NOTE: This entry on engagement is focusing on older students (middle school and up) and, while applicable to younger students, does understand the value and importance of “play” in learning with younger populations.
I don’t think there is any teacher who does not, or has not, struggled with student engagement. Getting students to focus and become involved in their own education is an ongoing issue, never more so than today! Students are inundated with messages and methods for gathering and processing information – especially in the last 10 to 20 years. Technology has allowed them to see information in the blink of an eye and if the classroom doesn’t do the same, they quickly lose interest. So what are we to do? If teachers are already challenged to find sufficient time to do all they are required to, what’s one more log on the fire? And people wonder what the reasons are that so many teachers leave the field within the first five years!
I don’t think we can debate the importance of engagement – finding materials that are content related and relevant to the student at the same time. However, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend – the idea the learning should be “fun.” Now, far be it from me to say that “fun” and “learning” don’t go hand-in-hand – I would say that a number of my lessons are fun for students to do. Then again, many are not. They aren’t boring either, and they adhere to the “content related and relevant to the student” idea. Students are focused, but I don’t think they walk away going “WOW…wasn’t that fun?!” Is that a bad thing? This misnomer that engagement = entertainment is dangerous, yet that is the attitude our students often come to school with; “entertain me or leave me alone!” If the purpose of education is to provide students with the skills and behaviors that will lead them to success, isn’t it wrong to lead them to believe that if something isn’t “fun” then don’t bother with it?
How many of us work at jobs that we don’t love, and even if we do (and I LOVE teaching), there are always parts of everyone’s job that are boring or tedious, or just plain painful to do. We still do them because it is expected of us. It is part of our career path. I worry that our society, especially younger generations, are so captured by the idea of being entertained that they will miss the important aspects of jobs and life in general because they aren’t deemed fun. I think that somewhere between fifth and eighth grade, students need to be taught to invest in their education through effort and practice, not entertainment. The end result is that students, themselves, will take over and create interesting ways to engage with their learning, while being guided by the teacher. This means educators and families have to become allies in teaching these skills. By the time they enter high school, students should have a clear picture that success is tied to effort and engagement, even when it is difficult to practice.
I have much more to say on this subject and will cover more of it in the next blog! Next time, I will look at current definitions of engagement and ideas of student motivation. Any ideas of your own to add?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Precious and the Depiction of Education
Last night, my partner and I finally watched the movie Precious based on the book Push (by Sapphire). Certainly after a year of accolades for the film and its actors, I’m sure many have seen it or at least heard of it. If you haven’t, rent it. I read the book a year ago and now, after seeing the film, find myself reflecting on its content. Of course the film is not about teaching, but rather the struggles of one girl to overcome her circumstances and learn; learn and receive her education AND learn about her own self worth. I found myself thinking about the students that I’ve known and those I will know in the future. A number of my former students could directly relate to many aspects of Precious’s life; a few may even have known every nook and cranny of it. I know from personal experience that young people have this built in resilience – strength they are not even aware of – that keeps them showing up for school when home is such a disaster. These are just some of the students that are labeled “at risk” and too often fall through the cracks (“at-risk” is such a silly label, after all, isn’t every student “at-risk” in some way? Consider this: for every group that gets labeled and given attention, there are those that don’t. For every child we focus on, there is one we ignore because they seem alright). Those that get through high school will face uncertain futures without the drive to push themselves further. Heck, even with the drive, many will face continual obstacles that will threaten their success.
As an educator, I cannot ignore the images of teachers, administrators, and the education system in the film (or films in general). It is, unfortunately, too realistic and, at times, misleading. So what does this mean? Simply put – education has an image problem. The system is seen as archaic on some levels, too trend driven at times, indifferent and blind to those “at-risk,” or overly political to the point of corruption. These images get a good deal of press. Then there are those portrayals of teachers who are the miracle workers (a well deserved nod here to Anne Sullivan – who did prove what is possible in teaching) – and while the stories may be true and such teachers exist, the portrayals are often simplistic – leaving out the struggles and true timing of success and achievement. If only things happened as easily as they appear to in the movies!
