For those of you who have been reading my posts for a while, you already know how much I HATE the end of the school year. Everyone else is giddy with anticipation about the summer to come; all I can think about is the people I might never see again. Barely a week goes by during the school year that I don’t get a visit from some alumni, but its not the same as seeing them nearly everyday for four years. However, there are some things I LOVE about the end of the year, and summer that follows.
First, I will no longer have to say, “Please spit out your gum!” for the next eight weeks. I cannot believe how many times a day I have to repeat those words, please spit out your gum. On the very first day of school I explain in no uncertain terms that in my classroom there is to be no gum. None. Not even a little bit. I teach using computers, and as you know, gum and computers don’t make pleasant bedfellows, so that amplifies the “NO GUM” rule. And every day, at least once a period, I have to tell some otherwise wonderful student to, “please, spit out your gum.” It never fails. I have seriously considered recording myself on the computer saying, “please spit out your gum,” and simply playing it back at full volume every time I have to address another forgetful student. Maybe next year.
Second, I will no longer have to fight the students in my fourth period class (right before lunch) who bring food onto campus from outside vendors. We have a closed campus. It’s sad really that students cannot leave for lunch, but keeping them on campus is much safer and ensures that more of them will actually make it to their fifth period classes. To complicate matters, my classroom is within visual and walking distance to Bakers, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Dairy Queen, McDonalds, Jack in the Box and a few Mexican food stands. It’s a terrible temptation for the kids, and I really do sympathize, especially when in my high school days we had open campus for lunch. My buddies and I had it timed just right. If we ran to the parking lot and got off campus right away, we could get to In-N-Out in just enough time to order in the drive-through, slam down our lunch on the way back, and make it to class right before the tardy bell rang. (For those of you non-California readers who do not know what In-N-Out is, you have my condolences.)
Next, during my summer break, a shorter break by two weeks this year due to a district-wide change to modified traditional schedule, I will no longer have to argue with students over grades. I don’t know what it is about this generation of kids. The good news is that I am diligent in my grading and always use a rubric that I share with my pupils both before the assignments are submitted and then after they are graded. I suppose that I could simply choose to not accept resubmissions, but I have found that students learn best when they are given the opportunity to correct their errors. The problem is that I too make errors, and sometimes they catch me in it. It’s good that some students are attentive, but it’s the ones who constantly hound me for extra credit that make me nutso. What makes me more nutso are the kids who ask for extra credit in the last week of school. Yea, right.
Summer is a wonderful stress-free time of unscheduled days and long, late nights reading or enjoying time with my family. I don’t have to grade projects, or write curriculum, or blog. Oh wait, I am blogging. I never blog during the summer. What’s happening to me? Why am I still thinking about school when it’s almost the Fourth of July? Well, there’s good reason. You see, most summers I do spend time writing and revising curriculum. Every year I publish an updated version of my classroom multimedia manual. The brain energy that I would normally be spending on that project is currently idol. Idols because I have no idea what or how I will be teaching come August 15th. None. Why? I teach multimedia using Macintosh computers, nothing strange about that. But my district has a new Windows-only policy and I am in need of new machines. All the financing is in place, but our district technology guy is holding up the purchase for a while, which holds me up from updating my manual. Once the machines are purchased, Mac or Windows, I can then get to work writing. But it gets better. The number of students enrolled in my multimedia courses is way down and for the first time ever I have open periods in my schedule. Everyone else got a letter with his or her Fall assignment on the last day of school. I got an email from the AP that said, “I’ll call you.”
During the summer break I don’t have to think about staff meetings, parent calls, commuting back and forth to school, progress reports, Friday grade checks, tardy students, conferences, or in-service days. I get eight whole weeks to relax. Most of my non-teacher buddies are envious of my summer schedule, and I don’t blame them. It’s wonderful to have time to forget about all of the troubles of the previous school year, and prepare for the challenges of the school year to come. As of right now, next year will be a carefree year when I won’t have to say, “Spit out your gum,” once or more a class period. I won’t have to turn students with illegal off-campus lunch food away from my classroom. I won’t have to argue with students about grades and credits and semester report cards. I won’t have to worry about my day-to-day curriculum (oh wait, yes I will, I haven’t written that yet.)
