What Happened to Our Dreams and Expectations?

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I am reading the local paper about the growing achievement gap between minorities and as my heart grows heavy, my mind starts to spin.  What happened to our expectations for all of our students?  What happened to having the same dream that ALL students can achieve, even those that face special disabilities, crippling poverty or lack of parental support?  We, as teachers, are supposed to be the last bastion, those that choose to believe in all of our students, no matter their race, their background, their belief in themselves.

I look inward and wonder when was the last time I asked for a file for a non-minority student that transferred in?  When did my own assumptions cloud my belief that all students can achieve and that I just have to set the bar high enough and then support, encourage and challenge?  That every year the slate should be wiped clean when they enter into my room, and yes, I may stare at those pages of past behaviors and troubles but that they should not be come my roadmap for the future?

I pledge again to believe in all of them.  To set the expectations high and to support them where they need it.  To look past color but not become colorblind.  To see the whole child and not the papers that follow them or the path they chose before.  To defend my students from academic prejudice and grow along with them.  One young man in the paper said that if perhaps he had just had someone believe in him, told him he could have done it, his path wouldn't have lead to jail.  Perhaps he is right, the path cannot be changed, but at least I am willing to do just that; believe in all those children.  Will you believe with me?

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What I Pass On to My Daughter

After reading an excellent article discussing the danger of praising children on their smarts, my husband and I ended up discussing our own method for raising our daughter, Thea.  After a while, I commented, that I hope I am not one of those teacher mom's that is hard for her teachers to deal with.  The one that is too over-involved because they believe to the core that their child is smart, funny, articulate, and creative (not gifted, just normal smart).  My husband was kind enough to let me know that he would help me control myself but then posed an excellent question; what if our daughter is just like me?

Most people would jump for joy if their children turned out just like them.  And sure, there are many qualities that I wish I could just pass on to Thea.  I have a pretty good sense of sarcasm and humor, I love abundantly and loudly.  I am honest to a fault (surprise!) and I work very hard at my goals.  I am a nurturer, a believer in people, and a devoted friend, wife, sister, and daughter.  These are all fine qualities that I know Thea will have as well.  However, there are things that I hope she misses out on from me and instead takes after my husband.

You see, I am an overachiever.

Ever since grade school where my mother was told I needed to apply myself, I have had a very twisted view of education for myself.  Not only is it something to master, but it must be conquered, slayed, and nullified for me to be pleased.  I went through college working full-time and taking 18 or more credits every semester.  I was that student that always raised their hand, always had an answer, or even worse an opinion.  I was past the point of really caring whether others liked me or not, I was there to get a good grade - an A - and nothing else.  And I did.  I ended up graduating Summa Cum Laude with a 4.0 GPA.  No one was prouder than myself.  I thought I had done it, I was on top of the world with my diploma and my drive.  My family was just thrilled that this maniacal journey was over.  See no one really cares what your GPA is once you graduate. They had explained this to me before, but still I was relentless.  I pushed myself so hard that I had a panic attack before leaving for my honeymoon because of a science exam.  I worked and worked, always trying to get it just right, making it perfect, and for what?  A diploma?

So when I think of qualities for my daughter to inherit, being an overachiever is not something I wish for her.  In fact I don't wish it on anyone.  Instead, I hope for her to have fun with learning, to realize that grades are not the end all, that the award is truly the learning journey and not the end result.  I carry this hope for my students as well.  I want them to experience school as a place to explore and gain knowledge, not to join a race to the top, always pushing for better grades and more rewards.  I want to stop the insanity before it becomes so infested in their soul that they end up like me; pushing themselves to perfection and forgetting to enjoy the journey.  What luxury it is to get an education, isn't it about time we teach our students to enjoy the ride?

Which qualities do you wish your children or students get or do not get?  What would you change?

How Homework Destroys

It finally happened; a parent decided to disagree with my new take on homework. They do not feel that I am providing enough and thus am doing a disservice to the students by lulling them into a fake sense of security in their skills. My response at first was indignation; how dare so and so question my fantastic educational shift in philosophy. Why are they not enlightened or believers as well? And then it dawned on me; I have not shown them the way.

I spend a lot of time speaking to students about what we are doing, why we are doing it, and what the goal is for their learning but not enough explaining that to the parents. And while I hope that parents have faith in me, I cannot take it for granted. I am, after all, messing with a system that has been set in place for many years and that these same parents are products of. So, of course, my system may come as a shock at first, and without the proper explanation it will continue to be so. After all, parents have been trained to think that for every grade level you figure out homework load by multiplying the grade level with 10 minutes. So by 4th grade, students should at the very least be doing 40 minutes of homework a night. And yet, my students don't. They do most of their work in class, even staying in for recess so that I may help them, and I never willingly send home a piece of homework that I know they will struggle for hours with.

