Typically, the first level of Bloom’s taxonomy is remembering and the final level is creating. This image reverses the two. In my opinion, it makes more sense to start with creating and end with remembering. This mirrors lived experience, no? We cannot remember without first creating. Without going on and on….I’m wondering what you all think. Please let me know.

Oh, kids, how would you sing if you knew how it feels to be free? Dear kids, what would you say if you could climb out from behind those tall concertina weeds wrapping up your hearts and squeezing your blistered minds? Sweet Abandoned Souls, wake up and rise up, speak up and lift up. Tell me, broken but beautiful kids, how is it that you will define your own destiny?

They are the walking wounded. The poorest most vulnerable young people among us. Do we want to forget about them or pretend that they deserve what they are (not) being given? How is it we can stand ourselves–living in this so-called developed nation–knowing full well that we routinely abandon our youth–especially those who are living in poverty and on the increasingly thick margins of privilege. What can we do today and moving forward to reach and teach these young people so that they have the skills they need to not only read, write, and reason but also to access their deep hearts and connect with others in this world? To not only read the world but also to respond to it.

On Thursday I visited a Title 1 school situated in a working poor neighborhood in Brooklyn. The kids walk through security gates each morning before heading to school. They place their book bags on conveyor belts leading to the x-ray examination. Dear kids, come to school and we will remind you each morning that we think of you as accomplished criminals or criminals in training. Dear kids, come join us in the pipeline. Schools starts with a bag search, a body search, and a direct expression of our lack of trust. (As a visitor, I was also required to go through the ‘security’ procedures.)

Many of the young people simply don’t show up to school on time. During the first period class I observed–which was supposed to begin at 8:00am–the majority of the class was absent. As students trickled in, there was no apparent consequence presented or communicated regarding their tardiness. I wondered to myself if this is a case of ‘choosing one’s battles.’

Throughout the day I observed an ongoing detachment among the students–they simply  (there were a few exceptions) weren’t really paying attention or doing work. The phrase “walking wounded” kept appearing in my own mind as I observed young people staring into space, ignoring their assigned tasks, wandering into class late. There appeared to be lots of “assertions of toughness”…that type of affected “you can’t get to me” swagger that I saw from a deeply traumatized young man (12 years old) I worked with in St. Louis. (He kept that up until one day–after months of one-on-one work together–I told him “You know, you’re safe here.”) I wonder, how many of the young people in this school feel safe and settled enough to learn? How many of them are getting their basic needs met?

I was given the opportunity to sit in on a teachers meeting. The teachers were all absolutely lovely and apparently committed. It was clear that they knew the students well: their progress (or lack of) and their particular situations. Too, their was a notable collegiality but also a sort of fatigue–but not cynicism–which was managed by what I perceived to be a healthy sense of humor. As the teachers discussed the upcoming graduation and worked to come up with names for recognition, scholarships, etcetera, I repeatedly heard: “She’s not going to make it. [graduate] She’s on the two-day plan.” And, “He’s not going to make it. He needs credits and regents and he’s on the one-day plan.” These “plans” aren’t plans-they refer to students’ chronic absenteeism.

Each class I observed was taught by a high quality teacher–the lessons were interesting and well planned and presented. The geometry teacher in particular was a brilliant educator. In another class, I was sitting alongside two students who were reading an overview of the Democratic of Congo’s “resource curse.” I engaged them in conversation about the reading assignment and looked at the graphic organizers they were completing in order to prepare for a debate. It soon became clear to me that one of the two students was reading at a very low level. She was able to decode the words but had extremely limited comprehension. My guess is that she was reading at about a third grade level. When I asked her if she understands the phrase “resource curse” she looked at me with the most heartbreaking expression it ripped into my soul–she looked scared, lost, helpless, sad when she said “I know curse is a bad thing so I think it means something bad.” She is in the tenth grade. My heart is breaking and I do not know how we can begin to heal all the damage that has been done. When will me make that change come?

In early March I was invited to join the NYC Teaching Fellows. Three weeks later I confirmed my enrollment and immediately got to work on the various administrative tasks required of new fellows: getting my fingerprints taken at the NYC DOE, collecting transcripts and shot records, and completing the first two online courses that were made immediately available to us and which are required for certification. At the same time I established a study plan in order to best prepare for my certification exams (LAST and Multi-Subject) and even started taking a crack at the recommended reading list provided by the folks at fellowship headquarters and venturing out on a few school visits.

Suddenly, it’s May and most of us (if not all of us) have received our university assignments and have begun the online pre-training enrollment course (not to be confused with the two courses mentioned above; those courses were the Mandated Reporter Training/Child Abuse Reporting Workshop and School Violence Prevention and Intervention—a.k.a. School-to-Prison Pipeline 101). We are also—many of us—counting the days until our summer training begins on June 11th. The time is moving quickly and suddenly my day is jam packed—and I know many other fellows are even busier, particularly those who are relocating to NYC in order to participate in the fellowship. Already, it seems, there’s not much time to take a step back and reflect.

