Tinkerings

Sitting in Scott Holcomb’s FETC session on using video tutorials for professional development for teachers (great session by the way!), the inevitable question was asked.  I was holding my breath hoping it wouldn’t happen, but Scott handled it with grace.

The session was about the efficacy of using video as a means for professional development with staff, especially in a system as large as Memphis City Schools.  Face-to-face training is great, but it is hugely limiting when you can only reach 5, 10, or even 50 people at one sitting.  By creating video tutorials (flipping professional development), teachers can log in at their convenience from any Internet-connected device and receive the information as many times as they need.

And so, the question…

When we do in-house training, we know the teachers are there.  We have them sign-in (and sometimes sign-out) as a way to verify their attendance.  But, online, they could start the video in the living room and then go to the kitchen to fix dinner.  (You know the question, don’t you….)  How do we really know they watched the video?

Now, I have to admit, I had a totally different answer in mind than Scott’s brilliance.  I would have answered with another question.  OK, so you know they were in attendance at the face-to-face training, but how do you know they were really, truly present?

Scott went an entirely different direction.  He talked about a paradigm shift in the way we view these things.  It is a paradigm shift from “training” to true “professional development.”

We offer training on a variety of subjects at our schools, and we require attendance in order to demonstrate both accountability and in order to only have to do the training once.  It is a fairly good model for principals and district administrators.  We can have a county-wide training and cover all 800 or so teachers in one, well-planned, thought-provoking hour, or half-day.  We have a box we can check off that says, “Been there.  Done that.”

But Scott wasn’t talking about video tutorials online for training.  He was talking about using them for professional development.  Professional development doesn’t come from the top down.  It comes from within.

Did you catch that?  It comes from within.

As a teacher, I am supposed to know what I don’t know.  Teaching is a never-ending quest of learning.  We use professional development for ourselves to make us better teachers.  Better learners.  Better team-mates.  Better advocates.  And, in general, just… better.

There is a place for training.  Hey! Its my job!  I provide “training” for teachers on how to use Web 2.0 tools, district-purchased software, and, of course, iPads.

But, it seems to me, there is a much larger arena for professional development.

Thank you, Scott, for helping me draw a line between the two on my to-do list.

Recently I had the privilege of visiting with my friend, Rob, and his family while I was Memphis for the Mid-South Technology Conference.  It had been nearly 20 years since we had worshiped together at the Christian Serviceman’s Center at RAF Mildenhall, England.  It didn’t matter where we were, I always knew Rob was the smartest man in the room.  And that was no small feat at Mildenhall.

During the course of the evening our discussions turned to education and technology and Internet and…filtering.  Rob’s wife is an educator.  Rob is an IT guy running his own company.  It was a natural progression.

Rob is also a church historian and theologian.  So it was no surprise in the conversation that he divided the Internet filtering groups into two camps: John Calvin and John Knox.

Calvin believed strongly that pretty much everything was sinful except those things expressly stated in Scripture as being “acceptable.”  Knox, on the other hand, believed that pretty much everything was acceptable except for those things expressly stated in Scripture as being “forbidden.”

Theologically, I was raised Calvinist to a degree.  Don’t do this.  Don’t do that. Don’t go here.  Don’t say that.  In my later years I have found myself more and more in the camp of Knox.

Educationally, I am very much in the Knox camp with regard to technology.  I don’t like the fact that we have to filter sites like YouTube and Flickr and others.  And yet I understand its necessity at times.

Recently, I’ve had some pretty spirited discussions with some of our IT people.  They like to rag on me, and I like to rag on them.  We have a lot of fun while debating our positions.  I absolutely love those conversations!  (Others see me as always wanting to argue a point.  Their loss, huh.)

I would venture a guess to say that most IT Departments in school systems across the country are Calvinistic.  They say, “We will block everything unless you can demonstrate the site is both necessary and safe.”  They have to be this way, I suppose.  They have thousands of computers being run by teachers and children in dozens of locations across hundreds of miles.  It is a huge investment, and they have to protect it.  I know how I feel when I walk into a room and find another student has taken it upon himself to update a file, but left the box checked that installs some other unwanted program that ties up memory, slows down performance, and keeps popping up asking if you want to buy something.  I can only imagine how they feel when malware hits dozens or hundreds of computers across the system.

