Greetings from your fellow government agent...

Interesting. I'm currently in the throes of all things educational + law.   A graduate course* which has consumed my thoughts my entire spring break,  but has brought me to three important realizations.


 #1. I feel somewhat cheated by my education on all things constitutional. Oh sure I grasp the concepts of how our country was established and founded, but if it weren't for Schoolhouse Rock, the jingles I made up to remember those first colonial denominations ( think George Michael's "Faith") and the stick-figure illustrated Bill of Rights booklet made as an example for my first classroom of 5th graders, my in-depth knowledge would be even more sparse than it is. I'll bet an illegal alien applying for citizenship is required to know the ins and outs of our government more than I. Perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit, I loved memorizing events for, and acing, my American History tests, (Thank you, Mrs. Milligan and Pulley, you taught me well!) but I humble myself as an American and admit I should have a broader wealth of recall of the document in its entirety.

Realization #2. None of the above matters all that much because I am fortunate enough to live in a time when any information needed is only a click away. The 9th Wonder of the World, the Information Superhighway is at my fingertips and I'm in a highway hypnosis. Gone are the days of the card catalog, and the oh so sweet aroma of the aged and faintly yellowed tabbed cardstock. Straining one's eyes to read a blurred microfilm after consulting two other sources to locate it? fuhgettaboutit.  Like sands through the hourglass so are the sites that I visit, ( and the sources I consult via digital text, email, etc.)  The road takes twist and turns and you can't always trust the signs, but it's there to suck -er take- me in, and to, wherever I need to go- thank God .

Thanking God...which brings me to realization #3. The State of Texas has issued me a teaching certificate (decades or so ago but who's counting?) and I work in a public school funded in part by federal monies, which makes me an agent of the government. Who knew? I can't help but start bobbing my head and singing Johnny Rivers' "Secret Agent Man"...only I'm not a man, and my job is not secret, or all that mysterious. (Aside from the surprised  student  face when spotted at the grocery store in a pair of yoga pants sans full makeup--dispels belief and gets 'em every time.) But it appears I have to keep the one thing that gets me out of bed each morning; gives me strength to deal with complexities of students, colleagues, parents, and days when the diet Coke man hasn't restocked the vending machine: my FAITH in God, to myself.  As a government agent, I can observe my moment of silence each day by asking my Heavenly Father for guidance and the wherewithal  to not be distracted  by students who arrive in need of a bath and clean clothes. I can thank Him in private and talk to other teachers about my beliefs on my leisurely lunch break...But if a group of students gathered for a Bible study, technically I should not join them.  When a student asks me if I go to the church across from Wal-Mart when he has seen me while driving by, I shouldn't invite him to come to Sunday School- even as I see the need for such a place in the sadness of his eyes.
As a government agent I cannot encourage nor discourage any religious activity. But am I not a citizen protected under the First Amendment , well, first? I'm not asking permission to proselytize or strike up a version of "I'll Fly Away" at a pep rally. But if students are gathered on a September morning around the flagpole praying for their school and even me....am I an agent of the government or a humbly flawed human  just like them? It's best if I stay away...it is to be their ( the students') event. I get all that. They are not supposed to know..the big secret..that I believe in God. When the very thing I wish I could do is share it with them. Not infringe my beliefs, not convert them..just perhaps shine some proverbial light in their, for some, otherwise dark lives. It doesn't take a school psychologist to know which kids come from a home where the only mention of 'god' precedes an expletive of some sort.

I'm reminded of a campfire song and the refrain of which I chanted many times in my youth. "Yes they'll know we are Christians by our love..." Agent or not, this is what God has, gulp, called me to do. Rise up 180 some odd days of the year and relate to these future fellow Americans. And while they may not ever see me praying for them, may they know".. by my love, by my love."


*(Yes, grad school: the self discovery (and a dash of self doubt) for which I am paying thousands. The constant reminder that lecture really is the least effective way to learn new information. Surrounding one's self with a few pompous professionals who already know everything;  for whom taking the class is a mere formality, as well as a few kindred spirits experiencing the same befuddlement as I.   Throw in some intermittent adult onset ADD symptom(s) surfacing at the most inopportune times and a heavy dose of thoughts and revelations compelling me to blog in the middle of the night. Yes, grad school--good stuff.)

