I was reminded of something this week that's been bothering me for a while. My school takes attendance, of course, and then parents are required to excuse their student's absences. If a student misses class and isn't excused by their parent, their absence is marked as "unexcused." I imagine that's the way most schools do it, and I don't have a problem with that. We have a legal requirement to keep track of attendance and, more importantly, if a student starts to have unexcused absences it's often a signal that they need extra support (although excessive excused absences are also often a sign of that as well).
My concern, however, is how that translates to the teacher's grade book in some classrooms. Many teachers have classroom policies that allow for a certain number of days to make up work missed for an excused absence, and students are not allowed to make up work for an unexcused absence. That's never really made sense to me. From my perspective, an absence is an absence in terms of the learning that the student is missing. It doesn't matter whether it's excused or not, if the student isn't there, they are missing out. When a student is absent, I want them to do whatever they can to "make up" for that missed learning and, if that learning is being graded in some fashion, that should be represented in the grade book.
I've typically heard two main arguments for treating unexcused absences differently. The first is the "responsibility" argument (with it's silent cousin "punishment" tagging along). As I mentioned, I don't have a problem at all with the school noting that the absence is unexcused and perhaps checking in with the student to see if we can help. Similarly, I don't have a problem with the teacher noting that as well and having a conversation with the student. But that shouldn't impact their grade in the class. The transcript says "Algebra" (or whatever), not "responsible", or "good kid", or "complies with adult rules."
The second argument stems from the fact that, at the high school level at least, unexcused absences tend to be more prevalent on test days. Many teachers deduce that students are missing class either because they aren't prepared for the test, or because they think they might gain an advantage by taking the test later than the rest of the class. I don't doubt that that is often the case (although we shouldn't assume that), but again I don't see the justification for transferring that into the grade book. I think if anything it points out our skewed priorities when it comes to assessment. Implicit in this argument is that tests are somehow more important than learning, and that translates both into student behavior (skip the class because the stakes are higher) and teacher behavior (bring the hammer down, both to "teach the student a lesson" and to assert our authority).
I believe that as teachers we are capable of designing assessments that assess what the student currently knows, and that those assessments are equally valid if given on a different day. The student still has the responsibility to arrange that assessment time and then show up to take it. There may be some small inconvenience to the teacher because of this, but I worry about teachers who consider this inconvenience more important than assessing the student's learning and ultimately helping the student to learn. (And specifically at my school, we have a variable schedule that means that most students can find a way to come in and re-assess during a teacher's unscheduled hours, so it's not even a case of having to stay longer after school than normal - although I don't see that as a huge burden either if it's arranged in advance.)
I think this is another instance when many of us are equating compliance with learning, and assessment with accountability. They are not, and should not be, the same thing. That's not to say we ignore a student's behavior when we are concerned about how it might be impacting them, but it is to say that we don't hold their learning hostage to it. So if your policies currently penalize students for absences, and particularly penalize them extra for unexcused absences, I would ask you to reconsider those policies. I'd ask you to consider your ultimate goals for students and whether those policies actually help you achieve those goals, or whether they might actually undermine them. It's possible your policies are actually inexcusable.
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Saturday, September 03, 2016
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
The True Cost of Testing: Part 2
My last post on The True Cost of Testing generated a couple of follow-up questions I thought I might address.
One of those questions was what would we do to replace final exams? Don't we need some kind of assessment at the end of a semester/year? Maybe, maybe not, but if you do believe we need some kind of assessment at that point, I suggest an alternative. I wrote about this a while back, I think we should replace final exams with conferencing with students. Meeting with them individually and actually talking with them to see what they know, what they are still struggling with, and what they would like to do next would be much more valuable for the student than a final exam.
Another question focused on what should we do with that freed up time? We have about 175 instructional days with students but, as discussed in the last post, we lose about 17 or so to testing, which means we really have something more like 158. So one possibility is simply to give those days back to instruction. That effectively adds 11% (17/158) more days to our school year without actually increasing the number of days or spending any more money. That's an idea that everyone from Bernie to Donald could presumably support.
Alternatively, we could stick with 158 days. That would save us about 10% of our current budget, so that means we could hire 10% more teachers. At my school, that equates to about 11 more teachers, which could either translate to lower class sizes or additional offerings (or both). Which is better for students, 17 days of testing, or 158 days of instruction with 11 more teachers in the building?
Or perhaps we don't spend that saved money on additional teachers. Since we currently have 158 days of instruction that we're clearly satisfied with, then perhaps we use those 17 days differently. I'd suggest that the 2,150 students and 150 staff members participate in various forms of community service. Think what we could accomplish in our community with 2300 people, 17 days, and $2 million. Think also what the students could learn.
This undoubtedly would take many, many forms, some of them costing no money just donated time, and others taking both time and some money, but let me give just one example. What if we worked with Habitat For Humanity? With $2 million, 17 days, and that many volunteers, I think we could easily build 10 houses for families in need in our community. That's per year. Just from my school. Now only would it provide desperately needed affordable housing, but think of all the students would learn in that process. It could very much be an apprenticeship model, with students doing good while learning.
Even with 10 simultaneous houses going up, and even if students and teachers were split into 3 shifts a day at 6 hours each, that still wouldn't take all 2300 of us, so there still would be plenty of other volunteer opportunities going on at the same time for those 17 days. Maybe reading with students in elementary schools, maybe tending a community garden, maybe visiting seniors living in assisted living. And, obviously, we're only limited by our imagination in terms of finding activities that benefit the community while simultaneously teaching our students valuable skills. Part of the learning process would presumably be the students researching what the best use of that time might be.
So, once again, what would be the impact on the culture of learning in our schools? What would be the message we send to students (and teachers) of what we value and who we are serving?
One of those questions was what would we do to replace final exams? Don't we need some kind of assessment at the end of a semester/year? Maybe, maybe not, but if you do believe we need some kind of assessment at that point, I suggest an alternative. I wrote about this a while back, I think we should replace final exams with conferencing with students. Meeting with them individually and actually talking with them to see what they know, what they are still struggling with, and what they would like to do next would be much more valuable for the student than a final exam.
Another question focused on what should we do with that freed up time? We have about 175 instructional days with students but, as discussed in the last post, we lose about 17 or so to testing, which means we really have something more like 158. So one possibility is simply to give those days back to instruction. That effectively adds 11% (17/158) more days to our school year without actually increasing the number of days or spending any more money. That's an idea that everyone from Bernie to Donald could presumably support.
Alternatively, we could stick with 158 days. That would save us about 10% of our current budget, so that means we could hire 10% more teachers. At my school, that equates to about 11 more teachers, which could either translate to lower class sizes or additional offerings (or both). Which is better for students, 17 days of testing, or 158 days of instruction with 11 more teachers in the building?
Or perhaps we don't spend that saved money on additional teachers. Since we currently have 158 days of instruction that we're clearly satisfied with, then perhaps we use those 17 days differently. I'd suggest that the 2,150 students and 150 staff members participate in various forms of community service. Think what we could accomplish in our community with 2300 people, 17 days, and $2 million. Think also what the students could learn.
This undoubtedly would take many, many forms, some of them costing no money just donated time, and others taking both time and some money, but let me give just one example. What if we worked with Habitat For Humanity? With $2 million, 17 days, and that many volunteers, I think we could easily build 10 houses for families in need in our community. That's per year. Just from my school. Now only would it provide desperately needed affordable housing, but think of all the students would learn in that process. It could very much be an apprenticeship model, with students doing good while learning.
Even with 10 simultaneous houses going up, and even if students and teachers were split into 3 shifts a day at 6 hours each, that still wouldn't take all 2300 of us, so there still would be plenty of other volunteer opportunities going on at the same time for those 17 days. Maybe reading with students in elementary schools, maybe tending a community garden, maybe visiting seniors living in assisted living. And, obviously, we're only limited by our imagination in terms of finding activities that benefit the community while simultaneously teaching our students valuable skills. Part of the learning process would presumably be the students researching what the best use of that time might be.
So, once again, what would be the impact on the culture of learning in our schools? What would be the message we send to students (and teachers) of what we value and who we are serving?
Saturday, April 16, 2016
The True Cost of Testing
Next week my school is giving the state-mandated testing to our freshmen, sophomores and juniors. Colorado, like many states, has made some changes this year, and they are definitely an improvement. The overall amount of testing is decreased somewhat, and sophomores will no longer be taking the PARCC exam but instead will be taking the PSAT. While I'm not a fan of PSAT and SAT either, they are at least somewhat useful to some students.
When the news was announced in December, the focus was primarily on three things: the reduced amount of testing, the switch from the ACT to the SAT, and the timing of the announcement. What was missing was much discussion of the merits of testing in general and the cost (both direct and indirect) of the testing. For this post, I'm going to just focus on cost.
I've so far been unable to find anywhere on the Colorado Department of Education site the cost to the state of these state-mandated tests. (I'm sure it's there somewhere, I just haven't found it yet.) This article seems to indicate that the current ACT for juniors costs about $2.1 million a year, and they are budgeting $1.8 million for the sophomore exam, plus an additional $432,000 for juniors who want to take the writing portion. The cost for PARCC/CMAS (9th graders and 11th graders in science) is harder to figure out, but this article from about a year ago shows the state will pay Pearson about $27 million for PARCC and CMAS. If we assume that the high school portion of that is about 10% (very rough estimate), then add in another $2.7 million. So, somewhere around $7 million in direct costs to the state. That figure, of course, doesn't include the indirect costs of staffing, materials, time, etc., nor does it include the same types of indirect costs to school districts.
