It’s My Pleasure

My parents brought me up to say “please” and “thank you” all the time. I insist on this with my own children as well as with my students. I also prefer to say “You’re welcome,” instead of “No problem.” But I really I love the French response, “avec plaisir,” which means “with pleasure.”

Have you ever been to Chick-Fil-A? When you thank any of their employees, they say, “It’s my pleasure.” Apparently at Chick-Fil-A University (or whatever they name their training program), all employees are instructed to respond in that manner. The first time I ever went to Chick-Fil-A, it was almost a shock to hear, because most people in customer service roles usually mumble “no problem,” if anything at all.

In a previous post, I Am A Teacher, I wrote about how happy teaching makes me, and how no other career opportunity has filled me with such satisfaction. This morning, while on front door duty, I held the door for all my students as they walked through. While saying good morning as they entered, one student thanked me for holding the door. I responded with, “It’s my pleasure.”

And then I thought… my whole job is “my pleasure!” I love teaching kids. I love watching their faces light up when they are excited about learning. Some days are just phenomenal. Some days are downright exhausting. But I wouldn’t teach if I didn’t love it… and because I love it, I want to be the best teacher I can be.

  • I don’t teach for summers off. My summers are filled with workshops, classes, and conferences… more learning to be a better teacher.
  • I don’t teach to show off how much I know. It’s not a power trip. I’m not the sage on the stage in my classroom. Every day, my kids teach me something new. We are learning together!
  • I teach because I love to learn and love to help others learn!

As we listen to the pundits rail on and on about bad teachers and burnt-out teachers, I think it’s important that we stand up and make a case for all the amazing teachers out there. My kids have had some truly incredible teachers. I have had inspirational teachers… those that have forced me to crawl out of my comfort level and really stretch myself… and I still have those teachers in the workshops and classes I continue to take.

So, are you listening Oprah? Bill Gates? Michelle Rhee? I believe there are more of us who are dedicated to our students than not. I believe there are circumstances in children’s lives that can’t be solved by threatening teachers to raise test scores. I believe that test scores show a microscopic view of what a child knows and is able to do ON THAT DAY AND THAT SPECIFIC TIME.

Want to improve education in the United States? Stop the incessant testing of our children. Who would want to go to school to be tested and tested? Empower teachers to help students learn and be creative… and think critically… and solve problems.

If you agree with anything in this post… and even if you don’t… please add a comment about a great teacher who is teaching right now. We need to fight the bad press with some good press.

Thanks for reading. To those parents who trust me with their children: thank you for your brilliant, creative, funny, and wonderful kids! It’s my pleasure to be their teacher.

Edit: P.S. My next post will list all the names from the comments, as well as your accolades!

The Art of the Opus

Opus 140309

Opus 140309*

As I sit back and read news about more and more schools considering cutting arts programs from schools while standardized testing gains in popularity and emphasis, I’m reminded of some scenes from the movie, Mr. Holland’s Opus. As a music teacher, everyone expected me to love this movie. To be honest, I thought it was good, but it wasn’t going to be the film I counted on to inspire me daily as a music educator. At the time of its release (1995), music education programs were getting “the axe” in a lot of states. This movie was supposed to help us advocate for our programs, but at the time, I didn’t really see the connections to my own school and program. Looking back… I don’t really know why, so I’ll blame it on the fact that I was young and just trying to survive in my first few years as a teacher.

One particular quote from that movie stuck with me through the years, though. As I now read through some of the arguments for testing, testing, and more testing, I’m really nervous again for arts education. Over and over again, I hear about how important it is for our students to excel in reading, math, and science. That usually means bad news for arts education in public schools. A friend of mine (not an educator) usually teases me when I start to rant about the necessity for arts education in the schools: “Oh, you’re just afraid you’ll be out of a job.” I can’t stress enough that I’m not nervous about my job. I’ve worked in other fields before and could easily go back. This is not about me. This is about our kids. This is about how important arts education is to these children as human beings.

And that’s when I return to the quote from the movie.

