Fantastic Insight re: Homework...And an Offer of a FREE Book!

Spread in front of me are 25 lovely final projects I need to grade for my MSU class...

Across the room is a giant Crock Pot that must be wrapped...

On the counter, not one, but THREE, to-do lists...

Yet I just absolutely needed to write about this...

Today in Ed Week online, there's an interview w/ Cathy Vatterott, known as the "homework lady." She began her own investigation into how homework affects kids and learning after witnessing her son's struggles with the it. Since then, she's written and spoken extensively about her research. (And her son's a successful college student, to boot.)

She has a new book, Rethinking Homework: Practices That Support Diverse Needs. I am going to make it a New Year's revolution---I mean, resolution--to read it and quote it often to the powers that be. (I am already planning to print and distribute the articles to my son's teachers.)

Dear fellow parent or person interested in the future of our nation, if you would like me to send me this book as a Christmas present, email me, and I will. Or, rather, I'll email a free copy to the first ten emailers.


I can't link the article, as it's subscription only, but here are a few excerpts from the EW's interview:

The biggest parent misconception is that a lot of homework is a sign of rigor. A lot of times, parents are like, “If they don’t do all of this work, they’re not going to get into Harvard.” Actually, the research doesn’t support that a lot of homework does any good.

And:

Students may not be able to do homework because of home conditions or family responsibilities, not because they are lazy or irresponsible. When teachers fail to understand how poverty or other circumstances can interfere with homework, there can be a tendency to make moral judgments about the student and the parent.

And:

When students are repeatedly given homework tasks that are too hard for them, frustrations build and students can start to hate learning. When kids are that frustrated, they basically just shut down. We’ve learned about that from brain research. We’ve known that frustration shuts down kids’ learning. And we know psychologically that’s what they do to protect themselves.

Amen, Ms. Homework Lady.

My Educationally-Inclined Christmas Wish List

Besides tix to see The Capitol Steps at Town Hall in February, an Ooo La La pedicure from Nails and Body Works, and the good health of my friends & family, I've got my educationally-oriented list working, too.

So Santa, please bring:

1. ...democracy to the educational process!

Children must have a voice in curriculum development and topic study, not to mention classroom governance.

Like parents helping children make a wish list for the holidays, educators
can and should lead youngsters in figuring out how they will pursue educational goals.

Kids are the biggest stakeholders. So let's give them a really large pointy stake in the whole thing!


2. ...better fundraising ideas, tied to clearly-described goals and rationales.

I'm not a big fan of the holiday bazaar going on in my kids' school right now. I understand that sometimes schools have to raise money, but this sort of thing leaves me cold. (And this is a big improvement over past fundraising efforts, which have included recruiting five-year-olds to sell candy!).

With something like the holiday bazaar, kids are encouraged to spend money on low-quality items without parental supervision. I just don't think this is a good use of school time, and it raises many issues.

I also don't understand why there IS so much fundraising (and it goes on at all schools in Montclair). Perhaps this is just lack of information for my part, but I think this aspect of school finance needs to be made more clear to all parents. Then, I think we have to figure out how to get more value from the taxpayer dollars we already contribute, where that money is going, and how we can get more of it directly to our kids, teachers, and classrooms.

(A problem with voicing dissatisfaction with this problem is that it makes one look Grinchy! But if the alternative is to sing "YaHoo Doray" while prancing around the tree of frenzied retailism that threatens to invade our schools, I've gotta say, "Bah Humbug." )

3. ... a realistic plan for abolishing or modifying tenure that will bring new vitality to our schools without alienating the many hardworking teachers in the system.


4. ...smaller classes.

5. ...better assessment.

Montclair needs to revisit its grading and instructional assessment system.

There's a lot of research out there that clearly points to the benefits of assessment tools like rubrics--when they are properly used!

And the grading system needs to be more clearly tied to learning, across grade levels.


So, Santa, if you bring me (our kids, our nation, our future) these things, I promise to be a good, though sometimes annoyingly outspoken, girl in 2010.

I will continue to constructively question educational practice.

I will advocate even more for my own children, whilst also considering the needs of children for whom no one advocates.

And I will continue to keep in mind the day-to-day stresses facing teachers in our classrooms.

Thank you in advance.

What Happens to "The Good Kids"?

What happens when your children are the well-behaved ones, the ones teachers cite as "nearly perfect"?

Well, I'm beginning to realize those kids pay a price.

I know because they are my children. Am I bragging? No. I can't. Because to be good, my kids keep a lot inside. They wrestle with the possibility that if they let their guard down for one moment, they may be at the receiving end of yelling, sarcasm, or punishment.

And, while I'm glad they want to be good, I am no longer flattered when told they are doing so. Not necessarily.

Let's face it: Our classrooms are crowded. Even in the northern New Jersey community where I live, and pay hefty taxes, there are upwards of 25 kids in each class. Thankfully, those taxes fund assistants to help the teacher. But, still. That's a lot of kids to keep under control.

And that's often what it comes down to: control.

I know this because my son, the original perfect student, is fearful of losing privileges (e.g. recess) or merely being yelled at by one teacher* who tells me, "Your son is great. He doesn't have to worry. Tell him to worry about himself."

(So much for raising a caring child.)

Furthermore, it's his learning environment. It surrounds him. How can it not affect him?

This teacher tells me, "It's the other children I have to worry about."

Ohhhhhhh!

You mean those kids I've known for four years, the ones whose parents are doctors, lawyers, teachers, and artists, the ones always volunteering, donating, participating? You mean, the ones with the different learning styles and needs and quirks, the kind that don't necessarily benefit from traditional instruction? You mean those squirmy eight-year-old boys who tip their chairs back sometimes, or the group of girls who like to chatter? (God forbid we should talk excitedly while learning! Or use kids' natural exuberance to help them teach others!)

So, you want a good kid?

You got him. A good kid who knows how to play the game (not because he's had any hand in making the rules of that game or that curriculum or anything else important about his educational experience, in fact), but who also knows exactly what will happen if he steps over that foul line by even an inch.

A sensitive child about whom this teacher, so full of her congratulations about his goodness, declares, when told of his worries, "He's too sensitive."





* Not his classroom teacher.

A Missing Piece in Teacher Prep

Two people last week actually asked why I haven't posted in a couple of weeks. They said they missed me!!! Aw, shucks.

Anyway...

There was a pretty good op-ed on teacher preparation in the NYTimes a coupla days ago.

I wrote a letter right back at them. (I do this occasionally, and, occasionally, they publish one.*)

In my letter, I pointed out that in order for teachers to "know children," as the writer suggests, they must know their families. They must know how to deal with varieties of parents--the anxious ones, the hostile ones, the ones who take their religions very seriously. They must understand what makes such parents tick/get ticked off. They must have practice communicating with parents. They must understand why parents are very important customers. (NOT more important than kids, but almost as...**) Especially if a teacher isn't a parent, they must be sensitized. What is it like to give up your heart's desire for six or more hours every day? To entrust this (little innocent darling/gangly hypertexting avatar) to someone you do not know? Teachers don't have to be parents, of course, but they have to get this, I think.

New teachers, or almost-teachers, must decide if they like this aspect of the job, the parent whispering. I didn't. Mostly I didn't because I had to be self-taught in this department. (Teachers College is as great as Arne Duncan says, but, at least back then, there wasn't much offered in this particular department.) Eventually, I got it figured out, and then my teaching blossomed. Once parents bought in, my road was a lot smoother. But it should not have been such a hit-or-miss proposal.

