I am listening to REM and all is well

Well, okay, that’s probably overstating things, but today went pretty well after a not-great run of a few days. Helpful facts: my midday knuckleheads were tamed through a combination of fortuitous absences and a couple of notable suspensions, and on top of that I had an unscheduled observation by my principal during 3rd hour. After eighteen years of teaching I have lost all fear of these events; I’m going to keep doing what I was doing before you came into the room, and sometimes that’ll mean I teach a really good lesson and sometimes it’ll mean I’m not doing a whole damn lot if, say, the plan was to have the kids on one of the various computer programs we’ve got them working on. If it’s one of those days I might seriously just be sitting in my chair monitoring their computer screens and not actively “teaching.” I’m not changing the lesson; you didn’t tell me you weren’t coming in. Some teachers panic and feel like they Have to Be Doing Something when the boss comes in. Me? Fuck it, I’ve been highly effective two years in a row and I don’t see a lot changing this year. I’m going to enjoy the slight bump in cooperation and good behavior I get from having an administrator in the room and keep on keeping on.

My student observer starts tomorrow, and frankly that has me more worried than formal observations– mostly because I genuinely want this to be a useful experience for the kid (he’s a grown-ass man, but … whatever) and I’m a little nervous about that. It’s not going to change how I do things with the kids or anything like that, and I’ve told him to have no fear about challenging me on anything he has questions or concerns about, so I hope it goes well, but as everyone who follows this site knows very well, one determined kid can blow up a lesson any time they feel like it, and I don’t feel like having my dude exposed to that just yet. The notable suspensions will be continuing through the rest of the week, which is awesome, so at least his first day ought to go reasonably smoothly, but who the hell knows. Watch, there’ll be a fucking fire or a power outage or some such shit tomorrow.

(There can go ahead and be a power outage tomorrow. I’ve decided everything is on paper for the next couple of days anyway. So long as I have access to the photocopier. The outage can happen after I have my photocopies done. Or, fuck it, I can just write the damn problems on the board. It’ll be fine. Dude can learn teacherly improvisation on his first day. It’ll be fine.)

Anyway. It’s 7:00 already, so if I’m going to be ready for tomorrow I probably ought to get my lesson written.

Well, shit

I have, I think, an above-average number of friends who have doctoral degrees, at least for someone who doesn’t have one. This is something that having spent your twenties in grad school does to you; if you don’t actually finish your program, a lot of your friends do, and while there has never been a single second where any of my Ph.D-holding friends have looked down on me for not reaching a terminal degree (I decided not to move forward after my MA in Divinity school, having discovered that I didn’t enjoy the research nearly as much as I thought I would, and finances fell apart at the last minute for my planned doctoral work in ed school) it has always sort of rankled that I never got one myself.

Now, note how I’m phrasing that: I’m treating a doctorate like it’s something you get and put on a shelf, like a trophy or a Batman statue or some shit like that. I have no intention whatsoever of becoming a professional researcher, nor do I really want to be a college professor, so at this point even getting a doctorate in education would literally be something done to soothe my ego and nothing else. And that’s … really not a good enough reason, unless I can do it for free, and that seems unlikely.

Enter National Board certification. This is really exactly what it sounds like; teacher certification is handled on the state level, and so there’s an insane patchwork of different requirements from state to state, and some states are much more restrictive than others about who can become teachers. Moving from state to state can be a hell of a mess, especially if you go from one with low requirements to one with higher requirements. NBC circumvents all of that; it’s basically the highest level of certification a teacher can reach (as opposed to being an educational credential like an MA or a doctorate) and most states end their certification requirements with “… or you could get your National Board certification” and leave it at that.

Most states also give you a hefty salary bump when you reach that level. Indiana, unfortunately, is not one of those states, and part of the reason I’ve not gotten my NBC in the past is that Indiana wants their teachers uneducated, young and cheap and I am none of the three already. I’m kind of stuck in my current district because the way state salary guidelines work, districts aren’t allowed to recognize irrelevant things like education when determining teacher salaries any longer, and most neighboring districts won’t recognize any more than five years of service if you’re from out of district, so I’ve been stuck in this position where if I were to change districts I’d be guaranteed a pay cut. Which … nah. I do not want a pay cut. No thank you.

