Education Rethink

Jam Session Part 1: The Indie…

2012-01-27T18:15:00.000-07:00

by Javi Lucero

The indie jam session is a thing of beauty. It is completely insulated from inhibition. It is driven by creativity and passion in many forms, many of which make onlookers uncomfortable while captivating them at once. It is struggle among personalities and sounds that fight not to conform but to be independently dependent. Without being dependent, there would be no music. Without being independent, the sound would never be unique or meaningful.

Thus the jam session as a social and musical experiment occurs between individuals driven to be a part of something bigger than themselves that is special and unique. To the indie band, structure exists and is inevitably required but it is no way static. The conventional and most popular verse/chorus forms are known and easily duplicated but for the sake of soul, originality and innovation are avoided whenever possible. Standard instruments or tools are slightly different in that they are welcomed but not required. In this context musicians strive to master musical tools but draw upon experimentation with different sounds, devices and instruments for an ever-changing musical identity.

Having been involved in countless jam sessions, I have always been fascinated by the dynamics that existed between group members as well as the creation process itself. So many variables could potentially impact any given jam session but the goal remained the same: play music from a soulful place.

There were times where the product was meant as a presentable product, something intended to move people. Other times we only played because we wanted to experiment with sounds, hone in our chemistry or get something off of our chests. In any occasion, the indie jam session as a dynamic event, shares countless characteristics with what many consider the indie classroom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The indie classroom is a thing of beauty. It is completely insulated from inhibition. It is driven by creativity and passion in many forms, many of which make onlookers uncomfortable while captivating them at once. It is struggle among personalities and learning styles that fight not to conform but to be independently dependent. Without being dependent, there would be no meaningful learning. Without being independent, the project or product would never be unique or meaningful.

Thus the classroom as a social and educational experiment occurs between individuals driven to be a part of something bigger than themselves that is special and unique. To the indie classroom, structure exists and is inevitably required but it is no way static. The conventional and most popular products and projects are known and easily duplicated but for the sake of soul, originality and innovation are avoided whenever possible. Standard devices and tools are slightly different in that they are welcomed but not required. In this context learners strive to master vocational tools but draw upon experimentation with different perspectives, devices and experiences for an ever-changing educational identity.

Having been involved in countless classroom projects, I have always been fascinated by the dynamics that existed between group members as well as the creation process itself. So many variables could potentially impact any given project but the goal remained the same: create from a soulful place.

There were times where the product was meant as a presentable product, something intended to move people. Other times we created because we wanted to experiment with project elements, hone in our chemistry or get something off of our chests. In any occasion, the indie project as a dynamic event, shares countless characteristics with what many consider the indie jam session.

photo credit - wowzaa on Flickr Creative Commons

The Greatest 21st Century Skill

2012-01-23T08:05:00.001-07:00

Joel approaches me timidly. It's a rare weekend where I have no other choice than to work on school-related projects. He senses my frustration, so he whispers his request, "Dad, can we pick oranges and make orange juice?"

"Maybe later. I have to get this done," I respond.

He comes back five minutes later and I tell him, "Later means really later, okay?"

Christy calls him aside and says, "I'll help you. Daddy needs to work."

Something in the gentleness of her tone and the emphasis on the word "need" that pulls me from the office. I shut the laptop and put on my tennis shoes. It takes me a few minutes to adjust to the sun on my face and the cold air on my hands. But with every orange we snatch from the tree, I am forgetting about the website I need to develop or the videos I need to edit.

Brenna joins us. She picks thirteen oranges, but each time she counts, she stops at eleven. "I have eleven," she says to anyone willing to listen - to me, to Joel, to Micah, to the dog and to Micah's Papa Bear.

It feels like magic when the twirling machine converts each orange into juice. Joel is obsessed with technique and Micah is trying to figure out the mechanics, but Brenna is simply delighted to press down on each orange and watch the juice flow from the spout.

* * *

When I think about the skills I want my students to acquire, I often say things like, "think globally and act locally" or "recover a sense of the terrestrial reality around them." Or sometimes I talk of sustainability and organic learning and growth and . . . what I really mean is I want them to learn what it means to shut off the devices, walk outside and pick oranges or plant a garden or study a sunset.

I want my students to figure out what matters in life and then have the courage, patience and endurance to live accordingly. The greatest twenty-first century skill is simply this: to learn to live well.

Mumford and Sons say it best:
Where you invest your love, you invest your life.

photo credit

Imagine if the Government Censored the Web

2012-01-18T08:02:00.003-07:00

It would be like China or Iran or . . . the average American school.

Maybe it's time we advocate for open Internet in every context.

You're a Decade Late, Time Magazine #edreform #edrethink

2012-01-17T16:23:00.001-07:00

Dear Time Magazine,

You're a decade late in your assessment of No Child Left Behind. Any decent teacher could have told you it wouldn't work. Then again, you never bothered to ask us. While I place most of the blame on the politicians, your media outlet has also been culpable in failing to report accurately on the highly publicized "miracles" that have occurred as a result of NCLB.

With regards to public education, your reporting has been irresponsible, flighty, vapid and prone toward ignoring the hard data so that you could follow the latest corporate reform. I read your glowing articles on Michelle Rhee (including the front cover image of Rhee holding the cliche reform broom) and your misguided editorials about merit pay, tougher standards, unions and failing schools.

I suspect it will take you another decade to see that the corporate reform that columnists such as Joe Klein have been pushing (and the Race to the Top initiative in particular) are just as flawed as the No Child Left Behind law.

Sincerely,
John Spencer

The Instruments Aren't The Problem

2012-01-14T09:04:00.001-07:00

"I hate that robotic hip hop music," I complain to Quinn the Business Bohemian as a car rolls in bumping a tune so bland it has to be shouted.

