Category Archives: Education

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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Differentiating around the Traffic Jam

At the end of last school year, I had a heated exchange with a colleague about the concept of “differentiation.” I have evolved the mindset that it is my responsibility as teacher to attempt different strategies to enable students to access and demonstrate learning. My colleague’s perspective was that this was setting students up for failure. Her claim was that the world doesn’t do for people, so in her classroom, it was the student’s responsibility to do what was asked, how it was asked. In the real world, when an employee is given a task, that employee must execute the task. That’s the way it is.

Besides, she concluded, she didn’t have time to make 25 different lesson plans for each of her learners.

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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

Setting the Stage for Learning

“Mommy made me mash my M&M’s,” trills from the nervous troupe of twenty-five on the stage. Kindergarten to high school, these children are all warming up their voices for this summer’s presentation of “Alice in Wonderland” to be presented at our community theater. It is an all-children production; children will be acting, building sets, running lights and generally spending their summer months of June and July busily learning the art of theater. Wow! It is a whirlwind of creativity and intense focus!

I sit in the seats and watch the artful director as she manages her cast and the chaos about her. She is a natural and is adept at bringing out talent in her students. She is trained. She is skilled. She is volunteering.

Who knows who might be on the stage in front of me; the next Bette Midler (cleverly disguised as the girl who is constantly poking the boy next to her and giggling) or James Dean, who sits nonchalantly at the edge of the stage taking it all in, coolly removed from the preparation of it all and yet, on cue, his voice solos a piece that draws you deeper into the play. Each child is actively discovering and shining their own diamonds in the rough.

I want this moment in my classroom; this theater, this drama, this drawing out of students’ talent. Butand yet

But, I do not have the skills nor the training to finesse such a dynamic. I can clearly see the skill set the director before me has on display. It is a different type of with-it-ness than what I use in the classroom. It is an odd blend of “more loose” and yet more commanding. She knows how to spatially place her players and what will and will not work onstage. Her visions are grandiose. She makes bold statements of how a scene will play and I think, “What? They can’t do that. It is too complicated.” And yet, as if by the magic of the theater, the action takes almost immediate form on stage. She is skilled and gifted in theater. Neither of these are traits I possess.

And yet, it is clear that our state has fully embraced requiring schools to provide these opportunities for self-expression in the form of theater, dance, music, and the visual arts. As of 2017, we have adopted new Arts Learning Standards. These standards are being assessed in-district, using OSPI developed assessments. As a school, we recently completed a school accountability survey set forth by the Office Superintendent of Public Instruction of what we are currently offering our students in the Arts. How many hours are we providing per week? Who is providing the instruction? As a staff, in a small rural school, we often have to be very creative in how we make these experiences happen for our students.

Should schools require the arts to be taught in school? YES! According to the Dana Foundation, the Arts increases attention skills, spatial skills and motivation. Not only do these contribute to an increase in reading and math test scores, they impact a person’s entire life beyond academics. The ability to pay attention, to see connections in space relative to themselves or between concepts, and a desire to go and do? These are basic foundational needs that all learners need in order to be successful in their lives beyond school.

Should the state provide funding for teaching the arts? YES! Currently, there is not funding allocated specifically for the instruction of the Arts at the elementary school level. Our school supports our Arts Program through fundraising and grant writing. These tasks are often placed on the shoulders of our staff. Both of these are time-intensive tasks that take away from the education of students. It should not be this way.

Why do the Arts even matter? The answer to this could – and has – filled many a book. For me, on this sunny summer morning, the answer is in the awkward teen whose entire demeanor changes as he sets foot on the stage – shoulders lifted, a broad smile; he is in his element. His voice rolls forth in a solid sound, “Mommy made me mash my M&M’s!” So silly…so freeing…so theatrical! His face is one of newly found confidence; a new found self.

The power of art to not only to express who you are, but to learn who you are.

Teacher Leaders: Letting Our Light Shine

Early in May, the Washington Teacher Advisory Council hosted a conference with the title Vision and Voice: The Future Is Now. Award-winning educators from all over the state gathered to share ideas and learn from one another. The conference was packed with high-powered teacher leaders that I admire- educators with blogs I love, whose podcasts I listen to, whose advice I have taken, and whose encouragement has bolstered me. We even kicked off our first evening with a keynote from the newly minted National Teacher of the Year, Mandy Manning. What an amazing experience to be among my educator heroes!

