Category: Teacher Troubles

testing season

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An avocational educational historian and someone I admire is Jennifer Binis–she’s given me so much to consider and think about. One area where I sense I have some cognitive dissonance is understanding her position on state testing. From a few of her tweets, she suggested that the #optout movement was the domain of white, privileged suburban parents. (Jennifer, if I misinterpreted this I apologize in advice, and will edit accordingly.)

So, instead of picking apart or countering her points, I’m going to do some research on my own, and see if I can make sense or claims to the question: “Are standardized tests systemically racist?”

Articles on the history of racism in standardized testing:

The Racist Beginnings of Standardized Testinghttp://www.nea.org/home/73288.htm

History of Standardized Testing in the United States http://www.nea.org/home/66139.htm

Racial Bias Built into Tests https://www.fairtest.org/racial-bias-built-tests

Conclusion: Yes.

Opt-Out Movement

Now – the #optout movement. Her articles on this topic are clear and go deeper than our conversation on Twitter: https://jennbbinis.com/uncategorized/what-do-we-lose-due-to-opt-out-what-do-we-gain/

The “and then what” (Binis) is my question, too.

At some point, we’ll get around to better assessments like what’s happening in the NYS Performance Consortium, New Hampshire, or on the local-level across the country. At some point, we’ll move past multiple choice and get to what’s next.
The problem with what’s next is that the performance-based assessments pool is shallower. To be sure, there are structures, guidelines, protocols, and research around ensuring reliability, but the pool is not nearly as deep as it is for multiple choice.
In effect, what’s next is going to be messy as all get up. If the field doesn’t trust the subset of [the] field that designed the easier stuff using research-based practices, what’s going to happen in the next evolution? https://jennbbinis.com/uncategorized/vegetarian-butchers-unite/

Ultimately, I am wondering at my own experiences and discomfort. Speaking for myself, I know that not once have I ever been asked to make the current SBA accessible or transparent to my colleagues and more importantly to students. It’s been shrouded in secrecy and trauma. (Understand that though I wasn’t asked to share, I’ve taken it upon myself to design and share PD resources with the SBA, and will continue to do so.) The secrecy and lack of transparency is a form of systemic racism, no question of that in my mind. And so is the secrecy of the #optout movement. Was it begun by and large by white, suburban moms? I assume so because the message doesn’t go to the families I serve.*(see edit) The thought of #optingout of a standardized test is not shared with families whose children go to Title I schools, and teachers are absolutely and 100% censored from saying anything about the test in any form. The reprimand might even be career-ending.

And with no small amount of paranoia, and from my professional experience, I don’t want the test to be opted-out of, but I do want it to be as transparent and mastery-oriented as possible. I want it to be a valid assessment. I don’t want to waste hours of time and test-prep and students still walk away at the end of the year with few skills and hatred of reading. And I sure as heck don’t want an entire month carved out for testing. Even if the test is “only” 8 school days, the unintended consequences are students literally asking me, year after year, if they “have to do any more work” after May (school goes until the third week of June in the Pacific Northwest). Why can’t the assessment be broken down into quarterly targets? It is at my current district, but those assessments count as a grade, not THE BIG TEST. So by the time, we get to May, if we’ve completed narrative writing in November. and that’s the random writing question students receive in May, how much will they remember? And again, no notes, no posters, nothing on the walls, bare rooms, no help, no support nothing. Good luck, kid. Oh, you’ve been in the country for less than two years and it takes seven years to acquire a new language? Too bad. Oh, and school with 75% free and reduced lunch and a high ELL population – your scores are improving? Get rid of the admin team and keep trying.

So, back to my and Jennifer’s question: this is messy. So then what? Well, I guess that is my “then what.” Take the standards, make bite-sized, authentic assessments and collect the data in smaller frequencies. Kind of like what we teachers do all year long with our formative assessments, and if we have a functioning PLC with our Common Formative Assessments.

Maybe my bias is from the ELA/ELL worlds: this learning is a spiral, not a flat line. It’s not linear. The behemoth that is standardized testing must be stopped or made simpler. No student should have the idea that “school is over” once the big test is over. And that’s what this test has done.

Twitter and Voice 101 – worth a listen:

https://www.bradshreffler.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Planning-Period-E85-Jenn-Binis.mp3

*Edit: Per Jennifer: “That is, modern (post 2012 movement) is the domain of white, suburban parents. The older movement – Chicago and NYC isn’t. This study gets into the demographics: https://www.tc.columbia.edu/media/news/docs/Opt_Out_National-Survey—-FINAL-FULL-REPORT.pdf …”

Postscript:

Jennifer sent me some other things to think about:

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And his book: Beyond Test Scores: A Better Way to Measure School Quality

I am still questioning, however, (and not coming to any fast conclusions), whether or not the privileged parents who consider the ‘opt-out’ movement another layer of privilege are not seeing that the worst transgression is not advocating for all students and families to know this information. Many of my students and families don’t even know how to find the grade book on-line, much less understand their rights to opt-out. How about we start there?