* Alas, not this time.

** And if I haven't already, I just want to point out that kids are the #1 customers. They just don't know it. But if they ever figured it out...

Power Assessorizing

O.k.

So, I'm doing what I do: Teaching future teachers.  

They are lovely.  Fresh-faced.  Eager to please.  Full of good ideas and hopes and really really substantial criticisms of the education system.   I love them!

However, I am struggling.

See, I teach something called Assessment of Learning.  Well, MSU calls it this.  I call it Assessment FOR Learning.  Which is what assessment is ultimately meant to be: FOR learning.  Not for funds. Not for awards. Not for merit pay.  FOR LEARNING.

Like, if a student can't tell you that four + four is eight, then you say to yourself, "Well, I must go back and reteach it."  Or, at another point, you say, "Well, I've been over that a hundred times!  What's going on here?"  And there are all kinds of cool, easy ways to figure out who's learning what and how that can inform what you do in the classroom.

But now the professor becomes the assessor.  I've graded the first rounds of essays, responses students write to the articles we read in class.  We have a rubric, which is can be a great self- assessment tool, pulling apart all the aspects of completing a task and describing how students can attain a certain grade. For instance, what is a good reflective essay?  Well, for one thing,  it "...is logically organized" and vocabulary used to write it is "...subject-relevant."  It also delineates between a "content" grade and one for "conventions of writing" (punctuation, mechanics, etc.)

In my class, I have a generous revision policy.  After all, I am a writer, and I never get anything down the first time.  Never.  (See that little typo, above, which I intentionally kept so I could make this point.)

I also weight this requirement of the class;  essay grades account for 40% of the total grade for the course.  The rest?  Participation and in-class activities, as well as the final project.  

But the writing part is important.  Writing is thinking.  Thinking is writing.  And I hate this aspect of my class--the grading of this thinking.   Even with our nice little rubric, with our revision policy, with all the feedback and help I give on these things, I recognize that assigning a grade means making a judgment.  I'm not saying that's wrong, but it's hard.  

I have lovely, smart students who struggle to get a sentence on paper.  Sometimes, I can't even be sure they read the article or watched the video on Edutopia or listened to the podcast.  And I find myself getting annoyed. Indignant.  Frustrated.

Other times, when a student is really saying something important through their writing, when they've really GOTTEN it down, I want to make smiley faces and exclamation marks all over the paper, then I want to write them an email saying, "Thank you, student!  You are the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to  me!  I love you!"

And that is equally disturbing.  

Because in both instances, there is the slightest notion of subjectivity here.  Especially with something like writing.  

For instance, I'm a "professional" writer.  And I'm old.  How good ARE my students meant to be at this point in their lives at what is an evolving skill?  I want to be part of that evolution, but to do so, I have to start at some baseline.  To do so, I have to acknowledge that work needs to be done.  And that critical aspect of evaluating someone can be hurtful, no matter how carefully it's broached.  

That hurt, I think, can also build walls that influence the way students think about us, our values, and our intentions.  Every day, I ask myself, "Is this about power?  What do you want here?  What do they need? Is this fair?"  And it can be harrowing, finding these answers.  

I hope by asking them of myself, I am a better teacher.   But who knows.

Do Schools Wound? Part 2.

Book recommendation:  Wounded By School: Recapturing the Joy in School and Standing Up to Old School Culture.

For ten years, the author, Kirsten Olson,  followed and interviewed one hundred students, teachers, and parents to discover their common school experiences.  Why were so many kids disengaged with the school experience?  Why did so many gifted teachers leave the field within three years?  Why did students experience themselves not as learners in an active process of becoming more literate, but as losers, failures, and/or outcasts?  Why did parents give up, (at best) ultimately encouraging their children to tow the line and get through the process?

I wrote a bit about this last summer.  Hope you'll read the book.

sdntroversial new book says that the way we educate millions of American children alienates students from a fundamental pleasure in learning, and that pleasure in learning is essential to real engagement, creativity, intellectual entrepreneurship, and a well lived life.

Based on almost a decade of intensive autobiographical interviews with over 100 "ordinary" students, teachers, and parents, Wounded By School describes some of the dilemmas of those in school now. Students talk about intensive boredom and daily disengagement, while knowing that school "matters" more than ever.  Students and teachers describe a grinding lack of meaning in their work, combined with intensive labeling, tracking and shrink-wrapping of learners based on cursory tests and poor understanding of many kinds of minds.

Wounded By School identifies seven kinds of common school wounds, and tells the stories of those who have experienced them.

This controversial new book says that the way we educate millions of American children alienates students from a fundamental pleasure in learning, and that pleasure in learning is essential to real engagement, creativity, intellectual entrepreneurship, and a well lived life.

Based on almost a decade of intensive autobiographical interviews with over 100 "ordinary" students, teachers, and parents, Wounded By School describes some of the dilemmas of those in school now. Students talk about intensive boredom and daily disengagement, while knowing that school "matters" more than ever.  Students and teachers describe a grinding lack of meaning in their work, combined with intensive labeling, tracking and shrink-wrapping of learners based on cursory tests and poor understanding of many kinds of minds.

This controversial new book says that the way we educate millions of American children alienates students from a fundamental pleasure in learning, and that pleasure in learning is essential to real engagement, creativity, intellectual entrepreneurship, and a well lived life.

Based on almost a decade of intensive autobiographical interviews with over 100 "ordinary" students, teachers, and parents, Wounded By School describes some of the dilemmas of those in school now. Students talk about intensive boredom and daily disengagement, while knowing that school "matters" more than ever.  Students and teachers describe a grinding lack of meaning in their work, combined with intensive labeling, tracking and shrink-wrapping of learners based on cursory tests and poor understanding of many kinds of minds.

A Reckoning

Over the past several days, I've gotten a lot of feedback regarding the post about my son's homework.  (You'd never know it by the lack of comments here, but apparently, this thing is being read!)

I never used the teacher' name, and as I said throughout the post, I had qualms about writing it because I didn't want to hurt anyone or put my own darling son in a bad situation.  

Today, I deleted that post.  

I'm still a little confused as to whether that was the right thing to do.  The fact is, I have assiduously tried to be diplomatic here.  Originally, I was going to author this blog anonymously.  Then, when that seemed somehow cowardly, I decided to always err on the side of caution.  At any rate, I most want to share my experiences and--this is the crucial part--figure out solutions and discover new ideas.  

But last week happened, and I was frustrated.  To me, it was the perfect example of the disconnect between parents and schools that can derail the best educational intentions.

I decided that if it was my experience, and if it was factual and as truly reported as one's own perspective can be, then it might really be heard.  And it was!  (Most of the feedback was completely supportive.)

But like I said, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.  I don't.   I was a teacher, and, as I will write about soon, I was the victim of parental antagonism.   It was an awful year for me, but I learned from it.  (The next year was my best year ever.)

A bully, I do NOT want to be.  

So, if you want that text of that post, I can send it to you.  If you disagree with my self-censorship, I'd love to know about it.  

And, apologies to my son's teacher on the remote chance she read the blog already.  Know this: There are things I need as a parent.  There are things my kids need as students.  But there are things YOU need, too, and I know that.  Those three things can come together in what we all seek--the best education system for all.

