An Open Letter to a Supportive Family

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Education, Life in the Classroom, Parent Involvment, Weblogs

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…

In Loco Parentis

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On the morning of April 20, 1999, I stood inside the Student Union Building at the University of Puget Sound and watched the images on the two TVs with captions blaring “School Shooting in Colorado.”  At first, I wondered what a “school shooting” even meant – back then, this phrase was not a part of our everyday lexicon.  Then I wondered what school it could be.  Finally, it slowly dawned on me that this was my high school, Columbine High School, from which I had graduated only ten months earlier.   Those were my friends, running out of the school with their hands up.  Two days later, I flew to Colorado to be with my community. I attended vigils, memorials and funerals.  I sat with grieving and scared friends. I hugged teachers and neighbors.  

I am now exactly twice as old as I was on that day in 1999.   So for half of my life, I have lived with the idea that schools are not always a safe place to be.  But for fifteen years of my life, I have worked in schools as a teacher, coach, supervisor, mentor and volunteer.  For six years of my life, I have sent my daughters to schools.  I will always be a part of schools and they will always be a part of me.

So what does being a Columbine alum mean for me as a parent?  It means that I send my daughters to school with a blessing every single day.  It means that I have to hold back my fear and tears when there’s a fire alarm when I’m volunteering in my daughter’s preschool class as I imagine what their experience would be like if this were the “real thing.”  It means that my stomach turns when my daughters play “lock down” as part of their imaginary play.   It means that I wonder when they’ll understand that the event they read about in their history books happened at my high school.

And what does being a Columbine alum mean for me as a teacher?   After all, this is a blog about being a teacher, where “policy meets practice.”  One might assume with the ongoing school shootings and the talk about how teachers might play a part in stopping them, that I might have given this some serious reflection, that I would have a detailed plan for what I would do in such an event.  But I don’t.  Honestly, I am way more worried about the immediate and real dangers of poverty, sexism and systemic racism that deeply affect my students’ everyday experiences.

But there is one thing I know as a teacher, one policy that I know will be true if it’s ever the “real thing” at my school.  In loco parentis.   Latin for “in the place of a parent.”   This is the idea that teachers and other responsible adults will act on behalf of the student when the parent is not available. There have been two occasions in my career when my schools had legitimate lockdowns.  My parental instincts kicked in.  I jumped into full mom mode, calming and protecting my kids.   It was only after the events were over and I was by myself that I could fully reflect on and pour out my emotions and fears that had been triggered in those moments.

Every day, I am thankful that I send my daughters to teachers who care for them in my place for the 6 ½ hours that I am away from them.  Every day, I try to love on my students with the fierce love of a parent: I push, challenge, console, support, feed, and advocate for all of my students.   And every day, I hope that the doctrine of in loco parentis is engrained deeply enough that I will know how to act and what to do should the nightmare of April 20, 1999 ever echo in the halls outside of my classroom.

Another School Shooting

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Current Affairs

I read those words and felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

A girl at Santa Fe High School in Texas said she wasn’t surprised. “It’s been happening everywhere,” she said. “I felt — I’ve always kind of felt like eventually it was going to happen here, too.”

After the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, and after all the student–led protests, it felt like we might be building some momentum. Just this week I got an email from David Hogg, one of the student organizers for the Never Again movement, asking if I would help with high school voter registration at one of our district’s high schools.

I was feeling optimistic. Not for the immediate future. But at least for a few years down the road, when these kids start to vote. (And run for office.)

But for now, the thousands of high school students who just want to go to school safely get outvoted by the handful of unhappy students with guns.

The news stories impact the kids at my school.

Just a week ago an announcement come over the intercom, “All students on the playground must come into the building.” Moments later we heard, “We are going into lockdown.”

After school I heard stories from other teachers of high anxiety with their students. One teacher dealt with the rising panic by having the kids barricade the door to the room they were in. One fifth grade teacher had a student who threw up. There were tears in multiple classrooms.

