I just finished reading two books that dealt peripherally with schools for the gifted, one of which also had an important character who was gifted. In both cases, the schools for the gifted were portrayed as places filled with mean characters and unrealistic demands. One school was actually more like a prep school, but the main character was asked to leave the school when it became obvious that he wasn't doing well academically.
I understand that not all schools are warm and welcoming places, but it was rather painful to realize that the reason these particular schools were portrayed in such negative ways is because smart kids went there - kids who spent 3 weeks constructing their own solar panels - in 4th grade; kids who talked about science and not sports; kids who made were upset if you cost their team points, because you spent more than 5 minutes and 48 seconds in the bathroom.
And, what was the important character like? All of the typical characteristics of "genius" good kids. Not great at playing sports, but good at analyzing the game and the characteristics of the other team. In free time, he reads a book. When he plays games with a brother, he lets the brother win sometimes.
Both authors went out of their way to portray all of the negative stereotypes of schools for smart kids and the second author managed to include just about every stereotype of gifted boys, too.
It was supremely depressing.
Showing posts with label gifted_children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gifted_children. Show all posts
Monday, September 01, 2014
Thursday, July 10, 2014
To Label or Not to Label Gifted Kids
There is an active debate about labeling gifted kids going on right now in The Brain Cafe on Facebook. I gave my opinion to start with and it is similar to the opinion I expressed in a recent blog hop. (See May posts.)
I am a bit dismayed that we keep having this debate over and over and over again. Should we use the word gifted? Should we identify gifted kids? Shouldn't we just give services to anyone who needs them?
Well, yes, ideally, we would just give services to anyone who needs them. But, in case people haven't noticed, that isn't the way most schools work. Funding isn't just allocated for some amorphous program to help kids with their needs. That is regular school and it isn't really adequate for gifted kids. I have complained loudly and frequently about the fact that regular teachers can't and don't differentiate enough for gifted kids. And, no, it is NOT just a matter of more training. You can come up with all the "should"s that you want - it isn't happening. Teachers SHOULD differentiate for their outlier kids. They don't. There SHOULD be resources available for teachers to use with their outlier kids. There aren't. Teachers SHOULD take time to help the outlier kids with their specific needs. They don't HAVE the time. So which outlier kids actually get services? The kids with labels. BD, ESL, ELL, LD, etc. Maybe it SHOULDn't be that way, but it is. If you want a gifted program, you need labels. Within those labels, there can be a huge range of flexibility.
Personally, I am staying out of the theoretical argument now. I can see the theory both ways. But I want results and I want to see them across the board, not just in the best or most exemplary schools. From what I can see, you need labels, you need specific identification, and you need specific programs - programs targeted to labeled kids. We need specific programs to target the kids who are labeled GT, in addition to all of the other labeled programs.
I am a bit dismayed that we keep having this debate over and over and over again. Should we use the word gifted? Should we identify gifted kids? Shouldn't we just give services to anyone who needs them?
Well, yes, ideally, we would just give services to anyone who needs them. But, in case people haven't noticed, that isn't the way most schools work. Funding isn't just allocated for some amorphous program to help kids with their needs. That is regular school and it isn't really adequate for gifted kids. I have complained loudly and frequently about the fact that regular teachers can't and don't differentiate enough for gifted kids. And, no, it is NOT just a matter of more training. You can come up with all the "should"s that you want - it isn't happening. Teachers SHOULD differentiate for their outlier kids. They don't. There SHOULD be resources available for teachers to use with their outlier kids. There aren't. Teachers SHOULD take time to help the outlier kids with their specific needs. They don't HAVE the time. So which outlier kids actually get services? The kids with labels. BD, ESL, ELL, LD, etc. Maybe it SHOULDn't be that way, but it is. If you want a gifted program, you need labels. Within those labels, there can be a huge range of flexibility.
Personally, I am staying out of the theoretical argument now. I can see the theory both ways. But I want results and I want to see them across the board, not just in the best or most exemplary schools. From what I can see, you need labels, you need specific identification, and you need specific programs - programs targeted to labeled kids. We need specific programs to target the kids who are labeled GT, in addition to all of the other labeled programs.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Gifted Kids Have It Easy (Academically)
You think gifted kids have it easy - they don't have to work hard to get good grades; the teachers love them. Yes, gifted kids have it easy.
Too easy.
You think it is great to not have to work hard to get good grades? So, while you are learning good work habits, how to study, how to fight off distractions, and how to recover from errors and mistakes, the gifted kid never has to deal with most of those problems. And that IS the problem. Why shouldn't GT kids have to work hard? Why shouldn't they have to work as hard as the rest of the kids? We don't give other kids a pass when the going gets hard - we support them in their struggles. Why not make the gifted kids work hard, too?
Yes, all kids need a chance to get interested in things and follow their interests, but ALL kids, gifted kids included, need to know that sometimes learning something is HARD. Sometimes it isn't especially fun. Sometimes you make MISTAKES. Sometimes you feel DISCOURAGED. It isn't the end of the world and they can get through all of those things.
No, teachers don't actually love all of the gifted kids. GTs make them feel strangely uneasy. The teachers know that they aren't really teaching some of the GT kids very much. They learn the lesson too quickly and then the teacher has to think up something for the GT kid to do while the rest of the kids are still working. They may be ready to go on to a new part of the lesson, but that would spoil the motivation s/he planned to present for the other kids, make other kids jealous, and get everyone out of sync. They could work on something related to the topic, but there aren't any materials for that and, besides, the teacher doesn't really know how to teach anything about that, so the GT kid would just be working on her/his own. So, usually, the GT kid just gets to read quietly while the others finish. That is common enough that the other kids aren't jealous of the opportunity and the teacher doesn't have to find something else for them to do. Anyway, reading is a good activity, isn't it? It's easy.
Too easy.
Too easy.
You think it is great to not have to work hard to get good grades? So, while you are learning good work habits, how to study, how to fight off distractions, and how to recover from errors and mistakes, the gifted kid never has to deal with most of those problems. And that IS the problem. Why shouldn't GT kids have to work hard? Why shouldn't they have to work as hard as the rest of the kids? We don't give other kids a pass when the going gets hard - we support them in their struggles. Why not make the gifted kids work hard, too?
Yes, all kids need a chance to get interested in things and follow their interests, but ALL kids, gifted kids included, need to know that sometimes learning something is HARD. Sometimes it isn't especially fun. Sometimes you make MISTAKES. Sometimes you feel DISCOURAGED. It isn't the end of the world and they can get through all of those things.
No, teachers don't actually love all of the gifted kids. GTs make them feel strangely uneasy. The teachers know that they aren't really teaching some of the GT kids very much. They learn the lesson too quickly and then the teacher has to think up something for the GT kid to do while the rest of the kids are still working. They may be ready to go on to a new part of the lesson, but that would spoil the motivation s/he planned to present for the other kids, make other kids jealous, and get everyone out of sync. They could work on something related to the topic, but there aren't any materials for that and, besides, the teacher doesn't really know how to teach anything about that, so the GT kid would just be working on her/his own. So, usually, the GT kid just gets to read quietly while the others finish. That is common enough that the other kids aren't jealous of the opportunity and the teacher doesn't have to find something else for them to do. Anyway, reading is a good activity, isn't it? It's easy.
Too easy.
Thursday, May 01, 2014
The Gifted Label
I didn't commit to writing a post about this topic, because I am still not sure where I stand in relation to it.
On the one hand, I acknowledge that the term "gifted" is misunderstood, misused, and considered slightly offensive by some people. On the other hand, I don't think it is necessarily the word itself that is at fault.
I have been teaching since 1971. Before that, my mother was a teacher, and her mother as well. So, we have a long history of being involved in education. My father was also a school board member and both my parents were involved in the establishment of the Iowa TAG subgroup of the Council on Exceptional Children. In those many years, the term for slow learners has changed over and over again. The earliest term I can remember is "retarded". It was intended as a simple descriptor. These children learn more slowly in relation to the other children. But it acquired a negative connotation, so other terms were substituted, MR, EMR, learning disabled, and more. In some cases, the terms became more descriptive and more definitive; in others, it was hoped that they would be perceived as less undesirable.
Over the years, I think teachers, school personnel, and the general public have all gotten to be more understanding of slow learners, but I am not sure that it is due to more descriptive or more well-defined designations for them. I would like to think that it is more due to improved knowledge about their capabilities and methods to help them achieve more and be integrated into the regular lives of school children.
It is thus with some reservation that I look at whether "gifted" should be changed to something else. Are we trying to better describe the concept of giftedness and look differently at the capabilities of gifted children (and adults) or is it because of a negative connotation? In my experience, the negative perception of the term "gifted" is partly due to the reality of giftedness, not the term itself. Examples: a) I was in the teachers' lounge eating lunch. I said something in response to the general conversation. I was told, "You're too smart for us." b) I was speculating about some phenomena - its causes and consequences. My children said (with great exasperation), "Do you have to analyze EVERYTHING?" In neither of these cases was the word "gifted" even close to being mentioned. The negative perception was for me - a gifted adult. Both examples were rejections of ME for being who I am. In the case of my children, I will forgive them because of their youth and their teenage critical natures at the time. But the first example has happened under slightly different circumstances over and over again. I am sorry I can't appear to be not gifted at times. I have tried "code switching" - changing my speech to match the types of conversations I am a part of. It works, most of the time - or at least I used to think it did. Now, I am not so sure. Eventually, I get "outed" - by something I say, usually.
