Going too far: One parent's confession about helping too much

When my son was in 8th grade he earned a "C" on his first English paper.

I reassured my son that was OK. He could review the comments from the teacher, make the necessary corrections, and do better next time.

I will never forget his response.

"That won't happen Dad," he said. "Whatever you get on the first paper you get the rest of the year."

I was stunned. How could that be? That's not fair I thought to myself. It also obviously cannot be true I reasoned. A teacher would never do that to a child.

So I did something that I am not proud of. I wrote my son's next paper.

I rationalized that I was doing it to prove a point. I was going to show my son that he was wrong. A teacher would not take the easy way out and give grades based on the first assignment of the year.

Now, with the wisdom that time instills, I realize I went too far.

Why didn't I just call the teacher and relay what I had been told?

If I was worried about the teacher's reaction I could have gone to the principal and shared what my son had said.

I also could have reviewed the paper he wrote to see if it was a "C" paper. Perhaps I could have helped him see how the teacher was right and he could improve his writing.

No, instead of doing those proactive and positive things, I determined the right thing to do was show my son that he was wrong.

My son could have learned lessons about review and revision. Lessons about working hard, reflecting on current performance to improve future performance, and taking the time to do your best were lessons that I short-circuited for my son.

Immediately after he took the paper to school I realized how foolish I had been. He was supposed to learn in 8th grade. He did not need me to write his papers.

Let's say that he was right. Let's say that teacher really did base the entire year's assessment on the quality of the first assignment.

Instead of writing the paper I could have taught my son to advocate for himself with the teacher. I could have helped him learn how to discuss his writing and talk with the teacher about how he had improved.

Instead, I took the easy way out. I decided I would write the paper and show him that he was wrong or at least ill-informed about this teacher.

He let me, of course. Why would an 8th grader reject a father's offer to write the next English paper?

Technically I was the adult in that situation. I should have known better. I could have taught my son lessons that would prepare him as he grew about taking ownership for his work, advocating for himself, and standing up to those who were being unfair.

But, I didn't.

Parents make mistakes. This was one of mine. Thankfully I never wrote another paper for my son. It was a lesson I needed to learn.

By the way, I earned a "C" on the paper I wrote as well.

Lessons learned from middle school students

Well, it's almost over!

Not the world or the Lions Super Bowl jinx.

No, the Novi Middle School 8th grade Washington DC trip is almost over.

We left the Novi Middle School parking lot last Wednesday night on seven buses. It's now late Saturday night (or is it early Sunday morning) and the seven buses are headed back. We have six hours - more or less - to go.

In the last 72 plus hours we've seen national monuments, museums, and statues. We've seen places and scenes from history that broke our nation's heart. We've seen how men and women sacrificed for others and for something bigger than themselves.

We've also seen middle school drama. To middle school students the drama was real. There were real tears and real emotion.

To the adults, who years ago lived through middle school, the drama did not approach the drama that adult life has to offer. But the adults recognized that our job was to offer counsel and help these young people live through the drama so that they could look back one day and laugh at middle school drama.

What did I learn on this trip?

I learned lessons that I already knew.

I learned once again that Novi Middle School has an incredible staff and the city of Novi has an incredible police chief.

I learned that the world is full of adults that care about kids.

I learned that Novi Middle School has some amazing kids. They were polite and respectful.  They laughed. They (occasionally) said please and thank you. They listened - most of the time.

Yes, these middle school students had their faults. They never could walk on the right side of the sidewalk. However wide the sidewalk was they would fill the whole space. Their hotel rooms after twelve hours looked like a clothes bomb had gone off. They occasionally had a hard time focusing in museums. They griped - just a little - about walking over seven miles on day one and five miles on day two.

But these middle school students from Novi made me proud. They learned a little history. They learned a little about themselves.

Not a bad way to spend three days.

Bus #3: Lessons learned with middle school students

I don't really fit on Bus #3. The other 45 people on board - 24 middle school boys, 18 middle school girls, and three adult chaperones - all attend Novi Middle School. The chaperones are teachers. The boys and girls are students.

Boys are in the front. Girls are in the back. Chaperones sit in the middle - the demilitarized zone if you will.

