Teacher in a Strange Land

Platoons! What Are They Good For?

 The use of military and sports metaphors to describe teaching and learning makes me crazy. I hate it when teachers say they're "in the trenches." Calling common standards "goalposts" grates on my sensibilities, as do drills, recruits, maneuvers, tactics and racing to the top. I can never figure out who's fighting--or who's winning--or why we're at war to begin with.

And now we've been advised to develop instructional "platoons" in elementary school, the better to lock and load, pinpointing our achievement targets with more precision. We can become an elite teaching force, a well-oiled instructional machine, mowing down mathematical skills like Sherman marching to the sea, and all that.

In 2005, I was teaching music in a K-4 building. I ate lunch with the three fourth grade teachers, all of whom were smart and hip. I was consistently impressed with their ongoing conversations about How to Make Things Better for Fourth Graders.  They shared everything--lesson planning, materials, moments of instructional illumination, things kids said in class. In the fall, they started dividing up the lesson creation process, with each teacher going deeper into one of three subjects in the fourth grade curriculum--math, science and social studies. They all taught reading at the same time, using the assigned building-wide program, but they were experimenting with flexibly sharing their students for mini-lessons around particular skills and topics.

There were about 85 kids in the 4th grade, and their rooms were side by side. By the end of September, the teachers knew all the 4th graders--and were convinced that they could do a better job of instruction if they specialized in teaching one subject, and ran the 4th grade reading program collaboratively, as well. They drew up an elaborate plan--they called it "switching"--detailing the benefits.

They didn't make it past the first 15 minutes with the principal, who emphatically said that parents preferred a single teacher for their young children--a teacher who would be responsive to a particular child's unique needs. It would also take valuable instructional time for the kids to move to a new class; when the teachers explained that the kids would sit tight, and that it would take approximately 30 seconds for teachers to move next door, the principal got huffy.

She said there was research showing that elementary students achieved more when they stayed with the same teacher all day. At the time, the K-8 movement (a reactionary response to the maligned "middle school concept") was taking root in urban districts, keeping kids together all day. And finally, she shot the plan dead by telling them that she was the decision-maker, and she was convinced that their plan was nothing more than a sneaky way to make their lives easier and reduce their personal workload.

They had a second meeting with the principal, and this time the union representative came, but no dice. Further--the principal had now noticed that the teachers were occasionally switching kids for reading and put the kibosh on that as well. One teacher, 28 kids, no switching--and that was that. Because I got to hear lots of lunchtime exasperation about this situation, I did a quick scan of research and found one or two old studies that supported the principal's position, and a couple that supported the teachers' position. What all the research does say is that the quality of teaching matters a great deal--and that teachers' relationships with students are all-important. No surprises. But no research slam dunk for either side of the issue.

Of course, that was just switching, not platooning, which suddenly seems to be all the rage. There is now a widely accepted theory that elementary teachers' lack of mathematical knowledge is the cause of our failure to rout and crush the international competition on math battles--I mean tests. It's worth pointing out that the research on this is mixed, too--but we're already on the march, strategically selecting a few good teachers to lead the charge.

In the end, it's just another example of our national faith in tools and levers--rather than people--to solve problems. The fourth grade teachers in my school were willing to lead and invested in the outcomes of their simple plan. That should count for more than snappy language.

I'd Rather Have a Root Canal

Thanks to guest blogger Christine Gleason, whose story about the what passes for professional learning made the Teacher in a Strange Land laugh out loud. She even provided her own illustration.

By Christine Gleason

2009 Texas Teacher of the Year

The time is upon us where teachers across the nation gather to collectively lose brain mass--the infamous full-day in-service. I check the clock again and adjust myself in world's worst chair.  My eyes roll back in my head.  Time is not relevant in in-service land.  Break time is a non-negotiable “ten minutes because we have a lot to cover.”  Lunch is an eternity away.  I lean forward and rest my chin on my fist.  I roll my eyes. Take away the table in front of me, cluttered with coffee cups, blank paper and randomly placed markers, and my posture is in perfect tandem with Rodin’s “The Thinker.”

If Dante were writing this, the level of hell reserved for in-services would be right between the heretics and the violent (that’s level 6.5 for the Dante lovers).  Inferno would be a cafetorium. Roughly 350 teachers would be helplessly seated on uncomfortable chairs.  The schedule says we're done at 4:00, but we all know that roughly translates to eternity.   

