I visited a 6th grade class . . .

I visited sixth grade for one morning in October. Told kids that my name was “Gerry.” After the Pledge of Alliance, we studied "estimating," a lesson from the thick text. Must have been a review; kids were pretty quick to answer. I looked at a problem: four big, odd numbers, which (with a little rounding up and down) yielded an answer of 4000. My granddaughter waited patiently for me to come up with the answer. All but one of the 18 in the room (I heard two were absent) seemed to be ready for the next day’s quiz.

The kids seemed to like their teacher, a veteran, a pro. The lesson was over and we lined up for the walk to the computer lab down the hall.

Signs advocating "Tiger Pride" were everywhere: Pride, respect, etc. Kids seem to have gotten the message. I straightened my spine to hold my head up a little higher, with dignity, you know, pride.

Next stop was the computer room, where each kid had a seat in front of a desktop PC. This was to be a lesson in web-based research, aiming to garner info about a student's favorite singer – Taylor Swift, in my granddaughter's case. Answers to questions and conclusions were recorded in a separate piece of web-based software that allowed students to collect their work in a kind of scrapbook with pictures and prose. I was impressed.

Where was this when I was a kid? I made a note to suggest this software to colleagues in my memoir-writers class.

Class over. Save work. Shut down. Line up. Tiger Pride. Move to next room – this time a geography/science lesson with another teacher. Hands-on, engaging, working in teams: the right stuff. “Heads up; pay attention,” she said. There's an aide to help slower kids keep pace.

We were working with both topographical and aerial maps of a mountain range. Kids helped each other find information and explain stuff. If one had a question and another an answer, they hooked up. If necessary the teacher answered questions too hard for the team. This left me behind; I didn't have the vocabulary. I couldn't help much; my major was English.

No giggling, poking ribs or wandering eyes (like me in my 6th grade 50 years ago). The task was interesting and the kids put real effort into completing the assignment. As a grandpa, I was impressed.

One boy asked, "How ya doing, Gerry"? The kid was sincere. I answered, "Fine, when do we get a bathroom break"?

Am I really in the sixth grade? There must really be something to this "Tiger Pride." Add, "helpful," "courteous," and "sincere" to the Tiger list.

Next class is in a different computer class, different teacher. I'm now getting the picture; sixth grade is departmentalized, not self-contained like the 1st grade I'd visited a couple weeks earlier. In this room - again each kid in front of a desktop PC - kids were set up for math drill using an older, but sophisticated l program. The problems weren't easy, but age appropriate, and timed, I think.

If I was following this right, a new problem popped up, even though the prior one had not been fully completed. My granddaughter didn't have time to explain it to me. Don't know if the computer gave partial credit for partial answers. Grandpa - me - saw kids who liked math, for whom it was easy, a game. They flew through the problems. Others didn't fly, but I think the session gave teachers data about which kids needed more help. I would have been on that list.

The last class was the one I liked best. We were back with our main teacher whose morning, while we roamed, was spent teaching other kids other lessons. (The departmental thing, remember?). Now we were novice archeologists. The teacher had us set our desks in teams of four. Each team got a box of "midden" (a new vocabulary word for me). There were five teams, five boxes of midden (artifacts from a person or place), and we were to sleuth out the identity of the person whose midden was in the boxes.

We (I'm a team member by now) examine each artifact, discuss its implications and record our inferences on our worksheet. Then we rotate to a new box, all retrieved from the same dig. Just like on CSI on TV. It looks to me like our subject is female, late 20th century, and a music fan. Too quickly, the class time is over. We'll take up the research tomorrow, except I won't be back. Maybe my granddaughter will reveal the subject's identity to me later.

Finally, a bathroom break. Wash hands thoroughly. More Tiger Pride. Off to lunch where I choose a corn dog, mixed vegetables, and apricots. My new friend asks me if I need any help. I do: "Where do we put the trays"?

I'm done for the day, ready to leave. I'm tired. "Do I get a hug?"

