Stop Mystifying Teaching

Seriously. Let's stop it.

Let's end all waxing poetic about the romantic notions that surround amazing teachers. Let's end all pounding of our heads against theoretical and actual walls wondering why in the world some can and cannot teach.

What good will that do us?

I believe every teacher can get better, every single day.

A colleague of mine sent me the following quote today:

“[B]etter teaching doesn’t come from imitating what star teachers do. Better teaching is built by steady, relentless, continual improvement – one lesson and one unit at a time.”

Bradley Ermeling, James Hiebert, and Ronald Gallimore, “‘Best Practice’ – The Enemy of Better Teaching” in Educational Leadership May 2015 (Vol. 72, #8, p. 48-53)

I love it. I think it might be even more important than this other quote that's, well, quotable:

"Adult learning is voluntary in all its dimensions - participation, acquisition, and outcomes."

Mary Jane Even (1987, p. 22), Why Adults Learn in Different Ways

Every time we chalk up great teaching to a series of intangible skills held by teachers who somehow waltz seamlessly into a classroom and capture hearts and minds, or fawn over great results from all learners and creating classrooms filled with valued, inspired, and committed students as a function of some special, caring disposition, we do two very dangerous things:

1. We scare the hell out of struggling teachers who worry whatever magic that teacher has is exclusive. 

2. We seriously disrespect our highly effective teachers by assuming their talents are inherent, and not the result of hard work, deep reflection, and a relentless passion to create opportunities for their kids. 

My day job is built on believing in these two quotes with absolute fidelity, and I do. On Thursday last week I started tearing up about the progress a teacher I work with has made, and it wasn't unlike the tears that welled up working with students who struggled. I was so proud of the work she'd done. She was so happy for her kids. 

We come to this job each day knowing it isn't easy, and we can tackle it by taking these two quotes to heart. We volunteer ourselves to learning. We remain open, adaptive, and recognize that no matter our strengths and areas of need, we can and will get better. 

We recognize that the work ahead is not easy. We break down our work each and every day, making the incremental changes that make up substantial growth. We work together to do this because we're infinitely stronger when we collaborate. We do good work, and we care. 

It's not a secret, or a recipe, or something out of a movie. It isn't easy or straightforward, but it isn't anywhere near elusive. 

I love that about teaching. 

I love knowing we are willing to work that hard for kids. 

A Case for Using Humor in the Classroom

This is probably the least funny post I've written.

*Cues Alanis Morissette*

(but actually using the word correctly)

If you're interested in statistics, I've conducted 606 walkthroughs in classrooms so far this school year. Somewhere in the ballpark of 100 hours casually walking into a classroom unannounced and taking a gander at what's happening. I'm like the omnipresent Telos of this middle school. Except generally good...and human.

I love this part of my job. I love being able to see what fascinating things teachers are doing and share in the experiences of our students. It makes me better at what I do because it's turned me into a repository for the collective expertise of our teachers, and I have the extraordinary privilege of then sharing that expertise with other teachers. In very professional terms, this is totally my version of nailing it.

There are a handful of strategies I've observed make marked improvement in student's ability to learn and grow. I see them all the time...masterful use of informal formative assessments that completely alter what the teacher was going to do next, and in turn, completely changes the trajectory for a group of struggling kids (in the right direction). An honest, heartfelt conversation with a student that improved their performance, and perhaps more importantly, their day. Feedback given that's so precise, forward looking, and filled with high expectations that you can actually see a student improving, right then and there. Hands on strategies that are not only engaging, but make students' internal thoughts visible. Moving beyond sharing with just the classroom to sharing with the world, and making a positive and relevant impact on that world. This stuff happens. And I get to see it happen. And it makes me really, really happy.

I'm going to make a case for a strategy that we don't spend any time talking about, but after 100 hours in classrooms of all content areas, I feel pretty comfortable attesting to its effectiveness.

You gotta be funny, yo.