Despite some of our best efforts, the majority of those students who face Precious’s odds do not turn out with the sense of hope that she does – or with the positive sense of community, education, and self. So what does the film say about teaching? Certainly we can criticize the state of the public school Precious attends and is suspended from at the book’s/film’s start. It would be great to say that such schools are rare, yet I suspect they care too common these days. Her math class is unruly and rude, despite the teacher’s efforts. This is certainly reflective of the apathy found among our students today. Without an immediate value attached to education, teachers work meets with indifference and outright resistance. We’ve all had classes that were more difficult to manage than others – often the result of a few who disrupt and mislead their peers. I’ve been sworn at, challenged to fights, pushed (while intervening a possible altercation), and harassed during classes. I take a firm stand against such behaviors and acts, which has proven successful more often than not. Yet the situations when it hasn’t worked often meant removing students from the classroom for a period of time, if not permanently. What I have not done is given a grade that was not earned. Precious reports getting an A- in English without doing any of the work; she later notes that she is angry at those teachers who passed her without work because she comes to realize that they have helped create some of the problems she faces. The sad part is that such a depiction of teaching isn’t without basis in fact. We have far too many graduates who read and write far below the level expected of them; far too many teachers allowing students to walk without doing the work. They hurt these students and the profession. If you don’t have it in you to believe in a student and push them, measuring their outcomes honestly, then leave the profession for them and the sake of all the other teachers busting their butts to really educate!
In addition, while I marvel at the principal who offers Precious an alternative school option (after suspending her for being pregnant, again), how many of our administrators make, much less have, the time to do such things at a student’s home? Do such depictions give people unrealistic expectations of our schools? Or, have our schools becomes so weighed down by administrative red-tape, kowtowing to political expectations, or everyday security and monitoring (because students have become so disrespectful of themselves and others these days) that such actions by our administrators just can’t happen? Keep in mind, we aren’t talking about small rural or even suburban schools here, we’re looking at our urban, often over-crowded and short-funded public schools. Yet, this isn’t just an urban school problem to be certain – even my last school on the island of Oahu struggled with such students and issues. My former administrators hardly had time to do the required walk-throughs each year (and usually fell far short of the suggested number of them), much less do home visits to help those students that were really in trouble! Hell, even our school counselors could hardly do what was needed – and we had some really good ones who tried their very best to do it.
On the upside, the film shows Precious’s alternative school teacher as one who focuses on teaching her students that they can do it – despite the odds, the obstacles, or their own self-doubt. She keeps the purpose of their learning at the forefront – “Write! Just do it! It doesn’t matter if you can’t spell it or make it clear; write it the way it sounds in your head.” (This is a complete paraphrase that captures her main message). Her approach is simple, no-nonsense, and direct. I know teachers like this. I’ve had teachers like this. The film makes it seem easy, but we all know it isn’t. Does her energy and drive come from her idealistic youth, or from the simple belief that EVERY child can learn? Is the act of reading and writing more important than getting it right every time? Does the sense of accomplishment these students gain belie the fact that their success may not lead to a better life? Precious’s hope does not appear to be misleading – she doesn’t seem to have some foolhardy belief of success, merely the understanding that things can be different with work and determination. She has hope.
Certainly the film is not about education, but rather the drive and determination of Precious to be more than what she has been lead to believe she is by her parents, experiences, peers, social services and education system. If anything, shouldn’t we strive to teach our students that? They are the ones who determine their outcomes – not their parents, families, communities, culture, or even, us. All of these things may influence their lives, but they alone make their lives.
As an educator, I cannot ignore the images of teachers, administrators, and the education system in the film (or films in general). It is, unfortunately, too realistic and, at times, misleading. So what does this mean? Simply put – education has an image problem. The system is seen as archaic on some levels, too trend driven at times, indifferent and blind to those “at-risk,” or overly political to the point of corruption. These images get a good deal of press. Then there are those portrayals of teachers who are the miracle workers (a well deserved nod here to Anne Sullivan – who did prove what is possible in teaching) – and while the stories may be true and such teachers exist, the portrayals are often simplistic – leaving out the struggles and true timing of success and achievement. If only things happened as easily as they appear to in the movies!
