Will

When I was a little kid, at least once every few weeks in the warm months my mom would fill a big wicker picnic basket full of sandwiches, drinks and some hidden sweets, pack it and me and an old blanket in the back of our long, white Chrysler station wagon, and drive out to a parking lot behind a factory that was a stone’s throw from O’Hare Airport outside of Chicago. As soon as the car would stop, we’d scramble to the roof of the car, spread the blanket, plop down the picnic basket, and throw ourselves longways on our backs, faces turned into what would always be a bright, clear blue sky. If our timing was right, the high-pitched scream of the engines would start rushing over us almost immediately, and soon after, the car would start shaking, and soon after that, this huge, silver, beautiful jet airplane would come screeching over the Chrysler, maybe, just maybe 300 fet over our heads, blotting out the entire sky, forcing our hands over our ears, and generating from both of us a long, drowned-out, happy scream of “Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!” When the plane would pass, we’d roll onto our elbows and watch the puffs of smoke shoot from the tires as they hit the runway, watch the plane roll slowly to a stop, turn and smile at one another, the roll once again on our backs to wait for the next rumbling to start. 

Best. Days. Ever.

I’ve always loved planes. Still do. (I’m actually writing this on a plane.) The best news of my week this week was when I heard the new United (now merged with Continental, the primary airline I fly) would be upgrading all of it’s planes to include audio from the flight deck, giving dweebs like me even more opportunities to listen to the pilots and air traffic controllers safely navigate us to our destination, or reroute us around storms, or delay our takeoff, or all sorts of other good stuff that most people never listen to. There’s just something about being in the air that, 95% of the time, at least, fascinates me. I always get a window seat.

So last year, the stars kind of aligned, and I decided to learn how to fly at a small country airport fairly near where I live in New Jersey. It didn’t start well; my first three flights it was all I could do to keep from throwing up before we rolled to a stop on the tarmac after some “maneuvers” aloft. On the fourth trip, I made my flight instructor David just do a one hour “straight and level” out to the beach and back, and I finally got out of the plane pink instead of green. 

About 25 hours of air time later, I actually flew that Cessna 172 by myself for the first time last Friday. I was surprised at how not nervous I was. It was a calm day, which helped, and David flew the “right” seat for three takeoffs and landings before hopping out of the plane, but I knew I was ready. Four times up, four times down, “greased” landings almost every time. And when I heard the tires squeal as they hit the ground on that first go ‘round, I couldn’t help think of those days back in Chicago with my mom. I let out a very loud, grown up “Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!” indeed, bridging two bookends on a lifelong passion. It was, in a word, awesome.

Throughout the process, which still has about 30 hours to go (at least) before I get my check ride for my official private pilot’s license, I’ve been thinking a lot about the learning process. A couple folks have Tweeted asking what I’m learning about learning, so I thought I’d take the time to reflect just a bit here. I keep running Sarason’s “And What Do You Mean By Learning?” filter through all of this, and it’s been pretty interesting to go meta and look at myself as a learner in a very concrete context again. So, some quick thoughts, more for me than anything, but hopefully worth the time if you chose to read it:

1. The intrinsic motivation I have for this makes all the difference, even with the not so fun stuff. As with just about everything, I’ve got to learn more than just making the plane do what I want it to. There’s a lot of math, physics, geography, statistics…all sorts of stuff that I never really liked in school (to put it mildly.) But I don’t mind it much at all because I know why I have to know it. All that stuff informs the act, makes me better at it, and, most importantly, that connection is real and relevant. 

2. I needed a good teacher. I know I talk a lot about this brave new world where we can learn all sorts of stuff on our own without traditional teachers. This is not one of them. Although I have never once felt scared in the plane, David has made some life or death decisions for us, particularly when I’m fighting the controls trying to get the plane on the runway in a stiff crosswind. He’s patiently and carefully given me more and more of the responsibility, releasing the controls more and more, providing specific feedback and assessment. But now, as I read this back, I’m not sure if “teacher” is really the right word for what he’s done. He’s guided, modeled and supported more than anything. Very little has been of the “this is an altimeter and here’s what it does” variety. That stuff I could have learned on my own. 

