Finally, a chance to blog.
It's been a while, and quite a few things have happened about which I would like to blog. Perhaps with the summer "vacation" now here (administrators work year-round, but it's slower) I'll be able to get to some of it: happenings at my current school, happenings at my former school, and things I've seen in the news about which I have opinions.
But first, I think I'll bring you up to speed on my transfer.
Two weeks ago I was officially told that I'd be transferring to a high school next year--told by the Assistant Superintendent, a man who, apparently, it would kill to say something nice about me to my face. Earlier this week I met with the principal with whom I'll be working. Fortunately I didn't get blindsided by anything; this man's been running this particular high school since before I joined the district, and I've heard plenty of stories (some good, some bad, some unbelievable, some mildly worrisome). I honestly don't know how much I'll get to post about this new assignment--the principal likes his people to be loyal, play things close to the vest. I'm reminding myself that this blog is anonymous (those who know my secret identity: consider yourselves reminded). My new school made the paper three times this week over some athletic issues . . . fortunately, that won't be my department.
I'll be handling Campus Safety (with the help of three security officers who, according to my soon-to-be-predecessor, aren't all that helpful), Activities Oversight (I'm told the Activities Director is great, but her assistant is not), and School Discipline. Four grades of it. I'll be the only AP working discipline--and THAT'S the part that's got me scared the most. It's going to be a lot of work, it's going to be labor-intensive, and I'm apparently not going to have a whole lot of competent people to back me up. What's more, I don't think my new boss is going to give me a whole lot of time to prove myself.
The only fact easing my mind at the moment is that the person I'm taking over for has been doing this for two years, and it's not like she's a quivering puddle of goo or anything. So maybe it's something I can pull off after all.
I'm still a little worried, though.
* Hitchhiker's Guide fans know what I'm talkin' about.
Helpful hints, position essays, and useless blather from the Assistant Principal of a high school in Southern California. Posts here do not necessarily reflect the positions or views of the school or district with which he is employed.
So there.
So there.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
posted by Q6 at 6:58 PM
Now that State testing is over it's time to enter the home stretch. Tonight's Open house isn't as well attended as I'd like, but since it's only my first year here, I didn't really know how to gauge attendance. (But I'm OK with a low turnout--it's been a busy day: playing border collie for the 8th grade panoramic picture, a minimum day schedule, a marathon--and landmark--IEP meeting, a retirement celebration at the district office, then Open House.)
(Insert sound of changing gears here.)
There's reason for anticipation: I'm supposed to be getting a call tomorrow from the district brass about my assignment for next year. I don't know where I'm going, but I've learned to embrace change. (The irony here is that I'm supposed to help chaperone a field trip to Disneyland tomorrow, so I may miss the call.)
Stay tuned.
(Insert sound of changing gears here.)
There's reason for anticipation: I'm supposed to be getting a call tomorrow from the district brass about my assignment for next year. I don't know where I'm going, but I've learned to embrace change. (The irony here is that I'm supposed to help chaperone a field trip to Disneyland tomorrow, so I may miss the call.)
Stay tuned.
Friday, May 15, 2009
posted by Q6 at 6:01 PM
If I were a California State Legislator, I would be laughing my ass off.
This week the Los Angeles Unified School District's teachers' union, after failing to stage a one-day walk out (the contract says they can't), decided to stage a number of protests today. Over 700 more teachers than normal called in sick, and several of them were arrested for sitting in the street outside district headquarters and stopping traffic. The court-denied one-day strike, and today's unorganized sick-out removed almost three thousand teachers from the classrooms--teachers who were protesting . . . . wait for it . . . . the removal of teachers from the classrooms.
Now, look: I was once a member of UTLA, so it's not like I'm playing armchair quarterback here. Anyone who knows me (as a former teacher and current assistant principal) knows that I am all for the teacher, that I believe that teachers should have as much as possible, that there should be as many of them as possible, and that they should be paid better. (I even raise the hackles of the district leadership, I'm THAT MUCH for the teacher.) I think the whole thing served both camps: the teachers showed us what it would be like with fewer teachers in schools, and the politicians saw that they were perfectly OK with the results. The pols have been saying that all along. They don't think they have any choice.
The reason I don't think this was the brightest move has less to do with the walk-out and the protests, but because this comes on the heels of some very powerful criticism two weeks back from the L.A. Times. They ran a few stories about teachers who should be fired/released from contract/let go and haven't been. One feature chronicled the daily routines of a few teachers who are "housed": they're on contract, being paid, and either doing crossword puzzles at their desks or doing them from home. They can't be in the classroom; complaints against them are still under review. Of those who wrote in about the articles, many were outraged about the protections that teachers enjoy; only a few successfully identified those protections as having been put in place and enforced by the union.
And here's where I have my problem: if teachers are allowed to unionize (and I believe they should) and guarantee certain protections for its members, then they should do a decent job of policing their own. The contract should not only include such protections, but should also state--blatantly or implicitly--that the union will do everything possible to deliver a quality workforce. And if teachers' unions are defending the jobs of teachers known to violate laws (of society or of nature), we have a problem.
To be clear: I don't have a problem with unions. I have a problem with unions who protect themselves without regard for or at the expense of the students and schools. Perhaps if everyone were on the same page about who should and shouldn't be a teacher, needed funds wouldn't be wasted on lawsuits and housing. Maybe if the teacher workforce were policed from within as well, then all the spending would be meaningful, produce results, and convince others not to cut budgets. Hell, even if it appeared that the union was helping to save money, that might mean something.
I once worked at a school where a teacher was drinking on the job. All day. Every day. Teachers noticed. Students noticed. That teacher's job performance was visibly affected. And that teacher still works there, two years later, despite the efforts of site and district administration to remove that person, thanks to union protection.
If I were a California State Legislator, I probably wouldn't be listening, either.
This week the Los Angeles Unified School District's teachers' union, after failing to stage a one-day walk out (the contract says they can't), decided to stage a number of protests today. Over 700 more teachers than normal called in sick, and several of them were arrested for sitting in the street outside district headquarters and stopping traffic. The court-denied one-day strike, and today's unorganized sick-out removed almost three thousand teachers from the classrooms--teachers who were protesting . . . . wait for it . . . . the removal of teachers from the classrooms.
Now, look: I was once a member of UTLA, so it's not like I'm playing armchair quarterback here. Anyone who knows me (as a former teacher and current assistant principal) knows that I am all for the teacher, that I believe that teachers should have as much as possible, that there should be as many of them as possible, and that they should be paid better. (I even raise the hackles of the district leadership, I'm THAT MUCH for the teacher.) I think the whole thing served both camps: the teachers showed us what it would be like with fewer teachers in schools, and the politicians saw that they were perfectly OK with the results. The pols have been saying that all along. They don't think they have any choice.
The reason I don't think this was the brightest move has less to do with the walk-out and the protests, but because this comes on the heels of some very powerful criticism two weeks back from the L.A. Times. They ran a few stories about teachers who should be fired/released from contract/let go and haven't been. One feature chronicled the daily routines of a few teachers who are "housed": they're on contract, being paid, and either doing crossword puzzles at their desks or doing them from home. They can't be in the classroom; complaints against them are still under review. Of those who wrote in about the articles, many were outraged about the protections that teachers enjoy; only a few successfully identified those protections as having been put in place and enforced by the union.
And here's where I have my problem: if teachers are allowed to unionize (and I believe they should) and guarantee certain protections for its members, then they should do a decent job of policing their own. The contract should not only include such protections, but should also state--blatantly or implicitly--that the union will do everything possible to deliver a quality workforce. And if teachers' unions are defending the jobs of teachers known to violate laws (of society or of nature), we have a problem.
To be clear: I don't have a problem with unions. I have a problem with unions who protect themselves without regard for or at the expense of the students and schools. Perhaps if everyone were on the same page about who should and shouldn't be a teacher, needed funds wouldn't be wasted on lawsuits and housing. Maybe if the teacher workforce were policed from within as well, then all the spending would be meaningful, produce results, and convince others not to cut budgets. Hell, even if it appeared that the union was helping to save money, that might mean something.
