Potential doesn’t equal performance.

It's a new semester.  Once again, I sent out the names of the identified gifted students to the teachers via email, so that they'd have the heads up on who has GIEPs, and, more importantly, who should be tapped for some serious higher-level questioning and challenges.  I do this twice a year, shortly after the start of each semester, and then grit my teeth as I await the inevitable comments.

• "HOW is it POSSIBLE that (insert student name here) is GIFTED?"

• "Are you kidding me, some of your list is ridiculous."  (As if I just randomly generated my own list of the allegedly brightest students in the school.)

• "If HE/SHE is gifted, then I must be EINSTEIN."  (Occasionally substituted by Tesla, but you get the idea.)

Rethinking Thinking.

In truth, I've shifted my energies and opinions about the various levels of energy that I emit, by the time kids get to high school.  Many gifted students are identified as early as first grade in our district, and it is rare for a student to be exited from gifted services prior to graduation.  I mean, seriously, how do you indicate to a parent that their child used to be gifted, but doesn't seem to be in need of specialized instruction now?  Sure, the occasional multiple-concussion athlete might have a medical reason for losing a few IQ points, but there are many more lackluster performers than there are head injuries walking around in the hallways. 

So what causes this giant shift in thinking and motivation?

That, my friend, is the question whose answer could change the world of gifted education.  Many blame it on the social/peer pressures of middle or junior high school.  "It's just not cool."  The Teachers of the Gifted hear it every year -- "Little Johnny doesn't want to be in gifted any longer."  Or, my favorite, "I told her that if she didn't start getting straight A's again, she couldn't go to gifted any more."  

So, it's great that the kids love working in our room so much that it is viewed as an actual reward, which is where much of the skewed ideas about gifted abound.  Somehow, there's an opinion that if kids are actually engaged, having fun, and producing something for an authentic audience, that the time spent is somehow less valuable than instruction in other classrooms.  (What parent would threaten to remove a kid from special education for the same reason?)  There has to be a defined understanding, and respect, for the need for specially designed instruction for gifted kids.  Without that, gifted education can not be effective. Somehow, the revelation that the need for gifted services for the top kids (we're talking bell curve here, people) doesn't seem to apply as equally as the support services at the opposite end of the spectrum.  If a child is learning disabled, he/she could be as learning disabled (from a stanine standpoint) as a gifted kid is learning-abled.

The work of Tracy Cross and LJ Coleman truly caused an epiphany for me.   Their conclusions, that beyond middle school, there is little value in educators working to cajole significantly underachieving gifted kids into action when they lack the desire or motivation to do so.  With finances stretched, school districts could benefit by adopting Cross and Coleman’s model as practice and focusing enrichment resources on talented and task committed  students, assisting them in their exploration in areas of strength and passion.   Advanced development and productivity occurs when opportunities for learning are presented and acted upon by the individual demonstrating high cognitive ability and creativity.  Using both foundational and performance domains, individuals are identified as having unique abilities.  The latter is the most important on the secondary level, as performance is an achievement through concrete productivity, rather than just a numerical indicator of high intellect.  Without demonstration of significant achievement, the student is no longer gifted as defined by curriculum.  

I've adopted this philosophy since first discovering the research, and it has benefited both gifted students and highly-talented (although not formally identified) students, as those who are truly motivated come together to connect, share, and discover. 

There is a certain assumption that gifted is superior -- and, in many ways, the labelled students are.  The hazard comes when judging who is on that list that I send out at the beginning of the semester based on personal observations, or considering those not in the upper echelon are somehow less than superior, or inferior.  Certainly volumes have been written on the tree-climbing fish analogy, and our testing methods continue to be refined.  The reality is, however, that there are many super-highly motivated students who can perform as well as, or better than, an identified gifted student.

