NCLB and Colbert July 24, 2008

Margaret Spellings, the US Secretary of Education appeared last night on The Colbert Report to discuss No Child Left Behind (NCLB). If you don’t know much about this policy, take some time to read about it – its quite an issue in current education. 

Of course, you can read about it on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Child_Left_Behind_Act

If you want to read the department of ed’s description:  http://www.ed.gov/nclb/landing.jhtml

For Colbert: http://www.hulu.com/watch/27661/the-colbert-report-tue-jul-22-2008

There is tons of commentary out there on the web!

I will attempt to keep my opinion on this topic short and sweet – there is no way to address all of it. The ideals behind NCLB are great – accountability, standards, teaching all children. I think that the forced infusion of these ideas into the system continues to bring needed reform. However, the practice of NCLB and many results have been less than ideal. There are unfortunate outcomes – teaching to the test, disproportionate focus (money, time) on struggling students, sanctions and punishments for schools (instead of help), kids being encouraged to drop out, and more.

The concept of NCLB is truly an extreme ideal – everyone will be equal, not only in opportunity, but in performance. Some argue that turning the system capitalistic would breed quality, but I hesitate to recognize these two ends meeting.  Proponents of this cite success in the private schools – but private schools turn people away who pull down scores, of course they look good – they leave lots of children behind! The public schools would look good, too, if they only taught and tested the top. Children are not sales to be made, and they enter a classroom with needs and talents that are unmeasurable with a test. Not that the test scores aren’t a useful indicator, revealing symptoms. 

I am torn – understanding the principles of NCLB, but frustrated with the outcomes. I am lucky to work in a good school that has escaped much criticism. For now, I will happily jump through the hoops and work through the red tape. I won’t scream that I have the supported ed cluster and not the gifted cluster when the scores are posted on the wall and judged. I will look at where I need to improve, because I do believe that I can learn from the results, even if others use the information for purposes it doesn’t fit. 

Anyway, you should read more about it!

But what about do I miss you? July 11, 2008

This is an old facebook note of mine. I was missing my kids today, and think that this is an appropriate tribute to my most favorite kiddo.

Every morning I have the same conversation with a student of mine from last year. Every day a strong, bittersweet feeling is left in my stomach. This is how it goes, word for word:

Boy: But what about… but what about… do I miss you?
Me: I don’t know, (his name), do you miss me?
Boy: Yeah. <as he nods his head slightly>
Me: Me too. Have a good day!

(Contextualizing topics into a sentence can be a mystery to him. When he wants to mention something he says “But what about…” For example, he wrote in a birthday card once “But what about a birthday cake.”)

Relationships are stressful for him, as well, and I know that he has transitioned to a fluid relationship with his new teacher. This means that I am now peripheral and so we have specific, memorized interactions. 

I am forever grateful that he was in my class. He has impacted me in many ways. He made me a 1,000 times better teacher. He made me laugh deep belly laughs every day. He showed me the entire Chicago Metra system from memory, complete with schedules. He taught me to understand and appreciate people with autism. I’m sure this all sounds cheesy, but he has a joyful presence and spirit about him that is infectious.

I never saw myself as the type of person who would enjoy working people who have special needs. But, as I said, he changed me in many ways. And he is not an intangible, ethereal “person.”

Yeah, I miss you too.

Summertime June 25, 2008

Summer is a difficult time for me. It’s the good kind of hurt.

I know that you are probably thinking: what a whiner – you still get a summer and I am in the real world, where summers no longer exist.

Let me explain. I go from having days full of constant responsibility, attention, noise, and busyness to beloved, maddening silence. Somebody slammed on my brakes – I must be stopped for needed repairs, but the transition is disorienting. 

Throughout the year, immediate response and feedback (wanted or not) is given on all my lessons and projects. Now anything I work on for my classroom has the verdict out for months. Time is golden all year, and now the action that I am acclimated to is the missing piece. Too much time can be debilitating. Agendas always get halfway completed because of my inability to calculate large chunks of time after managing things in ten-minute blocks all year – third grade attention spans are contagious, I think.

The past couple of years, planning ahead to map out the summer was just too difficult to do in February and March; summers have simply shown up as a blank canvas. After adjusting, I have done some needed things – organizing my personal life and papers, missions trips, designing my class website, cataloguing my library (no small task), doctors appointments, creating and refining lessons, units, and procedures, sleeping, watching TV, reading professional books; all the things impossible during the year. This year I was slightly ahead – I managed to actually coordinate taking grad courses!!! I love it, by the way. If I was really good, I would’ve coordinated tutoring, too – but I didn’t. 

I miss the hugs, the laughter, the constant affirmation that children give. I know that in order for me to avoid burnout that I need to avoid children that I am not related to for these months, but it is still hard. 

I feel dull and dormant, like a teacher in hibernation. During the summer, the instinct to tell other people’s children what to do begins to diminish (not a good trait to have when in stores, at the movies, etc…). My voice becomes softer and less commanding (the teacher voice is also a love-hate trait). I begin to forget how to interact with older women and relearn how to interact with people my own age. I’m a little bit more like my old self. 

Teaching would be impossible without the summer. Energy and patience must be replenished for the next year, but it is so tough to transition your whole life and being – at the beginning and the end of the summer.

I do feel the need the need to point out that teacher summers are almost a full month shorter than student summers – most of us (the good ones anyway) are in that hot classroom preparing weeks before the kids arrive. 

I understand if you still don’t pity me, but maybe now you will understand us teachers a little bit more.