I'm No Good at Technology

I always considered myself to be a struggling math student. I was either scared of my math teachers, or scared of the content, or I thought I understood what to do when I really didn’t. At Syracuse, when I was an undergrad, there was a Math or Foreign Language requirement, which made perfect sense to me, so I took Spanish. And I happily told people that, “I’m just not a math person.” The truth is, almost everyone accepts this statement as fact because they either feel the same way, or hear this statement from others regularly. With relative ease, I could put together a group of like-minded colleagues who also view themselves as Not Math People.

A few years ago, I was in a National Institute of School Leadership (NISL) session, for administrators in my district. The topic was Leadership in the Mathematics classroom. The instructor asked us directly who thought of themselves as math people and who did not? More than half the group, including me, raised their hands and defined ourselves as Not Math People. His second question was, “Who doesn’t think of themselves as a reading person?” No one raised their hand. Why is it socially acceptable and reasonable to think of ourselves as Not Math People, but it’s completely taboo, embarrassing and inappropriate to define ourselves as Not Reading People? The Not Math People I know carry their Not Math Peopleness as a badge of honor. But to define myself as Not a Reader, or uncomfortable with literacy, just isn’t okay.

This lesson struck a chord. In fact, I felt a little ashamed to have used the Not a Math Person vocabulary for so long. I’ve proudly defined myself professionally as a problem solver for quite some time. So now, when faced with math in my daily life, I try and view it as a problem to be solved. I’m not yet the mathematician I want to be, but I’m improving.

Now I regularly meet I’m No Good at Technology. I’m No Good at Technology is someone who is usually comfortable with a few Web1.0 tools. But anything beyond email, and Microsoft Word, and I’m No Good at Technology tells you it’s not their thing. Would I’m No Good at Technology find it acceptable to not be a reading person or a literacy person?

As a leader, I’m struggling with how to address this issue with my colleagues. I want to push gently, introduce tools one at a time, and build comfort and confidence with Social Media and Web2.0 tools in the classroom and with my administrative colleagues. But I also feel a sense of urgency. In my urban district, students drop out every month. We have to engage students where they are, and the truth is, even in high poverty areas, students are online. Furthermore, while schools may be measured by their standardized test scores, students, after graduation, are not. Out in the world, they are measured by their ability to create, collaborate, write, innovate, use technology and be successful in blended environments. We don’t have any more time to wait for I’m No Good at Technology to slowly feel more comfortable. I can set up Google docs at work, point teachers and administrators to specific blogs and posts to read, encourage teachers to use Diigo and Delicious, but I can’t make teachers and administrators use these tools, and forcing the culture to change on my terms isn’t what I’m looking to do.

That’s why John Carver’s tweet today struck such a chord with me. He sent out an article entitled Three Trends That Define the Future of Teaching and Learning, by Tina Bardeghian from Mindshift.org. The author framed three key trends in teaching and learning. Teaching and Learning is Collaborative, Tech-Powered and Blended. I like the article, and I like the terms because they are tangible terms with clear definitions for I’m No Good at Technology to grab onto. I won’t summarize the entire article, but like John Carver, I think it’s a must read.

Here’s what I think is most important for change to occur in my context. As a leader, I need to name the change I want to occur. Using the term technology isn’t getting us anywhere. In the same way the word math was intimidating for me, the term technology is a nameless, faceless behemoth that equals fear for some of the administrators and teachers in my district. If technology is the answer to every question, it’s not an answer at all. It’s just like highlighting every word on the page in the book. It’s no more useful than highlighting nothing.

One of the biggest challenges I faced when I left the classroom and entered administration was learning to work with teachers around what would work for them, and not what I would do in any given situation. My style, my way isn’t the right way. It’s just a way. I had a vast instructional toolbox to meet the needs of my students in my teaching style. I had to increase my toolbox to be able to support teachers in their own style of instruction. As I write this, I think I’m in a similar place now with tech tools. I’ve only been on twitter since July, and blogging for an even shorter time. I know how I am learning, and how I want to use Social Media and Web2.0 tools, but I haven’t yet expanded my toolbox enough to have an answer for all of I’m No Good at Technology’s questions to help them feel more comfortable and ready to meaningfully apply tech tools in the classroom.

Here’s what I do know. As a district, we need to rethink how teaching and learning is occurring and we need to be purposeful about the why of technology. To move forward, we need I’m No Good at Technology to engage in the conversation. We need to understand that in the same way it hasn’t been acceptable for me to be Not a Math Person, “technology” is a vital component of teaching and learning. But I have to practice how I speak about tools. I need to practice being more purposeful about why tools are relevant in the context of student learning. As a leader, I need to build a bridge between using Social Media, using Web2.0 tools and the skills students need to be successful in their future. I have to continue to build my own toolbox to speak about these issues more articulately so we can move forward as a district.

Is anyone else having a similar struggle? How are you handling these challenges?

