Teachers Should be Critical of Bad Teaching

I don't like being critical of "bad teachers," mostly because I feel like a hypocrite. I've had moments where I yelled at the class. I've had times when lessons tanked. I like the notion of pulling out planks from my eyes before I search out sawdust in another. 

However, I've been thinking about the Jeff Bliss video again. I've written before that we don't know the whole story. I've mentioned that I'm bothered by the way people used this video to attack all teachers. And yet, as I've thought more about the topic, I've come to the conclusion that we, as teachers, should be critical of bad teaching. 

This doesn't mean that we attack individual teachers. Often, "bad" teachers aren't rogue educators out to harm kids so much as people who need to make paradigm shifts and change their teaching strategies. My hope is that bad teachers get the support that they need. (I hate using the term "bad" here, because I've had moments where I was a pretty bad teacher myself)

Still, we should be angry at the lack of professionalism with a classroom where there are disengaged students sitting in rows of desks with a teacher walled in by a teacher desk while kids fill out packets. We should be bothered, not by the five minutes of video we see, but by the fact that too many classes are void of creativity and critical thinking. That should infuriate us. 

Bad teaching should bother teachers, not just because they make the profession look bad, but because it's bad for kids. Ultimately, that's what we're all about. True, teachers are tired. We're all wiped out at this time of year. My guess is that if teachers are anything like me, they're also feeling a little insecure right now as they come to terms with the mistakes that they've made over the course of the year. 

 

But even in the midst of the insecurity and the exhaustion, it's not a bad thing for teachers to be outraged by stacks of mindless packets. We need to be advocates for great teaching. 

Phil in the Bubble (A Super-Short Stick Figure Video)

Yeah, it's choppy. True, it's a stick figure. But here's an ultra-short video about daydreaming and standardized tests.

Is It Okay to Vent About Students?

I'm at a Starbucks when I hear teachers griping about their classes. They're talking about second graders and how they're not sitting still and how they still interrupt and how they're so hyper. All I can think about is how my son might feel if this were his teacher. 

I cringe. I want to tell them to stop talking that way. I walk out, plug in my headphones and come to a dark conclusion: 

These teachers are right. Kids are difficult. Kids are hyper. Kids are always moving. Sometimes they become challenging at the end of a school year. Every single thing they said about their students was accurate. 

So, why does the venting bother me so much?

It's about framing. It's about the way I choose to think about the students children in my class. I can assume that the talking or the interruptions or the late-Spring apathy is defiance and disrespect. I can expect perfection. I can get into a mindset that says, "I work so hard, they owe it to me to . . ." 

Or, I can see them as kids. I can treat the squirrelly moments as a chance to correct and teach. I can expect some level of immaturity, because, let's face it, they are immature by adult standards. They're not grown up. 

It's a simple reality. But the fact that they are kids is what makes students difficult. It's the same reason why being a dad can be hard. It's why teenagers can drive us nuts in a packed movie theater. And it's why every generation complains about "kids these days." Because kids these days are like last year's kids these days, because on any given day, they don't behave the way adults expect. 

It isn't wrong to admit that kids are hard. The issue is the way we talk about it. If the conversation revolves around blaming, then it tiptoes close to slander. I try to imagine that students can hear everything I'm saying about them. If it's something that would hurt them, it's not worth saying.

However, if the issue is admitting my weakness as a teacher, then it will lead to humility. If the "venting" is an honest reflection of what's not working and what I want to do about it, then it becomes a chance to grow. 

Please Quit Bashing Teachers

I have noticed that teacher bashing has become trendy. I expect that from neo-cons. They hate public employees; that is, unless the public employee is a soldier, police officer or prison guard (I think you have to have a gun to count).

What surprises me is the way the so-called progressive education community has taken up teacher-bashing as well. We are now called slave-drivers, prison guards and child-abusers. I know it looks like we're teaching fractions, but apparently our chief goal is to steal souls (yeah, that's right, we are now minions working for Satan).

The teacher-bashing went into hyper-drive after the Jeff Bliss video went viral. Notice how this doesn't seem to happen in other professions. When doctors are found acting unethically, people are quick to say, "This isn't true of most doctors" and point out the issue with this isolated incident. When a rogue official bets on games, the public does not turn against all referees. Go ahead and criticize a soldier. See what happens. You'll be called unpatriotic.

In the last six months, we have seen basketball coaches, doctors and soldiers being found doing far worse than sitting at a desk passing out a packet. In each case, people have responded by criticizing the individual while also saying loudly, "We realize that this isn't true of most people in this profession."

