General Ed

Dear Secretary Duncan,

I am concerned. On the surface, the executive decision to unilaterally lift the 100% proficiency requirement of NCLB for states that meet a set of as-yet-unnamed requirements seems like a great thing.

But can't shake my sense of doubt.

It's the only states that agree to meet a high bar will receive the flexibility they need to improve education on the ground for students line that worries me. What is that high bar? Changes to charter law? Teacher tenure? Merit pay? Common Core adoption by the final few states who haven't yet -- and the Pearson / Gates Foundation designed assessments to match?

You see, I've tried to look at this move in the most charitable light I possibly can. I mean, you're lifting the nearly impossible NCLB requirement of 100% proficiency by 2014 - a requirement that not one school in Pennsylvania has hit yet. That's got to be good, right? As an educator, I should be thrilled. But the way you are going about it just doesn't sit right with me.

Politically, my hat is off to you. It's a brilliant strategic move to get more states to pass laws in line with your agenda. I mean, the pressure on state legislators will be immense to do so, because any state that doesn't will have every school categorized as a failing school by 2014.

And that's the move, isn't it?

"Enact our agenda at the state level or every school in your state will be labeled as a failing school in three years."

And that's not really a choice, is it?

So while the political move is impressive, it strikes me profoundly anti-democratic play, and it is not a gambit worthy of a great nation. The reforms you promoted during the Race to the Top process are controversial, and many states engaged in vigorous debate about your ideas. Those debates should continue, and with every high-stakes lever you press, you push harder that those debates will be profoundly influenced by the carrots and sticks you hold.

But I understand not wanting to see these reforms battled over in fifty statehouses. There are those who would make the argument for increased federalization of American education. And if that is what you believe, then you should argue for it. I know that Congress is more than a little frustrating these days, and with everything else going on, reauthorization of NCLB seemed like a low priority for many lawmakers. But that's the process we've got. Doing an end run around it, even in - perhaps especially in - the name of the children, is a poor idea, no matter which party is in power.

Again, I admire the politics of the move. I really do. But I urge you to consider what you are asking states to do. Reprieve from a Draconian law should not be dependent on adopting more controversial policies.

Let's have a great debate about education in this country. Let's have an honest discussion about how our educational system needs to evolve. The pace of change in a democracy can be maddening, especially, perhaps, when compared to what folks like Bill Gates and Eli Broad experienced when they were in the corporate world. I get that. And I think I speak for many Americans when I say that I too am frustrated by Congress, so I understand the move to circumvent them.

But that doesn't make it right.

This isn't about whether or not I agree with what expectations you eventually set for the state waivers. This is about our democratic process. Please don't make states choose between your agenda on the one hand or damning all their schools to being labeled failures on the other. Please don't legislate major changes in federal education policy from the Executive branch of government.

No Child Left Behind needs reform, of that we profoundly and deeply agree. Let's make sure we do it the right way.

Yours,
Chris Lehmann

I think it is important to articulate why I am against for-profit organizations running schools. This isn't to say that there aren't good people working in some of those schools, and this isn't to say that kids don't learn at all in those schools. It is, instead, an argument about systems and what kind of structures we should build.

I don't believe in for-profit education because so much of what gives a company the ability to make money doesn't apply in schools.

To wit - states allocate money to schools. The same per-child (with exceptions for Special Education) in a district. So the only way to make a profit is to spend less money.

Think about that for a moment -- the only way for a for-profit school is to spend less money per child.

Call it "discovering efficiencies" or whatever you want, given the lack of ability to affect pricing, the only way a for-profit charter operator makes money is to spend less per child.

I'm not o.k. with that.

And if "discovering efficiencies" means paying young teachers less money just because you can trade on their idealism, then I'm even less o.k. with that.

if a school has figured out some efficiencies, then that money should be put right back into the school, not into a profit margin. Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but most for-profit charter operators work in districts that tend to be underfunded to begin with.

Found a way to save money on textbooks? Awesome, start a chess team.

Found a way to reduce the number of administrative staffers needed by streamlining business practice? Great, hire another teacher.

Found a way to lower facilities costs? Great, take a field trip so the kids can have powerful out-of-school learning experiences.

You get the idea.

Some things shouldn't be for-profit. School is top of my list.

I saw some really poor teaching the other day.

