High School English Teacher Confession

Okay, everybody, I'm going to let you in on a little secret about high school teachers. Or maybe just high school English teachers. Or maybe just me. We grouse about our middle school and elementary colleagues. (Or maybe I'm the only one, and other English teachers just nod politely while I do it. Is it just me?) "Why didn't anyone teach these kids how to use a comma by ninth grade? How did this kid get to me without learning to use a period at the end of a sentence? There, their, and they're; it's not that hard!" Here's another secret: My middle school and elementary colleagues did teach them. They taught them these lessons over and over and over and over (and over). It's not their fault. It's mostly developmental. These concepts just click at different times for different kids.

But here's something else about high school teachers, or maybe just high school English teachers, or maybe just me: We don't thank our middle school and elementary colleagues enough. Well, I just got through a huge stack of essays, and I want to very publicly say THANK YOU! Thank you to the teachers at Talmadge Middle School and Independence Elementary School and Ash Creek Elementary School and Monmouth Elementary School. And thanks to the great Educational Assistants at Central High School who have been working with my kids who are on IEPs or who are second-language learners. Because my kids are writing with more technical proficiency than perhaps any class I've had before. Whatever y'all are doing, keep it up!

And to the folx out there who are saying, "None of the kids are learning anything this year," sit down. First, that simply wrong. The kids are learning a lot! They are living through something none of my other students had to weather, and they're still learning, so please stop telling them they aren't. They can hear you! Also, when you say things like, "They're falling behind," I'd like to know who you think they're falling behind. Are there children living on the International Space Station I'm unaware of? Because last I heard, this is a GLOBAL pandemic. Do you really think Harvard is going to say, "Nope, we just won't accept any students for the next 12 years because they all had a bumpy year during that GLOBAL FREAKING PANDEMIC?!" Your kids are rock stars. Take them out for ice cream. (Use the drive through and wear a mask. The person scooping the ice cream and leaning out the window to hand the ice cream to you is a person, and decent people wear masks to protect other people.) Your kids deserve ice cream.

And I know this has been incredibly rough on you, too. Most of the negativity directed at our schools and teachers and, yes, even our kids is just frustration looking for a target. I get it. Pandemics are not fun. So get yourself some ice cream, too. You deserve it. Even those of you who have been particularly nasty to the very people working so hard for your kids. You just haven't learned how to productively direct your frustration. I feel you. I sometimes do the same thing. I'm working on it. I recommend ice cream.

Last, to my high school colleagues who will get these ninth graders next year: Hold onto your butts! We've got some dang good writers coming your way. And the students got those skills from the people I used to complain about. Remind me of this the next time I'm grousing.

Opting Out of Standardized Testing

I just sent this letter to my colleagues in the local chapter of my union. If the form letter included below would be helpful to any teacher or parent out there who is considering opting a child out of state testing or who might be talking with family and friends about this option, I thought I'd toss it up here.  

CEA Colleagues,

I may be walking on thin ice here, but I wanted to share something with you. Our statewide union (the OEA), has taken a strong but nuanced position regarding high-stakes standardized testing. Essentially, they are arguing for a “Let’s Put Learning First” model in which we shift from a heavy emphasis on summative testing accomplished through expensive, multiple-choice, corporate-created, standardized tests, and toward formative assessments which are teacher created and which provide teachers with information to better help students. The OEA is not creating a replacement summative test, but they are working hard to lobby for a moratorium on the SBAC and for new legislation that validates and enshrines the notion that teachers know best, and students deserve to benefit from assessment.

There’s another element to the pushback against all this standardized testing. That’s the opt-out movement. This part can get a bit technical and tricky for us, as teachers, because there are limits to what we can advocate in our role as teachers, and there are certainly consequences for our schools. Oregon law allows parents to opt their children out of the testing for either religious reasons or due to disability. The principal of the school may then make a determination about the opt-out. If the principal refuses to allow the child to opt-out, that can be appealed to the superintendent. If I’m reading it correctly, the law does not explicitly dictate what happens when a parent is unsatisfied with the superintendent's verdict, but no one can stop a parent from bringing an issue to the school board, so I assume it could then be appealed there. When it comes to religion, the law does allow for a broad definition of religion which includes moral objections to the testing. When it comes to disability, the disability has to be diagnosed, but any student with an IEP is eligible. We are not allowed to encourage a parent to opt their child out while serving in our role as teachers. This certainly includes any time during the contract hours, and there’s some debate about whether we can do so during our off hours if we present ourselves as speaking as teachers rather than as citizens/parents/etc. We are, on the other hand, allowed to inform parents of their rights, even during IEP meetings. The line between advocacy and informing hasn’t really been established because, to my knowledge, no district has attempted to punish a teacher for advocating for opting out, and no teacher has counter-sued. Still, it’s a gray area, and I want you all to be informed about that.

