Technology in schools: Facebook should be embraced, not feared

I had to do it. I had to say that filthy word multiple times at conferences so parents and students could have another way of reaching me.  It's been smeared in the news, teachers have lost their jobs because of it and parents try to protect their kids from it while others ignore it entirely.

Facebook.  It has been added to the list of words teachers aren't supposed to speak of in front of students unless, of course, it has to do with the Dean's Office and an investigation  In fact, Missouri nearly went as far as banning teachers from being able to "friend" students, making it a fireable offense.  Thankfully schools are there to protect their employees from themselves...seriously?  No thank you.

Despite its demonization, facebook has become an indispensable tool I use to help kids outside of school. And all that is needed is a little commonsense, defined rules and clear boundaries to safeguard students and teachers.  I made an entirely different account that is designed to only be used to help my students and parents.  I don't post status updates, I don't go onto other people's profiles, I don't friend kids, I don't write on other students' walls; and most importantly, I unsubscribe from every student's newsfeed so I don't know about any part of their lives outside of school.  I don't know and I don't want to know what they are writing about, but they can ask me questions on mine and chat about assignments or ask for homework clarifications.

Like everything in life, it just comes down to explaining the rules and defining boundaries. I've been using facebook for two years as an instructional tool and students say time and time again they appreciate getting one-on-one help after school and it saves me quite a few headaches the next day. The questions are usually pretty easy and chats last a couple minutes, allowing students to keep pushing forward with their work instead of getting overwhelmed and anxious.  I've also found that students who normally don't ask questions at school find solace in typing their questions in the comfort of their own homes.


Some of my colleagues have expressed concerns about allowing so much access beyond the school day, that teaching has become a profession that demands 24 hour surveillance and personal family time is consequently lost.  It's truly a valid concern, but one thing my students know (because I talk to them about it at the beginning of the year) is that when I'm at home, my family comes first. While I'm pretty good at getting back to them quickly, sometimes it just might not happen and they have always understood.    


Fear should never determine how technology should be used in and outside of the classroom.  Rather, teachers as well as students need to be taught the boundaries, safeguards, benefits and the opportunities afforded by social media of all types.  Teachers need to consider their "student-friendly" facebook accounts as extensions of their classrooms, and apply the same professionalism and rules to their wall/chats that they would exercise in their own classrooms.  Social media needs to be embraced by educators and educational institutions, not feared or over-regulated by paranoid overseers. Nearly 21% of facebook users are ages 13-17, according to statistics compiled by Ken Burbary, so why not use a resource students are already immersed in as a way to encourage learning? 

"An Open Mind is not an Empty Mind"

I was thumbing through one of my books for graduate class when I ran across that quote and I haven’t been able to let it go since. Sure, its importance is obvious when it comes to teaching because we need to teach our students how to use their minds, create their own ideas while being open to dialogue, new perspectives and personal growth.  But what about the other adults who surround us in the very place we teach?

I’ve noticed two camps forming within the teaching ranks…the teachers on the administrative track and then there are the “others.”   Well, I’m certainly an “other” because I have absolutely no right or will or want to be an administrator--at least not in today’s educational environment, because we’ve lost our way. I hope that will change. I hope that someday I will have an opportunity to be in a leadership position that truly would revolve around the students' needs, not the adults.  

Oftentimes it seems building administrators, at least in larger districts, seem to be in place to perform reconnaissance missions. They simply have to carry out the orders given from downtown and those orders seemingly originate out of the need to: 1) meet specific standards to increase or guarantee funding; 2) quiet down and manage unruly parties (teachers, parents and/or community members) by executing damage control; and/or 3) to maintain a specific protocol that has been or possibly could be breached. Their plates are so full that they have very little time to do any more than that.  The system is struggling to survive. 

Ironically enough, the focus seems to shift from concentrating on what kids need educationally to obsessing about what the adults need locally, statewide and nationally, all under the guise that they’re doing what’s right for kids.  It’s all a big sham, but everyone needs to make a living and I get that. 

