Judgment

Tonight I had one of those experiences that happen to us all at one time or another. I got in the wrong line at the grocery store. You know the one – the one that looks like it’s going to be the quickest but turns out to be the most interminable.

It seemed like a good choice. There were two women in front of me who appeared to be friends, or maybe sisters. They didn’t have much on the conveyor belt, one buying milk and juice and the other buying milk and fruit and a few other items. So, why then did I stand behind them, waiting in line (with people stacked 5 deep behind me) with my items on the conveyor belt for 20 minutes? Yes, you read that right – 20 minutes. To be honest with you, that was 10 minutes longer than it took me to collect my groceries from the aisles of the store. Bananas and grapes, coffee and cream, yogurt, juice and a bag of Cheetos just don’t take that long to pick up.

Why did it take so long you ask? WIC. For those of you who are unaware, WIC stands for Women, Infants and Children. It is a federally funded program which is designed to help pregnant and nursing women and children under the age of 5 who are nutritionally at risk and who fall below Federal Poverty Guidelines. There are a very limited number of food products covered by WIC, juice, milk and fruit being included. The juice, if it is prepared and not refrigerated, must be 100% juice (no blends) and 120% Vitamin C. WIC provides pamphlets to the participants detailing which foods and brands are covered. They also, of course, supply this same information to the stores. You can access it on the Internet.

Certainly, you would think, that people who are enrolled in the program for any length of time would be very clear about what is and is not allowed by the program. Yet, these two women seemed not to be. The juice that they had chosen was not covered. First, there was the argument which included “this is the juice that’s in my refrigerator right now.” Then, when the young man behind the register stood his ground, one of the women went to exchange the juice for a brand that was allowed.

The juice aisle was 20 feet from the register. We waited. And waited. And waited. For over 8 minutes. When the woman returned she carried 2 bottles of juice. She also strolled. She did not rush, she did not hurry, she did not even walk rapidly. She strolled – fully aware that there were 6 people in line waiting behind her. It was truly something to behold.

I must admit that part of my reaction was judgment. I was judging these two women. They were both dressed far more expensively than I. The woman directly in front of me was wearing a lovely, and costly, leather jacket. They were both in what appeared to be brand new
designer jeans, they were coiffed and made up, and both were sporting a set of acrylic nails that generally run about $40 for the set and another $15 to $20 every two weeks to refill. Compared to me in my 5 year old jeans (with the broken zipper which I keep together with a strategically placed safety pin) and an old college long-sleeved tee you would never have guessed me as having more money.

After they finished their rather complex transactions, they sauntered on out of the store. When I left a few minutes later I passed them standing at the Red Box discussing which movie they were planning to rent.

I certainly believe that helping low-income children to eat nutritionally healthy food is a good thing and I don’t mind my tax dollar going to that – truly. Yet, it seems apparent to me that these women have disposable income. And, given that they have enough money for the nail salon every 2 weeks, I am irritated that my tax dollars are going to support them. I know that the WIC money goes to only a very few items. However, this seems to be enough of a subsidy to allow them to have a great deal of money to spend on other things – things that I would judge to be extras – not necessities. So, in essence, I am paying for those nails. Grrr.

I know that I have invoked the memory of my mother rather often in these posts, so please bear with me as I do it again. My mother and father lived by the precept that you didn’t buy extras if you couldn’t afford necessities. I think it’s a good precept. I try to live by it as well – succeeding more or less. If I’m going to live by that standard, I want others to do so as well – particularly when those others are using my tax dollars to fund their extras.

Now, you may be thinking that I shouldn’t judge them as I don’t know their circumstances. That’s true. But I’m not just judging them. I’m also judging my niece, the grand-daughter of my good friend, the girl in my classroom.

Women - we are responsible for our bodies. We are the ones who need to be accountable for our choices. Choosing to produce children that you do not have the emotional, social, or financial wherewithal to support is indefensible. And, assuming that your baby daddy is going to hang around and take care of you and that little one is - let’s face it – in many cases, just plain stupid.