Ah the glory of summer.
June 28, 2007
May 09, 2007
Advisory Answer?
After a week of trying to figure out how to sell our SLC model to the staff of the high school where I work, and being stopped at ever turn by the realities of scheduling, facilities, and the challenge of teacher buy-in, I have come to a conclusion: what we have designed in committee may not work for our school. It could work, but the way I see it right now, we’ve created a structure that resembles a holy brick of Swiss cheese that is precariously perched upon a bed of sandstone. Sort of like the King of Swamp Castle (if you don’t get that one, don’t worry).
However, there is one element in our SLC design that I believe will work, can be scheduled, and that teachers will buy into. It is the idea of creating an advisory period where teachers will have a heterogeneous group of twenty students to meet with every day for the entire four years that the students are enrolled in high school. The concept comes from one of my colleagues who experienced a similar course while attending college.
A radical idea? I don’t think so (certainly not as radical as a whole-school transformation). The SLC goal is to create smaller learning communities, right? That could be done through complete school restructuring, moving teachers, and complicated scheduling, or it could be done a whole lot easier by simply leaving teachers in their own classrooms and adding a single class to the daily schedule. The students and teacher within this Advisory course would be their own smaller learning community that would last over a 4-year period of time. Teachers would be given a structured opportunity to get to know their students well, and for those students to connect with other students sharing a common identity.
What’s in it for the students? Students want to feel like they belong to something. Often times, a high school of 3400 students is just too big to feel like anything other than 1 of 3400 students. But being 1 of 20 students is very different. When you are 1 of 3400 students its easy to hide away or fall between the cracks. Impossible when you are 1 of 20. Also, if a student works closely with the same teacher for all four years of high school, and their teacher serves in the role of advocate for the student for four years in a row there’s a far better chance that that student is going to be successful.
What’s in it for the teachers? Teachers want to be effective, and yet there are always some students who get left behind. Having 20 students that a teacher can concentrate on make sure that those 20 students are never lost little sheep, but instead under constant supervision. If a student is struggling in a course, the course teacher can turn to the advisory teacher for assistance on how best to help the student in question. And how much fun would it be to announce on stage the names of your 20 very own advisory students when they graduate? Very rewarding indeed.
What’s in it for the administrators? The scheduling, facilities, and management nightmare that could be brought on by a whole school restructuring gone bad make me not even want to consider ever becoming an administrator. Administration is there to support the teachers who support the students. Adding one more class to the daily schedule and making minor changes to the bell schedule seem a whole lot easier than the alternatives, and even easier to undo if things were to not work out for everyone involved after a year or two. Our SLC design pretty much doubles the workload for administrators and counselors; adding a single advisory period to the day changes little or nothing to the administrative responsibilities.
Why is this a better idea then what’s already been decided on? It’s simpler and potentially more effective. My father taught me to always K.I.S.(S). If our goal is to get kids more connected to school, then the advisory period is enough to get it done without ravaging the current campus environment. While yes teachers would be given an additional class to teach each day, and yes it would mean fewer instructional minutes for other classes (if the advisory class met for 18 minutes daily it would mean deducting only 3 minutes from each of the currently scheduled six periods), the payoff is overwhelmingly more attractive in application to the alternative.
Is an advisory period the whole answer? No. While an advisory period addresses many of the goals of developing an effective SLC, it does not address them all. For example, it does not support teachers of a common set of students having classrooms in close proximity to each other. On our campus teachers are spread out all over the place in subject unalike buildings and zones where many feel isolated and detached. But even if we did move teachers of a common set of students to classrooms in closer proximity, that alone will do nothing. Moving teachers should encourage them to collaborate, but collaboration happens best with shared ideas and with individuals who enjoy working together and is not contingent upon location.