A recent article about the number of gifted individuals in prison, shed some light on the potential risk to  rejecting the outliers.  I'm not sure, given the funding discrepancy (billions vs 5 million?) of the ends of the spectrum, that we can argue that money is the motivating factor.  More likely, we, as a society, have defined acceptable brilliance with a definition tied to societal, financial, or personal success, requiring a certain, defined-acceptable, contribution to society to prove worth.  The kids who are really far outside the box -- the non-conformists -- will either do something brilliant, or land in prison, depending on how far outside the box society has defined their ideas are.  Somebody, somewhere, failed to meet them where they were to assist them in learning how to play nice in the sandbox.

As Teachers of the Gifted, we champion the cause, and defend the kids who never utter a word in a classroom, leaving the teacher to assume that the student is disinterested or disengaged, knowing that that student reflects on the learning in that class at a level much more deeply than anyone in the room -- often blogging about it elsewhere, or connecting the ideas in one discipline with the ideas in another.   Some of the deepest intellectual conversations happen in the band storage room, or at a table in the cafeteria.  Evidence of effectiveness for engaged and motivating gifted students can be found in the tweets and facebook postings of students, still mulling over an idea weeks, months, or years after originally presented.

Still, we sit with our data, moaning about the kid with the 145 IQ who wants to take academic level courses so that he/she won't have to work as hard or have a better shot at valedictorian, or whatever hare-brained scheme they've created this week.  We poke sleeping bears, and nudge curled up dogs with the toes of our shoes, hoping to create enough excitement to generate interest, all the while hoping that we aren't growled at, or bitten, in the process.

Let's NOT do lunch.

I am a teacher.  While teachers are supposed to encourage a quest for further education, I truly have no desire to move beyond my current assignment.  Education is not like industry, I believe, where there is a perceived race to receive promotion after promotion.  In fact, educators are not really promoted, without having identified a specific goal and achieved the required certifications.  I actually know of two teachers who pursued administrative certification, and were so paralyzed that their districts would force them out of the classroom into the offices that they intentionally decided not to officially add the qualification to their state-issued certificate.  

I understand that decision.  Primarily because I've spent a great deal of time examining my current position, which I love, and trying to imagine doing something else.  For me, education involves direct contact with students, and the thought of leaving that daily opportunity in the classroom is inconceivable.

Sandusky's Fault? 

Earlier this week, I mentioned that I spent $50 to prove that I am not a stalker, criminal, or pedophile, so that I can continue to work in the classroom in my district.  In doing so, I also had to relinquish my rights to the state to examine my personal financial and medical records.  I was on a deadline, and I don't really have a choice, and, quite frankly, I really just scanned the Terms of Agreement that I was required to accept prior to actually applying for the certifications, so now there's a government employee somewhere finding out all about my knee replacement and tonsillectomy.  WHAT - EV - ER.

Yesterday, I was speaking with our superintendent - usually a very upbeat, positive, and calm person.  The only description I have for her demeanor yesterday was despondent.   I realize that's a pretty serious adjective, but she's been burdened by some pretty serious new laws, taking an awful lot of the rewarding parts of administration away.  Case in point, a letter sent to parents this week, and posted on the website:

Dear Parents/Guardians:
Earlier this week, you received a letter stating that you would no longer be permitted to have lunch with your child in the school cafeteria. I should have included more information in that letter.
I understand that this is perhaps a tradition that you have enjoyed for some time, and it is with some regret that I made the decision to stop this practice.
Changes in clearance/background check requirements led me to this decision. According to the law, anyone who has direct contact with children must now possess clearances in order to volunteer or to serve within a school. In fact, the language of the law references clearances for anyone who has direct contact with children.
In addition to the clearance requirements, we have faced some logistical challenges:
· Monitoring those who do and do not have clearances
· Space in the cafeteria
· Explaining to children why one parent may attend and another may not
· Monitoring and correcting some inappropriate parent/guardian behavior
· Monitoring outside food to be sure that it is not shared by other students
· A crying child who sees that a friend’s parent/guardian joins in lunch while his/her parent/guardian does not
· A child whose parent says he/she will be at lunch but then fails to attend

Despite the change on a daily basis, we are reviewing possible special opportunities to include parents/guardians in a lunch with their child. Your elementary child’s building principal will send an update as plans are finalized.
Thank you for your understanding.