Despite some of our best efforts, the majority of those students who face Precious’s odds do not turn out with the sense of hope that she does – or with the positive sense of community, education, and self. So what does the film say about teaching? Certainly we can criticize the state of the public school Precious attends and is suspended from at the book’s/film’s start. It would be great to say that such schools are rare, yet I suspect they care too common these days. Her math class is unruly and rude, despite the teacher’s efforts. This is certainly reflective of the apathy found among our students today. Without an immediate value attached to education, teachers work meets with indifference and outright resistance. We’ve all had classes that were more difficult to manage than others – often the result of a few who disrupt and mislead their peers. I’ve been sworn at, challenged to fights, pushed (while intervening a possible altercation), and harassed during classes. I take a firm stand against such behaviors and acts, which has proven successful more often than not. Yet the situations when it hasn’t worked often meant removing students from the classroom for a period of time, if not permanently. What I have not done is given a grade that was not earned. Precious reports getting an A- in English without doing any of the work; she later notes that she is angry at those teachers who passed her without work because she comes to realize that they have helped create some of the problems she faces. The sad part is that such a depiction of teaching isn’t without basis in fact. We have far too many graduates who read and write far below the level expected of them; far too many teachers allowing students to walk without doing the work. They hurt these students and the profession. If you don’t have it in you to believe in a student and push them, measuring their outcomes honestly, then leave the profession for them and the sake of all the other teachers busting their butts to really educate!
In addition, while I marvel at the principal who offers Precious an alternative school option (after suspending her for being pregnant, again), how many of our administrators make, much less have, the time to do such things at a student’s home? Do such depictions give people unrealistic expectations of our schools? Or, have our schools becomes so weighed down by administrative red-tape, kowtowing to political expectations, or everyday security and monitoring (because students have become so disrespectful of themselves and others these days) that such actions by our administrators just can’t happen? Keep in mind, we aren’t talking about small rural or even suburban schools here, we’re looking at our urban, often over-crowded and short-funded public schools. Yet, this isn’t just an urban school problem to be certain – even my last school on the island of Oahu struggled with such students and issues. My former administrators hardly had time to do the required walk-throughs each year (and usually fell far short of the suggested number of them), much less do home visits to help those students that were really in trouble! Hell, even our school counselors could hardly do what was needed – and we had some really good ones who tried their very best to do it.
On the upside, the film shows Precious’s alternative school teacher as one who focuses on teaching her students that they can do it – despite the odds, the obstacles, or their own self-doubt. She keeps the purpose of their learning at the forefront – “Write! Just do it! It doesn’t matter if you can’t spell it or make it clear; write it the way it sounds in your head.” (This is a complete paraphrase that captures her main message). Her approach is simple, no-nonsense, and direct. I know teachers like this. I’ve had teachers like this. The film makes it seem easy, but we all know it isn’t. Does her energy and drive come from her idealistic youth, or from the simple belief that EVERY child can learn? Is the act of reading and writing more important than getting it right every time? Does the sense of accomplishment these students gain belie the fact that their success may not lead to a better life? Precious’s hope does not appear to be misleading – she doesn’t seem to have some foolhardy belief of success, merely the understanding that things can be different with work and determination. She has hope.
Certainly the film is not about education, but rather the drive and determination of Precious to be more than what she has been lead to believe she is by her parents, experiences, peers, social services and education system. If anything, shouldn’t we strive to teach our students that? They are the ones who determine their outcomes – not their parents, families, communities, culture, or even, us. All of these things may influence their lives, but they alone make their lives.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Professionalism and Teaching
I spent eighteen years of my life working in corporate America. My success was measured annually through evaluation of my work output, peer collaboration, and overall contribution to the companies that employed me. I wanted to “feel” my contribution every day, so rather than choose overly large companies I kept to mid- to small-sized ones. In such organizations, you got to know all of your co-workers with less of that “anonymous worker” mentality one normally associates with big-corporate offices. The sense of collaboration is palpable in small offices and you have an ongoing awareness of your place in your employer’s success and/or failure. That isn’t to say that everything was rosy or that I always had control over the expectations or corporate choices, but at least I could voice my ideas and shape my input within those expectations.
