Think Like a Teacher

In today’s data-driven life, everyone wants a way to measure (and perhaps pay) a good teacher.  Parents have always wanted a way to “know who the good teachers are.” Administrators want a way to put a quantitative label on what they know (?) is happening in their schools. But the only measure anyone has offered so far is student achievement. In a non-widgetmaking process as slippery as learning, finding a measure of what makes a good teacher is as elusive as a second grader on his way out to recess.

A favorite quote in my family is, “Moms worry deep.”  The core-level angst of a mother is what makes her a good teacher and nurturer of her children. When something is wrong with one of her children, she just knows it. The level of stress this can cause her may not always be healthy,  but that mom-deep worry is essential to her effectiveness.

Some doctors worry deep, too. I once had a pediatrician who called me, the mom, because what he had seen at my child’s morning appointment so gnawed at him that he could not wait for my post-naptime call to find out whether things were better. He had not been able to diagnose the problem and had sent us home. But he knew something was not right so called us back in. He eventually did diagnose the problem, driven by a level of involvement with his patient that went beyond the norm.

I would hypothesize that it is a similar involvement with students that makes a teacher effective — even stellar. I have seen some teachers agonize over  the students who “gnaw” at them.  When these students struggled, the teacher struggled more. When the student did not seem “right,”  the teacher wanted to get to the bottom of it. When the class  bombed a test or sat like cinder blocks during a lesson, the teacher had to figure out why. These teachers have a level of involvement, a “Teacher Involvement Quotient” (TIQ) that makes a difference far broader and more lasting than a single test score. There are even some ways to assess that TIQ. When faced with a scenario, those with the higher TIQ would respond differently:

Think of the last time a student failed a project or test in your class. What did you do?  (score based on the response)

Or, instead of asking, WATCH what he/she does, note it, and measure it. Yes, we need to develop a scale, but would it be any harder than designing high-stakes tests?

There are those who see teaching as a series of steps they follow in a certain room at certain times.

There are those who see teaching as designing well-marked trails for students to follow,  waiting to see who comes out at the other end.

There are those who see teaching as the trail their students forge for themselves while the teacher watches and lures them uphill, worrying deeply for those who trip and fall.

Can’t we assess TIQ? Wouldn’t it be worth a try?  This is the learning I agonize about these days.

More education happens over warm Diet Coke, cold coffee, and chocolate than the experts ever realized.  A recent study, discussed in this Edweek article [I hope this is the correct link for the free access version], demonstrates the positive effect that “top notch” teachers have on peers, especially in informal, side-by-side teaching relationships. The full study will be published in the October  American Economics Journal: Applied Economics. Not surprisingly, good teaching not only rubs off on teaching peers but also extends to improved achievement by the students of those teachers.

I can hear teachers nodding their heads as they read this. The comments from teachers in Edweek are a palms-up “Well, Duh!” Ask any experienced teacher to think back on the best teacher-peer he/she* ever knew. Now ask her to close her eyes and picture that teacher’s class in action. Though she likely was never actually in that teacher’s class, she will tell you what must have happened there. She will describe the kids’ reactions, the sounds she heard emanating from that room, the projects hanging in the hallway, the conversations overheard on the playground or between students as they left for the bus or came in from THAT teacher’s class. Watch her eyes pop back open, then glaze over, as she tells you about what THAT teacher’s kids DID. Then she will probably tell you which ideas or lessons she borrowed from THAT teacher and how grateful she is for the additions to her repertoire.

The study does not delineate the how and why. I love the comment by Linda NBCT Science about the first 15 minutes after the kids leave as precious professional development time. She underscores the real “stuff” of teaching. It is that “stuff” that experts may have discounted until now.

So I venture some hypotheses on why elbow-to-elbow exposure to teaching excellence permeates like the smell of burnt coffee in the faculty room:

Misery loves company? To some extent, seeing how somebody else copes helps you cope. But it is more than that.

Competition and not wanting to “look bad”? If this is all that motivates a weaker or novice teacher, he/she will not last long in the profession.

Providing a concrete vision of what learning can look like — over time and in empirical, visionable, practical form so it can be absorbed and verified? That’s it. If you see the evidence every day, you notice it gradually. You tune in and learn from observing it because you are curious, not because someone made you have a meeting or attend a workshop about it. A motivated teacher may not have the inherent vision to imagine these new ways of teaching and learning, but she knows it when she sees it. Like our students, we each hit that teachable moment at a different time. The prolonged and low-key exposure to teaching excellence, along with a little shared chocolate and warm Diet Coke, goes much further than any graduate course, inservice day, or external motivator. 

If you are THAT teacher, pick up a bag of Hershey Kisses or M&Ms this weekend for the faculty room. If you are the teacher still looking for inspiration, you might want to share your Diet Coke to go along with that chocolate.

*I use the feminine pronoun simply because I am too lazy to use both he/she. No gender assumptions or implications intended here.