That's what the Weather People are calling it. We were out of school because of snow Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of last week. We went in two hours late on Thursday. We were out again on Friday, and again today. Tomorrow we are expectiing another 8 to 10 inches and there is already snow in the forecast for next week.

Okay, when the Chicago crowd first got to D.C. last year they laughed because we'd call a snow day for a couple of inches. Well, last year a couple of inches were all we got. But about every eight years the El Nino sends us a snowy winter, and this one is a real doozy. We're not a bunch of sissies, but this isn't Michigan or Maine and we simply don't have the resources to deal with heavy snow. And you Yankees and Midwesterners can go ahead and snicker, but hey, even ya'll have to admit that two feet in two days is a heck of a lot of snow!

The airports canceled all flights. The trains shut down. Interstate 95 was an ice slick. Trees are down. There are thousands in the area without power. Because the streets in the D.C. are almost impassable and above ground commuter rail can't run, the President announced that Federal Government offices are closed for business today. Some school systems have already announced they will be closed all week. D.C. Chancellor Rhee caused her ruckus of the week by first announcing District schools would be open today and then back tracking and closing them. It seems that the most controversial flash point relating to weather is school closings. It won't be the first time things have gotten nasty. It seems schools are damned if they close and damned if the don't because

The snow days have a cascade of repercussions. Students who qualify for free or reduced-price breakfast and lunch in the cafeteria can't get those meals if they're not at school. Parents have to scramble for sitters. Summer plans might have to be modified. And in a high-stakes testing culture where every hour of preparation for state assessments can have deep consequences, days tacked onto the end of the school year don't pack the same payoff.

Humm......

School Lunch
Day Care
Summer Vacation
Test Preparation
State Assessments
Testing

I notice that quality instruction and student learning did not make the list.

I don't know when when we'll be back in school, but I do know a few things.

When children are going hungry because they aren't being fed at school, that's not an education issue; that's a judgment on our society. Day care and summer vacation arrangements are personal decisions not school policy decisions. If there are "deep consequences" for every missed hour of high-stakes test preparation, then the stakes are too high because the test should be a tool to measure student progress not calculate program payoff.

Snowmegeddon?

Not so much. Children are curious and resilient creatures and they will be busy learning something during the days they are out of school. It just may not be on our curriculum map. But, hey! History has proven that snow will eventually melt even if it takes an Ice Age; Science says that 36 inches of snow is really just 3.5 inches of beautifully crystallized rain, which is a Mathematical ratio of 10:1. And every Language Arts student is likely to be asked what Robert Frost was thinking when he wrote

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I wonder if those of us who are adults are keeping our promises to the next generation. As for the children, it's okay if they take time to watch the woods fill up with snow.

Posted by Susan Graham at 11:18 PM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

Mrs. Q is braver than me. She's vowed to eat school lunch every day for a year. Not only that, she's using her cell phone to surreptitiously photograph each day's lunch. She's sharing it all in her blog, Fed Up . It's not always pretty.

School lunch has always been sort of a joke, but in 2008 the National School Lunch Program, administered by the Department of Agriculture spent $9.3 billion and fed 30.5 million children each school day and that's no laughing matter. School lunch is a big deal--enough of deal that we use free and reduced lunch as the primary socioeconomic marker in our schools.

The School Lunch Program dates back to 1947. In addition to providing lunch for the kiddies, it also provided a market for surplus agricultural products that were subsidized by the federal government through the USDA. Subsidized prices for commodities such as flour, corn, peanuts, and dairy products were tied to insuring a sufficient food supply for wartime. I'm sure that there were kids eating free and reduced lunch at my elementary school, but for me and my friends, a hot school lunch was something sort of fancy -- luxury for kids who didn't lug a lunch box from home. Back in the day, lunch ladies cooked lunch from scratch. They baked cookies using real butter that came as USDA surplus. School lunch looked a lot like the dinner your mom might serve at home.

These days, in most schools, lunch is a heat-and-serve buffet of pre-prepared processed foods -- knock-offs of fast food specialties. Today the subsidized wheat becomes white flour breading on a bar of chicken parts that has first been liquefied and then extruded into "chicken fingers," fried in corn oil, served with corn syrup based dipping sauce, accompanied by extruded smiley face potato product (also fried in corn oil) and finished off with a "low fat blueberry muffin." I guess in a culture where the dinner comes from a freezer box or bag on most evenings, one could argue that it still looks a lot like the dinner mom might serve in many homes.

I am fascinated by the pictures of Mrs. Q's lunch, especially by the little dishes that are labeled FOOD FOR THOUGHT. They got me to thinking about what school lunch might be like in other places. I discovered a BBC post concerning English school lunches that solicited memories of school lunches from around the world. I also found out that Mrs. Q was not alone; people all over were capturing and posting images of their lunch trays. It would appear that concern over school lunch is universal, but there is a huge difference in how cultures address feeding their children during the school day. Reports from Franceand Japan bear little resemblance to US school lunch.

In elementary schools, students are served a meal in the "restaurant scolaire," where furniture, silverware and sound level are just as important as the food itself. High school students -- who have presumably learned how to eat well from years of educational school meals -- may serve themselves in larger cafeterias.

Lunch in Japanese schools is part of the curriculum just like math or science. The midday meal is meant to improve student health, but also to "foster correct eating habits and good human relations," according to the Ministry of Education. Schools send home a monthly menu that outlines the nutritional value of each meal, lists the ingredients and discusses the benefits of the foods served, many of which are locally grown and produced.