As I reflect on that event, I am so grateful to all of the amazing teacher leaders I have encountered over my career, and I know that their impact on my own practice has been immeasurable. I never fail to be inspired. I always learn. I return to my classroom reinvigorated and ready to shine my own light.

I teach English, so I my love of figurative language should come as no surprise. When I think of “light” as a metaphor for learning– from the proverbial “light bulb” moment to “lighting a fire,” these images work for me. As an educator, I’m all about creating light, spreading it, and feeling its warmth.

But there can be more to it than just bringing your light to your classroom and sharing it with your students. If you have talents to share, if you can inspire others, then you may see it as your responsibility to become a teacher leader. You’ve heard the phrase, “Don’t hide your light under a bushel,” right? We have the responsibility to give back to our colleagues, our communities and our profession whenever we are able.

That phrase about the bushel sticks with me. So often, as a professional, as a woman, as a child of poverty, I was in situations in which I was expected to know my place, to stay quiet, to comply and fade into the background. Something inside me has always rebelled at this, some idea that I can do more good for others if I stop dwelling on my own insecurities or a twisted sense of modesty or humility. (See Imposter Syndrome Ted Talk)

In a letter to her younger self, Hilary Clinton tells how her sixth grade teacher told her not to hide her light under a bushel basket. She passes this advice on to other young girls in this Teen Vogue article.

So what is this “bushel basket” all about? It’s from the New Testament. In the King James version Matthew 5:15 says, “Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.” Now, historically, a bushel was a container for goods, such as grain, that became a unit of measure. So this is a bit weird in modern terms. But you get the idea. In this context, the light could be your faith, but it can also be your wisdom, your learning, your spark. Why hide a light?

 

Beyond that, if you have it, share it. An old Italian proverb says, “A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.” We educators know that sharing our wisdom, our learning and our knowledge is the greatest gift we have to give. When it is needed, we must be ready to share. And we lose nothing in the sharing of it.

It’s relatively easy to go to our individual classrooms and share our knowledge. Teacher leaders take it a step further: staff trainings, mentoring, coaching, conference presentations, blogging, etc. That light that such teachers share grows exponentially.

We all have different talents, viewpoints, strategies and solutions to share. There are many paths to leadership, as varied as the individuals themselves. Some lead by supporting their colleagues on a day-to-day basis. Others take their show on the road, spreading their light leading professional development or giving keynote speeches. Some blog or participate in chats on Twitter. Some take a path that leads them out of the classroom and into administration, but, as long as their hearts are still in the classroom, they lead as teachers.

Now let me take this a step further. Where there is light, there is darkness. And let’s face it; there have been some dark moments in our schools recently. There are dark issues faced by our students and our colleagues. To fight the darkness, we need to rally behind the light. We teachers can do so much to help our students as they face the future, as they become the problem-solvers of tomorrow. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., famously said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” (from his “Love Your Enemies” speech) 

 

Don’t we have a responsibility to lead? To lead our students, and perhaps also our colleagues and communities? Find your way to bring the light. As Oprah Winfrey says, “You have to find what sparks a light in you so that you, in your own way, can illuminate the world.” (from the finale show) 

As for me, I’m all in on this light metaphor. I’m going to let my light shine, and, furthermore, “I am on until I am dead, like a light bulb,” as Henry Rollins once said. (from Henry Rollins: Still Angry After All These Years, LA Weekly)

So, get out there and shine, my teacher leader friends. You are needed now more than ever to strengthen our profession and guide our students through troubling times.

Remember:
“Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.” – Maya Angelou

 

Letter to a T-shirt in the Bookstore Window:

Dear T-shirt:

I agree with you we should Celebrate STEM! But I could do without the exclamation point.

Don’t get me wrong, I like science, technology, math and the like. I seriously like electric light, heat, washing machines, and toasters. I just think your exclamation point is a bit much. And, yes, I am an English teacher and hold my own biases, but I, honestly, am as interested in dark matter as I am in doppelgangers. I love physics, but just can’t do the math. What I’m concerned about is the implied hierarchy, or prominence the exclamation point insists upon.

The exclamation point is not often used (or is discouraged) for good reason. It has power. Implies strong feelings or shouting. It is an exclamation. An imperative. All of this implies STEM should or has the right to eclipse other subjects. What would happen if you were surrounded by fellow T-shirts with similar emblazonment? Celebrate Art! Celebrate Humanities! Celebrate Social Sciences! That’s a lot of imperatives.

