The words we choose to describe something make a big difference: Whether it is a protest or a riot or an insurgence is a recent example, of course. Those shifts in diction shape how we interpret the information.
As I wrap up the quarter with my seniors, I am doing something I’ve done before, but this year I described it a little differently, and this has completely changed the way many of my students are approaching it.
Continue readingHonoring Martin Luther King Jr’s Legacy
Every year in January, like most schools across the country, we have an assembly to honor Martin Luther King Jr.
Students file into the gym and proceed to play with their phones while teachers try, in vain, to give them the “this is important” look.
Then, February passes with hallway acknowledgements of Black History Month, but come March, posters of Black civil rights leaders and activists are replaced by shamrocks and rainbows.
Of course, things look more than a little different this year. We are remote teaching, so there won’t be an assembly. The halls are unchanged, still frozen in time from last spring (there is at least one corkboard leprechaun, wrinkled but persistent).
Though circumstances have forced us to alter these traditions, I also believe that we should rethink how we recognize Martin Luther King Jr. in 2021. The fact that this MLK Day of Service follows a summer of protests for racial justice across our country should not be ignored.
The Washington State Legislature will reconvene for a regular session on January 11, 2021. As always public education will be a topic for policy discussion.
What should be the education-related priorities for the Washington State Legislature in 2021? Read over the thoughts of a few Stories from School bloggers below, then we’d love to hear from you in the comments: What do YOU think our state officials should focus on in this next session?
Emma-Kate Schaake: Let’s Pause to Reimagine “Normal”
At the risk of sounding too glib, I keep thinking of the (perhaps misattributed) Churchill quote “never let a good crisis go to waste.” While COVID-19 has been undeniably devastating, I do believe we have an opportunity to reimagine what “normal” looks like. Broad standardization measures like state testing and Core 24 perhaps had a place in the “before times,” but I wonder what we really need to reinstate. As it stands now, there is simply no room for elective core classes, at least in my discipline, if we want students to graduate on time. Instead of truly honoring different learning styles, we expect students to be traditionally school successful, and if they’re not, they are deemed remedial and they take credit recovery online where the goal is simply passing, not engaging, authentic learning. What if graduating really felt like a personalized accomplishment, not just boxes to check?
Gretchen Kruden: Remember our Paramount Duty to All
In Article IX, section 1 of the Washington Constitution states, “It is the paramount duty of the state to make ample provision for the education of all children residing within its borders.” The legislators need to be thinking deeply about the equity issues embedded in the word “all” of this section. We have students who have had little to no educational access for almost nine months running due to a variety of issues beyond the control of schools. This includes families who cannot provide home support in learning, lack of internet connectivity and a movement by some parents to simply not have their children enrolled in school at this time. Perhaps it is time we examine other ways we can structure our school year model to compensate for this loss of learning time as we move forward.
Mark Gardner: Soon-to-be-Grads Deserve Flexibility
In the short term, we have to develop some clear flexibility for the graduating classes of 2021 and 2022. In a typical high school, the 24-credit mandate already leaves little wiggle room for missteps. While there are certainly silver linings (students for whom remote/hybrid learning is working just fine, or even better than brick and mortar attendance), there are plenty of students for whom this has been a worst case scenario and a confluence of factors beyond their control. I hope the legislature gives a high level of local control around credit flexibility, and easing of testing and pathway requirements.
Lynne Olmos: Invest in the Present and Future of WA Ed
I think legislators can support education in a few ways. First, they need to continue to value teachers. They can do that by maintaining the National Board bonuses and supporting districts with funds to avoid layoffs. This is no time to lose dedicated teachers! They should also focus on equity issues. In particular, technology access, support for English language learners, and special education need to be at the forefront. We absolutely need to deemphasize standardized tests right now. Whatever gets the love of learning back is what we need most, not test prep. Proactive solutions are what we need, not unrealistic demands for educators to solve the whole pandemic crisis (while risking our health, too). Preserve the resources we have; allocate more. Clearly, our public schools have been crucial to the support of our communities during these trying times. Empower them to progressively meet the challenges of the future.
What about you, readers? What do YOU think should be the public ed priorities for the coming lawmaking session? Add a comment below!
Perhaps one of the most powerful of phrases in all of teaching is one embedded deeply in the Washington State K-12 Learning Standards (Common Core State Standards) for English language arts. This phrase is one that I honestly believe could change all of humanity if it were embraced and appreciated fully; lives could be improved, our environment could be stabilized and nations would no longer be at war with one another. Wow—what phrase could possibly have such a powerful impact? Reasoned judgement. In essence, reasoned judgement is the critical thinking skill of being able to objectively analyze and evaluate information such as data, text, and research findings and derive a sound argument. Take it a step further and reasoned thinking can be shared with others in a coherent manner.
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Hopefulness is evident in celebrations all over the world. There is such hope that the New Year will bring a return to normal, a return to a less complicated time. Of course, we are more pragmatic than this. We know that the normal we once knew has changed, and we will take many of this year’s complications with us far into the future. That is the truth, and, well, that is how progress happens, too.
