Basically, I have little idea what to do in the classroom. The more guidance I am provided, the less clearly I understand what I ought to do. And I have a feeling I am not alone.

Am I supposed to teach my kids how to properly punctuate an appositive phrase? Yep. And how do I know that? Because it says so right there in the English Language Arts standards.

So, am I supposed to teach a kid that they should live their life with a sense of passion and purpose? I’d say yes, but how do I know that being that this is not listed anywhere in the English Language Arts standards?

Maybe I shouldn’t mention it to them.

I am supposed to teach imagery in literature? Uh-huh. Why? Because it says so right there in the English Language Arts standards.

But am I supposed to teach a kid to persevere when times get tough? I’d say yes, but again… it’s not anywhere in the standards.

The standards ask me to teach symbolism, capitalization and the organization of ideas in an essay. Does that mean I ought not to teach loyalty, fairness, and compassion?

See this is where I get lost. If I only teach what the standards tell me to teach, then that means I am going to have taught my kids how to properly punctuate an appositive phrase, identify imagery and symbolism in literature, apply proper capitalization to appropriate words in a sentence and how to organize ideas for an essay.

However, if I only teach what the standards tell me to teach, that means I will not have taught my kids to live their life with a sense of passion and purpose, to persevere when times get tough, and to be loyal, fair, and compassionate.

Now I am not sure about the parents of your students, but I have a feeling that if I could offer my parents a choice whereby I could teach their kids to live their life with a sense of passion and purpose, to persevere when times get tough, and to be loyal, fair, and compassionate or teach their kids how to properly punctuate an appositive phrase, identify imagery and symbolism in literature, apply proper capitalization to appropriate words in a sentence and how to organize ideas for an essay, they are going to OVERWHELMINGLY choose the former. (I know I would.)

So if I blindly follow the standards, I am a dummkopt. And if I toss out the standards and teach things I feel are tremendously important to know — yet are nowhere in the listed content standards of the state — I am a rebel deserving scorn who is operating outside the confines of the curriculum.

And so, despite all this guidance, I really have no idea what to do… other than follow my own best professional instincts and play the hand I am dealt as best as I can as each individual situation arises.

Hey… isn’t that why they hired me in the first place?

I love sports. I love hoops, football, baseball, boxing, soccer, hockey, tennis and so on. And when I mean “and so on”, I mean, I can watch table tennis, badminton, lacrosse, rugby and golf.

Yep, I can watch golf.

But I only like to watch when there is level competition. If a game is a blowout, it’s off. If a team has a 35 point lead heading into the 4rth quarter, a 3 goal lead late into the second half, an 11 run lead in the bottom of the seventh, I am usually gone. Got other things to do and if I miss the comeback of the century I’ll catch the highlights on ESPN.

See, for me, there is no pleasure in watching sports when there is no element of a fair, heated competition between the players. If there is extreme competition though, the kind that calls on all opponents to reach deep down to give their best, I am all with it.

So, here’s an idea… what if we handicap our much discussed upcoming teacher/student/school evaluations like we do the game of golf? I mean we all realize that some schools have such a built in advantage before we ever tee up the school year that if we simply go head up (as we currently are), our score vs score comparison is going to make the competition a blowout.

So unexpected, too, right?

Almost without fail the upper-socioeconomic educational institutions in the U.S. are kicking butt and taking names. And despite the occasional “feel-good” anomaly (the kind which I strive to create in my own classroom), the low socio-economic schools are getting trounced.

But if we take into account mitigating factors such as English Language Learners, students living at or below the poverty level, degree of transience in the student body, special ed populations, and so on, suddenly there might be a way to really get a true glimpse into which teachers/schools/kids are really making strides.

Of course, from this point on, it’s all conjecture and academic with little need for me to draw up the “how we can do this” because, though I am no cynic, I see almost no way in the world whereby the parents who send their kids to schools like Beverly Hills High are ever going to allow a system of data to be implemented whereby the kids at inner-city schools like mine at Lynwood High will be able to actually outperform them.

Not when they pay those kind of property taxes, live in those kind of houses and support political candidates with those kind of fundraisers.

