Category Archives: Social Issues

Abraham Lincoln Again

Posted by Jan Kragen on February 18, 2019
Current Affairs, Elementary, Social Issues

Last week I did a series of lessons on “argumentation in reading.” I told my student that I analyzed their STAR reading test data and found their lowest subcategory was in this particular area. However, I confessed to them, I wasn’t sure what the phrase meant. I mean, I teach them argumentation in writing, along with informal logic and fallacies of reasoning, but what was argumentation in reading?

I told them the story of how I investigated my question all the way up to the national STAR testing organization. They replied with their definition and sample test questions.

I shared the results of my research with my class, “You know how I teach you how to use good, logical, well-reasoned arguments in your writing? And how I teach you to use evidence to back up your reasoning? This STAR business is different. When they say ‘argumentation in reading,’ they are talking about bad argumentation. Not using evidence. Appealing strictly to emotion. Manipulating audiences.”

For the next couple of days, I defined terms and showed examples from print advertising and from commercials. Several times I mentioned that they could find examples of this kind of bad argumentation in other places—political speeches, letters to the editor, editorials on the opinion pages. As I wrapped up the final presentation, I quipped that I was just showing them the more entertaining examples of argumentation in reading instead of also pulling in political speeches and the rest.

One of my boys said, “Maybe that’s a good thing, to avoid sharing anything political.”

Maybe I can get away with something from 164 years ago.

The American Party was prominent in United States politics from the late 1840s through the 1850s. More commonly known as the Know-Nothing Party, its members formed a secretive group, answering questions about their beliefs with the phrase, “I know nothing,” which is where they got their more popular name. Most members were white middle class or working class men who strongly opposed immigrants, especially Catholics. Earlier waves of immigration to American had been strongly English-speaking and Protestant, but by the early 1800s people began to arrive from Germany and Ireland, upending cultural expectations and stirring up resentment and fear.

How did Lincoln react to the Know-Nothings? In a letter written to Joshua Speed in 1855 he said,

I am not a Know-Nothing. That is certain. How could I be? How can any one who abhors the oppression of negroes, be in favor of degrading classes of white people? Our progress in degeneracy appears to me to be pretty rapid. As a nation, we begin by declaring that “all men are created equal.” We now practically read it “all men are created equal, except negroes.” When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read “all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and catholics.” When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty—to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy.

In the middle of the Civil War, at the national convention that nominated Lincoln for reelection, the committee members noted his justice and protection to all men employed in the Union armies “without regard to distinction of color” as well as his liberal and just encouragement of foreign immigration to “this nation, the asylum of the oppressed of all nations.”

Lincoln believed in our national motto, E Pluribus Unum—Out of Many, One.

What do you think? For Presidents’ Day, do you suppose I can get away with talking about how Lincoln supported immigrants from all nations?

What My Mom Taught Me About Teaching

Posted by Jeremy Voigt on January 30, 2019
Education, Life in the Classroom, Social Issues

On January 14th 2019 my mother died. I sat with her for nearly eighteen hours, and was there when her breathing slowed and stopped.

My mother taught in Seattle public schools for a decade before becoming a stay at home mom. Some of my earliest memories are of her classroom and the daycare adjacent to her classroom. There was a door with a window between us. A green cot I lay on, but never slept on for nap time. A paper mache T-Rex. It seemed huge. The drawer she said her purse was stolen from. A woman I was not related to, but we called Aunt. Dusty light in a 60’s style classroom.

As a stay at home mom, my mom thrived. She was the type that made things happen: lunches, events, or after school programs. Our county didn’t have a rec sports league so she co-founded one. She taught me to read. Put books in my hands. Drove me everywhere. Music lessons. Friends. Ballparks. Yelled louder than any parent in any baseball stands anywhere. Ever. A growl of a cheer.

She had a huge social network. And she was kind to everyone. My town was small enough, at the time, most people knew her, and therefore most people knew me in any given situation. I hated that fact as a kid. I’m a classic introvert preferring to be left alone often, and she a classic extrovert—thriving on the social network. But mom taught me to be kind, or at least civil, to everyone I met, no matter what. And to respect kindness as the highest form of human interaction.

My mother also was an alcoholic. She would not like me saying this. She would say I’m not preserving her dignity. And from her perspective, she’s right. But in my early life my mom taught me to be kind, she taught me to be honest, and she taught me to pay attention to language. And in her later life she taught me to practice these things under strenuous circumstances. I’ve learned over the years that accurately naming something is a kindness. I would argue acknowledging my mom’s disease, and loving her are one act. I would argue putting the truth on the table under bright light takes away its power. Alcoholism gets between people, naming it (without judgement) puts it to the side.

