Professional Discourtesy

As I mentioned yesterday, our district is adopting a new grade book application. This one is designed to be seamlessly integrated with our student information system, which on the surface seems to be handy and, with any luck, labor-saving for those of us working directly with students. In order to prepare for the big roll out, teachers were required to enroll either in a face to face training or an online course to introduce us to our new tool.

Technically, people can get the training next week when we're contractually back to work, but that pre-service week is pretty busy, and so we were encouraged to do this over the summer, strongly encouraged, because they couldn't require us since they weren't paying us. Having a plan to meet this requirement was one of the things we had to do before we could "check out" at the end of the year in June. My plan was to take the online course, and I put my plan off until today.

To be honest? It's miraculous that I did it this far (4 days) in advance of the deadline, but I was putting something else off, and this seemed like a good way to do it.

Unfortunately, the class was excruciating. There were 13 modules, each with step-by-step directions and a video which was actually a narration of those same directions. There were four 2-question quizzes and a 7-question final test at the end. There was no hands on practice or other practical application and my brain was numb 30 seconds into it.

Perhaps if I could have accessed my new grade book, or a new grade book and played around with it a bit, these lessons would have seemed more meaningful. It was yet another example of adult learners being bludgeoned by some of the worst practices in education. Why do we do that to ourselves? It seems comparable to doctors treating each other with leeches. Oh wait, they don't do that. They use their best technology and efforts on their colleagues.

Don't worry. I aced the class, probably because mind-numbing and rigor rarely go hand in hand.

AND, I'll be sure to make that comment available in the public portal. (If not, you can always just FOIA it.)

Back to the Future

I so appreciate my friend, Ruby Justice, taking the time to read and comment on my writing here. In her last reply, she agreed with my concerns about the headlong embrace of technology in education and she ended her post with, I see a return of paper gradebooks in the future , too! ;-)

Winky face noted, I started to reply to that comment specifically, but then I realized that there was more to my thoughts than a sentence or two.

When I first started teaching 20 years ago, there were some computers in the school, mostly in labs, and mostly used for word processing, math practice, or social studies simulations. The internet as we know it was in its infancy-- it would be a couple years before I had a dial-up modem and an AOL account at home, and after that, I helped introduce such connectivity to my school by writing a grant for my classroom.

Still, it was several more years before they gave us all "teacher work stations," and for that time, my grade book was vinyl-covered and spiral bound. Each student's name was handwritten in the column on the far left, as was each assignment vertically across the top. Grades were entered in the light green grid before assignments were handed back, and in those days, it took hours with a pencil and a calculator to figure out quarterly grades for 90 kids. That chore alone put the "work" in teacher work day.

As such, I embraced the introduction of grade book software. In addition to the hours it saved at the end of the quarter, it was really productive to know how kids were doing as we went along, and printing progress reports with lists of missing assignments was a useful way to communicate with students and their parents. Sure, there could be some confusion, particularly between home and school-- not being present in the classroom meant, understandably, that parents did not always understand what was missing or why a particular grade was what it was. Most teachers were more than happy to explain, however, and the electronic grade book became an accepted tool. Personally, I used to say that these reports were like snapshots-- they were, by their nature, likely to change, or have changed already, over time as more assignments were completed and assessed.

Soon, we were sending home bi-weekly progress reports, in addition to our mid-quarter, quarterly, and annual grades, which was helpful for some students and their families, and therefore in my opinion worth the extra work. Two years ago, we implemented a system where we uploaded our grades every week, affording that much more access to any interested stakeholders.

Of course, we were aware then that many school districts had taken the next step-- making the teachers' grade books accessible, live, to students and parents, and instead of feeling inconvenienced by preparing weekly reports, most of my colleagues felt lucky that that was the extent of access to our records. I think there was a consensus that live access was a bad idea, not because we had anything to hide, but rather because any snapshot can be, at best, unflattering, or at worst, misconstrued.

This year we have a new web-based grade book, and it looks like it's going to allow live access. I'll let you know how it goes, but as of now? I'm in the market for something vinyl-bound, maybe with light green pages.