There was a brief informational meeting today about a new initiative my district is setting up to try and get more teachers NBC certified. Turns out they’ll pay all of the fees for the certification (about $2200, apparently, if you don’t end up having to redo anything) and while they want a cohort (certification usually takes 2-3 years) you do the certification at your own pace, so in theory you could get it done very quickly or if you needed to put parts off you could do that as well. One of the parts is subject matter knowledge, which, pff, and another is reflecting on practice, which … well, look around. You need ten essays about my teaching practice, that’ll be done in a week. So that’s half of the four domains that I really don’t think will require a lot of work on my part unless I have to learn calculus or something; I’m not sure how expansive the math test would be. (Even if it would, an excuse to relearn upper mathematics would actually be a plus.)

Someone asked the presenter at one point how many teachers in the district were already NBC-certified. The answer, which surprised the hell out of me: zero. None. There are 16,000 kids in this district and who the hell knows how many teachers. Zero? Seriously?

And suddenly, between those three things: free, at my own pace, and one of the first teachers in the district to get this certification, and I think I’m in, when I was only attending the meeting to help talk myself out of this.

Shit.

On pedagogy… sorta

original-1Kind of pointlessly meandering about on the interwubs right now, looking for something interesting enough to talk about.  I used to be really, really good at this game; my previous long-term foray into blogging was basically all about looking around on the Internet until I found something that pissed me off and then ranting about it until I ran out of steam. Granted, it was the Bush years; I was easier to piss off back then, but that model really doesn’t work very well for me anymore.  I can’t remember the last time a blog post on this blog was a result of finding an article online, unless it was (as will be happening later this week, possibly as early as tomorrow) me finding a topic I wanted to emulate, rather than argue against.  What entertains me most about this is that just within the last week I’ve been referred to in comments as both “irascible” and, I believe, a “sadistic fucktard,” both by people who meant them affectionately– and that’s on the blog where, by comparison with previous work, I’m nice all the time.

I’m off from regular job tomorrow morning, because I have another probation assistance team meeting– that’s the thing where I’m working with (and, supposedly, helping) a teacher who has been placed on probation for one reason or another.  We’re drawing close to the end of the process at this point; it’s not supposed to run for longer than 100 days and can end at 40; this will be the 40-day meeting.  I don’t expect us to arrive at an answer (and by “an answer,” I mean “this probation process is terminated” or “you are terminated”) tomorrow, so there will be at least two more half-days out of my classroom in the next few weeks, one to observe again and one to have another summative meeting.  I don’t remember if I blogged about the last time I observed this teacher or not, but what’s frustrating about the whole process is that this person is teaching their(*) classes more or less exactly in the way the corporation wants– it’s just that don’t find that method terribly effective.

This puts me in a weird position.  In terms of teaching “by the book,” so to speak, this teacher is actually miles ahead of me– they’re doing things that I’m supposed to be doing in my room, but never do, because I either find them ineffective in general or have not personally ever been able to make them work.  But I’m still a more effective teacher.  I know this intuitively and I suspect that I could prove it if necessary; my numbers on the state assessments that are supposedly used to evaluate us are really, really good, and if their numbers match mine then they probably shouldn’t be on probation.

What makes it weird is giving advice on how the class should be run on an instructional level– I’m kinda forced to say “do it this way” when in fact I don’t do it that way, and in fact I kinda think doing it that way sucks sometimes, but when we’re in a position of having to rebuild this person’s pedagogy from the ground up, maybe we shouldn’t be trying to rock the boat too much.

