Professional Development and Policy Input

Professional Development.

Two words which can strike fear into the heart of any teacher. Particularly when preceded by the tagline 'Full day of....' and followed by 'Lunch not provided.'

As the media has another swing at teacher training and professional standards and the Victorian state government considers raising the entrance requirements for education courses (see this huffy article from The Age), teachers around Australia are re-entering their school buildings to prepare for a new school year. Inevitably this means at least one or two days of focused professional development, usually where the whole-school focus is rolled out for the staff to get their heads around before descending into the madness of actually teaching curriculum, setting assessment and herding students. Sometimes this might be a school wide curriculum shake up, a new behavior management program, or bizarrely in one school I was a part of, two hours of guru-guided mindful meditation.

I must admit I have a low tolerance for most forms of professional development. Sometimes what is deemed PD is actually just a promo campaign that involves school leadership trying, successfully or not, to sell whatever new program that is sweeping through the five other schools in their leadership circles. Sometimes PD is paying for a so called expert to come in and speak for five hours, but none of their tips are actually relevant to your school context. Most of the time PD is actually admin stuff that could've been communicated much more succinctly, or is going to create more admin for you, and you spend the whole hour secretly plotting how you are going to buy the perfect file organizer from Officeworks, because, dammit, you are going to require a PhD in logistics to be able to complete all the paperwork that this new program requires.

The solution is, of course, to put power back into the hands of the teachers. Anybody who is a regular peruser of education blogs or part of the Twittersphere will know that teacher-led professional development is enjoying some incredible success, both here in Australia and overseas. It cuts down on costs because it utilizes the staff you already have, most of whom already know far more about their own classrooms then some visiting expert. It gives teachers autonomy to focus on what is important to them, and provides other staff members with tangible skills that are immediately helpful.

The solution is so simple. Ask the teachers. Der.

So I wonder why there is so little input from teachers into policy based decisions such as the one currently being floated by the state government. All teachers have gone through teacher education, and they are intimately aware of its faults and strengths. Judging from the comments sections on the Age website, there is no end of opinions from teachers as to the relative merits of such an approach. Why do I feel like I don't have a say in what happens to me in my school because of decisions my elected officials have made?

The union continues to represent teachers but often gets locked down in power struggles with whatever pay dispute or  wage issue that is at hand.

Is policy the domain of politicians, or is there room for policy to be shaped and led by the very people that will be enacting it? Can teachers be given the freedom and space to come up with innovative solutions to guide their profession? Is policy, nebulous and aspirational as it is, the way to bring about change?

Fun with Educational Policy!

I’m currently reading Simon Marginson’s book on the development of educational policy in Australia’s recent history. Apart from being possibly the most nerdy book I’ve read all year (statistics *om nom nom*), it is a fascinating exploration of how the educational system we live with now has come into being (the book was finished in 1993, so many of the policy that applies to us today was just being consolidated.)

Oh no, I hear you say. Policy documents? Snore. Bring me a doona, stat.

You’re probably right. I am a little abnormal for being interested in such bloodless nonsense. But indulge me for a moment here. There are a couple of good reasons why teachers should be interested in educational policy, and this book certainly got me thinking about those reasons in more detail.

Firstly, if there is one thing that we can appropriate from Paulo Freire that might actually be useful and applicable to our context today, it’s the ability to be aware of the over-arching societal structures that result in our oppression*. Are teachers oppressed? Yes, to an extent! We teach under a prescribed curriculum, we operate within a highly regulated industry, we have an aggressively mandated profession. Therefore, the structures and agendas that result in these prescriptions are worth exploring. Only then, as Freire says, can we be truly free to explore alternative options, or truly be free.

I read somewhere that we can ask three questions as teachers:

The first is ‘What will I teach?’ (concerned with content and knowledge)

The second is ‘How will I teach? (concerned with the process and the dynamics of teaching)

The third, more illuminating question is one that we don’t necessarily ask very often.