Nope, not a cynic… but not a naif either. Those parents would have heads a rollin’ if they saw their weighted test scores in the newspaper showing them to be getting whooped like a Greek mule on Crete during high tourist season.

Yet, to handicap the competition would level it out? Or would it?

See, now I don’t know. On one hand I think yep, applying a true growth model whereby we use baseline measures and then end-of-year evaluations to the data in order to show true achievement over the course of the year makes a lot of sense. But if we take mitigating factors like poor academic history, non-English speaking homes, lack of internet access, ability to hire private tutors to remediate under-performance, and so on into account (there’s gotta be a mathematic formula for this, right?) then, on one hand we are creating a level playing field whereby my kids can go up against any kids in the country. (And we’d LOVE to do that!) Yet, by handicapping our schools accordingly are we sending a mixed message?

Or even a wrong one?

Are we saying that “since you come from less, we expect less”?(And are therefore “lesser”?) See that troubles me deeply.

In my own class in Los Angeles, I tell my kids “no excuses” and we work to beat the metaphorical Beverly Hills High kids from day 1… cause I know that’s how the real world works.

But when I see my school get the “data” back from the state, I realize that to not take into account mitigating circumstances such as all the urban challenges we face, I realize, we’ve been set up for slaughter like a junior league baseball team taking on the New York Yankees.

Sure, the Yankees may give up a game now and then, but over the course of a season, the Yankees are gonna absolutely steamroll the junior leaguers time and time again.

And if I am the Yankees, I am not sure where the fun is in that. Yankees want to play the Red Sox. Ali wants to fight Frazier. The USC Trojans wants to kick Notre Dame’s butt… not Akron Community College’s butt.

At the end of the day, golf is ultimately a game you play against yourself and the course. You can only control what you can control — your own effort, preparation, practice time and so on. But if it rains, there’s wind, someone plays at 8 am when there’s no wind and another person tees off at 3:p.m. when a tsunami-like gusts are howling… what can you do?

You play the round that is on front of you. Some schools have kids where 98% of the parents went to college. And some have an 18% parent attended college ration… complicated by high truancy numbers and less resources cause there’s no real PTA out there raising a few hundred grand a year to make sure that the arts haven’t been killed off for their kids.

Yet the thing for all players to remember is, you gotta remember to love the game. Otherwise, you’ll never be the best you can.

Is it okay to have limitations?

Is it okay not to be the most cutting edge, 21rst century tool wielding teacher on the planet without having aspersions cast on my professionalism?

Is it okay to not be the most phenomenal teacher of persuasive writing, expository writing, autobiographical writing, compare and contrast writing and creative writing ever to hold a dry erase marker?

Is it okay to feel hurt when my kids feel hurt by the budget cuts, impacted classrooms and the sense of facelessness which my kids all-too-often feel in the halls of state’s schools?

Is it okay to feel sad when the fights break out?

Is it okay to feel triumphant when Jesus shows up for class three days in a row… and even has his homework for a change?

Is it okay to feel regret about the dismissal of the Year 2 teacher that got laid off just when it seemed she was starting to really get a handle on this whole “teaching” thing even though there are educators in our midst who should have hung up their spurs long ago to make way for a new crowd of eager, excited and talented young guns?

Is it okay to feel “stung” by the inanity of weight being placed on bubble tests?

Is it okay to want to close my door and just spend some time working with my kids serving their own best interests as I best interpret them based on all my years of experience and study without having to answer to a VP who doesn’t seem as if he could teach my class nearly as effectively as I teach my class should he ever be charged with the task of doing so?

Is it okay to simply recognize that wearing the hat of parent, friend, mentor, coach, teacher, social worker, and task-master — all at different times, without much rhyme nor reason to the order upon which these demands will be thrust onto me — is kinda hard without sounding like a whiner? (And kinda sets me up to not always be “incredibly great” 24/7?)

Is it okay to do the best I can… even when the best I can doesn’t feel like it’s good enough to solve all the problems I hope to solve?

Is it okay to even give voice to these fears — or am I to pretend that “I always have it all under control”?

Is it okay to show concern for the fact that California has just sliced its education funding in a historically unprecedented manner?

