What is Skype? by malthe

Today one of my reading groups started “small-group Skyping” (thanks for the phrase, @bjnichols) with some of Karin Perry’s (@kperry) students. The students met on Skype and then watched three book trailers before settling on Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies as the novel they wanted to read and discuss together after winter break. I thought the entire experience was awesome and illustrative of how teachers can use social media for familiar things like reading groups or lit circles. I think proof-of-concept successes with common practices bridged across classrooms by new technologies have great potential for attracting skeptical teachers to embrace meaningful uses of classroom technology. Certainly small-group Skyping can be the gateway to re-imagining several common classroom practices like character tea-parties or interviews.

Karin and I met at Teri Lesense’s (@professornana) #NCTE09 presentation on new classics. We sat next to each other at a table in the back corner. I arrived after Karin and thought she had picked the best spot for live-tweeting. We followed one another on Twitter, exchanged blog URLs, and kept in touch about the possibility of a Skyped reading group. Neither of us had much experience with Skype, but we set up our accounts, put together a pool of books, tweeted back and forth about our meet & greet/book-trailer lesson plan, tested our Skype connection at school, recruited kids and brought them together, and then got out of the way. The kids did a great job. They commented on the moods and tones of the trailers; they talked about taking into account everyone’s genre preferences, they set up an opt-in agreement to read one book over break, and they all agreed to read another book together afterwards. I can’t wait to read with them and hear what they say. I can’t wait to figure out how to scale up what works. I most enjoyed watching the students’ synchronous engagement with discovery and learning.

We watched trailers for American Born Chinese, by Gene Luen Yang, The Maze Runner, by James Dashner, and Uglies. Uglies won as the book group, while The Maze Runner became the opt-in title over break.  Each trailer was unique in its approach and production values.  It was cool to watch the fan made trailer for Uglies and think about having students undertake a similar project for a book.

Here are initial student comments:

• “It was fun to talk with different people from different places.”
• “I liked meeting new people on Skype because I didn’t have to write to people or type numbers on a phone.”
• “It was interesting. It draws your attention.”

I’m looking forward to students’ reflections on their books and their new partnership at the end of our project, whenever that will be.  Hopefully, the students will resist an endpoint.  Today’s activity had a lot of splash, but for me, the lasting educational benefits of small-group Skyping and other communications technologies come from the relationships formed around learning long after the novelty of the technology fades.  I hope students will feel the same way.

zap by r.i.c.h.

Josh Lieb’s darkly comic young-adult-lit novel I am a Genius of Unspeakable Evil and I want to be your Class President offers another take on a son’s quest to shape his identity in response to a father’s lack of approval. Oliver Watson is the titular genius who controls a global empire of legitimate and criminal enterprises behind a prop mogul and the mask of “dumbest boy in [the] English class.” His father is afraid of him because Oliver represents both lost opportunities and the opportunity to stop making excuses and excel, which is a terrifying prospect for dad. Knowing his father’s weakness for token shows of nobility – such as turning down high paying private-sector jobs and the “democracy” of student elections – Oliver decides to win his school’s election for class president to ruin his father’s memory of student council service. Oliver thinks that by proving a seemingly dumb kid like him can win, he’ll corrupt his father’s belief in student democracy and cheapen dad’s former glories. Oliver loses the election in a scene of comedic triumph, but in losing he wins his father’s approval. His dad, after all, is a fan of noble causes like defeat. To signal the change in their relationship, Oliver calls off the squadron of fighter-bombers on its way to raze his school. His father’s approval fulfills Oliver’s need to belong so much that he no longer feels the need to destroy his school, a place where he clearly does not belong.

With all the complexities of human experience at play in our lives, especially during the holidays, I’m not going to venture much further into analyzing the two disparate studies in father-son relationships. Instead, I’ll write about teaching, which we all know is totally simple.

I think of the power-struggle as perhaps the most obvious form of dysfunction in teacher-student relationships. I think of teachers and students for whom power struggles and defensiveness are classroom norms. We all have students whose behaviors trigger us into feeling the need for control, and all students have teachers who trigger the same. How we handle ourselves as community members determines how far struggles escalate in the classroom and which behaviors we and students choose in response to one another. Sometimes we over-react; sometimes conscious of our over-reactions, we under-react; sometimes we get it right, defuse the situation, improve our relationships, and get back to the essential work of teaching and learning.