I once worked at a school where a teacher was drinking on the job. All day. Every day. Teachers noticed. Students noticed. That teacher's job performance was visibly affected. And that teacher still works there, two years later, despite the efforts of site and district administration to remove that person, thanks to union protection.
If I were a California State Legislator, I probably wouldn't be listening, either.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
posted by Q6 at 6:07 PM
I have unofficial word from a district higher-up that I'm changing schools again at the end of this year. There's no word yet on where I'll be moving, but most educated guesses seem to be pointing toward one of two high schools (NOT the high school at which I once worked).
My current office is decorated in a very minimalist fashion, fortunately, so this move shouldn't be too terribly difficult.
My current office is decorated in a very minimalist fashion, fortunately, so this move shouldn't be too terribly difficult.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
posted by Q6 at 6:48 PM
If you've read this blog for a while, you know that I got transferred to a different campus this year. (If you haven't, let me bring you up to date: I got transferred to a different campus this year.) As we head into the month of May, most site administrators are all asking the same question, over and over: "Have you heard anything?"
More administrator shuffling is about to happen and all we have to go on is rumor at this point, which is odd because these moves are usually decided upon and announced by now. This isn't any longer a question of "if" moves will be made, it's a question of "who" and "when." One intermediate school site is losing an administrative position (from 2 assistant principals to one), and someone's already been let go at a high school. It's now just a question of shuffling people around. Yes, it would make sense to just take the intermediate odd-man out and place him in the hole at the high school. Done. Finito.
There are, however, a number of mitigating factors that make the whole thing much more complicated--really, what in a school district ISN'T complicated? There are rumblings that the district brass plans to make some principal changes in the future (or sooner--more on that in a moment), and might want to place APs at certain schools with the intent of making them the heirs apparent for the principalships. That would shuffle quite a few people, and might even reverse one of the changes made last year. Moreover, the budget crunch thing has got everyone battening down the hatches and putting people where they'll do the most good with the least amount of expense or worry. I guess if we're all going to bury our heads in the sand we should make sure someone's feeding the dog and bringing in the mail as needed.
The whole principal thing is interesting, actually. A couple of months ago the district announced that there would be no principal moves for next year; not long after that, the sh*t started hitting the fan. One high school principal (one who can't retire too soon, in the opinion of most) has his teaching staff gunning for his head AND he's not reacting to his testing data to the district's satisfaction. A second principal actually defended his crappy data to the Assistant Superintendent, and a third principal is facing not only an angry teaching staff, but an ACLU lawsuit as well (this one's also, apparently, taken to yelling and screaming at those both below and above her on the chain of command, which isn't making matters any better). So there may be a few principal changes in the making--or at least in consideration--after all.
This is the part of the blog post where the image morphs into a dream sequence.
What if they ask me to step up to interim principal? Or principal? Or one of the Assistant-Principal-On-Deck-for-Principal spots? Am I ready for such a move? Do I want to give up more of my time to my job? Am I reading too much into the idea? If last year's administrative shuffle has taught me anything, it's that I serve at the pleasure of the district. I guess I'll go where they put me.
At this point, I'd just like to know where I'll be next year.
More administrator shuffling is about to happen and all we have to go on is rumor at this point, which is odd because these moves are usually decided upon and announced by now. This isn't any longer a question of "if" moves will be made, it's a question of "who" and "when." One intermediate school site is losing an administrative position (from 2 assistant principals to one), and someone's already been let go at a high school. It's now just a question of shuffling people around. Yes, it would make sense to just take the intermediate odd-man out and place him in the hole at the high school. Done. Finito.
There are, however, a number of mitigating factors that make the whole thing much more complicated--really, what in a school district ISN'T complicated? There are rumblings that the district brass plans to make some principal changes in the future (or sooner--more on that in a moment), and might want to place APs at certain schools with the intent of making them the heirs apparent for the principalships. That would shuffle quite a few people, and might even reverse one of the changes made last year. Moreover, the budget crunch thing has got everyone battening down the hatches and putting people where they'll do the most good with the least amount of expense or worry. I guess if we're all going to bury our heads in the sand we should make sure someone's feeding the dog and bringing in the mail as needed.
The whole principal thing is interesting, actually. A couple of months ago the district announced that there would be no principal moves for next year; not long after that, the sh*t started hitting the fan. One high school principal (one who can't retire too soon, in the opinion of most) has his teaching staff gunning for his head AND he's not reacting to his testing data to the district's satisfaction. A second principal actually defended his crappy data to the Assistant Superintendent, and a third principal is facing not only an angry teaching staff, but an ACLU lawsuit as well (this one's also, apparently, taken to yelling and screaming at those both below and above her on the chain of command, which isn't making matters any better). So there may be a few principal changes in the making--or at least in consideration--after all.
This is the part of the blog post where the image morphs into a dream sequence.
What if they ask me to step up to interim principal? Or principal? Or one of the Assistant-Principal-On-Deck-for-Principal spots? Am I ready for such a move? Do I want to give up more of my time to my job? Am I reading too much into the idea? If last year's administrative shuffle has taught me anything, it's that I serve at the pleasure of the district. I guess I'll go where they put me.
At this point, I'd just like to know where I'll be next year.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
posted by Q6 at 12:49 PM
Educators have grappled with the issue of student motivation for decades, and I'm no exception. I've been working all school year with lower-income seventh and eighth graders who, were it not for the constant prodding by the school staff, couldn't be bothered to walk upright let alone learn anything. As many of you know, I spent seven years before that working at a school site where most were competing for some of the best universities in the world and were motivated to do much more than the minimum requirement.
Why are the two groups so different? I refuse to believe that either group of students has enough forward vision to anticipate what they'll need to accomplish. I know that every parent wants the best for their kids (though I admit that the latter group probably has parents who are better at expressing it and more empowered to give rewards). I know that both groups have an equal chance for success (not for the all the reasons that Malcom Gladwell explains in Outliers, though I'll get to my review of that book in due time). So why is the motivation missing from my current students? What am I missing?
About a year ago an unoffical black mark was put on my record. It was said that I didn't believe that all kids could be successful. (This apparently came from an interpretation of something I said at some point, though I couldn't tell you what it was I said that gave people--including some district officials--this idea.) It's a misunderstanding I've tried to clear up since it happened; I honestly don't know if it's worked.
Here's what I do know: Every kid CAN be successful, but not every kid WANTS to be successful. We can deal with different definitions of success and this statement is still true. Some students set the bar too high, some set it just high enough, some set it far too low (by any standard), and some don't set a bar at all. It's like having given someone a gold brick only to discover he's been using it as a doorstop.
So I'm left with this overwhelming feeling of frustration because I can't get these kids to care enough about themselves to do well. It's a terrible feeling that comes from watching young people blow off the opportunity to succeed--not miss it, but actually turn it down--and I try not to let it get the best of me. Chuck Palahniuk put it best in Fight Club: I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn't screw to save its species and every whale or dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground.
I wish I could figure out a solution to that problem. Of course, if I could, I'd probably be writing the books instead of reading them.
Why are the two groups so different? I refuse to believe that either group of students has enough forward vision to anticipate what they'll need to accomplish. I know that every parent wants the best for their kids (though I admit that the latter group probably has parents who are better at expressing it and more empowered to give rewards). I know that both groups have an equal chance for success (not for the all the reasons that Malcom Gladwell explains in Outliers, though I'll get to my review of that book in due time). So why is the motivation missing from my current students? What am I missing?
About a year ago an unoffical black mark was put on my record. It was said that I didn't believe that all kids could be successful. (This apparently came from an interpretation of something I said at some point, though I couldn't tell you what it was I said that gave people--including some district officials--this idea.) It's a misunderstanding I've tried to clear up since it happened; I honestly don't know if it's worked.
Here's what I do know: Every kid CAN be successful, but not every kid WANTS to be successful. We can deal with different definitions of success and this statement is still true. Some students set the bar too high, some set it just high enough, some set it far too low (by any standard), and some don't set a bar at all. It's like having given someone a gold brick only to discover he's been using it as a doorstop.
