TLN Teacher Voices

A Practical and Profound Look at Testing and Assessment

Instruction That Measures Up: Successful Teaching in the Age of Accountability
by W. James Popham
(ASCD, 2009)

Reviewed by Kenneth J. Bernstein, NBCT
High School Government & Social Studies (MD)



Teacher Leaders Network

This is a book by one of America’s acknowledged experts on assessment: now emeritus from UCLA, Popham has been a leading figure in research (having served as President of the American Educational Research Association), in publication (of his many books and articles, and as editor of a major journal on evaluation), and as a person whose opinions on matters educational are always worth considering. For those interested, you may read a professional bio here.

Popham has in recent years been critical of how our educational policies have approached the matter of tests, assessment and evaluation. This book therefore may catch some off-base, because Popham now moves beyond criticism to try to help those in the classroom deal with the reality of test-based accountability, something to which the current national administration has made clear its commitment.

The purpose of Instruction That Measures Up can be clearly understood from one paragraph in the preface, which appears on p. 2:

I believe the best way for teachers to deal with test-based accountability pressures — the way that benefits students — is to accept those pressures as a given, then plan and carry out instruction knowing that it will take place on an accountability-spotlighted stage. What teachers must do is focus on providing instruction that measures up: to the expectations of administrators, parents, and taxpayers; to their own professional standards; and, most essentially, to the needs of their students.

The book is divided into 7 chapters:

1. Teaching Through an Assessment Lens
2. A Quick Dip in the Assessment Pool
3. Curriculum Determination
4. Instructional Design
5. Monitoring Instruction and Learning
6. Evaluating Instruction
7. Playing the New Game

There is also a two page list of resources, an index, and some background on the author, with a total of 174 pages.

For those who are not all that knowledgeable about matters of assessment — which not only includes many of those in the classroom, but far too great a percentage of those involved with making educational policy — the second chapter by itself justifies the book. Popham divides the “Assessment Pool” into four broad categories: Testing as Score-Based Inference Making; The Core Concepts of Assessment; The Categories of Educational Tests; and The Summative and Formative Functions of Educational Assessments.

He provides clear explanations of the meaning of terms. Where necessary, he offers a great deal of detail with easy-to-comprehend explanations. A reader who pays attention will begin to grasp the importance of how psychometricians understand key terms.

The four core concepts Popham addresses are the key ideas of Reliability, Validity, Assessment Bias, and Instructional Sensitivity. Any assessment that fails to take into account these core concepts, whether it is designed by a classroom teacher for instructional purposes or by outside organizations and imposed from above for purposes of accountability, will by definition be at risk of being unable to provide sufficiently accurate information to allow one to draw appropriate inferences from the data.

Popham offers a number of blunt statements about problems with our current schemes of assessment, and a number of key warnings, of which one on p. 29 caught my attention: “It serves no one to ascribe unwarranted precision to educational tests.” Unfortunately, our national obsession with numbers and our desire to rank and compare means that it is precisely ascribing too much precision to the data we obtain from tests that has been distorting much of our educational policy for the past several decades.

Setting Young Brains on Fire

Fires in the Mind: What Kids Can Tell Us about Motivation and Mastery
by Kathleen Cushman and the students of What Kids Can Do
(Jossey-Bass, 2010)

Reviewed by Kathie Marshall
Middle Grades Literacy (CA)
Teacher Leaders Network

When I first picked up my copy of Fires in the Mind, the latest of several books written by Kathleen Cushman to bring more transparency to adolescent thinking, I looked first at the appendix where the author lists books by other authors as resources for the reader.

I was delighted to find the names of many authors I’ve learned from, including Howard Gardner, Alfie Kohn, Mel Levine, Robert J. Marzano, Carol Ann Tomlinson, and Rick Wormeli. I was especially excited that she mentioned Carol S. Dweck’s work on mindset and Brainology. I had the privilege of hearing Dweck speak three years ago, and ever since I have incorporated into my first-week activities Brainology and other exercises about a growth mindset that values effort.

As I dug into Cushman’s new work, I had in the back of my mind the fact that over the summer I wanted to reflect on some of my lessons and revise/improve them — especially my yearlong magazine publishing project. I was hoping that Cushman’s book would support that intention, and I was not disappointed. It’s all about discovering what motivates students to seek mastery of something.

Cushman worked closely with students through the “Practice Project,” a program of the What Kids Can Do organization funded by MetLife Foundation. It began with an investigation of whatever skills students felt they possessed, as the first step in finding out “how you get good at something.” Cushman writes:

A simple question, it reverberates at many levels. It matters equally to youth and adults, rich and poor, professional, artist, and tradesperson. Its answers have the potential to transform our schools and communities. And exciting research on the question of developing expertise has emerged in recent decades from the field of cognitive psychology. Powerful new evidence shows that opportunity and practice have far more impact on high performance than does innate talent.

Cushman’s student co-authors helped her identify several key pieces of the puzzle by examining:

• how they got started (it looked fun, others they liked were doing it, they were encouraged by someone to try it),

• why they kept going when the effort was challenging,

• and what setbacks and satisfactions they experienced.

Along the way, students also interviewed other experts to help them more fully understand the process of deliberate practice in order to get good at something. Eventually they were able to compile a list of experts’ habits that are worthwhile in any learning situation, including but not limited to, asking good questions, considering other perspectives, revising repeatedly, persisting, and knowing your own best work styles. These are important concepts for students to understand and apply to new learning situations both inside and outside of the classroom, and we teachers can certainly use them to make our classrooms better communities of practice.

One key statement I made note of was the following: The most compelling school experiences involved hands-on projects in which they could work in teams toward an outcome that mattered to them. (p. 9)  I couldn’t help but think about how, at least in my school system, the total focus on accountability mechanisms is driving teachers away from critical but time-intensive learning experiences for students and toward constant drill and preparation for high-stakes testing.

However, I soldiered on, looking for express ways in which I might improve the magazine project I reinstated last year with my sixth grade English students. In this inquiry learning activity, students choose an area of study and can work alone or with a partner and the contents of the magazine must be tied to sixth grade English standards. It was very helpful to think about our magazine project in the light of Fires in the Mind. I saw clearly what I had done right as well as ways I might revise the project to help students better reach mastery by drawing on the wisdom of Cushman’s kids.

Throughout the book, the author provides a number of questionnaires and checklists, which are also downloadable at this Resources page. These include questionnaires for students to think about as well as for teachers to use in their planning. Later chapters in the book use the lens of deliberate practice to explore homework, interdisciplinary projects, and performance as evidence of mastery.

