It's been just over a week since I got the disappointing news that I wasn't selected to be the next department head of Canada and World Studies at my school. I have been processing the information since I found out--Tuesday, January 21, 2014 at roughly 5:30pm. I pondered writing a blog post about the experience, but because it feels so fresh and so personal, I decided against it. Then I remembered: one of the largest reasons I blog is to reflect on my experiences, so it only makes sense for me to write about my failed attempt to become a department head.
After the tears, the incredible feeling of failure set in. I began to question my abilities as a teacher; the ways I carved leadership opportunities for myself or acted upon opportunities to show leadership; my reputation at school. I felt worthless: maybe I wasn't as great a teacher as I thought and had been led to believe, maybe my leadership skills were undeveloped, maybe I was THAT person, the one nobody wants to work with.
Fortunately, the debrief with my principal helped to put my mind at ease. It wasn't that I'm horrible that I didn't get the job; the successful candidate was simply better.
The reasons I keep trying. Photo courtesy Ravens Ridge Photo.
The experience made me realize that I work with some top notch teachers and students. The number of people who asked how I was, or who shared similar experiences, comforted me. It's nice to know that people didn't see me as a failure. One student, who was working on an essay while a colleague shared his experiences with me, said later, "I'm sorry. I think you're doing a great job". Cue tears!
The experience also made me consider how to want to role model failure for my daughters. I want them to take risks, to put themselves out there, to be vulnerable. I want them to be okay with failing, and realize that there is a difference between failing and being a failure. I don't want failure to prevent them from going for what they want or to make them question their self-worth. And I can't let failure do the same to me.
I have been doing some thinking about assignments that students are required to complete in order to earn their credits. This is especially timely, since we're nearly at the end of first semester. This afternoon, the tweet below captured my attention and really made me think about what I require my students to do and if I would want to do the same tasks.
In my mind, I went through the assignments that my three classes have worked on over the course of the semester, and I'm not too happy. My findings are below.
I'm not sure what this says about me or about my teaching. Am I a lazy person, who just doesn't want to do anything that requires formalized writing and really close analysis? Am I a sub par teacher, who just has students do assignments because they have always been assigned and why change?
What are the purposes of the assignments I make students do, but would never do myself, unless required to pass a course? In looking at the English course, I notice that I don't want to do any of the tasks that require essay writing. What type of English teacher would I be if I didn't require students to write an essay? Is it possible for students to learn the appropriate skills without doing the essay?
Most dismal is the Grade 10 history course. I make them do literacy assignments in an half-hearted attempt to get them ready for the OSSLT: a test I am glad I did not have to pass to earn my high school diploma. The purpose of the weekly quizzes is horrible: a way to force students to write down their notes. What on earth am I thinking? The other assignments are just blah...they measure (hopefully) the students' understanding, but they aren't particularly engaging. No wonder my history class hates my history class.
The silver lining in all of this is the Grade 12 history class. There are only two assignments that I would not do...and I already had plans to make those changes. The pirate photo album will be changed back to the pirate cartoon, which students did the first time I taught the class. The Vietnam War letter will be changed, because I intend on removing the unit and replacing it with a unit about the War on Terror and a discussion about "enhanced interrogation techniques".
I am left with one significant question: just because I don't want to do the assignment (and believe that students probably don't either) does that mean there isn't value in it?
Taking inspiration from Shelley Wright, I decided to change the way I taught the Holocaust to the students enrolled in "Adventures in World History" (CHM4E1). I wasn't going to teach them directly; rather, they were going to research, explore and create.
To begin, we talked about the question: What does the Holocaust reveal about humanity? Students were able to recognize that tragedy can bring out the best in people and the ultimate worst in people. From there I explained to the students that we were going to change the approach to learning. We watched Chris Lehmann's Ted Talk "Education is Broken". I remember reading one of Wright's posts and thinking, "Really? Your students clapped after?" But there was some applause in my classroom. Most of the students were inspired. One student recognized that in the our previous unit about Gladiators, students were directing their learning and making it visible. He said something along the lines, "I see what you're doing". Yes, exactly...I'm trying to make learning meaningful!
Painting their exhibit about death marches.
Working and chatting at the same time.
Students did some initial guided research about the Holocaust. From there, we determined a variety of topics and students selected areas of interest to research more in depth and create a museum exhibit. We discussed the set up of the museum and our discussion about the set up was interesting and intense. Would the museum best be set up chronologically? By topic? Ultimately, I put two students in charge of this, and they chose a combination of chronology and topic.