Is it okay if I still want to remain optimistic about what I do for a living despite the tenor of this blog because I know that without hope, faith and belief in the future, I am all too aware that I should hang up my own spurs, if for no other reason than the good of the kids?

As I write my next YA book right now, I am weighing some deep principles of story. And as I do, I realize that the reason these deep principles of story apply so well to the world of tales is because they apply so well to the real world — to life, if you will.

For example, today I am probing the world of rich characters and what truly motivates them. Now most characters have some form of inner conflict going on in their lives — especially when we meet them in the early part of a story. (Protagonists for sure.) In many ways, their internal conflict, at least for the stories I write, boils down to a want vs. need factor.

People want things. We all do. And sometimes we will do a heck of a lot of foolish things in pursuit of that want. But when we shift from mere wanting something to realizing that we actually need something, when we realize something fundamental about ourselves and our own nature — and then we act on it — that’s when true character comes out and is revealed.

And often this realization is the climax of a story. It also applies to the lives of students, I believe. (Hang with me for a sec).

To use an example that is probably familiar to many, I’ll look at the movie RAIN MAN. In Rain Man, Tom Cruise thinks he wants his father’s money. What he really wants – really needs – is family love, something he never truly had and discovers in his relationship with Ray. The movie is a journey of Tom Cruise discovering this.

And I love Rain Man. Great film. An egotistical, slick hot shot (who we know, deep down, is really a good guy) finds some real soul in his life. It moves mountains for me as an audience member.

So let’s apply this want vs. need idea to our students. What do our students think they want? Friends, fun, popularity, good looks, sizzle, and so on. The siren call of teenage-hood. (And please don’t bang on me for generalizing right here because yes, that’s what I am doing.)

But what is it that they really need? Education. Character. Self-Discipline. Self-starter-ness. (Once again, broad brush strokes here.)

And when a kid enters class at the start of the year chasing their wants (as listed above) and transforms over the course of a school year (or high school career) to recognizing and actively and eagerly pursuing their needs, teachers — like me — often feel great.

Because a story has played out which we believe is one that is ultimately awesome for the protagonist of this tale.

Getting our own kids to recognize their needs and take ownership over them, that’s the Hero’s Tale of Teen-Age hood. And I am not sure there is anything more rewarding that being an audience member for this fantastic student journey.

And then, to think about how we might have played some small role, become a bit player, like a wise sage or ancient from a land long gone with a helpful talisman (i.e. a good book… lol!) well, it makes the unfolding of this story even that much more delicious.

There is most certainly a very interesting tidal wave on the horizon. And in the mighty seas that are swirling these days in education, that’s no small feat (to create a potential tsunami that is teacher evaluation, that is. See here for the Obama chides California article which this blog post references).

Now, I have no problem with accountability. And no one is above it. I do have a problem, however, with evaluating a professional based on what I consider to be a weak, and quite possibly, inadequate means of assessment to make one’s decision… but I am holding back judgement right now on this Arne Duncan/Obama plan.

See, I think the tests are flawed to a degree. I believe we need growth model assessments to see how much kids learn over the course of the year under the direction of an educator in order to be able to fairly evaluate that educator. Otherwise, by comparing this year’s students to last year’s kids, it’s really apples to oranges (as I have said many times). How my 10 graders measure up this year should be based on where their skills were when they started the year with me — and then we can see their “growth” (there’s that word again). However, to evaluate my 10th graders this year against my 10 graders last year is practically an arbitrary comparison. All kids are different and if we can’t agree on that, then we can’t agree on much at all.

Additionally, my hope is that in this plan comes a recogniztion that there are a few different criteria to “evaluate” teachers — and please tell me that there are more tricks up their sleeves than the simple “kids taking bubble tests in May” approach which so often favor the upper socio-economic areas of our nation.

For example, a teacher who works in a suburban school with a population of kids where 98% of their parents went to college is, if we use our present data system, going to have students that (for the most part) outperform students where greater than 50% of the kids are English language learners.

Sure there might be some anomalies but for the most part this data holds true. The more wealth and education that the parents own in a community, the higher the test scores.

But, does this mean that the teachers who work in elevated socioeconomic areas are “better” teachers than those who do not?