Even our little kids watch the news. They know what’s out there. They are afraid.

When the announcement came on, my kids went into high alert. So I talked to them as I moved around the room. “I’m checking to see if there is anyone in the hall. Nobody. You all know I keep my door locked so all I have to do is close it. I undo the roll of paper to cover the window so no one can see inside.

“Oh, by the way, check this out.” I pushed the wooden wedge under the door and kicked it tight. “That’s an extra lock.”

They laughed. “It’s old school, but it works!”

“What about the other door?” a student asked as I moved across the room.

“It’s always locked,” I answered as I rolled down the paper strip over its window too.

As I was taking care of the doors, one of my boys—on his own initiative—closed the shades on all the windows in the room.

Then I went back to the front of the class and said we could go back to the lesson we had been working on.

Kids said, “Wait! Aren’t we supposed to get under our desks or hide or something?”

I reassured them that the announcement hadn’t said anything about a dangerous individual. And it started with getting kids off the playground.

One student said, “Yeah, at one of my schools we had a lockdown because a bear got on the playground!”

I nodded. “And I worked at a school where we had a lockdown because the neighbor’s bull got loose and it got onto the playground.”

We got back to work. Even my high-anxiety students did fine.

A few minutes later, the lockdown ended.

Shortly after the Florida shooting In February, we had a lockdown drill at our school. I wrote a brief note to parents after the drill:

We had a lockdown drill yesterday. I explained how we keep the doors locked and the windows covered. I said in a real emergency the most important thing for kids to do is to listen and follow directions.

It’s my job to take care of them.

Then I reminded them all that I have been thinking about students’ safety and planning and preparing for how to keep them all safe since before they were born.

(And you should know the district is continuing to plan and implement additional security measures.)

They’re not just your babies.

Jan

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Teacher Appreciation Week: Don’t Read the Comments

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Current Affairs, Education

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

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Education, Education Policy

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)

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Assessment, Education, Life in the Classroom, Literacy, Parent Involvment

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.

Going Upstream

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Education, Education Policy, Uncategorized

“Two things that are going well and one problem you would like to see changed. You must write a solution to the problem – otherwise you are simply complaining. Complaining in life will get you nowhere. Finding solutions to your problems will get you everywhere. Never forget the farmer! Go!”

Almost verbatim, this is how I begin our weekly class meeting. My students quickly jot down joyful things and happy thoughts; focusing on the good in their lives, their school, their class and their friends. But they do not forget the farmer – the one who stops pulling his drowning sheep from the river and runs upstream to puzzle out the reason they are in the river to begin with and then solves the problem.

Recently I was in a teachers’ meeting and the special education teacher was running through some data on our students. She mentioned my own five-year-old who she has worked with on phonograms throughout the year. “My word, she really is such a curious child! Always full of questions! Such strong gains!”

I smiled – a little proud, but mostly just relieved and thankful. This wild little chatterbox had come to us at the age of three with a diagnosis of being developmentally delayed in language as well as both fine and gross motor skills. She was so small and so very silent.

The summer she and her sister came was a summer of intense wildfires in our area. It was a summer of great worries and hopes. She was both. Our school started late that year due to an evacuation of the town. I had barely begun to adjust to her playing quietly underfoot before she was enrolled at the preschool in our school’s building and I was back in the classroom. I was not sure I was making the right choice.

The first day she came home with clay in her hair, blue paint on her new pink dress, her hair flung out of her ponytails and a new, shy smile I had never seen. Her preschool experience changed the very foundation upon which she stands today. The quiet one was left behind on the nap mat that year. She is now reading words, writing, playing with others, and is so full of questions. Why? Why? Why? (Sometimes I think we live with a baby seagull.)

