PLCs and Question Four

Our district started the year with a huge professional development day—all morning with the secondary staff and all afternoon with the elementary staff attending an inservice designed to reboot, reenergize, and refine our Professional Learning Communities. Our administrative team from “the hill” flew a guru out from Utah to train us.

I have to admit, I was impressed with her style. Whatever it took to make PLCs work in her school, she made it happen. “You need a place and time to meet all together? I can coordinate that!” “You need pizza and Cokes? I’ll bring it in!” “You need everyone to have laptops? I’ll buy them!”

I was less clear where she found the money to make it all happen. Pizza and soda for every PLC meeting? New laptops for every teacher? Maybe she writes really great grants.

She led us through the process to the inevitable high point—the increase in test scores. The impact on the lowest performing students in math and reading was, again, impressive.

Then we took a break, and I was able to go up with my little sticky note question, “Did the test scores for your top reading and math groups show comparable gains with your low groups?”

When we reconvened she answered my question first. “No,” she admitted. And, she added, in their euphoria over their success, it took a while for them to notice the discrepancy and start to address the needs of their highest students.

It’s a nation-wide issue that, I believe, has been exacerbated by No Child Left Behind. The legislative emphasis is on “meeting the standard.” Politically, that doesn’t give much incentive to pouring a lot of time, energy, effort—and money—into children who already “meet the standard” in September. So what is the result?

In 2008 the Fordham Report showed that the lowest fourth grade reading group posted a 16 point gain over seven years while the highest fourth grade reading group posted a 3 point gain. The lowest eighth grade math group posted a 13 point gain over the same seven years while the highest eighth grade math group posted a 5 point gain.

In our PLC we have four questions. Unfortunately, there is a sense of order to those questions, almost a sense of priority. Often, we never get to grappling with question number 4 until we have thoroughly resolved questions 1, 2 and 3. Those kids on the high end need us to answer the question now, not after they have moved on to college.

The truth is, it is not enough for teachers to ask, “How will we respond if they already know it?” There should be an incentive in the testing system itself, not to bully individual teachers but to acknowledge high-achieving schools and districts.

When the WASL first came out (remember that precursor to the MSP?), districts earned one point for every child who moved from a 2 to a 3 in a test—math, reading, writing, or listening. But districts earned 2 points for every child who moved from a 3 to a 4. That system gave districts an incentive to continue pushing students past simply meeting the standard toward exceeding the standard. I have no idea what the points were used for, and unfortunately the incentive system disappeared almost immediately.

I was sorry to see it go.

I want to see the test scores for the top groups go up as much as any other group. Because right now, those are the children most likely to be “left behind.”

Initiative 1351 Passes. Now what?

By Tom

It took a while for the results to trickle in, but after nearly a week it’s become clear that the voters have decided to lower class sizes in Washington. I voted yes, with all the passion as a 1988 vote for Michael Dukakis.

Why the lack of enthusiasm? Three things: implementation, allocation and expectations.

Implementation: Now that the initiative passed, none of us can expect our classes to suddenly shrink. I certainly don’t. Class sizes aren’t going to get any smaller unless and until there’s someplace to put those extra kids. And in my school, there simply isn’t. Every one of our classrooms is being used, along with the two portables that were brought in over the summer. And it’s the same all over our district. If I understand the Initiative correctly, there are workarounds for schools that don’t have room to create new classrooms; it involves hiring extra teachers until the average class size goes down. It sounds to me like my district will be hiring a fleet of learning support teachers, which is a good thing; as long as we’re careful about how it plays out. This is definitely something all of us need to pay attention to and get involved in. It could be a great thing for our schools or it could be a mess.

Allocation: 1351 is going to be really expensive, which is a problem, since lawmakers don’t run the state like a restaurant. “I hope you enjoyed your lower class sizes, citizens; here’s the bill. I’ll be your cashier when you’re ready.” What they do instead is move money around so that as few voters as possible notice. My guess is that the people who will end up noticing the most will be teachers. I worry about my salary, my benefits and my National Board bonus. I also worry about the state’s ability to pay for other important education programs, specifically those that involve college readiness.

