A friend who is an artist sent a link to a website that describes a new Pearson art history book that has no pictures! No pictures of the art it describes. Students are instructed to look for the images in another textbook.
The pictureless art history book costs $180.
You have to open the link and look at a page in the book.
Is it time to laugh or cry?
This is what the art students said about the art history book without pictures.
This post describes an ad running in Chicago in which Mayor Rahm Emanuel talks about the new contract, while pictures of Chicago schoolrooms are on the screen.
The pictures show a teacher in a library with a class of six students. She is teaching math with an Ipad. They show an art class.
Read this post to learn the truth. Teachers fight for textbooks; they don’t have iPads. Class sizes are not 6 but multiples of 6. Many Chicago schools do not have libraries or arts teachers.
Was Rahm Emanuel dreaming about the schools he wants for Chicago? Wouldn’t that be great?
Bruce Adams, a veteran teacher and artist in Buffalo, explains how to fix the schools in nine not-so-easy steps.
His recipe does not involve firing teachers or closing schools. It does not rely on standardized testing. It takes time.
Wall Street hedge fund managers, Eli Broad, and the Gates Foundation won’t like his plan, because he warns against expecting quick results. In fact, he says, “don’t expect overnight success.” That no doubt disqualifies him in the eyes of our impatient reformers, who can’t wait.
Adams writes:
We don’t give schools enough time to implement one educational philosophy before replacing it with a trendy new one. Radical improvement doesn’t occur overnight. If we overhaul the system tomorrow and remain consistent, we could expect comprehensive results by the time this year’s newborns reach their senior year. Seventeen years may sound like a long time, but if we had spent ten years transforming our system after “A Nation at Risk” identified the problem in 1983, last year’s graduating seniors would have provided the first cradle to grad results. Think long term, not quick fix.
Of course, it does matter if you implement sound ideas to begin with. If you impose bad ideas that demoralize teachers and turn children into test-taking robots, then seventeen years will be a hard and ugly eternity.
Amy Goodman of Democracy Now interviews Karen Lewis and other CTU teachers about the strike. Lewis explains how the union patiently built alliances with parents and communities, fighting school closings and agreeing on the needs of children.
Karen Lewis reminds us that the great victory of the union was that teachers stood together in solidarity instead of compliantly accepting whatever was dealt out to them. The very fact that the union went out on strike reminded teachers that they are in the same boat and that together they are powerful.
The message that CTU sent the nation was that so-called “education reform” is a fraud. It does not have the support of teachers. It is all about testing, carrots and sticks. And it is not in the best interests of students.
Ultimately what the CTU wanted was a rich curriculum for all children, with the social services and small classes that children nee.
The news from Chicago: The union is alive and well, is unified and strong, and is ready to stand up for the needs of students and for teachers, not only in Chicago but across the nation.
Want a laugh? Watch her take down equity investor Bruce Rauner, who was “a few classes behind her” at Dartmouth. Yes, Bruce, the union is the teachers, and the teachers are the union. They are not separable. Don’t forget: 98% of the teachers voted to authorize the strike, even though Jonah Edelman’s Stand for Children [aka, Stand on Children] said it would never happen.
Who is hurting the kids? Reverend Jesse Jackson knows.
A lot of pious preaching came from reformers who opposed the Chicago teachers’ strike. They said, “You are hurting the children by keeping them out of school.”
We never hear them say that the Mayor and the school board are hurting the children by denying them small classes, decent facilities, a good curriculum, social workers, the arts, and well-maintained facilities.
The money’s all gone, the reformers say, but there’s always enough to give subsidies to developers and big corporations. The only time the till is empty is when the topic is public schools.
This is a terrific article, wherein an art teacher explains how it feels to be constantly pilloried while doing your best for children who love you.
The teacher wonders what he/she did to ruin the economy for everyone else while sitting in a little plastic chair with small children.
And much to the amazement and consternation of the critics in the media and on the Internet, this teacher is unbelievably beloved and appreciated and rich beyond the imaginings of those who envy teachers.
True, you can’t pay your mortgage with psychic income, but it helps to protect against the slings and arrows of trolls and vipers.
This comment came from a retired and discouraged music teacher in response to a post about the damage done by data-driven instruction, in which focus is on raising those who score at 2 up to a 3, while ignoring the 1s (too low) and the 3s and 4s (they cross the barrier):
Yes, Diane, the focus is solely on raising the twos. It was the topic of staff meetings prior to my retirement as a music teacher–yes, we “specials” had to hear and contribute ways that we could do math and literacy in our 25 minute classes (at most 15 minutes of real instructional time). We had to write and use math concepts–and no, the writing and mathematical concepts could not use the language of our areas. It had to be just like that used on the state tests. Oh, I forgot, I taught kindergarten through second grade music.