Most educators would probably fall into the Knox camp.  We want access to information.  The Internet is the teaching tool of our generation (not Interactive White Boards or iPads).  How we get there doesn’t matter.  We just want it open.  Even if it is only open for us (or more open for us) and not for our students.

Like theology, technology is probably best handled somewhere in the middle.  To get there requires a dialogue between Calvinists and Knoxists.  A give and take.  A mutual understanding of each others’ goals, aspirations, and needs.

I am indeed fortunate that I can have that discussion with the IT Department of my district.

As you know by now, I’m on my 2nd round of HCG injections to help lose weight.  With the advice of the nurse at my clinic, I stopped taking HCG on the Friday before Thanksgiving.  I was told to eat sensibly leading up to Thanksgiving (OK, I forgot that part and ate everything I wanted).  Then, I started HCG injections again on Thanksgiving Day and used Thursday and Friday as new “load” days to stock up on calories and get ready for some final days of weight loss over the next 2 weeks.

I gained about 5 pounds in one week.  It wasn’t pretty.  I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t proud of myself.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved the food!  I ate without guilt knowing I would be back on track in a few days.

I’ve been back on 500 calories a day now for 3 full days and I’ve lost the 5 pounds I gained plus another pound and a half.  I weigh less today than I have weighed in nearly 8 years.

Every day I wake up and weigh.  Every day I look at that small weight loss (I consider it a gain in the goal book).  Every day I commit to 500 calories that day.  A pound of weight loss overnight is enough to give me big motivation to keep going.  It is a little positive reinforcement in the midst of something that isn’t that fun or enjoyable (but necessary).

This morning as I thought about looking down at that scale and seeing 202 and the feeling of elation that came with it I was reminded of helping kids in our computer labs a couple of years ago as they struggled to write better essays in preparation for the 8th Grade Writing Assessment.

Most of them hated those practice essays.  But this year was different.  We were piloting some software that would automatically grade essays and offer feedback.  As students revised, scores changed and charts were produced.  We had them type their essays into Word and then copy and paste them into the program.  They looked at the results with sullen eyes.  Their score was uninspiring.

Then we told them to change one thing.  In some cases we had them add a quote.  In others, we asked them to add a simile (comparing two things using like or as).  They dutifully added one sentence, saved their work, and re-scored it.  In most cases, their scores went up a full point.  Suddenly their eyes got big.  Their mouths dropped open.  Over and over we heard the same question, “Is it really that simple?”

Yep.

Small changes.  Big motivation.

I take pictures.  Some days I take a lot of pictures.  Some days nothing.  I am not a photographer.  I’m just a plain ol’ ordinary picture taker.  Some things capture my attention more than others.

I love taking pictures of old things.  Abandoned things.  Lonely things. Solitary things. Black and white things.  You can draw your own Freudian conclusions.  I am learning more and more how to take pictures of people.  Capturing moods at parties.  Oh, and food.  I love to take pictures of food.

Recently I’ve been experimenting with HDR.  I follow some blogs that specialize in this photography type.  My camera has limited capabilities for it, but I’m learning with it before I spend the $6,000 or more on a new camera (yeah, in my dreams).

So, a couple of days ago I drove out to Parksville Lake to take some pictures at sunrise.  I took a few I liked even though I technically missed the sunrise because it didn’t show up over the mountains until long after the weather channel told me sunrise would happen.  Still, I had 5 or 6 pictures of which I was fairly proud.  I posted one on my Posterous site.

On the way back home, I passed an old barn that nearly always catches my eye along this stretch of road.  It sits on the edge of a wheat field.  It is old and run down.  It calls to me for some reason.

And when I passed it on this particular morning it was gorgeous.  There was a thick layer of fog out over the field.  Immediately, I could see the shot in black and white.  Maybe even one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken could come of that scene.  I started to turn around and go back, but….

So I convinced myself I was busy.  I needed coffee.  I was hungry.  After all, the fog would be there again, right?

I got up this morning and drove back out to the spot.  Nothing.  No fog.  Just a barren old barn in the middle of a field. Nothing spectacular.  Interesting, yes.  Eye-popping, no.

