Hear Our Voices

Underpants Gnomes

2007-03-07T23:14:00.000-05:00

In this classic episode of South Park , one of the main characters discovers that tiny gnomes are coming into his bedroom at night and stealing his underpants. When the gnomes are confronted and asked to explain their actions, they present a three-phased plan:

First, collect underpants.
Second, …
Third, profit!

The joke, of course, is that the Underpants Gnomes haven’t spelled out the crucial missing phase—how to turn stolen underpants into profits—but they continue their pilfering practices none-the-less.

So what does this have to do with PLCs? Well, I sometimes worry that, like the Underpants Gnomes, we are leaving out crucial details in our assumptions about how work in professional learning teams will lead to improved student learning. In a South Park version of a PLC, it might sound something like this:

First, collect and analyze student data.
Second, …
Third, improved results!

In my experience, much of the literature on PLCs speaks in detail about process (collecting and analyzing student data) and outputs (student learning), but provides much less information on the middle details. And what are those crucial middle details? Well, the research is pretty clear—if you want to improve the outputs, you have to make appreciable changes to the most important school-level inputs: the curricular, assessment, and instructional practices of the classroom teacher.

Now, I don’t want to suggest that the PLC model is ineffective, or that professional learning teams are just spinning their wheels when they collect and analyze student assessment results. One solid practice discussed at length in the PLC literature concerns grouping students based on data to provide either remediation or enrichment opportunities, and I believe that this is clearly an improvement over the more traditional practice of teaching, testing, and then moving on.

But if we keep on teaching the same material the same way, even if we’re re-teaching it a second time around to a targeted group of students, are we really likely to get dramatically different results?

One strategy that I have heard mentioned in numerous workshops is to, “Analyze the data from different classes, figure out which teacher did the best job on a particular concept, and then try to replicate what that teacher did in her class.” I have two issues with this. First, when student data differ across classes, how do we figure out what it was in the higher-achieving classes that led to higher scores? Was it the examples used? Was it the one-on-one time the teachers built in? Was it exemplary class management skills? Was it the fact that two teachers taught the lesson in the morning, when students were alert, and everyone else taught it right after lunch?

Second, while the data shown on overheads in the training workshops always clearly document one class of students doing better than the others (one class has an average 15 points higher than the others, with no students scoring below 80, while a third of the students in the other classes are hovering around 60), it has been my experience that student data across most classrooms are considerably more ambiguous. The differences between most classes in most schools tend to be pretty marginal, without clear patterns that jump off the Excel spreadsheet, making it difficult to draw quick and valid interpretations.

So, if simply analyzing data is not enough, then what is? In order to fill in the missing second phase in the Underpants Gnomes’ plan, we have to ask, and attempt to answer, the kinds of questions that explicitly connect the dots between teaching and learning. What does effective instruction look like? What specific instructional practices led to specific student learning outcomes? Was whole-class instruction superior to small group work, or vice versa? What were the right topics to focus on during one-on-one conferencing? Was it better to start the lesson with an open-ended question or a step-by-step analysis of a solved problem?

Data collection and data analysis are important first steps in the process of pedagogical improvement. The meat of the work, however, lies in identifying and replicating those practices that are most effective in and most tied to raising student achievement.

So how do we do this?

Building trust and a sense of community within a group is the beginning. Making collaboration—and data collection and data analysis—a regular way of doing business is critical, along with developing a collective sense of ownership of student results. But beyond that, teachers must collectively become students of the craft, identifying ways to investigate the connection between teaching and learning. Visiting each others’ classrooms on a regular basis is an excellent strategy, along with action research projects or lesson study initiatives. Teachers can video tape themselves teaching, and then meet as a group to discuss the ways in which students respond to specific instructional practices. Book study groups can explore the strategies in Marzano’s What Works. Administrators can engage their faculties in building-wide discussions of instructional effectiveness by collecting and disseminating instructional data using walkthrough tools.

My point is that the work of professional learning teams must go beyond basic data collection and analysis practices if we expect to use the PLC model as a vehicle for substantive student learning improvements. Collaboration is the way in which we should be doing business, make no mistake. But the details of that business—the specific activities of professional learning teams, the topics on which they choose to focus their time and conversations—must progress to an inquiry-oriented focus on the relationship between instructional practices and student achievement. To do otherwise is to fall prey to the same thinking as those silly gnomes, expecting underpants to magically turn into profits.

Teacher v. Teaching Quality

2007-02-24T14:20:00.001-05:00

Imagine this scenario:

A school employs a woman who is woefully inept as a teacher. Her plans are disconnected and unrelated to the curriculum. She regularly hands out "packets" that the kids work quietly on for months at a time.

After joining a team of committed colleagues, her instruction changes for the better....but only because they were planning together and she was drawing from their base of knowledge. At first, the team didn't mind because they knew that her kids were better off. But over time, having to plan for another person unable to bring anything of value to the table grew frustrating.

The school principal knows that this teacher struggles, but can't pressure her with poor evaluations because in his classroom observations, he "sees" good instruction. He knows that this instruction is a direct result of the support this teacher receives from colleagues and is happy that her students are benefitting from the collaborative relationship---but he also knows that the other teachers on the team are growing weary of supporting a colleague with little return.

Does this highlight a disconnect between "teacher quality" and "teaching quality?"

I guess there are two ways to look this scenario:

1. Poor teacher can actually deliver high quality instruction if the right kinds of supportive conditions are in place, making a positive impact on the lives of children.

2. Supportive conditions mask the inability of poor teachers, leaving those in supporting roles exhausted and frustrated.

Where is the middle ground?

Blind Leading the Blind?

2007-01-26T21:20:00.000-05:00

I've gotten into the habit of following the weekly focused conversations that Education Week hosts with experts across the professional spectrum. Tackling topics ranging from merit pay to mentoring, I find these chats to be a source of diverse viewpoints that stretch my thinking. Following the Crucial Conversations concept of "filling the pool of shared knowledge," Ed Week has done a great job making education policy approachable.

This week's conversation focused on teacher directed professional development. Guest experts from the Teacher Leaders Network took questions on the power of professional learning teams, structuring teacher directed professional development at the high school level and the role that action research can play in identifying instructional practices that work. Practitioners and policymakers alike submitted questions that were answered with a first hand understanding of what high quality, job embedded professional development looks like at the school level.

Perhaps the most intriguing question in the conversation came from Dr. Francis Gardner, an Emeritus Professor of Biology at Columbus State University, who wrote:

I have conducted over 30 teacher workshops (in content mostly; space science and biology) and taken more than 15 workshops and Chatauqua courses myself. My concern and question(s) is/are: Can the blind lead the blind; especially in critical areas that need reform?

