There are many things that bug me about high stakes standardized tests, but I guess the main thing is how reductive they are. Every thing we do and every student we teach is reduced to a number, and then people actually use that number to judge schools, teachers, and kids. If that doesn't seemed screwed up, then I don't know what does.
Let me give you an example. Today we administered the state reading test to our students. Among the small percentage of children who failed (yes, through the miracle of modern technology, we received their official scores less than hour after they finished the test) was a girl who was found eligible for special education this year on the basis of emotional disturbance. We know she can read, but the test pissed her off, and she refused to take her time and do her best.
What does her score prove to anyone?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Wise Up
I stumbled across the fact that today is the 100th birthday of Margaret Wise Brown, author of Runaway Bunny and Goodnight Moon. Who knew that she attended boarding school in Switzerland, advocated progressive education ideals, and was romantically involved with women? Not I.
I always did love her books.
I always did love her books.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Just Friends
Yesterday on the walk over for Reading Buddies, I had a funny conversation with one of the kids. "I don't believe in stereotypes," she told me.
"Okay," I nodded in agreement.
"Like, I don't think all teachers were nerds when they were kids," she offered as an example.
"Well, I kind of was," I confessed.
"You were?" she replied, and I admit it, I was flattered by her surprise. "How many friends did you have?"
It was my turn to be surprised. That's not the definition of nerd that I was thinking of. Hmmm... How many friends did I have? I wondered. (Let's not forget my self-professed introversion.)
"In middle school?" I asked. "Do you mean people I knew, people I talked to, or people who were close friends?" I wanted clarification. "Because the answer could be a hundred, twenty-five, or six."
"You only had six friends?" she said. "Wow, you were a nerd!" I shrugged. "Well, how many facebook friends do you have?" she asked with a laugh.
Now that's another story.
"Okay," I nodded in agreement.
"Like, I don't think all teachers were nerds when they were kids," she offered as an example.
"Well, I kind of was," I confessed.
"You were?" she replied, and I admit it, I was flattered by her surprise. "How many friends did you have?"
It was my turn to be surprised. That's not the definition of nerd that I was thinking of. Hmmm... How many friends did I have? I wondered. (Let's not forget my self-professed introversion.)
"In middle school?" I asked. "Do you mean people I knew, people I talked to, or people who were close friends?" I wanted clarification. "Because the answer could be a hundred, twenty-five, or six."
"You only had six friends?" she said. "Wow, you were a nerd!" I shrugged. "Well, how many facebook friends do you have?" she asked with a laugh.
Now that's another story.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Reading Buddies
One of the cool things about our school being an IB Middle Years Programme school is the emphasis we place on community and service. Besides encouraging outside service, we offer the students many opportunities to fulfill the requirement we set for each grade level-- 10 hours for sixth grade, 15 hours for seventh, and 20 hours for eighth.
An activity that I help out with is Reading Buddies; every month one of the counselors and I take a group of 20-30 kids to a nearby elementary school to read to second graders. It's a hectic way to spend a Friday afternoon; sometimes it seems like a rather rambunctious and ragtag assembly that loiters in the lobby waiting for their chance to serve. There are always desperate dashes to the library for books, last minute phone calls for permission, a quick snack for the readers, and then we're off on foot in whatever the weather might be.
There are many rewards as well. It's fun to chat on the way over and back; I get to meet students I don't teach and spend time with students I don't teach anymore. The second grade teachers are very appreciative, and the kids, both middle school and elementary, really love this experience, so it's fun to watch them interact. Of course there is always a student or two who will give the older kids a run for their money, and that's interesting, too, to see how they react when their authority is challenged, but even better? This is the third year we've been doing it-- all those former second graders are going to be sixth graders before we know it, and I've got my eye on a few already. (Yeah, I'm talking to you, Kiki and Eduardo.)
An activity that I help out with is Reading Buddies; every month one of the counselors and I take a group of 20-30 kids to a nearby elementary school to read to second graders. It's a hectic way to spend a Friday afternoon; sometimes it seems like a rather rambunctious and ragtag assembly that loiters in the lobby waiting for their chance to serve. There are always desperate dashes to the library for books, last minute phone calls for permission, a quick snack for the readers, and then we're off on foot in whatever the weather might be.