But even what little focus there has been on that really quite large sum of money then ignores the opportunity costs that are ultimately paid by school districts (and kids). Let's look at my building as one example. Next week we will spend three days on state-mandated testing. While we run an abbreviated schedule in the afternoons, most folks will acknowledge that the classes held during that time are not optimal for learning. The students who took the tests in the morning are tired, and some students who do not have to take the tests in any given morning choose not to come to school just for the classes in the afternoon (definite surge in our absentee rate). Given all that, many teachers make the reasonable decision to limit their instruction during this time to less critical matters. Not that we don't try to make the time worthwhile, we definitely do, but it's tough to try to reach the same level of learning as in a typical day. So, for me, I consider those three days pretty much lost for instruction. (If you disagree, you can pro-rate the numbers I'm about to share accordingly.)
So what does this "cost"? Well, according to district budget documents, we spend $9597 per student per year (that's including federal, state, and local funds; the amount directly from the state is less than that). We have about 175 days of "instruction" (theoretically), so $9597 divided by 175 works out to just under $55 per day per student. Since we have roughly 2150 students at Arapahoe, a single day of instruction costs roughly $118,000. That means that for each and every day of instruction we choose to "give up," we are "forfeiting" that money. So each day of testing is costing us $118,000, or roughly $354,000 for the three days of state-mandated testing. (Keep in mind that does not include the pro-rated cost of the $7 million the state is directly paying, or the indirect costs to the state and especially the districts that I'm sure adds several million more.)
But, sticking to just the lost instructional time, we're now at $350,000 (just at my school). But there's more, of course. We currently choose to take a day of instruction in the fall to give the PSAT to all Juniors. (Yes, despite the fact that we're now going to be giving it to all sophomores in April, we are still going to turn around and give it to all of them again in October when they're Juniors. Why? National Merit.) So that choice means we're deciding to spend another $118,000 on testing. We're now up to $472,000 (just at my school).
But, of course, there's still more if you don't limit it to state-mandated testing. What other types of testing do we have at my school? Well, we give MAP testing in language arts and mathematics to our students. That's a bit harder to quantify in terms of cost, since we don't devote parts of entire school days to it. Instead, students are tested in their language arts and math classes (twice a year in 9th and 10th grade, just once a year in 11th I think). Making a very rough estimate again, I'll say that equates to about half a day per year per student, so $59,000. We're now up to $531,000 (just at my school).
We also have many students who take AP exams at the end of the school year. When students take an AP exam, they not only miss the 3 or so hours they are writing the exam, but they often miss the entire school day as they are pretty exhausted. There are certainly many arguments in favor of the usefulness, importance and value of AP Exams, but there are also arguments against. No matter which side you fall on, certainly those days are not available for instruction for those students. (And even for those students who are not taking an AP exam, teachers adjust what they are doing in class because so many students are missing due to the AP exams). I don't really have the data to completely quantify this, but our students write close to 900 AP exams in a given year, so if we take 900 times $55 per day per student, that adds $49,500. We're now up to $580,500 (just at my school).
My school also requires final exams each semester. We devote four days each semester exclusively to final exams, so eight days throughout the school year. While there are certainly some folks who will argue that final exams are useful, necessary and important, there are also arguments that they are not. Whichever you believe, they certainly don't much resemble instruction. So eight days times $118,000 adds another $944,000, so we're up to $1,524,500 (just at my school). Since many teachers also take at least one day to review for the final exams, you could perhaps add in more here (although that review has some instructional value, so I'll leave that out for now).
Then you add in the individual tests that teachers give. This is even murkier territory, since I do believe assessment - when it is done well - is very valuable, and how teachers give these assessments varies tremendously. But certainly there are a fair number of teachers who give "unit" tests multiple times a year that take an entire class period. That's time that is no longer available for instruction, so there is an opportunity cost associated with it. Let's make a conservative estimate and say that each students loses 4 days a year cumulatively to these tests. That adds another $472,000, so we're up to $1,996,500.
Now, that's waaaaay too many digits of precision, so let's just say $2 million as a rough estimate. We spend $2 million a year on testing . . . just at my school.
That's the cost of testing.
Yet even that isn't the true cost of testing, or at least not the total true cost of testing. My daughter is a sophomore this year, and in her language arts and math classes they have been doing some practice PSAT items. They are not spending a lot of time on this, but they are spending some. And just because they are practicing for the PSAT doesn't automatically make it a poor use of time, the skills they are practicing may (or may not) be valuable.
But I think we have to acknowledge that in addition to the actual time spent testing, we are impacting what we do in our schools. Even if you believe those practice items are valuable, keep in mind that those items change each year as the tests change. We used to do CSAP practice items, then TCAP, then PARCC, then ACT, and now PSAT and SAT. While those are certainly related, each time the test changes we change the prep we do. I think it's awfully hard to argue the high ground here about how valuable these items are when they keep changing based on which test we're giving.
And it doesn't just influence those test prep items. We change what we do in our classes based on these tests. From major changes like adjusting the entire curriculum, to more minor changes like materials selection and the emphasis we place on different topics within that curriculum, the current test ends up driving a lot of what we do (even if we don't want to admit it). Again, that doesn't necessarily mean that the things we are doing are bad, but I think we need to be honest and acknowledge why we are doing them. The question we need to ask is what would we choose to do with our students in the absence of those tests? Instead of trying to do things better, we should do better things.
It's not just the time (and dollars) spent on actual testing, it's the impact on the culture of learning in our schools. It's the message we send to students (and teachers) of what we value and who we are serving.
That's the true cost of testing.
When the news was announced in December, the focus was primarily on three things: the reduced amount of testing, the switch from the ACT to the SAT, and the timing of the announcement. What was missing was much discussion of the merits of testing in general and the cost (both direct and indirect) of the testing. For this post, I'm going to just focus on cost.
I've so far been unable to find anywhere on the Colorado Department of Education site the cost to the state of these state-mandated tests. (I'm sure it's there somewhere, I just haven't found it yet.) This article seems to indicate that the current ACT for juniors costs about $2.1 million a year, and they are budgeting $1.8 million for the sophomore exam, plus an additional $432,000 for juniors who want to take the writing portion. The cost for PARCC/CMAS (9th graders and 11th graders in science) is harder to figure out, but this article from about a year ago shows the state will pay Pearson about $27 million for PARCC and CMAS. If we assume that the high school portion of that is about 10% (very rough estimate), then add in another $2.7 million. So, somewhere around $7 million in direct costs to the state. That figure, of course, doesn't include the indirect costs of staffing, materials, time, etc., nor does it include the same types of indirect costs to school districts.
But even what little focus there has been on that really quite large sum of money then ignores the opportunity costs that are ultimately paid by school districts (and kids). Let's look at my building as one example. Next week we will spend three days on state-mandated testing. While we run an abbreviated schedule in the afternoons, most folks will acknowledge that the classes held during that time are not optimal for learning. The students who took the tests in the morning are tired, and some students who do not have to take the tests in any given morning choose not to come to school just for the classes in the afternoon (definite surge in our absentee rate). Given all that, many teachers make the reasonable decision to limit their instruction during this time to less critical matters. Not that we don't try to make the time worthwhile, we definitely do, but it's tough to try to reach the same level of learning as in a typical day. So, for me, I consider those three days pretty much lost for instruction. (If you disagree, you can pro-rate the numbers I'm about to share accordingly.)
So what does this "cost"? Well, according to district budget documents, we spend $9597 per student per year (that's including federal, state, and local funds; the amount directly from the state is less than that). We have about 175 days of "instruction" (theoretically), so $9597 divided by 175 works out to just under $55 per day per student. Since we have roughly 2150 students at Arapahoe, a single day of instruction costs roughly $118,000. That means that for each and every day of instruction we choose to "give up," we are "forfeiting" that money. So each day of testing is costing us $118,000, or roughly $354,000 for the three days of state-mandated testing. (Keep in mind that does not include the pro-rated cost of the $7 million the state is directly paying, or the indirect costs to the state and especially the districts that I'm sure adds several million more.)
But, sticking to just the lost instructional time, we're now at $350,000 (just at my school). But there's more, of course. We currently choose to take a day of instruction in the fall to give the PSAT to all Juniors. (Yes, despite the fact that we're now going to be giving it to all sophomores in April, we are still going to turn around and give it to all of them again in October when they're Juniors. Why? National Merit.) So that choice means we're deciding to spend another $118,000 on testing. We're now up to $472,000 (just at my school).
But, of course, there's still more if you don't limit it to state-mandated testing. What other types of testing do we have at my school? Well, we give MAP testing in language arts and mathematics to our students. That's a bit harder to quantify in terms of cost, since we don't devote parts of entire school days to it. Instead, students are tested in their language arts and math classes (twice a year in 9th and 10th grade, just once a year in 11th I think). Making a very rough estimate again, I'll say that equates to about half a day per year per student, so $59,000. We're now up to $531,000 (just at my school).