She struggled with that, and it is ok, because it is hard. She could not untangle the connotation of judgement from the word alcoholic. Perhaps that is a perspective from her personality or from her generation, either way it does not matter anymore. We disagreed on this until the day of her death. But what I’ve found over the last few weeks is that the people who love her most, knew and in their own ways acknowledged her disease and loved her all at once. Life is supposed to be hard. If it were easy there would be nothing to do and we’d have no sense of value. And the lesson of naming something, no matter how difficult, proved just as powerful as my mom’s early lessons about kindness.

The day after my mom died, I went to work. I started my AP Language class with a colleague’s student teacher observing, something planned weeks ago. I tried to teach. I started talking about sentences, periodic and cumulative sentences. I thought I mixed them up. Fumbled through definitions. I couldn’t focus. I started sweating. I have never felt so lost in front of students. Even in my first years of teaching. So, I stopped.

I told my students that we knew each other too well after four months, and I could not continue without explaining why I was a mess. I told them my mom died. A subtle shock wave moved through the room. They went quiet. I’ve been teaching for fifteen years and I really believe the single most important thing a teacher can do is be authentic. I told them I was ok, and would be gone the rest of the week. We were quiet as a group for a few beats. That morning I held back because it did not seem appropriate to burden my students with my grief. But standing before them, I just could not fake it at that level. They saw right through the façade, because I’d worked hard to be vulnerable and real and together all year and when I wasn’t everything was wrong. Naming the reality put everything into the fluorescent classroom light. I stopped sweating. We could move on. They said they were sorry with murmurs, with their eyes, and with their awkward teenage silences. It was amazing.

Let’s NOT Have Guns In Schools

Posted by Jan Kragen on January 17, 2019
Current Affairs, Social Issues

10:54 am. February 28, 2001.

We had just dismissed to recess. I had students still in the classroom, some on the outside stairs leading down to the playground, some already out on the playground, some in the hall going to the library, and some in the bathroom.

The Nisqually earthquake struck. A 6.8 quake.

At first it sounded like a giant garbage truck rolling into the parking lot, but it just kept coming. The room began to shake. Startled eyes turned to me.

“It’s an earthquake,” I said. “Duck and cover.” I stood in the doorway so I could watch the students in the classroom and the ones in the hall. Everyone did what they were trained to do.

After the ground stopped shaking, we evacuated the building and gathered on the big field.

Later, once the school was inspected and we could go back inside, everyone shared where they were and what they were doing when the earthquake hit.

No matter where they were in the school, each child had followed the directions for how to stay safe during an earthquake.

I counted that day as a success, not just that the children knew what to do and did it, but that they could each debrief so easily, they could each share their story freely. As I had told them earlier in the year—once you are safe—you should pay attention during an earthquake and observe it because they are interesting.

At the end of the day, one of my students commented to another teacher about how interesting the earthquake was.

(“Good for you!” I thought.)

That teacher was horrified. She told him earthquakes were dangerous. They were not interesting.

Clearly adults react emotionally in different ways to high stress situations.

A 6.8 earthquake is impressive but not murderous. Try to imagine just how ramped up emotions are during a school shooting.

The first issue is, that extraordinary level of emotional response impacts the effectiveness of the police, not just the school staff. In the Parkland shooting Sgt. Brian Miller, who arrived first on the scene, was excoriated in the public and in the press for not entering the building immediately. But the official Broward Sheriff’s Office active shooter policy at the time specifically said deputies may go in and confront a shooter. It wasn’t a requirement.

More importantly, his was not the only failure that day. Colleagues described Captain Jordan as “disengaged and ineffective.”

In fact, in spite of their training—as police officers—the deputies were ill-prepared to react to a school shooting.

Several sheriff’s deputies said they remembered little if anything of their active shooter training.

Even police, with all their training, seldom face an active shooter. It’s hard enough to respond according to training when a shooting erupts right in front of an officer. It’s even more difficult—and more emotionally debilitating—to respond to an unseen shooter or shooters roaming within a school. What if you miss? What if you accidentally hit a student? What if you kill a child? Those questions can paralyze even a trained police officer.

Then comes the second issue. What happens when you take police, who are trained to deal with shooters, and add another shooter in the mix?

November 11, 2018, Roberson, who hoped someday to become a police officer, was working as a security guard at a bar in the suburbs of Chicago. He detained a shooter, pinning him to the ground, with his legal gun drawn. The police chief called him a “brave man doing his best to end an active shooter situation.”

But that night the police shot and killed Jemel Roberson.

Why did he get shot?