I think here about David and his parents. David was a mirror for them of the choices they had made as partners and parents. Because they were afraid to honestly confront some of those decisions, their frustrations and regrets transferred to David. How often do we teachers see our emotions and choices reflected by our students? How comfortable or skilled are we at stepping back, depersonalizing the situation, and dealing with our own decisions and emotions before more fairly assessing students’ choices and humane and effective responses to them? How much time do we spend coaching our students to find what really matters to them and to work for it, even when triggered by an adult’s actions or demeanor? How much time do we spend showing students how to redirect themselves to work rather than reacting defensively to redirection from a teacher?

When I think of Oliver and his dad, I think about our expectations for students and how often we give them positive reinforcement and feedback on the way to meeting those expectations. To our credit, though we disagree on the particulars, as a profession we teachers believe that all students can learn. How can we help one another act in accordance with that belief even when the chips are down, the work is late, and the kids are disengaged? How do we balance out internal feelings of disappointment and frustration with external, proactive, and positive steps towards righting the course of our shared work with students?

Many of us find effective ways to help many students feel motivated and successful, but there are so many disenfranchised and disengaged youth for whom education is a power struggle rather than a means of emancipation from childhoods of adversity. What is our message to these children? How do we judge them? Are disappointment and frustration inherent in the structure of work and assessment we have told them to do? Does school put us all on the defensive?  Does school create us and them?

Sadly, yes, in many ways, it does.

So here’s my challenge to myself this holiday season:

1. Remain thankful for my time with my students and for their willingness to come to school each day.
2. Engage more often in a healthy, internal struggle to measure my actions in helping students re-connect with education.
3. Engage less often in dysfunctional, external power struggles in the classroom.
4. Re-assess what my students believe about school, themselves, and our class.
5. Make education better for all of us.

Speaking at NCTE, Junot Diaz said that we create monsters from youth when we don’t provide positive positive reflections of youth in our culture and the media it promotes. We need to work to make sure students see positive reflections of themselves in us. When they look at us they’re looking for a part of themselves. They shouldn’t see disappointment and frustration. They shouldn’t see monsters.  When we look at them, we too, are looking for parts of ourselves and we don’t want to see monsters. We’re going to have days where nothing works; we’re going to feel defeated; we can’t project that feeling on students. Looking at our students should lift us up; we should lift up our students. There is always a chance to make things better so long as we dare ourselves to look away from defeat.  Act without fear.  Re-engage with your vision of teaching and learning and reflect it to everyone in your classroom.

Pulitzer Prize Winner Junot DIaz by somethingstartedcrazy

Embracing standards-based assessment and reporting (SBAR) is a difficult, but achievable, goal for classroom teachers who want to begin the journey now.  As long as you’re wiling to compromise at the end of each marking period and create a formula that cross-walks your feedback and students growth into a letter grade, it’s likely that the merits of SBAR will help you win over your administrator for a micro-pilot in your own classroom.

Essentially, SBAR is rigorous backwards design and the teaching, grading, and reporting practices that go with it. You unpack your assigned standards, decide which are most essential and umbrella-like, and then teach to those power standards and provide students with meaningful rubric-based feedback. The feedback has to provide concrete next steps and make use of a mangeable 3, 4, or 5-point rubric. Moving from not-proficient to proficient, with specific steps to follow, is a lot more motivating and attainable for a student than moving from, say, an F to a C with only a percentage to guide him or her.

Matt Townsley (@mctownsley) blogs on his SBAR journey in great detail and reflective depth. Robert Marzano, Rick Stiggins, and Rick Wormeli, et al., have all written extensively on setting up an SBAR program, including how to maintain and report out records of student achievement. To these experts’ work, I would only add a few pieces of advice for teachers hungry to make a difference in assessment as quickly as is reasonably possible.