The objective:  Teachers will become familiar with the ELL components of…zzzz.

By hour two, we have covered one slide on the PowerPoint presentation and completed an activity where we went around the room and got three different perspectives from three random teachers on the sentence starter “One obstacle ELL students face when trying to learn English is…”  Deep. 

My back is killing me (remember the sub-par chairs…) and I am sick of sitting. As I move to stand in the back of the cafeteria, I look around to see if others are feeling the same way. I see people shoving all of their markers together to make swords.  I see towers of empty coffee cups and juice boxes.

It is confirmed.  The presenter had lost the majority of the people in the room. I know this because of the plethora of side conversations (which involve laughter--and this guy isn’t funny), the body language of the people who aren’t talking and the pantomimed wrist slashing of a colleague with whom I make eye contact. 

The principal slowly walks over to me.  He's seen me surfing the net on my cell phone and reading an essay.  He asks: do I have the book the presenter gave us?  “Yes,” I say.  “I have two copies." We make a quick list of the times the high school staff had ELL training…the last being when the principal himself trained us.  “Yours was better,”  I admit.   He chuckles a little.  Of course, a monkey could give a better in-service than this guy.    

There are no modifications to the speaker’s delivery as the day progresses.  He continues talking at us. He tells us ELLs need multiple opportunities to hear information.  “Give them visual cues, rephrase stuff and have them repeat it back to you” he says.   So where are my visual cues?  The rephrasing?  Small group instruction?  Alternative activities?  Does this guy ever, ever change the tone of his voice?

I draw one of my colleague’s likenesses on an orange. I take a picture of someone who's fallen asleep.  

How can the powers that be expect a room full of educated adults with different learning styles to sit through six hours of lecture and actually walk away with something? The content of the book is amazing.  It's the delivery.

After lunch, the Assistant Superintendent reprimands us: “We expect the kids to learn when we lecture to them."  Translation: “I know this guy is boring. Don’t make marker swords.” 

I don’t expect my kids to learn in this kind of environment. Six hours of spiel is too much for any human being. The marker-sword fight and the countless juice box pyramids strategically set up to hide people texting on their phones should have given the presenter a clue. 

Teachers should be involved in what teachers want or need to learn. Clearly this is not a revolutionary idea.  If we have to spend money, why not give us the opportunity to become National Board Certified?  What about an in-service on how to set up a Professional Learning Community at our school?  Growth opportunities are absolutely imperative to the success of our teachers, especially those on cruise control.  

And why can’t the staff train the staff?  I went to Space Camp this summer and could teach a whole day on Space to the elementary school.  I’m also a Smithsonian Ambassador.  Plus, I’m engaging, relatively funny, and know how to use hands-on activities. And that’s just me! Think of all the staff members with unique skills...

I’d love to see multiple sessions going on in multiple classrooms so teachers have a choice of where they want to go all day long.  While I’m presenting how to make Water Bottle Rockets as part of the Science and Math curriculum in one room, my principal could be presenting ELL strategies in another.  We are exciting, talented, we know our kids and we are free.

In-service day is over. I've reflected on what I learned--and I’m off to have a chat with my principal.  Hope he feels like joining my PLC. 

Trust Never Sleeps

 At 10:38 this morning, I got an e-message from a mildly progressive group that sends me regular (requested) e-mails on political and economic issues. The subject line: Reality Check on Health Care Lies. At 11:01 a.m. this morning I got a message from one of the women in my virtual book group. Subject line: Information on the Obama Death Plan.

Now--I like the women in this book group. I share lots of personal information with them--my feelings on literary themes, love and life. I respect them. And I can only assume that the woman who sent the "death plan" forward (which--to make matters worse--came from her shady-pants congressman) has strong feelings on retaining her health care. I respect those too.  

While I was staring at the flat-out falsehoods and phony bogeymen on my screen, and wondering how much money Big Pharma and Big Insurance are ponying up to preserve their dominance in perpetuity, another book club member took a deep breath and hit "reply to all." Hey, she said. This is too important! We have to get health care right--and we're not going to do it unless a little civility and rationality can be injected into the discussion.

