Teach for NZ – Thoughts…
There’s been coverage in the press recently about the Teach First NZ (TfNZ) programme, in the Herald, as well as morning TV.
There’s also been some chatter on twitter, and Stephanie has written up a comprehensive post over on her blog. She covers a lot of ground, and there’s some interesting discussion in the comments.
UPDATE: Stuart Middleton’s post on this says some of what I say below, but far more succinctly and effectively.
I thought I’d add some thoughts into the mix, but after being accused of merely parroting the union line, I thought I’d offer up some perspective to my point of view.
I came to teaching at 30 – after a relatively successful 8 year career in my chosen field.
I worked as an employee and also as a freelance contractor.
I had a four year degree from Canterbury University.
I have a Fijian father – which made me a prime prospect for filling the shortage of Pacific Island teachers.
I was keen to retrain so I could enter the teaching profession.
I was, by definition, a prime candidate for a fast track teacher training programme.
But, I’m still unsure of the Teach for NZ programme.
The language on the site reeks of high-flying corporatized, Avon-inspired evangelism – bringing aspirationally correct education to the poor and downtrodden. Yes, I am being cynical here – but there’s an interesting turn of phrase across that website, that makes me a bit twitchy. And while that is great for getting people to buy into their organisational vision, I’m not sure how that all directly translates to student-led success and outcomes in a New Zealand school.
The key point seems to be that is an “initiative to tackle educational inequality”, and there is much made of the fact that it aims to make teaching a top graduate choice – but I’m still confused as to which problem the TfNZ programme is trying to solve.
Is it a teacher supply problem?
As far as I’m aware, teachers colleges are pushing out teachers every year, and teachers are being hired from overseas. In the skills shortage section of the Immigration NZ site, NZ currently only requires special ed teachers, and (somewhat ironically), more university lecturers. No need for secondary or primary teachers, in any area of expertise, on either the short term or long term skills shortage lists. Happy to accept that anecdotal or hard evidence is to the contrary, but as far as I know – teacher supply in NZ is not a problem.
Secondary schools struggle to find teachers in low decile areas, because let’s be honest, the majority of university graduates don’t want to teach in decile 1 areas, precisely because they’re decile 1 areas. With all the attendant icky human qualities that being a “decile 1″ entails.
I started my career in a decile 2 school, and it was some of the best learning about how to be a teacher. But I’d applied for 8 positions before that – and got turned down for all of them. I wouldn’t have chosen to teach in a low decile school out of teachers college. It was ultimately the best of places to start my career, and where I learned to be human – not just a teacher. But the fact remains, that it wasn’t aspiration or desire to affect change that got me there – it was the fact that I needed a job.
Or is it a teacher quality problem?
This is the implicit statement behind these programmes – it’s that our current teachers are not doing a good enough job and something must be done. This ideology of mistrusting the teaching profession underpins most strategies and proposals that this govt. has handed out or supported. National Standards, charter schools, and now TfNZ. There’s a hint of ‘business knows best’ in the the list of TfNZ supporters. And I’m unsure as to why the focus on being a university graduate is so important – primary and secondary teachers have been required to have degree for at least the last 10 years.
But a 6 week condensed course of learning theory and then a 2 year programme of mentoring isn’t going to guarantee any better or worse capacity to teach. The end quality of a teacher is governed by a whole host of factors, just as the end result of a student’s ability to succeed or fail in life is governed by much more than just the teachers they have.
Dumping high-achieving, academically orientated, go-getting graduates into the arse end of our society, after a crash course in learning theory and expecting them to make meaningful enduring change inside a 2 year mentored programme – is like believing that Michelle Pfieffer can actually teach poor black children how to save the planet.
To be blunt, as a teacher, it’s not the 6 hours a day you teach them that’s the problem, it’s the 18 hours of the day you don’t have them. And it’s the impact of that 18 hours on your daily practise, and how you deal with that impact that makes the most difference to your teaching. How will a TfNZ graduate be any better equipped to deal with this than a “regularly” trained teacher?
Yes, there’s a case for revamping the programmes that teachers colleges are delivering. Yes, there’s a case for some schools to have better governance. Yes, there’s a case for a more professional attitude from some teachers.
But as far as I can tell none of those are being directly addressed by the TfNZ programme. There is this line in the FAQ: “To this end, our participants receive training, support and networking opportunities designed to prepare them for leadership roles in education, business, the public sector, and beyond.”, which makes me think it’s a corporatized version of any training course that prepares you for life.
I’d imagine that most of the 20 TfNZ graduates will turn into wonderful, powerful teachers, making a difference and affecting change. That is fantastic.