Expectations: Once we get these smaller classes – or whatever workaround we end up with – all eyes are going to focus on outcomes. And I don’t think they’ll be waiting for the class of 2028. In fact, as a fourth grade teacher I’m looking forward to 2016, when I get a class of kids who all came out of 17-student third grade classrooms, all of whom had the benefit of more teacher attention. And my expectations will increase each year. But that’s nothing compared to what “outsiders” will be looking for. And by “outsiders” I probably mean the Seattle Times, who were relentless in their opposition to 1351, both in and out of their editorial page. I don’t seriously doubt that we’ll have the data to show that the Initiative led to student improvement, but I have no doubt that the doubters will be looking really hard to prove that it didn’t. And that worries me.

So I guess it’s time to celebrate. But briefly, because there’s a lot of work to be done to make sure this turns out well.

Class Size—Beyond One Teacher and Four Walls

One year I team-taught in a school where I was one of two teachers for 25 fourth through sixth grade students! In that small class I could creatively meet the needs of a wide range of student abilities, from non-readers to nine-year-olds reading Shakespeare plays with me.

By the way, my students who were non-readers at the beginning of the year read Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang independently by the end of the year. In that one year I had the time to work intensively with their small group, teaching them both phonics and sight reading, and taking them through the first, second, third, and fourth grade readers before they tackled their chapter book independently, Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang. They loved the book and reveled in their success!

Meanwhile, I also had the time to work with three other reading groups, including the group working on Shakespeare. After we finished reading one of the plays at school, the students watched the BBC production at home, and their parents came in afterwards to say how much their children enjoyed and understood the play. Then they me asked if they could attend the class next time we read a play!

I know from firsthand personal experience how much I can accomplish with significantly smaller classes.

Even if we get smaller class sizes, even if the McCleary decision forces the legislature to fully fund education, even if the money arrives in my lifetime, I do not necessarily expect the ratio to work out to be one teacher, four walls, 23 students.

For one thing, as people have pointed out, to have smaller groups of students per teacher requires more classrooms. The cost isn’t just about hiring more teachers, it’s about building more classrooms. More buildings.

Or maybe not.

When I was in New York years ago I ran into an enthusiastic group of teachers. They worked in a program where three teachers taught two classrooms of children in one double room. That worked out to a one to 20 ratio without building an extra classroom.

The kicker to their program? One of the three teachers in each partnership had to have training in Special Ed.

The teachers said, “Go to reading” or “Go to math.” The kids scrambled to the three points in the huge space for one of three reading or math groups—on grade level, needing help, above grade level. By the way, the groups needing help were having so much fun, everyone wanted to be in those groups! There was support in the classroom for science and social studies. No students left the room for special support services. There was no stigma to getting services.

My only suggestion to them was that one member of the team should have training in gifted education. They thought that was a great idea. I moved to Washington and never heard any more about that program. But I always liked the idea.

Three teachers, four walls, 60 students. Teachers trained in teams with specialists in Special Education and gifted. It’s a way to reduce class size without paying for more classroom construction. (Some remodeling, maybe, it’s true, but nothing more.)

And it’s a way to provide for differentiated instruction all day, every day.

 

 

Another Perspective on Class Size: Voting and Commitment

One thing I am constantly learning as I grow as a teacher-leader is that systems are all far more complex than they may seem from the outside. This week at the Washington Educator Conference in Seatac, I-1351 and the McClearly case have been frequent topics of conversation. In particular, I found AWSP’s position on 1351 interesting.

McClearly and I-1351. The two are inexorably linked: both call for improvements to the Washington education system. Both have at heart (I believe) what is best for students and schools in Washington. Both, however, bring many, many dollar signs. As a result, I’m hearing again and again here at WEC that no matter what solution (“solution” = me being optimistic) precipitates from this coming legislative session it will need to include new revenue. That’s polite language for taxes.