We also have many students who take AP exams at the end of the school year. When students take an AP exam, they not only miss the 3 or so hours they are writing the exam, but they often miss the entire school day as they are pretty exhausted. There are certainly many arguments in favor of the usefulness, importance and value of AP Exams, but there are also arguments against. No matter which side you fall on, certainly those days are not available for instruction for those students. (And even for those students who are not taking an AP exam, teachers adjust what they are doing in class because so many students are missing due to the AP exams). I don't really have the data to completely quantify this, but our students write close to 900 AP exams in a given year, so if we take 900 times $55 per day per student, that adds $49,500. We're now up to $580,500 (just at my school).
My school also requires final exams each semester. We devote four days each semester exclusively to final exams, so eight days throughout the school year. While there are certainly some folks who will argue that final exams are useful, necessary and important, there are also arguments that they are not. Whichever you believe, they certainly don't much resemble instruction. So eight days times $118,000 adds another $944,000, so we're up to $1,524,500 (just at my school). Since many teachers also take at least one day to review for the final exams, you could perhaps add in more here (although that review has some instructional value, so I'll leave that out for now).
Then you add in the individual tests that teachers give. This is even murkier territory, since I do believe assessment - when it is done well - is very valuable, and how teachers give these assessments varies tremendously. But certainly there are a fair number of teachers who give "unit" tests multiple times a year that take an entire class period. That's time that is no longer available for instruction, so there is an opportunity cost associated with it. Let's make a conservative estimate and say that each students loses 4 days a year cumulatively to these tests. That adds another $472,000, so we're up to $1,996,500.
Now, that's waaaaay too many digits of precision, so let's just say $2 million as a rough estimate. We spend $2 million a year on testing . . . just at my school.
Two. Million. Dollars.We can debate my estimates and I'll freely admit that I'm just ballparking all of this, but at least it gives us a place to start the discussion. If we ignore the $7 million the state spends in direct costs, and if we ignore the additional millions the state and school districts spend in indirect costs, and just focus on what my high school spends on testing each year, $2 million is a good number to work with.
That's the cost of testing.
Yet even that isn't the true cost of testing, or at least not the total true cost of testing. My daughter is a sophomore this year, and in her language arts and math classes they have been doing some practice PSAT items. They are not spending a lot of time on this, but they are spending some. And just because they are practicing for the PSAT doesn't automatically make it a poor use of time, the skills they are practicing may (or may not) be valuable.
But I think we have to acknowledge that in addition to the actual time spent testing, we are impacting what we do in our schools. Even if you believe those practice items are valuable, keep in mind that those items change each year as the tests change. We used to do CSAP practice items, then TCAP, then PARCC, then ACT, and now PSAT and SAT. While those are certainly related, each time the test changes we change the prep we do. I think it's awfully hard to argue the high ground here about how valuable these items are when they keep changing based on which test we're giving.
And it doesn't just influence those test prep items. We change what we do in our classes based on these tests. From major changes like adjusting the entire curriculum, to more minor changes like materials selection and the emphasis we place on different topics within that curriculum, the current test ends up driving a lot of what we do (even if we don't want to admit it). Again, that doesn't necessarily mean that the things we are doing are bad, but I think we need to be honest and acknowledge why we are doing them. The question we need to ask is what would we choose to do with our students in the absence of those tests? Instead of trying to do things better, we should do better things.
It's not just the time (and dollars) spent on actual testing, it's the impact on the culture of learning in our schools. It's the message we send to students (and teachers) of what we value and who we are serving.
That's the true cost of testing.
Tuesday, July 07, 2015
Idea #7: The Meaning of Life
At the end of the school year I met with the administrator who does
my evaluation and he/she asked me to think over the summer about some
"big ideas" that would be worth discussing that could improve our
school. This is the seventh of an undetermined number of blog posts that will
explore some of those ideas. (Eliminate Letter Grades, GPA and Class Rank; Eliminate Curriculum (As We Know It); Think Differently About Time; Think Differently About Classes; At Least They've Still Got Their Health; Cultivate Curiosity)
Name of Administrator,
Despite not wanting a long list of requirements for our students, I'm kind of on a roll with suggesting things we should perhaps require in some shape or form for all students, so I'm going to stick with it for a little bit longer. I've previously written about Health and Curiosity as being ideas I'd consider "core," today I'm going to add The Meaning of Life.
We currently spend a lot of our time with curriculum that we claim is preparing our students to live well, but we don't devote much time to helping them figure out how they want to live or how they define living "well." It seems like we believe that students will just automatically figure out what's important to them, what they value in life, how they will define "success," and how they want to live in order to achieve those things. Now, I'm not suggesting that we should tell them those things, or that their family doesn't have a big role to play here as well, but as they are creating their identities as teenagers I think we should devote some time where they intentionally think about these things and purposefully start developing their own philosophy of life.
As with everything I've been writing about, there are a variety of ways this could be done; I'm going to suggest one way it might look. First, as students enter AHS I think we need to do a better job of bringing them into the culture of AHS (especially if the culture is going to include some of the new things I've suggested, which are likely very different than what they are used to). Our LINK Crew does a nice job with an initial orientation for incoming freshmen, but after that it seems like we think students will just pick up various aspects of our culture by osmosis. I think we need to be more intentional and purposeful with this, which is why I would suggest an advisory class for each student for all four years at AHS.
Ideally these advisories would be 25 students or less with two staff members for each advisory. That would take about 170 staff members, which we don't quite have, but perhaps we could borrow a few from ESC to help with advisory time. These 25 students would stay together for all four years, with the same two faculty advisors. As they enter Arapahoe as freshmen, I would envision this class as partly an "Orientation to AHS" class, helping students figure out where things are, how things work, who to ask for what, and how to be successful at AHS. More importantly, however, it would begin the acculturation to our community of learners and begin the process of figuring out their own personal philosophies of life.
As the students get older, these advisories would continue operating in an advisory capacity, but would also spend time helping students begin to figure out some of the big questions of each student's life: how do they want to live, what does it mean to be successful, what's most important to them. This would include some exploration of some of the world's philosophical traditions, including the ancient Greek philosophies (my personal favorite: stoicism) and more modern ideas including rationalism, idealism and existentialism (among others). But perhaps unlike a traditional philosophy class that just explores others' philosophies and that we might offer as an elective, this would be offered to every student and be a chance for students to actively piece together their personal philosophy.
While they wouldn't "finish" this process by the time they graduate, they would be approaching adulthood with a much more informed perspective on how they want to proceed with their lives. Instead of the default being defining success as a college degree, a high-paying job, and a family with 2.4 kids, we would help students decide what is important to them and how to pursue their own definition of success. Many of us learn in school that Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living," and Thoreau said "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined." If those are true, then shouldn't we help our students examine their life more closely, create and follow their dreams, and then help them live the life they've imagined?
The meaning of life is, quite literally, the meaning of our existence. Our students deserve the opportunity to explore their own meaning of life in a genuine, thoughtful, and thorough way as they are going through the identity-creation years of their lives. Shouldn't we help them do this in an intentional and purposeful way, instead of just "hope" they figure it out?
I look forward to having this discussion with the entire staff and am "curious" to see what results.
Karl
Name of Administrator,
Despite not wanting a long list of requirements for our students, I'm kind of on a roll with suggesting things we should perhaps require in some shape or form for all students, so I'm going to stick with it for a little bit longer. I've previously written about Health and Curiosity as being ideas I'd consider "core," today I'm going to add The Meaning of Life.
We currently spend a lot of our time with curriculum that we claim is preparing our students to live well, but we don't devote much time to helping them figure out how they want to live or how they define living "well." It seems like we believe that students will just automatically figure out what's important to them, what they value in life, how they will define "success," and how they want to live in order to achieve those things. Now, I'm not suggesting that we should tell them those things, or that their family doesn't have a big role to play here as well, but as they are creating their identities as teenagers I think we should devote some time where they intentionally think about these things and purposefully start developing their own philosophy of life.
As with everything I've been writing about, there are a variety of ways this could be done; I'm going to suggest one way it might look. First, as students enter AHS I think we need to do a better job of bringing them into the culture of AHS (especially if the culture is going to include some of the new things I've suggested, which are likely very different than what they are used to). Our LINK Crew does a nice job with an initial orientation for incoming freshmen, but after that it seems like we think students will just pick up various aspects of our culture by osmosis. I think we need to be more intentional and purposeful with this, which is why I would suggest an advisory class for each student for all four years at AHS.
Ideally these advisories would be 25 students or less with two staff members for each advisory. That would take about 170 staff members, which we don't quite have, but perhaps we could borrow a few from ESC to help with advisory time. These 25 students would stay together for all four years, with the same two faculty advisors. As they enter Arapahoe as freshmen, I would envision this class as partly an "Orientation to AHS" class, helping students figure out where things are, how things work, who to ask for what, and how to be successful at AHS. More importantly, however, it would begin the acculturation to our community of learners and begin the process of figuring out their own personal philosophies of life.
