Sunday

Exam Week and Education Pauses

In the middle of exam week now and the only two on the horizon both tie together my excitement for law and students-- one Child, Family, and State 8-hour exam and one mediation paper on IDEA voluntary mediation provisions. However, I'm most excited reminding myself that I have articles and blog entries waiting for me on my Google Reader from my weekly education clippings. Which begs the question, "Am I going in the wrong direction?"

Of course, I'll strongly defend with a "no, there is no 'wrong' direction." I hardly think that Ms. Wright Edelman or Mr. Klein knew exactly where they'd be careers later when they graduated from the nation's top law schools Yale and Harvard, respectively. But, I'm sure they find daily passion that they are right where they were always meant to be grinding it out for children and students. 

That's the direction I want to go in. So I gotta get through these last academic tests to start the journey. Ok, back to the books.

Wednesday

Blogging from The Same Thing Over and Over: How School Reformers Get Stuck in Yesterday’s Ideas

with Rick Hess, Director of Education Policy Studies, American Enterprise Institute
March 30, 2011

On Today’s agenda: attend the talk with author, education-thinker Rick Hess. I’d read article after article of his during my Fall Introduction to Education Policy class at Harvard University Graduate School of Education. I own his “Common Sense Reform” book, so I was eager to hear what he had to say.

Apparently, the session was a book talk. He was self-depreciating at the beginning but also declaring that all the good ideas, he would take credit for. He’s sociable—but I wanted to withhold my opinion. He opened with a reference to a different context—a past article he’d written on teacher certification. What he found most useful about the past discussion was that the habit of discussing teacher licensure opened doors of attack or defense of the education system. He wanted people to engage in the debates of education—not just the notions of whether something is a solution to schooling or an attack on schooling (of course, I’m paraphrasing).  He’d like to discuss using new tools to solve new problems, instead of whether certain principles are sacrosanct. Sounds good, right? Cut to the substance…

Educating Myself



New to the academic lineup are (1) Child, Family, and State, (2) Mediation, and (3) Leadership in the Public Sector. Though none overtly discusses education, education reform, or its subject matter’s application to schools, I am pretty sure that they can each be applied to solve our greatest domestic policy deficit—the achievement of our students.

So the goal is to tie the courses to our students by scraping out little pieces of doctrine.

First up: Child, Family, and State

From my outline of Bartholet’s Nobody’s Children. Text is paraphrased below. Any quotations, direct or indirect should be credited to Bartholet.

Family functions to provide care and nurture essential to a children’s well-being. Victims, even if adults, are children of victims. Need special parenting to overcome damage from their condition.  Behind closed doors, no one can see what is going on and there is no huge criminal threat. American culture makes Nobody’s Children possible. 

Major Points from Nobody’s Children

[[ redacted to address formatting concerns and will be replaced ]]

Thursday

On Autonomy, Scalability, and other nonsense words of the graduate student life


Hardly one education policy class goes by without hearing the words "autonomy" and "scalability." The two usually appear in fantasy sentences such as "teachers need more autonomy in their classrooms" or "I think we should consider the scalability of that model before we adopt it." I try not to roll my eyes when it comes out—because it always does, I really do try to be helpful in the discussion. But, there's always that one student—no "one" in particular but "one" all the same—that, trying super hard to sound very smart, interjects with one of the above choice words and then settles back into his or her seat smugly as the rest of the room considers the ridiculous proposal as though it was said by Dewey himself.

Here's what gets me:

Autonomy sounds great… but pursued to its fullness… means probably the very opposite of the point the student is trying to make. (I use "trying" lightly.) When a statement such as the one above is made, "teachers need more autonomy in their classrooms," what I hear the student trying to say is that teachers feel powerless and out of control in a sphere that was designed especially for them. That on their very throne, teachers feel/are-made-to-feel that they aren't worthy of the title they have been given to wear. Teacher as educator. Teacher as instructor. Teacher as leader. Teacher. I empathize with those feelings. I've felt/been-made-to-feel the same humiliation. But I don't think that the tag word "autonomy" is what teachers are really after. "Autonomy" is simply the new "it" word for academics discussing education or graduate students trying to sound insightful. Instead, what I think captures that desire to be appreciated are words like "respect," "contributor," "decision-maker," or "support." Of course, those words don't fit as easily into the same sentence. Any of those words requires that the sentences be restructured to actually mean something or to actually contribute a solution to the discussion. It would be vocalizing that "teachers need to be treated as co-equal decision-makers about how to structure the learning in their classrooms" or "teachers need to be respected when they offer evaluations of students' needs" or "teachers need to be consulted on school policies regarding instructional practices and viewed as policy contributors in best ways to structure curriculum" or "teachers need more instructional support to increase the efficiency of classroom procedures." Any of those will do. But "autonomy" alone is insufficient for me for some reason. What I want to instinctively ask is "autonomy over what?" but then I become the dissenting thorn.



