Every year, a large part of my back-to-school routine was establishing classroom rules. We would list every possible rule imaginable on the board that we could come up with and narrow them down to a decent number. I would facilitate the discussion and group work to get the rules stated as positively as possible. It took a little time, but it was worth the effort. Then, everyone in the class would sign it. We established our own little classroom democracy which I could refer back to when necessary.*
I sat in a meeting called before students returned. (I believe it was my sixth year as a teacher.) My principal announced that a new committee had been formed, P.B.S., Positive Behavior Support. I listened as they said they met and established three school behaviors that would be used by everyone: Be respectful, Be responsible, and Be safe. I'm already trying to wrap my brain around how to introduce these to my class without the process I usually used. But, I was mostly concerned that students were not a part of this process. How would they own these behaviors if they had not been a part of the process? I expressed this concern and others agreed. My principal was eager to move on as she had a lot on her plate at this time. She pulled out a new voting method, fist to five. If you raise a fist, you'll go so far as to sabotage the behaviors. If you give a five, you 100% approve of it. Well, I threw up a fist and so did one other teacher. I think I said something along the lines of, "I would not sabotage this but I feel very strongly the kids need to be a part of it."
She was clearly frustrated with me, and I was with this whole new behavior deal. A compromise was reached, and the behaviors were put into the hands of the student council. They were given the behaviors the adults had come up and were asked what other behaviors it took to be successful in school. Well, they added one behavior that no adult had thought of, Be ready to learn. I was not present to hear how they came up with this, but I love that they did.
Just digest that for a second. Be ready to learn. What does it take for a student to be ready to learn? When I think of this, I always think of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. The kids pointed out the most important, obvious thing to us that they needed to succeed. And we almost left them out of the process.
So, the Behaviors ended up being: Be respectful. Be responsible. Be safe. Be ready to learn. And I'm still proud of that student council for coming up with that last behavior.
*I studied under many great professors. One of these professors was Dr. Templeton. She coauthored the rewrite of Faber and Mazlish's famous parenting book. She and her partner rewrote it for teachers and called it How to talk so Kids Can Learn. It did not entirely prepare me for the challenges of managing a classroom, but it certainly helped.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
From Actuary to Teacher
I have many smart friends who have made their livelihoods in a variety of ways. Whenever I run across a problem in their area of expertise, I run it by them to see what their opinion is.
Well, I have several friends who are actuaries. I didn't even know this profession existed until I met them. In the most simplified way of explaining what they do, as I don't pretend to understand it, I'll just say they are really good at math. Years ago, one of my friends who was an actuary decided he wanted more meaning in his life so he decided he was going to become a teacher. He was granted an emergency license because of some sort of shortage in educators in this area. Being he was so good at math, he was hired right away.
Well, I received a message from him after just a few days in a middle school classroom. It was one of panic and confusion although I don't quite remember what it said. When I called him back the next day, he said he had already left a letter of resignation on the desk in the principal's office. Looking back, I wish I could have at least advised him to call for a substitute.
I later found out he had also mispronounced the name of a student named Je·sús.
He's back to being an actuary.
Well, I have several friends who are actuaries. I didn't even know this profession existed until I met them. In the most simplified way of explaining what they do, as I don't pretend to understand it, I'll just say they are really good at math. Years ago, one of my friends who was an actuary decided he wanted more meaning in his life so he decided he was going to become a teacher. He was granted an emergency license because of some sort of shortage in educators in this area. Being he was so good at math, he was hired right away.
Well, I received a message from him after just a few days in a middle school classroom. It was one of panic and confusion although I don't quite remember what it said. When I called him back the next day, he said he had already left a letter of resignation on the desk in the principal's office. Looking back, I wish I could have at least advised him to call for a substitute.
I later found out he had also mispronounced the name of a student named Je·sús.
He's back to being an actuary.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Business of #Blueberries
I had the pleasure of seeing Jamie Vollmer speak at a back to school rally in our district a number of years ago when I was a classroom teacher. Back then, I didn't quite understand the relevance of his speech, yet I cheered as he told his story. Now, I understand it all too well and I hope he is getting a lot of speaking engagements. The permission to reprint this story has been granted. I did not write it. Please read it carefully. And then read about the precious #blueberries that Ms. Katie marched for.