There are many rewards as well. It's fun to chat on the way over and back; I get to meet students I don't teach and spend time with students I don't teach anymore. The second grade teachers are very appreciative, and the kids, both middle school and elementary, really love this experience, so it's fun to watch them interact. Of course there is always a student or two who will give the older kids a run for their money, and that's interesting, too, to see how they react when their authority is challenged, but even better? This is the third year we've been doing it-- all those former second graders are going to be sixth graders before we know it, and I've got my eye on a few already. (Yeah, I'm talking to you, Kiki and Eduardo.)
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Impressionable
I had my writing group tonight. Sometimes the piece I bring to share is inspired by work I'm doing with my students-- no surprise, then, that it was poetry this time. (I also brought cake.)
The Nature Exchange
Mistletoe for sea star,
sea star for tortoise shell,
tortoise shell for antlers and a bit of bone—
we curate our collections
at the nature exchange,
swapping wasps nests
for fox tails.
I want to trade this devils paintbrush
for that pheasant feather,
or maybe mimosa blossoms
for a pink pair of slippers.
Elderberry and lavender can become fidelity,
parsley and rosewater, loyalty,
zinnias in a tin can, time.
I’ll take these mourning doves and daisies,
this vanilla bean and catnip,
and call it home.
The Nature Exchange
Mistletoe for sea star,
sea star for tortoise shell,
tortoise shell for antlers and a bit of bone—
we curate our collections
at the nature exchange,
swapping wasps nests
for fox tails.
I want to trade this devils paintbrush
for that pheasant feather,
or maybe mimosa blossoms
for a pink pair of slippers.
Elderberry and lavender can become fidelity,
parsley and rosewater, loyalty,
zinnias in a tin can, time.
I’ll take these mourning doves and daisies,
this vanilla bean and catnip,
and call it home.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Poet-in-Residence: Part III
When we met to plan our sessions early last week, the slam poet pointed to May 18 on the calendar. "I can definitely come that day," he told me. "It's my birthday."
"Really?" I asked. "Are you sure you want to?" I was surprised, because it was hard to get a firm commitment from him for any days. I like to think I'm pretty flexible, but that was a challenging meeting.
Later, when he was on his way out, and his confirmed teaching days were as solid as a rope of sand, he asked me to guess how old he would be. "It's a big one," he said.
"Forty?" I shrugged. He looked a little crestfallen, and I knew I was right. Impulsively I offered to make him a birthday cake.
He had a few questions before he accepted. "Are you a good cook? Do you bake from a box or scratch? What's your specialty?" My answers must have been acceptable, because he allowed that a red velvet cake would be his wish. "But I really like coconut," he added. "Will that work?" It would.
The next day his examples to the kids were filled with cupcakes. "Do you want cupcakes next week instead?" I asked him later.
"How many would there be?" he inquired in return.
"The usual 24," I replied. Then we talked about trendy cakes, versus retro cakes (I bake bundts for the students in my homeroom), versus classic cakes. Like many conversations with him, this issue, too, was left unresolved. Later it occurred to me that perhaps he wanted to share his birthday with all the students, and in my mind that meant one thing: mini-cupcakes. Fortunately I've acquired the tins I need for such an undertaking, and so on Monday Night, I baked seven dozen little red velvet cupcakes, piped some cream cheese frosting on each, and topped them with toasted coconut. It took me back to my catering days, and I was pretty pleased with the way they turned out.
Next morning, I checked my facebook account on a whim before school. (I had accepted slam poet's friend request a few days earlier... even though there was something unappealing to me about being friend number 1771.) There I read the following which had been posted four hours before: ...is intoxicated with saki lychee martinis sushi and savory pies thanks to ..., and he still has to teach 6th grade slam poetry in a few hours.
Despite the lovely assonance and alliteration, I rolled my eyes and sighed. Artists!
P.S. He rolled in 20 minutes late for first period, which was really no later than usual. Artists...
"Really?" I asked. "Are you sure you want to?" I was surprised, because it was hard to get a firm commitment from him for any days. I like to think I'm pretty flexible, but that was a challenging meeting.
Later, when he was on his way out, and his confirmed teaching days were as solid as a rope of sand, he asked me to guess how old he would be. "It's a big one," he said.
