Category Archives: Education Policy

Remote Attendance

Taking attendance on asynchronous (no-Zoom-days) is presently my absolute least favorite thing about remote learning. (And my “least favorite” list is long.)

Because we in Clark County are experiencing a significant COVID spike, it seems like the earliest we’ll move to hybrid in-person learning for our secondary schools will be February (note: this is not the official line, this me reading between the official lines).

Depending on which period a student is in, they may have two or three scheduled zoom sessions with me each week. I’m fine using zoom attendance as Attendance with a capital “A,” but I’m struggling hard keep up on attendance for non-zoom, asynchronous (or “on-demand,” as our district calls them) days. OSPI has provided guidance around marking absences, and I understand the impulse to hold a base level of accountability.

Nevertheless, I believe that the BIGGEST mistake we are making in distance learning is our persistent systemic disposition toward replicating in remote learning the rules and practices of in-person learning.

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Goals: 2020-Style

Tell me about your goals. What were they before Covid-19? What are they now?

I’m guessing they are somewhat different. Our priorities have shifted. At home, this is good – more time with family and pets, and far less time on our hair!

However, my educator goals have suffered terribly. Prior to this year, I had clear and powerful goals for my classroom, my students, and myself. In fact, I had three areas that I was independently researching or promoting, and I was really fired up about them, too. I was building a toolbox of my own to be the best teacher I could be to my students.

Here are my goals, pre-Covid:

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Hybrid Model: The Inside Story

My district was one of the first in our region to go back to school face-to face this year. We began a “hybrid model” on September 14, with seniors and K-3 going four days a week, and all others going twice-a-week in cohorts (Monday/Thursday and Tuesday/Friday). On Wednesdays we delivered online material and caught up with our work, while reinventing it simultaneously. Some of our students opted for full-time distance learning, but the vast majority excitedly prepared for the first day of school.

Our neighbor districts were watching us intently. Would we pave the way for others to follow us, or would we cause an outbreak in our tiny town?

One week in, “it” happened. A student, who later tested positive for Covid-19, attended the first day of school. Dozens of staff members and students were subsequently quarantined due to contact with the student, and the decision was made to suspend school until the 14-day quarantine period was over, giving the health department time to do all of the necessary contact tracing. Our schools and buses were disinfected, and our teaching staff pivoted to all online learning, something we were told was likely to happen from the start.

Not an auspicious beginning, you might say. But let me elaborate.

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Teaching is Political

Recently, as a response to widespread use of The 1619 Project, a New York Times Magazine feature exploring the often untold realities of America’s long history of policies and practices endorsing and even promoting enslaving fellow humans, President Trump announced the establishment of the 1776 Commission, a federal focus on “patriotic education” which, it seems, will not address the negative or troubling realities of our country’s past.

Image Source: AP via PBS NewsHour

I am not afraid to show my bias against this commission. I’ve read some of the criticism of The 1619 Project. Some is valid, some is overwrought. None is sufficient to warrant our country’s ignoring of the fact of enslavement and the observable, measurable, identifiable historical ripple effect it had right up to this very second.

A good history (or literature) teacher will encourage students to interrogate what isn’t being said, whose side isn’t being shared, whose voice isn’t being elevated. What is absent is telling, always. What we choose not to teach is as political a choice as what we choose to teach. And to take it further, the deliberate omission of the truth is a much a lie as is the truth’s deliberate revision.

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Virtual Teaching… from where?

As we ready ourselves to start a new school year unlike any other in our history, many districts in our state are once again embroiled in debates about teachers-as-workers and the rights and protections we deserve.

A sticking point in many places strikes me as fundamentally confusing: Whether instructional staff should conduct distance learning or virtual teaching from their physical classrooms or whether they should be permitted the flexibility to do so from off site.

I gotta be honest: This feels like a no-brainer. If students are learning remotely, why should teachers not have the flexibility to do their work from the environment they feel is best for their and their family’s health and safety? Personally, I have decided that I will probably be heading into my classroom unless I’m told I cannot. My preference, though, isn’t shared by others. And those others have valid reasons for not wanting to leave the relative safety of their homes…and even if we as a society seem to have forgotten that we are in the midst of a global pandemic, my colleagues’ valid concerns are literally matters of life-or-death.

