Entry # 5: The realities of a new life
and new role are really sinking in
The Sunday edition of the Philadelphia Inquirer boasts a 40-page supplement
on the state of education in Philadelphia, its suburbs and New Jersey. The
supplement's headline reads: "Report Card on the Schools, Facing the
Future: What lies ahead for education."
With highlighter in hand, I attacked the supplement, searching for the twelve
schools in my Cluster, as well as the school where I spent the last eight
years teaching. The grids are enormous and even with the help of a highlighter,
I had to keep looking back to previous pages to verify what the numbers
and symbols represented.
Once again I learned that our class size in Phila. is much higher than that
of the surrounding districts, 33 in the city as compared to 24 in the suburbs.
While it seems like a no-brainer to anyone who has ever taught that smaller
classes mean more individualized instruction and better results, this reform
is always seen as too costly to implement...grrr.
The teacher-to-student ratio per week was not reported. There was also no
mention of scheduling. Given all the research and experimentation with block
rostering and other forms of extended and flexible schedules, I felt this
was a glaring omission.
I read that there is one counselor per 570 students at Washington High,
in my cluster, vs. 290 kids per counselor in the suburbs. I was actually
surprised by the suburban 290 to 1 ratio. If you think about really counseling
kids about college and career options as well as any personal problems they
might be facing, these ratios don't amount to much time for high quality,
personal interaction. The 570 number really makes me wonder why anybody
in their right mind would even take a "counseling" job!
Given these horrendous conditions, it is truly amazing that the counselors
at Washington are able to assist 76% of the students in their efforts to
take the SAT's and 58% in their quest to attend four-year colleges.
The "Report Card" contains a fair amount of information about
spending, salaries, number of AP classes offered and student demographics,
but the lion's share of the piece is taken up by test scores.
SAT verbal, mathematical and overall scores are tallied for the high schools,
as are the students' scores on the PSSA (PA System of School Assessment)
tests in grades 5, 8 and 11. This reading, math and writing test measures
students' ability to comprehend written material, solve problems and offer
written explanations of their chosen problem-solving processes. In addition,
the students write in response to prompts, in order to demonstrate their
level of proficiency vis a vis the state's adopted rubric.
I am a big fan of rubrics, and I like the idea of teaching kids to explain
their own thinking processes. However, I have to wonder how many kids have
actually seen the rubric and whether they really understand it.
Facing up to the realities of professional development
Yesterday, I attended a meeting of the Teaching & Learning Network (TLN).
In my new position, I am one of 22 Cluster Coordinators for TLN. At our
meeting we spent half of our day reviewing PSSA materials, which we will
be sharing with schools next week, and the other half planning our proposed
professional development sessions.
We decided that we need to find out what teachers are already doing to support
student writing. We also recognized that we need to honor the expertise
that already exists among our colleagues. We don't want to go into these
sessions talking about new methods of facilitating student learning, while
we model outdated, talking-heads type of teacher instruction.
As usual, we're bumping into issues of time and money. We're wondering when
we can get teachers together to share and whether we can afford to pay them
for their time. These questions are always central to any planning that
goes on, but right now, with teachers working without a contract, nerves
are frayed and the stakes are even higher than usual.
I can't get answers to the logistical questions before Monday so I'm going
to have to move ahead as if everyone we'd like to attend, is going to be
there, even though I know that's a big "if"!
So, moving right along, I've decided that the rubric needs to be rewritten
in student friendly language. Hopefully, if the kids can understand what's
expected, they'll do a better job in their responses. In addition, one of
my co-facilitators will be drafting a survey designed to get the information
we need about the practices that are already in place.
I'm up for doing this work. I understand the value of writing for my own
thinking and learning, and recognize its importance for our students, but
I can't shake this sense of dread. The source of my uneasy feelings could
be titled, "What if they gave a workshop and nobody came?"
Teacher contempt for "outsiders"
As I delve deeper into my new job, I am getting a first hand feel for the
generalizeable contempt that many teachers have for those of us, who are
outside the classroom. The feeling seems to be one of, "don't call
us, we'll call you!", or worse.
I'm not taking these attitudes personally because most of these people don't
even know me yet, but I'm also not encouraged by these clearly difficult
conditions.
I'm wondering what the best approach is. How much pressure should be exerted
from above? My boss can make people attend a certain number of hours of
professional development, but she can't make them participate.
Last year I questioned whether we were teaching, if the students weren't
learning. Now I'm wondering the same thing about facilitating and sharing,
if it's done without the buy-in of the teachers. The only difference I can
see is that with the kids, they were at least a captive audience.
Ahhh . . . kids!
On a brighter note, I was welcomed into one class this week and I taught
a sample science lesson there. I really enjoyed being with kids again. These
eighth graders have been placed in an alternative community for underachievers.
The teacher is experienced, but new to science. She's anxious to have me
back and I'm desperate to return.
I knew I'd miss the kids, but I had no idea how lonely I would feel. I know
it might sound silly, but I think about them every day. I used to start
every day with a morning club. My class was filled with kids who wanted
help with their homework, or kids who just wanted to hang out and talk.
I am getting emails from some former students and I made a big collage of
photos from my classes, but there's no substitute for the energy flow you
feel in a classroom.
I had breakfast with three of my former "Ask the Girls" members
today. They acted a bit shyly at first, but in no time at all, we were talking
and laughing again. We're going to try and get together from time to time.
Contact with students is what it's all about, it's what keeps me going over
the rough spots. I guess I need to make sure that I'm in schools every day
when I don't have meetings to attend. Hopefully, over time, I'll be able
to chip away at the anti-facilitator attitude, proving myself with my practice.
I just hope it doesn't take too long.
[Editor's note: Deb is co-moderator of the
new MiddleWeb listserve.]
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