Here’s where the opt-out is potentially good and potentially bad for us. The parents who tend to opt their children out of the testing tend to be those who are most informed about the effects of these tests on their kids and on our schools. It’s no surprise that there is a direct relationship between these parents and the scores their children will receive.  Consequently, parents who have opted-out have received pleas from principals in other districts (bordering on harassment) to reconsider. We all understand why; if our highest performers opt out, it will affect our school’s rankings and our own evaluations. On the flip side, if a certain percentage of parents opt their children out, the tests for the entire school, or even the school district, are invalidated. This could give us significantly more time to teach our students. It could also pressure the state when it comes to a moratorium on SBAC. It could also cause the Feds to revoke our waiver and throw us back into NCLB hell. If you’d like to learn more about the opt-out movement, here’s a good website, and here’s the OEA’s page on the subject.

When it comes to opting out, it’s the official position of the OEA that this movement is best left to parents. Their voices are more powerful when it comes to swaying the district on this issue, and they can’t be accused of anything other than looking out for the best interests of their own children. Teachers in some school districts have joined with parent groups to attempt to broaden the number and kind of parent opting his/her child out. Some have participated in holding screenings of the film Standardized. Some have made presentations to their school boards. I’m not proposing anything like that at this time, though I’m interested in hearing where you all stand on this issue.

Instead, I’m writing to all of you as someone who wears too many hats. I’m your president, and a teacher, and a parent of a child in our district. One of our colleagues asked me if I was going to opt my son out of the testing. After much discussion with my wife and with other teachers, we’ve decided that we do want to do that for his sake. I want to be very clear: I am not asking any of you to do this. It’s a deeply personal decision. However, if you do decide to opt you own children out of the testing, or if you find yourself talking to family or friends about this option, I want to encourage you to remember to include a particular note in the letter that needs to be sent to the school. I think it’s important that we let our schools know that we are not opting our children out of the testing because we don’t trust their teachers or because we fear accountability. It’s precisely because we do believe in their teachers, and that they have proven to us through their excellent work with our children that they are accountable to us, as parents.

Consequently, I’ve taken the letter I will be sending and I’ve converted it into a fill-in-the-blank form that any parents can copy and paste, tweak, and submit if she/he chooses to do so. This is my variation on a letter written by Jerry Rosiek, a professor in the College of Education at The University of Oregon. I hope you find this helpful and don’t feel that I’ve overstepped my bounds.

I thank you, not just as the president of our local and as your colleague, but as a parent who deeply appreciates the education you are all a part of providing for my son.

-Benjamin Gorman

CEA President

Teacher at CHS

Proud Father of Noah Gorman

Sample Letter

[Your Address]

[Date]

[Principal’s Name]

cc [Teacher’s Name]

[School Address]

Dear [Principal],

Thank you for your work with my [son/daughter], [child’s name]. I feel confident that [he/she] is receiving an excellent education at [name of school].

I am writing to officially opt [child’s name] out of the Smarter Balanced Assessment Consortium tests, the OAKS tests, the Easy CBM tests, and any other standardized tests which do not provide [child’s name]’s teacher, [teacher’s name], with timely, useful information which will guide [her/his] instruction of my [son/daughter].

As I’m sure you know, OAR 581-022-1910 states: “The school district may excuse students from a state required program or learning activity, where necessary, to accommodate students' disabilities or religious beliefs.” The Oregon Test Administration Manual elaborates that ““Parents may request that their student be exempted from state testing based on either disability or religion. OAR 581-022-1910 allows school districts to excuse students from a state required program or learning activity, including state testing, to accommodate a student’s disabilities or religious beliefs. In order for a school district to excuse a student from testing under this rule, the student’s parent must submit a written request to the school district, listing the reasons for the request and proposing an alternative individualized learning activity for the student that meets the same goals that would be accomplished by participation in state testing. Appropriate school personnel must evaluate and approve the parent request.”

