own and others’ perspectives. Also, I actively engage in activities that address inequities, often challenging myself and others to seek change at a local or regional level. I felt pretty good about this area, although I could see that to become advanced in a global teaching disposition, I would have to lead others to value diverse perspectives and act on issues of inequity. I need to step up my game.

Teacher Knowledge
3. Understanding of global conditions and current events
4. Understanding of the ways that the world is interconnected
5. Experiential understanding of multiple cultures
6. Understanding of intercultural communication

In the area of Teacher Knowledge, I am approaching proficient as well. I pride myself on being educated and aware, of pursuing knowledge and understanding of history, current events, and social issues. However, I recognize a glaring weakness in my competency. I don’t see myself as capable of change or leadership beyond a local level. Even though I tell my students that they can enact change, that they have the power to create a better future for themselves and our world, I am not walking the walk. I merely talk the talk. Continue reading

Old School Buildings and Infrastructure Investment

All teachers get good, over time, at being resourceful. We learn to scavenge for what we need to do our jobs. We get comfortable with discomfort, with working with less-than-optimal environments (in some particularly bad cases, “less-than-optimal” would be a laughable understatement). This is not limited to any particular state – from what I’ve read lately, and what I’ve experienced teaching in different states (NY and WA), this is a nationwide public school reality.

A spotlight has been directed on our lack of investment in school buildings, equipment, and furniture. As teachers in West Virginia, Oklahoma, Arizona were striking in the beginning of this year, a wave was building: educators around the country have been sharing about ways that school buildings are failing kids and failing teachers. We saw Baltimore students huddled in coats and mittens in their freezing classrooms, a story that originated with a tweet by NFL player-turned teacher Aaron Maybin. This attention led to a GoFundMe campaign that raised more than $84K for space heaters and outwear for Baltimore students – obviously not a long-term fix, but evidence of public support for better classroom conditions.

Personally, I’ve taught in classrooms with broken furniture, no whiteboard, no projector (in a visual arts class!), broken floor and ceiling tiles, leaking ceilings, and above-80-degree or below-60-degree temperatures. One school had a staff of 40+ that shared a single, one-toilet bathroom, while 300 students shared 2 bathrooms of 3 toilets/each (and plumbing problems were frequent).

I have dragged a stained, fraying area rug from a school trash pile and dyed it with I fabric dyes that I found in an old cupboard – it was my “circle time” rug for 2 years. I have pushed students in wheelchairs over tangles of extension cords and directed electric fans at students looking particularly overheated. I’m active in my local Buy Nothing facebook group, where neighbors share items they’re giving away – I’ve gotten art materials and classroom furniture that way. My assistant principal found a pair of computer speakers at Goodwill for me.

But I am so commonplace in this – every educator does this, often more, to try and meet students’ needs. I have seen special ed teachers and paraeducators, in particular, go to unimaginable lengths to make classrooms and environments safe and accessible for students with disabilities.

Rachel Cohen of the Washington Post points out that this is a long-standing problem of Federal vs. State, as far as infrastructure investment. “U.S. school buildings are 45 years old on average. But these problems disproportionately affect poor communities. In older cities, particularly industrial ones, schools average closer to 60 to 70 years old.”

Cohen brings up an idea put forward by Mary Filardo, the director of the 21st Century School Fund, “suggest(ing) school districts should…be able to leverage up to 10 percent of their Title I funds for capital expenses — currently, the federal money distributed to high-poverty districts can go only toward operating costs.”

While I don’t like that this would mean less funding – vital, in my experience – for operating costs, I do agree that the cost of infrastructure improvements in schools should be shared between Federal and State governments.

Locally, Seattle is putting levy funds – special election-based tax funds – towards improving Seattle Public Schools facilities. In 2016, the Buildings, Technology, and Academics IV Capitol Levy (BTA IV) passed by 72% of the vote, allocating $475.3 million toward school building construction, to be received and used between 2017-2022. Three existing buildings will be re-opened after improvements/updates to address growth in SPS enrollment. In a district as large as SPS, it can be hard to reconcile the good news of this kind, with the reality of so many day-to-day inadequacies in our classrooms and school buildings.

