Smoothest Science Exp0 Ever

(I have to use the zero to make this less google-able by my kids).

I love planning things very intensely, then watching them unfold, hopefully smoothly, and this year’s Science Exp0 was perfect in this regard.  Hours of time put into a schedule paid off; everyone knew where to go when, small discrepancies – like judges moving faster or slower than planned – turned out to be no major problem, the kids had a great day, the teachers thought it went well, and the judges were awesome.  The vast majority of my energy went to handling one behavior problem that spiraled out of control, but otherwise it was the easiest Science Exp0 we’ve ever done.  I credit my two fantastic science team members who helped with all the planning, the teachers who stayed with the kids all day and made sure they were where they belonged, doing the right thing, and a crack team of judges who showed up early, asked the kids great questions, scored really fairly, and had a terrific attitude all day long.

I could write three pages, or I could write two sentences, and neither would capture the day.  Good moments: teams that worked really hard and knew their stuff were voted the winners (this is not a guarantee!); having four alums of my school come back to be judges, polite, neatly dressed, incredibly helpful all day long, asking great questions, modeling everything we try to coax out of our children; hearing our judges warmly and humorously debrief the projects over lunch; talking to kids thrilled that “the judge came and we did so good, I know we did good, he liked our project, he asked us lots of questions and we knew the answers!”; spending a few minutes with our 8th graders, who were once my 6th graders, seeing how far they’ve come with their understanding of science and ability to take on a big project like this one.

Much of our staff went out on Arthur Avenue afterwards for Blue Moon and gobs of cheese-stuffed shells and fried calamari and a half-dozen toasts.  And then it was seven and the day was over!

Prep Day: In which we moan & grumble about computers

Wednesday – prep day – was harder than Thursday.  My team agreed to help the kids work on their projects all day Wednesday – it’s sort of a school tradition.  I had what seemed like a workable plan for dividing the kids up into 2 rooms for computer use and printing, and 2 rooms for board assembly, but as the day approached I could not figure out a plan for getting two printers working and in the right locations, nor did I have all their projects saved onto flash drives so that they would be able to use any computer rather than a particular computer.  So it ended up being one computer room, a long wait for laptops, me at the printer (with my personal laptop hooked up to it) barking at kids to back up and not crowd in on me, I would help them one by one (it was 95 degrees in my room, not a formula for calm).

Aside: The last 6 weeks have reminded me of the huge gulf between the poster-pretty image of technology integration and the reality in so many underfunded, no-IT-person, scarcely-even-an-outlet-to-be-found schools.  To me, the full-time IT position is the biggest need; what kind of organization has several hundred computers and has to call someone from outside to fix problems?  Now we want to put in an old-school computer lab upstairs but the wiring in the building is all wrong and this is the DOE’s answer: pay to have it rewired from the school’s operating budget.  Suffice to say that I’m sad that the UFT scheduled their rally against budget cuts for Wednesday, ’cause I’d have gone and tried to rally others if it weren’t such a crazy time for my department.

Anyway, most kids finished their projects, and we teachers left totally wiped out (of both energy and most of our arts & crafts supplies and anything else not tied down…).  There was one fight, but it could have happened any day.  And I hear that things were pretty calm on our corridor compared to elsewhere in the school, which makes me happy because I like to run a tight ship and for all we complain about this year’s kids being difficult, I think we’ve come really, really far with them.

The science team stayed at school doing last-minute prep of folders for teachers and judges, containing schedules, nametags, lists of projects and their numbers, and much more… then I went home, put my feet up, and started what promises to be an intense addiction to The Wire.

The truest thing I’ve read in a long time…

is Miss Brave’s account of the Quality Review, its outcome, and the eggs broken on the way to the omelette.

There is no chance in hell this would ever fly as policy, but one part of me wonders, mostly as a thought-experiment, what would happen if every school got “dropped in on” two or three times during each year, at random and with no warning, and maybe once with warning for meetings with key players, and from that came a review?  (The cynic in me knows that corruption would immediately take hold, with principals paying good money for advance warning).  But a good school should be a good school any day of the year or the week, and that should be self-evident.  If teachers are collecting and using data, it might not look beautiful or uniform, but evidence will be abundant, in binders stuffed to bursting with anecdotals, print-outs of grades, test scores, meeting notes.  Student work will be posted and some of it will be out-of-date or a little ragged ’round the edges, but it will be there and it will show rigor.  Kids will know where they need to be and what they should be doing and what their class goals are, and it won’t feel prepped or performed because it will be the everyday reality of a productive learning environment.  Teachers will be in their classrooms teaching dynamic lessons.  I’ve always believed that quality speaks for itself and need not be dressed up or polished.

