How Did I Learn to Read?

I was looking over a carefully written poster I'd made for a lesson on author's purpose, when suddenly it struck me as rather strange. It's not that author's purpose is new to me. I've probably taught a couple dozen of lessons on author's purpose in my limited tenure as a teacher. But, if you asked me before I started teaching, "What is author's purpose?", I'm not sure I'd have a quick answer. I imagine non-teachers reading this blog might be unfamiliar with the phrase as well.

How is this possible? How did all of us manage to become such avid and proficient readers, without learning about author's purpose? As a kid I don't remember learning about author's purpose, and I don't remember learning about main idea and details, sequence or any of the other soundbite strategies I teach my students. What I do remember is reading, writing and talking about books.

So, how and when did this happen? It feels to me like the way we're teaching the students, they lose the forest through the trees, or rather they're losing a love of reading through the reading strategies.

Perhaps I'm wrong to dismiss the changes. Aren't these changes in instruction progress? After all, I may not have learned to read via strategies, but I also wasn't able to use the internet for research projects. In theory, literacy instruction has evolved over time to incorporate the latest and best research.

However, I'm not sure that strategy-based instruction is a methodology resulting from recent research. More likely, it's a byproduct of standards-based instruction. The state standards are a worthwhile effort to give educators a clear idea of what their students need to learn. Unfortunately, I think in an effort to tie instruction to standards, schools have used the standards as a laundry list of learning, rather than the components of a cohesive view of literacy.

Under this thinking, first students will learn about main idea, then students will learn about sequence, after that students will learn about making predictions, and so on, and so on, until the students have "met the standards". It's possible that students can become proficient readers through this process. I know I've been teaching this way, and my students have certainly made progress. But even if proficiency is possible, I'm still unsure that students can develop an authentic, meaningful understanding of what reading really means by learning about strategies.

Once again, I have to think about myself as a reader to question this current approach. I may not have learned about the many strategies good readers use, but I know I could tell the difference between non-fiction and fiction, and identify the different purposes for those books. I may not have learned about identifying the main idea and details, but I could summarize a text with clarity. And so could readers for decades (centuries?) before me. So, is strategy based literacy instruction the way to go? Or are we creating more confusion than clarity?

The Observer Effect

Next week, I'm having the first of my three formal observations. As I've been preparing for this observation, I've been thinking about the planning of the perfect lesson and the validity of announced observations. As usual, I'm finding myself somewhat conflicted.

On the one hand, I want every chance to put my best foot forward. I want the chance to plan for every eventuality and worst-case scenario. I want to showcase my understanding of differentiation and also the minutia that go into a successful lesson.

But, wait. I want these things for all my lessons. I want every lesson to be outstanding and tiered for all the different learners in my classroom. And I want someone to be able to walk into my classroom at any time, and see that. That's why a lot of new teacher evaluation systems are starting to incorporate informal or unannounced observations. If we want true assessments of our abilities as teachers, we can't always get a heads up when someone wants to see us teach.

So, I feel a bit guilty putting so much extra effort into next week's observation lesson. By polishing it, and taking the lesson plan through multiple drafts with help from feedback from other teachers, I know it won't be an authentic representation of my daily teaching. But, my AP knows this, so in effect, we both know it's not necessarily my daily teaching, but it is a true measure of my best planned teaching.

So the question is how do make my best teaching my daily teaching? When I finally teach this lesson I will have spent a couple of hours planning, including conversations with other teachers and my own work. Is there a way to do this for every lesson without averaging an hour plus per lesson? If so, I'm anxious to find it.

Planning. Again.

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. This is one of those old teaching adages, passed down from the elders to me in my early days of teaching. Like many great cliches, it has endured, because it's true. I've recognized the central role of planning to my teaching since the Labor Day Monday before my first day, when I anxiously tried to plan a whole 7 hours of lessons.

It's laughable now to think back on how difficult that first day's lesson plan was for me. What's funnier is that I once thought that my first year of lesson planning would be my last. Get that first year of lesson plans written, I thought, and I'd be set for life. The reality is, three years later, I'm not only still planning, but I'm also still learning how to plan better.

My first year's plans were an honest effort. I was sure to include all the components I'd learned during my Fellows pre-service training: an objective, standard(s) addressed, HITS (High Impact Teaching Strategies) I would be employing, materials, motivation and introduction to new material, guided practice, independent practice and summary. Other than the HITS (which I think is just so adorable), my lesson plans look similar in structure, with a few minor changes and additions.

Those first lesson plans however, were lacking the same depth of experience as their teacher. Each lesson written for the first time, was devoid of the real understanding that different students learn in different ways, and the necessary differentiation. Nor did these plans anticipate the misconceptions and questions that would undoubtedly arise.

Second year showed growth, and a better understanding of the process of going from modeling to independent work. Yet, I still didn't plan in a way that accommodated the broad range of abilities in my classroom. I was still planning one-size-fits-all lessons, fully knowing my classroom was filled with students reading from first to fourth grade level.

