Sometimes reading too much makes my head spin. Not in a bad way (mostly). But so many times it completely affirms everything I am as an educator, and then I get fired up.
I was reading some work of Alan Sitomer, a three-time teacher of the year in California. He's interesting to listen to, has some great ideas for novels and poetry, is an author himself, and he, too, gets fired up. He teaches high school; but I've got to be honest with you here - teaching teens isn't that unlike teaching young children. Eighth graders are kindergartners with hormones; I've always said that and believe it to this day. But Alan had some tips for teaching teens, and they're good. However, I would like to extend these "tips" to younger children, and I would also like to extend these "tips" to adults. I am concentrating today on four "tips": be tenacious, be passionate, take ownership and seek excellence.
I talked with a parent today who was relating a story of an older child's time in high school. She talked of her son with an English teacher. The English teacher was teaching about commas and semi-colons with quotation marks (now, my ears perked up, because anyone who has had me knows that the semi-colon is by far my favorite piece of punctuation). The teacher could not tell exactly when to use semi-colons and when to use commas with the quotation marks. Can I repeat that: The HONORS English teacher could not tell exactly when to use semi-colons and when to use commas with the quotation marks. Instead, a quick explanation of "it's personal choice" and "writing has become much more relaxed today" was offered up to the student.
How can we expect excellence of students and schools when we don't expect it of ourselves? I know my expectations are over the top at times. I know that about myself, and frankly, I'm mostly okay with it - because if I accept mediocrity, well, where will that get me? Or us? Being passionate isn't bad. Frankly, it can get a person pretty far - better results, obstacles overcome, going an extra mile. In other words, tenacity. Not bad pay-out - and look - those three "tips" are inter-related. hmmm.
Well, let's talk about tenacity for a second. Alan Sitomer included a quote from Calvin Coolidge, which I will also include here (political views aside... can anyone tell me Calvin Coolidge's lasting legacy? Pretty good human rights record, better than most during that era...):
Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: The world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "Press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.
Well, he's got it right. I know tons of "smart" people who do nothing with their talent; I have had many, many students who aren't the most naturally talented but work hard and achieve great things. And I also know many students who had great talent but no one helped them cultivate that talent because it seemed as though they "had more" than others. Persistence - on all parts - is what will be the universal solvent. If we expect our students to be tenacious (which I do), we have to expect tenacity of ourselves (which I do).
Which leads me to ownership. If we are passionate about something, we take clear ownership of it. We are tenacious in its success. Failure is not an option (ask the Apollo 13 dudes). And if we really are taking ownership, we expect excellence of all - including ourselves. Again, would a parent actually WANT mediocre effort from a teacher? From a principal? From a doctor or an attorney? Doubtful. In turn, I expect students to be vested in their education. I also expect parents to be vested in education. I can teach students the difference in using commas and semi-colons (sorry, teacher, but it's not "personal choice". Clear communication in this century is never "personal choice". It's a requirement for success.) to practically anyone; anyone who wants to learn it, for sure. Effort. Commitment. Ownership. It's the idea that school, and life, really does have a purpose, and it's up to us to TRY. Take ownership over behavior and actions, and good things happen: there is more tenacity, more excellence, and more passion for success.
Full circle. I guess those four words really are intertwined after all.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
I Wish I Were A Butterfly. Or a Cheetah.
There is a lot written out there about butterflies. Lots of nice, sweet, fluffy stuff about butterflies. I watched the insect episode of "Life" where monarch butterflies were highlighted. They travel thousands of miles to hibernate, and never make it back to where they were born - but their offspring do. That's not such a fluffy tidbit of information, and that's my point. At one time, every butterfly was a caterpillar - often times doing serious damage to crops and plants in order to become that flitting creature that seems not to have a care.