So I'm left with this overwhelming feeling of frustration because I can't get these kids to care enough about themselves to do well. It's a terrible feeling that comes from watching young people blow off the opportunity to succeed--not miss it, but actually turn it down--and I try not to let it get the best of me. Chuck Palahniuk put it best in Fight Club: I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn't screw to save its species and every whale or dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground.
I wish I could figure out a solution to that problem. Of course, if I could, I'd probably be writing the books instead of reading them.
Monday, March 23, 2009
posted by Q6 at 5:47 AM
So I posted a rant not long ago about using business books and manuals in education, and my frustration that (a) they don't really cross over, and (b) education isn't important enough to have it's own section of the bookstore. That rant is partly motivated by a general sense of urgency in my profession, but it also affects me personally.
My boss--the principal of my school--LOVES these books. He can't get enough of them. He reads two or three a week. He copies chapters out of them and hands them out at meetings. He's always talking about them (and he's the kind of guy who never remembers if he's told you something or not, so I get repeats). And his new favorite book is Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell.
I read Gladwell's Blink, and I thought it was insightful. I didn't think it was written for specific audiences (like business or education), but that didn't stop people from trying to apply the concepts to everything they did. I [am almost sure that I] skipped The Tipping Point, for no other reason than people told me it was too similar to Blink. My boss now goes on and on about Outliers--and fine, I'll read the damn book. What worries me is that according to him, it's about what the traits that make people successful; and to listen to his examples, 90% of these traits are beyond the control of the individual (like what month of the year you were born). I don't want to read 300 pages of "Here's what makes successful people tick, but there's nothing you can do about it" or "These are the things you didn't do for your kid and now he's irrevocably screwed up."
I'll read the book, but I have to finish the one I'm on now (The Power of Less by Leo Babauta) and read the next one in line (Fool by Christopher Moore). Then I'll read it, boss.
My boss--the principal of my school--LOVES these books. He can't get enough of them. He reads two or three a week. He copies chapters out of them and hands them out at meetings. He's always talking about them (and he's the kind of guy who never remembers if he's told you something or not, so I get repeats). And his new favorite book is Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell.
I read Gladwell's Blink, and I thought it was insightful. I didn't think it was written for specific audiences (like business or education), but that didn't stop people from trying to apply the concepts to everything they did. I [am almost sure that I] skipped The Tipping Point, for no other reason than people told me it was too similar to Blink. My boss now goes on and on about Outliers--and fine, I'll read the damn book. What worries me is that according to him, it's about what the traits that make people successful; and to listen to his examples, 90% of these traits are beyond the control of the individual (like what month of the year you were born). I don't want to read 300 pages of "Here's what makes successful people tick, but there's nothing you can do about it" or "These are the things you didn't do for your kid and now he's irrevocably screwed up."
I'll read the book, but I have to finish the one I'm on now (The Power of Less by Leo Babauta) and read the next one in line (Fool by Christopher Moore). Then I'll read it, boss.
Friday, March 20, 2009
posted by Q6 at 10:16 AM
This week provided my first opportunity to hear a music concert by students at my school. It was . . . well, it wasn't what I expected. It wasn't bad, really, given what our music teacher has to work with, but it wasn't what I was used to.
At my prior school works a man of music who teaches his students along classical lines, but has the benefit of teaching students who either take the class seriously, have additional lessons on the side, or who have been playing the instrument(s) for a number of years. His concerts are just under two hours long and include instrumental, jazz, and vocal--up to ten numbers in each section, at times. I always made a point of going to his concerts, partly because I enjoyed the students and the program, partly because I prefer the arts over athletics.
At my current school, students have only the classroom time to learn; practice time at home is probably distrcted and not all it should be; and the students have no outside, formal training. The concert the other night included the beginning band, the choir, the jazz band, and the concert orchestra. There were fewer selections (the entire evening ran about 45 minutes), the acoustics in the gym were less than adequate, and the audience was . . . (perhaps "rude" is the wrong word) unaccustomed to attending music concerts--there was talking, there was moving about, there were distractions. At one point, I felt bad for the teacher (who was very upbeat throughout the whole thing, actually), and then I felt a little bad for the students who had worked so hard but clearly didn't get the audience they deserved, and then I felt glad that our school, where the students don't have much and still work hard to satisfy, had a concert at all.
And I missed my previous school's Maestro.
At my prior school works a man of music who teaches his students along classical lines, but has the benefit of teaching students who either take the class seriously, have additional lessons on the side, or who have been playing the instrument(s) for a number of years. His concerts are just under two hours long and include instrumental, jazz, and vocal--up to ten numbers in each section, at times. I always made a point of going to his concerts, partly because I enjoyed the students and the program, partly because I prefer the arts over athletics.
At my current school, students have only the classroom time to learn; practice time at home is probably distrcted and not all it should be; and the students have no outside, formal training. The concert the other night included the beginning band, the choir, the jazz band, and the concert orchestra. There were fewer selections (the entire evening ran about 45 minutes), the acoustics in the gym were less than adequate, and the audience was . . . (perhaps "rude" is the wrong word) unaccustomed to attending music concerts--there was talking, there was moving about, there were distractions. At one point, I felt bad for the teacher (who was very upbeat throughout the whole thing, actually), and then I felt a little bad for the students who had worked so hard but clearly didn't get the audience they deserved, and then I felt glad that our school, where the students don't have much and still work hard to satisfy, had a concert at all.
And I missed my previous school's Maestro.
Monday, March 02, 2009
posted by Q6 at 2:51 PM
Budgetary issues being what they are in California, everyone in education gets nervous around this time of year. (For those who are unfamiliar with the education calendar, districts must notify you by March 15 if you're going to be released. Pink slips are called Reductions in Force, or RIFs.)
On Friday, I got a postal slip notifying me of certified mail. My heart sank, then leapt into my throat and did a little dance, then stopped altogether for a few seconds as I considered why I would possibly be receiving certified mail from "school district." In my mind, for a few minutes, I had been RIFfed. It was a very scary feeling, and my now-well-exercised heart goes out to all those people, particularly educators, who have experienced this feeling and have been left holding a pink slip at the end.
The district had not mailed me a ticket to the unemployment office, but my contract for next year (plus a note reminding me that my salary was being cut slightly for '09-'10 . . . that's a whole different story). I have a job, and I'm happy with that. I don't know if I'll be staying at my present assignment or changing campuses again, but I don't really care overmuch. I'm employed.
On Friday, I got a postal slip notifying me of certified mail. My heart sank, then leapt into my throat and did a little dance, then stopped altogether for a few seconds as I considered why I would possibly be receiving certified mail from "school district." In my mind, for a few minutes, I had been RIFfed. It was a very scary feeling, and my now-well-exercised heart goes out to all those people, particularly educators, who have experienced this feeling and have been left holding a pink slip at the end.
The district had not mailed me a ticket to the unemployment office, but my contract for next year (plus a note reminding me that my salary was being cut slightly for '09-'10 . . . that's a whole different story). I have a job, and I'm happy with that. I don't know if I'll be staying at my present assignment or changing campuses again, but I don't really care overmuch. I'm employed.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
posted by Q6 at 5:36 AM
School administration is, in my opinion, a world unto itself. We aren't exactly a business, per se, since the market economy has less to do with our strategy than the mindset of our students, parents, and staff members. And we're not exactly a service industry, either, since we don't exactly pipe electricity into your home or pick up your trash. So when we visit the bookstore, we tend to stop at the shelf and a half of educational theory books that Barnes & Noble graces us with.
For some, however, that doesn't seem to be enough. Each school year our district management encourages us all to read a specific book, and it's usually one aimed at business leaders, not educators. Several principals in our district--as well as those in other districts, I'm sure--read business manual after business manual in an attempt to bring the next "new thing" to their schools. It never occurred to me to find the answers to Education's problems in business rhetoric (since our worlds are so very far apart), but the teetering stack of such books in their offices suggest that the business-flavored Kool-Aid tastes pretty good.
