Category Archives: Education Policy

Leap Year

It was the spring of my first year teaching, and I was walking hurriedly through the hallway on the way to pick up my class. I saw our music teacher in the hallway, and she asked me how I was and how things were going. Her concern was genuine, and I told her how tired and overwhelmed I was.

She smiled at me and said, “Let me give you my best piece of advice. They say in your first year you sleep; in your second year, you creep; and in your third year, you leap”.

Admittedly, her words have been rattling around in my brain for the last three years. The statement felt too simple to be good advice, but now that my third year is coming to a close, I’ve found she was absolutely right. 

In the fall of my second year, I wrote about how the rating of “Basic” on my evaluation affected my perception of myself as an educator.  

Looking back, I realized I was unable to see the ways in which I had grown because I was far too fixated on the rating my evaluator was giving me. In the months following that observation, I worked tirelessly to improve my teaching. With the help of an instructional coach, I built solid structures for managing my classroom and facilitating my instruction. I was proud of my hard work and asked my evaluator to visit my classroom to see firsthand all that I had worked to improve. 

Then, the pandemic hit, and the classroom visit never happened. 

As my third year of teaching comes to a close, I can’t help but feel robbed of experiences and opportunities for growth. I was assigned to a fully remote position this school year, which means I have been out of my classroom for essentially as long as I was ever in it. My foundation of classroom skills lies with a version of myself I’m having a hard time recognizing.  

However, despite all of this, I did leap.

I learned what I am truly capable of as an educator and grew in ways I didn’t think I would. Things I could never quite get a firm grasp on in the physical classroom became second nature in my virtual space. In a year with so much uncertainty, I adapted to everything thrown at me. 

In the end, I was finally marked proficient on this year’s evaluation. Truthfully, it didn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would. It was always just a label and never a true reflection of how I perceived myself or my teaching abilities. 

When you’re a new teacher, the evaluation process can feel daunting. It carries with it the weight of something that is the end all, be all to your teaching career. I’m here to tell you that it is definitely not, and share my big takeaways from my first three years:

Your teaching is not binary

Nothing in life is black and white, and neither is your teaching. Yes, there is such a thing as “good” teaching and “bad” teaching, but nothing is 100% all of the time. Some days are good, and some lessons are bad, or maybe it’s the opposite. Or it’s both at once. Either way it doesn’t matter because teaching will always be fluid and messy. Give yourself a little room to breathe, good things take time. 

You are more than your teaching abilities

Being an educator is just one facet of our identity; it is not everything. Your value as a human being does not hinge on your teaching abilities. Truthfully, I often still struggle with this one. 

Openness to feedback and other perspectives is key

To hear feedback, you must allow yourself to be vulnerable. Someone pointing out the things we are not excelling at never feels great, but it’s necessary for growth. However, another person can only offer what they see on the outside and how others see you is rarely the same as how we see ourselves. Others cannot view you through the lens of your past experiences, traumas, and projections. For better or for worse, feedback is just a mirror. It only reflects the surface. It can show you what’s happening on the outside, so that you can begin the work on the inside.   

Observations are never as bad as they feel

After every observation, I’ve thought it went horribly (and honestly, sometimes it did go horribly) but most of the time, it was just the nature of teaching. I know those moments where you feel like the train is two seconds away from leaping off the tracks, but if that’s how it feels, it’s because you care. It means despite everything you perceive to be going wrong, you are doing your very best, and it’s enough.

Good-Bye ELPA21

Standardized testing.

This phrase stirs up a lot of emotions in the world of teaching. If you work in a public school, you probably experienced some sort of instinctual reaction yourself. Did you remember the long, monotonous stretches of time spent monitoring students? Or the pressure from administration for students to perform?

I am not sure how you personally responded, but I am willing to guess the thought of standardized tests failed to put a smile on your face.

When most elementary school teachers think of standardized tests in our state, they think of the Smarter Balanced Assessment Consortium (SBAC). However, I am an English Language (EL) Specialist, so standardized testing makes me think of ELPA21.

Trauma-Informed Classrooms for All

There is no denying it. Education is changing due to Covid-19. And, to be honest, it needs to. We have been stuck in a rut for a long time, and much needed change is long overdue. This last year I feel like the veil was lifted, and the dark and ugly side of education was laid bare for all to see. We found out what we strived to achieve was all an illusion.

Equity? We did not have it. Some families had the support, the technology, and the safe and secure space to conduct school at home. Many, maybe most, did not. Do any of us believe that it made no difference before the pandemic?

Engagement? How many of us had the illusion that our content was truly engaging blown away when our Zoom meetings were lightly attended and our remote learners opted out of all of our innovative and personalized resources? If they opt out as soon as they are out of our reach, did we really have their attention?