Our children are caterpillars. Okay, I'm not saying that they're damage-causing creatures, but they are relatively misunderstood, as caterpillars sometimes are. I'm also saying that their life's journey is not done - that they won't stay the same creature, really, even, as they are as children - that they will grow and morph, as caterpillars do... given the right set of circumstances. As Richard Buckminster Fuller once wrote, "There's nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly." Yet, that's an educator's job - his or her responsibility, really - to find that butterfly in each caterpillar, and prepare that child for the metamorphosis that will eventually take place, given the right circumstances and the chance to morph. In our emphasis on MCA scores, other standardized testing, and curriculum, curriculum, curriculum (always the right curriculum, as in "What curriculum do you teach?"), we sometimes miss the forest 'fore the trees. Our students, our children, have emotional needs, challenges from within and without that sometimes get the best of them, despite the smile and perceived attitude that nothing really is wrong. In other words, are our children "performing" for someone else, or becoming true to themselves in preparation for their own adult life?
Take the metaphor of a cheetah. What do we think of first when we think of a cheetah? (I for one think of the cool markings under their eyes, like the journey of tears... but I digress.) When we think of a cheetah, we think of speed. What they can do. It's awesome to watch. It's flashy. But its impressive speed can only be achieved under certain circumstances, and some of those circumstances come from within the cheetah itself. It has to be healthy and rested. It must have enough room, and it must have fast prey. It has to be an adult in order to run at top speed (juvenile cheetahs don't run as fast.) Will it run 65-70 miles per hour if it was chasing a slower animal? Maybe, if it wanted to impress... what, National Geographic cameras, or nearby zebra, or a cute girl cheetah... but most likely, it wouldn't run that fast if the prey wasn't as fast. But is it still a cheetah without the flash? Is a caterpillar still a butterfly without the flash?
Can we continue to remember that our children, our students, are still people without the test scores? I think so - I think we NEED to remember that, in order to serve all our students they way they thirst to be served. Get to know me, they scream inside. Get to know who I am as a person, not just what I can do in school. And they are right. Our students are more than what they show on the outside. They may not be showing you much about their insides at all, and that can be a scary thought, frankly, because all of their decisions affect their whole life, even though they are still juveniles. If we look only for the flash, the do, the performance, we will miss who they really, really are - and can become. We must be prepared to see it all - the whole person - the journey of tears, the caterpillar in each one.
Where have those butterflies and flowers all gone
That science may have staked the future on?
He seems to say the reason why so much
Should come to nothing must be fairly faced.
- Robert Frost, "Pod of the Milkweed"
Our children are caterpillars. Okay, I'm not saying that they're damage-causing creatures, but they are relatively misunderstood, as caterpillars sometimes are. I'm also saying that their life's journey is not done - that they won't stay the same creature, really, even, as they are as children - that they will grow and morph, as caterpillars do... given the right set of circumstances. As Richard Buckminster Fuller once wrote, "There's nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly." Yet, that's an educator's job - his or her responsibility, really - to find that butterfly in each caterpillar, and prepare that child for the metamorphosis that will eventually take place, given the right circumstances and the chance to morph. In our emphasis on MCA scores, other standardized testing, and curriculum, curriculum, curriculum (always the right curriculum, as in "What curriculum do you teach?"), we sometimes miss the forest 'fore the trees. Our students, our children, have emotional needs, challenges from within and without that sometimes get the best of them, despite the smile and perceived attitude that nothing really is wrong. In other words, are our children "performing" for someone else, or becoming true to themselves in preparation for their own adult life?
Take the metaphor of a cheetah. What do we think of first when we think of a cheetah? (I for one think of the cool markings under their eyes, like the journey of tears... but I digress.) When we think of a cheetah, we think of speed. What they can do. It's awesome to watch. It's flashy. But its impressive speed can only be achieved under certain circumstances, and some of those circumstances come from within the cheetah itself. It has to be healthy and rested. It must have enough room, and it must have fast prey. It has to be an adult in order to run at top speed (juvenile cheetahs don't run as fast.) Will it run 65-70 miles per hour if it was chasing a slower animal? Maybe, if it wanted to impress... what, National Geographic cameras, or nearby zebra, or a cute girl cheetah... but most likely, it wouldn't run that fast if the prey wasn't as fast. But is it still a cheetah without the flash? Is a caterpillar still a butterfly without the flash?