Continue reading

Class Size: My Only Concern

My third year of teaching was my second year in my current building, and it was the second year that this building had been open. That year, I was teaching Speech and Debate for the first time.

I was assigned to teach Speech and Debate in the Band room. At least I had chairs; the first iteration of the room assignment schedule had me teaching in the Choir room. No chairs, no desks, not even music stands.

Only one school year had passed since a brand new high school had opened, and already we were scrounging for instructional space.

Fast forward to today: we now have eight “portable” classrooms plus we passed a bond that has since added eight new permanent classrooms on the end of one wing (as well as an auxiliary lunch room, since we have to feed them all, too).

And again, in 2014, we are struggling to find rooms for all of our students.

Continue reading

A Response to Spencer’s “Handshake Post”

By Tom White

On Monday, Spencer put up a post about Initiative 1351 in which he described the dramatic decrease in the number of relationships within a classroom when class size drops from current levels to those proposed by the Initiative. While this is certainly a novel approach to thinking about class size and the effect it has on the complexities within a classroom, I have two concerns.

First of all, Spencer seems to treat all relationships within a classroom equally. As if Aaliyah’s relationship with Travis, for example, is as important as her relationship with her teacher. I don’t think that’s true. I can certainly accept that she and Travis should have some relationship, and I agree that having more kids in the room might crowd out that relationship, but the primary relationship for both Aaliyah and Travis is that which they have with their teacher. Therefore, while it’s true that the number of relationships is a quadratic function of the number of people, the number of primary relationships – those between a student and her teacher – increases much more slowly as class size creeps up. While I agree that more students means less attention for each student and I agree that less students per class is preferable, I don’t accept Spencer’s dramatic math.

Furthermore, simply lowering class size doesn’t necessarily mean that instruction changes. I teach 28 fourth graders this year. If Initiative 1351 passes, I’ll eventually have only 25 students in my classroom. I honestly can’t promise that my lessons will be noticeably different with three fewer students. They won’t need to be. I’ll still construct and implement my lesson plans in much the same way, using much the same activities. True, I’ll have slightly more contact with each kid during each lesson, but the activities won’t be much different. I’m well aware that in the lower grades and in high poverty schools, class size will drop enough to actually change the learning activities, but in most classrooms – including mine – we’ll be spending an awful lot of money for pretty much the same lessons.

That said, I’ll be voting yes, mostly as a matter of principle, and I hope it passes, but I worry about the cost.

Class Size – A Math Problem

Relationships are central to teaching, as we all know, and as class sizes creep up the ability of a teacher to have meaningful relationships with students diminishes greatly. Meaningful feedback, one of the most critical aspects of a teacher’s work, is a function of the time available divided by the number of students. Hope made a great point in her post last week that student-teacher ratios are one of the key measures of great colleges and private schools. In thinking about the student-teacher ratio, I am reminded of an interesting math problem known as the “handshake problem.” It’s about relationships – not just student-teacher relationships, but student-student relationships. All of these interactions impact the dynamic of the class.

The handshake problem is a great problem for early algebra students because it is easily understandable, slightly mind-boggling, and it is readily solved with algebra. It goes like this: Given a room with a particular number of people, how many handshakes will take place if each person shakes hands with everyone once?

We know that Person A needs to shake hands with Person B and that this will mean that B has already shaken hands with A and thus does not need to repeat this particular handshake… uh oh. Continue reading

I’ll Take College Readiness Over Smaller Class Size

By Tom White

Counting my parents, I was the fourth person in my family of seven to go to college. That was because I was the second-oldest kid. My three younger siblings also went to college. We were raised on going to college. When I found a five dollar bill in a birthday card from a grandma or uncle, I was allowed to hold it for a few days and then it was taken away and put into my savings account where it was “saved for college.”

In my life, college was a huge part of the eighteen years that preceded it.

That, however, is not the case for many kids in America. A recent study by the National Student Clearinghouse Research Center shows a huge disparity in college attendance between students in “high income schools” and “low income schools.”