CC Images:

Alan Guth Equations by opacity http://www.flickr.com/photos/opacity/4028771622/

Logo2.0 part 1 by Ludwig Gatzke http://www.flickr.com/photos/stabilo-boss/93136022/

Tool Operator by Chewey Hooey http://www.flickr.com/photos/jrvogt81/4264575563/

Bridge over Tara by daninho _ibk http://www.flickr.com/photos/52084241@N00/1878397461/

This post cross-posted on the Connected Principals blog

The Hidden Contract of Urban Schools

This week, I read on the TeachPaperless Blog Shelly Blake-Plock’s post entitled "Example of a Paperless Exam". I’ve been reading TeachPaperless for more than a year, and it’s one of my favorite blogs. Shelly has inspired me to significantly decrease my paper usage, but the posts I like the most are the one’s in which he describes what he’s teaching and how he’s assessing learning. I love the exam he offers in this post. It’s a great example of using content to apply skills, rather than the exams I see all the time, which are only assessing content, usually through matching, short answer and fill-in the blanks.

For me this exam exemplifies what I want teaching and learning to become in my district, and it also shines a light on all that is difficult about teaching and learning in an urban district. I work on a campus of high schools. These aren’t schools within a school; they are six distinct high schools, with their own staff, students, leadership and themes. There are about 280 teachers combined across all six schools, and I’m responsible for overseeing curriculum and instruction across the campus. Essentially, I’m a principal without a school, and my responsibility is for teaching and learning. My office is on our campus, so I’m in classrooms, working with principals and connecting with students every day.

We have a few teachers who may want to give an exam like this one, but for most teachers it isn’t something they are considering at all. But it isn’t because they don’t care about kids, or they aren’t good teachers. The context of our school community is so important to understanding the challenges of teaching and learning in city schools. Our students come to us with so much baggage. When I entered high school, I was a sponge. I just wanted to learn everything. I had experienced, good, great and mediocre teachers, but my fundamental belief in school as a positive place was clearly embedded in my psyche.

The average student in my district has had a different experience. He/She reads 3-4 years below grade level. Most ninth graders entering our schools have not experienced success in school. The textbook has been too difficult for as long as they can remember. As Hispanic students, primarily from the Dominican Republic or Puerto Rico, they cannot find themselves in any of the curricula we teach. For the English Language Learners, school has been a confusing mix of academic vocabulary with multiple meanings, and lessons taught from the Speak English Louder School of instruction. A culture of low expectations permeates their school experiences. Students don’t think they’re going to be doctors and lawyers, they think they will be medical technicians and paralegals. Most will be the first in their family to graduate from high school; virtually all will be the first to attend college.

The Hidden Contract dominates decision-making in an urban school. In many schools, the implied contract between teacher and student is the following. You the teacher will agree to not challenge me, force me to work hard, embarrass me, or make me struggle, and I the student will not act out, disrupt the class, embarrass or challenge you in any way. This same contract exists between Principal and Teacher as well. If you the teacher do not disrupt my day, excessively ask for students to be removed from your class, push at what should and should not be taught, then I the principal will support your decisions, evaluate you positively and leave you alone. Essentially, between and among all parties; 

you leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone.

I see these contracts in action every day; passive students, sitting in teacher-directed classrooms, answering lower order questions that challenge no one. Students without pencils or paper, teachers without challenging plans, and everyone surprised if a student, a teacher, or administrator wants or expects more from a class. I understand why classrooms are this way. Students are used to failing. They don’t know what success feels like, and failure is no longer scary or painful, it’s become the norm. Teachers want to connect students with whatever passion it is that brought them to the subject they teach, but they are faced with vast gaps in students’ content knowledge, and so called basic skills are so low. Additionally, the reality of poor standardized test scores causes incredible fear. Each teacher faces incredible pressure to teach to the test to give students the best opportunity to pass and earn their high school diploma.

It is in this reality that I view the great exam that Shelly Blake-Plock offered in his blog. How do we change almost everything about the way teaching and learning occurs to bring us to a place where that exam is the norm, rather than an exam offered in some other school with someone’s else’s kids? Do I show teachers this exam to give them a clear picture of where we want to go? Or, will showing this exam to teachers offer a stark reminder of the Grand Canyon between our schools and his?

Relentlessly attacking this hidden contract is where leadership begins in urban schools. As leaders, my colleagues and I have to grab hold of the hours teachers and students are with us, within our shared walls. Every year during the hype leading up to the Superbowl, I think of leading in an urban school. Coaches must find a way to get their players to ignore the hype. They must keep players away from all the opinions, facts, and beliefs about their team and the game ahead. A Superbowl coach must ensure the players hear his voice above the cacophony of the media and the fans.

It’s the same in an urban school. We must find a way to turn the state standardized test scores, the federal calls for turnaround schools, and the local media attacks into white noise for our teachers. We must protect them, nurture them, cheer for them and create a school where failing at student engagement is okay. Until teachers feel safe to fail at engaging their students, we cannot be successful. We must lead efforts to do the same with our students. Together with our teachers, we must create an environment for our students where their past failures and current struggles are irrelevant to the learning occurring in our classrooms. Teachers must be the eye of the storm in our students’ lives. Together, we must give name, shape, and form to the dreams of the better future our students have, but are afraid to say aloud. And once those dreams are named, we must offer a roadmap to achieving them.

