By Mark
It was at a intervention meeting, where her child's teachers (including me) and the grade-level counselor had gathered to strategize how better serve her child, that she said to me from across the table:
"You didn't do your job. You were supposed to fix my child. Why didn't you fix him?"
She said it with steel in her eyes and barbs in her voice. She was simmering near her boiling point and I started wondering if anyone else in the room knew the extension to reach the school resource officer.
Everyone was flabbergasted. She went on about how at the summer orientation I talked about all the things I do in class to help struggling students: extra support to break down complex tasks, face-to-face writing conferences, online resources, peer support, modified texts…the list went on. In truth, I had done all those things for her son. I had offered these to her child, yet her child still was failing.
Isn't it always the case that we think of the right thing to say well after the moment has passed? That moment passed six years ago, but here goes:
"Ma'am, I'd be more than happy to share with you the reason I didn't fix your child…
The only one who can fix your child is himself. He chose not to be fixed."
Sure, I could have lit some much better fireworks, but I'd rather opt for the truth over hyperbole.
To me, this is the truth: I can use every best practice and be the most engaging teacher on the planet, but ultimately, it is the child who must pick up the pen and put ink to paper. I can connect them with every high-tech gizmo and every resource to meet their needs, but ultimately, it is the child who must log in and choose to place fingers on the keyboard.
I tell my freshmen: I am writing you a check for a million dollars, and some of you are not walking over to take it from my hands. That is a choice.
To be educated is a choice.
And anyone who thinks they can force a teenager to "make the right choice" has clearly never had kids of their own or been a teacher.
Of course, we try very, very hard to help students make the right choices. We create curriculum and programming and supports which guide students toward those better choices. What we cannot do, though, is make the choice to succeed for them.
Sure, some kids have barriers to success. Perhaps hundreds of those kids have passed through my classroom over the years. Many of those kids, with barriers seemingly insurmountable, succeeded with flying colors not because of anything magical I may have done. They succeeded because they chose to. In spite of reading disabilities and ADHD, they chose to succeed. In spite of parents at the dinner table calling them ugly and stupid and a waste of their breath to even talk about, they chose to succeed. They chose to do that assignment, and they chose to ask for help when they were confused. Maybe something I did helped them make that better choice, but it was that child who made the choice.
When we look at data, testing, and whatever else we use to judge a school's effectiveness, we cannot disregard this factor. I've heard rumors of kids who left their WASL (Washington Assessment of Student Learning) tests blank as a statement against a math teacher they did not like. I know many kids who admit to giving minimal effort on the science WASL because of the perception that it "doesn't count."
The data to prove this idea of student choice? In the year prior to the reading and writing WASLs being required for graduation, our building's pass rate for reading was 76%, writing was 77% and math was 55%. The year the requirement was put into effect, the pass rates jumped to 90%, 90% and 69%, respectively. Statewide, the numbers jumped as well. Did the teachers all over the state suddenly learn to teach in that one year? Doubtful. Kids chose to take the tests more seriously…and yes, they were very open in telling us that.
I used to beat myself up horribly when my students wouldn't finish homework or master the skills I'd tried to teach. As I've matured as an educator, I've had to learn to ask myself: did I give them every reasonable opportunity to learn? Did I adjust, give feedback, explore alternative means of achieving the learning goal? Did I do everything I could have done to clear a pathway to success for that student? If I could honestly answer "yes," I had to learn to absolve myself of the responsibility of that F or that missing assignment. Ultimately, it was beyond my control.
We need to keep this in mind every time we examine data on student success and turn our pitchforks on failing schools and selfish teachers.
Sometimes, we need to admit that the only ones who can "fix" our students are themselves.
One way to look at this issue is inward. Consider your own education. When I consider my own, I rarely credit my teachers for my educational achievements. Nor do I blame them for my failures. And I had plenty of both. When I’m honest with myself, I know that it was my teachers and parents who helped me, but it wasn’t until I chose to learn that I actualy learned.
Congratulations for working with students with such a good track record. That’s a credit to you. You know what to do, that’s why I described general patterns, not specific steps to take. I do offer specifics elsewhere, but only as illustrations, not scripts. Are you suggesting someone should offer a Dr. Laura website for teachers instead?
In general, we use different rhetoric to discuss learning, instruction, and schooling. I’ve found it useful to use how-to words and action patterns. Behaviorists recognize actions related to the words I offer.
We agree that teachers have a liability that goes with the NCLB duty irrespective of any “good” that occurs. That’s one reason I urge teachers to write and talk about the good in public in order to try to reduce the public image of teachers “failing” all students. It’s a PR tactic that policy wonks, makers and implementers can promote. Keep complaints and angst private so it doesn’t foul up public views.
Doesn’t one of the students in Dead Poet’s Society commit suicide because of extreme academic pressures?
Unfortunately, your last post really does not clarify anything to me…I just see a string of jargon, talk of philosophy utterly divorced from talk of action. Am I right in assuming that you’ve never had a student fail? That these methods you describe are failure-proof? You state that your methods “increase chances of learning,” does that imply that there is still a chance that the student might not learn, despite your implementation of what you see as best practices?