No matter what stage we’re at as educators, I believe every teacher can mine this book for many helpful nuggets to support student mastery. As a student named Avelina told Kathleen Cushman: “If teachers knew what gave us that driving force to do better, they could apply that, so that everyone can do things to the best of their ability.”

We can help ignite “fires in the minds” of our kids, and this wonderful book makes excellent fire starter.

Kathie Marshall teaches middle grades language arts in the Los Angeles Unified School District. A former school-based literacy coach, she writes frequently about instructional practice and the teaching life. To engage more deeply in the work of the Practice Project, visit the Fires in the Mind website.

Leadership for "Rigorous" Schools

Rigorous Schools and Classrooms: Leading the Way 

by Ronald Williamson and Barbara Blackburn
(Eye on Education, 2010)

Reviewed by Renee Moore, NBCT
English Teacher (MS)
Teacher Leaders Network

Rigorous Schools and Classrooms: Leading the Way is a follow-up to Barbara Blackburn’s 2008 book, Rigor is Not a Four-Letter Word (see Karen Molter’s review here) and to fully appreciate the points, the books should be studied together. Both authors are former teachers (Williamson is also a former principal) whose educational careers run the gamut from K12 classroom to respected university researchers.

While Blackburn’s first book in this set was aimed at teachers and the classroom level, this book is designed primarily to show school leaders how they can navigate an entire school into a more rigorous culture and support teachers as they increase the level of rigor in their classrooms. The authors acknowledge there are many differing definitions of academic rigor in use today, and give a brief summary of those definitions and the many recent reports calling for more rigor in our schools. For Williamson and Blackburn, the preferred definition of rigor, which came from a practicing school principal, is:

creating an environment in which each student is expected to learn at high levels, each student is supported so he or she can learn at high levels, and each student demonstrates learning at high levels (p.28).

As you might guess from that definition, a great portion of the book is aimed at the role of expectations. Years ago, my teacher-researcher friend Joan Cone did a powerful study entitled “The Gap is in Our Expectations.” In it, she examined what happened when a high school chose to end its ability-based tracking program. The hardest part of their process was getting the  formerly lower-tracked students and the faculty to believe those students could do or would even attempt the same level of work as their peers. This same struggle with mindset, according to the authors, is at the heart of today’s push for academic rigor.

Among the many statistics cited in Rigorous Schools is one that reflects student expectations, or rather how those expectations are not being met. It comes from the 2006 report on high school dropouts, The Silent Epidemic, and notes that “66% of dropouts [said they] would have worked harder [in school] had more been demanded of them.”  The authors also reference a 2009 study of “low performing schools in Newark, NJ…where it was found that allowing students to struggle with challenging math problems led to improved achievement and results on standardized tests.” Williamson and Blackburn go on to openly challenge several myths about rigor, as well as teacher and student responses to it.

The book is full of charts and other tools for administrators to use as they both develop and evaluate rigor within their schools. Much of this material is taken from the first book, to which readers are frequently referred. In this second volume, the focus remains on the role of leadership. Quoting another principal the authors assert, “The school leader is most influential in creating and maintaining a rigorous culture. Without leadership, expectations will wane and outcomes will be mixed at best.”

One key chapter addresses “Ownership and Shared Vision” as a requirement for increasing rigor, as the authors rightfully acknowledge that to be effective and lasting, such a schoolwide shift cannot be a top-down decision nor a technique practiced by a few teachers scattered around the building. Another chapter addresses the role of the school leader as an advocate for the institution, building support from outside the school for a more rigorous culture within it.

The discussion around increasing rigor, particularly at the secondary level, takes on even greater significance as the Obama Administration pushes its goal of every U.S. student graduating from high school "college and career-ready." Many wonder how this can be accomplished given the glaring inconsistencies and inequities in American education today. The authors include a sample advocacy chart of facts from one high school that could be applied to schools and states around the nation; for instance:

“The fastest growing part of the high school curriculum at the moment are AP or college level courses. The fastest growing part of the college curriculum is remedial or high school classes.”

“High school tests [state standardized tests] address content that does not exceed the 9th or 10th grade.”

“15% of our students lose their scholarships at the end of their freshman year [of college], due to low GPA.”

These facts could easily have come from my own community in the Mississippi Delta or hundreds of others across America.

Most of the charts and tools in the book are downloadable from the website, including the PRESS Forward action plan and template to facilitate moving towards a more rigorous school. The book also includes very practical discussions of some of the most challenging details of such a school transformation including grading, scheduling (especially to provide time for teacher collaboration), student support, resistance from stakeholders, and suggestions for shared leadership.

There are several things I like about this book. The ideas that the authors are promoting contrast sharply with the test-prep driven malpractices that are being forced on teachers and students in lower performing schools — practices which we know will ultimately short-circuit true learning and sabotage long term academic accomplishment. Another potential benefit is that open, school-wide discussions about rigor do force us educators to examine our own deeply-rooted prejudices about expectations for different types of students.

I have seen educators hide behind a well-intentioned wall of paternalism towards some groups of students until the possibility of rigor for all is broached. I recommend this book, if not as a guide, certainly as an important discussion starter, for school improvement.

Renee Moore teaches in the rural Mississippi Delta. A former state teacher of the year and Milken Award winner, she serves on the boards of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching and the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards. Her blog TeachMoore is featured at the Teacher Leaders Network.

Scoring the Testing Industry

Making the Grades: My Misadventures in the Standardized Testing Industry
By Todd Farley
(PoliPoint Press, 2009)


Reviewed by Kenneth Bernstein, NBCT

High School Government & Social Studies (MD)

Teacher Leaders Network

As the use of tests created external to schools and classrooms has exploded, one issue has always been the question of whether to rely merely upon selected response (a.k.a. multiple choice) items, or to also include constructed response items (paragraphs and essays).

Selected responses are cheap to administer; they can be scored solely by machine and the results obtained quickly. It is even possible, utilizing item response theory, to administer the test on a computer and use early responses to vary the items offered to the test taker, thereby determining the level of performance more quickly and accurately.

But many think we need more: after all, life does not ask us to choose one out of four or five pre-selected choices. Thus many colleges and universities, employers, and classroom teachers prefer that the tests include constructed items — “essays” if you will.