In the intervening years (all 1.5 of them) my plans have continued to evolve. Hopefully for the better. Still, it's surprising how the work that goes into improving my lesson plans seems never-ending. While I feel I have the experience now that allows for some organic implementation of lesson plans, it's that same experience that has taught me how useful it is to plan for the minutia. And it's that same experience that tells me my lesson planning will never be over as long as I'm teaching different students each year.

Lesson planning however, is in many ways a very personal process, and I know some close friends who go into the classroom and practically improvise from start to finish. Everyone seems to have their own philosophy. I'm curious, and I'd like to hear in the comments, how much time do other teachers spend planning? How detailed are your plans? Do you create a script? Or more of an outline?

I think I fall somewhere in between, but I'm trending (with plenty of encouragement from my administration) toward the former. I'm hoping by improving my planning, I'll make my failures fewer and farther between.

Black is the New Miers

"Huh?" This was my initial reaction when I heard that Chancellor Klein was stepping down, and would be replaced by Hearst's Cathie Black. And I wasn't the only one. A lot of observers, including many who have generally been much more forgiving of Bloomberg's education policy, shared my puzzlement toward his choice. Now the question is, will Bloomberg push forward with his usual self-assuredness, or will Cathie Black end up as his Harriet Miers?

Like Miers, Black's main qualification seems to be her personal relationship with her would-be boss. Beyond that, the question on everyone's mind is, is she really the best person for the job? It's not that people doubt her intelligence. Nor is her resume unimpressive. Nevertheless, just as Miers' accolades didn't qualify her for the highest court in America, people are wondering now is "The First Lady of American Magazines" really cut out to run the country's largest school system?

All of this backlash seems somewhat obvious, and Bloomberg likely saw it coming, but didn't care. Bloomberg prides himself on his maverick management style, and has made no secret of his preference for business-oriented outsiders. When you consider Bloomberg's underlying philosophy toward the school system and city governance in general, Cathie Black seems like a natural fit. When Bloomberg tapped Klein to take over NYC schools, it may have been Klein's experience taking on the Microsoft monopoly that Bloomberg was hoping to apply toward New York City's public schools. What is Bloomberg looking for in a chancellor now?

It may be that he sees Black's tenure with Hearst, as an appropriate parallel for the current situation of New York City's schools. Black oversaw Hearst at a time when the corporation underwent the difficult process of transitioning from traditional print to new media. Similarly, New York City schools are in a time of crisis. The system is struggling both financially and also to change in order to meet the challenges of a changing 21st century technological landscape. Black, in Bloomberg's view, could be the perfect fit to guide NYC's schools through this process.

If that is Bloomberg's thinking, at least that would hint at some method to his madness. But, it doesn't change the fact that Bloomberg is convinced that New York City schools need an executive, when many would argue they need an educator. There are many such qualified individuals out there, many of whom would be eager to take on Klein's mantle of reform. That the Mayor has decided to ignore these options in favor of his own single-minded perspective is unfortunate, but unsurprising.

I would love to have someone like Diane Ravitch take the helm of America's largest school system. I understand the likelihood of Bloomberg appointing someone with her educational philosophy is nil. But, it shouldn't be too much to ask to hire someone with her educational credentials.

Alternate Reality

Imagine the following scenario: Your friend walks in, visibly upset.

"What's wrong?"

"I just got in a fight."

"You did? What happened?"

"I told this kid to sit down, and he wouldn't listen. I kept asking nicely, but he just rolled his eyes at me. Then he started mimicking me and calling me names."

"Wait, you were fighting with a kid?"

For most New Yorkers, confrontation with strangers isn't unusual. Still, most of us have the decency to avoid arguing with minors. How is it then that adults end up in shouting matches with kids, almost everyday in schools? It's a bizarre alternate reality.

This year, I've thankfully managed to avoid the embarrassment and frustration of arguing with a student. It's taken lots of deep breaths however to stop myself. Recently, I've found myself restraining my temper most often during after school. In my small group of students, there's one boy who not only distracts himself and others, but he's often rude and disrespectful. And while I haven't lost my temper, I still find myself puzzled by the strange environment a classroom creates where an 8-year-old boy can raise my blood pressure so effortlessly.

Obviously, the classroom is a unique setting where the adult-child relationship is defined by a dynamic of power and authority. Also, when you're trying to teach students who are one and two grades below level, disrespectful students aren't just a nuisance, they're a barrier to the education of everyone around them. Still sometimes I can't help almost laughing, wondering if these confrontations could happen anywhere else.

Time for an ELL Update

I teach in a school filled with English Language Learners. Most of their families are originally from Dominican Republic, followed by Mexico, then various Central and South American countries. To meet the needs of these students and their families my school and most schools like it send out letters and report cards in both English and Spanish. Pretty good effort to help our ELLs, no? There's only one problem: not all our ELLs speak Spanish.