Gene Wolters, a school administrator played by William H. Macy, has informed Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfus) that his program, as well as other arts education programs, has been cut. He won’t have a job the following year. When Holland argues that Wolters doesn’t care about the kids, Wolters replies:

“I care about these kids just as much as you do. And if I’m forced to choose between Mozart and reading and writing and long division, I choose long division.”

Holland responds:

“Well, I guess you can cut the arts as much as you want, Gene. Sooner or later, these kids aren’t going to have anything to read or write about.” [my emphasis]

The term, opus, is defined as a work or composition. Its Latin origins also refer to a great labor. I sometimes use the definition of a “labor of love.” For Glenn Holland’s character, it was the legacy he left to his students through music.

What will your opus be?

Or better yet… will each of your students have the ability to create their own opus? How will you know? I’m pretty certain you won’t find that task on any standardized test.

*cc licensed photo by Dennis AB

Mostly Cheers

I love my students. Every day, someone says something so funny or sweet, and I know my face is beaming with pride… I have the privilege of teaching and learning with these kids! Sometimes, their quotes are so hilarious (most of the time, unintentionally so), that I think I should start a blog just to keep them for posterity. My friend, McTeach, aka Karen McMillan, did exactly that- check out her Quotes from Middle School blog!

There was one moment today, however, when I felt so perfectly awful

I made a kindergartner cry.

I KNOW. What a horrible teacher!

Here was this sweet little boy, with his spiky blond hair, angelic little face, dressed like he just stepped out of a Gap Kids commercial. The girl who was sitting in front of him in music class today kept putting her arms up, and he couldn’t see. So, he pushed her arms down so he could see. I quietly reminded him that we never push someone’s arms down, and would he next time please ask quietly? “Do you think you could apologize to your friend for pushing her arms down?”

I didn’t yell at him. I didn’t use “THE LOOK” that I reserve for some of my 5th graders (yes, it works). I even smiled when I said it! Honest! But then… there it was. The quivering lower lip. And pretty soon… big, fat tears rolling down his face. I’m trying to think if there’s a worse feeling as a teacher than seeing a child cry. Nope. Can’t think of one right now. Luckily, the little girl turned around, told him that she forgave him, gave him a hug and said, “It’s alright. We’re friends.” I love kindergarten. 🙂

After class was over, I spoke with him to make sure he knew that he wasn’t in trouble and that I couldn’t wait to see him again in music class. He hugged me. Whew!

TV Guide used to have this section called Cheers & Jeers. It still might… I haven’t looked at a TV Guide since cable came to town about a million years ago. When thinking about this post, the first thing that came to mind was that Cheers & Jeers section. My little kindergarten friend crying– that part of my day deserved a Jeer.

But since I can’t end on an sad note, I’ll leave you with a few Cheers.

We’ve been talking about The Star-Spangled Banner this week. September 14 is the anniversary of Francis Scott Key penning the poem that would later become the national anthem for the United States. Here’s how one class went today:

Me: There was a special birthday yesterday, but it’s not the birthday of a PERSON.

Student: Was it YOUR birthday?!?!?

Me: What? I’m not a person? Am I a robot? [insert “Mrs. Baldwin is a music-teacher-robot” voice here.]

Me: It’s the birthday of our national anthem. It was written on September 14, 1814!

Another Student: Were you there?

Me: Do I look like I’m 196 years old?

Another Student: No, you look like you’re 27.

Me: You are my favorite kid in the whole wide world.

The End… Cheers!

An Inspired Post

I was recently asked by Elizabeth Peterson to guest post on The Inspired Classroom blog. Elizabeth is an elementary classroom teacher dedicated to infusing arts education into her instruction. This is a great blog to add to your blog reader!!

This week, the theme is Arts Integration. You can find my guest post here: http://www.theinspiredclassroom.com/2010/09/making-connections-through-the-arts/.

Thanks, Elizabeth, for this great opportunity!

Pushed and Pulled

push pull

push pull*

This post started as a reaction to some posts I saw on Twitter going back and forth about compliance with children in school. My initial reaction is that we all have to learn compliance at some point in our lives, and that as adults we are often expected to comply with rules or policies. But should compliance be expected in every corner of a classroom? Absolutely not. Teaching children compliance for the sake of compliance isn’t really productive. Compliance for safety rules- yes. That makes sense. Compliance for “because I said so” doesn’t really fly with me.