I get it. There are a trillion research-based strategies teachers are expected to implement consistently within the realm of a million initiatives meant to support our students. Humor isn't anywhere in there, that I've detected. So I'm just going out on a limb here, but something I've noticed time and time again is that teachers who effectively used humor in their classroom seemed to:
1. Have a much better relationship with their students. They used humor to diffuse what might be a difficult situation, and were more likely to have honest, focused conversations with kids on a regular basis. Not claiming causation on the latter point there, but noticed a strong correlation.
2.  My brain was immediately enticed by what was going on in the classroom when a teacher was funny and appeared to be having fun. My face lit up, my attention was focused, and I wanted to be a part of what was happening. Sometimes I would be...I'd jump in. Kids appeared similarly engaged.
3. Humor somehow made difficult to understand concepts become more manageable. Not long ago, I spent an entire day shadowing a student who struggles in school (academically and behaviorally). This student shared with me that one of his teachers, who regularly uses humor as a part of her everyday, had a way of "just making everything easier to understand. I don't really know how to explain it. I just get what she's saying...she just makes sense. And I like her."
4. Teachers who used humor appeared to trust their students more, and in turn, kids were taking more ownership over their learning more often. I don't have a great way of describing this one. It's something like, my using humor with you shows that I understand that you'll understand. We're equals. I don't need to be dictatorial toward you -- this classroom is ours, not mine.

These are off the cuff observations, truthfully. That said, out of curiosity, I started to do some digging on the topic. There are several studies conducted on the use of humor in the classroom, with some positive correlations to learning.
This one talks about the impact humor has on activating the brain, for example.
This one was surprising -- there is far more research on the use of humor in the classroom than I ever would've imagined, and much of it supports the position that humor does indeed translate to learning (along with improving relationships, motivation, etc.). It does, however, caution that mixed results have come out of many studies, and that teachers need be very aware of the type of humor they're using, or if not comfortable with 'being funny,' then perhaps they shouldn't be using humor at all. In addition, not surprisingly, studies with mixed results suggested that humor needs to be used in tandem with other communication skills in order to achieve positive learning results. Further, the type of humor a teacher uses matters. Again, unsurprisingly, humor that 'picks on' students or is overly sarcastic towards students does not increase learning nor does it do much for teacher/student relationships.

In other words, this meta-analysis got super technical and non-funny about how best to be funny in your classroom.

So before I get too far in all this, let me say, I'm not here to tell you what to do. If you want to be free, be free. And if you want to be funny, be funny. Teachers are effective in a myriad of ways, and despite its relevance at the moment, I can't bring myself to use the phrase 'there's no silver bullet' because education says that all the time whilst simultaneously searching for and promoting all kinds of bullets made of silver.

I guess, in the end, I enjoyed my time immensely in those classrooms. I saw kids enjoying their time too.

If nothing else, make sure the kids know how much you care and appreciate their willingness to be a part of your classroom, and remember that humor has the potential to make both of those jobs easier.

Why Would I Do This Without You?

In case you were wondering, Fishing with John is still the best thing to happen to television. Ever.

A public access-like fishing show, John Lurie (who knows nothing about fishing) takes many a famous friend on fishing excursions throughout the world. I cannot even begin to describe to you how enjoyable it is to watch the likes of Tom Waits, Dennis Hopper, and Willem Dafoe tip toe the perfect balance between playful irony and genuine sincerity with one of their best friends.

I can rarely watch it without crying from laughter. It's hilarious.

My favorite episode is, without a doubt, John and Willem ice fishing in Maine. It's expert, and adorable, and the single most entertaining thing I've ever seen.

One of my favorite scenes take place as Willem and John are preparing to sleep in their ice house built by "real men doing real things." Willem pops up, unexpectedly, and turns to John to tell him, "You couldn't do this without me, and you know it, right?"

John's reaction is perfect. Annoyed and tired, he questions, "Why would I do this without you?" Not in a romantic, gratefully dependent kind of way. He says it in a 'there's absolutely no way in hell I'd be out here if it wasn't because this is the frozen tundra you decided to go fishing in as my friend' kind of a way.