This might not seem like a big deal. However, the cumulative effect of this is a nagging sense that the public hates us. It's not something teachers think about all the time, but it certainly prevents teachers from being transparent and vulnerable about our own failures. Instead of paving the way toward humility, it sets us up for a false perfectionism.

I get it. Sometimes teachers engage in bad practices. I'm with you if you want to criticize packets or homework or lecturing for hours. But the first step toward change is starting with a dialogue. Bad teachers often care deeply about kids. They need paradigm shifts rather than shame.


Side Note: I find it interesting that Jeff Bliss never went personal in the video. He attacked her practices and vaguely alluded to the system. But the tweeters, bloggers and pundits have seized the viral rant as an opportunity to bash teachers as a whole rather than analyzing the system or criticizing the individual teacher. If the pundits want to learn from student voice, maybe they could take a cue from the video and criticize systems rather than teachers as a whole.

The Problem with the Broken/Fixed Mindset

You can blow up the factory. Or you could transform it to an artists' loft. It's your choice.

Someone posted a comment to the Education Rethink Facebook page that "The American education system was broken from its copycat beginning."

I get it. We imported our system from Germany and it was broken and now we are mired in this industrial system based upon social engineering. The criticism is valid. We need to move forward.

And yet . . .

The words "broken" and "fix" tend to fit into an industrial language. They are the words we use for products. I might say that a couch is broken, but I wouldn't say that a tree is broken. Instead, I would use a term like "healthy" or "flawed."

The problem with broken or fixed is that it treats a very human system as if it is entirely structural. It makes the assumption that education reform is as easy as throwing away the old and replacing it with something that's not broken. Or, if you are more inclined to a nostalgic vision, simply refurbishing it and bringing it back to new.

Broken and fixed are binary options that prevent us from having nuanced conversations. If my only two options are "yes, the system is broken" or "no, the system is just fine," I am either an unrealistic extremist or an overly defensive, delusional advocate for the status quo. The language itself creates a barrier for the policies that we develop.

What if instead of asking, "Is this system broken and should we even bother to fix it?" we asked, "What are we doing that's working and what are we doing that's not working?" Or perhaps, "How healthy is the current educational system? What can we do to create sustainable change?"

See, if it's only about broken and fixed, we create enemies. It's a for us or against us mindset. But if it's nuanced, we have a chance for thinking to evolve. We create spaces where paradigm shifts happen over time. The change can be quick. The shifts can be huge. But it's rooted in a grassroots transformation rather than a process of tearing down and rebuilding.

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We Never Know the Whole Story

When I was in high school, I had a teacher that annoyed me. He punished the whole class for things that one person did. He tried too hard to be a friend to the students and then lashed out in anger. And then I saw him one afternoon when I walked into his classroom on his prep, forgetting it was fourth period instead of fifth. He was crying. His mom was dying. His wife just cheated on him.

I'm not excusing his behavior. However, what I lacked as a high school student was an understanding of context. It wasn't until years later that a friend of mine told me this teacher talked him out of suicide.

You wouldn't have known it from a five minute snippet of teaching when he railed against us and accused us all of being lazy and assigned us book work as punishment. And truth be known, we all have at least five minutes of class time that would make for a pretty crappy viral video.

We never know the whole story.

*     *     *

I had a student who was disrespectful toward me, falling asleep at random times, rolling her eyes and physically moving away if I walked up to help her. One morning, I caught her stealing extra breakfast packets for her little brothers. She wept and truth be known, my eyes watered a little too.

Seeing another side of her allowed me to reframe what I had already seen: that she was often compassionate, a leader, a deep thinker, a fast learner, a creative type. It's not that I hadn't seen those, but in the midst of the defiance, I couldn't see anything more than the disrespect.

We never know the whole story.

*     *     *

So, there's a video going viral and the kid (yes, he's still a kid) is being hailed as a hero or a villain, as a talking point on both sides. And the teacher, who remains relatively calm in the video, comes across as either lazy or indifferent.

But here's what we don't know: what happened before, what happened after and what both people brought to school that day that changed the deeply human interaction that one sees in a classroom. You can't get that in a snippet of video.

We never know the whole story.

A Lesson from the Grocery Store

I got frustrated with Brenna while at the grocery store.

"You were acting crazy."

"I wasn't acting crazy. I was acting silly."

"But the grocery store isn't the place to act silly."

Brenna shook her head. "I think the grocery store needs some more silly."