Put me in coach...

So I am not a sports buff by any stretch, but  I just read a thought provoking article about teacher evaluation that challenges us to think less about measuring or rating a teacher and focus efforts on developing teachers by strengthening their skills; fundamentals, if  you will.  The author proposed:
 " To improve the team, you don't study the scoreboard; you go out and practice. (Bambrick-Santoyo, 2012)."
For too many years we have tried to rate teachers without coaching them how to achieve the goals. The article gives us a glimpse of  a weekly debriefing between a first year teacher and her principal.  The teacher is praised for what she is doing but together they find one area that the teacher could improve upon. A concrete goal is then set and the principal explicitly guides the teacher on how to meet it. The principal will then return the following week to see the objective being carried. out. Now my first reaction to a weekly meeting was something like this: Feasible -0, Unlikey-50... Not to mention  the difficulty of  hearing on regular basis that you are lacking in one area. But I read on.  The author continued his sports analogy by saying he has coached hundreds of teachers and pointed out that: "The best coaches don't spend their efforts parsing the most accurate way to 'steal' a ball, they spend it training players how to improve their footwork so they can avoid an opposing player stealing the ball in the first place ( Bambrick-Santoyo, 2012)." If the summative evaluation is the championship game; there has to be some practice sessions along the way.  The author believes that if the focus remains on coaching,  the weekly scheduled debriefings will shift from find what's "wrong" with the teacher, but rather how the teacher is continuing to grow and develop! Still, once a week? Well if you look at Marzano's well researched model of evaluation, there are 41 strategies to measure teacher effectiveness. There is no doubt he and his professional team have put together a comprehensive list of what is going to "work".  But how realistic is it to believe that all 41 could be observed in one class period? How realistic is it to think we could master ALL of them? I know if and when I become an evaluator myself,  I want my hard working employees to know how wonderful and appreciated their efforts are. Aside from verbal praise the most recognized form of that would come in the documentation of a yearly evaluation. Everyone likes and needs to hear and know they are approved of by their superiors. We all undoubtedly give it all we've got on observation day and that is admirable. But the simple truth is we must humble ourselves and know that to truly be effective and have our students improve on performance, we must improve ourselves. We get caught up in the pressing matters of the day, grading period, impending high-stakes testing, etc. We often lose sight of best practices and treat each day like a drill: survive it without injury ( be it physical or mental!). Should we not approach each experience, semester, year as sweat-drenching training session? We may leave exhausted, but know what we still have to work on. Another reason to support frequently being observed? Amabile and Kramer have researched and found that, “...when workers-teachers included-sense they are making steady, measurable progress , their workplace satisfaction soars and their performance greatly improves (Amabile and Kramer, 2011).  Research has shown that shorter, frequent observations permit observers to see a much bigger sample of teaching; five to ten minutes is long enough time to sense the nature of learning that is going on. The more observations the better, the more conversation the better ( Danielson, 2002). So if we want to win, are we willing to take the time to coach our players? How can we afford not to? The more skilled the players, the stronger the team?

References
Amabile, T. & Kramer, S. (2011). The progress principle: Using small wins to ignite joy, engagement, and creativity at work. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Business Review. 

Bambrick-Sanotoyo, Paul. (2012). Beyond the scoreboard. Educational Leadership, Volume 7 (Number 3), 27-30. 

Danielson, C. (2002). Enhancing student achiemement: A framework for school improvement. Alexandria, VA: ASCD

Marzano, R., Frontier, T., & Livingston, D. (2011). Effective supervision: Supporting the art and science of teaching. Alexandria, VA: ASCD

Value-Added...is that like a coupon or something?

Umm, no, it's a pretty, packaged name for a 'model' that uses student performance on standardized tests as a means to evaluate a teacher's effectiveness...pardon my Wayne's World lingo, "Assphincter says what?" Sigh. It's out there and it's being researched. I had to subject my eyes and mind to some text about it as part of my graduate coursework in educational supervision.  Here's what I choked down:

The concept of making student learning (as evidenced by standardized test performance gain) is also referred to as “Value-Added Models”. It is meant to be a tool to evaluate student performance in correlation to teacher effectiveness using statistics to observe the changes in student performance over time. Anyone in education can quickly and succinctly tell you what a student can gain over years cannot be attributed to a test or even one teacher, for that matter. Here are some drawbacks and pitfalls to the concept as noted through various studies:

-there is a myriad of other factors that cannot be measured including a student's home life, culture and peers, school size and facilities, past teachers and in some cases, schools, and the test itself.