Fast forward two years later, two years into my retirement, I was tutoring third and fourth grade students in reading AND math, despite my not knowing as much as most of the students when it came to math…or at least how they were to learn it. Where was our focus from January through state testing?? On the twos, of course! I have not gone back to tutoring, despite my love of working with students. I do not want to be used and use the children solely to generate data at the expense of students really learning how to think, how to solve problems, how to be creative. Teachers are a terrible thing to waste!
A retired teacher sent this post:
Larger Classes— Less Education
By Anita Getzler
Listening to the public discourse on classroom size, it’s been suggested that the number of students in a classroom does not affect a student’s ability to learn. However, when I tell people that this can mean 45, 50, even 70 students in a classroom, they are shocked and their response is, “How can you teach? How can students learn?” The effects of increasing classroom size are more than a debate of numbers and statistics. The implications touch every student and teacher.
As an art museum educator for 25 years, I led teacher and students workshops and I have two sons who attended public high schools. However, until I actually taught in a public school, I had no concept of how incredibly rewarding and inspiring, difficult and exhausting the profession could be. Or, how ineffectual and boring school can become for students in overcrowded classrooms. It’s been suggested that with improved classroom management skills, teachers would be more effective and alleviate problems arising with increasing classroom size. I mastered those skills and managed to keep a class of forty-five, 9th and 10th grade overly energetic high school students seated and working. What I could not anticipate was the extraordinary effort it would take to maintain a compassionate, disciplined, and creative classroom as student numbers steadily increased.
To promote kindness and respect, and teach lessons of patience and hard work, I constantly monitored the classroom— instructing, encouraging, and analyzing students’ artwork. This was especially true during the first semester in my Art 1 classes comprised of primarily freshmen needing more supervision. Sounds right—teachers should be engaged with their classes. But what happens when half the class asks for help? I warned students it might be a long wait before I could respond to their raised hands and many were patient, but some became frustrated and even angry. Several put down their hands and never raised them again. Later, I heard students lamenting they needed more one-on-one instruction and were disappointed in their work, or felt rejected and personalized it to mean that I didn’t care about them.
It became necessary to simultaneously assist individual students while observing the entire class. I could anticipate certain students might stop working, possibly throw an eraser or pencil, use their cell phones, or begin chatting across the room. I weighed the benefits between teaching individual students or securing overall classroom discipline. How could I help students in a caring and sensitive way when I had just minutes to point out the positive in their artwork or discuss their intentions? The result of my quick comments and demonstrations was some students felt I was critical of their work. I sensed the reluctance to undergo the risk of a quick critique. Finally, I didn’t want the risk either and spent more time with fewer students.
Each of my classes included students who didn’t make an effort; others who chatted and got nothing done; some who sat quietly but did little; and some who were always working, but never completed their assignment. Initially, I assumed they were lazy, lacking in motivation, inattentive, or didn’t care about completing work. It was tempting to make those judgments, give the D or F, and save myself a lot of effort. But after having a private conversation with each of them, I learned some were lacking in basic skills and were embarrassed in front of their peers, while others just couldn’t keep up with the pace of the class. Many students were too shy or insecure to ask for help and could easily be overlooked. As classes grew, I gave up more instruction time to have these conversations to encourage more students and design individual goals.
Art is often the chosen elective for students with special needs. Some of these teens discovered hidden artistic talents. Others struggled, never getting enough instruction to master a technique and were left lacking in self-esteem and self-worth. Similarly, when the highly talented students created art pieces, they lacked the personal instruction time required to more fully expand their abilities. The demands of overcrowded classrooms do not afford these students the necessary time, space and attention.
I began my first year teaching with the notion that students were absent because they were sick or lazy. Over time, the realities behind continued absences, tardies, poor grades, and sleeping in class became clearer. Students didn’t offer the information; they just walked in and took a seat. But through private conversations, I discovered the homeless student, the student with her own child, students who remained home to baby-sit their younger siblings so parents could work, and others who suffered from illnesses. Several had late-night jobs, and many were in great distress experiencing home foreclosures, divorces, unemployed parents, while others lost a parent and/or friend to terminal illnesses, accidents and suicides. Most were relieved to share their stories and grateful for a sympathetic ear. In this past year of teaching, there were more students with more serious problems, which meant using more instruction time to have these critical discussions.
The art class offers opportunities to express personal emotions and develop creative ideas. Students expressed extraordinary insights in the narratives that accompanied their art pieces, but it was a constant challenge to elicit verbal responses during class discussions. Why was it so difficult for students to share feelings and ideas with each other? Some articulate students said they stopped responding to my questions because they were “tired of thinking for the other students who were lazy and unwilling to put out the effort.” That was certainly part of the class dynamic, but I also believe that lack of trust is a factor. Students were not willing to share personal feelings or ideas with 45 other students they didn’t know or trust. Why risk their lack of understanding, someone’s ridicule, or a tactless remark? Students watched me deal with students’ disrespect on a daily basis, why should they place themselves in that position? Creating an honest, caring class community became more elusive as the numbers grew. This was reflected in the larger school community as well.