It’s 2011 and the times of demanding virginity of women are long past. However, with that freedom to express your sexuality comes responsibility. Expecting others to take care of you and fund your ‘sexual freedom’ needs to stop. Get a pill, get a condom, get a diaphragm. And use them.

Image from: fountainnails.com

Arrogance

I recently had dinner with a colleague. We’re actually friends as well, but we hadn’t been able to connect much in the recent past so there was quite a bit of catching up to do. We went to a restaurant I’d never been to before and had decent enough food in a pleasant enough atmosphere for which he paid. I should have come home thinking ‘what a wonderful evening that was’ and I did not. I came home irritated, frustrated, aggravated and, if truth be told, probably a little hurt. I’ve been stewing about it since.

As I mentioned, in addition to being colleagues we have been friends for years – about 20 or so. We came to the college around the same time and were housed in the same office suite for the first couple of years. From that beginning grew a nice friendship – lunches, dinners, invitations to each other’s parties, traveling together. There was even a summer when he was between buying and selling houses and he spent 3 months in my guest room in exchange for help with a few household projects. It’s been a good friendship.

I say all that to set the stage – and because it is part of the reason for all the emotions I have been feeling these past few days. After catching up on our personal lives our conversation, as might be expected, turned to grousing and gossiping about work related matters and people. We discussed a couple of current projects that my friend is involved in, the joys and irritations of our students and their choices, the state of relations between our current administration and faculty on campus as well as the overall atmosphere/morale of the place. As they say, I should have known better.

My friend and I often differ in the way in which we interpret and respond to campus events. That, I think, is a positive thing. It is easy to get caught up in your own point of view on something and forget to consider (or flat-out ignore) other perspectives. I will often deliberately seek out his perspective on an issue because of that. In many cases, he has information that I don’t or an opinion that I hadn’t considered. Sometimes that information will temper my opinion and sometimes it will change my mind completely. While I try to approach events somewhat positively and hopefully, often his perspective is pretty cynical which keeps my Pollyanna tendency in check.

This particular time, though, was different. We were discussing an issue which we have discussed before and on which we have markedly differing positions. We have argued about this issue on more than one occasion and we both think we are right in our perspectives. While I still will consider his view (I actually wish his view was the correct one) I’m afraid that on this issue my view is probably a little more realistic. In this particular case, I’m the cynic and he’s the one trying to spin this to the positive.

So what does this have to do with aggravation and hurt? On this particular issue, he is dogmatic. He insists that he is right and I am wrong. When I attempted to argue my point, he kept insisting on his view. Finally, he demanded – ‘give me an example.’ When I was silent, he crowed at me ‘See you can’t. Because there isn’t one. It never happens.’ My response was, ‘You’re right, I can’t.’

And, I couldn’t. NOT, however, because there wasn’t an example. I couldn’t give the example because I am prohibited from giving it.
It’s not my personal example, and the people who have shared it with me have done so under the caveat that I keep it quiet. Privacy. So, after a few more moments of him pushing my ‘wrongness’ at me, I finally said that we needed to change the subject and we moved on. But clearly, I haven’t moved on. I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated by the arrogance of his position. ‘You can’t give me an example of this so it doesn’t exist. You are wrong.’

Obviously, he’s an intelligent man and should know better than to rely on this fallacious ‘burden of proof’ argument. It’s one of the first things we discuss when teaching persuasion and debate. Just because you have no hard evidence against an argument, does not mean that the argument does not exist. Yet, it is the position we want to take when the argument threatens us in some way – our beliefs, our self-image, our perspective. I’m not saying that my friend is not intelligent. He is. In this particular case, though, he is also wrong.

Some people would say to me that it is enough to know you are right about something – others don’t have to acknowledge it. I believe, many times, that is true. I think in this case my aggravation and hurt come not from his position, but from his refusal to even consider the possibility that he might not have all the facts – that there might be information out there to which he is not privy. That refusal, by extension, seems to be saying that I could not possibly have any information that he does not. Therefore, it seems to argue that I am stupid, ignorant, emotional, irrational, and wrong. It feels disrespectful. It feels arrogant.