"Why's that?" he asks.

"It's the autotune. They sound like robots. I think it's the start of the android colonization program. They're priming us so that the next generation will revere the robot overlords."

"You really hate autotune, don't you?" he asks.

"It's not just that. I hate drum machines. It's the tiny imperfections in music that make it sound amazing. I can't stand it when it sounds artificial," I say.

"But you like The Postal Service?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"They use auto-tune on a few of their songs and you can't deny that they have drum tracks."

Quinn reminds me that the real issue isn't the instruments, but how artists choose to use them. Does it enhance or inhibit creativity? Does it admit the artificiality and in the process show us the human element? Or does it pretend to be real when it's not?

* * *

I've railed against certain instruments used in assessments, pointing out the dangers in standardization and in the multiple choice format. The truth is that in the right context and in the right way, both common assessments and multiple choice tests have a place. A fluency test is a standardized test and it's well worth using as a diagnostic tool. The problem is when we use it to judge teachers or to claim a "grade level" for reading. Multiple choice tests are bad when used objectively, but send kids out with multiple choice Needs Assessment surveys and you get a great snapshot on the overall views of the community.

Being indie isn't about creating new instruments or dogmatically opposing the sounds that are already out there. It's about pushing for environments where we can use the instruments more creatively, where we can choose songs that tell our stories and where an artist can find his or her voice without trying to sound like auto-tune.

Subversive Elevator Music

2012-01-09T04:41:00.000-07:00

Arne Duncan sets up an elevator for me. We cram as many students into our mechanical box in a systematic Race to the Top. I'm relegated to a button pusher. At one time an elevator man had a place. He was an expert trained, not just in elevators, but in the art of conversation. Not in the twenty-first century. After all, technology is the teacher. He's simply a facilitator. Let the system do its work. In the background, we might get a bland jazz tune created for the sole purpose of not offending anyone. Each person follows the elevator etiquette of respectful silence and individualism. It's tidy and efficient, a well-oiled machine, totally predictable. The real test is whether they quickly get from floor to floor.

So, I saw this video by The Frames where they sing "Star Star" on an elevator. It's the last thing I would ever call elevator music. The moment is creative, quirky and a bit out of place. Within this metal box, they are playing an acoustic set and it's beautiful. True, it's a bit contrived, but it makes me think about my place within the system.

My wife's grandpa asked me why I still stay in education. "We had silly politics back then, but when I taught, it was clear that it was my classroom. They weren't trying to make things teacher-proof. They trusted us. I don't think I'd last very long in the current system." Maybe not. He's a bit loud and provocative and he might piss off a few people, but I'm guessing he could make it just fine. Even the Clipboard Crew gets tired of the typical elevator music.

I have a hunch that he would do exactly what most subversive sages do. Outside the elevator, he would hold the instruction booklet about pushing buttons and he would talk about the best methods for elevator mechanics and he would listen quietly at the experts who have spent a lifetime on the top floor and know nothing about what it means to be grounded.

Then, when the door is shut and the elevator is working, he would move the kids from silence to dialogue and from isolation to cooperation. He would abandon the elevator etiquette. He'd sing a tune with them. Or maybe not. Maybe he would get them to take the stairs and, though it is slower, it would be healthier and more sustainable in the long run. And when the fire hits and the unpredictable occurs, his students would make it. Either way, to the executives at the top, it wouldn't look very different. The results would be similar, but the process would be entirely different.

Call it Meander to the Top. We'll find an indie route to get there.

Tools of the Trade

2012-01-05T13:24:00.002-07:00

photo credit

The talented yet road-worn indie guitarist stands diminutive in front of a wall of potential instruments. He sees a great deal of potential in many of the guitars but knows that he has to work with what he has. Resources are tight. Given his talent and passion, it seems unjust that he plays night after night for often difficult crowds without a choice guitar. He does however know that he signed up for this. He reflects and shortly after realizes that it is that tattered six-stringed companion of his that is tried and true. It is the tool by which he has been able to inventively and artistically project emotions and ideas to all willing to embrace the auditory complexities of one of his masterpieces. He turns his back and walks out of the music store.

If his talent were a guitar, it surely would have been handcrafted on the turbulent and inspiring shores of Italy by one of the ancestors of Stradivarius himself. Talent is not a guitar. It is many things though: inspiration, meaning, emotion, creativity, intensity, authenticity, complexity, etc. It transcends the very tool that is used to convey it.

The truth about teaching is that it isn’t fair. There is no level playing field. We all know that. I don’t mind though, well not anymore. I used to be so concerned with the outward appearance of my instruction that I made it a point to bring out the newest and most conspicuous tech-tools out there. I was never a “yes” man or out to please but given the deteriorating quality of instruction of this inner city school, I just wanted to cover my bases. It didn’t even matter that I previously found a tremendous amount of depth in what would have seemed mundane to others. I just had to look good… things changed though. I wanted to see students express themselves. I wanted them to realize their talents. I wanted them to become independent learners.

Much like the traveling indie band, I found myself playing dual roles. I felt myself become an artist and manager in the classroom. The artist yearned to create and show others how to create. The manager had to make things happen given the social context and minimal access to resources. I went indie. The students went indie. It didn’t matter what others thought anymore. It was about the process of expression and creation. After all, the true instructional leader would easily recognize the depth and creativity in products that the students created, not the kinds of tools being used. It wasn’t flashy, it was raw talent on its way to something greater.

I Want To Be An Indie Teacher

2012-01-02T13:21:00.003-07:00

This is the first in a month-long series that I'll be co-writing with Javi Lucero. The title of the series is "Indie Teachers."

