Ben Daley, High Tech High

I just finished reading Education unbound: the promise and practice of greenfield schooling, by Rick Hess.  I think Rick is really smart; I always try to go to conference sessions where he is presenting.  When I listen to Rick, I invariably learn a different way of thinking about an issue.  Three quotes from this book really stood out.

On the relationship between for profit companies and educators:

“[T]he federal government spends 100 times as much on medical research as it does on educational research…  [A]lthough pharmaceutical and medical device firms ‘like to present themselves as engines of innovation and discovery, it turns out that the health sciences R&D climate in the United States — and most of the breakthroughs — depend largely on government funding of innovation through the National Institutes of Health and at universities.’ …  When it comes to taking research and turning it into something useful, though, it is commercial providers — not researchers or government officials — who typically have the requisite incentive, capacity, and tools…  Unfortunately, although these for-profit firms are best equipped to develop research into something useful, researchers and practitioners [in education] are often uncomfortable working with them and thus keep them at arm’s length.  Meanwhile, these working relationships are commonplace in R&D-intensive sectors like aerospace and biotech (p. 38-39).”

I found this passage significant because I certainly have a tendency to keep for-profit firms at arm’s length.  Rick’s point that there are some things that for-profits do better than other groups was new for me in an education context.  Textbook publishers seem to be a counter example to this point, but software products like aleks.com and Fast ForWord are examples of software packages that I find interesting that as I understand were first developed by researchers and then later turned into commercial products.  I vow to be more open minded about for-profit companies [Note to sales people -- this is not a request for you to contact me with "a way you can really help me out"].

On enterpreneurial leadership and educators:

“[Y]oung teachers generally work alone in their classrooms, have few school-related responsibilities outside their own classrooms, and develop professional networks restricted to fellow teachers.  As a result, a teacher’s circle of contacts is often limited to his or her peers and provides little opportunity for the kind of professional development more likely to nurture entrepreneurial leaders (p. 42).”

This made me think of an experience I had speaking to first year Teach for America teachers.  I was surprised and a bit disappointed that TFA wanted their new teachers to listen to a bunch of people who were far removed from the classroom (I was the sole educational practitioner and hadn’t been a full time teacher in years).  I saw it as a weakness that they didn’t value their new teachers learning about how to get better at teaching.  I still find that to be a concern, but I see that TFA wanted its new teachers to be exposed to philanthropists, business people, lawyers, and other non-teachers.  I can see that since TFA has the goal of getting young people enthusiastic about working in and for education, whether as a teacher, a lobbyist, a politician, or an entrepreneur, building a professional network from a variety of disciplines is an important goal.  It makes me wonder about the role of developing professional networks within the HTH Graduate School of Education.  I could imagine, for example, a two day Educational Entrepreneurs conference for graduate students in education, law, business, and other fields who all have an interest in improving educational opportunities for students, whether from inside or outside the classroom.

On a variety of kinds of data for measuring schools:

“Consider the ‘independent reviewer’ model, in which third party providers establish a business based on evaluating providers — as with Fiske’s college guides, RottenTomatoes.com’s movie reviews, or Consumer Report’s comparison of laptops.  Some such models rely on expert reviews, others on the experiences and opinions of consumers, and others incorporate data, lab tests, or formal comparisons.  These models have great promise in education to provide useful metrics and equip leaders to make a variety of distinctions on cost and quality (p. 71).”

I am frustrated that talk within the “education reformer” camp  is limited to two positions:  either you support reducing all of education to a score on a multiple choice test or you don’t care about the kids and are opposed to reform.  I am pro data, pro evidence based decision making, pro accountability, and pro outcome based measures.  I am opposed to thinking that multiple choice tests are all that matter.  I have struggled with articulating policy ideas that capture all of these sentiments.  Saying you are opposed to multiple choice testing as the sole measure of results is not enough.  I believe deeply in looking at student work, through presentations, exhibitions and other means.  Larry, Rob, and I have discussed the “silver bullet” metric:  look at the students (in a school, a district, a state) who qualify for free and reduced lunch in the 9th grade and then what percentage of them graduate from college?  That’s the subject of another post.  What I like about Rick’s point is that it expanded for me the range of possible kinds of data.  I could imagine a website that reviews various math software packages, complete with teacher, student, and parent comments.  I could imagine a Fiske’s college guide report on high schools.  Rick’s idea here helps me see that in other sectors, people grapple with more sophisticated data than merely a score on a multiple choice test, so it should be possible to do this in education too.