Look around the average U.S. school cafeteria. Children are lined up to march through a serving line, emerging with a tray of little prepackaged food items, most of which must be eaten with the hands because the little plastic "spork" will break if used for anything sturdier than instant mashed potatoes. They sit in long rows--often in assigned seats---with acoustics that make conversation almost impossible. Talking is discouraged anyway since there is around 20 minutes to get food, eat, and dump leftovers into a huge can.

We started school lunch programs to insure that all children were getting sufficient nutrition, but all of a sudden we seem to have noticed that our children are not well fed, they are simply filled up. Many people are now questioning whether school lunches contribute to the epidemic of childhood obesity. In a culture that is obsessed with appearance and athletics, we're not just talking about kids who don't look good in a swimsuit or who won't make that select soccer team. We're talking about serious lifelong health issues including diabetes, high blood pressure, asthma, and sleep disorders, all that represent, if nothing else, a lifetime of expensive medical care.

TV celebrity chef Jamie Oliver took on reforming the English school lunch program with his Feed Me Better campaign because of his conviction that

As well as the frightening rise in obesity, there's a growing number of kids, no matter what shape or size that simply aren't getting fed enough nutrients like iron, calcium and vitamins. It's having a huge effect on their brainpower, behaviour and ability to concentrate and learn at school.

He's right, and it's disingenuous for policymakers and pundits here in the US to tut-tut about obesity and couch potato kids when PE and recess are reduced or eliminated and school lunch resembles a Happy Meal want-ta-be. I'm with Mrs. Q. I'm fed up with our children not being well fed. If we paid a little more attention, we might realize that food is more than fuel. It could and should be an opportunity to connect with our own senses, our own communities, and the world in which we live. Food is biology, chemistry, physics, history, arithmetic, geometry, art, and psychology on a plate. It's the sort of real life learning we all hunger for, but seems to be missing from our schools. We owe it to our children to do better.

But don't blame the Lunch Lady. She's doing the best she can down in Lunch Lady Land.

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:15 PM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

In each action we must look beyond the action at our past, present, and future state, and at others whom it affects, and see the relations of all those things. And then we shall be very cautious.
Blaise Pascal

A rather long time ago, in 1971, I began my teaching career in a tiny farming community just outside El Paso. It was one of the poorest school systems in Texas. More than half of my students were first generation citizens who spoke English as a second language. Because I earned a beginning teachers' pay and owned my own car, I was considered well to do. Because I was a 21 year old woman living alone far from family, I was considered unconventional. Because I wanted my students to have access to the world beyond our little town, I was viewed as a idealist. But because the community was kind; and because I tried hard, cared passionately, and invested myself deeply, I was accepted and I had the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of the young people of that town. I had the best of intentions. This is the story of one of my students. Only the names have been changed.

Luci, like most of my students, was Hispanic. She was quiet, serious, and shy to the point of timidity, but she was curious about everything and had a huge appetite for learning. I thought she was special, and when I made a home visit her mother told me that I was her favorite teacher. But she was concerned because Luci planned to drop out of high school to get married. She wanted Luci, her only child, to graduate from high school and maybe get a job in an office, and she hoped I could influence Luci to finish her education. Luci stayed in school and she became my protégé and I, her mentor. By the time she started her senior year, she had set expectations higher than the secretarial job her mother had envisioned for her. Luci had a dream; not only did she want to finish high school, she wanted to go to college and become a teacher, just like me.

Luci was accepted to Texas Tech. Only a few of our students went away to college. Her parents were so proud of her, but I knew that they would have preferred that she aimed a little lower and stayed a little closer to home. Luci's mother cried and her father worried. Who would take care of their little girl? It helped that Sam, one of the two African American students in the class, was headed to Texas Tech as well. Luci and Sam had known each other all their lives, they lived on the same block, and the two families shared their excitement and concerns and the long 250-mile drive to Lubbock. Luci's parents were reassured -- she would have a connection to home.

Over winter break of her sophomore year, 1975, Luci came to see me. She loved college, her grades were good, she had made new friends, and she confided that the connection she and Sam shared had become more than friendship. They were in love and were planning to announce their intentions to marry to their parents. I questioned whether they might have mistakened loneliness for love, but she was adamant. I was concerned that they might have underestimated the pressures associated with an interracial and interfaith marriage; but she was calm and determined. Being together was their priority and she said that they'd just deal with the rest of it.

There was a great deal of dealing to be done. Both Luci and Sam's parents had been glad to see their children be friends. Marriage was quite another story. There was no Catholic priest or Baptist minister, or walk down the aisle in a wedding gown. Luci and Sam married quietly in Lubbock, far away from home. When I saw her mother around town, she turned and walked away.

It was only a couple of years later that I walked away as well. I was married too; and my husband and I were moving east to Dallas. I lost track of most of the people from that little town in Texas, so I was surprised when I got a call from Luci one summer day in 1977. She and Sam were in town for a job interview. Luci had dropped out of college to work while Sam finished his engineering degree. She had been a secretary, just like her mother had wanted. When I asked about her education, Luci told me that the plan was for her to go back and graduate before they started a family.

Sometimes we can plan our lives like clockwork, and sometimes our lives control our plans. Luci didn't go back to school because she was pregnant. Sam had a job offer from Luci's employer, and they decided to stay in Lubbock. With a first grandchild on the way, they began rebuilding their relationship with parents.They were making the long drive from Lubbock, going home for Christmas, when the wreck happened.

You have to drive in far west Texas to appreciate just how lonely it can be out there. You can drive for an hour without seeing another vehicle. When Luci and Sam had a blowout in the Davis mountains, there was no one else around. Sam was pinned in the car, and Luci was thrown from the vehicle. His back was broken, but he survived. Luci lasted for almost an hour, but no one came, and he listened as she died.