While it is possible to machine-score such items, that technology is still in its relative infancy, which is why companies that produce tests have need of human scorers. And it is because of this need that we get Todd Farley’s book Making the Grades.

Farley spent 15 years in a variety of positions involved with the scoring of such constructed responses. He worked for a number of America’s most important assessment companies, often doing the work on contract for various states, including Virginia, where I live. 

I am not a trained psychometrician, although during my now-abandoned doctoral studies I did seriously study issues of assessment. I am a school teacher today, in my 15th year of teaching. Each year but one, I have had to prepare students to sit for external tests – which may or may not have met the criteria to properly be labeled “standardized” — that included constructed responses. These tests have included the Maryland School Performance Assessment Program, the Maryland High School Assessments, and The College Board’s Advanced Placement examinations. During my one year of teaching in Virginia, known for its Standards of Learning (SOL) assessments, the middle school American History test was made up entirely of selected response items. I also bring to this review some experience that parallels Farley: in 2009, I served as a Reader for the Advanced Placement examination in U S Politics and Government and scored one of the four Free Response Questions on that year’s examination.

As I glance at my copy of the book, I have more than 40 sticky notes that I have affixed to pages containing passages I thought might possibly be worth quoting. Some I obviously will forego. Farley offers explanations of terms like reliability and validity, and explains how in the case of reliability, the term was often misused by those supervising the scoring process. Simply put, scoring companies are often satisfied if those scoring agree 80% of the time, even if that to which they agree is erroneous. It is like a scale that consistently reports your weight as 20 pounds less than reality. The information you obtain is reliable — but it is NOT valid.

What educational measurement should provide is the ability to draw valid inferences from the information analyzed. If nothing else, reading this book will raise questions in your mind about whether many of the tests being used to evaluate students, teachers and schools meet that standard.

A Rigorous Thanksgiving

David B. Cohen, NBCT
Teacher Leaders Network 

With Thanksgiving arriving, we begin to hear and read commentaries about all that we are thankful for. As a teacher, I am mindful of the role teachers have played in my own life. Of course, the climate and values in education have changed somewhat since the 1970s, and what I once may have believed about schools and teachers when I was a naïve child must be tested against the rigorous standards of today.

 
I attended two different American military schools in Germany for kindergarten through second grade. Perhaps due to moving around a fair amount as a child, I find it hard to reconstruct memories of the teachers from those years. I’m told I was a skilled reader at an early age. Had anyone asked at the time, we would have likely attributed my facility for reading to my parents’ constant encouragement and the many high-interest books in our home. I now have to assume that although I can’t remember my earliest primary-grade teachers, they must have been brilliant educators. As we are frequently reminded in education these days, “the teacher is the most important factor in student success.” Thank you to those Armed Services teachers, whoever and wherever you may be.
 
In third and fourth grade, I was living in Colorado Springs. My dominant educational recollection is that my fourth-grade teacher punished me harshly whenever I held my pencil the wrong way. I was confused and humiliated by the insistence that I meet the highest standard of pencil-gripping and meet it immediately. But now, immersed in the field of education myself, I’ve learned that we have to be tough, we have to produce results and keep students progressing on schedule. And this teacher certainly produced results: I ended up in a program for gifted students when I reached fifth grade. The fact that I felt no connection to my education or my peers is far less important than the fact that my skills were far above average and growing. My tears and alienation were inconsequential, non-measurable and non-educational outcomes, so let me now give thanks for that fourth-grade teacher. I’m only sorry that my pencil grip never changed.
 
For fifth and sixth grade, I moved to Los Angeles and attended my fourth elementary school. I thoroughly enjoyed those years and imagined I was having a wonderful life. By today’s standards, however, I suffered from a conspicuous lack of measurable progress. I am sorry to say it, but my fifth and sixth grade teachers did not fully embrace accountability. The gifted program involved exciting enrichment activities but no summative assessments. Though I didn’t mind at the time, I can see now that those years represent a wasted opportunity. Where was value-added measurement when I needed it most?
 
Instead of helping me continue to make more than a year’s progress in each grade level, these teachers tried to promote “love of learning” and “personal responsibility.” Not really the school’s job, was it? In the absence of clear and rigorous state or district mandates, they had me reading Ray Bradbury in fifth grade and J.R.R. Tolkien in sixth. To make matters worse, my sixth grade teacher had us discuss the books without a single worksheet or objective assessment tool in sight. Open-ended conversation about The Hobbit made for pleasant class time, but did little to guarantee that I could have passed a rigorous, standards-based assessment. From a contemporary educational perspective, I have to ask, what was the point?
 
There were other signs of trouble, too. We memorized and recited poetry in class, and sang songs for no apparent reason. My fifth grade teacher even came out to the playground and taught us new games, organized a class Olympiad, and fostered friendly competition and sportsmanship. What exactly were the learning objectives and intended outcomes here? Where was the accountability? When I think of all the better ways that time could have been spent, I know now that some benchmarks must have gone unmarked. My inclination to give thanks is lessened somewhat at that realization.
 
I must concede that in fifth and sixth grade I thoroughly enjoyed school -- but not in any measurable sense. I made many friends, and even still keep in touch with a few of them, but what of that? As a professional educator in the 21st century, I am often reminded that I need to be data-driven. I don’t have time to waste on ephemeral pleasures or concerns about social and emotional matters. Performance counts.
 
Thanksgiving this year has made me realize that some of the blessings in our lives are obvious, but some warrant deeper examination. Looking back on my early education, I am thankful for those teachers who put academics (and pencil-gripping) first -- and thankful that those teachers who tried to reach the “whole child” didn’t harm me irrevocably. They may have shirked their accountability and neglected rigor now and then in their reckless pursuit of the joy of learning, but somehow it all worked out in the end.
 
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
 
David B. Cohen teaches English and serves as an academic advisor at Palo Alto High School in California. He is a National Board Certified Teacher and a co-founder of the Accomplished California Teachers (ACT) organization.

I Need a Little More Help with My Transformation

Making Learning Whole by David Perkins, Jossey-Bass (2008)

Reviewed by Mary Tedrow

Disclaimer: I read (incrementally) the entire text of Making Learning Whole: How Seven Principles of Teaching Can Transform Education while sitting in front of my 11th-grade students in Reading Workshop, second block of the day. When I read under those circumstances, I find my mind runs on three tracks: A focus on the reading; a jump to what my students will need from me in the next 25 minutes; and, for professional titles like this book, a jump to how what I am reading will affect this particular classroom.