Some indie bands are indie only because they aren't good enough to be discovered. They play the empty bar tour with the illusion that some day they'll be playing before a packed crowd. Likewise, some indie listeners prefer indie music only because it hasn't been discovered. Then the minute a band hits it big, they scream about how awful it is to watch a band sell out.

However, this isn't indie. This is novelty. I've been there as a teacher, especially in my first two years. I wanted my projects to be noticed. I wanted to be discovered. Worse still, I followed bloggers and then complained bitterly when they were recognized or offered a book contract or given the top slot at a conference.

Some indie bands are indie because they despise all things mainstream and so, out of a sense of elitism, they deliberately create a reactionary sound that will be as radio unfriendly as possible. Or they quote as many obscure poets as possible with the hopes that they will sound unabashedly intellectual and attract just the right art house crowd to their music. There's an audience for this type of band; people that think that a tune doesn't sound good unless it sounds like the polar opposite of anything remotely popular. They'll listen to the Neutral Milk Hotel, not because of the profound lyrics, but because it isn't easy on the ears.

However, this isn't indie. This is snobbery. I've been there as a teacher, each time that I mocked an idea simply because it was popular. I blasted PLC. I mocked Instruction by Design. I called Marzano a Collage Artist. And yet none of it had to do with ideas, but with my rejection of all things mainstream in education.

But there is another type of indie. It's the kind of music that doesn't make the radio, because it is too creative and quirky for an audience with a short attention span. It's the kind that doesn't shy away from sounding a bit mainstream, but is also bold enough to say something profound. This type of music has its listeners as well. They're the folks who might enjoy some pop music every once in awhile so long as it moves them and makes them think and has a deeper aesthetic quality.

I want to teach like an indie listener. I want to be open to quality ideas, regardless of how indie or mainstream they may seem. I want to hear about what works. I want to listen to ideas from public and charter and homeschool and unschool as long as it moves me and makes me think and ultimately transforms my practice.

I want to teach like an indie artist. I want to be a teacher who does something different, not for the sake of novelty, but because it is meaningful. I want depth, not for intellectual snobbery, but out of a desire to think well about life. I want to remember that it's not about being noticed, but about doing what matters.

photo credit: the photo of indie folk singer Hayden is by sarae

Changes to this Blog

2011-12-30T15:07:00.001-07:00

Many of you know my friend Javi the Hippie from conversations in my books or the times I've referenced him in this blog. He is a talented writer, a great thinker and a phenomenal teacher. His students worked with my students on service projects and murals. He will be joining me on this blog. I'll let him write his own bio, though.

The plan is to co-write a series per month while occasionally writing on other topics when we feel so inclined. I'll be writing less (probably 1-2 posts per week) and adding my posts to johntspencer.com and closing up some of the blogs that I've had for awhile (Pencil Integration, Ditch that Word and others).

I'm not abandoning edu-blogging altogether. Just pulling back a little and spending more time writing fiction. (Just finished A Wall for Zombies) Meanwhile, I hope that the 1-2 posts a week that I write here will be more intentional and thoughtful than what I've written lately.

Why Data Is Like the Bible

2011-12-30T07:44:00.000-07:00

Data is like the Bible in that people can make it say pretty much whatever they want it to say. Context is critical, but people quote data to justify just about anything imaginable, often without citing the source or explaining the story behind how they data was gathered.

Much like the Bible, I am most comfortable with people who approach data with an open mind and a sense that it should inform rather than drive decisions; and I cringe at those who use it as a tool for sorting, judging and applying condemnation instead of open doors to wisdom.

I'm a fan of the Bible. I'm also a fan of data. But if you're using either of these to cram ideology down my throat, chances are I quit listening a long time ago.

Go Read a Blog

2011-12-28T20:10:00.002-07:00

Sometimes I wonder if the my Google Reader is a mistake. I see everything in the same format. I rush through posts, leaving few comments and yet getting more from all of it. I analyze the thoughts of various bloggers in light of one another, trying my best to figure out what I believe about education. And it works beautifully. The Google Reader is great for analyzing, synthesizing, summarizing and doing whatever else is necessary for consuming information.

The thing is, I'm not sure I want to be a consumer of information. I'm not sure I want my own words being consumed for that matter. I'm thinking maybe this whole blogging thing isn't about pedaling a product.

So, tonight I decided to read a few blogs. I didn't read a few blog posts. I read a few blogs. I saw their content within a context. I listened longer, within the visual aesthetic they had chosen for themselves. I read three of my favorite bloggers and began to see what I had been missing.

Voice

If Twitter is a crowded cocktail party and my Google Reader is a potluck, spending some time actually reading a few blogs felt a bit like hanging out by a campfire. Not the same, I realize. It's all ones and zeroes and whatnot. But really, it was nice to read a few blogs and really pay attention this time 'round.

I Still Suck at Spelling (And I've Made It This Far)

2011-12-27T07:13:00.005-07:00

When I was a child, I learned phonics. This would have been great if I grew up speaking Spanish. But seeing as how we live in a place that speaks English (a bastardized version of it), phonics have failed me miserably. Joel once pointed this out to me when he was upset that bomb, tomb and comb all have the same ending but sound completely different from one another.

I also grew up reading often. I read chapter books at a young age. I had high fluency and vocabulary scores. I was the poster child of the Perfect Language Geek. My list of sight word recognition surpassed my grade level.

And yet . . .