Pennsylvania is taking the lead in protecting children -- I suspect because of the circumstances surrounding the reporting, or lack thereof, of child abuse at Penn State.  Certainly, everyone understands the concept of "It takes a village to raise a child."  Suddenly, now, districts are having to assume that everyone is guilty until proven innocent, requiring clearances/background checks for nearly every person who enters a school building.  The Constitution seems to have been put on the back burner, in order to protect the innocent.

Yes.  It is that big a deal.  Does it seem like overkill?  Absolutely. But I defy you to propose an alternate suggestion that allows for the security necessary under the new laws.

While I'd love to announce to anyone who asks what I do for a living that I am a TEACHER, I'm feeling as if my new official title is actually "Mandated Reporter."    We've been trained, and told that if we suspect child abuse, we are mandated to report it immediately.   This means, LOG ON to a system, complete a lengthy form, and file it with the state.  For cases of severe concern, it means TALKING to someone on the phone at the state.  (Oh, and the state has admitted that their new law is overwhelming their phone lines.)  It means that substitutes will be sent into our classrooms so we can complete the paperwork as soon as we are aware -- no waiting for lunch or prep time.

Today I am thrilled that I am not an administrator, and that I know that I will never pursue such certification.  I also pray that the parents understand the importance of their involvement in the schools for the overall academic success of their children, and are willing to, somehow, scrape together $50 to prove that they are worthy of entry into the buildings.

And that they cut a break to the principals, superintendents, and other administrators who are working hard to uphold the law, while still managing the educational environment of our greatest resource.

A Well-chased Rabbit.

There are days that I barely breathe between transitions.  You know what I mean, those days that have you living somewhere besides "in the moment" because your head is two commitments further along in your day, trying to reassure you that you're ready for the next challenge, or absolutely convincing you that you shouldn't have spent the night before ignoring the backpack full of work that you hauled home, hoping to finally "get ahead."

"Get ahead" is clearly not in my vocabulary.  I'm barely able to "stay on track."  (Another lovely description that causes an increased inferiority complex for me!)  Somewhere along the line this year, I made the decision to be consciously "in the moment" -- something that I recognized as being necessary for the good of my relationships AND my mental health.  

Am I distracted by my phone?  My email? The temperature of the room?  The next thing on my calendar?  Absolutely.  And I'm struggling, hard, to stay true to my goal. 

So it won't surprise you at all when I confess that today, I WAS IN THE MOMENT.  And totally off the lesson plan I had written for the day.

A Well-chased Rabbit 

My gifted and talented students are working on a project.  They're evaluating their lives, their interactions with, and connections to fictional characters.  More specifically, they're attempting to identify the 101 most influential characters on their lives. You can view the inspiration for this exercise here.   In addition to some serious reflection, conversation with parents, and trips through photo albums and videos of their childhoods, they're also considering how these same characters have impacted society as a whole.  Eventually the Final Four of Everything will happen, declaring a #1 for each student.

We began the semester identifying the five most influential preschool characters for each of them, after brainstorming a comprehensive list in smaller groups.  As we were transitioning to the next level of childhood characters, I casually mentioned the theory that exists that all literature, movies, and stories are rooted in one of twelve original stories, and challenged the classes to identify the twelve.
The two classes have been working on this task for more than 3 hours, and they are getting close to their final ideas for inclusion on the list.

It's a messy process.  There is disagreement, snide comments, side-talking, and something that often resembles a mutiny as someone attempts to seize power and control.  This is their first real chance to get to work together in a Socratic discussion, and it's really tough to do when you're defending Curious George's honor and reputation.  (Does George represent racism in America?)  Anyone stopping in my room during this process, without benefit of the reasoning behind some of the comments, might question the sanity of most of the people in the room.