Achievement? Did our grades and test scores measure the important metrics? What good have they been to us this year? Who still cares about standardized tests? Have we all figured out what we are actually teaching yet? (I’ll give you a hint: It’s not standards.)

As we move back to so-called normal, we need to remember that the old normal no longer exists. More than that, we have changed. We have come through a time of collective trauma, and we can only succeed if we create safe and supportive learning environments for students and teachers.

I am a trauma-informed educator. I grew up with trauma of my own, and I have made a study of trauma-informed teaching practices to better serve my students. I believe this has helped me reinvent my teaching practice this year in ways that supported students and created a safe and secure learning environment. I plan to do more.

I remember when I first learned GLAD (Guided Language Acquisition Design) strategies to better serve my English language learners in class. The selling point was that all students would benefit from them. The same must be said of trauma-informed teaching practices. They will make all students feel more supported, more safe, more able to learn and grow with us.

And, let’s face it; aren’t we all a little traumatized this year?

Students who have experienced trauma feel unsafe in most places, including school. They may have little control of their fear response due to trauma, and when they are under this stress they are less able to learn, to focus, or to regulate their emotions. They may be hyper alert or withdrawn. They may have disruptive behaviors. They may struggle socially, academically, emotionally, and even physically.

Here are some gems I collected from my recent research on trauma-informed classrooms:

  • A 2014 study tells us that 45% of students have experienced some form of trauma. What do you think the numbers are now?
  • All students learn best when they feel safe and supported.
  • A safe, caring, and consistent adult is the best intervention for a child affected by trauma.
  • Both students and teachers must feel psychologically safe in the classroom- no bullying, no judgment, no demeaning behaviors.
  • The key to relationship-building is authentic interactions that respect student voice and perspectives.
  • Trauma-informed discipline requires us to acknowledge the role of trauma in behavior and use appropriate consequences that promote healthier reactions in the future (think restorative justice practices).
  • Self-regulation and mindfulness skills are as important as any curriculum.
  • We can offset stressors with messages of empathy and optimism to support healing and resilience in our students.

I’d add to this list that we should do the following as we reinvent education:

  • Create systems for evaluating student work that are more holistic and less demeaning and/or stress-inducing.
  • Demand discipline systems that respect every child and offer support and encouragement over punishment.
  • Encourage creativity, student choice, physical activity, and all other joyful pursuits.

There is an excellent article from the School-Justice Partnership: Trauma-Informed Classrooms. It is very long, but comprehensive.

If your time is limited, here is a short tip sheet from WestEd for Creating Trauma-Informed Learning Environments.

I would love to see more resources in the comments. I hope that educators all over the state will band together to support our students with new and improved practices- trauma-informed classrooms for all.

Wednesdays

Wednesdays are saving my life right now.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, I deliver in-person instruction for 335 minutes each day (down from 350 minutes per day pre-Covid, mainly because we had to make room for rotating lunch periods, which increased passing time).

During that 335 minutes of face-to-face time, I also work in a varying amount of time to simultaneously zoom with my students who remained fully remote.

During those 335 minutes, I say I “deliver in-person instruction,” but I’m a big believer that the person doing the work is the person doing the learning, which means that I work hard to shift the cognitive load to my students… getting them doing, talking, reading, writing.

To shift that load requires deliberate planning and preparation.

And shifting that load means students produce work which deserves feedback and guidance.

When people criticize teachers’ complaints about our workload, I wonder if the public envisions the old school university prof standing in front of the class lecturing. Let me tell you, lecturing is easy. I’m at the stage of my career where I could lecture your ear off for a ninety minute block no problem, no prep on my part required…just give me a topic and a time limit. Plus, the students are just sitting and “listening” so they aren’t generating work that needs feedback or assessment. Is this what people picture when they imagine the work of a teacher?

Anyone with any knowledge of teaching and learning knows what research confirms: that sort of marathon direct instruction, the endless lecture and notes method, is wildly unsuccessful for the massive majority of learners… especially teenage learners compelled by law to attend as opposed to university students paying top dollar to get their college’s name on a resume.

Good teaching requires preparation, intentional design, and feedback (which is sadly, the easiest to let fall to the wayside when time is tight). When I’m at my best, the ratio is easily 2:1, two minutes of preparation, assessment, and feedback for every one minute of student contact.

Add to the whole mix collaboration with colleagues, communication with families, and email…so many emails…and the finite resource of time quickly is exhausted.

Which is why Wednesdays are saving me right now, and why our current Wednesday routine is one I’m hoping we can continue into our post-COVID transition.