While this post sat in my drafts folder, another post was brewing about the push and pull I feel as a teacher and a parent of children in school.  I began feeling that the two draft posts were related.  I sat on both blog posts a little while longer to really give myself some time to process my own thoughts and reactions.

A week later… I’m not any further than I was when I started.

In my draft posts, I wanted to convey the push and pull I feel as a former technology professional developer, a classroom teacher, and a parent of a child in a public K-12 school district. To add to my inner turmoil: I teach in the same district where my youngest child attends school. The next few points are areas where I am really pushing myself to “walk my talk:”

  1. There are only two rules in our classroom: respect each other and respect our equipment/instruments. At the beginning of the school year (and various reminder points throughout the year), I discuss these rules with every single one of my Kindergarten through 5th grade (430+) students. I ask them if they agree with these rules and why. I ask them if we need any other rules. Most of what they suggest falls under “respect each other.” When they discuss as a class, they agree that we don’t need any other rules than those two. They are OUR rules, not MY rules. This is very important. If my students don’t have ownership in their classroom rules, then this becomes “compliance” for the sake of obeying the teacher. Even though I was taught as a child to always obey adults, I believe that kids who take ownership are more respectful of each other and their own rules when they are involved in the decisions. They also understand, through these rules, that they earn respect when they give respect, and that I respect them, too.  In “walking my talk,” I think this is one area where I am doing exactly what I would expect a teacher of my own child to do. Every time I make a decision about classroom rules, I put on my parent hat. As a parent, would I agree with or endorse these classroom rules? Why or why not?
  2. There are a few policies dictated in my daughter’s school with which I vehemently disagree. I have asked my daughter to comply with these rules, even when doing so disables her from using tools she’s found to help her with organization (she is naturally very DIS-organized). This is one area where I really feel pushed and pulled. I pride myself in being a boat-rocker. I don’t believe in sticking with the status quo to play it safe or go along with the “this is how we’ve always done it” mentality. I fear that the lessons I’m teaching my daughter – do what you have to do to stay out of trouble- will result in a backwards step for her in her own life lessons experiences. As a parent, I’m looking for avenues to discuss these issues with the school administrators, as well as with our district’s school board to plead her case, and for those of other students, too. In this situation, I would be wearing my parent hat… but also my educator hat. My biggest dilemma: will I make things worse for her if I rock the boat too hard? Second biggest dilemma: will I make things worse for myself as an employee, since it’s the same district? I doubt the latter, as I do not plan to storm the castle with pitchforks and torches. I’m a passionate person, but I feel like I also know how to approach matters respectfully and with care.
  3. My personal philosophy about teaching with technology is: if technology enhances or extends the learning experience of students, use it. If it complicates or detracts from the learning experience, don’t use it. I try very diligently to mix the learning experiences for my students in high tech, low tech, and no tech learning activities. This is another area where I feel a lot of push and pull. In many professional development opportunities for music educators, there is great pressure to teach in a purist fashion. No technology. Authentic instruments. This can be good. Kids need these experiences, and they need to know that technology isn’t always the best answer. HOWEVER, during these workshops and classes, I sometimes experience some backlash to technology… almost an arrogant stance against ever using technology. That technology somehow corrupts musical education or education in general. I speak up in these situations, especially when research is spouted about how kids don’t know how to perform some simple task without technology anymore.  Of course, I respond that students need many varied experiences, and then bring up points about obsolete skills… do we really need to teach them skills that either are obsolete now or that will be obsolete at some point in their future? As you can probably imagine, this doesn’t always bode very well for me in these workshops. [*side note: the ‘purist’ workshops are not provided by my district. I love that my district provides opportunities for its music teachers to learn together and provide professional development that we propose and often deliver ourselves.]
  4. As educators, I think we too often fight ourselves. I recently read a featured section in ISTE‘s Leading & Learning journal called Blogger’s Beat. The feature writer, Diana Fingal, called out Will Richardson, specifically,  and other non-classroom educators for pontificating about education reform ideals that are not realistic for classroom teachers. Fingal then quoted Lee Kolbert, a technology specialist who recently returned to the classroom, as someone who has struggled with the transition. My first reaction was that Fingal unfairly quoted Richardson and took him out of context somewhat.  Also, I felt that she used a single blog post written by Kolbert to make a point that Kolbert didn’t necessarily intend to support.  Maybe I reacted to what I read because I’m in a similar situation. I spent eight years in technology professional development, and I’m only just starting my second year back in the classroom. I agree with Will Richardson that education needs someone to light a fire under some educators and education policy makers to realize we can’t keep doing the same things we’ve been doing in education for the last 20, 30, 50, 100 years… and for those of you ready to argue that we have made changes, take a look at photos from classrooms in the 1890s compared to the same structure of classrooms today. Take away the computers, TVs, and other electronic equipment, and most classroom designs look EXACTLY THE SAME. On the other hand, I daily have to force myself to plan lessons differently than from what I learned to do in teacher preparation courses. How can I make my lessons more engaging? How is this lesson going to help my students LEARN? How can I help my students learn more independently, collaboratively with each other… and without me leading them every step of the way? It is difficult, it is a struggle, and sometimes it is a very frustrating experience. There are good days when I feel like I’m doing exactly what I preached to teachers in professional development workshops, but more importantly, I’m doing what’s best for my students. There are bad days when I feel like an utter failure. I don’t know where that middle ground is… or if that middle ground is even good enough.