I think it was the school counselor who tracked me down to tell me. She thought I should come back to that little town to attend the funeral. She said it might be helpful to the families. But I was pregnant myself and I wasn't at all sure I would have been welcome. I didn't want to risk the probability that her parents traced the beginning of the loss to me. I doubt that they have forgiven me. I doubt I would have if it were my only child.

I've never gone back to that town where I started teaching almost 40 years ago, but you can go anywhere on the internet. The old high school has been replaced. Two of my former students are on the School Board. It surprised me that they are 50-something; I forget that I was only five years older than most of them. But they were Luci and Sam's classmates. If Luci were alive, she would be in over fifty, possibly a grandmother.

Last week I asked, "When we encourage students to have big dreams, are we ready to acknowledge we may be asking them to take big risks?" Teachers really do touch the future, and our opportunity to impact student lives is an awesome responsibility. I had good intentions when I dreamed big dreams for Luci. I was young and I meant well, but it never occurred to me that high expectations involved so much risk.

Making a difference could have unforeseen consequences. Every day, teachers touch lives; but good intentions are not enough. When we open doors for our students, we must proceed with great care and caution.

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:27 AM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

When I laid out my concerns about Houston's YES Prep program, the issue that concerned me most was not the loftiness of the vision, but rather to question to whom that vision belonged. My question is whether we fully consider the potential damage that can be caused by imposing our own dreams and ambitions on impressionable young people. I must admit that I was surprised that no one accused me of not having "high expectations for all learners."

So, since no one else asked -- I'll offer the question I expected from others of myself: "Should any student be denied access to college?"

No, college is an opportunity to enrich the mind and the pocketbook. I liked it so much that I keep going back. In my dream world, I'd spend my first year of retirement at Oxford. But we are more likely to hear the argument that it increases the odds for a better income and thus, "entrance into the middle class." The promoters of college-for-all regularly reference the 2002 report based on data drawn from the 1998 census That study projects average lifetime earnings of $2.1 million for college graduates. The earnings of a high school graduate are projected at $1.2 million. Those holding an associates degree could expect to earn $1.6 million, while the average high school graduate's projected income was $1.2 million. The study does not attempt to address other factors that might impact the attainment of lucrative employment such as personal goals, ambition, or connections to the larger community.

That an inner city minority student, the son of a hard working carpenter, could go to Cornell because he set high goals and worked hard certainly embraces the American Dream. Like Rocky Balboas of the classroom, we want to to see these students buck the odds, Stand and Deliver, and show proof that Yes, We Can.

That's all great, but it is a huge jump from "no student should be denied access" to "every student should aspire to enrollment in a four-year university upon graduation from high school."

As I read about the YES Prep seniors and their quest, I noticed that there seemed to be a pattern of applications to out-of-state and private colleges, and I wondered about that. I noticed that one student spoke of an out-of-state school as her "back up." As we know, private and out-of-state enrollment greatly inflates both the cost of tuition and the peripheral costs that come with being farther away from home. Would it be so awful to go to Rice University or even my alma mater, the University of North Texas? Of course, there is financial aid, and FAFSA applications were part of the Senior Seminar. And, yes, these are minority students from low-income families who are likely to qualify for Pell grants. But then I read

Pell Grants now cover only about a third of the average costs at a four-year public school, compared with 42% in 2001-02 and 57% in 1985-86. The same trends can be seen for four-year private schools, where the grants now cover only 14% of expenses, compared to 26% in 1985-86. The Congress last increased the maximum annual Pell grant in 2003-04, when it was increased by a mere $50 to $4,050. Meanwhile, college costs (average published tuition, fees, and room and board [TFRB] charges) at four-year public colleges are up by about 25% from five years ago.

Does this explain the push toward privates? Some of the most prestigious schools practice need-blind admission policies and have large endowments that can be tapped to bridge the financial gap. But all over the country, public high schools, charter schools, and even private prep school scholarship students are competing for acceptance to the same schools. And the "need-blind" policies may be shifting. It was discouraging to read in The Washington Post that

[W]hile about two dozen of the country's top-tier colleges and universities -- schools such as Harvard and Princeton, Williams and Amherst -- are maintaining these policies and, in a few cases, expanding their financial commitments to low- and moderate-income students, at schools just below this tier, admissions are becoming more "need aware." These schools are now making some admissions decisions with an eye to an applicant's ability to pay, and some are unofficially reserving new seats for those who can pay full freight.

I hope everyone one of the YES seniors get into the school of their choice. I hope everyone of them gets all the funding they need to go there. I hope they beat the not so great statistical odds of college completion and all graduate with honors. I hope that after graduation they fulfill the Youth Engaged in Service vision and come back to make Houston, Texas a better place where more children will be able to achieve their dreams and build a better life.

But I fear that with the best of intentions, caring and committed people sometimes impose their dreams on young people without calculating the price of making dreams come true. Sometimes our vision leaves us blind to repercussions and even potential harm that could result from our attempts to do good.

I do not say these things lightly because I speak from personal experience. I hope that next week I can summon the courage to tell you about Rosemary, my former student, for whom I had a dream.

I meant well.

Posted by Susan Graham at 2:01 PM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

Everybody loves a winner and Youth Engaged In Service Prep North Central charter school is pushing hard to win. The goal: 100% college enrollment for their first senior class of this school where most of those seniors will be the first in their families to go to college. In fact,

To earn a high school diploma, each student at YES Prep Public Schools, a growing Houston-area network of charters that predominantly serves children from low-income and minority families, must be accepted into at least one four-year college or university.

Going to college is a great thing.This YES school pulls its students from a lottery with more than 4,000 applications, so obviously parents believe in it as well.

