February 24

America’s Teachers aren’t Burnt out. We are demoralized.

As a teacher, I felt fortunate. The first job I took in Chicago Public Schools in 2007 was at a school where the administration truly valued student and staff input. I remember sitting with students as we interviewed potential new teachers and the students saying things like, “This teacher doesn’t seem like they will be a good fit for our school family.”

The entire school staff worked incredibly hard to give our students every opportunity possible. The issue was that our school (like many across the country) did not have the resources it needed. We watched our already thin school budget be decimated by more budget cuts. We let go of administrators, counselors, librarians and teachers.

The reduction in school staff immediately impacted the students. They lost supportive adults who had built relationships with them. The inequity in the system was tragic and profound. As educators, we would tell our students they could become anything, while simultaneously teaching them in a school building that had no soap in the bathrooms, broken computers and a nurse for half a day, only on Fridays. We fought for more for our students and watched as our mayoral controlled school district refused to provide more funding, and instead returned with the decision to close the school. All of this was demoralizing.

These last two school years have been even tougher. Tougher for parents, for students and for educators. We’ve experienced a historic presidential election, an uprising to bring about racial justice, an attempted coup and a debate on whether schools are even a safe place to be during a pandemic. Educators were caught smack in the middle of all of this, hoping that our students and their families, as well as our own, were safe and healthy. Trying to help our students make sense of this world while we’re still figuring it out has been exhausting.

Often in education we hear that teachers are burned out, but that isn’t quite accurate. As teacher demoralization expert Doris Santoro says, “burnout tells the wrong story about the kinds of pain educators are experiencing because it suggests that the problem lies within individual teachers themselves.” Those outside education assume that the teacher can’t hack it in the classroom. But in reality, teachers are forced to operate in systems that aren’t functioning properly, which makes teachers feel demoralized, discouraged and overwhelmed. According to Santoro, demoralization occurs because teachers “care deeply about students and the profession, and they realize that school policies and conditions make it impossible for them to do what is good, right and just.”

As a 15-year educator in Chicago Public Schools, let me explain what demoralization looks like:

  • Losing more students to various forms of gun violence than years I’ve been teaching, and being told educators are greedy for demanding more counselors, social workers, therapists, clinicians and psychologists for our students. Every day, as a 40-year-old, I struggle with these losses and imagine what it’s like for the 14-year-olds I teach.
  • Watching 7-year-olds on a school night in February plead with school officials to not close their school.
  • Watching parents and community members go on a 34 day hunger strike just to get a school open.
  • Having to tape down broken asbestos tiles on our floor so the students and staff don’t breathe in a carcinogen.
  • Supporting students who want to speak up and out, only to be told we are indoctrinating students who dare to challenge the status quo.
  • Dealing with all these inequalities while trying to teach through a pandemic.

To survive in systems like Chicago, or anywhere really, educators eventually realize they need to control what we can, which is what happens inside our classrooms. We have kids sit in circles and talk about novels they read. We have debates about current events, we do amazing experiments and solve formulas. Students perform concerts and showcase their art. We form meaningful relationships with our students as we get to know each other over the year we spend together. We laugh with and at our students, and learn to laugh when they make fun of us.

But during all of those amazing days we also try to ignore that it’s only 60 degrees in our classroom in the dead of winter or that it’s over 90 degrees in our rooms in the summer. We try to ignore the mold in the ceiling tiles, the windows that don’t open, the blinds that broke and have not been repaired, ever, and the floors that haven’t been swept because every custodian has quit. Some days it just seems easier to work in a cubicle where at least the air conditioning works.

We try to ignore all of that so we can just teach. But no matter how hard we try we can’t help but see the inequities, the injustice, the hypocrisy in our education system.

We went from being heroes and essential workers during the spring of 2020 to being viewed as babysitters by politicians around the country. We fight for student safety and we are told to get back in the building, ironically by people working remotely. We challenge our students to question and are told we are indoctrinating them with “critical race theory.” We are plied with guilt and encouraged to normalize choosing our students over our own families and our own lives. Our love of students is regularly abused. We are pitted against each other by administrators or district heads who use terms like “super teachers” for some and “hell raisers” for others. We grow so demoralized and dispirited that some educators lose hope and motivation; they become so empty that they start to think teachers should go back to only worrying about our pay and benefits. That fighting for the common good of our students is too difficult to even think about.