How did that translate to education? Let’s just say there was a period of adjustment. My teaching is, no doubt, informed by my time in the corporate world. Let’s face it, I have a perspective that teachers who haven’t worked in any other field lack. That isn’t to say they are ignorant; good teachers have open minds and do their leg work – they understand the changing world. It just means I understand what potential employers will or may want out of our graduates. The education system and society at large, however, have expectations that are at odds with those of our student's future employers. This is reflected in the attitudes toward teachers and teaching. When did the idea that teaching was less than a “professional” profession appear? Is it a remnant of the archaic ideals of yesteryear, or has the profession lost “face” as our society progressed through the 20th century to find itself mired in mediocrity as it hauled itself towards and into the new millennium?
A recent posting by a friend (http://teachingthemwhy.blogspot.com/) asks if we “practice what we preach?” and it got me to thinking about this negative view of teaching as seen in the practice of teachers (including my own). If I liked smaller companies because they allowed me to use my voice, do I practice this in my classroom and school? I have to say I do – more so because of my big mouth than the actual nature of the professional environment in which I worked. My final year in Hawaii didn’t garner me any new “friends” among my peers as I confronted issues I found troubling within my school. Don’t misunderstand, I worked at being diplomatic in my approach, but I can’t believe that we, as professionals, can succeed without owning our shortcomings – both individually and as a school/profession. I know – no one likes to be called on their sh*t! I’m not one to sit back – I want to be good at what I do, no, I NEED to be good at what I do – too many lives depend on it. As educators, we cannot immediately change the problems that hang about the limbs of the system, but we can impact our school and classrooms – and this can lead to larger changes as we move forward.
So how about starting with a sense of professionalism? Look around our schools – how many teachers look and act like a professional? Do they dress the part? Do they carry themselves with a sense of dignity and appropriateness? This is what will be expected by our students when they enter the workforce, whether they are blue- or white- collar in their career choices. If one of the first rules of teaching is “model the behavior you want to see in your students,” then shouldn’t we lead by example? Too often I see teachers who dress like our students (shorts, t-shirts, torn jeans, tight shirts) for work. Granted, my Hawaii school had only a few rooms with air conditioning and fans had to be provided by the teachers. On hot days or in second story classrooms, wearing shorts was the only way to keep cool enough to stay focused. I plead guilty to doing it from time to time, yet I never felt comfortable. Wearing such attire crossed the line of being more like a student than a teacher and I couldn’t help feeling like students needed to know that I was the teacher. Even in shorts, I at least wore a collared shirt (pullover or button up)…wearing a t-shirt just felt wrong. I felt better in my khakis, shirt, and shoes.
Beyond the appearance, (let's face it, in the end it's the what a teacher does that counts more) professionalism is exemplified in the manner of behavior we practice with students and peers alike. Too many teachers cross boundaries with students – we aren’t their friends. The student-teacher relationship requires us to maintain the appropriate lines – we support our students and need to remember our obligations to the student, his/her family, the legal system, and our profession. Like a doctor, we should take a “do no harm” oath and remember that this means making tough choices that our students will not always appreciate for years to come, if ever, but serves their best interests and overall success. If we owe that to them, don’t we owe it to one another? Should we not be able to approach one another and openly discuss what we see happening in our classrooms? If we don’t monitor, support, and push one another to be at our best, who will? Administrators are mired down, principals and vice principals rarely getting the opportunity to do their required walk-throughs. DOEs are more fixated on school-wide results rather than examining individuals and providing support and continuing quality training. And our unions, meant to protect our best interests, are so politicized and dysfunctional that what good they do is overshadowed by the ineffective teachers they help keep in the classrooms, hurting all of us.
