Archive for the ‘ education achievement gap ’ Category

Here’s my bottom line: The most important task of a school leader is to embrace the challenge of having a clear and shared vision of equitable outcomes for all students. It is the democratic principle of fairness upon which our country is founded and the basis for truly changing the achievement gaps that now prevail.

With the recent news that only 66% of Oregon students graduate high school, it’s clear that this vision does not “just happen.” It has to be owned and shared by the whole school community. It must be intentional, planned, implemented and supported to be sustainable. It must be evident every day, every week and every month in every classroom. All students, teachers and parents need to know and own a common vision of outcomes at their school. What must each student know and be able to do when he/she graduates? When this is clear and held dear, there is a true school spirit.

All students come from somewhere special, each with different backgrounds, different experiences and different circumstances. The whole of their differences is the beautiful mosaic of school. And when they come through the school doors, they are in a place where equity can happen. But there must be a roadmap for success for each student in each classroom across these differences.

Teachers must lead the way for the students. They must know their students well, understanding them across all their differences. They must ask the question: What does it take for a student to enter a school at one level of achievement, move forward, and then graduate with the highest potential achievement? That’s the daily challenge of teaching, at every level.

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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…)

Due to budget cuts and low seniority, I have had the privilege (or curse) of teaching at three different schools in the past two years. All three schools are in the same district, but each is vastly different in culture and climate. My current school is literally just up the hill from one of those where I was last year, but it seems like stepping into a different world.

My two former schools were Title 1 schools, where the pressure to meet benchmarks was stressful for teachers and kids. The meeting load, paperwork, and planning for multiple levels of learning took so much time that collaboration and thoughtful lesson planning seemed to take a back seat. The most high needs school lacked funding for innovative projects and hands-on teaching that is so beneficial for kids with little enrichment at home. Most of the dollars coming into this school were used for much-needed personnel and not for supplies, field trips, and innovative teaching tools. Now that I am at a non-title school not only do I have more capable students, I also have a bevy of talented volunteers, and a large PTO cash flow. These aren’t the kids that desperately need trips to get out of the neighborhood and experience life, but they are the ones that receive these benefits. Last year on my one field trips to OMSI, one of my kids asked what the Willamette River was. They had never taken a look at the river! This year as my kids write narratives, they recount stories of skiing and trips to Hawaii.

I can also tell you that for the same pay, I worked much harder at the Title 1 schools than I do now. I wrote out lesson plans for two assistants, ran 5 reading groups, managed 6 special ed students, and accommodated curriculum for 17 English Language Learners. The nagging feeling of inadequacy hung with me the whole time I was there. I knew that if I secured a permanent position there, I would burn out. This year, my class size is the same and the grade the same, but this year I can actually eat lunch. Today, I had a parent come and grade papers for me!

My message is this: teachers teaching in areas of high poverty need:

  • more dedicated time for collaboration
  • higher pay because of increased hours worked out of class
  • lower class sizes
  • a greater variety of resources in order to offer catered instruction
  • a group of capable classroom volunteers for support
  • a fundraising machine such as grant writers or sponsors

Until we address these inequalities, there will continue to be a high rate of teacher burnout and turnover at those schools where stability and experienced teaching is most desperately needed.