connect. create. question.

Some of you already know that this week I submitted my Google Teacher Academy application for this June’s session on the 25th in Mountain View, CA. I was pretty excited, as this is the first time that Google is accepting applications from outside of the immediate area of the GTA, and indeed, outside of the U.S.A. Woo hoo! (I heard about this Google news via the Infinite Thinking Machine Blog, btw. If that blog isn’t in your reader, get on it!)

What an experience for me just to put together the 1 minute required video. Fun, but definitely challenging. For my reflection and for your enjoyment (or perhaps mockery!), here are a few things I learned:

1. It is impossible for me to put my entire teaching philosophy about Classroom Innovation into 1 minute. Impossible! Perhaps I have too much to say…?
2. I can definitely type faster than I can write. The screen vids of me inking those memorable quotes across the screen of my tablet didn’t make the cut because I can’t ink three words in less than 9 seconds. But I can type three words in 4 seconds! (Thanks to my university days as a temp, I tell you!)
3. I have an incredibly talented partner who knows more about making music than I do, even on a computer. And I promise next time I will not ask him to do the music edits at 11 p.m. on a school night.
4. I have a lot to learn about using video software, though I have discovered that it doesn’t get much easier than iMovie.
5. The end of May is not a good time for me to be making movies (exams, report cards, people leaving, etc.). Mental note taken, stored, and written in cyberstone here. Amen. I think this vid would have been much better if I had not had 2398989712 things going on.
6. The difference in quality from my raw mp4 file (pretty good) to the Google Video / YouTube upload is REMARKABLE. My exported mp4 (using iMovie’s “Expert settings”) looks great — super sharp and clear. Upload to Google Vid / YouTube looks grainy and all around sucky. Anyone have tips on this? (Note that I am new to this kind of thing; most of my contributions to the digital world have happened via written text and photo. Video is a whole new (fun) ballgame.) Sadly, what this means is that the Google Earth portions of my video are not viewable in the way I intended. Wah.
7. I do not know enough about recording screen shots on video. Need to learn more about this.

And for those who are interested, the software / hardware I used:

• CamStudio – on the Vista Fujitsu Tablet
• Inspiration v.8 – also on the Vista Tablet (hat tipping to UNIS)
• Google Earth – on the Vista Tablet, my iBook G4, and partner’s MacBook Pro
• iMovie HD v.5 on my iBook, and then later v.6 on MacBook Pro
• GarageBand on MacBook Pro

Lastly, for those who are interested, here is the vid itself:

Photo credit: Jan 24, 2008 “Reflection” by shannonpatrick17

I find this article from the New York Times slightly disturbing.

If you haven’t read it, please do — it is long, enlightening, and profiles one family in particular from Beijing who was able to send their daughter to university in Ohio. But if you don’t have time to read it, here are the basics:

1. Student overseas wants to go to American, Australian, Canadian, or UK university.
2. American, Australian, Canadian, and UK universities want students from overseas because
   • they pay way more tuition, and
   • it diversifies their school culture, and
   • they pay way more tuition, and… wait, I already said that.
3. So, Student pays X amount of USD to Agent to find him an appropriate university in the western world, and
4. American, Australian, Canadian, and UK universities pay Y amount of USD to same Agent to find them Z number of international students because
   • they pay way more tuition, and
   • it diversifies their school culture, and
   • did I mention that they pay way more tuition?
5. Agent finds appropriate fit, Student applies to University recommended by Agent, and is admitted.
6. Student happy (found tertiary educational direction), University happy ($$$ + cultural diversity = better learning?).
7. Agent happiest, because X + Y = BINGO.

The article states,

. . . [M]any agents collect hefty fees from both sides — the students they advise, and the universities they contract with — leaving some to question whose interest is being served . . .

To be fair, the next sentence implies that some people are working towards changing this perception:

Even some advocates of recruiting agents see a need for an ethics code.

And further,

“We should be doing this, but we should be doing it right,” said Mitch Leventhal, vice provost of international affairs at the University of Cincinnati, which has contracts with agents. “And I don’t think it’s right for students to have to pay a lot if the agent is also getting paid by the university. I don’t think it’s ethical.”

Umm, but you’re still doing it, aren’t you? Did the University of Cincinnati cut their contracts with the agents because Mr. Leventhal said it was unethical to pay them? (Note that the sentence above does not say if the University of Cincinnati pays the agents they have contracts with.)

At least one university representative thinks it is unethical and does not pay agents they have contracts with:

Throughout Asia and to a lesser extent other parts of the world, thousands of agents offer help to students seeking admission to an English-speaking university, charging them fees that may be a few hundred dollars, or far more. “Some agents charge as much as $30,000,” said John Robert Cryan of the University of Toledo, which works with agents, but pays no commissions. “There’s a lot of gouging going on.”