As the students get older, these advisories would continue operating in an advisory capacity, but would also spend time helping students begin to figure out some of the big questions of each student's life: how do they want to live, what does it mean to be successful, what's most important to them. This would include some exploration of some of the world's philosophical traditions, including the ancient Greek philosophies (my personal favorite: stoicism) and more modern ideas including rationalism, idealism and existentialism (among others). But perhaps unlike a traditional philosophy class that just explores others' philosophies and that we might offer as an elective, this would be offered to every student and be a chance for students to actively piece together their personal philosophy.
While they wouldn't "finish" this process by the time they graduate, they would be approaching adulthood with a much more informed perspective on how they want to proceed with their lives. Instead of the default being defining success as a college degree, a high-paying job, and a family with 2.4 kids, we would help students decide what is important to them and how to pursue their own definition of success. Many of us learn in school that Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living," and Thoreau said "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined." If those are true, then shouldn't we help our students examine their life more closely, create and follow their dreams, and then help them live the life they've imagined?
The meaning of life is, quite literally, the meaning of our existence. Our students deserve the opportunity to explore their own meaning of life in a genuine, thoughtful, and thorough way as they are going through the identity-creation years of their lives. Shouldn't we help them do this in an intentional and purposeful way, instead of just "hope" they figure it out?
I look forward to having this discussion with the entire staff and am "curious" to see what results.
Karl
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
In The Real World
"In the real world . . ." is a sentence starter you often hear in schools. In fact, I've said it many times myself. We need to stop.
Our students spend the better part of 13 years of their lives in K-12 education. This is their real world. The time our students spend with us is real. The experiences - the joy, the sadness, the learning, the relationships - those are all real. No matter how well-meaning we might be when using that phrase, we trivialize our students' lives when we use it. Their life in school is no less real than adults' lives outside of school. (And, as someone who has devoted their entire adult life to teaching, I've spent the better part of 40 years in K-12 school - it certainly seems pretty real to me.)
The phrase is typically used in one of two ways. It's either used to lecture students on how good they have it in school because, "in the real world," life would be tougher. Or it's used to justify some practice of ours, "you better get used to this because in the real world . . ." Both of these uses may indeed be well-intentioned but, in the end, they're manipulative. We use them because we don't have a good reason (or, at least, aren't willing to think long and deeply enough to articulate a good reason) for what we are doing. It's a crutch we rely on when we don't really want to answer a student's question.
I think we also abrogate our personal responsibility when we use this phrase. If our practices in school are different than practices "in the real world" (outside of school), why is that? Is there a good reason for it, or not? When we choose to be more "lenient" in school (typical use #1), there's hopefully a good reason for that practice. When we choose to operate in school in the same fashion as outside of school (typical use #2), there's hopefully a good reason for that as well. And we conveniently seem to forget who has created the "non-real" world of school: we have. So if the world "in school" is different, either in a positive or negative way, we need to own that.
As I've been writing this I've been thinking about the argument on the other side (which I pretty much do every time I write a blog post). As I've thought about it, I realize that maybe I've got it wrong, because here's a list of things that are true "in the real world."
Our students spend the better part of 13 years of their lives in K-12 education. This is their real world. The time our students spend with us is real. The experiences - the joy, the sadness, the learning, the relationships - those are all real. No matter how well-meaning we might be when using that phrase, we trivialize our students' lives when we use it. Their life in school is no less real than adults' lives outside of school. (And, as someone who has devoted their entire adult life to teaching, I've spent the better part of 40 years in K-12 school - it certainly seems pretty real to me.)
The phrase is typically used in one of two ways. It's either used to lecture students on how good they have it in school because, "in the real world," life would be tougher. Or it's used to justify some practice of ours, "you better get used to this because in the real world . . ." Both of these uses may indeed be well-intentioned but, in the end, they're manipulative. We use them because we don't have a good reason (or, at least, aren't willing to think long and deeply enough to articulate a good reason) for what we are doing. It's a crutch we rely on when we don't really want to answer a student's question.
I think we also abrogate our personal responsibility when we use this phrase. If our practices in school are different than practices "in the real world" (outside of school), why is that? Is there a good reason for it, or not? When we choose to be more "lenient" in school (typical use #1), there's hopefully a good reason for that practice. When we choose to operate in school in the same fashion as outside of school (typical use #2), there's hopefully a good reason for that as well. And we conveniently seem to forget who has created the "non-real" world of school: we have. So if the world "in school" is different, either in a positive or negative way, we need to own that.
As I've been writing this I've been thinking about the argument on the other side (which I pretty much do every time I write a blog post). As I've thought about it, I realize that maybe I've got it wrong, because here's a list of things that are true "in the real world."
- In the real world, people don't spend 59 minutes discussing literature, have a bell ring, then spend 59 minutes discussing Algebra, have a bell ring, and then spend 59 minutes thinking about U.S. History.
- In the real world, people don't have to ask permission to go to the bathroom.
- In the real world, people are generally allowed to eat and drink as they work.
- In the real world, if you forget something, you can generally go back and get it.
- In the real world, people generally call each other by their first names.
- In the real world, there are deadlines, but they often are not hard and fast, are often set by the person themselves, and they are not arbitrary.
- In the real world, people are generally encouraged to work with each other; to collaborate, to discuss, to divide up tasks, to rely on each other's strengths.
- In the real world, people are allowed (in fact, encouraged) to make use of whatever resources are available to them, whether that be a calculator, the Internet, books, or other people.
- In the real world, there are often other people evaluating us but, day-to-day, it's our own self-evaluation of how we are doing that's most important.
- In the real world, we often have to do things we don't particularly want to do, but we generally chose to engage in the activity requiring us to do those things.
- In the real world, we usually choose what we read.
- In the real world, there's rarely one right answer . . . and three wrong ones.
- In the real world, you're rarely assessed using a percentage, and more often using pass/fail. And even when it's pass/fail, you can usually attempt it as many times as you want.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Last Among Equals
Let me be perfectly clear: I think we put on a good graduation. Let me also say that I think everyone's motives are good and this is certainly not the most pressing issue we face in education. Having stipulated that, I still think the following is worth spending some time thinking about.
We just graduated the Class of 2014. As most of you know, this was a difficult year at my school, but students, staff and the community came together, persevered, and finished strong, and graduation was a fitting culmination for that effort. You can even watch video of our graduation if you want, as our student broadcast club streamed it live.
But each year I get a little more bothered about one part of our graduation (this is twenty-third AHS graduation I've attended). Our graduation starts with the graduates coming in, some opening remarks from students and staff, an amazing performance by our choir and symphonic band (starts at 27:30 of the video), and a keynote speech by a student speaker (who, as usual, was great - starts at 50:30 of the video, note the selfie she took). Then we get to the part where we read the graduates' names and they receive their diplomas. This is the part that increasingly bothers me and, while it's not the most important issue in the world, I still wonder if we should revisit how we do this.
We start by asking all of the honors graduates to stand and be recognized collectively (no names are read yet, this is at 1:07 of the video). These are students with GPA's between 3.50 and 3.79. They then sit down and we recognize the High Honors graduates, those with GPA's of 3.80 and above.
The high honors graduates names are then read first, individually, by the Assistant Principal in charge of Curriculum, with their college choice (or occasionally some other destination) read after their name (at 1:08:10 of the video). We start with the Valedictorian and Salutatorian, then all the other high honors graduates are read in alphabetical order. They come up one by one and receive their diplomas and then return to their seats. (Before I go on it's important to note that all of these students - both honors and high honors - were recognized three days before graduation at our Awards Convocation).
Now all the rest of the students names get read (at 1:28:25 of the video). They are read by two faculty speakers, who alternate reading names one by one from each half of the alphabet so that it goes faster. These students have their names read, but no college choice or other destination, although the honors students get a "with honors" appended after their name.
We end with some closing remarks, the moving of the tassel, and then they exit. All in all, it's a wonderful ceremony. And yet . . .
I have very mixed feelings about the special recognition of the honors and high honors graduates. On the one hand, we are an academic institution, these students have worked hard, and it's nice to be able to recognize their achievement and hard work. I don't mean to discount that at all, I just wonder why we feel the need to raise their accomplishment above others on the day of graduation?
Part of my concern is over how honors and high honors are determined. They are based on grades, of course, with AP classes counting more. ((All of our classes except AP classes are worth 4, 3, 2, 1 for A, B, C, D, and AP classes are 5, 4, 3, 1, so we have a significant number of students above 4.0.) I've written frequently before about my concern with grades, so I won't dwell on this here, other than to say that I have serious doubts about how well grades reflect learning, and I also question the wisdom of determining both the honor and the additional recognition at graduation partially on whether a student decides to take AP classes or not.
While my concern with grades is certainly a part of my concern over this custom, the main focus of this post is not on the relative worth of grades. It's more about whether it's appropriate at graduation to elevate some students over others. (Again, keeping in mind that these students were all recognized three days before at a special awards convocation that was held just for them, their friends, and their families.) After all, part of our graduation ceremony (all 23 of them I've been at), is our Principal saying she certifies to the Superintendent that all of these students have met the graduation requirements of Arapahoe High School and Littleton Public Schools. And then the Superintendent states to the Board of Education that he certifies the same thing. So assuming we believe that our graduation requirements actually mean something, all of these students have met the requirements we have put before them. So then why do elevate some graduates over others?