3. Learning is not linear. Another thing that I knew, but this process has reminded me of that over and over. Some days, I feel like I’m leaping forward. Other days, every input feels wrong. Pilots talk of “bad days” in all of the flying forums I lurk around in, and I know exactly what they mean. Here’s hoping I don’t take my check test on a “bad day.” 

4. There is nothing like learning by doing. I’ve been on a simulator once, and it’s not even close to being up in the sky trying to pick out landmarks, seeing both New York City and Philadelphia in one visual sweep, and trying to land at a real life, grown-up plane airport where the runway looks like it goes on forever. 

My favorite Sarason snip is the idea that productive learning is a process “which engenders and reinforces wanting to learn more.” I feel that way about a lot of things; parenting, learning in a networked world, and flying to name a few. And this whole process has reminded me how much I want my own kids to have that feeling as well. 

Just a couple of quotes that found me this morning, some pattern recognition in my sleepy brain.

Joi Ito in the New York Times:

I don’t think education is about centralized instruction anymore; rather, it is the process establishing oneself as a node in a broad network of distributed creativity.

And George Siemens at his blog:

Planned information structures like textbooks and courses simply can’t adapt quickly enough to incorporate network-speed information development. Instead of being the hub of the learning experiences, books, courses, and classrooms become something more like a node in part of a much broader (often global) network. The shift to networks is transformative in how a society organizes itself.

Two pretty smart guys echoing each other and making me think more deeply about what needs to happen to make this a reality in our classrooms. How do we help our students establish themselves as a “node” in a broad, global network of creativity and learning? Shouldn’t that be one of the fundamental questions that drives our work in schools right now?

The answers start, as always, with our own willingness and ability to go there. But they also start with transparently asking the big questions in our schools and communities. In light of the changes that the Web is bringing to our learning lives:

• What do we mean by learning?
• What does it mean to be educated?
• What is our value in a world filled with content and teachers?
• How do we best help students become patient, self-sufficient, sensitive, intelligent learners?

And finally this from George a couple of weeks ago:

When the education system is synchronized with the interests and passions of learners, the process is invigorating and tremendously motivating. However, when learners and educators have to fight the existing education system in order to learn and teach, it’s time for dramatic change.

Too many of us are fighting the system to learn and teach. We’re out of synch. If we’re not having these conversations in our communities, we really need to be.

I just recently ran across Jonathan Martin’s posts regarding the “Open Internet” tests that he’s piloting with some teachers at St. Gregory School in Arizona, and I’m just loving the thinking. In November of 2010, he first asked:

We know that content memorization must no longer [be] the goal of our learning programs; what our goal must be is that students can make the most sense of the voluminous and fast-accelerating quantity of information which will forever be at their fingertips, and about which they must be able to think critically, to select, to evaluate, to apply, and to amend as they tackle challenging problems. So why shouldn’t our school-tests evaluate our students ability to do exactly this?  Why not structure tests appropriately, and then invite and welcome (and require) our students to use their computers on their tests? Isn’t this real world, and real life, preparation?

A couple of months ago, Jonathan wrote about a chemistry teacher at his school who was letting students use the Internet to take tests, (check out the embedded annotated example test) and he added this piece of reasoning:

Our students are preparing to work in professional environments where they must tackle and resolve complex problems, and we know that in nearly every envisionable such environment, they will have laptops or other mobile, web-connected, digital tools to address those problems.   Let’s assess their  understanding in situations parallel to those for which we are preparing them.

Then, this week, Jonathan added a third post that documents the experiences of a Theater History teacher, and he refined his pitch for “Open Internet” tests even more:

I think this assessment approach is a highly valuable one for promoting deeper learning, information literacy, and analytic and organizational skill development over memorization and regurgitation.  I think that many tests in most subjects can be, with the right intentional design, “open internet” and that they will be the better for it.  Some argue against tests altogether, but I still love a good test, and taking the time to think through as a teacher what kind of questions can we ask which will continue to be meaningful assessments when Google and Wolfram Alpha are available is, I think, a highly productive exercise, and, of course, will generate a more authentic assessment experience far more well aligned with the real world of professionals for which we are preparing our students.

