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.
Showing posts with label gifted_education_theory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gifted_education_theory. Show all posts
Thursday, July 10, 2014
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/
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Colorado Association for Gifted and Talented - CAGT 2013 - Day Two
Since I do not have a regular position and I just sub, I chose the sessions I attended at this conference mainly on the basis of simple personal interest. I don't need to focus on specific areas of education. I could just go where I pleased.
So, for the second day, I started with a presentation by Lindsey Reinert and Penelope Heinigk titled "Going Deeper with Technology". They specifically addressed one of the major concerns I have had about the way technology is typically used by classroom teachers in the elementary schools. The topic is assigned and kids are told to use a given technology, usually PowerPoint or Prezi to make a presentation on their topic. Sometimes, to help the kids along, the teachers give out requirements for the presentation. Example: at some time or another in their schooling, kids will be assigned the "do a slide show about your favorite animal" topic. The teacher specifies that it must be at least X pages long (X being equal to approximately 6 slides), with a title slide, one slide about habitat, one slide about food, one slide about reproduction, one slide about geographic distribution, and one slide with a bibliography. So the kids go to Google, and find the answers. They then cut and paste whole sections of their reference work, usually without even reading them, except to make sure they contain the required information. It doesn't matter if they have no clue what the article says, that they don't understand many of the words they have just copied.
That said, I am VERY glad that these women emphasized that there is a GREAT deal of preparation work, "front-loading" that needs to be done BEFORE the students even begin their presentations. Personally, I would have liked to see them step us through the entire process. Choose a middle grade level and outline the steps from beginning to end product.
The presentations they showed were good examples of the final products, but I would like also to have heard a bit more about why a particular tool might be best for a particular type of presentation. Personally, I think Prezi's are more flash than substance, but straight PowerPoints can get repetitive and boring. What are some other products and why might one choose one over another. They gave us two web sites that list a number of tools, but no guidance in why one might choose a particular tool.
This was one (of several) presentations that simply needed more time.
The second presentation I attended was the keynote panel of gifted students, moderated by Jim Delisle. I have seen Dr. Delisle on numerous occasions now and I never get tired of hearing his insights (though I must admit that I didn't really listen as intently to the leaf poem the third time he used it). The problem I have with his presentations is that I usually end up wiping tears from my eyes far too often. Even the panel of students had that effect. What the students had to say wasn't particularly new to me, but it is worthwhile to hear them say it.
And, to prove that I still hadn't gotten enough of Dr. Delisle, I also attended his next session, entitled "Can't You Just Chill Out?: Appreciating the Intensities of Gifted Individuals" This was basically a talk about Dabrowski's OverExcitabilities. I am not terribly fond of that term. I actually prefer "Intensities". This was familiar ground for me, but I ALWAYS appreciate the stories about the kids that highlight what he is talking about. Since this conference was basically just for me, I felt free to apply all of these insights to myself. In particular, the Emotional Intensity seems to be dominating my thoughts lately and causing me a deal of pain. But it is hard for the patient to treat herself.
The next session was Susan Jackson again. I find her presentations interesting and with some great insights, but I am left afterwards feeling a bit confused as to what I can take away from her talk. As with Jim's stories, I LOVE the talk about real kids and real approaches to them and their difficulties. But sometimes, I had a hard time telling how she got to that particular point with that particular kid and what the next steps might be. I don't think I could tell you what more than a very few of her 27 points were. She is undeniably brilliant, but some of us lesser mortals have a hard time making the connections that seem so obvious to her.
The final breakout session I attended was Ed Zaccaro's. He has written a number of books to use for teaching kids mathematics. I have long loved his books and I wasn't disappointed in his lecture. I don't agree with him exactly on his views on acceleration - he thinks there are problems for underage kids, especially in when they get to high school. I agree that keeping kids with other approximately their own age and ability would be better, but this is just not happening in schools nowadays. Yes, I would prefer to have all the highly mathematically gifted fourth graders working together in fourth grade. But I just don't see it happening. At least with acceleration, you are sure SOMETHING is happening. I even agree that it isn't always the right things that are happening - greater depth or complexity. I am just frustrated that most teachers and schools don't do those things. At any rate, I enjoyed his talk. It is another one I wish had had much more time.