The majority of the data in that meeting reflected strong gains throughout the building. A moment of celebration and “YES!” should have followed. But, our principal was unusually somber. She broke the news…

Our community’s preschool, a preschool funded by the Early Childhood Education and Assistance Program (ECEAP), was going to be terminated at the end of the month. ECEAP is designed to serve the educational needs of preschool-age children of poverty, those with developmental delays, and those deemed to be “at-risk.” We certainly have students who match these requirements; we simply don’t have enough of them to warrant the expense of a preschool in our rural community any longer. “If there is another ECEAP provider within 40 miles, and you have fewer than X number of students, funding will no longer be provided.” ECEAP’s hands are tied. It is what it is. And yet, miles is time and money; 40 miles on a bus…that’s an eternity in a preschooler’s mind, and the difference between “barely surviving” and “possibly thriving” on a tight budget.

Preschool matters, and it may matter most for those children at-risk. According to GreatSchools, the brain is undergoing major anatomical and physiological changes that can affect student learning throughout the rest of the child’s school years. Beyond building the capacities required for reading, writing and mathematical reasoning, it is a time for children to grow in their abilities to interact with others, self-regulate emotions, practice focusing attention, and learn the skills of interacting with peers. It was disheartening to be told our community’s children would no longer be able to readily benefit from the experience of preschool.

Two things that are going well? My daughter can write, identify and provide sounds for all of the letters of the alphabet as she strings them into short words. My daughter is not sullen nor silent, but full of the joy of curiosity.

One problem? There are others who will no longer have the opportunity she has had in our rural community. Where will they experience the noise and joys of learning?

The solution? Go upstream! We need to leverage our collective influence to impress upon decision-makers how significant and important early education is. Our students are on a continuum of growth, starting long before the “first day of school.” Early childhood education affects us all and its impact may be greatest on our most at-risk children; all of them – not just those lucky enough to live in close proximity to ECEAP services. Many of your future students, the ones coming down the stream to you already, are counting on it.

Thoughts on Testing Season from the Heart of Testing Season

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Assessment, Current Affairs, Education, Education Policy, Life in the Classroom

 

It is hard to sleep.

Often preparation, at this point, feels futile.

Changing schedules can feel as stressful as examinations.

Young students who love school often don’t want to go to school.

Teachers learn to hope and to let go.

This is hard on teachers too.

And administrators.

Administrative calendars fill with colors.  From March 5th to June 8th thousands of Washington students (as students all over the country) will take ELA, Math, Science exams, re-take exams, take make up exams, all during school days, in libraries, spare rooms, classrooms, headphones and computers must be found and provided, pencils provided, tools provided, time provided, proctors trained, proctors reminded, schedules changed, altered, and developed to both provide the lowest impact to a school and honor the time and intensity of the test takers.

A bumper sticker reads: a child is more than a test score. When Graduation is on the line it is hard to remember that a child is more than a test score.

As a Washington state student you want to be in the 2500 range for math and for English.

For Washington state:

In grades 3-8, students take tests in ELA, math, and science for federal accountability.
In high school, students take tests in ELA, math, and science for federal accountability.

For some students the exam is not stressful. The calendar change is not stressful. They will cruise through this, like a subway commuter. We are all happy for them.

From May 7th to May 18th hundreds of Washington students will take AP exams—a different exam offered each day, all offering the possibility for college credit.

It will be hard to sleep.

Last night I listened to Naomi Shihab Nye talk about books and the importance of voice for everyone across the world, but especially for children. Among the many inspiring and thoughtful things she said, was a story about one of her own essays that was used for a state standardized exam and how a reporter smuggled that section of the exam (essay and questions) out and showed them to her. She said she could only be certain of the answer for 3 of 10 questions about her own essay.

Ms Shiab Nye also mentioned that, though hailing from Texas, Washington State’s motto is her favorite. The motto is Al-ki, Chinook Jargon (a native pidgin trading language of the PNW) meaning “by and by.”

This is my new mantra for testing season, by and by. Presently, be present, as things will happen, things will pass, students will succeed, students will fail, and by and by we will proceed with school, with all sorts of tests, and with our lives.