I love it.

Watch it. Out of context, totally. But still -- watch it.

I relate the way John feels about his fishing in Maine with Willem to the way I feel about working in public education.

The work would be meaningless and silly and painstakingly difficult if it wasn't for you. There's no way in hell I'd be working in this place that has the potential to be a frozen tundra of misunderstanding...that is, if it wasn't for knowing it's for the betterment of you, kids. Because of you, this work is passionate and fruitful and worth all the chaos and difficulty. Your brilliance and passion are without compare and totally worth fighting for. Your future worries me, so I advocate for your infinite potential. And I'm grateful that you let me. Also, you make me laugh. Every day.

Why would I do this without you?

I wouldn't.

Is School an Inspiring Place to Work?

...my guess is your first thought was, "yes." My second guess is it has something to do with your perception of this grandiose and oversimplified idea that working with kids is the single most gratifying thing you can do on earth.

And truthfully, I don't disagree. My time in the classroom was gratifying beyond explanation. No person I've ever tried to articulate it to (outside of fellow teachers) truly understood how much I loved being a part of my student's lives, and how damn hard I worked because of them. And that's fine. It comes with the territory.

That said, I'm not talking about the kind of inspiration teachers get from their kids. There's plenty of that to go around. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the inspiration that comes from above.

How do leaders create the conditions for teachers to feel inspired? To have a sense of belonging? To feel empowered and valued as the professionals they are?

Last week I had the privilege of attending the EdLeader21 conference in Atlanta, and Russ Quaglia was a featured speaker. Dr. Quaglia's work for the better part of FOREVER has focused on bringing student voice into the classroom, and the rich impact it has on learning.

He also touched on teacher voice.

Now, here it is. I've thought a lot about student voice and how critical it is. As a teacher, it was at the forefront of my mind every day. Exaggerate, I do not. It was something I decided early on in my career was a non-negotiable, and I made every attempt to get to know my students, take a genuine interest in their thoughts, passions, and dreams, and authentically incorporate them into the learning. It was fun. So damn fun.

Now that I'm out of the classroom, I've done a much crappier job of being so attentive to teacher voice, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how equally important it is.

While I'm beyond happy with the professional choices I've made, if I ever daydream about another career, it always involves working in some hip startup with open walls, convertible seating arrangements, rooms full of whiteboard, and sticky notes, and evidence of deliberation, the cliche pool table, and the prosaic bring-your-dog-to-work employee policy.

Why is it a daydream? No, it's not because the fridges are always stocked with quinoa salads and I can wear a T-shirt confirming my support for marriage equality (not to say those things aren't pretty rad).

It's because environments built for innovation and thought and positive deviants breed innovation and thought and positive deviants. And those breed ideas, and they're put into place, and the consequences of creative inspiration become tangible solutions.

Ok, ok -- I'll step back. I have many friends who work in the aforementioned types of places, and it's the not exactly the rosy picture I've painted. But it does speak to a concerted effort on the part of leaders to value the thoughts, ideas, and contributions of the professionals they employ.

How do we create similar opportunities and conditions for teachers? How do we lay the foundations for quality and research based initiatives whilst considering the voice of teachers who are the only ones who can anticipate what it will look like in their classrooms? How do we value new ideas and radical intentions within the constraints of countless protocols, standards, and six period days?

How do we afford the same respect, voice, and dignity to teachers that we require they exhibit to their students? There are lots of ways, and I think we've got many in place. But it's far from a finished exercise, and every educator who plays a part in crafting the teachers' everyday experience should be considering the question.

Kids Aren't Motivated By Technology

Seriously.

The same way I'm not motivated by a toilet. It's a tool I use every single day. It's exceptionally useful, I assure you. But I don't jump out of bed ready to take on the day because I have access to it -- I take it for granted because it's a part of my everyday life.