To allow students to access an expert, I invited my colleague and friend, Dr. Adara Goldberg, into the classroom via a Mystery Skype. Students prepared questions for her, as a way to round out their learning. Additionally, we watched Schindler's List, as a way to give students visual interpretation of one story from the Holocaust, which is really the stories of many people.
Watching the collaboration and discussions that happen while doing is inspiring. I could overhear students talking about their project. I could hear them making reference to the Mystery Skype and to Schindler's List and how the ideas applied to their exhibit.
Explaining Auschwitz-Birkenau
to a guest.
One of the best parts of this process was watching the students actually build their exhibits. This is where the collaboration really took place--not just between students who were working on an exhibit together--but also between students in different groups working together to meet a deadline.
I was nervous that the museum wasn't going to be finished on time, but students came in on their spares to complete all of their work and they all pitched in to help each other get things done.
Students visiting the museum.
The museum was a success. During our class period, four of my colleagues brought their classes to check out the museum and learn about the Holocaust. Additionally, some of my students' parents, and my own, came in to support the class' hard work. Another teacher brought two of her classes by, for informal visits, as a way to provide context for their novel study on The Book Thief.
Through the museum creation, students had the opportunity to build their skills in research, collaboration, time management, and synthesis. Skills that will serve them well in "real life".
The first time I read The Rez Sisters, I was in third year university taking the course "Modern Canadian Drama". When I began teaching at ODSS, I noticed that we had a class set in our book loft. I soon discovered that the play wasn't being taught in any of the courses, but I knew it would work in ENG3U1.
This semester was the fifth time teaching the play, and every time I teach it, I uncover more and more meaning.
This semester, however, I realized that I could "flatten my classroom walls" and extend my students' knowledge and understanding and that of my own of First Nations students. Julie Balen is a member of my PLN and I remember her mentioning that she teaches First Nations students. I am very thankful that she and her students were willing to Skype with us.
Getting Started. Photograph courtesy Ben H.
As Julie wrote in her blog post, the Mystery Skype was more than just using technology in the classroom. Technology was a method to expose our students to the experiences of other teenagers living different lives in the same province. Many of my students made note that there were many similarities between their lives and experiences and those of the students living in Wikwemikong.
Mina noted that she had a negative view of First Nations people, but our conversation gave her a new perspective and challenged the stereotypes that First Nations people are subject to. Riley detailed the traditions that the students from Wikwemikong practice. Sam liked that he got to hear about the perspectives of First Nations students directly from them, not from a secondary source, like an article or documentary.
I asked my students to blog about the Mystery Skype, and to specifically answer the question, "What needs to be improved upon for another Skype?" This forced the students to reflect on the experience. For example, Hailey and Tristan noted that they needed to organize their questions better. Mina made mention that they needed to maintain their assigned roles, and another student suggested that more roles be assigned. I liked Helena's suggestion that we Skype in smaller groups, so that the conversations could flow more easily. Jesse pointed out that both classes needed to be better prepared.
I loved hearing my students reflections and found it interesting that, for the most part, their areas of improvement aligned with the reflections of the students from Wikwemikong. I loved that the student themselves were able to determine what they needed to do to improve; I didn't have to tell them.
Overall, the Mystery Skype achieved my goal of making the play more real for my students. My one hope is that they will continue to connect with the other class. Some students have already indicated that they have some more questions.
After attending two sessions at ECOO13 (one by Cathy Beach and another by Andrew Campbell), I worked up the nerve to try Mystery Skype. Over the last two weeks, two of my classes participated in two different types of Mystery Skypes. I'm just going to detail one experience here. (Once I have the photos from my other class's Skype, I'll share!)
Dr. Adara Goldberg "visiting" our class.
Photo courtesy L. Unger.
My first experience in facilitating a Mystery Skype took place in the course Adventures in World History (CHM4E1). For this Skype, I invited my friend, Dr. Adara Goldberg, into the class. She is the Education Director at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre--so quite a distance from our school in Orangeville, Ontario.
In the case of this Mystery Skype, Adara knew where we were located, so it was just my students trying to figure out where she was. In the days leading up to the Skype, many students speculated that she was from Europe, since we were discussing the Holocaust and they knew that our guest was an expert on the subject. The first 10 minutes of our Skype was the students figuring out her location via "yes/no" questions. It is very important to ensure that your guest doesn't have her location on her profile, because some students saw it! It is also important not to make mention of your guest's name (even if it is just her first name), because one bright student simply Googled "Adara Holocaust" and up popped her location. Amateur mistakes!!! Fortunately, those students confided to me that they knew her location and promised not to spoil it.
Students getting prepared. Photo courtesy
either L. Unger or Cody F.
