Think Like a Teacher

I am far behind at checking out all the good things in my Google Reader. This one is weeks old, but as I read it I hear myself let out a satisfied “Mmmmm” as if I were eating a chocolate truffle:  “Schools Adopt Art as a Building Block of Education.” I especially like picturing a little girl explaining that her class is outside learning about lines from the artworks built into their school: ““We’re looking for a slanted or diagonal line.” Life does not imitate art, nor art imitate life. Art is life.

Wait. Adopt it? Isn’t art a building block of learning already?

I think visually. I make visual analogies in my head for any new concept. I have secretly done this as long as I can remember. I just never told my third grade friends how I “pictured” things. A new idea is visual art to me. So sad that the verbal world of school forgets this. I have a decent mastery of words, but chose to use them — whenever possible — to create pictures to help others see what I “see.”  It frightens me that we must ask for extra funds or special initiatives or “differentiate our curriculum for visual learners” just to keep visual stimuli, the chocolate truffles of the eye, in our learning environments.  We would never think to have schools without words everywhere…and a lot of numbers, too. How, then, is it necessary to “adopt” art into schools?

One thing the web has done is spread visual ways of seeing new ideas. YouTube, Flash, Flickr, all the Flickr toys, even  comic creators have made the visual a preferred vocabulary for so many. But we seem to forget that when we go to school. Art is a “special,” a frill, a poor, distant cousin who comes to visit during holidays.

Not everyone needs to be able to speak or study art (though I hope they will). Art is not a foreign language with its own grammar. Images and texture and lines should just be there at every turn like the neatly printed signs for “door” and “Mrs. Smithson” in a first grade classroom.

Please, don’t forget to share the art, even if you do not like it or understand it. Your students will.

Relationships. Chad Sansing writes a great post about the value of relationships in the classroom. Even the links are a good read. Isn’t that the point: the links are as important as what is said. The links are person to person, person to thoughts, person to words. Chad underscores the importance of relationships with some great articles — connecting in my mind to what I was trying to say about  teachers “worrying deep,”  i.e. CARING deeply and at an intuitive level: forming relationships. His words link to my thoughts and my words as I read. That is what good readers do,  they say. But more importantly, that is what good thinkers do. They keep on linking. Chad has links about linking, too:

relevant content fits right into comforting and enjoyable patterns and connections of prior knowledge

But, Chad asks, how do we define the role of “teacher” in this fully-linked, relationship-oriented, new classroom?  He draws an analogy to a learning republic. I gravitate to something that removes the hint of bureaucracy entirely. My analogy:  microwaving hot marshmallows.

Hot marshmallows, fresh from the microwave, stretch and stretch. They are enticingly sweet and smell of vaguely of cotton candy. The stickiness is the connection, the linking, that we experience during those warm moments of connection and understanding. The sweetness is the taste of  “aha” moments. It may be cliche, but it does feel good to “get it,”  to form a new connection. As saliva floods into your surprised mouth when it senses the sweetness, so do you savor moments when you taste a connection of your own: person to thoughts.  The smell lingers even after the taste, and the smell of other hot marshmallows lures you back, looking for more.

The “teacher” is simply a microwave to the molecules of lumpy, white marshmallow blobs, stirring them into hot stickiness.  And the teacher is not the only microwave. Everyone in (or connected to) the room is capable of pushing “Start. ” The “teacher” simply pushes it over and over, then steps out of the way to be sure everyone has access to the microwave.

Yes, it’s messy. Once you touch a hot marshmallow, your fingers stay sticky. You cannot resist the urge to lick your fingers and repeat the rush. And 25-30 stretching, hot marshmallows quickly spread stickiness on the desks and every surface in the room. Faces get sticky. Hair gets sticky. Minds get sticky.

And just think: With enough hot marshmallows, we could go for s’more…

Have you ever found pieces from two different jigsaw puzzles that actually fit together, one a blue piece of a geometric design and one a scrap of sky from an entirely different puzzle box, yet surprisingly an appropriate “match”?  Two posts from separate feeds in my Google Reader today interlock for me into a new idea. One was from the New York Times, a post about today’s young parents and the need for them to turn off their cell phones, iPods,  and Blackberries and just talk to the stroller set. Nothing in that post was new to me, but it got me thinking about thinking out loud and its importance for learning. The other post was elementary teacher Brian Crosby’s post about allowing students time to process what they have done and learned, even (especially?) when the learning is project-based. Whether toddlers, elementary kids, or even adults,  we need time to think out loud about what we have done. Those around us understand us better and learn from us when we do. Young ones grasp our language to build their own language of understanding. Peers and elders appreciate what we have done when we can stop and explain it.We find our own meaning better when we do it out loud.

