It's May. I shouldn't be able to write about allowable growth.

As I have expounded upon before, I used to make a hobby out of following education reform in Iowa. But after an initial dissection of the first version of the proposal back in January, this year I have taken a step back, partly because life has left little time for this strange endeavor, partly because it is increasingly painful (though admittedly laughable) for me to listen to politicians try to talk about school, partly because of the futility of my previous attempts to explain what kind of change is needed to those in charge, and partly because of the lack of tangible action to follow.

However, today I had a conversation with a teacher about allowable growth that got be thinking. Everyone that will end up reading this is probably already well-aware: school districts get basic state aid through allowable growth. The state is suppose to set allowable growth 18 months in advance so that school districts have plenty of time to write their budgets, which are due by the April 15 before the budget year begins. Usually this system works, but it has come to a grinding halt because the Legislature has yet to approve allowable growth for THIS coming budget year.

The weird thing is lawmakers seem to generally agree on how much allowable growth should be: about a month ago lawmakers from both parties agreed 4% was a reasonable number. The only disagreement lies in when allowable growth should be set. I think it's safe to say everyone in Iowa's education community agrees allowable growth should be set before school districts are required to use it to set their budgets, and many Iowa newspapers have called for lawmakers to set allowable growth irrespective of education reform. Yet some contend that allowable growth for schools should be contingent on lawmakers' ability to pass education reform. That is, the state should not decide how to fund the day to day operations of schools until the state approve a plan it thinks will improve them.

This has left students and our schools in a helpless position: we are at the mercy of politicians who are effectively holding us as the hostage until they can get their act together and pass an ed reform bill.

Beyond the needless headache for my administrators, teachers (and ultimately me), this frustrates me for two reasons. First of all, if I turn in an assignment even a day late in school, I often lose points. If I turn it in months late, my teacher would give me a blank stare and (rightly) I would receive no credit. But when lawmakers do the same thing, except it affects thousands of students, parents, and educators, they can call it a policy discussion and get away with it. Secondly, I don't doubt that everyone engaged in this policy discussion would claim they are working in the best interest of Iowa students. Yet they are using us as a bargaining chip and as of right now have failed to fulfill any of their promises or meet any of their deadlines. It makes me concerned about the actual reform when the negotiators can't even agree on when to approve basic funding to keep schools running.

Iowa lawmakers are forcing districts to make difficult decisions because they have failed to make a simple one. All anyone is asking at this point is that you act like responsible adults and approve an allowable growth number like you should have done a long time ago so we who spend our lives in education can stop living in uncertainty.

Don't tell me, Teach me

"Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."

- Benjamin Franklin, 1706-1790

Ever since I took a practice ACT test and made the unfortunate mistake of checking the send-my-personal-information-to-every-higher-education-institution-in-America-that-will-take (or buy, I'll never know)-it-box, I've been getting a myriad of letters and emails from colleges boasting their beautiful campuses, world class international programs, and always affordable aid packages. Today one particularly flashy mailing had this quote printed on the flap of the envelope.

This caught my eye because in three of my classes today, I listened as the teacher tried to explain some sort of a concept by talking from the front of the room. Sometimes we repeated vocabulary words back to the teacher, other times we worked through a problem as a class. Nevertheless it was fundamentally a lecture. 

In principle, everyone seems to agree that telling, teaching, and involving are not equal: people learn better by doing an activity demonstrating a concept as opposed to being fed information about it. But in practice, teaching continues to be synonymous to telling. Involving is a cute little bonus if there's time between chapter tests or after the AP exam.

Mr. Franklin recognized an education system that simply sits students down in front of a teacher who talks at them doesn't work. Since he spoke this over 200 years ago, we've invested a swath of time and money into educational research that, though I'm no expert, shows Mr. Franklin is right. We've attempted to reform schools based (sometimes) on this model. The world has changed in such a way that this quote is no longer a neat ideological quip, but a factually-based imperative for engaging students and giving school any hope of tangible relevancy to the world. Yet the lecture still dominates secondary and post-secondary education. Everyone knows it isn't effective, but it is one of the most enduring and pervasive traditions of school. What a disgrace to the students in this system and the revered man whom we all claim to revere and agree with.