But here's what worries me:There are 43 seniors in the Class of 2010. But there were 100 who started off together in sixth grade back in 2004. What became of the others? Did they move? Did their parents fail to meet the expectations of the parental contract that is a condition of enrollment at YES Prep? Did they drop out? Were they counseled out?

"We know that a lot of things outside school that have little to do with academics will affect academics," said North Central school director Mark DiBella. "So we try to create a support system at this school. When they go back into their neighborhoods, they can hearken back to this community of like-minded people."

How supportive is a system that allows more half of its candidates to slip through the cracks? If there is a waiting list, why didn't YES open the door to 57 students who were not luck enough to be selected as first round winners in the YES enrollment lottery? Were the others deemed insufficiently like-minded to remain or become members of this community? Or were they simply causalities to the Youth Engaged in Service mission statement, since:

So much was riding on this. The reputation of a charter school built around the mission of sending every student to college. The hopes of parents who wanted more for their children than they had attained. The expectations of younger siblings, schoolmates and friends hungry for role models. And above all, the dreams of 43 North Central seniors determined to turn stereotypes and statistics upside-down.

Forty-three seniors are trying to make it over the wall. Hear what they have to say:

"We are the leaders here. We have to set the record for everyone else to follow."

"Going up to your senior year, you don't get it yet. You just work hard because teachers tell you to do it and you have to trust it will pay off."

"Now, I've been out there, away from my parents. It makes it harder for me to think about staying in Houston for school."

"If I don't get an education, I'll be letting all the people who support me down and I'll be proving the people who don't believe in me right."

"Now I say: 'I'm going to college and you're not."

"Everyone's on the same page here. It's like physics, like Newton's law. Something stays in motion unless something negative stops it. Here, there is nothing negative to stop us."

I hear a lot about achievement and accomplishment and it is admirable, but I don't hear much about Youth Engaged in Service. Yes, Newton was right, something stays in motion unless something negative stops it. There is nothing negative to stop students from achieving at YES Prep North Central. Small classes. Longer days. Saturday school. Parent involvement. Two full time counselors to focus on college placement for the 43 seniors and 60 juniors. A senior seminar period to work on SAT prep, resumes, and applications. But can or will all of the four-year colleges where these students are accepted make the same level of commitment to the success of the 43 members of the YES Prep Class of 2010?

I admire these kids, they have done well; but I wonder about what comes next. College acceptance doesn't necessarily result in enrollment. And college matriculation does not necessarily result in college graduation. And college graduation does not necessarily result in economic or social stability. And economic and social stability does not necessarily lead to a desire to serve the greater good of the community. I am concerned about what will become of these and many other students who have spent four years focused on the prize of college acceptance -- with the assumption that it comes with a guarantee of living happily ever after.

Just a month earlier at a parent-student conference, Elizabeth had cried as she talked about moving away from Houston. Now, she said, "I'm sure everything's going to be OK. I hope so."

Oh Elizabeth, I hope so too.

Posted by Susan Graham at 7:10 PM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

It's New Year's Eve and at midnight people will go misty eyed, hold hands, and sing

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

As they lift their voices and cups of kindness up, I wonder how many revelers are thinking, "What the heck is an auld lang syne anyway?" In the 1950's, Guy Lombardo made the Robert Burns adaptation of a Scottish folksong part of our New Year's Eve tradition. While it has been Anglicized, the seminal phrase, auld lang syne, which translates literally as "old long since" or, functionally, as "times gone by" stays intact. Whether we know what we're asking or not, every year we'll all still join in singing the same old questions:

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and days of auld lang syne

Well, should they?

Over the years I've acquired quite a collection of good times and fond acquaintances that I remember warmly and won't forget. I love Christmas letters that supply a one-page synopsis of the last year in the life of an old friend. But I wonder---was Burns waxing philosophical about relationships, or was he just culling his Christmas card list? Every year we get a lovely card from the realtor who sold us our house. As I recall, she was a nice person and a competent realtor, but we worked with her for a few days over twenty years ago and I've not seen or talked to her since. While it's nice that she sends a card, at this point, I'm probably an old acquaintance she could forget.

One way to sort out who to call to mind might be to ask, "When was the last time I sat down at the table with this person to converse and share a celebratory meal, a working lunch, a Diet Coke, or a virtual cup of cocoa?" Whether the relationship is personal or professional, it's not a bad way to measure the value both parties place on the relationship. That kind of communication was what I had in mind when I chose A Place at the Table as a name for this blog. I hoped readers would sit down with and allow me share my observations and insights on education practice and policy and want to join the conversation.

I think of tables as communal places where there should always be room for one more; but I've accepted that sometimes the education sector table is much like a middle school lunch table. Some people save seats and form cliques while others are either too shy to pull up a chair or simply prefer to eat alone. As teachers, we must share our table with people who will steal our fries, people who make messes and then walk away, and people who are just itching for a food fight. I once read the comment, "Either you're at the table or you're on the menu." Like it or not, unless we are willing to risk finding ourselves and our students served up to the tastes of others, we can't walk away from the policy table. So, while assuming good intentions from all, as we all lift a cup in hopes of more nuanced policy, more child centered instruction, and a better world for future generations, I think we, like Burns , perhaps should be mindful of the acquaintances with whom we lift a cup.