In this particular reading experience, I did not focus very well. I offer this confession because it led me to believe that, as a classroom teacher, I was not the audience David Perkins was looking for. Otherwise, my brain would have been firing more on the third track: making direct application to my classroom work.

That rarely happened.

Making Learning Whole is Perkins’ argument that education is damaged by breaking knowledge down into discrete parts, which he calls elementitis, a phenomenon that leaves students spitting out fractured facts that have little cohesiveness or application to the subject under study.

He advocates designing course instruction around a “junior version” of the ultimate goals in a course so students can learn the subject as a whole concept -- and then returning to aspects of the “game” that prove difficult to master. Perkins calls this working on the hard parts.

His ongoing analogy refers to how he and so many others learned baseball – first in the junior version of Little League. The complexities of the game are revealed over time and the hard parts are the skill drills any athlete will remember from their days of training.

He continues the baseball analogy through seven chapters that present each of his seven principles (my take on each chapter is in parentheses): Play the Whole Game (reduce elementitis); Make the Game Worth Playing (motivation); Work on the Hard Parts (practice, practice, practice); Play Out of Town (show that knowledge transfers); Uncover the Hidden Game (explore the underpinning structure of a subject; in the case of baseball it is the strategies that lead to winning); Learn from the Team (learning as a social rather than individual activity); Learn the Game of Learning (the old chestnut of growing lifelong-learners).

I agree with Dr. Perkins. I think John Dewey would also agree. I think most vocational teachers, or Yearbook, Art or Music teachers – or any number of others who have been lucky enough to teach a course like the Journalism course I taught for years – would agree. We have all worked with students in a junior version of grown-up games and seen the power it has on student achievement. Students learn through the process of doing over and over, working on the hard parts, uncovering – as Perkins would say – the hidden game concealed within the grown-up games.

I think where I’d quibble with Perkins is over his subtitle: How Seven Principles of Teaching can Transform Education. This book offers little practical advice that might help instructors who resist leaving their safe academic curricula to make the uncomfortable leap to teaching the whole game. Little is provided to bridge that gap through visualization or application of his theories. No helping hand is offered to teachers who struggle against a tide of mandates that encourage ever more elementitis, grasping for any means to offer substantive learning experiences for their students.

After explaining his take on what I read as constructivism, Perkins offers a one-pager at the end of each of his seven principle chapters titled “Wonders of Learning.” All of the five or six paragraphs at the end of each chapter begin with “I wonder” as in “I wonder how to develop a good theory of difficulty for what I’m teaching?” Questions, I assume, designed to set readers on the course to transformation.

Frankly, I wondered when I’d have the time to re-think my entire theory of teaching while most of my waking hours are consumed by mandated state tests, data collection, grade reports, increasing student enrollment, committee meetings, grading and responding to student work. I need a little more help to go through my transformation. I suspect those who don’t spend leisurely hours in a think tank environment might as well. The theory is great, but without more step by step assistance, Perkins’ ideas are unlikely to revolutionize the practice of teachers too busy to look beyond next week’s plans.

As I thumb back through this book, I don’t see the usual evidence of my high engagement with a professional title – the highlighting, post-it notes and scribbled plans in the margin. On a couple occasions, however, what Perkins said did lead me into thoughts about my own students and their next 25 minutes.

I like the graphic on page 104. It shows three ways to respond to student confusion. It might be helpful for reaching those teachers who are stuck in “blame the student” mode. I also made note of questions he offered to get students thinking. The ones I wrote down: What’s going on here? What makes you say that? and What makes this hard? I’m always looking for good inquiry questions.

The sports analogy works, the theory is acceptable. But in all honesty, David Perkins did not offer enough to overcome my distraction, and I won’t be recommending this book to my teaching peers. I suspect it will be required reading in his Harvard Graduate School of Education courses.

Mary Tedrow teaches high school English and journalism and co-directs the Northern Virginia Writing Project. She is a National Board Certified Teacher and a former Fellow of the Teacher Leaders Network.

Common Creativity: Teaching and Learning in the 21st Century (Part 2)

Part One of this in-depth discussion of “creative” teaching and learning began with some consideration of Sir Ken Robinson’s contentions in his recent book The Element. The conversation quickly turned to the challenges of bringing creativity into the classroom in today’s high stakes testing environment – and then toward introspection.

Do teachers really know how to “teach” creativity? What does that mean? Is it a soft “21st century skill”? A precursor to pedagogical anarchy? A threat to Core Knowledge or “the basics”? The conversation, which took place within the Teacher Leaders Network virtual learning community, continued. . . .

Rick, an accomplished teacher turned teaching consultant, wrote:

Wow, this is a great conversational thread. Thanks for the insight from everyone. I'm really struggling with the perceived tension between creativity in classroom instruction and the need to teach what society thinks students at whatever age we teach need to learn.

I'm not talking about the conflict between creative, meaningful lessons and mundane, test-preparation lessons. It's more a matter of revisiting why we have schools in our society – what are the roles of schools? Is their role to pass along current knowledge and values in order to perpetuate society? This seems utilitarian only, and I need a noble, meaningful cause to fuel my passion for teaching. There has to be more to it then simple survivability or usefulness.

Part of me is right with Marsha and others (see Part 1) who say we need to teach basic information, whether students find it meaningful or creative or not. Students on the journey toward their becoming don't always realize something is meaningful to them unless a wise counselor helps them discover it. So while teaching the specifics of usage, punctuation, and paragraphing in an English class may bore most of our students to desperation, the great teachers among us show students how such knowledge improves their writing and analytical thinking so much they are better communicators, and thereby, how they positively affect the opinions of those around them. Through their improved writing skills these students cause others to act or to be so affected by their words as to transform thinking. Relevance, power, and meaning are achieved.

So where do we draw the line between incorporating students' interests and differences, cultivating non-dogmatic curriculum and instruction, yet teaching what those of us who have lived longer perceive as necessary for a happy life?

Mediating relevance of curriculum and creating the balance between mandates and free expression or exploration is a careful walk for teachers. We're not always perfect at it, but perhaps over multiple attempts and remaining ceaselessly open to students' input into its composition, we approximate the goal. I don't think there is a perfect way to do this in all situations, but embracing the mindset at every turn has to be among the more helpful attitudes we can adopt. For me, this means establishing creativity, relevance, and free exploration as non-negotiable fundamentals of good teaching. It means we stop seeing our classrooms as increasingly diverse populations, and instead, realize the diversity was there all along and we are just now opening our sleepy eyes.

