It's the first weekend of the Quarantine and well, things are not great. My friend's son spiked a very high fever that wouldn't come down but they had a hard time getting into the ER. (He's okay. It wasn't Corona.) My mother is sewing hospital masks for where my sister-in-law works because people who don't need the masks are hoarding them. There's a war on between keeping our economy afloat and keeping our hospitals from being overrun, and I'm not sure if there are any winners to be had in this situation. I'm anxious about all of it, and having stress dreams.
But also, things are not that bad, either. I mean, we cleaned out the fridge, and J continued his massive "re-inventory-ing of all the games*" project. My parents have downloaded videoconferencing apps and we'll all get to talk to them tomorrow, and our usually very blasé teenager-y kids are really excited about it. I'm still working on blogging more and getting in some exercise every day. Today's exercise was going out for a walk in the 40 degree weather. Yesterday it was 72 at noon, and we walked around Prairie Oaks at 6, when it had dropped into a chilly, windy 50s. Still, as we headed back to the car, the whole park was filled with the sound of peepers, who I guess had been fooled by the 72 degrees into thinking that spring had arrived. The kids had never heard anything like it, I think. DD described it as the "same sound that little wooden frog the music teacher has makes when you rub the stick over the bumps." So hey, score one for accuracy for the woodcrafters.
While we were walking around both days, it was clear that little bits of spring are poking up. Our neighbors had fully blooming daffodils! We have some struggling crocuses that keep trying and then getting sucker punched by 30 degree drops in temperature from day to day. There are sprouts at the base of our perennials, too, which reminded me that I need to find our clippers since I never cleared away last year's twiggy bits from them as part of fall cleanup. Nature just keeps going.
China's air quality is the best it's been in 30 years. Pollution levels will probably drop everywhere that factories are shutting down. It's not all beer and skittles, though, because there are monkey gangs in Thailand fighting over food since there are no tourists to drop any. We impact the earth in ways we don't even realize. I wonder what is going on with pigeon populations and other urban food webs that are suddenly without people. The urban-animal scientists must be going nuts over this.
We're all trying to find the new normal here, and it's slow going. I think about Little House in the Big Woods and how the Ingalls were practicing social isolation and didn't even know it. I've been planning to do a read-aloud for my students, and maybe I'll choose that, just because it *is* about spending pretty much all your waking time with just your family, but there's no wi-fi, indoor plumbing or central heating.†
J mentioned that some of his colleagues are still fairly fresh out of college, and living with roommates and not loved ones. And some folks are having to weather this truly alone. As much as we can aggravate each other, I'm glad to be surrounded by my family. I mean, four really is a good number for boardgaming.
So no, things are not so bad. We've got each other and the rest we can figure out as it goes.
Peace.
*If you've ever seen our game collection, you know this is no small task.
† See kids! Things *could* be worse!
disapproving kitty
Saturday, March 21, 2020
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
TIL
Tomorrow our district is rolling out online classrooms for every student. It is simultaneously too much and not enough, and I'm reeling a bit from all the new info to assimilate.
Today I Learned:
The very basics of how to use Zoom for a virtual classroom experience.
How to create a bitmoji of myself.
Why the bitmoji app > the bitmoji Chrome extension in every possible respect.
Why browsers without installed scrollbars are crap, especially when you do not have the access to add them as an extension. (this was a re-learning moment, tbh. I already knew it, but it's even more frustrating when you're learning more new tech and it won't work because you can't scroll.)
How to share an assignment and a page in Canvas. (only one of those works, though.)
There is so much more to learn about using Canvas fluidly that maybe it's a good thing we'll be doing this for a long time.
How to create and share a Kidblog page.
That iPads can just share PDFs into Notability or other Apps directly, no down and uploading required.
That the recipe I found for gluten free pie crust is a good one actually worth eating.
That every teacher I work with is willing to step up and change everything with little notice, without any real griping about it when the need arises.
I really, really miss my students already.
I also learned from a friend's blog late last night that I have to get over obsessing about when all this will be over, and when will we return to normal, and move, as gracefully as I can, into How. How will I adapt, how can I help my family, how can I help everyone get through this for as long as it is. How is answerable and useful where When is not. I'm still mourning all the losses and the ones to come, but as best I can, I'm moving into How.
