How do I teach them everything they need to know?  How do I make relevant to their lives–both now and later–the things we do and learn?  How do I push them, stretch them, without breaking them?  How do I get them to understand that my earnest intent is not to do something to them but for them? How do I…?

Of course the list goes on, the list of concerns and questions that are ever-present in my mind as I daily–sometimes hourly–attempt to make the best decisions for my little darlings in 219.  Truly a torment.  Yesterday, out of concern that we are not writing enough, I decided to breathe life back into “weekly essay.” As one might expect, it wasn’t necessarily warmly received.  You see, I dwell in a world where, for many, any writing is too much writing, so it was no great surprise to me that my fellow dwellers in 219 didn’t raise a cheer at the news. However, despite their not-so-quiet protestations, I stood steadfast, for I know that, like it or not, it is good for them–now and later.  I call it the broccoli factor.

Green is generally not the most loved color on one’s dinner plate.  In fact, many avoid the color all together, and this is seemingly true for young and old alike, but it seems especially true for the young, who wanting and having many so many other palate-pleasing options generally avoid if not not outright shun, the less savory parts of the meal.  True, too, they–the young–don’t often get a choice as their dutiful, diligent parents make them eat what is good for them, a perennial parental battle.  But we–the parents–take up arms anyway, and fight the fight for we know it is good for our kids.  And this is how I feel when I put on the plate the less savory parts of the curriculum, in this case–writing.  And sadly, it is often a battle.  But some fights are worth fighting.

Writing, I believe, may be one of the most important skills that kids learn in school.  It is both a gate-keeping (getting in the door) and a ladder-climbing (advancing in one’s career) skill that can have lifelong implications. But it’s hard to get kids to buy, much less own, that at this age. Still, I fight the fight. But, to be clear, it is not always an easy fight, for teaching writing is perhaps the most difficult thing to teach.  It is a demanding experience for both students and teachers, so much so that it generally is not given its due place in the curriculum, sometimes getting avoided all together. Or on the other end, teachers fall into the assigning-versus-teaching trap.  It is easy to assign writing.  It is not easy to teach writing.  So teachers often overcompensate by assigning and not teaching, or they undercompensate by generally avoiding it. But this cannot be.  We cannot neglect that which may in the end be the most important. We cannot let generations of kids leave the table without the proper nutrition they need to reach their necessary potential.  We can no longer perpetuate malnutrition because it’s hard for teachers or disliked by kids.  We have to feed them writing.

So, as an ongoing effort to do different, I am seeking to strike a careful balance between assigning and teaching writing. For the assigning part, practice is necessary.  We know.  We know that if kids are to become better writers, they have to write.  But that also means that they will have to write more than I can possibly read or grade.  So what to do?  Well, for the teaching part, I will give them feedback on each essay of the week, on a specified element that they and I will focus on to help each progress and improve as a writer.  For example, this week the emphasis is on organization. Here I present a criteria-based performance standard in the form of a rubric, which I will use to assess their writing on a 4-point scale (4 = exceeds standard, 3 = meets standard, 2 = below standard, 1 = well-below standard).  In addition to the scale number, I will give brief, descriptive, here’s-something-you-can-do-to-improve feedback. It is manageable for me and it is also manageable for the kids.  I can give feedback without reading the entire essay (I cannot read 25,000 words a week), and the kids can take into consideration and put into practice one aspect that will help them improve as writers. They will earn 10 points for completing the essay, and the other possible 4 points will come from the performance scale, for a total of 14 points.  With this approach, the kids are writing consistently, and they are getting feedback consistently.  To keep our sanity, I set a 250 word limit.  I want them to eat their greens, not choke on them.

In the end, this may not be the perfect approach, but it is my best go at present.  A “go” that I have tried to make in the best interest on my kids’ health–now and later.

Happy Wednesday, all.  Anybody put pen to paper yesterday?

Sy, I got your postcard.  Totally made my day!