There are some students who graduate from my high school that from the day they start as a freshman know they will not be an honors or high honors graduate. Now, before you accuse of me of the "soft bigotry of low expectations", I'm a firm believer that each student can achieve and has amazing potential. I'm also a strong believer in Dweck's concept of Growth Mindset. It's not that I don't think all students can learn, or that they can't be successful, or that they can't achieve, it's just that I think we as educators put a premium on a very small subset of what it means to be successful. Students that can't - or don't want to - fit into that narrow band of school-based, school-defined success are somehow deemed less worthy.
Everyone who has been an educator (or been around kids at all) knows of students who work incredibly hard, who learn and achieve and go on to do great things. They typically have a growth mindset, and they constantly challenge themselves to achieve their own goals. But often that doesn't translate into an A in school, which means they won't get special recognition at our graduation. Just because a student's GPA is 3.79 or below doesn't mean their achievement is worth less recognition, or that their future plans are any less worthy than the high honors graduates' plans.
If we believe that school is for all students, and we believe that what we offer and require of all of our students is meaningful, and that students that meet those requirements have accomplished something, then when and how they receive that diploma shouldn't be differentiated by their cumulative GPA. We should celebrate all of our graduates, and not be silent about their plans for next year simply because they didn't reach an arbitrary number on a dubious scale. They shouldn't be last among equals.
We just graduated the Class of 2014. As most of you know, this was a difficult year at my school, but students, staff and the community came together, persevered, and finished strong, and graduation was a fitting culmination for that effort. You can even watch video of our graduation if you want, as our student broadcast club streamed it live.
But each year I get a little more bothered about one part of our graduation (this is twenty-third AHS graduation I've attended). Our graduation starts with the graduates coming in, some opening remarks from students and staff, an amazing performance by our choir and symphonic band (starts at 27:30 of the video), and a keynote speech by a student speaker (who, as usual, was great - starts at 50:30 of the video, note the selfie she took). Then we get to the part where we read the graduates' names and they receive their diplomas. This is the part that increasingly bothers me and, while it's not the most important issue in the world, I still wonder if we should revisit how we do this.
We start by asking all of the honors graduates to stand and be recognized collectively (no names are read yet, this is at 1:07 of the video). These are students with GPA's between 3.50 and 3.79. They then sit down and we recognize the High Honors graduates, those with GPA's of 3.80 and above.
The high honors graduates names are then read first, individually, by the Assistant Principal in charge of Curriculum, with their college choice (or occasionally some other destination) read after their name (at 1:08:10 of the video). We start with the Valedictorian and Salutatorian, then all the other high honors graduates are read in alphabetical order. They come up one by one and receive their diplomas and then return to their seats. (Before I go on it's important to note that all of these students - both honors and high honors - were recognized three days before graduation at our Awards Convocation).
Now all the rest of the students names get read (at 1:28:25 of the video). They are read by two faculty speakers, who alternate reading names one by one from each half of the alphabet so that it goes faster. These students have their names read, but no college choice or other destination, although the honors students get a "with honors" appended after their name.
We end with some closing remarks, the moving of the tassel, and then they exit. All in all, it's a wonderful ceremony. And yet . . .
I have very mixed feelings about the special recognition of the honors and high honors graduates. On the one hand, we are an academic institution, these students have worked hard, and it's nice to be able to recognize their achievement and hard work. I don't mean to discount that at all, I just wonder why we feel the need to raise their accomplishment above others on the day of graduation?
Part of my concern is over how honors and high honors are determined. They are based on grades, of course, with AP classes counting more. ((All of our classes except AP classes are worth 4, 3, 2, 1 for A, B, C, D, and AP classes are 5, 4, 3, 1, so we have a significant number of students above 4.0.) I've written frequently before about my concern with grades, so I won't dwell on this here, other than to say that I have serious doubts about how well grades reflect learning, and I also question the wisdom of determining both the honor and the additional recognition at graduation partially on whether a student decides to take AP classes or not.
While my concern with grades is certainly a part of my concern over this custom, the main focus of this post is not on the relative worth of grades. It's more about whether it's appropriate at graduation to elevate some students over others. (Again, keeping in mind that these students were all recognized three days before at a special awards convocation that was held just for them, their friends, and their families.) After all, part of our graduation ceremony (all 23 of them I've been at), is our Principal saying she certifies to the Superintendent that all of these students have met the graduation requirements of Arapahoe High School and Littleton Public Schools. And then the Superintendent states to the Board of Education that he certifies the same thing. So assuming we believe that our graduation requirements actually mean something, all of these students have met the requirements we have put before them. So then why do elevate some graduates over others?
There are some students who graduate from my high school that from the day they start as a freshman know they will not be an honors or high honors graduate. Now, before you accuse of me of the "soft bigotry of low expectations", I'm a firm believer that each student can achieve and has amazing potential. I'm also a strong believer in Dweck's concept of Growth Mindset. It's not that I don't think all students can learn, or that they can't be successful, or that they can't achieve, it's just that I think we as educators put a premium on a very small subset of what it means to be successful. Students that can't - or don't want to - fit into that narrow band of school-based, school-defined success are somehow deemed less worthy.
Everyone who has been an educator (or been around kids at all) knows of students who work incredibly hard, who learn and achieve and go on to do great things. They typically have a growth mindset, and they constantly challenge themselves to achieve their own goals. But often that doesn't translate into an A in school, which means they won't get special recognition at our graduation. Just because a student's GPA is 3.79 or below doesn't mean their achievement is worth less recognition, or that their future plans are any less worthy than the high honors graduates' plans.
If we believe that school is for all students, and we believe that what we offer and require of all of our students is meaningful, and that students that meet those requirements have accomplished something, then when and how they receive that diploma shouldn't be differentiated by their cumulative GPA. We should celebrate all of our graduates, and not be silent about their plans for next year simply because they didn't reach an arbitrary number on a dubious scale. They shouldn't be last among equals.
Friday, May 02, 2014
Why I Wouldn't Turnitin
I am not a Language Arts teacher, nor do I play one on TV. I do not have 3-5 distinct Language Arts preps, a student load of between 120 and 220 each semester, or the number of papers to grade that comes with that student load. I am not trained in how best to help students learn Language Arts, nor am I steeped in all the Language Arts standards and habits of mind that we'd like our students to develop.
Now that I've thoroughly destroyed any credibility I might have to talk about this issue, I'd ask you to continue reading anyway.
My school is probably going to adopt Turnitin next year. If you're not familiar with this, it's a service that allows you to have your students submit their writing to Turnitin where it is rapidly checked against their massive database of other student work to check for plagiarism. It also helps teachers and peers provide feedback. From their About page:
I wouldn't use it.
I have several concerns about the use of Turnitin, but I'll focus on just two here. First, by contracting with Turnitin, you're basically agreeing to submit your students' work to a large corporation so that they can use that work to make money. The more folks that use Turnitin, and the more student work that is submitted, the more valuable it becomes for Turnitin. You're allowing (actually, enabling) a corporation to monetize the intellectual property of your students.
Now, I realize this argument will seem rather esoteric to many folks. They'll suggest that elevating our students' work to "intellectual property" is a bit of a stretch, and that the goal of using Turnitin is to actually help the students, and it's okay if people make money along the way. Both of those may have some validity, but I'd ask you to think about this scenario. How would you feel if your school district took some of your work as a teacher and then sold it, and kept the profits? (By the way, they probably can do that since it's work product, but my question is how would you feel.) It's essentially the same thing for our students, except they didn't have a choice (you did when you accepted this job), nor do they get paid for their time (you get paid for your work, even if you wouldn't get the proceeds from the sale of your work product). I find it somewhat ironic that we are attempting to teach our students that copying is wrong by copying and sharing their work with someone who will profit from it.
Second, and this is the bigger issue for me, is the assumption of guilt. By using Turnitin we're essentially saying to our students, "you are guilty until proven innocent . . . by Turnitin." We don't trust you, we assume you're going to cheat, and in order to deter that we're going to submit everything you do under the assumption that you are cheating.
Now, last time I checked, one of the basic principles of our country is the presumption of innocence; the assumption that you are innocent until proven guilty. Not only that, but there has to be probable cause to pursue the matter to determine your guilt. What kind of message does it send to our students when we flip that on its head?
I get why Language Arts teachers would want to use this product. I get the overwhelming workload and the frustration of dealing with student plagiarism. If I was a Language Arts teacher I might even swallow my concerns and use Turnitin myself. But I'm not, and that's the beauty of this post, I can at least attempt to evaluate the use of Turnitin from a big-picture perspective without the annoying reality I would face as a Language Arts classroom teacher. And, evaluated on the "rightness" of using it, it's no contest - don't do it.
So how would I address the issue of plagiarism? I don't know, at least not to any level of detail. I think there are certainly some partial solutions that can help, such as not giving standard assignments with standard prompts that are easy to plagiarize, or having students complete writing tasks in class. But I realize those only go so far, but I think it would be worth our time to flesh out that list and perhaps we could come up with a more complete list that might - on the whole - be a better alternative to Turnitin.
I can foresee some folks asking question like, "But don't you value Literature? And don't you value writing?" And my answer is that I very much value Literature, and I very much value writing. Do I value writing about Literature? Not so much. That doesn't mean I think writing about Literature is necessarily bad, not at all, as long as that's what you want and choose to do. But I do think that forced, mandatory writing about Literature that is assigned to you that you then turn in for a grade is perhaps not the best way to help students become better writers or lovers of Literature.
