A Fish Called Karma

 

 As a mother of three now twenty-something children, I can attest that our home has been graced by more than a few goldfish won after being bonked on the head by a ping pong ball at a school fair or local carnival.  No sane parent ever goes to the carnival HOPING to win a new fish.  That's why it happens.  Karma.  In fact, parents everywhere should just start naming the fish that are won KARMA.  Easy to remember and easy to understand why you have the darned thing on the kitchen counter in a mason jar.  That fish is there because YOU won a fish 20  or so years ago, and your mother or father muttered something about "when you have kids..."  after you neglected to feed it, clean the bowl, or notice its ability to sleep on his back.  Karma.  Easy to explain why, as soon as you drive to the store and buy rocks, food, and filters -- not to mention the 10 gallon tank and FRIENDS for Karma, he/she will succumb.  (Soon to be followed by the "Burial at Sea" a la Tidy Bowl.)

Here is what I have learned about goldfish:

1.  They live better in mason jars than fancy tanks.  If you don't glitz up their surroundings, they're perfectly fine.  (There appears to be a direct inverse reaction to amount of money spent on the actual longevity of the fish.)  My rule for new fish was a two week minimum stay in a mason jar in the kitchen before we dug the fishbowl out of the garage, and two months after that before we considered rocks, treasure chests, castles, and mermaids.

2.  Goldfish do not need heaters.  Room temperature appears to be fine.  (Have you ever seen a goldfisfish shiver or sweat?  I've made my point.)

3.  Goldfish do not really even need that grainy food sold in tiny cans.  I know this for a fact.  There was a week in 1994 when the snow was so deep in Pennsylvania that driving was not something worth attempting for something as small as fish food.  I tossed in some crumbs from the bottom of the Chips Ahoy cookie bag, and Karma did quite well.  (Perhaps it was the nautical reference on the bag.  Maybe Karma was literate!)

Our record for individual goldfish longevity was something greater than 4 years.  So far, PETA hasn't knocked on the door with actual neglect charges, but this is the first time I've mentioned the Chips Ahoy incident publicly.

Today's Te@chthought challenge has some significant parallels to the aforementioned goldfish.

September 14

What is feedback for learning, and how well do you give it to students?

 

As a teacher, my answer to this question makes me feel about as guilty and competent as the aforementioned fish owner/caretaker. The folks at LFS would  probably cringe in disgust if I were to confess that my idea of feedback for learning is not something that I seek to give to students.  There are all sorts of strategies that allegedly assist students in learning -- and some of them directly involve the teacher.  Certainly, an affirming nod or "good idea/thinking/perspective", is feedback. 

Obviously anything marked on a graded paper is supposed to be viewed as feedback.  The reality today is that in my academic classes, there are very few who actually care about the feedback written on papers.  I'd spend hours grading papers -- in purple or green pen, because we all know that red pen hurts self esteem -- only to return them to students who flip to the last page, look at the grade, and toss it right into the trash can.  On a good day, it would go into the recycle bin.  (While they may not care about split infinitives, improperly cited sources, or ending sentences with prepositions, apparently the environment is worth preserving?)  Often the kids who actually do follow through to submit a revision only change what I have indicated is wrong.  They view the feedback as a proofreader's proof, rather than seeing the improper citation mark the first time, revisiting the MLA handbook and correcting all of the subsequent infractions in the paper. (Fortunately for me, the trees, and the people who empty my recycle bin, I now have most papers turned in electronically.  I don't actually see the lack of engagement with my provided feedback/responses.  If they're reading and dismissing them, it's happening on a screen.)

In my early years of teaching, the focus was on "wait time."  Ask a question, allow adequate time for the class to respond, and THEN prompt, beg, plead, or give the answer.  As a teacher in those early years, I felt like Jerry Seinfeld standing in front of my class.  I'd ask a question, they'd wait for the answer.  I didn't think I was doing standup, but the timing was about the same.  Back then, the feedback was a "good job", a nod, a smile.  I guess Charlotte Danielson would call it "formative feedback."

My favorite type of feedback when I was teaching elementary school kids was the "shhhhh, it's a secret" eye contact that they'd make with me when they solved a particularly difficult logic problem before their classmates, or actually followed directions on one of those "Read all the directions before doing anything" tests which had a series of ridiculous steps including standing up, reciting the alphabet backwards, singing the National Anthem, etc.  Of course, the last line of the paper would say "Now that you've read all of the directions, do NOTHING except putting your name at the top of the paper, turn it over on your desk and sit quietly and watch the fun."  To this day I remember Shannon M's sweet little pixie face looking at me in total disbelief, and then watching the insanity that ensued among her classmates as she sat with her hands folded and feet swinging under the too-big chair.

Students are constantly looking for feedback.  The truth is, they don't really want it.  What they want is to be finished.  And to get an A.  (And some of them don't even care about the actual letter grade.  They just want to pass.  Most of those students are not gifted and talented -- did I mention I teach one section of a 9th grade required Information Literacy course?  There is nothing harder than teaching a subject that is required to a bunch of kids who think they already know everything.)  

So what is feedback?  To me, feedback is the grain of external motivation -- the crumb of the Chips Ahoy cookie -- tossed out to nourish and sustain the life in the mason jar.  (aka classroom.)  What bothers me is that feedback shouldn't be external, it should be internal.  Feedback should be based upon reflection and motivation to either accept and show pride in one's work, or to dump the bowl and fill it with fresh water, without the nagging or prompting of mom, dad or teacher.

Last year I worked with a new mindset in my classroom -- one where I promoted the Autonomous Learner as a concept.  We used a democratic approach to grading -- even in the Info Lit class.  When it came time for the BIG research paper, the Info Lit class spent 25 minutes in a Socratic discussion circle determining the point value and categories for the rubric.  They owned that rubric when it was finished.  Everyone collectively agreed.  The really cool thing was that the overall average on the papers in that class second semester were a full 8 points higher than the first semester where the rubric had been designed by me.  (And I graded the second set on the student rubric for a grade, and my old rubric, just to prove they had actually done better.)

So, feedback.  Odd that I'd be writing on such a concept for something hashtagged  #reflectiveteacher.  How about a new movement --  #reflectivestudent?  There would be a whole lot less shrugging of shoulders followed by "I don't care/know." 

Because right now, the old methods of feedback coming from this teacher don't work. Either that, or I don't do it well at all.  I want my students to want to move out of the mason jar and become lifelong learners in a tank with a mermaid and a castle.

#reflectiveteacher