And more often than not when I stop and ask teachers en-route to “crossing over” why they are choosing the administrative path, their response usually is “the money.”  I can’t say I blame them. They’ve got families to feed, responsibilities, they’re focusing on home, not on the plight of education because it’s bigger than them and because they can’t make a difference. I get it, but I just don’t believe it.  If I could I would do the same, but I haven’t been able to blot-out my original purpose for entering this profession, which is to help kids. Every big movement starts with small steps and wouldn’t it be amazing if we all got in synch?

Just the other week I asked a professional development trainer if she ever felt conflicted about what she’s being told to teach verses what she feels morally.  Her response was that there were many times she couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth, because she didn’t agree with it. She went on to explain that it’s simply the nature of teaching and the nature of education right now, that “we have to make due with what we have and wait it out.”  I’ve had the same conversation with multiple members of administration from various schools and the sentiment seems nearly identical.  All have justifiable reasons, but that brings me back to the quote at the top of the page, “An open mind is not an empty mind.” It takes courage, but imagine the benefits we will reap if the system were to change even a little bit at a time.  

Differentiation: At what cost?

It came home in his backpack.  It wasn’t really a big deal. I mean, jeeze, it was a spelling pre-test, right?  All of those check marks were wide-eyed with sideways grins. And at the very top, next to the percentage, was a note saying he was on the “purple” list. In other words, he was just average.

Yes, I’m biased because he’s my son, but I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  He’s not a genius, but he’s pretty smart and so why is he doing this poorly?  When I asked him about it, he said his teacher went through the words too fast and that he was unable to write quickly enough, so I knew I had to start digging for the truth.

All in the name of differentiation, Connor was put on the “average” list because his pre-test didn’t earn him the “honor” of being on the “challenge” list, and he knew exactly what that meant. Ranking the tests by colors doesn’t hide the implications. At the tender age of 8, he’s already aware he’s being tracked as an “average” kid rather than being pushed beyond.  The teacher had even written a blurb on the test noting her surprise when she saw his score because his reading fluency was solid, and the two didn’t correlate.  

To make a long story short, we exchanged a few emails and she discovered (after another spelling pre-test) that if she had him spell the words verbally he only missed one on that particular pre-test.  So, as I suspected, Connor’s anxiety was the issue behind his poor scores. He couldn’t write the words fast enough while she was saying them. Despite his poor performance on the pre-test, she decided to put him on the “challenge” list, which is the most difficult list. He scored a 94 percent and I was so proud. 

Connor is currently in the third grade and a hard little worker. Sure, he picks on his sister, sometimes cries about giving-up playtime for homework time and doesn’t always listen that well, but when it’s time to buckle down and get the job done, he’s always up for the challenge.  It doesn’t matter what spelling list he gets, he’ll do well on the final assessment. 

Unfortunately though, since that 94 percent, he has taken another spelling pre-test and not surprisingly, he didn’t do well. And here he sits, back on the “average” track despite his gains on the “challenge” list. His teacher ignored his progress and her instinct for the sake of staying true to the numbers.  Needless to say, I’m feeling a bit defeated.  He worked hard, proved himself and was kicked out of the high-ability group nevertheless.

So what happens when we lower the bar from the get-go?  What happens when students start getting separated into groups based solely on pre-tests, based on numbers, not based on what is truly best for the students? We start standardizing mediocrity even at the kindergarten level.  Connor will rise to the challenge as most kids will at his age, but instead of pushing him, challenging him to be his best, the pre-test/post-test system is set up to only make students comfortable so they experience success at their own level.  It sounds so nice and politically correct; however, the irony is this process leaves children behind because it widens the gap that already may exist between different groups of children. 