The other weird thing was that at the last meeting everyone but me had seen a classroom that was in total chaos.  I didn’t see that, and that’s not just my lens for viewing instruction being calibrated differently from anyone else.  I’m confident that anyone who had walked into that room the first day I was there– and, frankly, the second day I was there as well– would see a classroom that was at the very least being managed adequately.  Classroom management isn’t everything, at least not under most circumstances, and it certainly isn’t teaching, but without classroom management you generally can’t teach effectively.  That’s sort of another problem with this process– we’re supposed to be evaluating teaching, not classroom management, but it’s tough to see through the weeds sometimes.  I just went through my own notes and deleted a bunch of stuff that I didn’t ultimately think was relevant to what we’re supposed to be looking for before sending it in to the committee chair– that’s not to say that it wasn’t important to making this person a better teacher, it’s just not exactly what I’m supposed to be looking for.

Gah.  Am I even making any sense here?  I’m powerfully ambivalent about this entire process, if that’s not obvious, and it makes it hard to write about.  We’ll see how tomorrow goes, I guess.

(* The last time I talked about this, I played the gender-neutral pronoun game throughout and it ended up hurting my brain; this time I’m just using plurals the whole way through.  Screw grammar.)

Wednesday grab bag

microwave-etiquette-meme-generator-vaguebooking-that-s-a-paddlin-94d7ad.jpgSorry about the vaguebooking yesterday; one of our cats has been sick for a while, got abruptly really sick yesterday and we spent the whole evening shuttling him around from home to the regular vet to the emergency vet and it really really wasn’t a good evening.  He looks like he’s going to pull through, though; he’s coming home (from the regular vet, who we had to deliver him back to) tonight to spend the night at home where, the thought is, he’ll be more comfortable.  Then he goes back to regular vet again tomorrow for the day.  Assuming there are no disasters tonight.  Cross your fingers; I’ve had enough of medical issues in general lately.


Did my first observation for the probation assistance team today; I have three days, more or less, to get my notes compiled together and sent out to everyone.  I have less to say than I thought I would, honestly; I spent most of the observation musing about what might come from putting the teacher on probation in my classroom.  Because, honestly, there were things working in there that simply don’t work for me, and the lesson plan itself may as well have been ripped directly from corporation paperwork– which is interesting.  Is that a weakness, because there’s none of the teacher in the lesson?  Is a strength, because they presumably recommend that lesson plan for a reason and this teacher is Doing it Right?  Which means, then, that I’m Doing it Wrong?  I dunno.  I didn’t see much that made me think the teacher should be let go, which is a good thing.  I just hope everybody else on the team feels the same way.  Writing up the notes will be interesting.


Day Three of wearing a Fitbit Force:  I walk about seven thousand steps a day, maybe, when I’m not spending the entire evening in my car shuttling a cat around to doctors.  I haven’t tried pairing it with MyFitnessPal or doing any actual exercise yet; I want to take a week or so and get a baseline for how much I move around during a day and then we’ll set some goals and make some adjustments.  One development:  I’m way more into the idea of a smart watch than I’ve been in the past; the idea of notifications being delivered via a vibration to my wrist rather than an an audible tone is wonderful, and I don’t ever want to be awakened by an alarm again.  Seriously, I could completely give up on the idea of fitness– fuck it, I’ll just be fat forever– and I’m still gonna wear this thing to bed.  Silent vibrating wrist alarms are fantastic.


Posts that are percolating;  reviews of the new Eminem and Latyrx CDs, as soon as I find the time to listen to the damn things, and that reminds me I never really wrote about the new Pearl Jam album, and probably a post on theology based on this piece at the Atlantic, which quotes people who I know from grad school.  Who somehow teach at Oxford now.

Yeah.  I know Oxford professors.  I think that probably confers nerd baller status, but maybe not.

I’m not writing that last piece unless I can do it in a way that doesn’t sound like I’m gleefully tossing grenades and lit torches around; I’d like to participate in a conversation and not just be an asshole. We’ll see how well it works.   In the meantime, click on the link; it’s worth the read.

A dilemma

bad-teacherOn account of the fact that it’s 8:30 already and I literally just got home for the evening, this is going to be an abbreviated post.  Nonetheless, I pose you this:  I am on a probation assistance team for my school district (this is a new thing; I just joined) and have been assigned to help a teacher at another school.  This team, composed of me and three other people, is literally going to decide whether this person is allowed to remain in our district or whether ou(*) is going to be terminated at the end of the school year.  We’ll be doing observations and having meetings and conferences and one of my responsibilities as one of the peer mentors is going to be to do whatever I can to help em(*) get better.

