Know thy Impact. That's our adopted theme for the new school year, where I teach. Our focus is on data. and making sound decisions around instructional practices based on data we regularly review and discuss in our professional learning communities. While, I'm not always entirely enthused about the amount of data that's been made available to me about my students, I give the leadership in my building credit for not telling us exactly what data we must discuss or how we must discuss it, but instead giving us room to make those important decisions ourselves.
Frankly, that's made the journey easier and honestly, I feel like my co- teacher and I have had some great discussions about teaching and learning using data to help us become more focused on work students really need to be engaged in to improve their reading and writing. We are making better progress mastering standards. Data has been a helpful guide. In fact, 83% of our 157 students showed solid growth on our first unit of study, working to master standards 1, 2, and 4 I'm proud of that. I'm proud of them!
But I wonder, does data have to deeply govern ALL of the decisions we make about teaching and learning? Are there times when growth can be witnessed outside the numbers? And can we still be allowed to make great choices about what kinds of things we know deep in our teaching hearts will impact students without using data to prove it? Where is the balance?
Recently, We've been gifted with an excellent opportunity to bring in an incredible professional author and story teller for a day of learning that we are confident will have great impact on our students as they work on saying out loud what they are learning about the past and how it impacts their future. Research suggests when students can teach someone else they are getting closer to mastery, so per our own goals for helping students read and write better- we are also committed to helping students learn to say it out loud and teach each other through the lens of story telling.
You should have seen many of them perform their stories last week about progressive personalities, first for themselves and later at our Night at the Museum event... we were so proud! It's worthy work and we believe it's making a big impact as students research and write and learn to say what they have learned. But we can't prove it. And because we can't prove it we're having a hard time getting the kind of support required for the day of learning that we want to provide for our students with this high quality professional.
So, we're being encouraged and allowed to pursue the event- but in a way that we fear diminish the contributions offered to a true professional. That won't stop us, and we'll be wise about trying to find a way to quantify his impact so that we leave the door open to future collaborations. We know we must persevere in the work because of the impact we have already seen- the confidence and skill students develop as they learn to share their learning out loud for others.
Our students deserve these kind of experiences whenever we can provide them. And as teachers we shouldn't have to prove impact in ALL things with numbers. It kind of sucks the joy out of this part of the journey- ya know? When we should be celebrating, we are left wrestling with ways to make great work and experiences happen... so we become conditioned to wrestle- because we know we must to make impact happen.
As a big Cubs fan, this has been a special kind of year! As a baseball lover I'm aware of a statistic used in baseball these days used to measure the impact a given baseball player has on his team's success called W.A.R. or wins above replacement. If a player is a 5 W.A.R. player it means he will help his team win five more games during that given season. I worry that education is heading that way as well- in order to get support for events and experiences that we know will impact students will we first have to prove that they are worth the resources using data as our evidence? Seems so.
And that's left us in a quandary... and feeling down and unsupported. But we keep trudging forward working to make it happen against the grain of expectations and quantification because our teacher hearts demand it. It's what we stronghold... a certain stubbornness.
In the meantime we are reminded that impact can be measured in other ways too. Small and powerful things that lift us up. We've witnessed students take great risks to perform a bit of a story in front of supportive peers. We've watched parents interact with young story tellers and seen the joy and pride in their eyes. as students memorize a piece they've written and work on using gestures as they make eye contact and get beyond the traditional "just read it off the page", pride and confidence grow in them and our teacher hearts swell as we watch this growth take place. It's these little things that are of great worth to us- and to our students. They lift us up! And we celebrate them... excited for where we know they will they take students as they journey to master more than just standards.
There is impact here- and we don't need numbers to prove it!
Perseverance and stamina. These are two words I way overthink at school. And I fear wrongly. For years I've complained and wondered why students really struggle to "stick with" certain tasks- especially reading tasks and work that challenges them. Now that my students all work out of chrome books everyday, the "problem" is something I think about even more. But my thinking is starting to change.
I've been wondering, where did I learn perseverance? I've been thinking about that a lot. I don't know why I never thought to do this before- but I didn't... but now that I have, the memories have really helped me think differently about things.
The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I learned about perseverance and stamina in seventh grade. I spent seventh and eighth grades at a boarding school away from home. Part of our daily activities involved starting each day with a run. We had to run at least one mile but were given the opportunity to run three. If we could run three miles up to the truck stop, Pastor Ken would buy us breakfast. That was a treat.
So I learned to run- not all three miles at once, but each time I set out I would get a little further than I did the time before. Learning to run is psychological. The more I reflect on it, the more I can remember conversations I had with myself between school and the truck stop. I can literally remember learning to push myself. And I can remember the first time I made all three miles without stopping. I'm not sure I was ever more proud of myself than I was then. I can still taste the chocolate milk celebration. Those were good days.
So where do students learn to push themselves? Do they learn to push themselves? As teachers are we more responsible for the pushing? What motivated me to push myself? breakfast?? or was it something bigger? What might motivate my students to push themselves? Is pushing even appropriate? Is this process as psychological for them as running was for me? Do they talk to themselves? Teach themselves? How do they learn to be perseverant?
so many questions.... deep in my heart I know how I really feel about this... the answer is a resounding YES! I really believe I should push them. Gently. But, yes, as a teacher there are real times when pushing is good for my students. So I do. And I hope the process is somewhat psychological or metacognitive- because then it will stick. I hope they are talking to themselves just like I did out on the road between school and the truck stop.
So I push and I watch. And they dig in... they work- hard! And I get excited! The results are good. In the end I make them talk to themselves, by writing about the process of going through all that hard work. There has to be value in that. There certainly was for me.
This week we'll celebrate those good results. We'll celebrate the way my students have responded to the prodding.
What a privilege to watch them work hard on these writing tasks. They weren't easy and they were time consuming. The work caused them to really dig for the right text to support their well constructed claims. I got to see them work at being thoughtful about word choice and providing citations. And for them most part, even though it took lots of time, they pushed themselves. And I got to watch it happen.
Time to celebrate. (and reflect on process)
As I reflect on these last few days, I think some of what we saw happened because we decided not to accept the final, finished work, until we went over it with them and asked them prodding questions that allowed them to see how they could improve the work before turning it in. But they had to choose to work at making the improvements. They had to choose to push themselves and they did.
That is definitely worth celebrating! It was truly an honor to see them work so hard and I'm sure I witnessed growth over the three days it took to construct those responses. They weren't easy tasks- but the students persevered. I am so proud!
As a teacher I think I'm pretty good at pushing. And I guess I always have been, but hadn't really realized it until this week. Ironically as much as I've really been thinking about perseverance and stamina I remembered an old drawing a student of almost twenty years ago did of me that hangs above my work bench in the garage- he labeled me a "slave driver"! It's kinda funny- but it is who I have learned to become at times- so I'll own that title and celebrate it, because I think it's worthwhile to be "pushy" sometimes and to stronghold high standards.
This week I have no regrets that we pushed- but I do have a lot of celebrating to do- with my students.
(drawing by Mike Riffel, 1991 or 1992?)