That's what I learned today.
Just imagine what I will learn tomorrow.
Today I Learned:
The very basics of how to use Zoom for a virtual classroom experience.
How to create a bitmoji of myself.
Why the bitmoji app > the bitmoji Chrome extension in every possible respect.
Why browsers without installed scrollbars are crap, especially when you do not have the access to add them as an extension. (this was a re-learning moment, tbh. I already knew it, but it's even more frustrating when you're learning more new tech and it won't work because you can't scroll.)
How to share an assignment and a page in Canvas. (only one of those works, though.)
There is so much more to learn about using Canvas fluidly that maybe it's a good thing we'll be doing this for a long time.
How to create and share a Kidblog page.
That iPads can just share PDFs into Notability or other Apps directly, no down and uploading required.
That the recipe I found for gluten free pie crust is a good one actually worth eating.
That every teacher I work with is willing to step up and change everything with little notice, without any real griping about it when the need arises.
I really, really miss my students already.
I also learned from a friend's blog late last night that I have to get over obsessing about when all this will be over, and when will we return to normal, and move, as gracefully as I can, into How. How will I adapt, how can I help my family, how can I help everyone get through this for as long as it is. How is answerable and useful where When is not. I'm still mourning all the losses and the ones to come, but as best I can, I'm moving into How.
That's what I learned today.
Just imagine what I will learn tomorrow.
Report Card Day-ish?
If you're of a certain age, you can remember that fateful day every 6 - 12 weeks when the teacher would hand you that yellow envelope, sealed, with your name on it. You'd either rip it open, or solemnly stick it into your backpack, and the march home was either one of glory and triumph, or trying to figure out how you'd change a grade without mom noticing.* It was Report Card Day.
In k - 2 we never got grades, just I for improving or S for Satisfactory or the glorious O, for Outstanding. We were graded for things like "Math" and "Handwriting" and "Spelling." It was something even my 2nd grade brain could wrap itself around. By upper elementary we were getting grades. 93% and up was an A, 85% eked out a B. We had "Social Studies" and "Science" and every quarter there would be a handwritten note from the teacher in loopy hieroglyphs that were indecipherable till after grade 3. We would take our report cards around to Pizza Hut and Friendly's to get our free Personal Pan Pizza or Sundae with hot fudge and it was officially a BIG DEAL.
Nowadays, it isn't. Progress Reports are digital, and filled with statements like "Accurately quotes from fiction/nonfiction text when explaining what the text says explicitly, and when drawing inferences from the text." And there is a number, but no number is really bad, they all just indicate "levels of readiness for independent work" or something like that and frankly as a parent I can't quite suss it out, even though I'm a teacher. My kids only know that Progress Reports have come out because I tell them they have, there's no going out for pizza or ice cream and it's just not much of....anything.
We are told to "let our children fail" so that they will learn grit and to get back up again, and to not nag and helicopter parent or push our kids to "just turn your homework in, dammit!" so they may learn it on their own, but....that means there has to be a consequence for failing, doesn't it? No pizza or ice cream, or something other than a "2" on the grade card under "shows personal responsibility." This long, cumbersome report with no fewer than 25 separate little numbers just isn't meaningful to my kid, or to me, really. So we wind up not letting them fail by default till high school, when we're back to a grade for Math and a grade for Science and there are As and Bs and Ds and Fs and they have lasting consequences. I have tremendous fear of watching my child fail then, and not really knowing how to help any more than I do now.**
Despite all our connectivity, there is a deep disconnect between what is happening at school and what is happening at home, and I feel it on both sides. We developed this system to be a more nuanced and detailed way for families to hold teachers accountable for all aspects of learning, but it didn't quite work the way it was intended. There's an overload of information, so much that it is all just becoming noise.
Digital learning is saving us right now, and it's clearly leading the way into the future, but there is still something to be said for getting that little yellow envelope with the signature lines that is so heavy with promise of either joy or dread. There is something weighty and meaningful about the henscratch or loopy handwriting that says "I know your child" in a way that "Comments 6 and 14" do not. There is a solemnity to the ritual of handing over the report card at dinnertime, and seeing your mother's face as she reads it.
There is something to it, and I wish we had it back.