I believe you are the appropriate representative of the school who should approve such a request. If not, I trust you will see to it that this request is given to the appropriate decision-maker.

The courts have held that the term “religion” in the law should be interpreted broadly to include moral objections. I have strong moral objections to a battery of testing that is not designed to improve my [son/daughter]’s education. The coalition of people pushing these tests have a handful of different agendas. Specifically, some want to undermine public education to push voters into accepting vouchers and other forms of privatization, others want to make political gains by destroying teachers’ unions, and others have explicitly stated that they want to maximize profit for shareholders through the public schools. None of these agendas are focused on improving [child’s name]’s education, so I don’t believe any of those agendas should be countenanced by our public schools.

This letter is my formal request for [child’s name]’s opt-out. My first choice for a proposed alternative individualized learning activity is that such a decision should be made by [child’s name]’s teacher, [teacher’s name]. [She/He] has impressed me with [her/his] competence, professionalism, and judgement. In the face of countless demands to prove [her/his] “accountability” to politicians and pundits, [teacher’s name] has proven, through [her/his] work with [child’s name], that [she/he] is accountable to the children she teaches and to their parents. I believe [her/his] assessment of [child’s name] needs will lead to the most appropriate individualized plan. However, if you require a more specific plan from me, I would be satisfied if [child’s name] simply read books [his/her] teacher has identified as being at [his/her] reading level while other students took those tests. Frankly, just about any activity would be a better use of [his/her] time than tests designed to assess and punish [his/her] teacher and school rather than teach [him/her].

So that I don’t end on such a cynical note, I want to reiterate that I am grateful that [child’s name] has the opportunity to attend [school’s name] and learn in [teacher’s name]’s classroom. Please know that my desire to opt [child’s name] out of the testing is in no way a criticism of the education [he/she] is receiving at [school’s name]; in fact, it’s a reflection of my desire for [him/her] to maximize [his/her] time there learning all your excellent staff have to teach [him/her].

Again, thank you for all you do for [child’s name] and all the students of [school’s name].

[Parent’s Name]

Parent of [Child’s Name]

[Contact Information]

A Brief History of Orange

Here's the story of a fun adventure we've had at Central High School over the last couple of days. I'm a huge fan of both podcasts and discussions about language, so Slate's language podcast, Lexicon Valley, is like my chocolate and peanut butter meeting in a Reece's Cup. The most recent episode (#43), asked and answered the question, "Which did the word 'orange' refer to first, the color or the fruit?" I was so excited about this that I not only polled my own students to see what their guess would be, but asked my colleagues in the English department to poll their students, too.  (Thanks to Mike Voulo for the idea of polling people to find out their guesses, and thanks to lexicographer Ben Zimmer for the wonderful answer to the question itself!)  

At present, with some ballots still uncounted, our count is 175 votes for the color coming first, and 286 for the fruit coming first. Drumroll… The short answer is that the word has evolved from a  word naming the fruit, not the color. The story is a lot more fascinating than that, though, and it gives us some insight into the origin of our language and the ways languages work in general.

First of all, it turns out that there is an evolution in every language when it comes to naming colors. Cultures start out with words for dark and light. Then they add red. Next come blue and green. Colors like purple and orange come much later. The tribes in England who formed the basis for our language, the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes, had no word for the color orange. If they wanted to describe something that was orange, they called it red-yellow. If you’ve ever wondered why we call people who have orange hair “redheads,” this makes total sense. They couldn’t call them “orangeheads.” They had no word for orange.

Meanwhile, long before the Angles ever came to England, in ancient China, in about 2500 B.C., they had this fruit that was orange. We have no idea what they called it, but by the time it made it down to India, we have record of its name in Sanskrit in an Indian medical book from around 2000 B.C., and they called it “naranga.” The word “naru” means “fragrant” in some other languages from the Indian subcontinent, so we guess it meant “fragrant fruit.”

From India, the word moved to Persia, and in Persian it became “nārang.” From there, it went to Arabic and became “nāranj.”

Muslim merchants introduced it to various European languages, and it became “naranja” in Spanish, “narancia” in Italian, “nerantzion” in Byzantine Greek.

Then, some of those European countries started dropping the first consonant. The Italian “narancio” became “arancio.” Late Latin got “aurantium.” (Slight digression: This happens in languages when the article, like “a” or “an” gets mixed up with the word. For example, in English, the word “adder” used to be “nadder,” but people describing “a nadder” eventually switched it to “an adder.” Conversely, our word “newt” used to be “ewt,” but “an ewt” became “a newt.” Thanks again, Mr. Zimmer!)