-the data is incredibly varied and depends on the statistical model used

-tying test scores to teacher evaluation can result in harmful effects; teaching to the test, compromising other learning

-teachers cannot control what students are placed in their classroom ( ELLs, SpecEd, GT, etc)and often the “better” teachers are given these students whose success might not be genuinely reflected in test scores!

-one teacher can hardly be responsible for all of a student's learning- there are effects from years and teachers before.

-tying monetary bonuses to teacher evaluation in VAMs , only produces good test takers

-when a test score becomes the objective, how can hey be used to measure a teacher's overall effectiveness?

With all these factors, there is simply not enough to support that supervisors and administrators that a Value-Added Model should be used for crucial decisions regarding teachers; it should not be the basis for whether or not a teacher is effective.

While I wholeheartedly agree with all of the above, and do not wish to be judged by how well my students do on their tests, the fact remains that the state and federal government do rate our schools by such and really, really think those scores are the bee's knees.  I work in a small district. When I taught 6^th grade reading, I was the ONLY person, aside from the resource teacher who serviced less than five students, who taught 6^th grade reading. I knew I would be judged at least informally, by how well those 6^th graders performed. While it was incredibly stressful, it DID drive me to achieve success with my students. I took pride and ownership in how well they did and felt responsibility and guilt when they did not. Now I work with all three grade levels and while my "name" may not be on the line, my job is. I'd rather chew on tinfoil and roll around in a bathtub full of thumbtacks than be told that we did not meet AYP in reading yet again. I know the scant ELAR team with whom I share a campus are busting their behinds to ensure success. 

And as bad as I cringe to say it, the test, at least in Texas should drive instruction because it IS testing the STANDARDS set forth by the state to be taught. But-- success on a test lies NOT with a single teacher! It has to be a campus-wide, aligned, collaborative, meeting of the minds, “Let's-do-this” task! Everyone has to contribute to student success in the areas of literacy and logic. Reading is not a skill confined to one class period. Math is applied across disciplines. How do we evaluate those efforts towards a campus goal? 

Woah-oh-oh Sweet job o' mine...

After 16 years in the same classroom teaching the same subject,  a new position at my campus opened up; and after careful consideration consisting of  inhaling heaping hanfuls of NIlla wafers followed by a two-mile "guilt-jog", I decided I would like to try it. It involves working with all three grade levels, helping kids who struggle with reading, for what I have learned can be a variety of reasons and factors. I quickly signed up for summer trainings and pondered the set- up of the classroom and then took a little time to cogitate over it all. Here is an attempt to describe it.

Ahhh.   While basking in the glory of doing nothing and resting afterwards that IS summer,  I caught wind of a mildly popular country music video and song of which I couldn’t help but take notice. Kenny Chesney may be balding, but does faded, ripped up jeans such justice! And Tim McGraw, claiming tightly to his youthfulness, doing an above average job I might add, isn’t too hard to take a gander at either. So there they were wielding their guitars and shiny cowboy hats crooning about doing “what makes ya feel like a rock star!”

Hmm. I’m a card-carrying member (Member’s Only-like the jackets, ha ha!) of the 1980’s and all its glory of big hair, guy-liner and riffs that still stick in one’s head…eight- six -seven, five- three -ohhh niiiine. AND, I’ve watched a LOT of episodes of Behind the Music- I know Motley Crue’s life stories almost by heart.   And any airhead could tell ya while being a rock star may be lucrative and provide life of excess- it’s dramatic turns are almost always undeniably ugly. Downward spirals of substance abuse, media exploits,  hotel trashing,  brushes with the law. Oh, and untimely and preventable death. So why would you want to feel like a rock star?

I get it…millions of screaming scantily clad members of the opposite sex, mostly…reaching desperately for but a drop of your sweat. Being idolized and loved by throngs. Getting up on a stage and being paid, quite handsomely, for doing what you love.

I’ll take the last part. The very last one.

