Put the "School" in Back to School Parent Nights

It surprises me how nervous some teachers get on Back to School Nights.  Teachers have no problem speaking in front of 30, 50 or 125 students a day, but we are a knotty bundle of nerves when students' parents gather in their classrooms for 10 to 30 minutes one late September evening.  I readily admit to having butterflies during my first years of teaching.  Over time, though, I really looked forward to these nights.  I loved standing at my classroom door and shaking hands with parents.  I loved seeing my students' eyes, smile or complexion on adult faces.  Each greeting served as a powerful reminder to me that the children who spend 45 minutes or more in my room each day, spend a lifetime in these people's hearts.  It is, somehow, humbling.

In turn, then, I wanted to make this night a memorable one for parents to show them that I am worthy of their trust.  I wanted to provide parents a quick peek into what their children experience each day in my classroom.  Yes, I allotted time reviewing curriculum, requirements, and more.  But I started each Back to School Night by inviting parents to live in their students' shoes for a little while.  As I spent my teaching career as a high school English teacher, I always chose to share a poem that students would read in my class.  I often used "Famous" by Naomi Shihab Nye, as it is accessible, inspirational and, well, lovely.

I would read the poem once to the parents, and then ask for a brave volunteer to "give it a second voice," just as I would with my students.  I usually found one or two folks were willing.  I'd ask those listening to underline lines they found interesting (just as I would with my students).  After the second reading, I'd ask them to turn and talk with a neighbor about their initial reaction to the poem (just as I would with my students).  If I had time, I'd ask parents jot their thoughts before jumping into conversations (just as I...well you get the point by now).  When I reconvened the whole group, I explained how I use poetry to teach theme and the purpose of the instructional strategies I used.  I'd tell them their students would read this very poem this year, so I'd ask them not to share it with them just yet.  Parents, I found, sat a little taller, feeling a bit empowered to have experienced what their students do.  They felt knowledgeable in the workings of the class, as if I had shared some insider information.      

So as you plan your Back to School Night sessions, I encourage you to think about how to model learning experiences that your students will participate in this year.  Here are a few ways you might consider:

• Set up Learning Stations/Centers, asking parents to move through one or two to see what materials are there and what the learning objectives are.
• Read an excerpt from a novel or a picture book you will share with students.  
• Ask them to write a response to a prompt.
• Demonstrate a science experiment.
• Share a Problem-Based Learning experience.
• Allow them to try out an educational App or web page.
• Maybe even finger paint!!???

Whatever you decide, incorporating a learning experience into Back to School Night will give parents something to remember and discuss with their kids when they get home.  It will let them feel as though they actually went back to school (and had fun)!

Have a great night meeting your students' families!

PARCC Gives CCSS a Bad Name (my apologies to Bon Jovi)

When the Common Core State Standards finally found their way to New Jersey in 2010, I admit I had concerns.  Their state approved predecessors, the New Jersey Core Curriculum Content Standards, were relatively innocuous and fairly ambiguous.  In the district in which I taught, our local curriculum standards exceeded those outlined in the NJCCCS.  They also allowed us enough flexibility to be creative, exploring the language arts in ways that inspired students and teachers as well as challenged them.  With the introduction of the Common Core State Standards, I worried that our ability to design meaningful, authentic learning experiences for students would be squashed.

Candidly, I spent the first year of the Common Core implementation in "wait and see" mode.  I moved into a new district as an ELA supervisor the same year they were adopted, which gave me permission to observe the content teachers were teaching and how the instructional units did or did not align with CCSS expectations.  We weren't too far off from what the CCSS required, but there was certainly work to be done.  And over the last four years, we have done it.

We have infused more informational texts into our curriculum, piquing particularly our male students' interests in reading.  We have focused on closely reading fiction and non-fiction texts, providing our students with many tools and opportunities to question, to infer, and to explore ideas.  Our students have had the chance to publish their work online through message boards and web pages.  They have conducted more extensive inquiry, researching topics of interest while building crucial thinking and learning skills that will serve them well in the future.  Perhaps much to their parents' chagrin, we have taught students how to argue effectively as well as how to deconstruct an argument so that they make choices based on the evidence and their values rather than manipulative rhetorical tricks.

I see, then, little wrong with the Common Core State Standards.

