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This is Edgenuity, a word and a program I’d never heard of before I started at this school, and one I hope I’ll never hear of again. I never thought the curriculum was anything special. They essentially took a textbook (in the case of English, at least) and dumped it on-line. They had actors (I think) read lectures, had some practice questions, and had (mostly) multiple choice assessments.
What happened? Well, we got better at adjusting the amount of on-line work we expected from students, linking on-line learning with classroom learning, and developing our own assessments. Students did work at their own pace, so some finished classes before the end of the year, and others completed them after they returned from the summer. Some students made great progress.
Here’s what else happened – Our laptop situation became a mess. The inventory was difficult to manage, especially when we let the computers go home. This included maintaining enough chargers. And students cheated – using each other and on-line resources. And, most importantly, there is every indication, by whatever measure you want to discuss, that they didn’t really learn much. And they certainly hated the program.
Part of the issue is the program itself. Though I’m no on-line curriculum expert, I think it was an early entry into the field. The company leapt at a niche and consistently sent us non-educators to check on how the program was working. Part of the issue was and is the expense. We have to make a transition this year to another on-line program, and it’s going to be a challenge to negotiate. Part of the issue was the abrupt transition, not only in terms of having students work on-line when they entered high school, but also the expectation that went along with it – independent or personalized learning.
During the last few years, I’ve tried exploring other on-line programs, like Coursera. I’ve even signed up for a few courses. Signed up and not finished. Maybe I’m too to learn this way. I will say that, given some technical assistance, I think I could design a useful on-line course. I’d like to try. We visited one school in New York that really seemed to have things figured out. I wish I could remember the name. They were really able to personalize instruction for their students and keep track of it. Interestingly, they had had their own tracking program designed and they deliberately sought out people not in the education field.
And I haven’t even gotten to this question –
and its financial implications.
When Scout learns of the verdict in her father’s case, she, like children are wont to do, asks about how it could happen. His response is famous –
They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it – seems that only children weep.
There was a lot of violence in Cleveland over Memorial Day weekend. And as much as I try to avoid reading about it, I also look to see if there are the names of any of our students. Well, I came in to school this morning relieved. None of our students seemed to be involved.
But my relief turned to tears quickly. The father of one of our students was killed.
I’ve known the student in question for two years now. She’s a good writer and a bit volatile in temperament. She signed up for an elective I co-teach and has really flourished.
The thing I noticed is that while I’m hiding in an office trying to recover myself enough to proceed with classes, the students. . . they are not weeping. This is neither unexpected nor abnormal for them. They’ve stopped crying. This violence has become part of their vocabulary. If it’s done anything, it has cemented further their beliefs that their view of the world – one ruled by inescapable violence – is corrent.
So while I have the privilege of reading and crying about violence, our students have made it normal. I imagine they have to. Otherwise, the relentlessness of it would probably traumatize them even more than many of them are already traumatized. It is, quite literally, a question of survival.
A text. A post. A group text. Shot. Surgery. Talking to parents.
And what are we doing? Standardized testing.
We’re fiddling; our students are getting shot.
I never planned it this way. I am moving on to yet another school. Let’s review the record.
The Harvard School, Wharton Arts Magnet MS, Hume-Fogg HS, the American School in London, Baltimore City College High School, Harding High School, the Blake School, Shaker Heights HS, JFK-Eagle Academy and now, Campus International.
Ten. And I had to read the list a few times to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
This was a hard decision. I helped start this school three years ago. I really wanted to see this first group graduate. But our leadership changed and the school changed, and people began looking for exits, and I really didn’t want to be here to re-start the school, not without my allies. I haven’t told the students yet; that will be hard. They will feel betrayed, I think. They’ve had so many people leave them; it is hard to re-build relationships, but this isn’t the school I signed up for.
I am very excited about Campus International. The K-8 program has a fantastic reputation as does its leader. We will be building the high school year-by-year, a process I do relish. I will be back in the International Baccalaureate program for the third time (Baltimore City College, Harding) which I love. It is connected to and has support from Cleveland State. And there is, I’m told, great support from the parents as well. My new Principal is inspiring. I liked his questions and comments. And he likes poetry.
I think the 10th time will be the charm.
I love field trips. Ask anyone who has ever worked with me. If I could, I’d have students out of the classroom almost every day. And I even have a stupidly persistent knack for being able to navigate the intense bureaucracy required to make them work. And I prepare for them – not only using the materials the site offers me, but materials that I find and / or design myself. In sum, I feel like I’m doing my part.
