TLN Teacher Voices

Why Are Teachers Reluctant to Challenge Other Teachers?

In the TLN discussion group, Ellen, a teacher in California, asked:

I'm wondering why teachers generally shy away from addressing colleagues when they do things that are "inappropriate" for kids. Are we afraid of becoming more isolated? Is our profession rife with embracing the status quo? Is ours a stagnant profession in general? What causes that? How do we change that? What are the implications for teacher leadership?

Gail, a teacher in Georgia, replied:

I cannot IMAGINE going directly to the teacher in question even if he/she was a close friend. I've just always considered what other teachers to do be none of my busines. Is that just my Southern upbringing?

Nancy, a teacher and doctoral student in Michigan, commented:

What a great topic. First off, this is not a Southern thing — it's a teacher thing. I'm working with a research group right now that calls this the "egalitarian ethos of teaching"--we're all equal (though it's OK to be different). Our research project is around what happens to social dynamics when one or two teachers get special recognition for excellence. There's pretty universal agreement among the thousands of teachers interviewed that one teacher is never "better" than another teacher — even though, in the next breath, they will identify shoddy teachers and articulate inappropriate or damaging teaching practices.

I don't know if this is acceptance of the status quo, or stagnation as a profession. It might have something to do with the personality profile of those who choose teaching (i.e., people who enjoy group work and making others happy) or with the long-standing organization of teaching in little isolated egg crates. We've never learned HOW to work together, to challenge each other's thinking and practice to sharpen our own. We loathe conflict and prefer compromise or coverup — rather than true collaboration which implies dealing with disagreement.

There are huge implications here for teacher leadership, I believe. What is our business, if not creating schools where all kids are welcomed and academically tended — not just the ones who are lucky enough to get the savvy teachers?

Linda, a learning community facilitator in the Miami-Dade County (FL) schools, wrote:

I believe that "going public with our teaching" is learned behavior, which requires careful attention to establishing the conditions for taking risks on behalf of our students.

In my school system, I am a Critical Friends Group/Learning Community facilitator. Our work is to help a group establish these conditions. Lately, we've been using a definition of community from BAYCES (Bay Area Coalition of Equitable Schools) that talks about REAL community being a place where discord is embraced. Where the members of that community care enough about the greater purpose of their work to be willing to be uncomfortable and unsure of their positions.

So, if teachers are bringing their own and their students' work that puzzles them to the table, using questions to ask for feedback, and probing each other's thinking -- this results in a kind of lateral accountability that is MUCH more powerful than anything others can impose from outside.

As a NYC colleague of mine likes to say: "It's not that I'm going to tell you what to do. But what you do is NOT none of my business." So we become curious about the teaching and learning that is happening in our building. We wonder together about what works and when and with whom. We wonder about the "misses," not to point fingers of blame, or because we don't hold the highest esteem for our colleagues, but because the students we teach cry out for us to figure out to reach ALL of them. So, we want to get smarter at doing that, and we become hungry to share information that builds this knowledge base for us.

Gradually it becomes less about "did I create a great lesson?" but "did it work for ALL of my students, and if not, what can I do differently next time?"

That creates the culture of sharing and holding each other's feet to the fire so to speak — with the utmost respect and professionalism.

Do You Feel Demeaned by Testing Procedures?

A TLN member posted this message to our daily discussion group, during Spring "testing season."

I had an interesting exchange today. I'd like to hear your perspective.

Our state is giving its end of grade tests this week and the entire process has been totally discouraging to me as a professional. My sinking feelings began during our EOG prep meeting where we were presented with the 110 page manual and "Friendly Ethics and Testing Reminders." I learned that I was not allowed to take a bathroom break unless the principal assigned to my hall was found to relieve me (no pun intended). I learned that beverages were strictly prohibited so that spills could be prevented (I wondered if sippy cups met regulations, but knew better than to ask).

Of course, there were the usual warnings about displaying student work in clear view during the exam, pointing out incorrect answers to students, reading passages aloud or in round robin fashion, conducting impromptu review sessions on questions that appeared challenging, and speaking in rehearsed code or Mandarin Chinese (I thought that was going to be the ace in my cheating hole, you know).

We were reminded that stealing test books was frowned upon, that text messaging answers to colleagues in other schools or districts was verboten, and that testing week was not a good time to begin experimenting with our new Verizon Picture Phones regardless of how many free images we could send a month.

As I signed my contract verifying that I had read and understood the implications of ethical violations, I cringed.

(I also found it ironic that they required me to sign a code of ethics regarding testing procedures, yet they turn me loose on a team of 50 students every year without batting an eye.)

Each morning, I was bothered by the ritual of counting out my test books and answer sheets under the watchful eye of the testing coordinator. "This protects me too," I assured myself, "If a test is missing before I head upstairs, I'm not taking the fall."

Then, one of my proctors arrived and promptly informed me that she had been to the training and knew "what to be on the lookout for." Comforted by the knowledge that I had a highly trained ethical guide spending the next three hours with me, I was vigilant...resisting every temptation. Thank goodness she was there to keep me in line.

(Please tell me you can hear the sarcasm in my voice).

Finally, we got an email today informing us that "it had come to the attention of the administration" that there were teachers who were checking their email during the EOG exams. We were given another "friendly reminder" that this was "against the rules."

When I mentioned in passing to my adminstration that I felt demeaned by these measures, they responded (rather testily—pardon the pun) that these kinds of actions are only taken because teachers everywhere continue to "ignore the procedures."

So why do these things happen?

And does anyone else feel demeaned by "testing procedures?"