Pre-tests, from my understanding, give teachers insights into how they should approach their curricula.  It’s not supposed to be another form of tracking.  All students should be on the track for the “challenge” list, and not deprived simply because they panic with words they’ve never been tested over before that moment.  Will everyone be able to get all of them right? Of course not. However, building from those mistakes while keeping an eye on the prize is more important than jumping from platform to platform, gaining no real ground.

It’s never any fun to always know you’re one step behind because, by high school, that “one step” oftentimes becomes years and we wonder why kids are bored.  We allow them to get comfortable with just getting-by all in the name of  “differentiation.”  Differentiation isn’t just about numbers or meeting proficiency; it’s about the kids and about knowing what is best for the whole child.

State Testing Scores: Numbers come between education and our students

Now here’s a familiar scenario for many of you: state scores came in and everybody’s in a tizzy. Reading scores have gone down a few points and math scores (the first year ever given) are way below proficiency levels expected by the state. To combat the problem, we had a building-level day of professional development, some of which focused solely on data analysis, brainstorming and the hopes of a plan that will turn the numbers around. 

You’ll notice the word “students” isn’t mentioned anywhere in the above paragraph. While the children we teach are naturally the center of our world and our curriculum, they have become secondary to the numbers presented by the state and second to the numbers expected by the federal government. In fact, today at the meeting one of my colleagues asked if it would be worth sacrificing the students who “exceed expectations” on the tests so those who are “below the standard” can “meet the standard,” and an administrator responded, “If that’s what it takes, I guess that’s okay with me!” 

There was a collective gasp and the silence was deafening.  My mouth was open and I couldn’t help but think, “Did that really just happen?”  Are we really becoming so blind we only see numbers, not students?  Then there was talk about how we need to provide remediation to prepare kids for “the test,” and we need to know if students are at risk as soon as they enter ninth grade so we can get them ready for “the test.”

It’s no longer a matter of preparing them for their future; it’s a matter of getting them proficient on these red-horned, triangle-tailed state albatrosses.  Teaching the “whole” student is becoming a lost art because proficiency, mediocrity, has become a new kind of merit pay for schools—ironically all at the expense of the kids.  

One of the many reasons I asked to be moved from teaching junior English to sophomore English is because it was hard not to feel trapped by all the state testing preparation and its overwhelming impact on curriculum. For example, the state persuasive writing prompts have nothing to do with critical thinking and everything to do with the mechanics of a five-paragraph-essay, an essay that would be laughed at in any collegiate setting.

The reading test, for example, has approximately 3-5 (out of 60) questions based solely on decoding vocabulary based on origin, prefixes and suffixes and even more that simply ask for definitions. The questions that deal with more abstract concepts like tone and theme are incredibly subjective, and the tests fail any test of objectivity because by nature, English is subjective. As a result, the tests act more like speed bumps than bridges in our curriculum because shared inquiry, analysis and the questions/ideas kids get from it aren’t up for discussion and the material is independent from what we teach. However, despite the obvious flaws, every school’s future rides on standardizing students so they can get their funding and “stay off the list.”    

But the problems just begin there. Not only do the tests have very little relevance in terms of content, the amount of time it takes out of our curricular time is mind-boggling. Not only were kids pulled out of class for two days for the NeSA State Reading and Writing tests, we had to spend approximately three days first semester and three days second semester to administer practice writing tests. Then the same applies again for state writing.  What that means is at the minimum, 16 days of classroom curriculum has to be put on hold for testing.  And that’s just where it begins. 

Now add state math testing, which means two more days down at central office. That’s two more days out of everyone’s classes and then, of course, there will be a science and social studies assessment in place sooner than later, which means four more class periods.  So here’s what it looks like:

State Writing Test =                  2 days

                (Practice Tests) =                  6 days

State Reading Test =                 2 days

                (Practice Tests)  =                 6 days

State Math Test      =                 2 days

                        18  days

Then you need to add what is to come:

State Science test  =                        Add 2 days

State Social Studies test =               Add 2 days

                                                              22 days

                  Approximately Twenty-two days, over four weeks of class time, will be taken up or interrupted by state testing once all tests are put into place junior year.  The question is, in the long run, how will this benefit our students?  In a desperate attempt to create quantifiable data, the government has decided to focus on numbers rather than the kids and consequently, kids are becoming the collateral damage. As a student, imagine spending 22 days in one year working on test after test.  

