teaching

Why I struggle with standard-based grading

Posted on by Mark Isero

Since I began teaching, I’ve wanted to make standard-based grading work. I’ve read huge amounts, realigned my curriculum, collaborated with colleagues, and overhauled my thinking many times.

And I still haven’t figured it out. I still struggle with standard-based grading.

I think it’s hard for two reasons: (1) Standard-based grading is better when there are concrete, discrete standards, which is much harder to pull off in English. (2) Standards-based grading works best in a binary assessment system, where standards are passed or not-yet-passed. Most of my attempts have not included concrete standards that students could check off as passed. Nor have I been successful getting rid of points and conversions in a standard-based system.

This year, to regain some sanity, I’m retreating to a points system. And I must be honest: I think it will benefit my students.

One of the requirements of points-based grading, of course, is that there is a finite number of points, and the teacher has planned ahead of time where those points will go. Otherwise, those points don’t have any worth in the moment. Not knowing where each point will go leads to unfair grades, end-of-semester assignment point inflation, and students asking for extra credit.

I’m happy with what I’m trying this semester: 1,000 points. That’s 300 for each five-week unit and 100 for the final examination.

This system worked for me 10 years ago when I taught Government and Economics. When combined with a stern no-late-work policy, it sends a clear message to students to take care of business, not to procrastinate, and to live and work in the moment. Especially when working with seniors, with their graduation on the line, grading must be transparent and easy to explain.

While I understand that a points system may not correlate well with learning, I challenge the argument that standard-based grading is the only way to make grades mean something. After all, because I’ve already set up my assignments, my students this semester will be able to track their strengths and weaknesses in a number of skills.

In addition, even though standard-based grading has enjoyed some traction the past few years, it still takes a huge public relations campaign to explain it to students and families. This year, I’d rather spend that time creating strong lessons and looking and my students’ writing.

Maybe I’m getting more conservative. Perhaps I’m just trying to keep things simple this year. But I do believe that it’s OK to take a break from my quest for the perfect standard-based grading system for a while and still have something that works.

teaching

Please go see American Teacher

Posted on by Mark Isero

I wasn’t a huge detractor of the film Waiting for Superman until after its release. When I went to see the movie, I wasn’t immediately disgusted. After all, I believe that students of color deserve a better education, and I believe that we teachers are the most important part of change.

But mix Waiting for Superman with the recession and the public’s disdain for benefits and public employees, and you got some crazy anti-teacher venom.

That’s why I like American Teacher, which comes out this Fall. I got to see the premiere a few months back, and the film is an excellent response to Superman. (Disclosure: I’m in the credits!) Not only does the movie treat teachers as professionals, but it also tells the truth about a typical teacher’s daily life. The trailer:

As a teacher, I don’t want to be a martyr. I just expect to be valued. I’m hoping that people will go see this film and have conversations with their friends about how to make education a priority again in our society. 

teaching

There’s nothing real about the classroom. And that’s OK.

Posted on by Mark Isero

 Tomorrow I begin my 15th year of teaching. Though I’m a bit nervous, I’m hopeful and ready to see what I can do.

The last two or three years haven’t been pretty. They’ve been filled with anxiety, handwringing, and lots of doubt.

One of my biggest doubts has been that I no longer connect with my students. Maybe it’s age. Or race. Or something else. Whatever it is, I’ve felt a distance. The classroom is surreal, not genuine. The students and I play parts, just go through the motions. We’re caricatures, not people.

Yes, this sounds like burnout.

My usual response is, Let’s make things real again. Let’s tell the truth. Let’s build relationships and stay present in my teaching.

I think that’s part of the answer, but I’m realizing something much more powerful: There’s really nothing real about the classroom in the first place. And that’s OK.

In classrooms, we are all playing parts. It just matters which parts we’re playing.

In my best years of teaching, my students think of me as more than what I am. They might say they want to know the real me, but they prefer details that offer edginess, attitude, and charisma. Reputation becomes reality.

In my best years of teaching, I think of my students as more than what they are. They’re not just the first in their families to go to college. No, they’re heroes: they vanquish the AP test, they defeat their opponents at the state civics tournament, they leave graduate students awestruck.

The best classrooms, after all, are places of myth. Not the bad kind of myth. The kind of myth with heroes and gods, the legendary kind of myth.