It seems like in the confusion of multiple people yelling “He’s security! He’s security!” Roberson may not have heard the police yelling, “Drop your weapon!”

So he died.

Roberson was both an armed security guard and a good guy with a gun. He risked his life to apprehend a shooter. And police killed him anyway.

Thanksgiving night Emantic Bradford Jr. went shopping in an Alabama mall with a cousin and two friends. He had a permit to carry a weapon. According to his family, Bradford was trying to help people during a shooting. He had his gun in his hand when a police officer saw him and shot him.

Here’s the problem. HB 1038 would allow school districts to authorize permanent employees to possess firearms on school grounds under certain conditions.

If trained police officers have a difficult time handling school shooting situations in general, and if they don’t always respond well to “helpful” adults in crisis situations who are also armed, why on earth would we put additional guns into schools? In the hands of everyday school staff?

Imagine that you are that armed teacher. Maybe you have hours of target shooting. Maybe you hunt. Maybe you are very comfortable with your weapon.

Have you had training in simulations where you have to identify friend or foe with split second timing? (Even high-quality military combat training will not fully prepare a soldier or sailor for war—only real live combat experience can do that.)

Have you ever had a gun pointed at you? Has your life been in danger?

If the police came in and yelled to you, could you be sure you would react fast enough not to be shot yourself?

(Especially if you are a person of color, as both Roberson and Bradford were.)

Even more to the point, have you actually served in combat in areas where children are present? Or have you served in the police in violence-ridden communities with children?

According to military personnel I’ve talked to, having the daily experience of having to deal with the direct threat of violence—in the context of children—is the best preparation for handling school shooter situations effectively.

Here’s a possible solution beyond arming random school personnel.

It may be that every school in the country needs a combat veteran as a school safety officer. At the very least, as individual schools decide to hire safety officers, they should specify combat or similar experience as a requirement. Even further, interview questions should demand details about how candidates handled high stakes circumstances with children as part of the situation.

A Proposal to Support Student Mental Health and Safety

Posted by Lynne Olmos on December 19, 2018
Current Affairs, Education, Education Policy, Life in the Classroom, Social Issues

Have you checked out Governor Inslee’s Proposed 2019-2020 Budget and Policy Highlights? There is a lot to sort through, but, of course, I went straight to the K-12 education highlights. Like my students, I can digest the relevant text more readily. I’ll browse the rest…eventually. But, when it comes to education, they have my attention.

There are some interesting, but not especially surprising, bits. Along with restoring local levy authority, the governor proposes to spend more money on programs to support special education, science education, para-educator training, dual language programs, and recruiting teachers from diverse populations. Everything I read echoed needs in my own school, so I can understand why it’s all there. I hope that these proposed programs reach so far as to benefit my own students in the near future.

However, another area of the budget caught my eye. The proposed budget includes $7.5 million for programs to support student mental health and safety, which is a relatively small amount compared to the rest of the budget. Clearly, recent news events have raised our collective awareness of the need for safer schools and mental health services for our students. Therefore, it’s not surprising that it’s in the budget proposal.

The document suggests supports for districts to offer a “coordinated approach to prevention, early identification and intervention for student behavioral health and safety needs.” It specifies safe schools plans, recognition and response to emotional and behavioral distress, and funding for expansion of access to behavioral health services. All of this sounds reasonable, but it seems like we are focusing on the symptoms and not the causes of the crisis. If it is truly about prevention, what will we be doing differently in schools to prevent distress?

Don’t get me wrong; we need all of the supports mentioned in the proposal. We need more counselors in our buildings. We need plans for school safety that are actionable. We need all educational personnel to be trained to recognize and respond to symptoms of emotional distress. But, does anyone take time to wonder how we could prevent getting to the point where we are responding to distress?

Teachers see students struggle every day. Of course, there is the normal struggle that involves a math problem or a difficult text. However, kids are suffering from more serious struggles. These emotional and behavioral struggles are less tangible, but just as real, and far more frightening. They could be issues brought on by poverty, homelessness, self-esteem, gender identity, sexual orientation, bullying, isolation, or mental illness. To complicate things, our world has become a contentious place to live, and kids are hearing such fearful rhetoric around them on a daily basis. How can they feel supported and safe in the face of emotional crises?

Teens in particular suffer from increased rates of depression and suicidal ideation. Social media often exacerbates their problems, as some students cannot escape the social pressures of their peers so long as they have their phone to check 24/7. Here’s a recent USA Today article that takes on this topic.

We teachers know the problem is monumental, so we spend a lot of time thinking about what schools can do. What can we do? Well, for one, we should do our best to make our schools and our classrooms, safe and supportive places for our students.