              Let’s not forget trying to work meaningfully through all the curricular expectations while knowing most districts care most about test scores. It’s all incredibly overwhelming, but as teachers we must work through the problems, not around them and demand change. I’m just not sure how and where to begin. All I know is that we need to figure out a way to do it together.  

"Socratic Seminar is life: Dialogue vs. Debate"

Dialogue: to be open to other people’s ideas

Debate: to convince others your argument is the only argument.

The best thing about starting a new school year is the hope that comes with it.  Last year was difficult, but paradoxically so. It was truly the best year I’ve had as a classroom teacher, but it was one of my most challenging because of the politics and debates surrounding the thing I love the most--teaching kids. I just felt helpless, even hopeless because the conversations impacting teaching the most excluded teachers and students.

Then it hit me. 

Learning doesn’t truly happen unless all parties involved are willing to open themselves to new ideas, ones that even contradict their current perceptions. Okay, I know, that’s not anything new.  Common sense, right?  But think about it.  So many educators, administrators, politicians, (everyone really), have forgotten how to have a dialogue because we’ve gotten sidetracked by our emotions, our passions, and our best intentions. We’ve forgotten the importance of trying to understand where the “others” are coming from and so we only have debate, not dialogue.

No wonder we’re not getting anywhere.  No wonder students feel they have no voice; no wonder teachers are willing to strike during school hours instead of teach; no wonder administrators and politicians would sell their souls for funding rather than take a stand against the tyranny of capitalism.  Everyone’s just talking, but no one’s listening. So emotions heighten, screaming begins and debate is sparked.  But still, no one is listening and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness spreads.

I was first taught Socratic Seminar eight or nine years ago by David Stickrod, one of the most effective principals I’ve ever had.  He understood and valued the importance of shared inquiry, which is dialogue (the foundation of Socratic Seminar), and the power of allowing students to make meaning from the text rather than being bestowed the knowledge by the teacher. More importantly, he taught me that controlling my classroom with leading questions, canned conversations and worksheets would result in little if any long-term retention because that is more or less "pretend teaching."

If students are allowed to create meaning and participate in creating a new living text, they’re going to feel valued and invested not only in their own learning, but in the pursuit of knowledge through dialogue, which is Socratic Seminar’s purpose.  And what’s more exciting, we’ve taught our students how to communicate critical issues effectively with the willingness to change their own perceptions because ego has no place in the conversation. 

Imagine, shaping a society of young leaders whose mission is to understand the other side’s perspective first so that their own understanding is enhanced.  If everyone was trained in seminar, there would be very little if any gridlock in congress like we’ve seen recently; there would be dialogue without spite and a sense of community in all decisions being made because people’s primary focus would be on learning, not defending; on dialogue, not debate.

Now imagine…

What if I was to apply the principles behind Socratic Seminar to my life?  Let me explain, but bear with me because it’s going to feel like tangent at first.  Just the other night my husband came home after working his typical eleven-hour day. All day I had been stewing about the fact he left the ironing board out, tossed my nicely folded clean laundry all over the place and, to top it all off, he didn’t get the recycling out.  Well, needless to say, I launched and went off about how careless, even thoughtless he was and we just started yelling…about laundry.  Duh.  Rather than taking the time to first ask myself, “What would happen that would cause Jim to make such an enormous mess?” I instead reverted to emotion and prepared for battle because I was going to prove he was the one at fault.  It wasn’t even about laundry anymore, it was about being right; it was a debate and so dialogue was impossible and all that resulted were hurt feelings. 

