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Let's stop calling kids lazy

2/29/2016

I went away this past weekend and spent some time with a teacher from another district who works with struggling kids. At her school, all kids who are underachieving, earning D’s and F’s, or struggling to complete homework are placed under her care during one period of every day; the school has filled her entire day with these classes. When explaining her teaching assignment to me, she said that most of the kids assigned to her “are just lazy.”

I walked away from this conversation feeling sorry for these kids -- kids who are most vulnerable and fragile. Those who are on the verge of withdrawing from education completely. Those who need a teacher both trained in meaningful, purposeful intervention and who actually care. She isn’t that teacher. She simply monitors them while they “complete packets and get missing homework assignment done.”

Not only am I a teacher, but I also have two kids of my own, and I can’t imagine them in her classroom.

Let’s create an imaginary boy and assume he isn’t doing well in school. He misses a few assignments. Doesn’t turn in homework. Didn’t pass a recent exam. Hasn’t met with his teacher to request a make-up exam or deadline extensions for missing homework. Is your first instinct to say that the child is lazy? The teacher I met this weekend would.

But here is another way to look at the situation.

Missing assignments? Look for commonalities among the assignments. It’s possible the student has a gap in knowledge that keeps him from completing the work. In English this could manifest as him not turning in anything written, because he doesn’t know how to organize his thoughts. In math, this could mean that whenever fractions are involved, the student doesn’t know where to begin. This isn’t laziness -- it’s an opportunity for a teacher to help.

Didn’t turn in homework? Maybe the homework required access to technology unavailable to the child. Maybe he doesn’t have a quiet place to work. Maybe, even, he needs a little more instruction to be able to do the work on his own. It may even be he is busy with other activities: soccer, basketball, work to support the family, babysitting younger brothers and sisters, church commitments -- his life is actually extra full. Again, not lazy.

Low test grades and not advocating for himself? This could simply mean he hasn’t been taught how to advocate for himself, is afraid to approach the teacher, suffers from anxiety that prevents him from approaching adults, missed key instruction because of a verified absence, or the test was just badly constructed. None of these mean lazy, they simply mean teachers need to know more before labeling their students.

My own kids have challenges at school. All our kids do. If one of our kids’ teachers went around campus calling one of our own children lazy, we would be livid.

I guess I just want to challenge educators to make sure all kids are empowered, rather than labeled. I want children to receive the benefit of the doubt. I want teachers to really care and ask questions to uncover a child’s individual challenges. And I especially want our most vulnerable, fragile kids to be treated with respect, kindness and compassion.

In fact, ironically, wasn’t this teacher the one being lazy -- by being so quick to label?

I think maybe so.

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Why are kids so stressed?

2/22/2016

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‘Tis the season of college acceptance letters -- the culmination of twelve years of blood, sweat, and tears for both kids and parents. My question for the week stems from the stress created by those twelve years. Has it all been worth it?

We have friends whose kids are brilliant, self-motivated, high achievers. And I teach students like this every day at my school. They are inspired, driven and believe they know their path. They want to take as many AP classes as possible, don’t accept anything less than A’s, and are convinced success will only be attained through attendance at an Ivy League university. I also know and work with kids who aren’t this driven; they struggle with self esteem, confidence and achievement. Regardless the type of student, our culture has developed an accepted practice that with all kids come parents who continually push, don’t settle for average and set exceptionally high expectations. Is this undue stress necessary?

Educators are finding that this relentless expectation of perfection is creating a generation of kids who are overly stressed, depressed, and, in the most extreme cases, suicidal.

What are we doing wrong?

Here are my few thoughts about how we can all help students lead less stressful lives.

Find a Balance: I get that the world is becoming more competitive. I also get that not every student is prepared or capable of taking five AP classes in one year. For every hour of an AP class, a student should be preparing an additional two hours at home. There aren’t even enough hours in a day for a student to attack this workload. This also then assumes a child is good at everything -- a brilliant mathematician, insightful scientist, a natural writer and an exceptional historian. Wouldn’t a child’s time be better spent pursuing extra-curricular activities to cultivate other passions: sports, the arts, photography, robotics, friendships, animals, philanthropy, etc. I will argue any day that these activities will ultimately create the most well-rounded, balanced child.

Know the End Game: Let’s extrapolate the stressful school schedule from above. The child takes and passes five or six AP classes. The college awards college credit. The student begins college as a sophomore. Yeah! Or is it? This simply means the child has only three years to find his right fit career. Only three years to enjoy the college life. Only three years until he has to enter the workforce. To what end? To begin the grind of life earlier? I’m definitely sure I wouldn’t recommend that path to my younger self.