*note to Mom: I never did this.
**how to instill motivation into an unmotivated person was not in the Parenting Manual. Or the Teaching Manual. If anyone ever finds a foolproof method, they could make a fortune.
In k - 2 we never got grades, just I for improving or S for Satisfactory or the glorious O, for Outstanding. We were graded for things like "Math" and "Handwriting" and "Spelling." It was something even my 2nd grade brain could wrap itself around. By upper elementary we were getting grades. 93% and up was an A, 85% eked out a B. We had "Social Studies" and "Science" and every quarter there would be a handwritten note from the teacher in loopy hieroglyphs that were indecipherable till after grade 3. We would take our report cards around to Pizza Hut and Friendly's to get our free Personal Pan Pizza or Sundae with hot fudge and it was officially a BIG DEAL.
Nowadays, it isn't. Progress Reports are digital, and filled with statements like "Accurately quotes from fiction/nonfiction text when explaining what the text says explicitly, and when drawing inferences from the text." And there is a number, but no number is really bad, they all just indicate "levels of readiness for independent work" or something like that and frankly as a parent I can't quite suss it out, even though I'm a teacher. My kids only know that Progress Reports have come out because I tell them they have, there's no going out for pizza or ice cream and it's just not much of....anything.
We are told to "let our children fail" so that they will learn grit and to get back up again, and to not nag and helicopter parent or push our kids to "just turn your homework in, dammit!" so they may learn it on their own, but....that means there has to be a consequence for failing, doesn't it? No pizza or ice cream, or something other than a "2" on the grade card under "shows personal responsibility." This long, cumbersome report with no fewer than 25 separate little numbers just isn't meaningful to my kid, or to me, really. So we wind up not letting them fail by default till high school, when we're back to a grade for Math and a grade for Science and there are As and Bs and Ds and Fs and they have lasting consequences. I have tremendous fear of watching my child fail then, and not really knowing how to help any more than I do now.**
Despite all our connectivity, there is a deep disconnect between what is happening at school and what is happening at home, and I feel it on both sides. We developed this system to be a more nuanced and detailed way for families to hold teachers accountable for all aspects of learning, but it didn't quite work the way it was intended. There's an overload of information, so much that it is all just becoming noise.
Digital learning is saving us right now, and it's clearly leading the way into the future, but there is still something to be said for getting that little yellow envelope with the signature lines that is so heavy with promise of either joy or dread. There is something weighty and meaningful about the henscratch or loopy handwriting that says "I know your child" in a way that "Comments 6 and 14" do not. There is a solemnity to the ritual of handing over the report card at dinnertime, and seeing your mother's face as she reads it.
There is something to it, and I wish we had it back.
*note to Mom: I never did this.
**how to instill motivation into an unmotivated person was not in the Parenting Manual. Or the Teaching Manual. If anyone ever finds a foolproof method, they could make a fortune.
Sunday, March 15, 2020
DIY Nanofictionary -- Online version
This is a lesson I started a long time ago and (obviously) never finished. It's all about using a crazy storytelling card game to spur more original and flexible thinking in your students, and to encourage reluctant writers by giving them a place to start. I mothballed it, but now that we are embarking on a new era of online learning for students across the nation, I thought maybe it might be a decent idea to throw this out there, adapted for online. Since this is a DIY version, you don't actually need to buy the game, though I wholeheartedly endorse buying several sets to play with your class when all this is over.
Nanofictionary is a game from the marvelous Looney Labs.* They came out with a reboot of it a few years ago. I loved the wildness of the old game, but I think the new version has its advantages. If nothing else, it prevents the frustration of playing the entire darn game and never finding a setting. The essence of the game is storytelling. You do, sort of, play for points, but really you play to create marvelous miniature stories through your own imagination and forced association.
During the game, players collect one card each for a Setting, a Problem, and a Resolution. For extra points (and fun) they may collect as many Characters as they like. For a list of all of them, check here. My favorites are "The dangerous objects factory," "The superhero with unhelpful powers**" "A terrible accident involving food," and, of course "Duct tape saved the day again!"
Using just those four you have all the basic elements of a story. And this is where the lesson comes in. We can't really play this game with our students right now. But we can use it to teach writing!