A lot of the language--the jargon, specifically, more and more of which seems to be invented with each new book--spills over into meetings and conversations as well. District Leadership Team meetings in the summer will begin with a "Grounding Activity." A school site's plan for some change or other must become a "Living Document." Everyone must have a stake in the "Mindshare" of the district. Sheesh. If someone asks me what I've got going on at work, I usually have to include brief definitions and descriptions of the educationally-related terms I'm using and tasks I'm describing--and that's without any of the business lingo.
So is there really not enough edu-speak out there that we need to co-op the crap they're spewing in the business world as well? Or is the self-esteem so low in Educational Administration that we must behave like Fortune 500 wanna-bes just to feel good about or productive in what we're doing? I know one thing for certain: I wouldn't get to complain about this if there were more books published for educators about education and educational administration.
And that's where the REAL problem is: EDUCATION IS NOT SOCIETY'S FOCUS. It's not even a priority. The business and computer sections of bookstores take up almost a third of each store; most education manuals have to be ordered. I would think that even the dimmest of business bulbs would be able to apply their own basic theories to society: if you sell a certain amount of product, you must re-stock your shelves; similarly, if you see any number of business, government, or societal eggheads retire or pass away, you must re-stock society.
DO THEY REALLY THINK WE CAN PRODUCE THE NEXT GENERATION OF OUR COUNTRY'S BRAINTRUST ON HALF A BUDGET?!? The school system we have now is the same school system that produced millions of people who thought sub-prime mortgages were a good idea. Clearly our educational institutions have issues.
Without well educated people, problems don't get solved. Education is probably the best preventative maintenance program for society's ills; if spend some money now, if we spend some effort now, if we focus our attention on young people now we may not have as many of these problems later on. If we turn the first ten or twelve or sixteen years of life into a maelstrom of growth and development maybe we don't have as much of a crime issue, or a poverty problem, or an environmental dilemma, or a health problem. Maybe--just maybe--we can produce a generation of people which is not only equipped to solve such complex problems, but can prevent them as well.
We need to do something. As a school administrator I can't keep reading books about "profit maximization" and expect to get anything out of it.
For some, however, that doesn't seem to be enough. Each school year our district management encourages us all to read a specific book, and it's usually one aimed at business leaders, not educators. Several principals in our district--as well as those in other districts, I'm sure--read business manual after business manual in an attempt to bring the next "new thing" to their schools. It never occurred to me to find the answers to Education's problems in business rhetoric (since our worlds are so very far apart), but the teetering stack of such books in their offices suggest that the business-flavored Kool-Aid tastes pretty good.
A lot of the language--the jargon, specifically, more and more of which seems to be invented with each new book--spills over into meetings and conversations as well. District Leadership Team meetings in the summer will begin with a "Grounding Activity." A school site's plan for some change or other must become a "Living Document." Everyone must have a stake in the "Mindshare" of the district. Sheesh. If someone asks me what I've got going on at work, I usually have to include brief definitions and descriptions of the educationally-related terms I'm using and tasks I'm describing--and that's without any of the business lingo.
So is there really not enough edu-speak out there that we need to co-op the crap they're spewing in the business world as well? Or is the self-esteem so low in Educational Administration that we must behave like Fortune 500 wanna-bes just to feel good about or productive in what we're doing? I know one thing for certain: I wouldn't get to complain about this if there were more books published for educators about education and educational administration.
And that's where the REAL problem is: EDUCATION IS NOT SOCIETY'S FOCUS. It's not even a priority. The business and computer sections of bookstores take up almost a third of each store; most education manuals have to be ordered. I would think that even the dimmest of business bulbs would be able to apply their own basic theories to society: if you sell a certain amount of product, you must re-stock your shelves; similarly, if you see any number of business, government, or societal eggheads retire or pass away, you must re-stock society.
DO THEY REALLY THINK WE CAN PRODUCE THE NEXT GENERATION OF OUR COUNTRY'S BRAINTRUST ON HALF A BUDGET?!? The school system we have now is the same school system that produced millions of people who thought sub-prime mortgages were a good idea. Clearly our educational institutions have issues.
Without well educated people, problems don't get solved. Education is probably the best preventative maintenance program for society's ills; if spend some money now, if we spend some effort now, if we focus our attention on young people now we may not have as many of these problems later on. If we turn the first ten or twelve or sixteen years of life into a maelstrom of growth and development maybe we don't have as much of a crime issue, or a poverty problem, or an environmental dilemma, or a health problem. Maybe--just maybe--we can produce a generation of people which is not only equipped to solve such complex problems, but can prevent them as well.
We need to do something. As a school administrator I can't keep reading books about "profit maximization" and expect to get anything out of it.
Monday, February 23, 2009
posted by Q6 at 5:40 AM
That's right, folks. If you work in education anywhere--in California, specifically--you know that the budget problems meant certain doom for us no matter how it ended. Sure enough, after a month of procrastination and a week of elementary-school-level bickering, we have a budget. Whoop-dee-doo. They thought THEY had to cut spending? Watch the school districts continue their slashing and burning trying to get ready for next year. I'm sure that districts all over California are stocking up on pink printer paper, too--the RIFs are coming.
(And while I'm talking about state budget issues, I'd personally like to thank our Governor for working so hard to completely negate the Federal tax break I'm going to see starting April 1. That's damn nice of you, sir; I'm starting to wonder why I labored so hard over the decision not to vote for you. Gray Davis was no prize, but would we be here now if he'd kept his job?)
I know my district has been planning for this--we have an amazing guy in charge of our money--and that while we're going to be OK for 09-10, we're worrying right now about cutting up to $8 million to make 10-11 work. To that end, they have announced the consolidation of two campuses (which will eliminate a position or two, I'm sure), cuts in a couple of departments, and the elimination of two secondary assistant principals (which was expected and NOT a shock).
I'm positive I'm not one of the APs who will be eliminated, but I'm 95% sure that I'll be changing school sites yet again. They're taking their time making those decisions, and I'm in no hurry. Stay tuned . . . and in these hard-for-education economic times, take care of yourselves.
(And while I'm talking about state budget issues, I'd personally like to thank our Governor for working so hard to completely negate the Federal tax break I'm going to see starting April 1. That's damn nice of you, sir; I'm starting to wonder why I labored so hard over the decision not to vote for you. Gray Davis was no prize, but would we be here now if he'd kept his job?)
I know my district has been planning for this--we have an amazing guy in charge of our money--and that while we're going to be OK for 09-10, we're worrying right now about cutting up to $8 million to make 10-11 work. To that end, they have announced the consolidation of two campuses (which will eliminate a position or two, I'm sure), cuts in a couple of departments, and the elimination of two secondary assistant principals (which was expected and NOT a shock).
I'm positive I'm not one of the APs who will be eliminated, but I'm 95% sure that I'll be changing school sites yet again. They're taking their time making those decisions, and I'm in no hurry. Stay tuned . . . and in these hard-for-education economic times, take care of yourselves.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
posted by Q6 at 5:08 AM
I'm noticing yet another disturbing trend among the young people with which I work: they feel they deserve high praise and accolades for ordinary, mundane things. I watched a student last week on the basketball court at lunch; he dribbled, he stopped, he took the shot, and then he beat his chest, looked at his teammates, and yelled, "Me, bitch!" like he just sank the winning basket in the NBA Finals. He didn't even make the basket. He barely hit the backboard with the ball. Still, he wants to be carried off the court on the shoulders of his peers.
Someone recently suggested to my wife (a high school teacher) that it's "now politically correct to praise failure; how could they understand [achievement] in a time where even the losing teams get prizes?" She's been dealing with Honors & AP kids who want to eek their Bs into As because they tried really hard. Me, I watched a student not too long ago kick a ball during PE. He kicked it against the outside wall of the gymnasium then spun to face his friends, throwing his arms up in triumph and expecting applause and congratulations. He wants praise for literally hitting the side of a barn.
I guess what bothers me most about the whole thing is that this is the sense of entitlement people seem to use later in life as an excuse not to work, not to parent, or not to care for property. I'm worried that their focus won't change, and that they'll eventually atrophy into those that we have to take care of because they can't take care of themselves. (A close second on my worry meter is that self-esteem-motivated praise ends up devaluing ALL praise, and praise can be a powerful tool when used properly.)