In an environment of scarcity, it’s also hard not to resent the newer buildings in the district, even while I know that the funds can’t go everywhere all at once. The most we can do is to be patient, and to advocate for more funding (locally, as well as state and federal), particularly for schools serving students living in poverty and students with diverse access and safety needs from their learning environments. Last year (in my old school), a group of Microsoft workers toured our building. They remarked on things that we had long since stopped seeing: water damage on the walls, cones around playground drains that don’t drain, exposed holes in acoustic-tile ceilings. It reminded me that sometimes my acquired skills in “making do” go too far – we can get used to unacceptable environments when we lose hope that change will happen.

While I try to raise my expectations of my classroom and school building, I’ll continue to scavenge and be resourceful. In my hunt for district and regional policy information regarding school facilities, I also came across this: guidelines for safety in art classrooms! It’s a good learning resource and a reminder that an optimal academic environment requires a safe and accessible space for everyone, and I can start with my own room.

 

Going Upstream

“Two things that are going well and one problem you would like to see changed. You must write a solution to the problem – otherwise you are simply complaining. Complaining in life will get you nowhere. Finding solutions to your problems will get you everywhere. Never forget the farmer! Go!”

Almost verbatim, this is how I begin our weekly class meeting. My students quickly jot down joyful things and happy thoughts; focusing on the good in their lives, their school, their class and their friends. But they do not forget the farmer – the one who stops pulling his drowning sheep from the river and runs upstream to puzzle out the reason they are in the river to begin with and then solves the problem.

Recently I was in a teachers’ meeting and the special education teacher was running through some data on our students. She mentioned my own five-year-old who she has worked with on phonograms throughout the year. “My word, she really is such a curious child! Always full of questions! Such strong gains!”

I smiled – a little proud, but mostly just relieved and thankful. This wild little chatterbox had come to us at the age of three with a diagnosis of being developmentally delayed in language as well as both fine and gross motor skills. She was so small and so very silent.

The summer she and her sister came was a summer of intense wildfires in our area. It was a summer of great worries and hopes. She was both. Our school started late that year due to an evacuation of the town. I had barely begun to adjust to her playing quietly underfoot before she was enrolled at the preschool in our school’s building and I was back in the classroom. I was not sure I was making the right choice.

The first day she came home with clay in her hair, blue paint on her new pink dress, her hair flung out of her ponytails and a new, shy smile I had never seen. Her preschool experience changed the very foundation upon which she stands today. The quiet one was left behind on the nap mat that year. She is now reading words, writing, playing with others, and is so full of questions. Why? Why? Why? (Sometimes I think we live with a baby seagull.)

The majority of the data in that meeting reflected strong gains throughout the building. A moment of celebration and “YES!” should have followed. But, our principal was unusually somber. She broke the news…

Our community’s preschool, a preschool funded by the Early Childhood Education and Assistance Program (ECEAP), was going to be terminated at the end of the month. ECEAP is designed to serve the educational needs of preschool-age children of poverty, those with developmental delays, and those deemed to be “at-risk.” We certainly have students who match these requirements; we simply don’t have enough of them to warrant the expense of a preschool in our rural community any longer. “If there is another ECEAP provider within 40 miles, and you have fewer than X number of students, funding will no longer be provided.” ECEAP’s hands are tied. It is what it is. And yet, miles is time and money; 40 miles on a bus…that’s an eternity in a preschooler’s mind, and the difference between “barely surviving” and “possibly thriving” on a tight budget.

Preschool matters, and it may matter most for those children at-risk. According to GreatSchools, the brain is undergoing major anatomical and physiological changes that can affect student learning throughout the rest of the child’s school years. Beyond building the capacities required for reading, writing and mathematical reasoning, it is a time for children to grow in their abilities to interact with others, self-regulate emotions, practice focusing attention, and learn the skills of interacting with peers. It was disheartening to be told our community’s children would no longer be able to readily benefit from the experience of preschool.