Make Stuff, Not Subscribers

Middle School Misfortunes Then and Now, One Teacher’s Take

Please read this post that provides an excellent example of then and now–before smartphones and their dopamine enhancers embedded into our psyches. I’ve been the classroom teacher who has witnessed this first hand. The students who find out that I have a Youtube channel and never, ever ask me what’s the content, but always “How many subscribers do you have?” (Currently 52.) The students who graffiti on any free surface: AMOS@(Snapchat username). The students who looked at me blankly when I suggested they use their Snapchat filters to create a monstrous portrait for a writing prompt. Here is one example using Snapchat, and another using Snapseed:

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I can’t find the one using WordSwag to create a mini-quote print, but no matter. So many fun apps to make and create fun things, satisfying my artist’s soul. When they looked at their Snapchat and Instagram accounts with new awe and wonder: you mean, my work is my art, and it’s important and valuable simply because it’s mine? A shocking concept.

If you belong to this age of parenting where you don’t know this is the case for so many students because your family does things together, have built a culture of creativity and exploration then you may not see this issue. I am fortunate because my own family is a family of musicians, photographers, and artists. My husband and sons are excellent musicians, my husband and younger son love to photograph, and my older son is a skilled musician and actor. I just make stuff–I was an art major and I love tinkering with digital apps to create and blend new things. But that’s not what students are taught. Art is diminished. Conversations about making things don’t exist in many classrooms or homes. Be mindful of that: technology is not the problem. How it’s perceived is.

And here are my responses to his recommendations:

  1. Propose that administrators and teachers stop using social media for school related purposes. In many districts, teachers are encouraged to employ Twitter and Instagram for classroom updates. This is a bad thing. It normalizes the process of posting content without consent and teaches children that everything exciting is best viewed through a recording iPhone. It also reinforces the notion that ‘likes’ determine value. Rather than reading tweets from your child’s teacher, talk to your children each day. Ask what’s going on in school. They’ll appreciate it.
    Propose that schools are diligent in terms of engaging, embedded technology used to create: more video and digital art production and know-how. But please: start talking to your children, even if they hem and haw and put up walls. That’s what adolescents do, it’s their job. But do what you can to find a common place to talk, even if it’s a drive in a car together, have them make the playlist for the drive or a family event/holiday. Have them start an Instagram account for a family pet or story. There are multiple tools to use to create: encourage creativity, not the likes. 
  2. Insist that technology education include a unit on phone etiquette, the dark sides of social media and the long-term ramifications of posting online. Make sure students hear from individuals who have unwittingly and unwillingly been turned into viral videos.   Yes.
  3. Tell your children stories from your own childhood. Point out how few of them could have happened if smartphones had been around. Remind your children that they will someday grow up and want stories of their own. An afternoon spent online doesn’t make for a very good one. And have them document those stories using the technology tools available: curating photographs, collecting sound recordings and videos of family members, bringing back the ‘home movie’ concept and most importantly, underscore WE ARE THE HEROS IN OUR OWN STORIES. We own our narratives. 
  4. Teach your children that boredom is important. They should be bored. Leonardo Da Vinci was bored. So was Einstein. Boredom breeds creativity and new ideas and experiences. Cherish boredom. Yes.
  5. Remind them that, as the saying goes, adventures don’t come calling like unexpected cousins. They have to be found. Tell them to go outside and explore the real world. Childhood is fleeting. It shouldn’t be spent staring at a screen. Yes, again.

Ultimately, I would prefer that the normalization of technology is the normalization of creativity and creation, of making and doing, not the false idols of likes and followers. If you haven’t been in a classroom in the last three to five years you may not believe this is a reality for students. It feels like a Black Mirror episode some days. Flipping the conversation to “how many subscribers?” to “what do you create is a simple but important acknowledgment.

 

Also read: https://jcasatodd.com/social-media-is-social-currency/

And: http://larryferlazzo.edublogs.org/2018/11/17/have-students-create-ninety-second-videos-retelling-books-with-the-newbery-film-festival/

 

Together alone
Above and beneath
We were as close 
As anyone can be
Now you are gone
Far away from me
As is once
Will always be
Together alone
Anei ra maua (here we are together)
E piri tahi nei (in a very close embrace)
E noha tahi nei (being together)
Ko maua anake (just us alone)
Kei runga a Rangi (Rangi the sky-father is above)
Ko papa kei raro (the earth mother is below)
E mau tonu nei (our love for one another)
Kia mau tonu ra (is everlasting)

 

Summer Series of Saves: It’s not just you.