Exciting Thoughts from the Heights

I am reflecting quietly on some things that have happened in the past week or so w/ my kids' schooling, trying to figure out how to unwrap it here.  

In the meantime, here's a recent article from Edutopia describing how technology--the way KIDS use it--must shape our educational practice. It's written by Michele Knobel, the head of the reading department at Montclair State.  

I was supposed to matriculate in the masters reading program there this fall, but have put it off until January.  When we met a week ago to discuss my interests and the direction of my studies, Dr. Knobel encouraged me to investigate the PhD program in curriculum and teaching that may be offered next fall.  After all, I already have a masters in that area.   

I do plan to look into getting my doctorate (and not being a wage earner for another decade).  But the reading program still beckons.  One reason I applied to it is because there's a heavy emphasis on "new" literacies--how digital natives communicate information differently than in generations past, and how, in turn, technology can (and will!) reinforce the acquisition of literacy skills.

The other reason I'm excited about the program is that Dr. Knobel is the kind of vibrant thinker who sees things for what they are, but wants to make them better.   

My kind of gal.

 

More on Cursive Writing (Or, Are There Better Uses of Instructional Time?)

Last week, I wrote about the emphasis on cursive writing in my son's third-grade classroom.

An article on that subject appears in today's Education Week.  (Unfortunately, as many dear readers pointed out last week, you must subscribe to Ed Week to get the entire text.  If you would like the entire article,  or any others from that periodical, I can email them to you...)

The article includes arguments FOR continued emphasis on cursive, but it comes mostly from, uh, Zaner-Bloser, the company that publishes most of this country's penmanship curriculum!!! The other pro-cursives are the teachers who insist 

In the age of computers, I just tell the children, what if we are on an island and don't have electricity? One of the ways we communicate is through writing...

Here's a more thoughtful analysis of the issue from that article:

[Vanderbilt University professor] Graham argues that fears over the decline of handwriting in general and cursive in particular are distractions from the goal of improving students' overall writing skills. The important thing is to have students proficient enough to focus on their ideas and the composition of their writing rather than how they form the letters. (Itals, mine.)

Data from the National Center for Education Statistics show that 26 percent of 12th graders lack basic proficiency in writing, while two percent were sufficiently skilled writers to be classified as "advanced. "

"Handwriting is really the tail wagging the dog," Graham said.

Besides, it isn't as if all those adults who learned cursive years ago are doing their writing with the fluent grace of John Hancock.

Most people peak in terms of legibility in 4th grade, Graham said, and Wright said it's common for adults to write in a cursive-print hybrid.

Back to School Night: Low-Tech

Last night was Back to School night at my kids' school.  There are exciting things going on in both classrooms, and I am happy that my children have such passionate and devoted teachers.

But one thing I noticed?   In both classrooms, I heard (mostly) fearful and/or disdainful references to technology.   

There was a tiny TV in the corner of the room on which our principal and PTA president delivered the keynote welcome--usually done in the flesh.  So, there was that.  I would have also liked to hear how this particular kind of "technology" can be and is used to promote learning and critical thinking skills.  Is it just used as a TV, as it was last night?  Because if it is, that's nothing new, of course.  Will video be produced by the kids to demonstrate understanding of a topic or produce a school newscast?  If so, I'd love to hear about it!

We did talk about an important ("serious") part of the third-grade curriculum:  Cursive!  

The main rationale given for teaching it? Because there aren't enough laptops the kids can use for typing their work.  (I'm not sure I get it, but I think it's arguable.)  I'm going to go out on a limb and guess my kids will NEVER have to use cursive.  (And as far as producing a signature, I'm sure that'll be outdated in, say, 10 years.  If not, I didn't develop mine until I was an adult, and it took all of about five minutes.)  Instead of cursive, couldn't we substitute more math?  Science?Literature?  Writing?  Lunch time?  Recess?  

In another classroom, technology was referred to as the enemy of early literacy.  Young children come to school now "not able to handwrite."  (Though of the ten children I know in that class, some of whom attended the Pre-K, ALL of them can write.)  And this is blamed on--computers?  I'm not sure this is true, but if it is, then maybe technology can be our friend in this endeavor.  

While doing some research today, I happened upon this article promoting the latest issue of the the fabulous magazine, Educational Leadership.  In this case, the subject is specifically social networking, but it applies to every other kind of technology out there.  

I've copied and forwarded it both to the principal of my kids' school and Dr. Alvarez.   Below is a tiny excerpt, but I am personally looking forward to reading more of the new issue.  I hope you will, too.

New communications tools are now supporting group interaction and group actions in ways they have never done before. As a result, the way we communicate, read, write, listen, persuade, learn from others, and accomplish community actions is changing. Or, as someone said when we were planning this issue of Educational Leadership, "Literacy—it's not just learning to read a book anymore."

"Students will be—and to some extent already are—living in a world of online interactions for which they currently have few learning contexts or models," Will Richardson (p. 26) tells us:

Teaching students to contribute and collaborate online in ways that are both safe and appropriate requires instruction and modeling, not simply crossing our fingers and hoping for the best when they go home and do it on their own.

We mustn't be fearful or label this new reality a fad just because we don't possess fluency with the media yet. We must instead remember how much our kids need us to teach them the old literacy skills and facilitate the learning of the new. As Jason Ohler writes, "Now more than ever, students need teachers who can help them sort through choices, apply technology well, and tell their stories clearly and with humanity."

Amen.

How Every Kid in Montclair Can Have a Private Tutor

Yesterday, a piece in the NYT explained how technology could ultimately be used in schools (and already is in some) to provide students with the kind of one-on-one tutoring valued in classical education.  The article delineates how, for instance, online learning (e.g. a lesson or course taught via the Internet) can teach important concepts:

Online education used to be mostly correspondence courses put on the Web. But no more, as interactive simulations for trial-and-error experiments become routine. An example, Ms. Means said, might be Web-based software to teach elementary school students the concept of density by testing if virtual objects float or sink in water. Size and weight alone, she noted, determines whether an object floats — and students can test their predictions against online simulations.

“Students are not repeating something they learned by rote, but making if-then judgments,” said Ms. Means, an educational psychologist at SRI International. “The more of that you can do, the more real learning goes on.”

This is something I've thought a lot about in the past.  In fact, not so long ago, when I was exploring my kids' educational options, but realized homeschooling would never work for our family, I considered hiring a tutor who could work with my kids, providing enriched but traditional tutoring on an individualized basis for about four hours a day.

I figured "socialization" could happen in extra-curricular settings, as they participated in sports and other activities.  

Quick calculations led me to believe we could do this for somewhat less than sending both kids to private schools, but with the high taxes in Montclair, it wouldn't make sense.  (And thus the voucher system appeals to me on many levels. Much to the consternation of my liberal loved ones!) 

For this, and other reasons, I let the brainstorm fizzle.   Always, I hear the voice in my head that argues, They need to learn all this stuff--how to stand up for themselves in a big crowd, how to deal with the sarcastic, mean, or disorganized teacher, how to deal with boredom.

But I am on the fence.  I'm not so sure  young children should have to deal with boredom, unresponsive teachers, or conforming to the crowd.   (And if this is a requirement of our society (e.g. the typical workplace or the political system), let's question that, instead.)