But the world does not like to grant time for thinking aloud. Brian Crosby bemoans the fact that  end-of-day recap time has slipped away in his classroom. Most of us who take the world with us via iPhone or Blackberry use that once-precious think-back time to check email now.

Maybe we need an app for that. I’d like a “thinking aloud allowed” app that lets me record my thoughts aloud at the same time that it blocks email with autoreplies telling others that this is my time for thinking, so go away.  The same app would turn OFF young parents’ iPhones, etc. until they had conversed about red stop signs, sidewalk cracks, and at least twenty-five other topics with their stroller-bound munchkins. How could the app help Brian’s students? Maybe it could ask them to record their reflections, prompting and saving their comments so they could store them up like Bandaid box treasures (do you remember metal Band-Aid boxes and their treasure-holding capacity?).

No one would make money on this app, but they would make learners and thinkers. Thinking aloud allowed. There’s an app for that.

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.

In honor of the first week of school, I am rewinding to the days when I worked to meet the needs of individual kids instead of masses of teachers. Scott McLeod posted yesterday about a teacher desperately seeking a reading “program” for what I call a “severely and profoundly gifted” fifth grade boy. It’s good for me to play my old role again, and maybe it will provide some further ideas beyond those already offered in the generous comments from several kind teachers. So pretend I am just another teacher of gifted trying to help out here.

To the teacher of this young man, here are what I consider (based on 27 years teaching kids like this) to be vital aspects of what he needs in his “program” :

Conversation
This boy needs to converse about what he is reading with people he respects. These people may or may not be students. They could easily be students 4-5 years older, if those students have a genuine interest in talking (not so likely among 16 year olds) . They could also be adults. I suggest using one web-based community where he can build trust and also be responsible for his comments and behavior. If he says something silly, he will be labeling himself within the community. I have not looked at them deeply, but I would suggest checking out groups on sites like: http://www.bookglutton.com/ or http://readkiddoread.ning.com/ or  even by searching Google for “online book club gifted.”  I found this post: http://teachers.net/mentors/middle_school/topic13670/8.27.09.11.08.21.html     Maybe even throw a Tweet out there to find other teachers of gifted looking to START a reading discussion group for HIGHLY gifted kiddos. Warning, though: Don’t intermingle with the run-of-the-mill gifteds.  He will simply slide along and get in trouble. Scare him with some intellectual peers. Most likely, adults will work better, as long as someone is watching over his virtual shoulder so he does not fall into dangerous company (see Support).

Accountability
He should be involved in designing the “program” and revising it along the way. Talk at length about what he will do, what it can look like, when he will do what. A student this bright enjoys testing limits and experimenting with human behavior. Some might simply say he is “manipulative.”  He needs to be involved in designing his own program and being accountable to it.  Most likely, he will set the bar low for himself, so that’s where the “support” comes in. Someone needs to call his bluff yet help him get started in whichever community and tasks you decide to use. The accountability should include evaluating whether the program is doing what it should for him and whether he is doing what he should for the agreed-upon program, That conversation needs to happen weekly, F2F. He can tell when you are making things up, so be honest. If you haven’t read the same book, admit it. When you design the program, design in what the logical consequence is if he does not meet his own goals.

Support
Most likely, he has never had such freedom to fail and to work on his own. Ask him what he is afraid he might not get done or might not know how to do. Then do it together the first time - or 1/2 of the first time. He’ll get it quickly and need to be on his own when he can be.  For safety reasons, his online activities should be random-sampled. He may not be able to tell when someone is manipulating him online. Talk openly about what happens there, and expect him to do the same. This is not the time to “respect his privacy” in his online conversations!

Choice
He should have some choices and some things about which he has no choice. As you plan products and reading choices, use some of the terrific booklists available and make sure he finds things he likes AND genres he might never try alone.  Use the “pick two from column B” approach to increase exposure to new things. He may get fixated on one genre or author until he exhausts it if he has the choice to do so. Build in variety of  genre, culture, fiction/non, biography, etc. Look at  some of the classics and more offered by Stanford grad students at  http://www.shmoop.com/literature/

Match
What he reads should challenge him and allow him to experience new depths of understanding, but perhaps not be so socially mature that he cannot handle it yet. That is a tough call at age 11, because his emotional maturity may not be ready for sexuality, etc. that appears in books he is capable of “reading,” i.e decoding.  The “classics” are often  safer because people never said things outright in “those” days. Schmoop options and those on “classic book” lists might be good places to go until you can assess the maturity and how his parents feel about it, too.