[emphasis mine]

Apparently, Mr. Leventhal (of the U of C, above) is an advocate of ethics in this field, but get this:

Mr. Leventhal is also advocating a code of ethics, modeled on Australian practice, under which American universities would pay agents a 10 percent commission, if the agents agreed to charge students only a nominal fee.

This is ethical? Am I missing something? Maybe an Aussie can explain it to me, as apparently this is Australian practice. To my mind, none of this is ethical. For students AND universities to pay for placement at “the right” university? Where does that leave the international (or local, for that matter) student who wants and rightly deserves a place in a university? Well, apparently, unless he has between $500 and $5000 US to spend — that leaves him nowhere.

On the last page of the article, Philip G. Altbach, director of the Center for International Higher Education at Boston College, is quoted as saying:

“In a globalized world, where some people need a lot of guidance to get here, there may be a legitimate place for responsible middlemen,” he said, then added, “although I really hate it.”

And I agree — perhaps there is a need for a middleman. But, but, but… here are my buts:

• Universities should NOT be paying them — what if instead they were simply “regular” university employees, out and about recruiting for their university as normal?
• Students should not have to pay them very much (like, less than $50), or even better nothing at all

Basically, I think that universities perhaps need to beef up their own recruitment practices, and aim to recruit international students the old-fashioned way — by making their university look like the best place to go, rather than by paying a middleman thousands of dollars.

Does anyone else think this is unethical? Or am I being too old-fashioned and curmudgeonly?

Whatever happened to open and honest application procedures? Whatever happened to applications requiring that the person with the best fit (based on grades, SAT scores, and whatever else the university deems necessary) gets in on his/ her own merit, rather than simply because he/she is from China and has thousands of dollars to spend?

Should people be making money from international students’ desire to go to university in the Western world?

So, I’ve been reading a few things about blogging. And I’ve been reading a few things about writing. And I’ve been reading a few things about both blogging and writing, and I’m starting to think I’m missing something. Or need clarification, at the very least.

I’m going to keep this philosophical, much like my assessment post a while back.

First, a question:

If (text-based)¹ blogging is a kind of writing, then aren’t all bloggers writers?

And now, the statements:

1. I (foolishly, perhaps) believe that all my students can become good writers² of some kind.
2. I therefore believe that all my students should try their hand at blogging, just as I believe all my students should try writing poetry, maybe a short story, a personal narrative, an e-mail, and oodles of other writing types.
3. I do not believe a great writing teacher needs to be a great writer; he / she simply needs to “know the ropes” and be great teacher, period.
4. I therefore believe a great blogging teacher does not need to be a “master blogger”, but that he / she just needs to know how it works, and be a great teacher, period.

And finally, more questions:

• Those of you out there who use blogs with your students, how do you use them?
• Do you assess them? If so, how?
• And if you don’t use blogs with your students, why not?

The background

I am changing (quite drastically) the way I use blogs with my students for the remainder of this school year, and next. And so, I’m looking for ideas and anecdotal feedback… errr.. feed-forward… from those who have walked this path before me.

¹Of course, the visual-types of blogs aren’t really writing, but a different kind of communication

²I define the term “good writer” as one who creates “good writing.” And for the definition of “good writing,” I turn to one of my most influential mentors in both teaching and writing, Carl Leggo, who once stated, “Good writing gets the job done. It works.” I should also note that I have different definitions of “great writing” and other comparative terms.

“For every nine people who denounce innovation, only one will encourage it. . . . For every nine people who do things the way they have always been done, only one will ever wonder if there is a better way. For every nine people who stand in line in front of a locked building, only one will ever come around and check the back door.

“Our progress as a species rests squarely on the shoulders of that tenth person. The nine are satisfied with things they are told are valuable. Person 10 determines for himself what has value.” -Za Rinpoche and Ashley Nebelsieck, in The Backdoor to Enlightenment (Three Leaves)

The pessimistic side of me wants to say that in schools, the proportion is probably one out of every twenty, or perhaps even higher. But that’s just me being whiny.

What this book excerpt reminds me of:

• Ian Jukes’s Committed Sardine metaphor
• about 203,094,820 faculty meetings I’ve been to where one person speaks out about doing something differently, and gets verbally crucified
• the feeling I have after I finish a really good yoga session, when I have the most clarity about what I determine as valuable for myself

Questions I have:

• Is it in a person’s nature to be that 10th person? Or can one learn to question and be curious?
• How long before that 10th person becomes tired of always being “the only one” who’s encouraging innovation, asking if there’s a better way, and going around to the back door? How many times before s/he gives up?
• What would happen if the proportions shifted? What if, in a group of 10, there were 4 people who were always asking the questions and finding new ways of doing things? What would that look like?
• Should leaders in our schools be the 10th person?

Photo credit: Mozzer502

All this talk about writing, grade books, and “the unthinking habits of grading” has given me so much to think about. My mind is swimming.