Some would argue that teachers ought to drink with all comers, because after all, who isn't a Friend of Education? But my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Burnett, taught me to be cautious about synonyms. Acquaintances include our patrons and allies, and even our opponents, as well as our friends. Since Burns often struggled financially and had to rely on wealthy or titled patrons for publication I wonder who he was thinking of as he penned

And surely you'll buy your pint cup !
and surely I'll buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We tend to avoid the term patron in our culture. It offends our "We are all equal" sensibilities. But when the initiatives we believe matter is dependent on money, power, or the access that others can choose to share or withhold, that's patronage; and patrons come with opinions and agendas of their own. Patrons may reward students with prizes for grades, teachers with classroom technology, and schools with grants for implementing specific approaches to instruction. It's their prerogative, and it's not unfair that they expect beneficiaries of their largesse to align agendas with their patron's views in return.

When Patrons, as hosts, invite teachers to the table, they determine the location, time, dress, menu, and the other guests. As guests, we can either accept the invitation on the patron's terms, or politely decline and go without dinner. With gratitude toward the generosity of patrons who support education, I submit that like Mr. Burns, it would be nice to have ownership of our cup.

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

Here's to our allies and policy teammates. But let's be acknowledging that when we say "He is my ally," we are also thinking, "He is my resource who will help me achieve my goal." The corollary is that our ally looks at us and says, "They are my allies" while thinking "They are my resource which will help me achieve my goal." We have come together as partners, not because we are necessarily committed to each other's agenda, but because we can benefit from working together. Once our common goal is either attained or deserted, we may find that partnership is water under the bridge and we are oceans apart. As we vie for a piece of the policy pie, camaraderie may become competition, and we should be prepared for the possibility that former allies could become worthy opponents and recognize that this does not make them personal enemies. When we share the table with allies, it's important to be clear about whether we are expected to bring a covered dish, help pick up the bill, or serve on the clean-up committee because in education policy, a free lunch usually isn't completely free.

And there's a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o' thine !
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

Friendship is rare and precious because, while friends don't sacrifice their agendas to each other, they may modify agendas to accommodate or support each other and will go out of their way to share space at the table. Friends work along side each other; taking an interest in each other's positions, occasionally agreeing to disagree and offering a helping hand without maintaining a balance sheet. They share their opportunities, celebrate each other's successes, and console each other when possibilities and promises break down. True friends join you at your table and welcome you at theirs whether the offering is a sumptuous banquet or half of a tuna sandwich and a lukewarm Diet Coke.
So, back to Burns' burning question:

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?

Even if I fall asleep before midnight tonight (which I'm likely to do), I lift my cup to generous patrons, to all well-intended advocates and potential allies, and, especially to my thoughtful readers and my old professional friends wherever you are:

For auld lang syne, my dear(s),
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

Posted by Susan Graham at 10:42 AM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

Today is a gift! I was supposed to be at school today and again tomorrow, but from Friday evening until Sunday morning it snowed. And snowed. And snowed. And school has been cancelled. Here, from my home on a hilltop in the Virginia countryside, the world has gone quiet. One neighbor got a snow plow blade for his lawn tractor for his birthday and he's helped us all clear driveways. We've been dropping cookies by to each other's houses, and, since we have the best hill, the neighborhood children are sledding in our yard.

I'm having a good time watching the kids from the warmth our office window. Mitchell who is four is wallowing in the snow. Six year old Meredith is not so sure it's fun. Amelia is ten and she is the snow engineer who is figuring out how to slick down the run to make it faster. I remember when my own children and I could hardly contain ourselves as we bundled up to play in the snow on that same hill. Then we'd hurry inside to get warm; drinking hot chocolate around the fire. I didn't have to worry about childcare and commuting like so many. As a teacher mom, I was there at home with my kids playing, baking, working puzzles and reading. Snow days were, and still are, magical.

Because I am a teacher, I can't help but wonder what my students are doing today. They don't all have the privileged lives my children did. Are they out in the snow? I hope they are having a little wonder, because they are still, for all their pseudo-sophistication, children. And while they are fast approaching the age when wonder becomes a little harder to come by, I hope they manage to have another year or so when a White Christmas is more magic than marketing.

It may not happen for some of them because middle schoolers are easy marks for the marketing industry and they are caught between childhood and young adulthood. They are a little too old for toys and a little too young for a really nice sweater. Shopping for the eleven to fourteen set is pricey and frustrating and giving presents to an eleven to fourteen year old can be less than gratifying. They don't squeal with delight like their little brothers and sisters. They haven't yet mastered hiding disappointment or valuing "the thought" that comes with adulthood.

In part this is because middle schoolers hesitate to risk unchecked enthusiasm. At the same time they are young enough to have a hard time hiding disillusionment. This year disillusionment is likely to happen too often. We had more kids that needed a coat this year. The food bank is feeling extra demands. Every teacher knows about their marginal families that have always struggled and will be in need of assistance. But this year we are seeing families that are accustomed to living comfortably who have moved past giving up small luxuries to figuring out how to manage providing necessities. The financial austerity they face is particularly difficult during the holidays. Because they are old enough to understand that times are tough but young enough to still want magic, this may be a hard holiday for some of my kids.

I suppose that is why I was touched when I read about the First Lady's visit to the Quantico Marine base Toys for Tots distribution center. She was delivering toys collected by the White House staff in one of those official photo opportunities that First Ladies do. But I was touched when

Mrs. Obama noted that bins of toys for younger children were full, but those for older kids were not. "If you're 11, you're still waiting for Santa, and you still want to make sure that they have something in the stocking."

She would know. After all she's the mother of an eleven year old sixth grader. Middle school: It is a wonderful/awful time of transition that is both thrilling and bittersweet. As the innocence of childhood slips away, you can't blame young adolescents for longing for one more year of magic. They may hide behind their blasé masks of indifference, but they still want to be surprised. They still want to believe.

My Christmas wish for my students: May they keep their their sense of wonder. They keep it alive in me and that is a wonderful gift indeed.

