Learning to listen

I think one of the most valuable lessons I have learned during my first year teaching is to really listen to what my students are telling me.  Last week I gave my chemistry students their last chapter test of the year.  During the test, I heard several of the students grumbling about not knowing how to do many of the problems.  This happens from time to time when they get frustrated, but this time it seemed to be more pronounced.  One of my students actually came to my desk and asked if it would be possible for him to stop taking the test, study more, then finish it later.  I asked why he wanted to do this, and he explained that he felt like he didn’t really understand how to do any of the “math” problems (the test was on stoichiometry, which basically meant he felt he couldn’t do any of the calculations).  A couple of other students piped up and said they felt the same way.  I asked them to give me a minute to think about what they were saying.  They were happy to, because if they’ve learned anything about me it’s that if I ask for time to think, I am taking their request seriously.

What I was hearing my students tell me was that what we had done to study stoichiometry wasn’t sufficient for them to really understand it.  I was also hearing them tell me that this bothered them; that they wanted to know how to do it.  This seemed like a really big deal to me.  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have another student tell me they just don’t know enough about stoichiometry, so I decided to take action.

Instead of having the students turn in their tests, study more, then continue working individually, I suggested we change to a group test format.  I had the class organized themselves into groups (they decided one big group was best).  I told them they could use the book, any notes they had, and even me as a resource… on one condition.  If they wanted to ask me a question, only one person could come to my desk.  I would help them with the problem, and then they had to go back and teach the rest of the group how to solve it.  I was a little worried they’d send the same student each time, but I didn’t make any rules about this because I wanted to see how they would handle it.

To my surprise, they actually took turns coming to see me about questions.  Which meant they took turns teaching each other.  This class, which is comprised mainly of seniors, worked harder on that test than on any other test they’ve taken.  Even working together, it took them three days to finish (I am having to rethink the difficulty of my tests, in part because of this).  I was so impressed with their dedication to actually learning the material, I hardly knew what to do with myself.  Because I listened to my students, took their request seriously, and honored their desire, they showed me that not only do they not have senioritis (most of my class is seniors), but they’re very capable of focused, cooperative group work.

As a result of this experience, I decided to give my chemistry students the freedom to do individual or small-group projects the rest of the year.  Several students have been requesting to do labs on different phenomena, but I haven’t been able to make them fit with the curriculum.  Now that they’re getting to study something they’re interested in (and have the basic tools of chemistry to do that study with), they’re working incredibly hard.  They’re keeping research logs, learning to write citations in APA, preparing to make videos, powerpoints, posters, and do demonstrations.  One group is even setting up a series of experiments, even though this is not a requirement.  They’re making smoke “bombs,” and they’ve decided that they want to explore how to make different colors.  My students are working harder now than they have all year.  One student even told me that this was “making his senior year.”

This is why I got into teaching.  We’ve spent much of the year learning the tools of chemistry, and now they’re putting them into action.  It’s amazing to watch.  Now if I can just figure out how to get my geometry kids as excited, I’ll have this teaching thing figured out… Maybe if we built a house (lines and angles)… and decorated it with tessellated wallpaper (transformations and symmetry)…. then calculated how much it would cost to heat (volume and measurement)…hmmm.

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Standards-Based Grading – Initial Thoughts

At the beginning of this semester, I switched my students from a points-based grading system to standards-based grading. So far, I think the adjustment has been easier for my students than it has been for me.  Class time hasn’t changed all that much.  But I’ve had to change a lot of things on the back-end.

Today I gave and then graded my first assessment given under the new regime.  Although I haven’t looked at any averages yet, grading quizzes with an eye to standards rather than points was really enlightening.  First, I realized that for this system to really work, I am going to have to pick standards, develop rubrics, then write assessments.  Second, I am probably going to have to go even further off-book than I already have, as the assessment items they suggest are terrible.  I found it difficult to both find enough items to make a quiz, and once grading began I realized that some of the items, while related to the topic, don’t really get at what I thought was most important for the students to have learned.