Should We talk about This?

I've been thinking a lot about screen time lately. A new book outlines the dangers of such a commonplace stimulating entity to any of us, but particularly to children. It seems that such a regular intense experience can become addictive.

No shit.

It also seems that the quick cuts from image to image and topic to topic may contribute to the rise of attentional issues we see in our citizens, both child and adult.

Again, is anybody really surprised?

As an educator, I have definitely exploited the engagement and convenience that technology offers. I have successfully structured assignments intentionally mindful of those qualities. In the last few years, I have received some push back, though, from families who would like to limit their children's screen time. I have responded to them just as I have accommodated households without internet access-- by offering minimum requirements that can be met at school.

My assignments are usually limited to some sort of prompt and then the opportunity to share responses and reply to peers. In the last few years, my students' enthusiasm for such tasks has been on the wane, even as their parents' protests have grown. The kids want even more bells and whistles while their parents wonder what's wrong with good old pencil and paper.

My prediction? This will be a pivotal issue for human beings. Our technology is changing us, but exactly how so and to what end remains to be seen.

More Signs of the Season

After a very nice visit, we dropped Mark off at the airport at around 5:30. As we drove off after the hugs and farewells, Heidi sighed. "Summer's over."

"We have one more week," I said. "How can we make the most of it? Wanna go to the movies?"

She nodded and I gestured at my smart phone. "What's playing?"

In the end, we settled on the number one movie of last weekend, Elysium, not out of a burning desire to see it (although we liked District 9 and Matt Damon, so it was definitely on our list), but rather from convenience; that particular movie was playing in 15 minutes at a near-by theater.

Oh, I love the movies, and in the summer? Any movie will do, because there is always tomorrow to see or do something else. But I did not love this one, and as we filed from the theater, I knew our vacation was coming to an end, because I felt disappointed.

Move-in Day

In between bakeries, coffee shops, restaurants and take-out joints, Mark wanted to make a few other stops in DC today. In 1989 he spent the summer living and working in a halfway house in Columbia Heights. One of the places he wanted to revisit was the lower quad at Howard University. "I used to grab a blanket and a couple of pillows and escape the craziness by coming over here and reading under the trees," he told us.

I had never been to the Howard campus, and the quad was stately and beautiful and mostly quiet, despite today being "move in" day for the class of 2017. The weather is still unbelievably cool for August, and red, white, and blue balloon arches glowed in the bright sunshine and swayed in the fresh breeze.

Many, many cars were lined up way down the road and around the corner, waiting patiently for their turn to pull in and unload. As we walked by, I noted all the state license plates: in addition to DC, Maryland, Virginia, we saw several from New York, Georgia, both Carolinas, Florida, New Jersey, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Tennessee, and Texas-- hundreds of kids from all over the country were here to start the next big phase of their lives, and it was really cool that this was my home town.

Along for the Ride

Heidi's brother is in town for the weekend, and unlike our other guests this summer, he came with an agenda. Despite or because of the fact that he is a very fit and lean guy in his late 40s, he has a list of bakeries that he wants to hit while he's here.

As soon as his plane landed at noon, we headed downtown to check off the first three places. And by "checked off" I don't mean we looked at the menu and then ordered a glass of water, I mean the guy ate six Portuguese pastries, two ginormous slices of pie, and a half dozen butter tarts before we got home. The other 3 slices of pie, six pastries, and slice of cake roll are also gone, as is dinner.

I don't think I've ever fully understood the notion of living vicariously, but friends? I get it now, and I cannot wait for tomorrow!

Like Sands through the Hour Glass

This year I find myself clutching each summer moment as it passes-- just sitting in the chair enjoying a cup of (okay, really good) coffee while reading the morning paper with the window open becomes a precious little gem I want to stow away for leaner times. Perhaps that's wise... the prospect of returning to another year of contemporary public education weighs heavily on each bright day. I'm sure there is a healthier way to handle this time off, but that strategy will have to wait until next year.