The Final Straight

In high school, I ran track and cross-country. I remember two kinds of races...One was the kind where you turned the last bend and found yourself sprinting, calling up some unknown reservoir, "kicking it in." The other was the kind where your legs turned to jello and no amount of effort could drive you towards the finish line faster; it felt like one of those horrific dreams where you just can't run despite being chased by some fantastic villain.

I'll give you a moment to predict (a little OCR nod for the teachers out there) where I'm going with this.

Right now, we are undoubtedly on the final straight: 8 school days left. But ever since testing, three weeks ago, now, I've just felt like my teaching legs have turned to rubber. Before school, during school, after school, my productivity is almost nill. Even after a 5 day break from teaching, I still just want to watch T.V. after my long day. (And I don't even like T.V.) I feel like inertia alone is carrying us through to the end of the year now.

Every night, I come home and find myself with almost no interest in planning solid lessons. Every morning, I have tremendous difficulty dragging myself out of bed and busily preparing all that needs to be readied for a good day. Even during the day, I just don't have the wherewithal to move my kids into high gear. Today, I found myself zoning out while reading aloud to the class.

To be honest, and don't tell TFA, I don't even feel that bad about it. It's been almost a year since this all out sprint began. Admittedly, I feel like I'm horribly shirking a professional obligation to make the most of every minute of instruction, but I also realize that if I feel this ready for vacation, my kids must feel only more so. Their misbehavior no longer seems an expression of frustration or maliciousness but apathy. It's not that they're bored or upset, it's that -at this point- they just don't care. I realized mid-year that I had to continually vary things up to keep them engaged, but I think by this point that there isn't sufficient variety in the book to keep their eyes on me. It's school itself that need to be varied. Varied away to vacation. Varied to a new class, classroom, and teacher.

I need the same. The part that I'm most ashamed of is how my thoughts are filled with Next Year. We have such grand plans for Next Year, things are going to be so much better Next Year, we're not going to have these problems Next Year. But this year is not over, the finish line is in sight, but some how keeps getting farther and farther away... 8 more days... 8 more days...

Now This Would Be Reform!

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Not to the money, that would be nice, but to the people, they're necessary. A recent conference I attended reaffirmed my belief that reforming schools like ours requires nothing more --and nothing less-- than solid leadership and a flexible, committed staff. We've got one of those.

---
From the NYTimes -May 28, 2005

Honor Thy Teacher

By MATT MILLER

A poll this week showed Arnold Schwarzenegger's approval rating at 40 percent, thanks to months of punishing ads that teachers' unions have run to blast his call for merit pay. In New York, meanwhile, teachers working without a new contract are campaigning to oust Mayor Michael Bloomberg for his "disrespect."

Around now, Arnold and Mike must be thinking: wouldn't it be nice if there was a way to soothe the savage union beast - while also reforming destructive union practices so that we could recruit a new generation of talent to the classroom?

There is a way: commit to making the best teachers of poor children millionaires by the time they retire. Done right, this idea would be a win for the kids, the teachers, the unions and the pols.

Researchers agree that one of the best things government can do to help poor children is raise teacher quality. Yet poor schools today attract the bottom third of the college class. Why? Compare a typical urban district with its affluent suburbs nearby. When the suburbs (1) pay more, (2) have better working conditions and (3) serve easier-to-teach kids who bring fewer problems to school, it's no surprise that the best teachers gravitate to the best suburban schools.

This isn't to diminish the many great teachers who work their hearts out for poor kids in trying conditions. But it's these teachers who've told me with passion how mediocre many of their colleagues are. We're essentially relying on missionaries to staff schools in poor neighborhoods. How many more years have to pass before we admit that the missionary "plan" isn't working?
Yet the problem with most pay reforms (like Arnold's) is that they're all stick and no carrot. Or they offer such small bonuses (say, $2,000) that teachers have no reason to rethink their aversion to pay differentials based on anything but seniority.