I can't spell very well. The following is a list of words I mess up all the time:

restaurant: the 'au' always screws it up for me
bureaucracy: any word that is that cumbersome in spelling isn't worth keeping around
conscience: looks nothing like it sounds
definitely: there's got to be an a in there somewhere
tomorrow: or any word that has double letters
dialogue: or is it dialog? Why don't we just have a conversation instead?

What makes matters worse is that I still screw up homonyms and homophones. It's not the frequent ones that bother me (its, it's). Here are the ones that still get me, despite the fact that I clearly know the difference:

thru, threw
principle, principal
break, brake
disc, disk
site, sight

The good news? I can write. I am confident in my ability to write. I'm currently revising a novel that I'm really proud of. True, I may screw up on spelling certain words. Yep, I might end a few sentences with prepositions. However, I've learned that the inability to master one sub-skill doesn't mean someone is doomed to failure in a particular concept, skill or subject.

In my case, it means I need to take more time to edit and I need to let other people catch mistakes (I wish I had done this with Pencil Me In and Sages and Lunatics.) I need to recognize it as a weakness and admit that I need help. I need to spend additional time reading my work aloud for verb-subject agreement. I need to take the time to double-check my homophone mistakes.

It has me thinking about teaching. How often do we teach kids to find and admit that there are things that are simply hard for them, no matter how much they practice? How often do we teach them to find people who can help support them in weaker areas so that they can thrive with the larger skill that they've mastered? How often are they learning additional skills in editing and given additional time to master those areas where they are struggling? More importantly, how many kids have been turned off of writing because of grammar gestapos and formatting fanatics who stripped away the joy of writing when they grew impatient and angry that a kid "still didn't get it" after weeks of practice?

Don't Shop Tonight or Tomorrow

2011-12-24T05:42:00.002-07:00

When I was in high school, I worked at a grocery store. When I started, the store closed at noon the day before Christmas. It felt reasonable to work a half day and then have both Christmas Eve and Christmas off. The next year, we were open until four. I was able to make it to Christmas Eve family events, but it was a little more stressful. The third year, we were open until six. This time, I missed the Christmas Eve dinner. In my final year at the grocery store, we closed "early" at nine o'clock.

I missed everything, except the candlelight vigil.

I wouldn't mind the notion of a store being open if there were only a few employees and the shoppers were all agnostic or Jewish or Hindu or Muslim. However, that's not typically who shopped the night before Christmas. Typically, it was a frantic, irritated, can't-you-get-us-through-this-goddam-line-because-I-have-a-ham-to-cook shoppers. They would rush through, complain about a price check and end with a pleasant "Merry Christmas."

Sometimes shoppers would say, "Well, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas Eve," and I always wanted to respond with, "Yep. Thanks to you, I won't be celebrating it this year." Or they would complain about how stressful it was and I wanted to say, "You know what's stressful? Listening to Bing Crosby belt out songs about snow while every part of me wants to share a meal with the ones I love."

Ideally, it wouldn't be such a bad thing to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas. Stores would pay overtime and get enough volunteers to fill the positions. The problem is that time and a half isn't enough to sacrifice time with one's family. Survey a store and you'll find that most employees want Christmas Eve off. There simply aren't enough Jehovah's Witnesses to cover every job.

I get it. You need a few last minute purchases for a perfect Christmas. But every time you participate in commerce on Christmas Eve, you are ruining someone else's Christmas. Look, your Jell-O salad can go without the Cool Whip. Your salad can go without the toasted almonds. You can wrap that last present in old newspaper. And I promise this: Christmas will go on without those purchases.

Ultimately, it's a free market problem that requires a free market solution. Boycott shopping on Christmas Eve and Christmas. Don't go to a movie tomorrow and rent a DVD instead. I promise that the movie you want to see in the theater will be around on the twenty-sixth. If you need escapist entertainment on Christmas, escape to a book, take a nap or better yet, learn to relate to your family. Don't go to the grocery store tonight or tomorrow. Make your last-minute purchases a few more minutes in advance. Don't go out to eat. Make a meal. That's why your living space has a kitchen. Brew your own cup of coffee.

Boycott commerce for one and a half days. Ultimately, that's the only way that workers will get a chance to experience the holiday.

10 Reasons Your Students Should Laugh

2011-12-22T07:06:00.001-07:00

Joel looks at his toast and says, "It's a good thing it has peanut butter. If it were plain toast, it might fly away."

I look at him, confused, and he laughs. "Because planes fly." Got it. I don't like puns, but I laugh anyway. We'll work on the ironic, observational humor at another time. The truth is that I'm glad my son can joke around. True, it's first grade humor built on homophones, but I'm convinced that it's a powerful skill. Moreover, I'm convinced that the best classrooms are the ones where humor is present. It can be subtle. It can look very orderly. It can be sprinkled throughout an intense debate or a deep discussion. However, it needs to be present.

The following are some of what I consider to be the educational benefits of humor:

