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

13 Reasons I Don't Care About Test Scores

After studying persuasion (in the novel Animal Farm), understanding how audience affects form, and choosing an area of passion, my 9th graders have created some awesome products that show their level of mastery of our three assessment criteria (content, organization, and style and language use) and how they can work together to create powerful writing. Shout-outs go to:

• Katherine P., who created a pamphlet of common misconceptions about Breast Cancer to help educate her peers.
• Andrew D., who created a pamphlet for his community to promote donations to Crayons to Classrooms, an education non-profit.
• Beste A., who wrote to the school board, suggesting that they bring back Latin classes. They responded!
• Mollie E., who wrote to Sea World, suggesting a for-profit youth training camp program to help subsidize their costs rather than making the animals perform for ticketed events.
• Brandon H., who wrote to the principal, asking that he reconsider granting community service hours for an after-school activity.
• Sarah S., who wrote to MAC cosmetics, asking them to reconsider their use of supplier companies in countries where animal testing is not required to be made public by companies who participate in those practices.
• Reyad J., who wrote to Ban Ki-moon, Secretary General of the United Nations, asking that he move forward with greater humanitarian aid in Syria, citing conversations with his own family who are trapped there and suffering from massive food and clean water shortages.
• Anna C., who wrote to the city mayor about her desire to see more sidewalks and improve community health. The mayor wrote back and has encouraged Anna to work with her further on the issue!

It is an inspiration to see what young people have in their hearts and can do with their minds!

For their final reflection, my AP Lit students had to answer a series of questions about their learning this semester. Some favorite responses include answers to the question, "Of which assignment are you most proud and why?".

• Hannah E: I am most proud of my impromptu on the novella. ... I was mainly proud of myself because my thesis was kind of “out there” and when writing it I was questioning myself. At the beginning of the semester Mrs. Teal told us if we had an original idea to just go with it and see where it takes us. This was the first time I had an idea and I had the courage to use it. 
• Ryan M: The assignment I am most proud of is the annotated bibliography and presentation because I found some really fascinating information that changed my view on Achebe and his novel; the forum allowed me a medium with which to share my findings.
• Anshu C: The novella introduced me to existentialism, and I enjoyed the chance to see philosophy explored and presented in fiction. The way Camus weaves his philosophy into the minutiae of his characters’ lives--rather, the way his characters are his philosophy--fascinated me. I was happy that I was able to notice some of the techniques he used in doing so. 
• Bryce M: Even though my best grade was on my original short story, I thought that that was one of the easier assignments we had to do so I was not as proud of that as I was my Novella Improptu were I didn’t do as well but gave it a full effort and did o.k.

Did those 9th graders all get perfect scores on their products?

Nope.

Are all those AP students getting A's?

Nope.

Do I think these are highly personalized and reflective measurements of what each student has mastered? 

You bet!

How does this translate to test scores?

I couldn't care less.

One of my seniors-Madelyn-wrote, "I want to take more risks. I am done caring about grades as a second semester senior, I want to deepen my understanding and the only way to do this is to first reflect by myself and then keep an open mind during group discussions. "

What if we had given her a place to be "done caring about grades" years ago?

Pride and Shame: Does Competition Have a Place in Learning?

The day began with an email from a 9th grader who had just received scores on her unit essay the day before. In content and organization (our first two criteria), she had done well, but in our third criterion--style and language use--she had earned a 3 on a 10-point scale. Her email included the phrases, "Even though I worked so hard on this essay my score ... does not exhibit improvement but failure," and "I am truly ashamed of this score, I am sorry." I was profoundly troubled by her use of the words "failure," "ashamed," and "sorry." She had completely overlooked very strong scores in content and organization because of a low score in style and language use. And she was clearly worried that I was disappointed in her. But why?

My wise friend and fellow teacher Susan Adams recommended I read the work of Brené Brown, an author and researcher in psychology. In one of her books, she writes, “Shame works like the zoom lens on a camera. When we are feeling shame, the camera is zoomed in tight and all we see is our flawed selves, alone and struggling.” And when I read my young 9th grader's words, that is all I could think about. All she could see were the flaws.