Follow @jamievol on Twitter as well.
The Blueberry Story: The teacher gives the businessman a lesson
“If I ran my business the way you people operate your schools, I wouldn’t be in business
very long!”
I stood before an auditorium filled with outraged teachers who were becoming angrier by
the minute. My speech had entirely consumed their precious 90 minutes of inservice.
Their initial icy glares had turned to restless agitation. You could cut the hostility with a
knife.
I represented a group of business people dedicated to improving public schools. I was an
executive at an ice cream company that became famous in the middle1980s when People
Magazine chose our blueberry as the “Best Ice Cream in America.”
I was convinced of two things. First, public schools needed to change; they were archaic
selecting and sorting mechanisms designed for the industrial age and out of step with the
needs of our emerging “knowledge society.” Second, educators were a major part of the
problem: they resisted change, hunkered down in their feathered nests, protected by
tenure, and shielded by a bureaucratic monopoly. They needed to look to business. We
knew how to produce quality. Zero defects! TQM! Continuous improvement!
In retrospect, the speech was perfectly balanced - equal parts ignorance and arrogance.
As soon as I finished, a woman’s hand shot up. She appeared polite, pleasant – she was,
in fact, a razor-edged, veteran, high school English teacher who had been waiting to
unload.
She began quietly, “We are told, sir, that you manage a company that makes good ice
cream.”
I smugly replied, “Best ice cream in America, Ma’am.”
“How nice,” she said. “Is it rich and smooth?”
“Sixteen percent butterfat,” I crowed.“Premium ingredients?” she inquired.
“Super-premium! Nothing but triple A.” I was on a roll. I never saw the next line coming.
“Mr. Vollmer,” she said, leaning forward with a wicked eyebrow raised to the sky, “when
you are standing on your receiving dock and you see an inferior shipment of blueberries
arrive, what do you do?”
In the silence of that room, I could hear the trap snap…. I was dead meat, but I wasn’t
going to lie.
“I send them back.”
She jumped to her feet. “That’s right!” she barked, “and we can never send back our
blueberries. We take them big, small, rich, poor, gifted, exceptional, abused, frightened,
confident, homeless, rude, and brilliant. We take them with ADHD, junior rheumatoid
arthritis, and English as their second language. We take them all! Every one! And that,
Mr. Vollmer, is why it’s not a business. It’s school!”
In an explosion, all 290 teachers, principals, bus drivers, aides, custodians, and secretaries
jumped to their feet and yelled, “Yeah! Blueberries! Blueberries!”
And so began my long transformation.
Since then, I have visited hundreds of schools. I have learned that a school is not a
business. Schools are unable to control the quality of their raw material, they are
dependent upon the vagaries of politics for a reliable revenue stream, and they are
constantly mauled by a howling horde of disparate, competing customer groups that
would send the best CEO screaming into the night.
None of this negates the need for change. We must change what, when, and how we
teach to give all children maximum opportunity to thrive in a post-industrial society. But
educators cannot do this alone; these changes can occur only with the understanding,
trust, permission, and active support of the surrounding community. For the most
important thing I have learned is that schools reflect the attitudes, beliefs and health of
the communities they serve, and therefore, to improve public education means more than
changing our schools, it means changing America.
Jamie Robert Vollmer © 2011
Jamie Vollmer is a former business executive and attorney who now works to increase public support for
America’s public schools. His new book, Schools Cannot Do It Alone is available at www.jamievollmer.com
Follow @jamievol on Twitter as well.
The Blueberry Story: The teacher gives the businessman a lesson
“If I ran my business the way you people operate your schools, I wouldn’t be in business
very long!”
I stood before an auditorium filled with outraged teachers who were becoming angrier by
the minute. My speech had entirely consumed their precious 90 minutes of inservice.
Their initial icy glares had turned to restless agitation. You could cut the hostility with a
knife.
I represented a group of business people dedicated to improving public schools. I was an
executive at an ice cream company that became famous in the middle1980s when People
Magazine chose our blueberry as the “Best Ice Cream in America.”
I was convinced of two things. First, public schools needed to change; they were archaic
selecting and sorting mechanisms designed for the industrial age and out of step with the
needs of our emerging “knowledge society.” Second, educators were a major part of the
problem: they resisted change, hunkered down in their feathered nests, protected by
tenure, and shielded by a bureaucratic monopoly. They needed to look to business. We
knew how to produce quality. Zero defects! TQM! Continuous improvement!
