I have convinced some of my kids that I killed a bear with my bare hands. And I'm a little proud of myself.
I have convinced some of my kids that I killed a bear with my bare hands. And I'm a little proud of myself.
I have mixed thoughts about Arne Duncan's feelings on schools of education. I agree with him that schools of education need to add rigor (I'm so sick of hearing that word used at work, but it does apply here). There's obviously some truth to the idea that schools of ed are a joke. To that end, I support the general idea of measuring effectiveness of various individual programs and shutting down those that do not produce effective classroom teachers.
I also agree with his point that teacher preparation programs need to include more hands-on practical training with feedback from veteran teachers as mentors. I would go a step further, though--those mentors need to come from a teaching background in the type of community where their apprentice teachers will be teaching. In other words, education professors who have never taught in a critical-needs school should not be evaluating student-teachers working in such a school. If there's anything I've realized in the last few months, it's that my high school bears no relation to the school where I work--it's a completely different environment, with different challenges. So if student-teachers are to get good feedback, it needs to come from a professor who has already gone through the same experiences to the greatest degree possible.
I'm more skeptical of Duncan's argument that content-area knowledge needs to be a prioritiy in schools of education. Now, I know that I was fortunate to receive both a K-12 and a college education that were better than most. But I wasn't an English major in college, and I still don't feel that my problems in the classroom stem from a lack of knowleldge within my subject area. Perhaps if I were teaching English III or IV, where students are reading novels, or another subject area, like history or science, where the focus is on content as much as skills, I would feel differently. But as it is, I would benefit far more from a course on how to teach reading skills than a literature seminar on various American novels.
My main concern with Duncan's argument, though, is that his emphasis on data analysis--which I absolutely agree is a valuable tool--may lead to the kind of focus on standardized tests that is causing me to tear my hair out every day. He's talking about data analysis on two levels. One, within the individual classroom. This I agree with--using data analysis to assess how well the students are grasping particular objectives, for example. But I'm concerned about the other data collection purpose--to compare performance across classrooms. This can only be accomplished through standardized testing. And that's why I have a problem with it. Teaching to a test is dangerous not only because teachers risk teaching concepts in so specialized a way that they have little meaning outside that particular test, but because it's so hard to make it interesting and engaging for students. And it is really, really stressful. Is there no other way to differentiate between good and bad teachers?
It's depressing to see that, by this measure, Mississippi is less developed than some third-world countries. Gigantic, car-swallowing potholes aside, Jackson certainly doesn't feel like what I've experienced in my travels to third-world countries. And maybe I'd feel differently if I were actually living there, but the Delta doesn't either (sorry guys, I know I might take some heat on this one). This is not to say that there aren't areas in Ghana, for example, that are much, much nicer than Greenville. There certainly are. On the whole, however--and maybe this is just good old-fashioned American bias--I'm skeptical of any argument that Mississippi is less developed than Libya. And I don't think the author of this post was really trying to make that argument, anyhow--the original post includes an added disclaimer at the top pointing out that it's not fair to compare state HDI results to national HDI results because there are differences in methodology.
What I think is captured in this thought experiment, as the author describes it, is the sense that Mississippi (and a few other Southern states) really are struggling compared to the rest of America. What the HDI ranking fails to capture, I think, is the danger of living in a state where there is a high level of inequality and a low GDP. Mississippi has a relatively high Gini coefficient--meaning that there is a high level of inequality. This is not unsurprising, of course, but extremely concerning since it is also one of the poorest states in terms of average GDP. If you take a look at a map of the US with states coded by Gini coefficient (http://manyeyes.alphaworks.ibm.com/manyeyes/visualizations/us-gini-coefficient-by-state-2006 is an example), the most unequal states tend to be on the coasts and in the South. The average GDP is higher on the coasts, so this inequality, while still concerning, might not be so pernicious, in the sense that inequality is bound to be higher when you have a concentration of extreme wealth in areas such as New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, or Seattle. But if you're in a poor state, and inequality is still high, that means that a substantial portion of the population is going to be in extreme poverty--a poverty that is comparable to the poverty that most middle-class Americans like to pretend exists only outside our borders.
Is life so wretched? Isn’t it rather your hands which are too small,
your vision which is muddied? You are the one who must grow up.
– Dag Hammarskjöld
Well played, Dag.