And so why does this even matter?  Why is this relevant to education, to our classrooms, to our world?

We have to get a grip on our own emotions and egos so we can listen, because listening is the cornerstone of dialogue. Let’s go back to the idea that there may be an overwhelming feeling of helplessness or lack of control in some aspect of our lives (professional or personal).  That helplessness comes from a lack of control and not feeling valued on a personal, intellectual and/or professional level.  It’s the same feeling we’ve all had one time or another in a department meeting, district meeting, while reading the newspaper or even in the middle of a fight with a spouse. It’s the same feeling our students have in our classrooms when we’re teaching our students what to think rather than letting them come to their own meaning through dialogue.  Helplessness then turns into fear, and fear metamorphoses into anger and debate is all that remains. Debate feeds and crushes egos. It doesn’t promote change.

Just a few days ago I was given a second opportunity to be trained in Seminar by my current district and the experience was amazing; however, by the second day the principal had allowed all faculty to excuse themselves from the training except for the English and Communicative Arts departments. The word was he had received complaints it wasn’t relevant to other content areas such as Science, Social Studies, Math, World Languages, etc.

Understandably, they wanted time in their classrooms (so did I), time to get ready for the first day, but it worries me to consider what was lost because of system issues.  Seminar isn’t just for English teachers.  Seminar teaches people how to communicate civilly, with open minds and through reflection. 


As explained above, it applies to life, every content area and every classroom because dialogue is the foundation of any productive relationship, business, and society.  So, I’ll leave you with a quote Socratic Seminar Guru Oscar Graybill said during our training that stuck with me. Its simplicity calmed me when I started worrying about everything I wasn’t getting done,

“If you don’t have time to reflect then you don’t have time to learn.” 

And if you don’t have time to learn, then how can you teach? 

I’d love your thoughts, insights and comments!

Parents need to take back their right to parent

If I had one wish it would be to slow down time.  It’s approaching the middle of summer, I have a graduate class beginning next week, another one after that and I’m finding myself wishing the world would just take a breather.  I’m loving getting to know my own kids again (even though they fight about the dumbest things) without the distraction of a mound of papers waiting to be graded on my dinning room table.  I’m loving chatting with friends on the deck without the clutter of school politics clouding our conversations and I’m loving the laughter.

Like so many other teachers, summer gives me (as well as my children) a chance to breathe, clear my mind, work on curriculum and gather the strength to create a momentum that has to last 10 months straight, because teaching isn’t just about throwing content into a crowd, hoping some of the kids will catch it.  You’ve always got to be “on” and ready for the emotional and intellectual roller coaster that every school year brings.

Teaching comes from the heart and so every single day during the school year I take 120 plus students home with me, along with their grading, student/parent correspondence, lesson plan writing and rewriting; let’s not forget the constant political and social battles we’ve been forced to contend with and the overwhelmingly negative press that has come to define education.  I’ve never been able to master “just turning it off” when I come home; so once May comes, it’s my turn to be a mom and a full-time one at that, which brings me to a point of serious internal conflict: extending the school year. 

Extending the school year makes sense. Our children will become more competitive globally because the gap will be lessened between educational periods; thus, our nation will thrive and everything—including the economy—will turn around…right? This is where I’m stuck, because I’m not so sure extending the time our kids are in school is the answer. 

When did it become the government’s job to provide babysitters, to act as our children’s parents and to potentially take away so many precious hours from families who hardly see each other as it is? Again, I’m stuck, but I think a solution may exist in reclaiming our families and our time. I understand that most families have dual incomes and some are struggling to even make it, but as a nation, have we sold out our families in pursuit of what has become the materialistic nature of the American Dream?  Even writing about this fills me with conflict, but my instincts are telling me it may be time, at least for me, to re-prioritize.  