Maybe I’m putting too much pressure on myself, but I always wear that parent hat. I always want to consider my students in the same manner I want my own children to be considered by their teachers.

I’m pushed and I’m pulled.

*[photo credit: cc licensed photo by Robert S. Donovan]

The Wow Factor

At ISTE 2010 in Denver, I attended one of Howard Rheingold’s sessions, “Crap Detection 101.” In this session, Rheingold talked with educators about helping students learn how to wade through the endless amounts of data on the web… but most importantly, helping them discern facts from “crap.” I think a lot of adults could use these skills, in addition to our students.

Another form of “crap detection” that I wish educators would learn is how to know when they’re being taken for a ride courtesy of the Techno-Wow Train.

wow

cc licensed photo shared by thekeithhall

I’m not knocking technology in this post. After spending more than a decade in techno-centric roles, that would be a step back for me. What I do have a problem with is when people use technology to make a fancy-schmancy spreadsheet or “beautiful PowerPoint” (oxymoron?) to present bad information (crap) with a nice, shiny bow or a few amazing bells and whistles.

For example, if I were giving multiple choice tests in my music classroom, and then charting the data into an impressive looking spreadsheet to give to my supervisor, I would hope that my supervisor would ask me how I obtained the data. I would hope that my supervisor would NOT be impressed by the delivery method (the spreadsheet), but would ask good questions about the data.

To clarify my point: in the music classroom, I should be assessing what my students know by having them demonstrate what they have learned. Through a multiple choice test, I can evaluate a student’s memory or understanding at the Knowledge level only. Or… maybe that they are good guessers. What is a quarter note? What is an eighth note? These can be answered on a multiple choice test. Do I really know, through a multiple choice test,  if students understand at a deeper level? Absolutely not.

However, if I give those students an activity where they must create their own rhythm patterns using quarter notes and eighth notes, as well as giving them restrictions– I want a rhythm pattern that is two measures long, with four beats per measure– NOW those students must use Application and Synthesis skills to demonstrate what they have learned. I can chart this data just as well as I could chart the multiple choice results.

Which assessment option is better? That’s a no-brainer. BUT… in a spreadsheet of data where I mark “understanding,” how will anyone know what my data represents? It could be the multiple choice data.

I’m really good at making fancy-schmancy spreadsheets. I can make you marvel at my super mad MS Excel skillz. BUT… what do you really want to know about my students? That their teacher can give you the Wow Factor when it comes to presenting data? or that the collected data really means something?