Working in teams

 One of the biggest changes in my life this year is that I’m teaching half-time and pursuing a master’s degree in library and information science from San Jose State. So far, it’s been a privilege to have the new time and space.

My first course has introduced teamwork as a crucial component. One of the instructors, Enid Irwin, called teamwork the “monster” every student “dreads.” Am I, who has mostly enjoyed collaboration, in the minority?

Maybe I’m comfortable with collaboration because I’ve had a lot of experience working in teams. I was trained as a team-teacher, with another adult simultaneously in the classroom, which involved extensive hours of planning and lots of give-and-take in the moment. I team-taught for four years, and although I’m not sure I could do that anymore, it was some of my best work.

Though my team-teaching days are over, my school does a good job training us on how to construct clear group goals and assign individual accountability. We’re also strong on developing norms, sharing leadership, and monitoring process, which Dr. Ken Haycock emphasized in his talk.

But there’s a big distinction between the collaboration I’ve done (in person) and the teamwork I’m going to do (online). The question is whether I have the skills to collaborate in an online setting.

My first impression is probably. My time management is solid, and I’ve cleared enough of my schedule to devote the time necessary to keep up. I also don’t mind being on the computer. Doing work alone (with quiet!) is great for an introvert like me.

I also agree with Irwin and Haycock on a number of skills essential in effective teamwork. One of them is really defining the desired outcome. Another is making sure members understand and value their role on the team. But what I think it most important is the use of team time.

We’re all busy. Team projects take more time, it’s true. But nobody wants to waste time. We want to feel like we’ve made progress. Therefore, the forming phase of teams (in Dr. Haycock’s words) is the most important. Sometimes, it’s too nebulous: no one wants to take charge for fear of seeming domineering. There’s a lot of false flexibility — “sure, that sounds great” — that later turns into resentment and conflict. I want to know who the leader is, how we’re going to conduct a meeting, and what’s expected of us between meetings. If those questions are answered, I’m pretty comfortable.

Perhaps I’m too comfortable on teams. I tend to play a similar role each time: the one who gets stuff done, the one who checks process to make things more efficient, the one who smooths out budding conflict, the one who stays mostly quiet but then offers suggestions at crucial moments. In general, I don’t like being the leader.

At my school, where everyone knows me, that’s not a problem. But in a team of strangers, maybe my style is too reserved, potentially off-putting, certainly not direct.

One of my challenges this year, then, is to practice being a leader on a team, especially in the forming stage. When my colleagues want to move on too quickly, I will push myself to ask the key questions: What are we doing? How are we going to work together? What’s expected of us?

I also want to practice being more transparent in the storming phase. In general, I don’t worry about trust or my colleagues’ quality of work. But I also don’t like conflict. It’s much more my style to forget conflict rather than to go to the source. Nevertheless, I’ve found that teams with consistent check-ins on process do better than teams that have to create those conversations.

I look forward to being on teams in my new program and am hopeful to practice skills that I can bring back to my teaching, too. 

E-mail as a ‘secret weapon’ to teach writing?

 The introduction of a recent article in The Atlantic caught my eye. James Somers describes a machine that uses e-mail to help students with their writing.

After the clever hook, though, you find in “Composition 1.01” that this experiment in artificial intelligence is not some robotic incarnation; rather, it’s just a professor from the University of Michigan who e-mails his students about their work.

Is this anything new? Somers thinks so.

Perhaps it’s new in college, but teachers have long encouraged students to submit their work online for revision and conversation.

In fact, e-mail is passe. Most teachers now use Google Docs. So do I.

But as I get ready to launch this year’s version of Google Docs, I admit I’m getting nostalgic about e-mail. There’s something quaint about it.

And in some ways, e-mail might be better than Google Docs.

1. It’s better for targeted writing and revision.

In e-mail, shorter is better. Google Docs is for full essays, while e-mail (no attachments, of course!) is for thesis statements.