To use my favorite cards as an example: Strange superhero George decided one day to take a tour of the dangerous objects factory when suddenly a component of one of the machines began to malfunction. In a misguided attempt to help, George sprang into action, using his power of shooting pasta out of his fingertips. "Pasta Power!" he cried, and began covering the malfunctioning machine with strands of fettuccine, which were conveyed down the line, gumming up all the works, and jamming the POWER switch. Thinking quickly, a repair tech whipped out a roll of silver tape, used it to scrape off the sticky strands and tape the switch into the OFF position, shutting down the line. Duct tape saved the day again!
Now, I'll grant you it's not the best of stories, and it definitely needs more elaboration and the addition of details, extra characters and some plot development. Storytellers *should* add these things in, but keep the four cards as the primary, and most important elements.
It's a terrific tool for encouraging kids who say "there's nothing to write about." In the past, I've used these in the classroom for kids to perform short, impromptu skits. They were hilarious. But you could just as easily convert them into goofy short stories. The forced association, ironically, requires kids to be more flexible and imaginative in their thinking, to get ideas that wouldn't normally belong together to belong together.
Actually conducting this lesson I would do AFTER teaching about the structure of stories. Students need to have a solid understanding of how exposition, rising action, climax and resolution work in a story. I'd also set a variety of parameters, depending on the age of your students. I've taught this with 4th and 5th graders, but it could work for multiple grade levels. And I would provide the kids with a few story samples, preferably using randomly chosen elements that are not available to the students, to reduce copying.
So here's the lesson:
Step One
Brainstorm Settings, Characters, Problems and Resolutions with students. They can submit them via a Google form or a shared document, a Canvas Conversation or whatever tool you'd like. You can also choose to use the list direct from Looney Labs. It's a good list. (And definitely do not use "spaz." I have no idea what they were thinking.)
Step Two
Randomly assign one of each category to your students, but if you want, you can allow them to also choose extra characters or another setting to go along with it. The more they have to associate, the more challenging it becomes. I've always allowed students to add in other minor characters and places if need be.
Step Three
Write! Students should craft and submit their stories. You or they choose the platform. I love the idea of graphic nanofictionary novels, epic poems, or radio plays. They don't have to be just a written story.
Step Four
Share! I don't know yet what tools will exist for sharing. But the more public a forum, the better. Got Kidblog? Put them there! Got a class webpage? Share there! What ideas do you have?
We're all in this together, folks. I hope someone tries this and tells me what happened! (or better yet, share with me the link to the stories!)
Peace.
*If you've never played games from Looney Labs, they're worth your time. Fluxx is a bit too random for me, but Chrononauts is fun and could be an interesting way to come up with story ideas, too. Plus there's the added bonus of maybe learning some history while you play.
**BBC made an entire series out of this concept, called "Misfits." It's not suitable for children, but it is quite interesting and worth watching.
Nanofictionary is a game from the marvelous Looney Labs.* They came out with a reboot of it a few years ago. I loved the wildness of the old game, but I think the new version has its advantages. If nothing else, it prevents the frustration of playing the entire darn game and never finding a setting. The essence of the game is storytelling. You do, sort of, play for points, but really you play to create marvelous miniature stories through your own imagination and forced association.
During the game, players collect one card each for a Setting, a Problem, and a Resolution. For extra points (and fun) they may collect as many Characters as they like. For a list of all of them, check here. My favorites are "The dangerous objects factory," "The superhero with unhelpful powers**" "A terrible accident involving food," and, of course "Duct tape saved the day again!"
Using just those four you have all the basic elements of a story. And this is where the lesson comes in. We can't really play this game with our students right now. But we can use it to teach writing!
To use my favorite cards as an example: Strange superhero George decided one day to take a tour of the dangerous objects factory when suddenly a component of one of the machines began to malfunction. In a misguided attempt to help, George sprang into action, using his power of shooting pasta out of his fingertips. "Pasta Power!" he cried, and began covering the malfunctioning machine with strands of fettuccine, which were conveyed down the line, gumming up all the works, and jamming the POWER switch. Thinking quickly, a repair tech whipped out a roll of silver tape, used it to scrape off the sticky strands and tape the switch into the OFF position, shutting down the line. Duct tape saved the day again!