For our class's purpose, determining our guest's location was just for fun. The real reason for our meeting was to give my students an opportunity to speak with an expert about the Holocaust and gather information for the museum exhibits they are creating. Previous to the actual Skype, students worked on researching their area of interest, in addition to the background work we did in class. We took some class time to come up with a list of questions to ask Adara.
List of Jobs. Photo courtesy L. Unger.
Also before the Skype, we decided on jobs for the day of the Skype. In an attempt to keep things organized, students were responsible for various tasks during the meeting. For example, Nick was in charge of welcoming Adara and explaining the process. Jake and Mason were our questioners. Cody F. was key in taking photos of our adventure. Additionally, numerous students jumped aboard to add the information Adara shared to our common Google Doc via the Chromebooks.
I got the job list from various sources, but I don't think I need to be so formal. My students were able to maintain organization without needing certain jobs, such as the boss or runners. For future Skypes, I think we will be good with some specific jobs, like greeter, closer, and photographer. I think we will be fine with students taking control of asking questions without them being funneled to a single questioner. I feel the same way about the note takers. I think I will have many students take on that role.
The following day, I asked my class for some feedback about the Skype. Overall, the students were positive. They said they enjoyed getting information from sources other than the Internet, videos or me. They also said that they benefited from having specific questions answered. One student noticed that they needed to improve some of their questions, because they already knew some of the information that the questions focused on.
Overall, the experience of inviting in an expert was a good endeavour and a different way of accessing information for the students.
My next post will detail the Mystery Skype my ENG3U1 class participated in; it was a very different beast than this one.
This is a conversation (paraphrased) that a student and I had yesterday.
Student: Mrs. Le, can I tell you something? I only read up to chapter 7 of The Kite Runner.
Me: What? But your participation in the seminars was great. How did you do it?
Student: I just listened to the summaries at the beginning of each seminar and based my participation on them.
Me: <visibly shaken and upset by the revelation>
Student: I wish I had never told you this. You think differently of me now. I'll make it up to you. I'll give you three hundred dollars. I'll buy your daughters wardrobes from the best baby store.
Me: I don't want any of that. What I want is for you to actually complete the reading. Please actually read your ISU novel. That is all I want.
The confession and conversation made me feel small and stupid. How could a student write an essay on a novel he didn't even read? Where had I gone wrong in my teaching? I gave class time to read. The novel was broken down so that we only read a bit at a time. The essay was written entirely in class. How could this have happened?
Then I talked to a colleague and did some reflecting. Perhaps this student just worked smarter, not harder. He figured out that the regular seminars dissecting each chapter gave him the information he needed to understand the novel. He was still able to come up with a decent thesis and write a decent essay. I wonder how much better he could have done had he actually read the entire novel.
I don't know what other conclusions to draw from this experience, except that it hurts when a student doesn't fully complete his work. I know that students don't always do their work, but it's different when they actually confess.
I don't think poorly of this student. He has made me think about my teaching and the way students learn and that's a good thing.
At our recent PD Day session, Eric Twaddell came to speak. I loved his message about learning and assessment of that learning. The idea that learning is an ongoing process that shouldn't end when a grade is assigned really resonated with me. It affirmed my belief that students should be able to fix, fix, fix until they really understand.
In my grade 11 English class, many students were upset about their first essay mark. Upon meeting with a few parents, I assured them that their teenager had the opportunity to demonstrate their learning with the next essay. In fact, I'm pretty sure I uttered the words, "If the second essay is a better mark, I won't count the first essay." When I said it, I believed it. Why would I keep a grade of an assignment that may not demonstrate their true learning, when I have an assignment that is more recent, shows improvement and assesses the same skills?
Then midterm report cards came. I just couldn't drop the first mark. Not yet. Maybe by the end of the semester. Instead I played around with weighting. The most recent essay was worth 100 marks and the first essay worth 50 marks. I felt professionally comfortable with this.
Then a student asked me about his mark. His mark reflected a combination of the first and second essays and the seminar. To be blunt, I felt stupid. I explained to him that I just couldn't get rid of the first essay mark, but I couldn't elaborate. If I could redo our conversation, I would explain to him my initial thinking and my concern that, professionally, I couldn't use one essay mark to determine a midterm grade.
I feel dishonest and pedagogically confused. Dishonest, because I said one thing (with the full intention of following through), but then I just couldn't. Pedagogically confused, because I'm struggling the idea of grades and what they represent.
My only consolation is that I believe the marks are the ones the students earned and midterm marks aren't the be all and end all.
In the future, I will take more time to reflect about and put into practice my new ideas before talking to parents and students about them.
