The newest national academic test results once again find California's fourth- and eighth-graders stuck near the bottom in reading ability, outperforming only Washington, D.C., according to the National Assessment of Educational Progress.
Hey, here's an idea. Let's raise class sizes and fire more teachers so more kids will not get the help they need.
Sorry for the sarcasm but I am astonished once again by the short sightedness of our politicians. If we raise class sizes in the LAUSD to 29 to 32 to 1 in K-3 and 38-42 in 4,5,6, there will simply not be enough time in the day to reach all students. Teachers will have to "teach to the middle" in the hopes of reaching the most minds that they can. Whatever extra time they have will be given to extending and challenging their gifted kids and keeping the lowest from sinking altogether.
The group that is on the border between basic and proficient are the ones who will suffer the most. They are the ones we would normally reach in one on one time during the day, but with so many students in the room, and so much content to cover to appease the testing gods, that will not happen to the extent it should. They will fall behind and the next year they will fall back further, and so on until they reach 5th grade and are woefully behind and not even close to being ready for middle school.
The simple fact is: we need qualified teachers in small classes to teach the curriculum we have been mandated to teach. Every legitatimate study in the last 10 years bears out that fact. There is a reason a few years ago we passed legislation for class size reduction. If we do not find the money to make that happen, scores will fall, children will be left behind, and a generation will not be able to compete in the modern world.
Write your California Legislators and the Governor and tell them the survival of public education rests on their shoulders. If they fail to raise the revenue to fully fund the educational needs of the districts and their teachers, then they bear the responsibility of the failure of a generation of students.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
A Day in the Life - 5th grade
I have asked fellow teachers to write about their daily lives in the classroom because I think the public does not have a clear and true picture of what goes on every day in public schools in this district, state, and country. We all hear about the bad, crazy, worn out teachers everyone agrees should go but because of those damn unions and their seniority rules, we can't move them out. Those are the easy stories to highlight and they make good copy in the news but that does not paint a true picture of the vast majority of hardworking, constantly developing, collaborative teachers that exist in my world. I live in a world filled with dedicated, loving, compassionate teachers who work long hours trying to figure out a way to reach each and every student despite the conditions of the school and the pressures from the district, state and federal government.
Without further ado, I am proud to present to you the story of one of those teachers. I hope to have many more to share with you in the days to come.
A Day in the Life by Noelle Ikkanda
It’s easy to hit the delete button. Nobody screams when they’re being erased. And on the computer monitor, state education only appears as dollars and cents -- lifeless -- a reduced reality. Allow me to present this in high definition for a moment. That delete button will be there later, for certain. I, on the other hand, may not be, because I’m a teacher. Live one day with me. Then recalculate the true cost of attrition. Don’t simply set the economics on autocorrect.
Like my fellow teachers, I arrive at school at 7 a.m., an hour before work begins. I flush my sink for the required amount of time, write the daily agenda, check in at the office, photocopy any necessary handouts, and make sure to say “hello” to in my teaching community. From time to time, I even have a student who comes in and finishes her homework with me.
On rainy or very cold mornings, some students get there at 7 a.m. or earlier. The teachers, other school officials, and I open the classrooms and auditorium early so that the students have a warm and safe place to be until school begins.
Before the first bell has rung, we, the teachers, have done all of the aforementioned tasks, graded papers, organized materials, made phone calls, shot out emails, spoken with colleagues, and watered the plants.
I have also greeted each child by his/her name, answered a thousand questions from “Can I go to the computer lab at recess?” to “Will we really have to dance with boys during music class?” I have taken attendance, completed the lunch count, checked in homework (9 missing assignments again), consoled an upset child who has frequent anxiety attacks, taught a writing lesson, read with my students, challenged their brains and encouraged, loved, and respected everyone of them.
The recess bell rings at 10:00 a.m.
By the end of recess, 10:20 a.m., I have loaned out money for a snack, gone over missed problems with a student upset with her math test grade, walked my students up to the playground, run to a meeting for our new library committee, left a message for a parent about an upcoming field trip, hurriedly consumed a yogurt, and used the restroom.