In fact, I would argue that teachers do not want complete autonomy! Most teachers, I would argue, want to know that when they push the little intercom button, someone will be at the other end to address what the teacher needs and (gasp) provide it for them. Most teachers, I would argue, want to know that if they are having "difficulty" with an individual student, they will have a chain of command that will "assist" by diffusing the situation, providing extra monitoring or momentary relief, removing the student, or giving quick professional coaching on how to handle the "situation." Most teachers, I would argue, do not want to have to provide all the supplies in their room (though they often do) or be the only one responsible for restocking the pile when items run low. Most teachers do not want to clean up the "accident" on the floor, the "boo-boo" on the skinned knee, or the pools of water from the roof when it rains. I could go on with my lists, but I think you see my point. It is simply to say that "autonomy" means many things: self-governing, directing oneself, and freedom are among those things. But, I highly doubt that teachers truly want to be left alone in their classrooms to fend for themselves or to make their own ways. Teachers want control over their spheres—just as most professionals enjoy—without the controlling mechanisms that employees and servants are subjected to. Teachers are employees of the school system… not of their administration. The frustration is real, but so is the distinction. So, to use "autonomous" as a word a student is encouraged to throw out into a graduate level conversation without some background statement or context does a disservice to the conversation, to the student and the class, and to my eyeballs until I learn better to control them.


 

We're here for solutions people! How can we get them if we continue to say nothing….?


 

Next on the chopping block?: "Scalability" and how its paternalism and indefiniteness make me unable to take it seriously…

Thursday

Quit Hiding the Ball—We All “Teach to the Test”

One of the more common responses to performance-based measurement systems and an anthem of its critics is that performance-based decision-making in education further enshrines one of the "evils" of modern teaching practices. The argument goes something like this: by measuring teacher outcomes of student performance, "teachers are encouraged to teach to the test instead of teaching _______" [insert the content/skills knowledge of your choosing].

Here's a little secret from a former educator turned education policy graduate students: everyone teaches to the test.

The difference between "those teachers" and the acceptable ones, however, is what one of my law professors would probably call the "test/test" distinction. Meaning, critics are choosing to distinguish bad teacher practices from good teacher practices based on teachers who adopt the test that one prefers versus the other teachers who adopt a test that one does not prefer.

I offer this: teaching to the test is what each of us has been conditioned to do and having been taught to the test is what has made us each successful in our various fields.

Now, that said, let me stop hiding the ball and get into the meat of what I am trying to say.

Life has tests. In my athletic youth, I competed on the swim team and on the cheerleading squad—sometimes individually and sometimes as a group. The lessons that I learned there easily apply to the classroom setting. Envision your goal… think about what it will take to reach that goal… plot your course… and then practice your little heart out. When you perform, your performance will be based on the end goal. When you practice, you will be giving yourself the "test" of whether you will be able to make your goal. It is very natural that the more aligned your practice tests are with the end goal, the more successful your final outcome.

Instead of yelling about performance-based measurement systems, perhaps we should take issue with the tests. Perhaps our standards are too low for our students. However, I doubt that our good teachers purposefully teach students below their capabilities. For example, I was instructed to teach my students rigorous content that pushed their performance levels. Though I got conflicting messages that on the one hand urged me to keep the state performance standards in mind, and on the other hand urged me to keep the NAEP standards in mind… both instructions were getting at the same thing. There is a level of performance that we expect from our students and whatever content, skills, character lessons, or life experiences we choose for them should make them more than able to achieve those outcomes.

Perhaps what I am saying is that teaching to the test is only as bad as the expectations that are set for students and for one's own teaching. I want to teach my students to the tests in life. That means I want to instruct them just as much about how to solve arithmetic by different methods just as I want to instruct them how to use deduction and inference to narrow their responses. I don't think that one of these tests is evil while the other is acceptable. I think that both have their place and instead of attacking the practice, perhaps we adults should get into the meat of what we are really fighting about.

Wednesday

Creating More Good Schools by Strengthening School-Site Leadership and Policy Implementation [A Snippet from my Midterm paper]

In the United States decentralized education system (Kober, 2006), those who directly serve the system’s students are often too far removed from national education policy.  People in classrooms and schools are disconnected from policymakers inside federal chambers and executive departments (Chubb and Moe, 1990), and there are no functional feedback mechanisms.[1]  These disconnects aggravate education reform: school leaders implement policy ineffectively because they misunderstand the macro effects of their work, and policymakers misdiagnose because they fail to account for the “institutional realities” inside schools (Elmore, 2004, p. 203).  Focusing reform at the national level may be appropriate to develop strategy, but it is unsuited to fix American education realistically.  Progress will depend on a different set of actors.
School-site leaders and principals are on the ground actors that directly affect schools’ outcomes.  They manage overall school performance and personnel from positions that are more meaningful than policymakers and more central to command than classrooms teachers.  It has proven so difficult to create more good schools in the United States because the national agenda has underemphasized the role school leaders play in driving student achievement.  Additionally, many school-site leaders in public schools, where approximately 90% of our nation’s students attend (Mehta lecture, Sept. 8, 2010, slide 8), are ill prepared to implement the myriad of policy decisions that accompany the positions.  An accurate prescription for education will require increased national support for strong school leadership and policy implementation if reform is to reach struggling public schools that are otherwise “isolated” (Warren, 2005, p. 136) and confused by bureaucracy (Chubb and Moe, 1990). 


