Triage

In response to:

http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2011/05/10/death_to_high_school_english/index.html

Dear College Professor, 

Fantastic article.  It's a nasty, brutish business, teaching high school English.  You capture the main arguments and controversies of the English / Language Arts world well, and in my young, passionate idealism, I agree with most of it.  A lot of what I see other teachers do makes me nauseous. 

Allow me add my own two cents from an inner-city perspective and explain what goes on in the abyss that is high school English... unsolicited, of course, because I love it so much and am bored.  Beware, this could be its own article! The question shouldn't be limited to high school courses; nor should it be an issue of mere pedagogy.  And really, it is far too important to merely question what. 

Let me explain.  Most of my kids have been in the US fewer than seven years.  Generally, that translates to a wide swathe of English Language Learners, almost all of whom come from a pitifully low socio-economic level.  That means that, although they're getting a free education, it is within the inner-city setting, so its consistency and competency is erratic at best.  Sad but true.  Still, you would think they'd at least get the basics.  False.  While completing my field experiences, I was horrified that 7th graders were still learning what a complete sentence was... something I'd learned - and mastered - in 3rd grade. 

And then I began teaching 10th grade.  Not only did my students not know what a complete sentence was and/or how to make one, but they could barely read. 

Now, keep in mind, 10th grade is THE most important year for state testing as far as English is concerned.  If they don't pass, they don't graduate.  There was added pressure because US Grant HS had been failing its No Child Left Behind annual yearly progress for five years... which is based on state testing.  What does this state test test?  Reading and writing.  Not a conducive situation to progress, and no wonder they'd been failing.  Debates on content - which books to teach, etc - become obsolete when students lack the skills to do anything with it.  

At this point, the question becomes: Is it actually the high school's fault that these kids can't read and write?  Using the seven-year average, these kids have been in American elementary and middle schools for five of those years.  What were they doing in that time?  Actually, this article mentions many of the usual activities with accuracy because student engagement is so, so important.  We’re just not doing it well.  (Sadly, it's hard to escape... see: Victim of Team Collaboration - dumb short story projects.)  

Blaming the preceding teachers does nothing to solve the problem, so the next question is:  Based on what students don't know, what do you teach in high school, then?   And after that, why?  And after that, how?  Is it so necessary to read world authors and Julius Caesar (the typical 10th grade fare) when students can't even comprehend the conventional prose of the newspaper?  When do you sacrifice rigor for relevance? The perfect answer, of course, it to teach both at once, but too often, as the article says, meaning and skills are lost in skits and dioramas.  This part of the curriculum absolutely needs to be reevaluated, as well as teaching methods and objectives.

Students must leave high school knowing how to read with comprehension, communicate with precision, and think efficiently and critically.  Surely the cannon is not so sacred that we cannot modify it to teach these things more effectively.  Surely students are not so juvenile that they require skits to stay engaged as we teach them how to learn... for that is what we are doing, isn’t it?  Or are we merely entertaining them?

But let’s return to focus on writing.  Writing is a painfully slow skill to teach because it requires so much of everything.  That's why it is soooo essential.  But sadly, it still falls prey to questions of priority.  Based on the state test, which skills are the most heavily weighted?  Spelling counts very little.  Fine, we'll focus on something else.  Mechanics are more important but still don't account for much.  We'll pick those up along the way... even at the cost of a few misplaced commas.  Organization is a biggie.  Flow and logical construction. That means students have to start thinking about what they're thinking - metacognition, phew... and then write it down... and then organize it well enough to support a thesis, not to mention box it all in with an introduction and a conclusion. 

Honestly, I would prefer that students leave my class knowing how to organize their thoughts in complete sentences and logical order than knowing precisely where to sprinkle a few commas (this is said by an ex-grammar nazi, by the way).  Make no mistake, I hold a profound respect for proper grammar, especially commas.  However, students can pick up a usage book later on and answer their comma questions, or sit in your college class and make small corrections to what they’re now realizing is a rough draft.  