While the majority of the students in my class and school speak Spanish at home, a growing number do not. Over the past few years (and longer in many places) the demographics of my school's community and the Bronx in general have been shifting to include a growing number of families from West Africa, the Middle East and Southeast Asia. In spite of the changing ELL population, it doesn't seem like the school or the city is keeping up pace.

A lot of ESL providers still equate ESL with speaking to the students in Spanish. And tonight I handed out English report cards to several families who don't read or speak English fluently. If the city isn't making report cards readily available in Arabic, Fulani, Vietnamese, Hindi and the numerous other languages spoken by our students, they need to start. If they are available (I imagine they are) then schools need to step up to have these materials on hand to meet the multilingual needs of their population. We all know English Language Learner doesn't just mean Spanish Speaker. It's time for our practice to reflect this understanding.

Starving the Child

A friend of mine who teaches at another school shared a quote recently which he heard from an early childhood specialist. "Just because a famine is coming, doesn't mean you starve the child." The woman made the comment in regards to the misguided approach some schools are taking to push test prep into the lower grades. I think it sums up the tragic mistake of stripping away effective child-centered/play-oriented activities in favor of "drill and kill" instruction pretty well. But I also think her words hold true for the older kids as well.

Thanks to the new testing schedule, schools like mine have a little bit more breathing room in our curriculum. The run-up to winter break is no longer a frantic race to prepare the students for the ELA test a week or two after the vacation. But, that doesn't mean that high-pressure test prep won't eventually take hold. In fact, I'm guessing soon after we return from break, the grueling march to get our kids ready will begin in schools like mine across the city.

But are we starving the kids to prepare for a famine? In many ways, and to varying degrees depending on a school's approach to test prep, kids are deprived of meaningful, rich, effective instruction in the weeks or months leading up to the state exams. This may or may not prepare them better for this year's test, but it undoubtedly shorts them in the long-term.

Firstly, when Kaplan or Pearson test prep materials take the place of a well-planned read aloud or time for guided reading, the kids don't learn as well. Secondly, the pressure and dullness of test prep certainly takes most of the fun out of learning for the kids. So ultimately students are learning less, and they're enjoying learning less. This is not a formula for long term success.

I can only hope as standardized tests become more authentic and meaningful, this practice will finally be exposed for its uselessness and be discarded. For the present, there are too many 2nd graders who are being forced to fill out weekly multiple-choice tests "to get ready" and 3rd through 8th graders whose classrooms are taken over by a test-prep mentality. We are not helping these children by "starving them" in anticipation of the "famine".

Solving the Parent Problem

Anyone who has spent time in a high need school knows one of the most difficult, and often frustrating, variables to control in the student achievement equation is parent involvement. Beyond anecdotal proof from our own experiences, research also supports the (rather obvious) idea that parent involvement is central to student success.

But recognizing the importance of parents doesn't make it any easier to get them involved. For a number of reasons - demanding work schedule, cultural barriers, mistrust of administration and/or political institutions in general - getting parents involved in high need communities is an ongoing challenge. So, what's the solution? When in doubt, offer incentives.

That's the thinking behind a new Detroit Public Schools program. According to The Huffington Post, "Under the program, parents are encouraged to register at one of the city's Parent Resource Centers, where they can attend workshops and find other ways to get involved in schools. They earn points for their involvement, which can be used for reduced prices at 15 businesses." It's a novel idea, and I'm anxious to see the outcome.

I'm also curious to what extent, if any, my own school should try to adopt a similar model. Parent engagement has been a major focus of my school's administration. Our school hosts almost weekly workshops for parents on topics ranging from changes to the state ELA to child nutrition. Still in spite of constant outreach and some, turnout is limited, and the goal of improving parent involvement has a prominent place in our school's Comprehensive Education Plan. So should we be trying to offer incentives to encourage more involvement? With parent teacher conferences coming next week, I'd be willing to try almost anything to get full participation.

I can imagine many, teachers and parents alike, will balk at the idea of offering rewards for parent participation. Why should we offer rewards for something that should be a natural, non-negotiable obligation of parenting? I don't have an immediate answer, but I do know with what's at stake, I think the ends justify the means.

What's an Assistant Teacher?

Today when I was on my way out of my polling place, a very well-off public school on the Upper East Side, I stopped to look at a display of the school's employees. There was an array of smiling photos, labeled with names and positions. Amongst the familiar roles of teachers, SETS, and counselors, I saw a position unfamiliar to most teachers in The Bronx and similar communities: Assistant Teacher.

Assistant Teacher? You mean, like someone to help the teacher provide extra support and attention to the students in their classroom? But why would any effective teacher who has mastered differentiation need someone else to help them with their students? It's almost like this school thinks more individual attention is something valuable for their students. Weird.