In a recent faculty meeting, we were told of the effects of the looming Sequester on our district if Congress does nothing by February 28. (What a great job! Do nothing: cause seismic teutonic shifts in the lives of the little people.)
To our small district the sequestration means a loss of $135,000 annually. This is federal funding that will cut services to only three subgroups: the poor, our second language learners, and the disabled. Losses will come in the form of losing key personnel and resources dedicated to these specific groups.
Nice.
Besides calculating how much time and labor has been expended as everyone--right down to the dogcatcher--has madly readjusted budget projections based on a non-action, we were treated to the image of pushing our most vulnerable children off the school bus, running over them, and then backing up and doing it again.
In our district, we know not only how many students will be affected, but also the faces and names of those, our neighbors, who will be condemned to fall even further behind.
Even if everyone does a do-over after this political temper tantrum, time lost to developing kids has large repercussions later.
In the giant pile of money which exists somewhere, $135,000 is not much. But amplify that cut across every school district and you get a picture of a nation divided into the haves and those who face losing what little they already have. Of course the employees affected by the cuts will quickly be moving from one category to the other.
Oh, yes, some districts will be able to replace some monies from donations (a la 1,000 points of light?), but really, do we want to cast a safety net that has huge gaping holes?
How will the sequester affect your district? Please share.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
America: Cruise Ship on the Rocks
It was hard to keep from laughing while reading about the rescue of the Carnival Cruise ship adrift in the Gulf of Mexico. Apparently, while toiling with the next generation working hard for their own opportunity to charge a cruise to their Discover cards, the media was covering this tragedy minute by minute. Missing out on the breathless commentary must have immunized me to the pathos of the poor victims of the worst vay-cay ever.
It is probably an occupational hazard, but it's hard not to see metaphor, metaphor, metaphor in every aspect of the story--starting with the obvious: the fun on the cruise was only a power generator away from calamity, and the glitter and the glitz but a thin, tinselly veneer over the true human condition.
Zap. All pretense wiped away and the teeming masses quickly sank into a floating sewage container of their own making. The ongoing buffett of over indulgence dried up within hours and vacationers were forced to subsist on ketchup and buns.
Can't help it. It makes me laugh. A cosmic joke for sure.
The idea of going on a cruise has never appealed, particularly after a trip to the east coast of Mexico where I acknowledge my own culpability as an over-indulged nomad.
First, I witnessed the Very Angry, Very Important, Very Righteous, Very Wealthy man at the hotel desk who loudly berated the staff, as though they were recalcitrant servants, for spoiling one of his Very Precious Vacation Moments. As the staff behaved deferentially, I searched for a piece of furniture to crawl under, so embarrassed by a fellow American demanding that his hosts speak a more standard English. Ugh.
As a part of that trip, our group went scuba diving in the underwater natural park just off the coast. A behemoth cruise ship was moored offshore. These floating hotels dwarf any other man-made building within sight. Unless you've seen one, it is hard to imagine how these bright white, floating playgrounds for nearly 4,000 people dominate the seascape.
The Dive Master was disgusted. He called them floating environmental disasters, leaving in their wake mountains of garbage and destroyed coral forests. Once again, we paint a lovely picture of excess and entitlement.
I felt my own excess when our drive through some real hard times ended in the manicured, opulent hotel where our drinking water was filtered.
But back to the cruise. The late David Foster Wallace wrote about his experience in his essay "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again." He claims the experience transformed him into a self-described spoiled brat.
How much like a cruise is life in America?
Locked on a floating island with thousands of the continuously fed and catered to, encouraged to eschew the reviving sun and seaspray by sitting in darkened casinos dominated by ringing bells and flashing lights, entertained by crooners in spandex and sparkles.
Adventures ashore are highly programmed visits to shopping areas on impoverished Caribbean islands where the bubble of fun avoids any contact with the real lives of those whose memories we collect in native gee-gaws. ("Don't look over there. It's the face of poverty, and it will completely spoil your fun. And don't forget, we're having fun. You deserve it.") Friendships are arranged via assigned seating arrangements at the opulent meals.