A serious question for Language Arts teachers: When is the last time you wrote a paper about a work of Literature? And, no, graduate school doesn't count. You don't get to justify doing something to your students in school because someone else did something to you in school. I'd even ask a follow-up question, when is the last time you wrote anything longer and more involved than an email? If (school) writing is so important, so critical to our students, that we would spend some of our budget on a service that assumes our students are guilty until proven innocent, then I think you need to show the writing you do in your life.
I know many of the folks reading this will be able to do that, because if you're reading my blog then there's a better-than-average chance that you're a blogger yourself. But I wonder what percentage of Language Arts teachers write anything significant on a regular basis? And of those that do, I wonder how much of that writing resembles the writing they are asking their students to do and then submit to Turnitin? I wonder how many Language Arts Departments - all the teachers in the department combined - have written even as much as I alone have in the last eight or so years on this blog? That's not to say there's anything special about me for writing on this blog, but that is suggesting that they should put their (school district) money where their writing is.
I think writing is more important than ever. But I think the most important writing done today doesn't look very much like school writing.
Does this mean that I think Language Arts teachers who use Turnitin are "bad" or "evil"? Not at all; as I said, I can see where it would be helpful to them in dealing with the realities of their classroom situations. But it does mean that I wish we would question the realities of our classroom situations and perhaps, just perhaps, spend our time and energy on changing those situations instead of using a flawed and ultimately harmful tool.
For an interesting discussion of copyright and other issues related to Turnitin, this article from the Florida Law Review (pdf) is very interesting (and lengthy).
Now that I've thoroughly destroyed any credibility I might have to talk about this issue, I'd ask you to continue reading anyway.
My school is probably going to adopt Turnitin next year. If you're not familiar with this, it's a service that allows you to have your students submit their writing to Turnitin where it is rapidly checked against their massive database of other student work to check for plagiarism. It also helps teachers and peers provide feedback. From their About page:
Turnitin is used by more than 10,000 institutions in 135 countries to manage the submission, tracking and evaluation of student papers online.I have not used Turnitin, so I can't comment on how well it does what it purports to do, but I've heard that it does a good job and is pretty user-friendly for both teachers and students.
I wouldn't use it.
I have several concerns about the use of Turnitin, but I'll focus on just two here. First, by contracting with Turnitin, you're basically agreeing to submit your students' work to a large corporation so that they can use that work to make money. The more folks that use Turnitin, and the more student work that is submitted, the more valuable it becomes for Turnitin. You're allowing (actually, enabling) a corporation to monetize the intellectual property of your students.
Now, I realize this argument will seem rather esoteric to many folks. They'll suggest that elevating our students' work to "intellectual property" is a bit of a stretch, and that the goal of using Turnitin is to actually help the students, and it's okay if people make money along the way. Both of those may have some validity, but I'd ask you to think about this scenario. How would you feel if your school district took some of your work as a teacher and then sold it, and kept the profits? (By the way, they probably can do that since it's work product, but my question is how would you feel.) It's essentially the same thing for our students, except they didn't have a choice (you did when you accepted this job), nor do they get paid for their time (you get paid for your work, even if you wouldn't get the proceeds from the sale of your work product). I find it somewhat ironic that we are attempting to teach our students that copying is wrong by copying and sharing their work with someone who will profit from it.
Second, and this is the bigger issue for me, is the assumption of guilt. By using Turnitin we're essentially saying to our students, "you are guilty until proven innocent . . . by Turnitin." We don't trust you, we assume you're going to cheat, and in order to deter that we're going to submit everything you do under the assumption that you are cheating.
Now, last time I checked, one of the basic principles of our country is the presumption of innocence; the assumption that you are innocent until proven guilty. Not only that, but there has to be probable cause to pursue the matter to determine your guilt. What kind of message does it send to our students when we flip that on its head?
I get why Language Arts teachers would want to use this product. I get the overwhelming workload and the frustration of dealing with student plagiarism. If I was a Language Arts teacher I might even swallow my concerns and use Turnitin myself. But I'm not, and that's the beauty of this post, I can at least attempt to evaluate the use of Turnitin from a big-picture perspective without the annoying reality I would face as a Language Arts classroom teacher. And, evaluated on the "rightness" of using it, it's no contest - don't do it.
So how would I address the issue of plagiarism? I don't know, at least not to any level of detail. I think there are certainly some partial solutions that can help, such as not giving standard assignments with standard prompts that are easy to plagiarize, or having students complete writing tasks in class. But I realize those only go so far, but I think it would be worth our time to flesh out that list and perhaps we could come up with a more complete list that might - on the whole - be a better alternative to Turnitin.
I can foresee some folks asking question like, "But don't you value Literature? And don't you value writing?" And my answer is that I very much value Literature, and I very much value writing. Do I value writing about Literature? Not so much. That doesn't mean I think writing about Literature is necessarily bad, not at all, as long as that's what you want and choose to do. But I do think that forced, mandatory writing about Literature that is assigned to you that you then turn in for a grade is perhaps not the best way to help students become better writers or lovers of Literature.
A serious question for Language Arts teachers: When is the last time you wrote a paper about a work of Literature? And, no, graduate school doesn't count. You don't get to justify doing something to your students in school because someone else did something to you in school. I'd even ask a follow-up question, when is the last time you wrote anything longer and more involved than an email? If (school) writing is so important, so critical to our students, that we would spend some of our budget on a service that assumes our students are guilty until proven innocent, then I think you need to show the writing you do in your life.
I know many of the folks reading this will be able to do that, because if you're reading my blog then there's a better-than-average chance that you're a blogger yourself. But I wonder what percentage of Language Arts teachers write anything significant on a regular basis? And of those that do, I wonder how much of that writing resembles the writing they are asking their students to do and then submit to Turnitin? I wonder how many Language Arts Departments - all the teachers in the department combined - have written even as much as I alone have in the last eight or so years on this blog? That's not to say there's anything special about me for writing on this blog, but that is suggesting that they should put their (school district) money where their writing is.
I think writing is more important than ever. But I think the most important writing done today doesn't look very much like school writing.
- Important writing is done because you want to accomplish a task, you want to change something. School writing is often done just to get a rather dubious grade.
- Important writing is done for an authentic audience, for an audience that cares about and needs what you are writing about; it's meant to be shared. School writing is done for an audience of one, and that one usually has to read between 30 and 200 other pieces of inauthentic writing at the same time. It's rarely shared.
- Important writing is often (although not always) done collaboratively. School writing is rarely done collaboratively.
- Important writing today frequently uses hyperlinks that allow you to actually click through and read the source material, and we frequently do. School writing frequently uses citations in MLA or APA format, where we seemingly care more about the appropriate placement of punctuation then we do about the usefulness, relevance, and importance of the source material. Rarely in school writing does anyone actually read the source material.
- Important writing is difficult to plagiarize, because you have something to say, and it's yours. School writing is often easy to plagiarize, because you may not have anything to say, and it's not really yours.
Does this mean that I think Language Arts teachers who use Turnitin are "bad" or "evil"? Not at all; as I said, I can see where it would be helpful to them in dealing with the realities of their classroom situations. But it does mean that I wish we would question the realities of our classroom situations and perhaps, just perhaps, spend our time and energy on changing those situations instead of using a flawed and ultimately harmful tool.
For an interesting discussion of copyright and other issues related to Turnitin, this article from the Florida Law Review (pdf) is very interesting (and lengthy).
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Your GDA Is More Important Than Your GPA
Just posted this to my Algebra class blog, thought I would share it here as well.
My daughter is thirteen and each morning I send her off to school with some combination of the following advice.
Have a great day. Work hard. Do your best. Learn a lot. Have fun. Be happy. Be kind. Be curious.
If she achieves most of those on any given day then I think it was a good day. I was thinking about this earlier this week when I was invited in to some of our Government classes here at AHS to talk about education. The students were having a fishbowl discussion about education, and our school system, and what changes they might want to make to make it better. Mr. Escue and Mrs. Winn invited in some other teachers (including me) to participate in the fishbowl discussions and push their thinking a bit.
Several things struck me from the conversation, including how stressed many of these students appeared to be. They were mostly stressed by the pressure they perceived they were under to "perform well" and "get good grades." It was a real struggle to direct the conversation back to learning, and what they felt the purpose of high school should be, and away from grades, graduation requirements, and colleges.
As I was thinking about this last night I thought about what I tell my own daughter each day and wondered if she feels as stressed as these students do. It turns out she does feel many of the same pressures, even though she has heard her parents say many times what we feel is important (and can even repeat it back to us). That makes me think that we (as parents) and I (as a teacher) need to do a better job of stressing what I think is important to you (my students) as well as to my daughter. Even though what I say to my daughter each morning is pretty good and succinct, I tried to think of something that might sum it up a bit better in one sentence. This is what I came up with:
Your Good Day Average (or GDA) is more important than your Grade Point Average (GPA).
So I'm going to try to say that a bit more often to both my daughter and to you guys. Because I really do believe that if you work hard, do your best, learn a lot, have fun, be happy, be kind, and be curious - then you did have a good day.