Now here’s where the story of our English word gets really weird and cool! In the south of France, in the Provence region, they spoke a dialect of a language called Occitan. It’s not French. Actually, it’s closest relative is the Catalan language spoken in Catalonia, a part of modern Spain. Anyway, in that Provance region, there was an old Roman city named after a Celtic god, Aracio, a god of water. Over time, the name of the town changed so that, in the Provençal language, it was Aurenja. The Provençal  word for the fruit, by then, had evolved into auranja. Over time, they blend, until people there are calling both the city and the fruit Orenge. Eventually, this becomes “orange.”

But wait! How did this word get to English? Well, the prince of this city, a dude named Prince Philebert of Orange, was given control of a good chunk of The Netherlands because he helped out the Emperor Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire. But he had no heir, so his title passed to his German nephew, William of Nassau. William then founded the House of Orange that became the ruling family of the newly independent Netherlands. He started The 80 Years War with Spain. His grandson Charles become a king of England. How? Well, the English decided that they were worried about their new Catholic king, James II, so they deposed him in the Revolution of 1688, then reached out to a prince from the nearby Protestant royal family so they could have a new Protestant king. "Oh look! There's a Protestant royal family right over there, across the English channel in The Netherlands. It's the House of Orange!" When Charles arrived, the English greeted him with orange banners and, of course, oranges. Charles then encouraged Protestants to settle in Ireland, so the Protestants there come to be known as the Orangemen. The color orange not only came to be part of English, but it took on important symbolism for Protestants in the British Isles. I'll bet the folks waving those orange banners for Charles III had no idea that his family's color came from a town far from The Netherlands, in the south of France, which acquired its name, ultimately, because of a completely random coincidence involving the similar names of a Celtic god and a Chinese fruit!

English is the most bizarre, wacky, fascinating language ever, and I’m so glad I get to teach it!

(Again, I owe credit for this whole story to Ben Zimmer who wrote it here and told it here.)

Funniest Moment in My Classroom ...Possibly Ever

I'm always hesitant to post stories about my students for fear that someone will be offended, but in this case the students in question know that I'll be posting about this moment and they have every right to be proud of their brilliant wit. I'm not sure I've ever laughed so hard at a student's quip before. We were doing an assignment where students take a line or two from Romeo and Juliet and demonstrate that they understand them by converting them into some other voice. One student was working with Juliet's lines about how a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, and I told the class that a different character might use a different metaphor to make the same point, so they didn't have to limit themselves to roses.

A clever student shared his with the class. He made his voice as low and scratchy as he could and said, "Tequila in a Scotch bottle is still Tequila."

From across the room, an even more clever student shouted, "Mom?"

A Teacher in the Trenches Reports on Proficiency Grading

My friend Scott (who blogs here) sent me this question the other day: "I had an idea recently and I was wondering what your thoughts were. This is in regards to school reform, and I’m not a teacher; I’m guessing you’d have a very different perspective."

Okay, right away I'm hooked. Not only am I teacher, but I'm a teacher who loves to speak for all teachers. Other teachers might not appreciate that, but it's just how I roll. Also, I love to talk about school reform, partly because our schools do need to be reformed, but mostly because they do not need to be reformed for the reasons or in the ways that the professional school reformers want them to be reformed, and, as a teacher, I believe I have an obligation to speak out in defense of great public schools. So when Scott starts this way, I immediately start to gird my loins and prepare for a fight. But...

"I was recently listening to a book called The Generals, regarding the changes in command structure of the US army from WWI to Iraq II. One of the reforms he talks about having been introduced in the interim between Vietnam and Iraq I was that they ceased to have “X number of hours” requirements for training and replaced it with “demonstrated proficiency”-based training. That is, once you pass a test, you move on to the next point. This meant that officers were no longer forced to spend time in a mind-numbing course that they already comprehended, and those not learning had a greater incentive to learn."

Hold on! He's talking about the movement toward proficiency grading, a move I support!

"Now there have been a number of suggestions that schools actually pay students money to do things like show up and do homework and such. I’m guessing I’m not alone in thinking this is a terrible idea. There’s also the idea of incentive pay for teachers, which likewise is a terrible idea (it punishes or rewards teachers based in large part on the active role that the student’s parent plays, over which the teacher has no control, favoring the teachers with the easiest students). However, I think that incentives might be made better. Namely, students could be rewarded with time and autonomy for good behavior."