Really… I question it. Because as of right now, I do not see how the teacher evaluation system that is being proposed does not seem to slant towards this end result. (Yet, I am trying to be patient, reserve judgement and wait to see what is actually on the table for all of this.)

But if it does end up that the teacher evaluation system slopes towards this end result, it’s almost un-American.

Two scenarios: Teacher 1 in the suburbs with kids who get high test scores. Teacher 2 in a Title 1 school with all the problems that run attendant to our nation’s lowest performing academic institutions.

Test time comes and the students of Teacher 1 outperform the students of Teacher 2. No one is shocked by the way by the result of their bubble tests.

Now, does this mean that the teacher in scenario 1 in the suburbs is a “better” teacher? Does it mean that the teacher in scenario #2, if the kids struggle to even read the tests, is a worse teacher? See this is where the problem exists for so many. And for me, I don’t want to stop working with the Title I population in inner city Los Angeles.

I LOVE IT!! However, I also don’t want the tests to demonize me as not measuring up because on the whole, my students do not score on these bubble tests at the same level of proficiency as kids who have lawyers, doctors and MBAs for parents.

American society is bifurcated along socioeconomic/class divides and while we all want to be rich, the truth is, all of us are not… and there are a great many of us striving to do 10 dollars worth of work with 5 dollars worth of resources.

My fear is that, unless these teacher evaluations take into consideration all the other mitigating factors that go into making for a really “great professional” what we are going to see is that folks who work in areas where the families have solid educational backgrounds and deep financial pockets are going to be rewarded while the folks who work in our more “troubled areas” are going to inevitably thrown under the bus.

And that is, as I have said many times before, un-American. Accountability is fine as long as it is not used as a weapon and if this plan is going to chase everyone to pursue jobs where the kids are already high-performers even before the school year starts, then we are going to do a disservice to the kids who most need our attention, care, solid efforts and skills.

I just ate a hotel restaurant — not a fancy hotel by any stretch, very much a burger and sandwich type of place — and was stricken by what seems to be a far receding quality in our country today.

Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness”.

Our waiter had it. He was friendly, nice, attentive, jocular and genuinely affable. But not intrusive. Not heavy-handed. He was just a notably good waiter, which is not rare if you are eating at a 5 star restaurant, but the lower you go on the cost scale of the food service industry, the lower (invariably) the service you expect.

And I am sorry, but all of us have eaten at the mall or the airport or wherever and just been shocked by how incredibly absent the sense of “I Give a Damn-ness” is.

And why does it seem to me that more and more of my experiences of patronage — when I fly, when I check out at the local grocery store, when I drop big bucks at Target stocking up on stuff I need in my life — are suffering from a giant lack of Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness”?

Because, make no mistake, it is lacking. Of this I am convinced. And then I realize, well, it ain’t like we are teaching Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” in our schools.

I mean sure, some of us are. And sure, I think it’s kind of implied that we ought to teach this in our national school system. But teaching Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” is not some kind of overt, direct objective. It’s not mandated. It’s not a… dare I say it… a standard.

And personally, I kinda gotta ask, why not? (Otherwise you get people who write things using words like “kinda gotta” — it’s calamitous!!)

I mean Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” applies to everyone and everything and I believe if you can cultivate this quality in a kid and help them to make it a habit in their life, for the rest of their life — no matter what they ever decide to professionally pursue — they will be better off for it.

Plumbers who exhibit Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” make for better plumbers than those who do not display Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness”. Cooks who display Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” make for betters cooks than those who do not display Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness”. From police officers to manicurists to, yep… you guessed it, TEACHERS and LIBRARIANS, those that display Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” inevitably perform their job at a much higher level than those who do not display this quality.

Matter of fact, can one ever really ascend to the top of their chosen arena without Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness”?

That’s rhetorical, cause I am not sure you can. Talent and skill are simply not enough. In this world, you gotta have Good ol’ fashioned “I Give a Damn-ness” … or you ain’t gonna have much at all.

An acquaintance (not a friend) of mine ate a local restaurant the other day — at “Joe’s” — and had a bad experience. And then complained to me about it. The food, the service, the blah, blah, blah.