By 12:01, Book Club Member #2 had been both warmly supported and excoriated (sample: You obviously live in the Twilight Zone, you freak), and the hostilities had enlarged to include a rundown of the negative impact of Equal Rights Amendment  on school sports (yeah--I know--it never actually passed--but when you're on a roll, why stop for the facts...). 

So--whom do you trust?

For me, that's the critical question on all of the issues alive and bubbling in the Home of the Brave. I have little faith in political parties--either of them, at the moment--although individual political figures do inspire me to trust. As do some education thinkers, non-profits, writers, scholars, friends.

At 12:47, I got a link to this blog, wherein the Eduflack wonders what happened to raging dissent in education policy world. He dismisses certain parties who are speaking now  as chronic whiners (including dissatisfied Chicago Public Schools parent groups)--and suggests that people had better start pushing back against favored policy initiatives or they "will have little ground to stand on if they want to play 'I told you so' a year or two from now."

None of this--attack now or lose your right to attack later?--strikes me as productive talk, the kind of dialogue that might lead us to making better decisions about education.

At 1:05 p.m., while eating my lunch, I noticed that Heather Wolpert-Gawron had posted a new blog. Heather is a person whose viewpoints I do trust--not just because she's a teacher (there are lots of untrustworthy teachers)--but because she's smart and knows whereof she speaks, when it comes to schools and kids. A quick clip from Heather's musings (prodded by an article in which Arne Duncan says it's likely that the swine flu will impact school attendance and wouldn't it be great if teachers would use this health crisis to inject innovative technology into their instruction):

But once again, schools are being put to the task of solving a problem that the other elements have a hand in creating and solving. After all, families with no healthcare and no childcare options continuously send their sick children to school. And the government has never devoted enough funds to develop deep-seated educational technology in our schools. Yet here we are, a la NCLB, with a missive and no guidance or enough resources.

The funny part about Arne Duncan's message? He trusts that teachers will try to do the right thing for kids, come the great swine flu epidemic.

 It's 4:30, and I'm weary of reading angry e-mail. I'm wondering whether a country where rugged individualism is celebrated above other values--where "get them before they get you" is our modus operandi--can ever elevate mutual benefits to the community over "me and mine first." Another funny thing: trust in schools absolutely raises student achievement.  You know where they did the critical research? Chicago.

“In schools characterized by high relational trust, educators were more likely to experiment with new practices and work together with parents and colleagues to advance improvements. As a result, these schools were also more likely to demonstrate marked gains in student learning. In contrast, schools with weak trust relations saw virtually no improvement in their reading or mathematics scores."                   Anthony Bryk & Barbara Schneider

Image: seenyaRita, Flickr Creative Commons

Bridges Over Troubled Water: Songs for Teacher Leaders

 Help me out here, teachers. When you're weary and feeling small and so on--where do you turn for musical inspiration? What songs and artists ring your good-teacher chimes? If you never use music in this way, preferring chocolate, text-messaging in the lounge, or watching "Freedom Writers" on HBO again, I'd like to suggest that music has tremendous power to leverage personal and systemic change. What music is your personal door to hope and sunshine?

I have painted this verbal picture to my students many times:

Imagine a well-dressed, prosperous man and woman from an earlier generation, he in topcoat and fedora, she in leather gloves and a coat with a fur collar. In this black and white film, they are looking almost rapturously off into the distance. Between them is a little girl, holding their hands, her sweet face framed by a hat, tied with a big bow under her chin. They all appear to be speaking, looking excitedly at something far away. As the camera moves back, we begin to hear the soundtrack. The family of three is singing--and soon we see and hear that they are part of a large throng of people, all of whom are singing with great fervor and pride. The perspective widens; the crowd is massive, and they are all focused on a single man standing on a balcony. 

The man is Adolph Hitler. The song they are singing is Deustschland Uber Alles ("Germany Above All").  Songs are powerful, I tell my students. Songs can unify nations (or 100,000 Michigan fans in the Big House, something that many of them have personally experienced)--or send men willingly into battle. A good song can bring tears to our eyes, stir jubilant memories --or make us get up and dance. Hitler, using cheap crystal radios, effectively turned patriotic music into a terrible and authoritarian social movement. I saw the film clip described above at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.