Now, I'll grant you it's not the best of stories, and it definitely needs more elaboration and the addition of details, extra characters and some plot development. Storytellers *should* add these things in, but keep the four cards as the primary, and most important elements.
It's a terrific tool for encouraging kids who say "there's nothing to write about." In the past, I've used these in the classroom for kids to perform short, impromptu skits. They were hilarious. But you could just as easily convert them into goofy short stories. The forced association, ironically, requires kids to be more flexible and imaginative in their thinking, to get ideas that wouldn't normally belong together to belong together.
Actually conducting this lesson I would do AFTER teaching about the structure of stories. Students need to have a solid understanding of how exposition, rising action, climax and resolution work in a story. I'd also set a variety of parameters, depending on the age of your students. I've taught this with 4th and 5th graders, but it could work for multiple grade levels. And I would provide the kids with a few story samples, preferably using randomly chosen elements that are not available to the students, to reduce copying.
So here's the lesson:
Step One
Brainstorm Settings, Characters, Problems and Resolutions with students. They can submit them via a Google form or a shared document, a Canvas Conversation or whatever tool you'd like. You can also choose to use the list direct from Looney Labs. It's a good list. (And definitely do not use "spaz." I have no idea what they were thinking.)
Step Two
Randomly assign one of each category to your students, but if you want, you can allow them to also choose extra characters or another setting to go along with it. The more they have to associate, the more challenging it becomes. I've always allowed students to add in other minor characters and places if need be.
Step Three
Write! Students should craft and submit their stories. You or they choose the platform. I love the idea of graphic nanofictionary novels, epic poems, or radio plays. They don't have to be just a written story.
Step Four
Share! I don't know yet what tools will exist for sharing. But the more public a forum, the better. Got Kidblog? Put them there! Got a class webpage? Share there! What ideas do you have?
We're all in this together, folks. I hope someone tries this and tells me what happened! (or better yet, share with me the link to the stories!)
Peace.
*If you've never played games from Looney Labs, they're worth your time. Fluxx is a bit too random for me, but Chrononauts is fun and could be an interesting way to come up with story ideas, too. Plus there's the added bonus of maybe learning some history while you play.
**BBC made an entire series out of this concept, called "Misfits." It's not suitable for children, but it is quite interesting and worth watching.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Should I Pack 2 Ballgowns, or 3?
Most of us have seen this meme, or variants:
The Twitter thread that follows it is rather hilarious, and I highly recommend it in these trying times*.
Speaking of trying times, that's why I've decided to start blogging again. 3 weeks of enforced isolation at home is rapidly going to devolve into everyone in this house sitting around in dirty pjs playing video games while watching old episodes of The British Baking Show and eating peanut butter straight out of the jar unless there's some pre-intervention. So I mandated that every family member must embark on a personal-improvement and a home-improvement project, plus at least 30 minutes of exercise a day. With luck, we'll get at least one of those per person, so fingers crossed.
My self-improvement? Going back to blogging. I like it, it's good for reducing anxiety, and having some structured "you must sit down and write" time is good for me. And hey, everyone else is stuck at home, too, scrolling the interwebs, so why not add more content?
This whole post began in my head after reading yet another "Why the hell is everyone buying ALL THE THINGS?" posts on Facebook. They're doing it, partially, for the same reason that I pack 6 extra pairs of underwear for a 3 day trip. It's just the uncertainty of it. Especially for folks who hadn't been plugged into social media or the news for the last week or so, things were chugging along fine, with a few shutdowns, some "take precautions" and then suddenly: SCHOOLS ARE CLOSED FOR THREE WEEKS. EVERYONE WORK FROM HOME. DON'T TOUCH OTHER HUMANS AND KEEP 1 METER AWAY FROM THEM AT ALL TIMES.
Holy *%&! What?
The unprecedented in our lifetimes has happened, and we don't know how bad it will get, how long it will last or what other sudden-seeming impositions will spring up. Will we lose safe water? Electricity? Utilities? Will there be a total curfew? Will all stores close? What's the worst case scenario here?
And the answer is: nobody really knows.
Most predictions are that all utilities will be fine, stores will stay open, we can still move about as needed and the shutdowns will flatten the infection curve enough to keep hospitals from being overwhelmed.