Between recess and lunch, I pick up my students, deal with any issues that have occurred at recess (usually basketball-related), finish my writing lesson, carefully transition those of my students who have difficulty with transitions, go over math homework, teach a math lesson, and differentiate for the different levels of my students -- a colorful collection of 33, four of whom have IEPs, one of whom came in September without knowledge of English. The remaining students run the gamut, from highly gifted to “typical” learners.
As we get ready for lunchtime, cleaning up all of the math projects, putting them into the correct places, I know that I have encouraged, loved, and respected every one of my students.
The lunch bell rings at 11:50 a.m. I am encouraged by this sound, as I always think that it will offer some “downtime” and yet, everyday I am not shocked when it doesn’t. I have made a lunch date with some girls who are having “5th grade girl issues.” We sit and come to agreements over lunches served in Jonas Brothers lunch boxes (not mine). I work straight through lunch, even well after the girls have gone, giggling and speaking of play-dates ahead. When we have the chance, some days my colleagues and I get to meet during the school day. If not, we communicate via emails during the dinner hour -- something my partner doesn’t understand. “They were at work,” I always tell him. “We just didn’t have a minute to talk.”
When the students come back from lunch and all playground issues have been sorted through, there are only 2 hours left in the day. We have science, history, art, and oral presentations to sort through.
Each subject requires our focused attention and my students are eager to begin the final Biology inquiry. Today we take on cellular respiration. Our room is filled with sounds of exploration as bags are filled with yeast, activated from its dormant state. Sugar is added and carbon dioxide is released. The investigation is a hit and the students are engaged. I move around the room, managing each of my ten groups, questioning each based on the kid’s discoveries and understandings. Some groups need more refereeing than others. Some need more depth and complexity in their understanding. The lesson has been a success as students were challenged to think critically and required to make observations.
We fill the remaining hours with hard work. Still, I feel that we are behind, knowing that I will not be able to get to all the projects I have planned. We are digging deep to get through all of the material that will be covered on the second of our three district-mandated science tests. At the end of the day, we write down homework, return tests, gather materials, and pack up backpacks. The school day is done for most of the students, but hardly for the teachers.
By the time the bell rings its final toll and the kids pour out of the classroom, there are stragglers to attend to, parents who want feedback, trash to be taken out and the floor that still needs to be swept; recent janitorial cut backs have created this additional duty for teachers
After “work,” I tutor two of my students who are on the brink of failing 5th grade. Without my extra help and attention, these kids will have to repeat and not move onto middle school with their peers. I spend almost 3 hours a week, of my own time and for free, getting these students back on grade-level. I do this because I want to encourage, love, and respect them. I do this because I do.
By the time I leave the school campus, usually around 4 p.m., there are still a few of cars in the parking lot.
We are not an 8 to 3 crew with summers off. (Actually, teachers are unemployed by the district during the summer months, not “on vacation”.)
I do not know one teacher who does not work in some way over the summer, whether teaching summer school (unfortunately no longer available for elementary school), working at the mall, tutoring, attending seminars/workshops, or creating new lesson plans. Teachers work whether or not students are present and we will continue to work hard even with class sizes soaring, students busting out of the seams of the too-tiny-classrooms. Teachers do what we do because we believe that what we are doing every day is for the benefit of our society.
When I make it home, at the end of this single day, I am exhausted. I carry the day’s projects home in my “teacher bag” and the day’s adventures in my heart. A student of mine has not turned in his homework for a week straight and his parents have not responded to any of my attempts at contact. I fuss over the right way to reach him and fear that he will slip through the cracks. Like many teachers, I fear failure. It haunts me, resting on the faces and in the lives of my students. Will I reach him? This student is one of the kids I bring home from work with me. On my hour-long drive from school to home, I am usually planning strategies to tackle the issues my students face. While at home, for Valentine’s Day, I hand write all 33 of them handmade valentine cards.
This is my day.
This is what it asks you now:
• Who will do this, if I am no longer employed?