Immediately before joining the fellowship I had been conducting research and writing a preliminary draft of a course about reflective teaching practices. I was at a bit of a standstill in the writing and design process because, frankly, I felt that it was crucial for me to have more experience (that is, more than zero) working as a public school teacher in the United States. Although I have a good deal of experience teaching in informal education programs and seven years’ experience teaching ESL abroad…I’ve never had to deal with the infamously contentious, malfunctioning, seemingly in a state-of-protracted emergency United States public school system. “Who am I,” the self-inquiry posed, “to teach public school teachers about reflective teaching practices, when I’ve had absolutely no practical experience with the pressures, constraints, joys, and frustrations encountered by those who belong to perhaps the most crapped-upon profession in the USA today? So, after spending two months reading everything I could get my hands on about reflective teaching practices, I accepted the fellowship opportunity and requested a break from my research to focus on the NYCTF induction, during which I would essentially take notes that would later inform the course design. My mentor supported my decision and provided helpful insight and encouragement.

When I began my internship with Teachers Without Borders I had in place a five-year plan to become a public school teacher, who would be sure to etch out sufficient time on a regular basis (at least weekly) to reflect through writing (in a private journal and on my blog), drawing (sketching in a notebook to simply unwind and process in a wordless medium), conversation with colleagues (to hear different perspectives, share support, and become aware of my own blind spots), etcetera on what was happening in my classroom, school, and community. (That’s only the beginning of the five-year plan!) I haven’t even begun teaching yet and already I must push myself to create space for these reflections.

Here, rather than provide a detailed literature review analyzing various ideas about reflective teaching practices, I’ll say this: It’s necessary to routinely take a step back, look at the big picture, critically examine my own behavior and the ways in which my practice is being received by students as well as colleagues and administrators. It’s important—and will enrich and ‘keep honest’ my practice—if I commit myself to a ritual examination of my own assumptions about teaching and learning, communication, and the people in my learning community. At this point, that is, in this post, I’d like to reflect a bit on my experience in the fellowship to date. It’s still quite early but it’s important to me to establish this practice of reflection from the beginning and I do hope that some other fellows (or anyone else) will find these reflections helpful.

I’m scared. What if my passion, idealism, and sense of being called to teach is squashed, squandered, and squelched by the infamous bureaucracy? (Isn’t alliteration spectacular?) When I read Jonathan Kozol, I feel cozy, inspired, and redeemed—a bit like those late nights with a flashlight reading a book that I’m ‘too young’ to read, in a tent made of my own bed sheets and the strength of my own inherent compulsion to rebel at whatever stands between me and learning. My curiosity will not be strangled. But what about my idealism? Will the ‘system’ eat me up and spit me out half-dead and soul-stripped?

I disagree. With what? (I promise, it’s not with everything and anything.) With the many troubling assumptions that inform Doug Lemov’s Teach Like a Champion, a book that all fellows are required to read before the start of our summer training. Assumption number one: the banking method is the only successful approach to teaching and learning (Lemov’s impassioned rants against seating arrangements that stray from the industrial model of single-file rows of students facing the teacher at the blackboard underscore his deep suspicion of student-directed learning and collaboration). Assumption number two: classroom management is based on fear and subjugation. Here’s a quote: “Standing just over a student’s shoulder as you peruse his work or standing at the back of the classroom as a class discusses a topic builds subtle but pervasive control of the classroom environment in order to focus it on learning.” [My italics] Is learning the focus in that scenario? Learning what? It sounds a lot like learning one’s ‘place’ in a deeply disturbing power dynamic. The thing is, there are very successful educators who build classroom cultures that are based on mutual respect not fear and domination. Am I the only one who started humming Strange Fruit when I read this passage?

I am inspired. The fellow fellows inspire me. Teachers I’ve met on school visits inspire me. Students wide-eyed and imperfect inspire me but more than ANYTHING–true to my undying love for and solidarity with the most beautiful courageous rebels who have taught me to stand up and speak out (Martin Luther King Jr., Paulo Freire, Mahatma Ghandi, Sri Ramakrishna, Helen Keller, Nina Simone, Thoreau, the Freedom Riders, Jonathan Kozol, the profoundly radical Jesus, and yes there are MANY many more–I am inspired by INJUSTICE. Inspired to action, inspired to dissent, inspired to speak out and act up but more than anything, inspired to TEACH. Thus, my inspiration is closely linked to my above-mentioned disagreement and fear! Kozol writes in On Being a Teacher: “It seems to be a rule of thumb in the United States, as in most other nations of the modern world, that the only acceptable rebel–certainly the one whose greatness is most certain and unclouded–is a dead one.” (He is writing about the ways in which the words and works of famous radicals are watered down in textbooks. For example, “Thoreau was enraged by several attitudes and actions of the U.S. government, above all our toleration of the slave trade and the war against Mexico.”…yet, most of us encounter Thoreau’s poems about nature when we are students. p 39)

I’ll leave you with some inspiring words from Kozol (also from On Being a Teacher):

The hidden curriculum, as we have seen before, is the teacher’s own integrity and lived conviction. The most memorable lesson is not what is written by the student on a sheet of yellow lined paper in the lesson pad;nor is it the clumsy sentence published (and “illustrated”) in the standard and official text. It is the message which is written in a teacher’s eyes throughout the course of his or her career. It is the lesson which endures a lifetime.

I hereby pledge to look into my own eyes each morning and ask myself, “What message is there?”

Reblogged from madquestionasking:

Being in Scandinavia last week and being intentionally conscious of my white skin was different from past visits when I was not paying attention to it. During the two days I was bathing in the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, I only saw one black woman, two black men and maybe half a dozen Indian men. I was at the airport in Reykjavik three times in eight days and it was a busy sea of very tall white people.