As it works out, I already know the person on probation.  I’ve known this person for as long as I’ve been working in this town, in fact– and I’ve thought this person was basically incompetent and useless for most of that time.  I was not surprised to find out that xe’s(*) up for probation.

Here’s the thing, though:  my job is going to be to help this person get better.  I considered suggesting that I be moved to a team with a person that I don’t know (and, note, this isn’t exactly a close relationship– I’m pretty sure this person does not know my name; only the aggravation factor has fixed hirs(*) in my head) and rejected the idea after discussing it with the rest of my team; the simple fact is that the corporation isn’t that damn big and that we can’t really keep the groups “teachers who have similar jobs and work with the same population of kids” and “teachers who know each other” apart if we want to have any sort of functioning peer-assistance training going on.

I am pretty certain that I’m capable of helping someone I don’t like very much be better at their job; if we’re willing to consider “student” a job that basically describes half of my first and second hour class, so this isn’t something I can’t do.  What I have to work on is the prejudging factor:  I’ve said the words “I can’t believe Alex is a teacher” on more than one occasion (Alex is not zir(*) name, obviously) and I need to walk into these observations believing zhim(*) to be redeemable.   

We’ll see how it goes.

(*) Did a quick Google search for gender-neutral pronouns and my brain broke.  Started choosing them at random when I needed them.

Disposable heroes

images

John Owens’ CONFESSIONS OF A BAD TEACHER: THE SHOCKING TRUTH FROM THE FRONT LINES OF AMERICAN PUBLIC EDUCATION gave me flashbacks.  And not the good kind, either: the kind that lead to, the night you finish the book, having stress dreams about a school you left behind seven long years ago.   It is, in a lot of ways, a book that every American should make sure to read, because it is that very rare teacher book that isn’t about how the author Changed Hearts and Minds and Here is How to Do Shit Like Me.  The book is accurately named: the author isn’t a very good teacher, and isn’t really trying to pretend to be one.  There’s no Rafe Esquith-style smoke-blowing and ego-stroking here; in fact, the book is not only refreshingly free of ego trips, Owen is careful to point out that a lot of the Hero Teachers that get movies made and books written about them aren’t in the classroom anymore, and generally weren’t there very long to begin with.  It’s good to hear; I’m as tired of the Teacher as Martyr stereotype as I am the Teacher as Union Thug, and Teacher as Martyr is arguably the more dangerous of the two.

(There are stories about how much I hate these movies; I can rant about how much I hated that fucking Hilary Swank teacher movie for hours.  And then launch into a week about what an asshole I think Rafe Esquith is.)

John Owens wasn’t a very good teacher.  But John Owens was a first-year teacher.  With all respect to any first-year teachers who might be reading this, all first-year teachers are bad teachers– if nothing else, they’re bad in comparison to what they become after a few years on the job.  John Owens, unfortunately, got tossed into a school with a piss-poor, autocratic, paperwork-pushing principal who didn’t actually have any real interest in making him any better.  The book is honestly less about Bad Teacher and more about Shitty Boss.

You can find my-boss-is-crazy narratives elsewhere, I know.  What is harder to find is a more accurate picture of the bullshit that is drowning teaching as a profession more and more every year, and the sheer amount of obstacles thrown up in between teachers– of any quality– and actual teaching.  Also is the sheer negative impact that a bad principal can have on a building– as Owens points out, the principal is the single most important factor in the success or failure of a school; it is virtually impossible to have a good school without having a good principal, and a bad school with a good principal won’t remain one for very long.  Much of this is familiar from my time in Chicago; the main differences are the acronyms– luckily for me, my current district, for all its flaws, has yet to embrace the reliance on statistical tricks and impossible, contradictory mandates that are common in the nation’s two biggest school districts– and I am absolutely certain that Chicago has gotten much, much worse in this regard since I left.