I could end my post here, but that would be too angry and pessimistic. It's easy and fun to complain about school, especially when I can use it as an excuse to procrastinate on my homework. It's much more difficult to make it count for anything. So please, find a way to challenge this tradition and involve me in learning. Everyone has a part to play in long overdue change.

Newsflash: Twitter is NOT an inherent evil

In English class, we have spent the last two weeks writing our first full-blown research paper. Today while we were in the computer lab typing our rough drafts, I was tossing ideas around in my head about how to begin my introduction with a great attention-getter. I thought it would be neat to use a recent news event that could lead into my thesis or creatively highlight a major point that I would address later in the paper. So naturally I went straight to the best platform for generating and sharing news: Twitter.

While I was reading through Tweets about my topic (South Africa), a couple men in suits walked into the computer lab, presumably to observe our work. One of the men started in my direction, and in a brief moment of panic I scrambled to close the Twitter tab. It was obvious that the gentleman saw me do this, but he said nothing and instead turned to two of my classmates to ask them about their projects. I was annoyed at myself for not taking this opportunity to demonstrate the value of Twitter, so I threw together this note to explain what I was doing. I don't have a way to get it to him right now and I think anyone can "learn" from it, so I will post it here:

Sir,

On Wednesday afternoon, you visited my English class in the computer lab while we were writing research papers. When you first entered the room through the door next to my computer, I was on Twitter. Because I didn’t get the chance to discuss this with you, I want to explain why I was doing this.

My research paper is about the economic, social, and developmental challenges facing South Africa after Apartheid. As I began conducting my research, it became clear that this complex story is still being written. Because there is new information being generated about this issue everyday, it was difficult to sift through the multitude of news articles, policy briefs, and economic data to pick out those that were most important. But by utilizing a social media platform like Twitter that enables users to share the information on a given topic that they find most engaging, I found some up-to-the-minute articles and statistics that pertained to my topic. After I typed “South Africa” in the Twitter search bar, I found that the BRICS conference of emerging economies is being held in South Africa this week. I plan to use some of the issues discussed at this conference in my paper to demonstrate the role of South Africa in the context of the larger world economy and evaluate the effectiveness of some of the policies that South Africa has adopted in an effort to address the significant inequality that exists in the country.

I don't know what you thought if you did indeed see me using Twitter. However, in my experience teachers and administrators that see students using social media in the classroom immediately jump to the conclusion that they are not being productive. While in many instances this may be the case, I just wanted explain that I have been able to leverage it as a powerful research tool and use it to enhance my classroom experience.

Thanks!

Jack Hostager

After I wrote this, the utter ridiculousness of my response to this situation finally occurred to me. I shouldn't be scared about using social media at school. I shouldn't feel guilty about being viewed as "off task" or "not using time wisely" when conducting research with an information forum that happens to also be used for leisure. Heck, tweets are now citable sources in MLA and APA format. I shouldn't feel compelled to explain myself to the adults who caught me harnessing such an incredible communication (and evidently research) tool.

Ambition, Recess, & Reading Scores

Whenever an adult asks me about school and I tell them I'm in AP classes and get good grades, they often smile and nod, then ask how much time I spend studying or remind me to have fun once in a while. I think they are concerned that I don't have ambition beyond my education, that I'm not living life to the fullest if I devote all my time to school.

There were also many adults upset last week when the Iowa Department of Education posted an article on its homepage praising six Iowa school districts for high reading scores. These districts have done something impressive: they worked very hard and made changes to instruction and the organization of the school day that enabled students to achieve above average reading performance despite high levels of poverty. This should be cause for celebration, but instead there was outcry and anger because one of the schools had to drop, or I guess as I'm suppose to say, reduce recess time in order to devote more time to reading instruction. The defense?

