Archive for August, 2009

The Failure of Teaching Programs

Monday, August 31st, 2009

Of the nation’s 1,300 graduate teacher training programs, only about 100 are doing a competent job; “the others could be shut down tomorrow.”  So says Katherine Merseth, director of teacher education at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.  Meanwhile, my school was ranked third in the region among schools which offer a master’s degree.  Since reading this excellent article years ago, I have not put much stock in college rankings of any sort, but I guess this gives me some authority to speak on the subject:

I have been really, really disappointed with graduate school.  I have learned a lot, and my professors have been pleasant, interesting, knowledgeable people.  But it hasn’t felt like “school” yet.  I haven’t taken one exam or felt the least amount of pressure to keep up.  There tends to be a lot of reading; some people do it all, some people ignore it, and some (like me) start out doing it all but gradually realize we’re exerting ourselves unnecessarily, since there is no benefit to it.  There are papers to be written, but that’s always come very easily to me (I’m an English teacher) so I haven’t been challenged much in that area, either.  (The biggest challenge so far has come from the course I just finished, where the professor limited our papers to 300 or 500 words.  I can pretty much sneeze out 500 words, so it was difficult to self-censor, but it was a good experience.)  Above all, there is the sense that this is just something we’re doing.  Not something important.  Not something hard.  And sorry, but I believe school should be hard.  If it’s not hard, then why the heck does it matter so much?

Grades are important. After fighting my own students for years in this area, it pains me to say this, but it’s true.  So when a teacher doesn’t hand back work, a student is in the dark: not only about her grade, which matters for her GPA, scholarship, employer tuition reimbursement and sense of accomplishment.  She is also in the dark about her level of success in the professor’s eyes, and about her projected success in the course assuming her current level of effort remains the same.  In plain English, is she doing all right, or does she need to work harder, or work differently?

Okay, I am griping in part because my last grade was a 92.9, which translates to an A-MINUS according to the professor’s personal grading system (no rounding for him.)  And because the day after the final class, when we had a week to complete our final project, we still had not received grades for class participation and the midterm paper (which, together, amounted to half of our final grade.)  In fact, we didn’t receive grades for either of those until we received our final grade for the course.

Honestly, the grade is not that important to me.  Even if I’d gotten a B, I still would have kept my scholarship and been reimbursed by my school for the cost of the course, and I’ve never heard of a graduate student discussing her GPA with a colleague or employer.  The degree itself seems to be the only thing that matters.

But how good of an example is that to a teacher?  To give no tests and very little feedback until the last day of the term?  And how much did I really learn in the casual, share-your-thoughts discussions that continued for far too long through subjects unrelated to the course?  I think I could have learned just as much by reading the material on my own.  And this seems to be par for the course in graduate school. It’s just way too casual, way too easy, for something that’s supposed to signify a “serious” interest in academics.

If I were paying for it myself, I would be a lot more disgruntled.  The payoff (a Master’s Degree, a salary increase, greater respect in the academic world) seems awfully disproportionate to the investment.

What to Do on the First Day

Sunday, August 30th, 2009

What happens on the first day of school?  The professor who taught my very first grad school course, one year ago, began with that question.  We all listed what usually happens: syllabi are distributed, class rules discussed, and maybe a fluffy icebreaker activity is played.  I list these activities in the passive voice for a reason.  They seem to happen to us, rather than involving us directly.

The hard-core stickler of a teacher may actually try to teach a lesson, or part of a lesson, on the first day.  Students may groan a bit, but it certainly sets the pace for the year; we will work here, so kwitcher lollygaggin’.

Traditionally, my school has scheduled half days for the first week back, but last year, it broke from tradition and started right in with full days.  This meant we would have to teach some sort of lesson.  In most of my classes, I had planned simple, fairly mindless activities for the first day, and I usually took half an hour or more to go over the syllabus and class procedures.  By my fourth class, however, I had had it with paperwork.  When the bell rang, I introduced myself and jumped right into the activity for the day, which happened to be a particularly dynamic and well-planned PowerPoint presentation.

I couldn’t believe the difference.  The students were practically jumping out of their seats to respond to my questions; they giggled aloud at the corny graphics I’d chosen to accompany the text on the slides, lapsed into reverie when presented with a thought-provoking quotation, and generally were the most engaged students I’d ever taught.  I wish I could say this enthusiasm lasted all year; it didn’t, of course, mostly because I had never taught the class before and needed to adjust the pace as we progressed.  But I hope I never forget the memory of that first day, when anything was possible.

So it came as no surprise when my professor told me we should teach our very best lesson on the first day.  It was one of those rare and delightful convergences between theory and practice: I knew it was good advice, because I had inadvertently followed it already.