This is weird, since I am effectively using the exact same standards our curriculum outlines.  Why would the assessment items of a professionally developed curriculum not match their own objectives?  That’s probably a thought for another post.

So the gist is that more change is needed.  Standards-based grading is turning out to be quite a bit more work on my part.  But I am already convinced it’s worth it: my own perspective shift has been so great that I found my quiz actually useful for once.  Let me explain.

During my student teaching, I basically learned that when grading assessments, you assign points for each item.  And each point basically corresponds to some thing you expect a student to do (as in set up the problem, solve it, use the correct units, etc.).  This meant that as I was grading, I wasn’t really developing a sense of whether or not my students were really getting the big idea.  I was too focused on the details of procedure.  Also, to facilitate grading I would grade every first page, then every second, and so forth.  This made it impossible to get an overall sense of anything, except a sneaking suspicion that some students weren’t doing very well.  When I would total points at the end, I would often be surprised to find that the average scores weren’t really terrible.  In my mind, all the blank answers probably belonged to the same student (they rarely did).

Now, I grade one quiz at a time.  I grade the whole quiz.  I start with the first standard, and look over the entire quiz looking for evidence to help me decide whether a student is understanding or not.  When I come to a decision, I write out the evidence on a rubric, and assign a score (because at some point, I still have to reduce all this work to a score; someday I hope that will change).  After grading all the quizzes, I can tell you many things that I would not have been aware of before.  Most of my students did not meet either of the two standards we were working on.  This was partly due to my poor choice of assessment items.  On one problem, my students actually did some really good mathematical investigation.  But they failed to come up with a counterexample (which is what I was looking for).  In old system, I would have had to consider the problem wrong.  In my new system, I can give them props for doing great mathematics, then let them know that they didn’t reach the goal I was hoping for.  Because I have to give them both written and numerical feedback. (Well, I don’t have to.  But what’s the point of adopting something like SBG without written feedback?)

I learned something else, too.  Last semester, I let me students use their notes on every quiz.  I did not allow retakes of these quizzes, because I figured if you took notes, you should get an A on every quiz.

Very few students got an A.

I realized late last semester that there wasn’t really a great correlation between taking notes and understanding notes.  I also realized that by allowing students to use their notes, it made it rather difficult for me to know what my students are actually learning to do.  Part of the reason I allowed the notes was because some of my students seem to suffer from extreme test anxiety.  I have decided, though, that their test anxiety would best be alleviated not by allowing them a clearly-less-than-useful crutch, but by providing them with more frequent and verbose feedback so that they know what to learn and can be better prepared for the assessments.

I could be very wrong about this.  It would not be the first time.  But, armed with all this new knowledge about my students and the fact that they’re learning something, just not quite enough or what I want them to, I think I made a good choice.  I have heard it said that SBG is supposed to be empowering to students.  I don’t know if they’ll see it that way just yet, but it certainly feels that way from where I sit.

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My initial thoughts on homework

As a reminder, this is my first year of teaching.  Today’s post is about how I think things are going and what I’m trying to do about problems that have arisen.

This year is the second year that my school has required students to do homework.  I do not know why previously homework was not required, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I teach at a tribal school and the powers-that-be assumed the students would have no support at home.  Our school continues to be a tribal school, but last year it was decided that students were now capable enough to handle homework.

Unfortunately, anecdotal evidence suggests that many teachers did not agree, and so last year few actually adopted the policy.  This year, they’re trying again.

I have been assigning homework since the first week of class.  I began by giving my students worksheets.  I did not like this system, for a number of reasons.  First, I felt I needed to grade the worksheets in order for them to be of any use, which meant I spent an inordinate amount of time grading every day.  Second, my students were not good at managing papers, so I would inevitably have to make 100 copies each day for my 55 geometry students.  This seemed like a colossal waste of paper, once I realized that although I handed out homework to my students (often the same homework multiple times), very few of them were actually returning it to me completed.
I decided, then, to change my strategy.  I talked with my mentor teacher and decided to adopt the policy she used.  Each night, I would assign 2-3 problems from the book, which the students had at home.  These were practice problems, based on the work we’d done during class.  If the students did not get a chance to complete the homework at home, that was alright.  I began each class period using the homework as a warm-up.