All of this is intentional on the part of our school systems and those controlling them. All of this is demoralizing. We love teaching, we love students. All we want is a true say in how our schools are run.

Right now the educators may be in one of the greatest exoduses in history. Educators are leaving, and they will continue to leave in record numbers. Teachers will either leave silently or will leave fighting. We will be thanked for our service and left to rebuild our professional lives.

Some think tanks will try to replace us with some fast tracked program like Teach For America, only to watch them leave in faster time than educators who’ve been called to this profession, who are committed to honing our craft and improving year after year.

Educators know that bargaining for the common good, working with other organizations and advocacy groups who think about all parts of our students’ lives is what gives us hope. The late Chicago Teachers Union leader Karen Lewis taught us to bargain for the common good and to realize we are the experts.

We want community run schools, where the voices of parents, students, educators and administrators all matter. We want elected school boards and an end to mayoral controlled school districts. We want time to plan and to collaborate. We want equitable funding for our schools. We want to stop wasting our own time creating DonorsChoose projects to compensate for the ridiculous lack of funding our schools receive.

We want policy that actually shows that our students matter. But here’s the thing: We want to be a part of all of this work. We have the expertise, the experience, the degrees, the certifications upon certifications. We know how schools work. This is how we can attract teachers and re-energize the experts that we do have.

America’s educators aren’t burned out. We are demoralized.

The solution lies in understanding the difference.

Category: Uncategorized | LEAVE A COMMENT
February 24

America’s Teachers Aren’t Burned Out. We Are Demoralized.

As a teacher, I felt fortunate. The first job I took in Chicago Public Schools in 2007 was at a school where the administration truly valued student and staff input. I remember sitting with students as we interviewed potential new teachers and the students saying things like, “This teacher doesn’t seem like they will be a good fit for our school family.”

The entire school staff worked incredibly hard to give our students every opportunity possible. The issue was that our school (like many across the country) did not have the resources it needed. We watched our already thin school budget be decimated by more budget cuts. We let go of administrators, counselors, librarians and teachers.

The reduction in school staff immediately impacted the students. They lost supportive adults who had built relationships with them. The inequity in the system was tragic and profound. As educators, we would tell our students they could become anything, while simultaneously teaching them in a school building that had no soap in the bathrooms, broken computers and a nurse for half a day, only on Fridays. We fought for more for our students and watched as our mayoral controlled school district refused to provide more funding, and instead returned with the decision to close the school. All of this was demoralizing.

These last two school years have been even tougher. Tougher for parents, for students and for educators. We’ve experienced a historic presidential election, an uprising to bring about racial justice, an attempted coup and a debate on whether schools are even a safe place to be during a pandemic. Educators were caught smack in the middle of all of this, hoping that our students and their families, as well as our own, were safe and healthy. Trying to help our students make sense of this world while we’re still figuring it out has been exhausting.

Often in education we hear that teachers are burned out, but that isn’t quite accurate. As teacher demoralization expert Doris Santoro says, “burnout tells the wrong story about the kinds of pain educators are experiencing because it suggests that the problem lies within individual teachers themselves.” Those outside education assume that the teacher can’t hack it in the classroom. But in reality, teachers are forced to operate in systems that aren’t functioning properly, which makes teachers feel demoralized, discouraged and overwhelmed. According to Santoro, demoralization occurs because teachers “care deeply about students and the profession, and they realize that school policies and conditions make it impossible for them to do what is good, right and just.”

As a 15-year educator in Chicago Public Schools, let me explain what demoralization looks like:

  • Losing more students to various forms of gun violence than years I’ve been teaching, and being told educators are greedy for demanding more counselors, social workers, therapists, clinicians and psychologists for our students. Every day, as a 40-year-old, I struggle with these losses and imagine what it’s like for the 14-year-olds I teach.
  • Watching 7-year-olds on a school night in February plead with school officials to not close their school.
  • Watching parents and community members go on a 34 day hunger strike just to get a school open.
  • Having to tape down broken asbestos tiles on our floor so the students and staff don’t breathe in a carcinogen.
  • Supporting students who want to speak up and out, only to be told we are indoctrinating students who dare to challenge the status quo.
  • Dealing with all these inequalities while trying to teach through a pandemic.