And even though the video would be not quite so enthralling, I would rather sing about my profession, my calling, what I get up and do for one hundred and eighty some odd days of the year.

Forget rock star, “ Do what makes ya fell like a reading in-ter-ventionnnn-iiiist” . Guitar solo, dramatic drums, pyrotechnics, lasers and such: and the crowd goes WIIIILLLD!!!

Well maybe not the crowd, but hey …I now have the two quietest-as-a-mouse kids having full blown conversations with me! Academic vocabulary is flowing like AquaNet in my little classroom, the thinking more rampant than alcohol at a Guns and Roses backstage party!  We set learning goals, we reflect, we think, we talk about thinking, and we LIKE it! So maybe I’m not asked to sign any caps, shirts, or body parts…but being told “I can actually learn in here.”, and being begged “Can I stay in here???”-well that’s more valuable to me than a backstage Bon Jovi pass. (Ok so I went through a little teeny feathered-bang infatuation). So do what makes you feel like a ( insert dream job here.) I promise you’ll want to sing about it!

 Just stay away from leather pants.

not so terse verse...

A Poem in a Post--Blogetry? Bloetry? perhaps a Bloem? 

Longfellow or Dickinson I'm not and at this even Dr. Seuss would probably blow snot...

The greatest compliment ever given to me

By someone OTHER than my family,

Was not "You look nice today!"

(Guess yesterday was just okay?)

"Cute purse! -- "Lovely shoes!"

Even those words won't transfuse

a cure to lighten the occasional blues.

It wasn't "Your hair's so cute like that!"

( It only took two hours to make it flat.)

"I like your outfit."?

(Why, it's only the oldest in my closet.)

Nah...

The statement that's made me feel replete

comes from a child

And I revel in receipt.

Feeling bewildered, a bit besotted and THEN

" Hey, Miss! ,

I wanna be

in YOUR class

again!"

What more candid words

could a teacher hope to hear

from a student of a previous year.

the only thing constant is...dirty socks

Ah, summer! Home again, home again, bloggety blog!

Forget all the aforementioned emotions about the end of the school year...I'm free!!!

Well, except for the laundry, and the doubled amount of trips to the grocery store to feed my overly ravenous offspring three, count 'em, three meals a day. Oh- and the whole Mom's Taxi service business, it never seems to slow.  I have spent the majority of the days being perfectly content with actually getting the laundry threat down from security level red to a modest yellow. I have delighted in de-junking drawers, cabinets and consoles. I have reveled in the reverie of purging the personal things that are superfluous. The beds are made and countertops visible. How much happier I feel when I have time to get things in their proper places! To open a closet door without fear of possible concussion. This euphoria is also been afforded to me at a price of sending my pre-teen angst filled daughter to a week long theater camp. (While I love my children with all my being, peaceful coexistence is absent when the two are together!). Thus leaving my seven year old son to bemylittlecompanion as the summer commences. He's content with gunning down birds with his pellet gun or watching movies, playing games, building forts and so forth. We are in our clean cocoon of conditioned air. It is a nice "change" of pace...

It also gives me time to reflect on the school/work year passed and the one upcoming. There is constant buzzing in a small town about changes in staffing, administration, and salary of ones school district. Without the daily meeting of other faculty members there is trepidation about possible changes that looms ( like an overflowing laundry basket or so-full-it won't -open junk drawer.)  And while I try not to let my own anxieties creep into my consciousness; I'd be lying if I said they didn't .

Why are we as adults so apprehensive about change? Why, the sheer look of delight of my students upon hearing they are getting new a new seating arrangement closely resembles being told they are about to watch a Li'l Wayne video and eat ice cream! Is it because we fear the unknown? That's a valid explanation. But I believe there is more. We fear not only the possibilities, for our mind hasn't quite been able to master filtering the infinitesimal options of outcomes, but I see that it's not unlike an animal's flight or fight response. We fear how changes will directly affect our lives and how we will reciprocate; our defenses are up! And we may have to (insert deep dramaatic inhalation) adapt.  When we do, in August, have to spread our newly formed wings and ditch the cocoon (which by now will be in a state of disarray again anyway), we wonder what we will face "out there". Will we be forced to change the way things have always been done, be them successful or not? Will the waywe like to fly be threatened? Let's not leave out the fear of being socially isolated as a result of new people and policies on a campus. Add to that what is inevitably in our human condition (unlike the animal world inhabitants) to obsess over how changes will impact us individuals.  While of course, we SHOULD, as ed-u-cat-ors ( snobby British accent yet again), shift our focus away from our insecurities and try to see outside of our cocoons; to ponder how the changes just might positively affect the whole system. (Insert grossly understated generalization here: It is WAY easier said than done.)

