Today at the PLC Conference, Richard DuFour mocked teacher autonomy. The audience chuckled along with him as he labeled the need for autonomy an excuse. It was telling when he chose the metaphor of a pilot who must listen to the Air Traffic Control tower rather than steering the plane in any specific direction. The thing is that I don't fly planes. I teach kids. Enough of the world runs on auto-pilot. Is that really what we want for our schools?

William Glasser defined autonomy as one of the basic human drives. It is not an excuse when someone says, "What about autonomy?" The truth is that teachers are watching our professional autonomy slip away because of the work of corporate reformers and slick politicians. When we snarl at those who mock this need, it is not because we love snarling, but because we've lost too much already.

In many places, teachers are forced into scripted curriculum in a push toward test prep. They are forced to have word walls, grammar walls, lesson plans in a set format, a standardized gradebook, a specific set of curriculum that they cannot deviate from, a discipline matrix that they must adhere to (even if research doesn't support the system of punishments and rewards), etc.

If a teacher asks, "What about teacher autonomy?" the solution (if it were to grow on a tree) might be to explain very clearly how a specific system will enhance teacher autonomy. If the "professional" means anything in the Professional Learning Community, spell it out for teachers.

The truth is that I became a better teacher when I was finally given autonomy. It's not an excuse. It's the impetus for innovation. When I have creative control and the freedom to experiment, some of the best lessons occur. Last year, I was able to use a tech-integrated framework, move away from traditional grades, go with a project-based and problem-based approach and teach thematic units. I also had some of the highest reading, writing and math scores in the district.

All of that required a hefty dose of teacher autonomy. Although we were a PLC, the principal was flexible enough to say, "Try this and compare the results with your team." He never mocked my need for autonomy, but actually embraced it instead.

The Paradox

Tonight my son jumped over a larger ice chest. I wrestled with whether I should allow him to assert his will or if I should step in for his safety. I don't pretent to have it figured out. Total autonomy is anarchy. Being involved in any social system (family, religion, work) requires a sacrifice of some of one's rights for the protection of social cohesion.  

The school is a civic institution. I still believe it is vital for the success of a democracy. However, every  democracy requires a social contract. The will of the individual is protected by rights and also restricted by laws, rules and regulations. These are often held in tension out of the dual needs for safety and freedom.

In most Professional Learning Communities there is talk of the "loose" and "tights." A good principal will respect teacher identity and allow for the freedom to teach within the confines of a few "tights" about what is best for students. It gets murky sometimes. I get that. Much of what passes for "teacher complaining" or even "school politics" is simply very different paradigms and philosophies about what students need.

However, ultimately that's where autonomy matters. The will of the organization can be imposed upon the individual through coercion. However, meaningful change occurs only when the individual is able to make a paradigm shift. It takes more time to empower teachers, but at a cultural level, that is how schools change.

A Humble Answer

I readily admit that I attacked Solution Tree without remembering that there were people behind the organization. I called them the Tree Party and Delusion Tree. Clever, perhaps. Snarky, for sure. But also arrogant. My words were so extreme that dialogue wasn't possible in the moment. I became the very thing that I was railing against.

However, teacher autonomy still matters. The anger I felt inside of me comes from the sense of being beat down, shamed and told to "shut up, because it's for the kids." Teachers are already under attack from so many different angles. If we seem skittish, it's because we've been bludgeoned in the name of "what works."

Instead of mocking teacher autonomy, a better solution might be the recognize it as a real human need, define it as "the freedom to do what's best for students," discuss the nuances and paradox of staff unity and individual autonomy and then get into why a PLC might actually allow for more teacher autonomy.

 

The boys are playing Super Mario:

Joel: Get out of your bubble.
Micah: I want to be in my bubble.
Joel: You don't do anything when you're in your bubble.
Micah: You're safe in the bubble.
Joel: But you never do anything. I'd rather die than do nothing.

I sit on the couch wondering what kind of men they will someday be, hoping that both is listening well to the other, begging the Universe to let the hold both in that beautiful, constant paradox of freedom and safety.

Photo Credit: Luis Eric

 

For the last few years, I've used photo prompts with my students. I've been updating them and adding them to a new Photo Prompts Tumblr. I readily admit that the idea of turning it into a Tumblr is based upon the brilliant writing prompts on the Writing Prompts Tumblr. Here are a few things I've learned about photo prompts:

Idea #1
Photo prompts don't have to be tied down to language arts. I have asked students to observe a picture of a natural phenomenon and ask inquiry questions. I have given students a context and asked them to develop math questions (who knew a child would wonder how much it would cost to fill up a pyramid with Jell-O?) The following was a very strange math prompt that got students thinking about days, months, years, ratios, etc.