How many times has my classroom behavior mirrored my picture taking?  I spot a teachable moment.  I can see it in the kid’s eyes.  She wants to learn.  But what she wants to learn isn’t in my lesson plan and I’m being evaluated.  What she wants to learn isn’t one of the SPIs the state has dictated I spend my time on.  What she wants to learn would mean that I have to get 24 other kids doing something else for 5 minutes while I help her.  What she wants to learn won’t be learned today because I’m busy. I’m overworked. I’m stressed.  I’m…

Now I’m stuck. I will go back to that barn a lot over the next few days.  Earlier.  Later.  Rainy days. Sunny ones. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the perfect fog cover just once more.  I won’t let it slip away from me again.  I’m determined.  I have promised myself.

And I wonder when that longing for learning will show up in the eyes of one of my students again.  Will I be as ready?

What about you?

Most of the jokes I remember most are those I learned before I was 15.  Like this one:

A boy is having his arm set in a cast and asks the doctor if he will be able to play the violin when his arm is healed.  “Why sure!” answered the doctor.  “You should be able to play the violin just fine.”

“That’s good,” said the boy.  “I’ve always wanted to play the violin, but I never could before.”

Yeah, its lame I know.  But at 6:00 this morning when I was halfway through my 4 mile jog on our town’s Greenway, it was one of the things that came to mind between songs on Beatles-A-Rama.

I’ve never thought of myself as a runner.  There was always an excuse.  I’m too fat. I want to protect my knees. I get bored.  The list is long.  And it started early.

When I was attending Charles Elementary in Richmond, IN, we had to run in PE class.  I hated it.  Not because I couldn’t do it.  I could.  I was an outdoorsy, skinny, always running around the neighborhood kind of kid.  But I was bored with it.  And I didn’t do it well.  It wasn’t a natural gift for me.  If you had to graph out the results of all the kids in our grade level who ran the mile in PE, it might look like this:

Students are divided into quintiles.  The red line represents the accepted state standard pace which all students are supposed to achieve.  As you can see, there are some kids who just naturally thrive above the line.  There are some kids who are just below the line.  They could easily meet the standard with just a little help from their teacher.  And then there’s me.  That last group on the left. Way below the standard.  Way.

Now, the PE teacher could have helped me with my stride.  He could have helped with my breathing.  He could have had me run more in order to run faster.  I could have been placed in a remedial running group with all the other low runners.

And none of it would have helped.

Why?  Because I quit inside my head.  My body could do it easily.  But my head put the brakes on in a big way.

And it still does.  As I go out to the Greenway to run (or jog or walk really fast, whichever you would like to call it), I can sense my head telling me it is time to stop and walk.  My breathing is fine.  My legs are warmed up.  The Beatles are playing.  Everything is fine.

So I tell myself I will run as far as that next park bench down the trail.  I’ll go at least that far before I walk for a bit.  And then, about 50 yards before I get there I find myself walking.  It is my biggest frustration with running.  It isn’t the running.  It isn’t even the boredom.  My biggest frustration is my brain telling me to quit when I know I can still go farther.

Let’s flip those scores for a moment.  Instead of elementary PE class running times, let’s label them TCAP Proficiency.  With what group of students does a teacher naturally spend most of his or her time?

• Some teachers thrive on teaching those upper level kids because it is so easy and fun.
• Some will focus on those kids just below the line.  With a little push, a little encouragement, those kids might actually make it up into the proficient category.
• A few will focus on those kids at the bottom. They will see glimmers of hope, but experience a lot of frustration.

Those kids at the bottom often get extra help.  They are assigned after school tutoring.  They are put into an intervention class.  There are numerous parent-teacher conferences.  Extra work is assigned.  Easier work is assigned.  Less work is assigned.  Kids are allowed to draw the answer rather than write it.  Some can make videos.  We put them in Glogster, Blabberize, Prezi, and anything else that looks exciting.

And often we see very little improvement.  Why is that?

Because the kid has already quit in his brain.  His mind has convinced him that he can’t do it.  Her brain tells her to answer 6 questions, but quit before she answers the last 4.