I get a hug. Out the door leaving the sixth graders to the second half of their day - reading and writing, art and music, etc. Stop at Casey's for coffee to sustain me on my drive home. School is work, but fun too.

In the car I listen to the news. The governor has just rolled out a new plan to make schools world-class. I'd just left a school: average town, average kids (except for my exceptional granddaughter, of course). But, was the school world-class? Sure seemed like the kids were learning important stuff - estimating, web-based research, map reading and teamwork, math drill and archeology (not to mention the Tiger Pride). Don't know if those are on the state's test, or not.

Since I was listening to public radio, I got more detail; just enough to know that the world-class blueprint aimed to improve teachers, change pay practices, upgrade standards and accountability, and encourage innovation. The reporter said there would be new, yet-to-be calculated costs to implement the changes, which seemed a lot like changes called for by prior governors and commissions. Teachers, the reporter said, were opposed to more standardized testing, and some felt the plan unfairly singled them out. If these sixth-grade teachers or their students could work any harder, I don't know how.

I guess there's more to know now than when I was a youngster. They say that for our economy's sake, there’s urgency that kids learn more, more quickly, be world-class. When you add a piano lesson, a dance lesson and Lego League to the sixth grade curriculum, plus a sport, you've got a kid on a pretty steep learning curve. How hard can you push young minds and bodies?

Heard it might be good to hold kids who can't read back in third grade. An idea, but by state law? The image of a 10-year old in third grade hung in my mind. The 10-year old might have actually learned to read by third grade if his parents and other community folks were more involved in his learning. Crazy thought, I know, but there are many roads to world-class; it takes a village.

I came away from my half-day thinking a good start on reform would be helping teachers be tech savvy, and making sure schools are modern, in good repair and appealing to kids. I envision schools that are more like beehives than assembly lines.

I hope districts can continue to attract quality teachers, and keep them. Good principals too, plus I like it that classes are small, and I’d put in more technology so learning could be more personalized (customized) to each kid's needs. Just crazy thoughts, I know.

Is Iowa a "good enough" state?

Speaking about our state's education system as a whole, the National Teacher of the Year challenged our Partners in Learning group (last Thursday 03/03) to consider if Iowa, indeed, is a "good enough" state. Based on what we've always heard, you'd think that Iowa has a pretty good education system. But is it "good enough?" The question got us to thinking.

Sarah Brown Wessling, the NTOY, said people ask her all the time how Iowa compares. 

I’m proud of my state. I’m a product of an Iowa school system and I live within 50 miles of where I was born. But I think we have to ask the question [Is Iowa a “good enough” state?].

For a long time, Iowa has seen itself as a state with a strong public education system of programs because of high test scores – the ITEDs and ACT, of course. Both of which were written in the state of Iowa. I think these test scores were given a lot of praise during a time when we were more homogenized as a population, and during a time when we were economically a favored population. So when I hear the rhetoric about 'We want to get back to where we were,' I kind of cringe. We don’t want to get back to where we were. In fact, what we need to do is re-envision.

There was a time that we were able to “rest” based on what we perceived to be a very high functioning public education system, but in reality there were other places in this country, places like Kentucky, that had a public education system that didn’t have high test scores, so they began to look very critically at where they were as a state - or weren’t. They’ve now become a model of innovation. There are many places in this country that are innovating in ways that I don’t know that we in Iowa are. I think we have 'pockets' of innovation, but I’m not convinced this state is ready for innovation because [too many people say] 'it was good enough for me, so it’s good enough for my kids.'

My hope is that we can do in public education what some folks are doing in experiments like charter schools. Where’s Iowa's 'project-based' school? I know we have pockets (DMPS downtown school, its charter, the lab school at UNI, etc.), but where’s our 'New Tech School'? Where’s our school that's tied closely to a teacher preparation institution? Where’s that for Iowa? We’re not good enough. I know the reality is that teachers are really tired. But we’re working really hard at the wrong things, not always by choice.