And, of course, we do this all within a 50-minute period, five periods a day, every day, while training students to create formulaic test responses that protect the status quo. A little sarcastic, I know, but the sentiment is the same: My cry for the dismantling then full re-design of today's schools.

John, a National Board Certified teacher and professional painter, replied:

In our discussion of creativity it is important that we acknowledge the normative function of schooling. I am all for starting all over, burning down the house, and beginning again by redefining the purpose and hence the accountability necessary for our schools. However, I think that some of the aspects of schooling that we might change might not be the parts that need to change.

Creativity needs to be brought into our expectations every day, not separated out for use when we’re not “teaching the basics.” There have been numerous researchers who have found that the most effective way to teach at-risk kids is to teach the basics and higher level thinking at the same time. Otherwise kids will not be ready to use either by the time they are adults.

I am sort of like the hammer that sees nails all over the place. I see creativity in many places where others don't.

Creativity sometimes substitutes for the word “expression.” I can see how teachers are fed up with the lack of expression of their humanity in their practice. In many cases it is not why we got into this teaching gig. But, creativity and expression are not the same thing. Creativity is figuring how to get that test answer out of that kid as much as it is helping kids see past that test question.

Creativity is a big word with different meanings for a lot of people, sort of like schooling is different from learning. If all kids had to do was learn then they wouldn't need us. It is the “schooling” that makes teachers necessary. It is also why our creative expression is sometimes compromised for the sake of an accountability tool that does not measure creativity. If the purpose of schooling moved past (but included) the basics standards, we would probably have plenty of time for creativity; in fact, we might be required to teach it three hours a day. Then what would we have to complain about?

The big issue seems to me to be that there is a conflict between what schools need to be about, and what they are held accountable for creating. These expectations are almost polar opposites now, which can cause a great deal of stress for the people responsible for meeting conflicting expectations. We have a hunch about what kids will need in the future, but right now that doesn't matter. Right now what matters is the test. So we, as these teachers of “right now,” have to teach to both sides of the brain at the same time without compromising either. It can be done, in fact it has been done in poor schools for years.

Elizabeth followed up with a teaching definition of creativity:

John said: “I am sort of like the hammer that sees nails all over the place. I see creativity in many places where others don't.” I just wanted to add – I love this! I think I can relate, and I also do not see a problem with weaving creativity into daily instruction.

I think the basic meaning of creativity is misunderstood by many teachers who have "the tests" on their minds. The curriculum conveyor belt takes over, and then creativity becomes a fragmented entity to the point where it feels like "something else to do." Yet it does not have to be. Too often creativity is taught as a separate reality. But why? It certainly isn’t.

The bottom line about what creativity is...is simple. It is when we create something new--come up with new solutions to problems – or think of new questions related to any given topic. (Ken Robinson verifies this bottom line). If we think about creativity in this way, doesn't it relate to all subject areas and grade levels? If creativity is thought about in this bottom-line fashion, is it not easy to integrate this solution-finding approach to teaching as we strive to both engage students in content and prepare them for tests – avoiding the mindless Pez dispenser mode of test prep?

By engaging students and themselves in this creative problem-solving approach, teachers would be teaching and modeling lifelong thinking skills, not just teaching for a test. I think all effective teachers apply creativity, perhaps without full awareness due to the sound of the curriculum conveyor belt  – and the tick of the clock.

Mary, a high school English and writing teacher, offered a story:

John, since you are both a teacher and an artist, I thought I'd share my ah-ha moment in learning about creativity from an elementary art teacher in our summer writing institute. She made a clear distinction between the creative teaching act and teaching how to follow directions (which she claims some art teachers do by assigning the same step by step projects; e.g., the ubiquitous winter snowman out of pre-ordained construction paper shapes, or the drawing exercises in books by Ed Emberley).

She supplied us with lines or shapes and a generalized assignment "create a monster" and we went at it, creating creatures as individual as snowflakes. She gave us just enough tools so that we could all be successful (non-artists all). I found transference from her teaching world to my own world of teaching writing by supplying generalized instructions and letting my students bounce around within those parameters to find and resolve their own self-created problems.

It’s a tenuous balance, I think. You have to give the kids SOME help, in the form of basic tools and an overarching goal and not simply let them go at it willy-nilly. Too few directions leads to frustration or some weird anarchy that misses the goals of the course and produces a kind of anything-goes assignment that has no basis for evaluation.

Maybe this is where the ART in teaching replaces the SCIENCE? Or is this a skill that can be taught to all teachers? Maybe I just answered my own question. If you begin thinking about your evaluation before you assign something to the kids, then you can establish your loose parameters through backward design. They can bounce around inside those parameters, but you’ve provided the floor and walls needed for effective bouncing to occur.

Ken, a high school history teacher, replied:

First, on failing and whether failing has value: There’s a tale I remember vaguely about Thomas Edison. For sake of discussion, let me use the number 100 as I reconstruct the exchange:

"Mr. Edison, you have now tried 100 different things for the filament and failed with each one. What have you learned?"

"I now know 100 things that WON"T work for the filament."

Perhaps the idea of "failure" is wrong. Whether an effort is successful or not, what we should be doing is teaching our students reflective practice, examining not merely their relative success, but the WHY. Call it a lesson in metacognition.

About the false dichotomy between factual and creative: This gets us to the low level of the convergent thinking sought for in multiple choice items, with one correct answer and no credit for a second best, and no opportunity to explain the reasoning used (which might reveal student assumptions or even expose faults in the test question).

Science is often creative, in that it requires divergent thinking, the ability to look at information in a new way. I spent 20-plus years of my life, before I became a teacher, working with computers in various capacities. I knew few people who had my skill in solving computer problems. For one thing, I have well-developed pattern recognition skills, partly as a result of my musical background and training. For another, I am used to scrambling things around to look at them in different ways.

We all use mental frames. It can be important for students to understand how the frames they use can limit their understanding. In examining history, particularly of cultures different than our own, it is quite important to have awareness of how our own thinking process tends to shape what we learn. The one year I taught World History, while we were rearranging the sequence of our required social studies courses, I began with a lesson to illustrate this. I put a number of items on the floor -- I think ten --and asked the students to put them into three groups and explain their groupings.

They all put markers, chalk and pencils together. When I asked why, the answer was that they could be used to write. When I asked, “Suppose you didn't know about writing, how might you regroup?”, the pencil was placed with the scissors, as a possible weapon. And one lesson was learned. I would then ask why they accepted my demand to put the objects into three groups, and we would have an interesting discussion about how we are trained to use our minds and think.