The reality is, I cannot claim a perfect record. Unfortunately, in the eyes of critics of education, the one student who does not pass the state reading test is considered more a reflection of my teaching ability than the sixty-two who did. That one who did not pass? To the powers, he was “left behind.” I, as his teacher, failed him–at least according to those who examine the data. And you are also suggesting that I should be sued for his failure.
Every year of my career, my (mainstream and special ed inclusion!) students have earned 100% pass rates or near 100% pass rates in the state reading and writing assessments…at the most, one year I had three kids out of sixty who didn’t pass one or the other. Something I’m doing must be right. My point with this discussion is this: regardless of all the right that is done in schools, the emphasis is always on the inability of teachers to post that 100%.
I’m merely positing that the blame should not fall exclusively on the teacher… besides the fact that the 100% expectation does not take into consideration the natural variation of learners that we deal with… even automated factories which mass produce objects will still have one or two outputs which have a great enough variation that they cannot be sent to the consumer. Yet schools, who deal with living human beings with willpower and the power of choice, are expected to achieve 100%?
As teachers know, NCLB policy developers and authorizors use data about what’s possible to expect of teachers to prepare students to meet minimum academic performance standards. College prep is not part of NCLB. They address what is possible, not just what someone thinks should happen.
I use direct instruction and movies Stand and Deliver as well as The Dead Poet’s Society that include depictions of specific ways to increase chances of students learning more from instruction. Teachers know these procedures. They’re variations on the 3Ts and counting. They’re the ones that rely on behavioral strategies and techniques without inferences to theories such as rebellion, motivation, have-to, ed reform, fixing, make, force, (did I leave out any relevant reference?) Behaviorists (seldom cognitivists) describe what a student sees, hears, touches, etc. to meet a lesson’s learning criterion. Teachers implement these descriptions. Some call it a mechanical way to learn. Regardless of what it’s called, it works. And yes, I hope teachers calculate risks of student failure when planning and conducting lessons. In turn, that may help to reduce vulnerabilities to court action because of what students do not learn, but that’s probably a subject for another blog post.
I hope this clarifies why I said Wow! Do tell of successes, because readers may not know of your good works, but have heard more laments about public schools.
Bob, wow. “No, “rebellion” does not necessarily occur; it’s a theoretical construct to explain observations that many people accept as fact.” I want to live in your world. My sons are 21 and 23 and I am just beginning to recover from the theory.
Kristin, well said: “Why does it make sense for a policy maker to say a teacher should prepare every child for college, when the policy maker won’t say a parent should prepare every child for school?” Early childhood learning will be a huge piece of educational reform, yet where is the parent accountability?
Mark, I just love your passion.
And Bob, hopefully when you read my posts, you see that I am not advocating for “letting students fail.”
The scenario I described in the post is just the tip of the iceberg of what I and my teaching team did to bend over backwards to support that “unfixed” student. I don’t have data to prove it, but I would bet we spent more time with that child than with all of his classmates combined… after school brainstorming, in class individualizing instruction, in wraparound meetings and intervention meetings; times when I would take over two classes (mine and my teammate’s at the same time) so my teammate could spend TWO WHOLE PERIODS with that student to help him.
I’m saying we need to put in effort, of course, but reasonable effort. But we need to acknowledge that in the end, that kid chose not to do what we asked.
It bothers me, Bob, that you’re suggesting this child should have the right to litigate. He could sue us for “letting him fail.” That is absurd. We worked harder for that child than we probably should have. He chose to fail despite the efforts of a half-dozen teachers, a counselor, and an associate principal all on the same team to support him. Ultimately, his classmates who got As have a stronger case to litigate…since we spent so much time with him rather than with helping them reach their next level. They are the students, if any, who we failed that year.
Bob, please tell me, what pedagogical approaches cut across student choice?
What pedagogical approach forces the child to pick up a pencil and write…and I don’t mean write well, I mean write ANYTHING on a piece of paper?
What pedagogical approach forces a child to show his work on a math assignment if the child chooses not to?
Please, Bob, specifics. The rest of us need these answers. How do we supersede their will and force them to succeed?
“Public education policy makers already know and have access to more information they consider more relevant than what teachers and other educators say individually.”
That’s a big part of the problem, and one we’re trying to rectify with these stories. What teachers and educators have to say should matter. Why does it make sense for a policy maker to say a teacher should prepare every child for college, when the policy maker won’t say a parent should prepare every child for school? Why does it make sense for a policy maker to say every child should go to college, when everyone knows not everyone will be happy there? Some kids want to use their hands and build things, or invent things, but funding for the interests and talents of those children is cut. Programs that might engage them are cut and they’re told to adapt and enjoy university-bound academics.
Teachers can teach. Teachers are trained to teach and should be expected to teach. Teachers should not be expected to parent, counsel, feed and rehabilitate. When we are expected to do all of those things for a child who isn’t getting them at home, we fail.
