“I don’t believe in philosophies of education anymore.”

This statement, from an instructional coach, really surprised me. Her reasoning was, essentially, that once a teacher is faced with the reality of the classroom, a philosophy is useless. She argued, “Knowing that you have the task of motivating those students to learn, managing a group of children, or tweens, or teens who could conceivably turn on you at any point. Trust me. By minute two of that experience, all the philosophy statements you’ve ever written are forgotten.”

Respectfully, I disagree.

Maybe it’s because it isn’t the writing of the philosophy that’s the important thing. After all, writing it down doesn’t mean much. It’s the living of the philosophy that makes it your philosophy, and my colleague implies that a living of a philosophy isn’t possible when faced with reality.

Really?

If the philosophy is so far removed from reality that it cannot be lived, then, sure. It’s a messed-up philosophy, and she made a valid point about preservice educators and new teachers being asked to write down a philosophy when they had not experienced the classroom. Sure, I can follow why that might be an issue, but new teachers have to start somewhere. They have to be able to articulate what they're thinking in order to adjust that thinking.

Because a philosophy of education isn’t a stagnant mode of thinking. It’s flexible and changing. So it makes even more sense, then, that experienced educators who have lived the reality (as my colleague has), DO have a philosophy of education. A real, workable philosophy. One that they can convey every day.

My philosophy of education relies on my authenticity with my students at all times, particularly when I am unsure, stressed, or completely wrong because students don’t need a teacher to be perfect. They need to see a mature adult working through what is not perfect.  They need to see how to handle things when those things don’t go “right.”  And if we go off-track, but immediately verbalize awareness of that lapse or error to move back on track, we have taught those students the most valuable lesson of all:  how to be a life-long learner.

A large part of this philosophy entails the willingness of the teacher to be a fellow learner with students.  A sense of community brought into the classroom stems from that teacher as student. In our collaborative book, one of my former students wrote:

You learned from us.  You made us feel like our input mattered.  As you taught us, you also thrived on our myriad perspectives.  Due to this simple characteristic, you managed to reach me more than any other teacher had.  Because while other exceptional teachers may have managed to draw out our interest as students, they were the teacher and we, the students.  Not THEIR students, merely THE students.

But with you, we were all in it together.  We thrived and grew off of each other.  And while you were clearly the authority, the source of our knowledge, our teacher, you were also our mentor.  There with us.  Growing with us. ~Daniel

This sense of “all in it together” is a powerful force to embrace, particularly as we find ourselves in the Digital Age. Helping students understand that technology is a tool that can be molded, wielded, created, and enhanced is where teachers are at this moment in education. Integrating technology in curriculum is not an “extra” to be tagged onto a lesson, nor is it something just for the privileged or gifted. If teachers are to ensure that they have adequately prepared students for the kinds of problems that they will encounter in the future, then we must be prepared to learn alongside them, work through the glitches and our own mistakes, and find the balance between what is known and what can be.  I want to continue to thrive and grow with my students.

Philosophies of education can aid new and struggling teachers, but they have to have the opportunity to develop them and live them, not just write them down.  And certainly, not dispense with the exercising of this thought because it requires an adjustment of perspective. To the contrary, that is why teachers should be asked to reflect on their philosophy, again and again. 

 
Mindy and some of her former students wrote Transparent Teaching of Adolescents, a discussion of effective teaching strategies for high school.

A Look into Critical Literacy for High Schoolers

From Apathy to Action, Injustice to Repair: Motivating Secondary Students with Critical Literacy      

Mindy Keller-Kyriakides, Author, Student, Teacher, Capella University
Jennie Waldrop, FLVS instructor, NBCT 

Secondary students often ask, “How’s reading this going to help me in real life?” This webinar offers educators a potential answer! Helping students understand how the analysis of a text reveals messages to the reader through silence, marginalization, nominalization, or collectivization is a crucial skill, and by taking that analysis to the next step—civic action—we can help adolescents move beyond the classroom and themselves.

In our webinar, we’ll explore having students use their analysis as a springboard to identify and resolve an issue that they perceive as unjust. From selection of text, to analysis, to action, educators will be offered the tools to create a powerful learning experience for their students, based on the insights at which students arrive while reading. Participants will also be provided with a sample project that they might use or refine for their own purpose.

Let me know in the comments if you'd like a copy of the Tipping Point Project (it's on an Understanding by Design template) and the handout with relevant links! I'll be happy to send it to you!