Two things that are going well? My daughter can write, identify and provide sounds for all of the letters of the alphabet as she strings them into short words. My daughter is not sullen nor silent, but full of the joy of curiosity.

One problem? There are others who will no longer have the opportunity she has had in our rural community. Where will they experience the noise and joys of learning?

The solution? Go upstream! We need to leverage our collective influence to impress upon decision-makers how significant and important early education is. Our students are on a continuum of growth, starting long before the “first day of school.” Early childhood education affects us all and its impact may be greatest on our most at-risk children; all of them – not just those lucky enough to live in close proximity to ECEAP services. Many of your future students, the ones coming down the stream to you already, are counting on it.

Thoughts on Testing Season from the Heart of Testing Season

 

It is hard to sleep.

Often preparation, at this point, feels futile.

Changing schedules can feel as stressful as examinations.

Young students who love school often don’t want to go to school.

Teachers learn to hope and to let go.

This is hard on teachers too.

And administrators.

Administrative calendars fill with colors.  From March 5th to June 8th thousands of Washington students (as students all over the country) will take ELA, Math, Science exams, re-take exams, take make up exams, all during school days, in libraries, spare rooms, classrooms, headphones and computers must be found and provided, pencils provided, tools provided, time provided, proctors trained, proctors reminded, schedules changed, altered, and developed to both provide the lowest impact to a school and honor the time and intensity of the test takers.

A bumper sticker reads: a child is more than a test score. When Graduation is on the line it is hard to remember that a child is more than a test score.

As a Washington state student you want to be in the 2500 range for math and for English.

For Washington state:

In grades 3-8, students take tests in ELA, math, and science for federal accountability.
In high school, students take tests in ELA, math, and science for federal accountability.

For some students the exam is not stressful. The calendar change is not stressful. They will cruise through this, like a subway commuter. We are all happy for them.

From May 7th to May 18th hundreds of Washington students will take AP exams—a different exam offered each day, all offering the possibility for college credit.

It will be hard to sleep.

Last night I listened to Naomi Shihab Nye talk about books and the importance of voice for everyone across the world, but especially for children. Among the many inspiring and thoughtful things she said, was a story about one of her own essays that was used for a state standardized exam and how a reporter smuggled that section of the exam (essay and questions) out and showed them to her. She said she could only be certain of the answer for 3 of 10 questions about her own essay.

Ms Shiab Nye also mentioned that, though hailing from Texas, Washington State’s motto is her favorite. The motto is Al-ki, Chinook Jargon (a native pidgin trading language of the PNW) meaning “by and by.”

This is my new mantra for testing season, by and by. Presently, be present, as things will happen, things will pass, students will succeed, students will fail, and by and by we will proceed with school, with all sorts of tests, and with our lives.

Bargaining Salaries

 

 

When the state legislature decided to abandon the state salary allocation model (SAM), my work as a local association president became significantly harder.  Now, my local teachers association is responsible for negotiating salaries with our school district.  I’m sure that this happens in places all around the country, but to be fair, I’ve never experienced this as a teacher in Washington.

And now it’s happened.

And I’m feeling additional stress and responsibility.

Especially as a leader who is also a full time teacher/coach and who has no expertise in crafting a salary scale.  

Oh, and that pressure-it’s real. The 151 certificated staff who work for our district are depending on the team–but I’m the leader of the team, so inherently the pressure’s on me.  My colleagues- they’re worth fighting for. Kim spends time at lunch, after school, and on weekends preparing students for their SkillsUSA competition (by the way- a few students earned a trip to Nationals, which means that Kim will spend more time facilitating preparation and a week out of her summer with students). Ryan spends nearly every Spring Break chaperoning students on an overseas field trip. This is time away from his family but it provides his students with an opportunity to leave the confines of our small town and see the world. Kim and Ryan deserve fair compensation for their work. So does Kyla, who is married with two children, and who wants to purchase her first house and Katie, who just purchased hers. Both teachers are finishing up their 4th year of teaching, and both deserve a raise for the valiant and quality work they’ve put in crafting English curriculum for the first time this year (both were Social Studies teachers who agreed to teach some ELA courses this year).  Their students are engaged and demonstrating strong analytical, reading, and writing skills. 