We all think we’re right about things. If we thought we were wrong, we would change how we think. That’s only logical. And it is understandable that we want to believe in our own sense of reason. However, the lesson to me this time is the need to temper my own tendency to believe in my own ‘rightness’, and to remember that it is entirely possible that I may not have all the facts before I jump to judgment. Because that judgment, no matter how justified it may seem to me, might be wrong.

Image: mylot.com

Details

Several years ago I did a short stint in corporate America. Specifically, I spent almost a year in the Human Resources area of a large corporation. I did a variety of tasks during that time – from writing curriculum for the manager of Training and Development to updating job descriptions to answering phones. The “job description” element of that work was an eye opener for me.

At the time, I was quite young – basically at the beginning of my professional career. I had taught for a few years at the college level by that time. The job descriptions that I was familiar with were general – “ability to teach Public Speaking, Interpersonal Communication, Oral Interpretation of Literature and a minimum 2 years experience coaching college level Forensics.” Once hired, those were the basic duties. We were all expected to simply know the details of what was required to do these tasks effectively, and do them. And, the majority of the people I worked with seemed to know and do them.

However, there were a number of other duties that weren’t outlined in the job description. We were expected to serve on college committees, to advise students, to do department work involving curriculum offerings, to participate in the new educational initiatives that came along every 5 to 7 years. We did those things as well, just without it ever being written down as part of our job and, quite frankly, without ever being compensated for the work. It was just part of working in the academy.

Corporate job descriptions, though, were quite different. They contained a laundry list of specific tasks that an individual applying for a specific position was expected to do. They also contained an articulation of what constituted meeting those expectations – as well as what was considered falling short. Some of these descriptions were literally pages long. After working for a while in this environment I chose to go back to higher education and took my current job. The “job description” was what I had experienced in previous academic environments. And, for quite a long while, the majority of us adequately did our jobs with this minimal amount of written instruction.

As with all things, this process morphed over time. We still don’t have a corporate-type job description. However, we now have a “Professional Development Plan” – a document that we create in conjunction with our supervisor that has a 3 year shelf life. We outline in general terms what we intend to do to “develop” our professional skills over a 3 year period, and at the end of that time we submit a report that details how we accomplished this. In the past, this also formed the basis for our performance review. The process was designed to enable success. The 3 year plan was discussed at the outset with the supervising dean. It allows for growth and recognized that developing a skill set is a process. But it still is based upon the idea that everyone ‘knows’ the job description. In my opinion, it is effective and appropriate in an academic environment.

I suspect that part of the reason I am comfortable with this style is that it is what I ‘grew up’ with. When I was a college student, assignments in classes often read something like this: Prepare and deliver an 8-10 minute persuasive speech, 7 sources required, on a pertinent social issue. That was it. The entire instruction. And, we prepared and delivered the speech.

Today things have changed. The assessment movement in American education has pushed (not wrongly) the importance of articulating clear expectations and clear standards of evaluation. In essence, education has become ‘corporatized’ in this area, as well as in so many others. (Many a time we hear administrators refer to students as our ‘customers’.) So our writing of assignments has changed. They now resemble a job description. I now give my students a 14 point checklist of items required for their speeches. I clearly articulate the types of supporting material they are required to use, the pattern of arrangement for their main points, the required elements of delivery. I also articulate for them exactly how the points for the assignment will be assigned. With all these detailed instructions are students giving significantly better speeches that they did when I was a student? Quite frankly, no.

So I don’t think that this change has affected the quality of student work in any significant way for the better. What it has affected is the ability of students to work without a great deal of instruction. Unless you outline every expectation, students are often paralyzed about how to proceed. I suspect that this has worked its way into the workforce as well. It seems that many people have no idea what constitutes professionalism and courtesy, for example, or what constitutes quality work. Without clear and excessively detailed instructions, many people have no idea how to really function in a professional environment. They seem to lack the confidence and initiative to step out and take charge of a task and when they do, they often fall short.