Artwork by Mr. Babies
@mr.babies on Instagram

I am concerned about my #ProjectLIT project stalling out. I need these books. Don’t want: need. They aren’t some glib luxury for my incoming 8th students, they are a lifeline.

These books pulled me out of my own fractured, terrible attention span thinking. They brought back mental stamina– what my students lack, and desperately need if they’re going to move through high school with courage. Eighth grade is the worst of years, and it’s the best of years. Someday I’d love to teach Freshmen, but until a high school English team wants me, too, I am honored to continue to teach 8th-grade humans.

Why do we become fractured in our thinking? I am sure I can dig up the brain research about our current political and social climate combined with our devices, and the impact it has on our abilities to be in our own heads and dive deep into another’s narrative. But right now I have eleven tabs open, things on the to-do list, and a humble request: please help my students.

Anyway: please consider donating $5 to $10 for my students to get their hands on great books, books that reflect who they are, not what we think they should be. 

write now

It’s 12:15 PM on November 10th. Do you know where your NaNoMo novel is? Yeah, about that. Good intentions aside, I have done everything but just sit and type. I made a video. Updated grades. Reheated a bowl of chili mac (that will come back to haunt me), and read a few Tweets.

But two things grabbed my brain this morning:

  1. The epiphany that teachers enjoy creating lessons for themselves and having agency, just like students. This has nothing to do with the rest of the post directly, just needed to remember this.
  2. We must flip reading around to writing, or balance it much better.

For some time now, my professional opinion held the research of the National Writing Project that writing helps us become better readers. Reading helps us become better writers, too, but somehow that message got lost in translation.

Summaries, Claim, Evidence and Reasoning paragraphs, Short Answer Responses, etc. are not ‘writing instruction.’ They are a form of writing, of course, living in the Land of Explanatory, formulaic, structured texts, but alas, really do not help or support writing instruction.

And, as one who prides herself on good writing instruction, it’s hard. It’s really hard.

Until it’s not.

Do you know why middle school students give up on their writing lives? Well, wouldn’t you if no one really cared to hear what you had to say? If you didn’t get the answer “right” or scrambled madly for text evidence just to get the dang assignment done? (I asked my students this week if they ever just grab text evidence randomly and every one giggled and confessed yes.) This is not any teachers’ fault –not at all. I am recommending that we teach them how to find their OWN “text evidence” first. Their own stories, insights, moments, etc.

From The Real Reasons So Many Young People Can’t Write Well Today–An English Teacher

“A 2010 study by the Carnegie Corporation called Writing to Read found ample evidence that writing can dramatically improve reading ability. The authors discovered that combining reading and writing instruction by having students write about what they read, explicitly teaching them the skills and processes that go into creating text, and increasing the amount of writing they do results in increased reading comprehension as well as improved writing skill.”

I know this so well. This message is inscribed in my heart. I passed along Writing to Read to past administrators, who’ve come and gone, and I am not sure current ones want or need it. I’ll ask. In the meantime, I’ll take a look at works and reformulate them to fit the digital instruction:

https://prezi.com/embed/r64pi1l1eltr/?bgcolor=ffffff&lock_to_path=0&autoplay=0&autohide_ctrls=0&landing_data=bHVZZmNaNDBIWnNjdEVENDRhZDFNZGNIUE43MHdLNWpsdFJLb2ZHanI0bEpLZzZCbU9UQ0dyMzZvT0tMV1BtdUR3PT0&landing_sign=tRAGDY2g1A2pS9lifAtwn3f52TUl3ou-geSrfV4hh2w

The current test focuses so much on reading, it’s true, but not all of it. Here is the brief write portion of the test, just in case anyone wants it, (even new teachers).

https://prezi.com/embed/1ellu5vq58bz/?bgcolor=ffffff&lock_to_path=0&autoplay=0&autohide_ctrls=0&landing_data=bHVZZmNaNDBIWnNjdEVENDRhZDFNZGNIUE43MHdLNWpsdFJLb2ZHanI0cXlsdkQrV0ZOU0R3dzVoK1pSamlBU3pBPT0&landing_sign=M7eygfk5N-KrmoR83ehTt330tbl0s8mhLEaxIr6d3Rg

Here is a lesson on memoir writing:

https://prezi.com/embed/bg5c3r_akqxm/?bgcolor=ffffff&lock_to_path=0&autoplay=0&autohide_ctrls=0&landing_data=bHVZZmNaNDBIWnNjdEVENDRhZDFNZGNIUE43MHdLNWpsdFJLb2ZHanI0U2o0ZjlaT3MvaEtZM3NwUDFGOHNyeUh3PT0&landing_sign=7huKuxaToT3JMRy9xsSwuGPO9Ly3Iw8dG6y1DIMvu4g

And the parallel writing structure:

Now I’d better go write my own story.