But we don't know. Not for sure. And that brings on the anxiety. And nobody knows for sure how long we will be semi-quarantined at home with our kids or family, or without kids and family and nobody at all and that brings on the anxiety, too.
All this extra shopping? It's the Coronavirus equivalent of packing the extra underwear. And as more people do it, and more goods disappear off the shelves, the more folks want to stock up. Just in case.
So cut those folks a little bit of a break. We all get a little crazy when we try to predict the future and have all possibilities from "It'll all be fine in 3 weeks" to "Zombie Apocalypse Imminent!"
So cut yourself, and everyone else a little slack, give the stores time to re-stock, and be sure to have clean spoons handy for the peanut butter.
Peace.
*I highly recommend trying to read the funniest ones out loud to loved ones in the vicinity. I laughed so hard I cried, and couldn't read coherently.
The Twitter thread that follows it is rather hilarious, and I highly recommend it in these trying times*.
Speaking of trying times, that's why I've decided to start blogging again. 3 weeks of enforced isolation at home is rapidly going to devolve into everyone in this house sitting around in dirty pjs playing video games while watching old episodes of The British Baking Show and eating peanut butter straight out of the jar unless there's some pre-intervention. So I mandated that every family member must embark on a personal-improvement and a home-improvement project, plus at least 30 minutes of exercise a day. With luck, we'll get at least one of those per person, so fingers crossed.
My self-improvement? Going back to blogging. I like it, it's good for reducing anxiety, and having some structured "you must sit down and write" time is good for me. And hey, everyone else is stuck at home, too, scrolling the interwebs, so why not add more content?
This whole post began in my head after reading yet another "Why the hell is everyone buying ALL THE THINGS?" posts on Facebook. They're doing it, partially, for the same reason that I pack 6 extra pairs of underwear for a 3 day trip. It's just the uncertainty of it. Especially for folks who hadn't been plugged into social media or the news for the last week or so, things were chugging along fine, with a few shutdowns, some "take precautions" and then suddenly: SCHOOLS ARE CLOSED FOR THREE WEEKS. EVERYONE WORK FROM HOME. DON'T TOUCH OTHER HUMANS AND KEEP 1 METER AWAY FROM THEM AT ALL TIMES.
Holy *%&! What?
The unprecedented in our lifetimes has happened, and we don't know how bad it will get, how long it will last or what other sudden-seeming impositions will spring up. Will we lose safe water? Electricity? Utilities? Will there be a total curfew? Will all stores close? What's the worst case scenario here?
And the answer is: nobody really knows.
Most predictions are that all utilities will be fine, stores will stay open, we can still move about as needed and the shutdowns will flatten the infection curve enough to keep hospitals from being overwhelmed.
But we don't know. Not for sure. And that brings on the anxiety. And nobody knows for sure how long we will be semi-quarantined at home with our kids or family, or without kids and family and nobody at all and that brings on the anxiety, too.
All this extra shopping? It's the Coronavirus equivalent of packing the extra underwear. And as more people do it, and more goods disappear off the shelves, the more folks want to stock up. Just in case.
So cut those folks a little bit of a break. We all get a little crazy when we try to predict the future and have all possibilities from "It'll all be fine in 3 weeks" to "Zombie Apocalypse Imminent!"
So cut yourself, and everyone else a little slack, give the stores time to re-stock, and be sure to have clean spoons handy for the peanut butter.
Peace.
*I highly recommend trying to read the funniest ones out loud to loved ones in the vicinity. I laughed so hard I cried, and couldn't read coherently.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
The Real Meaning of Irony
Dear Ohio Leaders*
It's testing season again for my elementary school students. I don't know what content is in these tests, because I'm not allowed to know. I'm just their teacher. I do know my students, though, because I am their teacher.
I know what they can do. I know how well they can read, how well they can write, talk, analyze, construct, synthesize, and evaluate. I know how well they can use mathematics and solve real-world problems using their skills. I know this because I evaluate them every single day, and we use that information together to improve tomorrow. I know what they can do.