Thus, I feel that part of the problem with the word "gifted" is not the word itself, but the person to whom the label is applied. We represent some things that people find uncomfortable. As with the terms for slow learners, it makes many people uncomfortable to acknowledge the people, so the term keeps changing in an attempt to show that we really don't want to make people feel bad.
On the other hand, "gifted" isn't exactly a descriptive term. It doesn't say anything about how the process of learning or being is different for that person. "Retarded" and all of its replacements can at least be credited with that. "Learning disabled", though vague, at least indicates that there is some learning process that, for that particular student, is more difficult than normal.
The problem, as MANY people have said, is that there is no good alternative. "Smart" could be a catch-all descriptor, except that it, too, isn't very descriptive. "Fast learner" only describes a portion of gifted people. Some learn fast; others learn deeply; still others think broadly and creatively. Should all these acquire different designations? "Persons with high intelligence", as suggested by Dr. Wenda Sheard, is a bit cumbersome and is only a bit more descriptive than "gifted".
I don't know. Like Shaun Hately, I think labeling is actually helpful. It gives people an entry into a way of thinking about that individual. Most people understand that the label is only a beginning, and that it just points to some things that might need to be considered. Just like "learning disabled", it signals that there is something specific here that needs to be looked at.
Other blogs referenced:
http://wendasheard.wordpress.com/2014/05/01/on-dropping-the-g-bomb/
http://chockyschild.wordpress.com/2014/05/01/warning-may-contain-nuts/
On the one hand, I acknowledge that the term "gifted" is misunderstood, misused, and considered slightly offensive by some people. On the other hand, I don't think it is necessarily the word itself that is at fault.
I have been teaching since 1971. Before that, my mother was a teacher, and her mother as well. So, we have a long history of being involved in education. My father was also a school board member and both my parents were involved in the establishment of the Iowa TAG subgroup of the Council on Exceptional Children. In those many years, the term for slow learners has changed over and over again. The earliest term I can remember is "retarded". It was intended as a simple descriptor. These children learn more slowly in relation to the other children. But it acquired a negative connotation, so other terms were substituted, MR, EMR, learning disabled, and more. In some cases, the terms became more descriptive and more definitive; in others, it was hoped that they would be perceived as less undesirable.
Over the years, I think teachers, school personnel, and the general public have all gotten to be more understanding of slow learners, but I am not sure that it is due to more descriptive or more well-defined designations for them. I would like to think that it is more due to improved knowledge about their capabilities and methods to help them achieve more and be integrated into the regular lives of school children.
It is thus with some reservation that I look at whether "gifted" should be changed to something else. Are we trying to better describe the concept of giftedness and look differently at the capabilities of gifted children (and adults) or is it because of a negative connotation? In my experience, the negative perception of the term "gifted" is partly due to the reality of giftedness, not the term itself. Examples: a) I was in the teachers' lounge eating lunch. I said something in response to the general conversation. I was told, "You're too smart for us." b) I was speculating about some phenomena - its causes and consequences. My children said (with great exasperation), "Do you have to analyze EVERYTHING?" In neither of these cases was the word "gifted" even close to being mentioned. The negative perception was for me - a gifted adult. Both examples were rejections of ME for being who I am. In the case of my children, I will forgive them because of their youth and their teenage critical natures at the time. But the first example has happened under slightly different circumstances over and over again. I am sorry I can't appear to be not gifted at times. I have tried "code switching" - changing my speech to match the types of conversations I am a part of. It works, most of the time - or at least I used to think it did. Now, I am not so sure. Eventually, I get "outed" - by something I say, usually.
Thus, I feel that part of the problem with the word "gifted" is not the word itself, but the person to whom the label is applied. We represent some things that people find uncomfortable. As with the terms for slow learners, it makes many people uncomfortable to acknowledge the people, so the term keeps changing in an attempt to show that we really don't want to make people feel bad.
On the other hand, "gifted" isn't exactly a descriptive term. It doesn't say anything about how the process of learning or being is different for that person. "Retarded" and all of its replacements can at least be credited with that. "Learning disabled", though vague, at least indicates that there is some learning process that, for that particular student, is more difficult than normal.
The problem, as MANY people have said, is that there is no good alternative. "Smart" could be a catch-all descriptor, except that it, too, isn't very descriptive. "Fast learner" only describes a portion of gifted people. Some learn fast; others learn deeply; still others think broadly and creatively. Should all these acquire different designations? "Persons with high intelligence", as suggested by Dr. Wenda Sheard, is a bit cumbersome and is only a bit more descriptive than "gifted".
I don't know. Like Shaun Hately, I think labeling is actually helpful. It gives people an entry into a way of thinking about that individual. Most people understand that the label is only a beginning, and that it just points to some things that might need to be considered. Just like "learning disabled", it signals that there is something specific here that needs to be looked at.
Other blogs referenced:
http://wendasheard.wordpress.com/2014/05/01/on-dropping-the-g-bomb/
http://chockyschild.wordpress.com/2014/05/01/warning-may-contain-nuts/
Friday, April 25, 2014
Teaching GT Kids
OK. I will just admit it. I love teaching GT kids. I was at a charter school for GT kids today - 5th and 6th grades and I really enjoyed the day.
First of all, the atmosphere of a GT school is different. There is an enjoyment of learning that I don't usually see at other schools. The teacher left some "Plexer" style worksheets for them to do if they had some time and the kids grabbed them enthusiastically. Then later in the day, they were reading aloud from a book with multiple characters and they really enjoyed listening to different kids read their parts. There was a willingness to tackle problems and think about the implications of different aspects of their learning.
And the students are also a bit different - the interest in things; the acceptance of each other; the acceptance of "the sub" as a person of interest and not an adversary.
It was fun.
I suppose this is one reason why teachers in regular classrooms sometimes feel that teaching GT kids is "easy". In general, they WERE more compliant that kids I teach in regular classrooms. Their enthusiasm carries over to their work and it makes teaching more interesting and more fun. And, in general, as this is a charter school, their parents are committed to their education. The parents who picked up the kids seemed genuinely interested in what their children had to say.
As a sub, I can't really tell much about their ability levels. My guess is that most of them were moderately gifted, with a sprinkling of students above and below that. I still didn't see accommodations for kids who would be outliers, even in this environment, the EG and PG kids, but the general attitude that learning is interesting should make it more comfortable and accepting even for those students.
Good day, even though I am coming off of an illness and am not at 100% myself.
First of all, the atmosphere of a GT school is different. There is an enjoyment of learning that I don't usually see at other schools. The teacher left some "Plexer" style worksheets for them to do if they had some time and the kids grabbed them enthusiastically. Then later in the day, they were reading aloud from a book with multiple characters and they really enjoyed listening to different kids read their parts. There was a willingness to tackle problems and think about the implications of different aspects of their learning.
And the students are also a bit different - the interest in things; the acceptance of each other; the acceptance of "the sub" as a person of interest and not an adversary.
It was fun.
I suppose this is one reason why teachers in regular classrooms sometimes feel that teaching GT kids is "easy". In general, they WERE more compliant that kids I teach in regular classrooms. Their enthusiasm carries over to their work and it makes teaching more interesting and more fun. And, in general, as this is a charter school, their parents are committed to their education. The parents who picked up the kids seemed genuinely interested in what their children had to say.
As a sub, I can't really tell much about their ability levels. My guess is that most of them were moderately gifted, with a sprinkling of students above and below that. I still didn't see accommodations for kids who would be outliers, even in this environment, the EG and PG kids, but the general attitude that learning is interesting should make it more comfortable and accepting even for those students.
Good day, even though I am coming off of an illness and am not at 100% myself.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Gifted Goal Setting
I was subbing not long ago and while I was cleaning up the room, some other teachers were having a planning session there. They were discussing goal setting for their gifted students. Whenever I hear people discussing gifted students, I listen. They knew I was there, so I don't feel like it was eavesdropping - just interest.
What were their goals for their gifted students (elementary age)? Academically: they should score a 4 on the state tests in either math or reading (depending on their area of identification). How would they accomplish this? They should be included in the higher group of math class or the higher groups in their classes for reading. Affectively: they should display good social behaviors. How would this be accomplished? They should attend the counseling sessions for GT identified students.
I am still thinking about these as goals, but I am disappointed that they seem so canned. Are all of these GT kids so similar that they have nearly the same goals? Are high scores on state standardized tests our best measure of acceptable achievement? Is simple attendance at group counseling sessions a measure of success?
A few years ago, I had a job as a GT coordinator for a school. I wasn't in the job when the goals for these students were developed, but I did have to evaluate the achievement of the goals at the end of the year. I was pretty taken aback by some of the goals. I don't remember them exactly, but they were on the order of: "Get A's on all of my work." "Win the hockey tournament." "Turn in 80% of my homework."