The student feedback about the test structure included in the post is instructive. For instance:

I liked this test because it allowed me to show what I know. With multiple choice tests, that’s not always obvious (it could just be a lucky guess or limited knowledge of something).  Short answer takes too much time and also isn’t the best option for full explanations. I also liked how we had some input on the test, because not only were the suggested questions helpful for studying, but it also forced me to think about the test long before the morning of.

Read the rest.

Now a couple of quick points and then a push. First, as both teachers that are featured in the posts point out, the thinking is a bit different when creating tests like these. For instance:

In his Chemistry class, Dr. Morris recognizes how radically the questions he asks must change if he knows his test-takers have access to the internet, Wolfram-Alpha, and a myriad of other sources on chemical information.   His questions must require his students to genuinely sort out what information they require, get that information, evaluate it, and then apply it to solve his now much more complex and rich questions. This is assessment for genuine understanding, not assessment of recall and regurgitation. It is far [more] likely to be assessment of lasting understanding and future applicability than typical memorization based testing.

Second, while the idea of going online to find answers may strike some as “cheating” and/or making things too easy, many of our students will find this more difficult:

This test does not have multiple choice or terms that we had to define. This is more about testing your ability to find resources that you need, write a quality essay under pressure. I find I like the multiple choice and defining terms better.

And now the push. What if we didn’t just make it about giving kids access to Google and Wolfram Alpha for test taking? What if we invited them to use their networks of peer learners and teachers as well? 

Awesome.

I know that this goes back to the “what do we really need to make sure kids are carrying around in their heads?” debate, and it speaks to the fact that not every child is going to have access to the Web at every moment (at least not in the near term.) But just think of all of the new ways we would be able to prepare kids to answer the questions that they will be asked in their real lives if we gave them a handful of “Open Network” tests before they graduated. I mean, why wouldn’t we be doing this?

And if you really want to go there, why wouldn’t we let kids access their networks for the Common Core assessments that are coming down the pike? 

Curious to hear your thoughts. Anyone else out there moving in this direction? Why or why not?

(Note: Jonathan will be presenting on these ideas at the NAIS conference next month in Seattle.) 

As Royan Lee points out, there’s every reason to have a conversation with students about SOPA and PIPA in almost any classroom right now. (If last Wednesday wasn’t a teachable moment, I don’t know what was.) For most older kids, the debate strikes at the heart of their practices online, and even for younger kids, the larger themes are well worth the mention in general terms. My guess, however, is that a very small percentage of students have had a chance to learn and think about those proposals in the presence of peers and teachers.

Why? For one, I wonder how many teachers could lead a cogent discussion about them. The whole world of online interactions and knowledge sharing is not something most teachers yet participate in. But as Royan points out, in order to have a really meaningful conversation about SOPA and PIPA, students need to have a larger context other than the pirating of copyrighted music and films. He writes: 

Do you know what made it a lot easier to have a discussion about SOPA and PIPA in my class? The fact that my students post regularly to the internet, comment on one another’s work, receive comments from the far reaches of the globe, remix work, share links, and honour CC licensed work.

I asked the students how they would feel if their ability to do all of things was restricted, or even taken away, without debate or a tribunal of some variety. The room went silent for a minute which felt like an hour, but we proceeded to have a rich discussion about democracy without ever mentioning the word itself.

I know they still care much more about whether the next Eminem song will get on their iPods, but at least we were speaking about something we really know, not just have heard of.

And Royan can do that because he really know this through his own practice as well. Those conversations in his class would have been far less relevant without that.

So this pretty much sums it up as well it can be summed up right now:

U.S. schools under the jurisdiction of state and federal governments are now scripted processes that view knowledge as static capital, students as passive and empty vessels, and teachers as compliant conduits for state-approved content. The accountability paradigm is antithetical to human agency and autonomy and thus to democracy, but it serves the needs of the status quo and the ruling elite; in effect, accountability paradigms driving compulsory education are oppressive.

Amen.

(Source: dailykos.com)

First, let me thank everyone who commented and Tweeted examples of “bold schools” over the last few days. Very much appreciated, and over the next few weeks I’m planning to dig into the list and make some connections and inquiries around the learning that’s going on in those places. Meantime, if you have any other ideas for schools that might be worth checking out, I’d invite you to add them to the doc. 