Critical Thinking: Humor often requires analytical thinking followed by a sophisticated level of synthesis. Even something as lame as my son's pun required him to analyze the language, make sense of it and create something new: a flying piece of toast.
Social Awareness: Humor is a powerful tool in social change. It strips away the fear of those who are committing injustices. Whether it's Charlie Chaplin mocking Hitler or South Park lambasting Kim Jong Il (oh, he's dead now? I didn't even realize he was Il.) satire can be a powerful method of bringing the absurdity of an idea to life. Last year, I played clips from The Onion. Students read "A Modest Proposal." I wanted them to see how humor can be used to make sense out of the world.
Language Arts: Humor is a chance to play around with words, make sense out of tone and learn the art of timing. Humor can also be a place where students learn to tell stories, make sense out of irony and develop deep satire.
Empathy: Humor is a chance to display empathy toward others. It's a chance to read the group and venture out into new territory. But it's also a place to stumble into sarcasm and learn to avoid using laughter to isolate, mock and marginalize others.
Motivation: For all the talk of tech integration, art integration or music and movement integration, I've never seen anything about the intentional integration of humor. However, I think it's necessary. Why not use puns to teach multiple meanings of words? Why not use satire to reach higher-level thinking on social issues? Last year, students created goofy comic strips to illustrate idioms (a man goes into surgery after saying, "I gave you my heart.")
Life Skills: Whether it's in a social context or in the workforce, humor can be a powerful method of connecting with others, diffusing tension and providing leadership to a group.
Creativity: When students develop their own jokes, they learn the craft of spontaneous creativity. I'm not sure if it's something that has to be modeled and observed or something teachers should simply encourage and allow. However, I have noticed that the students with the strongest command of humor are often very creative.
Language Development: I can tell when an ELL student is truly grasping English, because he or she becomes comfortable in telling jokes. Humor combines the colloquial with the academic, infusing idioms with texture and tone.
Risk-Taking: Every joke is an act of vulnerability. There's a risk involved. I'm never sure if the group will laugh or simply roll their eyes and sigh.
Classroom Community: There is an intimacy and a happiness that occurs when a group laughs together. It's why we relate to the dysfunctional team members in The Office. They laugh together.

Nativity: The Chaos and the Context

2011-12-22T05:57:00.002-07:00

The following is post from a series called Nativity I'm doing on another blog. It has nothing to do with teaching and everything to do with teaching as well.

Blame it on the season. A broken, tilted earth dances drunkenly away from the sun until it begins to seem like light itself has died completely. I know the sun is hiding on the other side. I know that summer still exists somewhere. And I know we're lucky, because we don't have to shovel sunshine and an icy desert morning isn't all that cold in comparison.

But I'm cold and it's dark and the world seems broken beyond repair.

I'm forced to slow down to a near-stop near the bus stop, where a kid is getting blazed, right there in the open air, oblivious to the man who is pointing his finger and shouting at a woman cowering on the bus stop bench. The kid inhabits his own private escape, lonely and distant from the context. And here I am, cradling my coffee, getting high on liquid happiness, inhabiting my own private escape, lonely and distant from the context.

My soundtrack is a tinny radio, where two men banter loudly about injured quarterbacks and playoff games and how-did-that-look-for-Fantasy-Football and it strikes me as bizarre that a man's fantasy would revolve around grown men playing a game. It's too superficial, but the other option is an NPR report on global unrest and nationwide unemployment.

A woman runs across the road, pushing a stroller into the oncoming traffic, because there's a bus to catch and the drivers stop to sustain life, but in a choral unison, they flip her off and hurl gigantic curses. And I'm thinking of our debt and how we'll pull out of it when my salary is frozen and food is getting more expensive and nothing we are doing seems to be working.

A man in a neon jacket holds a steamy cup of coffee while his crew picks up the shards of plastic from the wreck. I grow infuriated as cars rush forward, refusing to respect the line of drivers waiting for their shot at the solitary lane.

"You're not that important! We all have places to go," I yell at the F-150 that edges his way in front of me. It's a game of chicken and it looks like I'm chicken and though the gesture is small and impersonal, it feels like an attack on my dignity and my humanity. It's not a truck that cut me off. It's a man, wielding a ton of machinery like a child's toy and although I know I'm taking it way too personal, I can't simply turn off how I feel. I'm crushed by a simple act of selfishness.

There's nothing tragic about this morning. I get it. These are first-world problems. Tiny tragedies. Globally, I'm part of the one percent. I have it pretty good. Still, there's something in the season that suggests I'm supposed to chase perfection. I'm supposed to smile more. I'm supposed to be a little less anti-social when I purchase a pack of Pull-Ups from the grocery store. And it's supposed to be slower, more reflective, what with the calls for silent nights and remember the reason for the season and . . . God, I'm so tired right now.

* * *

Political tumult, economic uncertainty, broken people in a broken world: This is precisely the context into which Jesus was born: an angry tyrant trying to hold onto power, so scared about losing it to a political Messiah that he orders the murders thousands of babies; a crowded city or perhaps just a crowded family with no place for a woman in labor to find rest; shallow rumors about the young couple that just couldn't embrace True Love Waits; a family too poor to pay the temple sacrifice.

Emmanuel.

God-with-us.

This was the context of chaos. This was the selfish, busy, caustic human story that God entered into. The moment was so quiet, so small, that it's no wonder people missed it - a fetus developing inside a marginalized woman in a marginalized culture.

Hope is the absurd idea that redemption happens here, in a broken world, among broken people, where debt swallows families and cars crash and busses leave two minutes too early and family members refuse to speak to one another because of something said a few years back. Hope is the insane resolution that happens at the end of the most tragic human story. It isn't a comic sans clip art reminder that things will be okay. No, it's a bold-faced, all-caps message across a gritty, horrific picture at a bus stop or an intersection or a war zone.

I miss hope when I miss the tragedy. I miss it when I build a Fantasy Land for a Magical Kingdom. I miss it when I cradle my coffee and I buy into the lie that this world isn't all that bad or when I caustically move toward a dark determinist idea that redemption is impossible.

Ugly Sweater Party

2011-12-18T19:52:00.001-07:00

I'm not a hipster. I'm a man dressing like a hipster dressed-up for a sweater party. Oh, the layers of irony.

For more thoughts on this, go to TeachPaperless

10 Reasons I Am Hopeful About American Education

2011-12-14T06:20:00.000-07:00

I often write about education reform. I blast the kill-and-drill approach to teaching. I complain about the death of the local politic. I defend the profession of teaching. I write about abolishing grades and homework and heavy-handed discipline. It's easy to miss the fact that I am actually an optimistic. I am hopeful about education in America.