Perhaps it is time to step back and consider what we, as a profession, can learn from the corporate model. I’m not advocating the privatization of schools or that the corporate model is perfect, I’m simply suggesting that it is worth looking at. Read Daniel Fisher’s Forbes.com article, “What Educators Are Learning from Money Managers,” and consider its main ideas. I’ll admit some bias here – Achievement First is my new employer - however consider the article’s overall ideas about creating a system of achievement for students and teachers. It isn’t “the answer,” but perhaps there is something to be said for its approach.
How did that translate to education? Let’s just say there was a period of adjustment. My teaching is, no doubt, informed by my time in the corporate world. Let’s face it, I have a perspective that teachers who haven’t worked in any other field lack. That isn’t to say they are ignorant; good teachers have open minds and do their leg work – they understand the changing world. It just means I understand what potential employers will or may want out of our graduates. The education system and society at large, however, have expectations that are at odds with those of our student's future employers. This is reflected in the attitudes toward teachers and teaching. When did the idea that teaching was less than a “professional” profession appear? Is it a remnant of the archaic ideals of yesteryear, or has the profession lost “face” as our society progressed through the 20th century to find itself mired in mediocrity as it hauled itself towards and into the new millennium?
A recent posting by a friend (http://teachingthemwhy.blogspot.com/) asks if we “practice what we preach?” and it got me to thinking about this negative view of teaching as seen in the practice of teachers (including my own). If I liked smaller companies because they allowed me to use my voice, do I practice this in my classroom and school? I have to say I do – more so because of my big mouth than the actual nature of the professional environment in which I worked. My final year in Hawaii didn’t garner me any new “friends” among my peers as I confronted issues I found troubling within my school. Don’t misunderstand, I worked at being diplomatic in my approach, but I can’t believe that we, as professionals, can succeed without owning our shortcomings – both individually and as a school/profession. I know – no one likes to be called on their sh*t! I’m not one to sit back – I want to be good at what I do, no, I NEED to be good at what I do – too many lives depend on it. As educators, we cannot immediately change the problems that hang about the limbs of the system, but we can impact our school and classrooms – and this can lead to larger changes as we move forward.
So how about starting with a sense of professionalism? Look around our schools – how many teachers look and act like a professional? Do they dress the part? Do they carry themselves with a sense of dignity and appropriateness? This is what will be expected by our students when they enter the workforce, whether they are blue- or white- collar in their career choices. If one of the first rules of teaching is “model the behavior you want to see in your students,” then shouldn’t we lead by example? Too often I see teachers who dress like our students (shorts, t-shirts, torn jeans, tight shirts) for work. Granted, my Hawaii school had only a few rooms with air conditioning and fans had to be provided by the teachers. On hot days or in second story classrooms, wearing shorts was the only way to keep cool enough to stay focused. I plead guilty to doing it from time to time, yet I never felt comfortable. Wearing such attire crossed the line of being more like a student than a teacher and I couldn’t help feeling like students needed to know that I was the teacher. Even in shorts, I at least wore a collared shirt (pullover or button up)…wearing a t-shirt just felt wrong. I felt better in my khakis, shirt, and shoes.
Beyond the appearance, (let's face it, in the end it's the what a teacher does that counts more) professionalism is exemplified in the manner of behavior we practice with students and peers alike. Too many teachers cross boundaries with students – we aren’t their friends. The student-teacher relationship requires us to maintain the appropriate lines – we support our students and need to remember our obligations to the student, his/her family, the legal system, and our profession. Like a doctor, we should take a “do no harm” oath and remember that this means making tough choices that our students will not always appreciate for years to come, if ever, but serves their best interests and overall success. If we owe that to them, don’t we owe it to one another? Should we not be able to approach one another and openly discuss what we see happening in our classrooms? If we don’t monitor, support, and push one another to be at our best, who will? Administrators are mired down, principals and vice principals rarely getting the opportunity to do their required walk-throughs. DOEs are more fixated on school-wide results rather than examining individuals and providing support and continuing quality training. And our unions, meant to protect our best interests, are so politicized and dysfunctional that what good they do is overshadowed by the ineffective teachers they help keep in the classrooms, hurting all of us.