Homework should be practice, a showing of skills. It should not be a two hour time consumer where both mom, dad and the encyclopedia gets involved. I explain this to my students and the sense of relief is visible in them. They know that I will challenge them in class but at home they may pursue life instead. So if you work hard at school then the reward is rest, family time, and a pursuit of happiness. And it works. My students are still learning everything they should for the year, albeit in a more hands-on manner. I am shying away from worksheets and instead having conversations about learning. Our favorite tool is our dry-eraseboards that allows me a quick check in for understanding. And the students are noticing the difference. No longer dreading the afternoon because I will continue to haunt their day. No longer dreading school because it means so many extra hours of works. No longer dreading learning because they are realizing that learning is something you do at school and that it doesn't come form worksheets.

When I recently welcomed 9 new students into my room, one "old" student told me that she was looking forward to seeing how the newbies would react since I "teach a little crazy." And perhaps that is true. I am loud, obnoxiously so at times, and I have high standards. I push kids to learn, I push kids to understand, and then I back off. I let them think about it, let the learning resonate within them, and then I challenge them to dredge it out again the following day.

By no means, am I the perfect teacher. I have many years of learning to come, but I do know that I am on to something here and I stand at a fork in the road signaling a massive shift in my whole educational philosophy. I believe these students are learning, I believe I am preparing them as well as any other teacher, and most importantly I believe I am letting them be kids at the same time. My students know that if something is homework it is for the benefit of their learning and is important to do, not just another piece of paper that their teacher didn't get to in class. They know that I only assign it if it is truly valuable, and not just something for me to use for grades. They know that we will meet and discuss their learning, always knowing what is missing, what is accomplished, what the direction should be. They know that if I assign something to them it is because they have the skills needed to do it. Do yours?

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones and Rewards Will Always Hurt You - Confessions of a Former Rewards Addict

This post is, was, and will be inspired by this post written by George Couros "The Impact of Awards"

I admit it.  Gold stars, super duper stickers, sticks, names on the board; I have done it all.  And when one reward system failed, another one took over.  Never one to sit and reflect that perhaps it was the system that was faulty and not just that the students grew tired of it.  After all, that carrot at the end of the stck was essential to my teaching success.  Those stickers meant I cared.  That Awesome board where A+ work was proudly displayed gave students something to strive for.  That certificate if you got an A on your math test meant that you were smart and that other students should look up to you.  Right?  Wrong again.

Oh, I thought I was clever.  I thought I knew how to motivate students and after all, what could a little reward do that would possibly hurt the child?  Well, after reading Alfie Kohn's book "Punished by Rewards," I realize just how wrong I have been.  Those papers on the awesome board did nothing to improve unity in my room.  Instead they acted as the great divide, highlighting the students that could from those that could not.  Those stickers I doled out for anything above 90%; not a cheerful way to celebrate achievement, but rather a glaring marker showing which students did the best in the room.  Those great "you did it" award certificates stapled to their math tests, not great posters of pride but instantaneous feedback on where a students falls within the grade hierarchy.  And yes, the students knew exactly where they fell within the classroom.

So this year I am throwing it all out.  Well, most of it anyway, I do like those stickers and will use them for good rather than evil.  And I am petrified.  After all, this is how I was taught to teach.  If a student does something good they should be rewarded and nothing says "Great job! I can tell you worked so hard" better than a smiley face sticker.  Wrong again.  A smiley face sticker says; "If you work hard, you will get a smiley face sticker."  And when in life does that ever happen?  This year, I plan on talking to my students even more.  Telling them what was great, asking them what they thought was great and then peeling apart things that didn't quite get there and figure out what went wrong.  We shall learn from our supposed mistakes, those will be our rewards.

So while I am excited for this new no-reward agenda, I do shudder a little bit at the implication it has.  No longer will I be the cool teacher with the Awesome board, the one you get to have pizza with if your stick doesn't get moved, the one that doles out classroom parties as if they were clean socks.  Instead, I will be the one that shouts the praise the loudest to every kid.  The one that talks to all my students and highlights all the things they did right.  The one that creates more work for herself because talking rather than just placing a sticker takes more time, more effort, more thought.  And I can't wait.  Will you join me?