So technology holds a promise here.  But not just for kids and families who have a certain idea of education, like tutoring or homeschooling.  It can also work, obviously, for the schools themselves, perhaps making fantasies like mine unnecessary, even obsolete.

In fact, it seems a little weird to me that technology is not used MORE in our classrooms, and that it's still being debated at all.  There's so much talk in our district about differentiated instruction.  With technology, you've got one very very good way to make that actually happen.

I teach at Montclair State, and we are constantly being exhorted by the higher authorities there to remember whom we are dealing with--digital natives, born into (and sometimes, on) the Internet, texting, blogging, and You Tubing the way my generation phoned, watched TV, and appropriated Pink Floyd lyrics to communicate our ideas and explore issues.  Yes, I can have my college students write essays and listen as I lecture.  But if I really want to know what they're thinking about the material?  I'd better read their Tweets about the class, too.

Kindergartners must be taught to use the Internet, first and second graders to blog, third graders to create videos demonstrating their understanding of colonial America, and so forth.  

And not next year or within ten years.  But now.

Happy New Year!

We had some ups and downs yesterday as both my kids started school.  All I could do was promise that, whatever problems might arise, we'd solve them together.  It sounds so...

Parents magazinish,  but this mantra seems to satisfy my kids. Fact is,  I am a little more confident navigating the "system" than I was in 2006, when my boy started kindergarten.  But not much more.  As determined as I am to advocate for my children, sometimes, it gives me a stomachache.  An ulcer, to be exact.

So, today was Day 2.  And, for me, that is always the more pivotal moment in this whole transition.  The first day is all about encountering the unknowable--anxiety-provoking, but containing the germ of promise, too.  The second day, the mystery becomes reality.  The germ becomes either a healthy shoot or a raging virus.  

So, I felt tense picking them up at 2:30. I saw my daughter's kindergarten teacher on the playground with them, practicing at lining up and listening, two activities that set my teeth on edge--no matter how necessary they may be in moving groups of small children from one place in a large school to another.  Oh no, I inwardly groaned.  My girl is going to hate all that! (Not because she doesn't know how to do this, or isn't supremely well-behaved, but because she IS.)

Then I remembered how, yesterday, my son actually cried when he saw a teacher he will be encountering this year.  (And I'm not sure this teacher is so "bad" at all, but merely scary, somehow, to him.)

As I walked to meet my children, here's what my inner worrier was saying:  

I will take them both out of school this year if things don't go well.  I will!  We will move to Princeton and I will sell all my stocks to send them to The Waldorf School!  Or I will homeschool!  Or run away with them to Korea, where I will teach English, and they will write Hangul and learn to eat pickled vegetables!  

(Never mind that 1) my wealth in stocks would barely cover the materials fees at Waldorf; 2) I took my kids to the doctor two days before school started simply because I'd run out of ways to entertain them; and, 3) my husband's company doesn't have an office in Korea.)

And then I saw them, and when I asked my daughter how it went, she said, "Good."

And when we met my son, he said he'd had a good day, and smiled.  

And I breathed deeply and said a prayer of thanks to the teachers for the beginning of something good.

Julie, the Diamond of Teachers

A week ago, I was reading the Times when I happened upon this letter to the editor, written by Julie Diamond, the woman I worked with while doing my student teaching in NYC more than two decades ago.

I'd tried tracking Julie down years before now, but wasn't able to do so. It was lovely knowing she's still around, still thinking deeply about how young children learn, and letting her voice be heard about an issue of intense interest to me, not least because it's what we explore in my class at MSU.  

But seeing her name that day brought back memories, and reminded me of how my earliest ideals about teaching were formed.  

Julie taught kindergarten at P.S. 166 on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.   The children in her class came from every conceivable kind of family and household--except, of course, extreme wealth.  There were many children of middle class (mostly white) artists and professionals, and an equal number of kids from working class and poor (mostly Hispanic) families.  

Julie was amazing.  She was one of the warmest people I ever met, without being Pollyanna-ish or gushy.  She brought rigor to her teaching, seeming to look hard at herself as she interacted with her students, always questioning her effectiveness and never resting on her laurels.  

Julie approached every single child in that classroom as an individual.  She had high expectations, but not absurd ones.  A child who came to school in a thin blouse on a snowy day in February needed a coat, and Julie would find her one, because a kid who was sick just didn't learn all that well. 

She viewed parents as helpmeets and resources, no matter what they had to offer.  And she would make it her business to find what they could offer.

After my stint with Julie,  I was assigned to student teach at Trinity School, just across the street from P.S. 166. 

I remember seeing about half of the children in that fifth grade class cheat during a history exam.  I remember hearing kids taunt each other over clothing labels and cry during recess because they were afraid their fathers would be mad with a less-than-perfect grade.  More importantly, I had an awful cooperating teacher.  She screamed at the kids and commented sarcastically about their wealth, privilege, and weaknesses behind their backs (but often within their hearing).   She didn't seem sure of what to do with me, and I wasn't sure, either.  

Needless to say, I missed Julie's class every day, and thought how, given the choice, I'd choose her school over Trinity any day.  I still would.

Teacher Assignments: Squeals or Shrugs?

The other day, I took my kids to see "Ice Age 3" @ Garden State Plaza.  

We were buying popcorn when a huge screech exploded in my ear.  It came from a young girl, perhaps nine years old, who was talking to her mom on her cell phone.   

"Oh, my God!" she yelled.  "I got Mrs. Excellento!"  

The other girl she was with--seemingly her BFF--looked anxious, to which the screamer asserted,  "You have to call your mom and find out who you got!" 

The girl complied, and when she heard the name of her teacher, she smiled and said, "Oh, I'm so happy! I love Ms. Goodnough!"  She wasn't screeching, but she was well pleased.

A few days later, we got our teacher assignments.  My son, doing his best Tween impersonation, shrugged and said, "Oh."

My daughter said, "Okay, mom. Great.  What color playdough should I use for the fairy's hair?"

It's not that my kids dislike their upcoming teachers.  My daughter knows her kindergarten teacher because my son had her and because she ran a sweet little day camp my girl attended over two summers.  As for the third grade teachers, we don't know them all that well, but hear they are "good."  Mostly, I think my son is just (I hate to admit it) a typical guy.  He deals with things when he has to.  Or something to that effect.

A few days have passed, and I've gotten assorted emails and heard in person who got whom and what parents think about it.  But everyone around here seems, well, so subdued.  This applies not just to kids/parents who attend our school, but others.  I'm in no way convinced that it's a bad thing, but it does strike me as interesting somehow...

One friend emailed me just now when I asked how she felt about the teacher her son was assigned, the same one her daughter struggled with a couple of years ago.  

"I'm okay with it," was her reply, "It'll teach him that life isn't perfect."

Soooooo, do YOU know any kids who've waxed rhapsodic in the past week upon hearing about their teachers?  Or is that sort of over-the-top hilarity more about spin or personality (or something in the drinking water in Bergen county) than a reflection of what actually makes a good teacher?

 

If-Only Schools

While trolling the pbs.org web site today, looking for some game my daughter had seen advertised on TV, I came across a Q&A site about the back-to-school worries parents might have...

The two experts gave perfectly acceptable answers to some questions--about missed buses and the possible loss of innocence that face kindergartners and sixth graders alike.  