How about a more benign and progressive movement: music to honor and inspire the work of teachers? Music to lift their spirits and help them find their common joys? I will be meeting with a few educators next week to work on a teacher leadership project, and I want to bring them a mix CD of songs for teacher leaders.

Songs that I have considered: If I Were Brave, Have a Little Faith, and One Love (from the Playing for Change CD--where all the songs could be considered germane to teaching, learning, believing in the power of the human spirit to educate). My friend and fellow traveler Mary Tedrow sent a link to Born Again American, a rallying cry if there ever was one. I wonder: is it too political to be included in a CD of songs for teacher leadership? Then I decide that teacher leadership is all about politics.

Help me out here. Please send suggestions for the very best music--a little jazz, a little country, a little rock and roll--for teachers.

 

Thanks to my friend Rosemary Woods for the wonderful image, shot a couple days ago in Tucson.

David Cohen for Secretary of Education

Arne Duncan likes to lay it down, doesn't he? His recent spate of pronouncements--national standards as goalposts, more time needed to achieve an internationally competitive education, an assertion that mayors have the right stuff to improve city schools--have been fodder for a number of hot discussions at the Teacher Leaders Network. And now we learn that $16 billion dollars of newly manufactured stimulus money will be used to fix our critically ill public schools by... (timpani roll) generating and analyzing more test data.

So--does Arne Duncan have even one or two innovative ideas?

TLN members keep trying to get a bead on a coherent picture of New Directions in ed policy. After a long, convoluted discussion about why policymakers seem to keep heading down familiar paths, David Cohen, an English teacher in Palo Alto, California, wrote this (below). I think it's brilliant, and captures, in 175 words, what's wrong with the current state of policy-making. David is my nominee for Unrecognized Person Who Should Be Running Things. He said:

Let me know if I'm wrong, but I don't think I am.

Compare our top-performing schools and our weakest performing schools by looking at test scores, graduation rates, whatever measure you want.

Do you find that most top-performing schools are running many more hours per day, or more days per year?

Do you find that the top-performing schools have that much more, or better data?

Do you find that they are more likely to have linked student data to teachers?

Do you find that the top-performing schools have a maniacal focus on test preparation?

No, no, no, no.

Do you find that they are disproportionately in affluent communities?

Do you find that they have greater parent and community involvement, including supplemental funding?

Do you find that they have a better trained, higher paid, and more stable teaching staff?

Do you find that they tend to have an enriched and varied curriculum, including arts and various other electives?

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Then, if you're a politician, the solution is clear: national standards, longer school day, focus on basics, more data!

Hey, David--thanks for letting me swipe your quote, and sorry about the picture. I looked through 35 pages of Google images. There are more guys named David Cohen than you'd think.

Facing the Truth--and Testing

This blog--the first in a series on testing--is written by guest blogger and Teacher Leaders Network member Marjorie Larner, an instructional coach and facilitator in Colorado.

"Now that the Data Quality Campaign has put data quality on the map, we need to work together to leverage this work and push it to the next level by using data to drive reform. The path to real reform begins with the truth - and we must keep facing the truth and finding the answers until every classroom has a great teacher, and every child has an education that prepares him for college, for work, and for life."  Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, Data Quality Campaign Forum.

What is Secretary Duncan using as the basis for this truth he says we must face? What does he think constitutes data that is evidence of the truth about education to prepare children for college, work and life? We have been immersed in data-driven instruction and decision-making. Some schools are now wholly devoted to producing good data, defined by standardized test scores. Students’ success or failure depends on test performance, with perhaps a nod to graduation or attendance rates. Secretary Duncan calls for "data driven school reform"--while President Obama acknowledges that using standardized test scores as the measure of good or bad teaching creates other problems.

These kinds of public statements demand a definition of specific outcomes aligned with instruments that gather valid, reliable and relevant data--all  kinds of evidence of student progress toward agreed-upon outcomes. Those of us working in the field now have an opportunity to offer advice and ideas based on our real work experience--because as of this moment, we are still committed to standardized tests.