‘Why do I teach?’

Not in the sense of exploring the deep, personal reasons for becoming a teacher (although those are important.) Why do I teach the content that I do? What is the ultimate purpose of education? Who is determining the direction of education? What sort of future Australia am I helping to create?

This is the questions that has seized me.

For example, are we aware, as teachers in Australia, of the incredibly strong economic agenda that exists in our curriculum and in our educational institutions? Human capital theory, an economic theory that was birthed in the period following the Second World War, is the most influential economic theory of education, one that has been setting the framework of government policies in Australia since the 1960’s. Human capital theory basically proposes that the value or worth of a person is their monetary value, or earning power. People who are educated, using tax dollars provided by the citizens, are expected to earn wages that will contribute to the economic well-being of the nation in the future. The human capital theory that informs our policy today is even more free-market then the original manifestation. All the arguments about what gets included in the curriculum, the side-lining of ‘arts’ subjects like music and dance, the increasing emphasis on objectives and competencies in adult education, all of these can be linked back to neo-classical economics. The role of markets is becoming increasingly important in higher education. You only need to look at recent Liberal budget and the beginnings of deregulation of university fee structures to see this at play.

So what could this one, small part of our policy history mean for me in the classroom? It highlights to me again the importance and value of critical thinking, of encouraging our students to develop skills in not swallowing everything that is given to them without evaluating it. Whilst I cannot necessarily change policy at a national level, I can think about the way I am educating my students and determine to teach them that there is more to life than making the big bucks. That they are more than numbers in an economist’s equation. The education can be as much about our basic humanity then it is about our national interest.

I feel ridiculously naïve sometimes. I still have so much to learn!

*By oppression, I don’t mean the ‘beating with sticks, imprisonment, erosion of human rights’ kind of oppression. More like the ‘narrowing of freedom, over-regulating’ type of oppression.

Anna

Let’s called her Anna. Anna is one the best students in my History class. Her work is consistently of a high standard, she finishes work early, always wants to do extra, always wants to be pushed. She is academically probably a year ahead of her peers. She is mature enough to show kindness to other students who are struggling socially. She took it upon herself to befriend a recent arrival at the school with behavioral and social difficulties. Brilliant.

At parent-teacher interviews I got to meet Anna’s mother. She seems involved, interested and concerned with how her daughter is progressing. I get to give her the jam sandwich feedback – all sweetness and fluffy goodness. No issues from my end, apart from giving her extension work and encouraging her to read widely. Anna’s mother looks pleased. She gets up to go, hesitates a little, and then gives me the doorknob comment.*

“You know, Anna loves the class and her teachers. But she’s often so annoyed at how other students treat the classroom as a place to muck around and cause havoc. Sometimes she has said she wants to yell at them all to shut up”

I stumbled out an apology, all the while knowing that it was because the school had chosen to be inclusive, because they did not have structures and resources in place to support students who struggled with behavioral and social problems, because the discipline system did not support teachers with good follow up and consequences, these things were going to be around for a while. Because I was a first year teacher struggling with managing a class full of rowdy teenagers. I almost wanted to tell her to send her daughter to another school. But most of all I was embarrassed by the way the school and myself had let Anna down by allowing others to ruin her educational experience. I felt, for the first time, how deeply I needed to focus on the students who were doing excellently as well as those that were struggling, and wondered if I truly had to time, the energy and the resources to be able to do so. I realized again how important classroom management is, but also realized that it means nothing if not backed up by school wide policy and effective leadership.

It was a sobering moment. I want to do better in future. For Anna's sake.

*Doorknob comment: Doctors and therapists say that patients often wait until the very last moment of a session to reveal the most pertinent or important details of their issue.

