October 2007 Archives

October 23, 2007

Call of the wild

Despite living for two years in the natural wonder that is New Mexico, I'm still a bit more Nordstroms than nature. That alone is enough to make me fascinated by outdoor education and its potential impact it has on individuals. This weekend, the Washington Post Magazine published a piece chronicling the journey of nine teens plucked from a notorious juvenile detention center and transplanted for eight days in the red rock canyons and rapids of Arizona and Utah.

"This journey, he's been told, is supposed to expand his horizons beyond the streets of D.C., to transform his sense of possibility. Jerome has always fancied himself an opportunist, and he says if somebody is going to offer him eight days of vacation -- eight days without curfews, eight days in a group without a rigid disciplinarian, eight days where he can stare at girls and smoke cigarettes -- then, yes, he'll take it, because only a fool would run from fun when it's chasing you down. But Jerome also thinks of himself as a realist, even a skeptic, and he dismisses the underlying goal of this trip -- to enact profound change. Eight days, he reasons, can't overwrite 16 years. "A teaser," he calls the trip. A bunch of adults take you from Oak Hill, treat you well -- maybe you land in trouble, maybe you don't -- but then you're back inside the walls, and the experience recedes into a memory, and then a blip, and then nothing."

I know a lot of folks my generation get involved with formal and informal outdoor education. whether it's through the outdoor rec center or programs like Outward Bound and NOLS. One of my good friends left classroom teaching, because she preferred teaching in the experiential setting that outdoor education revolves around. In this day and age when we're often pressed for time just to teach the prioritized standards, how do teachers incorporate experiential learning into the classrooms? I refuse to believe that traditional classroom teaching can't at least model itself partly on the meaningful learning experiences that people find from outdoor ed.

October 20, 2007

Dumbledore is gay

Full disclosure: I have watched the movies, but have not read the Harry Potter books. I'm an avid reader... but there are just other books I want to read before Harry Potter! (I await vicious phone calls from HP friends, including the one who owns the HP hat, Legos set, 4 shirts and 2 afghans.)

Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling revealed Friday that Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore is gay. My Harry Potter-reading friends think it's no big deal. As an educator, I personally think it's not a big deal, but a step in the right direction: to expose children to sexuality in a realistic and tolerant way. By realistic, I mean that Dumbledore's sexuality was merely fact and not the plot in a book that was focused on the children. In our own lives, our sexualities are fact, rather than the plot. By tolerant, I mean our children are learning, in subtle ways, that we should respect everyone, regardless of their sexuality.

Yesterday's BBC article wrote: "She said she regarded her novels as a 'prolonged argument for tolerance' and urged her fans to 'question authority'.

But she added that not everyone likes her work. Christian groups have alleged the books promote witchcraft. The author said her revelation about Dumbledore would give them one more reason."

October 15, 2007

Crossing the Atlantic

This week's entry is by Jeremy Fried, a first-year Teach For America English teacher in the Rio Grande Valley. In this piece, Jeremy shares the grim reality and deeper responsibility of teaching.

“Sir, I should be teaching this class,” “Diana” yelled across the room. My class erupted in laughter.

For a second, I stood at the front of my class dumbfounded. I had no idea what to say. Worse, a little voice in that back of my head was saying, “She’s right.”

Diana is 15 and pregnant, and she had just managed to get everyone in the room to stop talking and listen. This was a task that I had been failing to accomplish for at least five minutes.

I spent four years at the University of Oklahoma, graduated summa cum laude with two degrees, and trained non-stop for months in order to become the instructional leader of my classroom. After two weeks, I held less sway over my class of sophomores than one of their peers telling them to “shut up.”

The voice in my head got a little louder.

“Maybe she’s right.”

The laughter died down and was replaced once again by Diana’s silence. The class was now quiet enough to hear the hum of the projector, which continued persistently to display the PowerPoint presentation on allusions that had kept me up until 1 a.m. the night before.

The voice in my head had no competition. “What are you doing here? Why are you teaching? You aren’t prepared for this.” I was starting not to like this voice. Deciding to teach had not been an easy decision. I’d been planning on going to graduate school or law school, but had decided that I needed to answer JFK’s eternal question first.

Now, having answered that question by saying “I can teach,” I was once again facing a room full of students who were more interested in planning their weekends than learning about TEKS Objective 11 (a). I can’t say that I was much different as a 10th grader.

Of course, this was neither the first nor the last moment when my façade of conviction that I’d made the correct decision would be shattered by an unwitting student. People tell me that teaching is like a roller coaster, with highs and lows. I cannot say that I agree. A roller coaster has a set course. There are ups and downs, but you know what is coming next and that the ride will be over soon and you can go back to your life.

For me, teaching is like crossing the Atlantic in a kayak. There are ups and downs, sure. Moments of sheer panic and pure exhilaration can come within seconds on any day of the week. However, there is no sure and safe end in sight and you never know whether the next wave will lift you up, or capsize you into the briny deep.

Diana had just sent me into another trough, this one particularly deep. There is something truly disconcerting about questioning your entire purpose for being at school in the middle of your introduction to new material. I was in desperate need of a sense of direction.