This would be a great conversation to have with your parents as well to see what they think about all of this. What do they - and you - consider to be a good day?
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Pursue Your Glee
(Originally posted on my Algebra Class Blog, but I thought I would share it here as well.)
There was an interesting article in today's Denver Post about Melissa Benoist, a 2007 AHS graduate. I don't know how many of you have seen Glee (I'll admit that I sometimes watch it), but Melissa stars as Marley, the new girl on Glee. I especially liked this part of the accompanying interview:
John: I want to end this by reading you a quote that you gave me when you were 16, and then I want to know how you think 16-year-old Melissa Benoist would feel about the way 23-year-old Melissa has turned out. You told me of your future plans: "I have known for a long time that acting is what I want to do, so I haven't really tried anything else. It's pretty much all I'm really good at that I have discovered yet. It's so scary to think that, wow, I could go straight into being a starving actor less than a year from now. But I feel an obligation to go to college and get a degree. I just do." ... So you were true to that. You went to college, and now the rewards are really starting to play out. What do you think?
Melissa: I am definitely very proud. A lot of it still doesn't feel real, and not just "Glee." Everything that I have accomplished since 2006. Not to say that it's been easy. If I had any advice for my 16-year-old self, it would just be to stay strong, because acting is not an easy lifestyle, especially when you are starting out. That being said, it definitely makes it all worth it when it does happen.
What I like about this is that Melissa chose to pursue her passion, acting, yet still felt that it was important to pursue her education as well, and be knowledgeable about the world around her. That doesn't mean that college is for everyone, there are lots of ways to be curious and learn about the world around you, and many of them don't include a formal degree program. But I think it's important to be intentional about that, to make a conscious effort to be curious and to learn.
That's what I'm attempting to do in our Algebra class. I realize that not all of you are interested in becoming mathematicians, scientists, or engineers, and that learning Algebra may not be at the top of your priority list. But by trying to share relevant examples from the world around us, whether that's the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, Missy Franklin's speed in the backstroke, or how far a car travels in three seconds when going the speed limit outside of AHS, I try to show you how Algebra - and algebraic thinking - can help you make sense of the world around you. So be curious about what you're learning in Algebra - and in all your classes - even if they aren't your passion.
So even if you aren't planning on creating the next iPad (lots of mathematics involved in making that magic happen), working to alleviate issues caused by global climate change (at it's heart, that issue is mathematically based), or working for the National Security Agency (most of modern cryptography - as well as eCommerce - is based on factoring large numbers), I'm hopeful that you'll be curious enough, and caring enough, to engage with the issues and the people around you - and that demands some mathematical thinking.
I believe that pursuing your passion is key, and I encourage you to do so (as Melissa says, "stay strong.") But I also think it's incredibly important to be aware of the wider issues in the world, and to continue to learn and be well-informed even about those areas that are not your passion. Because in order for our society to work, we all have to be knowledgeable, engaged and informed citizens.
Friday, August 17, 2012
What Would You Attempt To Do If You Knew You Could Not Fail?
(I just posted this on my Algebra Class Blog and sent an email to the parents of my incoming students suggesting they read the post and watch the video with their student. Thought I'd share it here as well.)
While this is not an "assignment," I really encourage you to take the time to watch this TED Talk by Regina Dugan (about 19 minutes, with another 5 of Q & A afterward). At the time she gave this talk, Dugan was the director of DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. I was lucky enough to see this talk when she gave it, and I think it's well worth your time. Please watch the embedded video, then I'll share just a few thoughts below it.
The title of this blog post echoes the really important - and empowering - question she asks, "What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail." I think it's important to note that she doesn't say you won't fail at some things, in fact she acknowledges that failure is a huge part of any ultimate success. She argues that it's not failure that's the problem, but our fear of failure that prevents us from attempting "great things."
As you begin this class and, for most of you, your high school careers, I want you to try great things, and not let fear hold you back. As Regina Dugan says,
While this is not an "assignment," I really encourage you to take the time to watch this TED Talk by Regina Dugan (about 19 minutes, with another 5 of Q & A afterward). At the time she gave this talk, Dugan was the director of DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. I was lucky enough to see this talk when she gave it, and I think it's well worth your time. Please watch the embedded video, then I'll share just a few thoughts below it.
The title of this blog post echoes the really important - and empowering - question she asks, "What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail." I think it's important to note that she doesn't say you won't fail at some things, in fact she acknowledges that failure is a huge part of any ultimate success. She argues that it's not failure that's the problem, but our fear of failure that prevents us from attempting "great things."
As you begin this class and, for most of you, your high school careers, I want you to try great things, and not let fear hold you back. As Regina Dugan says,
So who are these scientists and engineers at a magical place called DARPA? They are nerds, and they are heroes among us. They challenge existing perspectives at the edges of science and under the most demanding of conditions. They remind us that we can change the world if we defy the impossible and we refuse to fear failure. They remind us that we all have nerd power. Sometimes we just forget.
You see, there was a time when you weren't afraid of failure, when you were a great artist or a great dancer and you could sing, you were good at math, you could build things, you were an astronaut, an adventurer, Jacques Cousteau, you could jump higher, run faster, kick harder than anyone. You believed in impossible things and you were fearless. You were totally and completely in touch with your inner superhero. Scientists and engineers can indeed change the world. So can you. You were born to. So go ahead, ask yourself, what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?I want you to defy the impossible and refuse to fear failure. I want you to get in touch with your inner superhero and change the world. You were born to.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
An Education Bubble?
I watched this debate the other day between entrepreneur Peter Thiel and Google CEO Eric Schmidt. It was moderately interesting, but the part that got me thinking was in the last few minutes (about the 33 minute mark) when they briefly touched on education. Peter Thiel suggested that, at least at the university level, we are in an education bubble. Eric Schmidt responded that while there may be issues, he thinks education is the answer.
Dinner and Debate with Eric Schmidt and Peter Thiel from Fortune Conferences and Fortune Conferences on FORA.tv
And that got me thinking. More and more I'm wondering if Education - with a capital 'E' - is not the answer. Perhaps we are seeing a bubble in education, not just at the university level, but in K-12 as well. Perhaps we'll look back at the last half of the twentieth century and this first decade or two of the twenty-first and view it as the industrial-education complex (with apologies to Eisenhower) era of education.
More and more I'm wondering if there's any possible way to take a system of Education and make it work the way I think it needs to; to truly meet the needs of our children. I'm really beginning to doubt there is.
So if Education (capital 'E") is not the answer, what is? Perhaps it's learning.
Now, to be fair, I have no idea how to "scale" such an idea, and specifically no idea how to make sure the least advantaged among us can take advantage of the learning landscape we currently are presented with (that's one thing a system - despite all its flaws - currently does better). But just as in other bubbles, where in the midst of the hype very few folks were aware they were in a bubble, perhaps the way forward to make our children's learning the focus will emerge from the rubble.
Perhaps.
And that got me thinking. More and more I'm wondering if Education - with a capital 'E' - is not the answer. Perhaps we are seeing a bubble in education, not just at the university level, but in K-12 as well. Perhaps we'll look back at the last half of the twentieth century and this first decade or two of the twenty-first and view it as the industrial-education complex (with apologies to Eisenhower) era of education.
More and more I'm wondering if there's any possible way to take a system of Education and make it work the way I think it needs to; to truly meet the needs of our children. I'm really beginning to doubt there is.
So if Education (capital 'E") is not the answer, what is? Perhaps it's learning.
Now, to be fair, I have no idea how to "scale" such an idea, and specifically no idea how to make sure the least advantaged among us can take advantage of the learning landscape we currently are presented with (that's one thing a system - despite all its flaws - currently does better). But just as in other bubbles, where in the midst of the hype very few folks were aware they were in a bubble, perhaps the way forward to make our children's learning the focus will emerge from the rubble.
Perhaps.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
What Should Be the Purpose of School?
My friend Zac (and his friend Trevor) want to know: What Should Be the Purpose of School?
They'll start working with the data right after Thanksgiving, so try to get your responses in before that. Please note that all answers will be made public. I can't wait to read/see/hear what you think.
It started as a question in class. Listening to discussions of actions schools should and should not take, I started to want to know what ideas were inspiring what sounded to be firmly held beliefs in the role of school.So, you have four ways to thoughtfully respond (pick one, don't do all four). You can fill out this google form if you have a lot to say and want to type it, or if you prefer you can leave an audio message, send a text message, or upload a video.
That got me thinking about what people outside our classroom believe should be the purpose of school. My suspicion is that these ideas are not as synchronous as we might believe them to be. I mentioned this to my friend Trevor. From there, the School Purpose Project was born.
They'll start working with the data right after Thanksgiving, so try to get your responses in before that. Please note that all answers will be made public. I can't wait to read/see/hear what you think.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
To Be Honest
< Prologue >
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1, William Shakespeare (circa 1601)
Honesty is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue.
Honesty, Billy Joel (1979)
< 1 >
I presented at the K20 Innovative Learning Institute held in Norman, Oklahoma on Thursday. During the presentation several folks tweeted out quotes or reactions, including Laura Buxton who tweeted a quote from me about possible future spouses googling our students (in the context of talking about their digital footprint). Ira Socol tweeted back to Laura that he wished we would stop using scare tactics to threaten our students. I didn't see the tweets until the next day, but I replied back to Ira that I hadn't really thought of it as scare tactics, but I would think some more about it.