So here’s my challenge to places that are open to field trips, particularly museums. Do away with the docents. I know they are volunteers (and therefore cheap) and that many of them know a lot (though many have just memorized a lot). Many of them (in my experience) are older, which it makes it challenging for them to connect with high school students. And, in my experience, the large majority of them are white, which makes it challenging for them to connect with my students.
Obviously, it’s easier (though not easy) to have students interact at the likes of a hands-on science museum. (Some of you know the reason for my bias; nevertheless, it’s true.) Students do stuff there.
My worst experience ever was at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago (when it was at its original location). I saw an article about the work of Lorna Simpson. The focus was on her work on hair and how it related to identity. I saw the exhibit myself and took notes. I prepared an assignment for my students. I also prepared them for behavioral expectations. And, for the only time in my 24 years, a field trip destination provided a free bus! (Field trip sites take note: Free and discounted tickets are great, but not if we can’t get there. Include transportation when you write grants for funding.)
And then we got there. And we got a docent. And she had a plan. And no interest in mine. She was going to talk. The students were going to listen (and not have time to complete their assignment). And while the students found some of the other modern art pieces interesting, they did not have time to immerse themselves in the Simpson exhibit. Nor did they have the opportunity to form their own interpretations of any of the art; the docent simply told them what it “meant.” She read from her notecards.
Recently, I attended a field trip with my daughter because I’d seen the exhibit she was going to see (twice) and had sent students to see it with another teacher (and I helped her prepare). It was this, a great photography exhibit featuring images and objects from the Civil Rights Movement. We got our docent. And he began to talk, to tell the students about the Movement. Now perhaps they needed it and perhaps they didn’t, but they were there to look at the pictures – to learn how to ‘read’ pictures and, in particular, these pictures. I’m a big fan of Visual Thinking Strategies. You can practice in the classroom, and the process invariably elicits great observations, inferences, and insights. Let students do. Practice enough, and they will internalize the process. Have them write / draw and (gasp!) even talk right there in the gallery. Let them choose which images attract their attention. Let them make meaning – in small groups and / or individually – with the docent or teacher as the proverbial guide on the side.
So, teachers, do your part. Take these opportunities not as an opportunity to have someone else teach for a few hours, but as a spectacular chance to have everyone do some real learning. And museums, do away with the docent approach.
At times, this book seemed more like an overview of a topic than an argument for any kind of revolution. And Robinson is perhaps a bit too fond of something I’ve noticed in many polished speakers – he reduces things to certain numbers and often uses alliteration (the 5 C’s, for example). Still, there’s much to be learned here, and I was always grateful when Robinson offered the names of other texts to pursue and / or schools / programs to investigate, so I could go into more depth if I wanted to.
It’s hard to imagine at this point who genuinely disagrees with what’s here. I think the two more important questions are how to generate the kind of political will necessary to “scale up” from some of the exemplars Robinson provides and how to manage the transition in the least disruptive way possible.
Details are still coming in, but if text messages from colleagues are to be believed, and they usually are, at least 2 and perhaps 3 of our former students have been shot and killed this weekend. We may know some things about the where and be able to guess a bit about the why, but none of that matters and all of it does.
I’m not sure why I keep writing about this. I know that I want to make sure those who read it recognize that the stories they read are about people, about individuals, like the young man with the goofy smile, or the freshman who was taller than me. They were people who have families, friends, and stories. And we, all of us, we failed them.
Because they are both individuals and they are part of a pattern. They are young black men whose bodies have been destroyed by violence. And for the next week or so, the funeral industry will go into action. There will be t-shirts and balloons, vigils and funerals. There will be editorials and opportunism. And we’ve let this all become normal somehow, in part because they are black and in part because we don’t know what the fuck to do. And even if we did have some grand idea, I sincerely doubt that the political will exists to do it. We’ve made a decision as a society that some lives matter more than others, and it sickens me.
And we’d like to see a change in behavior among their peers. We’d like to think that this will shock some into life changes, and it may. More likely, though, it will cement further the belief that so many of my students that this is their life and that there is little they can do to escape it so why bother trying?
And there are plenty of places people want to put the blame – parents, the decline of communities, social media, the police, the president, whatever. And then there are those who want to study the situation, do research, write articles, give presentations, etc.. Our work has to run along parallel tracks. Yes, we need to teach conflict resolution skills, and stop evictions, and make it so the school board is elected, not appointed and so on. All of that takes time.
The notion of creativity also strikes me at times like this. We see these huge issues, like hosting a convention or a parade, and we pull together the time, energy and funds to accomplish incredible things. People cooperate and solve challenges in amazing ways. But when black bodies are invaded by bullets, suddenly we’re at a complete loss.
I’d remove the “perhaps.”
“Perhaps…the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.”
– Martin Luther King, Jr.