~Destinee Bradley, Sophomore, Cheney High School

At CHS, another cool thing that we do is send kids postcards, praising them, giving them recognition, letting them know we care.  For the first five minutes of every staff meeting, teachers write postcards to kids and then the office staff addresses them and sends them out to the kiddos.  The messages are short, sometimes general, sometimes specific, but they make a difference; as Destinee shared with me, they make a day.  And what’s great about that is that the cost is so little.  Literally, it takes me 10 seconds to write a postcard, a smile price to pay for such a big benefit.  I wonder if Destinee and the rest know that making their days makes our days. And in the age of “likes” on social media, the power of pen to paper may still impact and connect better than all.

When is the last time you received a handwritten note from a friend or loved one?  Remember how it made you feel? Now, when is the last time you sent a handwritten note to a friend or loved one?  Wouldn’t you want them to feel that way?  Sometime this week put pen to paper, address and stamp the envelope, and send it.  Doesn’t have to be long or profound.  It just has to be.  I understand that just “thank you” goes a long way. Guaranteed you will make a day in a way that is rare today.  Do Different. Do something small to make someone big.

Have a great Tuesday, all. If you are so inclined, comment on this link to let us know how you made someone’s day this week.

Last week I shared this link to Kasia’s video on bullying.  Today I am sharing it again because it will be shown to the entire CHS student body at our Diversity Assembly.  Kasia’s message went “viral” at CHS, ultimately catching the attention of the administration, who then approached her about the possibility using her video as part of the assembly.  Anxiously, she agreed, confiding in me that she was nervous about the whole school seeing her video.  I told her to bask in her moment, to be proud that her hard work and powerful message were being recognized.  I can’t wait to witness it this afternoon.  Nothing greater than a kid’s moment. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPa_kz6QJKM

Happy Friday, all.

Morning.  Probably should have stayed home with her yesterday, but today I have little choice, so I will stay home with my lovely daughter as she works through this latest round of crud going around.  That said, I am struggling with what I am going to have my students do in 219 today.  I don’t let subs teach, but I hate to give busy work, too.  The problem with doing things your way, is it’s tough to do them when you’re gone.  Not sure I could do it any differently, though.  As the teachers who are reading this know, being gone is a lot harder than being there.  I’ll dream up something in the next hour or two.  I suppose in the end my students will survive without me.  They always do.  Sobering thoughts for a self-imagined superhero.

Morning, all.  Slept in.  Sick kid.  Short post.

Yesterday, we did a brainstorming activity called “Question Flood,” which I borrowed and adapted from language arts guru Kelly Gallagher.  The kids are still in the stages of finalizing their idea selections for their injustice speeches.  I used this activity to not only help them make a final decision but also help them nurture their ideas along.

Question Flood

1. Divide students into teams of 5 or 6.
2. Ask students to sit in a circle.
3. One will begin by pitching his or her idea to the group.  The members simply listen.  No conversation takes place.
4. After the idea has been pitched, members “flood” the sharing member with questions.  No etiquette, no protocol, just rapid-fire questioning.
5. The sharing member writes down as many questions as he/she can, generally adopting some sort of short-hand method to get down as much as possible.  Importantly, he/she cannot respond to the questions, only write them down.  The questions are there to make him/her think, to consider things from different angles.
6. Generally, this continues until the flood turns to a “trickle of questions” and then a new member shares his/her idea.
7. The process is repeated until all members have shared and been “flooded.”
8. At this point, if time allows, then I let a conversation take place, letting them discuss the things they had to resist talking about during the process.  Usually some pretty good discussion takes place.

I like this strategy because it reveals and/or reiterates the value of feedback in the development of ideas in a relatively “safe” manner.  My hope is that the kids come to realize how such input can help cultivate their ideas.  My greatest hope is that they get to a point where they seek feedback on their own.  As I tell them, school is not the only place where they will need to pitch and grow their ideas, not the only place where collaborating with others can make the difference between a good idea and a great idea.  Great ideas.  I expect no less.  Now or later.

If you’re not feeling a little anxiety about your project, then you are not challenging yourself.

Yesterday, as I introduced our third independent learning project, I threw a wrench in the works, challenging my kids to step out of their comfort zones, asking them to confront one of their fixed mindsets this time around. And though there was some initial groaning and whining, it gradually subsided as kids began to ponder the possibilities.  Of course, as always, I put myself out there first, sharing that I would be stepping way out of my comfort zone by attempting to draw my grandpa’s barn, a direct challenge to my “I-can’t-draw” mindset.  In fact, this time, instead of posing a question to guide our work, we have to make “I-can” statements, which will become our individual guiding mantras as we progress through the stages of our doubt and discomfort with these projects. So, then, my mantra will be, “I can draw my grandpa’s barn.”  And believe me, I will have to chant that over and over again this month as I fight off the little voice perched on my left shoulder telling me that I can’t.