True story:  upon being given a form at a faculty meeting detailing how many graded assignments we were expected to give in each class every day, I ran the math and pointed out to my principal that I was expected to give nearly eight hundred graded assignments a week– which, if I took only a minute to read, grade and record each one, would take over thirteen hours a week to grade.  Her response was to shrug and go on with what she was talking about.  I ignored the requirement, and– luckily for me– no one ever paid attention.  For Owens, however, each and every violation of these ridiculous rules, including absurd insistence on complicated bulletin boards that I remember well from Chicago– leads to a threat of a “U”, or Unsatisfactory, on his official evaluations.  Too many U grades and he becomes effectively unhireable ever again– and the system is set up to make receiving positive teaching evaluations virtually impossible.

(As a side note, any evaluation system that includes two levels that mean “fail” and only “satisfactory” as a positive descriptor– there is no equivalent of “exceeds expectations” or something similar, only “satisfactory”– is clearly setting the staff up to fail and people of conscience should refuse to work under such a system.)

You need to read this book to see what we are up against, people.  Because, yes, this guy was a bad teacher– but he didn’t have to be.

In which god I’m tired of this (part 3 of 3, sorta)

22913I took yesterday off because I spent all day asleep and then had to go to work; it’s 1:43 as I’m starting to type this and I’ve only been out of bed for about three hours.  This annoying goddamn just-wanna-sleep-all-the-time illness is getting old, folks, and the inexplicable sore throat it decided to throw at me yesterday out of nowhere isn’t fair.  Also, there’s a chance I might have pinkeye again for like the fourth fucking time this year.

I will be the first in line to transfer my consciousness into a machine.  There’s gotta be a mad scientist out there working on that.  Get moving, dammit.

So, that in mind– let’s get this Tony Bennett post out of the way.  Not spending time on my Facebook feed lately?  Okay.  He’s Indiana’s former superintendent of education.  “Former” because he got tossed out on his ass last year, after all of Indiana’s teachers rioted against his lying, crooked ass.  Turns out we have enough friends and relatives that the new Superintendent got three hundred thousand more votes than the new governor did.  He then went to Florida, the worst place on Earth, which is where all of the world’s shit and evil goes to die.  And less than a year later he’s had to resign that job because his evil lying corporatist ass got caught cheating, too.

You didn’t click on the link, I know; I’ll nutshell:  one of the schools that Tony just knew should have been an A school ended up with a C under his new, bullshit school grading system.  That school just happened to be run by an influential Republican donor, who just happened to have donated several hundred thousand dollars to the reelection fund that wasn’t enough to keep Tony from getting tossed out on his ass.  The entire grade system therefore got revised until Tony’s buddy’s school got the A that he’d already predetermined it deserved.  Meanwhile, several Indianapolis public schools in basically the exact same situation got taken over by the state for their poor grades.  Coincidentally, I’m sure, the new system managed to lift the grades of several other charter for-profit schools.  Amazing, innit?

Here’s the thing: honestly?  I ain’t mad.  This entire “school accountability”/charter school thing has nothing to do with educating children.  It is solely and singularly concerned with shoveling taxpayer money into the pockets of corporations and people who are already rich.  The system is already so corrupt and evil to begin with that it’s hard to imagine anything that would make me see it as worse.  I already knew these people were lying scum who were out to get me and enrich their friends.  Additional proof of same isn’t gonna make much of a difference.

Wanna hear a secret, though?

All grades are arbitrary bullshit.

Lemme say that again:  All. Grades. Are. Arbitrary. Bullshit.

We all know this, but we don’t like to talk about it much, because everybody likes to pretend that that grades actually mean something.  But every teacher on Earth has at some point or another adjusted something because somebody who should have gotten some grade got some other grade instead.  And if they haven’t done that, they’ve set their grade system up to prioritize some sort of behavior over some other sort of behavior.  It’s all gamed, one way or another; the only thing is how honest and how transparent you are about it.