In his article, Somers writes:

It’s deliberate practice: goal-directed, supervised. It’s unfolding in smallish chunks in a series of tight feedback cycles.

The key here is “smallish chunks.” We know that students (and adults) grow through repeated practice of discrete skills. Even though I can do the same thing on Google Docs, I’m more inclined to read the whole essay. E-mail forces me to stay focused on just the one thing I’m trying to teach.

2. It’s easier and takes less time.

Although e-mail can’t do as many things as Google Docs (colors, annotation, chatting, and more!), it’s probably quicker. When I’m on e-mail, I read a message, write a quick message, and get out. When I’m on Docs, I’m endlessly organizing and clicking and wondering what I’ve read.

Students, though they don’t use e-mail, find it easier than Docs. It’s just a simpler interface.

But here’s the truth: There’s no actual solution here; responding to student work takes eons, no matter which technology you use. If I have 100 students, and I spend just 1 minute on each piece, that’s about two hours, if you factor in paper shuffling, deep breaths, and other distractions.

3. It’s better in tracking growth.

As a teacher, I want to help my students write better, but what’s perhaps more important is the process. The student also should recognize her growth and attribute improvement to hard work and mentorship.

The new comments system on Google Docs — where you can delete comments and “resolve” them — is clunky. Sure, nothing is lost; the revision history allows for side-by-side comparison of drafts. Comments are saved chronologically in “discussions,” but they’re so piecemeal that they seem fragmented. And the worst part is that you get e-mail notifications of changes, which are impossible to turn off automatically.

E-mail seems saner: the student sends me her thesis, I respond in a paragraph, another thesis (and perhaps a kind note) comes back, and I repeat. The thread is preserved in a logical and readable way.

Somers is correct when he writes (and quotes the professor):

The conversations can be referenced, excerpted and combined; there is a clear trail of progress. “By the time we’ve done our half dozen email back-and-forths about their thesis, a lot of the time I can see direct evidence — and they can see direct evidence — that it’s gotten better.”
That sounds good to me. There’s a difference between “direct evidence” and broad generalizations, which teachers and students use too often to characterize academic growth.
Reading “Composition 1.01” has definitely gotten me thinking about whether to limit my Google Docs to completed essays and to rely on e-mail for targeted practice. Just because e-mail can’t do everything, it doesn’t mean I should abandon it as a tool. Besides, changing things up will provide the variety necessary to keep things fresh. 

Students like reading the news. Too bad it’s so expensive.

 I’m a big reader of the news and a big believer of teaching current events.

Despite what some adults say, students really like reading about what’s going on in the world.

Last year, I had my ninth graders read an Article of the Week. According to course evaluations, the AoW was the second most popular activity — after The 1,000,000 Word Challenge.

But the AoW was the only news my students read in class. Independent reading focused exclusively on fiction. In other words, my students didn’t have the opportunity to choose news for themselves. And that’s crucial.

As Kelly Gallagher argues, students need more exposure to the news so they can participate more actively in their communities. Though Gallagher and other teachers inundate their students with newspapers and magazines, I’ve not been able to find a workable solution.

The news in print is expensive. Time quoted me 59 cents a copy, which comes to about $600 for a class set per year. The New York Times Upfront is more affordable but comes out only once a month.

The best scenario would involve buying several newspapers and magazines so there would be a good variety. But this idea would be even more expensive.

With the tough economy, I haven’t been able to find a news organization willing to donate free copies of their product to my classroom. “We used to do that” was the reply from several representatives.

I suppose I shouldn’t be annoyed about raising funds to purchase periodicals. After all, much of my time last year involved building my classroom library through DonorsChoose. Something feels weird, though, about asking for big money for newspapers and magazines, which quickly get tossed in the recycling. I care about the news, but a book has a much longer shelf life. My dream is to find a news junkie willing to donate $1,000 a year so I won’t have to worry. (All teachers should have personal perpetual donors.)