Of course, as I somewhat expected, the kids still are reluctant to trust that I am giving them the freedom to make their own big-girl and big-boy choices.  Yes, I have placed a requirement, a limit in the form of challenging a fixed mindset, but they still have a great deal of independence with their projects. Even so, they–understandably, I guess–still seek my approval.  I get it.  They have been trained to seek approval and it is sometimes harder to unlearn than learn, so I humor them and help them.  Kind of.  For the past two projects, my response to their “is-my-project-okay” inquiries has been, “Are you genuinely interested in your topic?” This time it is, “Are you feeling any anxiety about your choice?”  Both require “yes” answers.  Both require that they alone make the decision.  I cannot neither tell them they are interested nor can I tell them they are anxious.  They, as I say, are the guards at that gate.  I tell them, too, that they could completely BS me, but really in the end, they are only BS-ing themselves.  It is my letting go.  It is my helping them discover that anything authentic in our lives can really only be determined by us, for we alone can only know if something is true. We are behind our own wheels, driving to our own destinations, and our learning, our education is no exception.  I hope my kids are beginning to believe that. Truly they are the guards at their gates.

Have a splendid Tuesday, all.  Please check out the Monthly Topic if you have not had a chance yet (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=356).  Even better, join the conversation by leaving a comment.

So, among seemingly a million other things soon to be going on in room 219, we are beginning a project today for which the kids must select a moment of injustice–past or present–that truly matters to them. Some have selected injustices on a smaller, more personal scale.  Others have selected injustices on a grander, more global scale.  Most have settled somewhere in between. This is the simpler part of the project.  The work is to follow as they prepare speeches in response to the injustice.  The real work will then come when they have to muster the courage to deliver their speeches. Yes, the dreaded public-speaking experience, the number one fear among many.  And while I would like to help my students avoid such anxiety, such fear, I know in the end, it is a necessary step in their development.  Thus, here, I will seek to play the growth-mindset card, hoping to draw my kids out of their comfort zones, helping them grow.  And though it will be no easy task for any of us, I believe in the end, it will be a worthwhile endeavor, and some–perhaps distant–day in the future, they will thank me for helping them face their fears.

But before we get too carried away and place the cart too far in front of the horse, we have a lot of work to do before the factor of fear comes into play.  Here is their general task description.

1. Select an injustice (some wrong that needs to be righted) that truly matters to you.  It may be past or present, big or small.
2. Identify, research, and explain the occasion or context of the injustice, including when and where you are delivering the speech.
3. Determine the purpose(s) from the Big-Six Purposes that you are seeking to achieve (Inform and Explain, Inquire and Explore, Express and Reflect, Evaluate and Judge, Analyze and Interpret, Take a Stand/Propose a Solution).
4. Identify who you are as the speaker.
5. Identify your target audience.
6. Determine tone(s) that you wish to convey.
7. Consider and include appropriate rhetorical appeals (ethos, pathos, logos).
8. Begin and progress through the writing process.
9. Practice and prepare for speech.

We will spend a number of days working on this in class over the next several weeks. My hope is that by the time we get to the end the kids have gained some confidence and are less fearful of the delivery.  In addition to all of this, we also have to get to a performance-task argument for injustice, begin a Holocaust unit by reading Night, and navigate through the world of complex sentences.  This month.  We will be busy.  Oh, and the kids will get their task instructions for the next independent learning project as well. Busy, indeed.

Happy Monday, all.  If you have not had a chance to check out the Monthly Topic, here is the link (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=356).  Please join the conversation.  Your words matter.

For the most part, teachers are barely qualified to make autonomous decisions about grading practices.

This month’s topic may prove to be a little touchy for some, for it seeks to expose a truth in public education that some would rather not talk about, but it may very well be one of the most important topics to confront if we are ever to bring about any significant change. This month I want to talk about grading practices.