It seems to me that we need to think a bit more about this goal setting requirement. What is a good goal? How can we encourage kids and teachers to set good goals? How detailed do the plans have to be for achieving the goals? Who decides if the goal has been met? How often do we look at setting goals? Who is involved in setting them? Ideally, the goals need to be set for each particular child. Achieving a 4 on the state test in math may be a good goal for many students, but it is rather limiting. Is the only math worth learning that which will be tested on the state tests? What if the student could have achieved that 4 without learning anything new for the whole year? What if the student is a model student, does all of the work, gets all of the answers right, but has no idea why math is of any interest other than just filling in bubbles or clicking boxes?
Teachers are overworked and I do not blame them for looking for simple, canned goals, especially since they are required to set these goals with little (or no) training in gifted education. But I am sad for the GT kids. One teacher remarked, as they were entering the goals on their computers, that they do these things already. They have groups for math and reading and the bi-weekly counseling session. In essence, she was pointing out that they don't need to do anything different. Goals set; learning plan implemented. Now it was just up to the state test to determine if the kids met their goals. Done.
What were their goals for their gifted students (elementary age)? Academically: they should score a 4 on the state tests in either math or reading (depending on their area of identification). How would they accomplish this? They should be included in the higher group of math class or the higher groups in their classes for reading. Affectively: they should display good social behaviors. How would this be accomplished? They should attend the counseling sessions for GT identified students.
I am still thinking about these as goals, but I am disappointed that they seem so canned. Are all of these GT kids so similar that they have nearly the same goals? Are high scores on state standardized tests our best measure of acceptable achievement? Is simple attendance at group counseling sessions a measure of success?
A few years ago, I had a job as a GT coordinator for a school. I wasn't in the job when the goals for these students were developed, but I did have to evaluate the achievement of the goals at the end of the year. I was pretty taken aback by some of the goals. I don't remember them exactly, but they were on the order of: "Get A's on all of my work." "Win the hockey tournament." "Turn in 80% of my homework."
It seems to me that we need to think a bit more about this goal setting requirement. What is a good goal? How can we encourage kids and teachers to set good goals? How detailed do the plans have to be for achieving the goals? Who decides if the goal has been met? How often do we look at setting goals? Who is involved in setting them? Ideally, the goals need to be set for each particular child. Achieving a 4 on the state test in math may be a good goal for many students, but it is rather limiting. Is the only math worth learning that which will be tested on the state tests? What if the student could have achieved that 4 without learning anything new for the whole year? What if the student is a model student, does all of the work, gets all of the answers right, but has no idea why math is of any interest other than just filling in bubbles or clicking boxes?
Teachers are overworked and I do not blame them for looking for simple, canned goals, especially since they are required to set these goals with little (or no) training in gifted education. But I am sad for the GT kids. One teacher remarked, as they were entering the goals on their computers, that they do these things already. They have groups for math and reading and the bi-weekly counseling session. In essence, she was pointing out that they don't need to do anything different. Goals set; learning plan implemented. Now it was just up to the state test to determine if the kids met their goals. Done.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Higher Grouped Classes Larger
I was subbing for a 4th grade with around 25 students. The kids switch classes for math and I had a group of 30 students. I was not explicitly told that they were the higher group, but this is the common way of dividing kids when they switch classes. Usually the top group gets more students, the middle group has an average number, and the low group gets fewer students.
And now I am pondering what the effects of this are for gifted and highly gifted students. On the one hand, the level of the whole class can be somewhat higher. Generally, these groups use exactly the same textbooks, but sometimes their homework or side activities are a bit different. And, if there are exceptionally able students in the class, the teacher could possibly cluster group them (though I have never seen any indication that teachers have done so). On the other hand, the classes are larger, which means more grading, more classroom management challenges (even finding enough places for the extra students to sit), and more communication duties (parents, homeroom teachers).
So, is it helpful? Probably. Is it sufficient? Probably not, in some cases.
And now I am pondering what the effects of this are for gifted and highly gifted students. On the one hand, the level of the whole class can be somewhat higher. Generally, these groups use exactly the same textbooks, but sometimes their homework or side activities are a bit different. And, if there are exceptionally able students in the class, the teacher could possibly cluster group them (though I have never seen any indication that teachers have done so). On the other hand, the classes are larger, which means more grading, more classroom management challenges (even finding enough places for the extra students to sit), and more communication duties (parents, homeroom teachers).
So, is it helpful? Probably. Is it sufficient? Probably not, in some cases.
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Further Thoughts about Yesterday's Post
I said yesterday that, "I would describe our job as educators to be to take the raw giftedness
and gradually turn it into talent. And there are a huge number of areas
in which talent can be developed. My goal would not be eminence, but
rather self-actualization." Although I still mean that, I agree with Delisle, Silverman, and Betts that understanding the social, emotional, and intellectual being of the gifted individual is the most important orientation for teachers. The goal is, again, self-actualization. Not fame, not fortune - those are limited to the few, the connected, and the lucky. But a self, developed and developing in areas of growth and mastery.
Monday, October 07, 2013
Colorado Association for Gifted and Talented - CAGT 2013
I am attending the CAGT conference at the Denver Tech Center's Marriott Hotel. It is a two-day conference, with the first day (now over for me) today and the second day tomorrow.
Small personal victory: I took the bus to the Tech Center, instead of driving, and it was fine. Easy and on time.
Reflections:
The first session I went to was Jim Delisle's presentation on Underachievement. He breaks down underachievers into two categories - the true underachievers and the "selective consumers". The typical example of the selective consumer is the boy who gets into trouble and is disruptive, unless he is in a class he really likes or has a teacher who "gets" him. The typical example of the underachiever is the quiet girl, who does everything fairly well, but is devastated by any negative feedback - she credits her successes to luck and her failures to inability (stupidity). Most people focus on the disruptive kid, because, as a teacher, you have to - or the whole class spirals out of control. The quiet kid is the one who concerned me more - probably because that was me. I just kind of slid by in all of my classes up until college. I was such a good kid and so smart that no one worried about me. I did what I was told and did it well, so no one ever knew that I felt like a failure. I think Jim was a bit surprised at what I recommended for helping the quiet underachiever - the chance to really fail. But I still think it would help. I needed to fail at work that required real effort. I needed to know that I could survive failure on something really difficult and I needed to learn 1) that is isn't the end of the world, 2) that I could try again, and 3) learning is sometimes really hard.
The second presentation I heard was Susan Jackson's first keynote. Because of the federal government's shutdown, Deb Delisle, who was scheduled to speak, wasn't allowed to come. So Susan Jackson filled in. It was an interesting presentation. The major focus of it was on the necessity of play in our lives and most especially in the lives of children. Sadly, I see this all of the time in schools. Time is so structured that children never have time to just play with stuff or with each other. Even when they can play games, the games are almost always limited to games with a hidden objective - math games, spelling games, etc. Free play and the beautiful manipulatives languish on the shelves (see blog from two days ago). Even recess times are cut woefully short. Recess AND lunch for the kids are 30 minutes. If they are lucky, the kids will get another 15 minute recess. Most are not lucky.
The next presentation I attended was Linda Silverman's talk on Giftedness though the Lifetime. I have heard much of this talk from her before, but this time a good deal of the emphasis was on the plea for us to understand that giftedness is something you are - the way you see the world. This is in direct contrast to the recent emphasis in NAGC on talent development. While I agree with Dr. Silverman that giftedness is something you are - intrinsic to your whole being, I think too much is made of the supposed abandonment of that view to the talent development model. I have long thought that the best model of giftedness and talent is the Gagné model, where giftedness is the left-hand side (of the usual visual representation). This is the giftedness that Linda Silverman talks about. In Gagné's model, the other side of the visual is the talent side. I would describe our job as educators to be to take the raw giftedness and gradually turn it into talent. And there are a huge number of areas in which talent can be developed. My goal would not be eminence, but rather self-actualization. The people who achieve eminence need not just giftedness, but culturally-related education and luck. E.g., in a culture that does not value the arts, even the most gifted artist may never turn into a talented artist. And, in a culture that does not allow for education of women, even the most gifted female mathematician will never develop her talent. In a culture dependent on inherited connections to wealth and power, the gifted poor child can never become eminent.
Jim Delisle also gave a keynote presentation titled Learning to Exhale. I agree with him wholeheartedly on this. When I first attended full time gifted classes as a 6th grader a million years ago, it seemed to me that my whole mind was waking up from a long dull stupor. I get along well with a huge variety of people and, as a sub, I connect with a huge range of children and adults. But I come fully alive and cherish the time I spend with other gifted people. It is truly my lifeline. It is sad to me that more gifted kids don't have this opportunity. I am a swimmer. Being with other gifted people is like coming up for air. I need that breath of air to keep me going through the rest of the stroke. Gifted kids don't just WANT peers, the NEED them, with their whole beings.
The final presentation I went to was Mary Ellen Sweeney and Brooke Walker's discussion of Ethnographic Research. I have long been interested in other cultures and chose this presentation to see how others approach the topic. I found some useful ideas here - especially the graphic organizer about the various aspects of culture. I wish they had started their presentation with a preface, though. I would like to have known that they had written a book about this process and that the book was aimed for middle-school and high-school teachers. I gradually found that out as the presentation progressed, but it was unnecessarily confusing at first. And, rather than the process of doing the unit, I would like to have heard some specific case examples, e.g., one student who was taking notes on his soccer team came up with these artifacts ..., these customs ..., and these rituals ... I did like that we got to talk to other attendees for a short time. I had a good person to talk to.
