Will

“The mess from this generation’s political paralysis and refusal to address looming problems can’t be cleaned up using the same education that helped create it.”

—Marion Brady

(Source: Washington Post)

A couple of items from the world of writing and assessment have been niggling at me of late.

First, news that the Hewlett Foundation is sponsoring a $100,000 competition to create automated essay scoring software that, in theory at least, will do as good or better job of assessing student writing on standardized tests than the current human graders do. I get the reasoning behind this. Current “scoring mills” have turned test essay readers into skimmers, and the reality that the more kids write regardless of quality the better they score are well documented. And as currently structured, there is no way current assessments do anything to improve student writing. As always, it’s a time and money issue, but my initial reaction to this is if we value writing enough to make sure every child can do it reasonably well, we should also value the time and effort it takes to evaluate it reasonably well.

I remember the long, long hours of reading and responding to tens of thousands of essays during my English teacher days. The turnaround wasn’t always fast. The notes and marks and narrative comments on the page went largely unread despite the fact that I didn’t give a grade to most pieces. I spent as much time as I could holding conversations with kids about their writing both one on one and in small peer groups. The best assessment and advice came in that analysis and feedback where we had a chance to reflect and experiment with the writing. I know that many of my students learned to really appreciate failure in that process because it was a safe place to try things, to push their practice without any stakes, high or low. I know at the end of the day that every child, including my own, should reach some level of expression that allows them to communicate ideas clearly and compellingly, but I also know that the paths to that place are varied and filled with stops and starts. It’s a highly complex process, much more than putting comma in the right place and simply varying sentence structure (though both of those can’t hurt.)

Having said that, it’s scary to see what passes for acceptable writing on the state tests. Yesterday, Michael Winerip’s piece in the New York Times showed examples from the state scoring guide of writing from the state high school English Regents exam that should be scored a 1 on a 2-point scale:

These two Charater have very different mind Sets because they are creative in away that no one would imagen just put clay together and using leaves to create art.

I’m wondering why that would even get one point. Are we really satisfied that student is sufficiently ready to communicate in writing to the larger world? I get the tension here, too:

If the standard is set too high, so many will fail — including children with special education needs and students for whom English is a second language — that there will be a public outcry.

But if the standard is set too low, the result is a diploma that has little meaning.

But will machine scored essays fix this? The Hewlett Foundation seems to think so:

“Better tests support better learning,” says Barbara Chow, Education Program Director at the Hewlett Foundation. “Rapid and accurate automated essay scoring will encourage states to include more writing in their state assessments. And the more we can use essays to assess what students have learned, the greater the likelihood they’ll master important academic content, critical thinking, and effective communication.”

Look, I’m on board that kids should write more, and that learning what a student has learned by having her write is better than having her fill in bubbles for questions she can use her phones to answer if we let her. But here’s the problem: this is more about money than it is about serving kids well. Let’s be honest, while it may be less consistent and more complex, and while it may take more time and money to get it right, human graders have a distinct advantage over machines when it comes to writing: emotion.  I love the way the Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC) puts it:

Automated assessment programs do not respond as human readers. While they may promise consistency, they distort the very nature of writing as a complex and context-rich interaction between people. They simplify writing in ways that can mislead writers to focus more on structure and grammar than on what they are saying by using a given structure and style.

Here’s what I know will happen once we move to the machines: we’ll help kids learn how to write what the machines want instead of focusing on the power and beauty and uniqueness of human communication. I can name a slew of brilliant writers who would probably fail the test because they wrote in a unique, compelling style that went far beyond our traditional thinking around “good writing.” Sure, in the name of efficiency we can choose to set the bar low and reward kids for putting together a sentence that’s barely readable but conveys a simple thought regardless. But why wouldn’t we choose something better? 

In the end, I’m getting tired of “efficiencies” when it comes to education. But that’s a larger discussion of priorities that really needs to be left to another day…

Compare this learning to school learning. #thatisall

The past couple of Educon days at Science Leadership Academy in Philadelphia were, as always, packed with fun catching up with old friends (and meeting new ones) but, as always, also filled with conversations that have me thinking more about what “reform” looks like and what bold schools might do to get there. It was fun not to lead a session this year and just be an attendee (though I really need to stop putting stuffed animals on my head). Anyway, just want to share out a couple of what I think are compelling narratives around change to start the week.

First, I’d heard of the iSchool in NYC but as with a lot of other innovative schools, I’d never had the chance to get my brain around what they do. I’ll admit to a certain bias for learning the lessons of schools that have been in place for decades that have made a real shift toward more progressive learning. The iSchool is going into it’s fourth year. Nevertheless, the teachers and principals who presented two sessions at Educon made a great case for inquiry/challenge based learning in way that fits the “doing both” spirit of the bold schools I’ve written about. To get some sense of the culture, check out this 5-minute video on “Disastercamp” where students attempted to answer the question “How can first responders to disasters use social media to improve communication and coordination for disaster relief?” And here is another, the 16 Module, where students dive into the question “What does it mean to be 16?” It’s the type of learning that I’d like for my own kids.