We have so much to overcome. But speaking from my own experience, when urban students engage, when the classroom becomes a door to connecting with the world, and students for a moment, or a period, a week, or a semester, see options and choices in their future, it is a profoundly beautiful experience. Ensuring this occurs for all our students and not just those in one classroom is the challenge I love in the work we do.

If we could find a way to get groups of students to succeed on Shelly’s exam, we would hear the hidden contract of school breaking, like a thousand mirrors crashing to the ground. But to get there, from where we are today, is an incredibly long journey.

So I’m struggling this weekend. How do I use this example exam? I need a way to make it an encouraging discussion. We need teaches to leave the discussion feeling empowered, despite our context. We need to turn the discussion away from the abstract and to the concrete, so new and veteran teachers can feel empowered to shift away from content only classrooms. We need to move beyond drill and kill, to meaningfully connecting our students to the world, and engaging them. We need to give up the standard urban classroom relationship of teacher as all knowing and student as empty vessel to be filled. I see all this and more in this one exam example. But I need to make it accessible to our teachers, so I’m still thinking.

Any suggestions?

CC Images:

Bluebell Railway Luggage by Daves Portfolio

Our Direction by B Tal

32-pl by Zephyrance

Edcamp or Standard PD? An Edchat Reflection

Yesterday’s afternoon #edchat asked the question “ Edcamps and TeachMeets are becoming a movement for professional development, is this a viable alternative to standard PD?

I logged on expecting to participate in a lively chat and the discussion was certainly lively; I just felt like I couldn’t participate, because the stream was so one-sided. I love #edchat. Patrick Larkin introduced me to twitter and #edchat in July, and I’ve used the weekly chat as my primary tool to grow my PLN, and practice tweeting. My colleagues might argue that I struggle to say anything in 1,400 characters; so making my point in 140 characters has been a steep learning curve.

Mostly, the chats are so engaging and I love the give and take between and among people I’ve never met. But every so often, the chats become teacher versus administrator. I think it’s unfortunate that we transfer this us/them mentality from our workplaces to being online. I don’t know why I think this, but it feels like offline baggage shouldn’t make it into our online spaces. But that isn’t what stopped me from engaging either. This time I felt the teacher/administrator divide, but I also felt the urban versus suburban district divide.

Chat participants overwhelmingly spoke in favor of Edcamps and TeachMeets as a viable alternative to standard PD. Here’s my struggle. I don’t buy the either/or construct of the question, and I feel like the word “standard” is code for boring.

Bad Professional Development is horrific, and I have sat through way too much of it. I particularly loathe when I have to role-play as a child in a classroom. Why can’t someone teach me about instruction or leadership without forcing me to act like a child in class? Can’t I be me, as an adult, and still learn? There’s no question that a principal, district administrator, or outside consultant leading a one-shot session is a waste of time. But that’s not how I view professional development.

First off, I don’t buy into the term professional development. I plan and lead sessions monthly, and I don’t have any idea how to develop anyone. What I know how to do is teach, and encourage learning, and introduce new ideas, and create a safe environment for discussion and sharing. So I lead professional learning sessions, not development sessions.

My urban district values professional learning. New teachers have three full days of learning in August, and all staff have two more days together before students return. Then we have ten Wednesday’s, (one a month), when students have early dismissal and teachers stay ninety minutes beyond the regular day for school-based learning. Combine those fifteen days with weekly team meetings, collaborative planning time and monthly faculty meetings, and a school leader can and should put together a coherent yearlong plan to meaningfully move his/her school forward.

I love the passion, the enthusiasm, the autonomy, the sharing and the collaborating that an edcamp offers. We need all of that in urban professional learning sessions, but not without a coherent vision of school improvement to move teaching and learning forward for student achievement.

Here’s a few selections from yesterday’s #edchat:

Edcamp/TeachMeet is grass-roots PD. Teachers sharing their passions & knowledge w/ each other. #edchat

It is logical that the most productive PD would be created, developed, and run by the teachers who need it. #edchat

Traditional PD is fine when you have a message that everyone in your school just needs to hear. But how often is that? #edchat

Traditional PD can be replaced by the edcamp model at any school - find educators interested in sharing and learning = good to go! #edchat

Other participants wrote about autonomy and choice of sessions, and letting teachers do what they want because they will choose what’s right for their learning and their students’ learning. I don’t doubt that all this is true in the #edchat participants’ schools. But it isn’t true at the secondary level in my urban district. Let me be clear, the leaders I work with, including me, need to do a better job of structuring and leading professional learning sessions. What I know about edcamps/teachmeets, and what I learned reading the #edchat made it clear that so much is positive about the model. I work with principals who treat each of our professional learning sessions as a one and done session, with no coherence from month to month. This must change. But I also work with teachers who cross their arms at each session and scream with their body language, “I dare you to engage me.” We also have so many first, second, and third year teachers. They are learning their content and trying to build relationships with their students, while struggling to navigate the challenges of an urban school day. To expect them to lead sessions and know how we need to move forward isn’t realistic. Any new teacher rides a roller coaster in those first few years, but this is especially true for new urban teachers.