The title above is a hyperlink, or here's the URL, in case you need to copy/paste: https://sas.elluminate.com/site/external/playback/artifact?psid=2013-11-02.0829.M.3DAD9FA69075EB4C4173628C44E674.vcr&aid=57997

Some Thoughts on Andragogy and the Secondary Classroom

When deciding on my degree program, I ran into the first of many personal learning hurdles. What program should I undertake, if I desire to teach teachers?  Should I focus on the subject matter in the field itself (e.g., secondary curriculum), or should I focus on how to teach adult learners?  In other fields, the choice is much clearer:  e.g., to teach English Composition, one majors in the field of English, not adult education. 

I decided on subject matter as a focus and began my journey in Curriculum and Instruction (in-field). However, I soon became frustrated with the material we were learning as it mirrored my undergraduate work:  same theories, same topics, same theorists (for the most part).  Once one has "Piageted," one has "Piageted." I got it, already! 

The “move” to adult education has offered me some powerful new insights into not only how adults learn, but how I learn. Further, the study of andragogical principles has validated some of the choices I made in instructing high school students. I’m continually struck by the parallels of andragogy and self-directed learning as they pertain to secondary students and what school districts now desire of their students. These have made, and will continue to make, a huge difference in the field of secondary education. 

The push for differentiated learning, critical thinking skills, flipped classes, and Whole Child instruction –all recent “buzz” on the education front--clearly reflect andragogical principles, not just pedagogical ones. (It would be interesting to see how teachers would react to a semantical switch.)

As I straddle this fence of teaching teachers, I am wondering why these principles and theories are not offered as part of a secondary educator’s curriculum. Much like Jarvis, I am more interested in human learning than adult learning or children's learning (McCluskey,  Illeris, & Jarvis, 2007, p. 9), and the distinction between the two seems to be becoming more and more blurred, especially when considering adolescents and young adults in the secondary system. 

I suppose then, the difference all of this might make in the field of secondary education the ability of my intended learners (new teachers) to use what is warranted for their students as opposed to tying their hands with canned and prepackaged with nice educational labels by school districts. 

Did some of my high school students surpass me as their teacher? You bet! Many of my students were just far more intelligent than me, and that awareness made a huge difference in the way I taught them. 

Pedagogy had no place in some of my high school classes. In others, it had a role only at the beginning.   

I want aspiring educators to know that and accept this "contradiction of life" ((Knowles, Holton, & Swanson, 2011, p. 225) instead of fighting for some illusive perceived entitlement of a position of authority. If embraced by secondary educators, the use of andragogical principles would certainly make their work with students more meaningful—for themselves and the students.   

References

McCluskey, H.Y., Illeris, K., & Jarvis, P. (2007). Knowles's andragogy, and models of adult learning. In Merriam S. B., Caffarella R. S., Baumgartner, L. M., Learning in adulthood: A comprehensive guide (3rd ed.), 83-104. 

Words Matter--A Comparison of Classroom Posters

 

  Which teacher's class would you rather be a part of? 

 

Perpetuating a Culture of Lower-order Thinking

I found this checklist offered as the next "best strategy" on Pinterest the other day. And while I do love easy to use, clear checklists, I pondered what the teacher was actually assessing.

Out of all of the items on this checklist for a "thoughtful" log entry, only one (no. 8) actually entails any assessment of thinking.  Everything else is...mechanics.

Of course, you might say that mechanics was the goal of the assignment. However, the title "Thoughtful Log" seems to belie that possibility. While we're wringing our hands at kids not being able to think critically, we need to stop and make sure that the assessments and evaluations we have designed actually promote that thinking. 

From a student's perspective, as long as I have complied with most every item, I will feel satisfied that I have done a good job.  And you can bet I'm going to do the easy stuff, first.

For example, the ability to integrate evidence from the text with context is certainly a skill that students need. However, checking off that they've "got" the evidence doesn't push their thinking. Rather, the item should offer something along the lines of:

        I've integrated evidence from the text (avoided a "dropped quote").

        I've clearly and purposefully contextualized that evidence.

These two quick revisions ask more of the student. They can still use Yes/No on the list, but they carry far more of a punch, cognitively speaking. 

Not to be outdone, I also came across this gem:

 

To be fair, this chart is identified as an elementary anchor chart for standard one in K-8 classrooms. Further, the use of the overarching question "How do [I] know?" is relevant and helpful.