But I found some of the answers unhelpful and downright unrealistic, much as I do a lot of this advice.  For instance, to a parent's query about "the mysterious 'supply list' " that hasn't yet shown up in the mail, one of the columnists responds:

Heather - welcome to school! No need to wait for the answers to come to you - head on in there and start asking questions. As a teacher, it is easy to forget some parents are new to this whole school thing. You will not be shamed for not knowing what to do and will probably be cheered on by other parents who have lots of the same questions you do. The teachers will certainly appreciate your desire to be involved and seek out information. So, raise your hand and ask away. In doing so, you will also be setting a great example for your child to do the same.

What does this mean, "head on in there and start asking questions"?  And why does it seem so, well, foreign to me, as the parent of kids in Montclair's schools?  

I happen to know the teacher my daughter will probably be assigned for kindergarten, so I'm more comfortable with her and with her expectations.  Besides, she's outside during pick-up, and while not available for lengthy discussions in general, I can probably fire off a general question or two at 2:30.  But I don't know either of the teachers my son might get--I'm not sure I even know what they look like.  And I don't recall seeing them outside, so when I could I ask these questions?  There's a buzzer to be rung in order to visit the school, and it's generally frowned upon to visit a teacher after school with general questions.  (Not to mention that it's hard to pin them down, at least in my experience, because they are NOT officially on school email, don't have phones in their classrooms, and don't always get my messages.)

I've never received a supply list from a teacher, but I think my son's kindergarten teacher sent a note of welcome outlining some important issues.  Each year, first grade parents host a kindergarten playdate, which is nice, but teachers/administrators aren't there,  and it's very informal, not even held in the school.  There's no such thing as a bus orientation for those who take the bus, and kids don't get any sort of introductory tour before the first day, so those who DON'T have siblings in the school are often getting their initial exposure to it, well, on the first day. (There is a free week-long kindergarten screening in Montclair, held during the summer, but children are randomly assigned to teachers/schools for that.)

I don't really get this, as it seems that such things would really make the transition back to school so much easier--and probably save teachers and administrators headaches in the long run...I know someone once cited "insurance" as a problem in, say, opening up the school the day before it begins.  (Though, according to the tentative school calendar I received, teachers are in meetings for a few days leading up to our late starting day, September 9.) Someone also told me there are strict union rules against such things.  Sigh.

So...are the "experts" just clueless, or is my experience of NOT knowing what to expect unusual for Montclair?  Or maybe their kids go to private schools?

Well, SOMEONE'S Talking Tenure

 Chris Daggett, gubernatorial candidate for NJ governor, is saying interesting things about tenure. 

Anyone in Montclair care to add their two cents?  

Elected, Appointed, Transparent, Accountable

Back from vacation.

Taking a few harried moments from nursing my daughter after her adenoidectomy.

My head's spinning a bit, though, and not just because I'm tired.  I posted a (long) comment on the Watercooler the other day relating to the heated debate swirling around elected vs. appointed Board of Ed.  Resident Pegi Adam has organized an effort to abolish the current system wherein the mayor appoints the Board so that we may vote for members instead.  Many citizens, including current parents with kids in school, support this. 

Here's my post:

There are so many incredibly intelligent "sides" to this debate, I'm almost too intimidated to post here!   After reading about this issue for weeks, not wanting to dive into the debate because I just wasn't SURE how I felt, I do now believe that an elected board will probably help parents (and taxpayers?) feel more "heard."  But maybe just a little more.

And that, I think, is what I this seems to be all about.  Not feeling heard.  Over and over again, people on both sides of the issue cite transparency and accountability as key reasons for this possible change.   And, as a parent fairly new to the "system," but not to education (I was a teacher for years, wrote about teachers for years, teach up-and-coming teachers @ MSU, and am a matriculating grad student again in education), I can say very strongly:  It is difficult to feel heard as a parent in the public schools in Montclair.  

I could give personal examples but, frankly, I am scared to do so.  Why? Because I am afraid I'll be "punished" somehow or, worse, my children will be.  It's not that my experiences are so horrible.  It's just that there's this pressure to "go along."  Why?  Because teachers and administrators have incredible power over what happens to our children.  And that power can be used in as many good as negative ways.  (See my blog,www.themontclairbell.blogspot.com for more on this.)  

So from whence does this fear arise?  That's the question I have for all the posters here.  Is it because it IS too hard to make change happen in our schools?  Is it because it's impossible to address everyone's needs?  (For instance, some of us believe traditional academics should be emphasized, some believe social/emotional dev't is most important, etc. etc. etc.) Is it because our past history as students so deeply affects us as we deal with educators from the "other side of the desk"?  

I mean, there's the story of the teacher at one elementary school here in Montclair who screams at her students on a regular basis, whom parents have complained about for years-yet she is one of the highest paid teachers in the district. AND SHE HAS TENURE.  The principal says, to a group of parents in a PTA meeting, in effect: "Well, you let me know about any teacher, and I'll document it. I'll make sure something is done." But it isn't.  Parents have been documenting it for years, apparently. (And my child did NOT have this teacher, so I don't have a personal beef here, and don't know the full and total story.  I do know a few parents actually have ended up liking this teacher...so, there's my point about the different values/needs we all bring to the process.)

My point is: Reinvent the BOE all you want...If we do not get down to brass tacks about what prevents us, as parents, taxpayers, and, yes, our kids as STUDENTS in the system (who have next to no say in how they are educated), from feeling HEARD and powerful, it doesn't matter.  It just doesn't.

Furthermore, why is TENURE not being debated here?  Big things are happening around that issue elsewhere, e.g. in Washington, D.C.  But why don't I hear about that at all here?  (Or maybe I missed that discussion?) I'm not saying tenure should go--I understand why it exists.  But shouldn't it at least be debated??????  

I'm interested, truly interested, in hearing about parents' DAILY experiences of being listened to (or not) by our educators.  I'm getting the feeling that at least some folks do NOT feel empowered by the schools, and that is something worth exploring.  There are many ways schools can address this issue, from the more complicated (e.g. elected BOE) to the simple (getting ALL teachers on email, from kindergarten and up).   

Another place to start:  Figuring out whether BOE folks, teachers, admins, read THIS forum.  If so, it'd be good to know.  If not, why?  

Well, I heard personally from a lot of people on the topic, including acquaintances who've had a hard time navigating the system, and those who think it's fine as is; former neighbors on one side of the debate or the other; and BOE members who offered to meet with me on the issue.  As I stated in my post, I'm personally less concerned about whether the board is appointed or elected, and more concerned about the overall accountability and responsiveness of our schools in general.  But it sure is an interesting topic!

I am hoping I can get these folks to post their thoughts as COMMENTS on this blog so others can read them.  

Do Our Schools Wound?

If you don't do anything else today, please read the article, Are Schools Wounding Kids?

In it, writer and teacher Kathie Marshall describes her experience returning to a remedial classroom after being a literacy coach for eight years.  She describes how her middle grade students think of themselves as failures, only good at things like graffitti and acting up.  She tells how bored and frustrated these kids are by the scripted "No Child Left Behind" teaching methods now used to "help" struggling learners.

She cites a new book, Wounded by School by Kirsten Olson, that brought back memories of her own humiliations as a student.   She looked around at her students and recognized in them Olson's descriptions of how schools can hurt.  And not just at-risk students.

Wounded by School delineates a dozen different types of school wounding and their effects, including:

• Feeling you aren’t smart and your ideas lack value.
• Feeling you don’t have what it takes to be successful in school.
• Feeling ashamed of your efforts.
• Suffering a loss of ambition, self-discipline, and persistence when faced with obstacles.

