I come to my laptop today with a question to fling out into cyberspace: Can introverted personalities be effective teachers?
This question comes from a very personal place. As a child, I had to be strenuously coached to speak to people I did not know. I had, and continue to have, many acquaintances but few friends. Over time, I have overcome my natural shyness around strangers (family members probably wish I'd shut up) to the point that I can go to social events and behave like a grown-up. However, the fact remains that interacting with people drains me of energy, and without time alone every day, I become moody and distracted.
So why, of all the professions in the world, did I choose one that compels me to interact with around 130-150 adolescents every day, not to mention teachers, administrators, and parents?
Because I love literature and writing, because kids are fun, because I believe in what I do. All of those answers hold up pretty well, but they still don't give me any assurances that a person with my, *ahem*, gifts or lack thereof is really suited to the daily conflicts and adventures of the teaching profession. I'm not sure I have any answers today; some days I feel closer to having my very own inspirational-teacher-movie than others.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
The New Evaluation Model, or, "They Can't Possibly Fire Us All"
My administration went over the new evaluation model that the state of Tennessee will be using to judge teacher effectiveness with the faculty today.
To our faculty's credit, we all took the news pretty calmly -- at least in the meeting. After having such an intense previous year, I think we're all a little harder to rattle. We all sat in the cafeteria as the new process of formal/informal evaluations, post-conference meetings, summative meetings, and evaluation rubrics was set before us. Honestly, up to this point I was feeling pretty hopeful. After all, nothing our vice principal said we would be evaluated on was something I hadn't attempted before or was averse to trying. Sure, the 15-minute observation (which could occur at any point in the lesson) sounded a little dicey, but how many times could any good teacher have the bad luck to have an evaluator walk in on a seat-work day? Somehow, with enough effort and a little empathy on all sides, we would make it work.
Then, we watched a video of a teacher going through a 45-minute geometry lesson, and were asked to evaluate it based on the lesson-plan rubric. The lesson wasn't great, but to a new-ish teacher like myself (and most of the people I talked to) the teacher in the video seemed to be doing a decent job. He asked lots of questions, kept the kids engaged through the whole lesson, and used some slick-looking technology to get his message across. My group came up with a little over a "3" average for the lesson, on a scale of 5. Keep in mind that to get and keep tenure, a teacher has to consistently score 4's and 5's on his/her evaluations. Our principal asked us to share our answers, then told us that the national evaluators gave the teacher a 2.7. Not even an "acceptable" score for a lesson that in many respects I thought was effective. We were told that a score of "5" meant that there was no room for improvement, which must mean that the odds of getting a 5 on your evaluation are about on par with being named "Teacher of the Year" and winning "American Idol" all in the same voting period.
Now I'm starting to wonder if we as teachers are being asked to play a rigged game, to throw balls into a basket half a mile away. Why even put "5" on the evaluation model if we're all human, and capable of improvement? With half of our yearly evaluations coming from student scores -- kids whose home-lives, choices, and hormones are all so far out of our control, I believe the next biggest portion of our overall evaluation are these observations. Having tenure means that before a teacher can be fired, they are guaranteed a hearing of their case -- no more, no less. It bothers me a little that tenure is fading away, but what bothers me most is that lawmakers are trying to make teachers look like we aren't good enough to deserve it.
To our faculty's credit, we all took the news pretty calmly -- at least in the meeting. After having such an intense previous year, I think we're all a little harder to rattle. We all sat in the cafeteria as the new process of formal/informal evaluations, post-conference meetings, summative meetings, and evaluation rubrics was set before us. Honestly, up to this point I was feeling pretty hopeful. After all, nothing our vice principal said we would be evaluated on was something I hadn't attempted before or was averse to trying. Sure, the 15-minute observation (which could occur at any point in the lesson) sounded a little dicey, but how many times could any good teacher have the bad luck to have an evaluator walk in on a seat-work day? Somehow, with enough effort and a little empathy on all sides, we would make it work.
Then, we watched a video of a teacher going through a 45-minute geometry lesson, and were asked to evaluate it based on the lesson-plan rubric. The lesson wasn't great, but to a new-ish teacher like myself (and most of the people I talked to) the teacher in the video seemed to be doing a decent job. He asked lots of questions, kept the kids engaged through the whole lesson, and used some slick-looking technology to get his message across. My group came up with a little over a "3" average for the lesson, on a scale of 5. Keep in mind that to get and keep tenure, a teacher has to consistently score 4's and 5's on his/her evaluations. Our principal asked us to share our answers, then told us that the national evaluators gave the teacher a 2.7. Not even an "acceptable" score for a lesson that in many respects I thought was effective. We were told that a score of "5" meant that there was no room for improvement, which must mean that the odds of getting a 5 on your evaluation are about on par with being named "Teacher of the Year" and winning "American Idol" all in the same voting period.
Now I'm starting to wonder if we as teachers are being asked to play a rigged game, to throw balls into a basket half a mile away. Why even put "5" on the evaluation model if we're all human, and capable of improvement? With half of our yearly evaluations coming from student scores -- kids whose home-lives, choices, and hormones are all so far out of our control, I believe the next biggest portion of our overall evaluation are these observations. Having tenure means that before a teacher can be fired, they are guaranteed a hearing of their case -- no more, no less. It bothers me a little that tenure is fading away, but what bothers me most is that lawmakers are trying to make teachers look like we aren't good enough to deserve it.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Pre-School Clinch.
Only a week to go before my number's up and already I feel my insides begin to twist. The great, scary thing about teaching is that every year you start fresh. I'll have a fresh crop of kids of course, and while they're putting the finishing touches to their summer tans, I'm already beginning to wonder, as I did last year, what in the world will I do with them?
Teach them, of course. Just like I tried to do last year, when I felt as if the very question of what I should be doing with all 130 or so students was chasing me to the end of May. I guess that's irrational, but in the first year of one's teaching career, I think a certain amount of irrationality may be forgiven. Perhaps all of us teacher-types "know" what to do, but the full answer to the question is a little overwhelming. Sure, I teach English to young teenagers, but I also try to see the good in each one of them, and help them to see it in themselves. I try to show them I care about them while getting them to care about my subject. I tutor kids who have convinced themselves and everyone that they "hate reading." I sponsor book clubs that give bookish youngsters (such as myself not so long ago) a place for passionate debate over the relative merits of Tolkien and Rowling as fantasy authors.
Oh, and let's not forget about end-of-course testing, and how my job sort of seems to depend on it. For now, that's okay. I'd rather ponder the many answers to "What in the world will I teach these kids?" that this year will bring. If that proves old hat, I'll move on to what they may teach me.
Teach them, of course. Just like I tried to do last year, when I felt as if the very question of what I should be doing with all 130 or so students was chasing me to the end of May. I guess that's irrational, but in the first year of one's teaching career, I think a certain amount of irrationality may be forgiven. Perhaps all of us teacher-types "know" what to do, but the full answer to the question is a little overwhelming. Sure, I teach English to young teenagers, but I also try to see the good in each one of them, and help them to see it in themselves. I try to show them I care about them while getting them to care about my subject. I tutor kids who have convinced themselves and everyone that they "hate reading." I sponsor book clubs that give bookish youngsters (such as myself not so long ago) a place for passionate debate over the relative merits of Tolkien and Rowling as fantasy authors.
Oh, and let's not forget about end-of-course testing, and how my job sort of seems to depend on it. For now, that's okay. I'd rather ponder the many answers to "What in the world will I teach these kids?" that this year will bring. If that proves old hat, I'll move on to what they may teach me.
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