Over the past month or so, I’ve been trying to come up with some “qualities” that might help separate a “bold” school from an “old” school. Actually, much of this whole effort stems from a similar search a couple of months ago by Sam Chaltain to find “the world’s most transformative learning environments.” (His list is a great starting point as well.) Sam decided to use the QED Transformational Change Model to use as a benchmark, and while I like the general tenor of the qualities listed there, I’m hoping to focus it down to a more manageable list.

So, I’m going to offer out the following with hopes that you’ll chime in with reactions, feedback, push back, and ideas toward creating a clearer picture of how to describe schools that really are trying to move toward a technology-rich, student-centered, inquiry-based learning practice that effectively prepares kids for the required skills and dispositions and realities of the world today and yet also prepares them to pass the test and satisfy the current expectations of parents and policy makers. Places, importantly, where those two things are not mutually exclusive ideas. 

So, with a minimum of description, I’m thinking “bold” schools are:

1. Learning Centered - Everyone (adults, children) is a learner; learners have agency; emphasis on becoming a learner over becoming learned.

2. Questioning - Inquiry based; questions over answers

3. Authentic - School is real life; students and teachers do real work for real purposes.

4. Digital - Every learner (teacher and student) has a computer; technology is seamlessly integrated into the learning process; paperless

5. Connected - Learning is networked (as are learners) with the larger world; classrooms have “thin walls;” learning is anytime, anywhere, anyone.

6. Literate - Everyone meets the expectations of NCTE’s “21st Century Literacies”

7. Transparent - Learning and experiences around learning are shared with global audiences

8. Innovative - Teachers and students “poke the box;” Risk-taking is encouraged.

9. Provocative - Leaders educate and advocate for change in local, state and national venues.

I want to delve into each one of these in more detail, and my hope is that as I visit schools this year I’ll be able to connect these ideas to stories and practice that make them come to life. 

But for now, what do you think? What am I missing? How else might you describe a “bold school” as I’ve defined it above?

For lots of reasons, some of which I articulate here, 2012 feels like it’s shaping up to be a critical year in the conversation about schools. Politics and money are no doubt driving the mainstream conversation, but I sense an Occupy Wall Street-ish push back coming from a lot of parents and educators that seems to be finding some traction as well. In fact I’ve had some interesting conversations of late with some very “successful” public schools who have hit their testing boiling point and are starting to resist the status quo. As this year starts, I’m actually feeling a bit optimistic for the first time in a long time. Not optimistic that change will come any time soon. Not optimistic that we’ll adequately deal with the poverty problem that is a the root of so much about what is wrong with this country and its education system. But instead, optimistic that we might at least be on the verge of gaining a voice in the larger conversation around real equality in education, equality that in some part stands on regular, dependable access to technology and the Web.

Given that window, we need schools that are bold in their practice right now. And by “bold” I mean schools that make sure their kids pass the test and get “college ready” because, unfortunately, that’s about the only definition of “success” that people want to talk about right now, but also schools that prepare their kids for a world that the tests and the definitions of “readiness” or “achievement” haven’t caught up to yet. A world that I think is so wonderfully articulated by the National Council Teachers of English 21st Century literacies that I keep trotting out wherever I go. In other words, bold schools are the ones that do both, because to do anything less at the moment would not serve our students in the ways they need to be served. Equally important, bold schools are the ones that know that those two outcomes are not mutually exclusive. You look at SLA or High Tech High and you see that creating student-centered, inquiry-based, technology-rich learning opportunities in our classrooms can help kids navigate the world they live in AND pass the test. 

What a concept.

To that end, I’ve decided to dust off my journalism degree this year and do some “real” reporting and writing about those schools that are being “bold” in that context. As much as my travels will allow for side trips and site visits and interviews of teachers and students and leaders in those spaces, I want to really wrap my brain around what’s special and replicable about those schools and share them back out. Who knows, there may be a book in it as well.

Along the way, I’d like your help, if you’re so inclined. And my first request is to help me identify some schools that I might visit. But one caveat: I want these to be entire schools where that type of boldness is being displayed, not isolated classrooms or teachers. I’m looking for places where there has been a commitment as a school community to the best of what a progressive education can offer along with an immersion in technology and connectedness to the world. Schools whose teachers and whose graduates are literate by NCTE standards. And schools that are advocating in their communities for this different path. These schools can be public or private and anywhere in the world.