Learning how to think is more difficult to simply pick up. I have 25 weeks (125 days) to fix what ten years of education should have taught them... not including pep assemblies and fire drills.  While student teaching in a well-off suburban school, I nailed the students on commas and semicolons.  They already had the basics and had been writing some form of essay for years.  Commas polished their work and semicolons made it classy.  Grant kids don’t have that luxury... for now.  If I were to teach my same kids again next year for 11th grade, they’d graduate with commas.  As it is, I’ll be back in 10th, and it will take three months for them to learn that a five-paragraph essay has - surprise! - five paragraphs.  True story, and absolutely necessary.

So, college professor, that is what we teach in high school, and that is why your college kids do not know how to construct formal papers.  We could do many things better, and hopefully some of us are trying to do so, despite the general apathy around us.  Teach the four students of mine who attended college about commas. I know you are paid to teach more advanced things, but remember that it could be worse, much worse.

Sincerely,

High School English

Bootstraps

For Dr. White

Well, friends, it’s time for a missive on education.  As a preface, I’d like to say that my experience is representative of many, but not all, Spanish public schools.  The new bilingual program is really shaking up the status quo, and there are several schools who are doing great things, especially at the primary level.  However, the rest are still reeling from, well, who knows what and sometimes the results are abysmal. 

Buckle up.

Last Thursday, Maria* (teacher) informed me that my services would not be needed the following week.  Of the 22 students in the class, 85% of them had failed 7 of their 8 subjects.  

There are several immediate observations to be gathered from this news, but let’s just get right down to the heart of it:  the Spanish education system is a disaster.

Maybe as a cultural envoy, liaison, and ambassador that is a bit harsh for me to say.  But as a teacher, it is the truth.

There are the technical elements to the evaluation above.  Unable to choose or fire their own teachers, principals have little autonomy and control over their school.  Teachers are transferred based on seniority points and rarely hav e time to acclimate to a position or level before changing.  Curriculum is a mess and classroom management is virtually nonexistent.  

But those are the macro issues.  As the semester has gone by, I’ve had plenty of time to listen, observe, compare, sort out, and generally ruminate on the differences between American and Spanish education, and what my own views are.  I’ve  realized that the short semester I taught at US Grant, an at-risk inner-city high school, has drastically changed my personal perspective on children, teaching, and education in general.

*name changed

The Face of Opportunity

As a new teacher, there was no easing into the water for me.  I was thrown right into the thick of things.  Facing a variety of problems, US Grant had been on No Child Left Behind’s failing list for several years.  It was absolutely vital that the school succeed, and school success is measured in student success.  Student success is measured by state tests.  The school was getting a makeover.  How hard could it be?

And then I met my first class.  As 10th graders, many of them could not read well, had never written anything of consequence, and they had been psychologically decimated from their previous school experiences.  Most are non-native English speakers. Moreover, many face an excruciating home life of some kind.

The state test is 150 school days away.  The English portion of these focus on reading comprehension and writing... on a 10th grade level.

What do you do?

Failure Is Not an Option

January 2008, the first day of Adolescent Psychology.  Dr. White came in wearing an outlandish, moderately mismatched outfit and hair that stuck out like chicken feathers.  “Well hi, ya’ll,” she drawled in a Louisiana accent, looking at our impassive faces.  “This is gonna be real fun.”

It was a great class.  She was crazy.  Like her hair, several things stick out in my memory, one of which was a mantra she repeated several times.  Usually it followed a leading question that accused federal spending in education.  “Shame on you!”  she’d cry when we muttered disapproval.  “You can’t pull yourself up by the bootstraps if you ain’t got no boots.”

I was skeptical.

Despite an eclectic schooling background, I somehow emerged with a rather elitist perspective on education.  Student teaching Pre-AP English at asuburban high school, I had no problem crossing my arms with an unsympathetic, “Well, I taught it; you should have le arned it.”  And it was true: they should have.

Then Grant happened.

When your students come to you in 10th grade and cannot read... tell me, is that their fault?  Did all twenty-five of them link arms and stomp their collective feet in second grade and declare that they weren’t going to read?