Idea #2
Photo prompts allow for a bridge between the concrete and the abstract. If you look at the prompt to the left, the students have to study the visual in order to make sense out of the abstract.

Idea #3

The most successful prompts are thought-provoking in both the visual and the questioning. I have asked questions like, "Are companies more powerful than nations" and students offer great answers. But push a kid to look at Facebook as a nation and the concept of globalization changes:

Idea #4:

Sometimes the best photo prompts are driven by the picture. Some of my favorite ones involved simply, "Tell the story" or "create a question." 

Idea #5

Let kids develop their own photo prompts. Students were really into the idea of the one-sentence story accompanied by the picture (as seen below). While it might seem like a shallow writing piece, it got them thinking about the notion of character, theme and conflict that are central to a story. 

Idea #6
In an effort to make things applicable to the "real world" we fail to engage in the fantastical, the whimsical, the playful and the ridiculous. So, when we go over persuasive techniques, I don't mind asking my students to convince me to buy canned unicorn meat:

Idea #7
Be intentional. I'm beginning to see that most creativity comes from the desire of intentionality. Not every picture works. Not every question pushes students to think deeper.  However, I've noticed that when I'm unintentional, I go for the same questions all the time. Thus, for functional text, I always do, "Choose an activity you love to do and describe how to do it." However, when asking them to take an opposite approach to a familiar story, students had a new audience for the functional text:

Idea #8
Photo prompts can be a chance to reinforce difficult vocabulary and grammar with ELL students. The following sentence seems pretty easy, but the sentence structure is long and the verb tense is difficult. It is not the visual that gives it away, though. That's not the idea. The point is to provide one longer, difficult sentence that students wrestle with linguistically.

Idea #9
It's a journey. Some of the prompts fail miserably. I really thought this one would work and it simply didn't pan out at all. The students wanted to talk about the real "Arab Spring" and were edgy about attacking the implied totalitarianism of their childhood heroes and heroines.

Idea #10

Ultimately, it's all about relevance. However, relevance isn't simply about going with what kids are interested in. It's not about stacking it full of pop culture. It's about choosing questions that connect to the students' lives and to their world. It's about adding context to math and pushing students philosophically and even adding a healthy dose of technology criticism. Regardless of the picture, students want to discuss, "Are we too connected?"

 

Last year, I allowed my story to slip into the Superman Narrative. My students were scoring well. The Clipboard Crew visited often. I wrote blog posts about what I was doing; beginning to believe I had more answers than questions. I tried to hide the imperfections. I yelled at kids a few times last year. I failed miserably at teaching science. I had to apologize at least once a day for something.

I took a job as a teacher-coach, believing that I had a duty to share my expertise. It was arrogant, I know. However, it was more about fear than anything else. I wasn't sure that I could repeat what happened last year. I had slipped into the wrong story.

Outward, I look "successful" in this current position. But inside, I'm dying to be teaching full-time. I left the classroom when I still loved being a teacher and now, as I teach during part of the day, I get a taste of what I missed everyday.

So, as I think about my return to the classroom full-time next year, I want to go back to the story that I had believed before:

• Character: I want to be faithful, courageous and wise. But more than anything, I wanted to be someone who loves people well. If my students are engaged mentally and feel safe, I'm off to a great start.
• Antagonist: The real antagonist was the system of standardization and the lie of perfectionism. Failure isn't the enemy. It's a chance to grow. Low test scores won't kill me. Really.
• Plot: It doesn't have to look exciting. My actions might look impressive (a mural or a documentary) but often humble (a debate, a project, an in-depth discussion) and that’s okay. It's not about the credit, the glory or the sense of superiority I feel when I am noticed.
• Setting: The real setting has to be my classroom. It isn’t about what the world sees or how I am noticed within the entire school. It's not about the Twitterverse or the Blogosphere or any other catchy name we have for the echo chamber of what's working. In my classroom, I'm broken and vulnerable . . . and yet, amazing things happen.
• Conflict: The true conflict is mostly internal: Will I be faithful? Will I remain true to my convictions? Will I be bold enough to fight against the standardized system? Will I get suckered into the wrong story?
• Theme: It’s about providing authentic learning for all students. It's always been about thinking better about life. Period. If I can remember that theme, I'm better off for it.

I'm not saying we have to give 110%, but . . . 