Why I'm Hopeful (a very random list off the top of my head):

Data: People pushing data and educational reform are beginning to promote Constructivist strategies. Although I've bashed Marzano, the reality is that his list of "best practices" really tend to be great strategies. The truth is that we are far more successful than what's being presented in many of the media outlets. Diane Ravitch has pointed out that when taking poverty out of the equation, the United States is actually doing quite well (and has been doing quite well for awhile). People are beginning to see that education in America isn't as bad as what is being portrayed on the media.
Social Media: For the last three decades, the reform narrative has been dominated by a very insular community of journalists for the largest newspapers. (I know, The Washington Post has often been an exception) Often, the journalists only quote the big-shot corporate reformers. However, with the explosion of social media and educational blogging, people are beginning to find more accurate information in untraditional ways.
Democratic Movements: When I look at the Occupy movement on the left and the Tea Party movement on the right, I see a sliver of shared beliefs in local control and in parent choice. As people grow to distrust the absolute authority of the 1% who dominate education reform, the truly innovative, grassroots movements will lead the charge for change. Maybe we'll do away with compulsory schooling. Maybe we'll see local school movements nestled within neighborhoods. Maybe teachers will be allowed to start charter schools within their own district, partnering with rather than competing against public schools. I am hopeful that we will move from competing models to a recognition that there are many models that will work for many types of students.
Discipline: School-wide discipline is far less coercive than it used to be. For all the talk of Zero Tolerance, I sometimes forget that principals were allowed to paddle kids when I was in elementary school.
Economic Shifts: While I typically fit into the "life-long learning" mentality, I recognize that economic necessity has always been a part of education. Whether it was the apprenticeship model, the early vocational schools or the current industrial, standardized system we have now, career readiness has always been a stream of education. As we shift toward the values of creativity and critical thinking in the workplace, companies will begin to move away from looking for great test-takers.
Technology: Yes, I can be very critical about technology. However, as people begin to see that knowledge is easily accessible online, I am hopeful that the values of creativity, critical thinking and collaboration will begin to replace shallow recall and recognition.
Teachers Matter: Teachers are viewed as significant. True, we're blamed for failures that are more social and economic than anything else. However, the flip side of this is that people believe that quality teachers can make a difference. If the public seems outraged by cheating scandals, it is evidence that they still believe that teaching is a noble profession.
Frauds: It turns out Atlanta had a cheating problem. It turns out Rhee and Duncan weren't quite the miracle workers we had once assumed. And, while there has been a large amount of teacher-bashing in the process, people are beginning to question the culture, the practices and the results of these reform movements. The public seems more open to authentic change.
The Finland Phenomenon: Even the traditionalist, data-driven reformers have begun to notice Finland. They de-emphasize the test. They have fewer work days. They treat teachers as professionals. Their standards are more about concepts and processes than rote skills.
Grassroots Movement: There is a teacher culture that I see among teachers who are active in the blogging community. Great conversations are happening about standards-based grading, authentic assessments, changing the pedagogy and reforming the schools. True, there are depressing battles between un-schoolers, charter schools and public schools. But there are also some truly open conversations about what meaningful learning should look like. Ultimately, it is this grassroots movement that will lead us away from focussing on compliance and toward focussing on learning.

Actually, You Don't Hate Math (or Social Studies or Science or English)

2011-12-12T13:35:00.002-07:00

cross-posted from The Cooperative Catalyst

“I hate math. When I was a kid, I just couldn’t remember all the formulas and I couldn’t figure out how to take what the teacher did and make it my own,” a friend tells me. He doesn’t hate math. He probably doesn’t even hate computation or algorithms. No, he hates magical math. He hates compliantly copying formulas.

“Still to this day, I hate social studies. When I was a student, all we ever did was memorize capitals and dates and I sucked at that. I could always tell by how disappointed the teacher looked when she handed me back the papers,” a woman tells me at a birthday party. She’s interested in social issues. She’s fascinated by the stories of people’s lives. The truth is she loves social studies. What she hates are the memories of having to play Google as a child.

“I hated English when I was a kid. I was home-schooled and my mom had been a journalism major. I remember that she would circle every split infinitive and I had to read The Bridge to Terebithia and what I really wanted to read were science articles and comic books. I used to sneak Spiderman the way other kids might sneak porn,” a man tells me when I tell him I’m a teacher. The truth is that he never hated English. He never hated reading or writing. What he hated was the lack of choice and autonomy and the grammar gestapo who mistakenly taught him that our words are governed by arbitrary rules rather than a deeply human need to communicate.

And here’s me. I hated science, because I was told that an acceptance of science meant I had to abandon the possibility of a deity (for the record, I was asked at church to abandon my acceptance of evolution as well). I hated science, because I was told that my definition of energy (in third grade I had defined it as “the stuff that makes stuff change”) wasn’t as accurate as the one from the book. Looking back on it, I never hated science. I’ve always loved to observe, to test, to inquire about the universe. What I hated were disconnected, overly simplistic models and the dogmatic catechism of fill-in-the-bubble answer sheets.

Children are naturally interested in all subjects. Tragically, through compliance or shame or rewards or whatever, they become the subjects, learning to listen and obey a voice that goes against their identity.

If It's Bad for Kids . . .

2011-12-12T13:33:00.000-07:00

Michael Doyle posted the following:

NJEA's education reform plan will use standardized test scores as a criterion [for teacher evaluations], but recognizes and respects research demonstrating that those scores are not reliable measures of teacher effectiveness.