I want to keep them working for our students and in our community. I have a real vested interest in retaining and attracting quality educators to our district. I want my children and your children to have supported, dynamic, and fairly compensated educators in their classrooms. I want to work in an environment where teachers feel recognized for their work. But how do we even go about creating a salary model that reflects what the teachers value and what the district values?  Maybe the better question is- what are our values in this system and are those the same values that district administration hold when crafting a schedule? As I make my rounds to each of the buildings in our district, I’ll be probing at values in order to nail down what must be reflected in a salary schedule.

I’m not completely flying blind.  Our local association executive team is ready and willing to work and to maneuver this new “opportunity.”  Our state association (the WEA) has assigned a representative to us to help as needed. But I’ve always been that concrete-sequential gal who has to set up the header/footer and put her name on the paper before I even start writing the essay, so the task feels especially daunting.  Starting seems to be the biggest challenge.

To add to that tension, no district wants to start first.  Because if your district’s the first to nail down a salary schedule then you’re either the exemplar or the model of “what not do”. So there seems to be hesitancy on which of our local districts is going to make the first move. Yet, making the first move is also important. Teachers want to know next year’s salary as soon as possible. This knowledge empowers them to make decisions about their finances and labor. If a neighboring district is offering a significantly higher salary under their locally negotiated schedule and that district is close in proximity to home then it’s a real possibility that the teacher will want to seek employment in the closer district that pays more. While I’m a firm believer that a school culture drives retention, I also recognize that for some teachers, the trade off of an additional $15,000 might be the impetus to move to another district. I don’t want to feel competitive with the neighboring districts, but I can’t help but feel that this system is creating this exact scenario.

So the rubber hits the road this spring as our local, like so many others across the state, works with our district to create a salary schedule that mirrors our values and fairly compensates our educators.  This is a tenuous balance: we want to be good stewards of taxpayer dollars while cognizant that schools have been granted via the State Supreme Court and funding in legislative action, an increase in wages.  This is delicate work not to be taken lightly. Trust that local association presidents, particularly in small districts like mine, are shouldering this work and feeling the heaviness of this responsibility.  This is the weight of 151 salaries, 151 families, and 151 colleagues on your back.

And this is real.

And has serious consequences.

It’s Bad. And It Keeps Coming Back.

Eugenics.

It’s the idea that we can create better human beings by encouraging the breeding of the higher class people and discouraging the breeding of the lower class people.

There are all kinds of pseudosciences. Eugenics is the one that makes my blood run cold.

In the early 1900s eugenicists in the United States focused on weeding out “undesirables”—poor, immigrant, minority families.

Sound familiar?

Fast-forward to 1994. Richard J. Herrnstein and Charles Murray wrote a book called The Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life. Now, more than a decade later, the book has gotten a new and highly critical write-up in The Vox because of the influence Murray is having on current US policy. There’s a lot not to like in The Bell Curve, but I’m going to focus on one aspect that has an impact on teachers in the classroom.

Here is one quote from the book:

The technically precise description of America’s fertility policy is that it subsidizes births among poor women, who are also disproportionately at the low end of the intelligence distribution. We urge generally that these policies, represented by the extensive network of cash and services for low-income women who have babies, be ended.

Basically, stop any program that gives assistance to low-income families. Because that just encourages them to breed. And we don’t want any additional poor, unintelligent people being added to our population.

That’s eugenics rearing up its ugly head again.

It’s not just a theory in a book from the 90s. The bad political philosophy of eugenics (it’s not a science) is being applied to governmental policy right now.

That’s why you have leaders in the federal and state levels of government attempting to roll back Medicaid expansion, tighten eligibility requirements for and reduce enrollment in the Department of Health and Human Services, and make it harder for individuals to access Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits.

Here’s the truth. Eugenics doesn’t work.

What does work? Giving moms good pre-natal care. Making sure moms and their children get good nutrition. Making sure they have a healthy environment, free of lead, pesticides, mercury. Making sure children are in a safe environment, free from sexual and physical abuse. Providing children with a warm and nurturing home.