Thank you, Rick.

So now it seems we are moving towards national standards.  As far as I can tell, the argument for national standards is that standards are set at different levels in different states and that agreeing on one common set of standards would improve our schools.  From the NY Times this week:

“In recent years, many states moved in the opposite direction, lowering standards to make it easier for students to pass tests and for schools to avoid penalties under the 2002 federal No Child Left Behind law.

After educators, business executives and others criticized the corrosive impact of a race to the bottom, the National Governors Association and the Council of Chief State School Officers set the common-standards initiative in motion last year.”

We currently have 50 states with 50 sets of standards complete with accountability systems.   A few questions:

Can somebody point to a state where the standards and accompanying standardized testing regime has led to improved schools?

If such a state exists, why don’t we merely adopt that system at a national level?  Shouldn’t we scale up what works?

If, as I strongly suspect, such a state does not exist, why will that which has not worked at the state level magically start working at a national level?

I am not trying to be sarcastic.  I do not, a priori, think national standards would be any worse than state standards.   If anyone could answer any of these questions, I would really like to understand the argument.  Please comment below.

Earlier in the year, Rob Riordan spoke with educators at Shaar Hanegev High School in Israel.  In the opening minutes of this 10 minute clip, he talked about how the day after an exhibition, you don’t want to come outside and see a dumpster full of projects.  You want kids to produce projects that have lasting value.

A simple, yet, clear description of meaningful project work.

When Richard Farson came to speak at High Tech High about eight years ago, he talked about the sandwich technique, which he also mentions in Management of the Absurd (p 66):

“Praising people does not motivate them. . .  Praise can come to be associated mainly with criticism.  The happens when we use praise to sugarcoat blame, or employ the ‘sandwich technique,’ whereby praise is followed by reproof, then repeated.  ’I'm very pleased with your work, Fred, ‘ says the boss.  ’You’re really getting the work out, but . . . ‘  Fred then hears the unhappy part of the story, the reprimand.  The boss finished up with ‘Keep up the fine work.’”

When Farson talked about this, all eyes turned to me, because I had encouraged teachers to use the sandwich technique in their comment writing.  I’m not sure what I think about this.

When I was a new teacher and advisor at a school outside Washington, D.C., someone had the wisdom to pair me as an advisor with this amazing Dean of Academics.  She used the following “technique” in parent meetings.  The student, family, teachers, and advisor would gather in a room.  She would say, “First, let’s go around the room and say something that Suzie is doing well.”  I have been in so many meetings where that technique is used or not.  When not used, almost invariably, most people in the room immediately launch into the laundry list of things that Suzie is not doing.  When the technique is used, almost invariably, Suzie and her parents beam with pride at all the nice things that are being said about Suzie.  And importantly, they always seem to be in a better place to hear the unhappy part of the story, because they see that these adults know Suzie, recognize her strengths, and care about her.

I have always wondered about this “technique,” because it is so transparent, just what Farson is talking about.  By saying, “Let’s say something nice about Suzie,” it always seemed to me like people would think, “Well, they’re just saying that because they were prompted to.”  But I have never seen it not improve the quality of the meeting.

Similarly, I have seen teachers write comments about Johnny that merely focus on the negative.  And I have always felt that it is important to also celebrate Johnny’s successes.  It reminds me of a workshop for new school leaders that I went to where Michael Thompson told us all to think about what we are good at and then figure out how to spend more time doing more of that.  As opposed to feeling guilty about the things that we’re not good at.  He actually made us turn to our neighbor and say out loud, “I’m not working on that right now.”

So I think that Farson raises a good point about using praise as a motivator, yet my experience tells me that there is a benefit to pointing out what is going well.  Are these two ideas in conflict?

From Richard Farson’s Management of the absurd: paradoxes in leadership.

“Each new human relations technique always promises to make the leader more effective.  Managers who are taught to listen nonjudgmentally or to reward  certain behaviors in others may initially feel that they have found the answer…Over time, they usually discover that their newfound techniques are actually working to prevent closer human relationships — just the opposite of their intended effect.  The most obvious reason is that any technique loses its power when it becomes evident that it is a technique.  ’Don’t treat me as if you were my therapist.’  ’I see what you are doing (p. 35).’”

I was struck by this passage because it points to a paradox in a graduate program in school leadership.  Are there such things as leadership skills?  Can they be learned?  Can they be taught?  Should we be learning ways of thinking or being rather than techniques?