All in all, a worthwhile day.
Small personal victory: I took the bus to the Tech Center, instead of driving, and it was fine. Easy and on time.
Reflections:
The first session I went to was Jim Delisle's presentation on Underachievement. He breaks down underachievers into two categories - the true underachievers and the "selective consumers". The typical example of the selective consumer is the boy who gets into trouble and is disruptive, unless he is in a class he really likes or has a teacher who "gets" him. The typical example of the underachiever is the quiet girl, who does everything fairly well, but is devastated by any negative feedback - she credits her successes to luck and her failures to inability (stupidity). Most people focus on the disruptive kid, because, as a teacher, you have to - or the whole class spirals out of control. The quiet kid is the one who concerned me more - probably because that was me. I just kind of slid by in all of my classes up until college. I was such a good kid and so smart that no one worried about me. I did what I was told and did it well, so no one ever knew that I felt like a failure. I think Jim was a bit surprised at what I recommended for helping the quiet underachiever - the chance to really fail. But I still think it would help. I needed to fail at work that required real effort. I needed to know that I could survive failure on something really difficult and I needed to learn 1) that is isn't the end of the world, 2) that I could try again, and 3) learning is sometimes really hard.
The second presentation I heard was Susan Jackson's first keynote. Because of the federal government's shutdown, Deb Delisle, who was scheduled to speak, wasn't allowed to come. So Susan Jackson filled in. It was an interesting presentation. The major focus of it was on the necessity of play in our lives and most especially in the lives of children. Sadly, I see this all of the time in schools. Time is so structured that children never have time to just play with stuff or with each other. Even when they can play games, the games are almost always limited to games with a hidden objective - math games, spelling games, etc. Free play and the beautiful manipulatives languish on the shelves (see blog from two days ago). Even recess times are cut woefully short. Recess AND lunch for the kids are 30 minutes. If they are lucky, the kids will get another 15 minute recess. Most are not lucky.
The next presentation I attended was Linda Silverman's talk on Giftedness though the Lifetime. I have heard much of this talk from her before, but this time a good deal of the emphasis was on the plea for us to understand that giftedness is something you are - the way you see the world. This is in direct contrast to the recent emphasis in NAGC on talent development. While I agree with Dr. Silverman that giftedness is something you are - intrinsic to your whole being, I think too much is made of the supposed abandonment of that view to the talent development model. I have long thought that the best model of giftedness and talent is the Gagné model, where giftedness is the left-hand side (of the usual visual representation). This is the giftedness that Linda Silverman talks about. In Gagné's model, the other side of the visual is the talent side. I would describe our job as educators to be to take the raw giftedness and gradually turn it into talent. And there are a huge number of areas in which talent can be developed. My goal would not be eminence, but rather self-actualization. The people who achieve eminence need not just giftedness, but culturally-related education and luck. E.g., in a culture that does not value the arts, even the most gifted artist may never turn into a talented artist. And, in a culture that does not allow for education of women, even the most gifted female mathematician will never develop her talent. In a culture dependent on inherited connections to wealth and power, the gifted poor child can never become eminent.
Jim Delisle also gave a keynote presentation titled Learning to Exhale. I agree with him wholeheartedly on this. When I first attended full time gifted classes as a 6th grader a million years ago, it seemed to me that my whole mind was waking up from a long dull stupor. I get along well with a huge variety of people and, as a sub, I connect with a huge range of children and adults. But I come fully alive and cherish the time I spend with other gifted people. It is truly my lifeline. It is sad to me that more gifted kids don't have this opportunity. I am a swimmer. Being with other gifted people is like coming up for air. I need that breath of air to keep me going through the rest of the stroke. Gifted kids don't just WANT peers, the NEED them, with their whole beings.
The final presentation I went to was Mary Ellen Sweeney and Brooke Walker's discussion of Ethnographic Research. I have long been interested in other cultures and chose this presentation to see how others approach the topic. I found some useful ideas here - especially the graphic organizer about the various aspects of culture. I wish they had started their presentation with a preface, though. I would like to have known that they had written a book about this process and that the book was aimed for middle-school and high-school teachers. I gradually found that out as the presentation progressed, but it was unnecessarily confusing at first. And, rather than the process of doing the unit, I would like to have heard some specific case examples, e.g., one student who was taking notes on his soccer team came up with these artifacts ..., these customs ..., and these rituals ... I did like that we got to talk to other attendees for a short time. I had a good person to talk to.
All in all, a worthwhile day.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Re: Things We Should Stop Doing to High-Ability Students
Original article by Tamar Wyschogrod
http://smokingtowardnewjersey.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/five-things-we-should-stop-doing-to.html?spref=tw
I have a couple of minor complaints about this article and some major comments.
First of all, a minor complaint: in the second paragraph, I think high-ability is equated with high-achieving. They are IMNSHO different things. I don't object to the use of high-ability to equate to "gifted", but high-ability does not necessarily translate to high-achieving. And high-achieving does not necessarily translate to high-ability. That last statement needs to be explained a bit more. While it does take a certain amount of ability in order to achieve highly, in most of the things required for school, a modest amount of ability combined with hard work and support from parents, teachers, or peers is sufficient to result in high-achievement, or at least noticeably above average achievement.
Secondly, crappy differentiation is crappy, because it is difficult, takes time, and is politically a hard sell with kids. I have written quite a few times about the problems with touting differentiation as the solution for high-ability students. Check the tag if you are interested, but basically, it simply isn't enough for HG+ students, teachers can't do it (conceptually difficult), and teachers don't do it (not enough time).
I haven't ever addressed specifically the last point of the above paragraph's opening statement: differentiation is politically a hard sell with kids. There are a few kids, for whom getting something different is such a relief that they don't care how their classmates view it. There are also a few kids who take getting something different to mean that they are somehow better than their classmates. But, IME, a lot of the students react to getting something different with either embarrassment or reluctance. They might be embarrassed because they are afraid that their classmates will take the view that they are "stuck up" or they might be embarrassed that they are singled out - "out"ed, as a smart kid, when they were just trying to "pass". And, there are a lot of high-ability kids who look at differentiation as just more work for them to do (as the author points out). Given a list of options for projects, they choose the easy ones, even though they aren't very challenging, because they are less work. Not all high-ability kids WANT higher challenge work.
Now for the rest of the article.
Group Projects. Yes, in general, these are the bane of the high-ability students. This comes largely from the teacher-training recommendations for group constitutions - one high-ability student, two average students, one low ability student. High-ability student can sometimes cajole one average student into helping, but oftentimes ends up doing most of the work. What does the low ability student learn? That s/he is too dumb to help and it is best to just clown around so that the others don't notice. One teacher inservice that I attended said that group projects aren't themselves the problem. It is the make-up of the groups. She recommended never including high-ability students with low-ability students. Her recommendation: groups of four should have similar abilities, e.g., one or two high ability students and 2 or 3 moderate ability students. That way, the lower ability groups can't get away with doing little or nothing, and the teacher might be able to adjust the project so that they, too, learn something (differentiation).
Crappy Differentiation. Already discussed.
Contests instead of Curriculum. I like contests. They can be interesting and motivating for gifted kids. But I agree that they are no substitute for curriculum. But just regular classroom differentiated curriculum isn't good enough. It isn't challenging enough, it isn't (usually) at the correct level, and it isn't consistent enough. High-ability kids need real and regular work. It isn't fair to make the average kids work hard at learning and let the high-ability kids coast. They don't learn good work habits. They don't learn how to react to difficulties. They don't learn how to learn. That is why I am actually opposed to gifted advocates insisting on touting differentiation. It isn't working. High-ability kids need classes designed for their abilities. The easiest way to do this is by structural changes - subject acceleration, whole grade acceleration, grouping across multiple classes, and possibly cluster-grouping. I am still uncertain about cluster-grouping, because, as a sub, I have yet to see it in action.
Ignoring Their Achievements
This isn't a biggie with me. I think schools are doing better at touting achievements of high-ability kids. Yes, in some cases, it still feels like tokenism, but this is one area where I think schools have been reasonably responsive.
Low Standards
It seems like, in many classrooms, there is a race to the bottom. We don't want the low-ability kids to feel bad, so we teach lessons where all kids can achieve. We don't require good spelling in science class, because there are kids who simply can't spell well (true, even for high-ability kids). We don't check social studies tests for correct grammar, because it is a chore to even get them to write in complete sentences, let alone write a paragraph that is longer than two sentences. We make tests so that everyone who learns the material can get an A. (relevant discussion on LinkedIn Math Education). And most importantly, we don't give teachers enough time to hold kids to higher standards. You can't teach kids to write well, if, every time you ask them to write, you have to spend hours and hours of your own personal time - not planning time - grading those papers. 30 students X 3 minutes per paper ==> 1 1/2 hours of grading for one paper in one subject. That is the ENTIRE planning time for 3 days.
Thanks for some interesting food for thought to Tamar Wyschogrod.
http://smokingtowardnewjersey.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/five-things-we-should-stop-doing-to.html?spref=tw
I have a couple of minor complaints about this article and some major comments.