Heart-shaped box. (Or The Giving Tree reimagined.)

Are there two kinds of people in this world? Those who X or those who Y? Or maybe that is the paradox, thinking we can be this or that. But if I was the kind of person who asks if there are two kinds of people, (which I’m not) I would ask if you like The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein.

You know the book– the story begins with a boy and a tree, and the tree, or Tree, ends up giving the boy everything and ends up being a stump for the boy, now an old man, to sit on and rest.

“Once there was a tree…and she loved a little boy.”

How do you feel about The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein?

[formidable id=”7″]

Do you ever feel tapped out by the financial and emotional demands of teaching? I sure do. This week alone there were tens of broken pencils on the ground. Stolen candy. Requests to buy T-shirts for ourselves for the school fundraiser. Requests to pitch in for the staff morale committee (12 years x $20 = $240, of which I’ve never received a card, birthday cake, or any acknowledgment or benefit. I’ve been in the hospital, my husband had surgery, and yeah); also, requests to pitch in more money for a friend’s birthday present (I have the misfortune of having a birthday during the midwinter break). I pledged $40 to the fundraiser already. Good thing it was payday yesterday…oops, and it’s gone.

Over the summer I thought ahead and made sure I would have  Lord of the Flies books, spending my time and goodwill with friends and family, begging them to donate the books I thought I would be using this fall. Like the Little Red Hen, I planned ahead, spending hours over the summer creating and curating important resources, building on research, professional judgment, and knowledge. And this week I planned lessons, shared knowledge, gave away books, bought a new teacher a $30 gift card for Amazon so she would be able to get a few books, got a request for books for a teacher returning to her classroom, and let’s not forget the four current natural disasters (although one could argue the ferocity of the Level 5 Hurricanes is man-made). There are teachers in Texas and Florida trying to rebuild their classrooms and schools.

So the teachers who are teaching 8th grade ELA this year asked me for the Lord books, and I handed over the box and then went to my room and cried. Those were my brand-new books with really cool book cover illustrations. They didn’t even have my name on them yet. I wanted to write my name. I have black Sharpies. They’re mine.

For me.

New.

Mine.

Later, I asked them both if we could please compromise, and they’re great colleagues, and I’m sure they will. But it wasn’t easy for me to speak up.

It’s so hard for people, and I could make a strong case for women especially (see The Giving Tree reference if you’re confused) to say no. Women have different sins than men. The sin of selfishness. The sin of owning things. The sin of hard work and time not being for everyone else’s benefit but their own.

My family takes emotional energy, in the best of ways, but in hard ways, too. Jobs, health, dreams, goals: mothers/wives circle around the members making sure everyone has what they need, and if she doesn’t, is thought of as toxic or dysfunctional. My own brilliant husband told me the other day he thought I planned stuff because I liked it. After 25 years he still has some things to learn about me. Because I am good at something doesn’t mean I like to do it. 

So here to permission for us all to say No, or I can’t make it. Perhaps another time. Or just back to “no?”

I’ll share a secret, too. Teaching ELA is the best teaching gig ever. Books, stories, creativity, imagination…and oh, did I mention the books?!

In Computer Essentials I answered the same repetitive, mind-numbing questions because students wouldn’t read a sentence or two of instructions. They don’t know how to talk to each other, no matter how many strategies I scaffolded.

But as far as not knowing, yet, how to do and collaborate, I don’t blame them: they have a pass with me. They’re wonderful, and they’re trying. And when they get something, they thank me, and I get a smile in return.

It may not be a coffee mug, but those smiles keep me going.

 

 

 

Fluff the Knickers.

“There’s truth in every story told.” –Neil Gaiman

Last spring, when I made a commitment to my administration that I would create, develop and lead curriculum and classes for the critical and important vision of bringing technology instruction for our students; however, I wasn’t quite ready to give up ELA. I hoped to be able to continue my work in ELA and at least have one class. But it wasn’t meant to be, and I even knew it last year. Some instinct whispered to me, but I ignored it. Something didn’t sit right, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. My premonitions are usually accurate: it’s my lack of ability to stop or mend potential events where I struggle. English/Language Arts pumps my teaching heart with blood and purpose for the past eleven years: curriculum leader for five years, collaborative teams, professional development, hours of my own blogging, writing, research: every time a test changed or standards flowed in, I took it as a personal challenge to grow and adapt, all in order to help my students grow and adapt. I am not an outwardly competitive person (which I think confuses competitive people: I am my harshest critic), but my internalized coach is demanding. I have not found a teaching problem that can’t be solved with discussion, reading, trying: isolation is its kryptonite, however. Teaching is breathing: no oxygen = death.