Certainly we need the expertise only obtained by experience, but too often this trumps good, sound research. For example, education has been fraught with "trends and fads" for more than 100 years; usually created by complex interactions, especially in teacher education programs, with little input from content experts.

What checks and balances will be used in these "in-school" staff development programs? Does this approach offer just another over-simplified lip-service to "improving education"?

Gardner's post pushed my thinking...but not about teacher-directed professional development. He left me wondering how we've gotten to the point where the first-hand knowledge of practitioners is described as something other than "good, sound research."

Why is it that content specialists are seen as "experts" yet decisions based on classroom expertise qualifies as nothing more than "trends and fads?" How can outsiders judge sophisticated conversations between colleagues as "just another over-simplified lip-service," while demanding "checks and balances" for teacher driven professional development?

How can we---as accomplished teachers who understand the complexity of our work-- begin to re-establish credibility beyond our classrooms?

An Exam Meritocracy...

2007-01-21T09:16:00.000-05:00

In a recent article titled Five Myths About U.S. Kids Outclassed by the Rest of the World, Paul Farhi of the Washington Post cites a conversation between Newsweek's Fareed Zakaria and Singapore's education minister Tharman Shanmugaratnam. In it, Shanmugaratnam was asked why his country consistently ranks higher than the United States on international math and science exams, yet fails to produce top-ranked scientists, business leaders and inventors.

Shanmugaratnam answered that America, "is a talent meritocracy, ours is an exam meritocracy. There are some parts of the intellect that we are not able to test well -- like creativity, curiosity, a sense of adventure, ambition. Most of all, America has a culture of learning that challenges conventional wisdom, even if it means challenging authority. These are the areas where Singapore must learn from America."

How can we--as teacher leaders--make the case for the return of intellectual curiosity to our classrooms? How can we help to convince policymakers--or more importantly, parents--that creative thinking and innovation should be a part of every classroom, every day?

We often bristle at the increased role that standardized testing is playing in our profession because we know that meaningful instruction and assessment is far more complex than the skills often emphasized in test-driven classrooms, but what have we done to make the case for more sophisticated measures of student--and school--achievement?

Have we--as a profession--allowed America to become an exam meritocracy? Have we stood silent, watching as educational decisionmakers pushed creativity and innovation aside in order to secure a higher ranking in international exams?

What do we lose when we sit on the sidelines during these debates?

Our Bulemic Reality...

2007-01-13T07:43:00.000-05:00

In a recent comment on my NSDC blog, Mike Ford wrote, "Teachers are the stability of the system. They must lead, create, and work to sustain all professional developments if the system is to enjoy quality. Unfortunately, in too many systems, a paternalistic or maternalistic view of leadership exists. Folks look to the top to drive change, and, alas...we end up with bulemic systems that binge and purge per the whim of the leader du jour."

Talk about on point. I've been through literally dozens of binges and purges in my 14 years of teaching, never quite understanding how each new decision played a part in the development of human capacity within our organization. While individually, every opportunity was valuable, none was given the complete time and attention necessary to become an integral part of the "way we do things" in our building. Instead, we seemed to flitter from one program to the next---in the proverbial "inch deep, mile wide" approach to professional learning.

And I agree that a "paternalistic view of leadership" still serves as a barrier to true teacher engagement in decisionmaking---but I hold teachers equally accountable for that reality. In the end, teachers have a responsibility to step forward and lead. All too often, we're willing to vent frustration at our lack of involvement, but we do little to make empowerment less risky and more rewarding. Instead of developing the kinds of relationships with leaders that inspire confidence, we sit back and take the "this-too-shall-pass" approach to our interactions with school administrators.

Here's an interesting question: Where does the primary responsibility for engaging teachers in key decisionmaking rest? Do school administrators bear a greater burden in seeking out accomplished teachers who can advise and lead school change? Or do teacher leaders bear the responsibility for building positive working relationships with administrators that can lead to greater classroom influence over decisionmaking?

How do we restore balance to the administrator/teacher relationship in schools? After all, Roland Barth reminds us time and again that the key to success in schools is the relationship between the adults involved in education. Are positive working relationships a matter of luck--happening only when the right people come together in the right place, or can they be taught and implemented across schools, driving systemic change?

The Spaghetti Project...

2007-01-06T20:52:00.000-05:00

In a really interesting post comparing schools to spaghetti sauce, Parry recently argued that the amount of information being given to parents regarding student success is inadequate.

"Once a child is enrolled in a school, parents receive relatively limited information about the quality of education the child is receiving. While parents may see good grades on a report card every nine weeks, do those grades necessarily reflect the quality of education?" he writes, "How many parents with students in K-12 public schools have a clear understanding of what their children should be learning, how their children are progressing relative to those learning goals, and how their children’s rate of progress compares to that of children in other classrooms or nearby schools?"

What's more, Graham argues that providing parents with more information would actually lead to improved schools. "By providing parents with more specific information about the quality of education that their children are receiving, we would give them tools to help us improve the quality of education that we provide. External, consumer-driven pressure is a powerful force for improvement in any industry, but consumers can only make good choices if they have good information."

While I agree with Graham's central premise that parents deserve accurate, timely, easy to understand information about student performance--information that is often not currently provided--I think he's missing a few key points that must be addressed to make his plan possible.

First, teachers will need significant support in developing formative assessments that accurately measure student achievement. As an "accomplished educator," I am almost ashamed to admit that I have little confidence in my own classroom assessments because I've never been taught how to create high quality, reliable measures of student achievement. While I've got a "good sense" of what my children know and can do, it is based on more than fourteen years of experience---not on the homework assignments or quizzes that I give.

(Don't tell my principal that I said that!)

What's more, I have little access to management systems that allow me to quickly and easily collect and analyze data at the classroom level. "Looking for trends," and "making comparisons" between students means shuffling through stacks of paper or flipping pages in my gradebook. Our school--a leader in student achievement and innovation--asks teachers to keep data records in three-ring binders--and I end up drowning in data that I struggle to draw meaning from.

Finally, teachers will need significant time to develop reporting systems that work. While the trend towards increased communication between home and school is essential, it also chews away at already limited planning hours. Between replying to emails, updating websites and returning phone calls, communication has become an almost overwhelming task. To add additional expectations and responsibilities without extending non-instructional time for teachers would hurt the quality of classroom teaching.