Learned Things of My First Year (Part Two)

(Continued from my last post)

I wish I'd known not to try to to control teenagers

Behavior management is going to be a huge focus point for me as I continue to grow as a teacher, and I have a lot to learn on that front. However, I think starting out I somehow equated 'management' with 'control', which meant that I entered my classes wanting EVERYTHING to go exactly right. Any misbehavior was somehow a ginormous reflection on my inability to correctly administer behavior sanctions, and definitely not a result of a rowdy bunch of Year 8's making nasty smells in 6th period after being bored stiff by my non-explanation of overlay maps.

The first time a student walked out of my class dramatically I nearly lost my shiz. Every part of me tensed up as a million thoughts rushed through my head - mostly surrounding how I could control that particular situation. And the thing was, I couldn't. That student was now out of my hands, and I had a class of 27 others who will still there to take care of. The second time that happened, I calmly excused myself from the class, picked up the phone, alerted the office of this student's disappearence and continued on with the lesson.

Also, I have learned if a student absolutely, resolutely refuses to do something, you cannot make them do it. Defuse the situation as best as possible, walk away, and follow up later.

I wish I'd know about the large amount of empty wind in Education (with a capital 'E')

Let's get one thing straight. I don't expect the absolute, down and dirty truth on everything in life. I've lived comfortably with spin, marketing and downright brainwashing for most of my adult life. And I'm not advocating that we all become dried up cynical husks who bay for Gonski's blood. But I am concerned when schools need to employ a full-time marketing department to create glossy brochures and snappy taglines. When the first concern for organizing a school trip is how many cameras to take. When all over this country I hear the following horrible, horrible phrases:

"We need an education revolution!" (Thankyou Mr. Rudd. Would that involve some good ol' guillotining perchance?)

"We don't label students here' (That's right, because Johnny isn't an anti-social, lazy, manipulative bully, he's got 'para-social concerns' and 'responsibility avoidance disorder' and therefore we will do everything in our power to ensure he ruins everybody's educational experience)

"If you create engaging, fun-filled lessons that involve your students' interests, behavior management will take care of itself!' (It won't. And you will be dead by Wednesday.)

"Have you heard of *insert latest educational fad here*? Let's implement it immediately!' (That's a great idea. Because change is always instant and simple. I can hear Michael Fullan sobbing somewhere.)

Please. Please. Please. I long to hear some honest, balanced viewpoints and a sensible evaluation of how a school is running and operation. No hype. Truth leads us to seek solutions.

I wish I'd know that as a first year, you will be up for all the worst school camps.

The less I say about my time freezing my butt off whilst simultaneously cursing the rain, snow and teenage hormone gods, the better.

I did enjoy getting to know the students better outside of the classroom, however.

In Conclusion

I have learned some things, y'all! In many ways I am glad my transition from student to full-time teacher has been difficult as it has given me a burning passion to see other graduate teachers properly supported through their own transitions. I have a Masters thesis to complete next year, and this is looking like it will be the topic for it. I feel so strongly about making sure quality teachers are retained beyond that first five year period, so that our students get the best education possible.

EmEduraptor

*<
[<
/\            (It's a T-Rex! Run!)

Learned things of my first year (Part One)

It feels strange to think about it, but I've nearly finished my first half of my first year of teaching. Already I can claim to know more things then when I started (such as where the button is on the photocopier to make it do things, how to tactically ignore year 8 students who wish to pull you into their melodramatics, and exactly which teacher has a secret stash of chocolate in their office.) At the same time, there are still so many things which I still have only the smallest, tiniest clues about. How to motivate a student who doesn't care about school. How to effectively teach and engage a class which contains students at multiple ability levels. How in the world you can reach, teach and maintain positive working relationships with 150 students at once. Whilst being extremely sleep-deprived. And sometimes hormonal.