More importantly, as a teacher, what are you going to do about it?  If you present the lessons, assign the homework, and hand out the tests, have your students learned?  What happens if 85% of your students fail that test?  Is it their fault?  Can you simply say, “Well, I taught that; it’s their fault”? 

As they say.... bootstraps.

I in no way want to espouse the savior complex, for teaching is humbling.  But there is a line in the movie The Guardian that seems pretty suitable to insert here.  Ashton Kutcher plays a coast guard rescue swimmer and asks his mentor one last burning question before going out for his first job in the Bering Strait:  

“When you can’t save them all, how do you choose who lives?”

Kevin Costner responds without blinking. “It's probably different for everybody Jake. Its kind of simple for me though. I just, I take the first one I come to or the weakest one in the group and then I swim as fast and as hard as I can for as long as I can. And the sea takes the rest.”

Swim hard, teacher.

... Unless Your’e in Spain

Lately, I’ve been doing some private research into education, democracy, and dictatorships. Most of the problems confronting Spain are a direct result of the 40-year Franco dictatorship that began in the 1930s.  Obvious issues arising from this include an overemphasis on rote memorization with little critical thinking; lack of classroom control as a rebellion against Franco’s oppressive classrooms;  and, perhaps less apparent, preferring to finish the textbook rather than ensuring student learning.  Any time there is extended oppression, it takes several generations to unlearn those habits and values, and the fallout is still affecting schools today.

It is not unusual for a teacher to come into the teacher’s room with a stack of failed tests.  “I try, I try so hard!” is the usual lamentation.  “I just don’t know what to do. They just cannot learn.”

The next week the class moves onto a new unit. 

Better Options

Now then, back to the opening statement, when Maria told me 85% of the students failed 7 out of 8 subjects.  Let’s think about this.

Several things come to mind. First of all, when 85% of your students fail, YOU are doing something wrong (yes, fine, even in suburbia).  This is not specifically in reference to Maria, but all the teachers.  Sure, maybe the class has developed extreme apathy (and no wonder).  That’s tough.

Their education is at stake. 

You can't just cross your arms and say, “Well, I taught that; it's their fault.”  Second, why are you just now realizing that your students are failing??  At this point in the school year, the problem is clearly a breakdown of prior skills, and now it's too late to fix it.  Third, taking me, your beautiful language assistant with that awful American accent, out of the picture isn't going to change anything if you keep doing the same activities with them that helped them fail in the first place.  In fact, I would love to, like, you know, help teach the English part.  That’s why I get paid the big bucks, after all...

And in reply to that, here are some options:

Re-evaluate the current criteria for success in teaching.  Covering content is important, but not if students aren’t learning it.  What knowledge and skills are absolutely essential that they leave your classroom with, and how are you going to make sure that they get it?

Measure that success in clear and frequent assessments, not just by the unit tests and semester exams.

Do remedial teaching when the assessments show students haven’t mastered the material; that way, you can catch class-wide problems before May. 

Stop teaching straight from the book.  It’s boring, it requires pure memorization and no thinking, and clearly it’s not accomplishing anything.  Let’s talk about kinesthetic learners.  About this wonderful multimedia environment in which we live.  About relevance - making the subject matter connect to their worlds.  Then let’s talk about motivation. 

Make kids produce items using the knowledge they’re acquiring.  If you just presented how to use the past tense of ‘is,’ make them write about their childhood.  Yes, that means you’ll have to read it.  Sorry.  But then you’ll get to see if they understand what you think you just taught.

Hold off on teaching content for a few weeks and teach the necessary English vocabulary first.  Students are not going to draw a secant if they don’t understand what ‘line’ means. 

Make your classroom a pleasant place to be.  Telling a student point-blank that s/he is stupid and won’t learn anything just isn’t conducive to learning.

I feel like a walking Ed Psych textbook.  This is basic stuff.  Let’s go, Spain.  You’ve got a generation at risk here.