I love Doyle's thoughts:

Just what part of "respect" does the NJEA not get? If the reseearch shows that the tests are not reliable measures, the union should flat out refuse to consider them for that.

My Thoughts:
The American Pediatric Association recognizes and respects that leeches and soothing syrups (containing 64 g of morphine) aren't the most accurate way to deal with childhood illness. However, the demonstration of these practices will determine the success of all pediatricians.

How about this? If it's bad for children, don't do it.

Help from Science Teachers!

2011-12-08T09:31:00.000-07:00

Joel asked me a great question this morning. "Why do some trees lose their leaves and others don't?" The next question was just as intriguing. "Do trees lose their leaves because they aren't getting enough sun or because it's so cold that they almost die?"

I told him that I would help him find the answer tonight, because his cereal was getting soggy and he needed to get ready.

I can answer both questions for him, but I want him to find the answer. I want him to discover it on his own. I would love for some feedback on how you would approach your answer.

Meme, Myself and I

2011-12-08T08:37:00.003-07:00

Tony Vincent gave me an iPencil yesterday - How cool is that?

My original intention in writing the first few tweets of #pencilchat was to point out the absurdity of the system. It really was meant to be light-hearted satire (the metaphor itself is a stretch) shared with fellow teachers I know. It was no different from other hashtags I had used (#ItWasNoEncinoMan, #edcat) to spark a very small, limited conversation with a few people I know. I've had deeper chats (#edparadox for example), but the deeper reality is that Twitter is a place for amusement. It is most dangerous when we take it seriously.

What was different with this is that it took off. It was hard at first for me to "share" it. I saw really bad puns and really funny word play. I saw caustic criticism of teachers and funny jabs at the system. I saw optimism break through and cynicism take over followed by more optimism. I saw lots of talking and very little listening. I had created a really loud echo chamber and I had no control over the volume or the message. In retrospect, what I appreciate about the chat is that it was an honest conversation. It was messy. It was disorganized. So, here are some of my thoughts on it:

I assumed that memes would be exciting for a period of time, followed by a period of extreme letdown. Sort-of like coming down from a cocaine. I've never done cocaine. Then again, I've never had anything become popular. It turns out, it's nothing like that. It's more like stepping away from yourself and watching it take-off. When it dies down, the feeling is less like let-down and more like relief.
People assumed that there is a way to "capitalize" on the noise of #pencilchat. However, a fad is a flash mob. It's not a game-changer. I've sold a whopping 50 books from it and I have four new subscribers to Adventures in Pencil Integration. It's nice, but hardly capitalizing.
It's odd to see people analyzing it. I read newspaper articles, saw tweets from a conference, listened to a podcast and checked out blog posts with people praising it for more than it was or tearing it down for being more dangerous than it was. It really was designed for amusement and a year from now, nobody will remember it existed.
You can't control what happens to a meme. I watched #pencilchat become a little bit cynical, a little feisty, a little strange. It took on a life of its own and it was hard for me to see the extent to which my own identity was still a part of the chat's DNA. Am I really that feisty? Am I really that caustic?
It was a blast to connect with people from various "worlds." I got to tweet back and forth with my former 8th grade teacher. I got a chance to "meet" people from conferences that I'd lost touch with. It was this human side that was more profound than I had thought.
Starting a meme doesn't mean you are known. Really. Those who read my blog will get my nuance, my love of paradox and hopefully the humility in some of my stories.
The more popular things become, the more people criticize it. Gary Stager blasted #pencilchat in a post, because I had failed to mention that Seymor Paper had used that metaphor before I was born. I'm not sure that metaphors need attribution or that symbols, inherently archetypal in nature, belong to anyone. But I'll raise a glass to Papert, anyway. The man was a far deeper thinker than I'll ever be. The EdReach show took a shot at it, too, but in a way that was still respectful.

Pre-Occupy Wall Street

2011-12-07T06:24:00.003-07:00

paper, rock, scissors, anyone?

Back when the Tea Party started, I found myself agreeing with a few concepts: smaller, more localized government, direct democracy, anger over the bailouts. As it grew more extreme, I thought to myself, "I like nuance and paradox and humility in public policy and this is a bit like the country song that says we should stick a boot in your ass, because it's the American way."

So, I decided I would call myself a member of the Green Tea Party, a fusion of ideas from the left and right with a healthy respect for sustainable solutions. I never did anything with the Green Tea Party, because I was busy taking care of a newborn and cleaning the kitchen and grading papers. Just like Teachers Against Comic Sans, it was an organization that lacked leadership, vision and most importantly, people.

I went to an Occupy Phoenix protest when it first started. I found myself agreeing with many of the ideas. However, I immediately realized that I didn't fit in. See, I have lousy rhythm which hinders my ability to play bongo drums. I can't live in a location other than my home or my wife will leave me and my kids will think I'm being a negligent father. And like the Tea Party, I found myself holding more nuanced, complicated positions on political issues than many of the people around me. (I will note that in both the Tea Party and the Occupy protests, I met many people who were articulate, passionate and intelligent regarding the issues. They weren't all a bunch of crazies.)

So, because I am am a suburban, busy family man, I've decided to start a Pre-Occupy Wall Street movement. This is for people who are generally unhappy with corporate bailouts and the kleptocracy running the system, but are busy at the moment thinking about grocery lists, fixing flat tires and keeping their children from ripping one another's heads off.

Because we are generally preoccupied with life, we won't have protests and probably won't make signs. (I was going to make a sign, but I couldn't think of a clever rhyme and the kids used the Tempera paints for finger painting).