It was a worthwhile two days for me. I still feel alone and frustrated by my own failures, but at least I understand them better. Ha.
So, for the second day, I started with a presentation by Lindsey Reinert and Penelope Heinigk titled "Going Deeper with Technology". They specifically addressed one of the major concerns I have had about the way technology is typically used by classroom teachers in the elementary schools. The topic is assigned and kids are told to use a given technology, usually PowerPoint or Prezi to make a presentation on their topic. Sometimes, to help the kids along, the teachers give out requirements for the presentation. Example: at some time or another in their schooling, kids will be assigned the "do a slide show about your favorite animal" topic. The teacher specifies that it must be at least X pages long (X being equal to approximately 6 slides), with a title slide, one slide about habitat, one slide about food, one slide about reproduction, one slide about geographic distribution, and one slide with a bibliography. So the kids go to Google, and find the answers. They then cut and paste whole sections of their reference work, usually without even reading them, except to make sure they contain the required information. It doesn't matter if they have no clue what the article says, that they don't understand many of the words they have just copied.
That said, I am VERY glad that these women emphasized that there is a GREAT deal of preparation work, "front-loading" that needs to be done BEFORE the students even begin their presentations. Personally, I would have liked to see them step us through the entire process. Choose a middle grade level and outline the steps from beginning to end product.
The presentations they showed were good examples of the final products, but I would like also to have heard a bit more about why a particular tool might be best for a particular type of presentation. Personally, I think Prezi's are more flash than substance, but straight PowerPoints can get repetitive and boring. What are some other products and why might one choose one over another. They gave us two web sites that list a number of tools, but no guidance in why one might choose a particular tool.
This was one (of several) presentations that simply needed more time.
The second presentation I attended was the keynote panel of gifted students, moderated by Jim Delisle. I have seen Dr. Delisle on numerous occasions now and I never get tired of hearing his insights (though I must admit that I didn't really listen as intently to the leaf poem the third time he used it). The problem I have with his presentations is that I usually end up wiping tears from my eyes far too often. Even the panel of students had that effect. What the students had to say wasn't particularly new to me, but it is worthwhile to hear them say it.
And, to prove that I still hadn't gotten enough of Dr. Delisle, I also attended his next session, entitled "Can't You Just Chill Out?: Appreciating the Intensities of Gifted Individuals" This was basically a talk about Dabrowski's OverExcitabilities. I am not terribly fond of that term. I actually prefer "Intensities". This was familiar ground for me, but I ALWAYS appreciate the stories about the kids that highlight what he is talking about. Since this conference was basically just for me, I felt free to apply all of these insights to myself. In particular, the Emotional Intensity seems to be dominating my thoughts lately and causing me a deal of pain. But it is hard for the patient to treat herself.
The next session was Susan Jackson again. I find her presentations interesting and with some great insights, but I am left afterwards feeling a bit confused as to what I can take away from her talk. As with Jim's stories, I LOVE the talk about real kids and real approaches to them and their difficulties. But sometimes, I had a hard time telling how she got to that particular point with that particular kid and what the next steps might be. I don't think I could tell you what more than a very few of her 27 points were. She is undeniably brilliant, but some of us lesser mortals have a hard time making the connections that seem so obvious to her.
The final breakout session I attended was Ed Zaccaro's. He has written a number of books to use for teaching kids mathematics. I have long loved his books and I wasn't disappointed in his lecture. I don't agree with him exactly on his views on acceleration - he thinks there are problems for underage kids, especially in when they get to high school. I agree that keeping kids with other approximately their own age and ability would be better, but this is just not happening in schools nowadays. Yes, I would prefer to have all the highly mathematically gifted fourth graders working together in fourth grade. But I just don't see it happening. At least with acceleration, you are sure SOMETHING is happening. I even agree that it isn't always the right things that are happening - greater depth or complexity. I am just frustrated that most teachers and schools don't do those things. At any rate, I enjoyed his talk. It is another one I wish had had much more time.