Any come to mind? If so, please note them in the comments.

At some point in the next couple of weeks, I’ll be asking you to help me flesh out in more detail the characteristics of bold schools. I’m hoping to have lots of these conversations at SLA during Educon in a few weeks. I’m sure I’ll be picking a lot of people’s brains while there. 

Regardless, my sincerest wish for you to set a powerful path for your work and learning this year. As someone who may or may not be Goethe once said:

“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.”

Let’s be bold this year. 

Some interesting thoughts on networks by Deborah Mills-Scofield:

For me, the network is literal survival. My family, throughout history, escaped to places where we had family or friends who would support, hide, and in the case of America letting my mom and grandparents enter, sponsor us. No sponsor, no entry; no entry, Auschwitz. Without the network, the odds of survival were slim to none. Fortunately, for most of us this is not the case. But don’t let that negate the importance of the network for your survival.

Without the network, you don’t get new ideas into your organization, you don’t see trends and issues that affect you and your customers, you don’t grow and develop your people with new challenges and opportunities, you aren’t attractive for young talent, you don’t learn about new technologies or business models, you don’t create new markets and you risk deluding yourself with your own ideas. You don’t increase your own value and advance your own career. Without the network you stagnate, you become stale. With the network you grow, provide meaningful and valuable solutions to your customers and not just survive, but thrive.

Much of this rings true for our learning networks as well, assuming, of course, we’ve done good job of including a diverse set of voices in the mix. 

No question, one of the most talked about, Tweeted about, blogged and written about ideas in the past year has been the “flipped classroom,” the idea that we can use technology to deliver the “lecture” as the homework and then use class time, ideally, to bring the concepts to life in meaningful, real world ways. And it’s been interesting to watch the “debate” around the merits. 2011 ed tech media darling Sal Khan and his Khan Academy supporters would tell you it’s a transformative, new way of thinking about the classroom fueled by technology. Detractors argue it’s old wine in new bottles, that a lecture is a lecture regardless of form, and that at best the opportunity is to help kids who need remediation or extra help.

While I’m still leaning to the latter (I’ve encouraged my own kids to use Khan as a way of answering questions about the concepts they’re covering in the classroom), my visit last week with the folks at Knewton has me wondering if “flipping” is going to be around very long at all regardless the positives or negatives. And even more, I’m wondering if Knewton’s vision of its role in education is in some ways as brilliant as it is inevitable given the direction things have turned.

In case you’re not up to speed on what Knewton is doing, here’s the brief from their website: 

Knewton’s award-winning Adaptive Learning Platform™ uses proprietary algorithms to deliver a personalized learning path for each student, each day. Knewton’s technology identifies each student’s strengths, weaknesses and unique learning style. Taking into account both personal proficiencies and course requirements, the platform continuously tailors learning materials to each student’s exact needs, delivering the most relevant content in the most efficient and effective form.

But here’s some of what I found out during my visit. First, the data crunching that their platform does is mind-boggling. Without getting too far into the minutia, it’s not just identifying strengths and weaknesses. Basically, after a fairly short period of time working with Knewton, the platform can begin to identify, for example, what time of day is “best” for a student to be studying science as well as a myriad of other tendencies that then allows the platform to select the most effective stacks of content in its database based on what has been most successful for students with a similar profile. In the next year as the network of Knewton users grows, it will then be able to connect individual students to other users who share those profiles, allowing them to ask questions, work problems and help each other learn in real time. In other words, it’s able to “socially personalize” (my words) the content learning interaction solely using the technology. And more.

The bottom line? Knewton wants to do “the dirty work of education,” the content part that we’re so hepped up about testing. CEO Jose Ferreira feels that by putting individual students into Knewton’s data-driven, highly personalized and adaptable learning environment, they will more effectively learn the concept mastery necessary to then do great things in the classroom with teachers who spend far less time on skills and far more time on the practical application of the skills in real life. To put it another way, Jose says “we want to fix the factory side of education and do it better and let teachers do the important stuff that technology can’t.” When I asked him about other entrepreneurs who seemed much more focused on just having students do better on the test, he said “the practical application is the sea change; that’s the part that’s going to benefit kids.”