Draw your own parallels.
And when the plug is pulled and the lights go out? A real, stinky mess.
It is probably an occupational hazard, but it's hard not to see metaphor, metaphor, metaphor in every aspect of the story--starting with the obvious: the fun on the cruise was only a power generator away from calamity, and the glitter and the glitz but a thin, tinselly veneer over the true human condition.
Zap. All pretense wiped away and the teeming masses quickly sank into a floating sewage container of their own making. The ongoing buffett of over indulgence dried up within hours and vacationers were forced to subsist on ketchup and buns.
Can't help it. It makes me laugh. A cosmic joke for sure.
The idea of going on a cruise has never appealed, particularly after a trip to the east coast of Mexico where I acknowledge my own culpability as an over-indulged nomad.
First, I witnessed the Very Angry, Very Important, Very Righteous, Very Wealthy man at the hotel desk who loudly berated the staff, as though they were recalcitrant servants, for spoiling one of his Very Precious Vacation Moments. As the staff behaved deferentially, I searched for a piece of furniture to crawl under, so embarrassed by a fellow American demanding that his hosts speak a more standard English. Ugh.
As a part of that trip, our group went scuba diving in the underwater natural park just off the coast. A behemoth cruise ship was moored offshore. These floating hotels dwarf any other man-made building within sight. Unless you've seen one, it is hard to imagine how these bright white, floating playgrounds for nearly 4,000 people dominate the seascape.
The Dive Master was disgusted. He called them floating environmental disasters, leaving in their wake mountains of garbage and destroyed coral forests. Once again, we paint a lovely picture of excess and entitlement.
I felt my own excess when our drive through some real hard times ended in the manicured, opulent hotel where our drinking water was filtered.
But back to the cruise. The late David Foster Wallace wrote about his experience in his essay "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again." He claims the experience transformed him into a self-described spoiled brat.
How much like a cruise is life in America?
Locked on a floating island with thousands of the continuously fed and catered to, encouraged to eschew the reviving sun and seaspray by sitting in darkened casinos dominated by ringing bells and flashing lights, entertained by crooners in spandex and sparkles.
Adventures ashore are highly programmed visits to shopping areas on impoverished Caribbean islands where the bubble of fun avoids any contact with the real lives of those whose memories we collect in native gee-gaws. ("Don't look over there. It's the face of poverty, and it will completely spoil your fun. And don't forget, we're having fun. You deserve it.") Friendships are arranged via assigned seating arrangements at the opulent meals.
Draw your own parallels.
And when the plug is pulled and the lights go out? A real, stinky mess.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Huck Finn Takes a Standardized Test
I have a soft spot for the "bad" kids.
My definition of a "bad" kid is a creative disrupter. These students refuse to follow rules simply because they are there and show their disdain for "stupid" ideas by acting independently, following their own logic.
I qualify these characters worthy of celebration.
Huck Finn lives. Mark Twain's quintessential bad boy is the American spirit incarnate: He looks at the landscape and acts adventurously, getting off the beaten path and creating his own.
Where would we be if whole legions of Huck Finns had not asked us to reconsider "sivilization"?
So I was amused by the student response to the MAPS test required by the district in Seattle.
Some of the kids just would not play by the rules.
And sometimes they made errors that fit only into the category of kid logic, the delightful way a child's mind can shift adult paradigms. (My son at age three observed that a jet plane was "scratching the sky." Yeah. Take a look at those jet trails some time.)
So here's what some kids did:
I would qualify all these errors as "good mistakes" a phrase I first heard from a tennis coach. "That was a good mistake!" he exalted once when a ball went long. Hitting balls short was a bad mistake--holding the racket incorrectly. A long ball meant I was starting to get it: follow through and let it sail.
As of four days ago the administration of Seattle was still sticking to its sivilized notion of holding teachers accountable.