I'm reading Trust Me right now and realizing, yet again, why John Updike was a brilliant author. I realize that he has grown less trendy in the last decade or so. Not postmodern enough. Too realistic. Too bold in crafting beautiful prose that is neither poetic nor particularly provocative. And yet every time I sit down with his work, I am amazed by phrases like "the chemical scent of a pool always frightened him: blue-green dragon breath."

I have a hunch that Updike will be criticized for the sheer volume of his work. People like a tidy list of seven or eight really good works and let's be honest, Updike produced a few works that will be forgotten (and rightfully so). However, the only reason that he continued to write well was the simple fact that he kept writing. He understood that the only way to refine his craft was to continue to push himself to produce more. Instead of worrying about running out of ideas, he recognized that one only grows stagnant by slowing down.

It seems counter-intuitive, but Updike's legacy suggests that burnout isn't caused by hard work as much as by a slowing down induced by fear and shame. When I look at creative types who "burned out," I don't think it was laziness or lack of interest or the sense that they had nothing left in them. Instead, it was fear. I think Salinger, after writing Catcher in the Rye, realized that it was good, perhaps too good to be repeated and so he fled to mediocrity.

That was me last year. I worked really hard, had some great results and then fled into a teacher-coach role this year out of fear that I wouldn't be able to do it again. I ran away respectfully. I refused to admit just how scared I was that I would not repeat the kind of year I had last year. I allowed shame and fear to determine my self-concept as a teacher. And the hard part, the scary part of it, was that I loved teaching. I simply couldn't allow my success to depend upon standardized test scores. IIn other years, I almost hit the burnout point because of the dissonance between what I believed about education and what the system was asking me to do.

The issue was never hard work, but rather work that I was afraid I couldn't repeat combined with work that did not fit my identity. Hard work made me tired. Fear and shame led me to flee. I'm still teaching part-time, but I'm

Teaching is exhausting. I get that. A teacher spends hours in a passionate, emotional, sensitive state and on some level, that simply isn't natural. However, I have never seen a teacher burn out from hard work. Instead, a teacher is more likely to burn out by checking out, slowing down and giving themselves the permission to be less passionate and to care less in the name of balance.

And that's me right now. I have more free time than ever before. I am not working anywhere near as hard as I did last year. I slowed down and now, as I teach only part of the day, I am dying to be back into the classroom full-time. I would rather be tired than spend my time doing something that doesn't fit who I am. I may not be able to repeat the success of last year, but I would rather fail trying than continue to slow down.

This isn't to suggest that balance is bad. Teachers need a personal life. There is nothing wrong with working fewer hours than in the past. However, when I watch teachers burn out, it is almost never because they were working too hard. In fact, the opposite is true. They often slow down as a result of burnout. Slowly, subtly, shame beats the passion out of them and they are left with a shell of a vocation. They don't burn out in explosion. They vaporize so slowly that you don't see it until it's too late.

I met a group of students last summer who were part of a conference. They were polite, intelligent and more than willing to engage in a discussion about their STEM project. However, every time I mentioned something outside the realm of engineering, they grew uncomfortable.

"What did you learn from this?" I asked.

"I learned some valuable skills that will help me become a better engineer."

"What are some of the dangers in approaching life as a problem to be solved rather than a mystery to be explored?" I asked.

Silence.

"What are some of the negative consequences of viewing learning as a product that is constructed?"

More silence.

They struggled to answer questions about ethics and science and technology. They struggled to make connections between concepts. They struggled when I suggested that if India was pumping out so many engineers (as they pointed out) then the demand will be too low for the supply and they might as well try out to be gas attendants. I said that last part nicely, but it rattled them a bit. I wanted them to argue with that, but they politely told me that this was simply not the case.

I am not against science, engineering and technology. However, there is a danger when it is presented as a fix-all for education. Students can slip into the notion that STEM occurs in a cultural vacuum and in the midst of the white noise, miss out on the dangers of cultural imperialism and neo-colonialism. They can slip into a consumerist belief that learning is a product. They can start to see technology as a savior for social issues without criticizing the medium itself.

If we want to have a thriving democracy where people think critically about their world, we need to balance STEM with AHEM (Art, History, English and Music). STEM might help us stay competitive in the global pissing contest, but AHEM will teach us to examine our cultural hubris and question whether the goal in life is really consuming more. STEM might teach us the art of solving problems, but AHEM will help us see nuance and paradox to problems. STEM pushes students toward innovation, but AHEM helps students avoid the obsession with novelty and embrace the vintage ideas that we so often miss.