First of all, a minor complaint: in the second paragraph, I think high-ability is equated with high-achieving. They are IMNSHO different things. I don't object to the use of high-ability to equate to "gifted", but high-ability does not necessarily translate to high-achieving. And high-achieving does not necessarily translate to high-ability. That last statement needs to be explained a bit more. While it does take a certain amount of ability in order to achieve highly, in most of the things required for school, a modest amount of ability combined with hard work and support from parents, teachers, or peers is sufficient to result in high-achievement, or at least noticeably above average achievement.
Secondly, crappy differentiation is crappy, because it is difficult, takes time, and is politically a hard sell with kids. I have written quite a few times about the problems with touting differentiation as the solution for high-ability students. Check the tag if you are interested, but basically, it simply isn't enough for HG+ students, teachers can't do it (conceptually difficult), and teachers don't do it (not enough time).
I haven't ever addressed specifically the last point of the above paragraph's opening statement: differentiation is politically a hard sell with kids. There are a few kids, for whom getting something different is such a relief that they don't care how their classmates view it. There are also a few kids who take getting something different to mean that they are somehow better than their classmates. But, IME, a lot of the students react to getting something different with either embarrassment or reluctance. They might be embarrassed because they are afraid that their classmates will take the view that they are "stuck up" or they might be embarrassed that they are singled out - "out"ed, as a smart kid, when they were just trying to "pass". And, there are a lot of high-ability kids who look at differentiation as just more work for them to do (as the author points out). Given a list of options for projects, they choose the easy ones, even though they aren't very challenging, because they are less work. Not all high-ability kids WANT higher challenge work.
Now for the rest of the article.
Group Projects. Yes, in general, these are the bane of the high-ability students. This comes largely from the teacher-training recommendations for group constitutions - one high-ability student, two average students, one low ability student. High-ability student can sometimes cajole one average student into helping, but oftentimes ends up doing most of the work. What does the low ability student learn? That s/he is too dumb to help and it is best to just clown around so that the others don't notice. One teacher inservice that I attended said that group projects aren't themselves the problem. It is the make-up of the groups. She recommended never including high-ability students with low-ability students. Her recommendation: groups of four should have similar abilities, e.g., one or two high ability students and 2 or 3 moderate ability students. That way, the lower ability groups can't get away with doing little or nothing, and the teacher might be able to adjust the project so that they, too, learn something (differentiation).
Crappy Differentiation. Already discussed.
Contests instead of Curriculum. I like contests. They can be interesting and motivating for gifted kids. But I agree that they are no substitute for curriculum. But just regular classroom differentiated curriculum isn't good enough. It isn't challenging enough, it isn't (usually) at the correct level, and it isn't consistent enough. High-ability kids need real and regular work. It isn't fair to make the average kids work hard at learning and let the high-ability kids coast. They don't learn good work habits. They don't learn how to react to difficulties. They don't learn how to learn. That is why I am actually opposed to gifted advocates insisting on touting differentiation. It isn't working. High-ability kids need classes designed for their abilities. The easiest way to do this is by structural changes - subject acceleration, whole grade acceleration, grouping across multiple classes, and possibly cluster-grouping. I am still uncertain about cluster-grouping, because, as a sub, I have yet to see it in action.
Ignoring Their Achievements
This isn't a biggie with me. I think schools are doing better at touting achievements of high-ability kids. Yes, in some cases, it still feels like tokenism, but this is one area where I think schools have been reasonably responsive.
Low Standards
It seems like, in many classrooms, there is a race to the bottom. We don't want the low-ability kids to feel bad, so we teach lessons where all kids can achieve. We don't require good spelling in science class, because there are kids who simply can't spell well (true, even for high-ability kids). We don't check social studies tests for correct grammar, because it is a chore to even get them to write in complete sentences, let alone write a paragraph that is longer than two sentences. We make tests so that everyone who learns the material can get an A. (relevant discussion on LinkedIn Math Education). And most importantly, we don't give teachers enough time to hold kids to higher standards. You can't teach kids to write well, if, every time you ask them to write, you have to spend hours and hours of your own personal time - not planning time - grading those papers. 30 students X 3 minutes per paper ==> 1 1/2 hours of grading for one paper in one subject. That is the ENTIRE planning time for 3 days.
Thanks for some interesting food for thought to Tamar Wyschogrod.
Thursday, August 01, 2013
A Thought Experiment - the Able Teaching the Less Able
Imagine for a moment, you are required by your boss to attend a workshop for training purposes. Unfortunately, the workshop topic is something you already know a lot about, maybe even more than the person teaching the workshop. The instructor breaks the whole group into smaller groups to work on part of the topic. No one in your group understands the topic very well, so you spend a lot of time showing them how to do it. Some of them get it, but it takes so long to explain it to a few of them that you get a bit frustrated. You could be spending your time actually doing your work, rather than wasting it this way. In fact, you are a bit resentful that the instructor is getting paid a lot to teach this workshop and you have to pretend to be patient with it for the whole DAY. What a waste!
Now, imagine that you had to do this EVERY DAY, probably for the next dozen years. And add to that that you are a person who thrives on challenge, a person who craves complexity, depth, exploration.
And now imagine how a gifted child feels when s/he is asked to help the slower kids in the class. Occasionally, it can be fun. Sometimes, it helps you understand the topic better. But as a daily routine it is excruciatingly painful.
Now, imagine that you had to do this EVERY DAY, probably for the next dozen years. And add to that that you are a person who thrives on challenge, a person who craves complexity, depth, exploration.
And now imagine how a gifted child feels when s/he is asked to help the slower kids in the class. Occasionally, it can be fun. Sometimes, it helps you understand the topic better. But as a daily routine it is excruciatingly painful.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
End of School Year for Me
To finish off my part in the school year yesterday, I had a combination 5/6 classroom. It was the second day I was there. Most of the day was entirely typical: he stole my pencil, she kicked my chair, I don't have a book to read, my computer doesn't get X, etc. But, for math, which I enjoy, I knew many of the students were finished with the assignments they had been given for the two days. So, I posed three additional challenges: 1) the 9 dots in a square problem (connect the dots with exactly 4 straight continuous lines, 2) show me a piece of paper with only one side, and 3) calculate the numbers 1 through 20, using exactly 4 4's and any operations you know (these kids knew +-*/^!and √).
Most of the kids did not take part in the challenges - either because they still had work to do on their assignment or because they could pretend that they were working on their assignment and just socialize. As long as they were pretending well, I didn't bother them. But there were 3 boys who were fascinated by the challenges and 3 more who were very drawn to them, but a little wary about actually trying them. I had a great time with the three and enjoyed the others. At first, they were very frustrated that I refused to give them hints on how to solve the challenges. One solved the 9 dot problem fairly quickly. I couldn't tell if he had seen it before or just solved it easily. The other two really struggled, but eventually got it. There were several creative and pun-like answers to the paper with one side problem, but eventually two of them got it. Those two also went on to try the 1 through 20 calculations and made significant progress.
My fun was seeing them so motivated and eager. One of the peripheral boys also wanted to see the solution to the paper problem, which I showed him at the end of class.
Great fun and the reason why I sometimes really like this age student. And it makes up for the horrid day I had on Tuesday with unruly and disrespectful 3rd graders.
Most of the kids did not take part in the challenges - either because they still had work to do on their assignment or because they could pretend that they were working on their assignment and just socialize. As long as they were pretending well, I didn't bother them. But there were 3 boys who were fascinated by the challenges and 3 more who were very drawn to them, but a little wary about actually trying them. I had a great time with the three and enjoyed the others. At first, they were very frustrated that I refused to give them hints on how to solve the challenges. One solved the 9 dot problem fairly quickly. I couldn't tell if he had seen it before or just solved it easily. The other two really struggled, but eventually got it. There were several creative and pun-like answers to the paper with one side problem, but eventually two of them got it. Those two also went on to try the 1 through 20 calculations and made significant progress.
My fun was seeing them so motivated and eager. One of the peripheral boys also wanted to see the solution to the paper problem, which I showed him at the end of class.
Great fun and the reason why I sometimes really like this age student. And it makes up for the horrid day I had on Tuesday with unruly and disrespectful 3rd graders.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Why Do Some Capture Us?
As a substitute teacher, I see WAY too many kids in a week to remember them all. In fact, if I am in a particular class for only a day or a half day, I often have trouble REALLY noticing quite a few of the students. This is especially true of the quiet ones, the ones who seem to become part of their chairs.
One of my ongoing questions of myself is why do I notice some students and remember them and why do others completely fade from my mind? If I come back to that same classroom weeks or months later, which kids will I remember and which ones will I have no idea about who they are or what they are like?
As one might suspect, the naughty ones are memorable. And the class clowns. The kids with special needs that make themselves known to the sub. Those are easy reasons to remember particular students and they are all reasons why I remember some students. But that isn't the entire cast of the ones I remember. I am thinking back over the class I had just yesterday and trying to think of which kids I still can bring up faces or names for. Interestingly, many of the kids do not fit any of those categories.
Kids who speak to me personally are more memorable - even if it was just to ask to go to the nurse. Kids who help me with some piece of equipment or some unique classroom procedure are also memorable. Kids who display some part of their character are also memorable. Sometimes even the especially quiet students are memorable.