In a section called “wounds of rebellion,” I found my intervention kids and their defensive symptoms:

• The only way to protect yourself is to rebel.
• In response to being unsuccessful or told we are unworthy, we become hostile.
• We are unwilling to see another point of view.
• We act out, as an adaptive response and it becomes fixed, maladaptive, and self-destructive.

Life, even for kids, can offer hard lessons.  Teachers, like parents, are far from perfect, certainly not immune to the stress of difficult life experiences and overcrowded classrooms.    

So, discounting the normal slings and arrows of living, has your child ever had an episode that has caused him or her to freeze up intellectually?  Not by a stupid thing some teacher said once, not by one unfair grade or unearned punishment, but by more insidious circumstances, like boredom,  social exclusion, conformity, or lack of respect for a different learning style. 

Are Montclair schools wounding or healing?  If some kids thrive here, and some don't, why?  

Getting an Educational Buzz On

You know those images of water-deprived people lost in the desert, crawling with their last remaining strength in the sand toward the watery oasis ahead?  

Well, that's me, dragging my you-know-what up to Montclair State yesterday.  In this case, MSU was the watery oasis and I was the person in the metaphorical sand, deprived not of water but of intellectual vitality.  

I'm back today, against all odds, having temporarily jury-rigged camp and childcare schedules, not to mention the paving of Grove Street and torrential downpours, to get here.  I know, I know: A month ago I was "freaked out" by thoughts of scratchy professor clothes and getting out of the house before 11.  But that was then...

Today, I have a meeting with an academic advisor.  But mainly I just wanted to be here again, surrounded by grad students and other adjuncts, reading the various department bulletin boards for interesting education news, perusing new publications by professors I know, and absorbing the cerebral buzz through my pores.  I won't get much accomplished--my summer plate is too full (and not, unfortunately, with barbecue).  But I will get that little electric charge I need to anticipate the Time for Me that is only 49 days, 20 hours, and 15 seconds away.  Better yet, being in an innovative environment makes me want to create, improve, and think hard about The Future.  

Looking around at this very moment as I sit in MSU's ADP Center for Teacher Preparation and Learning Technology, I see people banging at computers, meeting in small groups, checking out various resources, collaborating, thinking.

I wish K-12 educational environments were like this by mandate, not just because some have successfully partnered with agencies like NASA or have links to corporations with deep pockets. Schools should be places where kids--even the little ones--are engaged in supervised intellectual pursuits and research most of the time. And why not?  After all, the technology exists and most of us use it every single day.  

With wider, more efficient use of technology, we could start teaching kindergartners how to find out stuff using books, the Internet and other digital tools, each other, and teachers-as-guides.  Couldn't our aim be that by, say, third grade, students would be independent authors of their own educational agendas?   We could provide the structure for those agendas; well-engineered state standards are crucial to having an excellent national school system.  Then we work out with children--using those ever-important problem solving skills we are trying to foster--how they will not only fulfill those goals, but prove they've done it.

Here's a cool video about a kid named Cameron, all of eleven years old, who uses technology in every aspect of his life--to educate himself, to educate others, to prove what he knows.  Tell me this cannot be done more widely in Montclair.  Or tell me where it's already happening.  (Not in the elementary schools that I know of.)

In my next entry, I'll write more about Montclair's commitment to technology in education.   In the meantime, read here.

This Is What a Blog Looks Like on Summer Vacation

Unbelievably, we have been busier these days than during the rest of the year, when I am working a lot more and my kids are in school.

How did that happen?

Summer Brain Drain: Part Duh

Well, it's here.  We're going on our third day of Schoollessness, a condition not far-removed from Lawlessness, at least in my house.

Since school let out on Thursday, we have:

1) Taken a three-hour hike up and down Pyramid Mountain (the Matterhorn of New Jersey, IMHO) during which my kids said, "Mom, what are you complaining about? We've been walking for three hours and you don't see US whining, do you?" (Okay, the 8-year-old 'tween said this, but his five-year-old sis seconded the motion.)

2) Had four playdates.

3) Played with the 17-year-old nephew football player in the grandparent's pool until the 17-year-old nephew football player said, "I need to lie down."

4) Made a pulley system on the backyard jungle gym @ 7 AM two mornings in a row.

5) Eaten 3 gallons of ice cream and 15 s'mores (thanks, grandma).

I could go on.

I'm tired, and yesterday, I actually counted the days until September 9th. 

But the season is rubbing off on me, and I'm not talking just about the patch of poison ivy rash I have on my left knee.

Clicking on the link to Blogger today took monumental effort.  Going up to Montclair State yesterday on some professional business freaked me out.   I tried to envision myself dressed in my Professor Uniform (wool pants and tailored shirt), and I got itchy (and not just on my left knee).  I went to the library during my precious free time yesterday, found a book I'd wanted on assessment in secondary schools, thought better of it, and went to the periodicals room to read People.

If there's anyone whose inner clock ticks to the school year beat, it's mine.  I was a kid/young adult on that calendar for 23 years.  Then I taught.  When I left teaching to write and edit for Instructor magazine, we actually got busier in the summer, as teachers began submitting their ideas and articles to us when they were done with school.  I loved that job beyond all reason, but my system went into shock.  There was rarely any time to, well, reflect.  And as you know, I like to reflect.

Seriously, in what we used to call Industry (everything outside of education), there were no end-of-year parties or hugs of thanks or crayon-scrawled cards proclaiming us The Best Teacher Alive. There was no sitting in an empty classroom sighing with both relief and poignant remembrance. In Industry (especially these days), cleaning out one's desk is a euphemism for getting laid off, not an opportunity to alphabetize sight-word flashcards. 

Regardless of whether a teacher "works" in the summer or not (and most do), having a light at the end of a tunnel is both a gift and, probably, a necessity.  A necessity because in such an intense job, where human interaction is so vital, intense, and unavoidable, you need some time to step back and look away so you can step forward and see.

The Impossible Position of Schools

On my way home from dropping my kids at school today, this ditty kept cycling through my head:

           No more homework

           No more books

           No more teachers' dirty looks...

My children have not yet learned that poem, or this one:

 

          In days of old, 

          When knights were bold,

          And teachers weren't invented,

          You'd go to school and be a fool

          And come out at 3:30

          Contented.

And then there's Alice Cooper's lovely, School's Out for the Summer, whose lyrics you know and probably belted loudly on your last day of 10th grade--you know, the ones that today would inspire a lock-down and bomb-sniffing dogs (and perhaps for good reason).

Anyway, I started thinking about these little gems of childhood resentment after, in the space of 30 minutees, running into not one, but TWO, friends/fellow parents who commented on my blog and also have completely contrary opinions on whether the schools are working and what we should/should not do about it.

There are about 6500 students in the system. Let's say, for ease of calculation, every three kids represents one family.  That's, at minimum, about 2000 families that could (and probably do) have an opinion on everything from serving cupcakes in the classroom to whether some teacher should be fired to whether we offer enough AP courses in 12th grade.

I am one of those people who has such a critical mind I can't go into a shoe store without thinking I would have put the sandals on the bottom shelf and filled the bowl on the checkout counter with Hershey's kisses instead of toffees.  But, like most humans, I just don't enjoy being criticized.  Aaaaargh, ye mateys!  Imagine being one of our teachers or principals!  