I’m still struggling about what to do for the first day this year, though!  Stay tuned . . .

Clutter

Saturday, August 29th, 2009

When I walked into the room where I’ll be teaching this year (not my classroom; the school is packed to the gills, and everyone has to share) I did a double take.

“I know,” said the teacher who’s sharing my room — my BFF of the teaching world, predecessor at the school paper, and a journalist in her own right; this woman has saved me multiple times, from all kinds of potential disasters.  “The last computer teacher was kind of a pack rat.”

Kind of?  KIND OF?!  I suggested we start with the furniture.  There were half a dozen huge metal files with fifty or sixty “inbox” slots in each.  How many inboxes does a man need?  I wondered.  We hauled them out into the hallway.  Then the claustrophobic hutch on the back of the teacher’s desk.  Then another half-dozen end tables, podiums (podia?) and shelving units.

Next came the smaller stuff: years and years’ worth of books, user manuals and discs (CDs, 3 1/2″ floppies, even a stray 5 1/4″ or two.  The other teacher had never seen an actual “floppy” disk.  I had to explain to her what it was.)  Enough plastic to form a scale replica of the Pacific Garbage Patch: bookends, CD racks, and more inboxes (this teacher must have gotten a LOT of mail.)

Respectfully, we removed the painted plaster statue of the Virgin Mary and placed it on a table in the hallway, where everyone could marvel at its kitschiness.  I was dying to throw out the vases of fake flowers (I’m not sure if Hell is a physical place, but if it is, it will involve fake flowers.)  My friend convinced me to hide them instead, in case someone should ask where they were.

Now the room looked tidier, but empty — except for the computer desks lined up in neat rows, it was.  The next day, I dragged Rob over for a professional evaluation.  The school’s tech guy dropped by and helped us haul out another couple of desks and reconfigure the room so there was a little more workspace.  I vacuumed, dusted and caulked the holes in the wall where the shelves had been bolted in.

Finally, a trip to Ikea, where I bought several floor lamps, some plants and a bolt of cheery ticking-stripe fabric for curtains.  Rob thinks I am crazy to spend my own money decorating the room, but it was less than $50, and I know it will make a big difference.  I’m also printing my own posters (the joys of having an architect husband with a 36″ plotter!)

In my Suzuki training, I learned all sorts of useful non-Suzuki things.  One was a general definition of the three main learning styles: visual, aural and kinesthetic — basically, whether you learn best by seeing, hearing or doing.  Of course, we all use all three, and musicians have a better balance than most.  However, everyone has one sense that is stronger than the others.

If you’re visual, as I am, you like to see the big picture — where you fit in.  You like to know the rules (of course, being an INTJ and a choleric, I prefer to rewrite them as soon as possible.)  And you can’t stand anything that distracts you from those aims.

I’ve got a lot to do this year.  I don’t have time for clutter.

Another One Bites the Dust

Friday, August 28th, 2009

I don’t mean to take this lightly.  In fact, it’s very sad to see this English teacher give up, after one year, and return to his law office where everything is safe, predictable and easy (for him, anyway; he had a highly successful career before he began teaching.)

Truthfully, I know Chris quite well, and I was shocked to hear he was leaving the profession.  He was a fantastic teacher and a great person, full of the kind of enthusiasm that is inspiring and contagious.  I think he could have made it work.  Look, if I had a nickel for every time I wanted to quit in my first year, we’d be living in the Hamptons today.

I’m sure we’ll hear great things from him, whether from the courtroom or from the classroom, if he ventures to return someday.  I hope he will.

Inspiration

Thursday, August 27th, 2009

“The more completely an educator can give concrete witness to the model of the ideal person that is being presented to the students, the more this ideal will be believed and imitated. For it will then be seen as something reasonable and worthy of being lived, something concrete and realizable.”

-Lay Catholics in Schools, 1982

Looks like I spoke too soon.  Yesterday I was pulled from one impromptu meeting into another — one of my colleagues is caring for her aging mother, and thinks she can’t handle her teaching load.  Would I like one or two of her classes?  Well, yes.  I would!

Of course, this couldn’t have happened in May, because then I would have had a whole summer to review American literature.  As it is, I’ll need to read HawthoreSteinbeckKiddFitzgerald like mad for the next few weeks.  Still, how can I complain?  I’m grateful to double the number of students I’m teaching, not to mention an increased paycheck and the experience of teaching a core English class, something I’ve never done from start to finish before.

Well, I’m grateful for the inspiration above (from the prayer service on the first day of orientation.)  I’m gong to need a lot more of it!