Isn’t the advisory period already part of our overall SLC design? It’s where I believe we should start. I plan on recommending to our principal that we at least start with the advisory period and then add on the rest of the plan over time as we see the need. I’m afraid that if we swing with the big bat, and we strike out, that we may not only never get another chance in the batter box, but that the resulting failure might do irreparable and long lasting damage to our school as a whole. No one wants that. This is an unbelievably great school that does not require major reform, just some tweaking here and there. Starting with the advisory period first gives us the opportunity to do reform right.
However, there is one element in our SLC design that I believe will work, can be scheduled, and that teachers will buy into. It is the idea of creating an advisory period where teachers will have a heterogeneous group of twenty students to meet with every day for the entire four years that the students are enrolled in high school. The concept comes from one of my colleagues who experienced a similar course while attending college.
A radical idea? I don’t think so (certainly not as radical as a whole-school transformation). The SLC goal is to create smaller learning communities, right? That could be done through complete school restructuring, moving teachers, and complicated scheduling, or it could be done a whole lot easier by simply leaving teachers in their own classrooms and adding a single class to the daily schedule. The students and teacher within this Advisory course would be their own smaller learning community that would last over a 4-year period of time. Teachers would be given a structured opportunity to get to know their students well, and for those students to connect with other students sharing a common identity.
What’s in it for the students? Students want to feel like they belong to something. Often times, a high school of 3400 students is just too big to feel like anything other than 1 of 3400 students. But being 1 of 20 students is very different. When you are 1 of 3400 students its easy to hide away or fall between the cracks. Impossible when you are 1 of 20. Also, if a student works closely with the same teacher for all four years of high school, and their teacher serves in the role of advocate for the student for four years in a row there’s a far better chance that that student is going to be successful.
What’s in it for the teachers? Teachers want to be effective, and yet there are always some students who get left behind. Having 20 students that a teacher can concentrate on make sure that those 20 students are never lost little sheep, but instead under constant supervision. If a student is struggling in a course, the course teacher can turn to the advisory teacher for assistance on how best to help the student in question. And how much fun would it be to announce on stage the names of your 20 very own advisory students when they graduate? Very rewarding indeed.
What’s in it for the administrators? The scheduling, facilities, and management nightmare that could be brought on by a whole school restructuring gone bad make me not even want to consider ever becoming an administrator. Administration is there to support the teachers who support the students. Adding one more class to the daily schedule and making minor changes to the bell schedule seem a whole lot easier than the alternatives, and even easier to undo if things were to not work out for everyone involved after a year or two. Our SLC design pretty much doubles the workload for administrators and counselors; adding a single advisory period to the day changes little or nothing to the administrative responsibilities.
Why is this a better idea then what’s already been decided on? It’s simpler and potentially more effective. My father taught me to always K.I.S.(S). If our goal is to get kids more connected to school, then the advisory period is enough to get it done without ravaging the current campus environment. While yes teachers would be given an additional class to teach each day, and yes it would mean fewer instructional minutes for other classes (if the advisory class met for 18 minutes daily it would mean deducting only 3 minutes from each of the currently scheduled six periods), the payoff is overwhelmingly more attractive in application to the alternative.
Is an advisory period the whole answer? No. While an advisory period addresses many of the goals of developing an effective SLC, it does not address them all. For example, it does not support teachers of a common set of students having classrooms in close proximity to each other. On our campus teachers are spread out all over the place in subject unalike buildings and zones where many feel isolated and detached. But even if we did move teachers of a common set of students to classrooms in closer proximity, that alone will do nothing. Moving teachers should encourage them to collaborate, but collaboration happens best with shared ideas and with individuals who enjoy working together and is not contingent upon location.
Isn’t the advisory period already part of our overall SLC design? It’s where I believe we should start. I plan on recommending to our principal that we at least start with the advisory period and then add on the rest of the plan over time as we see the need. I’m afraid that if we swing with the big bat, and we strike out, that we may not only never get another chance in the batter box, but that the resulting failure might do irreparable and long lasting damage to our school as a whole. No one wants that. This is an unbelievably great school that does not require major reform, just some tweaking here and there. Starting with the advisory period first gives us the opportunity to do reform right.