It appears that this new and continued emphasis on the ‘corporate’ way of doing things may appease school boards, assessment officers and maybe even legislators. And maybe it’s simply the way things are so there’s no use in fighting it. But, in that corporate spirit, it might be a good idea for someone to engage in a cost-benefit analysis. For all the cost of changing to this corporate model, have the benefits to students and their skills really been worth it?

Today's image comes from:
theunemployedbride.wordpress.com

Power

The recent controversy over teacher salaries and bargaining rights in Wisconsin seems to be giving way to a renewed “discussion” (and yes, I use that term loosely) over teacher effectiveness and qualifications. It’s certainly not a new topic and most people seem to have quite a few opinions on it.

In a recent article in the New York Times, for example, Donna Foote puts in her 2 cents worth. Foote is a former Newsweek correspondent and author of a book called Relentless Pursuit: A Year in the Trenches with Teach for America. The book chronicles the experiences of four first-year teachers trained in the TFA program (that’s 5 weeks of training) who go on to work in struggling urban schools and the difficulties they encounter. In her NYT article, Foote asserts that “The single most important factor in student achievement is the quality of the teacher in the classroom.” Foote is wrong in her assertion on a dozen different levels.

Even the most basic examination of the research into student achievement would have shown Ms. Foote that the single most important factor in student achievement is family income and parental educational level. And while socio-economic status and parental education level are the most significant issues, they are also not the only factor in student achievement. “The single most important factor in student achievement is the quality of the teacher in the classroom.” Would it be that I, the teacher, had that amount of power. I don’t. But someone else does have that power – the parent.

So, let’s talk about parental involvement, or rather, the lack of it. No matter how well trained, how well supported, how experienced, how caring and involved a teacher is in their profession, none of that can possibly make up for what happens outside of the classroom. The teacher has no power over whether or not the student eats breakfast or the quality of that breakfast. They have no power over whether the student sleeps or how much. They have no power over the time the student spends on homework. They have no power over the amount of time the child was read to during their formative years. The parent, though, has the power over all those things.

I am not a parent, so I am not here to tout my own expertise in that arena. Instead, I’ll showcase the expertise of some of my friends who are parents – who do everything in their power to make it possible for their children to achieve academically. For example, in one friend’s house during the academic year there are rules that everyone follows. There is no television during the school week. You read that right – NO television. Of any kind. Not the news. Not Glee. No television. Not for the kids – not for the adults. It just doesn’t get turned on between 6 pm on Sunday through 6 pm on Friday. Computers are in the living room, including laptops. There is no watching TV online. There is no Facebooking or YouTubing until 2 am. At bedtime, all cell phones remain in the living room. There is no texting of friends throughout the night. If grades fall below acceptable levels, extra-curricular activities are at risk. Are my friends’ children gifted? No. Are they all performing well in academically rigorous schools? Yes. Why? Parental involvement.

Reports say the average American student spends over 9 hours per day in front of some form of media. Imagine what student achievement might look like it they spent that 9 hours reading – or even half of it. It isn’t up to the teacher – it’s up to the parent. A very unscientific survey of my own students last semester revealed that a full 85% of my students had a television in their bedroom before the age of 12. It isn’t up to the teacher – it’s up to the parent.

Foote goes on in her article to state that “we should attack the real problem: the quality of our teachers.” No one would probably argue that a good teacher is better than a bad one. I realize that not all teachers are exceptional or even good. But the message from Foote and others seems to be that anyone can teach well with only 5 weeks of training – anyone, that is, except a veteran teacher.

Lest you think I’m trying to defend myself and declare what a great teacher I am, let me assure you that I am fully aware of my own shortcomings as an educator. I shudder to think of the students I “taught” during my first year as a teacher. I was horrible. Really. I was slightly less horrible during my second year of teaching and in each subsequent year after that. (If any of my students from those first 5 years are reading this, please accept my sincere apologies.) After quite a few years, I actually began to think that someday I might even be good. Even now, though, I realize that I am a better teacher today than I was 10 years ago, than I was five years ago, than I was one year ago.