Lemme give some examples.  The easiest way to grade is just to make everything worth the same number of points as the number of questions in the assignment.  So if I give you fifteen questions tonight, that’s worth fifteen points, and the 50-question test is worth fifty points.  At the end you divide the total number of points earned by the total number of points possible and then you have a score.  Problems with this:  one, it’s a lot of grading, and two, it leads to weird inequalities like Monday’s homework being worth a lot more than Thursday’s just because Monday’s worksheet had a lot more questions on it.  It also leads to difficulties in quantifying anything that isn’t a worksheet or a textbook assignment, and makes grading things like essays a huge pain in the ass.

So, okay, use rubrics, or something?  And make every paper worth X points, where some percentage of that is grammar, some is “style,” some is awarded for some nebulous idea of how well the essay adheres to whatever the essay was supposed to be about.  You’re still making arbitrary determinations here about how much you prioritize papers over other things.  You’re still gonna give the kid who turns in every single assignment but can’t write to save his life a “C” because his papers weren’t good enough, where Billy who is a decent writer but misses assignments and half-asses everything gets a “B” because papers are worth more than the assignments he skipped.

And you’re gonna make some sort of decision about how to change your grading based on your feeling that Kyle deserves a better grade than Billy because he works harder.

Let’s throw some special ed kids in the mix.  What if Jenny’s got an IQ of 60 and doesn’t have a chance in hell of being able to do the same assignments that Monica can handle?  Should she just automatically fail?  Or do you alter your grading policies somehow to account for the fact that she’s doing the best she can do and that ought to be worth something?  Maybe she on her best day on Earth can’t do better than Billy-the-halfasser can do.  Should Billy get better grades?  Is the sanctity of your precious grading system worth more than convincing Jenny that trying at school is worth something and tossing her a little bit of success once in a while?

What kind of person are you if you determine that not breaking the Rules of Your System is more important than keeping a kid from tuning out school altogether?

What happens if you give an assignment that you plan to grade a certain way and then all your kids bomb it?  What if some of the kids who bomb it are kids who habitually get everything done right?  Is that your fault?  Can you change your grading system to give some kids better grades?  Or just throw the whole thing out?

How do you tell the difference between Amber-the-A-student getting a C on something because your grading system was BS and Amber getting a C because she’s slipping?  And, again, do you care about the difference?

How do you handle missing work?  Do you accept it?  Because you’d better be prepared, in some schools (mine’s one of them) to fail 2/3 of your kids if you don’t take late work and if you record it as a zero.  Or do you have a “floor” beneath which no assignment can fall?  Where do you set that?

For the record, here’s my grading system, for whatever it’s worth:

  • I accept late work up until a formal progress report goes out; this basically divides a quarter in half, so you can turn in late work from the first half of a quarter until halfway through it and then those grades are locked.  I send informal PRs home every couple of weeks.  Late work gets docked two points from a turned-in assignment.
  • Missing work is a 0.  No turned in assignment receives less than 50% as a score unless it’s clearly halfassed or not finished.  It’s incredibly rare for ANY turned-in assignment to receive less than 30%.
  • Assignments from the textbook are worth five points, period, and are graded on completion.  I do not grade them item-by-item and do not correct them.  If they’re turned in and done roughly according to instructions (ie, work is shown, stuff like that) it’s going to get full credit unless I can tell you just wrote some shit down and hoped I didn’t notice it.
  • Assignments from the workbook are worth ten points and are graded on partial correctness:  in other words, I arbitrarily choose ten problems from the two pages and grade those.  Not every problem will count.  I grade the same ten problems for everyone, though.
  • Tests are usually worth fifteen or twenty points and are graded completely.  Occasionally I will give bonus points for spelling your name right if a test happens to have twelve questions or something like that.  Tests are the only exception to the grade-floor rule; if you turn in a test with no correct answers you are going to get a zero for it.
  • Occasionally I will collect morning bell-ringer work and grade that on completion; it’s usually worth a point or two and cannot be made up.
  • Extra credit is crazy-rare and is only given if it’s available to everyone.  I won’t make up an assignment for you specifically.