I then began to think about what she had done to earn that low score. Quite simply, she was using a thesaurus to try to sound smarter, but in the process, she was sounding contrived. Interestingly, I had not told her on any previous assessments that she needed to change her vocabulary. Perhaps, then, her quest for perfection was a perceived inferiority in comparison to her peers. Brown also writes, "Healthy striving is self-focused: 'How can I improve?'Perfectionism is other-focused: 'What will they think?'” Does school inherently teach students to be perfectionists?

Later that same day, my freshmen were trying their hand at their first graded discussion. With my 9th grader's words fresh on my mind, I said to them before they began, "You are not in competition with one another. If you notice that the person sitting next to you hasn't shared yet, ask him to share. If you see a connection that a peer could be making, lead her to it and let her finish the thought for you."  I said the same thing to my AP classes the next day as they engaged in panel presentations of independent research they had conducted. And although the students in both cases presented scholarly, awe-inspiring learning, I could hear in their tone and see in their body language that sometimes they were still competing, actively trying to out-do one another; but for what--their peers' respect? my praise? an A?

When I think of all the ways we ask them to compete, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. GPAs. Honor Rolls. ACT scores. College admission. Does that competition blind students to the pride they should have in themselves, or even in one another, for the learning they achieve? Would they be surprised that the most proud moments I have are when I hear the casual comments my students make that reveal the learning they are experiencing, sometimes right in the middle of their perceived moments of imperfection:

• "I'm having a tough time finding articles that answer my question.  I found one source, but it didn't work, so I just gave it to Max because I know he's working on ..."
• "I'm sorry I didn't say anything today in the discussion. It was just really cool listening to what everyone was talking about."
• "I was frustrated because I ended up getting kind of distracted in my research. I found this really interesting article and went off on a tangent reading all these documents even though it didn't really relate to my topic."
• "I know this is really last minute, but is it okay if I change my research question? My sources ended up totally conflicting with what I originally thought."
• "Sorry this is so messy. Can you follow all the arrows?"
• "I never thought about it that way."

I know what some people will say: We live in a competitive society. Not every kid can go to Harvard. Only one person gets the job. The real world is tough, so kids have to get used to competition. But why?

What if every kid COULD go to Harvard (check out Will Richardson if you haven't already)? What if jobs weren't so isolated anymore? What if collaborative learning and thinking and creating became the norm? What if young people empowered one another in their learning? What if kids could be proud of their learning--maybe even their failures--instead of proud (or ashamed) of their grades? Could that change begin in Education instead of Education trying to fit in to the status quo?

As my co-conspirator Mike said to me yesterday (hoping he'll forgive the paraphrase), "It's like I want to give the kids two different grades. One for college admissions so they can get into whatever schools they have their hearts set on, and one that actually tells them what they know and where they stand so they can learn."

Thanks to Give...

The last few weeks have been a crazy whirlwind of manic activity: instruction, assessment, evaluation, parent/teacher/student conferences and meetings, progress reports and marking period grades, PD and collaborative meetings, special events and pull-outs, laughter, frustration, tears. And so far so good. I'm an amazing teacher/ninja - deflecting bullets with my dagger in one hand while I fine-tune my calligraphy with the other.

There's just one important thing that hasn't happened as often as it should. Something so essential to the learning process and yet so often neglected. The first thing that always seems to falls off the back of the cart - if ever gets loaded in the first place. And that's time to reflect on the learning.

So I'm making time, rather than taking time, to share some bullet-point ruminations on the long and intense haul from the first day of school to the first break of the year. Some things that I'm thankful for no matter how challenging it's been.