My biggest problems with the debate have to do with the reasons being given as to why teachers should report to their classrooms for virtual teaching. None of these reasons, to me, outweigh the personal health and safety of a teacher or a teacher’s family: If our work can be done effectively from a safe environment, why not? (Sadly, local news sources like to stir the pot on this issue, with at least three local outlets in the Portland/Vancouver area doing the old “hey viewer, what do YOU think?” about where and how I and my colleagues ought to do our jobs.) From district leaders, policymakers, parents and the public, I’ve noticed four common arguments for requiring teachers to teach virtually from an empty classroom:

Common Reason #1 for Requiring Teachers to Report to School for Virtual Teaching: The employer has the right to verify that the work they are paying teachers to do is actually getting done. Okay, on the surface, I don’t disagree. How did this happen in face-to-face learning? Admin drop-ins and observations? Stacks of student work or student art on the walls? Student and parent feedback? These, or something analogous, can and will happen in a virtual setting. In fact, a virtual setting inherently creates mountains more potential artifacts that a teacher is “putting in the work.” From last spring, I have hours and hours of videos, mountains of virtual folders of work still in my Google Drive, and electronic data trails far more enduring than much of what was produced by my face-to-face teaching (where there would be whole class periods that might go by filled with interactions, discussions, probing questions, and coaching conversations: none of which necessarily produce any immediately tangible evidence that these ever even happened).

Common Reason #2 is closely related: Last spring there were many teachers working triple duty to do their job well, while others for whatever reason (lack of skill or lack of will) skated by doing much less. In theory, getting every teacher in the building will help with that, since supposedly the administration will have nothing else to do but diligently oversee everyone’s work (sarcasm). This is a classic case of creating policy for all in order to attempt to force the fringes toward different behavior. This is also, however, exceptionally poor leadership. Are there teachers not doing as much as they should? Such a population exists in every profession and also existed in teaching before the world flipped upside down. Rather than create policy that constricts the many, it makes more sense to exert instructional and managerial leadership to remediate the few. Just as it is a disservice to my ready learners for me to engage in sweeping classroom micromanagement to forcibly compel compliance from reluctant learners, it makes no sense to adopt blanket personnel policy for all when what really needs to happen are tough, uncomfortable supervisory conversations with the few who may be shirking their responsibilities.

Common Reason #3: It will make the transition to eventual hybrid or face to face learning easier. Okay: How? I’ve yet to hear a convincing follow-up answer to this. I am concerned about how I can facilitate my students’ eventual transition, but I can handle relocating my own work if needed. The small number of teachers who can’t handle that? Again, like above, that’s a small group and is a management/supervisory issue.

Common Reason #4, the least persuasive: It is bad optics to have teachers working from home. I get that we are public schools. I also understand that the public will have strong opinions about anything and everything teachers do. But again: How many people are we really talking about? No matter what teachers do, ever, there will always be a faction of the public outraged and ready to take it to the supe’s office. Now would be a great time for our leaders to smile and nod at those complainers, and then consider policy that serves the physical and mental health of the employees…those same employees being charged with scaffolding up the physical and mental health of our students. (It is perpetually disheartening to see, nationwide, school systems that refuse to treat employees with the same essential care and humanity they expect those employees to provide for students.)

As the s-word starts to bubble up for various reasons in school districts across the nation, when it comes to where we teach virtually from it feels like we (labor) are fighting a fight we should not have to. Has anyone out there heard valid, compelling reasons why teachers should not have the flexibility to teach from wherever they feel safest during distance learning? Despite what it might seem from this screed, I’m open to having my mind changed.

Letting Go and Leaning In

Covid-19. Quarantine. Social Distancing. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

At the beginning of May, I went into my building for the first time since the initial announcement of the 6-week school closures. I walked through the eerily quiet hallways looking at all of the artwork and school announcement posters still hanging. Everyday items clinging to life, waiting for the halls to once again flood with children to justify their purpose.

I meandered up the stairs and finally arrived at my classroom. Our painted hearts from Valentine’s Day sitting frozen in time on our display wall. I opened my door and was hit with hot, stuffy air and silence. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Water bottles sitting on desks waiting for their owners. My daily schedule still set on March 12th, patiently waiting for the 13th to take its place.

Crayon boxes open on desks, books messily shoved into book boxes, and pencils everywhere. Centimeter cubes sitting in the random spots where kids had left them after a busy day of math workshop. Pillows askew in the classroom library and papers shoved into desks. The stuff of everyday learning filling every inch of my classroom but no longer having any purpose because time has stopped in Room 205. 

What began as weeks has now turned into just over two months of distance learning. As I attempt to continue teaching and give my students feedback, I can’t help but think: Do I even really know this child anymore? It’s been over a summer break’s worth of time since I have seen them in person. Are they still obsessed with Pokemon? Do they still like to eat jelly sandwiches for lunch? Is this feedback going to resonate with this version of them? The faces I now see in front of me feel like a virtual simulation of the students I used to have. I feel incredibly guilty for thinking this way but what we had together in our classroom feels like a lifetime ago.

The feelings of personal inadequacy are strong too. I find myself constantly thinking about all of the things I could do better. As an educator, that feeling is a constant companion, but in this world of online learning, it feels especially overbearing. It’s no longer a companion, but rather an uncontrollable force. Even with each passing team meeting, staff meeting, or online collaboration I somehow feel more alone. 