Good points, Mark, as usual. In a nutshell: Yes, people of all ages make choices. Yes, some choices appear inconsistent with dominant public interests. No, “rebellion” does not necessarily occur; it’s a theoretical construct to explain observations that many people accept as fact. Teacher contracts signed under NCLB require teachers to use pedagogy to cut across student choices you mentioned. Technically, teachers do not have the right to allow a student to fail. (Yes, I’m pushing the point that has not been accepted through the US Supreme Court, but attorneys are looking for a test case likely to provide that review.) Public education policy makers already know and have access to more information they consider more relevant than what teachers and other educators say individually. So, consider describing the successes you have that result from teacher choices vs. the problems, … .
Please elaborate, Bob.
I think one of the failings of “this generation of public school teachers” is that we are unwilling to “let” kids fail…a generation ago and beyond it was understood that there were many tracks into the adult world, and that some kids chose not to take the high school diploma track. This generation of teachers, however, with the demands for 100% pass rates on tests, has been forced to disacknowledge the fact that some kids, especially at the high school level, are capable of choice, and that choice can sometimes involve choices that the system does not endorse (teenage rebellion, anyone? Look at identity formation and adolescent psychology, they are wired to resist what we tell them to do). If we ignore that, we are doomed to failure because we are treating them (yet again) like a commodity to be conveyor-belted through our factory and dropped out the other end… as opposed to realizing that their staying on our conveyor belt is actually their choice, not something we can force.
As for who might be reading this: perhaps they might now reconsider what policies they support with a new understanding of the fact that students are individuals with their own will and choices, and consider how schools can better support kids toward the right choices, rather than just mandate that they be tested and tested and tested. Clearly, as the data I offered above proves, even those tests are subject to a greater force: student choice.
Yes, Travis, wow! You never know who will read this blog and for what reasons. These anecdotes and opines offer a description of how many people view this generation of public school teachers. It can feed anti-public school sentiment. And, it seems unclear how it helps a public education policy maker decide whether to support teacher recommendations.
I’m always surprised at how similar teachers are across the district. In my district we have a few struggling schools. I meet those teachers at trainings, meetings, or by visiting the school and they aren’t any different from the teachers at the successful schools. In fact, sometimes they’re better – tougher, more creative, more informed.
So what’s different between the safe school up on the hill and the raucous school down in the valley? Socio-economic status and the education level of the parents. The school on the hill raises money to pay for all sorts of extra stuff that the other school can’t afford.
It’s not a matter of parents caring or not caring, it’s a matter of how much they can do about it.
I think it is worth mentioning, too, that I have had many wonderful experiences with parents who have no illusions about their children. They understand their child’s strengths and areas for improvement, and while not trying to limit their child, try to remain realistic about what can be accomplished how fast.
And as for choice, we need to also be honest about students’ successes. The choice theory applies there as well: perhaps we have provided opportunities, but it was the child who made the choice to excel. I think we are better in our profession at recognizing and applauding those kinds of choices. Rarely will you meet a teacher who will point to a successful student and proclaim “I did that!” We are quick to give credit to the successful kids (which is a good thing) but also quick to blame ourselves and the system for the failing kids.
I’ve been struggling to decide which Kindergarten to send my son to next year: the neighborhood school down the street, with test scores that are on the low end, and a rougher rep; OR to the school in the district where I work, where I know more of the teachers, the “data” suggests “better learnin’,” despite it being 26 miles from our neighborhood.
Initially I was worried about the neighborhood school because of the test scores…but a wise friend told me “I bet there are some alumni of that school who are doctors and lawyers as well.” Even with low average test scores?? Of course that school has produced doctors, lawyers, and contributors to society, because those children chose to become those things
Ultimately, how can one school be “blamed” in the same breath for kids who prosper as well as kids who don’t? Something else must be at play.
Late one spring I had a mom ask me if her daughter still had a chance to pass my middle school math class. I said yes, and as clearly as possible delineated what the student would need to do. The girl chose not to do those things, and she did not pass. The mom came back in, furious, and said that I had lied to her. I said no, I didn’t. I don’t have a crystal ball that will let me see which students will step up to the challenge. How could I know which choice your daughter would make? My job is to feed hope, not extinguish it.
“To be educated is a choice.” This is the elephant in the room. It’s true at the elementary level, too.
You are right.
One year I had a student teacher who was killing herself trying to engage a child who wasn’t interested in academics during class, no matter what she designed that was intended to engage him. She went to his football games, she read his file, she called home and met with mom, she challenged him and respected his mind and he flat out refused to succeed.
Her university supervisor conferenced with her after an observation and said, “You are not here only for him. You are also here for the 31 other children in the class, and you aren’t paying any attention to them. You may have to let him make his own choice right now.”
I agreed then and I agree now. As someone who has failed a class or two, I know that no one can make you succeed. Sometimes, failing meets a more pressing need and teaches a more important lesson.
And the contractual obligation to bring each child to standard? I’m not going to fail 31 children just to meet the bottomless need for attention that one child has, and maybe if I stop meeting his need for negative attention he’ll start using his skills to fight for some positive attention and instruction. When that happens I’ll be ready, as I’m sure you would have been with your student.
Wow