As educators, this is significant. Most teachers I speak to relate similar feelings. Their jobs have become so different, practically unrecognizable. “This isn’t what we signed up for,” is the common refrain. I’ve said it, too.
No, it is not what we expected, but it is what we have now. And it is a bit scary. There is a real danger of people leaving the education profession. However, change can be leveraged to solve problems. As educators, let’s unite to do this. Let’s make this next year the year we start a revolution in education.
REVOLUTION. Not renaissance, not pivot, not shift. Let’s flip this system.
This is not to be taken lightly. If we sit quietly and wait for normal, the entrepreneurs out there will convince the public that they can create products for online learning that are better than in-person teaching. They will market these miracles to the masses and this will be touted as ethical and equitable. Anyone with access to the internet can learn. Who needs teachers?
You may think, so what? Let them turn to online systems. But, if this year has taught us anything at all, it is the value of human connection. We teachers may be struggling to realize our value as purveyors of knowledge, but we know our true worth. It is obvious that we are invaluable when we are the ones coaching lonely youngsters through their studies, reminding them of their worth, laughing at their antics during Zoom meetings, and consoling them when their practices and games are canceled. That humanity is irreplaceable.
I treasure every moment of connection with my students these days. And I know that I am a better teacher for seeing the value of it. Because of this, there is no going back to normal for me. I don’t even want it to be the way it was. For me, the lifting of the veil revealed that all students need to feel safe, in control of their learning, and valued by their teachers and by the education system. That is the only way to move forward successfully.
For equity, for ethics, we need systems that honor the value of each individual. In light of this, I am reinventing my practice to put students clearly at the center, giving them more power in the process of choosing the learning they will do. I will involve them in the grading process, and I will work every day to ensure that they understand their worth.
I understand mine. And I know that every educator out there needs to see their worth, too. You are the connection. You are the humanity. You are irreplaceable.
Related Readings (Or, Why Is Lynne All Riled Up?):
Oh, the headlines. The numbers of students who are failing is “off the rails.” Others talk of COVID wreaking havoc on grades. And there are occasional wonderings if just maybe grades during a pandemic aren’t fair.
The panic: What ever will we do about all these low grades?
We’re once again paying attention to the wrong thing.
For decades, the standard logic is that grades are necessary extrinsic motivation for students. Fear of getting an ‘F’ is what drives the student who gets an ‘A.’ While that may be true for some kids, secondary schools have for too long operated under the assumption that if fear of an ‘F’ might (might) motivate an ‘A’ student to perform, then giving any student a low grade should motivate them to invest time and effort.
Never in my 20 year career have I seen this to be the rule. If students (as a rule) were truly motivated by grades, we would see grades motivating them. In many cases, the high-grade-earning students are motivated by something other than the learning that supposedly accompanies the grade. Those students may be motivated by the one-must-go-to-college-to-be-successful narrative, of which grades are the opening scene. Those students may be motivated by parents who threaten punishment or consequence for low grades. They exist, but rare is the student who earns an ‘A’ solely because of the learning it represents and not for the supposed benefits attached to that mark on a page (the car insurance discount, the access to some post-HS program, preventing their video games from being taken away…)
Grades simply do not function as motivators the way we want to believe they do. If they did, all the kids logging Fs right now would be supremely motivated to get those grades up. What I’ve observed far more in my career is the de-motivational impact that grades have on students, particularly if such “demerits” accumulate to the degree that the student begins to see themselves as inseparable from their grades.
For students who lack a track record of “good grades,” bad grades are punishment, not motivation. Sure, relying upon intrinsic motivation would be a great root for motivation, but those intrinsic motivators assume that the extrinsic needs are being met… self-actualization, of which intrinsic motivation is a part, is the pinnacle of Maslow’s after all. And regarding intrinsic motivation, there’s another unwelcome reality: not everyone wants to learn in the way that schools frame learning, or even what schools require (by law and policy) that kids must learn. A kid intrinsically motivated to learn everything there is to know about their favorite anime, or how a two-stroke engine works, or why there are two political parties, or why shortening and butter result in such different chocolate chip cookies… these curiosities, intrinsically driven, can’t always fit into the rigidity of a 24-credit hoop-jumping system. That is further proof that our system is locked into valuing grades rather than valuing learning.
COVID and remote learning has only confirmed to me that grades do not do what we have made ourselves believe they were capable of and designed for. We have to accept: In their supposed role as a motivator, grades did not do their job during remote learning… and perhaps revealed that they were never really right for the job at all.
Let’s move past grades and design schools that find better ways to motivate students to actually learn.
For the last month, the number one topic in our staff meetings has been student engagement.