Graham's logic is sound---Parents deserve to have accurate information about the performance of their children. But generating and communicating accurate information is a task I'm not sure I'm currently qualified or capable of completing.

Parents as Consumers

2007-01-04T23:05:00.000-05:00

I just finished reading the executive summary of an education report called Tough Choices or Tough Times. The report was written by a blue ribbon panel of education, business, and civic leaders, and it recommends some pretty drastic reforms to public education. While some of the recommended reforms are, like the PLC movement, intra-systemic reforms—that is, reforms that come from within K-12 schools—many of the recommended reforms are extra-systemic, coming primarily from local and state governments.

The report got me thinking about the kinds of extra-systemic reforms that could likely have a significant, positive impact on public schools. Several recent extra-systemic reforms have played a large role in the education landscape, including the standards movement and the accountability/testing movement. Another attempted extra-systemic reform, one with a controversial pedigree, is the charter school and voucher movement. It is this movement in particular that I have been thinking about recently.

The premise underlying the charter school and voucher movement is that of choice and competition. By treating parents as consumers and providing them with multiple school choices, the thinking goes, the pressure on local schools to improve will increase as those local schools compete to attract students.

The same premise holds true for consumer products. Say, for example, that you go to the grocery store and want to buy a can of spaghetti sauce. Because there are multiple companies that make spaghetti sauce, and those companies are all competing with one another to convince you to choose their product, there is an incentive for those companies to offer the best spaghetti sauce available at the best price. As the consumer, you win.

In my opinion, however, there is an important flaw in this line of logic: picking a school is dramatically different from buying spaghetti sauce. When you buy a jar of spaghetti sauce, you have a lot of information to aid you in your decision. You can quickly compare the prices of different jars of sauce. You can also compare the variety of spaghetti sauces—one brand may have chunky tomato with garlic, whereas another has mushrooms and parmesan cheese. You can pick up the jars and check out the ingredients. And finally, and perhaps most importantly, you can buy a singe jar, take it home, try it out, and then make future purchasing decisions based on that sample.

When choosing schools, however, parents are particularly ill-informed consumers. Whereas there are multiple, immediately accessible metrics available for comparing spaghetti sauces—price, brand name, ingredients, taste—there are very few metrics available for comparing schools: the only two that come to mind are test scores and word-of-mouth reputation. And, realistically, those metrics don’t provide much information about your child’s individual educational experience (which is what you are really interested in), but rather an aggregate of experiences.

Additionally, once a child is enrolled in a school, parents receive relatively limited information about the quality of education the child is receiving. While parents may see good grades on a report card every nine weeks, do those grades necessarily reflect the quality of education? How many parents with students in K-12 public schools have a clear understanding of what their children should be learning, how their children are progressing relative to those learning goals, and how their children’s rate of progress compares to that of children in other classrooms or nearby schools?

Here is my point: competition can be a positive thing—competition is the reason we have so many good choices of low-cost spaghetti sauce available—but competition only works as a means for improvement if consumers have good information about the products they purchase. I believe that some level of consumer pressure from parents could serve as a positive extra-systemic force for school improvement. Before this could happen, however, parents would need to become better informed consumers.

How would this work? Parents would first need a clear, concise understanding of what their children should be learning at each grade level in each subject. State standards are a good place to start, but they are typically broad and difficult for non-educators to interpret. A simple list—maybe one or two bullets per quarter per subject—written in simple language is all that would be necessary. NCTM’s new Curricular Focal Points are a step in this direction.

Next, parents would need frequent, easily accessible feedback on how their children were progressing relative to those standards. This would need to go well beyond quarterly report cards; you don’t want to have to wait nine weeks to find out that your spaghetti sauce doesn’t taste right, and you shouldn’t have to wait nine weeks to find out whether or not your child is effectively mastering specific learning objectives. This type of information should be available online and should be easy to understand and interpret.

Finally, parents would need comparative data. Has your child mastered a skill that only 25% of the other students in the class have mastered? Are the majority of students in your child’s class still struggling to master skills that students in other classes at the same grade level have already mastered? By providing comparative data, parents can become well-informed consumers and applaud a teacher’s and school’s successful performance or question below-standard performance. Additionally, parents who are dissatisfied with the quality of education in one school can look at the data from nearby schools when weighing the decision to transfer a child from one school to another.

By providing parents with more specific information about the quality of education that their children are receiving, we would give them tools to help us improve the quality of education that we provide. External, consumer-driven pressure is a powerful force for improvement in any industry, but consumers can only make good choices if they have good information. As we continue to identify ways to improve the quality of K-12 schools, expanding the role that parents play as consumers of public education, and providing better consumer-type information to parents, is clearly one option.

Did You Know...

2006-11-26T19:24:00.000-05:00

So I was doing some websurfing today and I came across this astonishing fact:

By the year 2049, a $1,000 computer will exceed the computational capabilities of the human race.

It was a part of this presentation, created by Karl Fisch, a high school technology teacher who was trying to get his teachers to think differently about what education should look like in today's classrooms.

How does this change the conversations that we're having about teaching and learning? Does our work change knowing that our world is changing drastically? Do the hours we spend in professional development seem short to anyone other than me?

What should the focus of our work become when we know that computers in the future will be so much more than they already are?

Has your school changed its focus?

Have you?

Common Challenges

2006-11-25T00:25:00.000-05:00

I recently had the opportunity to present to a group of lead teachers about the process of creating a professional learning community. These lead teachers (or IRTs—instructional resource teachers—as they are referred to in our county) are each responsible at their respective schools for making broad, building-level decisions about curriculum, assessment, and instruction, so I was excited to engage them in conversation. One of the areas of focus of the presentation was on common challenges that I have seen and read about in the PLC creation process, and these common challenges were clearly echoed by the IRTs. They were:
• Defining a compelling purpose
• Creating necessary organizational structures
• Identifying specific team tasks
• Dealing with team dynamics and teacher personalities

Let’s be honest: developing a professional learning community is hard work. It requires an initial investment of time for collaboration, it requires teachers to work with each other in new and sometimes complicated ways, and it requires tremendous patience. In order for a faculty to undertake this difficult work, they have to believe it its underlying purpose. This underlying purpose must be compelling, persuasive, and specific—it must address the foundational belief that all students can learn, it must convince teachers that a PLC can help them improve student learning, and it must relate to the individual mission and goals of a school. For administrators and teacher leaders attempting to define and “sell” this purpose, the task is not easy.