However, I'll occupy in small ways like staying awkwardly long in a Wal-Mart parking spot or slowing down commerce by bringing jars of pennies to the banks that received bailout money. I'll continue to mock Bill Gates on Twitter and refer to his latest edu-fad as "The Khan Artist who is tricking the flighty media."

And I'll try to make a difference in the only area where I really feel like I'm expert enough to act upon. I will fight for change in my classroom, in my school and in my district. I will speak boldly even when busy, because ultimately the Pre-Occupied have a voice and every once in awhile we step away from our our busy lives and take a stand on an issue we really care about.

My Teacher Playlist

2011-12-06T20:40:00.002-07:00

Every year I update my "teacher playlist" of what I listen to while I am at a prep or setting up my classroom or waiting for parents to arrive for conferences. This is my list for this year:

"Ants Marching (Live)" by Dave Matthew Band: "No words exchanged, no time to exchange." Those words haunt me. I'm existential (by nature?) and this song reminds me that teaching is all about the art of existence. It reminds me to slow down, reflect and nudge students toward slowing down and reflecting.
"Top of the World" by Dixie Chicks: Last year I realized how easy it was to get tired and get lazy and forget that my children were more important than the children I taught. I realized, while tossing a baseball back and forth with my son, that I my mind was on proportional reasoning and linear equations. I never want that to happen again.
"After the Storm" by Mumford and Sons: It's subtle and it's minimal on an album that is so full of life and vitality (I've listened to that album straight-through more times than I can count) There is something in the sound of the song that is so deeply terrestrial and spiritual that, even on my worst day, I can remember that what I'm doing matters. (Runner-up would be "Sigh No More")
"The Weight" by The Band: Last year my token nostalgic song was "Let Your Love Flow." But this song is full of the textured memories of shag carpet and Old Spice and scratchy vinyl and that it was an instant requirement for the play list.
"They" by Jem: The song is uncomfortable, catchy but not quite, reminding me about the dangers of conformity. It's simple but profound. "Who made up all the rules. We follow them like fools. Believe them to be true. Don't care to think them through."
"Perpetual Self" by Sufjan Stevens: I love the feel of the song, the pace of it, the robust percussions with the harmonizing vocals.
"When I Dream of Michelangelo" by Counting Crows: He begins the song with a short description of what it's like to reach after art, up in the clouds, thinking that you are so close and tragically missing the people around you. The tragedy of Adam trying his damnedest to reach God in the clouds isn't just that he can't reach, but that he's completely lost sight of Eve. To me, the song is a cautionary tale of perfectionism, art and self-absorption.
"Positively Fourth Street" and "Like a Rolling Stone" (alternate these) by Bob Dylan: Sometimes I forget my social justice streak. I get so into nuance and paradox and I'm surrounded by inflatable cartoons lining the suburban Christmas scene that I need a few jarring statements. And Dylan is jarring. His words, his quirky voice, the raw harmonica that sounds like a wheezing donkey.
"Brand New Colony" by The Postal Service: It makes me think of Christy and the life we've forged together. I can't listen to this song without smiling. Besides, I always think of the moment Micah was two and he heard it and yelled out, "It's polka dots, daddy." Then I smile again.
"Warm Love" by Van Morrison: Not really for the lyrics. They're way too sappy, but I love the sound of his voice and the flute. I used to hear this song along with "A Long December" when I worked at a grocery store. It made the job bearable. Sometimes I get bored with this song, though and switch to "It Stoned Me" or "Brown Eyed Girl."
"Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town" by Pearl Jam: Sometimes I worry that I'm living in perpetual transition. I think that maybe I need to stick with projects a little longer and I need to quit getting my hopes up and . . . and then I hear, "I've changed by not changing at all," and I begin to remember that it's better to take risks and run with it.

Worked for Me: Two Types of Student-Teacher Conferences

2011-12-04T06:07:00.001-07:00

After a very philosophical November of paradigm shifts, I'm trying out a new blog series called, "Worked for Me." I recognize that what works in one context might not work in all contexts. I'm okay with that. These are just a few ideas that you can mock, modify, mix, or make your own.

The Timing

It's difficult to find one-on-one time to meet with students. I get it. I can leave blog and Google Doc comments. I can send e-mails. But there is limited time for face-to-face conferences. However, in my experience, these face-to-face interactions are a major part of building trust and providing reliable feedback to students.

I like to do mini-conferences. Students have 5-10 minutes. It sounds like it wouldn't be enough time, but it's often perfect for the age group and for my own attention span. When I taught only one subject, I did three per class period. This allowed for one conference per student every two weeks. When I taught self-contained, the conferences were much more frequent (two conferences per week per student).

The Two Types of Conferences

The first is the consulting conference where the student comes with questions and asks specialized advice, looks for specific feedback and focusses on either getting critical feedback or finding solutions to the critical feedback. It is essentially a chance to meet with an expert (the teacher), because, while I might not be a genius, I have mastered just about every eighth grade standard. Except for run-on sentences (see previous sentence). Oh, and fragmented sentences (see previous sentence).

The second type of conference is a coaching conference. Here, the idea is not about providing correction or giving practical ideas. Instead, I ask reflective questions and allow students to think about their learning, find their own mistakes, create future goals and clarify their plans. The coaching conferences are all about students learning to think about their own learning.

In terms of documenting, I sometimes filled out a reflection Google Document with students. They would then integrate this into their ongoing reflective portfolio. Other times, I pulled up the standards-grid report card and talked about the self-assessment. In the consulting conferences, students often came to me with a particular work that they wanted to talk about. Since I allowed them to continually correct until reaching mastery, it was never an issue of "getting the grade."

A Sketchy Explanation of 21st Century Learning

2011-12-02T13:17:00.001-07:00