Every student needs to be truly seen, heard, and valued. They need the opportunity to show their individual talents and pursue their own interests. This is how we can fully support the mental and emotional health of our students.

Specifically, we need to shift our focus from purely academic achievement to creativity and collaborative learning. I have no issue with traditional standards and assessments. They’ve been the bread and butter of my career, to be honest. But, I know from experience that my students come alive when we are working on creative projects. They talk to each other, truly talk to one another. They empathize, they support, they give of themselves. These simple acts are what make us human. They put us in touch with one another and with the work that we produce.

I see it in my teaching practice. My drama students create close bonds of respect and support, cheering one another on for each and every performance. My Art Club students talk about their problems over Wednesday afternoons of watercolors and pen and ink, comforting and encouraging one another, letting the troubles of the week slip away. Even my least artsy kids choose video or dioramas or other creative projects when given a chance. Art heals, encourages, supports, and edifies.

Simply put, if students only go through the motions of education, listening to lectures, taking traditional tests, and conforming to the standards, they are not expressing what is hidden inside of them. That hidden part of them needs nurturing and needs to grow in a safe and supported environment.

If we want to spend money on emotional and behavioral health of our students, I propose this: Spend it all on arts education. Get every child into visual and performing arts programs. Have them create from their souls. Have them work in groups to create together. Have them feel the support of their peers and the admiration of their teachers. The arts support the emotional and mental health of our students directly. I have seen it in action. It works.

Not convinced by my anecdotal evidence? Try these resources:

The Healing Power of Art from Harvard’s Women’s Health Watch

How Making Art Helps Teens Better Understand Their Mental Health from Mindshift

Anxiety.org’s articles on using improvisational theater to relieve anxiety

A Reminder about the Holidays

Posted by Mark Gardner on December 16, 2018
Current Affairs, Life in the Classroom, Social Issues

Shortly before Thanksgiving, my principal always sends our staff a key reminder about the two-month-long commercial marathon that is the “holiday season” in our country.

The simple message carries two main points: First, while the holiday season might be joyous and celebratory for many of us, for a large number of our students it is a time of uncertainty and even turmoil. Existing housing or economic instability is exacerbated by extra-short days and extra-long, cold nights; a roof and heat are not necessarily guarantees. The pressures of gift-giving and consumerism amplify the divide between the haves and have-nots as our students navigate that difficult social landscape around who gets what, wants what, or how many gifts end up under the tree. (As one former student put it years ago, “I never understood why Santa always liked the rich kids more…even the ones who were jerks.”) Add to all this the financial and personal stresses that the adults in our kids’ lives experience…stress that our students observe and absorb…and the kids who walk into our classrooms on these inter-holiday days might be carrying extra burdens we don’t see the rest of the year.

And this all leads us to the email’s second point: As the adult, be careful not to take things personally. That kid who was always on time and engaged in September and October might fold in on himself in December, or that engagement might drift to mere compliance which might shift to full blown resistance. For others, the simmer might be much quicker to turn to a boil, as pressures from outside crank up the emotional heat. Behavior might deteriorate, focus might be hard to achieve, and tempers might be on edge. The email’s message: Don’t take it personally, and be mindful about your reaction lest you escalate an already escalated state. This is an important reminder for the adults in our system. We can’t take it personally. It isn’t us. It isn’t even them. How we react makes all the difference if the rest of the kid’s world is turmoil hiding behind tinsel.

It is important that we as teachers recognize just how different our students lives might be than what we picture. Teachers, by law, must be college graduates. Teachers, for the most part, maintain stable month-to-month and year-to-year employment. While it is true that far too many teachers do struggle financially and end up taking on additional work, particularly early in their careers, we have to remember that the vast majority of us have levels of economic and housing stability that a huge percentage of our students might not.

The National Center for Children in Poverty digests statistics from the 2016 American Community Survey to help paint the picture about the kids our systems serve. Here in Washington, our childhood poverty and low-income rates are a tick lower than the national average, but on average about two of every five kids in our system falls under either the “low-income” or “in poverty” classification.

Of course, a lower family income doesn’t inherently mean family struggle or instability…nor does affluence guarantee that students aren’t feeling unusual stresses this time of year. It cannot hurt us as professionals, though, to be extra mindful during these dark months of the unique external pressures that this supposedly festive season might have on our students.

In my own English classroom, I have used daily journaling to get to know about my students’ relationships with this time of year. The prompts draw out stories from kids about great winter memories with family and friends as well as clarity about which students love cancelled-school snow days and which ones dread them. Their writing reveals what sorts of excitements or worries this time of year brings for kids.