Of course, today I was reminded of why we started praising ordinary things in the first place. One of our students has been getting to school hours late on a regular basis, and today not even the principal and the police officer could get her out of bed to come to school; on the other hand, she lives in a one-room motel room with two parents who drink and party until 2 in the morning, so it's little wonder she's not functional until noon. Another of our students was worried about taking one of his finals this morning, and suggested to his father that he didn't want to go to school today; he arrived at school not long after receiving the beating his father gave him.
We motivate some kids to get to college; we motivate others just to get to tomorrow. Some of these kids get praised for little things because it's all they get a chance to do. Not all of them, and certainly not some of them . . . but a few--a very specific few--deserve the pat on the back for trying.
Someone recently suggested to my wife (a high school teacher) that it's "now politically correct to praise failure; how could they understand [achievement] in a time where even the losing teams get prizes?" She's been dealing with Honors & AP kids who want to eek their Bs into As because they tried really hard. Me, I watched a student not too long ago kick a ball during PE. He kicked it against the outside wall of the gymnasium then spun to face his friends, throwing his arms up in triumph and expecting applause and congratulations. He wants praise for literally hitting the side of a barn.
I guess what bothers me most about the whole thing is that this is the sense of entitlement people seem to use later in life as an excuse not to work, not to parent, or not to care for property. I'm worried that their focus won't change, and that they'll eventually atrophy into those that we have to take care of because they can't take care of themselves. (A close second on my worry meter is that self-esteem-motivated praise ends up devaluing ALL praise, and praise can be a powerful tool when used properly.)
Of course, today I was reminded of why we started praising ordinary things in the first place. One of our students has been getting to school hours late on a regular basis, and today not even the principal and the police officer could get her out of bed to come to school; on the other hand, she lives in a one-room motel room with two parents who drink and party until 2 in the morning, so it's little wonder she's not functional until noon. Another of our students was worried about taking one of his finals this morning, and suggested to his father that he didn't want to go to school today; he arrived at school not long after receiving the beating his father gave him.
We motivate some kids to get to college; we motivate others just to get to tomorrow. Some of these kids get praised for little things because it's all they get a chance to do. Not all of them, and certainly not some of them . . . but a few--a very specific few--deserve the pat on the back for trying.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
posted by Q6 at 12:34 PM
Check out my new ride!
What you see is the 2008 Honda FCX Clarity, a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle. This isn't the econo-box that was Honda's first generation; this is a full luxury version . . . this thing has ALL the bells and whistles of any luxury car on the market, but runs on ZERO gasoline. And the only thing that comes out of the tailpipe is water (I have the first car in the world designed to pee). The car of the future is here, my friends, and it's wrapped around me whenever I drive.
I'm sure that, over time, I'll be posting a lot about the new car, including photos (to be honest, I have to make sure I don't post anything proprietary, per Honda's wishes). For now, I'm going to post the answers to the four most frequent questions I've had in the last week:
1) How did you get one of these? (Usually asked, "How did YOU get one of these?") Honda's trying to put 200 of these on the road over the next three years (mine, I'm told, is one of the first ten--Jaime Lee Curtis has one, so I'm in a pretty nifty club), and their website asks interested people who live near one of the fueling stations to sign up. I did. Frankly, it's one of those things that you fill out and you know they're never gonna call--but they did. I've been speaking with them since November, and we got everything worked out. Despite what certain reviewers are saying, they're not just handing these things over to celebrities; they are, however, screening the potential lessees pretty carefully. Anyway, my answer to this question is, "I raised my hand, and they called on me."
2) Is it hard to drive? Is it hard to refuel? In both cases, no. I've never had a luxury car before, so I'm going from a stripped-down 2000 Hyundai hatchback to this. Driving a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle--basically, an electric car--means becoming accustomed to the acceleration, the gauges, and the mechanics of starting the car, but it's not all that different. I think that's the point, actually: to make the cars cleaner without changing the way we drive them. As far as refueling the car is concerned, it's actually easier to fuel with hydrogen than it is with gasoline. Once you know what you're doing (a simple 30 minutes of training), and once you've done it a few times, it becomes . . . well, kinda boring, actually. But that's better than needing a 50-page manual each time.
3) Is it expensive? Um . . . yes. Yes it is. Here's the thing, though: with the $600 per month lease, I'm getting all maintenance AND the comprehensive and collision insurance included (I just need to pay for the liability insurance and the hydrogen). That being the case, it's not really all that different from leasing any other big-ticket luxury car. On top of that, I get to drive around in a "limited edition" kind of car, and I'm not polluting anything while I do it. As far as the hydrogen itself is concerned, you have to learn the math of driving all over again (what with the new fuel type, the conversion of numbers isn't always easy--or possible). Let's put it this way: it costs me the same to fill this car's tank as it did to fill my last car's tank. So again, there's not a whole lot of change here.
4) Are you going to let your son drive it? Look, my almost-17-year-old son doesn't even have his license yet, and doesn't take the test until next week. I love my son, I trust my son, and I'm glad I sent my son to an expensive driving school--but unless there's a federal bailout package specifically for my liability policy, I don't see him driving it anytime soon (one of the guys from Honda--I'm looking at you, Tim--suggested that I let him take the test in my Clarity, for crying out loud). Actually, my son doesn't have his eye so much on my new car as he does my OLD car. He has dreams of co-opting that one. We'll see.
If I get questions, I'll answer them (if I'm allowed to, of course). In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be in my car.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
posted by Q6 at 6:06 PM
I got a letter yesterday from the County Department of Education. It seems I've been nominated for (and will receive) an award for "Outstanding Contributions to Education." It's nice to be honored. It's nice to be recognized.
The thing is, I was nominated for this award by parents at the school I left seven months ago. The transition was not easy for me OR them (as those who read this blog regularly well know), but I got through it. I'm not as adjusted to the new school site as I'd like, but I feel that I've made the transition. I find going to the old school's events a little bit painful, so I go to very few of them. There's just too much history that makes me endure the change all over again.
Again, it's nice to be honored. It's really gratifying to be appreciated so much that the parents feel compelled to nominate me even after I'm gone. The award thing is at the Board meeting on the 23rd. My former principal will be there, my wife (who still teaches at the old school) will come, and God only knows who else is going to show. It's nice to be honored, but I know there's going to be some of that reopening-the-old-wound emotion, too.
I'll get through it, though. It's nice to be honored.
The thing is, I was nominated for this award by parents at the school I left seven months ago. The transition was not easy for me OR them (as those who read this blog regularly well know), but I got through it. I'm not as adjusted to the new school site as I'd like, but I feel that I've made the transition. I find going to the old school's events a little bit painful, so I go to very few of them. There's just too much history that makes me endure the change all over again.
Again, it's nice to be honored. It's really gratifying to be appreciated so much that the parents feel compelled to nominate me even after I'm gone. The award thing is at the Board meeting on the 23rd. My former principal will be there, my wife (who still teaches at the old school) will come, and God only knows who else is going to show. It's nice to be honored, but I know there's going to be some of that reopening-the-old-wound emotion, too.
I'll get through it, though. It's nice to be honored.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
posted by Q6 at 5:02 AM
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about my professional status and the . . . "situation" I find myself in. I guess I've been deconstructing myself professionally, trying to figure out why I feel so out of place and dissatisfied with my current assignment. I believe I've got about three quarters of the whole thing figured out.*
Here are some of the things I've come up with:
--This school site is smaller in just about every way: activities, students, teachers, . . . there's not a whole lot to be done here. And since this school has more administrators than it needs (a political move for this program improvement school), there are fewer opportunities for me to demonstrate my abilities. At my last school site, there was a lot to be done and I had lots of chances to prove myself. I either have to create opportunities or identify more problems to solve.