One member of our group, a university professor, suggested a way of reframing of the question for further discussion:

Part of the answer to this question [Is Iowa a “good enough” state?] is in the another question, 'What do Iowans really want?' and, 'In what state [condition] are we really in?' When we go into a public deliberation about public education, one approach we might consider is that 'We can do more, if we want more.' Another might be that 'We can do more about what we want.' And, a third could be that 'We can want less,' which raises the question 'Is less really more'? How would we pare down what we want in order for it to be better? 

From forums, we've found that citizens - especially parents - want schools that produce brilliant scholars, thoughtful citizens, AND skilled workers or inventive entrepreneurs. They want it all. Anything less, they say, short changes our kids.


Another member, an AEA board member who once taught school, registered his frustration with the notion that we are always confronted with "trade-offs' when the conversation turns to public education. 

There are many ways to fulfill a particular need, so looking for alternatives or  'trade-offs' is but one way. Introducing he possibility of a “trade off” signals that there is a contradiction, which can also introduce a pathway to invention, i.e. creating new things or doing things in ways different than we've previously attempted. Too often we make the assumption that there are limited resources. Resources are 'limited,' but only depending on what we really want. The answer may be in 'wanting less,' but not always.

All good questions and comments. Food for thought, and action. We didn't settle the question of whether/not Iowa is a "good enough" state, but we surely got our minds moving.

So, Sarah, what about Finland?

In our meeting last Thursday (03/03) with Sarah Brown Wessling (the National Teacher of the Year), I got that Finland has national standards that guide the nation's education system "in a very healthy way," but there's no national curriculum. Sarah said she'd been in Finland studying their education system as part of her NTOY work and as a delegate from ASCD. The national standards, she says, "Give them a common vision," which empowers teachers, principals and other school district officials "to make decisions that make a difference for kids."

Finnish people are very open to change. Openness is a feature of their culture. Good to look at another culture to see what works for them and say, “That works for them, how can we make it work for us?” And within our own context, I think this does cut right to the question of 'What is the purpose of school?'

This is one thing that I’ve learned this year: When I see schools or teachers or states that are moving, it is because of their common vision. There has to be something really important about their 'common vision.' And in Finland, it works with national standards, yet there's no national curriculum.

That would be different from some schools in America, ones Sarah described, where teachers are required to follow a "script." What works in Finland, she told us, can't be easily or exactly (or maybe not at all) transported to America, because what works in one context (culture) may not work in another.


Does that mean there's no hope for the USA, I wondered?


Let's start with something really basic. In Finland, Sarah said, "The first national test a student takes is at age 18." 

That doesn’t mean that students haven’t been 'tested,' but they don’t 'test and blame.' There’s an incredible amount of 'trust,' which goes back to the culture. It goes back to a culture where people don’t have to 'compete' to survive. 

Sarah told us that in Finland, teachers don't "grade" homework. What if we didn't "grade" homework? Wouldn't parents and state legislators worry about "accountability"?

In Finland, teachers assign, but don’t grade homework. Student do (or don’t do) the homework, not to get a grade; they do what they need to do in order to learn. If they need to do “more” in math (let’s say) in order to succeed, then that’s what they focus on. I think this could turn education around here. In this country, we're so wrapped up in our 'competition' that to let go of it seems to be letting go of everything.

I know business leaders and politicians think "competition" is good. It's what made America strong, they say. [A letter-to-the-editor in Tuesday's DMR (02/08) says competition over the F136 engine for the Joint Strike Fighter saved taxpayers 21%, which is $20 billion.] Guess there's a big difference between racing to build the top airplane engine, and racing to top learning for ALL students. Learning isn't a marginally available commodity, limited to one prize winner.  Can see how businesspeople get that mixed up. But, back to Sarah:

What works in Finland is a “growth” mindset, a life-long learner mindset. 