Another challenge in the PLC creation process relates to organizational structure; specifically, how can the structural characteristics of the organization support PLC development. Of these characteristics, the most important is time. School leaders must identify ways to give teacher teams significant blocks of time during the school day to collaborate—in fact, if leaders are not able to create a schedule that allows for significant, regular common planning, then embarking on the PLC process is likely a lost cause. In addition to time, however, are other important factors. How will teams be organized, e.g., by grade level, by discipline, by common interest? What resources will they need in their work? Will teams have assigned leaders, or are all members on equal footing? All of these questions must be answered, and those answers will have an effect on the success of PLC development.

Once the structural pieces are in place for teams to meet, those teams must be given a certain sense of direction. A simple “improve teaching and learning” is too vague—in order for teams to function effectively, especially at the beginning stages, they need specific tasks to focus their work and to support their developing skills in collaboration. Tasks typically fall into two categories: administrative and pedagogical. In terms of administrative tasks, will teams be required to develop agendas? Will they be required to keep meeting minutes? Will they formally report to administrators on their progress? On the pedagogical side, what should team meetings look like? Should they be planning lessons together? Should they be reviewing student work against set rubrics? Will they focus on one subject to begin with, or should they focus on multiple subjects at once? The substance of collegial conversations during team meetings is the real meat of PLC work, and without some direction those conversations can quickly devolve into unproductive wastes of teacher time.

Finally, the most difficult challenge of developing a PLC (at least in my experience) is group dynamics. What do you do when team members don’t get along, or when some teachers openly resist the PLC process? This is an especially difficult challenge for administrators. On the one hand, too much involvement in team dynamics can cripple the development of team community; that is, unless teams have the freedom and space to resolve their own internal issues, they will never learn to trust and respect each other. At the same time, vocal naysayers can poison the PLC process—faculty members will watch to see how administrators respond to rebellion, and timidity on the part of school leaders can send a message that collaboration isn’t truly required.

For those of you who are also involved in the PLC process, do these challenges ring true? Which ones have you found to be most significant, and have you identified any successful strategies to address them? Would you add other challenges to the list?

Building Digital Communication Skills

2006-11-21T21:11:00.000-05:00

It's been a fun few months around my room---You see, I've started to use the tools of the Read/Write Web with my sixth grade students on a pretty regular basis. Our greatest accomplishment: We've started a blog and podcast program covering current events that my students are completely jazzed by!

This work wasn't easy, however. I spent several hours downloading software, reading about blogging, sharing sample podcasts with my students, and scaffolding their intial efforts. The majority of this time came after school and on the weekends---and were a result of my own personal interest in technology as an instructional tool.

What made it more difficult was that I've fallen behind in my pacing guides and curriculum maps for social studies and science. Investing classroom time into introducing digital communication to my students has taken time away from content coverage. I've found myself justifying the time that we spend on our digital projects because standardized reading and math tests are used to determine our school's standing in the eyes of the general public.

That's why I was relieved when I came across an interesting collection of resources put together by eSchool News today. It's introduction read:

Educators, economists, and forecasters all agree on the growing importance of so-called "21st-century skills" in the workplace. While reading, writing, and arithmetic will always form the foundation of any solid education, digital communication and media literacy are on the verge of being elevated to the same level of importance. In addition to requiring advanced skills in reading and math, the employers of tomorrow are going to require a high degree of digital and multimedia fluency.

While I'm confident that I'm developing a "high degree of digital and multimedia fluency" in my students, I worry about the children in the majority of America's classrooms.

I wonder how comfortable most teachers are at incorporating 21st Century skills into their instruction. Do teachers have a clear picture of the kinds of skills that 21st Century employers will be looking for? Do they have experience with the kinds of digital communication that will become common-place in the lives of their students? Do they have the support and job-embedded professional development necessary to take risks with technology in their classrooms and with their students?

How can professional learning teams help to ensure that all teachers can develop lessons that introduce students to the digital literacies necessary for success in our rapidly changing world?

Insulting and Ignoring...

2006-11-15T13:32:00.000-05:00

I came across an interesting article on David Warlick's blog today that made me reflect on teaching for a moment. In it, the author--John Naughton--heckles newspaper executives who seem baffled that subscriber numbers are down. Another worry, he states is that the average age of newspaper subscribers has risen to an all-time high of 54.

The section of the article that resonated with me the most read:

But in any other industry, the discovery that your potential future customers weren't interested in buying your product would prompt an investigation into whether there was something wrong with the product. But what one hears - still - from the newspaper industry is that there's something wrong with the customers. And what one finds, on closer examination, is that the industry seems determined either to insult or to ignore them.

Does this remind you of education at all? Have we turned away from an understanding of who our "potential future customers" are, instead clinging to a vision of what we want them to be? Can we ever be truly successful as educators if we don't adapt to the changing nature of our "clientel?"

How many times have you heard another educator explain away struggling students by saying, "The kids of today just aren't what they used to be."

Unfortunately, those educators are right---the kids of today aren't what they used to be.

But our schools haven't changed.

Is there a disconnect here?

How do we "fix" it?

Staying Mute....

2006-11-14T18:33:00.000-05:00

Jay Mathews of the Washington Post had an interesting column today discussing the merits of educational blogs. Citing a widely read educator named Gardner who has had hundreds of pieces published in newsletters over the past decade, Mathews wrote:

Like me, Gardner is also not very familiar with the education blogs. "I have an
aversion to them because they too often become venues for rants rather than for
reason," he said. "It's a question of time management. I do learn valuable
things at times from blogs, but they seem to attract a disproportionate number
of self-styled experts with dubious credentials who just want to ventilate."

That got me to thinking about what role blogs can/should play in conversations about education? Are blogs sources of information and ideas that we should grow to respect and admire? Do they stimulate conversation between groups of people that normally don't connect? Do they provide opportunities for writers---regardless of expertise---to refine, revise and polish their thinking on critical issues? Or are they just a collection of "rants" and "ventilation?"

Better yet, how do we contribute to the growing base of knowledge about teaching and learning when we join in electronic conversations? Do we have a responsibility as educators to speak up and let our voices be heard?

In Mathews piece, Gardner described his impetus for his writing as his "growing awareness that public education was entering a new era, with unprecedented threats to its very existence. I decided I could no longer stay mute when so much was on the line."

Do educators take great risks by staying mute?

Collective Intelligence

2006-11-05T14:04:00.000-05:00

I was doing some research online this weekend, and I came across an interesting term: collective intelligence. The more I read about this concept, the more I became convinced that the idea of collective intelligence helps to explain one of the fundamental strengths of the professional learning team model—the whole really can be greater than the sum of the parts.