--This school doesn't have the demographic participation I'm used to (or comfortable with, frankly). The parents are involved very little or at all, and in some cases the parents are out of the picture completely. The students aren't motivated to succeed OR to perform; they're just going through the motions and trying (not very hard at all) to avoid problems. By this reckoning, this isn't as much of a "school" as I would like. It's overblown day care. I feel like I'm trying to sculpt a masterpiece without the benefit of, y'know, clay. Someone once suggested that different cultures value different things. It was very generalized for the sake of a small article, but it essentially suggested this: whites value money, asians value education, africans value stature (or social status) and hispanics value family. I'd certainly argue against some of these points, but one of the things I would agree with is that education is NOT in the top five for hispanics, our main demographic. We're really trying to get them to swim against the tide, with little or no success. Even some of the parents think that while we're trying very hard, we're wasting our time trying to educate future warehouse workers and such.
--This school I'm at has been getting a bad rap for years about its problems, most of which disappeared with the new principal over a year ago. It's a great team, a great teaching staff, and a great program. I just wish we had students who wanted to take advantage of it.
I've decided to pitch a discipline procedure change to the faculty; I want them to throw me some of the work they've been doing for a while. It'll give me more to do, and it'll give me a chance to prove my worth.
There's still something I haven't quite figured out about my lack of comfort, though. Hopefully, it will come to me and I'll be able to finish this professional jigsaw puzzle.
*Of course, if I think about it some more I'll come up with several other things, and the percentages will change. It'll have all the mathematical sense of a Monty Python "Spanish Inquisition" sketch.
Here are some of the things I've come up with:
--This school site is smaller in just about every way: activities, students, teachers, . . . there's not a whole lot to be done here. And since this school has more administrators than it needs (a political move for this program improvement school), there are fewer opportunities for me to demonstrate my abilities. At my last school site, there was a lot to be done and I had lots of chances to prove myself. I either have to create opportunities or identify more problems to solve.
--This school doesn't have the demographic participation I'm used to (or comfortable with, frankly). The parents are involved very little or at all, and in some cases the parents are out of the picture completely. The students aren't motivated to succeed OR to perform; they're just going through the motions and trying (not very hard at all) to avoid problems. By this reckoning, this isn't as much of a "school" as I would like. It's overblown day care. I feel like I'm trying to sculpt a masterpiece without the benefit of, y'know, clay. Someone once suggested that different cultures value different things. It was very generalized for the sake of a small article, but it essentially suggested this: whites value money, asians value education, africans value stature (or social status) and hispanics value family. I'd certainly argue against some of these points, but one of the things I would agree with is that education is NOT in the top five for hispanics, our main demographic. We're really trying to get them to swim against the tide, with little or no success. Even some of the parents think that while we're trying very hard, we're wasting our time trying to educate future warehouse workers and such.
--This school I'm at has been getting a bad rap for years about its problems, most of which disappeared with the new principal over a year ago. It's a great team, a great teaching staff, and a great program. I just wish we had students who wanted to take advantage of it.
I've decided to pitch a discipline procedure change to the faculty; I want them to throw me some of the work they've been doing for a while. It'll give me more to do, and it'll give me a chance to prove my worth.
There's still something I haven't quite figured out about my lack of comfort, though. Hopefully, it will come to me and I'll be able to finish this professional jigsaw puzzle.
*Of course, if I think about it some more I'll come up with several other things, and the percentages will change. It'll have all the mathematical sense of a Monty Python "Spanish Inquisition" sketch.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
posted by Q6 at 5:22 AM
Man, I thought the Wii controllers were weird. Then I saw this.
Those of you with SMARTBoard technology in your classrooms know that technology is raising the bar when it comes to classroom presentation methodology. At some point, everyone's wondered what their teaching would be like if they had holographic technology (I'm not talking about CNN-Election-Night holography, I'm talking about Star-Trek-TNG-Holodeck stuff, here).
Those of you with SMARTBoard technology in your classrooms know that technology is raising the bar when it comes to classroom presentation methodology. At some point, everyone's wondered what their teaching would be like if they had holographic technology (I'm not talking about CNN-Election-Night holography, I'm talking about Star-Trek-TNG-Holodeck stuff, here).
Behold: the Immersive Cocoon.
This is quite possibly the coolest AND scariest thing I've seen yet, technology-wise. 3-D display, interactive (using motion-capture camera technology and 360 degree projection), and designed by someone with a large SciFi DVD library. (The pod itself reminds me of those in 2001, The Fly, and The Matrix. Let's remember that in each of those films things didn't go so well for the good guys.)
Can you imagine a computer lab full of these? How about a classroom? Field trips become easier, distance learning gets another shot in the arm, homeschooling advocates develop drooling problems, and teenagers never see the light of day again. (Think I'm kidding about that last one? Can you imagine playing HALO in one of these things?)
You can read more about it here. Like any other developing technology, this is still very much a concept piece . . . but the group putting this together has a lot of other innovative ideas, which can be seen here.
The future is coming, everyone. Get ready.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
posted by Q6 at 3:34 PM
There's a weird movement that's been slowly and quietly raising its head over the last few months. Thankfully, it hasn't received much attention (nothing mainstream, anyway)--which is good, because if this idea caught on, I'm convinced it would end civilization as we know it.
Somebody out there thinks we ought to relax the strict adherence to rules of spelling.
Call me crazy or old-fashioned, but how hard is it, really, to spell properly? I know that the conventions of the English Language aren't easy for everyone, but on the surface spelling is something that we should all be able to agree on. Under the surface, we all know that when we see a form letter with misspelled words we're not dealing with someone interested in their own quality control. We're already making the world better accessible for the disabled, for foreigners, and for other groups that may need acclimation assistance. At SOME point, the line must be drawn. We work in an industry that has made specific, concerted efforts to raise the bar waaaaaaay too high in some places (I'm talking to you, NCLB) and to lower it to subterranean levels in others. C'mon--are we seriously considering lowering our standards when it comes to spelling?!?
Maybe it's all the political talk that's been going around for the last two years. Maybe it's the effects we're seeing of NCLB on high-performing schools (the best of which, in our district, will be in program improvement by 2014). Maybe it's all the training seminars I'm now able to attend because I have nothing else to do professionally. One thing has become clear to me, though: when we stopped addressing the needs of students at their specific levels--meaning when we decided to do away with tracking--things steadily got worse. Some schools are still tracking students off-the-books, others refuse to go back to it; what we're doing isn't working, though, and I don't think that relaxing or eliminating something as simple as the spelling of the words we use to communicate with one another is the answer.
This is the same lunacy that gave birth to the idea that we should lower the drinking age. I'm not an expert in Sociology or anything, but even I know a bad idea when I hear it.
Somebody out there thinks we ought to relax the strict adherence to rules of spelling.
Call me crazy or old-fashioned, but how hard is it, really, to spell properly? I know that the conventions of the English Language aren't easy for everyone, but on the surface spelling is something that we should all be able to agree on. Under the surface, we all know that when we see a form letter with misspelled words we're not dealing with someone interested in their own quality control. We're already making the world better accessible for the disabled, for foreigners, and for other groups that may need acclimation assistance. At SOME point, the line must be drawn. We work in an industry that has made specific, concerted efforts to raise the bar waaaaaaay too high in some places (I'm talking to you, NCLB) and to lower it to subterranean levels in others. C'mon--are we seriously considering lowering our standards when it comes to spelling?!?
Maybe it's all the political talk that's been going around for the last two years. Maybe it's the effects we're seeing of NCLB on high-performing schools (the best of which, in our district, will be in program improvement by 2014). Maybe it's all the training seminars I'm now able to attend because I have nothing else to do professionally. One thing has become clear to me, though: when we stopped addressing the needs of students at their specific levels--meaning when we decided to do away with tracking--things steadily got worse. Some schools are still tracking students off-the-books, others refuse to go back to it; what we're doing isn't working, though, and I don't think that relaxing or eliminating something as simple as the spelling of the words we use to communicate with one another is the answer.
This is the same lunacy that gave birth to the idea that we should lower the drinking age. I'm not an expert in Sociology or anything, but even I know a bad idea when I hear it.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
posted by Q6 at 9:19 AM
For the last month or so, I've been running into people with whom I used to work last year, and I keep getting the same question: "How's the new job?" My answers vary depending on who's asking, and the more negative the answer the more I feel I have to justify myself. Here on my blog, however, anonymity allows me to express my true feelings about my new assignment.
