I mentioned a little "Circus Factoid" to my friends this weekend and, at their urging, I'm sharing it with the universe. At this moment, I have sixteen fire safety posters in my house, in various stages of completion and display. Two or three feature EDITH (which, for those not current with the lingo, stands for Exit Drills In The Home), one boasts an escape plan replete with windows we don't actually have in our home, and several star a famous little box-shaped robot soaring above the Towering Inferno with his fire extinguisher. These posters have become the go-to activity in our house. Need a little break? Draw a fire safety poster. See something exciting on television? Go add it to a fire safety poster. Want to show your love for someone? Make them a fire safety poster. This week I picked up Mr. Fire Safety after what was apparently a tough day. I hear, in the most dejected little voice, "I love you so much, Mom. I want to make you a fire safety poster." Two days later, after an exponentially better day, I hear, "Mom! I got five basketballs! I'm going to draw you a FIRE SAFETY POSTER!" He was in such a great mood that I thought I'd take a chance: "So, buddy, maybe you could draw me a camping poster, instead, and show me all of the great things that you did on your campout?" His response: "Sure, Mom! I'd love to add a nice roaring campfire to my fire safety poster."
No dice. And still, there has to be a limit, right? I mean, how many fire safety posters can one boy make?
Stupid question.
Not fifteen seconds ago, I was just informed by a little naked person, "while I'm waiting for my shower water to heat up, I think I'll work on my fire safety poster."
Okay, then . . .
Words and wonderings from the wilds - elementary school, autism, friends, marriage, and love. Mostly love.
Listen to circus music
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Measure of Success
This is an discussion thread that I composed for an academic discussion, but I think it has great value for any parent committed to student success and to public school success:
I believe that the alignment to standards that lies at the heart of NCLB has great value. I believe that every child deserves academic rigor in their grade-level content areas, suited to their particular strengths and weaknesses. As a teacher committed to my craft and to the mission of academic success for all students, I do not quail at the idea of student, teacher, and school accountability. As a parent of a special-needs child, I see every day an academic world available to my son that would have been unthinkable ten years ago. And yet, I also see a system that fails the individual by focusing on the group. Year after year I am frustrated by the basic statistical flaws of our standards-based accountability. We speak to our stakeholders about growth, about adequate yearly progress; yet, we base the public assessment of school success on a “snapshot” that is not only inconsistent statistically from one year to the next, but lacks the vital growth component that assesses true academic progress at a student level:.
Current state accountability systems rely heavily upon performance standards to make judgments about the quality of education. Specifically, accountability systems constructed according to federal adequate yearly progress (AYP) requirements use annual “snap-shots” of student achievement relative to state performance standards to make judgments about education quality. . . Though appropriate for making judgments about the achievement level of students, they are inappropriate for judgments about educational effectiveness. (Betebrenner, 2009)
I teach fifth grade math and science, and few places feel the real-time stressors of NCLB as acutely as teachers in my position. I do worry about whether or not we sacrifice depth for breadth in content, and I do worry about reaching the many at the sacrifice of truly teaching the one: the one who needs the most pulling or the one who needs the most pushing. Mostly, however, I worry about how the accountability system might be self-defeating - for schools, teachers, students - that strive year after year against unbelievable obstacles. If a student improves 150 points on an assessment scale score, how do we in good conscience tell that child, that parent, that teacher, that it is simply not enough? Who, really, has failed?
Works Cited:
Betebrenner, D. W. (2009, April 6). Growth, Standards, and Accountability. Retrieved October 6, 2010, from The National Center for the Improvement of Educational Assessment: http://www.nciea.org/publications/growthandStandard_DB09.pdf
I believe that the alignment to standards that lies at the heart of NCLB has great value. I believe that every child deserves academic rigor in their grade-level content areas, suited to their particular strengths and weaknesses. As a teacher committed to my craft and to the mission of academic success for all students, I do not quail at the idea of student, teacher, and school accountability. As a parent of a special-needs child, I see every day an academic world available to my son that would have been unthinkable ten years ago. And yet, I also see a system that fails the individual by focusing on the group. Year after year I am frustrated by the basic statistical flaws of our standards-based accountability. We speak to our stakeholders about growth, about adequate yearly progress; yet, we base the public assessment of school success on a “snapshot” that is not only inconsistent statistically from one year to the next, but lacks the vital growth component that assesses true academic progress at a student level:.
Current state accountability systems rely heavily upon performance standards to make judgments about the quality of education. Specifically, accountability systems constructed according to federal adequate yearly progress (AYP) requirements use annual “snap-shots” of student achievement relative to state performance standards to make judgments about education quality. . . Though appropriate for making judgments about the achievement level of students, they are inappropriate for judgments about educational effectiveness. (Betebrenner, 2009)
I teach fifth grade math and science, and few places feel the real-time stressors of NCLB as acutely as teachers in my position. I do worry about whether or not we sacrifice depth for breadth in content, and I do worry about reaching the many at the sacrifice of truly teaching the one: the one who needs the most pulling or the one who needs the most pushing. Mostly, however, I worry about how the accountability system might be self-defeating - for schools, teachers, students - that strive year after year against unbelievable obstacles. If a student improves 150 points on an assessment scale score, how do we in good conscience tell that child, that parent, that teacher, that it is simply not enough? Who, really, has failed?
Works Cited:
Betebrenner, D. W. (2009, April 6). Growth, Standards, and Accountability. Retrieved October 6, 2010, from The National Center for the Improvement of Educational Assessment: http://www.nciea.org/publications/growthandStandard_DB09.pdf
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