Paying students to learn is a bad idea: Agreed. Incentive pay for teachers is a bad idea: Agreed. Students can earn time and autonomy for good behavior: ...almost. A big part of proficiency grading is the recognition that behavior is not enough. Good behavior should lead to the acquisition of skills, and it's the acquisition of skills that should be rewarded. But I'm interrupting.

"I imagine something vaguely of this nature: students have to be at school from X:00 AM to X:00 PM, regardless of progress; this would not change. But let’s imagine that each school year were divided into quarters that last, say, 13 weeks (with the “4th quarter” being summer vacation, slightly shorter than the others due to vacations or holidays or staff development days, etc., during the course of the normal 3 quarter school year). The regular course of the semester would be to have instruction complete in 9 weeks with a final exam **or** final report/presentation/etc. (I don’t care about the specific metric; this is not about increasing the testing frenzy, but a student should be able to establish proficiency in whatever subject by a standard deemed appropriate by that instructor for the course at hand). If you pass that final exam, your next four weeks are given to you to do as you will with high flexibility and autonomy. If you like art, take art classes. Take extra time in shop, or in science lab, or just read or write in the library, should you choose. Enroll in some online college courses (audit or credit, it’s up to you). Enroll in local community college courses for free (this was actually available in San Diego for anyone with a free period, but I didn’t know it). Learn to program computers. Parents would also be free to take their kids out of school during those three weeks for vacations, should they be so inclined, without missing any important school work, provided the kids passed all of their classes prior to that.

"In addition to incentivizing the students to actually master the material at the end of 9 weeks, it would have the added (potential) that the teachers would be able to focus additional time for those students that most need it in those final 4 weeks. Students not passing at the end of the 13th week would need to use an elective period in the following quarter to meet the demands not met by the class not passed.

"My basic assumption is that *most* students have at least some subjects that they could meet proficiency in very rapidly if they had an incentive of (relatively) free time. This might serve to help align the goals of the students and the teachers. Yes, it would require more funding, but the truth is that Americans really aren’t that squeamish in general about spending money on education; in general, we spend way, way more than the rest of the developed world, and the few exceptions are small wealthy populations (like Norway and Luxembourg) which, though they compete with national averages favorably, still don’t spend as much as small subsections of the US like Boston or NYC. The problem is that administrators and bureaucrats take a large cut off the top (leaving less for teachers), and the results don’t track the increases in spending. Largely this is because parents today have bifurcated into two large camps of the over-involved and the under-involved, and the progress of a given student seems to reflect primarily their parental involvement. As such, motivating the students themselves seem imperative. What insights can you offer as a teacher?"

Oh, I have opinions galore. As to whether or not they are insightful, I'll let you judge, Scott.

We’re instituting something very much like this right now. It’s both daunting and exciting.

First, the exiting part (for a philosophy-major theory-head geek like me): The theory. The idea is that we’ve been grading all wrong, and the flawed grading has led to bad instruction. Grades should describe precisely what a student is capable of doing in relation to the goals of the course. Unfortunately, we’ve been messing that up in a number of ways. A student moves on to the next level of a course with a B, and the next teacher doesn’t know if that B means the student is capable of doing all the tasks required in the last class, or if she did a bunch of extra credit, or if she worked really hard and earned the teacher’s pity, or if she was super-capable but was punished for being lazy, or for cheating, or skipping school occasionally (because she was bored), or for a myriad of other reasons she might have that B. Instead, the grade should describe only her performance. Ideally, she shouldn’t even get a letter grade. She should get a list of specific tasks and simple scores on those (Meets, Exceeds, Does Not Meet, Did Not Attempt), so the next teacher knows precisely what she can and cannot do. If the grades were done this way, the instruction would be designed to lead up to these specific performance tasks. She could take a pre-assessment to determine if she already knows how to do whatever is about to be taught. If so, don’t waste her time teaching her that! If not, teach her how to do it. When she shows she can, move on. If she still can’t, don’t just pass her on to the next teacher. Take the time to focus on that skill she lacks. And don’t muck up her scores with anything but explicit descriptions of her academic ability: Bad behavior gets handled by administrators and her parents and is unrelated to her grade. Extra credit doesn’t exist. And effort only matters if it results in being able to perform the tasks; she’ll learn that it matters a whole lot, but not because she’s working for a letter.