But oddly they’ll be working in the existing systems, and face the same constant pressures and ongoing challenges, stigmas, prejudices and frustrations that existing teachers do. And it’s in those systems that the real challenge to the future of education in NZ lie.
The biggest challenge is how do we sustain our teaching profession?
To my mind we don’t have a teacher supply problem, and it’s not a problem to ensure teacher quality – it’s an ongoing constant.
The bigger problem we as a country have is with sustaining, respecting and valuing what teaching is, and how it looks in the communities that make up our nation. Without that discussion and honest, respectful approaches to ensuring sustainability in the profession, we’re not going to have many teachers to do the work, regardless of how many TfNZ style policies we swing around.
Be the force in that classroom.
For my writing I do most of my edits using Notational Velocity, which is a great little OSS plain text editor for OSX. It’s a really simple application and allows me to quickly manage dozens of short and long files. Coming back from the holiday break, it opened up to the last edit I made. It’s some comments I made for a post to a student teacher on Stephanie’s blog. At least I think it was, November and December of 2011 just kind of ran into one.
They’re pretty simple thoughts really, but thought I’d post them, because it’s useful to have the big picture positive to hold onto as I head into a new year. It’s the same as always really, but I do forget to believe in myself at times.
==
I don’t recall much from my post-grad year of teacher training. But one comment from a lecturer still stands true.
“Be the force in that classroom”
Each day – you hold the power.
Not to determine the future, nor for the fates of your students. Don’t burden yourself with Mr Holland’s opus, or Sidney Poitier’s legacy.
But hold to the simple truth, that you have the power to make that room a place – where you affect change.
In little ways, in big ways, in simple and complex ways.
Your moods, your energy, your being is the key factor to what that room is like.
That’s not you as a teacher – that’s you as a person. That is your power.
The teacher bit is just the label.
That power has nothing to do with your ability to deconstruct the curriculum or analyse test and cohort data, or moderate a piece of nationally standardised pie chart. That’s the label.
The power comes from explaining a math strategy, or providing a smile for a kid who never gets one from an adult. It might be reading them a story, with expression and vigour and hyperactive actions that suck them into a world they’ve never been before. It might be helping them edit their writing, so that it makes sense and allows them to express themselves for the first time ever.
A great teacher is one who’s constantly trying to figure out young people – pushing and prodding to get them to see the value and beauty in their lives. We cover that process up in curriculum and paperwork, but that is, in my humble opinion, at the core of our role. To give students the chance to see a glimmer of what they could be. And helping them find ways and means to chase that glimmer.
Don’t stress about being the best.
Be honest. Be open. Be constantly adjusting.
Be OK with having shit days. Make sure you come back after a shit day and give it another go.
Be OK with not coming back and giving your students a break from you.
Know that Michelle Pfieffer is an actor, and no ex-Marine looks like her – so why should teachers?
Know that we can’t all riff like Robin Williams in “Dead Poets Society”.
Know that Mr Miyagi is who you should be for your students.
Spend a day painting a fence (metaphorically and literally) with your students, stand by them no matter how they treat you.
Let them know that their success honours you.
There is always something else you can, could, and should do as a teacher.
Be OK with leaving it all to one side and watching Big Bang Theory
Know that it will all be there when you wake up after your whiskey, wine, sherry-infused sleep – and that you can start again.
On the job tip – get a slot in a decile 1 or 2 school as a beginning teacher – fall into the deep end of our societal issues, with a job title that attracts equal parts scorn and respect – and be prepared to be humiliated, humbled and honoured by what you see and experience. Best training ever – if you’re interested in the real guts of life and teaching.
I wrote this last bit back about in 2007. I think it still stands.
“Max – welcome to the most noble pursuit on the planet. I use noble in the sense that teaching is a pursuit that is decent, unselfish, righteous and worthy. You will be frustrated, challenged and despairing at times. See through the paperwork, the politics, the constant planning.
Be there for your students.
Be the one positive, passionate, purposeful person in their lives.
Give them hope.
Give them dignity.
Believe in them.
Believe in the possibilities that they are.
Every day.
That might be in teaching them how to balance algebraic equations, how to make sense of a piece of text, or just be greeting them with a smile each day.
All that might sound like pablum and hokey to some. But we adults seem to have forgotten to believe in our young people. We reduce them to statistics or put them into boxes.
I showed Apple’s ‘Think Different’ TVC to my students today and we had a discussion about the vocabulary and what it meant. I didn’t think the challenge would come from explaining ’round peg in a square hole’ – but then how do you argue with a student who states: “You could do that if the peg was smaller than the hole.”