Dear Mississippi,
Would you mind either laying off the 85-degree/100%-humidity days or giving us air conditioning? Really, one or the other would suffice.
Sincerely,
Ms. Patterson's 4th/8th-block classes
Oh, Ruby. I agree with much of MTC that it's hard not to dismiss her book entirely as a completely random collection of her own personal experiences with so little verifiable evidence she'd be laughed out of any real academic discussion (although I guess her speaking obligations hardly require a truly academically rigorous perspective).
What I think makes the book a worthwhile read is actually what she avoids. The argument about hidden middle-class rules gets to the heart of one of the challenges facing those of us who are middle-class outsiders in our students' world. Payne bases her argument on the position that students need to obey a certain set of rules at school. Fine--I won't argue that the world is a much easier place for middle-class kids, for many of the reasons she cites. And we are certainly in a unique position to help students do what is necessary to get out of the type of generational poverty Payne is talking about.
But she ignores the fact that this position has normative implications--that we teachers have the right, and even responsibility, to ensure that our students act according to a particular behavioral standard that may run counter to what they've been taught by their parents and extended communities. Payne says that this need not be done in a way so as to belittle what the kids have learned since birth; unfortunately, that requires a subtlety that a true outsider is unlikely to have. And as much as I agree with her every time a student refuses to do work, talks back, walks out of class, etc etc, thinking about my role as a sort of middle-class cultural imperialist makes me a little uncomfortable.
This also brings up another issue. Today I had a kid sit for six minutes during the bellringer without doing work. When I went over to her, asking her why she wasn't working, she responded by saying she didn't have paper. This despite the fact that I sell paper for tickets. Is that the effects of generational poverty? Or is that laziness?
Between writing evaluations for Ben and having informal conversations with TEAM teachers and other first-years about summer training, I have to say that I'm a little talked out on the subject of summer training and its specific strengths and weaknesses. In general, though, I'm incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to teach summer school. I count myself one of the lucky ones since, with 14 students, including 13 boys, many of whom had failed the year because of discipline issues, our room had its fair share of classroom management issues. I've now had practice not only in lesson planning and being in front of a classroom, but also in enforcing consequences, talking to parents, and resolving basic classroom management problems. And role plays gave us the chance to see the real scary (or at least wacky) stuff.
So while by no means do I feel like I'm the best teacher in the world, I do feel I've earned some tiny bit of confidence that I can do right by my kids this fall. Whereas, in June, I felt like I was somehow deceiving my students every time I pretended to know what I was talking about, I now feel less like a poser and more like a real teacher. In fact, I think that change might be the biggest benefit of summer school--as much as the experience of being constantly critiqued can be disheartening, the improvement I've made has allowed me to think that someday I might be okay at this. And I know that confidence will be so important the first day of school (and every day after). I agree completely with some of my fellow first-years on this subject--how did the first MTC classes ever make it through their first year without the chance to do a dry run?
Of course, whenever we first-years complained about how stressful or tiring summer school was, a wise second-year would laugh and all-too-eagerly cry, "Just wait until August!" I understand that nothing can truly prepare us for the challenge of being a full-time teacher with six classes and 150 students. But I still feel infinitely more ready now than I did the day of my first lesson back in the first week at Holly Springs.
I was not there for the intern presentations, and although I've read a bunch of interesting blog posts on the projects, I don't feel I can really discuss all of them fairly. Hopefully, all of the presentations will get posted at some point online so I'll be able to see them. I'm particularly interested in seeing Kelly's project on teen pregnancy since sex ed is an issue near and dear to my heart (I taught sex ed for three years in public middle schools in New Haven, CT, during college).
Luckily, though, Tahina's video has already been posted on the MTC home page, so I was able to watch it. Tahina--I loved the idea of the students being "muted." We talk so much about making sure our students feel ownership in the classroom and of their school work, and yet it's true that we spend very little time asking students what they think of their educational experience, aside from the perfunctory evaluation at the end of summer school or the nine-week term. So I was excited to hear the student perspective.
But then I watched the interviews with the students, and honestly, my first reaction was frustration. A couple of my summer school students were featured in the video, and it was hard to watch them talk about how important education is to them. I say it was hard because those same students were among those who failed to turn in homework assignments, disrupted class, repeatedly missed class, and otherwise suggested (through behavior--this has nothing to do with content knowledge) that they did not always take summer school seriously. I'm not saying in any way that these are bad kids. But clearly, there is an important difference between understanding that education is important and actually acting in a way that demonstrates that understanding.