As educators, we play a long game. Our job is to take five year olds and turn them into college-ready adults. Thirteen years later. So why is it that that the relative income level of a student’s family and classmates should play such an important role in that student’s likelihood of becoming ready for college?

I don’t think anyone has the complete answer. But I keep thinking back to my own childhood, growing up with college-educated parents and the expectation that I was also going to college. Not to mention the fact that they were prepared to help me pay for it and had the wherewithal to get me through the process of enrolling. With that kind of support, there was about a 99% chance that I was going to college. But I honestly think if you removed those factors from my personal equation, the number would be close to 50%. I could have gone either way.

I teach fourth grade. Most of my students don’t really understand what college is all about. Some of them, however, know that it’s the pathway to an adult life with more choices, more opportunities, and yes, more money. Not surprisingly, most of those kids come from families where the parents went to college. I think the biggest challenge in our state is to include the rest of those students in this culture of college readiness. We need to make college students out of every five year old, not just the lucky ones. But how?

There are probably lots of effective ways to make college students out of little kids, but one that I’m fairly familiar with is AVID. It stands for Advancement Via Individual Determination. AVID essentially does what my parents did for me. It creates an expectation that each kid is heading toward college. It focuses on creating a growth mind-set and instilling the foundational skills that college-bound kids need. It also works with parents, teaching them how to get their kids into – and through – college.

But it’s also expensive. It involves teacher training, tutoring and on-site coordination. AVID, or any intensive support program designed to close the college-readiness gap between students from high income schools and those from low income schools costs a lot of money. A lot of districts just can’t afford it. They shouldn’t have to. The state should.

As far as I’m concerned, an intensive, targeted, college-readiness initiative would deliver a bigger bang for the buck than reducing class size. That’s not to say that I oppose reduced class size. I have 28 kids in my class right now, and I know that I would be a better teacher if there were only 25. But I’m not sure losing those three kids is going to make the difference in terms of getting the other 25 into college.

And getting kids into college is what we’re paid to do.

Class Size: Put Student Needs First

The need for relationship4thPeriod

I work in a diverse, high poverty high school of 1400 students on the Eastside of Tacoma. My students listen to Kendrick Lamar, Miley Cyrus, and Rascal Flatts. They claim daily meals of pho, collard greens, and hot pockets. Many come from chaotic homes where they are often raising themselves and their siblings. Others have parents or guardians who attend conferences, send regular emails and volunteer on picture day. All have the human need to connect. Each one has a desire for relationship—to be known and accepted as they are.

Effective teaching requires meaningful relationships. This is especially true in high poverty communities where the only sure thing is instability. Balancing content standards and relationships is challenging enough without the added layers of systemic racism, economic hardships, and over crowded classrooms.  I must learn to navigate, relate to, and design individualized lessons for anywhere between 140-150 students each day.

I’m good at what I do. But the more students I see throughout the day the less individualized instruction becomes.

This year I have two classes of 31 students. With my smaller classes later in the day, I’m not over contract limit. That said, I would give many a precious thing for those classes to be reduced. I only have room for 30 desks so everyday “Mike” (the last kid scheduled in) shows up and grabs a spot by the printer. He waits until someone is absent (which isn’t that often) and then takes their spot. I try to remind him daily that he is welcome in class and a part of our community but physical space sends a different message.

That class is also filled with large personalities, each heart hoping to be accepted and each voice longing to be heard. Which means it’s loud. I teach in a way that riles kids up. When kids start arguing about whether Jing Mei’s mom should’ve slapped her earlier or was forcing unrealistic and harmful expectations on her nine year old in The Joy Luck Club,  it’s tough to enforce discussion norms and get students to respect wait time. Every child is looking to be heard.

The need to be heard

We are told that class size doesn’t matter or isn’t a high priority. I can’t help but notice that every elite private school and four year university publishes their sub 20 class sizes on page 2 of their brochure.