Perhaps it is time to step back and consider what we, as a profession, can learn from the corporate model. I’m not advocating the privatization of schools or that the corporate model is perfect, I’m simply suggesting that it is worth looking at. Read Daniel Fisher’s Forbes.com article, “What Educators Are Learning from Money Managers,” and consider its main ideas. I’ll admit some bias here – Achievement First is my new employer - however consider the article’s overall ideas about creating a system of achievement for students and teachers. It isn’t “the answer,” but perhaps there is something to be said for its approach.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Rigor in Education
Education is filled with “buzz” words: “project-based learning,” “mastery,” “multicultural education,” “relevance,” and “data driven instruction” to name a few. In an entry in his National Staff Development Council blog, educator Bill Ferriter (2006) notes, “The danger in buzzwords, however, is also very real. Overuse can lead to casual interpretations that weaken meaning and lead to disagreement between dedicated individuals in the same organization” (para. 9). While there were many such words that were bantered about during my time in Hawaii, “rigor” seemed to spark the most discussion. What do we mean by it? What does rigor look like? How is it measured? How can we insure that we provide a rigorous curriculum that is implemented in way that challenges students while offering them the support to achieve? Not so easy, even when a basic understanding of the term is reached.
In “Rigor: It’s All the Rage, but What Does It Mean?” (Jacobs & Colvin, 2009), identified three components to rigor: “content, pedagogy, and assessments” (p. 3). If a curriculum is truly rigorous, according to Michigan State professor William Schmidt (2009), it will be “focused, coherent, and appropriate challenging” (as cited in Jacobs & Colvin, 2009, p. 3). None of these really tell teachers what it should look like and just how to measure whether their coursework is rigorous. Some teachers define it to mean more work, while other educators see it as a measure of student accountability. In the end, this drive for rigor leaves much of our education system at the height of mediocrity. It has struck me as odd that in our continuous efforts to “bridge the gap,” we’ve only seemed to lower the standard. Equality appears to cost us excellence – and is that the price our students should pay?
I’ve sat in numerous faculty and committee meetings that discussed curriculum design and assessment. Inevitably, my peers across the varied high school contents had one phrase in common in response to certain student expectations: “our students can’t do that.” I’ll even admit to being guilty of saying this myself. When students enter your classroom four to six years (or more) behind in reading levels, unable to do simple math solutions in their heads, and unable to comprehend the basic structure of a sentence, one naturally begins to reassess their expectations, because, obviously, “our students can’t do that.” As I gained experience and took part in intense and inquiry based department discussions, it occurred to me that it shouldn’t be about what student’s can’t do now, but what they need to do by the time they leave. Our problem isn’t how to get students to do work at their level, but how to get them to work at the needed level, in spite of their deficiencies. Isn’t that the point of differentiated education – to provide the steps necessary for all students to achieve?
So what does this mean in regards to rigor? Are the three components previously mentioned (content, pedagogy, and assessment) enough? Have we neglected to incorporate expectation – both in the individual classroom and as part of the whole school environment? And what about the role of behavior in student achievement? Don’t all of these combine to create a rigorous learning environment? Excluding one of these weakens the overall structure, sliding once more towards mediocrity. And so we continue to struggle with creating rigorous learning environments that promote engagement and success in our students. I wonder what would happen if we actually came together at our schools to define rigor, create pictures of its implementation and outcomes, and develop a format for monitoring and assessing school and student achievement. One major problem with developing and maintaining rigor is a lack of a consistent approach school wide by faculty and administration. As teachers, we often feel that our classrooms are our domains and we want the freedom to determine what happens in them. There are too many cookie cutter approaches that tell us what to say, when to say it, and how to do it; seasoned teachers can attest to the numerous passing fads. Such a beleaguered past has caused any talk of consistency to become frightening. We worry about a loss of power in our classrooms. In addition, we are afraid to create school wide teacher standards/expectations because it means we will be held up to them. And there will always be mediocre teachers who don’t want to be pushed to be more than that. Yet, without consistency among teacher expectations, how can rigor be achieved?