To survive in systems like Chicago, or anywhere really, educators eventually realize they need to control what we can, which is what happens inside our classrooms. We have kids sit in circles and talk about novels they read. We have debates about current events, we do amazing experiments and solve formulas. Students perform concerts and showcase their art. We form meaningful relationships with our students as we get to know each other over the year we spend together. We laugh with and at our students, and learn to laugh when they make fun of us.

But during all of those amazing days we also try to ignore that it’s only 60 degrees in our classroom in the dead of winter or that it’s over 90 degrees in our rooms in the summer. We try to ignore the mold in the ceiling tiles, the windows that don’t open, the blinds that broke and have not been repaired, ever, and the floors that haven’t been swept because every custodian has quit. Some days it just seems easier to work in a cubicle where at least the air conditioning works.

We try to ignore all of that so we can just teach. But no matter how hard we try we can’t help but see the inequities, the injustice, the hypocrisy in our education system.

We went from being heroes and essential workers during the spring of 2020 to being viewed as babysitters by politicians around the country. We fight for student safety and we are told to get back in the building, ironically by people working remotely. We challenge our students to question and are told we are indoctrinating them with “critical race theory.” We are plied with guilt and encouraged to normalize choosing our students over our own families and our own lives. Our love of students is regularly abused. We are pitted against each other by administrators or district heads who use terms like “super teachers” for some and “hell raisers” for others. We grow so demoralized and dispirited that some educators lose hope and motivation; they become so empty that they start to think teachers should go back to only worrying about our pay and benefits. That fighting for the common good of our students is too difficult to even think about.

All of this is intentional on the part of our school systems and those controlling them. All of this is demoralizing. We love teaching, we love students. All we want is a true say in how our schools are run.

Right now the educators may be in one of the greatest exoduses in history. Educators are leaving, and they will continue to leave in record numbers. Teachers will either leave silently or will leave fighting. We will be thanked for our service and left to rebuild our professional lives.

Some think tanks will try to replace us with some fast tracked program like Teach For America, only to watch them leave in faster time than educators who’ve been called to this profession, who are committed to honing our craft and improving year after year.

Educators know that bargaining for the common good, working with other organizations and advocacy groups who think about all parts of our students’ lives is what gives us hope. The late Chicago Teachers Union leader Karen Lewis taught us to bargain for the common good and to realize we are the experts.

We want community run schools, where the voices of parents, students, educators and administrators all matter. We want elected school boards and an end to mayoral controlled school districts. We want time to plan and to collaborate. We want equitable funding for our schools. We want to stop wasting our own time creating DonorsChoose projects to compensate for the ridiculous lack of funding our schools receive.

We want policy that actually shows that our students matter. But here’s the thing: We want to be a part of all of this work. We have the expertise, the experience, the degrees, the certifications upon certifications. We know how schools work. This is how we can attract teachers and re-energize the experts that we do have.

America’s educators aren’t burned out. We are demoralized.

The solution lies in understanding the difference.

Category: Uncategorized | LEAVE A COMMENT
February 24

Restorative Justice Does More Than Solve Conflict. It Helps Build Classroom Community.

OICES | WHOLE-CHILD LEARNING

Restorative Justice Does More Than Solve Conflict. It Helps Build Classroom Community.

By Helen Thomas     Feb 23, 2022

Restorative Justice Does More Than Solve Conflict. It Helps Build Classroom Community.

It’s a dry, hot day in south Phoenix, but my dimly lit classroom is cool and comfortable. Quick footsteps approach outside the door and two-dozen 8- and 9-year-olds return from recess, sweating and smiling. They calmly walk to their desks while a children’s mindful breathing video plays on the whiteboard. Some students quietly grab their water bottles and head out to fill them up, and others sit on the carpet and stretch. While this happens, I watch four students pass by their desks and head straight to the table in the corner of the room to sit in a small circle.

Maria is speaking about an interaction at recess that left her feeling excluded. Gabriella starts to speak over her. Before she can finish her sentence, Ariel says, “Please wait until it is your turn, remember, everyone will get a chance to speak.” Gabriella nods and patiently waits her turn. After a few more minutes, Ariel turns to Maria and asks, “What can we do to make this right? How can we make sure this doesn’t happen again?” At that moment, I was absolutely amazed by the four children in my classroom. Only a few months before these same students came in from recess in tears, shouts, or both nearly every day.