I feel like I am getting better at not jumping when I hear about something that has happened, recognizing that there are always at least seven versions of the event.  I think I am improving at having more direct conversations with people while still being soft (but working on the latter).  Are these “techniques?”  Are people catching me “using techniques?”  Sometimes someone will say that they saw me doing something that was in a book that we read.  And often, I don’t necessarily agree that this is what I was doing.  Have I picked up a technique without realizing it?  Should I stop using it?

I’m reading a book by Richard Farson called The innovation paradox: the success of failure, the failure of success (formerly titled “Whoever makes the most mistakes wins).  One of the quotes that really struck me is the following:

“Wild Ducks
Innovators are seldom easy to be around.  The most creative members of an organization can be irascible, annoying, touchy, intolerant, prickly, self-aggrandizing.  Their lack of tact offends coworkers.  It also makes them willing to speak up when others hold their tongues.  What comes out of their mouths is often quite valuable, if not always easy to hear (p 79).”

The reason I was so struck by this is that it makes me think about our hiring bonanza process.  I’m glad we have a process where everyone has a say.  But to be specific, does anyone think that Jeffey could make it through our bonanza process now?  Wouldn’t he say something outrageous during the group interaction?  Would his one hour lesson plan particularly stand out?  And yet think about the quality of work that his students produce.  Is the most important quality that a new teacher has that they get along well with other adults in an interview process?  Should it be?

“In the survey, managers were asked to name what they thought employees in their organizations wanted.  Then management’s list was contrasted with the list prepared by employees.  Every time, managers guessed that good wages and job security would top employee lists, but their people always cited “feeling appreciated” and “informed.”

I’m reading a new book called The carrot principle: How the best managers use recognition to engage their people, retain talent, and accelerate performance.

It has a business-y perspective that can grate:  ”Many of us in middle and senior leadership roles are indeed motivated by the allure of a large bonus or increase in salary.”

Nonetheless, I am thus far fascinated by this book.  I picked it out because I have heard a number of teachers over the years say that they want more recognition.  And getting recognition right can be complicated.  One year, I went to a school after an exhibition and said how impressed I was with a particular teacher’s project.  Later, it got back to me that another teacher felt bad because I didn’t praise their work.  Oy!

“U.S. Department of Labor statistics show the number one reason people leave organizations is that they “don’t feel appreciated.”

I’ll write more once I finish the book.

“So no, I’m not complaining about the presence of facts and formulas in our mathematics classes, I’m complaining about the lack of mathematics in our mathematics classes.”

I read the book form of A mathematician’s lament: How school cheats us out of our most fascinating and imaginative art form by Paul Lockhart last weekend.  I honestly think it might be my new favorite book of all time.  A somewhat shorter version of the book is available free here.

Paul Lockhart is a Ph.D. mathematician who was a university researcher and now teaches secondary school mathematics.  I really love what he writes about in his book.  Because he has a strong mathematical background, it is harder to dismiss his critique of the traditional math curriculum as soft and un-rigorous.   Another favorite line:

“It would be bad enough if the culture were merely ignorant of mathematics, but what is far worse is that people actually think that they do know what math is about — and are apparently under the gross misconception that mathematics is somehow useful to society!”

I could write more about why I like this work so much, but really, everyone should read this book.  It’s a breath of fresh air in a climate of dreary assumptions that killing kids with more and more traditional math and giving them multiple choice tests will somehow lead somewhere useful.

“Simplicio: But don’t you think that if math class were made more like art class that a lot of kids just wouldn’t learn anything?

Salviati: They’re not learning anything now!  Better to not have math classes at all than to do what is currently being done.”

In the good old days, teachers assigned students to write a summary of Huckleberry Finn. With no further instructions, students dutifully wrote up their summary and turned it in on Friday. The following Friday, they received their paper back, covered in red ink fixing their spelling errors with a note at the end, “Good job Billy. Think about voice. B+”

At some point, perhaps after watching Billy crumple up that paper and toss it in the trash, teachers began to think that there must be a better way to help students produce higher quality work, which after all, is the whole idea. The idea of a rubric was born.

Rubrics are better than the good old days, because through a rubric, teachers outline clear expectations of what is expected across multiple dimensions of the work. It’s not just reducing the entire assignment to a 78 out of 100. Teachers provide descriptive statements of what makes for an effective presentation in terms of clear speaking voice, helpful visuals, posture, correct information, and so on.

Yet after years of wading through rubrics where every item has almost one hundred identical words, differentiated only by “Student always… Student often… Student sometimes…” some of us have begun to feel that there must be a better way.