That’s how it’s supposed to work. It can, too. Some people are doing this already and doing it well. It doesn’t even necessarily have to cost a lot more. Rural one-room schoolhouses with great teachers are perfect for this kind of thing. Really good home-schoolers can even pull it off (though too often home-school teachers can turn out to be un-schoolers or grossly unqualified to teach every subject at every level. I know I would be. Plus there’s the whole issue of socialization which requires a lot of work by home-school teachers who don’t want to produce students who can pass every test but are socially dysfunctional). Small class sizes are an important part of the mix here. No one can effectively keep track of 200 kids all going at their own pace, or at least no one I know, and I’ve worked with some of the best teachers in the country.

But it takes more than small class sizes to make this work. Teachers need lots of time and support to rewrite curriculum so that it targets specific tasks and measures them each effectively. There’s an understandable temptation to go out and buy a canned curriculum that will do all that work for teachers. That impulse must be avoided at all costs. For one thing, canned curricula tend to suck. Just because a huge corporation made something doesn’t mean it’s any better than something your local school teacher can produce, and it might mean it’s a whole lot worse. The corporations designing curricula have different motives than producing something that’s been tested and shown to be effective: They want to produce something that’s flashy and will make them lots of money. Sometimes the profit motive can lead to high quality products for reasonable prices (see: Toyota or Volvo)

and sometimes it leads to things that look a lot better than they really are (see: the early Miata)

or are priced to sell but not to last (see: the Ford Pinto).

Also, when teachers are given a canned curriculum they do not have the investment in its creation, so they are less likely to know the material inside and out and are more likely to resent the material (sometimes garbage) being handed down from on high. So, in order to do proficiency grading properly, teachers need the time and support to create dozens, sometimes hundreds, of pre-tests, connected lessons, and post-tests. And since our hypothetical student needs to have many opportunities to try again when she doesn’t master a skill the first time, more post-tests and more post-tests.

The other temptation is to plunk our poor girl down in front of a computer and make her take as much of her schooling as possible through computer-based classes. Now, teaching through the computer can work, but only if it’s done in a very specific way. Linguists learned a long time ago that programs on the radio, broadcast by Radio Free America, didn’t effectively teach people English. Why not? They could listen to them for hours upon hours, but they didn’t absorb the language. Was something wrong with them? Nope. It was the nature of the instruction. When people learn, they need to be able to demand feedback and receive unrequested correction. If you can’t ask a question and get an answer, you don’t learn well, and if you are doing something wrong and no one corrects you, you just keep on doing it wrong. Computer courses, too often, are designed to provide learners with an onslaught of information they are simply supposed to absorb before taking a test which provides them with very little feedback or correction. Someday we’ll design computer programs that can evaluate a student’s performance, provide them with the appropriate feedback needed to improve, and answer their questions (correctly and appropriately for their level) when they ask.  Then I will be out of a job. Luckily, we’re not there yet, and the people trying to sell computer-based learning are more concerned with saving schools money (and making their own) then providing students with the best instruction.  (But the day will come when students taught by computers do better than students taught by humans. I think that’s as inevitable as, say, universal healthcare. Yes, teachers should be as worried as the folks who file health insurance claims. We will have to learn to do something else.)

Another challenge for a true proficiency system, which you already alluded to, is what to do with the kids who are done too fast, and what to do with the kids who aren’t done fast enough. Our traditional model says that they should all go at the same rate, and we do it that way not because we believe it’s true, but because we can’t quite figure out what to do about the fact that we know it’s false. In small degrees, it’s bearable. If our hypothetical student finishes her math faster than her history, maybe we can provide a space where she can work on the history she needs to catch up on while the rest of her math class reviews something she already knows how to do. But what happens when she’s ahead of her class at everything? Free time to learn about things she’s interested in would be great, but according to a proficiency model, we should be moving her on to the next grade’s material. That poses a number of problems, though. Do we want a really bright 7^th grade girl hanging out in the same halls as our 16 year old guys? And what if she’s not a really bright girl? Do we warehouse her in a class of capable 7^th graders when she’s 16? What will that do to her, socially?

Oh, and remember how I mentioned that behavior problems will be taken care of by teachers and administrators and parents working together? That part is essential. And rare.