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:07 PM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

The education sector has certainly not been immune from the current financial crisis. Budgets are beyond tight. Programs are being cut. Classes are overfilled. Supplies are in short supply. Teachers are encouraged to apply for grants, sign up for classroom adoption programs, ask merchants for donations, sponsor fund raising events, and "save" money when purchasing books and other teaching materials out of their own pockets by frequenting garage sales and using coupons.

About this time last year, teacher Tom Farber made national news and stirred up a lot of controversy by selling ad space on his tests in order to raise money for more paper for AP Calculus prep.

""Imagine!" said the policymakers who continue to underfund schools. "Where will this lead? The next thing you know teachers will start selling their lesson plans! They will expect to be paid for their intellectual property!" cried the economists who seem to be in charge of education policy these days.

Of course teachers, being the resourceful creatures that they are, had already figured out how to save time and share ideas and pick up a little extra cash, which, in most cases seems to be going right back into classrooms. Teachers Pay Teachers is an open on-line market where teachers can actually sell the instructional materials they design and develop.

"Shocking!" said the textbook publishers, professional development consultants and university professors. They'll flood the market with relevant, innovative and inexpensive materials." Dr. Joseph McDonald, professor of education and published author of multiple books said

"...the online selling cheapens what teachers do and undermines efforts to build sites where educators freely exchange ideas and lesson plans....."Teachers swapping ideas with one another, that's a great thing," he said. "But somebody asking 75 cents for a word puzzle reduces the power of the learning community and is ultimately destructive to the profession."

So what's a teacher to do to provide students with not just the embellishments but also the necessities of a functional classroom? Well, there's always The Fundraiser. In these hard times, doesn't everyone need some overpriced candy, frozen pizzas, candles, cookie dough, or gift wrap? Sure it's expensive, but remember out of every $5 of merchandise sold, your school will get to keep a whole $1! Elly Schull Meeks voiced her concern about professional fundraising companies turning our children into street corner hucksters. While these fundraising events are ubiquitous, most educators are ambivalent at best. According to Meeks

Interestingly, a majority of principals surveyed in 2007 by the National Association of Elementary School Principals said they'd rather not have fundraisers. Yet they valued the programs and technologies these activities were able to bring their schools, add-ons that promised to raise test scores and the schools' reputations. Other, anonymous reports suggest that principals are likely to allow fundraisers because doing otherwise means saying no to today's prevalent school booster types who wield their own agendas and have a can-do way of going over the principal's head for what they want.... Plenty of teachers detest fundraisers, too. At the same time, though, they rely on them to pick up the costs of supplies and materials their schools can't afford and that they often end up paying for out of their own pockets.

I understand Meeks' concern about those fundraising companies who come in with their fast talking assembly and prizes. I do, after all, teach consumer education, and the best I can do is practice diplomatic discretion and remind students that nothing is free, it is simply rolled into the price of merchandise--any merchandise. Marketing gimmicks may boost sales, but the money trickles, rather than flows, into the school coffers while reducing students to a free labor source rather than free market experimenters. Meeks points out that we have said

Good-bye, bake sales and car washes--hands-on, largely student-run after-school ventures to pay for a special field trip or new team uniforms.

But there's a reason for that--in public education liability and accountability are in the driver's seat. If you have a bake sale how do you insure that food has been stored and prepared safely to insure no contamination? What about safe labeling of anything containing or having come in contact with peanut products? If you have a car wash, what about safe working conditions for students? Who would be liable if an automobile were damaged? If your school has an exclusive contract with Pepsi, can you be sued for selling Coke products at the sock hop? The potential hazards and litigation make teacher and/or student run fund raisers just a little too risky.

So what's a school to do? Cutting right to the chase,

.....a Goldsboro NC middle school tried selling grades....A $20 donation to Rosewood Middle School would have gotten a student 20 test points - 10 extra points on two tests of the student's choosing. That could raise a B to an A, or a failing grade to a D....Susie Shepherd, the principal, said a parent advisory council came up with the idea, and she endorsed it. She said the council was looking for a new way to raise money.

And there you have it. Why not keep it simple? No fundraising assembly to mess up the instructional day, no contributing to childhood obesity by selling high calorie foods, no expecting the principal to kiss a pig or sit on the roof if enough stuff is sold, no liability issues, and, most of all, no middle man to rake off a huge profit.

"Horrifying!" said everyone.

Rebecca Garland, the chief academic officer for the state Department of Public Instruction, said she understands that schools are struggling in the recession....But Garland said exchanging grades for money teaches children the wrong lessons. She also said it is bad testing practice and is unfair to students whose parents can't pay...Garland said she has heard of schools offering test credit to students who bring supplies to school. But "I've never actually heard of being able to purchase grades before."

Well, actually, that's not quite true. For several years some high flying Harvard edu-conomists have promoted paying 11 year olds for grades -- positioning the doling out of cell phones and applications to high schools in return for grades as cutting edge research based education policy. Students who are compliant and meet workplace quotas are rewarded by their employer, the school, with a stipend or benefits for doing a good job. Market economic principles at work to transform student learning. But in the Goldsboro scenario the roles are reversed, and it seems that if the students are customers and the school must play the part of the merchant, those same market principles are somehow sordid.

"To my mind, it's the integrity of the educational enterprise that's at stake here," said Daniel Wueste, director of the Rutland Institute for Ethics.

Purchasing grades from children is good policy. Selling them to children is bad. I didn't realize that the ethical validity of paying for grades was dependent on who controls the market. But then I'm just a consumer science educator, not an education sector economist.

However, you have to wonder, don't you? It does seem that we started down a slippery slope. What will come next?