As parents we should be actively teaching our kids by picking up where their teachers left off at the end of the school year.  As it stands the government is sending the message that parents can’t be trusted with their own children’s education and consequently, America’s children must spend more and more time in the classroom.  There are so many levels to this conversation that I’m simply skimming over and even over-simplifying (because there's too much content for one blog), I know; however, before we know it the government will be raising our children, not us, and that terrifies me.

Teachers should not be expected to raise our children and the government should not be allowed to assume the role as parent.  The only way we’re going to fix our “educational crisis” is by starting at home, carving out more family time and by making learning fun and a part of our children’s everyday lives.  

I’d love to hear your ideas, concerns and start a discussion.  

The parent is not always right

Yesterday a colleague told me he's been researching administrative techniques that revolve around the idea that parents are customers, that they're always right and that we (teachers and administrators) need to do everything we can to make them feel good and happy about all in the world. Okay, so maybe the last part might have included a bit of hyperbole, but seriously, this approach is, in one word: destructive.

I understand how important it is to do everything we can do to help set a student up for success, but my experience has been that this philosophy translates into an excuse to not address the true issues that parents bring to the table.  I am also a parent of a second grader and a soon-to-be kindergartner and let me tell you, I've been told "no" by the administration at  his school many times.

My son had a terrible kindergarten year, so bad in fact that I went in demanding he be moved out of that teacher's class because she had told my son that he made her not want to come to work everyday. Highly unprofessional, yes, but the principal explained she'd personally address the situation and keep an eye on things, that moving kids was the last resort because there are so many life lessons to be learned and running away from them hurts all involved that early in the game.

I was still upset, but I understood where she was coming from, and as an educator I appreciated the fact that she was supporting her teacher, and the parent while actively seeking out a solution.  What she was doing made sense and while my son had to be moved because the teacher's negative behaviors continued (and they were bad), we left knowing we did all we could. More importantly, though, a paper trail following that teacher was started because of her refusal to learn from her mistakes, (which ties into my last post).  Was I upset that we had such an emotional mess to clean up with my son? Oh my gosh, you have no idea!  But, did we all learn and grow from the situation? For sure.

The principal and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I truly respected and continue to respect her administrative style. Because of her, my son had an incredible first grade teacher and continues to excel in second grade. So that brings me back to looking at the parents as "clients" and the primary goal of "making them happy." None of what I just explained would have been as successful if I (the parent in this case) would have been allowed to call the shots, which is precisely why we have to deal with the issues the parents bring in (i.e. excessive absences, apathy, poverty, whatever) and be active with finding solutions that may be difficult, but necessary. Regardless of how hard the conversation might have to be, it has to be done.

Taking the easy way out by just "making them happy" will perpetuate an environment in which parents continue to have very little accountability because it's easier to just go with the flow, while teachers continue to bear the brunt of society's woes.  Parents are not the experts when it comes to education, we are. And because of that, we can help them in so many ways.  Keeping that information to ourselves just further cripples everyone involved and creates more helicopter parents who scream instead of communicate.

Do teachers make mistakes? Hell yeah!  Do parents have a hard time taking off their parenting hat and seeing the truth for what it really is, and do they make mistakes? You bettchya.  Do administrators need to value their teachers as much as the parents and do they make mistakes? Holy cow, do I even need to answer that?  So what does it all mean? If we are truly going to start turning this terrible educational environment around and rethink the educational system as it stands then we have to work as a team, listen to each other's voices and stop looking at schools as corporations, because our commodity is way too fragile and our purpose is not a capitalistic one.

As a parent and a teacher I have been forced to walk on both sides of the path and I only wish everyone could have the fortune (or misfortune) of living out both sides of this conundrum.  It's no longer a matter of No Child Left Behind as we know it; it's becoming a matter of No Common sense Left Behind.  Life is not about taking the easy path because it's often too narrow and too short-sighted, leading nowhere; it's about finding a path big enough for everyone to walk down that leads to change.

Tell me what you think!