Teachers can’t fix this.  Parents can’t fix this.  Friends can’t fix this.  Only the child can fix it.

People tell me all the time, “Once you start running you will love it.  You just need to get out there.”  OK.  I’m out there.  I’m liking it a little better.  I can even imagine myself loving it at some point.  Thriving on it even.  I get images of me in a 5K run. A half-marathon.  A marathon!

And then my brain makes me walk 50 yards before I need to.  And the reality of my frustration floods back through me again.

At 52, I can handle this kind of thing.  I can push myself a little farther next time.  I can push beyond my brain and let my running be guided by my heart.  Its not easy.  But I can do it.

But I couldn’t do that at 8.  Or 12.  Or 17.  Or even 32.  A lot of people can.  Some of us can’t.

NOTE: This is not necessarily an “opinion piece” on students or learning. Rather, I wrote this blog as a way to start a conversation about how to help kids who have already checked out of school.  What are you doing?  What are those around you doing?  We talk all the time about how a teacher has to motivate her kids.  What does that look like?  Is it working?  I look forward to reading your thoughts in the comments section below (or on FB if you read this there).

Last night I dragged my already way too tired body back up off the hotel bed and out into the streets of Philadelphia to try my hand at some night time photography.  I have a really difficult time with it because the automatic focus doesn’t work in the dark, and my eyesight is so bad up close that I can’t tell if I’m in focus or not.

As I was walking down the street I passed a teenager trying to learn how to do flip kicks on his skateboard.  I saw him from over a block away.  He did it over and over and over.  He kept failing.  He kept trying.  Failing. Trying. Failing. Trying.

At some point it will be Success. Repeat. Success. Repeat…. Mastery!

The teacher in me jumped to the forefront of my mind.  How do I get kids to try again and again to write a good sentence?  A good paragraph? A good story?  Essay? Research paper?

Kids are kids after all.  Getting them to grind out trial and error over and over in writing or math or science or social studies or art or….

Well, it must be as difficult as my mom and dad trying to get me to practice the piano when I was young.  I knew I had no natural talent for it.  My left hand just doesn’t want to cooperate, and while I’m concentrating on the bass notes, my right hand just stops working.  I took lessons for 6 years.  I may have practiced for 6 months.

My brother, Steve, on the other hand has a natural talent for the piano.  He sat down at 12 and just started playing.  He plays country, rock, jazz, classical, gospel, and more.  Don’t get me wrong, he had to practice, too.  He took lessons.  But he “heard” the music in his hands.  He just sort of knew where his fingers should go.  It got him on the road as a gospel trio pianist the week after high school graduation and eventually on Solid Gold (he’s wearing the white shirt to the right of Paul) and American Bandstand as a keyboard player for Paul Davis.

I don’t know if the kid on the skateboard had any natural abilities like my brother, or if he was a struggler like me.  All I know is that I saw a determination in his face as I walked past that told me he wasn’t going to quit until he “got it.”

As teachers, that’s the look we long for in the faces of our students.

As an English teacher, even I can get caught up in forgetting that “data” is plural.  We use it interchangeably as both singular and plural all the time.  However, the singular version is “datum.”  But datum doesn’t have quite the sex appeal that data has, so we just overuse the word in an effort to sound more intelligent.  Myself included.

There are two areas, more than any others, where data needs to be recognized as plural.  They are weight loss and education.  Well, OK, they are really important to me right now.

Take a look at this chart:

This is a pretty simple weight loss chart.  I updated just before starting this post.  I have multiple points of data that indicate I am on the right track.  It demonstrates both where I am in relationship to my goal (210 pounds at the end of 30 days).  It also demonstrates my progress along the way from one point to another.  It has multiple assessment indicators.  I can look at it and see that I am on track.  I don’t mind the plateaus or the slight gains on one day or another because overall I am doing what I set out to do at the pace I wanted it done.

As a teacher, I often get frustrated when a parent comes to me and says, “I see Billy Bob made a C on his last quiz.  He’s never made a C before.  What can he do to change that grade?”  This is a concerned parent.  It is the kind of parent I want my students to have.  But the parent is exchanging data for datum.  One point in time.