Let’s begin with a dose of truth. Nearly universally, teachers’ grading practices are determined by each classroom teacher individually. They alone make the decisions for their respective grading practices. Those decisions include a wide range of considerations. Here are a few, in no particular order.

1.  Total points for grading period.
2. Points and weight of assignments, quizzes, tests, etc.
3. Factors that determine grade, including but not limited to, attendance, behavior, participation, effort, achievement, extra credit, etc.
4. Late/missing work policies.
5. Make-up-for-absence policies.
6. Retake, redo, resubmit policies.
7. Type and design of assessments.

There are other considerations, and of course, this will vary by teacher and exceptions will abound, but that is the point, the truth that I wish to reveal. All of the above are valid, important considerations for teachers determining how to report progress in the classroom, considerations that will have a significant, often long-term impact on students as they make their way through the system. The considerations themselves aren’t really the problem. No, to be sure, it’s how they are considered that presents a problem. And this is where this topic may get a little sticky.

I am at the midpoint of my twentieth year as a teacher in the public education realm. In those soon-to-be twenty years, not one person in charge has ever inquired about my grading practices. No checks. No balances. There is nothing in the teacher evaluation process that calls my practice into question. Nor is there anything in my union contract that speaks to it. I have had supreme autonomy with my grading practices. Some call it “academic freedom,” and while that sounds appealing, even democratic, it has created an institution full of practitioners whose awesome autonomous powers go unchecked for the length of their careers. So what? They are professionals. They are teachers. They always have kids’ best interests in mind. They know what they are doing. Hmmm. I am not so sure. Time for the sticky part. Sorry if the truth upsets. At worst, I will offend some. At best, I will start a let’s-get-real-and-honest conversation about this important topic.

For the most part, teachers are barely qualified to make autonomous decisions about grading practices. Most of us take only one 3-credit course on assessment in college, out of the context of a classroom, a mostly theoretical, not practical experience. We are then placed in the classroom for student teaching, where we conform to a master teacher’s philosophy and practice for a brief period of time, and we are finally thrust into our own classrooms where we must devise our own practices–ready or not, adopting out of necessity an approach that generally reflects above all how we were graded as students ourselves. Yep, that’s the basic formula. In the end, teachers essentially end up grading how they were graded, having barely more training than anyone else who has gone through our K-12 educational system.

To be clear, I am not suggesting that teachers are not adequately trained in their content areas or experts in their particular fields. To be sure, what I am suggesting is that we are neither adequately trained nor experts in the area of grading. And that is truth, but I don’t blame teachers for the lack of training we receive; we are simply products of the system, a system that has not changed for who knows how long, perpetuating a cycle of practitioners, who, for a lack of a better way to say it, don’t really know what we are doing when it comes to grading.

Now, before I get too carried away with this line of thinking, to be fair, there are many teachers who work very hard–despite a deficit in their preparation–to develop and maintain a system of grading that is fair and makes sense, an ongoing struggle to reflect and refine their approaches in an effort to do right by kids. But there, too, are many who do not make such an effort, and as a result, kids suffer. Please know that we who make the effort make no claim that we have it figured out. In point of fact, it’s generally because we’re worried that we don’t have it figured out that we make constant, we-have-really-thought-about-this changes to our practice. It is not this group of practitioners who worries me. It’s the ones who present their practices as utterly valid, reliable, infallible approaches to grading, standing rigid, often unwilling to bend for students or parents.

And herein lies the great tragedy when it comes to grading practices in public education; we sell our practice to the public under the pretense of validity, reliability, and infallibility, a practice with checks and balances. Well, I have news. It’s all a lie, and the public needs to quit buying it. For any student or parent who has fallen victim to a teacher’s rigid righteousness when it comes to a conflict with a grade, it’s time to call us out; it’s time to ask questions. Why shouldn’t you? After all, it is you we serve. Ask questions. Demand answers. Don’t let the facade frighten you. Let this knowledge empower you to join the conversation and change education.