Would I have been a better teacher at the beginning had I gone through TFA’s 5 week intensive training program before I started? Maybe. I’m not here to bash TFA and I certainly don’t know enough about their training program to either praise or condemn it. But I would hazard a guess that after 25 years of honing my craft I am a better teacher than any of the TFA teachers in their first year. And, even by their own reports, the difference in impact on student success their teachers make compared to traditionally trained teachers is minimal at best. From a report posted on their website:

The average control class students scored in the 15th percentile in the fall and remained in the 15th percentile at the end of the year. In contrast, the average TFA class students increased their ranking from the 14th percentile to the 17th percentile over the same period.

For reading achievement, we found that the average student in TFA and control classrooms experienced the same growth rate. The average sample member increased by the equivalent of about one percentile point during the study year.

I think you would be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t believe that we should have exceptional teachers. We should. Our students deserve the very best of effort in helping them to achieve learning. But blaming teachers for things that are absolutely out of their control gets us nowhere. And it takes the conversation and attention away from dealing with the real issues that plague educational achievement in our society. For students to achieve educationally, they need a home environment that puts education in the forefront. They need parents who are willing to do everything in their power to support and create an environment that makes learning important. We all need to lose our sense of entitlement that makes us demand something for nothing. And we need well-trained, experienced teachers, giving their best.

Image: jones.k12.ms.us

Wake

I’ve been dreaming of summer – the green grass, the warmth of the sun, the smell of summer wafting in through the window on the slightest hint of a breeze as you’re drifting off to sleep with only a sheet to cover you. Last night in my dream it was summer and I was on a boat. I was sitting at the back of the boat, watching the wake billow out behind us. It rippled – big waves at first, which got smaller and smaller the further they got from the boat. Later in the dream I was on the shore, standing at the edge of the water as the wake of a passing boat made its way to shore and splashed up over my feet, again and again, each splash getting smaller and smaller.

Of course, I know this was a dream. There was the fact that I was sitting at the back of the boat watching the wake. In reality I would be more likely to be at the back of the boat hurling into the wake as the waves of motion sickness washed over me. There is the other reality of the sight out my window as I write -- the mountains of snow still covering the ground with more promised to come today.

But since I woke up I have been thinking about the wake.

There are people who go through life leaving a path of absolute destruction in their wake -- a series of bad choices repeated over and over, failed attempts at jobs or education, damage done, failed relationships. I wonder what they see when they look back – if they ever do – and contemplate their path. I wonder what impact their wake has on their future choices.

We are ephemeral. We pass through. We are here for a while, but ultimately we all go. We all have an impact on someone or a series of someones. I am looking at my wake. I am contemplating what I see there. What is it that splashes onto people’s feet as I pass by? What washes up on the shore and remains? And, I continue to dream of summer.

Image: web.me.com

Extra

Credit, that is. It’s what people want. And, apparently, I’m supposed to give it.

I don’t remember having a lot of options for extra credit while I was in school. I’m sure that could be a case of selective remembering. I know that there were certainly times I wanted it. But my memory says it was a bit of a rarity and I even recall one of my college instructors writing it into the syllabus – “There is no
such thing as EXTRA credit!” I remember thinking him a little bit of a hard you-know-what but didn’t give it much thought beyond that.

These days, extra credit seems to be the expectation – and not just from students. We get emails from various people pushing their particular special interest on campus and wanting us to encourage our students to participate. They are helpful enough to give us a list of ways to do this including, inevitably, “offer your students extra credit to…” We want them to participate in a campus conference – offer extra credit. We want them to attend a campus speaker – offer extra credit. We want them to attend Success day – offer them extra credit. We want them to participate in the campus food drive/book drive/coat drive – offer them extra credit.

In the beginning of my teaching career, I admit I didn’t give this much thought. I occasionally offered students the option of earning extra credit by attending a campus speaking event and writing something (evaluation, response) that related the speaking event to the course theory. I quickly learned, though, that the extra work was not worth the extra credit – for me or for my students.

More significantly, I once gave students the opportunity to earn extra points by donating to a campus food drive. Many did, but many didn’t. One of the ones who didn’t, was gracious enough to come talk to me privately. Our conversation changed my approach. She told me that she would have loved to have earned the extra points and would have loved to give to the food drive, but that her family had to actually make use of the food shelf so she couldn’t give. I realized that my ‘extra credit option’ actually amounted to selling grades to the wealthier of my students. Ouch.

