In the last few weeks, and over the years as well, I've sat on numerous interview panels for the hiring of new teachers. Considering the RIFing taking place all around us, and considering that my district is one of the few who is actually hiring this year (due to retirements, growth, and the fact that my building was operating on a very frugal FTE budget the last couple of years) we were lucky, if that's the right word, to have an influx of candidates.
Like many districts, ours has a very strict protocol for interviews in order to help level the playing field for all candidates. We receive a packet with scripted questions, we rate answers, we share our ratings with our fellow interviewers, and so on. I read the same questions over and over, and listened to a good number of lame, vacuous, sound-byte superficial answers (peppered with some good quality concrete responses, thankfully).
There were questions about the candidates' procedures for planning and implementing lessons, calls for examples of problem-solving with parents and colleagues, requests for the candidate to articulate their rationale for organizing scope and sequence one way versus another, and the obligatory questions about standards, high stakes tests, and current EdTrends.
I found myself thinking over and over again: how would I answer these questions?
Before long, I also found myself thinking: how would my colleagues answer these questions–now, not when putting our best feet forward to earn a chance at a paycheck?
In the interviews, the candidates I was drawn to were the ones about whom I found myself saying "I like him/her because I can tell that the gears are turning, I can tell there is thinking and reflection going on there." I kept coming back to this: I want teachers who think about what they do.
And no, not all teachers do.
I've worked as TAP/new-teacher mentor and NBPTS certification cohort facilitator for several years and to me, this is one of a handful of traits which separates the great teachers from the pack. This is also what the NBPTS certification process promotes more than anything else. Even as I work with the cream of the crop of teachers, I still watch as some educators struggle to articulate an answer when I point-blank ask them why they do what they do in the classroom. Sometimes I get the easy answer like "that is what is next in the book" or "this activity goes with this novel" or "the kids enjoy it," or saddest of them all: "this is what the mandated curriculum tells me to do." I used to tell myself that the struggle to answer this was because so much of what a good teacher does is instinct. Now I'm starting to wonder. When I ask my candidates what is your instructional goal? when they consider a lesson, activity, or unit, they shouldn't have to think–that thinking should already have been done.
I proposed to my principal that at the pre-service meetings in August we do some kind of thought-provoking activity based on those interview questions. Not just to sit around and massage our chins and say hmm, but to actually open a dialogue which fosters reflection and self-analysis. I doubt such an activity would be widely well received–past attempts at similar "activities" have been met with resistance that such and such was a waste of time, or we already earned our degrees we don't need this.
So I'm thinking of doing some kind of work in our PLC where we interview one another, starting with this question: how much do you think about what you do and why you do it?
My hope: the thinkers among us can pipe up and share our processes, our metacognition, our instructional goals and strategies; those who teach by rote and perhaps don't yet have the depth of self-awareness can listen to this modeling. I know I teach amongst very smart people, there is no question about that. However, that fact doesn't necessarily mean they are thinking. I don't fault them for that: a hundred and fifty (plus) students and too little time to get everything done lends itself to what feels most efficient. Making and taking time to really think deeply can easily be nudged aside in favor of more tangible work–I've done it, too, during the most hectic of times.
We strive to promote a culture of deep learning in our classrooms. With all the demands placed on teacher time, sitting in hours long meetings to talk about how we think can seem agonizingly inefficient–especially when there is a full in-box of student work waiting back in your classroom.
For next year, how can teacher-leaders promote a culture of deep thinking amongst our colleagues?
Tamara, the structure and protocols you describe with your Peer Learning Labs not only seem like very valuable PD, they also seem like the very thing that would promote the thinking I’m looking for. A few years back, I had a CSTP Teacher Leader Grant where staff were given release time to observe, coach, and seek feedback from peers using a variety of protocols–and people still talk about how useful it was! Unfortunately, budgets went south and the building/district has not been able to continue funding peer observation to the same degree, though my building principal has helped to facilitate the occasional observation (nothing like the hundreds of hours logged when we had the grant).
A few years ago I was teaching at a school where we used Peer Learning Labs as a regular part of staff collaboration/professional development. A teacher would volunteer or be recommended to model a lesson using instructional strategies proving to be effective in developing students growth in skill and content. The staff was subbed out in rotating groups to observe and participate in pre and post lesson debriefing sessions led by an instructional coach.
As a participant this process generated a great deal of thinking as to the how and why of my instructional choices.
Last year through a grant I had the opportunity to host a number of peer learning labs to demonstrate effective instructional strategies for English Language Learners. The conversations generated in the pre and post lesson debriefing sessions were rich. Feedback from participants spoke to how those conversations made them more intentional in their lesson planning. While preparing for the “fishbowl” was an exercise in deep thinking about my instructional choices, those conversations took my thinking even further as I had to articulate the reasoning behind my choices (much like writing National Board entries).
Few schools are in the position to fund sub outs for professional development like peer learning labs. I posit though, content or grade level teams could commit to monthly observation and debriefing sessions during dedicated collaborative time. The opportunity to reflect deeply on the instructional choices we make is well worth the investment of time.
The data movement has run parallel with the “sameness movement”. I’m sure they’re intertwined. The data movement also runs parallel with a more systematic approach to teaching and curriculum.
While teacher individuality is sacrificed what is (may be?) gained is an ability to make better judgments about resource allocation, program effectiveness, and students from different classrooms and schools are exposed to the same material. Thus later grades can assume a certain level of exposure to a given topic.