The thing is, I think about this stuff all the time. It is only recently, after reading hoards of comments and postings (and all the bits in between) that I begin to understand my naivety. Or is it ignorance? (Hint: not everyone thinks about this stuff all the time.)

First, a bit of background, for the sake of context

I grew up in Calgary, Alberta, Canada and attended Catholic, publicly funded schools. The teachers I had, with two notable exceptions¹, all used criterion-referenced assessment to grade my work. I always (other than with the two notable exceptions) knew how I was being graded, even if they did average my scores and turn them into percentages. I graduated from an unusual work-at-your-own-pace high school in 1992.²

After completing an English Lit degree on the West coast, I entered Education. I did not realize at the time (1997) that the program I was in was progressive compared to most Ed programs out there. Thinking, ignorantly, that what I learned was what all teachers-to-be learned, I eagerly entered the world of K-12 education, armed with what I thought was Everything A Beginning Teacher Should Know.

One Epiphany (of many)

Fast-forward to 2001: I entered the realm of international education, working at an MYP school. Before this moment, what I knew about MYP could have filled an ant’s mouth. Sitting in an MYP training session, my then-mentor flashed the subject-specific criteria for Language A (MYP’s equivalent to English Language Arts) on a projector screen.

Thought #1: “Hey, that’s cool! That’s the same criteria my grade 7 teacher used to grade my writing, and it’s the same criteria I have always used to assess student work.”

[insert hmms and haws of other training participants here, as they ponder the criteria on the screen]

Thought #2: “Wait… doesn’t everyone use this?”

It wasn’t long after Thought #2 occurred that I learned the answer: No, not everyone is using this. Plenty of conversation and interaction with my then-colleagues (from various backgrounds in education, as expected in an international setting) taught me that what I had taken for granted my entire (short) life was indeed not “the norm.”

The Interim and a Confession

Over the past 7 years, plenty more colleagues, students, and their parents have shown me that other ways of assessing are indeed rife and plentiful. Just yesterday I engaged in three different conversations with three different families about this very topic (parent conferences were timely). Witness a verbatim quote from one of those discussions:

“Wow, this is so different from what we’re used to. You mean you want your students to come show you their work before they finish? You won’t take points off?”

[I won't even get into the connotations implied by the use of the words "want", "before", and "points."]

Don’t get me wrong — I do not think the same way about this issue as I did 10 or even 3 years ago. I have learned more than I can express on this small page about how to assess meaningfully. I have spent many, many teacher days fantasizing about not assessing at all, and like Dana Huff, I still have those days. I am guilty, in past years, of assigning my students the most boring five-paragraph essay you’ve ever read, just so I could be bored to death reading it and they could be bored to death writing it.

A Question … and Answers?

I have offered some of my thoughts about assessment before — indeed, the reason I initially began this blog was to reflect on what I was learning in an IBO PD course on MYP Objectives and Assessment. Now, having learned so much, I feel my philosophy of assessment is still evolving, and I do think long and hard about why I assess my students’ work and how I do it.

(And, please know that I mention MYP only because I feel it is one of the best educational systems out there for student learning. Is it the only one? No. Are there others that do the same? Yes. Is it just about best practice? Yes.)

So here’s the thing: I know there are other methods of assessment. I know about them well enough because I took the required courses in university, and I have seen them used in classrooms. But here’s what I still don’t understand — and please don’t mistake this for a rhetorical question:

Why are we still using them? (Do they facilitate learning?)

I’m starting, today, with just this question about criterion-referenced assessment, but know that I’m not limiting my thoughts to only this aspect of assessment. I anticipate that those thoughts — and more questions — will follow as my assessment philosophy further evolves.

Mid-evolution

So far, here is what I believe. Assessment is…

• primarily for learning; the assessment of learning is secondary.
• real and not “fabricated” just to put a number on a paper or in a box.
• goal-focused, and those goals should be based on where the students are at in their learning.
• varied, with a wide variety of opportunities given for students to reach their goals.
• frequent and woven into every aspect of what we do, while we are learning. (I am uncomfortable with the thought of students being either too excited or filled with dread at the mention of assessment; I want my students to see assessment as something we do all the time.)
• part of the natural learning process, not something tacked onto the end.
• not driven by reporting terms, boxes that need to be filled, administrative software, or any other nonsense that has nothing to do with the learner.
• applied when needed for learning, and not at calendar dates specified a year in advance.

¹Okay, so really it was three notable exceptions. And they were notable because they were exceptionally bad teachers. I’m not naming names, it’s water under the bridge, yadda-yadda-yadda — and the truth is I learned many life lessons from these poor teachers.

²The dates are important, because I refuse to believe that the concept of criterion-referenced assessment is “new” and “progressive“. The dates, although applicable only to my personal experience and not bodies of research, further give credence to my personal belief that education is painfully, mind-bogglingly slow to change.

Photo Credits: Nice Hat by cwalkatron; Question mark by Leo Reynolds