My 12 year olds only recognized Muhammed Ali and Mahatma Gandhi, but when I asked which individual did they think was the most important, several considered, then answered carefully: “The little girl at the end … because that’s us.”
The kids are alright.
As are you.
Barclass Day 1
Today was the first day running a Barclass. Based on the Barcamp concept, and led by Mark Osborne’s Ignite talk – I had set about trying to replicate some of that powerful spirit of learning in my room. I was also inspired by attending Kiwifoo in Feb of this year, as well as some twitter taunting from @taratj. Tara is also rolling Barclass/camp in her room – make sure you check out her reflections here and here.
I set two rules for Barclass:
1. You lead the learning
2. You engage in the learning
Took away the vote with your feet rule, to bring some measure of structure to the sessions.
On Monday – the class were set some parameters, to design their own sessions to teach to fellow students. They had to consider:
1. The content – what were they going to share
2. The sequence – how would they share and teach it
3. The resources – What space and materials would they need
I gave a time limit of 15-30 minutes per session. This would allow us to have 2 sessions before morning tea, then another 2 before lunch. Our afternoons this week are taken up with formal prep and getting ready for EOTC.
One thing I hadn’t discussed, but which all of the students did, was they setup lists of max numbers that they wanted to teach. Most wanted their sessions to be no more than 6-8 students. They like groups – small groups!
Tuesday today, and after sorting the roll, we set to it. The class all voted to not go out for morning fitness, which is unheard of. I had used paper and a vivid to lineup the time slots, then students volunteered the sessions they would run. Quickly added a blank piece of paper for students to sign up – reviewed the 2 rules – and let them go to it.
Session 1:
Netball Shooting and Defensive skills
How to bowl a cricketball
Session 2:
Hiphop dancing
How to use stardolls.com
Morning tea
Session 3:
Yoga / Aerobics
Cartooning
Session 4:
How to solve a Rubiks cube
Using Scratch
Waterpolo skills
Comments:
“The boys were really good to learn from, because they were organised, and told you when you were doing things well”
“The girls timed things well, and we got to enjoy a game at the end – it was great.”
“Is it time for morning tea – it’s gone so fast”
Student leader: “You’ve got great skills – why aren’t you playing waterpolo?”
Student: “Because I can’t swim”
Student leader: “Oh… right”
It was a fantastic day, listening to students language as they engaged, and observing their interactions. Students were focused, engaged, listening to instructions, joining in tasks and laughing as they tried new things.They were consistently positive, affirming, inquiring but also brutally honest. One student told the leaders of a session, that they weren’t very organised so it made it difficult to learn.
That made me wince a little bit, thinking about my own organisation at times. It made me wonder why we don’t have more spaces for them to be that honest though. Are we afraid of that honesty personally – or do our systems/curriculum and processes prevent that honesty being appreciated?
My role was one of observer, timekeeper and helper with managing spaces and bits of equipment. Sorted some breakout rooms, grabbed some Macbooks, checked that PE materials were available – just simple things. The students got all their own materials, or told each other what to get. I helped out as wicketkeeper so that the two boys leading that session could focus on the skills teaching. It was brilliant, and I thought I was doing a great job, until one of the students laughed at me and said “What are you squatting there for!”
It was a joy to watch young people leading their learning, and as a byproduct of that process being engaged, organised, relating to others, managing themselves, and participating. Oddly enough – all of those are the key competencies. They were blindingly obvious when using a barcamp model of learning. Are they that obvious in our regular classroom based practice?
And the planning for this process took all of 10 minutes of conversation with two fellow teachers, my personal experiences, and a belief that young folk really, really do like to learn.
Students in the two classes either side of me were constantly stopping outside our door to check out what was going on, and one of my colleagues stopped in this afternoon to check out what had been going on. Their comment was that their students were complaining about having to do book work. There was a real buzz, and I must admit to feeling a little sorry for those other students when I stuck my head into their rooms today – compared to mine, who were rocking, they looked deflated. Keep in mind that we’re all at the tail end of the year – technically my students should be similarly deflated. But they were kicking it barclass style.
Tomorrow we continue, we have 8 more slots, and 6 more sessions. Students at the end of today were already asking “Can we do a follow up session, we didn’t get to finish our sharing”. It’s funny how learning can be infectious.
This video to finish is of the Scratch session, majority of these students had never used the software, and the two students leading it are Y7 boys.
I had to laugh at the closing comment.
A walk on the waterfront.
Posted by Tim in possibility, thoughts on September 7, 2011
On the weekend we went for a walk on the waterfront.