Read more… 1,405 more words

A few months ago, a friend of friend mentioned during a roundtable about education that she doesn't assign To Kill a Mockingbird to her classes. It takes too much pre-teaching to explain the socio-cultural context within which it was written (in order to make the elements of racism in the book more 'understandable,' or less shocking?...not entirely sure what she was getting at). She then mentioned, "And I already have a strong racial tension in my classes." That sentence stung me and then, later after everyone cleared out, it began to itch. What the hell?! Dammit. I missed my chance to say "PRECISELY for that reason (racial tension) you should teach books that will bring these issues to the surface, front and center! What ARE you teaching?!" The conversation was moving far too quickly but more than anything I was shocked. What is the deal with all this hiding behind the curtains, refusing to talk, think, and self-reflect on the largest most corrosive social issues.... I've never reblogged a post before...not until today. Ingrid's reflection on racism--and many cultures' resistance to address the issue--is worth reading. Check it out and do let me know what you think.

It may sound strange—perhaps even alarming at first—but I love conflict. Let me explain by outlining what I do NOT mean by that statement: I do not love fighting, I do not love violence, and I do not love avoiding disagreement. It’s the rich creative fire that conflict brews that gets me so excited. Too often we regard conflict as a signal to calcify our position and refuse to acknowledge or hear the “opposition.” Is it too abstract? Eh, let me lay it all out with a personal experience. (Oh, the vulnerability!) First, some context.

R and I have just finished our second semester as facilitators for Soliya and our first semester working together as co-facilitators. We are friends—close friends—and we both anticipated that working together as co-facilitators would be a breeze and that the semester would move along swimmingly. We were wrong.

All facilitators are assigned a coach. The coach watches recorded sessions (these recordings are not made available to anyone else unless all participants give their permission) and provides facilitators with detailed feedback about dynamics he sees emerging in the group, what the facilitators are doing well, how they may be missing the mark, and so on. In short, if you want to facilitate for @Soliya you must be open to constant feedback, critical self-reflection, and global reflection (that is, regarding the larger process). Therefore, we are not only reflecting on our own behavior in each session but also the way in which we approach ALL interactions throughout the process, how our behavior is affecting others, recognizing their responses, making efforts to identify misunderstandings…oh and so on. It goes on. This is what it takes to really engage in the process.

Bear Traps and IEDs

Well, it’s not so bloody but indeed there are many “traps” that threaten to disrupt the process. (When I say process, I am referring to steps required to successfully facilitate the group’s process to achieve the Connect Program goals. You can read about those goals here.) Here, I’ll list a few traps I’ve recognized. Some, I’ve avoided stepping into, others, I’ve set off and was snapped nearly in half (figuratively, people) by its snarling grip. The final trap I’ll identify comes with the personal experience I promised to share!

Go through the motions by following the online curriculum to the ‘T,’ without integrating observations you’ve made in your group and their direct requests. This is usually how that works: A particular session is a terrific success and all or the majority of participants explicitly request to continue the discussion about a particular topic the following week. The planning session for the following week arrives and the co-facilitators (for whatever reason) simply overlook their participants request and plan to follow the suggested outline in the online curriculum. What happens when we fall into this trap? We send a strong message to our participants that their input does not matter, that we aren’t listening, and that the group is not theirs. These are obviously not the messages we want to send, nor is it the dynamic we seek to create.

Forget that everyone is involved in the process. Who is counted among “everyone”?! Facilitators, group members, tech support, paid Soliya staff members, coaches, and …who am I forgetting? Also, participants’ university professors, anyone who is in the room from which a participant signs in (such as the noisy cafe’s background noise, the peers that a participant is seeking to impress by performing for them rather than focusing on the group process, etc.). Any one else? Let me know. What happens when we forget that we are all in the process? Simply put, we each must remember that we are all in a constant state of “figuring it out.” That means, a lot of humility, patience, and trust that our colleagues mean well. Why is this so important? There are myriad opportunities for misunderstandings when working with others from various cultural and linguistic contexts, most of whom are communicating in a non-native language (English), a small number of whom are employed by Soliya, and the majority of whom are volunteers. When we forget that we are all engaged in the process, we miss out on invaluable opportunities for learning and growth. We also risk compromising our particular group’s process.

Forget, overlook, or “give up on” our co-facilitators. This is closely related to the forget that everyone is involved in the process trap but deserves special focus. How exactly do we overlook or “give up on” our co-facilitator? Well, I’ll tell you how I fell into this trap. R and I, as I mentioned, are very close friends. R is Egyptian, a non-native English speaker, and much younger than me (seventeen years younger than me!). She is also coming of age in the midst of national and regional revolutions, recently engaged to be married, and also working full-time, attending graduate school, and volunteering for Soliya. By week three into our semester…I pretty much forgot all of that.

I’m sorry…who are you?

This is how it started: During our first session I was worried that R would have  a hard time creating an abbreviated transcript–as the session was unfolding–by typing main points of the conversation into the chat box. (Typically, while one facilitator is asking questions, making observations and so on by speaking, the other facilitator is typing main points into the chat box. Facilitators are meant to switch back and forth so that they have an equal presence and status in the room.) Indeed, she was having a difficult time and was able to catch much less of the conversation than I did. (Of course, she was listening to people speak English with ten different accents…there is no way I could EVER do this if the tables were turned and the group was communicating in Arabic.) So, out of concern for my friend, I began typing and talking at once. Essentially, I pushed her out altogether because I didn’t give her the space to fulfill her role in her own way. This pattern continued into the second session but was eclipsed by tech issues, one especially disruptive participant, and general awkwardness. As a result, when we reached out to our coach for the first time, we were so focused on seeking his advice for working with the disruptive participant that we didn’t even recognize the imbalance developing in our co-facilitation.