I feel very fortunate for having the privilege of teaching in a 1:1 classroom for 4 years prior to my colleagues. I have vivid memories of hearing from the other teachers in the school about how my students must love my class because they get to play on the computer. It's not surprising they behave well because they know they'll lose their computer privileges if they don't.

I used to take offense to such statements. HUGE offense.

Nobody in my classroom ever lost their computer "privileges." They never lost their pencil "privileges" either.

What good would it be to dangle the computer as a carrot? About as good as dangling the toilet I suppose :)

I wanted them to learn in ways they never could have imagined, and the computer made that possible. It wasn't the jolly rancher I handed out for behaving the right way.

Fast forward 5 years and I no longer take offense to those statements from my past. Teachers in my school have had 1:1 technology in their classrooms for the last 2 years and they've learned better than anyone that technology does not motivate students. That having 1:1 devices does not make classroom management easier. In fact, sometimes it makes management harder knowing we have an obligation to provide personalized, innovative and engaging learning experiences -- and we've got all the tools we need to do it. No excuses.

They've learned first hand that what motivates students now is what has always motivated students.

Relationships.
Engaging content.
Relevancy to their lives.
Collaboration.
Creating something new.
Being a part of something special.
Being successful.
Knowing you care.
Community.
And so much more.

As a teacher with 1:1 technology, I loved sending a message to a student to let them know I cared about how well they were doing. I loved seeing the way kids felt connected when they shared projects with ePals in Kazakstan, Germany and Japan. My favorite days were spent guiding kids as they created videos to raise money for causes they felt deeply committed to. I will never forget the way they would smile when they realized that a website could be read to them so that they could finally understand it. I was driven by seeing them motivated and times when they were so deeply connected to their work.

I'd love to say technology is the key to motivation. I'd love to share rosy anecdotes about homework completion skyrocketing when we put iPads in classrooms, and standardized test scores shooting through the roof.

If I did, it wouldn't be because of the iPads. I'd be because of the way we used them. Because of the experiences we created with them (and without them) every day.

Technology doesn't motivate kids. But you do.

The "I'm a Really, Really Great Teacher" Model

You may have noticed that the education world can be a bit finicky. We have a love/hate relationship with a lot of things...

I recall a time not so long ago when SAMR was all abuzz in the EdTech community as a thoughtful way to approach technology integration. Shortly after, a whole lot of rethinking surfaced about how or if it should be used. Like this. Or this. And this.

Or how about this viral video about the equally buzzy 'grit' we need to encourage within our kids? Later, it was followed up by this commentary on being careful with how we use it.

Oh hey, and how about Bloom's Taxonomy!? That's a tried and true framework everybody can get behind, right?

Well, maybe not everybody.

Ok, ok...so I admit, it may seem like I'm pointing out inconsistencies or a lack of sustained practice in my profession. I am not! I find these differing opinions on the best way to reach our kids not only indicative of a thoughtful and intelligent population, but also a natural consequence of the industry in which we work.

The industry of kids.

Every decision we make has a direct impact on those kids in front of us. There is no middle man. There is no design team to dream up the idea, or engineering team to create the product. There is no advertising team to develop the message, or sales team to deliver the pitch. We are the design team, the engineering team, the advertising team, the sales team, and so, so much more.

I congratulate us for adjusting accordingly. When we try something, we evaluate it. When it works, we refine it. When it doesn't, we alter or scrap it. We are infinitely creative and caring individuals solely driven for the sake of our kids.

I applaud us for not sticking to a routine. Or an algorithm. Or an assembly line.

When we put our kids into a classroom, we better not put them into a box.

So I implore you to consider and learn from Bloom's Taxonomy or SAMR or the Zone of Proximal Development or TPACK or LoTi or The Access Model or Gardner's Multiple Intelligences or the Framework for 21st Century Learning or RAT or Blending or Flipping or Cognitive Theory or Habits of Mind or Marzano or Differentiation or Personalization or PBL or CBL or IBL or Domains of Teaching or inTASC Standards or ISTE Standards or Pretty Much Everything On This Page or This Page or This.