There is More Than One Path: How many of us knew exactly what we wanted to study in college? I took an informal poll at work this week during a meeting, and only one-fifth of us are currently working in the field of our first college-declared major. This is normal. In fact, it’s expected. That’s why colleges encourage kids to take General Education courses in the first two years, so they can explore their options. And for those of us who aren’t where we thought we’d be as adults, would an Ivy League education have changed the outcome? Life paths aren’t always just a linear A to B. Most of us meander around the alphabet for quite a while before landing on a perfect fit career. And regardless the college, success is still attainable -- ALL levels of success.

I’m not suggesting as parents we stop raising the bar, stop having high expectations, stop encouraging our kids to be the best they can be, stop pushing them to want to excel.

I am suggesting, however, that we build in some opportunities for them to discover their own purpose of education. Their own passion. Their own way.

I want all students, my own kids included, to give effort and show grit. I want them to work hard. I want them to push to be great.

But I also want their stress to motivate -- not destroy.

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Fair does not mean equal

2/17/2016

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Every day, over and over again, we all hear the same thing from our kids: “That’s not fair!”

It can stem from anything, including what we watch on TV, who feeds the dogs, who gets new tennis shoes, and, the ever-favorite, who gets what punishment for some wrongdoing.

As parents, we know fair doesn’t mean equal. We know parenting means that in order to be fair to each child, sometimes one child needs more or less things, attention, punishment, or money than the other.

All kids are unique. All kids have different needs. Being fair as a parent means that we are making informed decisions about what’s best for our kids.

So why do we accept something other than this from classroom teachers?

The system we use to educate is antiquated: we group kids arbitrarily by age, stick as many of them as we can in one room, keep them in this system for thirteen years, give them a summer break originally designed a hundred years ago so kids could help with the harvest, and then teach them all in the same way, at the same time, and expect them all to progress in a lock-step manner with the same success. There is nothing more “equal” than this.

Since the birth of American education, the only real progress we’ve made is moving kids from a one-room schoolhouse into a multi-room schoolhouse. With all we’ve learned about psychology, learning theory, and brain development, it’s crazy we still run our schools like we’re in the 19th century.

Yes, we have begun to tinker with technology and project-based learning, and career technical education, but the core of what happens in the classroom - the sameness of teaching and learning - is still antiquated.

Because of this, my mission in the classroom has always been to treat each child fairly.

Fairly, not equally.

Even though I still have to deliver instruction to a large heterogenous group, I work every day to find ways to deliver it to differentiate for different types of learners. I deliver information so the auditory, visual, and kinesthetic learners can all excel. I deliver it so those with special needs can succeed. I offer various options for final projects and even provide more time for some kids, on a case-by case basis, if they need it.

I also try to find ways to provide additional support for those who aren’t quite ready to learn new concepts. I give graphic organizers, one-on-one help, additional instruction. Sometimes I even re-teach concepts to small groups of kids, because they need to hear the information a second or third time.

Not every child is going to be able to write a complete essay in two days - some need more time. Others won’t be ready for a math exam on Tuesday and need a few extra days, and help, to master the material. And a science lab may have been so technical for some that they could really benefit from conducting the lab again before writing the report.

All kids have strengths; all kids have areas in which they struggle.

I’m not suggesting we remove the struggle; I’m suggesting we help our kids through it.

Teaching kids how to work through struggle successfully, rather than just letting them fail, will ultimately teach more about life than the mastery of any content from our arbitrary, antiquated system. Today, we need to look at the whole child and commit to treating each one fairly - not equally.

As parents we know this isn’t easy, and we don’t always get it right. The same goes for the classroom teacher. I’m simply suggesting teachers start asking questions of our kids that ensure everyone is treated fairly. Instead of “How can I punish?” I would rather our teachers and schools start asking “How can I help?”

As parents, isn’t that all we really want?

I think that’s fair.

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Are parents too involved?

2/8/2016

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Probably like the rest of you, I spent Sunday with neighbors, friends, and family watching The Big Game. I love these gatherings: good food, good camaraderie and good conversation. I especially enjoyed this weekend, because it gave me a chance to run a question by the group.

Over the course of the last couple weeks, I’ve found myself thinking quite a bit about my role and responsibility in my own kids’ education.

This group of friends happens to be a few years ahead of me and my husband when it comes to child rearing. Their children have all graduated high school, a few are still in college, others are recent college grads entering the real world, and the oldest are married with, or almost with, young children of their own. These friends have become more than neighbors over the last twelve years; they are trusted advisers who tell it to us straight. And I was ready for a little straight-talk on Sunday.

