Sandy Ludeman

Sandy is an assistant professor at Pacific University’s College of Education in Eugene. Prior to that she was the principal of the Eugene Village School, a public charter school based on the Waldorf model. She has also have served as a Board member of both that school and the Portland Village School. During 2001-2002, she taught and served as a consultant in schools in Durban, South Africa. Over the past 30+ years she has worked in the public schools as an English teacher, a curriculum director, and a superintendent. Sandy has two children and four grandchildren, two of whom are in public schools.

Why can’t we fix the teacher evaluation system? Maybe our newest tool, the 2010 Model Core Teaching Standards from the Interstate Teacher Assessment and Support Committee (InTASC) will be the fix. These standards, adopted as the evaluation tool for graduates of Oregon Colleges of Education and the proposed basis for teacher evaluation in all Oregon school districts, may help. The process, though, can have both positive and negative consequences.

First, the positive. A set of “professional practice standards, setting one standard for performance that will look differently at different developmental stages of the teacher’s career” (Council of Chief State Officers, Model Core Teaching Standards, p.1) can develop a common language for K-12 educators and teacher preparation programs. Such a common language would be helpful to the many mentor teachers who so carefully guide our novice teachers through their first student teaching experiences. Right now we in the Colleges of Education have forms that reflect TSPC (Teacher Standards and Practices Commission, the licensing agency) requirements with descriptors that often do not parallel those used in the daily practice of classrooms. How much better it would be to have the new teacher, the veteran teacher, and the university supervisor speaking the same language.

The standards for judgment also could become clearer if those standards reflected “stages of development.” Instead of the student teacher equating the evaluation scale with a grade (“I want a 6 because that means an A”), the scale could reflect teachers’ growth process as an educator. Too many people assume that, because both the new and the veteran teacher have job descriptions that are exactly alike, all teachers at initial licensure will perform exactly like a more veteran teacher. While more years of service do not guarantee greater proficiency, allowing for well-described and well-understood standards of development should open doors to better evaluation and enhanced professional development. Just as state standards for curriculum have allowed for a more common understanding among teachers of what an average third grader or tenth grader should know, the application of these standards can allow better conversation about teachers’ work.

Now, the negative.

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My class of teacher candidates and I are reading Teaching 2030, a book that uses wonderful ideas from practicing teachers to discuss their changing roles.  As the title suggests, the authors (Barnett Berry and the TeachersSolutions 2030Team) offer analyses of the present to project a positive future.  The book discusses the union movement and its effects on the present roles; learning ecologies and technological changes; differentiated pathways and careers for teachers; and teacherpreneurism and innovation.  It is the latter concept – teacherpreneurism – that most intrigues my teacher candidates and me.

First, a definition.  Teacherpreneurism is not educational entrepreneurism: recruiting people from outside schools to “fix” what is inside the present schools.  Instead, teacherpreneurs are “teacher-leaders of proven accomplishment who have a deep knowledge of how to teach, a clear understanding of what strategies must be in play to make schools successful, and the skills and commitment to spread their expertise to others – all the while keeping at least one foot firmly in the classroom.” (Teaching 2030, p.136) In other words, the goal of these people would be to work from within to make schools better.  The premise is that good teachers, especially, but not exclusively, young ones, want to stay within teaching but not within the cradle to retirement of working only in a classroom.  Instead of moving to administration, these newly envisioned roles would allow teachers to work with students but also with their colleagues and students beyond their own classroom in a variety of ways – and they would be paid accordingly, both in personal satisfaction and in salary differentiation.

When my students talked about these ideas, they became interested in what happens in schools now and wondered why these sorts of opportunities don’t seem to exist. So I had them watch videos of the CLASS Project, especially the Sherwood District which is trying anew salary schedule to allow teachers to move in that direction. http://educators4reform.org/participating-districts/sherwood-school-district/ I wanted them to see that in Oregon change has begun.  (A side note: many were really surprised how the teachers in the CLASS project talked about the lack of supervision and evaluation before implementing these changes.  Most of them have a very limited understanding of the profession they are entering, and I often think how their lack reflects society as a whole.)