This, I found, was also ineffective.

True, the number of students getting points for homework increased.  But this is because they waited for me to go over the homework, copied my work, and then expected to get credit for it.  This bothered me.  I stayed with this system for some weeks, however, because I did notice that students were at least learning to write down what the homework was, even if they didn’t actually take that next step and attempt the problems.  What’s strange to me is that I assign the homework at the beginning of class.  Although my students could simply have gotten a book out and done the homework during class, I rarely had anyone actually do this.

Over the last couple of months I have been reading about Standards-Based Grading.  I decided that I wanted to try it during my second semester (which starts in about three weeks).  Since Standards-Based Grading doesn’t have any points, students don’t get “credit” for doing homework.  I am going to continue to assign it, of course.  But if they don’t do it, it won’t hurt their grade unless they really needed that practice.

To prepare for this change, I’ve instituted the new homework policy early.  For three weeks the students still get points for doing their homework, but instead of giving them time to copy my work at the beginning of each class, I am collecting all the homework on Friday and taking it home so I can give the students written feedback on all of it.  I was initially hesitant to adopt this.  Although I think it’s a great way to help students with their learning, grading every piece of homework and leaving written comments can be a lot of work.

Fortunately for my weekend, only 4 out of about 60 students turned their homework in. My experience getting to really sit down and look at my students’ thinking was so positive for me, that even if every single one of my students turns in their work next Friday, I am still going to spend time giving them written comments.  Why?  Because I learned a LOT about how those four students are doing with what we’re working on right now.  And I go to give them lots of good feedback about what’s going well, what they need to work on, and how they might go about correcting their thinking.

Reflecting on my experiences so far this year, my current feeling on homework is this: homework should be an optional opportunity for students to engage in extra practice and get detailed feedback about their progress.

We’ll see if I stick with this until June, or change my mind again.

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The power of technology

I think most people these days would acknowledge that access to technology can be empowering.  Although some days I feel like the technologies I use was more of a problem, most of the time I am aware that without these tools, I would work much less efficiently.  These last two weeks have served as an excellent example of what a difference technology can make in the classroom.

I teach Geometry.  While this isn’t always a subject that requires computation, there is a significant component involved.  At the beginning of this school year, I was given five working scientific calculators.  Five.  That meant that while we were doing practice problems, my students (who have long struggled to compute correctly thanks to some serious shortcomings in their elementary math curriculum) would take an inordinate amount of time to complete a single problem.  During the course of one 50-minute period, we might make it through a whopping four problems.  Frankly, that’s not enough.  Whatever it was we were learning never made it into long-term memory, because the bulk of the effort during class went into doing basic arithmetic.

Two weeks ago, I finally got the graphing calculators I was promised at the beginning of the year.  I now have 30 TI-84+ Silver Editions.  I have spent these last two weeks teaching my students to use these new tools.  And in two short weeks, a remarkable thing has happened.  The better my students become at using their calculators, the more problems we are able to complete.

Before graphing calculators, my students would groan at even the simplest surface area calculation.  Now they are happy to calculate the volume of a two square foot fishtank (with dimensions given in inches, of course), convert that volume from cubic inches to cubic feet, gallons, and pounds.  All so they can make a recommendation as to whether or not it would be a good idea for me to use empty cardboard boxes as a tank stand (unanimous result: NO!).

This is awesome.  Both teaching and learning have become so much more interesting.  But there have been other benefits.

First, my students are not at all confident in their ability to compute.  They know what it means to add, but actually doing the work in their heads makes them nervous (although they can actually compute fairly well – it’s largely anxiety that hold them back).  With a graphing calculator handy, they no longer worry about adding or dividing incorrectly and looking stupid.  They know it’s right.  If they make a mistake entering something in the calculator, well, everyone makes those kind of mistakes.  They’re called typos, and don’t mean you’re stupid.  Engagement and participation have increased.  In fact, where before I struggled to get students to volunteer answers, I now have students racing one another.