Nonetheless, I have to wonder if it is absolutely necessary to have students use "said/says" when referring to text. Why can't we teach them a little bit earlier that text doesn't "talk"? Further, how difficult would it be to avoid having them write in past tense? Especially since the moment they hit high school, they have to use literary present?Consider the student who uses phrasing such as:

                            1. On page ___, the author writes..

                            2. The author argues/asserts/states/discusses...

                            3.  The graphic shows/reflects/conveys...

                            4. An example of ___is...

                            5. I know that ____because...

One thing that's going to happen is the student will most likely be compelled to write more in-depth; literary present does that. Further, the student will be much more aware of the author's role, which is crucial in helping them make the step "up" in analysis.

Or maybe I'm just grumpy, today. What do you think?


Mindy Keller-Kyriakides and former students are the authors of Transparent Teaching of Adolescents: Defining the Ideal Class for Students and Teachers.  Become part of the conversation!


  

The Importance of Student Feedback

I had no idea how important it was to my high school students that I asked them for their feedback on our courses. The impact was far more profound than I ever imagined.

In light of the recent Duncanville issue, where student Jeff Bliss offers criticism to his teacher, the time to discuss listening to student feedback, particularly on how they're learning, is now. Had his teacher taken the time to establish a learning environment where criticism was not considered a form of disrespect, but rather, a constructive dialogue, things might have turned out differently for both of them.

Some of my former students offered their perspective on just how much they appreciated being asked for their feedback.

How to Amputate a Student's Love for Learning

Teachers say they want willing students. We say we want students who love learning. We say that we want to develop life-long learners. But we might be perpetuating the very culture we seek to oppose. Even worse, we are possibly conditioning parents to do the same.

In one of my discussion forums, a parent shared what had recently occurred at his daughter’s school.

          I am a 10-years-old girl's dad. Let me tell a story about my daughter.

          One day, when my daughter came back home from school, I found she was sad. She told me that she
          got 87 (of 100) score in her mathematics test. I tried to comfort her and said that her score was 
          pretty good. She just needed to learn how to double-check her answers. But my words didn't make
          her happy. The reason was that the average score of her classmates' was 95. After my daughter told
          me that reason, I could say nothing.

          At that moment, I was angry about her teacher telling her the average score of the class.

          But on the other hand, I also knew that her teacher just wanted my daughter to feel pressure, in order
          to make her study harder.


The reliability of such a test was the first thing that caught my attention.  A class of 10 year-olds with an average score of 95 on a test suggests there is (potentially) an issue with the test. Statistically, things don't usually work that way.

Cohen and Spenciner (2007) concur:  “When there is little variability among test scores, the reliability will be low. Thus, reliability will be low if a test is so easy that every student gets most or all of the items correct or so difficult that every student gets most or all of the items wrong” (p. 43). Thus, the reliability is suspect, which is issue enough, but why would a teacher make the statement to the class?


What is our motivation for sharing a class average score with the class? Whom does it serve?


I’m not one of those individuals who thinks that everyone should get a ribbon just for participating—I believe those who excel should be praised. However, in this instance, the statement seems superfluous, purposefully used as a means of criticism for those students who did not make the average. More to the point, it over-emphasizes grades and puts the score over the individual student.

A class average on a test is information to drive further instruction. It is not a point of comparison for an individual student in a fourth grade class. That’s too young, too early, too cold, too sterile—pedagogical stainless steel forceps when what is called for is dialogic stained glass.

The parent continued:
                I was also astonished when I saw the statistic of [the] students’ scores.

                I agree with my daughter's teacher's words: What is important to my daughter is to learn how to
                be self-motivated when she is studying something. 

This is a serious misconstruction of the concept of self-motivation on both parts. If the goal for this student’s studying is to “get a good grade,” then congratulations. At the tender age of 10, we have successfully amputated her love for learning. We've also applied a tourniquet of extrinsic motivation, sopped with an elixir of entitlement.

Most likely, the parent and the teacher were themselves part of a culture that perceived “good” grades as the primary objective of school. As a product of a 70s/80s public school education, I had a little experience with that. Unless we move past this outmoded thinking, we will not create the dynamic leap in thinking that we seek, and I put the onus on teachers.

Grades exist, for better or worse. But we do not have to put them on a pedestal.  Rather, let us use them for our purposes of reteaching, redirecting, or determining authentically challenging next steps, designed to build upon the mastery demonstrated.

We must actively strive to ensure that we cultivate learning environments, not grading venues. If we truly desire students who are intrinsically motivated to learn, then we cannot use grades as motivation.  


Cohen, L.G., & Spenciner, L. J. (2007) Assessment of children and youth with special needs. New Jersey: Pearson Education.