It was a worthwhile two days for me. I still feel alone and frustrated by my own failures, but at least I understand them better. Ha.
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.
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.
Sunday, December 02, 2012
Questions about Differentiation
I know I have talked a lot about differentiation - how it is not adequate for highly gifted students, how most teachers don't seem to be able to do it consistently or adequately. So now I have additional questions. Has the gifted field's emphasis on differentiation helped? Are there more accommodations for gifted children or fewer? Are the needs of more gifted children getting addressed at an appropriate level or not?
I don't know if there is research about this, but I do know that one state I lived in, Illinois, dropped funding for all gifted programs. I have also been told that a school district neighboring where I live now has eliminated all gifted teacher positions. The thing that I feared a dozen or so years ago seems to be coming to pass. Educators of educators tout differentiation -> new teachers are all expected to subscribe to the differentiation mantra -> now that all teachers can differentiate, they can take care of the needs of all students in their classrooms -> special programs are no longer needed. Only, there are laws about students with disabilities and there are high stakes tests for students who are struggling with the regular curriculum. So, it turns out that the special teachers who help students with disabilities or those who need extra support are still there - and in even greater numbers. There are literacy support teachers, numeracy support teachers, ELL teachers, LD teachers, special education aides. Do you notice the one group that there is no more? GT teachers.
Don't get me wrong - I think differentiation is a great thing for teachers to learn to do. And, as much as they can in the limited time they have available, all teachers (in my opinion) should be able to differentiate for the students in their classes. But has the gifted field's emphasis on differentiation helped gifted students get the services they need? Convince me.
I don't know if there is research about this, but I do know that one state I lived in, Illinois, dropped funding for all gifted programs. I have also been told that a school district neighboring where I live now has eliminated all gifted teacher positions. The thing that I feared a dozen or so years ago seems to be coming to pass. Educators of educators tout differentiation -> new teachers are all expected to subscribe to the differentiation mantra -> now that all teachers can differentiate, they can take care of the needs of all students in their classrooms -> special programs are no longer needed. Only, there are laws about students with disabilities and there are high stakes tests for students who are struggling with the regular curriculum. So, it turns out that the special teachers who help students with disabilities or those who need extra support are still there - and in even greater numbers. There are literacy support teachers, numeracy support teachers, ELL teachers, LD teachers, special education aides. Do you notice the one group that there is no more? GT teachers.
Don't get me wrong - I think differentiation is a great thing for teachers to learn to do. And, as much as they can in the limited time they have available, all teachers (in my opinion) should be able to differentiate for the students in their classes. But has the gifted field's emphasis on differentiation helped gifted students get the services they need? Convince me.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Inservice Fail
While reading a post about how to get people to understand the needs of highly gifted students, I remembered an incident that happened to me about 15 years ago. I was asked to give a presentation to the teachers in our school about the needs of the gifted. What I wanted to do was to give them the emotional feel of how a gifted student perceives normal classroom lessons.
The plan was to have them do an activity that was extremely below their level and to continue doing it for a much longer time than was normal, so that they would experience the frustration with and the lack of understanding of the purpose of such a tedious exercise. It was a good plan.
It failed.
Why? Because I, the presenter, couldn't keep it up for as long as it needed to go on. The teachers were perfectly content to sort and re-sort the paper shapes I gave them - many times over. But I couldn't stand to watch them do it for the length of time it required for them to get frustrated and anxious to move on.
It was a good plan, but I just didn't anticipate my own reaction. I think if I had to do it again, I would do it as a thought experiment, rather than a hands on experiment.
The plan was to have them do an activity that was extremely below their level and to continue doing it for a much longer time than was normal, so that they would experience the frustration with and the lack of understanding of the purpose of such a tedious exercise. It was a good plan.
It failed.