But in the end, don't forget why you began teaching in the first place.

I've got a pretty great model to consider. It's called the I'm a Really, Really Great Teacher model, and it works like this...

I am responsive to my kids' needs.
I care.
I am thoughtful about their differences.
I am cognizant of my own.
I plan each day with their needs in mind.
I have the highest expectations of them.
I do what I need to to make sure they're met.
I do it whether it comes in the form of a nicely wrapped up research model or not.
I see my students as human beings.
I know they're more than just a score.
I value their passions and interests and strengths.
I see no limits to what they can do.
I make sure they see no limits to what they can do.
I am intelligent.
I am an expert.
I am experienced and full of passion.
I do what many cannot.
I don't do it alone.
And I don't do it for myself.

I am a really, really great teacher (model)*

*Trademark pending

On Kids

I once maintained a blog about my life. It's now defunct, and I needn't share it with you as it was a personal (not professional) blog. If you feel offended, or off-put, or overtly curious about why I might not share, take a moment to reflect on Context Collapse and feel satisfied that I'm only properly conducting myself online (insert smiley face here).

However, I will share one post.

I wrote this post on July 11, 2011. It's on kids. A friend shared with me that this blog post inspired her to quit her job and go into childcare, which is so humbling at a visceral level that I can't even articulate how that made me feel in words.

I figured I'd share it here because it's relevant to the topic of this professional blog, and because after going back and re-reading it three years later, I want to remember everything I felt the day and I sat down to write it. So here it is:

"Kids: They dance before they learn there is anything that isn't music." William Stafford

Ask anyone who knew me growing up and they'd have laughed at the thought of me working with kids. And by laugh I mean wince. I wasn't known to be caring. Nurturing never suited me, and for all the female anatomy I possess (you know, just the usual), maternal instincts never seemed to fuse within my genes. I was insensitive, youngest-child selfish, and maybe even slightly oblivious to the outside world and those who wandered around it. God help me, how I ended up becoming a teacher has yet to be reconciled in my brain. All I know is that whatever cosmic mishap or post adolescent idealism got in the way of a more lucrative livelihood deserves to be applauded. Revered.

Kids. Oh my god, kids. They opened my heart more than I care to admit, and far more than I can assume shows. I nanny for elementary aged kids during the summer and just today I had to stop, close my eyes, and wonder how a ten year old could make me so happy. There's just something about these little people that reminds me of how much of an idiot I am, and how much better I ought to be. Seriously. They've got it figured out. Kids smile when they're happy. They eat when they're hungry. They yell and kick and fight for what they want. They show love because they love you and disdain because they don't. They live moment to moment in a seemingly endless quest to have fun, all the while entertaining ignited brains whose concept of limit and impossibility are advantageously underdeveloped. They're so damn fun, and if you spend even a little time with them...not as an adult, or parent, or caregiver, or teacher, but as a peer...you begin to realize how easily you can revert to that mentality. And then you smile.

We were swimming at the beach today. We took turns pulling each other in the inner tube, ate fruit snacks between refreshing dips, built sandcastles with rooms you could look into, complete with sofas and thrones. We buried each other in sand, let popsicle drops drip down our sun burnt chins, commented on the way the woman next to us seemed to be sitting in a peculiar way. We didn't want, we simply were, and that's an amazing place to be.

I'm certain I'll write a lot about teaching, so I'll share those stories another time. Not to mention my nephews, who I might love more than anything in this world. But for now, I thank the kids. I credit them with opening something up in me that had previously lied dormant and dull. I am the best version of myself when I'm among them, and they haven't the slightest idea of what they've given to me. It's a little bit love, a little bit maternal, but mostly valuable perspective and a passion for something in this world I can devote myself to exultantly. 

Never underestimate them, talk down to them, discourage them. They'll consistently rise to your highest expectations, impress you with their imaginative sagacity, and teach you so much if you're willing to revert and learn. Every kid is an artist until they're told they're bad at art, a singer until they're told they missed a note. Every kid's an engineer until they're scolded for building a fort, a gymnast until they're told to stay in their seat. Every single kid is a scientist until it's no longer polite to play with your food. 