And then there was a second, completely unanticipated benefit.  Although my students had never really commented, apparently when they came to my class and saw that they had to share five calculators between the lot of them, they felt like they didn’t count.  They know lots of kids at other schools, and know that at other schools those kids are all using graphing calculators.  Since they didn’t get them, they felt like poor, back-of-the-bus rejects.  Since many of my students come to our school after being expelled from other districts, it’s not difficult to see where they might get this idea.  Now, not only do they have graphing calculators, but they’ve got top-of-the-line, brand-spanking-new shiny TI-84+ Silver Editions.  When I handed them out for the first time, I heard all kinds of comments between the students the effect that now they were more like kids at “real” schools.  Where they do “real” math.  And use “real” calculators.

And I haven’t even shown them the probes I got to go with them.  Nor have they seen the fancy rack the shop teacher is building for us.

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Reflections on the week

This last week I had a bit of a shock.  My chemistry students are getting A’s and B’s for the most part.  But on Thursday they had their first major test.  Only three students passed, and the average score was 54%.

This was not at all what I had expected.

So Friday, we had a Discussion.

I explained that as far as I could figure, the disparity between daily work scores and test scores indicated that while the students were capable of understanding all the concepts we had covered, they had not retained much of the information.  This is a serious problem, as in their adult lives they will be expected to actually remember things from time to time.  I also explained that as Chemistry is a college prep class, I expected them to be putting in some effort to retain information.  As far as I saw it, what we had done during the first month wasn’t working, and so we needed to fix it.  But rather than tell them how we’d change things, I decided to let them take responsibility.  So we entered into negotiations.

Over the course of about 30 minutes, the students came up with a short list of proposals.  They ultimately requested three things:

  1. More structure, in the form of notes and/or lectures;
  2. More assessment, in the form of a practice test; and
  3. Less pressure, meaning that they wanted tests to account for a smaller proportion of their grade (35% instead of 50%)

I was happy to agree to all of these suggestions.

This was a very interesting experience for me for several reasons.  First, on test day three of my ten students essentially panicked.  I figured that if they saw failing grades, the feelings of inadequacy they’d felt on Thursday would have just been reinforced.  By the end of Friday’s class, these students were again excited about learning, and felt confident that these changes would help them be more successful in the future.

Second, I was a little anxious that in giving my students the choice to propose changes to the class structure, they would take advantage and make wildly unreasonable suggestions.  Instead, they came up with reasonable and creative solutions.  For example, when they initially proposed having a practice test, I explained that writing and grading tests takes a lot of time, and that they were asking me for quite a bit of extra work.  I told them I was willing to do it if they would take it seriously.  They modified their proposal and said that if I would write the practice test, they would self-correct, and then take responsibility for getting help and/or spending extra time on those things they did not initially do well on.

Finally, this experience is reinforcing a positive experience I’ve been having with several of my geometry classes.  Although I began the year with assigned seats, randomly reassigned every two weeks, I decided about three weeks ago to let the students sit where they liked, with whom they liked.  I did this for two reasons: first, I was getting tired of fighting with students about where they ought to sit, and second, I was tired of students talking to each other across the class.  So I made them a deal: I would let them sit wherever they wanted, on condition that they did not spend the whole class goofing off and being off task chatting with their friends.  I was trusting them to be responsible, and as long as they showed me they could handle it, they could continue to choose their own seats.  Interestingly, a significant number of the behavioral issues I was having disappeared after making this one change.