We must remember that for many kids “Winter Break” may be a time for family togetherness, vacations or playing in the snow. For others, it means a break from the warmth of a classroom, the consistency of meals, and adult support and supervision. We can’t solve all of these challenges for our kids, but we can certainly do our best to keep school a safe, welcoming, and stable place, even if the world outside our walls cannot provide the same.

Civil Discourse, in the Classroom and Beyond

Posted by Lynne Olmos on October 31, 2018
Current Affairs, Education, Life in the Classroom, Literacy, Social Issues, Uncategorized | civil discourse, civility

Election Day is approaching, and I am reminded of an ongoing struggle I face as a teacher, the need for civil discourse.

The strife and anger expressed by political figures and everyday people on social media penetrates our communities at every level. Our politically divided society has far-reaching effects, and we teachers know that these effects manifest in our classrooms far too often.

I teach in a generally conservative community, which is also home to a large immigrant population. There is built-in conflict and a wide array of opinions, both well-informed and based on hearsay. Leading up to the presidential election two years ago, I was breaking up heated arguments in the halls of our junior high between 12-year olds. They didn’t fully understand the issues; they were parroting what their parents were saying, no doubt, but I remember being shocked, and deeply concerned. How did the political climate infiltrate our tiny, rural school?

Then, when the election was over, I was worried. I have behavior expectations around discussion and debate that require respect on all sides. I wondered if my students would still respect these ideals when their most admired figures did not adhere to respectful behavior or civil discourse. How can I have high expectations of my students when the adults around them were so far from civil? The whole world seemed full of terrible examples of uncivil behavior, and this continues today in the extreme, with bombings, shootings, hate crimes, and blatant hate-mongering on social media.

Although it seems like a monumental task, it is still our responsibility as teachers to instruct the key skills that can combat all of this incivility. If we intentionally instruct and model civil discourse, we can help our students build a better future.

Civil discourse is the engagement in conversation to enhance understanding. It requires respect for all others involved, without judgment. You cannot conduct civil discourse if it is obvious that you question the good sense of your peers. You cannot conduct yourself with hostility, sarcasm, mockery, or excess persuasive language. You have to accept the views of others as valid, despite your disagreement.

Now take a moment to imagine what that looks like in a junior high classroom. How about a high school debate? Conversation over Thanksgiving dinner with the extended family? Interactions on social media? A political debate? What if civil discourse was the norm?

The Common Core and Washington State Language Arts Standards are explicit in the requirements for discussion and communication:

“To become college and career ready, students must have ample opportunities to take part in a variety of rich, structured conversations—as part of a whole class, in small groups, and with a partner—built around important content in various domains. They must be able to contribute appropriately to these conversations, to make comparisons and contrasts, and to analyze and synthesize a multitude of ideas in accordance with the standards of evidence appropriate to a particular discipline. Whatever their intended major or profession, high school graduates will depend heavily on their ability to listen attentively to others so that they are able to build on others’ meritorious ideas while expressing their own clearly and persuasively.”

As teachers, the urge to stay out of it, to be apolitical and neutral is strong. We don’t want to offend our students, their families, or our communities. However, we must model that we all have views and ideas, and how we express them is important. We do not force our views on others, but, instead, we invite discourse. Our students need to learn to share their ideas and listen to their peers. They need to understand the importance of researching the issues and verifying their sources. They need to practice protocols of debate and dialogue that guide them to be supportive listeners, even when they disagree.

On my quest to be a better teacher of civil discourse, I am piecing together some resources. These are diverse and inspirational, but certainly incomplete. Check them out, and let me know what I am missing.

This is our calling as teachers. We are nation builders. Let’s build a nation full of citizens who are well-versed in civil discourse.

3 Steps to Civil Discourse in the Classroom

Essentials in Dialogue

Teaching Tolerance: Civil Discourse in the Classroom

Wall Street Journal: New Topic on Campus Civil Discourse 101

Sarah Cooper’s Why We Won’t Be Having No Holds Barred Debates This Year

Katherine Cadwell’s TedX Students Need to Lead the Classroom, Not Teachers

What is the Harkness Discussion?

Going Global

Posted by Lynne Olmos on September 30, 2018
Current Affairs, Education, Education Policy, Life in the Classroom, Social Issues, Teacher Leadership, Uncategorized | global competence

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 →

It’s Bad. And It Keeps Coming Back.

Posted by Jan Kragen on April 14, 2018
Current Affairs, Education Policy, Social Issues

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

Posted by Lynne Olmos on March 31, 2018
Education, Education Policy, Social Issues, Teacher Leadership, Uncategorized

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”