Product
The most important part of the agreed-upon program is a product.  I think Id ask him to help you design a reading program for highly gifted students. He is the designer, the guinea pig, and the publisher. If the product is good enough, you may take him to a conference and present it together or use it in future years when you have other students like him. As he reads he can create product samples that are meaningful, not just hoops. He should write and create in response to everything he reads. Use all the terrific web 2.0 tools. See Tikatok, Voicethread, Mapskip, Wordle, Google Maps, and similar tools reviewed here.  As he works his way through different books and discussions, he will create different products that others in the future can see as samples for THEIR reading projects. He can also share his projects with others in his online discussion group for feedback. Maybe have him choose a different tool each week/month. Use the SAME email, password and username on EVERY tool so you can monitor, and have him embed or link all his samples into a wiki page so they are accessible from one place.

A Way to Talk About It
When he is not in “regular” reading class one of two things will happen (or both) : he will either brag about it until his peers hate him or he won’t know how to explain what he is doing, and they will think he is goofing off. Either way, his peer relationships, likely already poor, will suffer more.  Help him develop a way to explain what he is doing for reading to his peers, other teachers, and other adults so it is factual and neither bragging nor condescending in tone.Throughout his life he will have to find ways to explain himself to those who don’t get it. This is a life skill he needs for survival and happiness.

I have written far too much. I hope–if you read this– that you will comment back to me or have the young man read it and do so himself.  You are in for an interesting year.

We have all been there. You are in a session with teaching peers, learning (or teaching or collaborating) about a new way to envision learning and the many tools that can put learning in the hands of the students. Two of the others in the session clearly do not “buy in.” YOU are excited about the possibilities of the topic at hand, but you are aware of the “back-channel” that is going on between your less-positive peers. They are not rude, just disengaged. They are very subtle. You may be the only one in the room (real or virtual) who is even aware of their behavior.

As one who feels strongly that teachers take too much bashing from the media and the general public, I HATE being in this situation. I watch my “peers” embarrassing the teaching profession as a whole, not by being blatantly rude, but by passive-aggressively avoiding really good stuff: the real red meat of learning, right here on a platter in front of them. They are so busy (figuratively) criticizing the outfit the server is wearing that they cannot savor the rich, new flavors on the menu of learning.

I am frustrated twice over: 1)  that their behavior might be cited as representative of All Teachers and 2) that they are missing such great ideas and palpable swell of enthusiasm among all the others in the room. I am incredulous, yet not. And I must decide: do I Retry engaging them in the conversation at hand by whatever means or do I Ignore their behavior and hope it will either go away or fade as they miraculously join in on their own? I am reminded of a similar decision I  faced as a first year teacher with a sixth grader who was partially off-task. The difference is that these are my PEERS. As a leader and peer, the choices are tough. I do not want to violate my peer role or the positive forces in the room by scolding. I really do not want to believe that these two are representative of the profession I respect.

Retry?…Ignore?

I have not answered this question. The one thing I will not do is Abort my efforts to both teach and learn among my teaching peers. So my options are Retry or Ignore. Your thoughts?

I am participating in this “meme” thanks to Louise Maine, a fellow techno-junky teacher and contributor to TeachersFirst. I love the fact that she and I have never even met face to face, though we “talk” often in email, on Twitter, via webcam, in the OK2Ask “classroom,” and occasionally on the phone (how mundane). The very fact that we work together is a case study in professional/personal  learning networks and the power of the web. I will finally meet Louise at EduBloggerCon and NECC later this month.

As someone who went over the wall from full time teaching to twelve month work at a non-profit three years ago, I miss the annual cycle of a school year and the summer change of pace for professional development (see my post on summer growth). But I can give this one a shot.

BTW, here are some definitions of  meme for those who may not know the term. In this case, a meme is simply a way of using people’s blogs to pass along this summer professional development idea and to use the power of “tags” or “categories” to connect what all of us are doing so you can find the ideas easily. Think of it as word-of-mouth-follow-the-leader-copycat-gone-internet-viral thanks to little packets running around telling each other things. I have this vision of kindergarteners on the playground when one of them tells a secret…

Directions

Summer can be a great time for professional development. It is an opportunity to learn more about a topic, read a particular work or the works of a particular author, beef up an existing unit of instruction, advance one’s technical skills, work on that advanced degree or certification, pick up a new hobby, and finish many of the other items on our ever-growing To Do Lists. Let’s make Summer 2009 a time when we actually get to accomplish a few of those things and enjoy the thrill of marking them off our lists.

The Rules

NOTE: You do NOT have to wait to be tagged to participate in this meme.

1. Pick 1-3 professional development goals and commit to achieving them this summer.
2. For the purposes of this activity the end of summer will be Labor Day (09/07/09).
3. Post the above directions along with your 1-3 goals on your blog.
4. Title your post Professional Development Meme 2009 and link back/trackback to http://clifmims.com/blog/archives/2447.
5. Use the following tag/ keyword/ category on your post: pdmeme09.
6. Tag 5-8 others to participate in the meme.
7. Achieve your goals and “develop professionally.”
8. Commit to sharing your results on your blog during early or mid-September.