+++++

What these experiences are teaching me is that the prevailing wisdom might not be correct.  I have had many, many teachers (both at my current school and others) tell me that the secret to a good year is to be really mean for the first two months of school, and then start being nice (although I think what they really intend is for me to be controlling, not mean).  My experience has been different.  For one thing, I am not very controlling by nature.  I really don’t like being told what to do myself, and have little interest in imposing myself similarly on others.  As a result, I have somehow managed not to engage in any power struggles at all.  This makes my life much easier, and it seems to be having other positive results.  Some of the students who were initially very prickly are not only being less so, but they’re actually beginning to engage in learning.  I don’t know if choosing not to engage in power struggles is an option outside of high school.  I am not even sure if I know why it seems to be working for me.  I suspect it has something to do with my not giving the students attention.  And I should be clear, here.  I am not ignoring students who are making poor behavioral choices.  What I do is approach them and say something along the lines of “You need to stop doing X and start doing Y.”  Then I walk away for a minute.  If they don’t comply, then I say, “I have told you what you need to be doing now, and you’re not doing it.  Can you tell me why you’re making this choice?”  If they do not respond (and often they don’t), then I say, “If you need some help getting started doing Y, let me know.  If I don’t see you starting on it, I will have to assume that you’re choosing not to do it.  The consequence will be Z.”  And that’s the end of the discussion.  I walk away.  Now the power is all in their hands.  What I’ve seen is that the first couple of times, they will continue doing whatever it is I don’t want them to do (usually goofing off or at the least not taking notes or working with their group).  But by the second or third time, they seem to give up.  And as soon as I see them doing what I want them to do, I go over and tell them, very specifically, that I am really glad to see them doing whatever it is (taking notes, etc).  And then I call or email their parents, and tell them what a great kid they have.

What a lot of this amounts to is that I am really trying to take to heart the idea that the only person I have control over is me.  This is something I’ve heard many times in my life, although surprisingly, not very often in terms of education.  I often come right out and tell my students that I do not have any control over them.  That I can’t make them do anything at all.  That, in fact, no one can.  Not only that, but they always have a choice.  Every day, every hour, every moment, they can choose to be or do something else.

To me, acknowledging openly to my students that they have this power is the heart of what democratic education is about.

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Tired already

Today I decided that for the first time since school start (September 1st), I would take a day off.  Yes, I know.  I’m a teacher, so I only work during the week.  If only that were true.  What has turned out to be the case so far is that I spent 9-10 hours at school, Monday through Friday.  This is 9-10 hours straight.  I don’t get breaks.  I technically get a lunch, but I have students coming in every single day for extra help.  I also have students coming in before and after school.  During my prep period (I have 50 minutes a day to plan what I’m doing for the rest of the day, teaching four different sections over the course of six 50-minute periods), I usually get visits from administrators, other teachers, and even other students, who cannot find the time to meet with me otherwise.

And then I go home.  But my working day doesn’t end.  I spend anywhere from 1-3 hours grading.  And since 50 minutes really isn’t enough time to plan four quality lessons each day, I spend a couple of hours every night writing lesson plans.  And there there is the time I spend writing emails, contacting parents, etc.

Pretty soon, it’s Friday.  I would love nothing more than to collapse into my bed and sleep until Monday.  Sadly, I don’t have this luxury.  No, the weekend is when I get caught up on anything that didn’t get done during this week.  This means finishing up on grading and making an attempt to plan some lessons ahead of time so my week isn’t quite so hectic.  It also means that this is the only time I have for doing laundry, cleaning my apartment, running errands, trying to keep my car maintained, visiting friends and family…

You get the picture.

So today is my first day off in a month.  Although I have a decent salary, and make enough money to live comfortably, I still find myself doubting this lifestyle.  Sure, I can make sure all my bills are paid and I have enough money to order pizza if I am too tired to cook (which is most of the time).  But is this good?  Is it right?  Does it really make sense that I should lay up nights worrying about my students?  I often feel like I spend more time worrying about them than their own parents must (at least one of my students rarely has either clean clothes or a clean body, and most of my students do not get a good night’s sleep).

And today I am full of questions.  I’ve wanted to teach since I was about 5.  Thirty years later, here I am.  I think of teaching as a noble calling, something that makes the world a better place.  But lately, I find it difficult to feel like it’s worth it.  My well-being is certainly suffering now that I’m actually teaching.  Is it worth the cost?  Perhaps there are other good things I could do with my life.  I am not sure of any of these things.  What I do know is that if I cannot find a way to teach without so much self-sacrifice, this job can never be a career to me.  As I practice it now, teaching is completely unsustainable.