Long live Huck Finn.
My definition of a "bad" kid is a creative disrupter. These students refuse to follow rules simply because they are there and show their disdain for "stupid" ideas by acting independently, following their own logic.
I qualify these characters worthy of celebration.
Huck Finn lives. Mark Twain's quintessential bad boy is the American spirit incarnate: He looks at the landscape and acts adventurously, getting off the beaten path and creating his own.
Where would we be if whole legions of Huck Finns had not asked us to reconsider "sivilization"?
So I was amused by the student response to the MAPS test required by the district in Seattle.
Some of the kids just would not play by the rules.
And sometimes they made errors that fit only into the category of kid logic, the delightful way a child's mind can shift adult paradigms. (My son at age three observed that a jet plane was "scratching the sky." Yeah. Take a look at those jet trails some time.)
So here's what some kids did:
- When some kindergarteners were directed to put the mouse on the item, they lifted the mouse and placed it on the computer monitor.
- When students figured out that a correct answer up-leveled the questions and made them harder, they deliberately answered questions incorrectly so the computer would serve up easier questions.
- When students were told it would not affect their grades, they rushed through the reading comprehension test without reading so they could get back to doing something they wanted to do. (Have you ever read something you didn't want to read? It's really hard to care about it.)
I would qualify all these errors as "good mistakes" a phrase I first heard from a tennis coach. "That was a good mistake!" he exalted once when a ball went long. Hitting balls short was a bad mistake--holding the racket incorrectly. A long ball meant I was starting to get it: follow through and let it sail.
The qualification of an error as a good one was so empowering that I still use it, rewarding errors that show a new skill in the offing.
I'd qualify all of the above actions as a good mistakes. In every one there is strong evidence of critical thinking.
To a mechanized standardized test, the answer is either right or wrong--no qualification. It takes the observation of a human being to follow the logic of the error.
Ironically, these mechanized tests are to be used to measure the effectiveness of teachers in the classroom. To a teacher who has a led a career of watching and coaching kid's through their own kid logic, relying on mechanized scores feels like tying your hands behind your back while someone slaps you in the face.
So Huck Finn broke the rules.
He could not ignore his own logic when deciding whether or not to steal Jim out of slavery and help him back to his family. He tears up the letter to Miss Watson that would have revealed Jim's whereabouts:
I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: "All right then, I'll go to hell"--and tore it up. It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming.Sometimes, when faced with injustice, the only choice is taking the road to hell.
As of four days ago the administration of Seattle was still sticking to its sivilized notion of holding teachers accountable.
Long live Huck Finn.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Not Just a Teacher - 2
In October I attempted to honor the work done on a daily basis by strong, passionate educators. Be it remembered, that when you know what your purpose in life is, it is not hard to act with conviction.
From our values extends our purpose. From our purpose extends our actions.
It is not hard to act when you know why you are here.
These teachers, like so many others, lived their values through their work. They nurtured children.
Rachel Davino, 29, Behavioral Therapist, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Dawn Hochsprung, 47, Principal, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Anne Marie Murphy, 52, Special Education Teacher, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Lauren Rousseau, 30, Substitute Teacher, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Mary Sherlack, 56, School Psychologist, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Victorio Soto, 27, First-grade teacher, Sandy Hook Elementary.
From our values extends our purpose. From our purpose extends our actions.
It is not hard to act when you know why you are here.
These teachers, like so many others, lived their values through their work. They nurtured children.
Rachel Davino, 29, Behavioral Therapist, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Dawn Hochsprung, 47, Principal, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Anne Marie Murphy, 52, Special Education Teacher, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Lauren Rousseau, 30, Substitute Teacher, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Mary Sherlack, 56, School Psychologist, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Victorio Soto, 27, First-grade teacher, Sandy Hook Elementary.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Undone by the Faces of Newtown
Like the rest of the nation, I've found the tragedy at Newtown to be numbing, overwhelming, beyond imagination.