• I've learned more about myself and the art of learning in the last 13 weeks than I have learned in the past 24 years - the entirety of my career.
• My confidence is growing in the rightness of what I'm doing - even though it frequently feels like one step forward and two back.
• I owe so much to my students - the brave, kind, and flexible students who've worked with me these last several weeks. You are all amazing and I'm even more convinced that you'll succeed in spite of what happens to you in school as much as because of it.
• I want to thank everyone who has honestly and candidly critiqued my work thus far. Sometimes it's hard to take - especially when I feel I'm working as hard as I can to get it right. But it's invaluable to me and my growth. I appreciate so much more personally now how students must feel when we critique their work. But honest assessments combined with a chance to make changes makes all the difference in the learning process.
• Well-written standards that promote dialogue in the learning community are essential. They provide the lingua franca for discussions about learning that bring students and teachers closer to one another and their peers.
• My colleagues, in their infinite variety and wisdom, model professionalism for me everyday. How I wish I could take their classes and learn from some of these incredible people.
• To my people at home - thank you for your patience and understanding for the hours and days I spend at my desk trying to figure this thing out while the laundry piles up, the grass goes uncut, and another household project waits for summer vacation. I love you guys!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

"Rest and be thankful." - William Wordsworth

It's Only October

I find that lately I have a lot to process about how I teach, how to improve, and how to find balance in my life. I am both more excited than I have ever been about what happens in my classroom and more exhausted than I have ever been by the workload I bring home. I burn the candle late at night and find that I am always behind where I would like to be.  As Mike wrote in his last post, I am struggling to find a way to give regular meaningful feedback and not feel like I am drowning.  In a morning collaboration meeting yesterday, he said it well: ‘I need to learn how to breath water.” And it’s only October.

At 6:45 last Monday morning, one of my AP Lit doubters came in to see me about her essays. We sat down and took a look at the three impromptus she has written so far, including one that I had not yet scored. As we looked them over and I showed her exactly where she could make improvements, she nodded her head and explained that she had trouble organizing her thoughts. She admitted that she’d always done well in English and was having a hard time hearing criticism from me and her peers. We scored her third essay together, and as we looked at the descriptors on the rubric, she saw what she had accomplished but also where she had clearly fallen short. She told me what she thought her score should be in each criterion, and she was right on the mark. And as we wrapped up our meeting she said, “Why didn’t I come talk to you weeks ago?” That Monday morning doubter-turned-considerer asked me as she left, “When do we get to do another impromptu?” When I told her she’d have the chance again in 10 days, she said, relieved, ‘Oh good. I finally get it, and I would be so annoyed if there was only one more chance to show you what I can do.” She’s so relieved that it’s only October.

On Friday, my 9th graders had their 2nd summative assessment of the year. Before we started, a young man in my 5th hour class asked me, terrified, “What if I don’t know the answer to one of the questions?” I paused. I thought about it.  Prior to using Empowered Learning, that young man would have left a question blank and lost points for it. End of story. But by looking at students’ work holistically and giving them room to show me what they know and can do, I was so glad to be able to say, “Well, Criterion A evaluates ‘your understanding of the works studied and an effective response to literature.’ So, if you don’t know an answer, couldn’t you write about something you DO know about the epic?” He paused. He thought about it. He nodded. He’s starting to get it, and it’s only October.

A colleague and I have been talking a lot about Empowered Learning during our prep hour. She teaches Spanish, and she desperately wants to move to this style of teaching and learning. Initially, she wasn’t sure she had the time to dedicate to the transition, but about a week ago, she decided she couldn’t wait. She couldn’t ignore her frustrations with points and homework completion and a lack of student ownership. So, she just went for it. She spent hours working her lesson plans over for the next unit, trying to create opportunities for students to practice their skills with a clear rubric in mind and without the fear of failure and penalty. She sent me a great email on Wednesday that just said, “The engagement in my class is out of bounds right now! :-)” And, imagine, it’s only October.

A senior came to me and said she had a dilemma. She is applying early decision to a university that requires students to send in their 1st quarter grades. She said she was afraid she might lose her chance at admission because she doesn’t have an A yet. But it’s only October! How can we teach kids to love learning when we constantly tell them that they have to be perfect before they’ve had a chance to practice?

Some of my students really, really want lectures, study guides, homework checks, and desks in rows. They don’t like working in groups, they don’t like self-assessment, and they don’t like that even though they work hard, they might not get an A. Part of me really wants to tell my students everything I know about every text we study. I won’t lie that their dislike of my teaching method sometimes feels like a doubt about my content knowledge, and my desire to flaunt what I know is hard to suppress. But I also think that for most students, learning gets truncated when they are told what to see in the literature they read, when assignments exist in isolation, or when they are allowed to think in isolation. And a lot of students seem to see grades as being given to them by the teacher rather than earned by themselves.