I'm the Superintendent and, on this bus, a bit of an outsider.

There are seven buses all told. Over 300 students and 27 chaperones. We are bound for Washington DC. The 8th grade trip.

It's late. After midnight. We left Novi at 8:00 PM and will drive all night. We will get to our nation's Capitol in time for breakfast. We will spend three days in a whirlwind of activity.

But right now it's quiet. Everyone has settled down nicely.

Two rows ahead of me a young man squirms trying to get comfortable. Behind me two girls whisper and giggle.

Middle school students can be a handful. All hormones and emotion. Decision making is not a strength.

Yet tonight, as I sit on this bus and look at the students who surround me, I can see their innocence. They have so much to learn about the world.

Oh, I know, they probably know more than I do about the world. Yet, they lack perspective. These young men and women can teach me a lot. Yet, they need me as well.

The world they live in is sometimes rough and cruel. They are confronted by rudeness and inappropriateness every day. Adults model behaviors for these young people that, as the Superintendent, I cringe at.

Yet, tonight on a bus somewhere in Pennsylvania on the way to Washington DC, I realize that these young people need our best effort. They need adults who care. They need adults who will lead. They need adults who will help them learn. These young people need adults who see the potential in each and every one of them.

The world moves fast. These young people need adults who will help them find their voice so that they can keep up.

I'm glad I'm on this bus. I'm glad I get a chance to interact with these young people. I hope I can help them find their way.

Who knows what's best for students who struggle?

The Michigan State House has introduced legislation (HB 5111 - here is a summary) that would prohibit Michigan school districts from promoting 3rd grade students to 4th grade if they did not pass the 3rd grade MEAP reading assessment.

As a former reading teacher I understand the value of reading. Reading is central to learning. Students who struggle to read are going to struggle to learn.

Yet this bill does not make sense.

The 3rd grade MEAP is given in October. School promotion decisions are made the following spring. Are we really going to retain a student based on an assessment that is eight months old?

In my district we have very few students at the 3rd grade who do not pass the MEAP assessment. Of those who did not pass the 2012 MEAP assessment in 3rd grade 72% of them were identified as ESL or Special Education students. Is it appropriate to use one assessment to determine if they should be promoted or retained?

The MEAP does not measure growth. Shouldn't the growth that occurs between October, when the MEAP is given, and the following June, when decisions about promotion or retention are made, be factored into decisions about promotion or retention?

Finally, students who struggle need support. In our district we attempt to create a variety of supports for students who struggle. This bill suggests that the only thing that students who struggle need is to be retained. Yet I believe that what students who struggle need is support. Will there be a companion bill that identifies how the state will support these struggling learners?

This bill attempts to fit a simple solution to a complex issue. In doing so it takes away from local school districts - who work with students every day, who communicate with parents on a routine basis, and who understand issues related to motivation, student background, and interest - the ability to determine what is right for a student.

This bill suggests that the state legislature knows what is best for struggling students in every district in the state.

I would disagree.

Building a community of learners

This week in my school school district I saw one principal doing this:

I saw another principal doing this:

I saw a whole staff doing this:

You might ask why?

Mr. Ascher, the man in the trash can, was participating in his school's Halloween Parade. Mr. Brickey, the Michigan Wolverine, was cooking hamburgers and hot dogs for his staff to celebrate the Michigan-Michigan State football game. The Village Oaks staff was dressed up for Halloween in their bootcamp theme.

You might ask is this the most important thing a principal or a staff can do?

I would say yes - with a caveat.

Students learn best in schools where they have a connection. Connections are created when we, the adults in the building, communicate that they care. These staff members went out of their way to communicate to the students in their building that they care. This fosters relationships, which in turn can foster an environment for learning.

If this was the only thing that happened in these schools I would be upset. But it is not. I have walked the hallways and sat in the classrooms in these buildings. I see students who are engaged. I see teachers and administrators who set high expectations. The message is clearly sent that our schools are places where students learn.

But the foundation for these students is built upon the quality relationships that are built when principals dress up as trash cans and when principals cook lunch for their staff and when staff show their students a different side of their personality. These acts help to build relationships.

And relationships matter in education.

What's a parent to do? Read and talk to your children

What can parents do to help their children succeed in school?