It has also left me speechless. And, until Friday, uncomprehending.
Though I could point to about sixteen policy mis-steps that have combined to make a Newtown possible, to harp on these at this juncture seems cheap.
As the week unfolded, I found myself in active avoidance of news about the victims: children the age of my grandchildren. I could not bring myself to see their images.
Monday morning I listened to reports of the first of the funerals.
The town is the same size as mine. It is easy to understand how the adults keep reaching for each other in a hug, a collective gut-wrenching sob, a tight circle of disbelief, grief, disorientation.
It would be that way here, a place where we all raised our children together and are linked to each other through through the years we sat side-by-side at concerts, parent conferences, PTO meetings, and stood together at bus stops, on field trips, in doctor's offices. A community is built around the care of its children. In my town, the school system is the beating heart of our purpose.
On Wednesday night I was ambushed. A commentator put up the photos of three of the victims, the first I've seen.
It stopped my breathing. I could not bear it. I have not looked for others. It is too much.
I teach in a high school. My peers often wonder: "How do you do it?" They are referring to the fact that teens, by their very nature, are often cutting, insensitive, hurtful to the adults who reared them. They sulk and sometimes go out of their way to reject what we hope to accomplish. Of course, not all of them do this but enough to make other adults wonder how one could willingly subject oneself to a daily torture.
Rejecting adult demands is a part of the developmental process, and to succeed in a high school one must be prepared to confront the very large two-year-olds--as teens are sometimes described--and to avoid, as often is humanly possible, to take it personally.
For the toughest of my customers I've cultivated a deliberate tactic for getting around the worst behaviors. I go to guidance and look up their file. School pictures are attached on the front of every file. Inevitably there is one from kindergarten. These pictures are similar. There is a bright-eyed, happy, completely unselfconscious five-year-old smiling into the future. Who couldn't love that kid? This is the image I take back to the classroom with me.
That child is in there somewhere. It helps me see how they started the journey. (It also makes me wonder what happened in between.) That is the image I attempt to teach for: the smiling, laughing, "isn't life wonderful?" kid that lurks beneath the black t-shirt, the scowl, the apathy. It is the child that a parent still sees, loves, and remembers. When the teen won't let us in any other way, I connect with that.
And so I cannot look at those faces now, because they are my kids.
On Friday, the dam broke.
A teacher friend put up one of her relentlessly positive posts about her students. It is her effort to counteract all the negative press about schools and schooling. Her Christmas present to each was a magazine cover based on her prompt to write about their plans for the future. The magazine features an open, engaged eight-year-old face and the lifetime ambition already accomplished.
Here is what these third-graders hope to achieve:
What have we done?
It has also left me speechless. And, until Friday, uncomprehending.
Though I could point to about sixteen policy mis-steps that have combined to make a Newtown possible, to harp on these at this juncture seems cheap.
As the week unfolded, I found myself in active avoidance of news about the victims: children the age of my grandchildren. I could not bring myself to see their images.
Monday morning I listened to reports of the first of the funerals.
The town is the same size as mine. It is easy to understand how the adults keep reaching for each other in a hug, a collective gut-wrenching sob, a tight circle of disbelief, grief, disorientation.
It would be that way here, a place where we all raised our children together and are linked to each other through through the years we sat side-by-side at concerts, parent conferences, PTO meetings, and stood together at bus stops, on field trips, in doctor's offices. A community is built around the care of its children. In my town, the school system is the beating heart of our purpose.
On Wednesday night I was ambushed. A commentator put up the photos of three of the victims, the first I've seen.
It stopped my breathing. I could not bear it. I have not looked for others. It is too much.
I teach in a high school. My peers often wonder: "How do you do it?" They are referring to the fact that teens, by their very nature, are often cutting, insensitive, hurtful to the adults who reared them. They sulk and sometimes go out of their way to reject what we hope to accomplish. Of course, not all of them do this but enough to make other adults wonder how one could willingly subject oneself to a daily torture.