We focused on applying our coach’s advice during the third session and were really pleased to shift the dynamic in terms of our one participant who was making it difficult for others to participate. By session four a resentment began brewing between R and I because–I don’t think either of us really recognized what was happening on a conscious level–R felt pushed out of the process and I felt abandoned! (What a jerk I am! At first, I wanted to “help” and then I ended up taking over, which then led me to be mad that she wasn’t helping!) Around the same time, R and I both had packed schedules and were finding it difficult to meet–we both missed or arrived late for scheduled planning meetings, and well, we sort of lost our respective grips. At this point, I was starting to feel like I was doing all the work…but, yet again, I forgot many things and arrived at a place in my own mind in which I figured it would be “easier” to do this on my own than go through the hard work of communicating with R about our conflict. Arg! How did we both forget something so BIG!!

In comes our coach with an email notifying us that there is an imbalance in our facilitation and that we must all three meet to discuss how we can work it out. I wrote back almost immediately and shared my perspective, “You bet there is! I feel like I’m doing all the work!” (Oh, what a jerk I am!!!) I was hoping for our coach’s help and support but at the same time I was buckling under the pressure of my packed schedule and also wanted to avoid a long meeting (our last meeting with our coach was nearly three hours long). Needless to say, his insistence that we all have time as long as we’re committed really ruffled my feathers. Sorry for the cliche, but my emotional response was so pedestrian in its predictability it doesn’t merit colorful or original language. Basically, I felt as if I was already contributing a tremendous amount of time and energy–as a volunteer–but was being told that I simply was not giving or doing enough. Oh, the humanity!

Finally, R and I talked–without our coach–and together we stepped back and reflected on the entire semester up to that point. We reiterated our love and respect for one another and brainstormed about how we could rectify the imbalance in our facilitation. We each shared our frustrations, admitted mistakes we each made up until that point, and clarified our goals and intentions. Since R had tech issues during sessions four and five (which made it difficult for her to hear much of anything and also added to the imbalance and my feeling that I was carrying the bulk of our shared responsibility) and I was absent during session six, we decided that she should be the “front” facilitator for all of session seven, during which I would type the main points of the conversation into the chat box and facilitate the closing round during the last ten minutes. This required R to be more assertive and I was made to step back and stay back while she did her thing. It worked well, the group noticed and we explained to them that since R had tech issues in weeks 4 and 5 and thus didn’t have the opportunity to participate that it was important for her voice to be more prominent in this session. The group seemed to appreciate it. We both feel that the session went well.

The planning meeting for our final session also felt much more balanced. Happily, in our final session, R and I achieved a nice balance–we haven’t perfected it yet but we’ve made great progress. Too,  I have definitely traveled from a feeling of intense frustration leading me to think “I never want to facilitate again, especially with R!” to “hmm, I really wish I had time to facilitate next semester…R and I are finally starting to develop a nice partnership.” That, in my opinion, is a successful process and why I love conflict so very much.

The moral of the story is…the minute we step up to the challenge of recognizing our own weaknesses, exploring miscommunication, and bridging understanding is the moment we can cast off our jerkiness. So, I’m not such a big jerk after all. Alhumdulallah.

Note: This reflection is dedicated to RR, SS, and RG, who have each contributed so much to my personal and professional development through their unyielding and passionate commitment to the Soliya process in addition to their compassion and friendship. I love you all!

Educating Esme arrived, with a bunch of other books recommended by the New York City Teaching Fellows, the day before Easter. Unfortunately, I was in New Jersey at the time and had to wait until Sunday night to tear open the box. It was an obvious choice—what to read first—because I’ve been feeling super jittery and curious about (hopefully more than) surviving my first year as a public school teacher.

Educating Esme: Diary of a Teacher’s First Year is hilarious, overwhelming, heartbreaking…and it brought up a sort of sad longing in me because I so wish I had been a fifth grader in Madame Esme’s class. The book is filled with wisdom and some wonderfully practical tips. Here are a few highlights you might enjoy (but you MUST read it! It’s a can’t-put-it-down type of book and Esme’s voice is golden).

Esme reminiscing about her mentor, who died just before Esme began her first year teaching her own class:

“She urged me to forgive myself at the end of each day, that no single thing I could say would break a child…or make a child. Still, she taught me not to be too flippant, that, as a doctor cures what ails the body, I must strive to diagnose the roadblocks to learning…. I have no right to indulge in a lack of confidence. It would only interfere with the task before me.”

I bracketed those last two sentences and drew exclamation points in the margin! (!!!)

“I will kick pedagogical ass in her memory.”

It’s Madame Esme,…that’s what she asks her students to call her. It drives the principal nuts. Her roller-skating down the hallway also makes him nuts, but “certain people just think it’s their job to freak out. As long as they’re freaking out, they feel busy, like they must be doing work.” She continues, “Getting upset is a force, but no motion. Unless we are moving the children forward, we aren’t doing work.”