Here's a story about a school I worked in many years ago. Their test scores were very high. One year, all 3rd graders got a perfect score in reading, but the numbers for writing were weaker. In the following years, the district used this information to launch a required school-wide focus on writing. We gave the kids the message that they were weak in writing, and needed to improve.  We also paid for a few released test items ($7 for one student’s response to one item), to analyze these weaknesses. We realized that the students were all proficient and advanced on the actual writing samples. It was the multiple-choice questions, where they had to choose an answer with no context, where they lost points. What did this tell us about the data we had used to “drive” our instruction for several years? They knew how to apply the rules to actual writing, but their actual “weakness” was choosing between tricky multiple-choice answers on isolated rules for writing. Should we spend less time teaching them to be writers, in order to work on testing strategies for multiple choice? Should we drill them on memorizing the rules? What would this do for them, in their lives as writers? What effect would this kind of teaching have on their skills and motivation for real writing?

I have now been working for two years in a school that is based on a big vision for every students' active participation and positive contribution in the 21st century world. Measures on standardized tests are inadequate to assess the internalized habits, dispositions, skills and knowledge that we see our students developing: capacity for leadership, creativity in overcoming constraints, active willingness to help others, issue analysis using multiple perspectives, belief in their own responsibility and agency, ability to build a case or analyze another's argument. It is not easy or simple, nor could it be standardized to hold teachers and students who were not committed to this particular vision "accountable."

But I have seen students challenged and inspired to work hard, investigate, create, strive for greatness in all subjects--and still not consistently score well on a test.  I feel a very deep responsibility for these children’s growth and well-being. After ten years of accepting accountability for test scores, with increasingly narrowed results for kids, I now feel passionate about communicating the truth of what it means for our students’ future prospects if we continue to rely on standardized tests as the measure and definition of success. We need to learn from our experiences with the limits of standardized tests. We must develop strong alternatives for gathering evidence of progress, aligned with a clear vision of who our students will become, what they need to know and be able to do as a result of their years in school. 

 As an educator with a background in qualitative assessment, it breaks my heart to see children’s abilities and potential reduced to test scores, their days in schools reduced to test preparation, teaching reduced to scripted lessons and canned curricula. The truth about data? I'm frustrated, and it's not because I do not believe in accountability, rigor or quality teaching-- but precisely because I do.

Image: TEST/Sidelong/Creative Commons

Worst Campaign Ever

I have to say that I am kind of pleased to be nominated for an EduBlog Award. Even though I freely admit it’s probably the wrong award. Thanks for the nomination! Vote for me! Or don’t, with good reason.

There are people who would fall over laughing at the thought of me being identified as a tech support specialist. I’ve never written a blog post with “Ten Tips” in the title. I don’t see myself as anywhere near the technological cutting edge.

I do like to write about how electronic technologies have impacted teacher thinking and practice (not so much)—and my last eight posts are live-blogs from a knockout 21st Century Learning conference I attended (and helped create) in Michigan last week.

No comprehensive expertise in Web 2.0 tools, however. And I have only the one life—no Second Life persona. Frankly, I’m a little timid about the prospect of starting over in a virtual reality, an anxiety that feels like wondering, in junior high, which table in the cafeteria is a safe bet for a marching band nerd like me.

So, thanks for recognizing the Teacher in a Strange Land. Most of the other nominees appear to be scattered around the globe, so that’s fun. And besides, Doug Johnson says none of these awards are scientific or influential, anyway. He may be absolutely right.

Vote or Don’t, right here. Think of it as my personal campaign for change.

Live-blogging the NME Conference, Ends and Beginnings

Before I wrap up here, a couple of thoughts about the Network of Michigan Educators and our mission. Mike Schmidt of Ford Motor Company said yesterday that we need to move from continuous improvement to continuous innovation, in industry and education. And I think that’s what the NME has done.  We began—at least three times—as a group of recognized educators, looking to lead school reform in Michigan. We have been forced, several times, to re-define our vision and re-think what our “work” looks like.

We are funded by businesses and organizations who believe that we’ll make better decisions in education if we listen to the voices of accomplished practitioners—but we have to seek new funding every year. Our leadership team--Dave Borth, Frank Miracola, Cindy Hasselbring, Lauren Childs, Mike Weiskopf, Randy Cook and me--with our sponsor from the Michigan Department of Education, the marvelous Jean Shane, pedal very hard to keep the Network moving forward, accompanied by an incredible Steering Committee of teachers who show up to plan a great conference.