I’m sure by now I have irreparably upset some colleagues in my profession. If that is the case, then I am sorry, for that is certainly not my intent. I just think we have to get real about our profession and the institution of public education. And I think it starts here, for grades generally seem to be–on one level or another–the focal point of our interface with the public, and if they are being misled regarding the reality and truth of grading practices, then that has to change. I apologize if that creates conflict or dissonance, but I believe that the path to harmony, true harmony, requires some discord.

So, stakeholders, it’s your turn. The system is not likely to change significantly any time soon, but in the meantime, maybe we can move the needle a little by getting teachers, all teachers to present grading practices and policies that make sense not only to them but their customers as well. I think, then, that means that we all have to have conversations–asking questions, seeking answers.

So, to that end, whether you are a teacher, a student, parent, or member of the public, when you think of grading practices in public education what approach would make the most sense to you? How could we better approach grading in a way that makes greater sense to all. You don’t have to be an expert on grading. Truly. You just need to have been affected by grades in the public school system. That’s a pretty inclusive invite. Please join the conversation. Your words matter.

Thanks for the opportunity to learn things from these projects that we otherwise never would have known!

Amarise, Sophomore, Cheney High School

Today we will wrap up presentations for this round of learning projects, moving on to the next round, where kids will have to choose an out-of-comfort-zone, a challenge-to-a-fixed-mind-set approach for their new projects.  Of course, I expect to meet some initial resistance, but I was met with the same resistance when we first started these projects.  And the presence of resistance will not be limited to my kids, for I, too, don’t always embrace the opportunity to step out of my comfort zone.  This time I am going to challenge one of my major fixed mindsets: art.  I, with instruction from my wife the art teacher, will attempt to draw, using a photo as a guide, my grandpa’s old barn, which was torn down nearly 40 years ago.  Truly, it will be a challenge, and I will no doubt have a hard time ignoring  the fixed mindset perched on my shoulder telling me that I cannot draw, that I cannot do art.  But I am determined to prevail.  I can get better at anything that I put my mind to.  And though I can still hear whispers of doubt, I am beginning to believe it.

For two rounds of projects, I have been so pleased and proud of what my kids have produced, of what they have taught us.  I hope to be even more impressed this time as they step out of their comfort zones and stretch themselves.  And maybe, by year’s end, they will have stretched themselves into greater growth mindsets, ready to conquer the world.  And that is what I really hope.   I will like it if they leave better writers.  I will love it if they leave better learners.

I am here to defend the Monthly Topic! I want it to stay! I’ve never commented on any of your posts about it, but it is really something I’ve been pondering very deeply over the course of last month. I have to admit, it is not an easy topic for me, and after a whole month of thinking (almost every single day) about what motivates me, I have to admit that I still do not know entirely. I actually may be even more lost about myself than I was before. But that’s a good thing. That’s the point of a month-long pondering topic. I have a lot more to say, but I’ll probably just save that for a future essay for your class. Anyhow, please continue to do the Monthly Topics. I know what it’s like to not feel like people are noticing, but rest assured — people see. And it really is a good thing.

~Kiersten Gasper, Sophomore, Cheney High School

Dang kids.  Always meddlin’ with my plans!  First, they rope me into doing the independent learning projects with them. Then, yesterday, they cajoled me into writing an injustice speech along with them, and now, today, Kiersten is not going to let me abandon the Monthly Topic.  I’m beginning to wonder who’s really in charge in 219.

For those who don’t know, Kiersten was responding to my “Change in Course” post (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=327), where I revealed that I would no longer be presenting a Monthly Topic because I was uncertain that it was having the desired impact; people just weren’t chiming in.  But of course, Kiersten flipped that upside down with her persuasive plea.  How can I not heed her words?  I mean come on,

“…it is really something I’ve been pondering very deeply over the course of last month. I have to admit, it is not an easy topic for me, and after a whole month of thinking (almost every single day) about what motivates me, I have to admit that I still do not know entirely. I actually may be even more lost about myself than I was before. But that’s a good thing. That’s the point of a month-long pondering topic. I have a lot more to say, but I’ll probably just save that for a future essay for your class.”

Really?  Girl knows what buttons to push.  Fine, Kiersten!  Have it your way.  I guess if it’s something that you are going to ponder very deeply for a month, I can find the strength to present a new topic as the calendar turns.  It will be on your desk by Monday.  Kids.

Happy Thursday, all.