Month: May 2016

When am I ever going to use this in the real world?

Oh yeah. The question.

Undoubtedly, it has been asked to all teachers of mathematics. When you earn your teaching license, you accept this fate.

When I think about this question, the first thing that enters my mind is not how to reply. I’ve realized that no answer I provide, regardless of how sensible it is, will satisfy their need to question the relevancy of mathematics. I can convey its importance to engineers, accountants, and architects, but it won’t matter. I could talk with them about how mathematics is a vehicle for developing problem solving and sense-making, but that’s far too abstract to gain any traction. I could also indicate that Homer’s Iliad won’t connect explicitly to any real world decision that they will need to make, but they’re still required to read and analyze it. That too, although true, will not be an adequate response for them.

So what do I do when I’m asked the question?

Well, I ask myself a question: how can I make this lesson, and all lessons, more engaging?

You see, if a student is fully immersed in my lesson, if they’re experiencing my lesson and not just getting through it, there won’t be a need to ask the question. They’ll be so connected to what I planned for them that it won’t even enter their minds. If I find my students asking me when they’re ever going to use what they’re learning in the real world, I’ve already lost.

Besides, I don’t think most students even care where mathematics applies to the real world. By asking, they’re just trying to fill a void. A void that has been created by a lack of engagement and meaning within my lesson. In other words, when a student asks me the question, what they’re really asking is, “Mister, how can you make this more engaging?”

And the answer to that question exists largely within me and my teaching. Not the real world.

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When we’re afraid of results 

Is it possible that a teacher could be subconsciously afraid of what formative assessment could reveal about student understanding and, as a result, not do it?

I know I’m guilty of this. Especially early in my career.

Looking in the mirror is hard. After hours of planning I’m supposed to accept the fact that my thinking was flawed or incomplete?  I’m supposed to realize that my students have not met the objective(s) of the lesson? I’m supposed to openly accept that  it’s back the drawing board? For reflective teachers, the answers to these questions are welcomed as a means for growth, but still not always easy to accept.

To this end, it’s easier to get a “feel” for the learning happening in the classroom rather than to strategically measure it. We subconsciously fear that crushing moment when the lack of learning is exposed, so we evade it. We fear a reality that harshly contradicts with our own expectations. We fear what these humbling results echo about our planning and teaching.

I also find that the need to formatively assess is at times disguised by a belief that students should understand the lesson objective(s) based on previous experience or other factors. This, then, somehow equates to implicitly thinking that students are reaching objectives.

This idea came to while speaking to an instructional coach recently and I feel that it happens more often than we think. If we don’t embrace the uncertainty related to students not meeting expectations, if we’re not highly critical of our own practice and willing to accept unfavorable outcomes, then we save face. Things go “well.” We feel comfortable and all of our hard work is justified.

What a tragedy.

 

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It’s about passing tests

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“School isn’t about learning, it’s about passing tests.”

That was a comment I overheard from a ninth grade student recently.

Sadly, she’s right. At least in most schools and classrooms. Including mine.

The damaging impacts of high-stakes tests on teaching and learning are real. Personally, it has dramatically impacted my career over the last ten years. I’m brainwashed by these tests. Really. My lessons begin and end with thoughts of the NYS Regents exams. If it’s not on the test, I don’t teach it.

Through all this, do my kids learn mathematics? Probably. I can’t say for sure. But do they learn how to take tests on mathematics? Definitely. Make no mistake, there’s a widening divide between these two abilities.

This is not to say that tests themselves are necessarily the problem. They aren’t. In fact, there’s research that shows that tests can actually promote learning. Take a unit exam or exit slip, for example. In my case, students often complete these assessments individually. If students don’t do well, they can retake at any time, for any reason. There’s no pressure to do well on the first go around. You don’t get it? No big deal. Let’s find our weakness, improve, and try again. The focus of these assessments is learning.

This can’t be said for high-stakes tests. And herein lies my headache.

I know this is nothing new. I’m simply echoing the voices of millions of teachers all around this country. Ironically, though, what motivated this post wasn’t the countless adversaries of high-stakes tests, but the voice of one ninth grade student. She believes the purpose of school is to prepare her to fill in bubbles with a #2 pencil. This really bothers me.

The fact that she has devalued learning in the school setting – and reduced it to passing a test – is deeply troubling. And I know she’s not alone. It makes me seriously question how I’m contributing to this high-stakes epidemic.

 

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#MTBoS30

I totally stumbled upon this during the last couple of days, but I’ve decided to adopt a customized version of #MTBoS30. Right now, my writing isn’t efficient enough to squeeze in one blog post each day and still maintain a sense of normalcy with life. So instead, I’m committing to one deeply reflective Twitter post each day. This is something I don’t do enough of so, to a lesser degree, I hope the end result – writing, reflecting, growing, and sharing more – is similar to those that are blogging traditionally.

This will be a practical, yet challenging journey for me. Being succinct is an arduous task in itself, which I will embrace. Less is more.

Each of my #MTBoS30 Tweets will be embedded here, the most recent first.