But, there is one category of kid that I remember especially well. It is the kids who ask memorable questions. And, yes, for me, the obviously gifted kids. Weeks ago, I wrote about one young man I interacted with and felt especially drawn to. During the literacy block, when the rest of the class was busy, this young man had told me all about a book he was working on - about American heroes. For some reason, he and I really connected. I was sorry when the day ended that I probably would not teach him again. He is in a grade that I normally do not sub for, but I like his school, so I had taken the job for that class.
I was wrong that I would not teach him again. I was in the grade one higher than his at that school a couple of days ago and he came into the math class that I was teaching. This confirmed my assessment of his probable giftedness - kids are rarely accelerated into a math class higher than their own grade, unless they REALLY need it. And, wonder of wonders, he was also delighted to see me - in a very quiet way. He is not a loud, assertive kid. But he did come up during a transition time and ask me if I remembered him. I did. Again, that mysterious and wonderful connection. But too short.
If I could teach kids like him every day, I would do it for free. They are that intriguing to me.
One of my ongoing questions of myself is why do I notice some students and remember them and why do others completely fade from my mind? If I come back to that same classroom weeks or months later, which kids will I remember and which ones will I have no idea about who they are or what they are like?
As one might suspect, the naughty ones are memorable. And the class clowns. The kids with special needs that make themselves known to the sub. Those are easy reasons to remember particular students and they are all reasons why I remember some students. But that isn't the entire cast of the ones I remember. I am thinking back over the class I had just yesterday and trying to think of which kids I still can bring up faces or names for. Interestingly, many of the kids do not fit any of those categories.
Kids who speak to me personally are more memorable - even if it was just to ask to go to the nurse. Kids who help me with some piece of equipment or some unique classroom procedure are also memorable. Kids who display some part of their character are also memorable. Sometimes even the especially quiet students are memorable.
But, there is one category of kid that I remember especially well. It is the kids who ask memorable questions. And, yes, for me, the obviously gifted kids. Weeks ago, I wrote about one young man I interacted with and felt especially drawn to. During the literacy block, when the rest of the class was busy, this young man had told me all about a book he was working on - about American heroes. For some reason, he and I really connected. I was sorry when the day ended that I probably would not teach him again. He is in a grade that I normally do not sub for, but I like his school, so I had taken the job for that class.
I was wrong that I would not teach him again. I was in the grade one higher than his at that school a couple of days ago and he came into the math class that I was teaching. This confirmed my assessment of his probable giftedness - kids are rarely accelerated into a math class higher than their own grade, unless they REALLY need it. And, wonder of wonders, he was also delighted to see me - in a very quiet way. He is not a loud, assertive kid. But he did come up during a transition time and ask me if I remembered him. I did. Again, that mysterious and wonderful connection. But too short.
If I could teach kids like him every day, I would do it for free. They are that intriguing to me.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
They Identify Themselves
I have just finished reading the NY Times article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/18/nyregion/new-york-city-schools-struggle-to-separate-the-gifted-from-the-just-well-prepared.html/
and I am thinking about a recent subbing experience. I was teaching 4th graders and had the students for 5 different small groups. There were anywhere from 4 to 6 kids in each group. Since I was a sub and not the regular teacher, the teacher had left the same assignment for each group. Most of the groups needed a similar amount of support - help with vocabulary, connection of pictures to text, connection of text to knowledge, etc. And all of the groups seemed to be quite interested in the topic - the volcanic origin of the Hawaiian Islands.
But, there was one group that stood out from all of the rest. They made connections to more other concepts, they had greater background knowledge, they asked more interesting questions. They were intrigued by the pronunciation of Hawaii words. And so on. One young gentleman in particular, the class clown and the one who would certainly be voted "Most Likely to Interrupt the Teacher's Lesson with Some Hilarious Non Sequitur", stood out. One young lady with sparkling eyes and insightful questions. And one I had deemed unlikely in the large group, but who came alive in the small group.
As someone who has nominated, tested, and taught (and raised) gifted children, I am thinking more and more that we could probably just bag the tests and do AnneMarie Roeper style interviews with groups of 4 or 5 students. The gifted kids would identify themselves. I love having test results - they are intriguing to me. But I am not sure they are necessary.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/18/nyregion/new-york-city-schools-struggle-to-separate-the-gifted-from-the-just-well-prepared.html/
and I am thinking about a recent subbing experience. I was teaching 4th graders and had the students for 5 different small groups. There were anywhere from 4 to 6 kids in each group. Since I was a sub and not the regular teacher, the teacher had left the same assignment for each group. Most of the groups needed a similar amount of support - help with vocabulary, connection of pictures to text, connection of text to knowledge, etc. And all of the groups seemed to be quite interested in the topic - the volcanic origin of the Hawaiian Islands.
But, there was one group that stood out from all of the rest. They made connections to more other concepts, they had greater background knowledge, they asked more interesting questions. They were intrigued by the pronunciation of Hawaii words. And so on. One young gentleman in particular, the class clown and the one who would certainly be voted "Most Likely to Interrupt the Teacher's Lesson with Some Hilarious Non Sequitur", stood out. One young lady with sparkling eyes and insightful questions. And one I had deemed unlikely in the large group, but who came alive in the small group.
As someone who has nominated, tested, and taught (and raised) gifted children, I am thinking more and more that we could probably just bag the tests and do AnneMarie Roeper style interviews with groups of 4 or 5 students. The gifted kids would identify themselves. I love having test results - they are intriguing to me. But I am not sure they are necessary.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Gerald Coles: Why Bother Educating the Poor? - Living in Dialogue - Education Week Teacher
Gerald Coles: Why Bother Educating the Poor? - Living in Dialogue - Education Week Teacher
Reforming education has been a national pastime since my mother first started teaching - and my mother is now 97 years old. But the recent (past 15 years) of reforms have been the meanest spirited at all. In the guise of improving education, they have made it virtually impossible for teachers to enjoy being in the classroom. There are ever increasing demands to cover ever more "standards"; there are significantly larger classes and therefore a much increased work load; teachers are required to accommodate an ever increasing list of special education students and practices; there is less provision for kids who are at the extremes of "normal". It would almost seem as though people are determined to eradicate creativity and caring from the classroom. Creativity is a waste of time and caring is monumentally difficult, with so many students to take care of.
People who would have made excellent teachers are driven away from teaching or don't even consider it as a profession, because of low pay, low prestige, uncertainty in working conditions, and heavy work loads. People who enter the profession with hope soon encounter the reality of the job and drop out of teaching in droves. I read recently that teaching loses half of the teachers that enter the profession in 5 years.
The increased testing regime has been discussed extensively in many places, so I am not going to address that. I am going to discuss what I consider the most insidious of the reforms: differentiation. On paper and in theory, this looks great. Teachers are taught simple techniques for making lesson plans adaptable to the various ability levels of all of the students in the classroom. What proponents of differentiation often fail to consider is the amount of extra time required to plan for a differentiated classroom and the fact that this increases with the increase in ability levels in the classroom. A simple 5th grade lesson on the rock cycle can be an example. There is a standard textbook, which is probably written at a 5th grade reading level. Most of the students will be able to read it, but there will be a few who cannot. The teacher has to find other ways of teaching the rock cycle for the students who cannot read the text - maybe an audio recording, maybe partner reading, maybe a movie, maybe a simpler book. Each of these have to be checked to make sure they cover the standards and objectives for the lesson. Then, there are the kids in the classroom who have special needs. Each of their needs must be accommodated in the lesson plan. And finally, there are probably a few gifted kids in the class, maybe even a highly gifted kid, who has studied the rock cycle extensively on his own, has a large rock collection at home, and is interested in comparing the difference in microscopic structure of granite and marble. The teacher knows nothing about high school or college level geology and would have to struggle to find appropriate materials for this child.
All this might be do-able, if the class size were under 20, or if the teacher could count on teaching the same thing several years in a row and could gradually amass materials to use with outlier kids, or if there were a curriculum specialist would could gather appropriate materials or find a mentor. But the recent budget cuts have boosted class sizes into the mid 30s, teachers are often reassigned year after year, depending on class numbers, the curriculum itself is redesigned on a regular basis, and the curriculum specialists have been eliminated by budgeting problems.
And, the fact of the matter is, elementary teachers are almost universally responsible for multiple lessons in one day. When I was teaching full time, I counted 34 different lessons that I was responsible for in one week (grades K through 8, for me). Planning for these lessons, teaching them, and assessing student progress took much more than the 30 minutes planning time I was allotted each day.
Simply put, the job of teaching has become too much. Teachers pay lip service to differentiation, to standards, to new technologies, but in my experience, they can't do it all. Perhaps I see a biased sample of what most teachers are doing. I am a substitute teacher, so teachers might, in fact, simplify the lessons they leave for me, so that a sub can handle them. But, I look carefully for signs of differentiation or individualization or indications that the students think that the lessons I am given to teach are somehow different from what they usually do, and I don't see very much evidence for those things. It seems to me that most of the teachers end up following the textbooks and "covering" the content they are responsible for. There simply isn't enough time to do anything else. Parents then wonder why their students' needs aren't considered. They decide that the teacher is lacking or doesn't care. And the stress piles up on the teachers.