I found a number of different definitions of collective intelligence at Wikipedia. One definition was “an intelligence that emerges from the collaboration and competition of many individuals, an intelligence that seemingly has a mind of its own.” Another definition by George Por, which rang especially true for me, was “the capacity of a human community to evolve toward higher order complexity thought, problem-solving and integration through collaboration and innovation”. In fact, Wikipedia itself is sometimes used as an example of collective intelligence, given that Wikipedia is an organic outcome of the knowledge base and ongoing, collective editing process of thousands of contributors.

I have always thought of a professional learning team as a vehicle for individual improvement, as an opportunity for teachers to learn from each other through a collaborative process and to translate that learning into improvements in classroom practices and improvements in student learning. But the concept of collective intelligence adds another layer to my understanding. PLTs are also entities unto themselves (that is, something more than just a collection of individual teachers), and as a group entity they have the capacity to impact student learning beyond the individual improvements of the constituent members.

Let me give a practical example of what I mean. Let’s say that a teacher comes to her PLT frustrated that one of her students is struggling with fractions. She has tried teaching, re-teaching, working one-on-one, and nothing seems to work. As the PLT discusses this dilemma, various members bring different ideas, perspectives, and resources to the conversation. Because this is a high-functioning team, the goal of the conversation is not just to give the frustrated teacher a laundry list of new possibilities, but rather, as a team, to develop a more sophisticated understanding of the problem and how it might be addressed. Over the course of the conversation, the team discusses the concept of fractions and what it is about fractions that students find difficult. Team members share their own experiences learning about and teaching about fractions, and as each member adds to the conversation, the group identifies possible insights into the reasons underlying the struggling student’s difficulty. The team puts together a plan, which the original teacher will implement, to try several new approaches with the student.

From one perspective, we could say that the original teacher learned something from the other team members, and that she will now be able to improve her practices as a result of that learning. From this perspective, a knowledge transaction occurred: the other teachers shared their knowledge with the original teacher, and she returns to her classroom an even more effective educator. But through the lens of collective intelligence, there is also something else going on here, something of a transformative nature. From a second perspective, the team has increased its collective intelligence through purposeful, organic conversation, and the original teacher returns to the classroom not just as an individual, but as an extension of the team. The team itself has transformed, and through this transformation has increased the individual and collective effectiveness of PLT members.

This is where the concept of collective intelligence has changed my understanding of PLTs. A PLT is not just a setting in which individual teachers come together, learn from each other, and then return to their individual classrooms. A PLT is a collective entity that takes responsibility for a large group of students, and through a variety of structured processes (e.g., conversations, action research, developing common assessments, analyzing student data) is constantly evolving its collective intelligence. Individual teachers become extensions of the PLT, which is in a constant cycle of growth and improvement. By working together in collaboration, the members of a PLT are able to create something greater than themselves, a collective, organic vehicle that is truly more than simply the sum of the parts.

Standing on Principle....

2006-10-31T18:56:00.000-05:00

You may not know this, but I am a stubborn son-of-a-gun most of the time. Ask most people who know me, and they'll recount dozens of stories where I fought battles on principle. And while my ideas were often right, my delivery stunk and I was ignored. "That's just Bill spouting off again," colleagues would say.

Oftentimes, my biggest conflicts would be with administrators over school-wide decisions that I thought were poorly designed or implemented. Burbling with passion, I would argue vehemently in favor of my position. I saw communication as a battle---and I've never enjoyed losing!

That's why a recent conversation about building consensus on the Teacher Leaders Network struck so close to home. Listening to my colleagues discuss their efforts to be consensus builders reminded me of my own personal struggles to be a connector instead of a competitor in my own building.

The turning point in my professional career happened one day during second block. Preparing for an upcoming classroom conversation, my students and I spent the better part of two hours talking about the differences between competitive and collaborative dialogue. "Both styles," I explained, "have value. It's picking the right style for the right setting that defines how influential you'll be."

Almost immediately, I realized that my competitive nature cheapened who I was within our organization.

So I've spent the past few years working on building collaborative relationships with my colleagues---and those relationships have been critical to the success of our school's learning community. Because I'm often seen as an ally instead of an opponent, I'm able to shape thinking with insights from the classroom.

Don't get me wrong....My competitive streak still runs strong and I've rubbed more than a few people raw.

It's just that I've learned that collaboration isn't half bad either.

Challenging Curriculum

2006-10-19T19:31:00.000-05:00

Perhaps one of my greatest embarrassments as a professional came when I first realized that the curriculum that students were receiving in my classroom varied greatly from the curriculum being delivered across my hallway. Students were learning significantly different content depending on which teacher they were assigned to--and that blew me away.

"What reaction would parents have," I wondered, "If they knew that what was considered 'essential' for students in one sixth grade classroom didn't match what was considered 'essential' in another.

From that point forward, I've been fascinated by Marzano's idea of intended versus implemented curriculum and DuFour's idea of essential learnings and organized abandonment. Those thoughts were on my mind tonight so I figured I'd record my thinking here.

Do you struggle with the intended versus implemented curriculum in your school? Do you think 'abandonment' happens in classrooms, whether it is organized or not? What damage do significant curricular variations between classes do to schools? How can PLTs help to bring consistency back to the implemented curriculum in our buildings?

Looking forward to hearing from you--

…Of the PLT, by the PLT, for the PLT.

2006-10-16T14:30:00.000-05:00

Democracy is the government of the people, by the people, for the people.

Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

Schools aren’t perfect places and I certainly don’t ever what to sound like I have the best ideas out there. I have no desire to run a school or become an administrator, but as a college has been telling me for years, I do need to step out of the shadows and begin sharing my voice, becoming the teacher-leader that I should be.

Often during my career, I have sat through professional development that doesn’t meet my needs—or the needs of my students. I’ve participated in reading groups about how my cheese could be moved and making deposits in emotional bank accounts. I’ve learned how to use my email account—nineteen times. I’ve sat through Blackboard training that I could have taught—and provided better classroom applications for.

In short, I’m growing tired of PD that misses the mark.

One session stands out. Years ago, an administration that I worked for deemed it valuable for the entire staff to explore Stephen Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Immediately, the overwhelming majority of my colleagues claimed the training was going to be a waste of time. I went into the training thinking, “I really am not an expert in this area. Maybe I can better myself and my teaching from hearing this.”

I was the only one with this high moral compass bearing as we began our training. At the end the nine-hour, three-day marathon, I realized that I’d learned nothing that would effectively add to my teaching or aid in students’ understanding.