The answer is to think bigger. Consider this "grand bargain." We'd raise salaries for teachers in poor schools by 50 percent. But this offer would be conditioned on two major reforms. First, the unions would have to abandon their lock-step pay scale so that we could raise the top half of performers (and those in shortage fields like math and science) another 50 percent. Second, the unions would have to make it much easier to fire the worst teachers, who are blighting the lives of countless kids.

In many big districts, salaries start around $40,000 and top out, after 25 years, around $75,000. Under this plan, starting teachers would earn $60,000. The top performing half of teachers (and the shortage specialties) would average $90,000. The best teachers would earn up to $150,000. With the amount they could save, the best teachers of poor children could retire with $1 million in the bank.

A move on this scale would change how teaching is viewed by college students who are deciding how to spend their lives. We'd finally be acknowledging the massive "subsidy" schools lost once women were free to enter other professions after the 1970's. And there are environmental benefits, too; if a young couple thinks they could jointly earn $250,000 as teachers, we may well end up with two fewer lawyers!

This plan to make teaching poor children the most exciting career in America would cost roughly $30 billion a year. It's a 7 percent increase in the nation's K-12 spending, which would buy a 1,000 percent revolution in how teaching is viewed. Union leaders, superintendents and teachers have told me that while there are details to sort out, something like this could work. It could transform the teacher corps and its professional culture over the next decade.

If Schwarzenegger or Bloomberg were to scrap their current plans and declare such ambitious goals, unions would chuck their dogma and link arms to find the money.

Rep. George Miller (Calif.), to his credit, will shortly introduce a plan in this spirit at the federal level. But at $2 billion a year, it's not serious.

Why can't timid Democrats put up the full $30 billion national plan against the G.O.P.'s plan to eliminate the estate tax, which would shower the same $30 billion a year on heirs in the nation's 3,000 wealthiest families?

Billions for a handful of heirs whose lifestyles won't change an iota either way - or a new deal to recruit hundreds of thousands of great teachers to make equal opportunity a reality for millions of poor children? Now, that would be an edifying debate. And I'll bet Maria would make sure Arnold was on the right side of this one.

I Want You for Public School Teaching!

I realized, and wrote in an email today:

Here [in America], however, we have plenty of examples of how to reform public education in the ghettos, but the critical mass it would take to do it refuses to stay in those schools. Whether through frustration or greed, talent leaves. There is no model of education, no best practices nor cutting-edge curriculum, that will sufficiently compensate for a dearth of good teachers.

This is where TFA fails. Bad policy, NCLB, is a thorn in my side, it's true. But the gashing wound is the fact that 3 years of teachers allowed half of my students to get to 5th grade without being able to multiply. Mandating that children learn these standards is grand and all, but someone, and someone really good, has to teach them to the most challenging of students.

I think this will be my constant campaign. I regularly get in debates with TFAs who tell me they're leaving after two years to go be more effective, but I think I need to push out beyond TFA. We need a public campaign to rebuild the image of teaching in America. Specifically we need all of our brightest to stop thinking, "If I'm really lucky and work really hard, I can be a doctor" and start thinking the same for educator. That's not as hard as it seems because, let's face it, Americans believe what they're told. Since I can't produce the E.R. of education, I think I'll start with confrontational text ads. Feel free to publish these in any venue you desire.

Teaching - slightly easier than being a parent, slightly harder than being a doctor.

Teaching reading is more difficult than a quadruple-bypass. Respect it accordingly.

Respect your public school teachers, you already trust them with the life of your child.

Doctors lengthen lives; school teachers better them.

Public school teaching - like trauma surgery but with 30 unanesthetized patients at a time.

Teaching - The other white-collar profession. (Little joke there.)

Teaching - A profession like law or business, just less competitive and more important.

Respect our teachers. They're the only ones with more power than the stars.

Politicians sometimes plan for the future, school teachers always create it.

Anyone over 40 can be President. For a real challenge, teach.

Lastly, to strike out at that most offensive of adages:

Those who can, do. Those who understand, teach.