The problem basket (into which each student unloads his problems before entering the classroom each morning); the time machine (for facilitating students’ imaginary transport to the far-flung places they are reading about in books—reading inside the time machine;-); weekly conflict mediation sessions that are facilitated by Esme for the first few weeks of school, but then taken over by the kids…and on an on. Esme writes about loads of inspiring, effective, and fun approaches to teaching, learning, and building relationships with students. (Not so much about building great relationships with administration….though Esme does make a reader lose her coffee while reading about her sassy exchanges with Mr. Turner and his associate principal.

Esme spent her first two years teaching in a new public school in Chicago serving at-risk youth–her first year was also the school’s first year. At times she mentions the crap her students were dealing with (brutally abusive parents, homelessness, pressure from neighborhood gangs, and so on) and her method for focusing on the kids and their learning, rather than their problems. She criticizes other teachers’ tendencies to hyper-focus on students’ problems outside of school, “All a bunch of gossip. But bend an eyebrow here and there, let out little breaths, and then it is concern. Then it is love.” Then she prays, “Dear God. Help me love the little children.” She approaches this issue from a different perspective in the final chapter of the book—Advice for New and Aspiring Elementary Teachers (though I think much of this advice is useful at all levels).  There, she writes “It is important, however, to be sensitive to these situations without being enabling; otherwise children will begin to confuse their situation with their potential.” [my italics]

Peering into Esme’s class through her diary, it’s clear that she is concerned about her students, she works tirelessly, passionately, and with inspiration to create exciting and effective lessons. She spends so much of her own money decorating and stocking her classroom (including a library)…I got nervous!

Okay, honestly, I could go on but I don’t want to spoil it. It’s a beautiful book and one I expect to refer back to again and again.

What books do you recommend for new and not-so-new teachers? What are you worried about as you prepare to become a teacher? Fears, hopes, visions? (I’ll lend you my time machine if you think it might help…)

Congratulations, you’re officially a NYC Teaching Fellow. Me too! Now what? Of course, it’s not just us fellows…many other folks out there are also about to become classroom teachers. Whether we arrive in the classroom via a traditional or alternate-certification route, we all share something in common: after a few short months we’ll be standing before the notoriously steep learning curve that all new teachers encounter, particularly in their first few years of teaching. Hopefully, my reflections will be useful to any educator who drops by Thinking Outside the Schoolhouse. Indeed, I’m especially hopeful that more experienced teachers will share their wisdom, and other new teachers will engage here in conversation as we go through our respective induction processes.

We fellows will be muscling our way(s) up that hill in the largest public school system in the United States—New York City’s. There are approximately 1,700 public schools in New York City serving more than 1.1 million young people (source). The NYCTF’s mission is to recruit and train individuals to teach in ‘high-needs’ schools and neighborhoods. In my opinion, the more an educator is tuned-in to her teaching context, the more compassionate, effective, and connected she will be as a teacher, learner, and advocate for the students she’s working with. So, I decided to take the NYCTF’s recommendation and visit as many schools as possible before starting the summer training in an effort to get a sense of what’s out there.

Some questions that are on mind

What does a “failing” school look like, what about a school that’s consistently earning an ‘A’ on its yearly report? What kinds of learning environments and school cultures will we find in small schools, large schools, schools with large numbers of English language learners, and those in which the majority of the population qualifies for free or reduced-price lunch, and schools primarily made up of middle- and upper-middle class students? How do teachers and administrators weigh in on the causes and proposed solutions for the so-called achievement gap? These are a few of the questions roaming around in my mind. What do you hope to learn when you start visiting schools and communicating with new and experienced colleagues?

Title 1, SINIs, and such things

This year, Brooklyn and the Bronx were listed as the boroughs most in need. According to the NYC Department of Education’s most recent stats (2009-2010), 103 schools in the Bronx and 80 schools in Brooklyn have been identified as “schools in need of improvement” (referred to as SINIs). SINI schools are further categorized on the NYC Department of Education’s website:

SED identifies the following five categories of Title I schools in need of improvement, according to the number of years that the school has not made adequate yearly progress (AYP):

• Title I School in Need of Improvement – Year 1
• Title I School in Need of Improvement – Year 2
• Title I Corrective Action School – Year 1
• Title I Corrective Action School – Year 2 (Planning for Restructuring)
• Title I School in Restructuring
• Click here for the list of schools. (Source)

Title 1 schools qualify for “supplemental funds to school districts to assist eligible public and private schools with the highest student concentration of poverty [sic] to meet school educational goals.” (source) In short, NYCTF’s mission is to help provide teachers to work in under-resourced schools with large numbers of students who are living in poverty and those who are new Americans (non-native English speakers). Therefore, many of the schools we’ll find on the borough profiles provided in the fellow portal (I LOVE these profiles, they are SUPER useful, especially when planning school visits) are Title 1 schools. The profiles are available under the Job Search Preview tab in the Job Search Support Provided by the NYCTF page in the MY NYCTF portal.

How the heck do I even begin to arrange school visits? 1,700 public schools?!?!

I’m so glad you’ve asked. In fact, the plan was to write about my research, reach out, and visit process in this blog post but I got caught up setting the stage. Here are some tips that I hope you will find useful. Let me know how you’ve been arranging your school visits and any tips you have. (Thank you!)

Supplies:

1. Index cards
2. Pen
3. Highlighters (two different colors)
4. Borough profile (for your preferred borough)
5. Computer and Internet!