However then the PARCC started its long, arduous journey to our state, promising to show if teachers are actually teaching the Common Core or not and rating their effectiveness as educators based on students' results.

Cue the screeching record...

The premise, of course, is ridiculous.  I will not expound on all the reasons as to why this is a terrible idea and how it boils down the entire purpose of education to students' test performance.  Many others have examined the flaws of this much better than I can here.

I will, though, say this.  If the Common Core State Standards are a worthwhile endeavor, and if the standards present students with rigorous expectations for complex thinking and sophisticated understandings, then how in the world can Pearson or bureaucrats believe that students should be able to demonstrate their proficiencies in sixty to seventy-five minute blocks of time, reading antiquated texts, and answering multiple choice questions?  The CCSS encourages students to do a deep dive of the materials and that requires time to think, to process, and to experiment.  These standards should not be able to be boiled down into bite size assessment nuggets.  They should require teachers' ongoing guidance even as students are evaluated and their proficiencies are measured.  Basically, the Common Core requires educators to teach students sophisticated concepts that aren't easily measured by multiple choice questions and timed writing.  And yet...

I know, the irony.

PARCC has definitely shot CCSS in its metaphorical heart.  So as the PARCC media blitz surges this week, I caution educators, parents, politicians, and journalists to more carefully distinguish the test from the standards.



      

Lesson Learned: Do Less, But Better

For many weeks I remained on my library's waiting list for an audio copy of Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less by Greg McKeown.  When I finally got the call just a few days after the New Year saying it was ready for me to pick it up, I did not think it a coincidence that its arrival coincided with the typical time to set resolutions.  It was definitely a sign that I need to heed to McKeown's advice.  He says to make "the wisest possible investment of your time and energy in order to operate at our highest point of contribution," one must set clear priorities.  I am ready. 

Over the last several years I have attempted to minimize unnecessary stress in my professional and personal life by avoiding taking on projects that I know will cause me angst or are simply tasks that do not meet my skill set or comfort level.  While serving as Program Chair for the Conference on English Leadership 2013 Annual Convention, for example, I said no to several interesting opportunities because I couldn't take on additional responsibilities without also adding additional stress.  Also (though I adore my children), I do not volunteer to be room mom, PTA committee chair or troop leader.  Those activities are just not my thing, and (quite honestly) I'd rather dedicate the time those activities take to spending time with my children.  

However, listening to McKeown's book was still an eye-opening experience for me.  While I have tried to make wiser choices with my time, I have not done so with the systematic approach he recommends.  I have not identified my most essential priorities, choosing projects based solely on my passions and goals.  And I have not really applied his essentialist strategy at work, where I tend to take on additional projects simply because I am asked to do so or because a topic interests me.  As an educational leader, I need to work smarter and not more to make sure I guide and support my department effectively so that we can make tremendous strides in designing great curriculum and learning experiences for our students.   
As I listened to Essentialism, I noted a few key lines that I know I will return to again and again as I weigh where to put my energy.  They are:

"Remember that if you don’t prioritize your life, someone else will."  

"When we forget our ability to choose, we learn to be helpless."

“We often think of choice as a thing. But a choice is not a thing. Our options may be things, but a choice—a choice is an action. It is not just something we have but something we do.” 

"You have to look at every opportunity and say, 'Well, no … I’m sorry. We’re not going to do a thousand different things that really won’t contribute much to the end result we are trying to achieve.” 

“If it isn’t a clear yes, then it’s a clear no.”

Now, I must confess that I write this blog post after one of the most over-scheduled, stressful weeks so far this year.  Before the holidays I planned this past week as one where I would get a lot accomplished, scheduling several observations, running a few meetings, planning and presenting professional development sessions, and much more.  And yet, I felt frustrated and unproductive.  I had no time to think.  I had no time to follow up with teachers.  I had no time to focus on any one project.  My week to "get things done" turned into "get little done well."  

However, this week proved to me that McKeown is correct.  I should have focused my energies solely on my top priorities, leaving those non-essential activities off my schedule.  I am certain I would have performed those crucial tasks better had I given myself enough time to think about the goals and develop exceptional products.  

Lesson learned.  

Now I have to work valuing sleep more, which McKeown also argues is essential.  But that is for another day... (or night)!