1. Take at least year to learn and prepare. It’s too difficult to learn SBAR on the go.  Don’t implement an incomplete SBAR plan.  That’s’s not fair to students and other stakeholders who depend on you to be consistent and effective in your feedback. Be really good at backwards design and learn to offer timely narrative feedback before you begin with SBAR. Train for SBAR. My journey towards practice took 2+ years of synthesis. I worked for a longer time to accomplish more difficult goals with SBAR than for NBCT certification.
2. Find a critical friend who will at least listen and learn with you and observe your work or meet regularly with you to discuss and compare student work between classes. This will help make sure your implementation of SBAR doesn’t inflate or depress the “value” of grades in your classroom.
3. Approach your administrator with a concrete plan and explanation of how you will educate students, parents, other teachers, and the administration. Be prepared also to cross-walk your feedback and students’ achievement to your school’s grading scale so the principal’s political liability is limited. Have your gradebook and report card ready and explain why they’re better than traditional models.
4. Prepare yourself for mastery learning and the teaching that goes with it. You won’t end up with percents to average.  You will need to follow up on your feedback and help students join a culture of quality work and determination to master content and skills essential to them.
5. Practice your spiel. You will have to explain, defend, and champion SBAR to all kinds of audiences – students, parents, colleagues – with all kinds of attitudes – curiosity, skepticism, hostility. Always be willing to share, but never push. Teachers heavily invested in traditional models of scoring and reporting will be on the defensive around SBAR; they will rightly want proof of SBAR’s effectiveness. Share your data, but don’t use it as a wedge.
6. Always make class time to explain SBAR and enable students to master work. You are the teacher; the students are the learners. You are interdependent, and your classroom culture needs to reflect that. Don’t give students awesome feedback in class and then marginalize them to after- or before-school sessions. Show them that your feedback and their work really matters. Make time for mastery in class. W. James Popham’s Transformative Assessment can help here.
7. Stick with it. Don’t give up on SBAR. Stay the course for the year. For all your planing, there will be some learning and tweaking on the go. Remember that you are engaged in the right struggle for kids.
8. Grow out slowly. Only expand the work of SBAR to engage enthusiastic and willing participants who will learn and plan for another year before practicing SBAR in the classroom. You have to be sure that all teachers practicing SBAR have a core set of common beliefs and an common set of practices that ensure consistency and fairness in the program.

If that sounds daunting, it is; however, it’s possible to out together a great SBAR program. As self-doubting and forward-looking as I can be, I hold on to my students’ comments about SBAR. The students who said I never explained it well enough were right. The students who said that the only time they felt like they really learned was when we used SBAR were also right. SBAR is what you make of it.  Take the necessary time and care to craft a manageable and effective system.

Respect by arimoore

The major obstacle here is relationship-based. What teachers value in students’ work isn’t necessarily what students value. Would a student resist work he or she found authentically engaging and personally meaningful? Think of the difference in quality between work a student chooses to do and work a student has to do. Think of the difference in quality between work that connects to students’ lives and work that does not. Clearly, digitally speaking or not, one way to reduce student resistance to work is to make it matter to them. To do so, we teachers have to redefine what we value, as well as recognize and celebrate distinct qualities of work that students value. We have to value the content, processes, and products students bring to class during the regular school day.

We can’t rely on ourselves as the single means of valuing student work. We can’t armor ourselves in standards or expectations that serve only to separate us from our students.

We have to create learning spaces where authentic engagement and meaningful expectations combine in a symbiosis of learning. Our students need to matter more than the standards, while at the same time we need to reduce the distance between our students lives and the standards to zero. For students to find personal meaning in the work we ask of them, the standards we hold for students have to overlap with their lives.

If it takes “semi-school environments” to do so, then our classrooms should become semi-school environments that host a large audience of F2F and networked assessors or and collaborators with student work. We need to create contexts during the day that give students’ a sense of meaning in school work. If school work needs to change in order to create meaning, then change school work. Create opportunities for publication and entrepreneurship. Bring in expert coaches who can help kids create quality work in media outside your own expertise. Create a team of caring adults and engaged students who share a variety of interests, but a common purpose: authentic learning during the course of the regular school day.

It is not an admission of defeat to open up our classrooms and notions of what learning should be and look like. It’s the most important internal, professional victory we can win. It is not a loss of control. It’s a creation of – and bringing together of – an interdependent symphony of learners. It is not soft or fuzzy. It’s the beginning of the difficult work it takes to articulate what our classrooms value, as well as what we have to do so that our work at long last reflects our values, including joy.  A classroom should look more joyful when full than empty.

Grading is easy; teaching is hard.  Real accountability is interpersonal rather than statistical.

NB: in addition to @budtheteacher’s post, a conversation I had with @beckyfisher73 and this video have me hungering for partnerships between classrooms to create audience, context, and meaning for student work. What if elementary school students created their own mixes of prompts for a tool like this, and then a HS computer science class built a new tool for them and then joined class for a morning of writing and sharing? What if a HS English class story-boarded phone apps for kids books, sent the story-boards to a university engineering program to be built, and then joined the engineers to share the apps with students in lower grades?