Win the championship? Not a priority

In schools we love to measure things. Grades. Attendance. Test scores.  GPAs. Class rank. Graduation rate. SAT scores. 

In Michigan we have created a Top-to-Bottom Ranking that, using state test scores, assigns a rank to every school in Michigan. Schools in the bottom five percent in this ranking could be considered for state sanctions up to and including closure.

With all this focus on measuring, clearly, test performance has become a big deal.

But should it be?

I ask this question because I recently came across a question and answer session between Gregg Popovich, Cornel West, and students at Sam Houston High School in Texas.

Cornel West and Gregg Popovich answering questions from San Houston High School students.

As a professional basketball coach Gregg Popovich works in a high stress environment. As a coach he has led his team to five NBA championships. He not only understand the importance of winning, he is a winner.

But when asked if he was going to win another championship, Popovich gave a rather interesting answer. 

“Win the championship? I don’t know, but it’s not a priority in my life. I’d be much happier if I knew that my players were going to make society better, who had good families and who took care of the people around them. I’d get more satisfaction out of that than a title. I would love to win another championship, and we’ll work our butts off to try and do that. But we have to want more than success in our jobs. That’s why we’re here. We’re here so you’ll understand that you can overcome obstacles by being prepared and if you educate the hell out of yourself. If you become respectful, disciplined people in this world, you can fight anything. If you join with each other and you believe in yourself and each other, that’s what matters. That’s what we want to relay to you all: that we believe that about you or we wouldn’t be here.”

Teams are judged by their wins and losses. Coaches are hired and fired based on their wins and losses. So clearly wins and losses are important.

But there is something more important than wins and losses. At least according to Gregg Popovich. Making society better. Creating good families. Taking care of the people around you. Those things are more important than wins and losses.

Schools are in the same boat. At some level I am judged by how well our students perform. What are their M-STEP scores? How many are accepted to the college of their choice? What are students SAT scores? What is our graduation rate?

Ultimately I will either keep my job or be fired if those "scores" are not good enough.

But the real outcomes, the results that matter the most, cannot be measured in one score, one test result, one number that is published in the paper.

The most important outcomes for a school district, for my school district, focus on creating a district that prepares our students to make society better, helping students learn to take care of the people around them, focusing on the skills needed to build good, strong families.

To be clear, I believe that educating our students can help create students who will make society better. That is why we spend time building a strong curriculum, preparing our teachers to work with our diverse student population, building good facilities, and providing up-to-date technology.

To also be clear, just because a person has high test scores does not mean that they will make society better, care for the people around them, or build good, strong families. That's why we also invest in programs like the Leader in Me, anti-bullying programs, teaching our staff how to manage conflict, providing extra-curricular clubs and sports.

I believe our district builds people who can contribute to our society. High test scores? Important, but not the priority.

Reflections on Thanksgiving

My world looks like this:

Not this:

Clearly, I have much for which to be thankful.

As Thanksgiving arrives I cannot not be thankful. My world brings me joy. But I also believe that I have a responsibility to be aware of and to be part of the larger world that I live in. I cannot ignore the ugly and challenging parts of the world even though my particular part of the world is stable, happy, beautiful.

How can I be thankful yet know that many in the world suffer?

I believe I have twin responsibilities. I can appreciate my world. The beauty. The friends. The conveniences. The opportunities.

But I must also find ways to help. Volunteer. Give. Learn. Make a difference.

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for the complicated and tangled world that I find myself trying to navigate through, hoping that I can find ways to make the world better for those close to me and those whom I do not know.

Selfless acts

For me, it's hard to know why people do what they do. Some are motivated by fear. Some people are angry. Some people lash out because they feel threatened. Some people want to put others down so they can feel important. Some people want to save the world and they believe they are the only ones who can do it.

But then there are the people who are selfless - who act, it seems, purely for others.

These are the people that I really don't understand!

I was with some of those people for the past four days. Twenty-seven Novi Community School District staff plus the City of Novi Chief of Police served as chaperones for 324 Novi Middle School 8th graders on the annual trip to Washington DC. (I apologize in advance that I don't have pictures of all of the chaperones.)

As I sat on a bus surrounded by 8th-grade students I could look around and see three other adult chaperones. There were six other buses in exactly the same position - almost fifty students, four adult chaperones. Each chaperone was responsible for a group of twelve students.

Twelve 8th grade students. Twelve students who exhibit the highs and lows of being in 8th grade. These students were awkward at times - physically, emotionally, intellectually. These students were compassionate at times - to each other, to the chaperones, to our guide and driver. These students were curious at times - about the city, about each other, about history.

Twelve 8th grade students. Sometimes these students would not be quiet - especially at 3:00 AM when all you wanted to do was catch a few short minutes of sleep on the bus. Sometimes these students would express thankfulness with just the right words or the right action. Sometimes these students would be silly at the wrong moment and follow that up with a pitch-perfect sense of solemnity called for in that moment.

They are 8th graders!

And through it all, there was a group of chaperones who showed patience and concern and care. This group of chaperones held the reins tight when needed and let the students run when that was appropriate. This group of chaperones used moments to teach life lessons but never became "preachy."

These chaperones focus was on making sure that this group of 324 8th grade students had the time of their lives. The chaperones traveled all night with these 8th graders - down to Washington DC and back. This group of chaperones ate every meal for three full days with 8th graders. These chaperones woke up early so that they could be on time to wake up these 8th graders. This group of chaperones spent almost every waking hour for three straight days with 324 8th graders.

Why?