For now, I’m going to try to be patient because it’s only October while trying not to lose steam because it’s only October.

The paradox of Meaningful and Manageable...

One of the things that attracted me most to standards-based assessment was its emphasis on clearly articulated learning goals. The idea that a student should be able to work towards mastery in a content area, skill set - or both - spoke to me personally as well as professionally. And yet I struggle everyday with implementing a mastery learning approach in a way that's personal and individualized; meaningful and efficient. And therein lies the rub: There just doesn't seem to be enough hours for communicating with students about the learning and growth I'm trying to promote.

I'm having great fun working in the Cloud with students as a way of trying to encourage collaboration, provide meaningful feedback on student products, and be more efficient towards those ends. But I've found that the learning curve is steep re: inconveniencing electrons compared to pushing papers. The greatest challenge here is how to keep the work organized in the Cloud - especially the conventions related to naming and sharing files. Thanks to the students themselves -  and some very clever colleagues who are pushing this envelope as well - I'm learning and the students are learning and our collaborative effort to get organized is beginning to pay off. Hopefully this will mean more timely feedback for students.

While the Cloud means not having to collect, carry, and return papers, which is good for me and the students, it also means more time on each individual piece of student work. But lately I'm discovering that may not be the greatest thing after all.

Previously the amount of time that I would spend writing feedback on student products would be limited by the amount of space I had in the margins of their work and the stamina I could muster to cram handwritten comments in those marginal spaces. With the Cloud-based editing and commenting tools available I'm "freed" to make comments as long as necessary to bring the student work to the context of the standards.

So now I'm taking three, five, seven or more minutes with a student product trying to make comments that mean something. Comments that connect the product to the standards beyond just tacking on a number. In mathematical terms it means that a class of 25 can easily take more than two hours to evaluate. Figure that across five classes and there's not enough planning time at school - or peace and quiet at home (unless I work when everyone's sleeping) - to even begin to think it's a sustainable way of providing worthwhile formative experiences for students.

So how can I do what I need to do - what I want to do - which is give students meaningful formative feedback on their knowledge and understanding, investigating, critical thinking, and communicating in a timely way?

Any ideas out there? I'm all ears!

Like Riding a Bike...

Learning How to Ride a Bike (the grade-averaged way)...

Here's the experience of my stepdaughter - who learned to ride when she was 6-years old.

• Unit 1: Safety Equipment
• Wear helmet correctly
• Wear closed-toe shoes
• Helmet on backwards and unbuckled, despite being shown.
• Flip flops instead of shoes, despite being told.
• 0 out of 5 pts possible
• Unit 2: Walking a bike
• Walk bike from garage to sidewalk without dropping the bike
• Successfully pulled bike from garage
• Could not turn figure out how to turn bike around
• Walked bike to sidewalk but ran over own feet twice, dropped bike once
• 2 out of 5 pts possible
• Unit 3: Getting on a bike
• Get on the bike without falling or dropping the bike
• Foot caught on seat trying to lift leg over bike.
• Lost balance, dropped bike, fell on top of bike. Cried.
• 1 out of 10 pts possible
• Unit 4: Pedaling
• Start the bike by pedaling from a stop
• Maintain a steady speed
• Needed accommodation for inability to balance - mom held seat
• Completed one revolution of pedals, crossed front wheel, crashed into grass
• On retake actually got bike started but couldn't maintain speed, tipped over into grass.
• 10 out of 20 pts possible
• Unit 5: Steering
• Keep the bike on the sidewalk and off the grass
• Make a left and right turn
• Finally able to maintain speed and keep bike on sidewalk.
• Misjudged turn at corner and crashed into bush. Scratched arm and leg. Cried. Refused to make another left turn - insisted on riding the other direction.
• 25 of 40 pts possible
• Unit 6: Braking
• Slow the bike by applying the brake
• Stop and get off the bike without falling or dropping the bike
•  Able to slow bike but failed to resume pedaling without putting foot down
• Stopped bike too quickly, didn't get foot down fast enough. Tipped over onto sidewalk, skinned knee and heel of hand. Cried.
• 20 of 40 pts possible
• Final Exam: Ride the bike
• Demonstrate all the above plus...
• Ride the bike once around the block
• Could not complete requirement above in the time allotted for the course
• Granted extended time was finally able to ride the bike around the block not once, but seven times, and turned to a stop in the driveway without falling off the bike.
• 30 out of 30 pts (20% of grade) * modified
• Final Grade = E
• 88 out of 150 pts possible = 58.6%
• No extra credit for extra laps on exam.
• No extra credit for effort and courage.
• No extra credit for loving to ride and wanting to go farther and faster.