Parents who have plenty of money have the means to provide all of the above. That doesn’t guarantee they necessarily have the will or the character to provide them, although The Bell Curve assumes they will.

What the authors ignore is that moms in general want all those things for their children, whether they can afford them or not.

I’ve seen some of those “poor” moms. The dads are gone, leaving the moms on their own with the kids. The moms are working full time. They’ve gone back to school to try to get a better job. They’ve maybe had to declare bankruptcy. I’ve seen them standing in the grocery store trying to figure out the most nutritious food that they can afford to feed their children. They are doing everything they can on their own. And they still need help.

Let me tell you a personal story. My husband graduated and interviewed for a job back at the beginning of the 80s. He was hired on a Thursday afternoon. He called the next day to get the details about starting. They said, “So sorry. We just got a call from corporate. There’s a hiring freeze. We can’t give you that job after all.”

I had already quit my job. I was pregnant. We spent eight months without work. We applied for work in multiple states. There was no work to be found.

In the end, my husband got a job with a friend of his father’s, and we moved back with his family.

That’s not the main point of the story. The real point? I was visiting with a woman a month or two later, sitting in her kitchen. She made a comment about a man she had seen by the side of the road with a sign “Will work for food.”

“Oh,” she said. “Those people just annoy me. Everyone knows you can get a job if you really want one.”

I had to take a really deep breath before I could answer her. And, bless her, she was willing to listen to me.

I wonder if the authors of The Bell Curve ever heard from people like my husband and me? Both of us with MA degrees. Both of us out of work for eight months straight. Both of us wanting work, and neither of us able to find work.

I wonder if some of the current policy-makers have any understanding of “poor” beyond the stereotypes they’ve been fed.

All right, now consider all the things we are learning about Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs). Multiple major stressors in childhood rewire the brain to an almost continuous “flight or fight” response, which makes it difficult for the child to function in a school setting.

The more we, as a culture, invest in prenatal and neonatal care for the poor among us and the more we support mothers with young children, the fewer students with ACEs we will have in our classrooms. Then in the long run, the more likely it is that those children will grow up to be well-adjusted, civic-minded, and contributing members of society.

Following My Teacher Leader Compass

Teacher leadership requires us at times to buck the system. By this I mean that sometimes we will find ourselves in the minority on an issue, and we will be faced with tough decisions. Should we go with the opinion of the majority, or do we stick to what we feel to be right? How do you know that you are on the side of what is right?

In this business, we have a solid and predictable compass on our leadership journey. What is best for the students informs all that we do. The needs of the students drive our decisions because, if the students are failing to thrive, our system is failing. Often, teacher leaders become frustrated with administrations and other influential bodies that drive policy based on money, staffing issues, politics or other lesser things. It is then that we bristle and arm ourselves with research, data, and anecdotal evidence to march bravely to the front and speak on behalf of those who matter most, our students.

Teacher leaders take pride in representing our students. Still, when we find ourslelves faced with yet another issue where we must raise our hand and our voice, where we must offer the better way, despite being “just” teachers, it can be challenging.

I’m currently struggling with such a dilemma. Our district is strenghtening its retention policy to discourage a rapid uptick in junior high students with failing grades. The majority of district staff believe that if our policy has more “teeth,” if we actually retain more students, then others will work harder. This issue strikes a very harsh chord with me, and it’s personal.

My path to teaching has not been conventional. Many teachers come from middle class upbringing and school was a positive part of their young lives. For me, my childhood was marked by poverty, disfunction and abuse. Although, school, at times, was a sanctuary, in the end I chose to fail several classes in high school. I didn’t like or trust some teachers. My emotional needs took priority over academics at the time. Although I graduated on time, I let my grades fall and jeopardized my future. Punitive measures pushed me farther away from my teachers and my goals.

Fast forward to my adulthood, and the economic difficulties continued. I was a single mom with two children, struggling with poverty, homelessness, and general upheaval while I finished my education. My son failed fifth and sixth grades. His school wanted to retain him. Fortunately, the next school year I got my first teaching job, moved him across the state, and had him in my first seventh-grade class. He earned a D…from his mom. But, after settling in, he started to feel like the staff and the students cared about him. He started to appreciate his education and his own abilities. It was a complete turnaround. By the time he graduated, he had a B average.