It was a gorgeous day. One of those blue-sky, still-bound, crystal-sun days that on occasion bless Wellington. A day that fills you with a sense of being alive, and gently punches you in the head to remind you that life isn’t something to be sniffed at.
We wandered through Waitangi Park, around Te Papa, down beside the lagoon and along to Frank Kitts Park. We stopped there and Boo played on the climbing frames, the see-saw and the swing. We didn’t step into the market – but the sights and sounds of shoppers were flowing along with people just rambling like us.
I saw people on rollerblades, riding bikes, skateboards and scooters. I saw folk walking, ambling, strolling, relaxing. I watched big kids doing bombs off the wharf. I watched tour groups poised to take pictures of Len Lyes “water-wand”.
I saw a group of women wearing the hijab and jeans catching up with each other, while their kids waited in line with Boo to go down the slide. I watched some teens try their best to parkour their way across, around and over a park bench.
I heard a busker warming up his guitar, his small amp popping and fizzing. I heard laughter as kids ran screaming around and around in that non-stop way they do. I heard deep conversations, light remonstrations and gentle murmurings. I listened to the snap from crisp sails, as boats from Port Nicholson went through their pre-season training out on the harbour.
I smelt the sea, not sharp or tangy or dramatic, but just that hint of it that you get when you’re around the harbour’s edge. There were a few food stalls, the gelato place was doing a brisk business, and just down the way was the mandatory coffee van, with flat whites and burnt tongues.
It was not a perfect day – is there ever one of those? We didn’t do anything or visit anywhere outstanding.
But it was a contented day – spent with family, with friends and watching this place flow past.
A day that allowed you to remember that this place, these two islands are a place apart – and in spite of all that we worry about – are a good place.
And it made me consider what’s about to happen in this place – this Rugby World Cup – that’s starting in just two days time.
I will get frustrated at myopic and hyperbolic media expectation and coverage. I will seethe at the opportunism of celebrities and politicians and anyone else who wants to ride the bandwagon.
I will mutter about the unfairness of a corporate juggernaut that has somehow squeezed the essence out of rugby with its rationalised productification of the game. I will refuse to drink the sponsors beer, but will enjoy some locally brewed beverages.
I will be supporting the All Blacks, and enjoying the spectacle of a sport I’m not much good at, but love to get fired up about. I will savour being in the unique position of being able to take my father to a World Cup game to watch the team from his islands play, and we will whoop and holler and jump around for Fiji like two childish smiling lunatics.
I will welcome mates and neighbours around to watch a couple of matches. We will cheer loudly and discuss furiously and groan noisily. I will probably say a few sweary things. We will eat cheeserolls and dip our Bluebird chips into reduced cream dip, share some home baking and savour some kai off the grill. All the while we’ll try to get our kids to share toys and talk nicely and not to push and avoid too many tears.
We will talk and catch up on our lives and work, as we watch a game that’s part of something that brings us together – but not the only thing.
And in my heart I want the Blackness to win, but my head remembers ’99, ’03 and ’07. And so while I hope, I know it may not happen.But unlike those times, I think I’m OK with it.
Not just because I’m older and am a Dad and other things mean more now, but because I went for that walk on the waterfront.
A walk that reminded me, in the simple completeness of it, that it’s these things, these sensations, in this place, with these people – that make up my life. And it is a good life. Here in this New Zealand.
So on the day after the ABs get knocked out or lose the final, I will take Bella for a walk, maybe on the waterfront. I will wait for her at the bottom of that slide and I will laugh at her laugh. I will buy my wife one of those gelatos, and take solace in the fact that I live in a fine place, with good mates all around and much to live for.
And if the ABs win?
Well, I will smile of course. And there will be unashamed joy no doubt.
But I will celebrate knowing that it’s not just the game or the ABs that make this place good. It is us.
It is us.
Where are the computers?
This weeks mass hysteria from the NZ Herald has been brought to you by Orewa College’s decision to add digital devices to their stationery list for Y9 students.
Their preference is for an iPad2, which is, as I understand it, based on the battery life. It’s this expressing of the preference that has caused the brouhaha in talkback-land. Talk of “haves” and “have-nots”. Talk of bullies beating up nerds for their iPads. Talk of “well, back in my day…”
Thankfully, there have been many useful and pertinent points added to the debate.
And the point is this. It’s not about the device.
Just as good writing isn’t about the pencil or the pen that’s being used.
It’s about how the devices are being used – to create, deliver and support rock-solid teaching and learning. Learning that makes a difference – not just to test scores – but to the lives of the students we look after.
If Orewa College have done their research and are making the best decisions for their students then they are fulfilling their duty of care. If they’ve made those choices based on sound pedagogy, a sprinkle of PR pixie-dust, effective teacher buy-in and appropriate technical support for staff and students – then more power to them.