@mcleod then we #standupforkids differently. You can put your priority on swing sets & these schools will focus on reading #iaedfuture
— Isaiah McGee (@isaiahmcgee) February 26, 2013

Responses like this seemed to do little except stir up more controversy because (rightly I think) most didn't believe those students would agree celebrating increased scores after their morning recess was cut is standing up for them. The DE only looked at one (though, as much as it pains me to say this, admittedly important) measure of success. It failed to consider that the process by which reading was improved may have sacrificed some of the joy of learning and an important part of a well-rounded education was lost as a result.

I think it's too bad that adults sometimes have to feel sorry for kids who are really good students or attain high test scores. Adults worry that if we focus too much on school (or our school focuses too much on one area), we are missing out on important life experiences. It really doesn't make sense: school is suppose to be preparing us for the real world. The responses that I get when I talk about school to family friends and the negative reception of this article shows that whether they know it or not, almost everyone realizes that education is too narrow: the knowledge and skills that students learn specifically in the classroom are not always enough for a student to find success later in life.

It's important to note that very few kids are getting the education that some adults fear. Many students participate in extra-curricular activities outside of forthright instruction. Student clubs, sports, music programs, even elective classes all enable students to have a wide variety of learning experiences and provide the benefits of a well rounded education. However, only a select few core classes are counted as real education by our testing framework, and articles like the one published by the DE lead me to believe that these classes are only going to be hyper-emphasized even more regardless of the expense to holistic development of the child.

Virtually everyone agrees in some capacity or another that school needs to focus more on subjects and other than math and reading and beyond that, make education individualized and well-rounded enough so there isn't a need to cringe when a child pours their heart and soul into working hard (or is conscripted to do so) at school. Education is more than an endless quest to boast the highest numbers. Only when everyone, especially the bodies governing our schools, acknowledges this can the natural ambition in all students be harnessed and used to change learning for the better.

Trust is Everything

Last night I joined the weekly #iaedchat in Twitter. The topic for the evening was student voice, and there were some amazing ideas about how to schools can listen to students and give them a stake in shaping their education.

But when I went back to school today, I drew a sharp distinction between what we talked about last night (thanks for the summary Mr. Becker!) and what I experienced as I walked through the halls of my school.  In one class, our teacher was absent for the day, so a substitute administered a test. Because the substitute said she "doesn't know you guys", she spent the first five minutes of class rearranging our seating so that we would be as far away from each other as possible and therefore less likely to cheat on the test. In another class, a student asked to borrow a calculator from a teacher. Normally in this situation, a teacher would ask for "collateral" (cell phone, ID, wallet, etc) in exchange for using school property. But some teachers share classrooms, and this student approached the teacher who happened to teaching in her science classroom at that particular point in the day. The teacher wasn't familiar with the student or this student's teacher's policy for loaning school property. So the teacher spent two minutes grilling the student about why she needed the calculator, how and when he was going to get the calculator back, and the consequences if he didn't. While I respect the intentions, practices like these are not making students feel that, as Clement Coulston said yesterday, they are "perceived, valued and welcomed as assets to the school community."

Individually, attitudes like this and procedures that control students make sense. They add safety and maintain a calm learning environment. It would be irresponsible to do away with many of them. However, when taken together they speak a clearly insidious message to students: WE DON'T TRUST YOU.

When students are treated like they can't be trusted, two things happen. First, schools lose the trust of students. Students are under the impression that they can complain all they want, but no one actually cares. This often leads students go resort to anger when schools do anything they don't like and fosters a culture of hostility towards teachers and even learning itself. Secondly (and perhaps more poignantly), students begin to lose trust in themselves. I see some students actually begin to believe that their interests and passions don't matter. They believe that they are only suppose to serve education, not the other way around, and learning and the rest of life can't be reconciled. I think it's safe to say that this kind of thinking leads to serious problems with engagement and discipline.

The benefits of student voice go both ways: Educators gain valuable, first-hand insight into how their practices and policies are working and how they can be improved, and students feel more valued and interested in their education. I think the first step to Raising Student Voice is beginning to put more trust in students. More than a policy shift it is, as Ms. Powell called it, an issue of the "climate of a building". Only after schools make this culture shift can we take student feedback seriously and make students feel like their voice is heard.

Who am I?