Where does responsibility for these kinds of actions rest? With teachers who have turned a blind eye to colleagues who HAVE cheated on end of grade tests? (I'm already anxiously waiting for the flood of "Teacher caught cheating" articles that pour out this time of year)

Or does it rest with a society that doesn't view teachers as professionals?

Or does it rest with a government that views standardized testing as the "gold standard" of student assessment—and thereby works to make the process "dummy-proof" to protect its validity in the eyes of the community?

Mysterious Classroom Evaluators

A TLN member recently shared this story from Edutopia in our discussion group.

"Here's a truly wonderful article to share," Nancy writes. "Jennifer Corn gets a surprise visit to see if she's following the curriculum. Her reflections on what it means to have your teaching monitored for compliance, rather than effectiveness or compassion are powerful."

Excerpt:

"As it turned out, their feedback was positive, and my classroom was singled out as a good example. Still, I felt angrier than ever. I believe these administrators' refusal to speak to me is emblematic of a common bureaucratic view of teachers: We are not thinking professionals with creative ideas, but, rather, problems in the making, to be kept in line through control and coercion."

Talk Is Cheap

In a posting to the TLN discussion group, with the subject line "Making sure our rubber meets their road," Brenda wrote:

Classroom teachers are often called upon to provide special accommodations for students who have been (identified) for particular learning disabilities. Like most of you I've been part of creating individual program plans for these kids. As I've read the accommodations we're proposing I've often been less than excited about what we're offering. Frankly, some of the accommodations are pretty lack-luster or stating the obvious.

I've been thinking about how education talk can be cheap (my dad used to say "Brenda, talk is cheap!" He basically meant that I needed to add some "walk" to my talk). How easy it is to talk about providing learning accommodations for kids and how difficult it is to actually do it -- the disconnect between theory and practice.

We have private schools here in my community who are moving towards "not" accepting kids identified with learning disabilities. Isn't that disturbing? It's no secret that kids with special needs require more time, patience and funding. But if we really believe what we say we do, then instructional differentiation is the right thing to do even though it’s messy, inconvenient and pricey for those doing the work.

If we really believe what we say we do, instead of being viewed as an inconvenience, providing accommodations will become what we do (there's that universal instruction model again) and perhaps the diverse learning needs and styles, along with the cultural diversities, will actually end up enriching the education experience for all those participating in it.

Today I read an article that further fed my thoughts. Stephanie Mackler's "The Company We Keep: In Search of a More Genuine Partnership Between Mind and Body, Theory and Practice, Scholarship and Life" helped me make some further connections about "cheap talk" and how, if we really believed what we say about this differentiation thing, our classroom practices would look a lot different.

This long-titled (and sometimes difficult to wade through) article asked the question, "Have we detached scholarship so much from life that we are stunned to find that 'life' [and all that entails] can actually enhance our work?" Could that "enhanced work" come as a result of inclusion? Does meaningful learning happen in the midst of real-life?

Mackler points out the false assumption that there is "theory—pure, untainted, and rationally perfect"—and then there is life: "messy, unpredictable, and in need of repair." Isn't that middle part, unpredictability, the life of a teacher?! 

In the "pure, untainted, and rationally perfect" place, I have these wonderful discussions about how things should be in the classroom (our own discussion group?). It's the place where all kids needs are met and all my well-laid plans are created. I love this place—the Teacher Utopia where I plan and create the learning environment of my dreams and everything happens like I planned. And then I go out into my "real" teaching world, the place filled with kids with learning baggage that I don't always know what to do with or have time to find out about. At times I get weary in the real world, and my well-laid plans are sometimes smashed because of the diverse needs that pull me every which way. The next thing I know I have this classroom that is "messy, unpredictable, and in need of repair."

So what about Mackler's proposal that classroom "life" [and all that entails] can actually enhance our work?" Do you buy it?

If you want to read "The Company We Keep: In Search of a More Genuine Partnership Between Mind and Body, Theory and Practice, Scholarship and Life", you'll need to visit the Teachers College Record website and pay a $15 annual membership fee to access all of the site's content. If you're interested in education research and ed "think pieces," it's a bargain.

Do Teachers Waste Too Much Time?

During a discussion about whether administrators are justified when they say that some teachers waste too much time, a TLN member wrote:

I see so much wasted time.

Our three 6th grade teachers are always in the hall after the bell rings, talking to each other -- their rooms are all together on a corner.

I was talking to one of them today just before the bell, and looked up at the clock and said, "OH! Gotta run…the bell is going to ring."

To which she replied, "What, do you think they will actually start without you?" with a sarcastic smirk.

First place, yes, my kids will start without me, because their math starter is on the board. But that is beside the point. If we expect our students to be ready for class when the bell rings, shouldn't we ourselves be ready?

During my prep period one day, at least five minutes after the bell rang, walking by an open classroom door, the students were loud and boisterous. I really didn't think anything about it. Sometimes the loudest classrooms are the places where the most learning is occurring. I wandered around to the bathroom, talked about a student to another teacher who also has planning during that hour, and headed back to my room. The teacher in that open-door classroom was now yelling, "Sit down. It's time to get started." She paused, standing and looking in her math book. "Start copying your vocab words from section 3" she told her class as I rounded the corner past her room.

It is not my place to be her keeper, but I know that those kids had wasted at least the first 10 minutes of class time. Ten minutes times 181 school days = 1810 minutes = over 30 hours of instructional time lost. 1810 minutes divided by 50 minutes per class period = 36.2 lost days of class periods.

I like to think those situations are the exception. But are they? I am sure those teachers do not think about the time wasted, or consider it to be a problem. How do we overcome that attitude? It is not my place to police the time others waste. All I can do is monitor my own habits and be an example. The rest is up to administration!