Our schools are skewered in the local media for having low standardized test scores. Teachers feel incredible pressure to teach only basic skills and prepare students for the test. The result is content focused classes with little or no connection to students’ lives or our changing world. In this context, we need incredibly strong principals and teacher-leaders to develop a yearlong coherent professional learning plan to move the school forward. We need to use monthly professional learning sessions to drive the agenda forward, to imagine our schools as better than they are today. And then we must use collaborative planning time, prep time, and team meetings to engage, support, and teach, so every teacher shares in the task of moving the school forward by applying what’s being discussed in professional learning.

I plan on attending Edcamp Boston in May, and I hope anyone reading this will attend also. We need Edcamps to inspire and engage and connect us with current and future members of our PLN. But I’ll bring back what I learn and apply it within the context of the coherent professional learning plan my colleagues and I have developed for our district. One teacher having a phenomenal Edcamp experience and applying new ideas to his/her classroom is wonderful. But it isn’t enough in my district.

I want to figure out a way to bring the Google 20% thinking into my district. I want us to have teacher developed sessions that engage adults across our schools. I want conversations to inspire, and ideas to grow. But the status quo of our schools is unacceptable. We’re better than we used to be, but we’re not where we need to be. So for now, strong leaders have to use professional learning to drive the agenda. Professional Learning must set a path to move student achievement beyond improving test scores and create a roadmap to change the status quo of urban schools.

I didn’t know how to say all this in 140 characters in #edchat yesterday. And I’m not sure I’m saying it well now. So here’s another attempt:

Edcamp style is amazing-in urban district we 1st need nonstandard sustainable pl 2 change T Bliefs and expectations for S success #edchat

 CC Images:

On his face a map of the world by Riana Raucci

The Dragon Roller Coaster, Ocean Park by the wamphyri

Educon Reflections from an Inner City Administrator

I just returned from my first Educon experience. The sessions and panels were great, but what I really loved was watching and listening to the SLA students. My tour guide on Friday, the educoncierge, the coat check team, and food crew were all passionate about their Educon role. They were so invested in ensuring that Educon went smoothly, and their enthusiasm and ownership of the conference offered insight into one of the contributing factors towards SLA’s success. The kids just know they can do it. It doesn’t really matter what the “it” is. The culture of SLA is such that whatever needs to be done, or whatever students want to do can be done. I think if Chris Lehmann met with his students today and said he intends to hold Educon 2.4 on the moon, the students would smile and say, “Let’s get to it.” In inner-city schools, we often pay lip service to this ideology. But believing that all kids can do “it” and living that belief are not synonymous. The SLA kids were inspirational. The challenge to change this culture in my district is daunting.

SLA is certainly different than high schools in my district. We serve 3,000 students across six high schools. We accept everyone; whether they arrive on the first day of school or the 101st. Our average student is 2-3 years below grade level in Reading and Mathematics. Virtually all of our students will be the first in their family to graduate high school and attend college. 85% of our students speak a language other than English at home, and each year, we enroll about 250 students who are new arrivals to the country without any English skills. These students never enroll at the start of the school. More often than not, they enroll now, and figuring out how to integrate new, English Language Learners is an incredible challenge for teachers. My experience as an educator is certainly different than what educators experience at SLA.

But we have so much to learn from SLA. Instead of infusing our culture with living/breathing evidence that all our students can accomplish whatever they set they minds to, we spend an inordinate amount of time focusing on issues outside of our control. Our students do live in poverty. Most do work to help support their families, leaving less time for homework. Most of our students’ parents are working several minimum wage jobs and are not available or because of the language barrier are not comfortable engaging with teachers and the school. This is our reality. I thought about these truths during the Design Thinking: 21st Century Skills for the Real World session I attended. The facilitators asked us to think about problem solving as a call to action. We applied the Design process of Discovery >Define > Brainstorm> Prototype >Test. I think the hardest part of this process is meaningfully defining the problem. In every school I’ve been in, this step is a battle. We often jump right to solutions, without really taking the time to define our actual problem. What if we did this? What if you tried that? We focus so many of our solutions on the problems we really can’t control, like the socio-economic factors listed above. This session re-emphasized for me the need to focus our efforts on what is in our control. We can’t always fix what happens before and after school in our students’ lives. But we can develop stronger problem solving skills and apply them to the issues of improving school structures and teaching and learning in our classrooms.

The panel on Friday night offered a nice link to many of the struggles we face. The Ben Franklin quote about the immovable, movable, and those that move is a nice statement reflecting a city school reality. Making change, real change in the inner city, feels like trying to move a mountain. We push at it daily, and even though we leave each day absolutely exhausted, we wonder if we moved anything at all. In that context, I loved what Trung Le had to say about creating a new language for school design. The word School carries such a negative connation for our students and their parents. I grew up on a college campus, with two educators for parents. All I’ve ever known is school, and it’s such a joyous, safe and engaging place for me. But not for everyone, and certainly not for the students and parents in my district.