But here, perhaps, is the best part. When it comes to prepping for the NY State Regents test, students get access to self-paced, online test prep courses they work through on their own that is then supported in the classroom. That means way more time is freed up to do the real learning work of inquiry in the classroom with teachers who are learners as well. (In one of the sessions, one of the iSchool teachers said they basically start with a theme for a class and then create the curriculum as they go, that they can innovate on the fly which, to me at least, suggests they are learners first, teachers second.) Interestingly, that’s the same approach I heard from Knewton a bit ago, and I’m starting to wonder what’s really wrong with tacking in that direction during the transition we’re in. I do find it kind of scary that former NYC schools chancellor Joel Klein doesn’t take issue with this either. If we’re going to be stuck with the test, why not just offload it to technology and spend our time in more valuable learning pursuits? (That’s worthy of a post in and of itself down the road.)

And here’s the other story that I find interesting: I had a chance to chat with Chris Walsh who is the Director of Innovation and Design for the New Tech Network of schools. They’ve either started or refashioned 86 schools across the country at this point and they have an eye on 30 or so more next year. It’s a pretty interesting model for change, especially in the way that communities, not schools, fund their work with New Tech. Basically, through fund raisers, donations and other contributions, the community “invests” in the change that happens at the school which, no doubt, helps those changes weather the problems of leaders leaving, pressures from state governments, etc.  In theory, it allows schools to shift in measured, sustainable ways. I haven’t had the chance to dive into all that New Tech offers in terms of PBL and technology to know if their curriculum is truly “bold,” but that’s an interesting model nonetheless, and makes me wonder how to drive more community investment in change.

As always, the great thing about Educon is the sincerity you sense of everyone in the building in trying to figure out what’s best for kids in terms of learning and schools. No one’s trying to sell you anything or promote themselves or make it about anything other than figuring it all out for their unique spaces and for the larger community. Looking forward to the conversations continuing.

As Royan Lee points out, there’s every reason to have a conversation with students about SOPA and PIPA in almost any classroom right now. (If last Wednesday wasn’t a teachable moment, I don’t know what was.) For most older kids, the debate strikes at the heart of their practices online, and even for younger kids, the larger themes are well worth the mention in general terms. My guess, however, is that a very small percentage of students have had a chance to learn and think about those proposals in the presence of peers and teachers.

Why? For one, I wonder how many teachers could lead a cogent discussion about them. The whole world of online interactions and knowledge sharing is not something most teachers yet participate in. But as Royan points out, in order to have a really meaningful conversation about SOPA and PIPA, students need to have a larger context other than the pirating of copyrighted music and films. He writes: 

Do you know what made it a lot easier to have a discussion about SOPA and PIPA in my class? The fact that my students post regularly to the internet, comment on one another’s work, receive comments from the far reaches of the globe, remix work, share links, and honour CC licensed work.

I asked the students how they would feel if their ability to do all of things was restricted, or even taken away, without debate or a tribunal of some variety. The room went silent for a minute which felt like an hour, but we proceeded to have a rich discussion about democracy without ever mentioning the word itself.

I know they still care much more about whether the next Eminem song will get on their iPods, but at least we were speaking about something we really know, not just have heard of.

And Royan can do that because he really know this through his own practice as well. Those conversations in his class would have been far less relevant without that.

So here’s a little state of the world update from my recent trip to Wisconsin to speak at the state school board association conference there.

First, let me say there are a lot of folks who are beginning to talk with more relevance around change when it comes to education. The rhetoric, at least, around inquiry and problem based, student-centered classrooms seems to be expanding despite the frequent references to “higher student achievement” and “college readiness” that at the end of the day still drives the conversation around reform. As most know, Wisconsin is at the center of the firestorm when it comes to rethinking education, and not much of that rethink resonates with the real world, to be honest. But I met a lot of people who seem at least to be waking up to the realities of the moment and who seem willing to engage deeply in the big questions that all of us have to be asking when it comes to what best serves our students and their learning lives.

Two moments of zen…

First, as I normally do, I asked the 2,000 or so folks in attendance to raise their hands if I could go onto Google and find examples of their best practice or thinking around how to meet the educational challenges of the day and learn from their experiences or connect with them for a conversation. Two hands went up. Two. I know that most of these folks were school board members, but the silence that followed really struck me. How can they make policy and advocate for meaningful changes in what happens in schools without any practical sense of the connected, transparent world in which we now exist?

Second, US Senator Herb Kohl was in attendance (at least until I got up to speak…maybe someone warned him.) Twenty-four years in the senate, a man respected in Wisconsin and obviously well-liked. He helped present some awards to teachers and gave a short, very supportive speech to the audience thanking them for their work with kids in their state. Seemed like a very nice, thoughtful person.

But I couldn’t help thinking as I watched him amble out of the hall that there’s no way he has any clue about what’s really happening with education right now. In fact, in this country run by primarily old white guys who probably don’t know the difference between a Blackberry and a strawberry, guys who pretty much get their talking points from aides and advisors, I can’t imagine many if any of them have a clue. I think some of them probably woke up a bit with the whole SOPA protest, but by and large, I wonder to what extent our leaders can even hold a conversation around the ways in which the Web is impacting education. And the money to keep things status quo is flowing on Capitol Hill.

Sigh. Sigh.

So this pretty much sums it up as well it can be summed up right now:

U.S. schools under the jurisdiction of state and federal governments are now scripted processes that view knowledge as static capital, students as passive and empty vessels, and teachers as compliant conduits for state-approved content. The accountability paradigm is antithetical to human agency and autonomy and thus to democracy, but it serves the needs of the status quo and the ruling elite; in effect, acco