So, what is my opinion now of that restaurant? In an ideal world, I’d remain free of her input and go and judge it myself. However, all of us have so much going on in our lives that we often reply on the input of others to help us shape our own opinions of matters.

Fair? No,
Intelligent? No
Convenient and expedient? Yep.

And isn’t that kinda what I value in this day and age to a large extent? After all, I’ll buy milk at 7/11 at a price bump of 25% just because it save me time, effort and energy. And I am not the only one?

Of course not. We are busy people and if you can deflate the amount of items on my “to-do” list, I’ll pay you for it and be happy for the honor to do so.

So when it comes to forming an authentic impression of public schools in this country, where do I turn? Primarily, the news and word of mouth.

And since I do not have much if any real word of mouth access to how middle schools in places like Detroit are faring, I simply deduce, based on the media reports I’ve gleaned or drawn inference from, that middle schools in Detroit are almost absolute train wreck.

And if you work in Detroit Middle Schools… well, it’s easy to see why people who are not in this profession think we, as teachers across the country, are doing such a poor job.

They don’t see how hard we work. They don’t see the effort we give. They don’t see how we are doing 10 dollars worth of work with 5 dollars worth of resources.

The media coverage we get as educators is predominantly negative and this negativity is causing less people to support us or want to send their kids to “eat in our restaurants” even if they haven’t ever set foot inside the door themselves.

One disgruntled customer can spoil a mighty large pool of people. I mean I’ll give most greasy spoon diners a chance, bit I will rarely Eat at Joe’s if I’ve ever been told that Joe’s is not doing a good job at what they are supposed to do.

And worse, I’ll even tell other people they should be careful about eating at Joe’s because I’ve heard the food there ain’t so hot.

So why do folks in the nation want to send their kids to eat at our Joe’s? Well, lots of them don’t… but they can’t afford otherwise. And those that can pony up big bucks for private schools because, as we all know, private schools that charge over $30,000 per year per child don’t really survive all that long if they have too many parents walk out of their doors disgruntled.

A part of my teaching life is paralyzed by feelings of perpetual professional inadequacy. And I feel like I am not alone.

I mean I finally get a grip on how to effectively teach theme and then I recognize the value that incorporating a classroom wiki could have. So I learn how to add this tool to my growing digital teaching arsenal but realize that there are some really high qualities insights to be gained by doing a bit more reading on using inquiry in the classroom. So I start to dive into inquiry theory when the idea of crafting a variance on student portfolios rears its head. Of course, there’s finding new ways to make Langston Hughes more accessible, figuring out if there is a better way to manage the paperwork, taking on a few more school duties so that I am really a part of a team and not just an island among other islands in this thing we called a “unified school district” even though it seems as though we are really quite separate and distinct from one another in so many various ways…

and on and on and on.

I mean, I am never at a place of just feeling comfortable with my current repertoire or abilities. There is always more to learn how to do unless I want to bury my head in the sand about the idea of the need for me to learn more in order for me to do a better job with kids.

But there is so much to learn — and so much that I am teaching once I learn it — that not even summer really provides me a sense of respite. It’s like people have this image of educator as summertime loafers who simply put school in a box,close the lid then fish, nap and grill on the bbq until back-to-school season rolls around.

Yet none of the teachers I admire (and there are scores of them) really approach their jobs — or their summers — this way. Sure, they relax over summer, take a trip and chill or whatever, but do they forget their classrooms? School? The plight of contemporary American education?

Or, do they already show a ton of concern for kids they have not yet even yet met (think about that, we deeply care for people we have not even yet met) and conjure up ways to better reach and teach them even if it is the middle of July and there’s not a school bell set to ring for well over a fortnight? (BTW, I always wanted to use the word fortnight in my writing. Check that off the list of things to do before I die.)

So, how do I get over the hump of feeling as if I still need to learn so much more? Is to be a teacher really to be a perpetual student? Does one ever ascend to the level of “master” and if so, does mastery mean you need to work less hard, as hard, or more hard in order to to learn the mysterious ways of the secret ninja teacher warrior?