Should I have been at this training? Should I have started a revolt? Should I have talked to the administration afterwards? I wonder what my role is in planning professional development. We are highly accomplished educators and we should have the power to plan our personal growth to fit the needs of our learning teams.

For what it’s worth here is my plan: PLTs should sit down—with DuFour’s book in hand—and develop a personal PD plan for the year. This will give the PLT members ownership and by in. Chosen training will be meaningful and in the long run more advantageous to the school and student success because teachers are engaged in addressing true needs that they see in their instruction.

Our PLT is well down the road of collaboration and I feel that we are involved enough to truly look at professional development as an opportunity, not a duty. For example, our current administration has given us a day with little statute to it. Together, our team has developed a very workable and exciting plan for what we want to accomplish and discuss while out of school.

I would hope that this is the first small step in allowing the teams to design their own professional development plans. Think about the headaches the administration would eliminate in both their heads and the heads of the staff that feel handcuffed by one-size-fits-all professional development that does little to address the needs and desires of individual Professional Learning Teams.

When to Intervene...

2006-10-14T17:57:00.000-05:00

There is no question that the work of learning teams is not always smooth and easy. Anytime you ask groups of teachers--or any human beings, for that matter--to work together, there are going to be periods of tension or outright conflict.

A challenge for administrators, then, is determining when to intervene. Is it ever appropriate for an administrator to step in and provide correction to teams that are struggling--or should conflict in a group be handled only by members of a learning team?

These questions are examined by Parry Graham, an assistant principal who has facilitated learning teams for the past three years, and Bill Ferriter, a teacher and member of a middle school learning team, in the first installment of Counterpoint, a bimonthly podcast focused on issues related to PLC implementation.

Drowning in Bathwater

2006-10-07T15:13:00.000-05:00

I had a friend who once wrote that every good blog needed a curmudgeon--you know, a person who never agreed with anything and constantly challenged the authors' to see things from a different viewpoint. "Curmudgeons," he said, " are great because they stir up controversy and fire people up."

Well, I think we've found our curmudgeon!

In response to my recent post on the danger in traditions, Parry wrote:

So how do you decide which traditions are worth keeping, because they really do work, and which ones aren't? What criteria do you use to make those decisions, and how do you support teachers (professionally, emotionally, psychologically) as they struggle with those decisions?

Basically, how do you make sure you're not throwing the metaphorical baby out with the bath water?

Now, I'm not arguing that there are no traditions in schools that are worth keeping. In fact, traditions often define a school community much like colors and mascots define our favorite sports teams.

What I'm arguing is that we're constantly adding new expectations for our teachers---collaboration with peers, remediation for every struggling student, collecting and analyzing data, understanding different learning styles, brain-based learning---and yet we never remove any of the already overwhelming number of tasks that we expected them to complete to begin with!

We are, to use Parry's analogy, drowning them in bathwater.

In his book The World is Flat, author Thomas Friedman makes the argument that outsourcing has allowed professionals to spend more time doing the value-added tasks that define a profession because they ship "grunt work" to entry level workers overseas. Accountants, for example, rarely complete straight-forward tax returns, instead focusing on the complicated returns that require deep thinking. Customers benefit because they get the best minds working on the most complicated problems. Professionals benefit because they spend more of their time engaged in the meaningful work that defines their careers.

This has yet to happen in education.

Not only are we expecting teachers to be increasingly successful at solving knotty problems---how to ensure success for every child regardless of socio-economic circumstances or disability---but we continue to allow grunt work to dominate their work hours. For me, that grunt work includes recording absences, filling out reams of paperwork, completing professional development that may---or may not---improve my skill set, attending meeting after meeting after meeting, and supervising morning duty, lunch duty, and recess duty.

What's more, we do little to help teachers increase their levels of efficiency with core teaching tasks. Technology has yet to make significant in-roads into schools, forcing teachers to complete complex work in time-consuming ways. "Data analysis" is done with binders, notebook paper and calculators. "Identifying individual weaknesses" is done with anecdotal comments jotted down on post-its. "Researching" is done when the library is open and available. "Collaboration" is done with chart paper hung on the walls of the faculty workroom during hurried after school meetings. "Areas of focus" change yearly---and sometimes more.

If we want to hold teachers accountable for the success of every child, then we must hold ourselves accountable for providing a realistic set of expectations and the tools and the time that are provided to other professionals.

The Data Dilemma

2006-10-07T10:46:00.000-05:00

Here’s a question: As an administrator, how do you present unwelcome data to teachers? I ask this because, on several occasions, I think I did a poor job of presenting data that resulted in hurt feelings and lowered morale. Let me explain.

I am a bit of a numbers person. When presented with student and school data, I enjoy breaking out an Excel spreadsheet, analyzing the data, and looking for patterns. I have done this with classroom-based assessments, with survey results, with standardized test data. My basic goal with these exercises is to take numbers and turn them into actionable information: to figure out what realities the data can reveal that can then inform practices in ways that result in classroom and school improvements.

But I can think of at least two occasions in which, after presenting an analysis of standardized test data to teachers, the result was not, “Wow, thanks so much, this will really help me continue to improve the quality of instruction in my classroom!” but rather, “Oh no, I guess I really am not the effective teacher I thought I was.”

When presenting data, I try to do it in a non-judgmental way that focuses on practices rather than personalities. But seeing evidence of a reality that is different from the one in which we have believed—for example, thinking that your high-achieving students have really grown over the course of the year, but then seeing standardized test data that paint a different picture—is difficult. In psychological terms, this creates a cognitive dissonance, a separation between our individual perceptions and the perceptions of others or outside evidence. This dissonance can be highly productive: because we don’t typically like cognitive dissonance, it encourages growth to close the gap between our perceptions and the outside perceptions/reality.

But dissonance also creates frustration and feelings of inadequacy. Jim Collins says that, before an organization can improve, it has to “confront the brutal facts”. But brutal facts can be, well, brutal. Which brings me back to my original question: how do you use data to identify areas for improvement and encourage growth, while at the same time protecting feelings? If the outcome of unwelcome data is dispirited teachers, how is that helpful?

This is my data dilemma.

The Danger in Traditions

2006-10-05T16:44:00.000-05:00

Education is a tradition driven profession---plain and simple---and the people that are drawn into education are tradition driven. We find comfort in routine.

The sense of "the way we do things around here" can coat a school like a layer of lead.

Clashes with tradition are regular occurrences in schools that are trying to establish learning communities. At the classroom level, teachers are forced to reframe their thinking---no longer is simply teaching material enough. True learning communities ensure student success by analyzing data and then providing remediation for students who have struggled. Structures for collaboration need to be established and isolation has to be replaced with consensus.