First step:

Since I’m enrolled to teach ESL, I decided to go through the Brooklyn profiles (East New York; Bushwick; Crown Heights, Prospect Heights, and Prospect-Lefferts Gardens; and Brownsville and Bedford-Stuyvesant, aka Bed-Stuy) and highlight all schools in which 10% or more of the student population is made up of English language learners (ELLS). Forty-four of the 150 schools profiled in the neighborhoods listed above have 10% or more ELLs; the percentage of ELLs ranges from 10% to 90.5% (the latter is the number of ELLs at the International High School at Prospect Park).

Second step:

One by one, I looked up each of the highlighted schools on the NYC Department of Education website and jotted down its address, phone number, and district on an index card. Next, I went to Google maps and searched for directions from my place in Brooklyn to the school, via public transportation, to see how long it will take to commute. I jotted the trains and total travel time on each card as well as total distance (sometimes I prefer to bike to work…will it be a six-mile or fifteen-mile commute?). I also jotted down the grade range, number of students, percentage of ELLs, and number of teaching fellows on each school’s index card. Finally, I checked the progress reports of each school (you’ll find a link when you get the initial search result on the NYC DOE website) and jotted down its current rating. This took me about two or three hours on Wednesday night.

Third step:

Sort through the cards and rule out any schools that are just too far to get to each day (I ruled out any one-way commute that was more than an hour and fifteen minutes each way). Next, arrange cards according to which schools appeal to you most for whatever reason. For me, I prioritized the international schools and other schools that have a large numbers of ELLs. Some of you might want to eliminate certain grade levels, locations, etc. Obviously, everyone has their own set of preferences.

Fourth step:

Start making phone calls! I spent another three hours on Thursday cold-calling schools. This is how I approached it: “Hi, I’m Kelly  Marie Johnston and I recently enrolled as a NYC Teaching Fellow to teach ESL. I’m interested in visiting schools in the community and I’m wondering if we can arrange a time for me to visit [name of school].” It turns out, my timing was okay-ish. The first three phone calls I made were very productive! I managed to arrange three visits, all to schools I’m very interested in. During and after each phone call I jotted notes on the blank side of the index cards. What were my first impressions, did I need to make any follow-up calls or take any other action (a few schools asked me to send my resume), and any other relevant notes. It was fascinating to experience a broad range of tones–some folks were very friendly, energetic, and welcoming; others were downright surly. In a few cases, well-spoken and confident students answered the phone and very capably responded to my request. It seemed important to me to keep these first impressions in mind.

Fifth step:

Wait! Yeah…because it turns out that my timing was “okay-ish” because Spring Break started today! Schools re-open on April 16 and from that day until April 27th the high schools (I think only the high schools…this, I’ll need to double-check) are administering the state exams. Ugh. Two full weeks of testing.

Sixth step:

Spruce up my resume to highlight my teaching experience and forward it to those schools that requested I send my credentials and pull together a folder of hard copies to carry with me on visits. Also…work on that list of questions.

Notes you might find helpful:

One school asked that I bring a copy of my proof of enrollment letter, others wouldn’t arrange a visit without first seeing a copy of my resume. I didn’t actually talk to anyone at a number of the schools I called…in fact, I left…four messages but was unable to leave messages for others because I either got stuck in the automated system or led to full voicemail boxes that simply cut me off. One school insisted I fax a resume (they simply would not accept it via email) before they would schedule a visit. One school notified me that they have an opening for an ESL teacher and asked me to please send my resume and that we could then schedule an interview and a visit (SCORE!). Finally, I ended up with three confirmed visits and one request to call back on April 30th to schedule a visit sometime after testing season.

Well…I hope this helps any of you who are planning to visit schools! What are you hoping to find out by visiting schools? What questions to you plan to ask? How are you approaching the process? I’d love to hear from you. Also, it would be awesome if some teachers with experience in the NYC public school system could share their ideas! Give a Fellow a hand!

It’s been interesting. After months and months of restless anticipation, I am no longer waiting to hear from Teaching Residents @ Teachers College or the New York City Teaching Fellows. Teachers College offered me a spot in their MA in TESOL program (which will run me about 100K) but—three weeks later—I received a generic email notifying me that I have not been accepted into the Teaching Residents program. I was devastated! Note to future applicants: Desperate emails to the program director asking “May I join the program if I foot the bill?” (even though I really cannot afford to take more loans but was willing to because I wanted so badly to complete the best training available before entering a high-needs public school as a classroom teacher) are likely to go unanswered. Well, mine did at least.

The other news is…the New York City Teaching Fellows invited me to join their program, in which I am now officially enrolled. I’m feeling a bit—as my Grandmom would say—like a chicken with its head cut off. I want to run in circles and learn as much as I can in order to prepare as much as humanly possible from now until September when I step into the classroom. After an intensive summer program (including graduate classes, co-teaching summer school classes with a mentor teacher, and professional development courses) I will be teaching full-time in a high-needs school in New York City. NYCTF has brought me into the fellowship to teach English to students who are non-native speakers…and who in some cases, have little-to-no English language proficiency. Although I’ve had lots of experience teaching English as a foreign language (in Egypt, Japan, and on Skype), I’ve never worked in a public school in the United States. Soon, I’ll be working in a public school in one of the most infamous systems in the U.S. (New York City’s) that has been designated as ‘high-needs.’