Can we continue to remember that our children, our students, are still people without the test scores? I think so - I think we NEED to remember that, in order to serve all our students they way they thirst to be served. Get to know me, they scream inside. Get to know who I am as a person, not just what I can do in school. And they are right. Our students are more than what they show on the outside. They may not be showing you much about their insides at all, and that can be a scary thought, frankly, because all of their decisions affect their whole life, even though they are still juveniles. If we look only for the flash, the do, the performance, we will miss who they really, really are - and can become. We must be prepared to see it all - the whole person - the journey of tears, the caterpillar in each one.
Where have those butterflies and flowers all gone
That science may have staked the future on?
He seems to say the reason why so much
Should come to nothing must be fairly faced.
- Robert Frost, "Pod of the Milkweed"
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Chopin, Rachmaninoff...and Nachito
I recently spent much-needed wonderful quality time with my husband for our anniversary. We had the fortunate opportunity to listen to some music at the Dakota. Nachito Hererra was playing piano with a basist and a drummer. Now, if you've never heard of Nachito Hererra, don't feel bad. I didn't either. We kind of stumbled onto this show, and a Cuban pianist intrigued me. I didn't know what I was stepping into.
The guy was awesome. Look him up and buy his cd (he is not paying me to advertise for him - I do have a point coming). Here was a man playing Chopin, my grandmother's favorite composer, giving his music a Latin flair. A Latin Chopin! How awesome! Hererra did the same thing with Rachmaninoff. I was floored. But it got me to thinking about our learning (seriously, I do have a life; I don't spend every waking moment thinking about how my experiences tie into school - they just sort of do, actually).
Nachito Hererra came to this country only a few years ago. He speaks English with a very heavy Cuban accent. He really doesn't need to speak at all, because his music speaks for him. Why is that? Because classical music is world-wide. The heavy-hitter composers are known all over the globe. But each culture soaks up the language of music differently. Hererra heard Chopin differently than I heard Chopin - because of the difference in our experiences - our culture - our schema. I would never have thought to put a Latin beat to Chopins nocturnes. But he did - because of the life experience in which he was immersed.
What does that say about our learners? Our readers? Our students coming to American schools from families who have never experienced American schools? Our gifted students? Our struggling students? Each and every student comes to school with a certain set of life experiences, and takes from his or her learning something different because of that schema. There are students who have no books at home. There are students who hate reading because they read letters backwards and no one can seem to help them. There are students who have a brain that functions so beyond their years that they can't figure out how to really connect with others their age. Is an urban culture different than a suburban culture? (I'm just keeping it in the U.S. right now to illustrate a point.) Is one race's schema different than another race's schema?
The answer was beautifully apparent when I sat five feet from a classically trained Cuban pianist, listening to music I grew up with for the first time. Yes, I grew up with that music. And yes, I was listening to it for the first time.
I was "seeing" it through the eyes of another culture. And it make the experience, the music, all the richer. Instead of forcing our children to see American schools through the eyes of those who went through American schools, we should attempt to embrace as much as we can from others. It will make the entire experience more rich.
The guy was awesome. Look him up and buy his cd (he is not paying me to advertise for him - I do have a point coming). Here was a man playing Chopin, my grandmother's favorite composer, giving his music a Latin flair. A Latin Chopin! How awesome! Hererra did the same thing with Rachmaninoff. I was floored. But it got me to thinking about our learning (seriously, I do have a life; I don't spend every waking moment thinking about how my experiences tie into school - they just sort of do, actually).
Nachito Hererra came to this country only a few years ago. He speaks English with a very heavy Cuban accent. He really doesn't need to speak at all, because his music speaks for him. Why is that? Because classical music is world-wide. The heavy-hitter composers are known all over the globe. But each culture soaks up the language of music differently. Hererra heard Chopin differently than I heard Chopin - because of the difference in our experiences - our culture - our schema. I would never have thought to put a Latin beat to Chopins nocturnes. But he did - because of the life experience in which he was immersed.
