Extended Absences

image from flickr user COG LOG LAB

Four months without a post.  Even writing it pains me.  Several authors (whose opinions matter to me) have suggested that “real bloggers” must post on a weekly to daily schedule.  Once, that may have been feasible for me, but the demands of my full-time teaching, my writing over at TeachHUB, and my family now make it impossible.  It seems ridiculous to me that as recently as six weeks ago I was making plans to start up a new website.

In the last few months, many aspects of my professional life have changed–mostly for the better.  In the space of two weeks, I met Alan Alda (at an exclusive press event for his upcoming PBS documentary “The Human Spark”) and was invited to join a district advisory council of teachers.  Later, I found myself in the office of my principal pitching a new position for next year that would focus on integrating technology into lesson plans all over the school.

My stock was soaring, and it still is.  But, the catch is that all of this has left me with some very big decisions to make:

• Do I stay in the science classroom and work on improving my practice (differentiation, formative assessment, building a functional PLC) or do I push hard for this Technology Facilitator position with fewer headaches and smaller paychecks?
• Should I use the occasion of a departing principal to jump ship and try out a new school or stay and reboot my reputation with a new school leader?
• Is it better for me to stay in the classroom or to actively pursue a district-level position that extends my influence?

I have never been comfortable with change in my personal life.  Eleven years ago, I turned down a Fulbright fellowship to start graduate school mainly because I was scared of traveling away from the things that I knew.  I have stayed at my school (where my career began) through some pretty dark times because it’s still safer than the unknown.

But, on the other hand, who can say whether my career (and my life) will benefit more from building a legacy at one school, teaching siblings and developing relationships with community leaders, than taking my skills and personality to a new place and exploring the natural diversity of a huge school system?  In conversations with several more seasoned educators, the suggestions were split, leaving me to seek out my answers in my own way.

Suffice it to say, however, that Scripted Spontaneity will live on.  I hope to post more regularly about less serious topics and rebuild the community that once was.  Because everyone needs a place for their voice to be heard.

Spontaneous Appreciation for a Script

photo from Flickr user snakemanrob

I have used this space in the past to rail against the evils of scripted curricula. I’ve vented my frustration at being forced to follow a pacing guide set by individuals who don’t even work in a classroom. I have expressed my dismay at the lack of respect that administrators show for teachers when they tell them what to teach, when to teach it, and how to teach it. I have said again and again that while some novice teachers could benefit from this level of structure, it was inappropriate and unprofessional to force it upon more experienced teachers.

Well, I now find myself in the somewhat humbling situation of having the wind sucked out of my angry sails by my local school district. As part of their continuing efforts to provide extensive online resources to teachers all over our large district, a group of district administrators and teachers has created something truly wonderful. They have rolled out a new web-based pacing guide that combines the best parts of organized instruction with the flexibility deserved by professional educators.

The new site includes detailed outlines of lesson ideas, standards correlations, and links to websites, video clips, and other resources. It’s simple to find, easy to navigate, and very easy to pull out pieces that are helpful without necessarily following every step. In a word, it is nearly everything I would ask for in a teacher resource website.

And best of all…it’s not required that any teacher in the district use this tool. Somebody must be listening to me.

Father’s Day Far From Home

While my writing over at TeachHub.com, along with the usual end-year chaos that characterizes every classroom at this time of the year, have kept me too preoccupied to share my thoughts in this space very much, track-out break is here and so is some time to write for me.

The right combination of opportunity and inspiration hit me today as I was riding back from a four-day vacation with my family (and my in-laws) in Grand Teton National Park outside Jackson, Wyoming.  After flying out to their house in Utah, we drove up in a three-car caravan to some of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring land in the entire world.  Between being disconnected from civilization (I can’t believe I survived four days with no Edge/3G/WiFi!), being surrounded by my wife’s family, and traveling with two young children, this has been a unique opportunity to break from my usual habits and reflect on my life.

On top of these conditions, it is Father’s Day as I write this on the descent down Highway 89 from Jackson Hole.  Sure, it’s an artificial commercialized holiday designed to sell greeting cards and fishing poles, but it has also been pretty successful at making all of us think more about the role of male parents.  Perhaps that’s why I find myself considering the impact of my father on who I am today, and my own affect on my son’s development.