"Forty?" I shrugged. He looked a little crestfallen, and I knew I was right. Impulsively I offered to make him a birthday cake.
He had a few questions before he accepted. "Are you a good cook? Do you bake from a box or scratch? What's your specialty?" My answers must have been acceptable, because he allowed that a red velvet cake would be his wish. "But I really like coconut," he added. "Will that work?" It would.
The next day his examples to the kids were filled with cupcakes. "Do you want cupcakes next week instead?" I asked him later.
"How many would there be?" he inquired in return.
"The usual 24," I replied. Then we talked about trendy cakes, versus retro cakes (I bake bundts for the students in my homeroom), versus classic cakes. Like many conversations with him, this issue, too, was left unresolved. Later it occurred to me that perhaps he wanted to share his birthday with all the students, and in my mind that meant one thing: mini-cupcakes. Fortunately I've acquired the tins I need for such an undertaking, and so on Monday Night, I baked seven dozen little red velvet cupcakes, piped some cream cheese frosting on each, and topped them with toasted coconut. It took me back to my catering days, and I was pretty pleased with the way they turned out.
Next morning, I checked my facebook account on a whim before school. (I had accepted slam poet's friend request a few days earlier... even though there was something unappealing to me about being friend number 1771.) There I read the following which had been posted four hours before: ...is intoxicated with saki lychee martinis sushi and savory pies thanks to ..., and he still has to teach 6th grade slam poetry in a few hours.
Despite the lovely assonance and alliteration, I rolled my eyes and sighed. Artists!
P.S. He rolled in 20 minutes late for first period, which was really no later than usual. Artists...
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
TC
Today was the inaugural meeting of the "Tolerance Club" at our school. Founded to empower students to confront intolerance both at large and within their peer groups, it is our latest attempt to curtail the inevitable bullying that is part of middle school. The five adults who came together to sponsor this group have realized that the solution can not come from us; kids have to work to change the prevailing culture from within. We want to support them as they try. At the meeting this afternoon we encouraged the group to follow the advice of Gandhi and "be the change you want to see in the world."
About 18 kids showed up. They munched on chips and did a little survey asking whether they had ever been victim or bully in certain situations, and then we discussed the difference between merely tolerating and true tolerance. On their own they identified the key distinction between just putting up with someone and actually supporting somebody in being the person they are. We agreed that our mission would be to encourage tolerance in ourselves first and then in others.
The most powerful activity was also the most fun for the kids. We gave them maps of the school and colored sticker-dots and asked them to label the bullying hot spots. Then, on a master map projected on a screen, they volunteered to come up and place a dot and share an anecdote with the group. Where were the adults when this happened? we asked. They reported that we were there but we couldn't hear; we were there, but we weren't paying attention; we were there, but we didn't care. What do you wish we had done? we asked. Oh they had lots of suggestions, ranging from corporal punishment to a stern-talking to, but then they realized that we can't solve the problem for them. One sixth grader wanted to give up; he didn't believe it could be fixed, but the others in the group held out hope.
Who thinks you'd like to come to another meeting? we asked. It's totally cool if this isn't your thing.
18 hands shot up.
About 18 kids showed up. They munched on chips and did a little survey asking whether they had ever been victim or bully in certain situations, and then we discussed the difference between merely tolerating and true tolerance. On their own they identified the key distinction between just putting up with someone and actually supporting somebody in being the person they are. We agreed that our mission would be to encourage tolerance in ourselves first and then in others.
The most powerful activity was also the most fun for the kids. We gave them maps of the school and colored sticker-dots and asked them to label the bullying hot spots. Then, on a master map projected on a screen, they volunteered to come up and place a dot and share an anecdote with the group. Where were the adults when this happened? we asked. They reported that we were there but we couldn't hear; we were there, but we weren't paying attention; we were there, but we didn't care. What do you wish we had done? we asked. Oh they had lots of suggestions, ranging from corporal punishment to a stern-talking to, but then they realized that we can't solve the problem for them. One sixth grader wanted to give up; he didn't believe it could be fixed, but the others in the group held out hope.
Who thinks you'd like to come to another meeting? we asked. It's totally cool if this isn't your thing.
18 hands shot up.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)