If you take the time to read the thread above when I found out a week into the school year I wouldn’t be able to keep the ELA class, that hit me hard. The repercussions of this meant I wouldn’t be able to meet with beloved colleagues during PLCs and continue the work we’ve created in any formal way. The thousands of dollars of books, the Lord of the Flies unit, the planning, the money, the time, the curriculum –hours of the years, and the summer–stopped. Continuity and conversations: muted.

So when I process and grieve that due to numbers, budgets, and hard decisions that may or may not be in the process behind the scenes for over a year and I lost my one ELA class, please understand that need to reflect and process, but I will remain strong. And — full disclosure: the computer technology work I’ve been doing parallel these past eleven years, too, is also my heart. This is going to be very powerful indeed. I have my friend John Spencer in our decade-long digital friendship and discussion, my colleagues who know me, I share willingly and listen with open ears. My curiosity is a gift.

As I write this, pour a cup of coffee, I realize I am lucky, maybe even blessed, not cursed: our district is in big financial trouble. Being a building union representative, I’ve monitored this issue for some time now. We teachers and our building administration are justifiably scared. With fear comes an outward display of anger. From the information we’ve listened to in horror at union meetings, a few dozen teachers were forced to move to positions they didn’t want, or have the necessary credentials for. Trust me: if the district moved me to a calculus classroom parents could sue for educational malpractice. There isn’t enough Khan Academy in the world to catch me up in that content area.

But as my friend and mentor said, good teaching is good teaching. I am fortunate that my style and approach has never been concrete-content driven, but big picture learning. We create scientists, mathematicians, historians, journalist, writers, readers, and thinkers. I’m looking forward to continuing this work.

The Great Handshake started a series on teacher hacks. While the word ‘hack’ connotes a modern sense of coolness and ingenuity, it doesn’t really serve the powerful message of the posts. “Conferences that work” artfully and subtly underscores how data has gone wrong in a few powerful sentences: (typos are the writer’s: pay not attention)

“My principal and I have started to call these meetings “data chats.” At first, I thought that was a great name. But then, as is often the case, adults started to ruin the word “data.” People start to think that we are turning kids into numbers and charts, and forgetting the humanity that makes teaching and learning so challenging and meaningful.

But this kind of data is full of humanity. In fact, on countless occasions, students have cried about challenging years while recounting why certain times in their school experience were harder than others. Teachers have to be prepared to hear about pain that students should never have to endure, and reasons why they failed all of their classes a given year. At other times, students laugh as they remember middle school, goofing off, and all of that pre-pubescent confusion. During these conferences teachers morph from planners of individual instruction, to listeners and amatuer councelors, to friends, to mentors, to motivators and to all the other roles wedged in between those.”

Read some of his comments and noticings for the student. If I were her, there is no way I would leave that conversation without finding my dignity, integrity and moreover, power again. She is a lucky student.

But it shouldn’t take “luck.” Conferencing, relationships, conversations and heartfelt, sincerity supports all of us, teachers and students alike.Our building is fortunate to have strong leadership now. However, if we don’t have a role model or leader who promotes warmth and fairness amongst the staff, we must steal it for ourselves in order to have the strength to have the loving, difficult conversations with students. To reframe and refocus: “Yes, you are more than a test score. And here is why.”

What I research, read, think about, write about: all of that may not mean anything to the district, administration, or leaders. They have their own purposes and to-do lists. So, I’ll continue to grow back my tails, fluff my knickers, and carry on.

I have important work to do:

No Longer a Luxury: Digital Literacy Can’t Wait

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1srYlGLpB-Xck57Uj8P4DDjh1wSSqVcFA6m8FTMsYUTk/edit?usp=sharing

 

 

Saving Summer: Amygdala and The Brain

Teaching is stressful, there is no doubt or debate. And it’s also joyous, satisfying, and filled with discovery and success.

But let’s get back to the stress for a moment so we can move forward with more moments of joy, satisfaction, and discovery.

My buddy Sharon and her Brainiacs are developing a PD session for SEL/Teachers/Students. Tangentially, I’m developing the digital curriculum, along with her and other colleague’s input. When we talk about preparing students for their futures, not our pasts, we must have a deep understanding or exploration of what is happening to our brains in the digital world. We must share this knowledge, so students can adequately reflect, practice mindfulness, and know when to take on that “big view.” Elena Aquilar’s post, “5 Simple Lessons for Social and Emotional Learning for Adults” was a deja-vu moment–my husband was just advising me of these ideas yesterday while we had street tacos at the local lunch truck. Take the big view:

“Lesson 4: Observe Your Emotions”

We are not our emotions. If we can practice observing them — seeing ourselves experience emotions from 10,000 feet above earth — we are more likely to make decisions that don’t emerge from them. We might notice that sometimes they’re powerful and gripping, and sometimes they’re lighter and less sticky. It helps to practice non-attachment to emotions. They’re just emotional states and they come and go — and remember that we have some control over these states. Sometimes I visualize my emotions as weather patterns: There are storms and calm skies, heavy rain, and light winds. They always change. I visualize myself as a tree experiencing these emotions that come and go.