Complacency

One of the most frustrating feelings I’ve become familiar with this year has come from figuring out, always about 3 weeks too late, who I should have been focusing on. On Friday, I found out that it was M---. It’s not that M--- is ever far from my attention, she shrieks on entrance, is constantly out of her seat, and regularly tries to upset me with public insults. The class, myself sadly included, breathes a palpable sigh of relief when she leaves the room to go to her special ed class. But like an earthquake that goes on for a year, I’ve learned to deal with her tremblers until a sudden jolt shakes me out of my complacency.

Lately, she’s realized that I don’t want to send her out of the classroom (our primary discipline system for her) because she’ll cause a good 10 minutes of disruption, ---arguing, refusing to leave, insulting me. As opposed to wildly enjoying her newly appreciated freedom, she has only gradually been pushing the bounds for a few weeks. Instead of clamping down and finding a new discipline plan, I’ve just ignored her and put up with her rising disruption. It wasn’t until she started cursing that I realized just how far it had gone.

I found myself in a meeting with her mother, who had been sent by the girl’s therapist to discuss her behavior in class. The mother first asked me for adjectives that described her behavior and I had quite a list. But when she asked me what was in place to control her, I found myself drawing blanks. Admittedly, the family’s situation has kept us from giving M---- detention, the policy for the rest of my class. However, I had never tried to come up with anything different. As we discussed the tactics that were working to bring the wild child under control at home, I realized that they were very similar to those I had used very successfully with other students. For whatever reason, ---distraction, exhaustion, frustration, sloth--- I had never given a second thought to using them with M---.

Worst of all, it’s not unusual. Every time I start to feel that things are going well, write a few self-congratulatory blog entries, I realize I’m missing something… but not just something, the list of best practices unimplemented in my classroom would fill volumes, but someone. D--- has stopped doing his work again, how long did it take me to notice? F--- really should be tested for ADHD, how many weeks has it been since I called the parents? G--- can go days without being called on in class, but I still haven’t implemented random name calling to take care of that. The list goes on.

Assessments

Writing about our STAR assessments could get me in real trouble, so I think I'm just going to post a letter that I plan to send to The District, after toning it down just a little.

Prompt for District Writing Assessment:

You are living during the time of the American Revolution. You are taking a stand on American independence.

Think about what you have learned in the unit "Making a New Nation." Consider the advantages and disadvantages of declaring independence in 1776. Write at least two paragaphs stating your opinion on this issue. Try to convince your audience to agree with you.

---

To whom it may concern:

I am a 5th grade teacher at M--- S---. I am writing you to express my dissatisfaction with the writing prompt for the district writing assessment for 5th grade. This prompt does a disservice to all involved with this assessment. After reading this, I hope you will take the time to respond so that I might understand its selection.

To any and all observers, it is clear that this “writing assessment” is a far more valid examination of students’ historical knowledge than their writing skills. To accurately test students' writing skills, they should be examined on a writing topic that is completely familiar and comfortable to them. They should be at ease with the content and thus challenged only to show their command of structure and style. Despite our extensive coverage of the Revolutionary Era these last 6 weeks, this is a topic in which our students are by no means confident. The most relevant reading in this abstract and difficult content area was over a month ago, a distance extended by our Spring Break! Many of my students, including some who have made the most tremendous gains in their writing this year, gave up almost immediately. My newest ELL, who can write sentences in English, could produce nothing because he did not understand the prompt.

I understand that 5th grade students should be able to write a lengthy essay on this topic. I recognize that the district may have been trying to encourage oft-neglected social studies education with this examination. I love American history and have been trying to instill this, and the appropriate knowledge, into my students. However, all these good intentions do not make a history test into a valid assessment of students’ writing ability. Most dangerously, such a difficult prompt encourages teachers to take liberties in preparing students for this exam. Do we review the relevant content a week, a day or an hour before the test? Do we tailor our review to create a set of reasons and examples for each side in their mind? Do our notes come to resemble an outline?