What do you remember about learning how to ride a bike?

"Life is like a ten speed bicycle. Most of us have gears we never use."~ Charles Shulz

What if we were all this brave?

It seems as though my students are finally finding their groove. They get what it means to be scored based on criteria, though they are still figuring out what the assessment descriptors look like in practice; they realize that low scores now won't necessarily mean low scores later,though some are still having me field questions from their parents; and they are enjoying the fact that their homework is not graded. 

And yet, I still hear...

"What if it sounds stupid?" 
"What if I do it wrong?" 
"What if I don't finish?" 
"What if I get a bad grade?"

In my head, I passionately respond, "Who cares?" But I recognize that they might misconstrue those words. What I want to say is, "This is your learning. Don't let other people tell you whether your learning sounds smart, correct, finished, or up-to-par. This is your education. Claim it!"

But then I remember that they are 14, 15, 16, maybe 17 years old and I am asking a lot. Was I brave enough, at 14, to turn in an assignment that was only half way done? Was I brave enough to show rough drafts of writing to my classmates? Was I brave enough to not let other people's judgments of my work affect my learning? Half the time I'm not brave enough now! Here I sit, writing this blog, wondering what my own colleagues will think of it, questioning whether I'm writing something worth sharing with you, our readers.

So instead of saying, "Who cares?" I found myself saying to one young lady on Monday, "Be brave." She sat for twenty minutes in front of her computer screen as three classmates (not her friends) typed feverishly into a shared google doc about the distinctive characteristics of an exceptional short story. Every 5 minutes or so, I walked by and just said, "Be brave." And when, finally, she started typing, she realized what she'd been missing.

Because it's scary to take risks in your learning when you think the answer might be wrong. It's terrifying to put your ideas out there for others when you think your writing doesn't sound as sophisticated as that of your peers. But it feels so good when you realize you're not alone in your learning. This Empowered Learning thing forces students to take ownership of their learning but gives them the freedom to learn and grow from others. It's electric. 

I'll end with a few thoughts from my students this week in response to a quick (anonymous) reflection activity about collaboration when the practice and homework isn't graded:

I like this system a lot because I don’t have to feel alone when I don’t know an answer or like I don’t have anyone who can help me. You can really talk and “bounce” ideas off of each other. The answers in this system are supposed to be thoughtful, thorough and well written and your peers can really help with that. This way, I just have to try my best and then the outcome is just me learning what I need to do better. I feel that I’m able to almost take more risks in class and experiment with different ideas and explanations that I would have never done if I knew that it may impact my grade in a negative way.

 What if we were all this brave?

 

 

Truth be told

“Trust starts with truth and ends with truth.” –Santosh Kalwar

One October evening when I was a graduate student in English at Wayne State University, I sent my dad an email. I had attached what I thought was the final draft of my thesis. I trusted—and still do—my dad and valued his opinion beyond measure; after all, he’s been in the business for 40 years, over half of them as a professor of English.  So, when he sent the document back, and I saw how many comments and questions there were typed into the margins, I would be lying if I said it hadn’t stung. But, the thesis I ultimately submitted was stronger for it, as was I as a learner.

We had family therapy in AP Literature yesterday. Why? They got back their first assessment, their base-line writing assignment, and suddenly the trust I had asked them to put in me was tested.