But, in the spirit of distilling my many, many minutes of experience into bite-sized pieces of wisdom-y goodness, let me give you my top 6 things I have learnt from my first six months of graduate teaching. Three of these things will be in this post, watch out for the next post for the next three

In no particular order (drumroll)

I wish I'd known the importance of procedures and routines
I completed my teaching training over one year postgraduate, which meant that I had only 12 weeks of school placement in which to observe, teach and learn about school life. Most importantly, none of these experiences took place at the very beginning of the school year, or even the beginning of semester. So, when you walk into a classroom to teach and observe, you are entering a place where routines and procedures for  how to behave and act are already in place. Most of the time, the classrooms I went into were set up so well that I didn't even notice the subtle ways in which the teacher was running the show.

So how did that translate into my experience? Sure, I knew the importance of 'never smiling before Easter', and I tried my darnedest to be a 'tough teacher' at the start of the year. But I spent half a lesson on rules for each of my classes, then got annoyed when my students didn't seem to understand my expectations. What I should have done was spend two weeks practising, reinforcing and reminding students of the rules and expectations. How to enter the classroom. What happens when someone swears. Where and how to hand in assessment tasks. What to do if you forget your pen or book. When to ask to go to the toilet or grab a drink. And because I didn't really teach these expectations, I wasn't really sure of what they were anyway, which led to me being inconsistent with my reinforcement of rules. Which of course, led to a few classes being less then ideal when it came to classroom behaviour.

Next semester I will be starting again, and you can be sure I will be spending the first two weeks at least going over these things. And I will be reading 'The First Days of School' by Harry Wong. Despite the fact that it is written mainly for primary  school teachers, I have heard lots of good things about its' usefulness in setting up a classroom.

I wish I'd understood how students learn
Somehow, in the sunshiny world of university, good teaching equates to 'kinasthetic-inquiry-based-Bloom's level-affirming-group work' learning. I came out of uni with the expectation that if I could only hook my students in with a thought-provoking lesson opening and create brilliant lessons where students constructed their knowledge from nothing more then a sentence prompt, I would be teaching. And more importantly, they would be learning.

That particular teaching bent lasted for all of about one week.Which was about the time it took for me to be falling asleep on every conceivable horizontal surface at 4pm. Floor. Table. Couch. My desk.

Not only is creating those types of lessons exhausting, it's also completely unnecessary. Inquiry based lessons are like dark chocolate, you only want to have a little of it, and make sure it's good quality. Basic talk and chalk lessons should be your meat and potatoes, with some guided and independent practise thrown in. In my short experience students cope very well with it, I have never seen a student throw up their hands and say 'Miss, my pedagogical variety and learning style needs have not been met by this lesson'. (BTW, don't get me started on learning styles. I will be committing a whole post to that particular brand of snake oil soonish).

And guess what? Students actually learn from this type of lesson. It is too easy for inquiry based lessons to be really vague in what students were supposed to learn, whereas a well structured lessons allows for revision, review and repetition, all actions which enforce memory and recall for facts and general knowledge. Facts and general knowledge act as the foundation for students to build more abstract concepts later on.

Read Daniel T Willingham's 'Why Student's Don't Like School'. Then read Hattie for real (don't just skim the summary pages) and see what he has to say about the effectiveness of direct instruction. Do your research. Don't believe it just because it's the latest education fad.


I wish I'd been easier on myself
This might be a personality thing, but I expected a lot from myself in that first term. My particular situation meant that I had 6 different class groups to prepare for (as in different year levels, different subject, different topic) over a 4 day allocation, within a faculty that had no head. My subject had very little written curriculum and lacked school based resources. I'm not saying this to bash my school, which has been generally wonderful, but to put things in perspective for myself. That's a tough gig, even without being a first year teacher with an healthy dose of naive optimism. I spent the first couple of weeks freaking out that I was doing a terrible job and that some day the principle would burst into my classroom and demand that I leave! Instead, I should have chilled the flip out and stopped trying to be the best teacher in the universe (seriously, I somehow thought I would achieve that in first year), and focused on being at least an adequate teacher. Now, I work on one thing at a time that I want to improve, and I don't expect things to change overnight, or even over a term.