When I was a kid, I read a story about greyhound racing.  (Don't tell me about the cruelty -- I agree with you, but I'm making a point.)  The dogs were on the track, motivated only by a mechanical rabbit mounted to an inner rail, that raced ahead, spurring them forward.   There are days that I feel like that rabbit, trying, desperately, to attract the attention of a class of teens to follow along on my planned lesson.  Sometimes I feel very mechanical, and attached, inextricably, to that rail in the center of the track.

And then there are days like today, when the rabbit comes alive, tosses the plans, and lets the discussion go wherever it needs to go with carefree abandon.  It was crazy.  It was messy.  It could have been perceived as awful.

I say it was wonderful, memorable, and offers a giant experience for reflection -- and a great introduction to the Habits of Mind discussion next week.  Sure, it wasn't what I had planned.  It was thousands of percents more effective.

My challenge, now, is to replicate that messy energy in the other section of the class that meets next week. 

There are no words.

I headed to school today feeling less than my best.  No big deal, just waiting for some antibiotics to kick in, but the mindset was very much a "poor me," with an allegedly lovely excuse for not listening to my fitbit's little white dots of discouragement encouragement.  

Suffice it to say, it didn't start out as a good day.

Putting things into perspective.

I tried to be interested and upbeat.  My entire day was overwhelmingly hectic.  I never saw any of my prep period, as student after student was in asking for scheduling advice.  This is a busy time of year, as parents of Junior Highers are petrified about the fact that their  8th grader is talking about college in preparation for choosing classes for high school.  And the high school kids, looking ahead to sophomore, junior, or senior year, second guess themselves more than twice.  There are many phone calls, parent meetings, student meetings, and flurries of Course Selection Guides crossing my desk.

I had to register for three different clearances that are now required by my employer, at the insistence of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania , to prove that I am not a criminal or pedophile.  Oh, and in doing so, I had to give the state the right to access my medical records -- so apparently HIPA doesn't cover teachers anymore.  It took me 45 minutes, cost me $50,  and I still have to drive to the other side of the county to be fingerprinted.  Suffice it to say that I used Sandusky's name in vain more than a few times. 

As I was driving home, I started, briefly, to relax.

I came home to Facebook messages from friends indicating that I wasn't the only one who had had a less than stellar day -- including:

1.  A picture of a spare tire on a car.  (Apparently a "bad" day for the owner.)

2.  A complaint/rant about being late for work because of a car accident that closed a major roadway.

and this:

3. When people you care about lose a child, especially at the age of 19, there are no words. Hug your children every day, tell them you love them, that you are proud of them, that you wouldn't trade them for the world. Don't ever take them for granted. Our lives are a vapor, a fleeting moment.

Indeed.

My world was rocked, and my perspective meter shattered.  #2 above was late for work because of the accident that took the life of the son of two of our friends.  I've known this kid for more than fifteen years, and the thought that he, the only child of his parents, has vanished from this earth is almost incomprehensible.

Perspective has once again jumped front and center, and demanded that I consider the values.  What is really important?  What is really an issue? 

So tonight, I don't dwell on clearances, lost prep periods, fingerprints, or schedules.  Instead I dwell on people.  I'm praying for Jim and Polly, and I'm celebrating the joy that was their son.  I'm overwhelmed with sadness for them, and a bit ashamed at myself for dwelling in the minutia of my day in comparison to what really matters.

I'm a teacher because I love and care about people. 

 Sometimes so much that it hurts.

It may hate me, but I love IT.

Technology hates me.  Okay, I realize that it isn't truly possible, but I certainly feel targeted by anything which requires me to a) Remember a password or b) Track chargers that later yell at me when I try to use them, indicating that "this device could charge MUCH more efficiently if I used the one provided with the device."

I have a basket full of cords and chargers, and live in fear of tossing ANY of them, for fear of creating a paperweight out of a formerly functional piece of technology.

Last week I tried to teach with my new favorite pieces of technology, Dash and Dot.  They worked fine over the previous weekend when I charged and tested them, but by Friday I was prompted to "update" the software.  With a password for itunes.  I was at school, and had no access to said password, and had a darling six year old waiting patiently to interact with Dash and Dot.