[1] The lack of input is observed despite the breakthrough of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 in bringing “Washington to local schools” (Cohen and Moffitt, 2009, p. 12) and the federal legislation that has followed including No Child Left Behind Act of 2001: this infrastructure “does not ensure excellent education, that depends… on how educators use it” (Cohen and Moffitt, 2009, p. 15-16).  In large part, policy does not meet the realities of practice (Elmore, 1992, p. 39).  Education is like many other fields where there is an internal misunderstanding between theories of change and practice (Argyris and Schon, 1974).

Tuesday

They Say “Sunlight is the Best Disinfectant” [Reading Response]

I am just like the optimistic, problem-solving spirits that want and believe we can fix education. I am also like the hard-look, cautious, and critical realists that demand our solutions to be complete, robust, and honest. So when I hear the message from Rothstein‘s “Class and Schools” is that there is no schooling model that we can use to indicate how to teach disadvantaged minority, low-income children well across subjects in consistent years (so stop looking), I come to a standstill. I am not moved to throw stones nor am I moved to shout Amen. One of those, “ok, so what do I do with this?” moments set in. It forces me to come back around to the paper’s shouting opener that there is a design flaw within value-added approaches to measure teachers’ ability to move students.  I am left in a place where I am (1) a bit disappointed and (2) asking “who is the intended audience for this piece?”, “What does the author seek to accomplish?”, and “Does this help or hurt the work of these education actors?”

For transparency and integrity reasons, many should read and consider Rothstein’s piece. Information is powerful—it can make people more cognizant of their messaging and consumers more demanding of their sources.  Having information about reform outcomes is like sprinkling disinfectant over veils of benign ignorance: It’s better than not knowing. However, I do fear that such “guess what” news will turn people off to ideas of innovation—or worse, give ammunition to those who would rather we stop making education excellence and equity discussions such a big deal. But after data and independent variables have been disaggregated about model schools, charter performance, and student achievement, I believe there can still be resolve (and rationality) to keep at the goal of finding solutions. Even if that resolve comes from no other reason than there is no next best alternative: if we stop trying, what else are we going to do?

“Local Control” should not be an obscenity [Reading Response]



The federal role illuminates how the very structure of education hails the national expert over the local novice (and the philosopher-king/reformer over the mass-elected schoolboard member). Similarly, the increased federal role in education, from historical social injustice and disenfranchisement, appeals to our moral notions of guarding the rights of individuals over notions that local control of education breeds tyranny of the majority at the expense of the underrepresented. The top-down, federal-over-state approach becomes synonymous to a government as expert model—or, in a slight alternative, to a national-research-applied-to-communities approach. National education research and the concentration of policy experts in the federal government may justify decisions on educational institutional design or even (gasp) national standards and assessments—but the government as expert model should not apply to everything. Orfield and Lee discussed the fallacy of“using exceptions to the rule to prove a relationship” and I easily see how successful exceptions that have achieved amazing educational outcomes become the expert sources for how to “get it right” in education.

 
I recognize the benefit that a large sample size of educational practices can extract meaningful lessons which can be applied in concentrated areas, but I push-back on our ability to prescribe too far from the ivy tower and capitol hill. What is good for the goose is not necessarily good for the gander—even when they are of the same race or background (a notion that is not new to practitioners). If anything, I agree with Cohen and Moffit’s assessment that “the success of innovative policies and program depends… on whether practitioners and others in the environment posses or can improve capability” (p. 15). Our educational research has lead us to become more precise at determining the true causes of the educational outcomes we observe, but as to the ability to generalize findings to other places, I argue that we have a ways to go to make our findings externally valid. Local control over the administration and operations of education ought remain in local hands (CEO/Superintendent), and accountability and decisionmaking for schools ought devolve rightfully to schoolboards and principals. Localities are experts on its people. And until our local communities of control get better at producing the results we desire, we should empower them with experimental options (like participatory governance of Fung) and incentive support systems rather than dishearten them with low expectations that they are unable to solve their own problems. Some will say trusting locals is what got us here in the first place, but because sunlight is the best disinfectant, I think pointing out shortcomings is the easy part—finding ways to build capacity is the solutions part that will better us all.