Rejecting adult demands is a part of the developmental process, and to succeed in a high school one must be prepared to confront the very large two-year-olds--as teens are sometimes described--and to avoid, as often is humanly possible, to take it personally.
For the toughest of my customers I've cultivated a deliberate tactic for getting around the worst behaviors. I go to guidance and look up their file. School pictures are attached on the front of every file. Inevitably there is one from kindergarten. These pictures are similar. There is a bright-eyed, happy, completely unselfconscious five-year-old smiling into the future. Who couldn't love that kid? This is the image I take back to the classroom with me.
That child is in there somewhere. It helps me see how they started the journey. (It also makes me wonder what happened in between.) That is the image I attempt to teach for: the smiling, laughing, "isn't life wonderful?" kid that lurks beneath the black t-shirt, the scowl, the apathy. It is the child that a parent still sees, loves, and remembers. When the teen won't let us in any other way, I connect with that.
And so I cannot look at those faces now, because they are my kids.
On Friday, the dam broke.
A teacher friend put up one of her relentlessly positive posts about her students. It is her effort to counteract all the negative press about schools and schooling. Her Christmas present to each was a magazine cover based on her prompt to write about their plans for the future. The magazine features an open, engaged eight-year-old face and the lifetime ambition already accomplished.
Here is what these third-graders hope to achieve:
I will be a marine dolphin trainer and I will also be famous for stopping bullying.
I will be a world famous comic book artist and stop all the ugly wars.
I will be a teacher and write songs...maybe about love.Oh, Lord help us.
What have we done?
Saturday, November 24, 2012
'Savage Inequalities' Resolved
While my students read, I read as well. You can get a surprising amount of reading done in just 20 minutes a day...
Currently I am reading Savage Inequalities by Jonothan Kozol, borrowed from a co-worker when I spotted it on his "favorites" shelf. He models reading and talking about books with his students every day. (A simple move with big results: students choose from his favorites and then a chat around books begins...)
I feel like I should have read this book 20 years ago, but didn't. But I also feel that I have read this all before since the situations Kozol outlines in this groundbreaking book have been an acknowledged part of my education reading for years now. Kozol unabashedly reveals the failure of our nation to provide equal opportunity in education for our nation's children. The descriptions I've read make me want to cry in frustration. (Horrible buildings, no textbooks, no supplies, a poorly trained and transient teaching force...but only for the poorest of the poor.) And this book is from 1991. In some ways things are worse now.
As I read, I sit in a school with close to 50% free and reduced lunch, a growing second-language population (close to 20% now, I believe), a stable faculty that includes many highly experienced teachers, and a building dating from the 1920's that was recently totally renovated and fitted with smart boards, energy saving lighting and other gorgeous amenities (fully stocked library, updated auditorium, public space for kids to gather....).
The new building is a source of pride for the students and the community as well.
How do the students exhibit that pride? The new building has been occupied for four years now. There is no graffitti anywhere. One hallway features reproductions of art that go unmolested. Student work has hung outside my room for over two months and has been admired but untouched. (Though its time to get it down since the crowds tend to turn up the edges....) Kids voluntarily pick up trash.
The setting makes a difference. Whether the students are aware of it or not, they are getting a visual message from their community every day: No matter who's child you are, we care about you.
Not so everywhere else. But it could be possible. (Ugh. East St. Louis, Southside Chicago, the neighborhoods of New York....)
Here's my "pumpkin pie in the sky" wish for a new year, under a newly freed Obama administration:
Currently I am reading Savage Inequalities by Jonothan Kozol, borrowed from a co-worker when I spotted it on his "favorites" shelf. He models reading and talking about books with his students every day. (A simple move with big results: students choose from his favorites and then a chat around books begins...)
I feel like I should have read this book 20 years ago, but didn't. But I also feel that I have read this all before since the situations Kozol outlines in this groundbreaking book have been an acknowledged part of my education reading for years now. Kozol unabashedly reveals the failure of our nation to provide equal opportunity in education for our nation's children. The descriptions I've read make me want to cry in frustration. (Horrible buildings, no textbooks, no supplies, a poorly trained and transient teaching force...but only for the poorest of the poor.) And this book is from 1991. In some ways things are worse now.