Differentiation DOES Work

This week James Delisle wrote a provocative piece on differentiating instruction for Education Week titled "Differentiation Doesn't Work."  His article argues that differentiating instruction is just too hard for teachers to implement.  Therefore, we should abandon our efforts to meet the varying needs of our students.  Instead, he suggests, we should return to homogenous ability groups, as a large majority teachers would prefer it.  

He's right about one thing.  Differentiating instruction takes a lot of work and great teaching skill, as does any worthwhile learning experience we create for students.  He is incorrect, though, to say it doesn't work.  Differentiating instruction is respectful of all students, which means it is worth the effort.  Not every lesson needs to be or should be differentiated, but we should seek ways to engage all our students several times a year based on their interests, their learning profiles and/or their readiness levels.  

Additionally, his oncologist analogy in the article is terribly flawed.  Of course you wouldn't send a glaucoma patient to an oncologist anymore than you'd send an ELL student to an AP English class.  Not differentiating instruction, however, is equivalent to an oncologist giving the same treatment to every cancer patient, ignoring all the variables such as the tumor location or stage of cancer.  It would constitute malpractice.      

Think about your own recent experiences as learners.  If Google Apps training, for example, is "one size fits all" in its approach, those teachers who are already Google experts are bored and teachers who are novices are frustrated.  Then most people leave the training having learned little.  If teachers are forced to attend professional developments courses in which they have no interest, they are not motivated to be there and won't engage in the learning.  In fact, they often leave such trainings feeling disgruntled and disrespected.  So why won't teachers offer the same respectful differentiated tasks to their students?  

I agree with Delisle that some teachers are confused about what differentiation is and when to use it.  It is incumbent upon school districts to provide professional development experiences (differentiated, of course) and ongoing coaching.  However, I can provide you a quick "what" and "when" right now.  

Carol Ann Tomlinson (the DI guru) says differentiation is simply an "active planning" strategy to " accommodate the different ways that students learn."  To decide when to differentiate, you need to be clear on your objectives and know your students.  Then differentiate by interest to increase student motivation.  Identify those lessons that most student dread and find a way to use their interests to engage them with the learning.  Differentiate by learning profile to improve efficiency. Think about those skills that are particularly challenging for all students. Design lessons that allow them to practice these new skills in a learning style they prefer. The new learning, then, isn't hindered by a learning practice that also challenges them.  Differentiate by readiness to show student growth.  When students show widely different proficiency levels on a specific objective, you need to design learning experiences that allow all students to work in their zones of proximal development.    Does it take work to do this?  Yes.  But in doing so, we design learning experiences that are responsive, respectful and effective. 

And yes, I am one of those administrators that he casts in the "out-of-touch" light.  However, I taught for many years, and I frequently differentiated instruction, giving students choices, placing them in readiness groups and designing learning experiences to meet their learning preferences.  My students felt respected by the learning experiences I designed, and they demonstrated growth in the language arts objectives placed before them.  Yes, it involved many late nights as I got used to the methodology.  However, as I gained confidence and expanded my repertoire, it wasn't so hard anymore.  Like any worthwhile endeavor, it simply takes practice.    

  

3 Lessons Learned in 2014

As we look forward to new goals for 2015, I also like to look back and reflect on what I have learned about leadership this past year.  Here goes:

Lesson #1 - Hire Learners

Image Source: http://www.greenbookblog.org/

When interviewing possible candidates, I have always wanted to find the most qualified, compassionate teachers.  I have long searched for experts, teachers who know how to manage classrooms, design creative lessons, and engage students.  Often I have looked for teachers with many years of experience, as I expect they can jump right into the fray.  Some can (and do).  Others, though, cannot.  What I have learned is it is more important to hire educators who see themselves as learners first than it is to hire a pedagogy expert.  If they are deeply committed to their own professional growth and recognize that we are all always a works-in-progress, then they are teachers I want on my staff.

While my interview questions continue to include inquiries about content, pedagogy and management, I also include some about their professional goals and (most importantly) their plans for achieving them.  Now I ask, "What is the best critical feedback you have received, and how are you working to improve in this area?"  I ask, "What professional journals do you read regularly?  What article intrigued you most and why?  How have/would you use the ideas in your classroom?"  I ask, "What workshops have you attended because they interested you?  What were your takeaways?  How have they influenced your teaching?"  These answers tell me a lot about candidates' commitment to themselves, their students and the profession.