What does that say about our learners? Our readers? Our students coming to American schools from families who have never experienced American schools? Our gifted students? Our struggling students? Each and every student comes to school with a certain set of life experiences, and takes from his or her learning something different because of that schema. There are students who have no books at home. There are students who hate reading because they read letters backwards and no one can seem to help them. There are students who have a brain that functions so beyond their years that they can't figure out how to really connect with others their age. Is an urban culture different than a suburban culture? (I'm just keeping it in the U.S. right now to illustrate a point.) Is one race's schema different than another race's schema?
The answer was beautifully apparent when I sat five feet from a classically trained Cuban pianist, listening to music I grew up with for the first time. Yes, I grew up with that music. And yes, I was listening to it for the first time.
I was "seeing" it through the eyes of another culture. And it make the experience, the music, all the richer. Instead of forcing our children to see American schools through the eyes of those who went through American schools, we should attempt to embrace as much as we can from others. It will make the entire experience more rich.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
No rigor moratorium!
Yes, yes, yes, I meant "moratorium" rather than "mortis". Frankly, a rigor moratorium would be the same as rigor mortis. Dead and stiff education, stiff from "the unavailability of energy needed" (American Heritage Science Dictionary). When one looks up the word "rigor" in the dictionary, geesh, a lot of unpleasant images are created through the use of strong descriptors - words like "harsh inflexibility" and "severity and cruelty" and "unyielding or inflexible". And yet we use that term as a GOOD thing in education, well, good when used in the correct context and not in the context of any of those nouns/adjectives above!
What does rigor mean in the context of education? According to Strong, Silver and Perini (2001), rigor is "the goal of helping students develop the capacity to understand content that is complex, ambiguous, provocative, and personally or emotionally challenging."
In other words, FULL OF LIFE! Rigor should be viewed as a curriculum goal for every single student - in every single subject area - in order to get all students to become thinkers. This definition of rigor requires students to work with challenging ideas and complex texts. Rigor stimulates the brain and helps make connections between learning and life. Nice.
Rigor is NOT more of the same. It's not the quantity of content (yes, children, we will learn ALL the world's history in eighteen weeks; let's get started!). It's not about "back to basics" or as some people put it, a "core" or "classical" curriculum, and it's not just for selected students. Content is important, don't get me wrong. In fact, I'm screaming that theme! But it needs to be rich, deep, and meaty. Why? Rigorous texts get students to become more flexible thinkers. Because students will tackle more difficult material and make sense of it, they will become better readers and more critical readers. Rigorous content requires attention, which in turn hones their critical thinking skills. Most of all, appropriate rigor creates self-confidence. Why on earth would I create easy stuff for my students? They would have been insulted. A rigorous content, with enthusiastic guidance and support, meant that my students knew I had faith in them and would undertake the journey with them. And when they succeeded, it was a beautiful thing. It wasn't handed to them.
Rigor is relevant to life and to our students' futures. It's critical. It makes learning come ALIVE!
What does rigor mean in the context of education? According to Strong, Silver and Perini (2001), rigor is "the goal of helping students develop the capacity to understand content that is complex, ambiguous, provocative, and personally or emotionally challenging."
In other words, FULL OF LIFE! Rigor should be viewed as a curriculum goal for every single student - in every single subject area - in order to get all students to become thinkers. This definition of rigor requires students to work with challenging ideas and complex texts. Rigor stimulates the brain and helps make connections between learning and life. Nice.
Rigor is NOT more of the same. It's not the quantity of content (yes, children, we will learn ALL the world's history in eighteen weeks; let's get started!). It's not about "back to basics" or as some people put it, a "core" or "classical" curriculum, and it's not just for selected students. Content is important, don't get me wrong. In fact, I'm screaming that theme! But it needs to be rich, deep, and meaty. Why? Rigorous texts get students to become more flexible thinkers. Because students will tackle more difficult material and make sense of it, they will become better readers and more critical readers. Rigorous content requires attention, which in turn hones their critical thinking skills. Most of all, appropriate rigor creates self-confidence. Why on earth would I create easy stuff for my students? They would have been insulted. A rigorous content, with enthusiastic guidance and support, meant that my students knew I had faith in them and would undertake the journey with them. And when they succeeded, it was a beautiful thing. It wasn't handed to them.
Rigor is relevant to life and to our students' futures. It's critical. It makes learning come ALIVE!
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