Instructional Technology (IT).  I love IT.

At the risk of sounding like a commercial for McDonalds, I love Instructional Technology.  I love it like my own learners, with the same level of acceptance for its quirks and differences.  Oh, sure, I may roll my eyes behind its back, I may silently -- or not so silently -- plead that it works as expected, and I even brag about it's amazing capabilities, all while crossing my fingers behind my back that it performs as I expect it to, on any given day. 

I remember the first computer that my husband and I bought together.  "It has ONE GIG", said the salesman.  "You will NEVER need more than one gig for ANYTHING you will ever have to do." 

He was wrong.  Heck, I'm pretty sure my cellphone is bigger.  But it has been 30 years. 

In no particular order, here is a list of my current technology obsessions:

• Dash and Dot  (aka Bo and Yana).  Simple enough for a five year old to learn programming and coding.  Oh, and a 53 year old, as well.  I really want to invest in a whole lot of LEGOS to make masks and capes, and well, you get the idea, to dress these two up.
• My Lenovo Think Pad.  They (the scary IT department at school) gave us the new touchscreen Yoga computers right before Thanksgiving, and took away our old standby Vaios.  I love my Vaio, and couldn't imagine loving anything more.  It took some getting used to the touchscreen, but it's not as steep of a learning curve as I'd thought.
• Nooks in the classroom.  The idea that I can hand a Nook to a kid, and that same kid will peruse the library on the device to see what else is on there and READ MORE blows my mind.

Of course my smartboard and ipad are integral parts of the daily classroom as well.

Oh, and how did I finally fix the robot problem?  You'll never guess.

I tweeted my frustration.  SOS TWEETS get amazing results.  The company responded within seconds, and we're well on our way to designing a maze for Dash to run this week.

Only if I can escape the restraints of the cords that keep creeping out of the basket towards my wrists.  I'm pretty sure they're out to get me.

Up Hill, Both Ways.

We've all heard it.  Some of us may have even SAID it.  Kids today seem to have it so easy.

Case in point:  at the end of second period, the principal announced an early dismissal.  This is the second time in two weeks that this has happened; both times, we stared, disbelievingly, out the window at a flurriless sky.  

WHY?

Today's explanation was provided, both in an email to the staff, and on the district website:   

"Due to the predicted drop in temperatures for this afternoon and evening and the threat of icy roads, the Donegal School District will be dismissing students early Monday, February 2. Secondary students (grades 7-12) will be dismissed at 1:30 p.m., and elementary students (grades K-6) will be dismissed at 2:30 p.m. All evening activities are cancelled. "

It seems that the very people, (ahem, weather forecasters),  for whom we had great disdain yesterday, have now been heard by the folks in the education world, and systematically dispatched big yellow buses all over the county more than an hour before our expected end of the day.

(Per NWS US National Weather Service State College PA
Rapidly Falling Temperatures M)ay Result In Hazardous Driving Conditions Today!
A Cold Front Crossing The Region Will Quickly Be Followed By Plummeting Temperatures Late This Morning Across The Northern Mountains And Laurel Highlands And Early This Afternoon In The Central Mountains And Susquehanna Valley. The Combination Of Wet Roads From Overnight Precipitation Along With The Rapidly Falling Temperatures May Result In Icy Conditions...Especially On Untreated Roads, Bridges, and Overpasses.
Motorists Should Be Alert For Rapidly Changing Weather And Road Conditions. Be Prepared For The Potential Of Icy Roads. Slow Down And Allow Extra Time When Traveling.

  

Yes, the World Has Changed.  Get Used to it!

It is appalling to me that the same individuals criticizing education, educators, and kids for their lack of intelligence or willingness to learn are the same individuals who pull out the "when I was a kid, we walked up hill in 15 feet of snow - BOTH WAYS", shaming the kids, bus drivers, administrators, teachers, and everyone else involved in the decision to close schools due to potentially bad weather.  (There's a pretty awesome blog entry here from an administrator worthy of consideration.)  