My guess is that the student has never been a 6th grader before either.  I would also guess that the student has never studied this concept before in earlier grades.  More than likely, I’m already aware that this student made a C when he should have made an A.  How can I know what happened with just one point on a grade chart?

I don’t just need multiple data points.  I need multiple types of data.

I can look at that chart above and know, in my head, that the facts indicate I’m doing exactly what I set out to do.  But it often doesn’t feel like I am.  So I use other measures.

• I have moved up one notch on my belt, so I know Ive lost at least an inch in my waist
• At least one pair of pants that were previously cutting off circulation to my legs are now very loose when I put them on
• Some of the shirts that looked alright while standing now also look OK when I sit down (fat bulges when you sit you know)
• Yesterday I took a picture of myself in the mirror (wearing one of those shirts) and compared it to a picture I had in the same shirt 15 pounds ago.  Its hard to see the day to day changes, but that picture screamed, “Way to go!”

We should be prepared to do the same in the classroom.  Why did Billy Bob make a C on this test?  Well, here are some end of chapter questions we assigned and Billy Bob was struggling with them.  I asked Billy Bob to write his own test question about this topic and it was clear that he didn’t really understand the problem.  After the test was over, I chose three questions Billy Bob missed and asked him to write down for me how he thought this through, step-by-step, so I could see where the disconnect is.

If I have multiple ways of assessing progress, I shouldn’t be backed into a corner of “change the grade or I report you to the principal.”  That test is over.  Billy Bob can’t un-ring the bell.  And yes, that “C” is going to lower his overall GPA at the end of the grading period.  But I’m much more concerned that Billy Bob demonstrate learning than making sure his GPA is inflated to help his self-esteem.

Let’s face it.  I could put any weight I want in that graph above.  The scale says I weight 225.2?  That’s not fair.  I stayed within my calorie limits.  I stayed out of the refrigerator.  I went to J. Alexanders for Father’s Day and didn’t have the carrot cake!  I deserve a bigger weight loss than that.

So I change the number.

But it won’t change the outcome.

Or the facts.

Weight gain is one of those things, like so many in life, that simply doesn’t happen overnight.  It creeps up on you.  Over time, you finally give in to a bigger pair of pants or a shirt that fits just a little better.

Right now, if you looked in my closets, you would find clothes for the 190 pound me, the 210 pound me, the 230 pound me, and even a few for the now 250 pound me.  I used to pride myself on the fact that the heaviest I had ever been was 225.  Then I prided myself on 230.  then I stopped getting on the scales.

There are a number of factors that lead to weight gain.  Lack of exercise.  Taking in more calories than you work off.  Not enough sleep.  Diet drinks.  Too many carbs.  Lack of motivation.  Poor nutrition.  The list is long.  And I think I have hit them all at one time or another.

Research shows that autopsies reveal there really is no such thing as being big boned.

Taking off the weight is much harder than putting it on.   I mean, if it was easy we wouldn’t have an obesity problem now would we?  I mean, you have to work at it.  Exercise.  Eat the right things in the right amounts.  Drink water.

And assess your progress.

Many of our schools across the country are in trouble.  They didn’t just get in trouble overnight.  It was a long process.  We started expecting less of kids in order for all of them to make As in our classes.  We stopped having them exercise during the day (look at the research).  We established a bar of mediocrity and not excellence.  We laid all the responsibility and the blame at the feet of teachers, but we forgot to give them the authority to do what is necessary.

The list is long.  And the ever widening belt of low performance kept expanding.

It isn’t going to be easy to put our schools back on solid footing.  It will take a lot of work.  From teachers.  From administrators.  From parents.  From children.  From government.  From business.  And more.

Hard work. Long hours.  Seemingly little rewards.

And then, like getting on the scale a week after you’ve started eating right and exercising, we will see results.  They may be small.  But they will be positive.

And the sun will shine a little brighter.  And we’ll put our head down and work a little harder.  Struggle a little longer.  Until we weigh our progress again.

We can do this.

Together.

I am one of those people that believes that all children need to learn their multiplication tables.  Early.  Backwards and forwards.  And they should learn some basic grammar rules.  Imprint them on the gray matter of their brains.  And maybe they should memorize all the states, state capitals, presidents, the Gettysburg Address, and the PreAmble to the Constitution.  And probably the Periodic Table of Elements.