Making education funding a priority? Good for 10 points. Demonstrating significant progress in raising achievement and closing gaps? That's worth 30. Developing and adopting common academic standards, turning around the lowest-achieving schools and ensuring successful conditions for high-performing charter schools: Those are worth 40 each.
Those are the priorities in the Education Department's rulebook for the unprecedented $4.35 billion Race to the Top reform competition. States and the District of Columbia are invited to compete. Bids will be rated on the point system, which Education Secretary Arne Duncan has approved. A perfect bid will score 500 points and could be worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

"Innovative!" they all cried. It's a Race to the Top, a federal education raffle where states can compete for grants to fund education excellence or, at least, win some education funds.

My momma wasn't an expert on education but she always told me, "What goes around comes around, honey." I'm thinking that policymakers might ought to listen to my momma.

Posted by Susan Graham at 11:34 PM | Permalink | No Comments | TrackBacks (0)

Out in the yard the leaves are cleaned up. Upstairs and downstairs, the guest rooms have been fluffed up. In the kitchen the refrigerator is filled up. In the dining room the silver and the brass is shined up. Those antique fern prints for the living room are finally mounted, framed and hung up. I've put in some long hours and some late nights and a lot of work, but I'm almost ready for Thanksgiving. I want the day to be perfect and I'm something of an idealist.

Yesterday, while I was at school, Judy came and cleaned. I did the last minute shopping and put fresh flowers all over the house. Today, my daughter will take a day off work and the two of us will set the table and prep the turkey, and, best of all, bake the pies. Then company will come and on Thursday, my house will be filled with the smells of Thanksgiving, with an abundant table of good food promising plenty of leftovers, and people I love around the table. All the work will be worth it and I will go to bed tired but contented.

Sunday, we'll take out-of-town company to the airport. I'll put away the Thanksgiving dishes, change sheets, clean out the refrigerator, pick up the house, and get ready for school. Then the next weekend it's time to get the house decorated for Christmas, try to find perfect presents, bake a bunch of stuff, give a couple of parties, and get everyone in costume for the church Christmas pageant. I'm an idealist about Christmas as well. I'll have to settle on some presents now because they have to get in the mail. Some people forget to RSVP. I know that I'll discover that we are short two angel costumes. And I will realize that once again the Christmas letter will go out after Christmas. I have to admit I may be a little disheartened.

My personal life and my professional life have a lot in common. I am a contented idealist who, on occasion, becomes a little disheartened about the direction American education has been moving lately. I've been thinking about this a lot since reading Public Agenda's recent report, Teaching for a Living: How Teachers See the Profession Today. Based on teacher responses to their survey, 37% of teachers are Contented, 40% of teachers are Disheartened, and 23% of teachers are Idealists. There seems to be a strong implication that the Contented might be passive; the Disheartened might have given up; and that the Idealist might be, are, sort of, you know, ideal.

The report says that

It is the Idealists--23 percent of teachers overall--who voice the strongest sense of mission about teaching. Nearly 9 in 10 Idealists believe that "good teachers can lead all students to learn, even those from poor families or who have uninvolved parents." Idealists overwhelmingly say that helping underprivileged children improve their prospects motivated them to enter the profession. In addition, 54 percent strongly agree that all their students, "given the right support, can go to college," the highest percentage among any group. More than half are 32 or younger and teach in elementary schools, and 36 percent say that although they intend to stay in education, they do plan to leave classroom teaching for other jobs in the field.
Although the researchers caution that the teachers' idealism does not necessarily guarantee that they are more effective teachers than their colleagues, half of Idealists believe their students' test scores have increased significantly as a result of their teaching, a higher percentage than other teachers in the survey.

My concern is that the Idealist seems to be defined by hopes and aspirations rather than how they impact student learning. Let's begin by being more precise about "all students can learn." Of course they can. You can't stop kids from learning, but can you motivate or coerce them into learning what you, not they, have decided matters? That's a little more complicated. Idealists, with the best of intentions, have a tendency to be moralists, imposing their ideals and values on others, with an unspoken subscript that "Your values should be more like mine."

Apparently Public Agenda's ideal Idealist believes the ideal outcome of public education is that "with proper support, all students can go to college." But isn't that somewhat presumptuous? Ideally, shouldn't the parent and the learner be stakeholders as well in determining an appropriate education goal? Does the Idealist ever ask, "Do you want what I want?" or does the Idealist believe "Everyone shares my values or at least, they should." And I wonder, why do one-third of the Idealists who plan to stay in education plan to leave the classroom? Could it be that they see teaching as less than their ideal job? Is the classroom just a stepping stone to something more ideal?

Finally, the report states that "half of the Idealists believe their students' test scores have increased significantly as a result of their teaching, a higher percentage than other teachers in the survey." But If student test scores are the data driven measurement of success, then shouldn't the impact of an Idealist's practice be based on actual test score data rather than what the Idealist "believes" about his or her impact on student learning?

Being an Idealist in education is hard because of the Sisyphean nature of teaching. Teaching is never finished and there will always be room for improvement and a new group of children who present new challenges. It is no wonder to me that Public Agenda reports

The view that teaching is "so demanding, it's a wonder that more people don't burn out" is remarkably pervasive, particularly among the Disheartened,--they are twice as likely as other teachers to strongly agree with this view. Members of that group, which accounts for 40 percent of K-12 teachers in the United States, tend to have been teaching longer and are older than the Idealists, and more than half teach in low-income schools.

Yet the Disheartened teachers stick with it year after year; and almost half of them have done that in low-income schools. They stay even though they are frustrated by lack of support from administrators, discipline and behavior issues, and their concerns about excessive dependence on testing. In sports and war, don't we consider it noble to fight the good fight against almost impossible odds? They may be Disheartened, but it seems to me that they are courageous and steadfast because they believe that they can and do make a difference in the lives of their students.