The same is true for the word Classroom. Today, in some city classrooms, the word is about power, not learning. As the adult, I have control here, you will learn what I say, and you will follow my rules. Economically, our nation cannot afford to have so many city/minority students dropping out. We need to redefine school and its’ associated vocabulary to achieve different results. After hearing Trung Le, I’m even more convinced we need to change the language we use to define these walls, if we want different results.

I loved the Project-Based Learning in a Math Classroom Conversation. Two SLA students, Taylor and DaVonte, spoke eloquently about their math projects and their ownership of their own learning. Interestingly, some of the discussion mirrored conversations we have in my district. If we use PBL, don’t we also have to teach content and basic skills separately? I hear this regularly. Teachers say to me they can offer a good project, once their students’ basic skills are better. Students are so far behind, we can’t possibly get to the point where we will apply math until much later in the course. As I see it, we teach basic math concepts to struggling students year after year. If it were going to work, wouldn’t it have worked already?

Taylor and Davonte’s voices were so powerful on this topic. Gently, but firmly, they told participants they were thinking about teaching and math learning incorrectly. DaVonte explained his points about math content by pointing to the content embedded in his project. Taylor finally said to us, “It would be much harder to remember an equation, than to remember the project I use the equation in. I can just look up the equation, I remember projects I did, not the equation on its own.” It was fascinating to watch a few participants try to impose their personal biases about math instruction on these two students, but no matter what was said, the students wouldn’t waver in their beliefs about how and what they are learning. I walked away from that conversation trying to find another way to enter the PBL dialogue with our teachers.

I enjoyed the Connected Principals conversation, but I left wanting more. Thanks to Patrick Larkin (@bhsprincipal) I’ve been on twitter since July. I have this blog, but I’m struggling to write regularly and find my voice in the blogosphere. I love #edchat, #cpchat, and the Connected Principals site. But my city colleagues and I just aren’t represented in what’s out there currently. I find it be lonely to be a leader in a district, where very few people think as I do. I’m contributing to moving the mountain each day, with almost no one to connect with face to face. I use Social Media to connect with like-minded people, but also to find ideas I can’t imagine yet. I love the feeling of reading a blog or seeing a tweet that sharpens my own thinking or introduces me to something entirely new. But the chaos of inner-city schools can be overwhelming. For many of us, the day, every day, happens to us. If more city administrators are going to participate in Connected Principals, we need our experiences to be represented there.

Since I’ve already written plenty, here are just a few other bulleted thoughts:

• I really liked Bill Fitgerald’s (@funnymonkey) thinking about crowd sourcing the death of the textbook. It seems to me that city schools are the perfect place to try his ideas. We don’t have enough money and not buying textbooks would be great. Plus creating culturally relevant resources at appropriate reading levels will help student learn. A challenge though is this; everyone thinks they are an education expert because everyone went to school. We’re all used to having a textbook as the course anchor. How do we change this extremely traditional mindset? It seems like city schools would be the perfect place to make inroads.
• I loved what Stanford Thompson had to say. In city districts, we live in such fear of being labeled a failing school because of low standardized test scores. To hear that playing music in an ensemble is improving attendance, learning, behavior, and engagement is so heartening. Now how do I get his program here?
• I loved meeting people whose ideas I read and value. It was great to put actual faces with avatars and to meet new people. Whenever I go to a party and people find out I’m an inner-city educator, the reaction I get most often is surprise. I seem smart and nice, why can’t I get a better job? I didn’t feel this at Educon. The people I follow on twitter and through RSS are so different from those I interact with daily. Our experiences, in some cases, couldn’t be more divergent. But we can all still learn from each other. For many of you, your schools work as they should. We’re not where you are yet, and we don’t always want to get to your destination. But I have hope that your ideas and actions will help move us forward too. I’ll be sure to return to Educon next year to challenge your thinking and my own. I just hope I can bring a few of my colleagues with me.

Defining and Solving the Right Problem

Too often, we don’t take the time to define and solve the right problem in schools. Because we have great intentions, we jump right to possible solutions instead of being thoughtful about defining the specific problem to solve. We treat most problems generically and solve them with new books, new software, new policies, or even new teachers or new leadership.

In my district, we treat low student achievement like a dartboard, and throw everything we have at it, without taking the time to define the specific problem to solve. We have no shortage of solutions, but we rarely stop and focus on defining the specific problem we want to solve. 

Solving the right problem means taking the time to think about the root cause of the issue. Edwin Bridges, one of my graduate school professors, taught me how to define a clear problem statement, without jumping right to solutions. He offered this as an example of defining the right problem. Initially, the homeowner decided in advance that the solution to his garage door problem involved repair. By not taking the time to define the actual problem, the homeowner essentially threw solutions and money at the dartboard and hoped one would stick. Identifying the actual problem, led to an easy cost-free solution.