But you say you don't trust me to honestly report that, because...? I don't actually know. I don't know why you've decided that Ohio's parents don't trust their kids' teachers because I have a feeling that if we took a poll, we'd discover that they trust me a lot more than they trust you. I have absolutely nothing to gain from saying a child is capable of something when she isn't. You, on the other hand, have lots and lots of financial support to lose unless you can "prove" that children who aren't actually failing are -- according to a testing company.
If schools are failing, then you can open charter schools, at taxpayer expense, enriching the owners of those charter schools so they will continue donating to campaigns to support your re-election. You know, charter schools like the honest, upstanding and effective ECOT. Tell me, how many tax dollars have gone towards that swindle?** If you can convince the public that their tax dollars should be used to pay for high priced testing, because teachers aren't to be trusted, then you can continue funding testing companies. Who can then go on use that money to lobby you. It's a neat little circle of taxpayer dollars, all swirling into private hands, with zero benefits to children.
What do I get if I honestly evaluate my students with tests that truly measure what they need to know? All I get is the ability to plan tomorrow's lessons.***
With mandatory state testing, I don't even get that. I NEVER get to see the questions and the kids' answers. No teacher ever gets to deeply analyze what those results mean in order to better teach students. Teachers, children and parents get NOTHING out of this testing except many lost hours of real teaching time, stress, frustration, tears, fearfulness, anxiety and prescriptions for ulcer medications. For 9 year olds. This testing, which is supposed to improve education, does nothing but make it worse. I suppose, though, we could use the situation to teach the meaning of the word "irony."
The only people who seem to be profiting are people who are benefitting YOU.
I'm fighting every day for my students.
Whose side are you on?
Sincerely,
An Ohio Teacher
*Specifically, ones who have had their elections helped by donations from charter schools or others who profit off of mandatory State Testing. If you aren't one of these leaders, then thank you. Keep up the good work.
**More about charter schools in Ohio here
***If I'm lucky, I get notes at the end of the year saying "Thank you for teaching me this year!" from the kids. Those are precious.
It's testing season again for my elementary school students. I don't know what content is in these tests, because I'm not allowed to know. I'm just their teacher. I do know my students, though, because I am their teacher.
I know what they can do. I know how well they can read, how well they can write, talk, analyze, construct, synthesize, and evaluate. I know how well they can use mathematics and solve real-world problems using their skills. I know this because I evaluate them every single day, and we use that information together to improve tomorrow. I know what they can do.
But you say you don't trust me to honestly report that, because...? I don't actually know. I don't know why you've decided that Ohio's parents don't trust their kids' teachers because I have a feeling that if we took a poll, we'd discover that they trust me a lot more than they trust you. I have absolutely nothing to gain from saying a child is capable of something when she isn't. You, on the other hand, have lots and lots of financial support to lose unless you can "prove" that children who aren't actually failing are -- according to a testing company.
If schools are failing, then you can open charter schools, at taxpayer expense, enriching the owners of those charter schools so they will continue donating to campaigns to support your re-election. You know, charter schools like the honest, upstanding and effective ECOT. Tell me, how many tax dollars have gone towards that swindle?** If you can convince the public that their tax dollars should be used to pay for high priced testing, because teachers aren't to be trusted, then you can continue funding testing companies. Who can then go on use that money to lobby you. It's a neat little circle of taxpayer dollars, all swirling into private hands, with zero benefits to children.
What do I get if I honestly evaluate my students with tests that truly measure what they need to know? All I get is the ability to plan tomorrow's lessons.***
With mandatory state testing, I don't even get that. I NEVER get to see the questions and the kids' answers. No teacher ever gets to deeply analyze what those results mean in order to better teach students. Teachers, children and parents get NOTHING out of this testing except many lost hours of real teaching time, stress, frustration, tears, fearfulness, anxiety and prescriptions for ulcer medications. For 9 year olds. This testing, which is supposed to improve education, does nothing but make it worse. I suppose, though, we could use the situation to teach the meaning of the word "irony."
The only people who seem to be profiting are people who are benefitting YOU.
I'm fighting every day for my students.
Whose side are you on?
Sincerely,
An Ohio Teacher
*Specifically, ones who have had their elections helped by donations from charter schools or others who profit off of mandatory State Testing. If you aren't one of these leaders, then thank you. Keep up the good work.