That ain't easy!

Changes are necessary at the school level as well. Positions need to be allocated in ways that support the mission and vision of the faculty. Holding on to every established position simply because "they've always existed" limits the resources available to help children. Purchasing decisions need to be reconsidered.

Time needs to be used in creative ways. Parents and paraprofessionals need to be fully engaged as equal partners. The work of every adult outside of the classroom needs to contribute to the learning goals of the building. Priorities need to be set and bold decisions have to be made that can be uncomfortable because they are non-traditional.

All too often, the traditions win.

We hedge in our commitment to change because we take great comfort in what we have always been--or because we back away from the risks involved in a revolution. Innovation is seen as the enemy.

Make no mistake, commitment to tradition is one of the most significant barriers to school improvement---it is simply impossible to create something new in a culture clinging to the past.

Welcome to Our Voices!

2006-10-02T17:35:00.000-05:00

I was thinking today that it might be a good idea for a blog titled "Hear our Voices" to include some audio, right?!

So I took a few minutes to put together this short introduction to who we are and why we're writing! Hopefully over the course of the next few months, you'll grow comfortable with each of us as we try to introduce you to professional learning communities.

The technology side of blogging and podcasting is still kind of new to us, so expect to see constant improvement and additions as we move further into the year! If you have any suggestions or ideas, we'd love to hear those too.

A Matter of Luck...

2006-09-30T09:29:00.000-05:00

Reading Corinna's thinking about the importance of vulnerability and trust on teams has gotten me to wondering about whether PLCs can truly be created through a set of logical, practical steps, or whether successful PLCs are more a matter of luck.

I mean, trust in teams is based on shared experiences---a group of individuals who come together, develop a collective vision for their work, and then walk forward as one. Successful teams laugh together and look forward to being challenged by one another. Successful teams see every member as an equal, capable of making worthwhile contributions. Successful teams move beyond conflict because of the value that they place on the relationships that they have with one another.

Can you really do these things with people that you don't enjoy?

If the members of a team don't "hit it off," will you really make yourself open to allowing others to change your instructional practices---let alone your thinking?

And if not, what implications does this have for the formation of learning teams in schools? Should teams self-select based on shared interests? Is "assigning" teachers to teams a misguided practice? Is hiring teachers no longer a role that administrators can fill without teacher input?

Got Trust?

2006-09-27T14:53:00.000-05:00

I currently work on a professional learning team with six other sixth grade middle school teachers. Our team is made up of a variety of personalities, experience, specialties, etc. Despite our many differences, our team functions like a well-oiled machine. We are productive, successful and each member experiences professional (and even at times personal) growth from his experience in the group. When I reflect on this and other teams I’ve been on in the past, some successful and some unsuccessful, I continually ask:

“What makes or breaks a team?”

As I was having this conversation with a colleague, he recommended that I read The Five Dysfunctions of a Team by Patrick Lencioni. In the book, Lencioni explains the different points of breakdown, or “dysfunctions,” in a team. When a team overcomes the obstacles of these dysfunctions, they are able to become a successful, cohesive, productive group. Lencioni sets up a pyramid diagram that places the “Absence of Trust” as the first dysfunction of a team. Essentially, without trust you can not have a functional team. He dives further into the idea that a person’s willingness to be vulnerable is what allows this trust to be built.

For me, there was no one defining moment where I felt “trust happened” on our team. Instead it was a collection of many interactions. Informal conversations in the hall, regular meetings where we shared instructional practices that we believed in and working out a shared vision for our direction together all contributed to our team’s solid foundation.

During these times, we were able “expose” ourselves as professionals and as people. When we saw that our ideas were received by others without judgment (regardless of whether they were good, bad, or ugly), we made the decision to open up a little more. It was kind of like a leap of faith. Being open and willing to accept criticism can be intimidating—and for some people it’s down right scary.

So how do you get people to be vulnerable? Does vulnerability look different for different people? Is a team destined for doom without vulnerability? Can a team still be successful if some members are willing to be open up and others aren’t?

How much vulnerability does it take to build trust?

Catch a Falling Star

2006-09-22T16:51:00.000-05:00

I'm struggling today, really struggling. It's 8:15 PM, and I've just sat down to grade papers after already working at school for the past 13 hours. I thought that I'd have it together by now, considering I'm entering my seventh year of teaching. I was always told that novice teachers worked all hours of the day just stay afloat, and that experienced teachers had it made. So, why is this happening to me?

I think I have a couple ideas... To begin, I'm a teacher leader within my school. Not only am I a mentor to two novice teachers, I am also the language arts department chair. While these two jobs may sound easy and are usually assigned to the person that draws the shortest straw, I take them very seriously. Supporting my colleagues and offering help to struggling new teachers is something I've grown very fond of doing.

I find enjoyment in researching curriculum standards, developing objectives, testing our ideas in the classroom, and assessing the progress we're making. I wouldn't experience this kind of exhilaration in my career without the interaction I have with my teacher peers. They show me new ways of teaching concepts and experimenting with best practices. This all takes time, but I don't feel it's the most cumbersome part of my job.

Then, what is it?

Maybe it's my thorough communication with my students' families. On average I spend 90 minutes a day writing and replying to emails. I send a weekly update informing parents of homework assignments, upcoming quiz and test dates, new links they can use for extra practice or study material, and pertinent announcements to keep them "in the know." I’ve also made it a point to send home grade sheets weekly. I find that parents and students are much more motivated to do well in school when they have a goal in front of them. Knowing their current average, missing work, successes, and areas for improvement are part of reaching that goal.

Of course, there is always a handful of parents that reply to my update or writes a note on the grade sheet with a question about this assignment or a comment about that test, but for the most part I find the communication critical. I commend the parents for replying and inquiring about their children's school life. I wouldn't want it any other way. Too often, middle school parents take a back seat in the academic life of their child. Consistent communication is the only way to help parents stay informed about their child’s progress.

While these record keeping and communication skills take up mass amounts of time, they are the least demanding of my tasks.

I can only think of one other major responsibility – I teach a team of students that has learning disabilities.

While this may sound like all other classes, it’s not at my school. Because our students need to have an in class resource teacher (ICR), it only makes sense, logistically, to put them all on one team. By doing so, the ICR teacher is able to see all kids everyday and offer the most support in classrooms.

Having an ICR class also means extra meetings with parents because of IEPs, addendums, and planning time with the ICR teacher. The only way to ensure student success for these academically struggling students is by providing the extra time and support they need in school. This often means working with kids during lunch hour or having them stay after school, since no additional time can be found during their regular school day.