As I read, I sit in a school with close to 50% free and reduced lunch, a growing second-language population (close to 20% now, I believe), a stable faculty that includes many highly experienced teachers, and a building dating from the 1920's that was recently totally renovated and fitted with smart boards, energy saving lighting and other gorgeous amenities (fully stocked library, updated auditorium, public space for kids to gather....).
The new building is a source of pride for the students and the community as well.
How do the students exhibit that pride? The new building has been occupied for four years now. There is no graffitti anywhere. One hallway features reproductions of art that go unmolested. Student work has hung outside my room for over two months and has been admired but untouched. (Though its time to get it down since the crowds tend to turn up the edges....) Kids voluntarily pick up trash.
The setting makes a difference. Whether the students are aware of it or not, they are getting a visual message from their community every day: No matter who's child you are, we care about you.
Not so everywhere else. But it could be possible. (Ugh. East St. Louis, Southside Chicago, the neighborhoods of New York....)
Here's my "pumpkin pie in the sky" wish for a new year, under a newly freed Obama administration:
- Stop spending money on Race to the Top initiatives that are squandering funds with little result.
- Use the money to bring every school building in the nation into the 21st Century. If the feds really want to do something that makes a difference, turn every school building into a federal building and keep them all wired, updated, and havens for research, development, and community centers. How I'd love to live in a nation that tells it's children everyday: We care about You. The current message is: Some are more Equal than Others.
- Force colleges of education to meet guidelines of effective practice--and partner with surrounding districts by training to fulfill needs, rather than turning out a glut of graduates without prospects--by providing full scholarships to top students who want to become educators.
- Shift the competitive drive of RttT from pitting schools and states against each other into making teaching both lucrative and competitive. Scholarships would only be offered through identified regional schools that meet the needs of the pre-service teacher. Several accreditation programs have already stipulated what is needed in an effective program. Endorse these and drive the best and brightest towards them.
- Include a long clinical phase in the teacher prep program. Expect universities which receive scholarships to partner with surrounding districts. Teaching interns would work alongside professionals in a "teaching" school. (This is the kind of school where Arne Duncan and Barack Obama sent their own children. The advantage is low teacher-student ratio and an exciting and progressive workplace for the adults resulting in the kinds of gains in learning and experimentation the current RttT reforms are trying to 'inspire' in a ham-handed way.)
- Use the leveraging proven to be effective in currently building the misguided Teacher Evaluation programs into forcing states to drive education dollars into teaching as a career to be sought after. (Funds freed from the "hardware" of education--buildings, laptops, textbooks--could funnel into the "software": paying teachers, providing release time to collaborate, extended professional development programs.) The new profession would include a career ladder that makes it possible for teachers to ascend quickly into competitive wages. The title Teacher would trump all others as masterful teachers take on the facilitation of buildings, instruction, teacher training, community outreach and other roles that are best fulfilled by practicing educators.
Oh, and dump the standardized testing--and all those who profit from them. I'm pretty tired of doing the scut work for the testing industry. Hold teachers and schools accountable by having neighboring districts evaluate each other against standards. This is the Finnish setup and it is a win-win. As teachers evaluate other programs, both teams are learning from each other.
An exit test might be useful to graduates, but that would be my criteria for testing: how does it serve the student?
An exit test might be useful to graduates, but that would be my criteria for testing: how does it serve the student?
Looking forward to a holiday season that gives some real gifts....
Sunday, October 21, 2012
The soft bigotry....
The state of Virginia has received a waiver on the No Child Left Behind act.
There were concessions.
The state had to agree to implement a Teacher Evaluation process that relies heavily on student growth measures. 40% of teacher evaluations must be based on this measure. Multiple measures, to be sure. For now we are permitted to establish our own group of students, identify the goal, collect data, and prove that the teacher realized growth.
