In the Land of Overachievers...

...here's what I can do:

I cannot do it all. I can try but there's zero satisfaction in it and the probability of failure(s) is certain. And there's a strong probability - especially in this line of work - that someone else will find unacceptable dissatisfaction in my failure(s) and be unable to handle it with a "learn and move on" attitude.

I can do a lot - but only good enough. And this is dissatisfying to me. Get it done. It's done or done-ish. Meh.

I can be excellent - if I can focus my effort and energy. But in order to pursue excellence something's gotta give. I can give up trying to do it all. No problem. I can give up some of the "a lot" that leads to "Meh". No problem, well, no problem for me anyway.

In deciding what to let go these are my litmus tests...

• I can look a student in the eye and honestly say "I believe this can help you grow as a student and a person."
• I can look a parent in the eye and honestly say "I believe this can help your child grow as a student and a person."
• I can look my colleagues and supervisors in the eye and honestly say "I believe this helps kids grow as students and people."
• I can look my family in the eye and honestly say "Anything that I do to help others I am committed to doing for you."
• I can look myself in the eye and honestly say "I believe by my efforts I'm making the world a better place."

If the task/chore/initiative/professional development or expectation does not earn a unanimous yes to these important questions then it's gone.

Someone can always tell me I'm wrong. Or that I can't make that choice. Or that I have to choose one thing over another. And then I'll be tested along with my beliefs.

I like to think the unanimous yes will prevail. I'll let courage be my confidence and conscience be my guide.

Why call it Empowered Learning?

I finally understand why a group of my colleagues chose a fancy name, Empowered Learning, for their journey.  They decided to change the way they handle assessments and student engagement.  It seemed like they were simply taking the MYP assessment criteria and applying them to every assignment they gave, so why the need for a fancy new name?  I think it's all about framing.

As I dive in to using only standards based grading this year, I anticipate some push back from students and their parents.  After all, change can be a scary thing.  It's fair for parents to want what's best for their students.  They have their kids' best interests in mind.  Fortunately we teachers do, too.  Whenever I am challenged (I mean that in a good way) about the new and improved way I am running my class, I will tell people I am empowering students to learn.  The way I am empowering students is by helping them to reach a set of performance standards rather than assigning points to tasks.  Somehow I don't think a parent would say to me, "Well I don't want you to empower my student to learn!"  The parent or student might need reassurance, and that is absolutely fine.  However, if I were to answer that I decided not to use points anymore in favor of using standards based grading, now there is something to resist.

When I think about it, my own evaluation is based on a set of standards.  In fact, these standards are shown to me in advance.  During an evaluation my administrators don't say, "You earned 85/100 points on giving tests, 80/100 on contacting parents, and 90/100 on classroom management.  You have an average of 85%."  My administrators tell me how well I performed against a set of standards.  Now I will be gauging the performance of my students according to a set of standards, helping them to reach those standards, and empowering them to learn.  Learning how to reach a specific standard is a skill that transfers to other areas outside of school.

Open the Door

So, for us, standards-based grading is defined by three characteristics: students are constantly working towards mastery of a predefined set of standards; they have regular and honest feedback from experts whom they trust; and they practice collaboratively in a safe environment where they can learn from failure. I've been working with those ideas now for 18 months, and all I've written about here is what that does to my students. But, it has recently occurred to me that I should also write about what it has done to ME. 

When I started teaching (15 years ago now), I had fantastic mentors. These were professionals who had been in the business for close to 30 years and who took me under their wings; they were people who were masters of their content and incredibly talented teachers; they opened their files and invited me to browse and pillage and steal whatever I needed. I am so appreciative of all they did for me as a young teacher. Once I had my bag of tricks and a few years under my belt, I got into a steady rhythm. I felt like I knew what I should be doing, and I went into my room and did it. I found myself regularly saying "I don't love all the bureaucratic stuff, but when I close my door and can do my thing, I'm really happy." I could see how someone would want to do this job for 30, even 40 years.  

Then, I heard Lou Marchesano speak in the fall of 2012, and I wanted to change the way I was teaching. Somewhere between then and now, somewhere in the process of changing my teaching practice to standards-based grading, I have become an SBG learner, and it has completely transformed how I see what teaching can be for me. As we all do, I want to reach the highest standard in my teaching, but, just like my students, I can’t get better without those three characteristics: clearly defined goals for my teaching practice, constant and honest feedback from peers and coaches whom I trust, and collaborative practice in a safe environment. For me, those clearly defined standards came from Lou Marchesano. I use his expertise--and others in the field--as the standard for what I want to create in my classroom. The constant and honest feedback comes from my colleagues and administrators as well as my students ... and their parents … people who ask me hard questions, point out flaws, make suggestions, and force me to get to the heart of what I am doing and why I am doing it.  Last year, in a presentation to our district, Kevin Honeycutt said, “perfect is the enemy of done,”and  that really resonated with me. It’s not easy--I’m programmed to want perfection before I begin. And, let’s face it, that’s how we’ve programmed a lot of our students. So, admitting flaws and listening to suggestions are things I'm still working on. 