Thinking back to my time at the grocery store, I came to the realization that Brenna was right. Grocery stores could use a little more silliness.

My greatest regret this school year is that I missed the beauty of sixth grade silliness. I cracked down on it in the name of learning and classroom management. Don't get me wrong. There is a time to sit still. But looking back on the year, I realize that the best times were when we embraced silliness.

photo credit: KatLevPhoto via photopin cc

If Teachers Got Badges

Someone suggested that for Teacher Appreciation we should introduce badges. I'm not sure that badges would work, seeing as how we're not the Boy Scouts. Or maybe it's more like flair (Office Space) I can't see badges happening with engineers or doctors and I'm not sure I want a meaningful profession turned into a game.

But it has me thinking . . . what badges would we give out if we gamified teaching?

I have a few ideas: Acronym Awareness badge, Buzzword Bingo Champion, Bus Duty (that alone deserves a badge), Bladder Control Badge.

Any other badges?

Seriously, have fun with the concept in the comment box.

A Note to Parents Who Are Opting Out of Testing

Dear Parents,

I support the opt-out movement. I believe that it sends a strong statement about the problems with standardized testing. I am an outspoken critic of the testing culture, along with the Value-Added scores   that are being pushed by the politicians.

However, I'd like to ask a favor. Could you also get involved in changing the policies that are driving the testing culture? We need parents to be informed public citizens who will push for better education policy that limits testing and advocates for authentic assessment instead.

The other day I was at a birthday party and a parent mentioned that her son was going to opt out of testing. However, when I asked her how she decided on their choice of schools, she mentioned the A+ rating. When I asked her who she voted for in the last election, she mentioned candidates who had pushed for increased testing and "teacher accountability."

Opting out is a great first step, but use your voice. Seize the microphone. Speak boldly. Change the policies.

We live in a world where test scores are used to judge teacher performance, school ratings, neighborhood planning and business decisions. If you want to opt out of testing, I get it. Go for it. But, I'd like to challenge you to take a step further and use your political will, your power, your democratic voice and push for meaningful education reform.

So far, both political parties continue to advocate for more testing. Not every child is as fortunate as yours. Millions of students will spend hours in urban schools taking tests, practicing for tests and then going to "interventions" (a word once used for addicts) based upon their test scores.

Please consider not only opting your own child out of standardized tests, but also changing the policies so that opting out doesn't have to be an option anymore.

Sincerely,

John Spencer
Middle School Teacher

The Human Search Engine

Last night, Jeremy Macdonald and I interviewed Rodd Lucier and Dean Shareski for our first Curiositycast. I'm still not sure how it will turn out in the end. I've never felt comfortable with the sound of my own voice and all I hear is something pitchy filled with ands and ums and whatnot. (For what it's worth, we should have the podcast edited and ready to go next week.)

However, it's not really about the finished product. The point of Curiositycast is to ask questions relating to a topic of interest. We wanted to have a human search engine where we could ask questions about topics that we know next to nothing about.

Because it was interactive, I found out things about Canadian football that I wouldn't have found on a Wikipedia entry. I learned some obscure rules, like the end-of-game kicking back and forth to end a tie.  I learned about the distance between the defensive and offensive lines.

But I also had a change in focus. I think I had always seen Canadian football as simply CFL and CFL as a cheap knock-off of American football. As Rodd and Dean talked about the sport, I found myself realizing that the two sports evolved in different ways with neither one of them being the "cheap knockoff" of the other.

I found myself seeing "different" as not necessarily bad. I hadn't considered the way Canadian quarterbacks would have to be more mobile or that the game might actually be more exciting (especially with the movement, spacing and the twenty-five yard end zones).

Ultimately, it's the human side that changed my perspective. A Wikipedia interest doesn't tell me what it's like to grow up as a kid playing with the Canadian rules or going to the stadium in Winnipeg and watching a game live. Informational texts are interesting, but they lack the passion, the interactivity and the human connection that you get from asking questions to a real person.

I also feel like I got to know Rodd and Dean in a way that I don't experience on Twitter. I'm still a fan of geeking out about teaching, but there's something powerful about exploring our interests and stories. For all the talk of Personal Learning Networks, last night was a time when it truly felt personal and the learning had nothing to do with teaching.

Toward the end of the night, I left thinking that I might do curiositycasts next year with my students. In a narrowcasting digital world, it might be fun for students to learn how to ask questions and watch what happens when other people geek out about their interests and passion.

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