Because these chaperones care for these children who are not their own. These chaperones want the best for these students.

Why do people do what they do?

It is a mystery.

What I know is that I am grateful for adults in our school district and community who care for kids.

Bus 4: Full of Possibilities

Middle school was, for me, a long time ago. So long ago it was called junior high. I rode my bike to school with Les and Woods and Buddy and Tom.

What the future held we hadn't a clue. Our parents trusted that school would prepare us. Amazingly it did even though our present is so much different that we could have imagined.

Tonight I sit in the middle of 45 eighth grade students. We are on our way toWashington DC. 29 boys in front of me. 16 girls behind. I occupy the demilitarized zone so to speak. I am gatekeeper, peacemaker, guardian.

The parents of the 45 students on Bus 4 and the parents of the other 280 students in six other buses trust that our school will prepare these young children for their future. I believe that we will. Even though the future is hard to see clearly.

My parents and the parents of Les, Woods, Buddy, and Tom could not have foreseen the powerful forces that have shaped our world. Technology, social media, globalization, media, war, terrorism, diversity. The changes have been profound in ways large and small.

And tonight I both hope and plan that our schools will prepare the students on Bus 4 for the future that will transform into their present.

It's now past midnight. Surprisingly Bus 4 is quiet. In this relative calm I can sense the possibilities that lay ahead. Both for tomorrow and the years ahead.

The importance of today for tomorrow

If you are looking for a book to read may I suggest this one:

Technically, book critics and reviewers call it a "middle-grade novel," meant, I suppose for students in grades 4 - 8. Perhaps, but for me, it had a great message.

From 1983-1986, I spent three years as a social worker for the Texas Department of Human Services trying to put families back together. I worked with children who had been abandoned, ignored, beaten, shuffled from home to home, and forgotten. I worked with children whose parents either couldn't or wouldn't feed them, who burned them with cigarettes, who left them alone all night, or who were willing to use them to get drugs. The children who came to me did not come because life was good. They came because life was less than it should be for a three- or five- or eleven- or thirteen-year-old.

I was supposed to help these children. Yet, in most cases, these children helped me.

How?

They taught me the power of knowing that you belong, that you matter, that someone cares for you.

These children - ignored, hurt, forgotten - wanted to belong.

As a social worker, I saw how easily parents and relatives would give up on a child. I saw how adults would take care of themselves instead of taking the time to listen, to care, to help a child - their child.

Yet, most of these children still believed that there were adults who would care for them, who would help them, who would love them.

In our public schools, it is critically important that we create classrooms that care for kids. In our public schools, it is critically important that teachers and principals and bus drivers and cooks understand that the students who come to school every day need to find in our classrooms, on our buses, in our lunch rooms, on the playground people who care for them.

I understand that we have schools so that our children will learn the lessons that will prepare them for the rest of their lives. But our children are living lives right now. To ensure that they will be ready for the rest of their lives the children who come to our schools every day need to know that there are people who care about them, who will create positive spaces for them, who will make them feel like they belong right now.

Our children will never be ready for tomorrow unless they have adults who care for them today.

Because we can, does it mean we should?

First, let me say that I believe that schools should be held accountable. Those of us who teach and those of us who lead schools need to be able to demonstrate that we make an impact, that the hours' spent in our classrooms really do matter.

This is important. For ourselves. For our parents. But most importantly for our students.

However, can we take this too far? Can we know when we have crossed the line and made accountability more important than it should be?

I think I know the answer to that question. Last week, I think I saw good teachers in my district step over the line. They were just doing what I told them to do. They were not being mean or evil. They were following my direction. Good intentions gone wrong. Perhaps.

Last week I watched kindergarten children take a standardized, online assessment. Our district does this for all students in grades K-10. We assess in the fall and in the spring. We do it for the noblest of reasons. We want to establish a baseline so that we can measure growth over the course of the school year.

But just because we can assess kindergarten students using an online assessment in the first month of school, should we?

The first month of school is important - especially for kindergarten students. During the first month, routines are established, culture is created, attitudes are formed. Should we take the time that is required to give the online assessment or invest that time in continuing to create a positive classroom culture?

I have been on the side of assessing our kindergarten students twice a year for some time now. For the past five years, we have assessed kindergarten students in the fall and in the spring. I have advocated that this is important. I have championed the idea that the data we receive from this assessment helps us focus our instruction. I believe that this data makes a difference.

But, what if I have been wrong?

Last week I was in a building and watched as kindergarten students took the exam. For the most part, it appeared to be going well. Many students have handled laptops or ipads before. The online assessment was, for them, not stressful or difficult.

But there was one young student for whom it was not going well. The assessment was too long, the work was not meaningful, the experience was, obviously, frustrating.

And, it made me stop and think?

Perhaps, assessing kindergarten students in the first month of school with an online assessment is not good practice. Perhaps, instead of taking this time, I should instead trust that teachers will gather the information that they need to create meaningful literacy lessons in more authentic classroom literacy activities.

Instead of using September to communicate to kindergarten students that testing and assessment will be part of their school experience, perhaps I should instead encourage teachers to read with students, talk with students, write with students. Perhaps I should encourage meaningful, authentic classroom literacy activities that will engender a love of reading and a love of writing in my kindergarten students.

The online, standardized assessment could probably wait until spring. Kindergarten students would be older, they would have used classroom technology more frequently, and their experience in the classroom over the course of the year would have prepared them to take the online assessment more successfully.

I don't know the right answer.

What I do know is that just because we can doesn't necessarily mean that we should. Especially when it comes to kindergarten student assessment.