Let’s be really clear. This is not Khan Academy, which at the end of the day is a one-size-fits-all lecture with a little curricular personalization built in. This is one on one (student to machine) that creates a different path to understanding based on the individual needs and dispositions of the student. Your path to learning algebra in Knewton will be decidedly different from mine, but at the end of the day, in theory, we’ll both have mastered the concepts.

Let’s also be clear that this is still in the early stages of development, and Knewton hasn’t made any inroads into the K-12 space…yet. No question, its recent $33 million investment from Pearson is going to steer it down that path soon enough. Currently, Knewton’s being used at a number of universities, primarily for remediation. For instance, at Arizona State University, 30% of incoming freshmen need remediation in math. (Says a lot about the current standardized testing regime, doesn’t it? Every one of those kids had to pass the math section in their states I’m sure.) So rather than spend teacher and class time getting those students up to speed, ASU uses Knewton to do the bulk of that work. But it’s not hard to see the path to Knewton-esque platforms becoming the primary methods of concept instruction (and, inevitably, more.)

Which, as I’ve been droning on about here and elsewhere for most of this highly disruptive year in learning, compels us to begin figuring out both the challenges and the opportunities of what is quickly becoming a viable “new story” for education whether we like it or agree with it or see it as good for our kids or not. I’d love to get rid of the factory side of education, not just do it better, but that’s a far off reality given the current climate. So what are the questions we need to be asking at this moment?

Here are some of the random bullet points that have been hanging around in my brain of late:

• For some kids, especially those in classrooms with 50 other students who have little chance at having any real differentiated, personalized instruction, these technologies will be a boon. In schools where the emphasis is on the factory, however wrong we may feel that may be, being able to do the factory better will be a good thing for the students ensconced there.
• But having said that, if we continue to value the factory and the assessments that test for that factory learning at the expense of real world problem solving and effective writing and speaking skills and adaptability and all of those important learning dispositions that we want kids to have, schools in their current iteration are toast. We’ll simply be Knewton factories, irony intended. (Interestingly, Jose has a bit of a different view on the whole testing debate, saying that he feels raising test scores is important if only to reduce the focus on the test. “Once we get everyone passing the test better, the pressure will come off.” Not sure I agree, but I hadn’t heard that line of thinking before.) 
• While it’s great in concept that teachers will be “freed up” to do the really important learning with students who have concept mastery, I wonder what percentage of teachers will be able to take advantage of that opportunity in meaningful ways. Let’s be honest, by and large, we’re still preparing new teachers to be curriculum delivery specialists, not participants in and facilitators of deep student inquiry in the classroom.
• And to what extent (and when) will technology make inroads into the practical application piece of it as well? Digital gaming environments are already becoming more socially constructivist and focusing on problem solving, and they will continue to evolve to present content and skills and application. What, with all of that, is the role of the face to face teacher and physical space classroom? (I think there is still an extremely important role for both, btw, but it’s one we’re not articulating very clearly yet.)
• And finally, who gets Knewton and who doesn’t? While I think it’s admirable that the company wants to use 20% of its profits to provide free access to students in schools or developing countries that can’t afford it, I don’t think we’ll escape a developing divide in this type of “learning” either.

Look, at the end of this day, at least, I’m feeling conflicted about much of this. I worry that we’re heading down a path that will turn schools into private, for-profit spaces that will put our kids’ best interests behind bottom lines, and that rather than starting a decidedly new conversation around learning, we’re just going to keep reaching for the low-hanging fruit of knowing, the stuff that’s easy to assess, the efficiencies that businesses love. That Nation article from a few weeks ago paints that picture all too compellingly, and as one of my network friends said in an e-mail after reading it, “last one out, turn the lights off.” It could be that bad.

But I can’t help holding out hope that at some point, the idiocy of the current regime will fall out of favor. I think a growing number of parents (like me) who have pretty much had it with the current emphasis will find themselves wondering what relevance much of our kids’ education has in their ability to live and flourish in a growingly complex world, and they’ll start really screaming “Stop!” (Hey, a guy can dream.) 