Read to young children.

Talk to adolescents.

In her book "The Smartest Kids in the World," Amanda Ripley talked about the survey of parents associated with the international PISA tests, assessments that form the basis of international student comparisons. She states:

When children were young, parents who read to them every day or almost every day had kids who performed much better in reading, all around the world, by the time they wee fifteen (p. 108).

I then went to the PISA test site and looked at their report, Let's Read Them a Story, and that report, in chapter one, said:

Reading books to children when they are just beginning primary school and talking with adolescents about topical political or social issues are shown to have a positive impact on children’s learning. Even just reading at home benefits children, because it shows them that reading is something that their parents value.

Amanda Ripley sums it up nicely:

Parents who read to their children weekly or daily when they were young raised children who scored twenty-five points higher on PISA by the time they wee fifteen years old. that was almost a full year of learning.

What's the take away?

Read to your children!

Talk to your adolescents!

Start today!

The Detroit Tigers stir passion. Does School?

My Detroit Tigers are killing me!

But before we get into that, let's start on a positive note.

The Tigers made the post-season. They won their first-round divisional match-up. They have had three pitchers start a game and not give up a hit for at least five innings. They are playing for the American League championship and a chance to go to the World Series.

But still they are killing me!

I was fortunate to be able to attend the game on October 15. The Tigers lost 1-0. In the 8th inning the Tigers had runners on first and third with one out. Miguel Cabrera and Prince Fielder were coming to the plate. Surely one of these men would drive in a run to tie the game. They did not.

The Detroit Tigers are killing me!

On October 13th the Tigers led 5-1 when I gave up and went to bed. It was late. I get up early. Surely a 5-1 lead in the 8th inning is safe. It was not.

The Detroit Tigers are killing me!

On October 12th the Tigers starting pitcher gave up no hits for seven innings but walked six batters. Boston's first hit came in the 9th inning. Surely this was one of those "easy" games, probably a runaway victory. It was not. Detroit won 1-0! The game lasted took almost four hours to play.

The Detroit Tigers are killing me!

But, truth be told, I am happy about it. The Detroit Tigers are my team. I root for them. I watch them on TV. I attend their games (when I can). The Tigers make me care.

During that ill-fated 8th inning on October 15, Austin Jackson stood on third base and Torii Hunter stood on first base. Miguel Cabrera strode to the plate and the crowd rose to their feet waving their towels hoping for, if not a miracle, at least a base hit. The crowd was electric!

The enthusiasm, the passion, the collective will of the crowd was fun and energizing.

On my ride home from the game, I asked myself, "What is the corresponding school experience? What stirs our passion? What generates this collective enthusiasm in our schools?"

It is easy to say nothing. There is nothing about education that stirs our passion like - in this case - playoff baseball.

But is that true?

It is true that schools do not have edge-of-the-seat, white knuckle, extreme joy, crushing disappointment experiences like play-off baseball.

But I have seen passion in schools.

Today I saw it in Ms. Zimmerman's kindergarten classroom as she engaged her students around the daily calendar. Students laughed and smiled, they sang and cheered.

Yesterday I saw it in the orchestra class at Novi Middle School. Ms. Rais was introducing a piece of music from the Harry Potter movies that she wanted her students to play. Students were reading along with the music as Ms. Rais played a recording of the song. At the end of the song a student blurted out, "That was awesome!"

I have seen passion in art class, in English, in physics.

In physics? Yes! In Mir. Didio's class at Novi High School students were running experiments on acceleration and velocity, I think, and there was genuine interest and passion about the results.

Schools may not have the white-hot, edge-of-your-seat passion that playoff baseball does. (The events that get recorded where people are screaming at school board meetings don't really count either. Those moments are not really about positive energy and, at times, have little to do with actual teaching and learning.)

But schools do generate passion. I've seen students genuinely enthused and excited about what they were learning. They had to talk about it. They had to find out more. They blocked out distractions to focus on learning.

My Detroit Tigers play tonight and I will be wrapped up in their game. But tomorrow I know that in my school district there are teachers that will inspire students to engage in learning in powerful and passionate ways. I believe that school stirs passion. I have seen it, felt it, and enjoyed it.