Morning, all. Not quite back into blog mode yet, but I have been tweeting some thinking as a warm up. Sorry if it seems the easy way out. I’ll get back to it soon enough–maybe too soon. Cannot believe it’s the end of July.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

How do we know what we know in education? How do we know Jill learned this? How do we know Jack didn’t learn that? How do we know this was a good lesson? How do we know that was a bad lesson? How do we know this is a good teacher? How do we know that is a bad teacher? How do we know this is a good program? How do we know that is a bad program? How DO we know this? How DO we know that?

Maybe we don’t.

Maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s just me. But how do I know?

Seems when we don’t know, we don’t want others to know. So we seek answers. It’s human. We want to know. But what if we can’t know? I mean, really, what if we can’t? What if in education, we can’t know?

Oh, we try to know, especially if our “knowing” is necessary to hide what we don’t know. I mean, we can’t tell a parent  we don’t know if Jack is learning. We can’t tell our supervisor we don’t know if that was an effective lesson. We can’t tell someone we don’t know if he is a good teacher. We can’t tell the school board we don’t know if that program is successful. We have to know. We have to prove we know. And so, we measure.

We measure. When we want to know if an essay is effective, we create a rubric. When we want to know if student has learned, we provide a grade. When we want to know if a teacher is good, we create an evaluation. When we want to know if a program is successful, we mine data. We measure to show what we know, to prove beyond doubt that we know. But what if there’s doubt?

What if the same essay, using the same rubric was scored differently by a number of teachers? Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

What if a student got an A on all tests but only got a C in the class because she didn’t do the homework? Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

What if a teacher puts on a show only when he is observed to be labeled good? Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

What if a school or district fails fewer kids to increase graduation rates. Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

I have doubts. But there’s more at work here than one teacher’s doubts about the system he works in. When we measure, we rank. When we rank, we label. When we label, we sort. In short, when we measure, whether it’s an intended outcome or not, we create a culture of winners and losers, a reality that we know can have grave implications for kids at the top and bottom. A kid who is labeled a poor reader in elementary school will come to believe that label, come to live that label. And by the time she reaches me at the high school, she has lived out the prophecy. When my own son comes to believe–despite my suggesting otherwise–that an A is all that matters, his heightened stress makes me hope in earnest that he gets an A- this next year as he starts his high school experience.

Of course, we will never get away from the measure. We have to show what we know. But maybe, in the case of kids’ learning, we can take a different tack. Maybe we can know better by engaging those who know best: the learner. Let’s ask her. And if we can’t let it take the place of our measure, then maybe we can make it a complement to our measure. Either way, there may be some merit to the notion that if you want to know something, go to the source.

Kids know. They do. More than we believe, and the longer I have spent moving away from the measure and moving closer to the source, the more I have come to believe that if we want to know if kids are learning, we have to ask and listen. And that’s why I have gone to and continue to refine my select-and-support grading. Kids select their grades and support their choices with evidence. We come to an agreement based on the evidence, but we also take into account our judgment, our gut. For each kid, each situation is different, and among the myriad measurements that exist in our system, the only thing I “know” is that there is no one, best means to measure each kid. This I know. And of that there’s no doubt.

We should not only consider but go to the source when it comes to learning. Go to the headwaters. Ask her. She knows.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Here is Jenna Tamura’s end-of-the-year post. I meant to get it out a long time ago. Sorry, Jenna.

“I’ve always heard every ending is also a new beginning, we just don’t know it at the time.  I’d like to believe that’s true.” I’ve heard this quote several times as I continue to watch new, and rerun episodes of one of my favorite shows Criminal Minds.  Many know that the world of teaching is full of both knowns and unknowns.  Sometimes it is out of our control. But other times we can do something about it.  As this year comes to a close, I’ve thought about the things that I’m going to take with me into a new school year.

I will continue to do smiles and frowns with each one of my class periods every single day.  As I think about all the bits and pieces of stuff that I’ve learned about my kids, I can’t imagine going back and not knowing all those pieces of their life puzzle.  They know a lot about my life puzzle because I share as well. They’ve learned more about each other. We have become more than just a classroom. We are a community.  In my sixth period the other day I observed a group of 10 kids, who collectively probably wouldn’t have socialized outside of our community before, circle up to play a giant game of Uno during some down time.  In that moment I knew smiles and frowns are a non-negotiable for me moving forward.

I will continue with our select-and-support grading policy.  I can’t validate ditching the unconventional for the traditional when I’ve witnessed our grading policy work.  Yes, we know there are always changes and improvements to be made as we strive for “better”, but Monte Syrie and I are committed to staying on this path because kids respond when they are in charge of their own learning.  The stakes are less stressful because kids know they have time and we are flexible to their needs. We focus on growth. We focus on learning. We focus on what is best for kids.

So, as I say goodbye to my kids with either a high five, handshake, or a hug, I know that the break of summer will bring a new beginning to a new school year.  And while I don’t know what that new beginning will bring, I know I will carry these parts of this year with me into that new year with a new group of students.  

Do. Reflect. Do Better.