In order to get to that point, I had to do a lot more than simply teach students the skills to engage in a conflict resolution dialogue. Students were able to independently work through that moment because we had spent a significant amount of time intentionally building the mindsets and relationships necessary to do so. As an early-career educator, I instinctively turned towards the approaches I’ve been taught by my own relatives and many other Indigenous teachers, to nurture, sustain and repair community. It took nearly two years of using these approaches to realize that other educators were doing the same thing, but they were calling it restorative justice or restorative practices.

Restorative Practices or Restorative Justice?

In my conversations with other educators, there is usually confusion around the definition of restorative practices due to the common emphasis placed on restorative justice, which focuses on repairing relationships when harm has occurred as an alternative to punitive approaches to discipline. In contrast, restorative practices focus on not only repairing, but also building and strengthening relationships and social connections within communities. The mainstream conception of restorative justice is credited to Howard Zehr and is thought to have originated within the criminal justice system in the 1970s. However, a 2017 report from the Zehr Institute for Restorative Justice, notes the growing demand from the field that practitioners acknowledge many of the values and practices of restorative justice come directly from Indigenous communities in North America and across the globe.

In fact, my own understanding of restorative practices is rooted in first-hand experiences of learning from Indigenous peoples implementing this way of being in their communities. In college, I had the opportunity to travel to the tribal headquarters of various Native Nations to learn directly from tribal leaders through the Native American studies program. For a federal Indian law course, we traveled to Window Rock, Ariz., to learn about the Navajo Nation’s peacemaking courts.

The Diné (Navajo) community uses peacemaking to resolve domestic disputes in a way that prioritizes restoring balance and harmony to the entire community. We discussed how restorative justice as a philosophy and set of practices more closely aligns with Indigenous knowledge systems than dominant criminal justice approaches in the U.S. Years later, as I started to explore the field of restorative justice as an educator, I realized how rare my perspective was and how it impacted my understanding and use of restorative practices in my classroom.

Going Beyond Repairing Harm

While others saw restorative justice as a way to transform their behavior management or discipline, I conceptualized it as a holistic framework for not only repairing, but nurturing and sustaining relationships with and among the classroom community. When I taught first grade, we started every day with a community circle, where each student was given the opportunity to respond to a daily question or prompt. Students were encouraged to actively listen to their peers and share openly or respectfully pass when it came their turn to speak. Sometimes called talking circles, this is a commonly shared technical protocol within restorative practices, but to me, it was the style and form of communication I had experienced in various settings with Indigenous peoples my whole life.

Within my own culture, circles are often used symbolically and literally for their ability to promote equity, interconnection and holism. My mother, the current chairwoman of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, has said that as Lakota people, “we live in a circle way—the sacred hoop relates to every aspect of our way of life.” A central belief of Lakota people, and many other Indigenous communities, is the idea that we are all related. All living beings, including animals, plants, lands and waters have inherent worth because we are all an integral part of a larger interdependent system. This concept of relationality is foundational within a restorative practices philosophy, but educators rarely have the chance to consider how this mindset can impact the design of their instruction or the structure of their classrooms.

Learn from Indigenous Ways of Being

After much self-reflection, I recognize now I was comfortable applying this idea of relationality in the classroom because I was socialized in a community that exhibited the foundational values, beliefs, and mindsets needed for a restorative way of being. I also recognize that is not the case for the majority of educators in classrooms.

Even so, the realization motivated me to consider how restorative practices can be implemented not only in my classroom management but also my instructional choices. I designed lessons that created authentic contexts for students to practice the skills needed to maintain healthy relationships. Our classroom communities found success repairing harm with restorative practices because students proactively developed meaningful relationships with not only me but each other as well.

As more and more schools turn to restorative practices, I encourage all interested educators to center and learn from Indigenous communities who have been implementing restorative practices as a holistic way of being since time immemorial.

February 23

A Simple Tool for Aligning Instruction and Assessment

ASSESSMENT

A Simple Tool for Aligning Instruction and Assessment

This quick visual guide can help teachers ensure that their daily lessons align with their learning goals and assessments.

February 18, 2022
Teacher works at her desk
StockRocket / iStock

Teaching at our best is like anything else we pursue; it’s part science and part art. It’s a learned skill that requires time and patience to hone. Teachers, therefore, become frustrated when our self-efficacy is threatened by questionable policies and relentless new initiatives, particularly during a pandemic. But having a set of trusted pedagogical strategies can help us keep it together—even under extreme pressure.