An article posted in the New York Time’s by Lisa Feldman Barrett, “When Is Speech Violence?” walks through the key points of amygdala hijacking and the effects of chronic stress.

“What’s bad for your nervous system, in contrast, are long stretches of simmering stress. If you spend a lot of time in a harsh environment worrying about your safety, that’s the kind of stress that brings on illness and remodels your brain. That’s also true of a political climate in which groups of people endlessly hurl hateful words at one another, and of rampant bullying in school or on social media. A culture of constant, casual brutality is toxic to the body, and we suffer for it.”

A school year is a long stretch of ‘simmering stress.’ Whose job is it to maintain the physical and emotional safety of a building? In truth, everyone is a stakeholder. Building trust and relationships that can find strength in discourse and dialogue, strong respect and cordial working relationships are the desired culture of any building. And as the Stoics believed, it is not what happens to us that affect us, but how we view and control our thinking about events. What if we all pledged to think about the school stress as a means to practice our own care and mindfulness?

In the meantime, I’m reading a book my husband recommended to me a few months back, The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker, first published in 1973. Yeah, not exactly a little light summer reading, but it’s what I need right now: hefty intellectual grips by which to grab onto the rocky surface, and climb up. Getting a new perspective or two is a great way to get that higher view.

And though I can’t control others behaviors, I will strive to speak the truth, ask questions, seek answers and common ground.

 

 

 

Summer Series of Saves: S.O.S.

I am going on my twelfth year at the same Title I middle school. That is not said as a martyred projection or badge of honor, but a statement of fact, circumstances, decision making, and choices. Every teacher I know has had a rough time this past decade. Some have gone to “easier” schools, or districts, where they found a comfortable home. Some have expressed to me survivor’s guilt, and some have ‘ghosted’ our friendships, probably because working at a school like mine is hard, and it takes an emotional toll, causing me to leak out stress. Occasionally those leaks become straight-up tsunamis. I don’t blame them for not wanting to be around me: I don’t want to be around myself sometimes.

This video got to me. She maintained her composure while rubbing her hands, refocusing on her paper, and staying the course, to its climatic ending of her resignation. Her paper may well have been a white flag, and her hands in surrender. When my husband watched it, he commented how he knew I had felt this same level of pain.

No one is to blame for this: administrators do their best, district-level personnel want and desire excellence. However,  in the championed cause of “students come first” the heads of teachers become the stepping stones across this mighty gulf. Teachers are sometimes not considered the human connection between student and world, but merely the middle management, with no real authority. And some teachers do not deserve respect. I would wager, though, that any social-emotional well-being for teachers is considered superfluous. Teachers should just ‘have it.’ If you’re a parent, you know that the hardest job in the world is given to amateurs, (as my dad likes to say), and so is teaching. We make mistakes: but dang, so do our students. So how do all of us learn to do better?

We are never to take anything personally, always build relationships, and create safe places. And we do. Or we try to. But being human, we have amygdalas, too: keeping in control of our frontal cortexes in the moment is challenging. The smatterings of misogynistic, sexist, ageist, and disrespectful things said to me by a small group of students is nothing compared to the national stage of police violence, political decrepitude, and social media bruising. But I am still charged with teaching ‘soft skills’ in a world so racist and vile it hardly seems to matter.

We were all feeling something this year. No matter who you voted for, or if you didn’t vote at all, something shifted, violently and without justice.

Maybe it’s time we’re honest with one another. If we reach out for help. platitudes and trope quotes won’t help. Prayers and thoughts are sweet, but not helpful. Listen. Truly listen. Good advice: click the link.

One of my favorite episodes –not so much hope, but we are all of us in this together:

Grow up.

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This was a post from TeenVogue on Facebook this morning.

Now: TeenVogue is amazing. Its editorial and content have been one of the few media sanctuaries for many of us, young and old, in these troubled times. The magazine tackles politics, social justice, and yes, fashion issues. Its holistic approach to youth and news is refreshing.

But dang, kids, really? Ageism? 