Doesn't matter where.

The kids were great… in fact, they were incredibly tolerant of the poor teaching.

The teacher sat in a chair in the front of a classroom where the desks were neatly in rows.

The students had their notebooks out, and many - I'd say most - of them were diligently taking notes as the teacher went over notes from some kind of curriculum guide.

It was almost as if someone had transported me to the classroom from Ferris Bueller's Day Off, ("Bueller… Bueller…")

I watched the classroom for about ten minutes, just wondering if things would change… was this a warm-up to something else, although the tone in the teacher's voice suggested to me that it wasn't.

After ten minutes, I called a student out of the class and asked, "Is this how class is most days?"

I was assured that it was.

I asked, "What do you think of the class?"

"Honestly, I chose to take the class, so I guess I just have to put up with it," was the response I got.

And I was angry, because I wanted to know how this teacher could possibly have thought that this was an o.k. way to teach. Who could possibly think that kids could learn that way?

And I thought of a point I've made in dozens of presentations - "Put a good person in a bad system and the system wins too often."

What created a system where an adult thought that sitting in front of students and lecturing in a monotone voice about any topic could possibly inspire a child to learn? To care?

How was this teacher educated? Did a teacher ever inspire her?

What has this teacher's experience in the classroom been? Was there a time where she cared and had that care disrespected?

Was there a principal who said, "Just follow the curriculum?"

Was there someone to mentor her who was able to offer profound advice, not merely survival tips?

Was / is there space for her to continue to be a learner?

Was there a specific moment when she just got tired? When she gave up? When it became "just a job?" When she stopped seeing the kids in front of her? When someone told her that the only way to be a "good" teacher was to give up every other moment of her life?

I want to be angry at that teacher - and, to be clear, a big part of me is - because she was missing an opportunity to really teach with kids who were choosing to be in what they had hoped would be a learning environment.

But to be angry at one teacher and not look at the system that created the moment I observed is to miss the larger moment.

We have to do better at creating profound, caring institutions of learning for everyone who spends time in the thing we call "school." After I got over being angry, I wanted to sit down and talk to the teacher and ask her about her teaching career… about what she values… about why she teachers… about what still inspires her… about her pedagogy… and if she thought what she was doing in the classroom was effective. I don't want to ask those questions as a "gotcha," but because I really don't understand, and I want to.

The question, I suppose, is this - was this teacher one of "those" teachers that we hear so much about in the media? The "bad teachers" who should be removed from the profession because their test scores aren't high enough, their classroom not inspiring enough?

I don't know. I honestly don't. I watched for ten minutes, and listened to one student. That's not enough time.

But even if, at this moment in her career, that teacher is not someone I would want to teach my own children, I don't think identifying that is enough.

Because I don't think she went into the profession to be a bad teacher.

We have to find a way to make schools healthier places.

We have to find a way to make it easier for teachers to get better at their craft.

We have to make sure that we never lose sight of the humanity of all the people who inhabit our schools.

If we want teachers to see the kids in front of them, we have to see the teachers in front of us.

As a principal and a parent and a teacher, I want to know who broke this teacher. I want to know why. I want to understand… and I want to help her see that it doesn't have to be that way… that hurt doesn't have to be permanent… that the kids are still there, waiting for her.

We can't Wait For Superman. We don't need more martyrs. We have to understand that there are over 3,000,000 public school teachers in this country, and we have find ways to repair the damage that has been done to them over the past decade. We all have to find ways to heal. We must do it for two reasons - first, because to attack and abuse those who have gone into a caring profession is an act of cruelty, but second - and even more importantly - because teachers are human, and if they are made to feel dehumanized, attacked, unsupported, those feelings will inevitably come through in the way they teach.

We have to make sure that people who want to care for children, can. We are wasting the energy, good intentions and care of thousands… and then we're blaming them for the systemic failures that they were not heroic enough to overcome.

The challenges our kids face will require us to be the best versions of ourselves. We need to be alive, awake, aware and empowered to face those challenges head-on… co-conspirators with our students, so that they can feel our passion - not for our subjects, but for them. And we need to be able to do that over a career, not for a two year stop-over before law school, and not just for a few years until we have our own children and can't work 70-80 hours a week.

If we want students to believe that learning is, indeed, life-long, then students must see that teaching is life-long as well… and that learning and teaching are forever linked, necessary and beautiful.