I’m sure for some, that test score will always be a powerful way of defining “educated” for their kids, and if technology can raise that score, they’ll buy in. But we educators who see learning as more than a score have to advocate even more loudly for for a different definition. While there may be a certain appeal in the world Knewton proposes, I worry it will be too easy to lose the best of what that world offers simply because the good stuff that teachers do that technology can’t isn’t easy. It’s messy, complex, resistant to standardization which despite being better for kids, is harder to define and deliver. In the near term, that “defining and delivering” part may be our greatest challenge of all.

Teacher Jonathan Keiler from Maryland absolutely nails it in this essay in EdWeek:

When student scores become like orange juice, pork bellies, or yen, the people with the greatest incentive to cheat are the weakest teachers and administrators. These people might be weak, but that doesn’t mean they are stupid. Weak but clever educators will inevitably find ways to game the system, sometimes by cheating, but more often by coming close, but not stepping over the line: Educators could turn their courses into nothing but test-prep machines; they could refuse to collaborate with colleagues; they could curry favor with students to encourage better results; or take other steps we can’t imagine. Many of these weaker teachers, even short of cheating, might well end up with excellent “value added” scores, while stronger teachers who are honest and don’t play the sharp game end up looking bad.

This is not just a possible bad outcome, it is inevitable. It is inevitable because markets generate such behavior and dislocations, and the more volatile the market, the greater the undesirable behavior and dislocations will be.

So when we speak about value-added evaluations, let’s be clear about what kind of knot we’ve tied. It is a system that turns student scores into a market and, as such, creates cheating, disreputable practices, and dislocations. On the flip side, let’s also talk straight about the cheaters. Like dishonest or corrupt traders, the educators are not the victims, but rather sophisticated, savvy players. Many will get away with it and be honored for their work, as some cheating administrators and teachers were before they were caught. And many teachers and administrators who don’t technically cheat, but find ways to game the market “legally” will also be duly honored. Where could this lead? Schools could become little more than test-preparation institutes, ignoring subjects and skills that are not assessed, with faculty members who resent and distrust one another. Meanwhile, many honest and dutiful teachers will go down in flames.

If this is the kind of public school system the American people want, then fine. Let’s just be honest about it.

Amen.

(Source: edweek.org)

A couple of days ago, my friend Howard Blumenthal sent along this essay that his 86-year-old father wrote in response to a post here about online learning from a few weeks ago. I thought it might make for some uplifting Sunday reading, so I’m sharing it here. Enjoy!

By Norm Blumenthal

As the fourteen year old son of a widowed mother in 1939, I had to contribute to the lowly household income. As a teenager, any dreams I had for my own future had to be secondary. Supporting my mother was most important. After school and on weekends, I worked at the local hardware store, but I spent most of my spare time drawing pictures. Sure, I played lots of street games, but had more fun drawing pictures of my favorite baseball players. To me, drawing was like a hobby, or a game I seemed to enjoy.

To another person in my young life, it seemed to be more than a mere hobby. Mr. Solomon Schwartz, my elementary school art teacher, was a talented artist in his own right, but far more adept at guiding young hopefuls like me. With his encouragement, and his unrelenting perseverance, he made it possible for me to apply to New York City’s prestigious High School of Music and Art. Thanks to Mr. Schwartz, I passed the entrance exam and was on my way to join the Old Masters.

Surrounded by other talented Young Masters, I quickly realized I was in the wrong place. The High School of Music and Art prepared students for further education at the finest of art institutions. That was not something I could do, not with my responsibilities at home. I simply didn’t have time for that kind of education. I needed to support my mother. I needed to finish high school as soon as possible, and get a paying job. What’s more, I was failing French. In addition to that, keeping up with my classmates, while feeling guilty about being in this luxurious place, made me wonder about my own artistic abilities. Was I good enough? Was Mr. Schwartz wrong about me? With apologies to him, I decided to call it quits and change the type of school I should attend. With my family responsibilities, perhaps I should attend a high school that teaches students how to use things like typewriters and other vital instruments of the business world.