My 8th-grade students often comment on how fast I type and text. I learned the QWERTY method when I was a sophomore, in a room full of electric typewriters, staring at an overhead projector screen with our typing tasks for one full semester. Since keyboards and keyboard layouts remain in this configuration, I can still type pretty dang fast. My highest typing speed is around 75/80/WPM. They also marvel at how I can type and not look at the keyboard. I confess I do need to look at the cell phone’s “keyboard” when I text, but I manage just fine.

My mother, in her 70s, has worked for technology companies from the beginning. My father, in hospital equipment sales. My husband is a self-taught programmer, UX designer, and technological pioneer: in fact, he and I both bristle at the term “digital natives” and want to bring in more use of ‘digital pioneers.’

We’ve both noticed the subtle but constant ageism when it comes to technology: ultimately these fixed mindsets and assumptions about “old people” and what they don’t know about technology becomes boring, and take away from creative pursuits. For the commenter who said “I literally had to show my mom where the right click button was” all you showed your mom was contempt, and now if she’d like to try some new things she’ll think twice. Glad she didn’t say that to you when you were learning how to ride a bike or brush your teeth. “I literally had to show her where to put the toothpaste!”

Sigh.

Look, I’m a huge defender of younger generations. I caution myself toward falling prey to Juvenoia,  and try to take risks with new ideas and learning. I don’t want to be afraid to ask students to help me with Snapchat, (which I have, and they’ve created a monster, and now I use it in creative lessons), nor do I want them to be afraid to ask me how to type a five-page short story formatted for publication.

I’m working on the digital curriculum for next year, and it’s kind of a big deal. We all can learn from one another: ultimately, we’re trying to make connections and communicate. Rock, paper, scissors or keyboards, we’re all doing the best we can.

 

 

 

Adjusted for awesome.

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via GIPHY

The paycheck has come and gone. There is food in the fridge. The repo man is held at bay for another 30 days, and all is well. For now. To me, July 1 is my official first day of summer break, where I am under no contractual time to do or think for anyone but myself and my family. It takes me awhile to settle into the new routines and freedom. But having time to write and drink coffee –what a gift. And teaching is a life ‘gift,’ no question.

My dear friend gave me a lot to think about as we were pulling up to the Denver airport yesterday, and we continued to talk  long past our time at the drop-off curb. (I was sharing with students a few months ago that she and I would talk for hours on the phone, and I couldn’t remember what we talked about. Now I know; anything and everything.)

Let me see if I can frame this correctly, her pondering– and in no way is this question meant to put any educator on the defensive or start to link Taylor Mali videos about What Do Teachers Make.  (There, see, I did it for you.) The essence of the question is what is a reasonable salary for teachers? And, truth, I couldn’t answer that simply. Not sure I’ll be able to here, either, but the thinking is what’s important because effecting policy change feels impossible. It’s not my question to answer: there are too many factors that affect a teacher’s salary, and the waters are intractably muddy.

However, similar to musing what I would do if I won the lottery, asking ‘what would be a comfortable salary for me’ is a fun exercise.

Some perimeters to the game:

  • Cost of living –adjust for lifestyle and long-term goals
  • Assume a master’s degree and five years of experience
  • Assume the discrepancy between the highest paid employee in a district and the lowest teacher salary are within range of similar benefits packages, PTO, and contractual responsibilities. (In other words, let’s pretend we’re Ben & Jerry’s or Costco.)
  •  There is such a wide discrepancy around the globe it’s difficult to gauge or have some kind of real ‘teacher currency exchange rate’ understanding.

And these numbers are based on if I were single and childless. All working persons deserve to earn a salary compensate with education, ambition, and to save for a retirement that allows for comfort and protections. We have a minimum of those protections and social services in our nation now because that’s not our culture or our values. We shout down those who try to make those changes with a lot of excuses.

But let’s pretend.

Say I wanted to live in the house I live in now, and though my current mortgage payment is not this, if I was buying my house today, this is what it would be.

  • Mortgage: $2500
  • Car: $650
  • Food/Gas $700
  • Clothing: $150
  • Student Loan: $450 (to be paid off when I’m 82)
  • Credit Cards/Debt: $300
  • Utilities/cell: $1000

So far we’re at $5,750. That doesn’t include professional development costs, the occasional soft-serve yogurt, or retirement savings or emergencies. That doesn’t include my two sons. (Sorry kids!)

I would need to make $69,000 net. That would be simplistically $86,250 gross. I don’t make that, even with my Board’s stipend (which, incidentally, also varies state to state and school to school.)

All right.

Now I know some would argue that I don’t deserve to live in a house. Therefore, with my Masters +90 level education, that means I am removed from any equity that home would offer. Remember, I didn’t budget in savings, retirement savings, or investments. Some would say I should use public transportation. Sure: but there is none between my house and my job. So there’s that. And, get rid of my cell phone. Sure. You do that too: let’s all pitch them into the metaphorical sea.