And that's not going to happen with the current trends in educational policy. In fact, the current movement will engender less empathy, not more.

And because I believe that, I stand in full support of the Save Our Schools March.

Our schools - and the people, young and old, who inhabit them have a lot of work to do.

We're not going to get there by simply going through the motions, but we're also not going to get there by punishing the people who are trying to do the work - students and teachers alike.

We're not going to get there by hoping that businesses find the right profit margin to want to open schools or thinking that schools need to be just like busines, but we're also not going to get there without being willing to innovate from the best of old ways and the best of new tools.

We will never, ever get there by thinking we can bully adults into caring for kids.

I want to say that one again.

We will never, ever get there by thinking we can bully adults into caring for kids.

And we're not going to get there without all of us being willing to do the hard work of teaching and learning every day with and from each other every day.

Thousands of educators are going to Washington this weekend to say - Yes, we are ready to do the work for and with our children. But you can no more make schools something that is done to us than we can make classrooms something that is done to children.

Schools must be empowering for all its members if we want our children — and therefore our society — to thrive. And for that reason, we must Save Our Schools.

Finding this site broke me today: http://www.federationforchildren.org/

There is nothing new there. Same pro-voucher, anti-public education stuff that we've seen in two dozen places.

But the name... The American Federation for Children.

Enough.

I've had it with hearing teachers who dare to be in a union be called "thugs" by the governor directly to the east of me. I've had it with facing down massive cuts in education that are decimating schools across my state and across the country.

I'm tired of reading that people making $45,000 a year and working 60 hours a week are "the problem."

And if someone thinks it is cute or funny or poignant to name a national organization in a way that mocks the organization that has worked to support teachers in some of the most challenging situations for decades? And does so in a way that suggests that they speak for the kids in ways that those who have taught the kids cannot? Do not?

It's the same mindset that would let Davis Guggenheim claim that Michelle Rhee has "suffered" for her stance on education.

Please.

Enough already.

You know what... we need to have some really profound conversations about pedagogy on a national scale.... about how our teaching profession must change and grow to meet the needs of a changing nation. But it must be a dialogue, not diatribe and not mockery.

I'll give you an example - and it might surprise you.

Chris Christie's educational plans aren't all wrong.

There. I said it.

I agree - LIFO is destructive.

And seniority-based hiring in our big systems does no one any favors.

And while I think his tenure reform plans have way too much emphasis on standardized testing, for any number of reasons, I think looking at a new way to evaluate teachers is important... and I think teachers have to understand that tenure the way it has traditionally been defined is going away. And I even think that his four tiered rating system that would not focus on immediate removal but merely create a structure by which it would create the classifications of who would be eligible to be removed might be a good place to start that conversation.

But how do you sit at the table and feel like you're going to have an honest dialogue with Chris Christie given his rhetoric?

How do you sit down and have a dialogue when Michelle Rhee and others claim that they speak for the kids, and the people who spend every day with kids don't? When the rhetoric is "We love teachers... the good ones..."

Pedro Noguera and Michelle Fine have an amazing piece in the Nation today about how teachers aren't the enemy. And in it, they argue that, yes, we need to reform many aspects of labor relations in education. I'll go one step further. We need to put the way we teach and learn on the table. But we're not going to get there this way. We aren't going to get there when those arguing for a market driven educational system in this country demonize those who are arguing for a public educational system as "anti-reform" or "anti-student."

It is insulting. It is demeaning. And it is destructive.

No one group - no one side - speaks for children.

No one group - no one side - has it 100% right.

So let's talk.

But leave the overheated, insulting rhetoric that would demean the other side, rather than support your ideas, at home.

Please.

Enough already.

I had the opportunity to be on a panel out at Swarthmore College this week with Rich Maraschiello of the PA Department of Education and Diane Castebuono of the School District of Pennsylvania. Rich is one of the folks actively involved in the implementation of the Keystone exams in Pennsylvania, and Diane is a self-described "policy wonk" who has worked both for the School District and the state. We had some prepared questions, but an honest-to-goodness debate broke out.

Let me start by saying that both my panel-mates are thoughtful education policy folks who are tasked with the unenviable task of trying to figure out how to create policy at both the district and state levels that will have a positive impact while minimizing any potential damage that "blunt instrument" policy (Diane's term) might do. A challenge, to say the least.