Meanwhile, I have a 10-year-old student who wrote a personal narrative about how he got his first car, a 1971 VW Beetle. He plans to convert it to an electric car. He said, “I want my Bug to be the first car of my old car electric conversion shop. My next car is going to be for my dad. He wants a 1966 Chevrolet Corvette with a big electric engine.” He explained that his current car, the Bug, needs work on its transmission.
Transmission? Student engagement? Same idea, right?
If the transmission isn’t working, the gears aren’t meshing. They aren’t connecting properly. The engine can have all the power in the world, but the car won’t go anywhere.
It’s the same for us.
… then we can have all the skills and experience in the world, but we can’t drive our class anywhere.
Teachers at my school monitor students as they work through our district’s 100% online curriculum. We have weekly Class Connect Sessions (CCS—similar to Zoom) where we focus on the social and emotional side of school.
As far as academics go, we have students who come to CCS and do their work independently. They need an occasional check in about a lesson. Other students come to CCS regularly but don’t do their work. Or vice versa. Or they do well in one or two classes and skip others. There are students who come to about half the CCS. They struggle with the coursework. They are often behind. They occasionally come to help sessions set up by teachers, but often they don’t. Then there are the students who don’t come to CCS, who don’t do the work, who skip most of the lessons. They aren’t making progress. They don’t come to any help sessions.
We are used to having a captive audience in our classrooms. If a child won’t come to our desk, we can go to theirs. We can kneel down to their level. We can connect face to face.
The first question we wanted to solve was, How? How do we fix the problems in front of us?
Instead, the first question we asked ourselves was, Why? What makes the students (and families) less engaged?
There were several reasons why kids might not come to CCS (or Zoom):
There are several reasons why students may struggle with work. Kids lack the organizational skills to tackle online learning without an adult at home to help them during the day. There are kids with ADD/ADHD, and there are so many more distractions at home than in the classroom; again, there is often no adult at home to consistently redirect them. Keep in mind, many parents work full time. Even if they are at home, parents may have up to five school-age kids, which taxes their ability to monitor them all.
Some parents and kids may not trust us yet. And it can be hard to reach students and families. Phone calls, emails, texts. Sometimes nothing seems to work.
It can be daunting! Here are some ideas to help.
We are pivoting, again.
Pivot? I keep hearing this word, and the famous phrase from The Princess Bride keeps running through my head: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
In the dictionary, pivot (v.) means to turn in place, as if on a point. Synonyms include rotate, revolve, and swivel. I get it, because what it means in a staff meeting is that yesterday may have been an in-person hybrid day, but now we are pivoting to fully remote teaching temporarily, due to a rise in cases of Covid-19 in our district. We are swiveling, changing direction, quickly without pause. We have done it three times this year, and it looks like we need to be prepared to pivot in the future. This is the new normal in education, shifting to meet the immediate needs of our students. Not a bad thing, in general.
However, I don’t want to merely pivot, at least the swivel variety of pivot. In business, a pivot is a true change of course. The product is not selling, so change the product or get a new one to sell. I’m feeling more like that. Students are failing in record numbers. Teachers and students are struggling with engagement and isolation. Not only is this a problem in itself, but it has also revealed and highlighted some troubling pre-existing conditions in education. (There are many, so I will leave you to imagine your favorites.)
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On the OSPI website, I found this statement (originally posted at the start of the school year):
“The continuation of the COVID-19 public health crisis has meant that many school districts are re-opening using either a fully remote or hybrid learning model. However, there are currently no additional credit flexibility or waiver options for the Class of 2021 graduation requirements like those used for the Class of 2020.”
As the legislature reconvenes in January and as other policy-making bodies weigh the second half of this unprecedented school year, I hope that flexibility around graduation credits for the class of 2021 gets swift and decisive attention.
Specifically, I believe that individual high schools should be granted complete discretion to waive up to two credits, no questions asked even for core classes, with the opportunity to apply for individual waivers of up to an additional four more credits for students who faced particular identifiable challenges during remote and hybrid learning. Yes, that is six credits: An entire school year. On top of that, waive all other non-credit-count requirements associated with graduation pathways. Put an asterisk on their certificate if it makes you feel better, but grant the diploma.
It is the humane thing to do.
Continue readingOne afternoon we read the poem “Thumbprint” by Eve Miriam. We talked about the metaphor in the poem, comparing the uniqueness of the thumbprint to the singularity of the individual. Suddenly one of my fifth-graders “Edward” blurted out in panic, “What if I’m all there is? What if everything is just projected inside my head and nothing else is real?”
Calmly, I reassured him, “That’s a philosophical position called solipsism.” I quickly googled solipsism, showing him the definition and that the term had been around since the ancient Greeks. “This is an idea that people have thought about for a long time.”
“Oh,” he said. “Ok.”
“By the way,” I added as I walked him back to his seat, “questions about what you know and how you know it are part of a branch of philosophy called epistemology. If you are interested in questions like that, you might want to study philosophy.”
“Ok!” Now he looked interested instead of like his world was caving in.
Of course, the boy next to him said, “I want to study science!”
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