I asked them a simple question about their upbringings: “Were your parents involved in your education when you were in middle and high school?”

Without exception, they all said that their parents were “hands off” when it came to school. No parent called teachers. No parent checked grades on a regular basis. No parent harped about getting homework done or questioned grades on tests. Some of them even said that they weren’t sure their parents ever saw a report card. We all had the same experience -- parents who set expectations, modeled acceptable behavior, worked hard, and left the burden of handling education in the hands of their kids. Our parents didn’t micro-manage us. They didn’t hover. They let us navigate our own education, make mistakes, and figure it out. And we all did.

How and when did society shift? When did the responsibility of educational ownership shift from the kids to the parents? When did parents decide that their role in their child’s education was to manage it -- every day, for every assignment, with every minute detail.

As parents we’ve become obsessed with ever-present online grades, missing and incomplete assignments, student/teacher relationships, curriculum, semester grades, course selections. We don’t even let our kids walk or ride their bikes to school anymore.

Do you remember your parents ever doing ANY of these things?

Of course they didn’t. They left the responsibility for our education in our hands.

So when I sit in a staff meeting at school, and we talk about all the interventions, accommodations, and modifications we make for this generation of students, as well as all the opportunities we create for parent and community involvement, I wonder why.

Would this generation of kids, those we’ve at some point all found irritatingly entitled, spoiled, and unmotivated, be better off if we hadn’t been so involved? Did we created this monster ourselves?

Would our kids be better off if we backed off? If we placed the responsibility of school back on their shoulders? If we intentionally allowed kids to succeed by their own devices? I’m more and more convinced treating our kids as our own parents treated us would not only ensure a next generation of confident children who have learned how to navigate life, but a next generation of children who have discovered that effort and attitude reap untold rewards.

Let’s trust we’ve laid the right foundation and believe in the strength of our kids again -- so they can succeed in their own “Big Game” called life.

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What is purposeful learning?

2/1/2016

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I was sitting in a staff meeting one morning this week at 7:30am, and we were all asked to share our dream job -- the ideal dream job we’d each like to have if we weren’t teachers. Without fail, we were all able to put our fingers on one job that would give our lives additional purpose and fulfillment. I found it fascinating that our answers were so easily pinpointed, identified, and readily shared with others. I find it interesting, because not many of our own kids, or students for that matter, can do the same. They are still floundering for a passion.

I get that as adults we’ve lived full lives when compared to the lives of children. We’ve traveled, been educated, held various jobs, met interesting people and had time to dabble in hobbies that bring us happiness. Kids haven’t yet had these experiences.

However, shouldn’t we provide as many of these experiences as possible in order to help our kids find their passion and a purpose in learning?

I’m currently reading David Conley’s “Getting Ready for College, Careers, and the Common Core.” He writes in his book about the importance of ownership of learning. His research and argument support my point exactly -- we need to do a better job as educators of connecting learning to the real world so that students can take ownership of their learning. This in turn will inspire all kids to see where they are going beyond high school, ultimately giving purpose to each and every day.

Conley states “Many young people [...] receive a diploma that in the end may not have much meaning, significance, or value to them.” He continues to argue, “It is not that they lack ambition or interests; they simply don’t make connections between what they are learning and where they are going beyond high school.”

How great would it be if, as parents, we no longer had to hear the “Why do I have to study Algebra?” question from our kids.

Because of this question, it is clear to me our schools are not sufficiently connecting learning to purpose.

When I think about the future, I realize I have been charged in the classroom with training children for jobs that don’t currently exist. So does the Algebra itself actually matter, or is Algebra, rather, providing the chance to problem solve, question, evaluate and apply craft to real-world examples, triggering a love of learning and an opportunity for each child to find his purpose and meaning in his life?

I want not only my own kids, but also my students, to realize that learning is meant to help them find their passion in the world. That the content is simply a means to lifelong fulfillment. That Algebra isn’t just done for the sake of completing an Algebraic equation -- it, along with all other subjects, is simply a way to have lots of experiences.

I want my kids and my students to find their passion. I want them to find a purpose for learning. I want them to have dozens of adults in their lives who inspire purposeful learning.

Is this an easy task for teachers? No.

Is it imperative? Absolutely.

Ultimately, I want all our kiddos to be able to identify their dream job in an instant.

After all, isn’t that what education is all about?

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Let's stop calling kids lazy

Why are kids so stressed?

Fair does not mean equal

Are parents too involved?

What is purposeful learning?

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