We here in Eugene are experiencing yet another round of deep cuts, school closures, and furlough days.  All of this publicity discourages my class – will there be jobs for them?  And that is why I have them read this book so they can envision an alternative kind of schooling.  While Rahm Emmanuel’s comment of “a crisis is a terrible thing to waste” came back to bite him, I do agree that this present funding crisis offers us a way to rethink how we teach.  Or, more specifically, how children learn. Whether we reexamine our outdated high school Carnegie units and the structures that result or apply technology to allow for individualized instruction in our over-crowded classrooms or some other yet-to-be-thought-of idea, we have the opportunity to create a new future.  We Oregonians pride ourselves on innovation in environmental and health issues; why not in education?

Sandy Ludeman December 29th, 2010 | Sandy Ludeman

A Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

- Langston Hughes

The Senate has defeated the “Dream Act” (The Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act).  This legislation offers a path to citizenship for children who arrived in the United States illegally as minors (under 15 years old).  One of those paths is through completing a college degree. A bipartisan team of senators has sponsored this legislation since 2001; the most recent iteration tried to address the concerns of tuition costs and the possible domino effect of citizen sponsorship.  In fact, despite the cries from opponents, if you read the actual parameters of the bill, you may be surprised to learn how really difficult it would be – even with the legislation – to become a citizen.

While both sides in the dispute over passage used social justice language and/or financial issues to justify their votes, I would like to add another argument in favor of the bill: developing our infrastructure.  We don’t always think of education as an infrastructure issue. We cannot see the physical results like we see a bridge or a highway or repair of a school building.  People are not outside schools in their orange vests or hard hats reminding us of “our tax dollars at work.”  Yet  teachers and other educators work to create and build skills and knowledge that are necessary for people to function successfully in our complex and interdependent system.  To deny access to that system seems equally as near-sighted as not repairing bridges or letting school roofs leak. Instead of car drivers falling to their deaths or water damage destroying gym floors, we will have a group of people unable to contribute their full talents within our society.  Just as lack of maintenance on physical infrastructures often leads to more expensive work, lack of allowance for continued education can lead to more expensive services later on.

These children, educated in our K-12 schools, are not going away. But they can go underground and found an alternative system.  I lived in South Africa for a year and saw what happened when a society decided not to educate a majority of its population.  Those uneducated people did not disappear. When they were barred from using certain roads, they created their own roads.  When they were barred from stores, they created their own outdoor malls. When they could not afford housing, they built subdivisions out of cardboard and tin. They did not, however, build schools.  In their battle merely to survive, schools were a luxury.

While I do not equate this situation with South African apartheid, I learned during that year that people are resilient and will use any means to survive.  And often just surviving creates embitterment.  We want more for all of our children than survival; we want their talents to flourish – both for their own fulfillment but also for our society’s continued growth. Instead of “drying up” or “festering” or even “exploding,” we want children who join our society and add their gifts to it.

Delaying or denying that opportunity is like delayed maintenance on our homes – plumbing stops working, the structure looks run-down, weeds sprout up in our lawns or through the cracked sidewalks, our property value goes down, neighbors start isolating us. Delaying/denying those children who are willing to work through college to gain citizenship appears to me to be like posting a “condemned for demolition” sign on our future.

Waiting for Superman is a powerful reminder that children and parents care about their own education.  By choosing to focus on several children and their families, the director Davis Guggenheim translates large data sets about school and child failure into personal stories.  The two former elementary teachers, present teacher educators, who attended the film with me, were in tears at its end.  (Even this hardened secondary teacher’s eyes were moist!) All three of us are familiar with the statistics, with the arguments of the policy makers, with the demands from our own constituency to send them better prepared teachers; those numbers and demands are never as convincing as seeing the effects of bad policies and unresponsive schools.

And it is just that manipulation of our emotions through the struggles of five students and their search for better schools that worries the film’s critics. They know that tugging on heart strings will get a greater response than, for example, Deborah Meier’s argument in the October 27, 2010 Education Week. She says that, instead of blaming “‘lazy’ teachers and power-hungry unions” (p. 12), Guggenheim might rather illustrate the issues between the wealthy and the poor that allow people like him to escape the public schools.  Her exposing an obvious, but still extant, problem is important.  It does not, however, resonate as much as hearing the story of Bianca whose mother can no longer afford the small tuition of a Catholic school and hopes the public, free charter school is the answer.

I am a great admirer of Meier and certainly agree that our country’s acceptance of the wealth gap is a disgrace.  Her own response to that gap was to start her own successful alternative school in Harlem; she is certainly familiar with the stories in the film.  Those stories bring us closer to the problem than any kind of lecture on the problem: poverty, systems’ failures, bad teachers, unions. (more…)