Truth is, I like you, shirt, I really do, and I’m concerned about you. I actually think the exclamation point is not good for you either. I don’t think everyone should learn Calculus. Or learn how to code. Or learn how to scan a poem, for that matter. I don’t think everyone should do all of these things, because everyone is not necessarily suited to them. Dabbling is great, as it allows for discovery, and everyone should dabble (hence my reading in theoretical physics, and my coding classes, etc.) as it helps cull us into the people we will become (or are constantly becoming). I guess what I am saying is that everyone should get to explore each element of education as they wish, and that I wish our culture could mellow out about it. STEM isn’t a celebrity, why treat it that way linguistically?

I recently read that in Finland students get as many hours of music instruction as they do math. It is just the way things are; the subjects are integrated—as subjects are naturally. For a grand example, see Malcom Gladwell’s Revisionist History episode called Divide and Conquer where he makes a case for Texas’ right to become five states thus multiplying their influence in all elections is already granted by congress all because of a semi-colon.

All this cultural campaigning for STEM is odd to me as it is already central to most school curriculum and this campaigning mostly means to make it central to funding and student interest. It helps create access for students, and I respect that. I also dream of an education system that stops trying to prepare students for “jobs we can’t imagine” (what else has education always done?) and just educates them in a way that allows them to become the best version of themselves, and apply transferable cognitive and physical skills to whatever task is before them. I believe if we make students interested enough in their world, and give them skills to discover things independently and collaboratively, we’ll have all sorts of weird and wild Einsteins.

I love the weird and wild Einstein. I love him because he played the violin, translated poems, loved to sail. I love him because he came up with his theory despite most academics not wanting to work with him, that he just could not let his curiosity rest and drum away hours at the patient desk, and that most people don’t understand his theory and revere him as a genius anyway. I love that he saw through that, that the ticker tape parades amused him and were not something he felt he deserved. I love that he had trouble connecting to his son. He was a man and the humanity of him is loveable. I love that I’m fairly certain he would have similar concerns about your exclamation point, T-shirt, that he would argue everything is connected, and relative, and the things most imperative to our culture and our education are not tied to any subject, but to the humanity that lies behind our growing, learning, and living.

Sincerely,

English Teacher
(wearing an Emily Dickinson T-shirt with a line portrait of the poet and the quote “Forever is composed of nows.”)

An Open Letter to a Supportive Family

Dear Supportive Family,

When your boy came to me, he was a small guy. Restless as he paced outside the circle of the adults convened in the hallway discussing him, his past, what his future may hold. His eyes flicked our way and he offered only curt words and shoulder shrugs in response to the questions asked in a way that told me you were hoping he would contain himself long enough for me to agree to give him a try.

I stepped back out of our circle, stopping his swirl around us. I looked over him – at him felt too strong. “Creed, would you like to be here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t? No? Okay, well if you don’t then there is no point in us talking about it.”

“What, I didn’t say no. I said know.”

“Know what? Know that you know it is a no?” A small smile from me. Would he catch on?

I knew it wasn’t no. I just needed to connect and get a feel for him. Your kid had some serious baggage he was dragging along behind him – violent outbursts, ADHD and a lack of friends were just a few of the items tossed in. Was I willing to spend the energy and time to help him unpack it? Was I willing to bring your child into my classroom, one that had been humming along quite nicely all year? He was a “choice-in” student from a neighboring district. I could say no. You knew that.

His head tilted as he puzzled at the silly word play. Eye squinted for a second and then the flash of “Aha!” that couldn’t help but come out as a flash of a smile. I couldn’t say no to that kind of smile, that mind. I agreed to a one week “trial” where I would then meet with you to give my answer.

Day one, hour one. Your Creed flipped a desk in anger. He was sent out into the hall to copy a paragraph about “Impulse Control.” Hissing in anger, he slammed out the door. Hard. I heard his clipboard skitter down the hall. It was an hour before he walked back in with the sheet crumbled and torn, but scribbled upon. He tossed it in my general direction.

Not working for me. A new sheet; clean, not crumbled nor torn. Begin again.

Seething, he snatched it from my hands – tearing it.

“Give me another.”

“I will. After you finish the one you just tore.”

And so it went for the week. I pushed your child as hard as I could without losing him all the way. I wanted to see what I was getting into.

The day of our meeting arrived. I had no idea what Creed had gone home and told you about our “adventures” at school. All I knew was that for him to grow and change, it would take ALL of us adults to be on the same page. I laid out a contract of behavior that focused on Creed’s behavioral needs and my specific methods for helping him.