It was an amazing discussion, and really, we had an incredible number of moments where we agreed as much as the moments when we disagreed. If nothing else, it highlights the challenge of this work in that most of the folks involved are good people trying to do right by the kids in the public school system. I think a lot folks at all levels have a hard time accepting that. What this should remind us is this - this is hard work. We are trying to educate a nation, and we don't know how to do that, not really. Not for every child.

But by the end of the panel, I found myself frustrated that so much of the national debate is centered around outcomes - test scores. We spent much of our time that night talking about the coming keystone exams and graduation rates and measuring schools and such. And yes, we should be talking about outcomes - but not exclusively. If we only focus on outcomes - especially, but not exclusively, test scores, then we become incredibly susceptible to Campbell's Law. We need a better policy conversation than that.

I think the key to school reform is pedagogical reform, and policy reform has done little to nothing to deal with that.

I believe deeply that we lose so many kids because schools are mini-fiefdoms where the language of teaching and learning can change from classroom to classroom. Sadly, the scripted curriculum is a really, really bad idea that is meant to address that, when what is needed is a way for teachers and students to talk across disciplines, across subjects, across grades, so that students get to build their meta-cognitive skills over time.

But how does policy reform move us to that? Perhaps there is a rational solution that could allow policy reform to deal with process and outcomes:

• States establish a school accreditation process similar to Middle States so that schools have to justify their processes - all of their processes - every three - five years.


• Schools establish school-based standards-based assessments - schools with a test focus could choose tests, schools with a project-based focus could establish projects, portfolios, etc... this would be similar to the (now gone) Nebraska STARS project.


• Test data is used for inter-rater reliability, but sampling data is used instead of testing every child ever year.

By focusing on process, authentic student work, and allowing for sampling for standardized test data, we could create policy that would put the focus on teaching and learning at every school, in every classroom. This could create the environment for schools to have the so desperately needed dialogue about what teaching and learning should look like, with schools still being held accountable for how students learn and demonstrate their learning, only in a healthier way that re-values the work of the child, every day, not just on the one week a year that they are tested.

These days, it seems like everyone is talking about how to fix education. Open the paper, turn on the news shows, and you can see billionaires and businessmen, union leaders and former superintendents and even the occasional teacher and parent talking about how we have to fix our schools. There is, however, a powerful constituency that is missing from the dialogue.

The kids.

I think it is time to listen to what they need their schools to be.

To that end, a bunch of us have gotten together to launch The Great American Teach-In. On May 10th, we are calling on those same billionaires, businessmen, union leaders, former superintendents, teachers and parents to pay attention to the kids as they write their Declarations of Education.

What is the Great American Teach-In?

A day to remind ourselves and our students that citizenship means asking questions, finding answers and standing up for what you believe in... and that education must mean that too.

Every classroom, every student, every school... draft a declaration of educational rights.

When it comes to education, what are the truths you hold self evident? Let's make time to talk about these ideas within our learning communities.

Then, let's document these truths, and continue the hard work of making a high quality public education accessible to all who want it.

We have a goal - 100,000 students writing their declarations of education on May 10th. Can you imagine? 100,000 students all telling the adults - "This is how we learn best. This is what we need from our schools. This is what we need." We want the students to consider some essential questions about schools and learning:

1. When and where do I learn best?



2. What does an ideal learning environment look like?



3. How closely do our current places of learning resemble our ideal learning environment?



4. What barriers to learning/growth exist within our current learning environments?



5. What will we do to make our current learning environments more perfect places to work and learn?

So what can we, the adults do?

Sign up.

Sign your students up.

Look at the lesson plans... share them with the kids... help students find their voices on May 10th... and then share those voices with the world.

Spread the word. Blog about it. Tweet about it. Tell your colleagues and your community about it. (The hash-tag is #teachin11 if you were wondering.)

Hey, you can even write your own Declarations of Education.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Let's have conversations in every community about what we dream our schools can be. And let's make sure that we start those dreams with the dreams, hopes and needs of the children we teach.

Join us.

#teach11 - The Great American Teach-In.

This is the time of year I hate the most.

The letters from the School District of Philadelphia informing 8th grade families of what schools they got into went out last week.