And I thought how hard it is to be an educator--principal, teacher, lunchroom assistant--for the very fact that you are trying to teach stuff to large crowds of individuals who, as adorable as we find them, can be, um, you know--ungrateful little out-of-control wretches.*

On the other hand, we want so much for them.  SOOOOOOOO much.  So very very much. Too much for the schools to provide?  I mean, seriously, what DO we want that's reasonable to ask for?

(*And if for some odd reason you have forgotten this, you will be remembering very soon.)

The Principle Behind Good Principals

UPDATE:

As my often-more-alert husband pointed out:  Montclair High is also on the NCLB naughty list --didn't demonstrate AYP, is classified as "in need of improvement."

So, does it matter?  I teach about assessment @ MSU. In my classes, we talk mainly about the kinds of assessments teachers do on a daily basis to check understanding.  But we do touch on summative, standardized assessment like NCLB.  And I think there's some dispute about whether tests can measure a school's beauty.  

Maybe the fact that both Montclair AND Trenton Central have similar "report cards" bodes well for Dr. Earle.  Maybe that means he knows exactly what he's getting into.

New principal for Montclair High announced yesterday.  His name is James Earle and he currently heads Trenton Central High.  

Over on the 'Cooler, there's lots of chatter about Central High's  dismal showing on state education report cards.   It didn't demonstrate something called AYP--adequate yearly progress--and is classified as "in need of improvement."  Uh-oh.

Someone suggested the board should host a Town Hall meeting to introduce Dr. Earle to the community; that way,  people can address misgivings and hopes for the high school's future up front.  

I think this last is a fabulous idea.  School systems are like mini-Vaticans in the 15th century--fraught with intrigue, distracted by competing agendas, and hampered by inscrutable hierarchies. (And by school systems, I mean not just the schools, the BOE,  etc., but also the parents, students, and general public that comprise its constituency.)  In such an environment, rumors can easily fester and ambush even the most earnest soul.  And there's something about meeting someone in person--I can't explain it, but you know what I mean.  It's relieving, somehow.

Anyway, what are the qualities of a good principal?  Here's my list:

*  approachable

*  warm

*  intelligent and intellectual

*  doesn't believe parents need parenting advice, but is always open to getting advice (even if         it's dumb)

*  totally proud of the kids s/he cares for

*  taught the grade level(s) s/he principals

*  likes (and is familiar with) research about what works

*  knows every kid's name

Agree? Disagree?  Have something to add? 

The Frustration of MeMe Roth

MeMe Roth is well-known around here.  She's been featured on our own Baristanet for her skirmishes with Millburn school district's junk food policies, or lack thereof.

Then, she moved to Manhattan, and today was featured in the New York section for apparently alienating P.S. 9, the school her kids now attend, on this very issue. 

The tone of the article was a little patronizing.  It's true, the woman is passionate and, according to detractors, a bit "abrasive" in her crusade to ban sugary, non-nutritious treats from schools.  And, um, she apparently cursed and threw things in a meeting with a "school safety official." 

But in a way,  I admire her.  She really believes in something and stands up for it--no, not school prayer or that Wiccan should be offered as a social studies course.  What she believes in is this: Parents should be able to determine a healthful diet for their kids, and the schools should not undermine this, especially when science and unending data support certain realities.  As MeMe puts it so succinctly:

 

Is there, or is there not, an obesity and diabetes epidemic in this country?

Read the article, and you might start to understand her frustration. I mean, the school told MeMe and her husband that, if they found the school's cupcake dissemination a threat to their kids' safety,  they would need to file a "health and safety transfer, something that generally follows threats of VIOLENCE" and lodge a complaint with the police!    

I remember being bewildered when, in preschool, my kids would be served gigantic cupcakes at 10 AM, sometimes two days in a row.  And I often would find out about it by accident--after I'd let them have their afternoon treat at home.  Anyone who knows me, or has seen my pantry, knows I am NOT a Sugar Prohibitionist.  However, since treats are an optional part of any kid's diet, I just want to plan accordingly.  

But that's not what this entry is about, because, frankly, I don't think it's an issue in our schools. (Tell me if I'm wrong.)  

What bothers me is that this woman shouldn't need to "catch a few flies with honey."  Read the article, and you'll see she's tried to mesh her own family's food practices with the school's policies.  But everyone laughs her off as a loony.  PTA folks write messages encouraging her to move away.  Other parents call her "abrasive."  But the science is still there. She does have a point.  And it's a point, from what I can discern, that the school has not addressed.

What also concerns me is the role of the teacher mentioned in this article.   Though not directly quoted or interviewed, s/he comes across as unhelpful toward the child.  Regardless of what you think about MeMe, her child is not to blame.  And the hostility expressed between the lines here just might have to do with MeMe's anger, no?

Summer Reading and How It Happens

UPDATE:  We got the summer reading list from our son's school, and it's comprehensive.  I'm coming up with my own system for using the list...

Just a heads-up:  The Montclair Public Library begins its summer reading program with a rollicking kick-off event on June 26.  You can attend at 11 or 1, no pre-registration necessary.  The next day, they begin enrollment for the summer reading program itself.

I confess, we've never participated in the program, which is kind of ironic, given that I worked in MPL's children's department briefly in 2000.  (My son arrived unexpectedly early and as deliriously happy as I was at his arrival, I was very sad to give up that position.)  The kick-off was always a rousing success and fun to administer, too. 

But this year, we WILL participate.  My kids are starting to get interested in reading.  Or should I say, I am starting to get interested in them starting to get interested in reading.  And an organized program, with some incentives and attached festivities, seems the way to go for us.

My son's school doesn't have a formal summer reading list or incentive program.  But I wish they did. 

I find it much easier to legislate this sort of thing, e.g. "The teachers say you have to do this" vs. "You have to do this because, well, you do."  

Don't get me wrong: Our house is crammed with books. I am a constant reader and might be doing grad work in, well, reading (and "new literacies") next year! I have written books! But...my kids prefer pretend, outdoor play, art, and building stuff.  And computer games, which I limit, but also have nothing against because my kids seem to learn from them.

So the amount of leisure reading they do is a concern sometimes.  If they don't end up being "readers" as adults, fine.  But now seems a critical time for them to develop fluency and maybe discover that passion. (After all, my son once wrinkled his nose at pizza.  Now, it's his main form of sustenance.  Which I always remind him.)

Some researchers and parents warn against incentives for reading.  

Dr. Marinak, of Penn State, and Linda B. Gambrell, a professor of education at Clemson University, published a study last year in the journal Literacy Research and Instruction showing that rewarding third graders with so-called tokens, like toys and candy, diminished the time they spent reading.

“A number of the kids who received tokens didn’t even return to reading at all,” Dr. Marinak said.

Why does motivation seem to fall away? Some researchers theorize that even at an early age, children can sense that someone is trying to control their behavior. Their reaction is to resist. “One of the central questions is to consider how children think about this,” said Mark R. Lepper, a psychologist at Stanford whose 1973 study of 50 preschool-age children came to a conclusion similar to Dr. Deci’s. “Are they saying, ‘Oh, I see, they are just bribing me’?”  (The full, fascinating NYT article here.)

Does your school have a summer reading program?  Tell me about it.