May 03, 2007
Transformation?
Soon I will sit down with my colleagues and explain to them why our high school is going to be transformed from one huge (3400 student/120 teacher) institution into four smaller (850 student/30 teacher) schools. We are making this transformation because the campus administrators and 25 teachers in a design team committee (of which I am one) have studied the available research on smaller learning communities, have looked carefully at the needs of our students, and have applied for and received a large sum of money in the form of a grant to follow the current trend in public education of downsizing. I honestly believe this transformation (if executed correctly) will be a positive change for the students and staff of this high school. Now I must convince the staff of teachers and support personnel that this change is necessary and will improve the current performance and long-term success of the students.
I’m struggling a little bit with the “necessary” part. Struggling because while I believe that this is the best course of action, my belief is stronger than my evidence. Teachers appreciate evidence over beliefs, so I feel like I need to come up with a concrete argument to make beyond “I think this is a great idea,” or, “we’re doing this because the principal said so.” The high school I work in already has a 735 API score, dominates the county in most athletic and academic competitions, and sends better than 80% of it’s students to higher education. I believe in “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and so I am struggling to find a justification for change at a school that is already great. But of course, it’s not really “great” for EVERYONE involved. For every successful, engaged, enlightened student who is connected to Drama, football, or band, there is one or more who isn’t connected to anything on campus. For every teacher who feels like an effective educator and is crazy passionate about teaching, there’s one or more who feel exhausted, disenfranchised, and desperate for some form of adult interaction and collaboration to help them through their day.
There is a consensus of thought that believes that a smaller population of students taught by a smaller number of teachers will result in students who are better known by their teachers and teachers who will enjoy a more collegial relationship with each other. The key to collegiality here is building time into the Master Schedule for teachers to meet and work together. Seemingly impossible within the standard 6 period day model (5 preps and 1 conference), but the standard 6 period day model works very well for this campus and these teachers. I’m afraid my colleagues will not willingly give up their 6 periods in exchange for 7 or 8 periods (or dare I say, block scheduling) unless they are shown how a change to what works will make what works work far better. In addition, many believe that teachers who usually work in an environment without any adult interaction all day, can benefit from working in closer physical proximity to other teachers of either like subject, or in our model, same smaller school. That means that some teachers will have to move classrooms. I anticipate that this will be a very unpopular aspect of our transformation.
Our born in committee smaller 4-school model has been designed and approved, but the model itself is incomplete and untested. The division including in the model is based on the current administrative structure of the school: we have assigned one of the four assistant principals to manage the discipline of one of the four proposed schools. Our administrators will have to be effective on two tiers: the first as the dean of discipline of their own smaller school while at the same time attending to their more campus-wide responsibilities in areas like testing, facilities, activities, scheduling and the other behind-the-scene support mechanisms that assist teachers in teaching.
The counseling staff is comprised of nine counselors who currently divide up the population of students somewhat evenly. Its only somewhat even because this model gives all of the special education students to one counselor, all of the ELL students to another counselor, while the remaining seven counselors service the balance of the kids. This too will have to change. For some reason the counseling department at our school (and I understand this may be true at other schools as well) is a constant source of frustration for the teaching staff. While a wonderful group of individuals, the relationship between teacher and counselor seems forever frustrated by counselors who never seem fully aware of all of the program offerings and requirements of the teachers, and by teachers who struggle to comprehend the complexity of scheduling students into classes and balancing the number of students in sections. If any one issue holds up the transformation process it’s likely to come from the counseling department that may insist that our new 4-school plan “cannot be scheduled.”