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Radicals

During this last week, I have been helping my students learn how to use the Pythagorean Formula to find the distance between two points.  This is part of coordinate geometry, something I thought would be good to start the year with, since it has a lot in common with algebra.  Since all of my students have passed algebra, and many of them have already failed geometry at least once, this seemed like a good way to build confidence and momentum.

What I am discovering, though, is that it’s really revealing some major holes in my students’ mathematical understanding.  So far, there are two glaring issues:

  1. Although many of my students know how to solve an equation for a variable, they struggle mightily with integer operations.
  2. Most of my students had never before simplified a radical.  And most of those students had never even heard the term before (or at least they didn’t remember hearing the term).

I can understand why some students might have trouble with integer operations, as it can be a difficult concept to grasp (especially that double negative part).  But I was surprised to find that my students had almost no experience with radicals.  Another teacher and I searched our curriculum, and found that between fifth grade and algebra, our school’s curriculum dedicated an entire two pages not just to radicals, but to the ideas of perfect squares and square roots in general.

I find this to be amazing, but not in a good way.

Being able to simplify radicals isn’t one of those things that’s really life or death.  And in the grand scheme of things, it’s probably not even that important in the math that most people will need and use in their lives.  But what gets me is that simplifying radicals isn’t really all that difficult, if you have a decent amount of number sense.  You’re just factoring numbers and looking for perfect squares, really.  Not all that difficult.  Much more simple than factoring trinomials, a skill we expect all algebra students to master.  And what’s more, learning about perfect squares and roots, and then about exponents in general, is a very important part of math.  Without an understanding of exponents, for example, it’s difficult to understand things like population growth or the amazing benefits of compound interest (not an exponential function, I know, but growth on a similar trajectory).

I am going to do my best to solve this problem with my own students.  The text I am supposed to be using (Holt) suggests that all students simply turn to their calculator when they see a radical and turn it into a decimal.  They neglect to mention that this turns their very exact answer into a very approximate one, of course.  And they also neglect to mention that by skipping that simplification step, students aren’t practicing factoring or becoming comfortable with numbers, something that’s very important both in life and Algebra II, a course the State of Washington now requires students to pass in order to graduate from high school.

So thank you, Holt, and thank you, every other curriculum producer we’re currently using.  Thank you for thinking students capable enough to (almost always) safely maneuver several thousand pounds of metal down the freeway at lethal speeds are too stupid to factor numbers.  I appreciate it.

The great irony for me is that this same textbook is written in language so dense, technical, and deliberately obtuse that I have watched many professional math and science teachers struggle to understand.  If my students can read and understand the text, they can certainly handle a little factoring.

*Note: I realize this is probably not the first time I’ve complained about textbooks.  I apologize if this theme is too repetitive.  I do try very hard to like textbooks. They’re so big and heavy and look like they just be full of good stuff.  I am finding, though, that in the end they’re mainly becoming useful as a source of raw material.  I am only in my first year of teaching, and just completed my first chapter.  But if these books weren’t so expensive (and I wasn’t pretty sure that I would get in a lot of trouble), I would cut them up into shreds and remake the entire thing into something about half the size and about ten times as useful.

Or maybe just cut them up into shreds.

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Shock and Awe

This is my first year teaching.  Before last week, I thought of this as a technicality, as I spent several months teaching in a public school as part of my required student teaching.  I’ve also been a teacher of various sorts for most of my life.  So to say it is my first year teaching is a bit inaccurate.  Instead:  last week was the first time I taught a group of people for whom I bear some long-term responsibility.

I take the role of teacher pretty seriously.  It is one of the few things in life I think are really important.  Part of the reason for this is because I often had detrimental things happen to me as a result of teachers making rather large errors, and doing very little or nothing to correct them.  I was often steered away from subjects in which I am both capable and interested because of bad teaching.

But I’m not bitter.  Instead, I’m trying to be part of the solution.