Also, creating the supplemental and differentiated materials needed to support these children takes time. I usually end up modifying 75% of the documents that are used with these students in order to meet IEP standards and goals. While it may sound like something that doesn’t “need” to be done, when I see the successful results of my students, I know it does.

What this group needs is so much more than the other classes. Finding the extra time to support them can be torturous sometimes, not only for them, but also for me. If only we had a school wide intervention system in place, the students and I could have so many other options for remediation.

As I was leaving school today, a colleague of mine called me a star, which is an honor coming from him. At this point in time I certainly don’t feel like a star.

In fact, I feel like I’m falling.

Flirtin' with Disaster....

2006-09-12T20:01:00.000-05:00

I've said it before and I'll say it again---I love my professional learning team! We hit it off almost from the beginning and just plain enjoy our time together. There's no underestimating the importance of the humor and the friendships that we share--our strong feelings for one another personally translate into professional success because we are willing to challenge one another and are constantly striving to move forward together.

Yet all that nearly came to an end last year.

In one sudden flashpoint, a conflict developed that could have destroyed us. A simple misunderstanding quickly became a pool of doubt that we were drowning in. The trust that we had developed was gone in an instant, and our meetings became uncomfortable and tense. In the span of two weeks, we went from a strong and confident learning team to a group wondering whether or not we were failures. We were miserable.

Hoping to understand what was going on with our group, I began to read as much as I could about team development. I picked up The Five Dysfunctions of a Team by Patrick Lencoini and Camel Makers: Building Effective Teacher Teams Together by Daniel L. Kain. What I found gave me great comfort: The conflict that our team was working through was normal--and in some ways healthy! It was evidence of our passion for our work and our commitment to the ideas that formed the basis of our educational philosophies.

Just knowing that conflict was normal helped---It opened lines of dialogue in our group and helped us to recognize that difficult times could be used as levers for moving forward. Our team is now confident that we can handle conflict instead of afraid of what it might do to us. While we walked into our work as a learning team with no real knowledge about teaming and the dynamics of human interactions, we're now pretty well-versed in what to expect when the sparks start to fly!

But that knowledge was hard-earned. The conflict we wrestled with was real and could have destroyed us had we not investigated teaming and team dynamics on our own. There is no doubt that we were hanging by a thread, ready to throw away all that we had worked for.

What I wonder is how could things have been different if we had some training on team development during our formative stages? Would we have approached conflict differently knowing that it was normal? Would we have had some practical strategies for working through disagreements or understood one another's actions better?

One of the things that I have always found interesting in conversations about PLCs is that most people simply assume that teachers have the necessary skills to work together in meaningful ways from day one. In reality, just because we are accomplished teachers doesn't mean that we are accomplished facilitators or comfortable with group interactions. In fact, because our profession has traditionally been an isolated one, it is often unusual for teachers to have the skills necessary to engage in collaborative work from day one.

I see this reality in myself all the time. I mean, I'm great in my classroom---no one would disagree with that---but I sometimes struggle when working with my peers. I tend to step on toes and hurt feelings, confident in my own ability and skeptical of the ideas of others. Finding compromises just isn't something that I work hard at.

What do you think? Is there a knowledge gap for most teachers when it comes to "having meetings?" Do you feel comfortable within your groups and teams or is there a sense of unease? What skills and training would you like to see your team receive?

More importantly, are schools that start PLCs without building an understanding of team dynamics in their faculties flirting with disaster?

Attempting the Impossible

2006-09-10T17:52:00.000-05:00

My head is spinning right now. Absolutely spinning.

Why?

Because I just finished looking over the sixth grade science curriculum that my students are supposed to learn in the next 180 days!

What’s included?

For starters, we’ll study the scientific method. My children will learn about developing effective experiments, writing hypothesis and drawing conclusions. Independent variables, dependent variables and controls are introduced as students analyze evidence to make inferences and predictions. Graphing skills are developed, findings are disseminated and defended, and scientific text is explored.

We then move onto a study of the lithosphere. When I found out that lithosphere basically means “the earth,” I grew a bit intimidated—reading through the standards didn’t make me feel much better.

My students need to learn about volcanoes, earthquakes, sedimentation, deposition, folding and faulting, and the movement of the crustal plate system. They need to learn about the layers of the earth, minerals, rock types and the common rocks found in our state. They need to learn about the properties of soil, including color, texture, structure, pH, consistency and fertility. They need to learn about the impacts that humans have had on the pedosphere and the steps that responsible citizens can take to minimize these effects.

Next up: A study of the cycling of matter. Topics covered include the water, nitrogen, oxygen and carbon cycle, photosynthesis, and the Law of the Conservation of Matter.

We also tackle the rest of the universe! We study the characteristics of the sun, planets, asteroids, comets, moons and meteors. We compare and contrast the Earth to the other planets in terms of size, composition and ability to support life. We examine the role that space exploration has played in history, including a look at the Apollo mission, the International Space Station and the Space Shuttle program. Specifically, we must “analyze the spin-off benefits” that space exploration has had on the medical, materials and transportation fields.

Finally, we’ll study the characteristics of light, heat and sound. We’ll talk about waves by examining frequency and amplitude. We’ll learn how the human eye and ear are specially designed to interpret sensory perceptions, and we’ll explore the Law of Conservation of Energy.

Can you understand why my head is spinning?

As a teacher, I feel obligated to work through this curriculum in a systematic way, regardless of how overwhelming it appears. After all, what good is a “standard course of study” if it isn’t provided for every student? With a singular focus on delivering content and a dedicated aversion to “getting off track,” I can certainly touch on every topic listed.

But aren’t detours a regular part of the learning process for most people—a natural by-product of creative thinking and innovation?

I’ve always thought that our best thinkers are rarely committed to content. They are, instead, committed to thought. They thrive while wrestling with new ideas, refining and revising their own understandings. They ask challenging questions and feel joy discovering their own answers. The mental energy of powerful ideas drives them—not a list of pre-determined topics created by someone else.

This professional tension only makes my head spin worse. You see, the kinds of instructional practices that I would use to deliver the content defined by my curriculum run contrary to the kinds of instructional practices that I would use to develop the kinds of thinking skills that define true ability. What I want students to know and be able to do—what I value most about teaching and learning—doesn’t totally align with what I’ve been asked to teach.

And I’m not sure what to do next.

Will I harm my students if I deviate from the standard course of study?

Will I harm them if I don’t?