For students, this was a very disappointing climax to our extensive efforts to improve our writing. More worrisome, it was a very disheartening beginning to our testing season this year. For the teachers, this was a valuable opportunity to have their practice in one of the most important areas of teaching assessed made almost completely invalid. For the district, this was a waste of administrative time, instructional time, and money. Most importantly, it provides decision-makers with a wholly inaccurate picture of our students’ writing ability.
If we want to appraise our teaching of history, we should give a history test. If we want to appraise our teaching of writing, we should give a writing test. Giving a history test and calling it a writing test confuses the students, frustrates the teachers, and gives the district no reliable data. It is a waste of time and a source of dissatisfaction for all involved.

I thank you in advance for taking the time to respond. I earnestly would like to understand the topic selection process and how better to prepare my students next year.

Sincerely,

A---

Mama knows best...

I’m very proud of my math class. Since January, it’s been my favorite hour of the day. Leveling the 5th grade has given me the top half of the students ---those who can fluently multiply and divide and are ready to move through the actual 5th grade material. My great math methods course has given me an arsenal of lessons to make math more tangible and fun. The kids are excited, I’m excited, and everyone seems to be learning. (I say seems because, sad to say, quiz scores have not exactly soared.) We’ve been racing through the material to try and cover all the standards by the STAR tests, beginning tomorrow.

In order to make time to use math manipulatives (fraction wheels, tiles, counters, grid paper, etc.) and still practice and demonstrate our command of the problems, I’ve taken 10 minutes off the beginning of our lunch time, which follows math. I admit, part of this is because I am new at teaching with manipulatives and permit some ineffiency, but I stand by their necessity for good math education. This still leaves the students with 30 minutes to eat. I explained to the kids that my reason for doing so came out of our need to cover so much material and to use our math tools. I take minutes off lunch for every sluggishness in routines or slow down due to talking. The kids whine a little but, surprisingly, don’t really complain.

Once, as I was walking my class to lunch, a parent came up to me on the blacktop holding two lunches from Jack-In-The-Box. “Teacher,” she cried, “It’s too late. They need more time to eat.” “I know,” I moaned back, “but they need more time to learn too.” She said no more and I thought that would be the end of it.

Her son, F----, was one of the lowest in the class. I began offering a morning intervention for three times a week, at first for six weeks, and then continued it for two weeks, unpaid (Shhhh! Don’t tell the union!), to help him and a handful others keep pace with the class.

About 2 months later, it is 12:12 (lunch starts at 12:10) and I am in the midst of quizzing the students on their white boards to make a final check for comprehension. As I’m counting down to finish a problem, my door suddenly opens and the woman appears. In my classroom. Without knocking, let alone a warning from the office. “Teacher!” she yells, pointing to her watch, “It’s time for lunch. They need to eat. It’s too late.” Furious, I told her to take her child (she took his cousin too) and go. She did, but I was left shaking with shock, frustration and rage and struggled to conclude the lesson.

I walked the kids out to lunch and found the woman waiting for me. I refused to speak with her until we were in front of the principal.

She said, “My son has been here since 7:30…”

“Yes, I know,” I cut in. “I’ve been teaching him…”

She protested, “But you are old, he is a kid…”

“I know. But I already know my math.”

We went back and forth for a little while longer. I, echoed by my principal, insisted that it’s only ten minutes a day, but it becomes a whole extra period of math spread across the week. She insisted that the kids need more time to eat. I deferred to the fact that she is the mother, she knows what’s best. She proclaimed that she “respects the teacher.” I told her that my class needed that time and that her son especially needed the time, but she was welcome to take her son to the other 5th grade class, which tended to leave more on time for lunch. She said that the cafeteria gives bad food to the kids who come last, and the principal brought our conversation to a close with promises to investigate that.

The principal and I researched Ed Code that afternoon and found that the state mandates only 30 minutes for lunch. The only reason I couldn’t take that time is, of course, my own union contract.

A week later, I’m sorry to say that F--- has not returned to my class. I hear that he complains constantly of having “already done all this.” It is apparently more important to his mother that he have 10 extra minutes to eat than that he pushes himself to get on grade level in math.

To be honest, this is the kid I have no trouble writing off. What could I do for him, two hours a day, for 6 months, that would not be undone by such values at home? Even if I could do something good, why not invest my not-unlimited efforts with the many other kids whose parents are supportive or, at least, cooperative?