My best years have been when I’ve allowed a little fiction to flourish. I hope that this year, instead of trying for a new version of reality, I’ll feel free to make something up. Maybe it won’t be real, but it’ll be the truth. 

teaching

Tackling the problem of information transfer in schools

Posted on by Mark Isero

 A student e-mailed me this morning. “I don’t know when school starts,” she wrote.

There’s some good news here: This student cares, understands that I’m a resource, and takes initiative to answer her question.

But there’s so much more bad news: She didn’t receive the school mailing. Her home number has changed or doesn’t exist. Her cell number no longer works. Even though my student got the information she sought, it was only after several attempts, my wasted time, her unnecessary anxiety, and her mother’s frustration with the school and distrust in my ability to communicate.

Just to find out the first day of school.

What does this mean when I’d like to communicate something slightly more complicated — like how to improve her graduation portfolio, or how best to apply for college, or the date of the school’s scholarship and financial aid night?

One of the struggles I find in teaching now is the problem of information transfer. I have something important to share. It’s helpful to the student. There are many ways to share that important piece of information. But somehow, more often that not, students and their families do not receive the information in a simple way. It takes forever.

Back to my student. She didn’t know about the first day of school despite one school mailing, two phone calls, one text attempt, one Facebook post, one post on my class website, one online schedule on my class website, and 18 friends in her Advisory who could have given her that information.

That’s a ridiculous amount of energy that needs to stop.

Some people say that it’s the school’s job to provide the information and the student’s job to figure it out. That’s the real world, the argument goes.

For the most part, I believe in that approach. But it often preserves the status quo, where students of color don’t succeed, don’t go to college, don’t get jobs that give them a chance. If I’m a teacher to help change the pernicious inequities in our educational system, I have to do something different.

But taking three hours every time I want my students and their families to get a crucial piece of information is not my idea of the solution. Telephone calls take forever and lead me to anger and resentment.

This year, I vow to figure out a system that works. This system involves five steps:

1. I tell students and parents the various ways they can stay updated on general, non-urgent items: my class website and Facebook. I ask them which one they’ll commit to check regularly. Then I encourage them to subscribe to my website or like my Facebook page.

2. I also ask them which way they’d like to receive urgent items: email, text, or voicemail. They sign up for one of these communication methods. I push for email or text because it’s easier, and notice that I say voicemail, not phone.

3. I tell them it’s their responsibility to let me know if their contact information changes or if they’d prefer a different contact method.

4. Then I do my part. For general updates, I post them on my class website and immediately push them to Facebook. For urgent items, I write a quick email, paste it to a mass text (using Google Voice Mass SMS), and then record and send a quick voicemail (using Phonevite).

5. I trust the system, and when it doesn’t work, I put the burden of fixing the problem on the student and family.

I think I can make this work. I know that things won’t be perfect. (Example #1: A student just texted to get my confirmation that school begins on Monday when we’ve already had a five-minute conversation about it.) But as long as I feel like I’m making progress, and that my students and I are on the same page, that’s what I’m asking for.

I welcome suggestions in the comments. 

teaching

Why don’t I call parents more often?

Posted on by Mark Isero

 Every August, I have the same goal: This year, I’m going to call more parents.

The benefits are huge, right? Calling home means showing that I care, which builds relationships and contributes to student success. I get it.

And calling home is much more effective than emailing (10 percent of my students’ parents read email regularly) or texting (some parents have access and feel comfortable, others don’t).

But year after year, I never improve. So what’s keeping me stuck?

Maybe it’s just that I’m tired and there’s too much to do. At the end of a hard day at work, there are still papers to look at and lessons to plan — and sometimes not enough time to squeeze in a call.

After all, phone calls are unpredictable in length. I don’t know how long they’ll take. Even if I stay focused, a call might take 5-10 minutes. That’s a lot of time if I’m trying to reach all my parents on a regular basis.

They’re also unpredictable in content. Did I reach the right person? Which language will I speak? Will the parent be angry? Might I cause unnecessary conflict at home (even with a positive call)?

Those concerns, though perhaps valid, cannot be excuses. This year, I must do better. I can’t wish for some technological miracle to solve my problem. (But I do like Slydial and Phonevite!)

So here’s what I’m going to try:

1. Schedule 15 minutes a day to make calls. Yes, just 15 minutes.

2. Make it the same time every day until it’s a habit.

3. In every conversation or voicemail, encourage the parent toward my preferred methods of communication: the class website, e-mail, and texting (in that order). If a parent can move in that direction, it’ll make me so happy.