One of the problems I had in high school math was that my teacher was pretty old fashioned.  He believed that everything ought to be done by hand, in spite of the fact that scientific calculators were pretty ubiquitous at the time.  Computers were even becoming pretty easy to come by.  But we used only those tools that mathematicians had used for centuries (paper, pencil, compass, straight edge, and very large tables of previously worked out calculations).  As someone who was pretty technologically inclined compared to my peers, this rendered math very boring and basically irrelevant.

That was 1992.

Twenty years later, I find myself in a school that operates in much the same way.  My first indication came on the very first day, in my very first class:

Being aware that most people younger than myself are likely to be even more adept with technology than I am, I figured that if I did not make a website for my students, I would look pretty behind the times.  So I got on google sites and whipped one up.  I like google sites because it’s pretty easy to use, and because I have yet to encounter a district IT department that thinks it’s good to block their stuff.  That means I can update it at school, and use it as a resource during class.  Very important.

I also consider the website to be a tool for me.  For example, on the first day of class I decided I wanted to give the students a chance to get to know me a little by showing them things I like about math.  This included a TED talk I just love: Robert Lang folds way-new origami.  To make my life easy, and for my students’ future reference, I put a link to this talk on my website.

During first period, I pulled up the website I’d made for my students, and then clicked on the link for the TED talk.  I then glanced up to make sure my students were still working on the origami I’d started them on before setting up for the video.  One of my students was literally gaping.  He had a look of complete astonishment on his face.

This scared me.  My first thought was that somehow, instead of a TED talk, porn had magically (and terribly) appeared on the screen.  I swung around quickly to check, but no – there was the TED page loading like it should.  I asked the student if he was alright, that he looked as if he’d seen something he just couldn’t really make and sense out of.  He asked me if the website I had just been on was something I’d made for them.  When I told him that I had, he responded with something that blew me away:

No one had ever done that for them before.

These are students born after the internet began.  They have lived their whole life with this tool.  And not once has a teacher ever made a website for them, where they can go and get copies of their assignments if they’ve lost them, find links to homework help or interesting information related to what’s being covered in class.  Never has a teacher made a place where their parents can see what homework has been assigned, when it’s due, and even download for themselves the instructions.

What should be really interesting is the look on my students’ faces when I tell them we’ll be doing some of our lessons using the Xbox 360 Kinect. I am considering requesting paramedic backup in case of heart attack.

I still find this difficult to comprehend.  And it leads me to wonder two things:

  • How is it that current teachers are not being supported by their district in this?  Technology has advanced to the point where it’s both extremely easy and extremely fast to create and maintain a basic website (mine is not basic, but still takes little time).
  • What is going on in teacher education programs that new teachers are not both learning these skills and being taught how important they are to both use and teach to their students?

 

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The evolution of this blog

This blog has changed somewhat from its inception.  Allow me to provide a brief history.

In the fall of 2009, I began a masters in education program at the University of Washington.  One of my first classes was in education technology, where my absolutely fantastic professor (advisor, mentor, and lately friend) Robin Angotti did something that totally shocked me: she gave me permission to use any and every single technology tool I could find a good use for in my teaching.

My previous experience of technology in relation to education was that it was either viewed with suspicion (more as a source of problems than solutions) or ignored completely.  As a sometimes-computer-geek, this was The Best Thing Ever.  This blog was one of my assignments.

Blogging wasn’t new to me, as I had already been writing for four years.  But my personal blog was mostly just rants and pensive crap and the occasional story about crazy things that happen in my life.  I decided it was better to start a new blog, some place that would be more “professional,” and not be colored by my personal leanings.

For the last two years I’ve tried really hard not to let anything too controversial seep into my writing here.  That has been really, really difficult.  Not that I am secretly some sort of crazed lunatic or anything.  But I have some very strong opinions about education that I have been developing since, oh, birth.  I tend not to side with traditionalists.  I think there’s a lot of good in what gets lumped together as “alternative education.”  I think corporatism in public education is bound to end badly.  And I think it a travesty that there are so many people who think either that math sucks, that they suck at math, and that may even hate the subject.  That tells me there are a lot of teachers out there in the world really screwing at least part of their job up.