When I introduced Empowered Learning in the first week of school, I promised the students I would always be truthful. But wow, that truth is sometimes hard to face.  Their egos were bruised--no question--but more than that, they were panicked. Many of them saw scores they’d never seen before. In the world of grade averaging, those scores would have meant there was no hope for an A, maybe even a B. The notion of using one set of rubrics that remain the same all year is new to most of them. They’ve heard me say that their grade will be based on their highest consistent score and that they will have ample opportunity to learn and improve and show me what they can do; but there was definitely a sense of distrust ... that I might turn my back, leave them to fend for themselves, or, heaven forbid, decide to average their scores after all. And there was fear about what their parents would say.

So, I did the only two things I could think of: I ran interference with a few parents to ease some of the panic, and I got on with class. We spent some time looking at strong sample papers and then students wrote and wrote and wrote, alone, in small groups, sharing constructive criticism, fueled by their desire to improve their skills in Criterion A. And I think they’re starting to get it. Every moment in class is a moment to practice, free of penalty. Every homework task is a risk-free opportunity to try their hand at writing differently, sometimes better, sometimes not. Every assessment they take is a chance to get feedback, reassess their strategy, and forge ahead.

It was hard to see my students in emotional distress. That’s not why any of us got into teaching. But at the end of the day, whether they like me or not, like Empowered Learning or not, I want to know that I told them the truth—at the beginning and at the end—and gave them endless chances to be brave in their learning. For me, Empowered Learning is how I can keep that promise.

And Here We Go...

Many times, when I am on the brink of a new beginning, I think of Heath Ledger as The Joker in The Dark Knight, as he is walking toward his epic battle with Batman he says, "and here we go".  That is how I feel today as my students complete their first assessment in my class - the dreaded summer reading.

Much like Jen, I have gotten a lot of questions about whether or not this assessesment is graded, how many points is it worth, will this be on Zangle?  Through continued discussion and soothing words, I've tried to remind the kids about the purpose of standards based assessment, and asked that they trust me to help them through this new process.

To add to the anxiety students are already feeling, I've already experienced some gradebook issues because my kids' grades are showing up as Es, which has many of them concerned.

Regardless of the gradebook issue, and the fears some kids still have over SBA, I think students will be more willing to trust me and the new system once they see how it works.

So, here we go...

What am I doing here?

"What am I doing here?"

I ask myself that question a lot lately. Not because I'm second-guessing my career choice after 24 years, and not because I think there must be a better situation out there for me somewhere else.

It's because my learning, as a result of changing the focus of my classroom, instruction, and assessment processes has led me to be more reflective, more deliberate, more empathetic in my approach to the work I do and the people I work with.

And I see differently what's happening around me. I see two tides rising. One from the outside that has an unshakeable faith in the power of data to reveal the truth about teaching and learning. The business/science of education.

The other tide, the one I'm swimming with, is also rooted in an unshakeable faith. Faith in the humanity of learning, the power of relationships, the empowering nature of learning to learn, and the confidence and optimism that comes from being respected for our individual gifts. The art of learning.

So it's not "What am I doing here?" it's more "What am I doing here?"

And if I had to put one in front of the other I think I'd rather do good than well.

"The apparent ease with which children learn is their ruin. You fail to see that this very facility proves that they are not learning. Their shining, polished brain reflects, as in a mirror, the things you show them, but nothing sinks in. The child remembers the words and the ideas are reflected back; his hearers understand them, but to him they are meaningless."

Excerpt from Emile, Or On Education,  by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 1762.

What My Students Are Saying...

As Mike wrote in his most recent blog entry "On the eve of week 2", this first week has highlighted for me how well we (myself included until a year ago) train our students in a traditional assessment model to see the grade and points as the goal of learning despite the fact that few of us went in to teaching with that as our philosophy. I am astounded by the number of times in the last week a student has asked, "So, will this count towards my grade?" But, as Mike did, I have tried to reassure my students that they will be okay... more than okay, I hope.

Two reflections to share, borrowing the words of these budding empowered learners themselves:

1. I had a student write on the bottom of her very first in-class essay, "You won't be able to tell from this test, but I did read the book. I tried my best, so I hope that is okay." My new mantra: your best is ALWAYS good enough!