Her other question or wondering came in the form of how teachers should work — I’m not saying this right — let me try again: if teachers were salaried employees and worked 12 months out of the year, instead of the contracted ten months, what would that look like? Well, as we all know, our bills and rent don’t get summer breaks, so let’s continue with the legitimate demands of 12 months of bills/expenses, but also be realistic. Teachers are under contract. In Washington State, it’s an 180, plus in-service days, 7.5 hours per day. No teacher worth his salt works those contract hours solely. (Teacher geek alert! Salt gave us the word ‘salary’.) According to US News, 2014 numbers come in at a high of $68,400 to low of $43,470.

Almost two years ago I wrote a post about teacher pay, Show Me the Money, so this is something sitting on my mind for a while. But my friend made me think about it differently. If I didn’t pursue other avenues for income, what would be acceptable and reasonable for a teacher to make as a public service employee? We don’t produce or manufacture anything tangible; we are in essence a social service. We provide education and knowledge-building skills for our children. We produce ideas. We create. Our metrics and rewards come back in the form of former students who, when they can, tell us how important we were and are to them. Another dear friend recently posted an encounter with a former student, now a high school graduate, both apologizing for his 8th-grade behavior and thanking her for all she did for him. She also tagged other teachers and me, because he mentioned us, too. You’re welcome, young squire.

And I LOVE these stories. But damn my practical side–they don’t tip the milkman. If you want to discuss pure, hard numbers, EducationWeek posted, (very timely, thank you very much!) this article by Walt Gardner, The Truth About Teacher Pay.

My apologies for posting the entire article, but I think some folks don’t have access to this publication.

With schools closed for the summer, the debate about teachers’ salaries always arises.  Critics argue that no other field provides so many weeks of vacation for so much pay.  There is some truth to that claim, but I believe that a better way of addressing the issue is by comparing teacher salaries in the U.S. with those in the countries we compete with (“Teacher pay around the world,” Brookings, Jun. 20).  That’s because tests of international competition are closely watched as evidence of teacher effectiveness.

Other developed countries that we compete against pay their teachers much higher salaries than we do. The size of the gap depends on which countries we look at.  Finland is the usual benchmark because of the quality of its schools.  According to Brookings, we would have to give a 10 percent raise to our elementary school teachers, an 18 percent raise to lower secondary teachers, and a 28 percent raise to upper secondary teachers to be even minimally competitive.

I know the argument against boosting salaries. Andrew Biggs and Jason Richwine are among the most vociferous in claiming that public school teachers are actually overpaid (“Public School Teachers Aren’t Underpaid,” The Wall Street Journal, Nov. 8, 2011).  “In short, combining salaries, fringe benefits and job security, we have concluded that public school teachers receive around 52 percent more in average compensation than they could earn in the private sector.”  The only caveat, they stress, is that this premium is stated in terms of averages.  The best teachers in science and math are likely underpaid compared to their counterparts in the private sector.

Since the entire argument is stated in economic terms, I’d like to ask Biggs and Richwine a question:  If public school teachers’ salaries already contain a premium for the weeks worked, then why isn’t there a flood of college graduates making public school teaching a lifelong career?  After all, economists always cite the law of supply and demand.  Why doesn’t it apply to public school teachers?  The fact is that teaching today is far harder than they can possibly understand.  I maintain that if salaries were to rise even 20 percent, there would still be too few college graduates opting for a career in the classroom.  Yes, higher salaries might be enough to recruit them, but higher salaries would not be enough to retain them.

So rather than envy teachers for having most of the summer off, let’s admit that they deserve every day to recuperate.  I urge skeptics to try teaching for a semester to understand why.

 

Clearly, Biggs and Richwine are no friends of teachers. As my mother says, “they don’t buy me any ice cream.” Not even Ben & Jerry’s. Heck, ESPECIALLY not Ben & Jerry’s!

It does seem uniquely American to pay teachers for martyrdom and nobility of character versus a middle-class income. And I mean a real middle-class income (see my bullet points above). This would take a wholesale restructuring of district budgets, demanding an accounting of administrative versus teacher salaries, and wading in that murky, murky mess of suits v. laborers we can’t seem to let go of. I do have a lot of ideas of how teachers can earn the salaries they need if they wish. Yes, I used “need” and “wish” in the same sentence. If a teacher wishes to work a contract day, is not interested in further out of pocket professional development, or other credentials that result in stipends, so be it. But access to those opportunities should be plentiful and available. Biggs and Richwine strike me as unimaginative kumquats. And good teachers have imagination and problem-solving skills in abundance. Let’s talk, and see what we can come up with.

PS And dang, doesn’t “Biggs and Richwine” sound like some evil Dickensian characters?