I know that makes me sound like one of the corporate bad guys I myself dislike.  But let me be clear:  I am not saying that all teachers are bad.  I am also not saying that any teachers are all bad.  I am only saying that some teachers are bad in an important way.

Luckily, I also believe that all people can learn, so these teachers can do a better job, if they want to.

But I’ve strayed from my original intent.  I do that sometimes.  I’ll talk about that other stuff later.

After two years in a masters program, where I spent considerable time playing with education technology, I am now officially, certifiably, a Teacher.  I’ve always been a teacher, but the state makes people jump through certain hoops for that precious capital letter.  I spent most of this last school year in classrooms, either observing or student teaching.  During that time this blog evolved from an exploration of technology to an exploration of teaching practice. It will continue to be that.  But now that I have completed my program and no one’s grading me on content, I am free to broach topics that might have been a bit frowned upon previously.

In other words, this blog will get a lot more interesting.  At least for me.

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Surely you’re joking

I am borrowing Richard Feynman‘s title today.  He stands in my mind as an example of good sense.  And that’s something I want to talk a little bit about today.  A lack of good sense.

This march I completed a masters in education and received a teaching certificate with a mathematics endorsement from Washington State.  And just recently I have accepted an offer to teach at Chief Leschi SchoolsGeometry.  Quite possibly my favorite part of math.

Today I sat down and started to peruse the textbook adopted by the school.  I am very lucky in that I have the freedom to choose when to use and not use such a resource.  I am feeling that keenly today, as I have begun to look at in in detail.

The text, published by Holt and creatively titled Geometry, is imposing.  That was my first impression.  It’s a huge book, filled with lots of stuff.  Pictures, diagrams, words of advice, a complete set of instructions for teaching (in the event I learned absolutely nothing from all those ed classes I took and the months I spent student teaching, I’d still be able to at least look like I knew what I was doing).

Can you tell I am impressed?  Maybe I am being a bit harsh.  After all, this book is providing me with a great deal of entertainment.  For example, the teacher’s edition I am currently examining has little sections in the margin at the beginning of each section giving me ideas on how I can motivate students.  It’s called (again creatively) Motivate.  Section 1 of Chapter 1 begins with a discussion of points, lines, and planes.  This is something that students have probably been talking about for three or four years at least, so the fact that this textbook feels the need to define them is a bit of a problem in my view.  But that a whole separate issue from the one I am tackling today.

Today I want to talk about absurdity.

According to the authors of this textbook, to motivate students to care about points, lines, and planes, I am to

Point out different objects in the classroom that are representations of points, segments, and planes, such as the tips of pishpins on the bulletin board, rulers, and desktops.  Discuss with students what these items have in common.

Ask students to give examples of other objects that have these same characteristics and can be found in the world around them, such as the locations of cities on a map, the lines on a football field, and the bases on a baseball field.

I have to ask: have they ever talked to sophomores in high school?  These are examples I would use when talking to my four-year old nephew about points, lines, and planes.  Sixteen year-olds are considerably more sophisticated than that.  And are not particularly interested in rulers and desks.

I find it absurd that the authors of very expensive textbooks would write something like this, and consider that they had given professional teachers something useful.  Why not save all that paper and space and just lave that section out entirely?  Or better yet, get some veteran teachers to help you.  I’m not a veteran, but I’ve got a suggestion:

Points, lines, and planes are the building blocks of the geometric world.  Ask students to think about objects that interest them, such as cars, musical instruments, and electronics, and see if they can identify not only points, lines, and planes, but other geometric figures.

Then ask students to think about virtual worlds, such as those found in video games, in online resources such as Google Maps, or on their smart phone operating environments and consider how these worlds might be generated from simple things like points, lines, and planes.

That took me about a minute.  Is it the best ever?  No, of course not.  But if in one minute I can come up with a better idea than highly-paid authors of highly-priced textbooks, I have to ask: why do districts pay for this?  Are there no alternatives?  If not, why not?

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