Of course, this also assumes reviewers who understand that that when you’re watching practice in a real-life setting, you have to look and listen differently than you do when you’re watching a carefully rehearsed performance.  It also assumes that the things being looked and listened for are meaningful indicators of school performance, not just a bunch of numbers and a list of programs.  At the moment, the Quality Reviews emphasize what seems to me to be a strikingly narrow set of criteria.

I wonder, does a system like this exist anywhere in education?  How does it work?  I think InsideSchools does something like this but I believe they do provide some advance notice of their visits.  Still, their review of my school – which is now several years old – really nailed the strengths and weaknesses of our school as it was then in a thoughtful way.

Again and again, I realize that the key – the absolute key – to whatever education reforms are proposed, is that they have the funding and commitment to be done completely and well.  To get a really strong team of reviewers, you’d have to pay them well, train them well on top of that, put systems in place to guard against corruption, and provide enough time for them to spend more than one day in each school.  Just like you’d have to do with any reform to make it work.  Of course, at this point, the money would clearly be better spent on providing programming than on new accountability systems – isn’t that the lesson of 2007-08 NYC? – but here again I’m imagining in my possible naivete a system in which it wasn’t a choice – you could have abundant money for programming and a strong, well-designed, well-implemented, system of accountability.

Self-evident truths?

This is what we call news these days? City Schools Fail to Comply with State Rule on Arts Classes, NY Times.

The state requires that elementary school students receive education in dance, music, theater and visual arts every year. The survey showed that fewer than 30 percent of middle schools met the requirement of providing two half-unit art classes between seventh and eighth grades.

Despite the requirements, the state does not demand that the City Education Department report on arts instruction. But city officials emphasized that they would ask more schools to meet those expectations.

They’ll ask for arts education, but they’ll punish for reading and math failure, and they’ll cut school budgets mid-year.  Where the heck do they think the money is going to come from for art supplies and teaching?  “Um, hey there principals, do ya think you could squeeze in some dance around your remedial math courses?  I’m sure one of your math teachers knows some ballet or step or something…”

And then there’s this, from an article on the $125,000 charter school (TEP):

Yet the model is raising questions. Will two social workers be enough? Will even the most skillful teachers be able to handle classes of 30, several students more than the city average?

Now, I get the larger point (I’m not one for ignoring context), which is that the model might lean too far in favor of good teachers and neglect some other pieces of the reform puzzle, like small class size.  But – BUT – let’s not pretend that teachers in New York City are working with classes of 22… as a first year teacher, I had five classes of 30-32 kids.  Classes are a bit smaller in my current school, but still over 25 and creeping upwards every year for financial reasons.  So when evaluating this charter’s model, I think it’s only fair to note that for most NYC teachers, this wouldn’t represent a significant increase in class size, for many, it wouldn’t be an increase at all.  But the pay?  That would be double.

I love NY,

because I get to wait on the sidewalk with 60 kids as our schoolbuses arrive 30 minutes late, which makes us that late to a performance of Romeo & Juliet that turns out to be a little, um, mature for the sixth graders (sure, it’s a sexy play, but a 5 minute stripper dance?  really?  you DID advertise this for kids!) although the kids LOVE IT and not just because it’s sexy and violent, they also get emotionally involved and shout “No!” as Juliet sinks the dagger into her chest, and then when we get back to school, a full hour late, one of the kids who didn’t get to go and who, frankly, scares me a little (which is not something I say often), looks me straight in the eye and tells me, in front of 10 other not-so-awesomely-behaved kids, that my face is ugly &c. &c., which I don’t take personally but what does bother me a little is that all the other kids egg him on, laughing and encouraging him to keep going.  Not my usual relationship with kids.  Sure, it’s not personal, but it’s hard to get insulted as part of your job.  And then school ends and I wait 40 minutes with a student for her special bus which is 40 minutes late, so the gym is out, so I go downtown with colleagues and end up getting soaking wet and sucked into a volunteer opportunity which is a really positive thing IF you are planning on doing it, cut out early, get soaking wet again, meet friends for dinner, get soaking wet again, come home and fall over into my bed.  Ah, Fridays!  Not all bad – some really good (like when I teach a group of kids to say “zwounds!” a la Shakespeare, and they walk out of class exclaiming it to each other) – but overall, pretty much ridiculous.