So what do the 1% do? They send their kids to private schools. I recently read the blog of a teacher who chose to teach in private schools. She originally planned to teach in public schools, but couldn't find a job there, so took a job in a private school - and stayed in those schools. She claimed in the blog that she was grateful for having stayed there, because they allowed her the creativity and autonomy to mold her work into an enjoyable career.
Monica Edinger's Blog
I am one of the co-founders of a private school and I helped establish that school because the public school wasn't serving the needs of my highly gifted child. It isn't entirely in keeping with my support of public schooling, but, when it is your child, you do what you can to get them the best education you can afford. And, people who can afford those schools often do - schools which often have smaller classes and more autonomy for the teachers. Meanwhile, the public schools are suffering.
Reforming education has been a national pastime since my mother first started teaching - and my mother is now 97 years old. But the recent (past 15 years) of reforms have been the meanest spirited at all. In the guise of improving education, they have made it virtually impossible for teachers to enjoy being in the classroom. There are ever increasing demands to cover ever more "standards"; there are significantly larger classes and therefore a much increased work load; teachers are required to accommodate an ever increasing list of special education students and practices; there is less provision for kids who are at the extremes of "normal". It would almost seem as though people are determined to eradicate creativity and caring from the classroom. Creativity is a waste of time and caring is monumentally difficult, with so many students to take care of.
People who would have made excellent teachers are driven away from teaching or don't even consider it as a profession, because of low pay, low prestige, uncertainty in working conditions, and heavy work loads. People who enter the profession with hope soon encounter the reality of the job and drop out of teaching in droves. I read recently that teaching loses half of the teachers that enter the profession in 5 years.
The increased testing regime has been discussed extensively in many places, so I am not going to address that. I am going to discuss what I consider the most insidious of the reforms: differentiation. On paper and in theory, this looks great. Teachers are taught simple techniques for making lesson plans adaptable to the various ability levels of all of the students in the classroom. What proponents of differentiation often fail to consider is the amount of extra time required to plan for a differentiated classroom and the fact that this increases with the increase in ability levels in the classroom. A simple 5th grade lesson on the rock cycle can be an example. There is a standard textbook, which is probably written at a 5th grade reading level. Most of the students will be able to read it, but there will be a few who cannot. The teacher has to find other ways of teaching the rock cycle for the students who cannot read the text - maybe an audio recording, maybe partner reading, maybe a movie, maybe a simpler book. Each of these have to be checked to make sure they cover the standards and objectives for the lesson. Then, there are the kids in the classroom who have special needs. Each of their needs must be accommodated in the lesson plan. And finally, there are probably a few gifted kids in the class, maybe even a highly gifted kid, who has studied the rock cycle extensively on his own, has a large rock collection at home, and is interested in comparing the difference in microscopic structure of granite and marble. The teacher knows nothing about high school or college level geology and would have to struggle to find appropriate materials for this child.
All this might be do-able, if the class size were under 20, or if the teacher could count on teaching the same thing several years in a row and could gradually amass materials to use with outlier kids, or if there were a curriculum specialist would could gather appropriate materials or find a mentor. But the recent budget cuts have boosted class sizes into the mid 30s, teachers are often reassigned year after year, depending on class numbers, the curriculum itself is redesigned on a regular basis, and the curriculum specialists have been eliminated by budgeting problems.
And, the fact of the matter is, elementary teachers are almost universally responsible for multiple lessons in one day. When I was teaching full time, I counted 34 different lessons that I was responsible for in one week (grades K through 8, for me). Planning for these lessons, teaching them, and assessing student progress took much more than the 30 minutes planning time I was allotted each day.
Simply put, the job of teaching has become too much. Teachers pay lip service to differentiation, to standards, to new technologies, but in my experience, they can't do it all. Perhaps I see a biased sample of what most teachers are doing. I am a substitute teacher, so teachers might, in fact, simplify the lessons they leave for me, so that a sub can handle them. But, I look carefully for signs of differentiation or individualization or indications that the students think that the lessons I am given to teach are somehow different from what they usually do, and I don't see very much evidence for those things. It seems to me that most of the teachers end up following the textbooks and "covering" the content they are responsible for. There simply isn't enough time to do anything else. Parents then wonder why their students' needs aren't considered. They decide that the teacher is lacking or doesn't care. And the stress piles up on the teachers.
So what do the 1% do? They send their kids to private schools. I recently read the blog of a teacher who chose to teach in private schools. She originally planned to teach in public schools, but couldn't find a job there, so took a job in a private school - and stayed in those schools. She claimed in the blog that she was grateful for having stayed there, because they allowed her the creativity and autonomy to mold her work into an enjoyable career.
Monica Edinger's Blog
I am one of the co-founders of a private school and I helped establish that school because the public school wasn't serving the needs of my highly gifted child. It isn't entirely in keeping with my support of public schooling, but, when it is your child, you do what you can to get them the best education you can afford. And, people who can afford those schools often do - schools which often have smaller classes and more autonomy for the teachers. Meanwhile, the public schools are suffering.
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Not Young, Gifted, Bored, but Young, Gifted, Lazy
I was reading about a book with the title of Young, Gifted, and Bored by David George. As I typically do (and I suspect a lot of people do, when they see a book with such a title), I thought of myself, in relation to the title. When I was young, would I have described myself as Young, Gifted, and Bored? I was certainly young and gifted, but I am not sure that the description "bored" would have fit me as well.
As background, I have to explain that I attended a two room school for elementary school. Upstairs was Mrs. Jones, Elsie Jones, to be precise, with the Kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd graders. I don't remember much of her class, except that a couple of us were allowed to work in a small art room on the north side of the classroom, that had an even smaller walk-in art closet on the east side. I remember eating paste. So maybe, I was bored. But my mother tells me that Mrs. Jones had me read to kids when she needed to keep me busy.
I do remember the downstairs class better. Mrs. Morse, Marie Morse, if I remember correctly, taught the 3rd and 4th graders. Our 3rd grade class consisted of 9 girls and 1 boy. The next class up had 9 boys and 1 girl. There wasn't such a concept of differentiation at the time, but I think my teachers did what they could. They realized that I was very smart, but there weren't many outside resources available to help me much.
Personality-wise, I was a very agreeable child. The third of four children in my family, I was often the peacemaker. I felt uncomfortable when there was conflict around, so I did my young-self best to avoid conflict. What I learned was not boredom, but rather self-doubt. Everyone else seemed fine, so I should be fine, too. I also learned to be lazy. Why should I work hard at something, since it came relatively easy to me? I was one of those seemingly all-around gifted children, who could pretty much do anything that I tried. There were a few things I wasn't particularly interested in - I couldn't see the reason behind throwing a ball back and forth and calling it playing catch, for instance, but, in general, I did what I was told, especially at school. It never occurred to me that I was learning to be lazy.
My fifth grade year was spent in a different school with a fabulous teacher. I can't remember learning to work hard there either, but the class was so interesting, it didn't much matter. It was my sixth grade year that was the problem. This was long before the concept of middle schools, but the number of children had exceeded the capacity of the local elementary school, so the 6th graders were sent off to the junior high school. By then, I had learned that everything was pretty easy and I didn't have to work very hard to learn anything in school, but I also didn't have as fascinating teachers. And, then, indeed, boredom did set in.
My point in all of this history, though, is that, yes, boredom was eventually a problem. But an even bigger problem, for me at least, was that I had already learned two important things: I was good at most things that I tried without working very hard at them and that working hard at something (which other kids had to do) meant that you weren't very good at it.
For me, it took until college, before I found out that you were really supposed to learn how to work hard at something, so that you could master it. I discovered that I wasn't very good at memorization, but I had no tools to help myself learn how to cope with the necessity to memorize a lot of information. I had learned that I was good at most things without really working hard, so if these now were things that I had to work hard to learn, then I must not be as smart as I was always led to believe I was. I floundered, especially in classes that really did require hard work.
Since then, I have had several university courses and jobs where I had to work incredibly hard to do well. I can work hard and I have mastered some of the strategies of learning, when the work is difficult. But I wish I had had to work hard much earlier in my life. I think it would have made me more confident in myself. And I think it would have prevented some of the effects of Impostor Syndrome: I must really not be as smart as I thought, since I actually have to work hard to get this.
Why do I think it would have served me better to learn, while still young, that hard work at something doesn't mean that you are bad at it? I look especially to my daughters. The older one is a gymnast. Through her gymnastics, she learned a LOT about challenging yourself, about goal setting, about trying difficult things and eventually mastering them. She is much more able than I to work through difficulties without giving up. Both kids were in academic settings where they, in spite of being exceptionally gifted, had to work at learning. The younger one was a swimmer, and participated in quite a few sports. I think the fact that they were in an exceptionally difficult high school helped them learn what I didn't learn until college: skills to use when learning is difficult. And, the personal attitude that, if things are difficult, that doesn't mean that you have finally reached too far for your abilities; it just means that you have to put in some additional effort.
As background, I have to explain that I attended a two room school for elementary school. Upstairs was Mrs. Jones, Elsie Jones, to be precise, with the Kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd graders. I don't remember much of her class, except that a couple of us were allowed to work in a small art room on the north side of the classroom, that had an even smaller walk-in art closet on the east side. I remember eating paste. So maybe, I was bored. But my mother tells me that Mrs. Jones had me read to kids when she needed to keep me busy.