What does ‘high needs’ mean? It means—primarily—that the schools are under-resourced (in terms of supplies, “the best teachers,” and curricular diversity); the majority of the students are poor (and receive free or reduced-price lunch); and many of these schools (administrators, teachers, and students and their parents) are under intense scrutiny, and in some cases the schools themselves are on the chopping block, because their students are not passing state exams. Many people will testify that these schools are also subject to heavy-handed mayoral control and plugged into the school to prison pipeline. (Check out the last issue of Rethinking Schools.)

Everything in the above paragraph is highly contentious. Although I will dig into many of these issues in future posts (as I move from dipping my toe into the schools pool to swimming laps to the point of muscle failure), for now I’m simply recognizing that there’s a big messy conflict raging on and public schools—especially high-needs public schools in urban areas—are very much on the front line. Here, I’ll mention a powerful counter-point to the dominant narrative about the state of public education in the United States and education reform, which often focuses on the failure of teachers rather than larger structural issues: Kevin K. Kumashiro’s Bad Teacher: How Blaming Teachers Distorts the Bigger Picture. Please share any resources—books, presentations, and so on—that weigh in on this debate. I’m interested in exploring multiple perspectives. Conflict—I still uphold this very important lesson from my training in Peace Education—is an opportunity for productive and constructive collaboration and growth. Unfortunately, many of us still respond to conflict by clinging more tightly to our views and becoming increasingly rigid in our respective positions. This is not the only option. We can do better than this.

I’ve decided to become a teacher for four reasons: 1) I feel called to teach; 2) I love to learn and find working with children to be highly educational; 3) Kids are insatiably curious until they are programmed to sit-up, shut-up, and memorize and I’d like to nourish the curiosity; 4) All children—no matter how rich or poor and no matter how native or non-native (I’m talking here about citizens and undocumented residents)—deserve equal access to high-quality public education. And…the school to prison pipeline—as my Grandmom would say—really gets my Irish up. (Translation: INFURIATES me.) Oh, AND, I realized that it’s downright arrogant and foolish to take a stand on the “education issue” without having had on the ground, in the field, classroom experience. (Actually, there are many more reasons, most of which are related to a love of learning, a fascination with the process of learning and human development, and a passionate commitment to doing everything I can to support the effort to ensure that all young people acquire the skills and knowledge needed to participate actively, responsibly, and intelligently in social, political, and economic aspects of life.) Yes, I love Freire.

So, how will I prepare to teach young people who are already too-often receiving the short end of the stick? Of course, I’m going to work harder than ever. Absolutely, I’ll reach out to other educators in search of critical feedback. Yes, I’ll reflect on my practice in effort to identify my own weakness and to further understand my students’ needs. The thing is…the more I read about “becoming a teacher” the more I realize that I’m going to screw up. There’s going to be a steep learning curve for me those first few years in the classroom. I’m hoping (meditating, practicing, studying in order) that I will be a successful student and will build a strong, flexible, and reflective teaching practice. I don’t want to let down the kids.

Here it goes: I’m about to walk into the schoolhouse but I’m committed to maintaining space for reflection. PLEASE share any information, advice, tips, or resources at your disposal. It’s all much appreciated!

Interested in applying for the New York City Teaching Fellows? You can read about the NYCTF interview event here.

Theresa is rich—not so much with money or material assets—but certainly with intelligence, imagination, and a relentless commitment to share. She is my older sister—by adoption, that is; I decided that she should play that role in my life and true to her own character she readily and happily agreed. We met through an ad, which she had written and published on craigslist, calling for volunteers to donate their time to an organization called ByteWorks. The ad, like Theresa, expressed an openness that encouraged anyone, anywhere, of various shapes, skill-sets, and sizes to join in the fun. We’re a community, after all. Let’s join together and collaborate!

Theresa describes herself in less romantic terms. When I asked her what motivates her to spend a substantial amount of time and energy working on grass-roots informal education programs she explained, “I’m a total butthead and can’t work within the system and deal with politics.” She added, “The only way I can know I’m making a difference is to go out and make it.” The thing is though…these days Theresa isn’t just donating her time and energy by joining an already existing program, she is actually in the midst of developing and piloting a program for girls that is designed to give them the opportunity to practically experience their own abilities to explore, tinker, and problem solve. The program: Girls Can!

What is Girls Can!? It’s not about telling girls they are smart and capable, it’s about creating a space in which girls are given the opportunity—including access to mentors—to experience their own abilities. The Girls Can! program links high school girls between the ages of 14 and 18 with adult mentors, who with a very light touch provide the girls with guidance and support as they build their own computers from scratch. Yup, from scratch.

Since its inception in November seven girls have joined the program at St. Elizabeth Academy, where Girls Can! is being piloted. The girls participate when they can—some join for an hour and a half during time allotted for elective studies or study hall, others join after school, and now—Theresa just initiated Saturday hours—some join twice a month on Saturdays. Essentially, despite the girls busy schedules and the limited amount of time they are able to attend Girls Can! sessions, all seven girls have already collaborated to build one computer—which they jointly agreed to raffle off to raise funds to be used to purchase more components—and four girls have built themselves computers. More components were recently delivered and the other three girls in the program will soon build themselves their own computers.

What does this mean? It means that the girls in the program—in a very short time indeed—go from “looking at a box of expensive electronic components thinking ‘I can’t touch that’” to digging into the box of components, tinkering with various parts, and building an operational computer. Most importantly, the girls are developing learning attitudes that enable them to transfer the skills they’re developing to other topics of inquiry. Theresa has noticed this shift in the girls’ thinking, and states that they are learning “the skills to take a good look at it [any problem] and figure it out, get rid of that ‘I can’t do it’ fear. Once they get that it will benefit them wherever they go.”