• Who will care as much as I do?
• Are we really ready to let over 1,800 teachers go?
• If I lose my job, which is likely, who will greet your child in the morning?
• Can we really let a generation of our future society members be forced into classrooms that are too small and class sizes that are too large for real learning to occur?
• Where is the encouragement, love and respect for our kids?
• It is in my classroom this year, but will it be there in the next?
I fear that in a classroom of 40 plus students, there will be less time for the encouragement, love and respect that I am able to give my current 33. I fear that in a room of 40 plus students, I will not be the teacher I am today.
I love my job more than I could ever explain. The words always seem to escape me when I try. I am not a writer but a teacher. There is no other job that I would rather do, nothing that fills me with more joy than being a part of a group of young people for 9 months and then some. I get to work at 7 a.m. not because I have to, but because if I don’t, I feel that I would not be doing my job. I do not work harder than other teachers, nor do I give more of myself than any other.
No word that I have written is in complaint or from anger or regret, because I would have my life no other way. So how would you have my students live their lives? Who will be there, if not me, at 7 a.m. on a morning of torrential rain to open the door for them? Please help me serve them and in turn, serve the state. This is not an appeal so much as it is the proof of life -- the proof that my day is also the students’ day, which encompasses the parents’ day, and ultimately your day.
Without further ado, I am proud to present to you the story of one of those teachers. I hope to have many more to share with you in the days to come.
A Day in the Life by Noelle Ikkanda
It’s easy to hit the delete button. Nobody screams when they’re being erased. And on the computer monitor, state education only appears as dollars and cents -- lifeless -- a reduced reality. Allow me to present this in high definition for a moment. That delete button will be there later, for certain. I, on the other hand, may not be, because I’m a teacher. Live one day with me. Then recalculate the true cost of attrition. Don’t simply set the economics on autocorrect.
Like my fellow teachers, I arrive at school at 7 a.m., an hour before work begins. I flush my sink for the required amount of time, write the daily agenda, check in at the office, photocopy any necessary handouts, and make sure to say “hello” to in my teaching community. From time to time, I even have a student who comes in and finishes her homework with me.
On rainy or very cold mornings, some students get there at 7 a.m. or earlier. The teachers, other school officials, and I open the classrooms and auditorium early so that the students have a warm and safe place to be until school begins.
Before the first bell has rung, we, the teachers, have done all of the aforementioned tasks, graded papers, organized materials, made phone calls, shot out emails, spoken with colleagues, and watered the plants.
I have also greeted each child by his/her name, answered a thousand questions from “Can I go to the computer lab at recess?” to “Will we really have to dance with boys during music class?” I have taken attendance, completed the lunch count, checked in homework (9 missing assignments again), consoled an upset child who has frequent anxiety attacks, taught a writing lesson, read with my students, challenged their brains and encouraged, loved, and respected everyone of them.
The recess bell rings at 10:00 a.m.
By the end of recess, 10:20 a.m., I have loaned out money for a snack, gone over missed problems with a student upset with her math test grade, walked my students up to the playground, run to a meeting for our new library committee, left a message for a parent about an upcoming field trip, hurriedly consumed a yogurt, and used the restroom.
Between recess and lunch, I pick up my students, deal with any issues that have occurred at recess (usually basketball-related), finish my writing lesson, carefully transition those of my students who have difficulty with transitions, go over math homework, teach a math lesson, and differentiate for the different levels of my students -- a colorful collection of 33, four of whom have IEPs, one of whom came in September without knowledge of English. The remaining students run the gamut, from highly gifted to “typical” learners.
As we get ready for lunchtime, cleaning up all of the math projects, putting them into the correct places, I know that I have encouraged, loved, and respected every one of my students.
The lunch bell rings at 11:50 a.m. I am encouraged by this sound, as I always think that it will offer some “downtime” and yet, everyday I am not shocked when it doesn’t. I have made a lunch date with some girls who are having “5th grade girl issues.” We sit and come to agreements over lunches served in Jonas Brothers lunch boxes (not mine). I work straight through lunch, even well after the girls have gone, giggling and speaking of play-dates ahead. When we have the chance, some days my colleagues and I get to meet during the school day. If not, we communicate via emails during the dinner hour -- something my partner doesn’t understand. “They were at work,” I always tell him. “We just didn’t have a minute to talk.”