I don't want to think that we are just getting played, that these kids knew what they were supposed to say on camera but don't believe it at all. I'm more inclined to think that we just haven't done a good enough job of showing (modeling!) what it looks like when you make education a priority in your life. As one mother told us, her child is smart, but he just doesn't think it's cool to do well in school. The frustrating thing is that in communities like the one I (and many other MTC-ers) grew up in, there is the same issue. I went to a great public high school in an affluent town, and it wasn't really that cool to be smart there either. But everyone still went to college because our parents had the money and it was absolutely unacceptable not to go. We could afford to be passive in our education when there was so much social pressure (and, at the same time, support) that it was hard to fall off the college/grad school/good job wagon. For these kids, though, there isn't that luxury.
What Tahina's project showed is that these kids are getting the message that education is important. That, at least, is a step in the right direction. And it's definitely worthwhile to get kids talking about their school experience. But I think what real "ownership" would look like is students who "own" their behavior, and understand how it connects to and affects the education that they say they value so highly. And I think there is a lot we as teachers can do there.
This is a great book to assign to first-years. It has everything--Mississippi history, which gave some much-needed historical context to the challenges we will all be facing next month; general tips on teaching, preparation, the first days, etc; and the subject area sections. It was particularly nice to have a chapter specifically dedicated to each subject area. I didn't read about the other subject areas, but the suggestions in the English chapter were very helpful, as was the more general section on issues with reading in all subjects.
Normally, I hate dog-earing book pages, but there were three places where I gave in:
1. The history on the Education Reform Act of 1982. I'm now seriously bummed that Governor Winter couldn't be at the reunion. I really want to read more about this series of public forums he organized to talk about the reforms after the bill failed the first time. I wonder: what did he have to say to get public support for these reforms when there was so much historical opposition? More generally, the section on the history of education in Mississippi really got my blood going--not necessarily out of anger, but out of a sense of "Wow, I can't believe this all happened in my parents' lifetime." This is recent history--Mississippians are still living it out.
2. The paragraph headed "Try to enjoy the challenge of thinking on your feet." I experienced a little bit of this during summer school, when an activity I had thought would take an hour took only 35 minutes, and I had to come up with something on the spot. I did, and it was successful. And man, I felt awesome afterwards.
3. The suggestion that one assignment every quarter should involve parents--family trees, family histories, etc. This is a great idea, and I will definitely use this.
When I was 12, I chipped my right front tooth playing field hockey, and the way that I make the "s" sound changed. It's now halfway between a whistling s and a real lisp. (I would tell my little brother to stop doing whatever he was doing that was inevitably annoying me, and he would taunt me by saying, "Shtop! Shtop!" Obviously a great kid.) For some reason, it is randomly worse/more noticeable on certain days, and this was one of those days. All of this is a long way of saying that even if I'm no longer getting comments on evaluations about my voice, I still hate it.
Aside from that, I'm looking more comfortable in the classroom, and I feel like my enthusiasm showed through during this lesson more than it did in previous lessons.
Strengths:
It was first period on a Monday, but I still had a lot of participation in the set, which was good. I broke up the block into several different activities to keep the kids engaged, and the result was that most of them were on task for the majority of the time. I like that I used images in my first independent practice activity--it's something I want to do more of, to change things up and add a little excitement to class. I did a good job of supporting my special ed student while still paying attention to everyone else. My time management was also better than it has been, with the exception of the mini-lesson in the middle of the block on parallel structure (which I rushed through a bit) and the closure (which I missed). I did a better job of explaining my warnings to the class this period. My questioning was good.
Weaknesses:
I need to make the text on the overhead a bigger size. I say "alright" way too much. The notes went on a little long (although, to be fair, there was a lot of information to get through) and I should have done a group practice exercise on identifying persuasive techniques in ads. It was obvious that I was not into the parallel structure lesson--I had a lot less energy and was clearly rushing the students through it without really checking to see if they understood it (they didn't). I didn't get a full closure in, which shouldn't happen in a block period. And since the parallel structure mini-lesson hadn't gone so well, it would have been good to practice that skill during the closure--but I just didn't have time.

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