It sucks.
We're about two months into the school year, and already it feels like an eternity. In fact, I mentioned to my principal yesterday that I was bored--I'm used to a much more hectic schedule, a more populated student body, and the type of issues you can only find in a high school. Since he's from the same background as I, he knew exactly what I was talking about and shared that this time last year (his first year here) he felt the exact same way.
My wife still teaches at my former site, so I still get the gossip and updates. I even visited the site two weeks ago for a teacher's birthday party, and saw a lot of my former colleagues. I have to stop doing that, though, for two reasons: one, it's difficult to respond over and over to "we miss you" from everyone, and two, it's emotionally very painful for me to be away from that campus. I've got to learn to let go and move on, and I'm finding that harder and harder to do.
I've also got this other problem: my "high school" muscles are starting to atrophy to the point that if I were to be moved back up to the high school level, I fear I'd be out of shape. Then I go off on these mental rants: "Should I get back to the high school level even if it means starting over in a new district?" "Is it all middle school level schools that bother me, or just this one site?" "Should I get out of education altogether?"
In the end, the answer to the initial question is: "I'm uncomfortable." I don't know if it's because I became so familiar with my previous school site, or if I'm a snob (more on that in an upcoming blog post), or if I'm just very unsuited to change. Whatever the reason, I'm very uncomfortable in my professional skin right now.
It sucks.
We're about two months into the school year, and already it feels like an eternity. In fact, I mentioned to my principal yesterday that I was bored--I'm used to a much more hectic schedule, a more populated student body, and the type of issues you can only find in a high school. Since he's from the same background as I, he knew exactly what I was talking about and shared that this time last year (his first year here) he felt the exact same way.
My wife still teaches at my former site, so I still get the gossip and updates. I even visited the site two weeks ago for a teacher's birthday party, and saw a lot of my former colleagues. I have to stop doing that, though, for two reasons: one, it's difficult to respond over and over to "we miss you" from everyone, and two, it's emotionally very painful for me to be away from that campus. I've got to learn to let go and move on, and I'm finding that harder and harder to do.
I've also got this other problem: my "high school" muscles are starting to atrophy to the point that if I were to be moved back up to the high school level, I fear I'd be out of shape. Then I go off on these mental rants: "Should I get back to the high school level even if it means starting over in a new district?" "Is it all middle school level schools that bother me, or just this one site?" "Should I get out of education altogether?"
In the end, the answer to the initial question is: "I'm uncomfortable." I don't know if it's because I became so familiar with my previous school site, or if I'm a snob (more on that in an upcoming blog post), or if I'm just very unsuited to change. Whatever the reason, I'm very uncomfortable in my professional skin right now.
Friday, October 03, 2008
posted by Q6 at 2:55 PM
Over the summer I spoke at a national teacher conference about the dangers of technology. It was more of a how-to-keep-your-students-safe kind of thing, and it went over pretty well (it was the second time I'd spoken on this topic, and they called after hearing about my first presentation, which was more local). The local folks want me back again this year, but this time they want me to speak about the use of technology in the learning process.
There are two books I read recently that relate to this topic--but not in a good way. In fact, I think I made a big mistake in reading them one right after the other. Add to that this new speaking engagement I'm booked for, and on the inside of my head I'm playing out the end of the world . . . or the beginning of The Matrix.
The first book is The Dumbest Generation by Mark Bauerline, which is the first look at ten years of statistiocal data about how technology and the Internet are affecting living and learning methods. The bad news, it seems, is that we're reading less, studying less, and retaining less. The Internet (and how we use it) is having a serious effect on how we use our brains, and that's having a severe impact on learning--meaning that our approach to education in the technological age may be too antiquated or out of sync.
The second book is Feed by M. T. Anderson, a fiction novel set in a future where kids have neural implants installed at birth and are on the Internet 24/7. As the characters walk around, they get pop-up ads. If they get hungry, they get food ads from local restaurants. They can look anything up any time they want. These kids educations are enhanced by something called School™, which seems as useless as the word looks.
Like I said, reading both in rapid succession was probably a bad idea, as I'm now scared to death of the future. The whole thing does beg the question, though: How do educators teach effectively in a world where technology is taking over? Is it even possible to keep reading rates up when the soon-to-be-dominant form of communication doesn't require it? Should we be throwing out current skill sets in favor of future ones? Has education, in its current form, become archaic and outdated? And what's to be done to solve that?
If you've got ideas, I'm all ears . . . .
There are two books I read recently that relate to this topic--but not in a good way. In fact, I think I made a big mistake in reading them one right after the other. Add to that this new speaking engagement I'm booked for, and on the inside of my head I'm playing out the end of the world . . . or the beginning of The Matrix.
The first book is The Dumbest Generation by Mark Bauerline, which is the first look at ten years of statistiocal data about how technology and the Internet are affecting living and learning methods. The bad news, it seems, is that we're reading less, studying less, and retaining less. The Internet (and how we use it) is having a serious effect on how we use our brains, and that's having a severe impact on learning--meaning that our approach to education in the technological age may be too antiquated or out of sync.
The second book is Feed by M. T. Anderson, a fiction novel set in a future where kids have neural implants installed at birth and are on the Internet 24/7. As the characters walk around, they get pop-up ads. If they get hungry, they get food ads from local restaurants. They can look anything up any time they want. These kids educations are enhanced by something called School™, which seems as useless as the word looks.
Like I said, reading both in rapid succession was probably a bad idea, as I'm now scared to death of the future. The whole thing does beg the question, though: How do educators teach effectively in a world where technology is taking over? Is it even possible to keep reading rates up when the soon-to-be-dominant form of communication doesn't require it? Should we be throwing out current skill sets in favor of future ones? Has education, in its current form, become archaic and outdated? And what's to be done to solve that?
If you've got ideas, I'm all ears . . . .
Friday, September 19, 2008
posted by Q6 at 5:15 AM
'Tis "Talk Like a Pirate" Day! This be a day many of me shipmates celebrate, and a tradition among those of ye who would call yerselves "pirate" and not "lubber" but this one day of the year.
Be ye not knowin' the tale of this here day? Best be knowin' yer pirate lore . . .
'Cause it be known across the seven seas that on this day pirates be just about everywhere.
Shiver me timbers, are ye not yet feelin' the spirits of Davy Jones and Blackbeard among ye? Perhaps ye be needin' a closer look . . .
Be ye not knowin' the tale of this here day? Best be knowin' yer pirate lore . . .
'Cause it be known across the seven seas that on this day pirates be just about everywhere.
Shiver me timbers, are ye not yet feelin' the spirits of Davy Jones and Blackbeard among ye? Perhaps ye be needin' a closer look . . .
Thursday, September 11, 2008
posted by Q6 at 11:30 AM
Being married is really cool.* My wife and I used to work at the same school site, so quite a few people--teachers AND students--got to see us grow together as a couple. Many teachers were invited to the wedding; students were not, as there would have been too many of them. And since the wedding was held on a boat traveling back and forth through the local harbor, we didn't have to worry about students crashing the wedding.
Or so we thought. As it turns out, some of these kids have boats.
So during the reception, five kids--recently graduated seniors, all of whom took my wife's class--in formal wear pull along side the boat with big signs (our names, "4EVA," etc.). Neither the boat charter people nor the photographer had ever seen anything like it. My wife, of course, rightfully flattered, stands on the bow of the boat and shouts, "Do you want cake?"
And, of course, they were allowed to pull alongside. It's one of the many reasons I love her, that she gets such joy from her students (on or off campus). It's a testament to her also; the students didn't have to do this, but they really wanted to. (I found out a few days ago that another student boat slipped past us that morning, but didn't make their presence known.) There are a lot of people she and I work with (teachers and students) that have become meaningful parts of our lives. It's days like that wedding day that remind me of that.