A recent review in the LiveScience blog pointed out that in 95% of mammal species the male parent never even meets his offspring.  We humans are a rare exception to this rule–an exception with a purpose.  While, like most biologists, I am leery of distancing our species from others in our Kingdom, it is also clear that our self-awareness makes us unique.  There are so many reasons that we have become the dominant species on the planet, and biology is only one of them.  But still, our parental tendencies and the role of fathers in the rise of Homo sapiens can’t be inconsequential.  We don’t carry the extensive library of instinctual behaviors that related species possess.  With fatherhood comes the responsibility of teaching and nurturing positive behaviors in our children.  It’s a gift and a burden that some lesser members of the species choose to neglect.

Next weekend, three generations of men in my family will be together as my father, myself, and my son all spend a few days together.  I know that I’ll be more cognizant of the lessons I’ve learned from my dad and the ones I am teaching my son.

The Importance of Push-Back

flickr user mikka22

A while back, I wrote about the changes to my grading policy (which are still ongoing and producing exciting results) and I mentioned how important it was to my development as an educator to have colleagues that question my practice.  I don’t necessarily mean critics, but rather individuals who ask me tough questions and force me to reflect on and evaluate the way that I teach.  I said,

Their Devil’s Advocate has helped me to crystallize my own ideas and clarify the “why” and the “how” of this dramatic change to my grading practices.  One teacher in particular, has been a sounding board for my quotes from Ken O’Connor and has pushed back with real and necessary criticism of what I am doing. I haven’t wavered in my resolve to make this change, in fact, I feel stronger knowing that she has helped me to consider the issues in play.

A couple of commenters appreciated this little turn of phrase, and one even suggested that I turn it into a blog post of its own.  This idea intrigued me, particularly because I didn’t see anything special in those words.  It was only after speaking with some of the educators in my school that I realized how revolutionary it can be to welcome “push-back”.

My biggest frustration lately is with my peers who make a conscious decision that what they do every day of every year is good enough.  They stop making attempts to advance their content knowledge and fail to stay current with pedagogical developments.  Some don’t even seem to think about improving their lesson plans.  It’s as if, in their minds, they have reached mastery.  This scares me.

I do not consider myself a veteran teacher in most regards because I constantly see gaps in my abilities.  I sometimes lose sleep considering the many things that I am not doing with my students.  This is just the kind of guy that I am, and I understand that many people are not like me.  But, what I can’t seem to get my head around is how someone can enjoy doing the exact same thing every day, year after year.  It would drive me crazy.

So, this brings me back to the benefit of being surrounded by people who disagree with you, even if its only about the little things.  For me, these people force me to face the weaknesses in my logic.  They lay bare the aspects of my practice that don’t make sense.  And, I am left with a powerful choice: defend my decisions or change them.

Either way, I am a better educator for it.

Zen and the Art of Technology Use

Change can be a bumpy road, but the view from a new perspective is usually worth it.  My move to a new team and grade-level this year is one such example.  Learning a new curriculum has been challenging, and adjusting to younger students has taken some time and flexibility.

Flickr user Darren Hester

These hurdles are nothing compared to the fantastic benefits that I’ve gained from the new members of my teaching team.  Each has her own skills and brings a unique voice to the team dynamic.  The result is–I humbly believe–the strongest team in our school.  We have the drive and ability to reach every child in a variety of ways, and the students can find at least one personality that they can relate to, and develop a relationship with.  I’ve written in this space before about the importance of divergent voices to my development as an educator, but it’s more than that.  One of my teammates is an amazing writer and photographer.  She is more reflective about her practice than most educators that I know.  She has amazed me with her ability to articulate ideas and concepts, and I am constantly envious of her gift.

Recently, she sent me an email with this statement:

When I recently reread Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I was struck with how you and I both exemplify the contrasting ideologies of the “classical” vs. “romantic” when it comes to technology in education. You not only enjoy using technology, but you derive great purpose and satisfaction from using your problem-solving abilities to maintain the equipment. You strive to understand the inner workings of the computer. I, on the other hand, highly enjoy the user-friendly aspects of technology, but have no interest in fixing or understanding problems should they arise. I get easily frustrated and choose to rely on others to maintain the equipment.

The problem in education is that there is a building full of romantics. Even when training is provided, the majority of educators view technology maintenance as someone else’s job, and, unfortunately, there is really no one on the payroll with that job description. With no real in-house tech support, the pressure and expectations rest on the shoulders of the few “classical” educators who not only possess the ability but also the desire to work with the maintenance of out-dated computer systems and blissfully ignorant, “romantic” teachers.

Wow, huh?  Not only does she pull in a fantastic literary reference, but she manages to clearly and eloquently explain the frustration that I have felt all year due to my new tech trouble-shooting responsibilities.  It’s not just that she can understand what is going on, but the way in which she expresses it.

What do you think?  Do you see these two “classes” of educators in your space?