When the students come back from lunch and all playground issues have been sorted through, there are only 2 hours left in the day. We have science, history, art, and oral presentations to sort through.
Each subject requires our focused attention and my students are eager to begin the final Biology inquiry. Today we take on cellular respiration. Our room is filled with sounds of exploration as bags are filled with yeast, activated from its dormant state. Sugar is added and carbon dioxide is released. The investigation is a hit and the students are engaged. I move around the room, managing each of my ten groups, questioning each based on the kid’s discoveries and understandings. Some groups need more refereeing than others. Some need more depth and complexity in their understanding. The lesson has been a success as students were challenged to think critically and required to make observations.
We fill the remaining hours with hard work. Still, I feel that we are behind, knowing that I will not be able to get to all the projects I have planned. We are digging deep to get through all of the material that will be covered on the second of our three district-mandated science tests. At the end of the day, we write down homework, return tests, gather materials, and pack up backpacks. The school day is done for most of the students, but hardly for the teachers.
By the time the bell rings its final toll and the kids pour out of the classroom, there are stragglers to attend to, parents who want feedback, trash to be taken out and the floor that still needs to be swept; recent janitorial cut backs have created this additional duty for teachers
After “work,” I tutor two of my students who are on the brink of failing 5th grade. Without my extra help and attention, these kids will have to repeat and not move onto middle school with their peers. I spend almost 3 hours a week, of my own time and for free, getting these students back on grade-level. I do this because I want to encourage, love, and respect them. I do this because I do.
By the time I leave the school campus, usually around 4 p.m., there are still a few of cars in the parking lot.
We are not an 8 to 3 crew with summers off. (Actually, teachers are unemployed by the district during the summer months, not “on vacation”.)
I do not know one teacher who does not work in some way over the summer, whether teaching summer school (unfortunately no longer available for elementary school), working at the mall, tutoring, attending seminars/workshops, or creating new lesson plans. Teachers work whether or not students are present and we will continue to work hard even with class sizes soaring, students busting out of the seams of the too-tiny-classrooms. Teachers do what we do because we believe that what we are doing every day is for the benefit of our society.
When I make it home, at the end of this single day, I am exhausted. I carry the day’s projects home in my “teacher bag” and the day’s adventures in my heart. A student of mine has not turned in his homework for a week straight and his parents have not responded to any of my attempts at contact. I fuss over the right way to reach him and fear that he will slip through the cracks. Like many teachers, I fear failure. It haunts me, resting on the faces and in the lives of my students. Will I reach him? This student is one of the kids I bring home from work with me. On my hour-long drive from school to home, I am usually planning strategies to tackle the issues my students face. While at home, for Valentine’s Day, I hand write all 33 of them handmade valentine cards.
This is my day.
This is what it asks you now:
• Who will do this, if I am no longer employed?
• Who will care as much as I do?
• Are we really ready to let over 1,800 teachers go?
• If I lose my job, which is likely, who will greet your child in the morning?
• Can we really let a generation of our future society members be forced into classrooms that are too small and class sizes that are too large for real learning to occur?
• Where is the encouragement, love and respect for our kids?
• It is in my classroom this year, but will it be there in the next?
I fear that in a classroom of 40 plus students, there will be less time for the encouragement, love and respect that I am able to give my current 33. I fear that in a room of 40 plus students, I will not be the teacher I am today.
I love my job more than I could ever explain. The words always seem to escape me when I try. I am not a writer but a teacher. There is no other job that I would rather do, nothing that fills me with more joy than being a part of a group of young people for 9 months and then some. I get to work at 7 a.m. not because I have to, but because if I don’t, I feel that I would not be doing my job. I do not work harder than other teachers, nor do I give more of myself than any other.