Right now, Wednesdays are full-remote days for our student body. Students are off-campus (except for small group intervention or scheduled appointments with staff), and teachers have created independent learning experiences that students continue to engage with. The pressure here is to ensure that the “homework” we design is effective and advances learning… and considers the varied non-school environments that our students may be learning from.

But Wednesday, sans structured student instruction, enables us to make home contacts, collaborate with peers on instructional design, provide feedback on student work, and build more responsive lessons.

Yes, these are things we’d be doing anyway. But now, there is time to do that work within my work day.

I’m still up at 4 or 5 am to read student work or fine tune the day’s lessons.

I’m still at school most days well after my “work day” is over, and grabbing moments to lesson plan or respond to emails while I cook dinner or help my own offspring with homework.

But Wednesdays are saving me because, for the first time in my career, I at least feel like the system actually considers what my real work is… and is giving me time to do that work at work.

Would I rather my work be doable within my work day, not overflowing into the early mornings and late evenings? Of course.

Wednesdays are a start. We have all this talk about shaking up our system post-COVID. The quality of those moments we spend in front of kids is the direct result of the quality of those moments we spend planning to be in front of kids.

We know our system needs to change, and the systemic and predicable inequities of our students’ experience prove that. System change isn’t just about policies or trainings or different curriculum. How we structure teacher time, in my opinion, is the highest leverage change we can make to our system. Without that change to the fundamental structure of our schools, all the other efforts will be for naught.

Finding Hope in the Remote Wilderness

Since the Coronavirus pandemic began in March 2020, teachers and students have been thrust into remote learning. A year has passed since classrooms have become Zoom rooms and while some students are starting to go back, others continue to learn from home — creating an opportunity to reflect on this journey.

An article titled “The Crushing Reality of Zoom School” had the tagline:, “We’re only a few weeks in. We can’t keep doing this.” This was an interesting read because at the time of the article (September 2020) we had no idea how things were going to play out. The author talked about the toll “Zoom school” was taking on families, and the difficulties his children faced engaging with online learning.

However, I had one striking takeaway: the lines between home and school have become infinitely blurred. The author wrote, “There’s a lot of humanity visible through the Zoom windows. Every day we log on—teachers, children, parents—and, invited or not, we enter tiny portals into each other’s lives.”

Remote schooling has invaded students’ most personal parts of their lives without their consent. Students with complicated home lives suddenly found their peers joining them in spaces they wouldn’t normally share with the world. For many, their personal spaces were gone. In turn, cameras went off, participation dropped, and for some, showing up to school was no longer an option for them.

As an educator, teaching to little black squares was disheartening. With lack of nonverbal communication, we struggled to know if our students were connecting to anything we were saying, or worse yet, if they were even physically at their computer. But, it’s not our place to force ourselves into spaces we wouldn’t normally be in or command that we be welcomed into those spaces.

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Giving Grace around Graduation

Earlier this month, Governor Inslee signed into law a bill intended to start a chain of events that I’m optimistic will lead straight to the students I teach.

EHB 1121 essentially authorizes the State Board of Education to establish procedures for local schools to grant credit waivers to certain graduation credits on a case-by-case basis for students impacted by events beyond their control.

There are several things I like about this. One, it isn’t limited to this year: it establishes a protocol which can be applied when a student’s education was impacted by local, state, or national emergencies.

Two, this part: School districts may be authorized to “grant individual student emergency waivers from credit and subject area graduation requirements established in RCW 28A.230.090, the graduation pathway requirement established in RCW 28A.655.250, or both” (page 2, lines 7-10 of the law as passed, which you can read here).

That last authorization is key to authentic flexibility. There are a variety of ways that students may have been impacted this year, and the “waivers from credit and subject area” requirements will hopefully give us some leeway. Some kids might have engaged in their art electives because it helped them cope with what was going on in their world, but might have struggled with distance-learning chemistry class. Conversely, another might have thrown themselves into the latter and felt unequipped to engage in the personal vulnerability that might have been plumbed in the former. The language about “credit and subject area” waivers allows us to take either situation into consideration, and not withhold a diploma from a student who was not able to check the box next to that last art or science credit.

While I do believe that the graduation pathways were a positive step forward, I am relieved that they are included in the waiver, since their nascency in policy might have meant that the COVID years would have been their first attempt at full implementation in many districts.

Bigger than all of this, though, is what the need for this bill reveals about our high school graduation credit system as it is.

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Blue-Sky Thinking, Part 2

Why do we have public schools? Depending on the era, you might get very different answers:

Let’s be honest, for a lot of working parents, having elementary students in school all day every day isn’t just about getting them an education. It’s about getting them adult supervision.