Finally, I am something of a believer in Gardner's Multiple Intelligences. When I work with them, I usually keep myself to his original seven, even as I can see validity to the ideas of (other intelligences he has since identified). Thomas Armstrong once noted that in theory one could teach in any domain using any of the seven intelligences and then assess in another. In theory that meant there were 49 possible combinations of instruction and assessment. Yet more than 90% of what students were asked to do in school, at least at the secondary level, was pure verbal-linguistic, as in “read a book” or “write a report.” And most of the rest was logical-mathematical. How narrowing, how misunderstanding of the diverse ways in which we perceive and interact with the world.

In a closing comment titled “Product, Process, the Arts and Ironclad Assumptions,” Nancy wrote:

What a great discussion. Some random, process-y thoughts:

§ John said: There have been numerous researchers who have found that the most effective way to teach at-risk kids is to teach the basics and higher level thinking at the same time. Otherwise kids will not be ready to use either by the time they are adults. Nancy responds: So true! But much of the education discourse today is framed as "versus" – product versus process, sage/stage versus guide/side, 21st Century Skills versus Core Curriculum. Why are we always competing for ownership of the “right” solution?

§  People often assume that some subjects (art and literature) are "creative" and other subjects (math and science) are based on fixed content. It strikes me that in aiming to teach any subject in a "rigorous" manner, we often achieve rigor mortis instead, and that no subject is inherently creative or not creative. My own subject, music, is frequently taught in secondary grades as if it were basketball – selecting the students who are perceived as best, then setting out, through meticulous drill, to win contests. Zero creativity.

§ People have been using "product" and "process" for so long I'm not sure we know what they mean any more. While what students learn in "process" (discussion, discovery, formative assessment, trial and error, cooperative learning) is valuable, does that negate the need to end up with a quality product? I don't think so. And if you read Laura Reasoner Jones' fabulous TLN commentary in Teacher magazine – where she muses about letting kids "fail" (in other words, not come up with a decent product, although the process was valuable) – lots of people seem to value the product over any wishy-washy process. Plus lots of people who commented in response to Laura’s article (mostly misguided and frequently nasty people) really enjoy the idea of kids failing. Because they deserve it, or something.

§ As I've read through the descriptors of open-ended projects that teachers in our virtual community have assigned (and the exciting results you got, even when students were confused or resistant at first) -- I am thinking the members of the Teacher Leaders Network Forum do this FAR, FAR more often than the average teacher, who values alignment to the parameters of the assignment more than going off on an innovative bender. (That's an assumption on my part.) Our national educational values center around standardization, which allows us to promote competition and identify a "meritocracy" – pretty much the people who make the rules about what's important and what's not. (That's another assumption.) Are my assumptions correct?

John says he's a man with a hammer who sees nails all over the place. I just read another variation on that aphorism: “To a man with a computer, every problem feels like a need for more data.”

Common Creativity: 21st Century Teaching and Learning (Part 1)

In this dialog from the Teacher Leaders Network Forum, what begins as some reflection on a new book about education and creativity evolves into a lengthy and often profound discussion of what it means to “teach” creativity – and to be a creative teacher.

Elizabeth in New York State wrote:

In the foreword of his 2009 book The Element, Sir Ken Robinson explains the title:

I use the term the Element to describe the place where the things we love to do and the things we are good at come together. I believe it is essential that each of us find his or her Element, not simply because it will make us more fulfilled but because, as the world evolves, the very future of our communities and institutions will depend on it.

Chances are, as an educator, you are already in the Element zone. I think I have been in mine for a very long time, but as I read the book (written with Lou Aronica), I’ve have been immersed in the significance of the authors’ message, which is not only about finding one’s passion, but also about the importance of doing so personally and universally.

Of particular interest is Robinson’s view on education. There are some key points that resonate strongly with me:

∞ He argues that the education system must be transformed – not just reformed. The focus should not be on changing curriculum and assessments and expecting all students to succeed in a “one size fits all” curriculum. Rather, education should be about customizing the process of learning so students may be in harmony with their true talents and creative passions – leading them to be successful in the 21st century workplace.

∞ Robinson states that the future of education is not in standardizing but in customizing. This highlights the need to cultivate the individual abilities of each student. Curriculum should be transformed to eliminate the "hierarchy of subjects," basing curriculum instead on disciplines that personalize individual abilities. He argues for fundamental changes in how we educate students everywhere in hopes of meeting the challenges of living and working in the 21st century.

In my excitement to talk about these ideas with others, I’ve invited colleagues at my school to join me in discussing this riveting book. So far 15 of them have said yes. As I continue to read while they all buy the book, these are some of my wonderings:

Do teachers need to feel that they are in their own element in order to inspire students to arrive at theirs?  Why is it essential for schools to teach creativity? What is one way your school nurtures creativity? How does your school “kill” creativity?

Are all people creative – or just a select few? Most children are bursting with creative ideas – what happens to them as they grow older?

Robinson states that public education as it is configured today places pressure on students to conform, which “kills creativity." My hope is that as I differentiate instruction and implement multiple intelligences into daily lesson plans I’m doing my part (at least in the confines of my own classroom) to nurture rather than kill the creativity of my students.  I believe this makes a difference – I hope I am right.

 

Bill titled his response “Burning My Professional Bra” and tackled the question, “Do teachers need to feel that they are in their own element…in order to inspire students to arrive at theirs?”

I never feel like I'm in my Element anymore. Instead, I trudge through massive curricula trying to prepare my students for the end-of-grade tests. My work lacks both creativity and imagination because creativity and imagination take time – and I ain't got time if I'm going to cover the entire curriculum before the end of the school year.

Sometimes I catch myself in mid-tirade in class. "How could you guys miss that question! It's obvious you weren't taking this very seriously. D is a crazy answer. If you're going to get good scores on the End of Grade tests, you've GOT to get easy ones like this right." And then I cringe. I mean, maybe my kids didn't get the question right because they just don't give a damn about what I'm teaching and how I'm teaching it.

Which leaves me in an incredibly uncomfortable position: If I know that what I'm doing is irresponsible and ineffective, do I burn my professional bra and take a stand against a system that beats creativity and imagination out of every student and teacher? Or do I continue to find new ways to prepare my kids for the tests that everyone seems to continue to worship as evidence of effectiveness?