I love them so much sometimes that it actually hurts. And frankly, that's just someone I never thought that I could be.

Memories...

I've recently decided it's critical to reflect on your own school experiences if you've deciding to become a teacher. How can we impact the experiences of our students without truly understanding our own?

In talking with teachers, I often find they've become educators for one of two reasons:

A) Because they loved school and the teacher(s) they had growing up

B) Because they found school boring, and had little connection to their teacher(s) growing up

I definitely fall into the B category. While very successful in school, I found it to be a trivial and contrived exercise. Don't get me wrong -- I loved the idea of school. Absolutely loved it. From kindergarten through college, I enjoyed every minute of it, but it had very little to do with the content. I was social, and being around my friends made me happy. I didn't find school to be difficult, and it didn't take long to figure out "the game."

Generally speaking, I could float through the academics, and enjoy the social aspects as I pleased.

This got me thinking...

If I so vividly remember the approach I took to school, how can I use that experience to understand the experiences of our kids? Maybe I can't. Truthfully, though, I have to believe that the more I understand the kid-me perception of school, the more the adult-me can react accordingly.

So here's what I did. I wrote down every single memory from kindergarten through 12th grade. Every single one.

I purposely left out social interactions (locker chat, lunch room conversations, out of school events, etc). Honestly, I remember a whole lot more of these. 

Instead I focused entirely on academic memories -- and only included social aspects if they directly impacted the structure or depth of my learning.

My conclusion: I put a lot of effort into recollection, and in the end, I don't remember a whole lot. I had smatterings of lessons here and there...a teacher's comment...an activity...a class...

It's astounding how little impact those 6 hours a day had on my long term memory.

What does it mean? 

I'm not sure. I can't imagine it's a good thing.

I don't want to get too idealistic, and I can certainly put into context the memory prioritization of an adolescent. That said, I can't deny my disappointment. For all the hard work and thought adult-me puts into making our schools engaging and full of impact, I don't see that impact's prevalence at all in my own experiences.

Am I overreacting?

Yeah, maybe.

But I refuse to believe this is a forgone conclusion. I truly believe we as teachers can have lasting impact on our kids. That learning can be profound and long term. That experiences can be relevant and always remembered. That what we do today will matter 20 years down the road. 

Impact. Remembered. Profound. Matter. 

I remember a lot of things as a kid, but school just wasn't one of them.

So there we go. I'll say it and I mean it...

I want school to be a place worth remembering.  

--- If you're curious, you can read all of my kindergarten through 12th grade memories by clicking HERE. Don't judge ;) ---

Inter-District Collaboration {and other related adventures}

We are a privileged bunch; teachers and educators, that is. We work in a job where receiving support to improve upon our weaknesses is an expectation, and continual growth in our areas of strength is afforded time.

I'm not saying it's done perfectly, but it's done.

I have plenty of friends and acquaintances in industries where this is not the case. Where an area of weakness is looked at as fixed, or a liability that cannot be afforded time, and in many cases, a downfall worthy of getting "the ax."

Schools are a supportive environment, however. We're in the business of growth, support, continuous learning, and an unwavering belief that human beings are capable of amazing things, including (but not limited to) the ability to make tremendous gains and improvements if given the right conditions.

That said, traditionally, a great deal of this support has been provided within the school or the district: Coaches helping teachers, PLC's supporting one another, Principals guiding growth, Leadership teams implementing relevant professional development, etc.

Something I've noticed explode over the last couple of years is this support reaching beyond the building or district to outside inter-district collaboration opportunities. I'm not referencing the digital PLN (of which I'm a huge advocate and participant). We'll save that discussion for another time. I'm referencing neighboring districts making concerted efforts to learn from one another and grow together. I'll give a few examples:

1) The district I work for is a 1:1 iDevice district. We moved in that direction at the same time that an area district was doing the same. Knowing that, our superintendents made a conscientious effort to create levels of support between our respective staffs.