First year is so difficult precisely because some in the profession, and sometimes parents, can expect you to act the same way as a teacher with 20 years of experience. On your first day. It's unfair, but you need to temper those expectations and just do the best job you are capable of at the time. You will seek continual improvement naturally, it's part of being young and idealist and an educator. Face the fact that it will take probably 3 years to get really comfortable with your job.

Whew, that's enough for now, Part Two will be out sometime soonish...

The Profession That Eats Its Young

So, I've been wanting to write this post for a while, but haven't been sure how to articulate and frame it correctly. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a natural cynic, however I'm wary about spewing blatant negativity out in the blogosphere. I'd rather be seen to work toward identifying solutions then dwelling on problems.  In this case however, things seem to be a) exceedingly awful b) exceedingly complex and c) political, which as I'm sure you can tell, is not a promising combination.

I'm talking about the issue of teacher training and standards, and as a part of that, teacher retention. In Australia, we have politicians and AITSL holding up 'standards' as some kind of magic wand to make the entire graduate teaching force AWESOME AT EVERYTHING. This is the solution offered to retain the 50% of teachers who leave the profession in their first 5 years. That if we can somehow increase the number of pracs pre-service teachers go on, or maybe offer them a wider variety of research based pseudo-science, they will arrive at their respective schools filled to the brim with good humour, confidence and ready to effectively teach.

And my comment is this; when are schools and our government going to wake up to the fact that post-university support, and the experience of those first formative years, is THE most critical factor in determining if teachers stay in the profession?

Not performance pay.

Not a National Curriculum.

Support. Support as we fail, over and over again.

 

My own experiences in my first school have highlighted this area to me fairly sharply. I understand that not everybody's experience is the same as mine, however from talking to other grad teachers, it seems to be more often the case then not.

About a week before I started, I was given 7 different classes, no written curriculum, limited resources, and some keys and told to "...figure it out". Needless to say, I spent first term in an alternate universe, too overwhelmed by the sensory overload of teaching 160 teenagers to make any progress towards improving anything apart from the speed at which I fell asleep every night.

My mentor teacher was experienced and lovely, but in a very different faculty and with real time constraints. He was not free to visit my classes, and I had little time to visit his. His competence at everything made my own shaky inroads into my teaching practice seem insubstantial.

On the last week of term my principal came in to have a chat about my progress in my new teaching position. Out of my sleep-deprived brain I somehow made sense of him saying the following:

"Well, I could see in Term One that you were all 'bunny-in-headlights', but I didn't do anything because you need to drown a little bit"

Something snapped inside my head. My inner monologue kicked in.

"You are telling me that you recognised that your fellow professional was struggling and you chose to do NOTHING? That this is how schools intend to get people into the teaching profession, by hazing you until you 'toughen up'? You feel the best way to get good outcomes for your students is to ritually sacrifice new teachers until they realise what they already know, that they are BEGINNING TEACHERS and are supposed to be learning how to teach?" (not actually said out loud)

We say we want to provide the optimal learning environment for our students, where they can be nurtured to their full potential. Why would we not want the same for our teachers?

So here's an idea. Don't give grad teachers the classes that nobody knows how to deal with. You know the infamously naughty Year 8's where a quarter of the class has behavioural difficulties. Give grad teachers access to mentors and time to actually meet with them. Don't shame those who are struggling, embrace them and let them know that their success means everyone's success. There should be no prizes for barely surviving your first year, and nobody should get a badge of honour for living off anti-anxiety meds (as some of my fellow grad teachers have). Have an induction process. Keep the lines of communication open. For goodness sake, do something about connecting universities and schools in a way that is meaningful for pre-service and graduate teachers.

I am fearful for my friends coming through their teacher education programs next year. This is not a 'who can tell the most harrowing story about their first year of teaching' competition. And if it is, no wonder this profession is so confused.

THIS.

Ya know, this is what my educational philosophy boils down to.

http://velociraptorz.org/