Sameness tends to deprofessionalize. As Mark points out a teacher is less able to teach to their strengths and passions. It also tends to prevent teachers to teaching to their convenience and whims.
“Like many teachers, I constantly examine data from my own learners. However, the data movement in my region seems to be all about comparing my data with others rather than encouraging me to examine my own practice and refine it in my own context.”
Fortunately for me, the “Data Driven Dialogue” (new catch-phrase in these parts) is about the students in my class. Not because my school or district want it to be, but because I have demanded it. I have gone toe-to-toe with administration and other staff to get what my students need to be successful. It hasn’t won me a lot of friends at times, but my students have outperformed peers on most assessments so I have gained respect. I’m in this for the kids. Period.
The heart-breaker is that while I am making a visible difference, no one else is following. Data is supposed to be consistent whether good or bad. Outliers, regardless of which end of the line plot, are bad.
That being said, at least we are looking at data. Real, numbers-based data. We have to start somewhere. I have hope for educational greatness in our state and country and it has to start by taking a hard look at where we are.
@Rob:
I’m thinking specifically about a series of MTI meetings in which we were “supposed to” discuss our students’ test scores on a series of literacy assessments that no one thought were worthwhile in the first place. They didn’t adequately cover what we were teaching. The discussions only proved fruitful when we abandoned the agenda and started talking about students.
Betsy, you express my exact frustration.
Rob, my resistance to data is that it always seems to demand that we sacrifice individuality in order that we be uniform, otherwise the data is “invalid.” A big part of why I stay in this profession is that I get the chance to be creative and approach teaching with my own individual strengths and talents. The data movement and the sameness movement seem to be trying to strangle that out of the profession, all under the premise that since teachers are ineffective, if every teacher does the same thing then we can “get around” the problem of ineffective teachers.
Like many teachers, I constantly examine data from my own learners. However, the data movement in my region seems to be all about comparing my data with others rather than encouraging me to examine my own practice and refine it in my own context.
It is always very interesting to me to see teachers balk at the same things they require of their students.
In a rigorous classroom, we challenge our students to higher levels of thought, to be metacognitive so they can explain how they came to a conclusion and defend their thinking against other opinions/inputs.
In a rigorous classroom, students are expected to participate, to question, to interact with a common goal in mind. We give them time to think, form ideas, try new skills, reflect.
But when we get into staff professional development, teachers are uncomfortable in doing these same things. Why is that? How do we move forward?
“As for data, I’ve found that those of us who are most involved with its production are the least enamored with its use.”
Would that opinion change if there was the opportunity for meaningful thinking/reflection/analysis of data and if there wasn’t an evaluative component to its use?
Deep Thinking – I’ve proposed to my prinipal that we start at the beginning. I love the book by Wong, “The First Days of School”. I have asked our principal to incorporate some of Wong’s writing into our first inservices of the year to get the teachers thinking about how they begin the school year.
Will this work to stimulate some thinking? I have no idea, but we won’t know until we try. It certainly can’t hurt.
I think you’ve hit on something important here, Mark. When I’m depressed about this profession (which doesn’t happen too often, thank God) it’s usually because I’m aware that for various reasons, education doesn’t always attract the best and the brightest. We get a lot of hard workers, to be sure, but they aren’t always the best thinkers.
As for data, I’ve found that those of us who are most involved with its production are the least enamored with its use.
I teach in a quite data-resistant department, and I’m quite resistant as well, as the promise of “data” has been espoused in our region as the panacea to cure all ills…partly because data collection requires conformity (at least as it has been presented to us) and that is not something we want. I see merit in some degree of data collection as a group, but it has been presented more like this: teachers are ineffective, so through data we will identify the effective teachers, and then you will all assign the same tasks, tests, and assessments that the “effective” teacher does…all of which ignores the fact that the more “effective” teacher might be so because she isn’t rude to her students, she is organized, and she seamlessly blends lesson planning with classroom management…or she might have a classroom full of ringers who are de facto “tracked” because the rest of their schedule is advanced science and math.
If by data we can mean “observation” and “student work samples,” then we’re on board, but the quantifying and samenessing of it all is what is troublesome–and what I think can sometimes lead to laziness and less thinking…i.e., “his data looks better than yours, so you are to do it his way, not your way,” which is not always a valid argument since the sample populations are inherently different sometimes in no small degree.
The kind of thinking I’m talking about, too, is as much about the art of teaching as it is the outcomes. The posture with which we stand at the front of the room (on purpose), the way we phrase questions to spark discussion (on purpose), and the way we scaffold students toward better writing (on purpose…remembering that teaching writing and assigning writing are not the same thing): these are the kinds of conversations about the nuance of our craft that are the kinds of thinking that can make a big difference.
I don’t think it is necessary but it is a good starting point that often leads to more questions. I believe data analysis can be a pretty rich environment for deep thinking and reflection.
Why is data necessary?
“For next year, how can teacher-leaders promote a culture of deep thinking among our colleagues?” – I’d say that depends-
How good is your data? Is it accurate and relevant enough to engage in discussions around patterns you see? If so, there should be an opportunity to reflect on the data, change some professional practice, and reflect on the results.
If there is a shared leadership aspect to your PLC structure then does the decision making process involve reflection. Is the reflection process used meaningfully?
Maybe the most effective way is to lead by doing. Culture takes a long time to build (or change).