Another option is to go electronic. Students could follow several news sources on their Google Reader or follow current events in some other techy way. Problem is, our school is far away from a 1:1 environment, which I find crucial for the kind of voluminous reading I’m suggesting. (My dream is that every student has a Kindle, and we use Calibre to fetch the news and send it, free, to their e-reader every morning.)

With school coming up soon, I’m a little lost about how to figure this out. Maybe this year my focus should be on access, to make sure my classroom has at least one copy of every major (serious) periodical. Classrooms should be places of ideas, and just as books should abound, so should the news. 

Which books should make my AP English syllabus?

Another big question I have in teaching AP English Literature for the first time is, Which books should make the syllabus?

To make the list, a book must meet four criteria:

  1. I have to like it,
  2. I have to think my students might like it,
  3. It must be AP-worthy (whatever that means),
  4. It has to be short enough.

So I’ve been doing a lot of reading this summer. It’s very clear how few of the classics I’ve read. (I’m the kind of person who thinks Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, and Wuthering Heights are all the same book.)

For the most part, it’s been fun.

Here is my list so far (not in order):

  • The Metamorphosis
  • The Stranger
  • The Scarlet Letter
  • Hamlet
  • Oedipus
  • Siddhartha
  • Beloved
  • Frankenstein

You’ll notice that there aren’t too many surprises. In my first year, I’m not interested in being crazy just for crazy’s sake.

But I am questioning a few things: How many more books should I add? I’m thinking two or three, for 10-11 total. Should Siddhartha really be on the list? Maybe not, but right now, it stays. Should there be more books by authors of color? Maybe, but not necessarily. What other books should be there?

The last question is the hardest.

Over the next week, I’m going to take a look at these titles:

  • 1984
  • Brave New World
  • The Awakening
  • Ethan Frome
  • Cry, the Beloved Country
  • Death of a Salesman
  • One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
  • Streetcar Named Desire
  • Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
  • Ceremony
  • Obasan

Out of the list, Cry, the Beloved Country is my favorite. I also like 1984, but the writing isn’t as great as the ideas. Brave New World is similar that way. The Awakening and Ethan Frome might go well together; their characters do some weird stuff. And I know that I probably need another play.

What do you think? Which 2-3 should make the list? 

My new teaching assignment: AP English

After many years teaching ninth graders, this year I get AP English Literature. It’s been fun over the summer to start preparing for the class. I’ve been grappling with two big questions.

  • What’s the big goal? – to pass the test, or something else?
  • What books should we read?

This post will start on the first question.

When I got my assignment, my first reaction was, Let’s get these scores up. The pass rate at my school has plummeted since 2008, when 62 percent, about the national average, earned a score of 3, 4, or 5. This year, only 8 percent passed. That’s alarming, disturbing, and inexcusable.

It makes sense, then, that my primary purpose should be to help students pass the test. After all, passing the AP would mean that students would likely feel confident walking into an introductory college English course.

But what if they don’t? What happens if my students and I work hard and still fail the test?

Or, what happens if 50 percent pass? This would be huge progress from the past three years, but would that “success” be satisfactory to the half who fail?

Part of me says, there’s no way I’ll do worse than 8 percent. It’s pretty much impossible, right? But the other part asks whether I have what it takes — especially in my first year teaching the class — to get my students to the level that AP requres.

One of my colleagues, who taught the class back when students did better, warned me to make the class about more than just passing the test. I tend to agree. There’s nothing inherently memorable, after all, about the test. You take it for a few hours, and then you wait until July to get your score. My bestt classes have always been much more authentic than that: we do big things, and the success that comes on tests is just part of the journey.

The question is whether it’s possible to get a high-enough pass rate without an explicit, urgent push toward that goal.

According to the data, I don’t think it is. After all, the past three years, students have worked hard, had a good teacher, enjoyed the class, talked about literature, and gotten mostly 1s and 2s.

My challenge, then, is to push hard, make the test a collective goal, ask students how important passing is to them, create a rich learning environment, and share my passion of reading and of seeing them succeed.