Parent-led Projects

I'm getting some nice private emails from friends and others since Baristanet/Baristakids ran a little blurb about the blog.  

But still so few comments or suggestions!  (Though I did have great input from an old friend on homeschooling in Montclair.  More on that topic soon, including insight from her personal experience.)

This blog will be boring with just me blahblahblahing.  (Say THAT three times fast!)  While I may "PR" this blog more aggressively this summer, I kinda like its personal feel.  Except when I don't hear from you!

Anyway...

I was cleaning out closets this morning and came across a bunch of lovely unused stationery--holiday cards, blank notecards, floral prints, etc.  I love writing letters, but I like emailing even better.   So what to do with the box of Metropolitan Museum of Art thank-you cards?  

I could always recycle them, but then I thought: Maybe some artist would do something useful with these...Better yet, maybe my son's school could! I started to hatch all sorts of fun projects the school could do using these supplies.   Which leads me to my next nudge:

If you have an idea for your school, how do you implement it?   Whom do you approach with that idea?  The PTA?  The principal?  A teacher?  Or do you have lots of ideas, but aren't sure how to make them happen?  Is there a suggestion box in your school?  Have you had an idea that came to fruition--say, reducing trash in kids' lunches?   Was it fun, or a frustrating experience?  

 

Ring In On These Upcoming Topics

Two weeks from tomorrow is the last day of school around here.   Ah, freedom!  (Not.)

My time will be more constrained in July and August, but the Bell will still toll all summer, sometimes here, sometimes in my head.  In September, I will probably start grad school and in October, I'll be teaching another college class.

So, now's my chance to plan.  

Here are topics I hope to cover--with YOUR help:

* Bullying at school.  Perri Klass writes about it in today's Science Times.  I need anecdotes about bullying OR about lack of bullying in OUR schools.  If your kid had a similar issue, how was it handled?  If you haven't encountered a lot of it, why do you think?  I hope to investigate whatever bullying programs are formally in place in Montclair.

* Homeschooling.  Who are our local homeschoolers?  Why do they do it?  HOW do they do it? If you know a homeschooling parent, please encourage them to email me.

* Private schoolers.  Our taxes are famously high.  So why do some people move here, then pay an extra $20k to send a child to MKA or the Co-op or Kent Place?

* The Montclair magnet system.  How and why it evolved, and how parents and kids feel about it today.  (There have been debates over on the Montclair Watercooler about its effectiveness and whether it's even necessary any longer.)

Email me. 

Our Own Price-less Treasures

I am definitely an idealist when it comes to education. And in this blog, I want to look hard at what happens in our public schools. But at this time of year, when we're toasting the teachers and putting it all in perspective, I get mushy about the talent that makes learning possible.

In the previous post, I mention Mr. Silvera, my son's inspiring gym teacher. But I could cite many others, including Mr. Santoloci, Mrs. Hart, and the school nurse who went out of her way to make sure my son had the right drops in his eyes during allergy season.

Steve Adubato, a Montclair resident, says it so eloquently in his blog. His son's teacher, Mrs. Susan Price, is such a gem, in that wise and knowing way a seasoned teacher can be. The scene he describes isn't about some obsequious educator giving in when confronted with crying child and perplexed parent. It's about a teacher helping a student stretch himself, making the best, most challenging choice even when the easier one would be a lot more fun.

Read it, then write a nice letter to a great teacher...(It's good for you.)

Thank you, Mr. Silvera!

Mr. Silvera is a gym teacher at my son's school. I'd always thought he was nice enough until the day my son came home, chagrined. According to the boy, only the kids who had finished a certain number of laps during gym class were allowed to get water. This made me angry. It was a hot day, and I could not imagine why a teacher would do this.

I wrote a long letter to Mr. Silvera telling him exactly what I thought--diplomatically, but forcefully. Then, a few weeks later, Mr. S. and I talked about it. The story involved some misunderstandings and miscommunications, as such stories often do. It wasn't a comfortable situation for me, because I HATE confronting teachers. I know what it's like to be on the other side of that desk (not that elementary teachers ever actually SIT at a desk. Not that they ever SIT much at all). And I know all too well how it can backfire, making one's child the possible object of a teacher's resentment.

But I am a Mama Bear (derisively called a Helicopter Mom by some crowds). I will advocate for my kids until the day I die. Or until they tell me not to do it any longer. (And, frankly, when that day comes, I will celebrate.)

But after we talked (and maybe before, I just didn't notice), Mr. Silvera decided to take my son under his wing, to encourage him and challenge him, and my son rose to that challenge.

So last week, the boy told me he needed to run in the Montclair YMCA 2 mile Run/Walk. I was stunned.

"Mr. Silvera will be there," my son told me matter-of-factly, "and he says I can do it."

Now, please understand: My son is small for his age. He is shy. He is cautious and sometimes even tremulous. (Never these things at home, I might add.) He doesn't like big crowds and he hates when people clap for him.

But that was then.

Now the little boy I keep trying to protect is pushing himself. Hard.

Because Mr. Silvera says he can.

And on Sunday morning, Mr. Silvera was at that race, cheering. When my son saw him in the final moments of the race, he veered off the course and went right for him, huge grin on his sweaty mug. Then he got back on that road and made it to the finish line.

Oh, the power of a teacher who believes in us when our own mama thinks we're still a baby!

Summer Brain Drain

According to research compiled by connectwithkids.com, students score lower on standardized tests at the beginning of the school year than they do on the same tests just before summer break.

Math skills are particularly affected: students lose about 2.6 months of "grade-level equivalency" in that subject over the summer! This is particularly true in the areas of factual and procedural knowledge (e.g. how to carry out mathematical operations like multiplication and addition).

There is actually a group, the National Association for Year-Round Education (NAYRE) that promotes a longer school year. And here's a fascinating article, originally published in Edutopia magazine, that critiques the way time is used in our present education system, whether it's the tightly-calibrated daily schedule in high schools or the 180-day year itself.

I'm for year-round schooling. That doesn't mean NO breaks. In fact, you could have, say, two weeks between semesters or something. That still comes out to a lot of vacation, but it means LESS interruption. I don't know about your kids, but mine seem to just get settled in to the school routine, oh, around March. There are other arguments to be made for it, of course (e.g. working parents not in academia), but that's a big one.

Until year-round school is implemented, however, there's camp. I am sending my oldest to MKA STAR camp, Bill Wing tennis camp, science camp during our visit to the grandparents, and probably two weeks of ENOPI to regrease his brain before third grade. My daughter: Early Adventures at the Little Y, Korean heritage camp (she's adopted from Republic of Korea), and Camp Tonsils-Out for two weeks while she recovers from surgery. She'll also do at least a week of ENOPI. (God forbid she should go to kindergarten still making those adorable backward a's!)

There goes the tax refund!

School as Theater

If Movie Theaters Were Like Schools...

Everyone would have to sit in alphabetical order...

You'd have to enter and exit the theater in two straight lines...

If you laughed at the car crash, you'd have to leave and talk to the guidance counselor...

The movies you watched would be chosen for you...

The list continues, some items supplied by students.

I'm thinking: If schools were like movie theaters, kids would 1) pick what they were going to watch (learn) and, 2) be so transfixed by the subject matter, teachers wouldn't have to shush them so much or cajole them to pay attention. In fact, the disruptive students during such a performance would get the message from their peers pretty quickly. Quiet! We're trying to learn!