My Goals

• Sort through all the “check this out” items I have thrown into Delicious, tagging them and USING them rather than having them just sit there
• Stop and spend some time with my feed reader, organizing it and paring it down so it is a welcome friend to visit with each day instead of another item on my to-do list
• Successfully pull off a live video streaming event that any teacher COULD do (OK2Ask LIVE from NECC)- and have teachers join us!

I tag Melissa Rivers and Ollie Dreon (I hope….if I can find his blog URL!) and Jim Gates, all fellow PA folks in “different” teaching positions these days. What do you want to learn this summer?

I’ve always been fascinated by creativity. What makes it come so easily for some people and as such a struggle for others? Why do some teachers ooze creative ideas and respond to every student question with a different angle on the topic (flexibility) while others can only restate the concept over and over, perhaps in paraphrase? I really don’t think it is an issue of motivation, since many of the latter group of teachers truly admire those who generate new ideas so painlessly. Kids are the same way, especially after about third grade. Some of them go through school with a firehose full of fresh thoughts and project ideas while others follow patterns and templates very well, but — at best — elaborate  or “hitchhike” on their classmates fresh thoughts. It isn’t hard to be pushed by the force of a firehose, though one can only “ride” the stream very briefly.

I have always thought that school freeze-dried most student creativity, except perhaps in those who have veritable “firehoses.” Those with a garden hose or a drinking fountain of creative idea-flow seem to dry up once they have followed rules and procedures long enough to be successful in school.

Yesterday I ran across this article on the brain chemistry of creativity. Apparently neurobiologists have isolated something called  NAA, a chemical that correlates with divergent thinking when found in a certain part of the brain, the “anterior cingulate gyrus (ACG), which regulates the activity of the frontal cortex - implicated in higher mental functions.” So very intelligent people can also have this chemical and be highly creative, as well.

But it’s much more complicated than that. Apparently there is some interplay between intelligence, creativity, and NAA. As a fictitious friend of mine would say, “Holy Idaho!” The scientists have a lot more work to do to sort out this complex interaction.  And I now have even more questions:

Why are some engineers and scientists brilliant in solving things by scientific method (and able to think of alternative paths of scientific inquiry) but look awkwardly stunned when asked to imagine an alternative way to use a spoon (one of the basic creative brainstorming exercises I used to use with second graders).

Why can some people elaborate –adding many, many different and even beautiful versions of an idea, such as different designs and “twists” for using a spoon as a “dipper,” but never get outside of the “dippiness” of spoons to see them as mini-mirrors or vehicles or hair ornaments?

What implications does NAA have for teaching and learning? If we are to differentiate for different approaches to learning, how do we adjust for NAA?

I can’t help thinking that all the web 2.0 tools for creating products could help, especially since there are usually ways for  the spoons-as-dippers-only  types  to start from someone else’s dipper prototype and create a variation while the spoons-as-vehicles students can start from scratch to launch their spoon to the moon or under the sea.

Once again, creativity wins as the most powerful teaching tool. And we should never respond to a brainstorming suggestion by saying “NAAAAAA!”

That’s exactly what it is: NAA!

If you have ever eaten leftovers from a marvelous recipe for many days in a row, you know how it feels to cheer as you finally cram the empty Gladware into the dishwasher, the first serving lost in distant memory.  Those of us with empty nests, still learning to downsize the recipes we used with a household full of teenaged swimmers, know the meaning of “more of the same.” Even the best homemade ziti or sausage risotto does little more than fill a rumbling void the third or fourth time around. We cram it in, swallow, and do the dishes out of habit, but find nothing memorable in the overly soft pasta or rubbery sausage.

I worry that current efforts to extend the school day/school year for all U.S. students may be as mushy and meaningless as old risotto.  MoreOf TheSame, i.e. more hours of time with a numb backside in a plastic chair, does not equate to more learning, more challenge, or more competitiveness. If we are to extend the school day or school year, it should be with something different: different experiences in different places with different people. Imagine adding an entirely new dish to the menu in place of leftovers: spicy time (thyme?) creating meaningful projects from ANY chair, fragrant discussions with a professional or a mentor, savory stints arguing with classmates about real content — online, instead of on-schedule. If we are going to “extend” the school day or year, the extension should be anything but the same.

What an opportunity we have to open new kitchens. Imagine having school be a “reality” show: real experiences with real people (though not contrived a la Hollywood, please). Throw the kids into a Hell’s Kitchen of learning where they must cook up their own recipes and answer to the judges. The prize: your own “restaurant,” i.e. lifelong opportunities to keep on learning. What a magnificent alternative to MOTS.

Now if we can just listen to the true gourmets in education’s kitchens, and avoid short-order cooks with timers…