Whenever teachers are presented with new initiatives at meetings, there are those who respond to the proposals with a heavy sigh and an either verbal or non-verbal statement that amounts to, "This too shall pass." I have witnessed several such instances, where an idea is put forth, exalted, and forgotten by nearly everyone two or three years later. On the other hand, I am currently involved with some initiatives that seem so fundamentally important to "doing what is best for kids" (a mantra that I try to live by as a parent and teacher) that I'm amazed they haven't been done before. Or maybe they have, but they too passed and are only now coming back around again. That's the trouble with educational reform, from the perspective of many teachers: what is best for kids sometimes seems so plain-as-day that when a subject gets discussed with new buzzwords or a shifted focus, the enthusiasm that should accompany it can be overshadowed by a "haven't we been here before?" mentality.
The parental perspective of school reform is very different, and different in a way that is so significant that I'm ashamed I didn't realize it until a meeting last month. As some of the major building blocks of K-12 education face changes across the nation, one administrator talked about our district's decision a few years ago to begin the use of Everyday Mathematics. Aside from the anticipated complaints from teachers that were partially rooted in what is described above, the administrator was also fielding complaints from parents who were concerned about this change. In talking about how he responded to parents, he told those of us in the meeting that we have to remember a school district essentially says to parents, "Give us your babies. Trust us with your kids for a majority of their waking hours in a day," and then turns around four years into the process and says, "Oh, wait, there's a better way to teach math (or reading, or science)." Of course parents will respond with concern, and they should. School reform is in some ways an admission that a school district hasn't been doing what's best for kids, because otherwise the reform wouldn't be necessary. What does the school district say then?-- "Okay, give us another one of your babies, but this time, they'll get seven years of the "right" kind of math instead of just four like that other baby you gave us..." I, for seven years, have been teaching teenagers, and I think because they are so close to getting a driver's license and so far removed from getting potty trained, it became easy to stop thinking of these kids as somebody's babies.
All of this has crystallized something for me: that I, as a parent, am not ready for my baby to be the school's baby. My baby still wears diapers. My baby still wants either "roni-en-cheese" or a "buddorsticky sandwich" for every meal. My baby isn't ready for Everyday Math, or any other kind of math, for that matter! But he will be-- soon. In less than time than I may like to admit, the announcement of a new school initiative will not be the occasion for eye rolling, note taking, or "we can do this!" cheerleading. It may be the first time that I play the role of the concerned parent who picks up the phone and asks, "What are you doing to my baby?"
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Shy as a Whistle Pig
Well, it is Groundhog Day, and the one in Pennsylvania saw no shadow for only the 16th time. Legend has it that if he sees his shadow, the reason he goes back into his stump, or hole, or wherever, is due to fright, even though in reality a groundhog (also known as a whistle pig or woodchuck) is a rather tenacious creature. Even if prognosticators like Punxsutawney Phi are afraid of their shadows, is that such a bad thing? More to the point, is a student necessarily worse off if he or she is more of a shrinking violet in the classroom? I can't speak from experience on this matter, at least from the student standpoint. As a third grader I was once punished with the loss of outdoor recess privileges because I overzealously answered a question by shouting out my response when the teacher was deliberately ignoring me so that other students could be given a chance to participate in the class. I was still the very same, "Ooh, ooh, pick me!" type in high school too. But I certainly don't see that approach as the only means of being successful now that I'm the one doing the question asking and not the hand raising. Ever year I have several students who fit the category of "shy" that do exceedingly well in the class. Through assessments, particularly essays, these students demonstrate knowledge and skills that are no less well developed than their more vocal and actively involved peers.
When I consider how this relates to my son, it doesn't seem to, at least for now. At the moment, it is very difficult to imagine him being anything besides outgoing. He talks almost non-stop, and even if some translation is required (fish is currently "shiFF"), he yearns to be social with both family and new acquaintances. While I know his current gregarious nature is not an absolute guarantee that he will be as genial ten years from now, it is hard to envision him any other way. Regardless of whether or not my son, or any future children I may have, ends up being an introverted teen or an extroverted one, I know that both sides of the coin can be successful in the classroom-- and one side of it is a lot less likely to end up alone at a desk while everyone else is playing at recess.
When I consider how this relates to my son, it doesn't seem to, at least for now. At the moment, it is very difficult to imagine him being anything besides outgoing. He talks almost non-stop, and even if some translation is required (fish is currently "shiFF"), he yearns to be social with both family and new acquaintances. While I know his current gregarious nature is not an absolute guarantee that he will be as genial ten years from now, it is hard to envision him any other way. Regardless of whether or not my son, or any future children I may have, ends up being an introverted teen or an extroverted one, I know that both sides of the coin can be successful in the classroom-- and one side of it is a lot less likely to end up alone at a desk while everyone else is playing at recess.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Resolute Beginnings...
The new year is a month old. If you’ve kept up with your resolution(s), give yourself a pat on the back! (Unless your resolution was to stop being self-congratulatory, of course.) My resolutions were to do something productive that involves writing and to stop procrastinating. I started this blog yesterday, so it looks like I’ve been more successful with the former than the latter. While the new year started thirty days ago for most of the world, among high school teachers, the start of the second semester brings much more “new” than the first of January. While "new semester resolutions" don’t figure prominently into discussions among teachers, we do view the new semester as a chance to build new bridges with the less successful students in our year-long classes, and, for those who teach semester long courses, to start things off on the best note possible with those incoming students.