This is the central question in my professional career right now, and if I can't find an answer, I'm going to lose my mind!

I miss being creative and inventive. I know that having lost the opportunity to freely create has changed who I am as an instructor, as well as the kinds of learning opportunities I offer to the students in my classroom.

 
Choosing the (creative) title “Sir Ken and the Sorcerer's Stone” for her post, Nancy replied in part:

Like most of you, I was dazzled and energized by Sir Ken Robinson's  2006 TED talk, and I think he's absolutely right that further standardizing curriculum and instruction and endless testing will not make kids the creative innovators and leaders we need for this new century. His book is full of examples of people who took non-traditional paths and ended up doing amazing, magical things with their lives, once they let imagination take precedence over knowledge.

The problem is that nobody – and I do mean nobody – who thinks like Sir Ken is making education policy these days. The visionaries and the humanitarians are giving talks and writing books, but the people in public policy around education are stuck in an "efficiency" mode. There's recently even been a bloggy movement to heap scorn on the idea of "21st century learning," calling it just another educational fad.

There aren't many parents who would sit still for a teacher saying "hey, let's eliminate the hierarchy of subject disciplines – your kid loves music, so let's put him in the band four hours a day and forget about math." In the end, what a child "needs" is not only determined by his own unique gifts, but his parents' goals and ambitions and social fears. Plus the embedded belief that school changes only a little, from time to time, and that's a good thing.

I don't think we know how to teach creativity – and even if we did, we would be too afraid to even suggest it, as a formal topic of study. The Henry Ford Academy, a charter school in Dearborn, MI, added a required daily class in "design innovation." How cool is that? They did a presentation for a few of Michigan's best teachers on how to create a new product to fill an identified need, incorporating art, math, science, language, marketing, etc. The teachers had fun identifying needs and creating products (in an hour). And then they spent the next hour talking about why this would never work in their classrooms. Sometimes, we are our own worst enemies, a profession with very little ability to see out ahead of the present.

Still, I love the fact that a cluster of teachers in Elizabeth’s school is reading the book. Good luck! If there ever were a small window of opportunity to make huge changes in the zeitgeist around American education, that time would be NOW.

A middle school teacher in New York City commented on Bill’s predicament:

Bill, I hear you. It is such a tough dilemma right now. I am extremely lucky because the big test my students take in 8th grade happens in January. So after that I'm more or less free. But I am not free of the thinking that goes into preparing kids to do well on these tests. Anyone else about ready to burn their bra on testing?

Nancy is really right that cool thinkers like Ken Robinson are not making policy right now  – they are writing books and giving talks. It's a huge problem. From my small experience with somewhat mainstream people who are making policy, I have found it extremely frustrating. [But] I think instead of fighting the bad guys, we have to make ourselves so valuable, make sure we have a clear vision of what we want, and then make the policy people realize that we have so much to offer from our direct experience that they have to try it our way. 

But there's no way to do this without some figurative blood being spilled, and we can't be naive about that. Major changes to a deeply flawed system mean major players are going to lose money and jobs (e.g., the testing industry giants and all the politicians and policy makers they partner with). We have to get them in a place where they have no choice but to cough up their power and status.

Honestly, I wonder how many of us, as teacher leaders, are up for a struggle at that level? Would it be harder than the daily struggle we face in our classrooms with these tests?  Would it be as rewarding?

Marsha argued that creativity “is hidden in between test prep...”

Ken Robinson “argues that the education system must be transformed." I completely agree with this conclusion, but I'm completely stumped by how that happens. Given the status quo, I think it is foolish to believe we can effectively individualize instruction without a radical restructuring of what we expect students to accomplish. Today, we work within the confines of a system that understands all students can learn – but is silent on what that learning is or how long that learning should take.

I do believe that the longer I hang around, the more entrenched I become in finding local solutions to reform issues. I think that is one way we might have a realistic hope of customizing education around what is acceptable within our communities and responsive to the needs of those we serve. To believe we can change a whole nation...well, it's beyond my ability to see.

I'm in agreement with Bill that the very life seems to get strangled out of you in the midst of test prep season. In my subject, math, it’s almost about unlearning how to be a budding mathematician and how instead to assume the persona of a plug 'n chug calculator. Actually, most of the kids are pretty good at understanding the whole notion of conforming and play along.

I never know what creativity really is. Almost the very act of defining it seems to ruin it for me. But I know this much. In order for my kids to be passionate about science and math, they have to know stuff. They also have to see how stuff is related and how the pieces of the world fit together given those content viewpoints. Once they have that, then I am able to set them up to wonder. And if you're going to let them wonder, you'd better let them really do that and be prepared for losing control of precise outcomes. And you'd better be equipping them to accept failures because there are bound to be more of them than successes if they are tackling big ideas and problems.

I do think, even given all that I've already said, that there is a vital role for the mundane. It is critical and equally essential that I do the "boring" part of teaching.  Examples would include: earning how to read expository text, knowing how to interpret graphs and tables, having some higher level of automaticity in recalling math facts, using applicable vocabulary words in classroom conversations, taking turns, listening to others, being a responsible and contributing member of small groups, and so on.  Without some foundational pieces, I don't believe you can analyze or think or learn to tolerate situations where you don't have an immediate answer.

I'm with Nancy on thinking that no one that is making educational policy these days even has a clue about all this.

Then Susan wrote:

I keep thinking about this right now as we are working with trying to come up with alternative assessments for our special needs students. We're doing that not because we really want to find out what they know and can do, but so we can sort of kind of pretend that the are just like everyone else.

Common knowledge is one thing, but we seem bound and determined to produce students who are consistent products, not individual works of art. I find this especially interesting in a culture that says it values "handcrafted" and "one of a kind," but continues to eat in chain restaurants and buy everything from China.

As educators, is it that we lack imagination or that we are overly cautious? I wonder if it just seems to be the path of least resistance? I tend to think it's the latter that drives our own conformity, which is interesting because the most direct path may very well be the most difficult. Why not instead go with the flow and follow our students' strengths? Why can’t pundits and policymakers “get” that shaping your teaching around student strengths is not abandoning your professional responsibility, but operating at the highest levels of the teaching act?

Elizabeth followed up:

When I talk about teaching creatively, I am not talking "artsy" creative. I am talking creative thinking. And I believe this is the creativity that makes for a 21st century teacher. The kind of creativity that leads to critical thinking. The uncertainty about how to teach creativity has been mentioned. I think the bottom line is to get students to generate ideas  – regardless of subject area. We can still cover the curriculum but do it in ways that get students to justify their thinking and still gain the facts. 