In Rigor is NOT a Four-Letter Word, Barbara Blackburn (2008) cites three obstacles to developing rigor: 1) the lack of a clear definition of the term; 2) the inability to clearly map out how to make a course rigorous; and 3) the complex nature of individual classrooms and how they intersect with rigor (class size, cultural makeup, professional development for educators, and the overall quality of teachers in the field). How we tackle these obstacles as professionals will ultimately determine our success in creating rigorous learning environments.
Citations:
Blackburn, B. (2008). Rigor is not a four–letter word. New York: Eye on Education.
Jacobs, J. and Colvin, R.L. (2006). Rigor: it's all the rage, but what does it mean? Understanding and reporting on academic rigor. New York: Columbia University. 1-5.
In “Rigor: It’s All the Rage, but What Does It Mean?” (Jacobs & Colvin, 2009), identified three components to rigor: “content, pedagogy, and assessments” (p. 3). If a curriculum is truly rigorous, according to Michigan State professor William Schmidt (2009), it will be “focused, coherent, and appropriate challenging” (as cited in Jacobs & Colvin, 2009, p. 3). None of these really tell teachers what it should look like and just how to measure whether their coursework is rigorous. Some teachers define it to mean more work, while other educators see it as a measure of student accountability. In the end, this drive for rigor leaves much of our education system at the height of mediocrity. It has struck me as odd that in our continuous efforts to “bridge the gap,” we’ve only seemed to lower the standard. Equality appears to cost us excellence – and is that the price our students should pay?
I’ve sat in numerous faculty and committee meetings that discussed curriculum design and assessment. Inevitably, my peers across the varied high school contents had one phrase in common in response to certain student expectations: “our students can’t do that.” I’ll even admit to being guilty of saying this myself. When students enter your classroom four to six years (or more) behind in reading levels, unable to do simple math solutions in their heads, and unable to comprehend the basic structure of a sentence, one naturally begins to reassess their expectations, because, obviously, “our students can’t do that.” As I gained experience and took part in intense and inquiry based department discussions, it occurred to me that it shouldn’t be about what student’s can’t do now, but what they need to do by the time they leave. Our problem isn’t how to get students to do work at their level, but how to get them to work at the needed level, in spite of their deficiencies. Isn’t that the point of differentiated education – to provide the steps necessary for all students to achieve?
So what does this mean in regards to rigor? Are the three components previously mentioned (content, pedagogy, and assessment) enough? Have we neglected to incorporate expectation – both in the individual classroom and as part of the whole school environment? And what about the role of behavior in student achievement? Don’t all of these combine to create a rigorous learning environment? Excluding one of these weakens the overall structure, sliding once more towards mediocrity. And so we continue to struggle with creating rigorous learning environments that promote engagement and success in our students. I wonder what would happen if we actually came together at our schools to define rigor, create pictures of its implementation and outcomes, and develop a format for monitoring and assessing school and student achievement. One major problem with developing and maintaining rigor is a lack of a consistent approach school wide by faculty and administration. As teachers, we often feel that our classrooms are our domains and we want the freedom to determine what happens in them. There are too many cookie cutter approaches that tell us what to say, when to say it, and how to do it; seasoned teachers can attest to the numerous passing fads. Such a beleaguered past has caused any talk of consistency to become frightening. We worry about a loss of power in our classrooms. In addition, we are afraid to create school wide teacher standards/expectations because it means we will be held up to them. And there will always be mediocre teachers who don’t want to be pushed to be more than that. Yet, without consistency among teacher expectations, how can rigor be achieved?
In Rigor is NOT a Four-Letter Word, Barbara Blackburn (2008) cites three obstacles to developing rigor: 1) the lack of a clear definition of the term; 2) the inability to clearly map out how to make a course rigorous; and 3) the complex nature of individual classrooms and how they intersect with rigor (class size, cultural makeup, professional development for educators, and the overall quality of teachers in the field). How we tackle these obstacles as professionals will ultimately determine our success in creating rigorous learning environments.
Citations:
Blackburn, B. (2008). Rigor is not a four–letter word. New York: Eye on Education.
Jacobs, J. and Colvin, R.L. (2006). Rigor: it's all the rage, but what does it mean? Understanding and reporting on academic rigor. New York: Columbia University. 1-5.
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