An independent network of people who are passionate about schools and teaching is not a concept many people understand. The NME invites newly recognized teachers into the group every year, and most of them have a hard time wrapping their brains around the purpose of the annual meeting, since they’ve never attended a conference that’s part 21st century learning, part policy academy, part teacher leadership, part sharing best practices and part networking. Sometimes, their principals have a hard time understanding why they should release an honored teacher to attend a leadership conference—and one of our perennial questions is figuring out how to get ourselves into roles where we can influence public thinking about our schools.

We have built partnerships with the Michigan Department of Education, the State Board of Education, a number of education-related businesses and organizations, who are eager to hear independent perspectives on key issues in education. Two years ago, we started “Ask the Network” –a place where policymakers could collect data from a select group of teachers via web-based Zoomerang surveys. Those surveys have turned into useful policy briefs. We are growing and changing.

And now the conference is ending. Have we pulled in some eager recruits?

Reflection Questions and Thoughts, via an “Open Mic” session at the end of the conference:

Would have been helpful to see more specific examples of how students at Henry Ford Academy “worked different” from other classrooms. If this is what we need to be doing, we need models.

It was nice to have common ground and develop relationships—how about a dance to keep everyone together after the banquet?

I was very taken with Mike Flanagan’s comments about resentment against teachers’ long summers and legacy costs. This truly is something we need to think about.

I am an older teacher and I’d like to have more basic technology training as an option at the conference. I feel behind, but I want to catch up.

I thought, at first, that the opening message was very depressing, but as the conference went on, I felt as if we could do things to genuinely help.

I am a student teacher and I was impressed at how intelligent everyone was! (laughter)

Re-imagine, re-invent, re-think. I have to get ahead of what I’m already doing—and I’m excited to do it. We are being pruned—but we’ll regrow, even stronger and more beautiful than ever.

August 18-20, the MI Dept of Ed will host a teaching and learning conference in Lansing—NME members can be vital presenters and contributors. This is a place where teachers can lead other practitioners.

As a brand new teacher, it was a great encouragement to be here, and see my future.

We need our own social networking site to stay connected. (This is going to happen.)

As a teacher who is new to the state, it’s energizing to be with the best and brightest.

I loved the Community Conversations. Like the old Sam Cooke song says…”Change is gonna come.” Things aren’t staying the same—let’s go forward together.

Thanks to the State Board members who came! They asked us questions and listened to what we had to say—that’s amazing.

Thanks to the Steering Committee for an awesome conference!

And the perfect way to end a conference: gift cards for Meijer for mileage reimbursement. Since they’re expecting 14 inches of snow in the western side of the state, people are anxious to get on the roads before dark. Back to our hometowns and our own schools.

Live-blogging the NME Conference, Day Two: Technology in Michigan

Lunch Keynote with Bruce Umpstead, Director of Technology for the Michigan Department of Education. Bruce is pretty wonderful—young, hip and thoughtful. We’re eating and using an audience response system—clickers—at the same time. I am also trying to blog. Talk about your multitasking. Watch for salad dressing on the keyboard.

Bruce opens with two interesting polling questions—True or False: Rules and regulations limit teachers.   Also: I let rules and regulations limit me. The teachers here believe that there are tons of rules, and other teachers are limited. But—they’re clear that rules and regulations don’t restrict them at all. In fact, of the 84 teachers choosing to respond only four believe that they, personally, are overwhelmingly constrained. Room full of mavericks.

Bruce tells us that this is what he expected—we see ourselves as unrestrained innovators. And then he says the Obvious Eternal Maxim about teachers and technology: It’s not about the technology that’s available for use—it’s about what teachers feel comfortable using. He shares a book he loves, “Using Technology with Classroom Instruction that Works.”  (ASCD) Lots of people writing that down. He shares nine strategies that actually impact instructional effectiveness—and how to use technology in those effecting those strategies.

He’s moving into Clay Shirkey land now—sharing “Ask 500”—and notes that he asked, well, 500 recently if on-line learning will overtake the traditional classroom. Yes, probably, the 500 said.

Bruce closes by noting that happiness is contagious—and he believes good practice (and using technology) is contagious as well. Bruce follows this up by donating free memberships and conference registrations for the Michigan Association of Computer Users in Learning (MACUL), a nice and totally appropriate perk. Very cool. The ten teachers who get this little treat leave happy.