But for me, the best part about being an SBG learner is that I don’t have to do it alone. I know I can try and stumble and try again, and it changes everything for me. Sitting around with colleagues who are passionate about this idea, after school, in the summer, over email, there is just an amazing energy, even when it takes 4 hours to decide the phrase "most reflective score" to share with parents. I've never more badly craved watching my colleagues who are on this journey, teach. I want to watch and learn and ask and share and experience. And I get a rush from every moment of real collaboration, moments that are a lot more frequent now that we've all become students who are working towards the same goal--is this what our students feel like when the machine is in full swing? I could still do without the bureaucratic drama, but I find myself wanting everyone to have open doors as they do their thing. Imagine the potential. THIS is something I can see myself doing for the next 15 years.

On engagement...

Inside the cavernous interior of an industrial-era warehouse a line of people has formed. Some are sullen, some anxious. All look like they'd rather be somewhere else.

The folding chairs provided for those waiting on the queue go unused. Partly because the line is moving just fast enough to make sitting more work than standing. And it's easy to tell by looking at the slightly askew frames and hard plastic seats that the chairs wouldn't be that comfortable in the first place.

At the forward end of the line, sitting in one of the less-bent chairs behind a serviceable folding table, is a smiling, friendly, maybe hapless, bureaucrat. A career civil servant trying to put the best possible face on the situation and himself - committed for over 20 years to the notion that nothing should ever be made more miserable than it already is.

As the parent and child formerly standing before the table shuffle away the bureaucrat steals a quick glance at the timepiece on his wrist seriously hoping that no one notices but not really caring at the same time. Funny thing, ambivalence.

He recalls something he thinks he heard recently. "There needs to be standards," a supervisor or think tank or some self-appointed expert said. But he's not sure, and he's even less sure standards would be important or helpful. He just hopes his continued employment doesn't come to depend on accepting standards that ask everyone to be exactly the same. It would make it harder to put on his best-possible face. He wondered for a second if he should call 'Next in line!' like his fellows at the DMV.

Before the thought could will itself to action the next pair, a mother and a son this time, approach the table and smile in a friendly way. The bureaucrat takes notice of the effort the polite affirmation requires of them. He asks if they'd like to sit but the three of them know there wouldn't be much more point to sitting now than there was when the pair were standing in line.

"Hello. Thanks for coming and thanks for waiting so patiently," the bureaucrat said with a gesturing glance around the cavern. "I'm sorry the line was so long and that we don't have much time to talk," he said with a tone that he immediately hoped didn't sound like excuse-making. "So let's get right to it," he continued, with as much genuine enthusiasm as he could muster.

"It appears our greatest obstacle to progress, at this time, is simply a lack of productivity," he said. "Things that need to be done are not getting done and that makes it impossible to get a baseline sensibility which makes it difficult to determine if progress is being made. And difficult for me to help."

The mother turned to look at her son. He was studying his shoes as if the answer to all creation's questions might be found in the slightly askew symmetry of the laces or legs of the unused chair in front of him.

There's a moment of silence, the sort that introduces a sense of resignation. The mother asks for a call, a message, any information should the situation change for the worse. The bureaucrat struggles to imagine things getting worse but he assures her that he will. He thinks he remembers the President saying that things are rarely as good as they seem. Or as bad.

His feels his perennially positive attitude rising inside him as the meeting comes to its inevitably awkward end. He hopes the mother and son notice his confidence and find courage for themselves in it. He really believes he can help. He also knows he can't do it for them. For any of them. It may not be forbidden for him to do it but it wouldn't be right. At that moment he envied his comrades at the DMV. You have to want a driver's license to get one. And you'll do what you need to do to get it. Otherwise there's no point in standing in that long line either.

As the mother and son shuffle away the bureaucrat finds his spine straightening and a reflexive smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Next in line!" he calls out, enthusiastically, just to see what it feels like. He could always get a job at the DMV. "They could use some enthusiasm over there," he thinks out loud, seriously hoping that no one heard and gets the wrong idea - but not really caring at the same time.

Appreciation Time!