2) I work in the area of instructional coaching. Many other area districts also have existing or newly developed coaching models. In an effort to share and expand our collective expertise, we hold a combination of face to face and online community meetings to learn from one another.

3) Just yesterday, I attended a free and internally-developed event to support quality learning and teaching with iPads. Many area districts have some arrangement of iPads available to them. The event brought many of these districts together for a day of learning, with sessions led by educators who are on the front line of using learning technologies in their classrooms.

Each of these three examples are all positive, productive, and growth minded events that I am privileged to have experienced.

These are just three of the MANY examples I could share of examples where districts are coming together. Seriously -- an incredible amount of these support groups, EdCamps, online communities, informal gatherings, and inter-district checkins and collaborations are popping up all the time. I can't over emphasize their pervasiveness in current education (at least in the area in which I live).

So here's my take:

YES! YES! YES!

I'm ecstatic to see districts moving beyond their sheltered vision of education to learn from outside districts that have taken a different approach or work with students unlike their own. I question whether you should work in education if you don't see the value in constructing meaning together, collective intelligence, and meaningful collaboration.

However...

There's something wrong. It comes in the form of unhealthy competition. It comes in the form of public relations, and shiny things, and neglecting to admit our faults. There's an undercurrent of "hey, look how great we're doing" that sometimes overshadows the honest conversations and productive work that happens during inter-district convening. It's not any one district or any one person. I'm guilty of having done it before myself. There seems to be a dissecting and knit-picky microscope imposed upon outside district practices, and a somewhat guarded 'dog and pony show' presented by those within. It's not even close to all the time, and it's certainly not every time. Overall, the good far outweighs the bad, but there have been isolated incidences where I've felt it, and I've seen it, and there's no place for it in this incredibly difficult and demanding work.

It's not that I don't want us to celebrate our strengths and achievements. I understand the propensity for doing so, and we can all learn from these successes. Instead, I challenge us to be humble and honest in this most difficult of professions. These are not cars, or houses, or pieces of jewelry we're selling out. It's kids.

When we open ourselves up to collaboration, and fail to be honest about areas of need, we don't suffer.

We don't suffer, but the kids certainly do.

So...I Read a Post Today

It was this:

10 Ways Teacher Planning Should Adjust to the Google Generation by Terry Heick.

I liked the article just fine. It speaks to our need as teachers to recognize the context in which our current students live, and adjust our teaching and instruction accordingly. Pretty straightforward, right?

I'd hope so, but I'm not so sure.

I think the concept itself squares just fine with teachers, but when it comes to student results, I wonder how often we attribute our willingness to meet students where they are as a primary reason why they perform the way they do.

Hear me out.

We know external factors contribute to student learning. Socioeconomic status. Parent involvement. Chemical use. Living situations. Peer pressure. Etc. Etc. Etc.

But if we choose to take on this exceptional challenge of making sure each and every student leaves our schools seeing no obstacles to his or her future, then we ought to start reimagining the approach we take to do that.

We have to meet kids where they are. We have to accept them as products of the generation from which they've come and the environments from which they've been raised. If they don't seem like the kids we taught 5 years ago, it's because they're not. What are we doing to ensure that the work we ask them to do is meaningful, relevant, and thought provoking so that kids feel investing in the time they give us, and leave our classrooms with the type of profound learning we so badly want for them?

It won't happen unless we're willing to take a serious look at who those kids are and how that influences what we need to do to reach them.

I know this isn't a new idea. It's essentially a regurgitation of a million and one conversations we've all had. Nevertheless, it's a reminder that wouldn't hurt to reiterate every single day.

If I See One More...

...graphic that tries to imply correlation between using a tech tool and Bloom's Taxonomy, I might just...

...ok, so in reality, I won't do much. Although, I will certainly *facepalm* myself again, as I have so many times before, when I've come across such images on blogs and through my Twitter feed.