Ok, you got me.  Maybe we don’t need to memorize all that stuff.  But, the fact remains that “when I was in school” we memorized a lot.  And much of what I memorized stays with me to this day.  Maybe not like the girl in my junior high Bible Quiz team who memorized…yes, memorized….the first 13 chapters of the Book of John, but enough to put basic ideas and facts in our brain to serve us a lifetime.

And why did we memorize it?  Because it was for a grade!

So you can imagine the shock that came to me recently when a friend of mine was telling me about her walk down the greenway after a big rain.  She explained to me that if something had happened to her phone (like falling into the water) on her walk she wouldn’t be able to call me because she hadn’t committed my phone number to memory.  What?!?  I have known this person for probably six months by now and she doesn’t even know my phone number?

And then it hit me.

I don’t know hers either.  Why would I bother to memorize it?  It is tucked safely away in the Contacts list of my Droid.  If I need to call her, or text her, or send her an email, I can do that.  Why?  Because I have the technology.

So, before you get upset with your students because they simply refuse to memorize something in your classroom. Before you accuse them of not having a brain cell in their head.  Before you throw up your hands in surrender and shout, “What is this world coming to?” (Which, by the way, is a misuse of a preposition…something I memorized in junior high).  Think.  Think about who they are.  Think about the generation to which they belong.

Think about the phone in their pocket.  Yes, the calculator-search-engine-app-filled-Internet-connected-text-messaging-video-creating-YouTube-playing-tiny-computer of a phone to which they are connected.  Why bother to memorize something so easily found with a few simple thumb clicks?

It isn’t that this generation can’t memorize things.  You just have to justify the need differently.

“It’s for a grade” simply doesn’t cut it any longer.

Yesterday I trained some teachers on a few basic techniques for making their Interactive White Boards more interactive in the classroom.  We focused on ways to use the boards with direct instruction by the teacher.  (Next week we move to student interactions).  All-in-all, it was a good day.  I enjoy working with teachers.  And, I enjoy working with teachers of all skill levels an abilities.

Nearly any group you work with can be broken down into various sub-groups.  You know what I mean. You go to a restaurant and you immediately see singles, couples, and groups.  You go to the gym and you see those who are overweight and trying to regain control of their lives in some sort of….oh wait, that’s me.  And then there are those who are die-hard fitness trainers.

Immediately, yesterday, it became clear I had two major groups of teachers, but they were not the groups I was expecting.

The first group I have worked with any times.  This group was made up of older teachers (again, I include myself here) who are not comfortable with technology.  I spent most of my time helping them find their way around the toolbar.  When you are unfamiliar with something, many times you can look right at what you want and still not see it.  As part of the training I do for the Discovery Educator Network, I run into this group more than any other.

The second group surprised me.  This group was made up of younger teachers (OK, I’ll put myself in this group, too).  It was difficult to get these teachers to follow my lead in creating new content.  I would draw a rectangle on the board and then add a small star just to the right of it.  We would add color to the shapes and then group together to move around as one object.  Simple.  Or so I thought.

Then I would walk around the room.  Some had chosen the square tool instead of the rectangle tool to draw their shape.  And no matter how many times you try, or how many different directions you tug at the corners, that shape is always going to be a square.  Some had their rectangle in the  middle of the screen, but the star was in an upper corner far away from the other object.

And yet, because these were adults I knew were unfamiliar with the program we were using, I did not get upset or frustrated or short-tempered or…..

Wait a minute!

OK, you got me. Yes, teacher training is a metaphor for all classroom instruction.  Sometimes, the brains of other people just don’t work exactly the way the brain of the instructor is working.  Sometimes it isn’t that kids “don’t get it.”  Rather, it is just that they aren’t seeing it in their own head the way you think it should be done.  Does that make it wrong?

On a standardized test, yes, its wrong.

In real life, not everything has to be “just like I said it should be.”  There’s room for differences.

Toward the end of the day, I had a teacher ask me, “I’ve had a training like this before, and I learned to do this a different way.  Is it ok with you if I do it the way I learned before?”

You betcha.