In the war of digital vs. paper books, it looks like the paper tigers actually keep packing punches no one might have quite suspected they held in their arsenal. 8 tracks buckled like an accordion at the sight of cassette players. VHS tapes folded like a beach chair at the sight of DVD’s. But paper books, what have they done as the digital enemy intruder sought to encroach upon their territory?

Simply fire back more shots across the bow than anyone might have expected they were capable of launching.

BTW, the following piece of news falls under the umbrella of “Nutty stuff you can make up” or “Truth is stranger than fiction”.

Anyway, remember George Orwell, the author who wrote about big brother erasing all non-flattering material about the government after the gov ascended to role of guide for determining was appropriate for intellectual consumption by the citizenry… and what was not.

That was in 1949. He wrote this before there was google, email, cell phones or even rollie wheels on suitcases. (What a good invention, those were, huh? Do you remember the days of actually carrying heavy bags through airports? Now we all just get to crash into one another’s lower extremities when they are not looking. Much better, no?)

So now, 60 years later, Amazon, with its groundbreaking new kindle, decides to prove it cannot only add books to your life, it can subtract the ones you have already bought if they so choose. And what title is it that they apply this unknown power to?

George Orwell’s book 1984, of course. You can’t make irony like this up.

Now, they are still selling it here, but who’s to say they won’t yank the plug again on this purchase… or any other purchase one might make. I guess we always knew they had the power but it seems that until you actually have achieved totalitarian rule, you should not flex totalitarian powers. It’s just not polite.

Books are sure proving to be a pretty sticky technology, huh? And until some people start raving about how much they love the smell of the inside of a kindle, I have a feeling this battle is long since over.

I smell the future… and it smells like plastic made in China?

I can’t say I am the biggest fan of Facebook. Maybe I am just from a different era, whatever. And not to sound like a snob (I know, too late for that, right?), but I can’t say that I am all that into striking up really long social network conversations with people I only kind of knew as bare associates 20 years ago. But ever since I joined Facebook once upon a time ago, I get all these “remember me” notes that seem to require 15-20 minutes of thoughtful written response if I am going to reply to all the questions appropriately.

Like the kid in from my 11th grade chemistry class. Do I really need to run down my life’s story of college, dating, marriage, parenthood, career, what my siblings are up to, and so on just because he hit me up on the web?

Does it make me an arrogant sounding jerk to want to take the attitude, “Knew you once, buddy… and it was brief and kinda awkward then. Not really looking for a cross country pen-pal now who is approaching me as if we are long lost pals that once travelled the globe together before being tragically separated by a typhoon in Singapore… but now Facebook has reunited us again — HALLELUJAH! — so let’s rekindle, huh?”

And the thing is, I talk to more and more people who feel almost exactly the same way. (At least people over the age of 30, that is.)

Thing is, though, I LOVE nings. Maybe it’s because they are specialized and populated with people of like-minded interests discussing subjects which authentically intrigue me. On Facebook I get to learn that Cecilia is considering whether or not to put hot sauce on a chicken sandwich right now whereas on the nings people are speaking to subjects of real interest to me… and they are doing it thoughtfully, passionately and out of their own “I want to do this” willingness. It’s not homework. It’s not guilt. It’s not, “Oh darn, I gotta respond to the ning again.” It’s not obligation. It’s voluntary participation.

And it’s not updates on things like, “a blue car just drove down my street.”

Facebook is the reason that the acronym WTF carries so much weight for me on the internet. Because when I see Jesse has just mentioned that “the tree in his yard will be trimmed by noon on Friday” I scream to myself, WTF!

Who cares? Why are you posting this and why am I reading this?

Facebook to me now feels like a chore. People are poking me. People are inviting me to join groups. People, strange, distant, once-upon-a-time people are kind of intruding on me in a manner that is almost directly opposite to the way people communicate with me on the ning.

I still want to give Facebook a chance but… well, I log in less and less and less these days and when I do I almost never feel good about my experience over there.

Yet the ning… I feel intellectually stimulated by it.

Nings rock. And, Facebook, because I now feel as if I am blowing a bunch of people off by not replying to them just because they are trying to connect with me in a bit of a vapid way, Makes Me Feel Like a Wee Bit of a Jerk.