The anniversary of 9/11 is becoming known as "Patriot Day." I understand the rationale, since the WTC attacks were committed as an act against the nation itself. If you look at photos from the memorials going on across the country today, however, we don't seem to be celebrating a whole lot of patriotism--we seem to be celebrating the lives of the people who died in the attack (which, for the record, is NOT a bad thing).
So I have an idea.
If 9/11 taught us anything, it's that the people you work with every day can be taken from you suddenly, en masse, and without warning. Appreciate the "everyday people" in your lives. Don't say "hello" to them as if this is the last day you'll ever see them again--that's just scary and weird--but internally, find the warm fuzzies inside yourselves and realize that these people you see every day (at work, at home, at the gym, at Starbucks--wherever) have come to mean something to you . . . even if that "something" is familiarity and routine. If the banners, tributes, and tears I'm seeing on the news today are any indication, it's easy to take people for granted.
Moving to a different school site after seven years is not at all like losing someone in a terrorist attack; but I gotta admit--I think I understand the sense of loss a bit better now.
*This is my third marriage, but this is the first marriage in which I feel I did everything correctly and appropriately from the beginning--pre-marital counseling, discussions about our relationship, actually telling people I was getting married, and not rushing things. I would not go back and re-do the past, though, since each decision I've made and action I've taken has led me to this point in my life. This marriage, however, may be one of the highest quality things I've done with my life.
Or so we thought. As it turns out, some of these kids have boats.
So during the reception, five kids--recently graduated seniors, all of whom took my wife's class--in formal wear pull along side the boat with big signs (our names, "4EVA," etc.). Neither the boat charter people nor the photographer had ever seen anything like it. My wife, of course, rightfully flattered, stands on the bow of the boat and shouts, "Do you want cake?"
And, of course, they were allowed to pull alongside. It's one of the many reasons I love her, that she gets such joy from her students (on or off campus). It's a testament to her also; the students didn't have to do this, but they really wanted to. (I found out a few days ago that another student boat slipped past us that morning, but didn't make their presence known.) There are a lot of people she and I work with (teachers and students) that have become meaningful parts of our lives. It's days like that wedding day that remind me of that.
The anniversary of 9/11 is becoming known as "Patriot Day." I understand the rationale, since the WTC attacks were committed as an act against the nation itself. If you look at photos from the memorials going on across the country today, however, we don't seem to be celebrating a whole lot of patriotism--we seem to be celebrating the lives of the people who died in the attack (which, for the record, is NOT a bad thing).
So I have an idea.
If 9/11 taught us anything, it's that the people you work with every day can be taken from you suddenly, en masse, and without warning. Appreciate the "everyday people" in your lives. Don't say "hello" to them as if this is the last day you'll ever see them again--that's just scary and weird--but internally, find the warm fuzzies inside yourselves and realize that these people you see every day (at work, at home, at the gym, at Starbucks--wherever) have come to mean something to you . . . even if that "something" is familiarity and routine. If the banners, tributes, and tears I'm seeing on the news today are any indication, it's easy to take people for granted.
Moving to a different school site after seven years is not at all like losing someone in a terrorist attack; but I gotta admit--I think I understand the sense of loss a bit better now.
*This is my third marriage, but this is the first marriage in which I feel I did everything correctly and appropriately from the beginning--pre-marital counseling, discussions about our relationship, actually telling people I was getting married, and not rushing things. I would not go back and re-do the past, though, since each decision I've made and action I've taken has led me to this point in my life. This marriage, however, may be one of the highest quality things I've done with my life.
posted by Q6 at 9:23 AM
When last I blogged, major changes were afoot: I was changing school sites (and not at all looking forward to it), I was about to get married (and was very MUCH looking forward to it), and summer vacation was about to end. A "Season of Change," to be sure.
Added to that are other topics to discuss: the State of California is still budgetless; a couple of people have proposed changes to things (like the drinking age and spelling) that make no sense; and, apparently, there's an election coming up. There are other things, of course--some of them will be blogged here, and others are better suited for my personal blog. In any event, I think I may now have found the time to get back to full-time blogging. My friends have managed to get back into the swing of it, and even my wife has made her way back to the blogosphere. It's my turn.
And it's good to be back.
Added to that are other topics to discuss: the State of California is still budgetless; a couple of people have proposed changes to things (like the drinking age and spelling) that make no sense; and, apparently, there's an election coming up. There are other things, of course--some of them will be blogged here, and others are better suited for my personal blog. In any event, I think I may now have found the time to get back to full-time blogging. My friends have managed to get back into the swing of it, and even my wife has made her way back to the blogosphere. It's my turn.
And it's good to be back.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
posted by Q6 at 12:58 PM
I really want to blog, and I really have a lot to blog about, but I haven't found my groove yet in this new position, and I'm still looking for the time. (I know, I know--I said I'd be bored at this new job, and would have time. I'll explain later, but the short version is this: It's not that I'm not busy, it's that I'm not productive.)
Anyway, don't take me off your "Favorites" list quite yet--I'm coming back!
Anyway, don't take me off your "Favorites" list quite yet--I'm coming back!
Sunday, August 03, 2008
posted by Q6 at 6:05 AM
This blog is off-line for the next week or so. I'm getting married today, and although the honeymoon will last FOREVER, the trip will last a week or so. More blogs when I return!
Monday, July 28, 2008
posted by Q6 at 5:05 AM
Well, it's official: I will remain in my current school district for 2008-2009. I had one interview a couple of months ago, and their rejection letter motivated me to fill out seven other applications over three districts. I know "people" in two of those districts, and had some pretty high hopes about having the inside track. Nonetheless, I didn't score an interview for ANY of the seven positions I applied for. Not ONE. Needless to say, I'm having some thoughts about my marketability these days. I've been at this a while, and although I need to keep some mitigating factors in mind (like my experience makes me a little expensive, and that this is no economy--particularly in education--to go moving around) I am somewhat bummed about the result of my job search.
There's another thing: I've been moved from my former school site for a number of reasons, and one of the lesser-known of them is that I'm not really liked at all by several members of the district administration (my new principal was almost told this verbatim not long ago). I'm very pro-school-site, and that [apparently] makes me come off as very anti-school-district. Moreover, this new assignment of mine comes with two caveats (the why of this is a long, boring story, and I'll spare you that): there's a strong chance that this assignment won't exist in a year, and I may go when it goes; and if I do get to stay I will have to endure a $12K-a-year pay cut. (Knowing these two things, I went job hunting. Alas, no success.)
So it seems that the only way to a happy ending is to determine exactly how I can use this job to (a) benefit the school site and (b) get back into the good graces of the school district. On the plus side, the dynamics of this new assignment will give me oodles of time to achieve the latter. With all the other changes going on in my life right now (wedding, teenager becoming even older, finances finally in some sort of order, house projects coming along nicely), which are the positives that will outweigh the negative, I should find myself fairly busy.
In any event, it is finally time to embrace the horror and make some sort of attempt to turn this situation to my advantage (unless, of course, any of you out there are still looking for a secondary assistant principal in Southern California.) We'll see how it goes.
There's another thing: I've been moved from my former school site for a number of reasons, and one of the lesser-known of them is that I'm not really liked at all by several members of the district administration (my new principal was almost told this verbatim not long ago). I'm very pro-school-site, and that [apparently] makes me come off as very anti-school-district. Moreover, this new assignment of mine comes with two caveats (the why of this is a long, boring story, and I'll spare you that): there's a strong chance that this assignment won't exist in a year, and I may go when it goes; and if I do get to stay I will have to endure a $12K-a-year pay cut. (Knowing these two things, I went job hunting. Alas, no success.)
So it seems that the only way to a happy ending is to determine exactly how I can use this job to (a) benefit the school site and (b) get back into the good graces of the school district. On the plus side, the dynamics of this new assignment will give me oodles of time to achieve the latter. With all the other changes going on in my life right now (wedding, teenager becoming even older, finances finally in some sort of order, house projects coming along nicely), which are the positives that will outweigh the negative, I should find myself fairly busy.
In any event, it is finally time to embrace the horror and make some sort of attempt to turn this situation to my advantage (unless, of course, any of you out there are still looking for a secondary assistant principal in Southern California.) We'll see how it goes.