So today is paying bills, relaxing, and another cake.  Will post pics when I have them, though my camera is still broken, so it’ll have to be camera phone.  It’s still raining, rain is rushing down the streets and into and over and through the cracks, dips, and curbs, and all I can think is that it might be a good time to invest in an ark.

I used to take the bus past this building every day,

and would idly fantasize about how we could take over and make it our school.  Nowhere for a schoolyard and dangerous street-crossings on every side, but still a fascinating old building and just sitting there, waiting to become something of use to someone.

Summer School

I have had the opportunity, for a day or two now, to contemplate summer school.  Mind you, I’ve always said that it will be a cold day in hell (or a hot one, if you subscribe to Dante) before I teach summer school.  Personally, I’ve never needed the money so badly to make it more valuable than recharging, working on personal projects, taking classes, and traveling.  But until now, we weren’t talking about summer school at my school, and I wasn’t trying to save for a place of my own someday, so let’s just say the demons have started shivering and digging out their sweaters.  Then again, there are a lot of other, unbloggable considerations but I can’t go into those.  Leave it at: stranger things have happened.

So suddenly, I find myself faced with the question: what kind of summer school would I be willing to take a lead role in?  And it’s kind of an exciting question, because it presents a chance to break the mold a bit and do something to really help some kids.

To be fair, I have only the sketchiest knowledge of summer school as it is currently implemented in NYC, but it seems to be mostly about attendance… the vast majority of kids who show up every day get promoted.  We’ve been a little hesitant to send kids to the neighborhood summer school because we worry that our failing kids might still be far enough ahead of other schools’ failing kids that they would do little but pick up bad habits from their new classmates… but that could be unfair.  Still, it gives one pause and has resulted in virtually all of our failures being promoted because we weren’t convinced that summer school would help them all that much.

What comes to mind is that our kids fail for two reasons:

(1) they have what it takes to pass classes and tests, but they don’t do their work and end up failing multiple subjects

(2) they do most of what they should but fail the tests and/or classes anyway, reflecting a real deficit in skills.

Should these two groups of kids have the same summer school experience?  To me, the answer is a definite NO.

What do I want for/from the first group?  I want them to make up major projects that they did not hand in.  I want close attention paid to work habits, motivation, and the like.  I want them to go back to topics they failed and spend more time on them, with an emphasis on completing the assignments that allowed others to succeed.  And I want this for them in all subjects, not just math and reading.  For these kids, summer school is about fulfilling obligations unmet during the school year (which in and of itself should serve as motivation to meet those obligations the first time around so as to avoid spending one’s summer in class), and developing the habits to prepare them to meet their obligations in the future.  For some kids, this might include time management skills; for others, it might mean close teacher supervision of things like lab reports, allowing them to experience success on what might be overwhelming or unfamiliar projects, paving the way for future success on similar projects.  Beyond helping the student, this sort of summer school communicates to other students that expectations are real: not meeting them has consequences.

The second type of student needs something slightly different.  These kids need their academic weaknesses closely analyzed and an individualized plan developed to help close gaps in fundamentals that are holding the kids back.  The focus should be mostly on math and reading, but with some science and social studies integrated into the day to keep things interesting for the kids and because middle school is the transition to high school, when all subjects “count.”  We need to begin holding the kids accountable – and holding ourselves, as teachers, accountable for supporting them – for the content and skills taught in social studies and science.

So what does this all look like in practice?  I think that a truly transformational summer school program would require a sort of short-term IEP for every student: a plan based on the student’s weaknesses and skill gaps, the patterns of behavior and work habits which contributed to academic failure, and the standards which are most crucial to provide a foundation for the following year’s curriculum.  Both types of students could benefit from such a plan.

Students who chose not to do the required work should have a packet of assignments across subject areas which they must complete in order to make up missed assignments from the school year.  To make teaching demands realistic, this might not be exactly the same as “making up” missed work, but it might be a series of projects designed by subject area teachers to review content and skills and provide opportunities for students to demonstrate competency they did not demonstrate earlier.  Students who did most of the required work but still failed should have classes targeting specific content and skill deficits.  I envision a menu of interventions: TAI math, GreatLeaps phonics, mini-units on specific standards in all subject areas, project workshops, one-on-one tutoring, small group classes, and so on, with each child flexibly grouped and with a schedule tailored as much as possible to his or her needs.  I also envision a clear set of promotional standards for each student based on this schedule, signed by student, parent, and teachers at the start of summer school.  It should indicate minimum attendance requirements, along with other benchmarks which must be met for promotion to occur.  Every week, each student should receive a progress report indicating where they stand in relation to their promotional standards.