Our phone has been ringing off the hook.

We did over 1,000 interviews.

Our incoming freshman class has 125 seats.

Our phone has been ringing off the hook from parents and students who want to know if there is a chance they can come to SLA in the fall.

The difference between the kids who got in and the kids who didn't are minor. I tell myself that they aren't, but really, they often are. In my heart of hearts, I know that.

As someone at SLA said today, "In an era of scarcity, there is no fair way to do this."

And that's what WfS got right - There are not enough seats in amazing schools for all the kids. Let us be clear about that.

The mistakes of the film were many of the conclusions they draw about a) why schools aren't amazing, and b) what could make schools amazing.

But let us never forget the truth that made the mistruths of that film so compelling.

We need more amazing schools for our kids.

This week at SLA reminds us of that every, single year.

Are unions perfect? No. Ask anyone in one.

But it comes down to this: Do you believe that people have the right to a say in their own workplace?

If you do, do you believe that their voice will be stronger collectively or alone?

If you believe that teachers have more ability to have a say in their schools collectively than alone, then you believe in unions. Whatever frustrations, whatever issues, whatever problems you have with the manner in which a specific union may or may not have acted, so be it. You believe in unions.

We should have a great debate in this country about what teaching and learning looks like. Part of that debate should be about what the role of teacher looks like and how that life is sustainable, livable and just. The teachers unions will be at the table for that conversation. They should be. They need to be.

In our schools, it is very easy to run roughshod over the rights of adults. “It’s for the children… you’re for the children, aren’t you?” It’s an easy sell, and it tugs at the heartstrings of all but the most hardened of hearts. But it’s too often a cheap line, and too many people have used it to push teachers too far, burn them out, abuse their compassion and care.

Teachers unions make sure that individual teachers don’t have to do that every day. They remind administrators that there are limits. And they remind administrators that for teachers do be able to do this job, day in and day out, year after year, teachers need to be taken care of as well.

And they remind politicians, as unions always have, that a fair day’s work is worth a fair day’s wage. And that contracts are not just platitudes, but binding documents.

And they remind all of us that those on the front line of the teaching profession have a right to a say in their working life. And that teacher voice is an important - in fact essential - piece of how we will make our schools better more humane places for students, teachers and even (heaven forbid) principals.

And teachers unions remind us that when you say, “We love teachers… the good ones…” you demean the profession, and you demean the hard work that millions of teachers do across America every day.

Unions remind us that whatever those who are recent to the struggle of educating a nation may have some good ideas, but that they must work in concert with the teachers, not against us. Because in the end, they are our schools as much as they are our children’s schools. Our work, our passion, our energy, our lives are in the classroom walls. And we have every bit as much of a right to a say in how our schools will evolve as those who would take our voice from us.

So because unions fundamentally fight for teacher’s rights to have a say in what a democratic education in America looks like, I stand with teachers unions.

[This post is part of the #EduSolidarity postings, started by Stephen Lazar and supported by an incredible group of teachers.]

Dear Ms. Monroe,

I read the two blog posts where you spoke about what you are now calling Bloggate. And I am concerned. I'm concerned that you are missing the point of why people are angry. And please be aware, I'm writing this letter as a teacher, a principal and a parent.

Teaching is a tough career. It demands the best of you every day. And it takes an incredible amount out of you every day. And the dark days are bad. There are days when the kids frustrate you. There are days when the work frustrates you. And there are days when the combination of the two are almost overwhelming.

But when you teach, you work in the public trust. And you have a responsibility to that.

And when you teach kids, you have a moral obligation to work to see the best in them. The kids will see themselves by what is reflected in your eyes.

You see... you don't teach English. You teach kids. Flawed, messed-up, never perfect, wonderful, amazing kids.

Every child you denigrated has something wonderful about them, even when you didn't see it.

Every child you insulted has worked hard at something, even if it wasn't on the assignment you wanted them to work hard on.

Every child you mocked has aspirations, even if they don't match up with the ones you want them to have.

Perhaps parents did go looking for your blog... have you stopped to consider why they may have?

Perhaps a parent was frustrated hearing her child come home every day talking about the English class where the teacher made it clear that she didn't like many of the kids - and trust me, the kids knew. There's no way what you wrote didn't come out in the classroom. No one is that good an actor, and teenagers are better at sussing that out than most people give them credit for.