When I meet new students, I consider how I would want my son to act toward a teacher upon meeting him or her for the first time. First and foremost, I would want him to speak one-on-one with the teacher, if only for a brief introduction. I know that many teachers initiate this, but for those that don’t, I hope he is willing (whether he’s completely comfortable doing so or not) to take a moment and speak directly to the teacher. Perception fuels reality, and I want him to realize that first impressions are very important-- according to studies, like this from Web MD and this from Science Daily (which focuses specifically on student / teacher interactions) they tend to be quite accurate too. Of course, first impressions do have the potential to be wrong, but they are certainly hard to shake. I hope that my son, who is currently carefree enough to greet nearly everyone at the grocery store, particularly if the person bears even a remote resemblance to my father or father-in-law, will be able to able to hold onto a sliver of that trait and unabashedly connect with his teachers, but refrain from writing his first impression of them in stone. So, I resolve to help my son become this sort of person. But, unlike a New Year's resolution, this one won't be deemed a success or failure by the time the groundhog sees his shadow.
When I meet new students, I consider how I would want my son to act toward a teacher upon meeting him or her for the first time. First and foremost, I would want him to speak one-on-one with the teacher, if only for a brief introduction. I know that many teachers initiate this, but for those that don’t, I hope he is willing (whether he’s completely comfortable doing so or not) to take a moment and speak directly to the teacher. Perception fuels reality, and I want him to realize that first impressions are very important-- according to studies, like this from Web MD and this from Science Daily (which focuses specifically on student / teacher interactions) they tend to be quite accurate too. Of course, first impressions do have the potential to be wrong, but they are certainly hard to shake. I hope that my son, who is currently carefree enough to greet nearly everyone at the grocery store, particularly if the person bears even a remote resemblance to my father or father-in-law, will be able to able to hold onto a sliver of that trait and unabashedly connect with his teachers, but refrain from writing his first impression of them in stone. So, I resolve to help my son become this sort of person. But, unlike a New Year's resolution, this one won't be deemed a success or failure by the time the groundhog sees his shadow.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Three, Two, One, Make Rocket Go Now!
After being a teacher for seven and a half years and a father for two and a half, I have concluded that I spend many of my spare mental moments considering what, if anything, I can do to A) prevent my son from being like some of the students I've taught and B) prod him in the direction of being like some of the other students I've taught. So, rather than just allow those thoughts to escape like lightning bugs on a summer evening, I have decided to trap them in this blog where they will eventually end up burnt out and on the bottom of the jar. Perhaps before their lights go out for good, they can offer you some insight into your own parenting, or answers about the uniquely conformist segment of the human population known commonly as the American teenager.
Since I am not yet 30 years old, I labor under the illusion that I am still "hip" in some ways, but there is a litany of things about the world of today's teens that irks/frightens/mystifies me-- and that's before I even think about their behavior on Facebook! One of the primary things that teaching teenagers has done for me as a parent is what inspired the name of this blog. I often feel as though my experience teaching high schoolers allows me to hold a metaphorical fun house mirror up to my son. Though the reflection is certainly not wholly accurate, there are portions of his nascent personality that will undoubtedly be a part of him into and even well beyond his teenage years. What can I do to nurture him, equip him to be successful and happy, and just generally not screw him up? Furthermore, how can my career help me (and perhaps, vicariously, you) do this? My answer to those questions will be the backbone of this blog. Perhaps more importantly, the meat on those bones will be this blog's ability to crystallize the ephemeral moments that all parents encounter as their toddler becomes a pre-schooler or their pre-schooler becomes a little person that gets on a bus and goes to "work" each day, living an entire existence that we, as parents, aren't privy to. The moments that, when the child graduates from high school or gets married, we'd love to have on video to show everyone just how far they've come, and perhaps, just how little they have changed. I will end this first blog post with one such example. In the past three days, my son has stopped calling trucks "ruffs," abandoned "choo-choo" for train, and suddenly given up his staunch refusal to call our dog anything other than "puppy." It seems as though he is transitioning from a little boy into, as he says, a "small man." Perhaps it seems that way because he is.
- Teacher - Father -
Since I am not yet 30 years old, I labor under the illusion that I am still "hip" in some ways, but there is a litany of things about the world of today's teens that irks/frightens/mystifies me-- and that's before I even think about their behavior on Facebook! One of the primary things that teaching teenagers has done for me as a parent is what inspired the name of this blog. I often feel as though my experience teaching high schoolers allows me to hold a metaphorical fun house mirror up to my son. Though the reflection is certainly not wholly accurate, there are portions of his nascent personality that will undoubtedly be a part of him into and even well beyond his teenage years. What can I do to nurture him, equip him to be successful and happy, and just generally not screw him up? Furthermore, how can my career help me (and perhaps, vicariously, you) do this? My answer to those questions will be the backbone of this blog. Perhaps more importantly, the meat on those bones will be this blog's ability to crystallize the ephemeral moments that all parents encounter as their toddler becomes a pre-schooler or their pre-schooler becomes a little person that gets on a bus and goes to "work" each day, living an entire existence that we, as parents, aren't privy to. The moments that, when the child graduates from high school or gets married, we'd love to have on video to show everyone just how far they've come, and perhaps, just how little they have changed. I will end this first blog post with one such example. In the past three days, my son has stopped calling trucks "ruffs," abandoned "choo-choo" for train, and suddenly given up his staunch refusal to call our dog anything other than "puppy." It seems as though he is transitioning from a little boy into, as he says, a "small man." Perhaps it seems that way because he is.
- Teacher - Father -
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