Any other results? Well, at a time—adolescence—that is infamous for dramatically altering girls’ relationships with their fathers, the girls in the program have reported that “my dad wants to know how I’m building this.” Older girls have told Theresa that their “boyfriend wants to know all about it.” In short, Theresa laughs, “Dads want to know [the computer’s] specs and the boyfriends are jealous.” This is an empowering lesson for girls at a time that is too often marked by a loss of power, as the pressure to be cute and not too smart is pressed onto them. They are learning that “you can be confident, you can be smart, and people aren’t going to think less of you for that, in fact, they may even think more of you.”

One participant told Theresa during her first Girls Can! session that when she is older she plans on being a nurse or working in a hotel. These days her goals have changed substantially. In the short-term she is applying for a part-time job at a local computer center because “she feels confident to deal with and talk about technology.” In the future she plans to attend Washington University, where she intends to study bio-informatics. Eh?! Girls Can!!!!!

Other folks have noticed the tremendous and positive influence the program has had on participants: the school’s teachers and administrators. The principal is so impressed by the difference she has recognized in the participants’ learning attitudes that she is currently working to establish Girls Can! as a for-credit elective course in order to provide more girls with the opportunity to attend the sessions on a regular basis. The program has also caught the attention of another community-based organization that has expressed interest in linking up with Girls Can! to build computers for a women’s shelter in St. Louis.

Telling them “you’re smart” isn’t enough, says Theresa. “I’m not telling them anything. They are learning by doing” and as a result they independently recognize that they are capable, smart, and interested.

If you are interested in establishing a Girls Can! chapter in your school, community center, or living room, or would like to contact Theresa to learn more about the program, feel free to contact her via email at tmk@girls-can.org.

(Image Source)

It’s about that time again, the @Soliya Connect Program’s Spring 2012 semester kicks off in just a few days. We facilitators met up–online of course–to take a two-hour refresher course with master facilitators to discuss the Connect Program‘s goals and to do what Soliya folks do best: connect, collaborate, and share. Here, I’ll share what those program goals are and provide examples from my experience as a facilitator that illustrate those points unfolding in real time through dialogue.

But first, before we delve into empathy, critical awareness, cross-cultural communication and collaboration, and activation, let’s consider the image above. It’s a map that depicts flows of internet traffic–city to city connections. It’s beautiful and awful. It’s beautiful because it shows the bright light that is cast when human beings connect. It is awful because far too much of the world is left in the dark. What would it look like–our world–if we were to spread that light around?

Empathy–It begins, I suppose, with curiosity. How can we feel for another if we don’t first turn our mind toward him or her and inquire? It’s about finding a bit of quiet in mental, cultural, and social spaces filled with noise creating biases and tendencies that shape our habits and worldviews, and once within that quiet space asking, “What else is there?” When we begin to find that quiet and from it connect with others we can more readily acknowledge one another’s emotions, perspective, and humanity. The more we occupy that space and cultivate it so that is serves as a site for meeting, sharing, and risk-taking the more we grow to appreciate and respect the diverse perspectives articulated within that sweet garden. This, you can easily imagine, results in the development of positive and deep relationships among people who were at first strangers from around the world connected by their humanity and their participation in Soliya.

Critical Awareness–Eh, you know, this might come first. Indeed, we must each actively develop and engage a critical awareness in order to develop that quiet space I mentioned above. If we are buried under the noise of our own ideas, assumptions, and prejudices and are in the practice of accepting–uncritically–the innumerable media messages passing us by each day, we are flying blind. Critical awareness refers to the recognition of the underlying emotions, biases, and social norms that influence our own thinking and that of others. It’s about–again–hearing, feeling, and recognizing those different influences and the ways in which they shape our respective worldviews while allowing their to be room for more than simply asserting our own ideas. That connection space is where we share our ideas, hear the ideas of others, and through connection and collaboration we develop new ways of thinking.

Cross-cultural communication and collaboration skills–In the Connect Program we are meant to facilitate the development of participants’ skills to engage in constructive dialogue across cultural and linguistic barriers. Much of this is related to what I’ve written about critical awareness and empathy. It’s about recognizing that we don’t all have the same perspective, that my ideas aren’t necessarily the right ideas or the only way of thinking about or framing something. It’s about actively listening to others and allowing ourselves to step away from the need to assert our own ideas for a bit in order to consider and really hear another. Finally, successful cross-cultural communication requires a commitment to recognize–especially when emotions tend to run amok–the importance of engaging in a constructive manner. This commitment to working through, with, against, along side cultural and linguistic differences is what enables us to cross boundaries we may not have even realized existed.

Activation–Well, then what? Now that we are deconstructing stereotypes, bringing our various worldviews into an open and collaborative space for exchange, well, then what? What’s most important is the fact that the dialogue and the exchange do not come to a screeching halt once the Connect Program semester comes to an end. We work to build relationships with one another so that together we can make positive contributions–through our friendships and collaborations–to global dynamics. In short, it is up to each of us to shape the ways in which our respective societies relate.

We connect, we listen, we share, we create and we change the world we live in by building news ways of relating and collaborating. Join Soliya and feel the LOVE!