AND, if the only thing constant is indeed change, why, the very things over which we fret will be fleeting for sure! Think about the hard work that must be endured to rearrange ones bedroom. You worry you will hate the layout once you (after nearly dislodging a back disc and sacrificing a toenail) finally get the bed to the opposite wall and may not have the physical wherewithal to move it back even if you can't close the door for the headboard being in the way. ( Hmm, never ever happened to me before, I swear.) But it's worth the effort to see if you might like a new layout. And guess what? In the process of the change you've uncovered the long forgotten end- of -season, got 'em for nearly free,  knee high boots in a dust covered box!  You are suddenly aware of something you maybe didn't even know your life was lacking. Perhaps the fervor to try new things or roles in your life? And if you truly detest the change(s), if nothing else it will maybe make you appreciate allthe more, your previous situation, cocoon, layout what have you, that you may have taken for granted.  We may not like the change itself, but the power of perspective is ultimately self initiated and directed. Sigh.

The last week in July always seems to prompt those not in the public school realm to ask, with a insidious smirk and drippy sarcasm if I am ready to go back. (About the same time as the onset of first day of school nightmares involving a class full of rowdy kids and me with little clothing on-eek!) When the truth is I'm not really going back. Things will be different: the students assuredly will have changed, and while I may vacillate between the zebra or cheetah border on my calendar board, or what songs to make the kids stand up and sing to help them learn their figurative language, it will, regardless, be a new school year. (Something I begin to anticipate mid-April!). The way in which I enter and view my classroom will not be identical to the year previous, or the day before, for that matter. And there will be some things I will continue do in a ritualistic nature, as ceatures of habit we , no doubt, all are.  No matter who the boss may be, I am the person who has beenentrusted with teaching reading to my community's sixth graders. No matter who sits in a central office, I must direct myself to adjust and adapt to the needs of those kids. Keep my focus on trying to create a classroom that could be a fun cocoon for them to come and hopefully learn. And if I need to change, or someone feels the need to displace me,  I pray I will have the self introspection to successfully do so (without a full blown hissy fit- maybe just a stomp and late night ice cream binge).

I've been told the Bible has the words "Do not fear" cited 365 times, that means I can double up on a few days of my 187.

Crikey, I just heard the dryer buzz.

standard eyes-ed

Seems most blogging and commentary these days centers on parallels or analogies, so here's another one for the books.

Last July I set out an adventure. Armed with my smartphone (equipped with lime green headphones and a nothing short of magical app that would track me via GPS), a sparkly new pair of sneaks with some sort of thigh tightening technology built right in, and sheer determination; I jogged all the way to my mailbox and back- without stopping. And lived to tell about it. Barely. Sweating profusely and gasping for each ragged breath, I had traveled a whole half a mile! Hot diggety dog! That was a feat not conquered since middle school. Thus began my love/abhor relationship with plodding, er- jogging, and eventually running.

Running was a great way for me to burn those calories consumed during the afternoon doldrums of the school day; i.e. any sugary snack I could pilfer. It also afforded me time to reflect on life, have meditation (albeit the heavy breathing variety). I even joined a very fulfilling bible study at my church geared toward running the race God has set before us. The activity gave me a unique opportunity to fellowship with my Lord.

And eventually, I sought out an official race in which to run. What was it about being timed and participating in activities with throngs of total strangers that was so appealing? Validation? Pride? Curiosity? The cool t-shirt to prove I took part? Ah, competition. The allure for some is intoxicating; it propels us to train, work tirelessly, strive to achieve a goal. And for what in return? The sense of accomplishment, and perhaps, if performance ranks high enough; reward(s). At my first organized 5K, the goal was simply to finish and not pass out, be trampled, or eek-be last! I crossed the finish line (with many still behind me) and felt exuberance, accompanied by a tinge of exhaustion. Since the race was in August and I was drowning in my own sweat, I didn't stick around to find out the results. Yet in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder-how did I place? How good was I? How many others did I surpass?   Driving home I assured myself I  had done my best-accomplishing my fastest miles to date; and that it didn't matter how I placed. Or did it?