Indigenous Languages are World Languages

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I am passionate about my students and providing them with every opportunity to advance toward a happy and fulfilling future. For most this means graduating from high school and going on to some sort of post-secondary education. One requirement which can be a hurdle for them is world language. Most universities require students to take 2 years of a foreign language. For my students, English is their foreign language, so studying a language on top of English can be daunting. Over the past two years, though, Washington state has introduced the option to show language proficiency through a competency based credit (CBC) exam. This exam can result in the equivalent of two years of language study and can also qualify students for the Seal of Biliteracy. The exam is currently given for hundreds of languages, so many of my students are able to take this exam for their first language and receive credit. This gives students pride in their first languages and a leg up as they move forward in life. This is not, however, the case for our Native American students. 

During my recent visit to White Swan High School, a public school on the Yakama Reservation, Jenny Tenney, 2018 Education Service District 105 Regional Teacher of the Year, gave me a tour of her school. As she took me through the halls of the high school, Jenny shared the demographics of the student body, 60% Native, 38% Hispanic, and 2% a smattering of white and other ethnic groups. She also shared the community’s efforts in teaching the tribe’s indigenous language, Sahaptin. The district has the start of a program at the elementary school, through which they teach Sahaptin to the 3rd and 4th graders. There is discussion of moving classes to the high school, but because classes in Sahaptin are not counted for world language credit, students would only receive elective credit. This might limit enrollment. 

After this discussion, I wondered if this was the case across the state. As an English language teacher, I understand the value of having literacy in one’s first language, and its impact on learning English. Plus, fluency in one’s native language also increases pride in one’s culture. 

Washington state has a large number of Native American tribes, with a wide array of indigenous languages spoken throughout our state. The idea that students would not receive world language credit for learning their native tongue didn’t make sense to me, so I did some digging. What I found was inconsistency.

Right here in Spokane, WA. both Rogers High School and North Central High School offer Salish language classes. Students who take these courses receive world language credit. The teacher, Robert Wynecoop, is highly qualified and fluent in Salish. He explained to me that he teaches “a curriculum similar in nature to what is taught at Salish School of Spokane (…written by the same people). It is similar to what is included in [other] world language curriculums and has the same basic scope and sequence.” Rogers HS currently offers Salish 1 and Salish 2, with a total enrollment of between 35 to 50 students. 

Another program is offered at Port Angeles High School in Port Angeles, WA. This program is taught and was created by Jamie Valadez. Valadez teaches Klallam language, a language that was nearly extinguished due to federal policies concerning the schooling of Native children, during the 19th and 20th centuries. Since implementing the Klallam language program, the school has seen dramatic shifts in their Native students. Their grades have improved and they have a sense of pride in their culture. Over 600 students have completed the course since 1999. 

At the university level Native American students also struggle to receive world language credit for their indigenous languages. Yale University offers students an opportunity to study indigenous languages, such as Cherokee and Navajo, through their Native American Language Project, but not for credit. While at the University of Washington students are beginning to see progress, as a student recently became one of the first to receive world language credit for showing proficiency in her native language, Quinault. 

Based on my research, it would appear that one major hurdle for Native American students to study and receive credit for their indigenous languages is a lack of qualified and fluent educators to teach the courses and/or to score the exams. Robert Wynecoop and Jamie Valadez are in the minority as highly qualified educators who are also fluent in their respective indigenous languages. However, this is no fault of the individual tribes. For centuries Native Americans have faced the systematic dismantling of their cultures. Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries Native American children were sent to boarding schools in an attempt to force them to assimilate to white culture, in an effort to “kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” Due to these abusive federal policies, many indigenous languages were nearly extinguished. Over the past several decades, however, various tribes are revitalizing their indigenous languages and their cultures. 