If they have not done that – then call them on that.
But don’t beat them up for making a call on a digital device.
We don’t know what the future looks like – we can only guess and boldly imagine.
And we can do our best to support our students to be ready for that future – and do that within the great game of political decision-making that is public education here in NZ.
Ultimately, if your vision for education is “future-tinted” like this one from Elmo…. then we’re all muppets really.
TopGun as a model for continual change.
Have just watched a fantastic video from the Gel Conference.
David Harris is a former TopGun instructor, and he describes the management and training practices that the fabled institution is based on.
(He never actually refers to the movie by name – and explains at the end how it’s a $25 fine if any instructor even refers to it.)
Key points:
- Investing heavily in students AND teachers.
- Institutionalize change.
- Group ownership of results – the successes and failures.
He talks of the process of their learning, the 3:1 instructor to student ratio, the planning and debriefing that takes place.
There are no ‘personal programs’ or individual development plans – the credibility of the institution is based on it’s ability to reflect and change constantly. It’s based on 40 years of embedded training and expert knowledge.
He speaks with the composure of someone with confidence in the learning process they’ve developed, but with an honesty and and openness to make change happen when required, to meet the needs of their institution.
Can we say the same of the schools in our country?
David Harris at Gel 2010 (former TOPGUN instructor) from Gel Conference on Vimeo.
Moving ISPs – a creative writing lesson.
I had to change the school ISP this week, after 3 weeks of send email failure, blacklisted emails and just intermittent headaches for all of the users on our domain. The biggest issue wasn’t actually the technical, it was trying to actually talk to someone at our ISP. It was almost impossible.
I shot out a frustrated tweet, and actually got a reply back. That began a brief exchange of emails, and raised my hopes some progress might be made – but which ultimately proved to be futile. Last I heard from them was May 5th. And we moved ISP’s on May 12th.
So I sent this email back today:
“Just to let you know – I appreciated the willingness to provide assistance via twitter.
Unfortunately we never heard back from anyone at O___, after your email dated May 5th – nor were our technical support team able to get any assistance from O___.
As a result our school made the decision last Monday to move our broadband supply to T_____ – and this was provisioned on May 12th.
We have had fine service from O____ for the approximately 2 years that;we have been using your network. Like any business or school that is connected to the internet, issues only arise when that connectivity is intermittent or disrupted. The intermittent disruptions to our email;services, and the inability to diagnose these disruptions over the last 3 weeks has been very frustrating for us.
What has been more frustrating has been the inability to get any support or response from O____. Apart from you – and that response was the result of an undirected remark made on Twitter.
In this case it has been easier for us to move our services to T_____. I imagine that whilst one account means little to the bottom line at O____, I think it’s damning that you are losing our custom, not just as a result of technical issues, but mainly as a result of clear communication. The technical supply of internet services is cheap – the supply of clear communication is invaluable.
To quote your website: “Our vision is to be the ultimate provider of Internet and Communications products, services and customer experience. Delivering a remarkable experience for our customers in everything we do is at the heart of our mission.”
Our customer experience has been adequate and what we’d expect. But, as we’ve moved our services – without any contact or call from you – the final experience has been remarkably underwhelming. The sense that you actually cared about our custom, or indeed wanted to deliver that remarkable experience – well, that would have been enough to keep our custom.
Kind Regards,”
And it’s relatively easy to figure out who the two ISPs are. And I’m not actually bagging the one we moved from. We have had a fine level of service and supply from them. But it’s when things go wrong – that a customer relationship actually matters. As an exercise in how to lose a customer – it was perfectly executed.
Reflecting on it – the power of twitter for communication was really shown to me.
And for my own teaching practise – must. keep. being. clear. and. open.
With students, parents and colleagues.
(and yes, I know that using Google Apps for Edu would have sorted this… I’m working on that as well!)
EduCamp Welly
EducampNZ is a user-generated ‘unconference’ focused on e-learning and education.We’re all about growing our learning, networking, and, of course, having fun! Everyone is invited to participate in some way…
Spring Cleaning an “About”
Challenge #3 – add some muscle with some pages on your blog.
I decided to spring clean and update my “About” page. My original page was purposely brief, blunt, and as I look it now, quite hipster-dick. Which is to say, trying to be too clever.
So I updated and added a bit more of a history about myself, and where I’ve come from, and what I enjoy about this teaching malarkey. I hope it makes more sense to readers.
I’m not really sure what other pages I want to add to my blog. I think with tags and some judicious editing, I can control the mess.
At least, that’s the plan.