You were unkind. More to the point, you were cruel.

You were cruel to the children that parents have entrusted to your care.

And there is no excuse for that.

And now, you are trying to argue that your act of public cruelty was somehow justified... somehow part of some larger dialogue about what is wrong with "kids today." And you don't seem to want to own that your actions have now contributed to the larger anti-teacher rhetoric that is out there today. But you must understand... nothing can possibly justify writing those things on a publicly accessible blog. How should your principal respond when a parent calls and says, "I don't want my child in class with someone who writes that?" How is a child supposed to sit in your classroom when s/he will be wondering, "What does Ms. Monroe really think of me?" And - to be completely blunt - why should students respect what you do in class when you have shown them such incredible disrespect.

We had a situation at SLA where a student wrote a teacher an email that was a frustrated and snarky email. The teacher, in a very human moment, responded sarcastically via email. It was understandable from a human moment, but it was not the way we can respond as teachers - because we're the adults.

High school kids say and do really frustrating things. They are kids. It's almost their job. They are learning how to navigate that space between being really kids and being adult. They try on adult responses. They switch back to childish responses. And through it all, they are learning from how the adults in their lives respond to their actions.

What I told that teacher then - and what I say to you now - is that once you abdicated your responsibility as the adult, you were in the wrong. What a parent has every right to say is, "I understand that my child may have done something wrong, but now I want to talk about the behavior of the teacher." Because, after all, we are the adults.

Whatever frustration, grief, anger you may have over the behavior of your students... you gave up the moral high ground to speak with authority about that when you wrote publicly in a manner that was profoundly disrespect of and demeaning to those who are in your care.

And finally, there was something else that really bothered me about your most recent two blog posts.

You never said you were sorry.

You hurt kids. There are students who are angry and hurt that a teacher would write those things about them. You hurt kids' feelings... you wrote mean and cruel things about the children in your care. You may say it was not meant to be public, but you wrote mean and cruel things about the children you teach on a public blog. And those words were found, and kids were hurt by your actions.

And you never said you were sorry.

I hope that you do some serious soul-searching over the coming days. I hope you ask yourself why you teach. I would urge you to consider that your job is not to teach English, but to teach children English... and you need to keep those kids in your class at the top of your mind. And you need to ask yourself if you can find it in your heart to care about them, to listen to them, to want to know their dreams and aspirations, even when they do not line up with your own. If you can, then you need to start with what Randy Pausch defined as a real apology. To make a real apology, you must say - and mean - the following.

1. What I did was wrong.



2. I’m sorry that I hurt you.



3. How do I make it better?

Finally, I would hope that you ask yourself why you are teaching. If the answer is because you loved being an English major, I'd encourage you to find another career.

You must teach because you want to help students achieve their dreams. You must teach because you care almost as much as much about the children in your class as you do about your own children. And you must approach the job with the humility to know that what you are trying to do - to help children grow up wisely and well in an ever-more-complex world - will tax you to the limits of your being. It should - it will - demand the best of you. If you can engage in that reflection... you will understand why you must apologize deeply and profoundly to your students... because you would never want another person to hurt your students as I imagine you have hurt them. You are going to have to listen to them when they tell you how your words made them feel. And you are going to have to be open to feeling that hurt with them. This isn't the time for, "Yes, but..." It is the time to listen deeply, with an open mind and an open heart, so that you can grow... so that you might return to the classroom in a fashion that allows all members of that community to learn.

Best,
Chris Lehmann

Sam Abrams is a former colleague and very dear friend of mine. He is one of the most thoughtful scholars on education I know, and he and I have spent many dozens of hours over the last ten-twelve years talking about education policy and pedagogy. He has been working on book on the school reform movement of the last decade, and knowing Sam, it will be measured, insanely well-researched, fair and incredibly powerful. With that...

With all of the discussion around the Finnish model of education that is being touted on many sides of the education debate, I'd urge folks to read The Children Must Play from January's New Republic. It examines some of the underlying beliefs of the Finnish system - broad standards that allow teachers to then create curriculum around its, sampled test data, rather than testing every last student, small class sizes, and a powerful respect for teachers in their society, examines how Finland got to this moment in time and compares Finland's success contrasted with their neighbor Norway.

It's well worth the read.