But, this contract was different. I also required you to pledge your support of the actions I would be taking to help your child learn to manage his actions and emotions. There would be no way to effectively help him make the deep changes required if I were constantly worried about what your reactions would be. Stern words? Repeatedly rewriting a sheet done too sloppily? Actually holding him accountable? I needed you on board. There would be no coddling, no excuses.

My deal? I would not be calling you with every poor behavior your child had. As a matter of fact, I would not be calling unless Creed was a danger to himself or others or had his first day where he just fit in like any other kid.

Flashes over the two-and-half years since:

Breathe Creed
Punch the wall
Glare back tears
I will NOT breath!
Have it your way Creed…
Hissed
Gritted teeth
Shaky
Breath
Deep relief

Caged in his own mind. Pacing.
Sliding down the wall, eyes covered,
“I am getting taken off all my medications.”
Try not to look stunned.
This has been Creed medicated?
“If you feel like ever hurting yourself, you have to tell someone.”
Fat tears of fear and shaking small body,
“I’m so scared.”
First phone call home.

Metaphorical fists up!
Put down your fists Creed.
A friend?
One. For a moment.
An unfortunate, mild incident
NOT sorry!
Put down your fists Creed.
Tried anew
Kicked the new.
Quick, hard
Anger!
Sorry!
No. Sorry?
Yes.
Emotional regulation is so hard!

Reams of “Impulse Control” sheets
scribbled and rewritten.
Clipped, unclipped, clipped again from the clipboard
Pencils sharpened, dulled, re-sharpened
“I am coming to the realization…”
Thoughts of what it means to discipline self,
imprinted on his paper and his mind.

“Mrs. Cruden, you and me are a lot a like.
I am a Bugatti engine,
trapped in a lawn mower’s life.
You are a Porche engine,
trapped in a mini-van’s life.”
So right your child was.

Grinding, grinding, grinding
Discipline,
as if he were my own.
Believing in what I am doing,
believing in Creed.
We believe.
Change is happening.

A day
regular and sunny
nothing out of the ordinary.
Months in the making.
“Oh God, what did he do?”
“Nothing. Today was just a regular day for a regular kid.”
Breath sighed out. Relief.
That was my second phone call home

Younger grades at his feet.
Talking science in a lab coat.
Goggles askew, hands wildly waving!
He is alive!
Your Creed… is a teacher!

Appendix out.
His classmates are worried.
Big sloppy, “Get Well!” cards.
Hand delivered to your home.
His face is that of loopy joy.
Your child has become a class beloved.

Dapper in a button down
Tie straight
Flowers in hand
Taking a sweet girl to the 8th grade dance
Smiling picture posted on FB
Creed has arrived.

It must have been hard to trust in the process and keep belief in the importance of learning self-discipline. As promised, there was no coddling, there were no excuses; from any of us. Your support enabled me to do my job – all of it. Teachers across America crave what you gave me – the gift to teach. For that I thank you.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Cruden

P.S. Soon Creed will walk across the stage and graduate 8th grade. In his mind are the keys to his Bugatti engine. Enjoy the ride! Maybe send a few postcards along the way…

Teacher Appreciation Week: Don’t Read the Comments

Happy Teacher Appreciation Week!

Make sure to enjoy this week, so don’t read the comments under any article, post, tweet, or Facebook share that in any way references teachers, teaching, or public education.

There is growing evidence that engagement in social media, including even the comment sections under mainstream media articles, can have a significantly negative impact on mental health. For people like me, whose twenty-year ebb-and-flow battle with clinical depression has made me unnecessarily sensitive to the venom and hate online, settling into some mindless social media perusal after a rough day at work ends up nudging us into the kind of downward spiral that for far too many culminates in bona fide burnout.

It is important during this teacher appreciation week that we also appreciate each other…both online and in person.

Often we take the time to (rightfully) single out those teachers who made a difference in our lives. For me, names from the 80s and 90s like Mary Jo Jones (science and math teacher), Jennifer Stenkamp (English teacher), Dale Crawford (FFA Advisor) and Elizabeth Shelley (English teacher) will always come first to mind. There’s also Wendi Kuntz and Jan Franke, whose support during my student teaching made me the educator I am today. There’s Fran Oishi, my amazing first-year-teacher mentor from my days in Federal Way. Appreciating the teachers of our past is important.

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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.

 

Project, Products, and Publishing (or All’s Well That Ends Well)

Assessment. That’s a loaded word these days, particularly in the last months of the school year. But, what is it, really? Is it the state test? Is it an essay? Is it multiple choice?