In retrospect, the speech was perfectly balanced - equal parts ignorance and arrogance.
As soon as I finished, a woman’s hand shot up. She appeared polite, pleasant – she was,
in fact, a razor-edged, veteran, high school English teacher who had been waiting to
unload.
She began quietly, “We are told, sir, that you manage a company that makes good ice
cream.”
I smugly replied, “Best ice cream in America, Ma’am.”
“How nice,” she said. “Is it rich and smooth?”
“Sixteen percent butterfat,” I crowed.“Premium ingredients?” she inquired.
“Super-premium! Nothing but triple A.” I was on a roll. I never saw the next line coming.
“Mr. Vollmer,” she said, leaning forward with a wicked eyebrow raised to the sky, “when
you are standing on your receiving dock and you see an inferior shipment of blueberries
arrive, what do you do?”
In the silence of that room, I could hear the trap snap…. I was dead meat, but I wasn’t
going to lie.
“I send them back.”
She jumped to her feet. “That’s right!” she barked, “and we can never send back our
blueberries. We take them big, small, rich, poor, gifted, exceptional, abused, frightened,
confident, homeless, rude, and brilliant. We take them with ADHD, junior rheumatoid
arthritis, and English as their second language. We take them all! Every one! And that,
Mr. Vollmer, is why it’s not a business. It’s school!”
In an explosion, all 290 teachers, principals, bus drivers, aides, custodians, and secretaries
jumped to their feet and yelled, “Yeah! Blueberries! Blueberries!”
And so began my long transformation.
Since then, I have visited hundreds of schools. I have learned that a school is not a
business. Schools are unable to control the quality of their raw material, they are
dependent upon the vagaries of politics for a reliable revenue stream, and they are
constantly mauled by a howling horde of disparate, competing customer groups that
would send the best CEO screaming into the night.
None of this negates the need for change. We must change what, when, and how we
teach to give all children maximum opportunity to thrive in a post-industrial society. But
educators cannot do this alone; these changes can occur only with the understanding,
trust, permission, and active support of the surrounding community. For the most
important thing I have learned is that schools reflect the attitudes, beliefs and health of
the communities they serve, and therefore, to improve public education means more than
changing our schools, it means changing America.
Jamie Robert Vollmer © 2011
Jamie Vollmer is a former business executive and attorney who now works to increase public support for
America’s public schools. His new book, Schools Cannot Do It Alone is available at www.jamievollmer.com
Friday, August 12, 2011
"Beyond Expectations"
I recently received a quick note from a former professor, Dr. Rodney Muth, which read, "Lots of work to do to make sure future schools really do the work that they should so that all kids learn beyond expectations!"
I love this for so many reasons, and I thought immediately of a student who taught me many lessons one year.
This student was legally blind.
They had limited eyesight in one eye and read using Braille. They often used the computer as they could read and write in English as well as in Braille. (Perhaps they would have been considered trilingual since they spoke another language as well?) Thinking back, I'm just astonished by this learner. Since they could see a little, they occasionally wrote with a paper and pencil, usually during math. When writing, they used a Braille writer. I worked along side an amazing teacher who was paired with the learner and a few other students in the district to help in our communication barrier since I have no idea how to read Braille.
There was a game I used to play with students called Digits and Places. If there was 5 minutes left before lining up for lunch after wrapping up a lesson, we would play Digits and Places. I drew a T-chart on the board. with a D on the left top and a P on the right top. I would start with two digit numbers and increase the difficulty to 3 or 4 digit numbers as it became too easy for the class. There are many benefits to the game, and most of the students enjoyed playing it. The game is played as followed:
I think of a number, let's say the number is 21.
Students take turns guessing what my number is.
Student A says 33, I write down 33 and then write 0 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Student B says 52. I write down 52 and then write a 1 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Student C says 73. I write down 73 and then write a 0 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Student D says 15. I write down 15 and then write a 1 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Guessing can go on for a while, with varying degrees of understanding, but eventually, someone figures it out and we all rejoice.
Well, when I introduced this game to my classroom for the first time with my student who was legally blind, I could not figure out how they would be able to follow along out without sight. So, I suggested they take out a paper and a pencil to draw their own T-chart to follow along. They respectfully declined my suggestion saying they'd prefer to just listen.