The tests send the wrong message to students. They are left with the thought that there is only one right answer to questions. We all know how wrong that is. My response is to go right into the classroom and do everything I can to prepare them for a future where they will need to be independent thinkers.

NEXT TIME:

In the second segment of this discussion, Rick notes that “Mediating relevance of curriculum and creating the balance between mandates and free expression/exploration is a careful walk for teachers.” John, who is both a nationally certified teacher and a professional artist, argues that “Creativity needs to be brought into our expectations every day, not separated out for use when we’re not teaching the basics.”

Mary describes the difference between classroom anarchy and guided teaching: “You have to give the kids SOME help, in the form of basic tools and an overarching goal and not simply let them go at it willy-nilly.” Ken describes teaching methods that can help students move beyond the “mental frames” that impede higher order thinking. Finally, Nancy summarizes some of the conversation’s key points and considers barriers to school transformation.

From February Blues to December Stress

 Oklahoma City teacher John Thompson, guest-blogging for Alexander Russo at This Week in Education, confirmed his school-insider status the other day when he asked – two weeks into December – “(I)s there an actual teacher who is not now a babbling idiot?”

Thompson continued: “To paraphrase the aphorism about the Sixties, if you are a teacher at this time of year, and you think you remember the time when you were a rational human being in a classroom, then you weren’t really there.”

The other day, in our ongoing virtual discussion at the Teacher Leaders Network Forum, someone pointed out that what used to be called the February Blues has now become December Stress. Here's some of that discussion.

One inner-city middle school teacher wrote:

I want to say that I am feeling SO burnt out! I know it's the time of year, but feel like it's hitting me especially hard this time around. My hat goes off to those of you who manage to do the job of teaching, leading, writing, and also take care of your own kids. (I don't have children of my own...yet.)

Things that extra wore me out this year: [this is not meant to be a griping session, but sometimes when I feel overloaded, it helps to name those things which seem to be creating the feelings].

1. The election. I followed it with zeal, and celebrated, and got behind in my curriculum b/c of the time my city (no school on election day) and then my school (day-after festivities) allotted for it, plus a day of predictive testing and then a mandatory field trip that same week.

2. Post election. This has been a new strange source of stress. How will all of these changes unfold?

3. More parent contact this year. I am now in my 2nd year at my new school which has a more active parent population than my old school. It is a blessing in most ways, and I made a point to take advantage of it from day one this year. But now I feel obligated to keep them in the loop, which takes more time.

4. More leadership roles at school. I went from wearing 1 leadership hat to wearing 3. I like it, but I'm spread thin.

5. Budget cuts. My school went into a budget freeze because of city-wide budget cuts to schools, so there was no (stipend) for after school meetings, etc.; and no ordering of basic supplies for almost two months, which made a little dent in my personal budget. My school finally had to lay off our second assistant principal, who was fabulous. Very sad, and we are all feeling the crunch.

Anyone else feeling unusually burnt?

A high school teacher replied:

Hate to pile on the griping, but I am also feeling the stress right now. (And our family has agreed not to focus on gifts this year, which has lifted the usual pre-holiday stress.)

My school is more inner-city than my last and our building is in full-on PANIC mode. With a 4-by-4 block schedule, our kids are tested in the fall and the spring. And we are up against the next jump in scores for AYP -- which everyone knows we probably won't make. The reward for not making it this time is sanctions and a reduction of funds. (REDUCTION? That part of NCLB has always convinced me that the complete failure of the public education system must be the real goal.)

PLUS, the added AYP category of "on-time graduation" has added another pressure cooker environment. I know I feel it with my General English students facing two state tests that determine whether they will graduate or not. Already three of my students failed the writing test. (Because of the 4x4 block, we met only 22 school days before the test!) The same three will probably fail the reading test since it is clear to me that they are extremely poor readers.

I feel helpless. These kids wake me up at night. I feel like I have failed them and the other students who were taking general English because they didn't want to overburden themselves with another AP class -- their only other choice. I couldn't teach the non-readers to read, and the class was slowed to the point where the advanced students probably gained very little. I'm in the midst of restructuring the course for the next go-round (this is the first time I've taught a class like this in this schedule) but that doesn't do much for the students sitting in front of me.

Add to this mix the fact that the system requires about 10 testing days out of the 90 I have them and I feel -- as I told my administrator -- like my hands are tied behind my back while someone is slapping me in the face. Very frustrating.

A sixth grade teacher in the Northeast wrote:

We used to call it "February Blues" -- long winter, too much cold and snow, waiting for spring. But this year it's really early. My colleagues and I are saying how much we are looking forward to the holiday break. We have almost 2 weeks off this year because of the way the New Year falls.

I think the economy is hitting all of us, big time. We lost two positions just on my floor alone, so every teacher is teaching two subjects. Our school hasn't made AYP for three years, so this is the toughest year of all, pressure on all of us who teach math to raise the scores. I feel for the kids: some of them get math class, math lab, and then me for tutorial, to help them with, you guessed it, math.

I am so sorry to read about anyone losing a good AP. It saddens me deeply when the good ones get let go, and the expensive, useless ones stay. Our system is heavy in administration and department heads. We talk about one former director who keeps having changes in job title, makes close to $100,000 a year, and doesn't do anything but delegate. We could get two teachers for that price, and have money left over for basic supplies.

I know about having thoughts of students wake you up at night. It's because we worry about them, and feel so helpless and overwhelmed. Kids who can't read in high school, that just breaks your heart, doesn't it? You want to just devote an hour a day with them 1:1 -- and of course you can't.

Are we too old to sit in Santa's lap and ask for all these kids to get the help they need?

A teacher on the west coast replied:

I am reminded of how miserable I was before my divorce. You know, you can only take so much abuse, and at a certain point, the pain of sticking in a situation outweighs the pain of breaking out.

We are in a very painful situation. The increased demands of NCLB were never funded, and schools never got the extra support we were promised as a part of that legislation. Now the funding base for our schools, local and state government, has been robbed by the financial crisis, and while the Wall St. financiers get rescued, our schools are about to go from a starvation diet to no food at all.

Remember last year, when teacher Carl Chew was a lonely voice in the wilderness who refused to administer his standardized tests? Maybe this year there will be a chorus. And maybe we will find support where we did not find it before. Maybe the time for real change is coming.