I’ve been critical of administrators in the past. I continue to take issue with many of the shortcomings of administrators in general. However, I have to give credit where credit is due, and recently my principal went to the mat for me, and won.
The issue had to do with technology in my classroom; the old computers needed to be replaced. I was teaching on Apple Macintosh computers. They had survived for seven years, way beyond their life expectancy or usefulness. In the Spring, the principal came to me and explained that money was available for new machines and asked me to put together a proposal. I did. I selected new Apple Macintosh computers to replace the old ones because I believe that they are the best tool for the job. (By the way, I do not work for Apple Computer, I really don’t. I can’t even get them to send me a nifty black polo shirt. Nothing.) I sent off my request and got back to teaching. However, having no power to guarantee my selection, I’m just the classroom teacher afterall, I wasn’t very confident that I’d get what I had asked for.
In addition, I had a feeling that my selection might cause some problems at the district level. You see, I work for a Windows/Dell ONLY district. Someone somewhere decided that it would be easier to support a single platform, and they selected Windows/Dell. That’s fine. I can understand the need to simplify the support process and the benefits of everyone having the same type of computer hardware and software. BUT, mine is a special case. I teach multimedia classes. More specifically, University of California category F (Fine Arts) approved college prep Art classes, not ROP computer classes. I’m in no way knocking ROP computer classes, their hugely important. I teach the elements of Art and principals of design, NOT THE SOFTWARE. Again, I believe that the Apple Macintosh computer is the better tool for the courses I teach.
To further complicate the situation, the money to pay for the new machines could not be spent until July 1st. School starts on August 15th, so the purchase process had to be expedited. The purchase requisition floated in limbo until the end of June when it finally hit the district technology coordinators desk. After the technology coordinator read the requisition we spoke on the phone at length defending our two positions without resolve. As a result, representatives from both Apple and Adobe, who writes software for Windows, were invited to make presentations to a panel including most of the district technology support staff, my principal, and myself. Five hours over two days were spent listening and carefully considering the merits of both groups of software applications. While I was thoroughly impressed by what Adobe had to offer my mind was not changed. Neither was the mind of the district technology coordinator… at first.
The last three paragraphs have been prologue to what happened next. I went on at length because I felt it was important for you the reader to see the whole picture. To recap: I was placed in a situation where I was asked by my supervisor to make a decision and I made it. However, I was given no power at all to enforce my decision, and my choices were rejected at the district level. District 1, Teacher 0, end of story, right?
Wrong, the story continues. Instead of my principal turning to me at the end of both presentations and saying, “oh well, we tried, enjoy your new PCs,” she began to ask questions of the technology coordinator. Keep in mind that this is not the most “tech-savvy” (her words) person in the world. The Principal stressed that this decision should be prioritized with the curriculum and the needs of the students at the top of the list. The technology coordinator agreed. The Principal pressed on by asking about the potential problems that having two platforms on the same network would create. What at first appeared to be a monumental problem, quickly dissolved into something “doable.” I kept my mouth shut. The end of the story was that in spite of district policy deciding against the teacher’s choice for his classroom, the principal stood up for the teacher and fought for victory and won. I’m getting new Apple Macintosh computers for my classroom.
As a teacher I have to say that it is a wonderful feeling when I am given the respect I feel that I deserve, and when instead of being told what, how, when, where, and why I will teach, I’m asked, “what do you need to be successful with your students in your classroom?” And then I get it. Sure, it’s rare, even in the best districts, with the best administrators. But it happened to me, and for that I am very thankful.
I think that sometimes we teachers forget our place in the world. Not in a bad way. But because we get dumped on so much, it’s easy to lose sight of the importance that we make as individuals building up the lives of the students in our classrooms. I can’t even get curtains to block out the sun so that the kids can clearly see my LCD projection. I’ve been asking for them for four years! But then, every once in a while we’ll get that special note, or an email, or phone message from a parent or a former student that makes us say, “oh yea, that’s why I do this.” And sometimes, after being told there’s not enough money in the budget for more microscopes, or we must teach these standards on these days, and give this test before that date by our administrators, the administrators are able to do something extraordinarily significant to support the teachers. Sure, it’s their job, and they get paid more than us, and they’re really just Sith anyway (Star Wars reference), but I believe that in their hearts, most administrators want the same thing the teachers want: to do what’s best for the kids. Sometimes the administrators fail, and sometimes they save the day.
July 14, 2007
June 28, 2007
Spit Out Your Gum!
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.
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.
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.
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