Ever since I began blogging, I have operated under the pseudo-name "Nicholas J". I have done this for two reasons. First of all, I don't want what I write to just reflect the environment at my school or particular individuals who attend or work there. I often have discussed certain events or experiences that I have had, but it is always to explain an underlying problem with the system. Secondly, my parents have been understandably and perhaps responsibly concerned about the consequences of challenging the institution that I admittedly need in order to succeed. They don't want me to "burn bridges" or offend anyone in my school with my words. They are worried that tying my real name to sometimes provocative ideas may adversely affect my future. So, I used a fake name and told almost no one in my real life about my blog, and vise-versa.

For a while this worked quite nicely. However, as I have created my own little niche in the blogosphere, started writing for IowaTransformED, and gotten to know others passionate about education through comments, Twitter, and yesterday at EdcampIowa, it has become clear that maintaining anonymity is both impossible and unnecessary. It's gotten to the point where it's creating more confusion than protection, and I've come to realize that I can do more if I'm not trying to maintain two separate identities.

So here goes: As some of you whom I met yesterday already know, my name is Jack Hostager. I am a sophomore at Hempstead High School in Dubuque, Iowa (Go Mustangs!). I have three younger siblings and two awesome parents. My favorite core subject in school is definitely science, but I love writing and reading when I get the chance. I also enjoy playing the cello in my school's orchestra, in a local youth symphony, & at church. I'm also an ardent listener of classical music (yes, feel free to laugh). I am an enthusiastic Boy Scout and, in spite of the hours I spend cooped up in my room typing away on my laptop, a lover of the outdoors. I am involved in a number of different clubs at my school, including the Octagon club and a math & science club known as SciMaTech. I am also a member of the Iowa Learning Council, a group of 17 students facilitated by the Iowa Department of Education who discusses and works towards solutions to education issues in the state. We have engaged Dr. Glass in some honest conversation and are completing work on a policy brief (more on that to come soon).

I'm going to change my Twitter name and Blogger profile name to reflect this. I trust that everyone will continue to think of my experiences and ideas in terms of the whole system. Please never let yourself blame my school or my teachers for the problems that I complain about. They're doing their best to deal with a broken system just like everyone else, except they are unfortunate enough to have someone like me who is quick to highlight it by sometimes using them.

Say what? Test scores ≠ Learning

Would we rather have Iowa students be powerful learners or nationally-ranked test-takers? bit.ly/11Hv6QH #edreform #iaedfuture

— Scott McLeod (@mcleod) February 14, 2013

I happened upon this Tweet of Dr. McLeod's that I couldn't help but elaborate on. Nationally, we have implemented a policy that mandates testing and ranks then punishes schools based on their results. In Iowa, we have (and still are) considering reforms and flashing waivers that have the same increase-scores goal as the law that they are aimed to get the state out of. The biggest obstacle to transforming education is that the people who have the power to allow or encourage change are surrounded by charts and graphs and numbers that claim to show which "evidence-based solutions" support "student achievement" or boost "student outcomes". No matter how it's told, virtsually every single bit of data that policymakers use to base decisions about education is tied to standardized test scores. This would be alright, except that multiple-choice questions can only go so far. Trust me, I've taken quite a few of them, and they are not capable of measuring the full breadth of true learning that students need in order to be successful. They are not representative of what I have experienced in at school and do not paint an accurate picture of what or how much I have learned. Standardized tests can only measure a small sliver of the skills and knowledge that I have accumulated after years in the classroom. By making this the basis of all our education decisions, we are adopting reforms that increase the traditional learning that everyone seems to decry because it no longer works in this world. So here's a newsflash for everyone that makes education decisions: test scores to not equate to authentic learning. In fact, increased test scores in some instances result in less learning because it means there was a greater focus on preparing for the test. Unless the tests are fundamentally redesigned, you can't have both, period. So what's it going to be? Are you going to do what makes you look good or work for a system that does what's best for students? Are we going to test the daylights out of me to get our bar a little bigger than everyone else's on some national assessment data graph, or are we going to move towards a system that rewards meaningful learning and develops critical, concerned, productive citizens?