Why? Because I, the presenter, couldn't keep it up for as long as it needed to go on. The teachers were perfectly content to sort and re-sort the paper shapes I gave them - many times over. But I couldn't stand to watch them do it for the length of time it required for them to get frustrated and anxious to move on.
It was a good plan, but I just didn't anticipate my own reaction. I think if I had to do it again, I would do it as a thought experiment, rather than a hands on experiment.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Gifted - Percentage or Absolute?
When children are identified as gifted, the method of making such a determination sometimes uses a percentage of a given population, e.g., the 95th percentile of the children who take this test or the upper 8% of the students in this district on a specific measure. Sometimes, what is used is a standardized and normed intelligence test, such as the WISC IV or the Stanford-Binet 5. I have been pondering this lately and I have some thoughts about this.
Many people feel that giftedness brings with it special personality and emotional characteristics that are less prevalent in the general population, specifically, intensity and emotional sensitivity. If this is the case, then the percentage measures might need to be adjusted. Take, for example, a university or high tech community. There might be a larger percentage of gifted children in the schools in those communities, since favorable genetics and a favorable family/societal support system might both contribute to higher realization of intelligence potential. This might mean that, if the school uses the IQ test cut off, a larger percentage of children might be identified as gifted than would normally be expected. Instead of the usual 5 to 8 %, I have heard of percentages even as high as 25 % of the local population. The question is, should all of these children be identified? Should all of them be served? If the emotional and personality characteristics are taken into consideration, then I would argue that, if we think that those are valid criteria for identifying gifted people, then all of those students need to be identified and served.
But I have also heard it argued that only the upper 5 to 8 % of the students in any given population need to be identified, because the needs of those below that cutoff can be taken care of in the general classrooms. From this perspective, the level of learning in the classroom is typically aimed at the average ability level of the students in the class. If the population of students is above average, then the learning activities in the classroom will be target above the average of the standard curriculum.
Lately, I have been more convinced of the social and emotional differences of, especially, highly gifted children (and adults, for that matter). I think, regardless of percentages, all highly gifted people need differentiated support systems. Perhaps the academic needs can be based on percentages, but all students in the highly gifted group need to be offered counseling and mentoring appropriate to their intelligence level and not necessarily their prevalence in the population.
Many people feel that giftedness brings with it special personality and emotional characteristics that are less prevalent in the general population, specifically, intensity and emotional sensitivity. If this is the case, then the percentage measures might need to be adjusted. Take, for example, a university or high tech community. There might be a larger percentage of gifted children in the schools in those communities, since favorable genetics and a favorable family/societal support system might both contribute to higher realization of intelligence potential. This might mean that, if the school uses the IQ test cut off, a larger percentage of children might be identified as gifted than would normally be expected. Instead of the usual 5 to 8 %, I have heard of percentages even as high as 25 % of the local population. The question is, should all of these children be identified? Should all of them be served? If the emotional and personality characteristics are taken into consideration, then I would argue that, if we think that those are valid criteria for identifying gifted people, then all of those students need to be identified and served.
But I have also heard it argued that only the upper 5 to 8 % of the students in any given population need to be identified, because the needs of those below that cutoff can be taken care of in the general classrooms. From this perspective, the level of learning in the classroom is typically aimed at the average ability level of the students in the class. If the population of students is above average, then the learning activities in the classroom will be target above the average of the standard curriculum.
Lately, I have been more convinced of the social and emotional differences of, especially, highly gifted children (and adults, for that matter). I think, regardless of percentages, all highly gifted people need differentiated support systems. Perhaps the academic needs can be based on percentages, but all students in the highly gifted group need to be offered counseling and mentoring appropriate to their intelligence level and not necessarily their prevalence in the population.
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?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Dropouts
There was a recent posting on another list I belong to regarding the number of dropouts in the United States and the reasons for doing so.
http://fdncenter.org/pnd/news/story.jhtml?id=133800007
After scanning the article, I am pondering two things:
1) Many of the dropouts complain that classes are "boring"and not relevant to their lives. "Boring", as the report does discuss a bit, can mean too easy or too hard or simply not entertaining. One of the recommendations of the report was that teachers try to make their classes more relevant and more interesting. But, in many respects, I think teachers are doing a reasonable job in this regard. The problem is that this generation of kids is used to not only TV, but also the Internet, Instant Messaging, hand-held games, etc., etc. How can teachers even hope to compete with all of the other distractions available to kids these days?