The beauty is in the overlap. Both STEM and AHEM promise creativity, observation and self-expression. Both allow students to explore the world through a new lens. Both have the potential to bring back the concepts of enjoyment and context into a system that so often obsesses over standardized tests. Both recognize the balance of preparing kids for the future while meeting them where they are at in the moment.

*     *     *

Credits / Attribution

• The term AHEM is stolen entirely from Michael Doyle.
• The picture is taken from Stephen Davis, who reminds me often to view the world through the lens of art.

My son is a perpetual powder keg of passion. You wouldn't know that at school. He's quiet, but not shy. He walks in straight lines and listens closely.  He doesn't look like the type of kid who needs recess. After all, he behaves. He doesn't fidget too much.

However, the minute he gets home, he explodes in energy. He kicks the soccer ball around and jumps onto the tire swing and chases the neighborhood kids around in a game of tag. I know that his teacher incorporates movement. I realize that he gets a fair amount of exercise in PE. However, he needs uninterrupted, unfettered, un-structured time to run freely.

I noticed this last Friday when I observed several classrooms. The school has slowly reduced recess down to a ten minute period tacked onto lunch. In many cases, the most rambunctious students lose out on this time because they are hyperactive in class. Thus, as they sat in solitude taking their common assessments, legs jiggled, kids giggled and teachers grew angry. Kids looked cagey and I couldn't blame them.

I'm not sure if it's an issue of liability, the obsession with test-taking or the high-minded talk about high standards, but we're doing an injustice to kids when they don't a chance for free play and recess. I want take up this cause. I want to do something about it. Any thoughts? Anyone want to join?

we're creating shallow zombies in the name of high standards

Often, the proponents of the drill-and-kill testing environment hold up the banner of "high standards" as a rationale for excessive testing. I disagree with this premise entirely. Here are ten reasons most tests lead to lower standards:

1. Extrinsic Motivation: Kids will work hard to learn, because they are naturally curious. When we replace this with an extrinsic motivation, it moves to economic norms, where they learn to do the least possible work for the highest results. A kid learns that it's okay to do a half-ass job if a D is still passing. Similarly, high achievers are often allowed to skate by complacently with good scores. That kind of mentality isn't present if a student is excited about learning. 
2. Cramming: If I ask a student to learn something today and expect that student to remember tomorrow, a month from now and at the end of the year, the student will probably remember it. However, ask the same student to learn the information for the test on Thursday and it becomes easy to cram and forget. 
3. Time Is Wasted: I visited a campus on Friday, figuring I might see some time-wasters. Maybe a crossword puzzle for good behavior or PAT time. Instead, as I walked through the halls, I saw entire grade levels of students silently taking a test on information that could have been assessed in an ongoing way throughout the week. I've written about this before. My students spend seven weeks  (almost a quarter) of the year taking tests. The test is longer than the Bar Exam or the MCATs. It's insane. 
4. Low-Level Thinking: Most tests are multiple choice. These tests, by design, do not assess what a student knows. Instead, they test what a student fails to recognize if he or she isn't guessing correctly. True assessment requires deeper critical thinking and avoids sloppy guesswork. 
5. Slow Feedback: Students should be able to have instant feedback regarding how well they did. However, in an effort to avoid cheating, most students are not allowed to self-grade and reflect upon their learning. It can be a week or two before they get a test back.  The best kind of assessment is the type that allows a student to think about his or her learning in order to adjust as a result. 
6. Excuse for Avoiding Formative Assessment: I am shocked when a teacher says, "They did poorly on the pretest and now I'm shocked that they bombed the test." Really? How does that happen that a teacher can't figure out if a student is mastering a standard?
7. The Bell Curve and Other Deflators: I remember being a student and hoping that the whole class bombed the test, because low scores along around meant the teacher would curve it and I would receive a B instead of a C. 
8. The Wrong Feedback: Tests typically focus on an overall grade rather than the mastery of a standard. Thus, there are two things vying for a student's attention: the grade and the learning. Often a student doesn't get to retake a test or find a different method to demonstrate mastery. Meanwhile, the qualitative, customized feedback is often missing from this type of assessment.  And yet, it is this customized feedback that leads to higher standards of learning.
9. Risk Aversion: Learning involves taking risks. You can't have high standards without a certain level of risk-taking. Most tests are designed to not only discourage failure but encourage a certain fear of failure. 
10. Complacent Teaching: If we say that a multiple-choice test is our only method of testing, we send the message that different learning styles and preferences make no difference. It becomes totally acceptable to move away from the notion of no child being left behind and instead pushing all students into the same myopic view of success. In the process, teachers have the permission to ignore the "lower level" students and focus on those who are "on the bubble." We're watering down our professional standard in the name of higher standards. 

visual credit: Yep, that's my sketch. I drew it during AIMS week orientation a few years ago. 