In spite of the complexity of the work, it appears that a great many teachers are Contented. When I read the report, there was a nagging feeling that being contented somehow correlated with having settled for status quo -- a need to awake from their self-satisfied stupor, become discontent with their inadequate practice, and strive to be Idlealists. But my friend Nancy pointed out

Why would we want to convert disheartened teachers into firebrands, especially since idealistic teachers in the survey were overwhelmingly young and frequently admitted that they weren't interested in teaching as a long-term career? The thing about idealists is that they burn out--or they become pragmatic, understanding that changing the world happens slowly, but is worth the effort.
Maybe giving the satisfied and confident teachers a bovine label--contented--was intentional.

My young teacher colleague TLN friend, Ariel, epitomizes the Idealist teacher. Smart, articulate, and well educated, she chooses to teach in a New York City middle school; but Ariel says

I was never a total idealist about teaching and I was never fully content with my own teaching, my school, or the teaching profession as a whole. What worked for me was that I never took success with students for granted. And I never beat myself up when something didn't go as well as I expected.

Peaceful without being passive; committed but not compulsive; reflective rather than reactive. Ariel is half my age, but she has put into words what it has taken me over a quarter of a century to achieve. She has a mature and insightful teacher heart. I was a lot older and made a lot more mistakes before I learned that kind of balance. She is Contented in her practice, but I know that at times Ariel gets Disheartened. I just hope she stays in the classroom because our children need Idealists like her.

Public Agenda reduces the discussion of teachers' perspective on their professions to a three-option-multiple-choice assessment of (A) Idealist (B) Disheartened (C) Contented. But teaching is much more complex than that. In my humble opinion, How Teachers See the Profession Today is an essay question. I wonder, how many other teachers would have answered (D) All of the Above?

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:56 AM | Permalink | 3 Comments | TrackBacks (0)

It is the picture that captured my attention. In his white dress shirt and dark necktie, he stares into the camera--back straight and hands folded in front of him on the desk. He is serious, focused, and completely on task. He is five years old and he has "assumed the learning position" at his UNO charter school in Chicago. In the background I can see a classroom of children, all of whom have all assumed the position. The first word that comes to me is compliant. The second is conformity. That's not surprising, because assuming a position as part of an induction process has traditionally been associated with unquestioned deference to superiors. For UNO students, the induction prepares them to be "assimilated into American society."

I'm pretty sure that Chris Allen, director of the school, would perceive this as a good thing since he

....Spends a good part of a recent morning visiting classrooms with a check list of the elements of the culture. He notes if students aren't "100 percent" in uniform. Are they wearing tennis shoes instead of the requisite black dress shoes?

Hummm.....Do black dress shoes improve learning? Is there a research base that indicates black shoes are more effective than brown shoes? The reason I ask is because there is another picture showing Allen talking to a little boy in the hallway, and I couldn't help but notice that Allen is wearing brown shoes. The little boy is not making eye contact. He's looking down. Is he wondering about the brown shoes too?

He [Allen] also notes whether teachers are making smooth transitions between lessons and whether their libraries are well organized. Have students formed straight lines on the way to the restroom? Are they making noise in class that isn't what Mr. Allen calls "purposeful"?

Hummm....Smooth transitions. Yes, I get that. Organized libraries. Yes, even though "well- used" seems more important, I won't quibble. But I'm distracted by the bathroom line thing. Does it really matter if the line is straight? As a teacher I understand the importance of regulating of body functions. Experienced educators are experts at calculating fluid intake to align with bathroom break timetables. But even experienced teachers miscalculate sometimes and are really in a big hurry to go. Is it an expectation that Mrs. Smith's 20 kindergarteners synchronize their bladders?

The [UNO] directors are charged with having students grow academically by 1½ grade levels each school year on average, a goal that leaders of the organization say about 60 percent of students in their K-8 schools in Chicago have reached.

That's impressive. Especially since a large number of their students are English Language Learners. They also have satisfied parents and a waiting list. UNO students are being prepped for college enrollment and then for leadership roles. But, to my thinking, UNO schools, in a philosophical sense, have assumed a position that may include some false assumptions not in the best long term interests of their students.

UNO schools seem to have assumed the position that students must be thinking with a "school mind" rather than a "summer mind" for learning to take place. But I assume that to develop life long learners, the transition from "school minds" to "summer minds" should be seamless.

UNO schools seem to have assumed the position that total immersion will help Spanish speaking students become fluent in English. But I assume, since grownups can get frustrated when attempting to communicate while traveling abroad, that kindergarteners might really need a little bit of help to make the transition from Spanish to English when their parents drop them off and leave them alone in the strange new world of school.

UNO schools have assumed the position that discipline can best be achieved through conformity and compliance and that conformity and compliance will support the network's overall mission which is "to foster a culture that can turn out students who are leaders in the community and beyond." But I assume that the best leadership, more often than not, emerges from individuals who express their knowledge, skills, and thinking in unique and creative ways.

We all make assumptions, because our own values and experiences shape our goals and our behaviors. Like Dr. Evil with his Mini Me, we delight in children who mimic our own values and goals. There's nothing wrong with that, but it seems to me that as educators we have a responsibility to tread cautiously. When we look into their eyes, we must be careful not to seek out a reflection of ourselves. Rather, we need to see what Kahlil Gibran saw when he wrote

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.

Picture courtesy of Education Week

Posted by Susan Graham at 10:37 PM | Permalink | 10 Comments | TrackBacks (0)