Along with bigger classes came more administrative tasks, more meetings with counselors and parents, additional computer entries for daily attendance, class participation, grades, and anything that needed recording. During my first four years of teaching, I devoted many hours after school and on weekends grading artwork and exams. During the past two years, as student numbers reached 240, my grading methods changed dramatically. The time to review each work and the number and length of comments were reduced considerably and finally, I graded artwork during class.
As classroom size increased I ran into basic density challenges.
In an art room, increased classroom size means decreased artwork size—there isn’t enough room on each table for working large. Extra students meant extra furniture. Eventually it became a challenge to squeeze my way across the room once students were seated. I worried that a larger substitute teacher would simply not be able to navigate across the classroom! Students seated closer together also meant more behavioral problems and lower grades. This lack of personal space resulted in students acting out and distracting one another from working to their full potential. My attempts to insure the right “mix” of students at a table made seating assignments a mind-bending task.
Numerous studies indicate it takes five years for a teacher to feel confident and secure in the classroom. That was true for me. I had my lessons ready to go, knew what to expect from my 9th and 10th graders and didn’t take things quite so seriously. During my 6th and final year, I held the reins pretty tight for the first three quarters of the school year. Finally, when the fourth quarter arrived, most students worked for the sheer satisfaction of creating beautiful pieces. They trusted me, asked for help and critiques and we could relax.
So why did I choose to resign from teaching at the end of my sixth year? It was hard to leave a profession I dearly love and at which I had become accomplished. As with any profession there were difficulties as well as great satisfaction and joy. But only teachers know the physical, emotional, intellectual and psychological effort it takes to truly teach. I wanted to teach with an interchange of ideas and creativity. However, as student numbers grew, I could no longer sustain the person I had to be in order to maintain my personal standards for quality teaching. At times, I feel like a deserter, but the envy in some teachers’ eyes tells me that many would jump ship along with me if they could manage it. It’s not because we don’t want to teach, it’s because we signed up to work in teachable environments and now find ourselves in untenable situations. Many teachers are figuring out how to maintain their health, their sanity, and their standards of teaching as best they can, while suffering alongside their students in these overcrowded classrooms.
When students wrote their end of the year comments to me, the most frequent suggestion was for fewer students in the classroom.
I believe the public is unaware of the day-to-day realities of the classroom and the great harm being inflicted upon students and teachers by the steady increase of classroom size. I have written about my own teaching experience in order to shed some light on this critical situation, and move citizens to act to save the heart of our educational system.
I came across a moving story about a music educator in Wisconsin whose death stirred his town and wrote about him last night. His influence was widely acknowledged.
I asked, in light of the community’s reaction, how such an inspiring teacher should be evaluated. It was obvious that test scores was not the right answer, in part because what he taught–music and band–do not lend themselves to measurement by test scores. But the qualities that the community honored in him–his ability to inspire, his love for music, his concern for students–are inherently not quantifiable. The same might be said for teachers in other subjects as well, not just teachers of music and the other arts.
A music educator commented:
As a former high school band teacher, and current music teacher educator, this story shines a light on one of the glaring inadequacies of the current, one-size-fits-all approach to teacher evaluation. music teaching is different than teaching math, or science, or reading–and one rubric or test can’t measure every kind of teacher. or school. or community. music teachers across the country are struggling with how to use these tools to describe the totality of what we do, and with the reality that our jobs–as it is with our colleagues in every other other discipline–are just too complex, complicated and messy to fit in this tiny little box.
It has always seemed to me that the things we care the most about, that are most important to us, are the most resistant to this sort of simplistic measurement. do we measure our marriages with a 4 point scale? do we “grade” the love we have for our children on a rubric? teaching is a daily act of love; love for our students, for their learning, for our colleagues, and for our communities. to think that we can measure our effectiveness as teachers with a 4 point scale is not only absurd, its insulting.
Mr. Garvey made a difference in his community that could never be measured by a test. it was measured by the length of the line at his wake, and by the depth of the grief felt by his former students and his family at his funeral. Mr. Garvey, like many, many teachers across the country who are getting ready to return to their classrooms, taught because he wanted to bring his love of his subject matter to his students, to make them think about the world differently, and to help them become the persons they wanted to become. there aren’t enough “points” on any teacher evaluation rubric to measure the difference these teachers will make this year.
This parent activist in Chicago says that parents have good ideas about how to improve the schools but Mayor Rahm Emanuel won’t meet with them.
Parents in New York City say the same about Mayor Bloomberg.
Why won’t the mayor listen to the most informed and most committed stakeholders of all? Not the business community, not the entrepreneurs, but the parents of the children?
| It would cost more than the city has which is a nearly 1 billion dollar deficit! Parent groups have proposed plans that would increase art and gym, support after school programs and allow more opportunity for hands-on learning, but CPS and the mayor emphatically refuse to discuss the future of our children’s education with parents. Rahm’s only solution is to impose a longer school day with no additional funding and essentially let schools try to figure out how to make it work, while secretly hoping schools fail so he can close them and create more charters. |
Diane Ravitch's blog 