Abandoning the creative life of music and art was not as simple as I imagined. Radical changes to an educational agenda, by a fourteen year old, are rarely considered. Even a note from my mother was insufficient. It took the influence of my uncle, a member of the school board, to switch me over to a seemingly more practical existence.

Without much concern from anyone, especially a teacher, with the foresight I lacked, I transferred to Eastern District High School. This is where teenagers from my part of Williamsburg, Brooklyn went to get a diploma, if not a complete education. Fortunately, I didn’t have to take a test to get in, but I did have to face another fear-inducing French class. After a two terrifying weeks, my French teacher, Mrs. Cozzens, asked me to meet with her after class. I was doing very badly, and assumed she would either help me or suggest some dire alternative. I even thought I was going to be expelled. I was partially right. She definitely wanted me to leave that school, but not for my difficulty with the French language. Somehow, Mrs, Cozzens had seen my artwork, and decided to change my life. She told me it was “a crime to waste my talent at a school like this.” Like Mr. Schwartz, she was a very persistent guardian angel. She would not rest until this wrong was corrected, even though the school year had already begun. I explained why I had left Music and Art, but she would not give up. Within days she found the school she knew was right for me. The School of Industrial Art’s slogan was, “To Train Artists and Designers for Industry.” Even to a fourteen year old me, that made good sense — upon graduation I could become a commercial artist, and get a job to support my mother. I never really thought of myself as a potential Old Master, so Industrial Art seemed like a very good idea.

I’m sure that both Mr. Schwartz and Mrs, Cozzens are long gone, but I wanted to thank them anyway. Their confidence in me, and the determination they exhibited on my behalf, not only helped me, but countless others as well. First and foremost, I was able to support my mother at a time when she really needed me. Second, my life at the School of Industrial Art included a lot of working in live shows – which I produced, directed, wrote and performed in. As a Navy signalman, aboard a cruiser in the Pacific, during WWII, sharpened those skills, putting on shows for my 1,500 shipmates. Those war-weary sailors can thank those, and other teachers, who taught me how to make them laugh when it was so difficult. Third, I worked for several years as a commercial artist, working my way up to Art Director at Esquire magazine, and then I made the transition to television, as the producer of NBC‘s Concentration. Fourth, those teachers reached through several generations, as two of my (now grown) children have found careers in the media/entertainment business, and two of my grandchildren are heading in a similar direction (one, as a graphic designer, the modern-day equivalent of a commercial artist.).

Why did I write this? Because I’m hearing more and more about online courses that may take the place of teachers. And I can‘t help but wonder what would have happened in my life if my French class had been an online course..     

One of the things I’ve been wondering more and more as I’ve been reading and thinking at length about the recent wave of corporate and private (mostly online) inroads into education is what happens when it no longer is about the best schools for our kids but, instead, the best education service? As more and more choices and paths crop up for MY children to “get an education” that are not dependent on geography or place, what happens to that sense of community that currently comes with a local education?

I know that most online providers include some type of “blended” approach to their thinking. They understand that schools will not be going away any time soon, and so they have to combine the virtual and the physical in some way. But I can’t shake this feeling that given the competitive nature of the education game to begin with, there will be a lot of folks who will jump on the virtually personalized education bandwagon with little thought as to the effect on the larger community. 

Diane Ravitch’s quote from a MisEducation Nation panel a couple of months ago brought it home for me even more:

But this is what I see as the next wave: demonize the public schools, create this marketplace where people think, instead of thinking of the common good, instead of thinking of community, instead of thinking what’s good for our children, we say, what’s in it for me? What about my child? Forget about your children, that’s your problem. My child. That’s market thinking…But the goal is to move away from public education as a public responsibility, like the fire department, like the police department, like public parks, like other kinds of public facilities. Privatize public education so that everyone becomes a consumer, children become products, and entrepreneurs can find lots and lots of money to be made. That is somehow going to make us globally competitive.

There is more than an ounce of truth in that, I fear. And that’s why I think we have a huge marketing job of our own to do when it comes to the value of schools, one that, so far at least, diverges clearly from the achievement-as-higher-test-scores narrative that most “providers” and vendors are selling. 

I can’t stop asking, what do we mean by learning? By education? What are now the fundamental, powerful advantages to places and communities in a world where instruction and content and answers are a screen tap away?