In coaching schools, part of the initial work is to engage leadership in learning walks to see what’s happening in classrooms before investing time and resources to design professional development (PD). Classrooms will always be the incubator for what’s needed in education.

It’s challenging for administrators to keep their fingers on the pulse of what’s happening in their schools if they’re not interacting with teachers in classrooms or listening to them. These visits also allow school leaders to recommend appropriate tools and practices for empowering teachers.

FLOW AND ALIGNMENT

Through no fault of their own, I have found that many classroom teachers don’t always see how assessment drives instruction or the alignment between summative assessment, learning goals, formative assessment, and teaching strategies/scaffolds. For example, a career switcher who didn’t participate in a preservice program or a teacher whose preservice program included very little instructional modeling may not have a set of pedagogical strategies at their disposal for planning and facilitating instruction.

There isn’t only one way to teach. But daily lessons must have flow and alignment.

Classroom teachers need to have fluidity and a reservoir of trusted strategies they know when to use. These strategies must be part of methods for attacking daily instructional problems with flexibility to address unforeseen occurrences. A planning tool and framework for mapping instruction backward can be helpful in maintaining alignment no matter what we encounter in the instructional day.

To help support teachers, I’ve adapted the tool during lesson/project ideation sessions. It’s been helpful for teachers who may not understand how to rewrite standards into learning goals or for those who may need a refresher on scaffolding and creating instructional alignment. Some of the schools I work with have even added the tool into their lesson and performance task templates. See a template and completed example here.

The tool originates from PBLWorks and is inspired by backward design methodology by Jay McTighe and Grant Wiggins but does not replace McTighe’s Understanding by Design resources through ASCD. Instead, the tool is a simple table with four columns, easily allowing educators to map their instruction in alignment with summative assessment and daily learning goals.

ALIGNING INSTRUCTION IN 4 STEPS

Column one: Determine summative assessment. Well-designed summative assessments drive instruction when they align to standard(s) or a benchmark. The tool should be used to align instruction for summative assessments in the form of products, demonstration of a performance task(s), or literary composition.

For example, a particular unit or project plan can call students to create written, technology-based, or constructed products (e.g., reports, PSAs, model prototypes, etc.). Once we determine what we want our kids to do and make by the end of a specified time, that goes into column one.

Column two: Compose learning goals. Developing learning goals for lessons and projects is a critical practice often neglected in PD and, therefore, is often excluded or not well thought out in curriculum unit design. Derived from academic standards and learning frameworks, learning goals are vital to teaching and observing learning and are the backbone of lessons.

Good learning goals drive what students will understand and what they will be able to accomplish following a lesson or project. They need to go beyond objectives on our whiteboard or lesson plan and should be unpacked during mini-lessons as the focal point of the academic conversation between teachers and students.

I use learning targets (LTs) to capture learning goals as statements about what students can do regarding completing the product or task in column one of the planning tool. Here are some examples of what can go in column two:

  • I can explain how human activity affects the health of bodies of water and the ecosystems they support.
  • I can collect and analyze data to inform my decisions and design better solutions to real-world problems.
  • I can present my conclusions to an audience using multimedia tools that more effectively convey my message.

EL Education has powerful video examples of how to use LTs across the grade levels.

Column three: Develop formative assessments. Each learning goal in column two will need formative assessment to check students’ understanding. Teachers can decide on both informal and formal formative assessments. I find conducting two formal checks (quizzes, essays, etc.) for each summative assessment good practice for determining where students need help, remediation, and challenge.

Informal checks can be used daily between our interactions with students to determine their instructional needs. Here are some we can use as quick checks for understanding.

Column four: Utilize instructional strategies and scaffolds. Instructional strategies and scaffolds are what we reach for to teach a particular lesson—or, in this case, the learning goal(s) in column two. Learning goals require us to explain, clarify, and model. Regardless, students will need time to practice—moving from guided (teacher-led) to independent.

Gleaning insights from formative assessment helps us put the appropriate scaffolds and interventions in place by updating column four. For example, to help students with their coding skills, I like using the workshop model to structure station rotations allowing them to move between working independently and working with the teacher or their peers. Both content and elective teachers can also use it for differentiating and choosing scaffolds that work best for their kids.