When you consider the litigious nature of society, and the potential for lawsuits naming school districts or bus companies, it's pretty easy to understand why erring on the side of caution has become the norm.  Closing a school is not something that can be done as simply as requesting buses on site.  All sorts of questions need to be answered:

1.  Did the cafeteria start cooking?  (Wasted food is unacceptable.)

2.  How long will it take to get the bus drivers from wherever they are BACK to their buses and then BACK to the school?  (Some of these folks work as bus drivers, have jobs in the middle of the day, and work as bus drivers in the afternoon.)

3.  Can the custodial staff maintain the parking lots, walkways, hallways, etc, keeping them safe for walkers and drivers?

The list goes on and on.

When administrators choose to close a district, or open it on a delay, it's because they've consulted with emergency management, custodial staff, administrative staff, local weather forecasters, the bus company, the local police, the National Weather Service, and building administrators. (I'm sure I left someone out!)

So today, as I left school in 45 degree weather, wondering when the predicted "flash freeze" was going to come, I casually stopped at the post office and grocery store.  Guess what?  When I came out of the grocery store, ONE HOUR after leaving school, the wind had picked up, and the temperature had plummeted to 22 degrees, with a windchill in the single digits.

If only society would stop being the experts, and trust the experts.....  

Prognostication

It's Superbowl Day.  As every good teacher knows, you can't live in the moment -- so I'm already planning for tomorrow. 

 Let's think about the possibilities for tomorrow for a minute.  Let's make a K-W-L Chart:


What Do We Know?                      What Do We Want to Know?                   What Did We Learn?
         
Superbowl past bedtime=               How miserable will attendance be?        yet to be discovered
poor attendance and tired kids


Storm Predicted                             Delay or Snow Day                                   yet to be discovered


Ground Hog Day will result          Why anyone hangs hopes on this             will never understand
in most of the weather coverage
being attributed to a rodent tomorrow

Projected Forecasting

By now, you're probably wondering about this rant, and what it might possibly have to do with education.  It's no secret that the world of meteorology has been slammed pretty heavily recently -- especially in light of last Monday's predicted epic storm that was expected to cover most of the east coast.   The hype started on Friday, teachers dragged home all sorts of extra bags filled with work that could be completed at home, expecting Snowmageddon.

A few flakes fell, the wind blew, and, well, that was pretty much it for most of the prediction.  Even New England, which had prepared for YARDS of snow instead of feet, felt a bit cheated.  When it was all over, National Weather Service Meteorologist, Gary Szatkowski, apologized, on Twitter, for the inaccurate forecast.

Without waxing too politically, I wonder how well-received an inaccurate prediction of student success would be received by society if educators' success were off these days.   Much like meteorologists watching the EURO model, using the Partial Differential Equations, and a toolbox of other diagnostic tools, educators are constantly gathering data to predict what society has now valued as academic success.  (AKA, Proficient or Advanced on the PSSA or Keystone exams, for those of us in Pennsylvania).

This year, the success of my students on a single goal represents more than a quarter of my total evaluation.  Let's think about that for a second.  My Student Learning Objective (SLO) means that if I don't get it right on this one point, I am, almost certainly, going to wind up with an annual evaluation recommending interventions by my administration to improve my teaching within the next two years, or that they fire me for my ineffectiveness, at the end of that time.  Is it any wonder why teachers pray for accuracy on the part of meteorologists?  A day to breathe, to evaluate the SLO data, and make the necessary adjustments to ensure success.  Lord knows that if every teacher were to tweet apologies in June, we'd surely crash Twitter.

So tonight, while watching the Superbowl, or, more likely,  just the commercials, teachers will be watching the updated EURO models with the meteorologists trying to guess the likelihood of a 2 hour delay, and adjusting lessons in the potentially-shortened day.  Because come tomorrow, there's an accountability, a demand for success, no matter how many wings the kids have consumed, or how little sleep they've gotten, celebrating the big game the night before.