It is clear that providing Native American students with an opportunity to learn, study, and use their indigenous languages leads to positive academic outcomes. Studying their indigenous languages also increases pride in their Native culture and preserves their heritage. As a state we make a concerted effort to meet the language needs of our immigrant and refugee populations. We should be doing the same for our Native American students. Indigenous languages are world languages and deserve to be credited as such. 

 

Bargaining Salaries

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When the state legislature decided to abandon the state salary allocation model (SAM), my work as a local association president became significantly harder.  Now, my local teachers association is responsible for negotiating salaries with our school district.  I’m sure that this happens in places all around the country, but to be fair, I’ve never experienced this as a teacher in Washington.

And now it’s happened.

And I’m feeling additional stress and responsibility.

Especially as a leader who is also a full time teacher/coach and who has no expertise in crafting a salary scale.  

Oh, and that pressure-it’s real. The 151 certificated staff who work for our district are depending on the team–but I’m the leader of the team, so inherently the pressure’s on me.  My colleagues- they’re worth fighting for. Kim spends time at lunch, after school, and on weekends preparing students for their SkillsUSA competition (by the way- a few students earned a trip to Nationals, which means that Kim will spend more time facilitating preparation and a week out of her summer with students). Ryan spends nearly every Spring Break chaperoning students on an overseas field trip. This is time away from his family but it provides his students with an opportunity to leave the confines of our small town and see the world. Kim and Ryan deserve fair compensation for their work. So does Kyla, who is married with two children, and who wants to purchase her first house and Katie, who just purchased hers. Both teachers are finishing up their 4th year of teaching, and both deserve a raise for the valiant and quality work they’ve put in crafting English curriculum for the first time this year (both were Social Studies teachers who agreed to teach some ELA courses this year).  Their students are engaged and demonstrating strong analytical, reading, and writing skills. 

I want to keep them working for our students and in our community. I have a real vested interest in retaining and attracting quality educators to our district. I want my children and your children to have supported, dynamic, and fairly compensated educators in their classrooms. I want to work in an environment where teachers feel recognized for their work. But how do we even go about creating a salary model that reflects what the teachers value and what the district values?  Maybe the better question is- what are our values in this system and are those the same values that district administration hold when crafting a schedule? As I make my rounds to each of the buildings in our district, I’ll be probing at values in order to nail down what must be reflected in a salary schedule.

I’m not completely flying blind.  Our local association executive team is ready and willing to work and to maneuver this new “opportunity.”  Our state association (the WEA) has assigned a representative to us to help as needed. But I’ve always been that concrete-sequential gal who has to set up the header/footer and put her name on the paper before I even start writing the essay, so the task feels especially daunting.  Starting seems to be the biggest challenge.

To add to that tension, no district wants to start first.  Because if your district’s the first to nail down a salary schedule then you’re either the exemplar or the model of “what not do”. So there seems to be hesitancy on which of our local districts is going to make the first move. Yet, making the first move is also important. Teachers want to know next year’s salary as soon as possible. This knowledge empowers them to make decisions about their finances and labor. If a neighboring district is offering a significantly higher salary under their locally negotiated schedule and that district is close in proximity to home then it’s a real possibility that the teacher will want to seek employment in the closer district that pays more. While I’m a firm believer that a school culture drives retention, I also recognize that for some teachers, the trade off of an additional $15,000 might be the impetus to move to another district. I don’t want to feel competitive with the neighboring districts, but I can’t help but feel that this system is creating this exact scenario.

So the rubber hits the road this spring as our local, like so many others across the state, works with our district to create a salary schedule that mirrors our values and fairly compensates our educators.  This is a tenuous balance: we want to be good stewards of taxpayer dollars while cognizant that schools have been granted via the State Supreme Court and funding in legislative action, an increase in wages.  This is delicate work not to be taken lightly. Trust that local association presidents, particularly in small districts like mine, are shouldering this work and feeling the heaviness of this responsibility.  This is the weight of 151 salaries, 151 families, and 151 colleagues on your back.

And this is real.

And has serious consequences.