I hate my son's homework. I hate the shallow worksheets and the confusing directions. I hate the fact that it disrupts the time that he should be spending outside playing. I hate the way he has to remember to pack it and unpack it and track it.  As a teacher, I don't assign homework. I made that decision four years ago and I haven't regretted it. For those of you interested in doing away with homework, here are a few things to consider:

• Research It: Check out Alfie Kohn's work on this subject.  He makes a solid argument and cites specific studies. Look into the research that supports homework and see if you can find a causal relationship. It seemed to me that there was a correlation, but that the greater issue was context.
• Write a Rationale: Write out a rationale regarding why you don't assign homework. One of the biggest selling points for me was the explanation that I would not waste any class time. I had seen the way teachers would waste time and say, "I'll just assign that as homework."  The other big selling point was the notion of instant feedback and the potential lack of feedback at home.
• Communicate with Stakeholders: Students need to know that you aren't simply a pushover because of your views on homework. Parents need to know that their children aren't lying when they say they have no homework. Administrators need to understand that you are not simply pushing for lower expectations. 
• Create Options: Some parents are still concerned that their students won't get additional help when they are struggling. Offering individualized or small group tutoring can solve this problem. Other parents simply wanted their students to do additional work to develop a work ethic. For these parents, I created a list of extension activities students could do at home if they were interested. 
• Be Flexible: There are times when I ask students to do homework. At the beginning of the year, they have to find an item for show and tell. When working on documentaries, they interview people. We've done community needs assessments and photo journals. However, these moments are rare and almost always voluntary. 
• Work the System: If your school really pushes homework and you disagree with it, then call your independent practice "homework" or assign it weekly and keep it super-short. Give students class time to do "homework." Make the homework a meaningful connection to the outside world. 

Jabiz the Teacher Troubadour sent me a link to an Of Monsters and Men song. It's a rare moment where I fall in love with the music of a band on the first listen. And, on some level, when I buy the album, I'll think of Jabiz and the long-distance friendship we share in the vapor world of online interactions.

I turn to my Pandora stations.  Each one is playing everything I like, but it's stale. I'm better off hearing Damien Rice in the context of his own albums. I consider adding Of Monsters and Men to one of the stations, but the truth is that I've been gradually moving away from Pandora.

Pandora has a complicated algorithm to predict what I will think I will like. Jabiz the Teacher Troubadour has a glimpse at my soul and can say, "I think you'll like this regardless of whether you think you'll like it."  It's relational. So, when Quinn the Business Bohemian says, "Check out Mumford and Sons" or Javi the Hippie says, "You'll really like this bluegrass album," I am willing to listen. The thumbs-down button isn't an option. Maybe later, but not initially.

It has me thinking about professional development.  It seems like so many of the models fail precisely because they are models. Rigid structures built upon choice rather than freedom. Take a teacher to a conference where they can choose from a massive menu of options. Give them a differentiated training on Thursdays where they can choose which class will fit their needs. And yet . . . it fails, because teachers are often looking more for freedom than for choice. They are looking for autonomy. They are looking for a place to create and to share.

Teachers don't need another station so much as a venue for a jam session.

I want to connect. I want to learn through a relationship. I will learn more about science from Michael Doyle than I will from a weekend workshop.  I will learn more about middle school education from the honest, poignant musings of Stephen Davis than from a conference. I will have better discussions about reading and writing with Russ Goerend or Bill Ferriter than through most workbooks. And if I want to rethink my approach to math, I'll get more from Skyping with David Wees than from listening to representatives from the textbook company.

It goes deeper than that, though. Teaching is so closely tied to identity and it's easy to slip into a dark place of self-doubt. In some of my toughest moments of teaching, it's been the e-mails and video chats with folks like Philip Cummings, Tom Panarese or Chad Sansing (or the chance to have coffee with Robert Greco) that encourage me to keep going even when I feel ground down by the system.

In professional development, schools are trying to perfect Pandora and meanwhile there is an amazing jam session going on everyday. It's not considered real, because it's messy and it's loud and it's indie. But here's the thing: it's where I'm connecting with new ideas. It's where I am affirmed. It's where I am challenged. It's where I am learning.

[Note: The people mentioned above are just a few who came to my mind. On a different day, my list would include a different group. And that's the beauty of the indie professional development. The jam session is always changing.]