teaching

Half the academic battle is understanding the assignment

Posted on by Mark Isero

 Our school gives out five $1,000 scholarships for graduating seniors based on their “continuing search for knowledge.” This morning, I’ve been reading my students’ essays to help them win the award.

Here’s what I’m finding: Even more than writing skills, even more than writing conventions, the biggest difference between the strong essays and the weak essays is the degree to which they answer the writing prompt.

Remember the student yesterday who asked me to explain the year-long theme study assignment two days before the due date? This is related, of course. My students go to school every day and work hard, but many of them don’t understand what they’re doing.

Why is this happening? Is it an issue of reading skills? Is it a problem of following directions? Or is the challenge in critical thinking — about how to get the essence of an assignment in order to create something appropriate to the task?

This year in AP English, I trained my students to attack writing prompts and to organize their essays based only on the prompt. While the strength of their essays differed — especially with evidence and analysis — my students stopped writing off-topic essays. That success gives me confidence for my students in college.

I think it’s a reading thing, plus maybe a lack of awareness about how school works. After all, “good students” know the school game. If my hunch is accurate, then that means that all students can learn how to crack the school code.

For my opponents out there — that training students to follow writing prompts amounts to cultivating passive learners who lack creativity — I say, I disagree! Being able to read an assignment closely is all about precision. Everyone can be “close to” or “around” an answer, but nailing it head on is what demonstrates excellence. 

teaching

The importance of supportive academic peer groups

Posted on by Mark Isero

 A student texted me last night for help on her theme study, a 12-page analytical essay that we’ve been working on, off and on, since October.

Her text: “I’m kind of confused now that I was reading my essay. So the three books I read I gotta write an essay about it?”

Um, yes.

Her question left me baffled. This is an AP class. We’ve been working on this essay for nine months. There are two days left, and my student still doesn’t really understand the point or requirements of the assignment.

And then she decides to seek support by texting me directly instead of looking at the resources I’ve provided or asking one of her friends in the class.

On the positive side, I suppose it’s a good thing that she recognized that she was lost. It’s also a good thing that she feels comfortable to ask me such a basic question.

But I fundamentally don’t understand how this situation is possible. I mean, I’ve checked in with all my students multiple times. We’ve had checkpoints and several classroom activities. I’ve always known that she was behind, but never did I think she was this far behind.

It leaves me wondering three things: (1) How little are my students understanding me and my class? (2) How can I teach my students to be more cognizant of where they stand? (3) Why don’t my students get help more often from their peers, and what can I do about it?

The last question intrigues me the most right now. Although I don’t want to discourage my students from asking me questions — even low-level ones — I must say, It’s a problem if you’re going to your teacher two days before a major assignment is due and and asking, “What’s the assignment?”

Like organization and time management, this skill of knowing how to utilize your friends as academic support is something that needs to be taught.

After all, a peer can communicate in a way that you understand much better than a teacher can. So why do so few of my students go to their friends for help? Is it that they don’t trust their friends for academic advice? Is it because my students don’t talk about schoolwork with their friends?

It’s a mystery. Whatever the answer is, I have to figure it out. Just as parents want to know who their kid’s friends are, teachers should help students cultivate a supportive peer group that cares about their education.

For students first in their families to go to college, this may not happen naturally. That’s why it’s so crucial.

What do you think? 

teaching/technology

Should I require students to text me when they’re absent?

Posted on by Mark Isero

 One way I tried to increase attendance and accountability this year was to require students to text me when they were late or absent.

I wasn’t always successful. Some students didn’t text me. When they didn’t, I followed up to let them know the importance of following through with commitments.

My end-of-course evaluation was interesting on this topic. I asked, “Should students have to text me when they’re absent or late?” The results were mixed. Here are some of my students’ responses:

  • “No, because sometimes students miss school because they are too busy even to text.”
  • “Yes, it’s easy for them to let you know.”
  • “Yes, but it’s kind of weird because you’re the first teacher asking this of us.”
  • “No. In college, professors are not going to care if we’re absent. I think we should just check in with you the next day.”
  • “No. They are absent for a reason, but you don’t exactly need to know at the moment.”
  • “Yes, I think they should, just so you can know who’s going to be in class and also just so the student knows what’s happening in class.”
  • “No, I was late a lot, and it was a hassle.”

Looking at this data, which was a bit all over the place, I realize that I need to ask myself some questions before deciding how to proceed.

  1. Why this policy? Is it to increase attendance? or to teach accountability? or because I like order and don’t like surprises? or because I want the students to find me and the class important?
  2. What’s the enforcement of this policy, and is it worth it? If students don’t text me, what happens? A reminder? or another consequence?

As a teacher, you never want to do something unless it’s critically important for the success of students or it’s fundamentally crucial to your values.

In my gut, I know that this is important. If not all of my students can attend class on time, they can at least acknowledge where they’re supposed to be. By texting me, my students demonstrate that they’re missing something important. They see me. In turn, I can text them back with the basics of what they missed. I see them. As a result, there is a mutual respect for learning and for each other.

What do you think about all this? 

teaching

A day of in-person writing conferences

Posted on by Mark Isero

 I’m a big fan of Google Docs, but when it comes to helping students with their writing, in-person conferences still can’t be beat.

Today, I spent my lunch and after-school time helping ninth graders with their writing conventions and MLA formatting.

My colleague Nancy Jo, who is doing a great job getting her students to internalize the basic essay structure, asked me to be available on a first-come, first-served basis for conferencing. I happily agreed.

Five students took her up on her offer.

Here’s what I concluded:

1. Ninth graders are super polite and eager to improve their writing skills. Each student took their 10-minute conference seriously and listened deeply to my suggestions. Are ninth graders nicer when I’m not teaching them?

2. Errors in writing conventions are very predictable. Most ninth graders have trouble leading into evidence. They also use contractions and the second person in formal academic writing. And they have trouble figuring out where to put the comma after an introductory clause.

3. Working with students one on one is crucial. I can assure you that the five students who worked with me today will remember the three little things each that I tried to teach them. That’s because we did it live and in person. Unfortunately, this kind of work is impossible to achieve in greater numbers.

4. It’s better to talk than to edit. The urge is to circle and correct all the errors. But that doesn’t teach the student anything. Instead, I scanned the students’ essays, noted patterns, and began there. The students learned more by finding their own errors and practicing their own editing skills.

Teaching writing — especially conventions — is hard. There has to be a combination of direct instruction, practice, online work, and in-person conferencing.

Today, I felt effective and respected, thanks to a wonderful colleague who pushed her students to seek me out as a resource. The students, too, reminded me of the important work we do together.