I want to thank my wonderful colleagues, Jen Teal, Mike Barry, and Meredith Riggan, for the beautiful journey we have been on together this year!  Empowered Learning, like anything new and uncharted,  has presented struggles and challenges.  But, it has changed my whole outlook on teaching in an overwhelmingly positive way!  I could not have done this without the strength, encouragement, and help of these wonderful people.  I feel so fortunate to continue this journey with them, and I am so pleased that other colleagues are sharing interest in possibly joining us on this path.  I have always believed that the most important aspect of education is building and maintaining relationships with students.  It is equally important to build and maintain relationships with colleagues, as well.  Thank you Jen, Mike, and Meredith, for taking me under your wings and for always being there--through the stressful and discouraging times, the beautiful and enlightening times, and all the moments in between!  Working with all of you this year has been the most exciting time of my career, and I am just so thankful!

David Jenvey

Life Lessons from Steinbeck

I suppose my love of literature came from my parents, who read to me often as a child.  It is a common sight for me to walk into my parents' house and see my dad reading The New Yorker in the living room, and my mom, the latest crime thriller in her bed.  It is also common for dad to cut out articles to send along with me to read in my precious spare time.  Last week, he gave me the inside cover of his New Yorker which was an advertisement for a Broadway revival of Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. This couldn't have been more timely, as I am currently wrapping up my unit on this novel with my Writing Through Literature I class.

As I left for work this morning, I grabbed the ad and figured I'd show it to my kids.  What happened next is one of those moments most teachers dream of.  After the bell rang and the announcements concluded I asked my students to take out their copy of the novel and look up when it was published.  Yes, I actually made them look in the book instead of google it on their smartphones.  The first time Of Mice and Men was published was in 1937.  Doing some quick math, my kids figured that was 77 years ago.  Then I held up the advertisement. Some of the girls were very excited to see James Franco headlining as George Milton.  It appears they feel about him the way I felt about Heath Ledger or Freddie Prinze Jr. circa the late 1990s.  The boys in the room were impressed to see Chris O'Dowd of Bridesmaids fame in the role of Lennie Small. Leighton Meester, of Gossip Girl, will be starring as Curley's Wife.  These aren't new, struggling actors trying to make names for themselves.  These are stars in their own right, portraying some of the most notable characters in American Literature.

But why?  I asked my students, why after 77 years and two film adaptations would anyone bother to turn this book into a play?  Why after 77 years, when there is so much literature in the world do we still teach this novel?  I asked them to think about that for a minute.  And the response I got after a minute or so of silence blew me away. One of my students raised his hand and said, "because it will always endure."  I shouted, "yes!" - like I had never heard anything so brilliant in all my life. I asked this young man to explain what he meant by that and he went on to describe the various motifs we've discussed in class: prejudice, friendship, loneliness, and dreams.

As our brief discussion continued, the kids made a lot of great connections to prejudice and loneliness in today's society. It is evident in the media how much prejudice is still part of our every day lives.  But the true enduring themes of this novel are friendship and dreams.  George's final act in the novel was one of complete selflessness.  He chose to protect Lennie the only way he could. But the dream of the little ranch could not exist without Lennie, so the dream died.  But as my students came to understand from this story - dreams provide hope.

77 years later, people still have dreams. My students have dreams - many of them are big dreams, too.  And I hope as they grow and try to achieve them, they will always remember the importance of friendship and allow their dreams to give them  hope.

Thank you, Mr. Steinbeck, for a novel that will always endure.


-MR

Completion No Longer Counts...

I got an email from a student toward the end of the semester. She was not happy with her final grade and believed she deserved a higher score because she "did all the work." I've also had a few email exchanges with parents who have told me to look at their students' middle school English Language Arts grades, which would reflect all A's.  Middle school and high school are two very different animals. No longer can a student just "do all the work" and get the A he/she wants.

My job as a teacher of writing is to help students develop their skills to the best of their ability, which doesn't always reflect A quality work.  I don't think it should in the first semester of Freshmen year, because if it did, my job would be unnecessary. What would I have to teach them if they knew it all?  Learning and skill development is a continual process.  I try to write something of my own every day because I know I need continue developing my own skills as a writer in order to continue helping my students develop theirs. 

I'd like to get them past this idea that just doing the work means getting an A.  Does a lawyer win his case simply because he showed up to the trial? No. Does an Olympian deserve a gold medal simply for competing? No.  Somewhere along the way, students were taught that simply completing work makes it deserving of the highest accolade. 

I would love for a C on an essay to feel like a huge accomplishment if that is the best a kid can do at that moment in time. The goal is progress and growth, regardless of how much or little that may be.  I want my students to look at their grades and say "I did my best, and that is all that matters." And if they want more, I want them to strive for it - reach for more and work hard until they get where they want to be.  Nothing worth achieving is ever easy.  I learned this lesson myself many years ago when I was a student struggling in math classes.  It wasn't until I let go of wanting the "good grade" that I was able to truly look at myself and say "I did the best I could - and that is enough."

That is my wish for these kids - that they try their absolute best and are proud of themselves for whatever that may mean for them.

As always,
-MR