Lesson #2 - Make Time for Paperwork (and Protect It)
Gosh, I have been terrible at this one for many years.  I have had good intentions of carving out time to complete reports, curriculum documents, etc., even blocking out time on my calendar to catch up on the paperwork.  And yet, I would fall prey to meeting requests and schedule them during these paperwork time slots.  I'd open my e-mail and spend the entire hour writing responses rather than observations.  Thus, I'd be stuck with looming deadlines to submit all the required documents on time.  Can you say stress?  Ugh...it was terrible and paralyzing.  Well, no more.

This year I dedicated time for paperwork and stuck to it (with some exceptions, of course).  I allotted time each morning and afternoon to e-mail, shutting it down for long periods in the middle of the day.  I let the phone go to voicemail and said no to less-than-urgent meetings so that I could dedicate whatever time I had blocked out during the day (whether 15 minutes or 1 hour) to complete paperwork.  I even closed my office door and plugged myself into headphones to help me stay focused on the task at hand.  I protected paperwork time as best as I could.  Did it eliminate all work at home?  Of course not.  But it has greatly lessened it and my stress.  

Lesson #3 - Be a Cheerleader
I often say I am the luckiest supervisor on the planet (because I am).  I work with smart, motivated educators who are passionate about literacy and their students' learning.  And they are so, so talented.   Last year, I realized, though, I wasn't doing a good job at encouraging my teachers to travel beyond their classroom walls to attend professional workshops and to share their ideas with others.

Now I make time to find workshops that interest my teachers and advocate for them to attend.  I encourage them to submit session proposals for conferences and to compose articles for professional journals.  I even invited a few teachers to lead a Twitter chat on independent reading at the secondary level.  Truth be told, I have one or two teachers who would do this anyway.  But I now view it as an important part of my job to make sure I encourage my teachers get out of the building, learn from their peers and to share their good work with others.  Some people just a little push, a little "Hey, Hey, you can do it if you put your mind to it."  It has been great watching many of them from the sidelines as they experience all our profession has to offer.  

I can't wait to see what lessons are in store for me in 2015!

Never Forget

Yesterday, my nine-year old daughter asked me, "What actually happened on 9-11?"  For many September 11th anniversaries I had provided her fairly vague responses when she asked about the memorial service at the 9-11 monument in town or the flags lining our main street.  An already anxious child, I didn't want to feed her many fears and active "worst-case scenario" imagination.  But last night, I could tell she was ready to know more.  She wanted to know the truth.  So she and I headed over to one of our favorite, most peaceful places, our community garden, so that I could tell her the story.

Thirteen years ago, I was in my second year as a high school English teacher in Westfield, New Jersey, an affluent suburb of New York City.  It was a spectacular morning.  Azure sky.  Warm sun. Bustling hallways.  My classroom was located adjacent to the main building in a portable.  Though without functioning heating or cooling systems, I loved being outside of the fray in a little pop-up structure all our own.  It was quiet, and we could learn loudly without interrupting those nearby.  This haven, though, also isolated me from the PA system and general goings-on in the world.

At 8:46 a.m. I didn't know a plane had slammed into the World Trade Center, a short twenty miles from our school.  I was introducing a unit to my eleventh graders on "The Dream and the Reality of America."  I did not know our reality was already changing.

At 9:00 a.m. the bell rang, and my students left our portable to return to the main building as did I.  I headed for hall duty.  When I passed through the side entrance, I knew something was wrong.  Students chattered urgently.  Teachers huddled in doorways.  I approached a colleague.  "What is going on?"  She told me a plane crashed into the North Tower.  I recall feeling completely disorientated.  I could not conjure an image of what that meant.  I quickly shuffled to my homeroom hall duty location, right next to the counseling office.        

At 9:07 a.m., the homeroom bell rang.  By this time the South Tower had been pummeled by Flight 175.  Our high school principal turned on the PA.  I heard him say, "It appears as if America is under some kind of attack.  A second plane has crashed into the World Trade Center."  He offered some instructions on remaining calm, but no one listened.  In the days before every teenager had a cell phone, they needed to use the main office phone to call home and check on the whereabouts of their parents.  Their aunts.  Their uncles.  Their brothers.  Their sisters.  Their cousins.  Their grandparents.  They needed to know that all those they loved who worked in downtown Manhattan were safe.  Students ran through the hallways, sprinting by dingy brown lockers and stunned faculty members, to reach the public telephone.  Some were frantic, yelling, "My mom. My mom.  My mom."  Others remained solemnly silent.        