**More about charter schools in Ohio here
***If I'm lucky, I get notes at the end of the year saying "Thank you for teaching me this year!" from the kids. Those are precious.
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Zoetropes and Other Fanciful Things
I spent the better part of a Saturday at a professional development seminar about strategies for teaching gifted children. (Do I know how to live, or what?)
During one section, the leaders were talking about how we need to expose students to topics, ideas, culture, art, anything they have likely never seen before. They showed us a terrific short video of a zoetrope at Disney, featuring characters from Toy Story.
Everyone at my table perked up because we used to teach optical illusions, and our students loved it. So many teachers and administrators, though, would see what we did, and look at how hard the kids had worked, but they wouldn't get it. The most common response to nearly everything we did was "It must be nice to only get to teach the fun stuff. I have to teach the standards."
Zoetropes are just "fun stuff." That's not "real" learning. "Real" learning is diagrams and labels, worksheets, tests, and practicing their facts. It is reading and taking notes, class discussions, and making the map, the booklet, the letter to the editor, the approved project. Real teaching is what is in the standards.
The leaders asked what we thought about showing kids this zoetrope. I replied with something much shorter than this, but it's what I meant:
During one section, the leaders were talking about how we need to expose students to topics, ideas, culture, art, anything they have likely never seen before. They showed us a terrific short video of a zoetrope at Disney, featuring characters from Toy Story.
Everyone at my table perked up because we used to teach optical illusions, and our students loved it. So many teachers and administrators, though, would see what we did, and look at how hard the kids had worked, but they wouldn't get it. The most common response to nearly everything we did was "It must be nice to only get to teach the fun stuff. I have to teach the standards."
Zoetropes are just "fun stuff." That's not "real" learning. "Real" learning is diagrams and labels, worksheets, tests, and practicing their facts. It is reading and taking notes, class discussions, and making the map, the booklet, the letter to the editor, the approved project. Real teaching is what is in the standards.
The leaders asked what we thought about showing kids this zoetrope. I replied with something much shorter than this, but it's what I meant:
When a lot of teachers (and administrators) see this, they think "that's a neat magic trick." Or they may consider it cool art, but that's it. There's no other "real" educational value to it, and we shouldn't waste time on that in school. It's "play" and it's "trivial." It's not meaningful work.
That isn't true at all.
The zoetrope connects to science of the brain, and understanding how our eyes and brain work together to create the illusion of movement. It's complex and rich and requires some fairly sophisticated thinking to understand.
The zoetrope IS a form of art. Art is not trivial. I'll say that again: Art. Is. Not. Trivial. It is connected to all elements of society. There is precision in a zoetrope, perseverance, and great attention to small details. This particular zoetrope takes two dimensional art into three dimensions which connects to the math of shapes and figures. Zoetropes have been created in all kinds of media, from stick figures on paper to Tim Burton characters out of cake. Exploring how one subject crosses in unexpected ways with other subjects requires understandings of both. And even if it were not all those things, Art still would not be trivial.
Zoetropes are a wonderful lesson in change over time, which is in nearly every grade level's social studies standards. The earliest zoetropes began as simple two sided pictures and begat the entire motion picture industry.
Students can learn to create zoetropes which requires research, creativity, math, perseverance and precision. Each of these skills is absolutely a part of our curriculum at every grade level. If we are not teaching those skills then we are doing something wrong.
Finally, the zoetrope, or any other "weird" thing we might expose students to can capture the imagination of a child and inspire her to study, to create, to invent, or to find her own connections. For some kids, that weird thing is going to be the ONLY thing that lights a fire beneath them. To trivialize and dismiss content that does that for a child just because is it not what is on "the test" is a crime against our students. It is antithetical to the very notion of real education.
Teach the unusual. Expose students to a vast variety of ideas even when you don't know exactly where the connections will be. They will surface. You will find them. The students will create* them for you.
And best of all, they will remember it.
And isn't that the point?
*The next slide was a picture of a simple zoetrope. A student had gone home, researched zoetropes, made one and brought it into school. On her own. Not an assignment. Because she wanted to learn. That is great.
*The next slide was a picture of a simple zoetrope. A student had gone home, researched zoetropes, made one and brought it into school. On her own. Not an assignment. Because she wanted to learn. That is great.
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