Of course, the answer is yes to all of that, but there is so much more. We could get into the semantics of what is summative or formative assessment, and what type/mode/format of assessment is more valid or reliable or necessary. However, today I am interested in discussing one particular sort of assessment: publishing.

What I mean by “publishing” is this particular definition: to make publicly or generally known.

The Washington State English Language Arts Standards reference it:

W.9-10.6 Production and Distribution of Writing

Use technology, including the internet, to produce, publish, and update individual or shared writing products, taking advantage of technology’s capacity to link to other information and to display information flexibly and dynamically.

Ooh…and “to display information flexibly and dynamically!” That really gets to the heart of the matter, there. How do we assess this? How do we teach our students to publish? to create products? to display information flexibly and dynamically? And then, once we do teach these skills, how do we assess them?

My answer to all these questions is project-based learning. This last week, while my seventh-graders were busy toiling over their answers on the Smarter Balanced Assessment, my ninth-graders were wowing the public with their “Shakesfair” projects. Both of these assessments are valid. Both give me information that informs my practice. Both can really stress a kid out if they don’t have the skills or support. And, both can bring a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Animatic Project for Shakesfair 2018

The difference is that one can also be an entertaining and educational way to connect with families and the community. It can inspire creativity, and it can celebrate individuality. It can encompass so many aspects of a child’s intelligence, skills, and talents. I can tell you without a doubt that the projects my students create prove their understanding of the material we cover in class. They also extend the learning, showing the reading, writing, communication, and research skills I am teaching them. These are valid assessments, and they also “display information flexibly and dynamically.”

On the down side, projects can be a royal pain. They are messy, hard to manage, and time-consuming. They require a teacher to set firm guidelines and offer support in ways he or she never imagined, like problem-solving last-minute tech issues for an Animatic animation, or finding creative ways to serve non-alcoholic English trifle to hundreds of guests. While projects bring out the most creative and imaginative attributes of most students, they bewilder and frustrate others, often those with special needs. To avoid these pitfalls, projects take tons of preparation, patience, and dedication.

I am committed to assessing my students with projects several times a year. Sometimes these are project-based learning activities, and sometimes they are just projects. To understand the difference, check out the handy table here. Some of my project-based assessments are small, such as one day tasks chosen from a menu to show understanding of a text through multiple pathways. These are simple and not too terribly messy or complicated to score. Each grade level gets a couple big projects, too. Some are group projects, some are individual, and some are flexible. They choose. Student choice is paramount for successful projects. For all projects, I have carefully crafted rubrics and timelines and rules established over time. Of course, that was all accomplished through trial and error, pursuing a good idea and learning how terribly complicated it really was!

That said, project-based learning is not for every teacher. It takes a willingness to face the issues head on. It takes a lot of patience to guide students through the discomfort they often experience when they actually have choices. It takes a lot of nerve.

Now the nerve is what you need when you get to the publishing part. That part requires the PUBLIC. The public is your audience. They see the whole big, beautiful mess, with all of its warts and all of its wackiness. You have to be willing to let your students shine or fizzle in a public format. And that is very, very hard.

Historical Recipe Project

At our 14th Annual Shakesfair, my students were shining. Well, mostly. We had Renaissance Era a slightly messy smorgasbord of food – trifle, roast chicken, meat pies – served by enthusiastic students. We had music researched and played heroically by young musicians, and there was a variety of artwork created by students who surprised their classmates with their hidden talents. Others shared creative writing based on Shakespeare- short stories, poetry, and songs. Several this year chose analytical writing, critiquing plays and films and examining themes. A select few gave slide show presentations, and there were the always popular models of the globe theater. Students from previous years came in and begged to show the films they produced when they were freshmen, and we all enjoyed seeing their first attempts at film-making once again.

I have thirty freshmen this year and well over a hundred visitors joined them. Parents, grandparents, staff, upperclassmen, and members of the community came and viewed their work, displayed “flexibly and dynamically.”

It was an exhausting time. The project overlaps with a full month of our Shakespeare unit, but the last week is a flurry of activity. And, to top it off, I was proctoring the 7th grade assessment for three hours on the day of the event, with no prep time. Luckily, my students in my afternoon classes chipped in to help set up, and clean up was well-managed and fast. I have a system.

To those brave and crazy enough to take on project-based learning, I am here to tell you that it is worth it. You will never forget the creativity and enthusiasm of your students, and the praise of their families. And, neither will they.

Ubiquitous Globe Theater Project

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Do you assess with projects? Tell me how your students publish their work and create products to share.