Here’s what I’m prioritizing:  I put a heavy emphasis on effort, which is why those textbook assignments are pretty much automatic As if you turn them in.  Similarly, the grade floor: if you tryyou’re going to get some points for your effort.  I accept late work because I feel like kids should be able to make up for their mistakes; I don’t accept it after a certain point because those mistakes should cost you something.

And, yeah, I’ve taken a look at my grades, gone “Damn, Chelsea should be getting an A, what happened?” and taken a look at how to fix it.  Not to the degree that Bennett did, obviously; his shit was pretty egregious no matter how you look at it.  But I can’t pretend I don’t get it.  Because grades are arbitrary.  Period.  We shouldn’t pretend otherwise.

In which I am still a bad student (pt. 2 of 3)

Ukulele Chord Chart page1 If you haven’t read yesterday’s post yet, you probably ought to; this is part 2 of at least 2 and it may turn out to be three. We’ll see how I feel when I’m done writing it.

We’ve established two things about my ukulele classes: first, that I am a poor student, and second, that Dale is, at least for me, a poor teacher. Current “reformer” theory in teacher training states that so long as we get people who are trained in subject matter and good at said subject matter, it’s not actually very necessary to actually have any training in teaching. Teaching’s just something you can pick up– after all, anybody who knows a lot about something should be able to pass that knowledge on, right?

Well… obviously not. There is a hell of a lot more to my job than mere subject matter. Now, I’m both smart and arrogant, so I’m not going to pretend that the wealth of knowledge that I bring into my classroom doesn’t help– but it simply is not sufficient to make me a good teacher. Dale’s a perfect example here; someone with an immense amount of practical and technical and theoretical knowledge of his field who is, nonetheless, entirely incapable of passing that knowledge on to someone who lacks it. This is what we lose when we, as Indiana does, start suggesting that all you need to be a math teacher is to major in math, or that a competent engineer ought to be able to teach science. It’s truthy: it sounds right, but it’s bullshit. Teaching doesn’t work that way.

Conversely, you get people with comparatively little subject knowledge who are nonetheless great teachers provided that they’re in the right position. I couldn’t teach kindergarten or nursery school to save my life; does anyone really feel that you need to be an especially book-smart person to do either of those jobs successfully? Hell no. You need a firm knowledge of child development, a hell of a lot of patience, and more compassion and empathy than any two normal people should have. Many of the band and orchestra teachers I’ve met haven’t necessarily struck me as musical prodigies but they don’t need to be to make kids love music. They need to be able to teach.

In my career I’ve taught computer classes to preschoolers through eighth graders, language arts and social studies to seventh graders, math, science and social studies to sixth graders, and now I’m about to start teaching math to seventh and eighth graders. I did not take a single math or computer class in college. And I am better at my job than you are at yours. (Also more of an asshole, but that’s neither here nor there.) I’m not a good computer teacher or a good math teacher because I have exceptional skills in either area. I’m good at communicating my knowledge. That’s the important part. And that’s what we need to focus our teacher training efforts on– not on acquiring knowledge, but at developing the skill to pass that knowledge on. It ain’t the same thing.

And, for a rough segue into evaluation: let’s pretend that Dale isn’t just teaching uke classes on the side at a little community music center. Let’s assume he’s trying to make a career of this. Does he, regardless of whether I actually think he’s skilled at teaching, deserve to be evaluated by how well I play the ukulele after I’m done with his class? I’ve already been clear, I hope, on both my own initial lack of skill and– importantly– the fact that I really haven’t done much of anything to make myself better in between our sessions. Is me being bad his fault? Is my lack of trying, my lack of practice, my fuckin’ ridiculous schedule what with my jobs and my two-year-old and (let’s own it) my laziness toward improving at his craft Dale’s fault?

Should I count toward his evaluations, if they give me a uke test at the end of his class and I fail it? How much? A little? A lot?

Tomorrow (yeah, this is going three, since I still haven’t gotten around to talking about Tony Bennett yet) we discuss grading. And cheating. It’ll be fun! Assuming this damn thing uploads and doesn’t delete itself.

(Make with clicky for part three.)