We have to keep moving forward, but with the 20-21 school year still hanging in the balance, it’s hard to know what to hold on to. It’s hard to know how to manage expectations or what to plan for the next school year. The thought of possibly having to continue fully online for a new school year breaks my heart. We’ve all been cheated. We’ve all lost precious time in our classrooms to grow and learn and give. 

Teachers work their tails off to get to March. The spring is everyone’s big payoff for the school year. We spend Fall and Winter building community, routines, and foundations so that when Spring rolls around our students can soar. More than ever, the classroom feels like a true family as we come to the realization that this school year is coming to an end and we will no longer be together every day. Teachers and students alike begin to savor and soak up every moment they can. 

Not all hope is lost though.

As I comb through my student’s current work, I am often reminded of Rita Pierson’s wonderfully inspiring TED Talk. Within the first minute, Rita quotes James Comer and it is the heart of her message: “No significant learning can occur without a significant relationship.” I think of this quote often because, despite everything, my students are still growing. With each passing week, I see more legible handwriting, longer fiction stories, deeper comprehension in reading. Math concepts I must have taught about 50 different ways in-person without success are starting to click at home. 

Whether it’s a teacher or a parent, kids learn from the people they love.

While I don’t get my big spring payoff there can still be a happy ending. We can take this experience and use it to better leverage family involvement in the future. Maybe we can finally redefine what a learning community looks like. Maybe when they say “it takes a village to raise a child”, we can start creating a better village and lean into the communities that are often ignored beyond our classrooms. I’ve learned that distance can’t stop love or strong relationships or the ways in which we have positively impacted another human being. Kids will always need champions in their corner, even if that corner is miles away. 

This Is Heavy: The WATAC Conference and Finding Meaning

Last weekend I attended the 4th Annual Washington Teacher Advisory Council’s Spring Conference.  The planners re-organized their conference into an online format. Amazingly, they were able to accommodate the largest number of attendees in their history thus far. That is one positive when it comes to the distance learning format. We can fit more folks into the “room.”

Don’t get me wrong; I would have much preferred seeing all my friends and colleagues from around the state in person. I look forward to it every year. However, seeing them all virtually and hearing how they are dealing with our unprecedented issues these last months of the school year was invaluable.

If you are unfamiliar with WATAC, it is an organization formed initially to organize award-winning teachers in our state to make our expertise available to stakeholders with influence on education policy. Since its inception, it has expanded to include leaders from all aspects of education – administration, certificated, and classified. Anyone with an interest in teacher leadership is welcome at the conference. And, for me, the conference has been a great way to get a shot of teacher energy as the final stretch of the school year hits, and I really, really need that boost.

This year…I really needed a boost.

Don’t we all? The truth is I am actually grieving. I wobble back and forth between shock, depression, and a sort of manic activity level of problem solving. I’m a mess! In fact, the concept of the five stages of grief won’t get out of my head. Although, losing a loved one is unspeakably worse, losing my classroom feels like a huge loss.  After all, I love my job. I love the most annoying of my seventh graders and the snarkiest of my seniors. I am deeply attached to my classroom, my kids, and my teacher lifestyle. So, yes, I am grieving the loss.

The five stages are trademarked, actually. You can go to David Kessler’s website, if you are interested in what he says about grief and grieving. After wondering if I was actually experiencing grief, I looked over the process: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Yep. I’m doing all of that.

The conference theme was “Back to the Future, and keynote speaker Amy Campbell, our current Washington State Teacher of the Year, quoted the famous meme that comes from the movie Back to the Future, the one where Marty McFly says, “This is heavy.”

This IS heavy, Marty. You thought it was tough that your mom had a crush on you. But this, THIS is heavy.

Education is changing. This is not merely a moment of pause. We can’t go back to normal. In this crisis we have pulled back a curtain and revealed serious problems with equity in education. Yes, we knew they were there, but it is easy to just go about our business making little shifts that don’t rock the boat too much.

It won’t work that way this time. Serious change is needed, and now is exactly the time to work on it.

As Amy told us- speaking directly to my teacher soul – we are experiencing loss. We are in a crisis that impacts our safety, our economy, and our mental health. “Hindsight really is 2020,” and we need to find our “place on the continuum and start moving forward.”

Most importantly, she said, “Old normal should not be the final destination.” And I feel that. I really do.

As a member of the teacher panel later in the conference, I was asked what was working, what was hard, and what I want to take into the future of education. I don’t remember what I said exactly, and I hope it made some sense at the time. But, I can summarize right now.

What’s working? YouTube, Padlet, Zoom, and all the technology no one thought we could use on such a large scale.