Is this a lot of work for teachers and administrators?  Tons.  But I think it’s the only way to make summer school a tool for transforming the educational experiences of failing students.  It would require lots of resources of all kinds, and plenty of time spent planning.  Scheduling it could be a nightmare.  Then again, I don’t see this as a program for hundreds of kids; keeping numbers low and focusing on the highest-needs population would be the goal.  Kids who are failing won’t benefit much from the same-old, same-old anyway: they’ve already spent plenty of hours in large classes with a mainstream curriculum, and many have spent additional time in smaller groups with remedial curriculum.  Now it’s time for even smaller – tiny – groups, individual tutoring, and other special programs selected just for this student.

What do you think?

More from Paris

The mechanical fountains outside the Pompidou Centre. It was dusk. Supposedly each fountain represents a symphony by… I forget. A composer. Surely this is easily googled.

And here’s a detail looking up at the outside of the Pompidou. Richard Rogers, the guy who designed this building is redesigning the Javits here in NYC. Inside the Pompidou was a pretty great exhibit of this architecture firm’s work and principles.

There is also a wonderful collection of modern & contemporary art in the Pompidou, but I don’t have any pictures from that (yet).

Cupcake Combinatorics

In New York Cake & Baking Supply, earlier today…

Me (after perusing the racks of flavorings): Do you have lavender flavoring?

C&B guy: Flavoring? No. We have color. I’ve never heard of lavender flavor before.

Me: Okay, yeah, I looked for it, just making sure. Do you have any idea where I could get lavender flavor?

C&B guy: I’ve never heard of that flavor before.

Me: Well, I’m experimenting with new buttercream flavors.

C&B guy: Well then you need lavender color!

Me: No, no, I don’t actually want it to be lavender color, just flavor. Never mind.

C&B guy: I’ve never heard of that flavor.

Me: Never mind, I’ll just have to make it with tea or something.

*****

Turns out that there’s no such thing as just lavender tea at Whole Foods. I get three salespeople on the case, but no dice. What I really need are loose dried lavender flowers to make an infusion, but there’s snow everywhere, freezing rain falling, and I don’t know where to get loose herbs in the city. So I’ll have to save the lavender experiment for another day.

*****

I’ve made four or five dozen miniature cupcakes, in three flavors: vanilla, lemon, and almond. I estimated wrong and ran out of miniature cupcake liners, so the vanilla ones are actually heart-shaped tea cakes (disappointing, but what are you going to do?). And while the cupcakes baked, I’ve been soaking apricots, cardamom, and ginger in hot water (separately) to make infusions for interesting new buttercreams. I’ve also got blackberries (no, I’m not sticking to in season this time around), coconut flavoring, oranges, and any number of other fun spices and flavor ideas, like cinnamon, maple, mocha, honey, lemongrass (can’t do this one today, sadly). So my question is… which unusual flavor combinations sound appealing to you? Which sound dreadful?

Cupcake Flavors: lemon, almond, vanilla, chocolate, orange

Buttercream Flavors: ginger, apricot, blackberry, raspberry, strawberry, blueberry, pomegranate, coconut, maple, cinnamon, mocha, honey, lemongrass, lavender, rose, cardamom, cherry, yoghurt, pepper, jalapeno, coffee (not mocha), hazelnut, lychee, tropical fruits like mango, papaya, guava, cherimoya, lime, peanut, caramel, orange, mint, lime, chocolate, vanilla, cumin… anything else?

Today I am making, for certain:

lemon-ginger, vanilla-ginger

lemon-coconut, vanilla-coconut

vanilla-orange, almond-orange(?)

lemon-blackberry, vanilla-blackberry, almond-blackberry

lemon-apricot, vanilla-apricot

lemon-cardamom, vanilla-cardamom, almond-cardamom

almond-maple, vanilla-maple, lemon-maple(?)

p.s. These are all for a party a friend of mine is having tomorrow.

I think Chomsky was into syntax, not punctuation…

I like, use, and possibly even over-use the semicolon, but (or perhaps therefore) I didn’t notice it in the NYC subway ad about throwing newspaper away rather than littering, discussed in the NY Times by diverse grammar experts:

Allan M. Siegal, a longtime arbiter of New York Times style before retiring, opined, “The semicolon is correct, though I’d have used a colon, which I think would be a bit more sophisticated in that sentence.”

The linguist Noam Chomsky sniffed, “I suppose Bush would claim it’s the effect of No Child Left Behind.”

I agree with Siegal, actually; my first thought upon reading the ad text was, “But a colon would be so much stronger there!”