About five years ago, I had the good fortune to meet Ron Berger, the man Howard Fuller calls “one of the most remarkable teachers in America today,” who helped me understand the power of showing students models of what we want. I have seen how models help students produce higher quality work, which after all, is the whole idea.

But when I describe this approach to others, I have been stunned by the ferocity of the criticisms. “It kills student creativity!” “They just copy the model; they don’t learn to do it for themselves!”

These critics raise an excellent question: is merely reproducing others work a good way to learn how to do something? I think of examples from my own life.

Writing

As a physics major, writing does not always come easily to me. When I attended the University of California, Santa Barbara to earn a master’s degree in Education, I was asked to write like an academic. But I didn’t really know how to write like an academic. My first attempts were clumsy and stilted. The main idea, as far as I could tell, seemed to be, “Write in such a way as to obfuscate what you are actually trying to say.” In the meantime, I was reading hundreds of academic papers. Over time, as I read more and more professional academics, I began to get the idea. Over the course of my degree, my writing steadily improved, perhaps partially from feedback from my professors, but mostly I believe because I imitated the style of other educational researchers.

Basketball

I have played basketball from early childhood up to and including my still regular 4:30 am game on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I was a basketball coach for fifteen years, coaching boys and girls from kindergarten through college. A conversation with Ron Berger helped me understand the difference between rubrics and models when it comes to basketball.

Imagine the basketball coach fresh from a workshop, her mind full of new ideas about assessment. “I need to be clear with my players about what is expected of them,” she remembers. “I should create a rubric!”

Having passed out the rubric to her players, she sends them home to do their homework confident that the players will quickly learn how to effectively execute the jump stop. She looks forward to their first game.

The example is absurd on its face. No coach would ever do this. This is because the coach wants her players to get better at basketball. And this wouldn’t be the best way to teach a student how to jump stop. Instead, the coach would show her players what an expert jump stop looks like. Then she would have her students practice doing it exactly the way that she did. When they didn’t do it quite right, she would say, “Watch me!” She would demonstrate again. Through a process of repeatedly modeling the jump stop and giving players a chance to copy her, the coach helps her players learn how to successfully execute the jump stop.

Jazz

I took piano and trumpet lessons as a child, where I learned how to play the notes on the page. For the past year, I have been learning how to play jazz music from a most unconventional piano teacher.

Recently, I was having trouble playing the following piece of music.

In measure two, I wasn’t exactly sure how to play the rhythm of the descending E flat, D, C, A. I asked my piano teacher. He could have done what my old band director in middle school used to do, which was rap his music stand with his baton while yelling at me “one e and a, two e and a!” Instead he said, “Sometimes it’s easier just to show you.” He sat down at the piano and played the part for me. “Ahhh!” I said.

Of course, in the meantime, I continue to get better at reading music by sight and counting out the melody line. But sometimes, it’s easier just to listen to a model.

What about creativity? Jazz music, if anything, is about creativity, improvisation, and doing it as it has never been done before. “It comes from within you,” my piano teacher exhorts. “What do you want to say?” “Nothing,” I think sadly.

So I continue to plunk out my boring solos, and yet each week they get a little better. Why do they get better? I am obsessed with jazz. I listen exclusively to jazz 88 in the car. To my wife’s chagrin, we only listen to internet jazz stations over dinner. Sounds of Oscar Peterson, Bill Evans, and Fats Waller fill my head. I labor to imitate these jazz greats and mostly I try to copy what my music teacher does. I have started videotaping him each week so I can pore over his solos and try to put a few of his moves into my playing. I don’t know that I will become a jazz master, but I do know that in the past two weeks, I have begun humming to myself as I walk around school. I am starting to think of something to say.

Rubrics have a place and have value. To be clear, teachers should provide clear guidelines of what is expected of students, and rubrics are one way to do so. In particular, working with students to co-develop what is expected of them can be a particularly effective technique. But beyond rubrics, even more important are models. If the point is for students to produce high quality work, then we need to show our students examples of what we are looking for. Their own individuality and creativity will follow.

Think through your own life. Have you ever learned by imitating a master? By following their model? Please comment below.

I would like everyone to write a few sentence project proposal statement by Thursday, February 12.  You can either post your proposal as a comment on this posting or as a posting on your blog.

The things to include are:

- a problem statement of what issue you are interested in working on

- what you will look to do

- how you will share with the world what you’ve done