Hear me out. I know intentions are good when these frameworks are created. I am an unwavering advocate of the innovation and transformation that can take place with the purposeful use of technology. I know and have seen the highest levels of Bloom's met time and time again because technology has enhanced the level of higher order thinking amongst every single student in a classroom. Like here, for example. And here.

That said, I cannot support the suggestion (well meaning as it may be), that a tool and a level of Blooms likely go hand in hand. I know what you're thinking -- but we always present them with the caveat that "any tool can be used at any level." C'mon. We negate our asterisk statement the moment we simplify the complex and prodigious process that is learning by wrapping it up so neatly and tying it with a bow.

Let's not be afraid to say what we all know: Teaching is difficult. Reaching the highest level of Bloom's Taxonomy takes thoughtful and skilled design. We will not trivialize the challenging and inspiring work that we all agreed to do.

Rant complete.

Thoughts?

Targeted Professional Learning

Yesterday, I had the privilege of facilitating an all day professional learning opportunity with my staff. One piece of professional learning development I've become more and more invested in is the close and mindful needs assessments that drive the decisions we make about what ought to be covered and how.

Prior to this day, I spent time in classrooms looking purposefully for needs. How is technology being used? At what level? What's working? What's a struggle?

I followed up with informal one on one conversations, and a few longer and focused discussions.

Lastly, I sent out a fairly thorough survey to all staff. I happened to time up the survey on two days when school was closed due to weather -- hoping staff would see it as a fairly simple task to complete with two unexpected non-student days ahead.

I'll never stop appreciating the honest appraisals that teachers give about their current practice and where they'd like to be. A culture of honesty always leads to greater improvements -- it's something all schools should strive for.

After gathering all data, reflecting on conversations, and using what I'd seen in classrooms, I opted to make the focus of the day "Taking a Targeted Approach." The use of learning targets in our system is standard practice, and something that drives teacher instruction every day. I knew the concept of 'targeting' would be a familiar one, and something that would show I had respected our teachers' needs and interests.

I structured the day like this:

Intro -- Reflecting on the 'why.' Informal table discussions were held about all the reasons why teachers choose (or choose not) to use technology on any given day or task. We read William Ferriter's blog post, Technology is a Tool, NOT a Learning Outcome, shared reactions, and discussed how closely it reflected our own practice.

Learning -- I took the top 5 areas teachers requested learning more about, and purposefully integrated tools that fit into those categories. We covered everything from Photocard, ThingLink, and 30hands as new ways for kids to present their learning, to differentiating instruction by using student created Kahoot! quizzes as an extension, or harnessing the power of screencasting with Screencast-o-matic as a form of reteaching and remediation.

Making Meaning -- My needs assessments (and intuition) told me that many of the strengths and areas of need in our school were heavily tied to departments. I wanted to give teachers time to meet and discuss learning technologies within their departments to start bringing together their collective strengths and building solutions for their struggles. Therefore, I had departments engage in a "Chalk Talk."

In the first round, teachers silently shared "What's going well?" and "What has been a struggle?" After time to discuss, clarify, and question, they engaged in a second silent round of "What strength would I like to capitalize on OR what area of need would I like to address?"

The Work -- Taking their learning from the morning, and the priorities identified during the Chalk Talk, teachers were then given the leverage to design their work for the afternoon. In random groups, PLCs, or even a few individuals, teachers designed the work that would bring them to the next level in an area of strength or create a solution for something that had been holding them back.

Teachers shared their learning, work, and artifacts with one another on a shared Google Presentation.

All in all, it was an invigorating day of learning, tailored (...or should I say targeted) to our teachers' needs and interests. I encourage all who have influence on professional learning to recognize that without validating the people you're providing professional learning for, you're unlikely to see the results you desire.

It reminds me of a quote that often recirculates through my brain:
"Adult Learning is voluntary in all its dimensions - participation, acquisition, and outcome." - Mary Jane Even (1987, p.22) Why Adults Learn in Different Ways