A man lived in a neighborhood south of San Francisco. His garage door was opening at odd times throughout the day and night. He threw money at the problem, calling for a repairman, changing parts in the opener, all without success. The garage door continued to open and shut randomly. Some time later, the man was at a neighborhood barbecue, where in conversation, he learned that several of his neighbors were experiencing the same problem with their garage door opener. This new information reframed the problem entirely. Now the problem was that many garage doors were opening and shutting at odd times. This new information led the man down an entirely different path He learned his neighborhood was on the flight plan for airplanes landing at the San Francisco airport. One airline used the same frequency for landing as the garage door opener. With this new knowledge, the solution was to simply switch the channel on the back of every garage door opener, changing the frequency and ending the problem.




In my urban district, we face another hindrance to defining the right problem. We allow the real socio-economic problems we face to cloud the issues of teaching and learning. The fact is we are teaching in a community that is extremely poor. Our students are hungry sometimes, they are coming from single parent homes, students are working long hours after school to help support their families instead of doing homework. Our students do not speak English at home, and they come from families that have not experienced academic success of their own in the past. These are facts. But they have nothing to do with what is in our control and that’s the daily instruction we are responsible for offering daily. These socio-economic factors certainly effect our students, but they do not mean we cannot reach students instructionally. But I am involved in so many conversations where teachers point to these factors as reasons students cannot learn. To be clear, there’s no question these factors influence student learning, and more often than not the influence is negative, but socio-economics are not a reason we cannot offer specific instructional support to our students.

Somehow, the culture in my school district allows us to believe that good teaching is a mystery. A good teacher either has it, or doesn’t. The “It” factor is hard to name, and impossible to define and teach. We treat good teaching like it occurs in a fog or a haze behind the curtain. While many teachers may have innate teaching ability, the truth is teaching is like any other skill. Practice, lessons, and learning make the participant better.


This is a difficult conversation in my district. If good teaching is a mystery, then successful student learning must also be mysterious. Some students get it, most don’t, and neither the teacher, nor the student is to blame. Instead, let’s blame Poverty, that nameless, faceless creature prevalent in urban schools. The result of this culture and construct is that we plow through content and students either get it or they don’t. In this construct, all our students fall into several distinct categories. They either learn something the first time-these are the smart kids, are behavioral problems-these are the bad kids, or are compliant kids- these are the nice kids who will pass regardless of whether or not they have actually learned.

We have to change this culture. Instructional practices and interventions to increase student learning can and must be named. If we articulate clearly the problem we want to solve; what is it students need to learn to understand this concept, and we teach it, and reteach it, student learning can and will improve.

Thanks for reading-Happy holidays to all.

Blogging for Real Reform: Name Your Reform

At some point reform became a catchall word. Whether it’s the media, politicians, or unions, reform is most often used to define some us versus them relationship. So much of what we read about or hear about sets up educational reform as an either/or relationship. I’ve spent my career wishing most of the dilemmas I face were either/or scenarios. Rarely is teaching and learning, budgeting, or staffing so simple to solve as “Either this… or that, choose one option.”

I thought yesterday’s New York Times article, “Growing Up Digital, Wired for Distraction” (NY Times, 11/21/2010), was a great example of this either/or relationship. The author set up a construct in which students are either engaged in the content-based learning in school and are successful at warding off technological distractions, or technology has grasped poor unsuspecting teens and is thwarting their best efforts to be successful high school students. Articles like this don’t tell the story of classrooms across the United States where teachers and students are struggling and succeeding to meaningfully integrate technology. I read teacher blogs and tweets all the time, and so many teachers are succeeding at engaging students using new media, tools, and classroom paradigms. Anyone who has spent even one day in a classroom knows that some days it works, and others it doesn’t. Technology integration in 2010 cannot be distilled into “on the one hand” and “on the other hand” sound bites.

Good teaching is another reform issue that cannot be distilled into either/or statements. A school committee, superintendent, or principal who bases an entire teacher evaluation on a ten-minute snapshot in a classroom, or a standardized test result cannot begin to understand the myriad issues, decisions, actions that every teacher must make each and everyday. Distilling classroom reform into test results or one quick evaluation cannot begin to address the depth of understanding required to make meaningful decisions to improve the quality of teaching and learning in a classroom.

I recognize the current education reform vocabulary as the same terminology I use when I talk about getting in shape. For years I’ve tried to improve my own health and wellness by talking about going to the gym. I understand that actually working out and eating less would significantly increase my chances of being healthier, but that’s much more difficult than just talking about action. Education Reform has been the same way; lots of words very little action. I’d recognize my strategy anywhere. I don’t have a solid strategy for getting into shape and I can only speak in generally ambiguous terms about increasing exercise and decreasing late night snacking. But when it comes to school, I do have details to offer. I don’t believe there ought to be one definition for Real Reform, but I do believe that the people with the experience, those with the ideas and good sense to know how and when to try ideas, have been relegated to the fringes of the conversation. It isn’t always the case, but the loudest voices in the debate seem to know the least. Everyone reading this post already knows what the loud voices are calling for regarding high stakes testing, charters, and the other hot button issues. So in the spirit of the day, here’s one more small voice, attempting to contribute some substantive ideas for Real Reform.