No word that I have written is in complaint or from anger or regret, because I would have my life no other way. So how would you have my students live their lives? Who will be there, if not me, at 7 a.m. on a morning of torrential rain to open the door for them? Please help me serve them and in turn, serve the state. This is not an appeal so much as it is the proof of life -- the proof that my day is also the students’ day, which encompasses the parents’ day, and ultimately your day.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Isn't education just as important?
Billions for the bailout of Wall street. Why? They told us because it was too big to fail. It would have brought down our economy. What about public education? Isn't it too big to fail? Aren't we obligated to make sure that the children of this nation have every chance at getting a decent education?
The latest solution to budget shortfalls is to raise class sizes, thereby firing a new surplus of teachers. At LAUSD, we have been told it will be 29 to 1 in K-3 but with the added flexibility of adding 4 or 5 more before a school is awarded a new teacher, raising it to a possible 32 to 1 ratio. Jamming 29 to 32 five, six, seven, and eight year old children in a room with one teacher and expecting that teacher to reach every child every day in this modern classroom of fast paced, standards based, test driven curriculum is, quite bluntly, an insane proposition. Anyone who believes that it is possible to fulfill the needs of those 30 separate minds, has not been in a classroom in the last 10 years.
If we can find a way to spend billions to save companies that basically move money around, surely we can find the money to pay for the teachers who will teach the next generation how to move that money around better.
The latest solution to budget shortfalls is to raise class sizes, thereby firing a new surplus of teachers. At LAUSD, we have been told it will be 29 to 1 in K-3 but with the added flexibility of adding 4 or 5 more before a school is awarded a new teacher, raising it to a possible 32 to 1 ratio. Jamming 29 to 32 five, six, seven, and eight year old children in a room with one teacher and expecting that teacher to reach every child every day in this modern classroom of fast paced, standards based, test driven curriculum is, quite bluntly, an insane proposition. Anyone who believes that it is possible to fulfill the needs of those 30 separate minds, has not been in a classroom in the last 10 years.
If we can find a way to spend billions to save companies that basically move money around, surely we can find the money to pay for the teachers who will teach the next generation how to move that money around better.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Just the facts
Well, it happened. I got my RIF notice. (Reduction In Force, an innocuous acronym for getting fired). Here are the facts:
LAUSD is about $640 million in the hole for next year. We don't know if we are getting any help from the federal government and it seems as if we won't get any help from Sacramento. We, the people, have the power to change that with our voices, letters, emails, websites, blogs, civic actions, votes, etc. Politicians will do what we want, but only if they feel the pressure. It will be up to us to bring that pressure in the coming months if we have any chance of saving public education as we know it.
I am not exagerating that last statement. If we, the unions and the district and the voters, don't come up with a 'shared sacrifice' solution (large paycuts and furlough days from the teachers, district personel cuts and a publicly endorsed parcel tax) then the only alternative the District and the Board has is get rid of close to 2,500 teachers by raising class sizes (29 to 33 to 1 in K-3; 38-44 in 4,5,6), cut the Arts program, all library aides, 20% of custodial, Assistant Principals, and on and on. I have the specifics that I will share with you later, but suffice it to say, it would be catastophic for the learning environment for all students in elementary and early Middle school. Even with this 'shared sacrifice' it will not be enough to save all the jobs. For that, we need help from Sacramento and Washington.
Personally, it feels like the abandonment of public education by our state and federal government. It is a very short sighted solution that will come back to haunt us in the coming years when we are unable to intellectually compete with China, Korea, India, Japan, Germany and others.
How is it that we can spend billions to bail out Wall Street but we can't fund education?
There is no money to cut this time. There is no trying to convince Superintendent Cortines to spend the stimulus money and cut staff at the downtown office. The stimulus has been spent and most cuts have been made. There is no money. Only Sacramento and Congress can save us now. Our voices must be heard or surely we will lose a generation of learners. Let the movement begin.