This experience caused me to step back and really evaluate the notion of ‘extra credit.’ Having done so, I’ve eliminated it from my teaching. I arrange my courses so that grades are earned based on a number of assignments worth smaller amounts of points. Doing poorly on or missing any one assignment won’t kill anyone, nor will it make the difference between any two grades.

I’ve determined that to be in line with my own philosophy of education, grades should not be based upon sheer volume of work. If I give enough ‘extra credit’ options, anyone should be able to get enough points to earn an ‘A’. But grades and evaluation should be about more than simply amassing points. They should be about quality as well, and they should distinguish between students operating at different levels of expertise, effort and ability. Not everyone should get an ‘A’. Not everyone is exceptional. And, for me, if that ‘A’ isn’t earned outright but given away through a process of ‘extra credit’ makes the concept of grades essentially meaningless.

I’m sure that many of my students will disagree with me. I’m sure that many of my colleagues will as well. However, I’m content with grading the work that has been assigned, and evaluating my students’ performance on that basis, and leaving the ‘extra’ to others.

Image from: blogs.edweek.org

Excuses

It’s the first day of Speeches. Let the excuses begin!!

My students deliver 4 researched and prepared speeches in my Public Speaking classes in addition to 5 limited preparation speeches. We’ve been preparing for this day since the first week of class. Every day we have covered another concept to help make students ready for this speech – organization, supporting material, outlining, introductions, conclusions, research. The course is designed very carefully to build up to this first speech. We cover all the material in order and I require students to hand in work along the way – first a thesis statement, then main point ideas, then a rough outline, then a finished outline.

Students are allowed to choose their speech day. We have 3 days of speeches this round, and students volunteered to go on specific days. They have chosen when they wanted to give their speech. There’s absolutely no reason to not be prepared.

And yet, the excuses come. “I won’t be in class today. I know I’m supposed to speak, but…” A full one-fifth of the students scheduled to speak made an excuse as to why they couldn’t.

I often joke (as do many Public Speaking instructors) that taking a Public Speaking class is hazardous. It results in the death of untold grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins as well as numerous family pets. It fosters all manner of illness from the general malaise of ‘I’m just not feeling well at all,’ to the flu, to laryngitis, to fevers and chills of unknown origin. It results in various family members having to go out of town for various emergencies, and they must take flights that require them to be taken to the airport during the scheduled speech time. It even has been known to send friends, sisters, and boyfriends’ sisters into labor requiring the immediate attendance of a speaker at the hospital for the event.

While all these are certainly valid life events, it is fascinating to me how much more likely they are to occur if the student is enrolled in a Public Speaking course.

It’s not like there aren’t consequences for not speaking as assigned. It’s an automatic letter grade deduction and then another letter grade for every missed speaking opportunity. The highest grade most people who give a late speech end up earning is a C. Many end up with a D or an F. And, the reality is, that many people who aren’t ready to speak on their assigned date are never ready, and end up not giving the speech at all – a 0. Failing to give one of the 4 major speeches, generally results in a course grade no higher than a C, often lower. That’s not a pre-determined policy – it’s simply the results I’ve seen over and over through years of teaching this course.

Of course, excuses abound, even outside of the Public Speaking classroom. We see them in our workplace, with colleagues, in our friendships and family relationships. There’s something almost instinctive in the self-protective nature of the excuse. It’s not really my fault – it’s beyond my control. That allows me to convince myself that I wasn’t lazy or unorganized. It’s not that I’m irresponsible or unprofessional. It’s not that I was thoughtless or purposely disrespectful. I have an excuse.

Listening to my students’ excuses makes me painfully conscious of my own. And that awareness, while it doesn’t change or erase the consequences of my students’ choices, does give me a greater understanding of what they’re experiencing, and a greater compassion as well.

(I tried to create my own image, but couldn't figure out the software... so I snagged this image from this site: ashleybolivar.com)