         The traditional high school model in this country is fundamentally broken. High Schools are considered successful when many of the graduating students do not pursue post-secondary education or do not graduate. The bell shaped curve defines our notion of success. If some people get F’s and others get A’s what we are doing must be fair and equitable. This model was fine when a high school diploma could still be a ticket to the middle class, and there were jobs for all those students. But most of those jobs simply no longer exist, and we keep on feeling positive about the bell shaped curve.  

     The comprehensive high school model does not work for most inner-city students. I don’t know which model is the right one, but the shopping mall high school just doesn’t work with the students I know.

     There isn’t one right reform model. Making positive change in schools requires knowing your students and your community. What’s right for me may not be right for the kids I serve. What’s right for my students may not be right for your students. 

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     The New England Association of Schools and Colleges (NEASC) 2011 Standards offers a positive template for meaningful reform. No matter where you may be in the country, if you are reading this post, check out the new standards at http://cpss.neasc.org/downloads/2011_Standards/2011_Standards.pdf 

      I do not believe these standards offer the way to reform schools. They offer a roadmap to developing a school aligned to what each community wants and needs. The standards don’t cover everything. They fall far short in defining meaningful technology use at the high school level. But here’s what they do define that I value:

   

      The first standard requires a clear statement of Core Values, Beliefs, and Learning Expectations. The authors say “effective schools identify core values and beliefs about learning that function as explicit foundational commitments to students and the community.” (NEASC Standard 1, 2011) When done correctly each school is identifying their own core values, beliefs and learning expectations. Asking the question, “What are your beliefs about school?” is so different than stating “These should be your beliefs about school.” NEASC further requires that the school define their own 21st century learning expectations. While some schools may take someone else’s laundry list of skills, the opportunity is there to define 21st skills meaningfully for your community.

      The curriculum standard shifts the learning outcomes for each course away from content knowledge and towards using content as the vehicle to learn skills. In my view, this is an example of naming Real Reform. In an economy and technological age where skills are valued more than content knowledge, we need practical and meaningful tools to make the shift. NEASC provides language and a roadmap to make this happen.

      Assessment is meant to inform students and stakeholders of progress towards meeting the schools’ 21st century skills. There must be assessment of and for learning. Assessment cannot be just a restatement of facts. If the school values problem solving, how can a teacher set up scenarios that both value and assess problem solving as a skill? Furthermore, assessment cannot only be summative. Formative assessment is informal daily assessment to ensure that all students, not just the vocal ones have learned what was intended today. Formative assessments ought to inform instructional decisions tomorrow, not at the end of the unit.

      When I’m at a party and strangers learn that I’m an inner city educator, they often make broad statements about inner city families, students, and schools. I try not to let this pass. In a non-confrontational way, I try to name what occurs in the schools I know, to address these broad statements about urban education. This is what I hope today is about; naming the reforms we value. Reform is rapidly becoming a non-word because it means everything and nothing at the same time. I don’t know that my thinking is right, but I do know I rarely come across an educational idea or dilemma that simply requires an either/or construct. Together, let’s ensure that calls for reform are articulately naming specific and concrete steps. Otherwise we either reform or we don’t.

Rebel Education Reform-An Inner City Perspective

Ron Suskind, a writer for the Wall Street Journal gave a name to the current education reform dialogue. He discussed a belief and a faith in having something better despite the words of those around us that “we can’t”, or “we won’t”, or “why bother” as a “hope in the unseen. (Suskind, 1998).” In his book, A Hope in the Unseen, Suskind retells the true story of a young man’s journey from the inner city to Brown University. Cedric, the main character defined the unseen as “a place, a place I couldn’t see yet, up ahead… an imagined place that I’ll get to someday (Suskind, 1998, pg. 330).” It’s this hope in something unseen that frames my current thinking about education reform.

Tom Whitby has called for posts about positive educational reform today. I wish I could sit down and craft an answer. I wish I could combat all the negative voices on either side of the debate in regular blog posts. I’d like to speak to all constituents in the debate in my regular writing. I wish I had a clearly articulated position that addressed what I agreed with and disagreed with in everyone’s arguments. But I don’t. I am in awe of all of the bloggers participating in this event today. Many of you are such prolific writers, and I am the mayor of procrastinator city. I just haven’t been able to make blogging part of my daily or weekly routine…yet. Part of my struggle is procrastination, but another component is I struggle to find myself, the teachers I work with, or the students I know in anything I’m reading or seeing. The true experience of education reform in the inner city isn’t in the newspaper, or on the nightly news. It’s not in the education nation discussion, or on twitter. What I read each day in the media is so negative, and what’s in many blogs is so positive. My experiences as an inner city educator cannot be summed up with positive blogs or negative press. Inner city education is about living in a shade of grey, and my thoughts on reform are influenced by these experiences.