Fast forward to Spring of 2012. I was preparing for multiple timed events, all on which  I hoped to achieve personal bests. A 5K, a 10K and gulp, the STAAR reading test that would be administered my 6th-grade students at Edna Junior High. The 5k went well, occurring on a brisk March morning. Completing with an adrenaline-charged personal best, I thought: Victory! Eh...Didn't make top three in my age group. Really thought I had been among the fastest of the late thirtysomethings. Oh well, on to bigger and better. April brought a 10k race to Victoria. Over 6 miles. Whew. Entering it again with thoughts of " I just wanna finish". This event would be "chipped" timed, meaning, each runner would have a microchip attached to his/her race bib and quite accurately track and time each runner as he or she stepped on a computerized mat. I paced myself, for fear of passing out or hitting the proverbial wall. As the course came to an end,  I propelled my body miraculously into a sprint while Katy Perry blared that I was a "Firework". My running app displayed that I had averaged a pace of under 10 minutes a mile. Was that standard? I had trained relentlessly and felt a surge of excitement that I had conquered this milestone of the running world. That is until I logged on to the site that posted all the official times. And places. Talk about a deflation. Only a handful of people trailed me. Sigh. Hadn't I done my best? Was there anything I would have done differently? Admittedly, no, I don't think pushing myself any harder would have been beneficial for my body or, most likely, those standing by to administer medical treatment. I had been focused on the goal and worked toward it with intensity that I felt would allow me to feel successful.

Those of you in the turbulent world of education and high stakes testing may begin to the see the point at which I am finally arriving. After several expectant weeks following the STAAR administration, some elusive documents graced my desktop. The raw score results of my sixth graders were there in front of me. I raced to the calculator to arrive at the number correct out of number possible to quickly see who had garnered a 70 percent, by most accounts a passing "standard".  This information was, or is, of course inconclusive, at present, since Texas educators this year will not know until months from now what the passing standard actually is. We don't know how we actually "placed".  Still my heart began to sink with each name.( Well, not all names, but quite more than I had anticipated.)  Fear all year long as to the difficulty and probable outcome of the test had been discussed and instilled in most teachers. Yet we trained diligently, we had sweat daily through our skills n' drills. We knew how long the race was to be, or rather the maximum time allotted, yet remained at a disadvantage not knowing exactly how the course would be charted. We all assumed there would be some pretty steep hills and predicted parts might break off into unfamiliar trails, so to speak.

Stamina was also going to be an issue in this feat. While I knew this a teacher, I also knew the value of pacing one's self. I was aware that trying to maintain a speed too accelerated would not guarantee success.  Still the students were told and shown what would be seen along the race and shorter practice runs were completed. Race day strategies even explored.  And even though we were all unsure how the territory was to be charted, we hoped that our training sessions would be enough to see the students through to the end. As a professional, I have a vested interested in the results of my participants. As their "coach", I hate to feel defeat for myself and them. Their performance is ultimately a reflection of my competence. As the students crossed their finish lines on April 24th, many felt like I did at the end of a race. It wasn't always easy or fun, but it was DONE and a valiant (fingers crossed) effort had been put forth.

So the results are still unofficial, not yet uploaded for world to view.  Do I judge success by how I feel the race was run; by the preparation that was endured prior to the big day?  Do I feel defeat because the numbers look bleak and had hoped would have been higher? By what standard is success measured? Had I hoped to surpass that? Absolutely.  Do I hope to someday run a mile in under 7 minutes? Hmmm. At the risk of sounding pessimistic, that most likely will not happen. I would be quite frustrated if someone expected that of me, especially since I have not yet mastered an 8 minute mile. More specifically- since my body just isn't cut out for that speed... regardless of the ( oh I am gulping as I am typing) "rigor" of my training. 

I will not give up, I will continue to run the race set before me as God has planned.  I will run even if I don't finish first or win a medal. I will teach even if test scores don't reflect the best performance. With prayer and persistence, how can we not be winners?