After thinking a bit I replied and said I still felt like it wasn't scare tactics, but simply being honest with our students. Keep in mind that that quote from my presentation was in the context of both a positive and negative digital footprint. I wasn't just talking about colleges, employers and spouses googling them (looking for something negative), but also about the positive footprint they should be building (so those folks - and others - could find the positive.)
I pretty much align with Ira in my distaste for trying to "scare straight" our students - I think they deserve more respect than that. On the other hand, I also think they are deserving enough of our respect to be honest with them - I think they can handle thinking about the possible negative consequences of their online actions (as well as the positive), without seeing it as a scare tactic. I don't want to threaten my students, but I also don't want to ignore the very possible consequences of a less-than-stellar digital footprint.
I agree with Ira when he suggested that our views of digital footprints are going to have to adapt (i.e., not hold things against young people forever), but I still think - especially for high school students - that they will be held somewhat accountable for their views and actions as teenagers. (In general, I think we underestimate the capabilities - and thoughtfulness - of teenagers, and we should respect them enough to expect good things from them.) If you agree that that's even a possibility, then I think they deserve to hear that from us now.
< 2 >
In my breakout sessions at K20 we talked about a bunch of different topics (resources here) but, as usual, the topic of Internet filtering came up. What was surprising to me this time was how many teachers were basically in favor of pretty strict filtering policies. In pretty much any educational audience there is, of course, a wide range of views on filtering, but in the past the teachers have tended to skew toward a much more open policy and administration and tech support have skewed much more toward a strict policy. While there was a wide variety of opinions present in the room, there seemed to be a much higher level of distrust of students among the teacher participants than what I'm accustomed to.
During one discussion with a high school teacher as we talked about YouTube, he said that if they didn't block it his students would immediately go to the "bad stuff." I asked that since they currently blocked it, how did he know? He replied, "They just would." I then asked exactly what "bad stuff" he thought they would go to on YouTube, and his reply was basically "just bad stuff." I then tried to make the analogy to a newspaper, so I asked if he filtered the newspaper before bringing it into his class. He replied, "Absolutely, I always screen the entire newspaper to make sure it's appropriate before bringing it in to school." (At that point I decided we probably weren't going to agree about YouTube.)
Among a larger than usual proportion of the teachers in the room there seemed to run a general level of distrust of our students. That we needed to control them, and filter the world for them, and make decisions for them. Now, I'm the first one to acknowledge that this is not a black-and-white issue, that as the adults we do sometimes have to make decisions that we feel are in the best interests of our students and that, occasionally, that may mean filtering or blocking - basically censoring - what they are exposed to.
But I see that "occasionally" as being a very rare occurrence. I wonder about the students in that teacher's class who can't be trusted with the newspaper, and how exactly when they turn 18 they suddenly will be able to handle it? I wonder about the students in that teacher's class who walk out into an unfiltered world when they leave the school building and are not having any guidance from the educators in their lives how best to deal with it? I wonder about our willingness to always put our judgment before their's? How exactly will our students become good at making decisions, become good at making judgments, become good at choosing what we would consider the right path if we never give them the opportunity to choose? How will our students become effective citizens in a democracy when they don't get a chance to practice democracy much in K-12?
I wonder how honest it is for us to proclaim that we are educating our students by "protecting" them? Are we protecting them, or ourselves?
< 3 >
I'm really struggling with my Algebra class. (For those not following along, I've picked up one section of Algebra due to budget cuts to go along with my full time technology coordinator job.) In general, I feel like I do a pretty good job of being up front and honest with my students. There are some topics in our Algebra I curriculum that I think aren't particularly necessary at this point (Standard Form of a linear equation comes to mind, as does one and two-variable linear inequalities) and, when those topics come up, I generally let the students know my opinion. I tell them that this is something that I wouldn't choose to teach them at this point, but that it's something that's in the curriculum so that were going to go ahead and learn it. (And, to be clear, I let them know that they are perfectly capable of learning it.)
I also think I'm fairly honest with my students in expressing my belief that while Algebra is probably the most practical of the high school math courses in my school, it still has quite a bit that won't be particularly useful to most of them. That I believe that the habits of mind they develop, that the learning stance they take, that the ability to learn they develop is probably going to more valuable to most of them in the long run then the actual Algebra skills. I try to show them the practical applications of the Algebra where possible, and I try to share some of the elegance of the mathematics where perhaps practical applications are hard to find, but I also freely acknowledge that at least some of what we do is perhaps a waste of their time.
But am I honest enough? I don't tell them that often I'm not sure if what I'm teaching them is in their best interest. I don't tell them that sometimes I don't know why this particular part of Algebra is important. I don't tell them that I often doubt whether this class is the best use of their time. I don't tell them that I struggle with whether I believe students should be taking Algebra in the first place, or whether school as we currently implement it is really designed with their best interests in mind.
But if I tell them all that, will that actually help them? Right now even the students that don't particularly like school or my Algebra class have a basic sense of trust that it's "good for them." Would it be right for me to tell them that I question that assumption, when I really don't have anything to replace it with? Would that harm them more than it would help them?
To be honest . . . I'm not really sure.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Can't We Just Memorize a Formula to Plug Stuff Into?
(Cross-posted on my Algebra class blog. Thought I'd share it here as well.)
I've been wanting to share something with you the last couple of days in class but just haven't had time, so I decided to just put it here on the blog instead. I'm currently reading The Myths of Innovation by Scott Berkun and I came across a couple of passages that I thought were relevant to our class. In a section of the book talking about the myth that good ideas are hard to find, he writes:
What does this have to do with Algebra? Well, this is very similar to the philosophy of what I'm asking you to do in this class. Yes, we do have some formulas that you're going to need to learn and "plug stuff into." But our more important goal is for you to open your minds and be willing to explore ideas. This is why I'm always asking you to try to figure things out, both individually and as a group, and not wait for me to tell you how to do it.
Sure, we can "skip to the good ideas" and I can just show you how to do certain procedures, but that ends up not being very meaningful for you, and you're also not very likely to remember it very long. Instead, I want you - as much as possible - to play with the ideas. To be curious, and creative, and try to figure things out and find patterns and methods on your own, including exploring various real-world applications of the mathematics. And, yes, that's harder than just memorizing the formula and doing random problems out of the book. But I think it's also much, much, much more worthy of your time.
As Eric Hoffer said,
I've been wanting to share something with you the last couple of days in class but just haven't had time, so I decided to just put it here on the blog instead. I'm currently reading The Myths of Innovation by Scott Berkun and I came across a couple of passages that I thought were relevant to our class. In a section of the book talking about the myth that good ideas are hard to find, he writes:
While waiting in a city park to interview someone for this book, a nearby child played with Silly Putty and Legos at the same time. In my notepad I listed how many ideas the young boy, not more than five years old, came up with in 10 minutes. Sitting in the grass, he combined, modified, enhanced, tore apart, chewed on, licked, and buried various creations I'd never have imagined. His young mother, chatting on a phone while resting her morning coffee on the park bench, barely noticed the inventive creations her toddler unleashed on the world. After being chased away for making her nervous (an occupational risk of writers in parks), I wondered what happens to us, and what will happen to this boy, in adulthood. Why, as is popularly believed, do our creativity abilities decline, making ideas harder to find? Why aren't our conference rooms and board meetings as vibrant as childhood playgrounds and sandboxes? (p. 82)The passage also includes this picture of the first computer mouse with the caption, "The superficials of innovation are rarely impressive. This is a version of the first computer mouse."
. . . To open minds and find good ideas, return to the kid in the park. What is it about his attitude that allows fearless idea exploration? Linus Pauling, the only winner of two solo Nobel Prize awards in history, had this to say about finding ideas: "The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas." This sounds idiotic to most ears because it cuts against the systemic, formulaic, efficiency-centric perspective worshiped in schools and professions. It seems wasteful to follow Pauling's advice. Can't we just skip to the good ideas? Optimize the process? Memorize a formula to plug stuff into? Well, you can't. (p. 85-86).
(image source: Wikipedia)
What does this have to do with Algebra? Well, this is very similar to the philosophy of what I'm asking you to do in this class. Yes, we do have some formulas that you're going to need to learn and "plug stuff into." But our more important goal is for you to open your minds and be willing to explore ideas. This is why I'm always asking you to try to figure things out, both individually and as a group, and not wait for me to tell you how to do it.
Sure, we can "skip to the good ideas" and I can just show you how to do certain procedures, but that ends up not being very meaningful for you, and you're also not very likely to remember it very long. Instead, I want you - as much as possible - to play with the ideas. To be curious, and creative, and try to figure things out and find patterns and methods on your own, including exploring various real-world applications of the mathematics. And, yes, that's harder than just memorizing the formula and doing random problems out of the book. But I think it's also much, much, much more worthy of your time.
As Eric Hoffer said,
In a time of drastic change it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned usually find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists.I want you to be a learner; to take the attitude of "fearless idea exploration." In my class, in all your classes, and in life in general.
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