Initially I though that the design team when presenting this transformation to staff would be forced to hard-sell our plan like a used car salesman trying to move an 86 Plymouth off the lot. But after sleeping on it, I think what we really need to do if we are going to be effective is act more like therapists. If I had developed a serious disease and my doctor was explaining his or her preferred course of treatment to save my life I certainly wouldn’t want to be shown charts and graphs along with a clown making balloon animals while listening to the score of Batman. No, I would want my doctor to patiently and carefully speak to me as a guide to my recovery and outline the steps we would need to take to not just save my life but to ultimately improve the quality of my life. I would want a collaborator, a helper, and the absolute reassurance that life would indeed get better for me over time.
I’m struggling a little bit with the “necessary” part. Struggling because while I believe that this is the best course of action, my belief is stronger than my evidence. Teachers appreciate evidence over beliefs, so I feel like I need to come up with a concrete argument to make beyond “I think this is a great idea,” or, “we’re doing this because the principal said so.” The high school I work in already has a 735 API score, dominates the county in most athletic and academic competitions, and sends better than 80% of it’s students to higher education. I believe in “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and so I am struggling to find a justification for change at a school that is already great. But of course, it’s not really “great” for EVERYONE involved. For every successful, engaged, enlightened student who is connected to Drama, football, or band, there is one or more who isn’t connected to anything on campus. For every teacher who feels like an effective educator and is crazy passionate about teaching, there’s one or more who feel exhausted, disenfranchised, and desperate for some form of adult interaction and collaboration to help them through their day.
There is a consensus of thought that believes that a smaller population of students taught by a smaller number of teachers will result in students who are better known by their teachers and teachers who will enjoy a more collegial relationship with each other. The key to collegiality here is building time into the Master Schedule for teachers to meet and work together. Seemingly impossible within the standard 6 period day model (5 preps and 1 conference), but the standard 6 period day model works very well for this campus and these teachers. I’m afraid my colleagues will not willingly give up their 6 periods in exchange for 7 or 8 periods (or dare I say, block scheduling) unless they are shown how a change to what works will make what works work far better. In addition, many believe that teachers who usually work in an environment without any adult interaction all day, can benefit from working in closer physical proximity to other teachers of either like subject, or in our model, same smaller school. That means that some teachers will have to move classrooms. I anticipate that this will be a very unpopular aspect of our transformation.
Our born in committee smaller 4-school model has been designed and approved, but the model itself is incomplete and untested. The division including in the model is based on the current administrative structure of the school: we have assigned one of the four assistant principals to manage the discipline of one of the four proposed schools. Our administrators will have to be effective on two tiers: the first as the dean of discipline of their own smaller school while at the same time attending to their more campus-wide responsibilities in areas like testing, facilities, activities, scheduling and the other behind-the-scene support mechanisms that assist teachers in teaching.
The counseling staff is comprised of nine counselors who currently divide up the population of students somewhat evenly. Its only somewhat even because this model gives all of the special education students to one counselor, all of the ELL students to another counselor, while the remaining seven counselors service the balance of the kids. This too will have to change. For some reason the counseling department at our school (and I understand this may be true at other schools as well) is a constant source of frustration for the teaching staff. While a wonderful group of individuals, the relationship between teacher and counselor seems forever frustrated by counselors who never seem fully aware of all of the program offerings and requirements of the teachers, and by teachers who struggle to comprehend the complexity of scheduling students into classes and balancing the number of students in sections. If any one issue holds up the transformation process it’s likely to come from the counseling department that may insist that our new 4-school plan “cannot be scheduled.”
Initially I though that the design team when presenting this transformation to staff would be forced to hard-sell our plan like a used car salesman trying to move an 86 Plymouth off the lot. But after sleeping on it, I think what we really need to do if we are going to be effective is act more like therapists. If I had developed a serious disease and my doctor was explaining his or her preferred course of treatment to save my life I certainly wouldn’t want to be shown charts and graphs along with a clown making balloon animals while listening to the score of Batman. No, I would want my doctor to patiently and carefully speak to me as a guide to my recovery and outline the steps we would need to take to not just save my life but to ultimately improve the quality of my life. I would want a collaborator, a helper, and the absolute reassurance that life would indeed get better for me over time.
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