The day continued.  At 10:45 a.m. I was handed a note at my classroom door that read "2 WTC fell."  Again, the image alluded me.  By midday I was back in the main building staring at a television screen in shock.  I tried to remember all those I knew who worked at World Trade.  Was Tricia ok in her office at 7 World Trade?  What about Mike, my college friend who just graduated from the NYC Fire Academy?  Was my student's, Willy, father on a train home or trapped in the rubble?

It was truly the most terrifying day of my life.

Days passed.  I heard good news of family and friends who were safe.  I heard awful news of those lost.  Cars remained unclaimed at the train station.  Missing posters lined city sidewalks.  Seeing the posters for a very popular, outgoing college classmate and another for a sorority sister brought me to my knees in Penn Station one afternoon a month later.

No matter how many years go by, it will always feels like no time has passed.  The terror, the disbelief that people are so evil is something I will never shake lose.  But I will also always remember how we banded together.  A region shattered by tragedy became a community bonded by resilience.

And that is what I told my daughter last night as we watched the sun set over our red ripe tomatoes and plentiful green bean plants.  I told her that awful men planes crashed into buildings.  But, I also told her that we refused to let them crush our spirit.

I will never forget.

Staying Put

Last week I closed out another school year with my department, my fourth in my current district and my eleventh as an English supervisor.  Eleven years as a supervisor.  Forty years old.  I can hardly believe it.  Where has the time gone?

During the last eleven years I have hired and worked with dozens of educators.  While many remain in the classroom, several teachers I hired are now building principals or assistant principals.  Many of my supervisory colleagues are assistant principals, principals and even superintendents.  It seems as though my administrative peers move up the education leader rapidly.  There are always dozens of administrative openings listed in the Sunday paper.  Talented people come and go within a few years.  So in this culture of constant change, I am often asked what my next career move will be.

For years I struggled with this question.  What is my next move?  When should I make it?  Frequently colleagues suggest I seek a curriculum central office position.  A few months ago my own superintendent told me he just assumes I am heading towards a curriculum director job.  When an assistant principal job opened in district this spring, rumors spread throughout the building that I was going to "get it."  I didn't even apply.

My struggle with the inquiry about my next move is not due to any need to move up in the hierarchical construct of school.  My struggle is because I just don't want to make a "next move."  I want to stay put.

People have varying reactions when I say I don't want to make another move.  Most ambitious administrators respond with an uneasy, "Oh."  Some ask, "So you're going to be an English supervisor for the next twenty years?"  Honestly, I don't know where I will be in five years much less twenty.  But I do know that I love my job.

OK, I probably have a love/hate relationship with my work right now.  My frustration rests squarely with the bureaucracy.  My state government has added so many requirements to my position that it actually makes it tough to do my job.  I spent much more time reviewing spreadsheets, rubrics and data than I did working with teachers.  However, the time I spend with teachers is, well, magic.  I love coaching them, brainstorming lessons, designing units, developing assessments, and offering feedback.  I help them integrate technology, address parent concerns, and celebrate their successes.  This year I counseled teachers through personal issues, consoled them in time of great loss, and met their wonderful families.  I delivered bad news.  I delivered really great news.  I watched teachers set and reach their professional goals.  I saw students do the same.  

This February I had a lesson plan meeting with a novice high school English teacher.  He was designing a poetry unit for his class.  For over forty minutes we discussed various teaching strategies and dozens of poets and poems.  After the teacher left the office, I had a moment to reflect.  I realized I am doing exactly what I love.  Why, then, should I be concerned with others who find it odd that I don't want to move up?  I am happy right here.  I can talk about poetry, reading and writing all day with really smart, dedicated teachers.  What's not to love?  

Maybe someday I will find myself as a curriculum director or in an English education professior.  Maybe someday I will return to the classroom full-time.  But maybe, just maybe, in twenty years I will be retiring from my position as an English supervisor.  Wherever my career takes me I know now that I must do what I love.  And despite all the legislative challenges, I still love my job.

So I am staying put.