 

Live-blogging the NME Conference, Day Two: Superintendent's Message

Friday morning, bright and early. There was a spectacularly nice recognition banquet last night, with "professional learning communities" in the watering hole downstairs afterward, and folks are in a mellow mood. Many people in our group initially came to the conference for the banquet, but ended up getting pulled into the idea that accomplished, recognized educators can become change initiators.

We’re about to hear from the MI Superintendent of Schools, Mike Flanagan. Mike and I are not related—but I wish we were. In my 35-year career in education in Michigan, Mike is, hands down, the most progressive and effective Michigan Superintendent of Schools. He’s also a great speaker, a perennial highlight at this conference. He comes to this group every year with something new, never a pre-packaged message. He’s also—and this is a grace—funny, a blessing on a cold and snowy morning, and a way of bringing a large group together.  He makes personal references to a School Board member having a beer with the teachers in the lounge last night, and Cindy Hasselbring, who our resident NEAT teacher-astronaut. He recognizes and acknowledges new National Board Certified Teachers—who are NOT thick on the ground in Michigan. Suddenly, everyone feels as if they know the superintendent and he cares about them—and they’re right.

Mike’s remarks are on point and sensitive this morning. He’s talking about the perception of unionized workers (which, here in Michigan, includes 100% of our non-charter public school teachers), in the national spotlight. He shares some stories, and points out that we (as a industrial state) have become something of a national target for resentment against entitlements—big pensions, big benefit packages, summers off, pay for no work. And then, he talks about change, and how hard it really is—and our new national sense of hope. This is powerful, powerful thinking. You might even say audacious. I find tears in my eyes.

Re-imagining and re-thinking. Flanagan talks about pay for performance—and in Michigan, this is treading on thin and dangerous ice. But he’s right—how do we re-think the system of compensation to achieve our real goals? How do we reward true excellence? He says that this group of teachers “can handle” this kind of talk about getting out ahead of the curve in educational change. And what about seat time—it’s outmoded. We need to focus on proficiency instead—we’re testing waivers for kids who have competencies, but this threatens the per-pupil state funding. What if we changed that, and let schools get full funding for each kid, who can achieve and meet benchmarks on their own timetable?  This kind of talk is heresy most places in Michigan, but I see lots of nodding heads and focused attention.

He plays a brief podcast of his appearance with Barack Obama on the re-authorization hearings on NCLB in D.C. and notes that “smart in the White House is good.” The room bursts into laughter and applause. He talks about our new Michigan Merit Curriculum—a tougher, more rigorous set of requirements—and how the business community does not fully understand problems in implementation. He says that when 100,000 teachers in MI close their classroom doors, we have to trust them to push kids forward, in whatever ways work. He’s ringing the chimes of the hard-working teachers in this room. He says “you are the people who can re-imagine the system—you are best positioned to make sure kids learn.”

And now, the bad news. We not only will have no new money—there will, most definitely, be less money. Some things will go away, some people will go away. But it’s the crisis/opportunity juncture. It’s not about money, it’s about new ideas. How can we use resources more creatively? We can’t reflexively protect our public school turf.

He shares a little video—a lion cub, raised in captivity, returned to the wild. The men who rescued the cub track the full grown lion, now the leader of his own pride after being released into the wild in Africa. They are told that the lion is now dangerous and will not remember them—but the lion remembers his rescuers and friends with overwhelming affection.

And then, Mike Flanagan ties this all together for us. Don’t ever make assumptions about people and who and what they are— what they’re capable of, as leaders and change agents, and how relationships pay off in the future. Half the room is crying. The other half can’t wait to talk. Our ace facilitator, Lauren Childs, asks us to write down two things that we don’t want to forget—and one question. Then we pair up with someone we haven’t talked to yet, to share reflections. This is incredible. The room is absolutely buzzing with ideas and optimistic talk.

I doubt if there are other state school officers who just—and I say this in the best possible way—publicly muse, reflect with and poke at any group of teacher leaders. There was not one canned moment in Flanagan’s talk, not one rehearsed talking point. The Network members feel honored and part of his inner circle. They have also been given agency. Wow.