The projector, thankfully, was blissfully unaware that the man controlling it was in the middle of mental maelstrom. It was still confidently declaring to anyone with vision that an “illusion” and an “allusion” are not the same thing.

The steadfast belief of this inanimate object was vital because it was only by looking at the screen that I figured out what to say next. Diana may have helped get the silence, but now it was my job to fill it.

“Raise your hands if you know the difference between an illusion and an allusion,” I said. Only one hand went up. “Diana.”

“Sir, we don’t know,” she said. “We need you to teach us.”

Just like that, Diana lifted my vessel high enough for me to see my destination. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to remind you why you’re there.

As I hit the key to move into our new material, that little voice in my head had one more thing to say.

“She’s right.”

October 09, 2007

Life... in Backward Design

I used to think I was pretty normal. Now I'm beginning to wonder if I, too, am an eduholic.

I guess the first tip-off was earlier this summer when I started talking about backward design. I mean really talking about backward design.

Like most teacher prep programs around the country, Teach For America's teachers are taught to use backward design in their planning. I had first learned about backward design, aka UbD in reference to "Understanding by Design" by Wiggins and McTighe, back when I was a first year teacher. I used it to design my unit plans, but it wasn't until earlier this summer when I was preparing to train our first-year teachers that I really sat down and understood the truth behind backward design. It wasn't until then that I saw the light.

For those unfamiliar with the magic of backward design, it is actually not magic at all. It is the principle that Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe articulated and popularized in their book that effective planning starts with the end in mind. (For fellow BD aficionados, the following four paragraphs are on the how-to of backward design.)

How to backwards design
What does backward design look like when planning at a course, unit or lesson level? Before even starting to brainstorm those really fun lessons on longitude and latitude, teachers need to first truly understand the learning goals and enduring understandings they're striving toward. What does standard 9.2A really mean, after all? What enduring understandings should the students be really understanding by learning about longitude and latitude? What's the point of learning this?

After that, they need to determine what it will look like when students demonstrate mastery of those learning goals. Will they be able to locate places on a map using coordinates and lines of longitude and latitude? Will they be able to explain the purpose of the imaginary lines? Will they take a paper-pencil test? Will they design their own maps?

Only after two first two steps do backward designers begin planning. What will you need to teach to get your kids to be able to find locations on a map using lines of longitude and latitude? Do they need to first define the terms and identify the lines on a map? How will you teach it?

When working with our new teachers, we kept these three steps of BD on the board:

Step 1) Identify Desired Results: Where are we going? What must students know and be able to do at the end of the year/unit/lesson?
Step 2) Determine Acceptable Evidence: How will we know that we have gotten there?
What assessments will show us that students have achieved our goals?
Step 3) Plan for Instruction: How will we get there? Exactly what must I teach and when, in order to lead my students to achieve our goals?

Pitfalls of not BD'ing
At first blush, this may seem backward (ha ha.) If you're trying to plan your unit, doesn't it make sense to think about how you're gong to teach it and what activities you'll use, and make the assessment last? Well, yes. It does make sense. We've all done it. But by making the assessment last or by not starting with your standards and enduring understandings, teachers run the dire (and all-too-common) risk of misaligning lessons to the standards, designing tests at a lower level than the standards call for, or not having an assessment that gives you clear evidence of whether your students actually mastered the content.

So that takes me back to where I started. My eduholism. As I work with my teachers on improving their course goals, assessments and plans, my work life revolves around backward design. In a naturally eduholic way, my personal life has taken a turn for BD as well.

Men
Recently, I found myself telling a Friend to use backward design when finding a boyfriend: First, you need to really understand what you want and what your priorities are. Next, if your priority is "nice" and "cute", you need to imagine what "nice" and "cute" would look like when you meet someone. What are some examples of what Potential Boyfriend may do to demonstrate his "niceness" and "cuteness"? Third, start planning for it. If one way Potential Boyfriend could demonstrate "niceness" is by volunteering, then you should start spending your Saturdays around the local animal shelter.

Money
I don't buy $100 shoes, but I'm not particularly budget-savvy either. A month ago, I found myself planning backward to save for the upcoming year. I decided on my goal ($5,000). I figured out how I would "assess" it (I would have $5,000 more in my savings account)). Then I worked backwards from September 2008 to September 2007 to scratch together a long term plan for how much I would need to save monthly in order to reach my goal. (It was a good plan. And then I bought a computer. Maybe I'll write another entry on adjusting our long-term plans to deal with unforeseen changes.)

Public Policy
Back in August, I was on a plane reading The Economist when I got so giddy by an article on a California city that I yelped a little, marked the page and pulled out a Post-It to jot down a note: "Cerritos, CA uses BACKWARD DESIGN!!!"

The piece highlights Cerritos' "superb management and geographical good fortune" and described how the the small suburb built beautiful libraries, performing arts centers and parks all while maintaining fiscal success. What I read was that the city managers knew what they wanted from the start (financial stability), they knew what it would look like to get there (lure businesses and investors to set up shop in the city) and had a long term plan on how to get there, which was directly aligned to their goals (first establish pipelines and roads, then business parks, policing and schools.)

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