I do remember the downstairs class better. Mrs. Morse, Marie Morse, if I remember correctly, taught the 3rd and 4th graders. Our 3rd grade class consisted of 9 girls and 1 boy. The next class up had 9 boys and 1 girl. There wasn't such a concept of differentiation at the time, but I think my teachers did what they could. They realized that I was very smart, but there weren't many outside resources available to help me much.
Personality-wise, I was a very agreeable child. The third of four children in my family, I was often the peacemaker. I felt uncomfortable when there was conflict around, so I did my young-self best to avoid conflict. What I learned was not boredom, but rather self-doubt. Everyone else seemed fine, so I should be fine, too. I also learned to be lazy. Why should I work hard at something, since it came relatively easy to me? I was one of those seemingly all-around gifted children, who could pretty much do anything that I tried. There were a few things I wasn't particularly interested in - I couldn't see the reason behind throwing a ball back and forth and calling it playing catch, for instance, but, in general, I did what I was told, especially at school. It never occurred to me that I was learning to be lazy.
My fifth grade year was spent in a different school with a fabulous teacher. I can't remember learning to work hard there either, but the class was so interesting, it didn't much matter. It was my sixth grade year that was the problem. This was long before the concept of middle schools, but the number of children had exceeded the capacity of the local elementary school, so the 6th graders were sent off to the junior high school. By then, I had learned that everything was pretty easy and I didn't have to work very hard to learn anything in school, but I also didn't have as fascinating teachers. And, then, indeed, boredom did set in.
My point in all of this history, though, is that, yes, boredom was eventually a problem. But an even bigger problem, for me at least, was that I had already learned two important things: I was good at most things that I tried without working very hard at them and that working hard at something (which other kids had to do) meant that you weren't very good at it.
For me, it took until college, before I found out that you were really supposed to learn how to work hard at something, so that you could master it. I discovered that I wasn't very good at memorization, but I had no tools to help myself learn how to cope with the necessity to memorize a lot of information. I had learned that I was good at most things without really working hard, so if these now were things that I had to work hard to learn, then I must not be as smart as I was always led to believe I was. I floundered, especially in classes that really did require hard work.
Since then, I have had several university courses and jobs where I had to work incredibly hard to do well. I can work hard and I have mastered some of the strategies of learning, when the work is difficult. But I wish I had had to work hard much earlier in my life. I think it would have made me more confident in myself. And I think it would have prevented some of the effects of Impostor Syndrome: I must really not be as smart as I thought, since I actually have to work hard to get this.
Why do I think it would have served me better to learn, while still young, that hard work at something doesn't mean that you are bad at it? I look especially to my daughters. The older one is a gymnast. Through her gymnastics, she learned a LOT about challenging yourself, about goal setting, about trying difficult things and eventually mastering them. She is much more able than I to work through difficulties without giving up. Both kids were in academic settings where they, in spite of being exceptionally gifted, had to work at learning. The younger one was a swimmer, and participated in quite a few sports. I think the fact that they were in an exceptionally difficult high school helped them learn what I didn't learn until college: skills to use when learning is difficult. And, the personal attitude that, if things are difficult, that doesn't mean that you have finally reached too far for your abilities; it just means that you have to put in some additional effort.
Monday, July 04, 2011
Re-Framing Gifted Education
I have been thinking about this idea for a long time and I am still trying to work out whether and how it might make a difference. It began, I think, when I was teaching algebra to gifted 8th graders in a tiny public school in Illinois. Before I was hired, a few students each year were identified by the 7th grade math teacher as being ready for algebra. She based her assessment on their mathematical understanding and their grades in math class. Grades in math class were heavily dependent on doing homework as well as doing well on tests. I was interested in finding out if there were a more objective way of deciding who was ready for 8th grade algebra and found that there was an algebra readiness test - a fairly short test that would indicate which students had the mathematical understanding necessary for success in algebra. I guess already I was thinking that grades don't always indicate whether a student has the appropriate mathematical understanding and readiness. Perhaps it was from personal experience. I have not always been the hardest worker, partly because I usually didn't need to be. I got good grades up until college without having to work much.
At any rate, I did begin giving the tests to students who the math teacher thought were possible candidates for the class, including a few "lazy" ones, who seemed to understand the math she taught, but who were less than diligent in doing their homework. And, as might be expected, the students exhibited quite a range. Some were clearly ready, had good mathematical understanding, good grades, and good work habits. Some were clearly not ready. Either with or without good grades, their mathematical understanding wasn't good enough for taking algebra what was then "a year early". Then there were those in the middle: two groups (no clear dividing lines, though). There were some who were mathematically ready, but whose grades were less than stellar; there were some whose grades were solid, but whose mathematical understanding was shakier. What to do with them?
I argued for including the kids who were mathematically ready, whether they had good grades or not - and this is where my thinking about the issue really took off. The math teacher argued for letting those borderline students choose whether or not to participate in the algebra class. With the kids who were hard workers, but only borderline ready for algebra, I could see letting them try. But why should we let the kids who were mathematically ready for algebra take the easy way out and stay in 8th grade math?
In general, we often allow gifted students to choose whether or not to participate in gifted programs (in the lucky instance that such are actually available). But even in the regular classroom, activities that are differentiated for gifted students (again, if they are lucky) are often presented as options. A tic-tac-toe of activities for a given unit, where students can choose which activities they want to complete in order to fulfill the requirements. Gifted students are rarely required to do the harder options.
But why not? When we send a student off to the special education teacher, that student is not given the option of not participating. That student is not given the option of not working. The student is, on the contrary, urged to work as hard as s/he can. In the regular classroom, average students are not allowed to choose not to do the assignments, just because they require them to work hard. Why do we let the gifted students choose not to work hard?
Working hard is a life skill. Struggling, failing, persevering, and finally succeeding are the keys to achievement, especially once you get beyond secondary school. Why do we let the students with the highest potential fail to learn these skills?
What would it be like if we re-frame gifted education to assert that ALL students need to learn to work hard? They need to learn to struggle with difficult material; they need to learn to persevere in the face of setbacks and failure; they need to get the satisfaction that comes from working hard at something and finally succeeding. This is a fairness issue. It isn't fair to require that most kids learn these skills and not require that gifted kids learn them. It isn't fair to let the smart kids goof off and make the rest of the kids work hard.
So when the teacher tells you your gifted child is doing great without really seeming to work very hard, you can say: oh, really, I would like to see you require my child to work harder. Is there a way we can make his/her work more complex, in more depth? And the teacher can say to the parents who wonder why your student is getting harder work, we wanted to make sure that all students in the classroom are working hard. Do you think your child is working hard enough? Would you like for your child to get harder work in some subjects?
At any rate, I did begin giving the tests to students who the math teacher thought were possible candidates for the class, including a few "lazy" ones, who seemed to understand the math she taught, but who were less than diligent in doing their homework. And, as might be expected, the students exhibited quite a range. Some were clearly ready, had good mathematical understanding, good grades, and good work habits. Some were clearly not ready. Either with or without good grades, their mathematical understanding wasn't good enough for taking algebra what was then "a year early". Then there were those in the middle: two groups (no clear dividing lines, though). There were some who were mathematically ready, but whose grades were less than stellar; there were some whose grades were solid, but whose mathematical understanding was shakier. What to do with them?
I argued for including the kids who were mathematically ready, whether they had good grades or not - and this is where my thinking about the issue really took off. The math teacher argued for letting those borderline students choose whether or not to participate in the algebra class. With the kids who were hard workers, but only borderline ready for algebra, I could see letting them try. But why should we let the kids who were mathematically ready for algebra take the easy way out and stay in 8th grade math?
In general, we often allow gifted students to choose whether or not to participate in gifted programs (in the lucky instance that such are actually available). But even in the regular classroom, activities that are differentiated for gifted students (again, if they are lucky) are often presented as options. A tic-tac-toe of activities for a given unit, where students can choose which activities they want to complete in order to fulfill the requirements. Gifted students are rarely required to do the harder options.
But why not? When we send a student off to the special education teacher, that student is not given the option of not participating. That student is not given the option of not working. The student is, on the contrary, urged to work as hard as s/he can. In the regular classroom, average students are not allowed to choose not to do the assignments, just because they require them to work hard. Why do we let the gifted students choose not to work hard?
Working hard is a life skill. Struggling, failing, persevering, and finally succeeding are the keys to achievement, especially once you get beyond secondary school. Why do we let the students with the highest potential fail to learn these skills?
What would it be like if we re-frame gifted education to assert that ALL students need to learn to work hard? They need to learn to struggle with difficult material; they need to learn to persevere in the face of setbacks and failure; they need to get the satisfaction that comes from working hard at something and finally succeeding. This is a fairness issue. It isn't fair to require that most kids learn these skills and not require that gifted kids learn them. It isn't fair to let the smart kids goof off and make the rest of the kids work hard.
So when the teacher tells you your gifted child is doing great without really seeming to work very hard, you can say: oh, really, I would like to see you require my child to work harder. Is there a way we can make his/her work more complex, in more depth? And the teacher can say to the parents who wonder why your student is getting harder work, we wanted to make sure that all students in the classroom are working hard. Do you think your child is working hard enough? Would you like for your child to get harder work in some subjects?
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