Meanwhile, in Washington K-12 we live a different reality. For two days last year, I had 41 students enrolled in my first period English class. That’s FORTY ONE 15 1/2 year olds in a room trying to learn how to read, write, and think. Imagine how this would have influenced student-teacher relationships. Consider the impact on student discourse. In a 55 min period that gives each kid about 1.34 minutes to speak IF a teacher doesn’t use any of the airtime. If a teacher has a 20 minute lesson then that decreases student talk to roughly a minute per child.

Students of all ages desire to be heard. They want to know they exist in the world and others validate their existence. In an academic context, students, although sometimes nervous at first, want to share their ideas with a classroom and want affirmation that their thoughts are accepted and show understanding of the lesson. Furthermore, academic student talk is the primary way students learn and stay engaged with content. Strategies abound from the common “turn and talk” to whole class seminars. Yet, when a classroom is bursting with students, there is little time for student talk.

So when 6’3″ football and basketball players start hollering about what is and isn’t a textual evidence supported theme in Siddhartha, I have little choice but to step back, ride out the discussion. In crowded classrooms, some students will fight to be heard while others will float through a class period without ever sharing a single idea.

The need for meaningful feedback

Students want meaningful feedback. They want to know that their effort on homework was well spent and that they are making strides towards academic goals. Certainly, strategies exist for peer to peer feedback sessions but often it is not taken as seriously as teacher feedback. Why? I believe it’s because I’m the professional. I’m the one trained in my content and can see both potential and possibility in a student’s work. They want to hear from me.

That’s why this weekend (and most Fridays) I pack up my Kia with between 100-130 journals. I use these composition notebooks to inform the next week’s instruction, while giving kids immediate feedback on their learning. The math is stark. I spend between 3-5 minutes reading and commenting on the journals. That task creates roughly 7.5 hours of grading. There are fewer than five hours of scheduled planning time in a teacher’s week. I almost always take work home because meaningful feedback takes time and I know my students need the feedback.

The crowded nature of classrooms across the state is real. I know each teacher is doing their best with the conditions they have. I want to see these conditions improve. Yet, no matter how many kids are in my care, I will still work to develop trusting relationships with each, support academic discourse, and give them meaningful feedback whenever possible.

.

A Common Core Metaphor

buildingBy Tom White

I live near a five corner intersection, and for as long as I can remember, it’s been equipped with five stop signs. I wouldn’t call it dangerous, but it’s never been very efficient, mostly because of the ambiguity. Turn signals are well-suited for four-way stops; you turn them on when you want to turn and you leave them off when you don’t. Everyone usually knows where everyone else is going.  Turn signals are far less effective at a five-way intersection; you’re never really going straight so you never leave your signals off, but when you do signal, no one knows exactly which right or left turn you’re proposing. Thus the ambiguity.

Consequently, traffic through this intersection has always been messy and slow. Although I’ve never seen any serious accidents, there’s always a lot of halting and stalling; with everyone waiting for everyone else to commit to a turn. During rush hour, the traffic can back up for several blocks. It’s by no means a disastrous situation; it’s more like something that could obviously be better.

So along came a guy with a vision and a degree in civil engineering. “What if we constructed a roundabout?” he thought, and eventually the city council decided to fund the project. Most of the local people were mildly opposed to the change. Roundabouts are still somewhat exotic in this area and they came along well after most of us learned to drive. Besides, like I said, no one was all that concerned with the current situation at Five Corners.IMG_2119

And then came June, when the project started. The intersection became a complicated mess of  torn-up asphalt, orange cones and large, yellow vehicles. Flaggers brought traffic to a complete stop, causing most of us to look for alternate routes through formerly quiet neighborhoods. If the situation was bad before construction, it was horrible during the summer.

And now it’s late September. The worst is over. Traffic has started to travel counter-clockwise around the large circle in the middle. The landscaping has started to materialize. People are beginning to realize that a roundabout is far safer and far more efficient t5-corners-roundabout-2han a confusing five-way stop. Everyone yields and everyone turns right. It’s consistent and predictable.

Long story short: we had a system that seemed good enough, although it really wasn’t. We went through a tough period of change in which everyone was miserable. Now we’re beginning to realize that it was well worth it, because the system that’s emerging is much better than what we had before.