Frankly, I didn’t see a lot of innovative teaching, nor a lot of technology. I saw kids who felt safe, cognitively safe, and emotionally safe. I saw kids who were happy to be in school. I saw kids who were 'present,' and, a certain 'presence' of everyone. So, it wasn’t perfect, and I’m sure, there are things they can take from us.

The thing about Finland is that there is this 'value' on learning. The people who provide the learning are seen as important members of the community. As actual hires, only the top 15% of teaching candidates in teacher preparation programs actually get hired, so there is a surplus and that elevates the professional standards. In Finland, you would never see a billboard saying, 'You too can be in the classroom tomorrow, call XXX.' You could see this in the USA.

Teachers get an undergraduate degree in their content areas, then all get an advanced degree, a Masters in pedagogy. Teachers get paid so much more because, by contrast, Finland's doctors and lawyers don’t get paid as much as USA, which goes back to their culture. And all belong to a strong teachers union. 

After a half hour hearing about Finland, I gave some thought to moving there. It's the homeland of one of my grandfathers. But, alas, I'm tied to Iowa by family, love and hope. But, if given the choice between Mississippi and Finland, I'd be looking for a heavier coat.


I do get the notion of "presence" and recall the last time I visited an Iowa high school classroom: Bodies were "present," but many minds were elsewhere (texting), some absent. Too bad, because the lesson was really interesting. Must be part of our culture, which (I guess) can change if given attention and provided time and leadership. Let's hope.

NTOY visits with Partners in Learning

Last Thursday I arranged for Sarah Brown Wessling, an English teacher ISEA member from Johnston HS to visit with our Iowa Partners in Learning group. No big deal, except Sarah is a big deal. She's the 2010 National Teacher of the Year and she has a national scheduler who (as you might expect) wanted each "i" dotted and "t" crossed, but I handled it and it was worth the effort. In addition to being an outstanding educator, Sarah is an articulate advocate for the teaching profession.


We had scheduled an hour for the conversation, but she gave us 2½ - maybe more than we were worth, but she didn't seem to mind. She organized her time around a half-dozen key questions, the third of which was "How do we enhance the profession?" Our group includes a UNI teacher educator, several retired teachers, retired ISEA staffers, business people who are parents of public school students, a librarian, a DOE consultant, and a miscellany of ISEA staffers, so her questions found a ready audience, but her answers didn't always go in the direction we expected. She said:

Teacher “voice” is too often not recognized. Teachers have not been given the opportunity to learn to articulate their practice. There are teachers who know how to make the implicit explicit. But as a “practice,” as a system we don’t train our teachers to do that. So when they are in a moment of opportunity (to tell their story or talk to some important issue), they are left without the tools to do it: largely because it’s not part of the practice in schools (“pockets” of excellence, of course, do exist). Teachers can't describe what they do, why they do it, and how it impacts student learning. Without that, how do you convince people that you know what you're doing in your classrooms, if you don’t know [have] the words? And, we don’t give teachers the time to find the words. So that’s a bigger, larger frame.

That got me to thinking. How does a teacher acquire "voice"? Sarah said that three things helped her ready herself to be a spokesperson for the profession: 1) Working on her MA; 2) Scoring AP exams collaboratively with other teachers; and 3) Completing the work necessary to earn her National Board Teaching Certificate. She told us a story about how putting herself in a "parallel" leaning experience vis-à-vis her students helped her understand how students actually learn - a concept that left us all nodding and wondering, "How do we get ourselves into one of those "parallel" experience vis-a-vis each other?" Sounds like something worth doing.


She told us an important truth:

The truth of the matter is that if we want to enhance this profession, we have to be able “to talk” about what we do. We have to talk about practice in a different way than is currently done. So often what comes out is that teachers are asked to speak to "inequities," a horrible corner to be in. When there’s a problem, then we ask for their voice, and it sounds like they’re whining, right? It sounds as though they’re complaining. But that’s all we’ve asked of them.

I told Sarah that she was the exact right person at the exact right time for her profession, and I think that's true. Hope to connect with her again. I think she has some important things to say to ISEA and other education leaders.