2. Last year, I did some exit polling at the end of the year to see how students felt about Empowered Learning. The results were fantastic. But I realized that I hadn't asked them how they felt at the beginning, and I think that's really worth asking as well. So, I have. Here are some of my favorite responses from my students today:

• "I'm very excited about learning how to be a better writer."
• "I think your grading system is fair and cool. I like it a lot. I'm nervous about getting good grades."
• "I don't really understand it. Once I understand the grading system more, I will be more comfortable."
• "I think it's very fair. It's not something I'm used to, but I'll get the hang of it."
• "I like how it sounds, getting a grade on the end result. I might kind of dislike not being able to see the grade till the end but that's okay."
• "I'm worried about this grading system because I won't be able to constantly check my grade."
• "I think that it is probably a good system because it isn't averaged and if you keep improving you get a better grade."
• "I think it will be fun but it will be difficult to explain to my parents."

I have told my students two things in these past days: I promise to be fair and honest about your skills every step of the way, even when it is hard, and I know it will take time for you to trust that promise.

"Risk anything! Care no more for the opinion of others ... Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth." ~Katherine Mansfield, Journal entry, 14 October 1922

On the eve of Week 2...

So I feel like the first week of school went pretty well.

I was expecting there to be a lot more chaos and stress - and I'm sure there was somewhere for someone. So I count myself lucky that some of my apprehensions turned out to be just... some apprehensions.

I focused the first class meetings of the new year on the idea of Empowered Learning to the World History students at 9Camp and the Psych 1 and Intro to Philosophy students at MCamp.

The Freshmen seemed eager to take a run at this way of learning. But it's been my experience that the freshmen are pretty much eager and excited to be high school students. They're ready for just about anything different - and eager and excited to get on with it.

The Juniors and Seniors, on the other hand, were a divided lot.

There were more than a handful of students that seemed intrigued by the idea of grading that takes into account progress. They were curious and interested in an approach to the classroom that emphasizes active learning and some degree of freedom and choice.

But I also got a vibe ("Mr. Barry, are we actually going to learn any psychology this semester) that some upperclassmen were hoping for a more traditional, lecture-focused, daily-homework-for-points, what's-my-grade-right-at-this-very-second kind of experience. They struck me as apprehensive and perhaps a little disappointed by the divergence from their expectations and training.

I think they're going to be OK, and I told them so. I told them I believe that BHHS students are remarkably resilient and resourceful. And once they get the swing of the Humanities Assessment Criteria and how they're applied - and how we use them to encourage risk-taking and growth - that they'd find themselves surprised to find that learning is fun again. And that the content of the course will be stickier than it ever was in any other cram-it-in-for-the-test kind of class.

I believe it. My greatest challenge in the next couple of weeks will be helping them believe it too!

MB

"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence."
Helen Keller 

Observations and Reflections on the First Day:

It's no secret among educators, either 100 years ago, or yesterday, that setting a positive tone with a new group of students from day one can make a huge impact on the path the classroom learning community takes for the rest of the year.  Incorporating the "Empowering Learning"model is not only a wonderful system to ensure that a postive and encouraging tone is set for students on the first day, but, by it's very own nature, reinforces postive fostering of the classroom room learning community by the students themselves for the duration of the course.  In my experience, I have always tried to build a community of trust and safety with the students in the first few weeks of school.  The problem of maintaining the community, however, throughout the duration of the course--especially with the increase in content expectations to cover and the limited time to cover them--has been something I have struggled with for years.  It is a struggle I have lost, not only because my attention is required elsewhere with content and skill-teaching, but I haven't fully allowed my students to take the lead and initiative in maintaining the community that is created.  It is their learning community, after-all--not mine.  A positive, encouraging, and supportive learning community of students at the beginning of the year, without continual reinforcement, often ends with disappointment by both the teacher and the students. Reflecting on my first day working with the "Empowering Learning Model," I have realized that the continual reinforcement of classroom norms, trust, support, and student-led initiative and responsibility for learning as a team--instead of just individually--might provide the answer of maintaining an effective learning community that survives past the first few weeks of school.  I am excited to see how this develops in my classes using this model.   More to follow! 

David Jenvey--