And they solved the first Digits and Places game that year.
Now, I taught a number of exceptional students over the years, but I must tell one more story about this student.
I became very excited teaching children how to write more creatively using the Six Traits of Writing. I used the book I Love You the Purplest written by Barbara M. Joosse, illustrated by Mary Whyte for a lesson. (This lesson idea and strategy is not my own creation, but I really enjoyed teaching writing this way.) It's a wonderful children's book full of metaphorical language. A mother tries to distinguish her love of her two children when challenged by them whom she loves more. One she tells, "I love you the reddest..." And she goes on with a beautiful description of love rich with figurative language and metaphor. The other she tells, "I love you the bluest..." And, again, she goes on and on about her love.
Well, again, my learner raises their hand and says, "And red and blue make purple."
Yep, I totally missed that one myself. I was so wrapped up in the lesson and the language, rich with wisdom for writing instruction that I completely missed the big picture, obvious point of the book. Red and blue make purple. I love you the purplest. But my student who was legally blind didn't miss it.
That student (teacher) sure taught me a lot that year.
edited 2/26/23 6:48 PM 8/10/23 11:05 PM MST
I love this for so many reasons, and I thought immediately of a student who taught me many lessons one year.
This student was legally blind.
They had limited eyesight in one eye and read using Braille. They often used the computer as they could read and write in English as well as in Braille. (Perhaps they would have been considered trilingual since they spoke another language as well?) Thinking back, I'm just astonished by this learner. Since they could see a little, they occasionally wrote with a paper and pencil, usually during math. When writing, they used a Braille writer. I worked along side an amazing teacher who was paired with the learner and a few other students in the district to help in our communication barrier since I have no idea how to read Braille.
There was a game I used to play with students called Digits and Places. If there was 5 minutes left before lining up for lunch after wrapping up a lesson, we would play Digits and Places. I drew a T-chart on the board. with a D on the left top and a P on the right top. I would start with two digit numbers and increase the difficulty to 3 or 4 digit numbers as it became too easy for the class. There are many benefits to the game, and most of the students enjoyed playing it. The game is played as followed:
I think of a number, let's say the number is 21.
Students take turns guessing what my number is.
Student A says 33, I write down 33 and then write 0 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Student B says 52. I write down 52 and then write a 1 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Student C says 73. I write down 73 and then write a 0 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Student D says 15. I write down 15 and then write a 1 under the Digits column and a 0 under the Places column.
Guessing can go on for a while, with varying degrees of understanding, but eventually, someone figures it out and we all rejoice.
Well, when I introduced this game to my classroom for the first time with my student who was legally blind, I could not figure out how they would be able to follow along out without sight. So, I suggested they take out a paper and a pencil to draw their own T-chart to follow along. They respectfully declined my suggestion saying they'd prefer to just listen.
And they solved the first Digits and Places game that year.
Now, I taught a number of exceptional students over the years, but I must tell one more story about this student.
I became very excited teaching children how to write more creatively using the Six Traits of Writing. I used the book I Love You the Purplest written by Barbara M. Joosse, illustrated by Mary Whyte for a lesson. (This lesson idea and strategy is not my own creation, but I really enjoyed teaching writing this way.) It's a wonderful children's book full of metaphorical language. A mother tries to distinguish her love of her two children when challenged by them whom she loves more. One she tells, "I love you the reddest..." And she goes on with a beautiful description of love rich with figurative language and metaphor. The other she tells, "I love you the bluest..." And, again, she goes on and on about her love.
Well, again, my learner raises their hand and says, "And red and blue make purple."
Yep, I totally missed that one myself. I was so wrapped up in the lesson and the language, rich with wisdom for writing instruction that I completely missed the big picture, obvious point of the book. Red and blue make purple. I love you the purplest. But my student who was legally blind didn't miss it.
That student (teacher) sure taught me a lot that year.
edited 2/26/23 6:48 PM 8/10/23 11:05 PM MST
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Mission and Vision of this Blog
Mission: This blog's mission is to spark a conversation about assessment and its place in the teaching and learning cycle.
Vision: This blog's vision is to positively impact the field of public education.
Vision: This blog's vision is to positively impact the field of public education.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)