And those are just the obvious problems. What about the kid with a learning disability who is never going to be able to perform certain tasks? Do we say he’s a 10^th grader forever? And what about the kid who just moved to this country and doesn’t speak a lick of English? And what if he is also the kid with the learning disability? Our traditional model allowed that kid to stumble along with straight Ds, get a high school diploma that completely deceived employers about his ability level, and then he could get a low-level service sector job and maybe be okay. But those jobs no longer pay a living wage and the world wants high school diplomas to mean something specific.

Which brings us to another major issue: The world has not adjusted for the proficiency based model. Parents still want to know what the letter grade is because that’s how they were taught to evaluate their own performance when they were in school. Colleges are warming to proficiency grades because they will give them a better sense of who can succeed within their walls than the meaningless high school diploma did, but scholarship committees still want a GPA, so even a kid who wants to go to a progressive school that recognizes his list of skills instead of his GPA might not be able to pay for it. Businesses want to know that the kid will show up on time and obey his boss, something the list of tasks might not include. It’s going to take time for schools to be able to show that students focused on building skills still learn a work ethic without the fear of punishment through punitive grading, and in the meantime they may be punished for the system’s uneven, hodgepodge switch.

And then there’s the problem of the timeline. This wholesale reboot of both the grading and the delivery of instruction will take a while. We could just start with Kindergartners and roll it out over 13 years. That would allow folks to get more comfortable with it, but if we really know it’s better for kids, can we justify not doing it for the kids in high school right now? Conversely, is it fair to change course midstream for the high school seniors who are in line to be valedictorians and suddenly find that A) they have been earning those As through hard work and extra credit but can’t earn better than a B on skills alone, B) their colleges of choice still care about GPA more than skills, and C) the valedictorian award is suddenly getting the ax (which it should have received long ago)? All the theory might say proficiency is what is best for these kids, but it still feels unfair to me. And it will seem plenty unfair to their parents. Oh, and they would be right to point out that the teachers don’t even know how to do proficiency right yet.

And herein lies the biggest threat to proficiency-based teaching and learning: If the rollout is done poorly, despite all the research and theory behind it, we will abandon it like we have so many other education fads that were underfunded and hastily implemented. We’re already seeing that here in Oregon. The state produced a law that said, simply, that schools had to produce an annual letter to parents which described their child’s proficiency separate from that child’s behavior. Some schools dove in years ago, preparing for this, and they’re getting good at it. Others, like mine, are diving in at the last minute, but we’re going all-in, leading to massive stress levels and a very uneven implementation. Others are saying, “Let’s wait and see if the state will really enforce this law, because this sounds like a lot of work, and they’re not paying for it.” In the midst of this, parents start screaming (rightfully), and the politicians are running away from it, declaring that schools that are attempting to measure proficiency all year are going way beyond the law since they only required an annual report (as though anyone could produce an accurate report on the fly in April without keeping track all year), and that local districts get to define behavior. They went so far as to wash their hands of any definition of behavior, saying schools could include or exclude homework, missed work, cheating, absences, extra credit, you name it. Now, I’m all for local control when it makes sense, but if the state wants to pass a law that uses words, they can’t turn around and say each locality gets to individually decide what each word means. That’s not a law. That’s not even a meaningful suggestion. But this is what could undo your great idea, Scott. We either have to push through the resistance any new system will necessarily generate and provide the resources to allow that new system to produce results, or we will starve it of resources and buckle under the pressure to remain status quo.

And here’s what my experience as a teacher has really taught me: When people are pissed off about the crappy roll-out, they will blame the teachers. When the roll-out is starved of the necessary resources, they will blame the teachers. And if succeeds, the way public schools succeed right now in educating a broader swath of our population to achieve at higher levels than they ever have before, someone will point out that our kids are not doing as well as the kids in a country where kids are culturally homogeneous, all speak the same language, have a strong enough social safety net that all of them are fed and have healthcare, have vastly less income inequality, aren’t traumatized by our levels of crime, and go to school six days a week and throughout the summer, and they will blame the teachers.

And the people blaming the teachers will call themselves school reformers, make millions peddling the next fix, and send their own kids to private schools.

But I’m not at all bitter about that.

Admittedly, this took a bit of a dark turn at the end. Sorry about that. I try to stay positive because I really do love my job, but the further I get from theory, the more cynical I become. Now I have to go write a hundred new scoring rubrics while organizing my local union to strike because, in the middle of all this radical change, our school district, newly flush with state cash, thinks we should be paid less than we made last year.