What’s hard? Missing the kids and noticing that some fell off the radar when the crisis hit. Many of my kids live in crisis all the time. Not knowing where they are right now is indescribably tough..

What to take forward? Poor kids, rural kids, isolated kids—they deserve whatever the other kids get. I don’t want to see how the one-to-one schools gracefully flipped their systems to accommodate distance learning. I want to see how internet access becomes a universal right for all families. I want legitimate supports for English language learners and students with IEPs and 504 plans. I want to see every teacher receiving the training to support distance learning. I want my tiny district to have more than the grit, goodwill, and volunteer spirit that is filling the gaps in the system. I want equity for all- educators, families, students, all of us.

That’s what I would take to the future.

So, thank you Amy and all the other wonderful WATAC planners and facilitators. You acknowledged what we are going through and you set us on an impassioned path to the future. You did not pretend it was easy, but you did assure us that we are not alone on this journey. There are a lot of amazing educators who are fighting the fight alongside us. So thank you.

In closing, my grief research led me to David Kessler’s final stage of grief from his latest book. He calls it “finding meaning.” It is the way that we can begin to move forward. We find meaning in the loss. I am starting to feel like I am on that path. With the “loss” of my familiar job as an educator, I am focusing on how to reinvent it to make it equitable, relevant, engaging, and, well, comforting, for the students of my future classroom, online or elsewhere. I am beginning to plan going back to the future.

WATAC Facebook Page

Amy’s Keynote on OSPI’s YouTube Channel

My Hopes for a “New Normal”

One silver lining: Sometimes it takes the unimaginable to jar loose our imaginations.

When we finally get back to face-to-face education with kids, I have a few changes I hope I’ll see. Some of these are based on my own personal experiences with distance learning, some are broader. I hope to see…

  • Continued curricular flexibility and resources to individualize for kids based on their needs, interests, and situations.
  • The devaluing [elimination…?] of grades and task completion as a means of measurement in favor of teaching and learning rooted in skills and standards.
  • The dismissal of “the way we’ve always done it” as a argument with any merit whatsoever.
  • The recognition that different environments (in-person, virtual, etc.) have strengths and limitations, that these vary from student to student, and that each student can have access to their own “just right” mix.
  • Realization, without question, that quality teaching demands quality preparation, which demands time… and that we revise the teacher work-day to include actual, meaningful, and significant time for preparation, collaboration, and design.

How about you? In what ways do you hope school looks different upon our eventual return?

The Sexual Health Education Bill: Facts to Calm the Fear

Shannon Cotton

By Guest Contributor Shannon Cotton, NBCT

Senate Bill 5395, known as the comprehensive sexual health bill, was a hot topic in Olympia this Legislative session.  A few weeks ago I spent 90 minutes watching TVW listening to the state senators make comments about the amendments before a roll call vote which passed the bill 27 to 21. 

Legislators talked about constituents who  felt as if “government isn’t listening to what they want.” For every parent who wants to exercise their rights to control the sexual health education of their child another family desperately wants their children to have access to health-enhancing information. Shouldn’t our public school system make information accessible to all as long as provisions are made to allow a family to opt out if they wish?

As a National Board Certified health teacher with 16 years experience teaching sexual health to middle school students in Washington state, I have been fielding questions and attempting to help others understand what this bill means to student learning and overall student health. I have spent more hours than I care to admit trying to clear up misconceptions and disprove outrageous propaganda created to spark fear into parents on social media with information that are outright lies. 

Here are some facts about ESSB 5395:

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No Right Answer

It is a classic “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

My own three children are in three different buildings in the same school district (one elementary school, one middle school, one high school; all in a different district from where I work). Technically, their teachers have been directed by district admin not to send homework yet.

My elementary schooler’s teacher has done so anyway, with the clear communication that it is optional. She has sent suggested math pages from the workbook, along with video guides. She has also video recorded herself reading aloud to kids. My son is in a Spanish-immersion program, so he is also charged with continuing his online practice program. I’m okay with all of this.

My middle school son was asked by his science teacher to finish up a project about natural disasters that they started before the shutdown. His math teacher has sent e-packets of worksheets. There hasn’t been a clear statement of “optionality” for these. We haven’t heard from his other teachers. I’m okay with all of this.

My high schooler? Radio silence from teachers. I’m okay this, too.

Seattle Public Schools Superintendent Denise Juneau has stated that the largest school district in Washington will not transition to online learning in the immediate future. Meanwhile, the Los Angeles (LAUSD) school system is investing $100 million in making sure kids without online access are provided tech and internet during the shutdown. From one side, Superintendent Juneau is being praised for her pragmatic view of the access divide among Seattle students. The other side is quick to drag her publicly. (I’m not hiding my bias well, am I?)

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