So there is the anecdotal evidence, and the source of my personal passion. However, the research is vast that tells us that retention and other punitive measures do not work to improve engagement and achievement. (See links below)

But here is our real problem: Our student population is changing. We have a growing rate of poverty in our district. There are many students facing homelessness, abuse, neglect, disruption of every sort. Of course, we are already putting supports together for these troubled kids, but our resources are limited. And, we haven’t yet implemented the most basic changes to improve our outcomes: social-emotional learning curricula, trauma-informed teaching practices, remediation for low readers at the secondary level, peer mentoring, more frequent contact with adult mentors, etc. On top of that, they, the students, have not been asked what they need.

So, I ask, why are we getting “tough” on these kids before we get tough on ourselves? Our school generally supports the needs of its students. In fact, it is the same school that put my own son back on the path to success. However, missteps can be made. Teacher leaders should be ready to safeguard the needs of the students when and if they do.

Although I am as concerned as anyone else about the academic progress of my students, I believe that all students need emotional and academic support. I believe they need solid, trusting relationships with the adults in their school. I believe that they deserve a voice in the matter, too.

So, even though my position against retention is in the minority, I will stand by it, armed with data, case studies, and anecdotal evidence. I will listen to and consider the opposing views and share what I know and believe, hoping to make a difference.

As teacher leaders, we must regularly check our leadership compass. We must set our sights on true north–the academic and emotional needs of our students.

 

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More reading about the retention issue, should you want to dig a bit deeper:

A quick psychologist’s point of view- “Does Student Retention Work?”

An older study that should have settled it- Flynn’s The Effects of Grade Retention on Middle School Students’ Academic Achievement, School Adjustment and School Attendance”

A level-headed look at  both sides of the issue- “Essential Questions Concerning Grade Retention”

Here is a link to a project that inspired me to bring my background in poverty into my teaching practice. Kristen Leong’s Roll Call Project illustrates the connections between students and their teachers. How are we different? What do we have in common? Does having something in common with our students matter?

And, for an alternative way of approaching students in poverty, check out the section on “Mind set” here-   “Engaging Students with Poverty in Mind”

Failure and Its Uses–part one

One of my favorite quotes is Samuel Beckett’s “Ever tired. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” The line comes from Beckett’s send up on westward expansion—Worstward Ho. It is one of those bits of pragmatic wisdom that arises out of cynicism and sarcasm. The narrator meditates on endurance and strips away the idealism of manifest destiny by describing one version of existence though this series of declarations.

We are always tired. We constantly fail. Big picture—it doesn’t matter. Give it another go. We constantly fail. See what you can improve. This has been adopted by everyone from artists to Silicon Valley as a mantra for risk taking, but I don’t think, at its core, it is about taking risks. Beckett meant it as raw, elemental description of what it feels like to live. I admire the humility it inspires and in the face of the impossible task of teaching it often feels apt in its combination of desperation and hope.

Beckett’s quote has cropped up in my mind lately as I’ve had many, many discussions about 9th grade failure. OSPI has decided to focus on this statewide problem, (rightly) and thus failure has been a continual topic among educators across districts. One thing that has been troubling me is there seems to be a tension between 9th grade failure as a systemic problem and said failure as a curricular problem.

As OSPI’s website indicates, they are focusing on freshman because “9th grade course failure is a primary early warning indicator for dropping out of high school. Failure is a sign that the student is facing challenges that may be related to absenteeism, transportation, health issues, mental health or drug abuse, lack of parent support or supervision as well as in school issues such as bullying, lack of perceived relevance or not feeling connected or valued.”

As a classroom teacher, and as a department lead asked to help improve this situation in my department’s classes, I’m struck that only three of the nine indicators are items a classroom teacher can really attend to with any regularity. And I don’t work with anyone who does not strive to prevent bullying, make curriculum relevant, and help students feel valued. So, how do we go on? Continue reading