I know that education reform in action in city schools is like trying to move a mountain. So many factors are stacked against us. It’s difficult to step back from the mountain and provide statements of fact about what I know to be true. So here are two offerings. First, what I experience as it relates to the reform discussion, and second, a set of belief statements that I think are applicable to the reform dialogue. Hopefully the readers will interpret these words as a positive contribution to the discussion.

Education reform is about ignoring perception and beliefs. I love working in city schools. I am passionate about the work I do and the choices I’ve made. But when I meet new people, many assume I’m in city schools because I must not be able to get a job in a better school system. I work in a district where the local newspaper thinks we’re terrible, the school committee says the principals and district leadership are all awful, and the surrounding communities think we are a haven for illegal immigrants. On the days that I get to school ninety minutes before school starts, I feel like I’m one of the last people to arrive. Education reform is about putting in the time to make the changes we expect to see in our schools. Our teachers and administrators are at school before the sun comes up, and they leave long after dark. We know positive change and reform starts with showing up.

Education reform has to be about great instruction and I work with some master teachers. I know a Science teacher who makes inquiry an art. He gets kids to ask questions and think and wonder as they have never before. I know an English teacher who makes words come alive for students. She encourages students to find their voice as writers. She gets students who have never been proud of a sentence they’ve written to publish their work and present before a room full of teachers, writers, and parents. I see teachers who are the eye of the storm for our kids each and everyday.

Despite the negativity associated with the statement, education reform also needs to be about getting bad teachers out of the classroom. What we do in city schools every day is about life and death for kids. When I went to public school it never occurred to me not to go to college. Most of the kids in my district will be the first person in their family to graduate from high school and virtually all will be the first person to attend college. So we can’t afford to have anything but master teachers. But I know plenty of teachers who aren’t. I work with teachers who are bad for kids. I know teachers who don’t believe that our students can be successful. I know a teacher who picks a student to intimidate each year to keep everyone in line. I know teachers who have hit kids, who curse at them, who have decided that the best way to teach English is to yell English louder. I know too many teachers who are immersed in a culture of low expectations and a component of education reform must be about moving these teachers out of the profession.

Education reform has to have room in the dialogue to expect more from your principal, your superintendent, your teachers, your students and your parents. Yesterday, Patrick Larkin asked on the Connected Principals blog if administrators are proud of their schools. Sometimes I am, but I’m not everyday. What a blasphemous thing to say as an educational leader in the blogosphere! But I’ve had parents and students arrested far too many times to always feel proud of what we do and don’t do. I’ve come home from school with blood on my clothing from fights and wondered how this could happen in a place called school. I’ve watched students throw their potential away by dropping out and I’ve felt totally incapable of solving the myriad problems our students bring to us daily. 

There are also days that I’ve felt unimaginable pride for students and my school. I’ve watched students I taught graduate from high school and move on, against all odds to some of the best schools in the country. I’ve known students who made me hope that my son would grow up to be like them. I’ve watched with admiration and pride as teenagers work long hours outside of school to help pay the rent and put food on the table and still find the time to write a history paper or do their math homework. I’ve known our school community to come together to help families in need and rally around teachers and principals who need support. I feel pride for the students who find a way to get to school no matter what is happening in their lives. I feel proud of the knowledge that we offer a safe place for kids each and everyday.

Education reform has to be about more than test scores. Whether your perspective is in an urban or suburban school district, as a teacher or principal, or working with Kindergarteners or twelfth graders, we must be united around refusing to accept that test scores are the result we desire. Education reform must be about changing the dialogue. In my own job, I allow myself to engage in these conversations about whether or not teachers or principals or poverty or standardized tests are the problem. The problem is all and none of these issues.

I attended my son’s preschool open house this week. The director offered these “What We Believe” statements about my son’s school. I’d like the Director to come and give the same talk to the principals and teachers I work with to help us frame what we believe. Here’s part of what she said:

“We believe that all children are interesting, capable beings with much to contribute.”

“We believe children thrive when they are given abundant opportunities to play [and learn] in an aesthetically beautiful environment.”

“We believe each child’s learning is unique and important.”

“We believe children’s work and experiences should be document and valued.”

“We believe that emotional competency is an important factor in school success and overall contentment.”

“We believe play is the work of children and that children thrive when play and creative expression is not only permitted but encouraged.”

“We believe that learning about reading, writing, and math should be enthusiastically facilitated within the context of children’s projects and natural interests rather than as separate academic areas.”

“We believe in building positive relationships between educators and parents.”

“We know that educators are the single most important influence in a child’s experience in our [school].”

(What We Believe, October 2010, JCC Early Learning Centers)

These belief statements begin to give shape to that “hope in the unseen” for me. My experiences as a city educator have taught me that rarely is there a problem with one clear right answer. I just can’t buy the paradigm that either this or that is the problem we have to fix. In my experience, education has very few absolutes and a whole lot of grey. For me, positive education reform begins with elevating the dialogue and redefining our expectations beyond test scores. My son’s preschool director offered up one example of belief statements to elevate this discussion. I have no doubt that I will read more in many of the posts today.

Thanks for taking the time to read my thinking.