As many of you know, I have been a substitute teacher off and on for the past few years and have therefore seen a wide variety of American classrooms. It is true that a few of them are routine and uninteresting, but, in my experience, most of the teachers are really trying to make their classes interesting. But kids are quite jaded these days. It is as though they need ever higher doses of "fun" just to keep them motivated to do anything at all. And if it isn't fun, the only thing that seems to work is threat - bad grades or talking to a parent. I see very few kids who are really excited about the subject matter. I was in a 3rd grade class this week that was really excited about writing, but that is such an anomaly that it really stood out in my mind.
2) Is it possible that the dropout problem would be better viewed as a lack of alternative pathways? When I was a foreign student in Germany 40 years ago, they had what they called the "zweite Bildungsweg", which was a second pathway to the type of education that the student wanted. There seemed to be a conscious effort to accommodate
students who wanted to change their education course. Maybe if we made a concerted effort to establish more
apprenticeships, or similar entry level jobs, and meld them to part-time education, we could change "dropping out" to beginning a work progression. Maybe "lack of relevance" to their lives could be changed into specific coursework needed for their chosen job path.
I have long been interested in different structural ways of reforming American education. By structural, I mean the organization of bringing teachers and students together, not by changing the curriculum directly or by improving teacher education (both of which are worthwhile, just not what I consider structural changes), but rather by altering who is put in contact with whom and when. E.g., putting a cluster of gifted kids in one classroom, rather than spreading them out among many teachers is a structural change; having each teacher differentiate the curriculum for each of the gifted students is not what I would consider to be a structural change.
http://fdncenter.org/pnd/news/story.jhtml?id=133800007
After scanning the article, I am pondering two things:
1) Many of the dropouts complain that classes are "boring"and not relevant to their lives. "Boring", as the report does discuss a bit, can mean too easy or too hard or simply not entertaining. One of the recommendations of the report was that teachers try to make their classes more relevant and more interesting. But, in many respects, I think teachers are doing a reasonable job in this regard. The problem is that this generation of kids is used to not only TV, but also the Internet, Instant Messaging, hand-held games, etc., etc. How can teachers even hope to compete with all of the other distractions available to kids these days?
As many of you know, I have been a substitute teacher off and on for the past few years and have therefore seen a wide variety of American classrooms. It is true that a few of them are routine and uninteresting, but, in my experience, most of the teachers are really trying to make their classes interesting. But kids are quite jaded these days. It is as though they need ever higher doses of "fun" just to keep them motivated to do anything at all. And if it isn't fun, the only thing that seems to work is threat - bad grades or talking to a parent. I see very few kids who are really excited about the subject matter. I was in a 3rd grade class this week that was really excited about writing, but that is such an anomaly that it really stood out in my mind.
2) Is it possible that the dropout problem would be better viewed as a lack of alternative pathways? When I was a foreign student in Germany 40 years ago, they had what they called the "zweite Bildungsweg", which was a second pathway to the type of education that the student wanted. There seemed to be a conscious effort to accommodate
students who wanted to change their education course. Maybe if we made a concerted effort to establish more
apprenticeships, or similar entry level jobs, and meld them to part-time education, we could change "dropping out" to beginning a work progression. Maybe "lack of relevance" to their lives could be changed into specific coursework needed for their chosen job path.
I have long been interested in different structural ways of reforming American education. By structural, I mean the organization of bringing teachers and students together, not by changing the curriculum directly or by improving teacher education (both of which are worthwhile, just not what I consider structural changes), but rather by altering who is put in contact with whom and when. E.g., putting a cluster of gifted kids in one classroom, rather than spreading them out among many teachers is a structural change; having each teacher differentiate the curriculum for each of the gifted students is not what I would consider to be a structural change.
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