OK, I think I can live with that since I hope I have been trying to move students along a continuum ever since I started teaching. The challenge, frankly, will be in working this collection and study into an already full workload. But it is doable. Wish it came with some time....
Apparently, another concession was to move from AYP (Annual Yearly Progress) to AMO's (Annual Measurable Objectives--semantics?).
OK. So what does that mean? According to the State Department of Education it means these are goals for reducing proficiency gaps between low-performing and high-performing schools.
For 2012-2013, pass rates in Mathematics:
All students: 61%
Proficiency Gap group 1: 47%
(students with disabilities, limited-English proficient students and economically disadvantaged students
regardless of race and ethnicity)
Proficiency Gap group 2: 45%
(African-American students, not of Hispanic origin, including those counted above)
Proficiency Gap Group 3: 52%
(Hispanic Students)
Students with disabilities: 33%
LEP Students: 39%
Economically Disadvantaged 47%
White students: 68%
Asian Students: 82%
Here is the Virginia Department's argument that this is not discriminatory or expecting less of our students. Guess we're only going to leave some kids behind. In the case of those who are African American, only 55% of kids in the next six years.
Is this not the same thing Florida is up in arms about?
Anybody want to agree that we should be done messing with numbers and figure out how to get all kids off to a good start so that learning for every group is possible?
Here is what we ALREADY KNOW works. Read Nick Kristoff's recent editorial that discovers (huzzah!) that quality preschool instruction and nurturing of kids can overcome all the above "sub-groups."
But we wouldn't want to spend money there....
There were concessions.
The state had to agree to implement a Teacher Evaluation process that relies heavily on student growth measures. 40% of teacher evaluations must be based on this measure. Multiple measures, to be sure. For now we are permitted to establish our own group of students, identify the goal, collect data, and prove that the teacher realized growth.
OK, I think I can live with that since I hope I have been trying to move students along a continuum ever since I started teaching. The challenge, frankly, will be in working this collection and study into an already full workload. But it is doable. Wish it came with some time....
Apparently, another concession was to move from AYP (Annual Yearly Progress) to AMO's (Annual Measurable Objectives--semantics?).
OK. So what does that mean? According to the State Department of Education it means these are goals for reducing proficiency gaps between low-performing and high-performing schools.
The AMOs represent the percentage of students within each subgroup that must pass Standards of Learning (SOL) tests in reading and mathematics in order to make acceptable progress over six years. While the AMOs represent yearly goals for low performing schools, all schools must meet these objectives. (My emphasis, not theirs.)They used the actual pass rates of student subgroups in low-performing schools to set the percentage of students who must pass in order for accreditation (I assume?). They will determine the subgroup pass rates on Reading after the new SOL test, which is predicted to depress scores, is administered this year. So here they are in Mathematics.
For 2012-2013, pass rates in Mathematics:
All students: 61%
Proficiency Gap group 1: 47%
(students with disabilities, limited-English proficient students and economically disadvantaged students
regardless of race and ethnicity)
Proficiency Gap group 2: 45%
(African-American students, not of Hispanic origin, including those counted above)
Proficiency Gap Group 3: 52%
(Hispanic Students)
Students with disabilities: 33%
LEP Students: 39%
Economically Disadvantaged 47%
White students: 68%
Asian Students: 82%
Here is the Virginia Department's argument that this is not discriminatory or expecting less of our students. Guess we're only going to leave some kids behind. In the case of those who are African American, only 55% of kids in the next six years.
Is this not the same thing Florida is up in arms about?
Anybody want to agree that we should be done messing with numbers and figure out how to get all kids off to a good start so that learning for every group is possible?
Here is what we ALREADY KNOW works. Read Nick Kristoff's recent editorial that discovers (huzzah!) that quality preschool instruction and nurturing of kids can overcome all the above "sub-groups."
But we wouldn't want to spend money there....
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