LAUSD is about $640 million in the hole for next year. We don't know if we are getting any help from the federal government and it seems as if we won't get any help from Sacramento. We, the people, have the power to change that with our voices, letters, emails, websites, blogs, civic actions, votes, etc. Politicians will do what we want, but only if they feel the pressure. It will be up to us to bring that pressure in the coming months if we have any chance of saving public education as we know it.
I am not exagerating that last statement. If we, the unions and the district and the voters, don't come up with a 'shared sacrifice' solution (large paycuts and furlough days from the teachers, district personel cuts and a publicly endorsed parcel tax) then the only alternative the District and the Board has is get rid of close to 2,500 teachers by raising class sizes (29 to 33 to 1 in K-3; 38-44 in 4,5,6), cut the Arts program, all library aides, 20% of custodial, Assistant Principals, and on and on. I have the specifics that I will share with you later, but suffice it to say, it would be catastophic for the learning environment for all students in elementary and early Middle school. Even with this 'shared sacrifice' it will not be enough to save all the jobs. For that, we need help from Sacramento and Washington.
Personally, it feels like the abandonment of public education by our state and federal government. It is a very short sighted solution that will come back to haunt us in the coming years when we are unable to intellectually compete with China, Korea, India, Japan, Germany and others.
How is it that we can spend billions to bail out Wall Street but we can't fund education?
There is no money to cut this time. There is no trying to convince Superintendent Cortines to spend the stimulus money and cut staff at the downtown office. The stimulus has been spent and most cuts have been made. There is no money. Only Sacramento and Congress can save us now. Our voices must be heard or surely we will lose a generation of learners. Let the movement begin.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
I set this up a long time ago to be a place where I could speak my mind. That was during the Bush years. Now, it is time to speak my mind again. This time it is about the state of education in general and in California specifically. In the next few months I want to talk about the inaction from Sacramento, the inability of our Governor to govern, the bloat of LAUSD, the selling of our public education system, the myths of being a teacher, NCLB, and much much more.
I am faced once again with the possibility of losing my job next year because there is no money to pay for teachers. I do not want to write a blog, but I am so frustrated by the incompetence of my legislators, the ignorance of the public concerning the realities of teaching in the modern world, the vehement level of debate and the general apathy of the electorate to understand issues that might take more than two sentences to understand that I feel obligated to let off steam somewhere instead of brining that stress into my classroom.
So, let the essays begin. As stated in my blog mission above, the truth is rarely pure and can never be explained in one line news spins. You can disagree with my viewpoints, all I ask is that we keep open minds, check our facts, think, ponder, wonder, look at problems from multiple perspectives and try to bring tolerance, empathy, and shared solutions back into our political lives.
Over the next few months, I invite teachers, parents, students, administrators to share their experiences this last year as class size increased and budgets were cut so the public can better understand what next year might be like if more increases and cuts continue. Email me your expaerinces and I will post them. Share this site with others. Let's begin to educate the public about the realities of our profession and the day to day lives of what it is like in the trenches of education and why we cannot abandon the next generation of students to political short sightedness.
I am faced once again with the possibility of losing my job next year because there is no money to pay for teachers. I do not want to write a blog, but I am so frustrated by the incompetence of my legislators, the ignorance of the public concerning the realities of teaching in the modern world, the vehement level of debate and the general apathy of the electorate to understand issues that might take more than two sentences to understand that I feel obligated to let off steam somewhere instead of brining that stress into my classroom.
So, let the essays begin. As stated in my blog mission above, the truth is rarely pure and can never be explained in one line news spins. You can disagree with my viewpoints, all I ask is that we keep open minds, check our facts, think, ponder, wonder, look at problems from multiple perspectives and try to bring tolerance, empathy, and shared solutions back into our political lives.
Over the next few months, I invite teachers, parents, students, administrators to share their experiences this last year as class size increased and budgets were cut so the public can better understand what next year might be like if more increases and cuts continue. Email me your expaerinces and I will post them. Share this site with others. Let's begin to educate the public about the realities of our profession and the day to day lives of what it is like in the trenches of education and why we cannot abandon the next generation of students to political short sightedness.
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