What if school districts and parks and recreation departments worked together to create a seamless educational and supervised day, from 8am to 6 pm, year-round?

8 am-2 pm—Academic Day

The day starts with academics until 2 pm. For example, a fifth-grade schedule might look like:

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Straight to the Source: Student Voice in Equity Work

A few weeks ago, I had one of those days. One of those “online teacher during a global pandemic” days. A day where I feel like I’m putting on a one woman show with creative enthusiasm, but no one in the audience can even muster a pity laugh. Even worse, more than a few attendees leave early, letting the door bang shut on their way out, not even waiting for intermission. 

After three, one hundred minute Zoom meetings on a Monday, the last thing I want is to do is stay signed on for another one. But, it’s Equity Team, and though part of me wants to shoot an email about the migraine that is very likely forming behind my eyes, I love this group and I am passionate about our work, so I don’t.

Besides, this is the day we have invited students to join us for the first time…

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Behind the Score

Every teacher out there can safely say, “I hate testing!” Yes, it is a part of checking for student growth. Yes, it gives us a baseline and can inform instruction. Yes, in some cases it may be necessary.

In every case, there is always more behind the score.

Testing is a complicated, sore subject. Educators work hard to create the best possible setting for students to excel on these tests. So, what does this mean in the midst of a pandemic, when the testing environment is no longer our classroom? 

Testing environment is one that teachers work so hard to get just right. The right lighting, music, no music, chairs, no chairs, water breaks, snacks, seating charts. It even comes down to what is on the walls. If testing environment plays such a huge factor in student success, how does testing at home correlate?

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Your Turn: Priorities?

The Washington State Legislature will reconvene for a regular session on January 11, 2021. As always public education will be a topic for policy discussion.

What should be the education-related priorities for the Washington State Legislature in 2021? Read over the thoughts of a few Stories from School bloggers below, then we’d love to hear from you in the comments: What do YOU think our state officials should focus on in this next session?

Emma-Kate Schaake: Let’s Pause to Reimagine “Normal”

At the risk of sounding too glib, I keep thinking of the (perhaps misattributed) Churchill quote “never let a good crisis go to waste.” While COVID-19 has been undeniably devastating,  I do believe we have an opportunity to reimagine what “normal” looks like. Broad standardization  measures like state testing and Core 24 perhaps had a place in the “before times,” but I wonder what we really need to reinstate. As it stands now, there is simply no room for elective core classes, at least in my discipline, if we want students to graduate on time. Instead of truly honoring different learning styles, we expect students to be traditionally school successful, and if they’re not, they are deemed remedial and they take credit recovery online where the goal is simply passing, not engaging, authentic learning. What if graduating really felt like a personalized accomplishment, not just boxes to check?

Gretchen Kruden: Remember our Paramount Duty to All

In Article IX, section 1 of the Washington Constitution states, “It is the paramount duty of the state to make ample provision for the education of all children residing within its borders.” The legislators need to be thinking deeply about the equity issues embedded in the word “all” of this section. We have students who have had little to no educational access for almost nine months running due to a variety of issues beyond the control of schools. This includes families who cannot provide home support in learning, lack of internet connectivity and a movement by some parents to simply not have their children enrolled in school at this time. Perhaps it is time we examine other ways we can structure our school year model to compensate for this loss of learning time as we move forward. 

Mark Gardner: Soon-to-be-Grads Deserve Flexibility

In the short term, we have to develop some clear flexibility for the graduating classes of 2021 and 2022. In a typical high school, the 24-credit mandate already leaves little wiggle room for missteps. While there are certainly silver linings (students for whom remote/hybrid learning is working just fine, or even better than brick and mortar attendance), there are plenty of students for whom this has been a worst case scenario and a confluence of factors beyond their control. I hope the legislature gives a high level of local control around credit flexibility, and easing of testing and pathway requirements.

Lynne Olmos: Invest in the Present and Future of WA Ed

I think legislators can support education in a few ways. First, they need to continue to value teachers. They can do that by maintaining the National Board bonuses and supporting districts with funds to avoid layoffs. This is no time to lose dedicated teachers! They should also focus on equity issues. In particular, technology access, support for English language learners, and special education need to be at the forefront. We absolutely need to deemphasize standardized tests right now. Whatever gets the love of learning back is what we need most, not test prep. Proactive solutions are what we need, not unrealistic demands for educators to solve the whole pandemic crisis (while risking our health, too). Preserve the resources we have; allocate more. Clearly, our public schools have been crucial to the support of our communities during these trying times. Empower them to progressively meet the challenges of the future.

What about you, readers? What do YOU think should be the public ed priorities for the coming lawmaking session? Add a comment below!