"When teachers expect students to do well and show intellectual growth, they do; when teachers do not have such expectations, performance and growth are not so encouraged and may in fact be discouraged in a variety of ways."
James Rhem, executive editor for the online National Teaching and Learning Forum
There's something brewing in the air at school. Specifically, in and around the fifth grade classrooms.
There's talk ... from the assistant principal... a couple of teachers... even a group of students have mentioned it to me ... that there is a project in the brainstorming stage.
The project involves a group of at-risk fifth grade students who are doing poorly academically. They already seem to be heading down the track that leads to drop-out by high school. They are struggling to keep up with their grade level peers, but it's been difficult. A few will fail this year. They won't be retained, but they will know that they did not pass, and that's all a kid needs to know to get him started down the fast slide to Drop Outsville.
I cannot mention details, but I can say this: the school where I teach, if it were in New York City, would be considered an Inner City School. The city in which I teach is small, very small, by comparison to big city schools. However, compared to schools within the county, we fit the description of "inner" city. The population is mostly low-income, very high in second-language learners. A higher than normal proportion of students have some sort of exceptionality, either autism, mentally challenged, developmentally delayed, or learning disabled... and there are many, many students with ADHD, and a large number of behavioral-emotionally challenged students. Many parents do not work, cannot work, or are in between jobs. Many parents are single. Many did not graduate from high school themselves.
There are quite a few at-risk students here, and this is the group of students our assistant principal had targeted to be involved in the special project. I haven't met with them in the planning of it, but I should, because somehow, I will be involved. I was reminded of that today. It involves painting a mural in the new wing of the building. The art teacher is in charge of the endeavor, and the kids will be doing the painting.
When I heard of this, back in October, I made the comment, "I sure would like to paint this dreary building (referring to my classroom, which I love, btw)... and not just the inside!" I was kidding about actually painting the outside, because 1) I would have to paint it myself and 2) although I love to paint, I don't feel like I have much time to give to painting a building (or that I'm willing to donate to painting a building).
I don't mind painting the inside of my classroom, provided I could be guaranteed that the classroom will still be mine next year. I certainly don't relish the thought of painting the classroom, only to find myself relocated in August of the next school year. That can happen. I've seen it happen. A teacher paints her classroom one year, and booom!... the next year she is moved into a different classroom. A teacher knows when she makes the decision to paint her classroom that she could well be relocated and be put into another classroom with dreary walls, or plain white walls. But I'm willing to do it... take it on as a summer project, if I knew it would be mine in the fall.
But then there's the comment I made to my assistant principal about my mobile unit classroom being painted on the outside. He heard it, and took it to heart. "Really?" he asked me. "You know you can paint it. Go ahead."
I thought he was kidding. "I'm talking about the outside, not the inside. I'll paint the inside, but I'd need a lot of help to paint the outside."
"I've got the help... the kids will help. You know they're going to be painting the wall mural in the new wing... they're really pumped about that." He smiled as he thought of them working together as a team, creating something new that would be left behind as a legacy when they moved on to middle school in June.
"But the outside of the building?" I asked in disbelief. He had tobe kidding. We're talking about a school building, even if it is a trailer classroom, very visible from the road. My building is one of the first to be seen... highly visible. I could only imagine the bright colors and wild designs the kids would come up with. I was skeptical, me the artist. I do have a conservative gene or two.
"Sure," he chuckled. "I would have thought if you painted it, it would have peace signs and flowers all over it!" He laughed. I wondered to myself why he thought that.
I laughed too. I wouldn't even have put peace signs and flowers all over it, but now I knew he was kidding.
"Seriously," he added, "The kids are really excited about the mural. They're going to design it, and the art teacher is going to help them with the planning, and the colors, but they're going to paint it. It'll be an after school project in the spring. They can paint your building too. They'd love it! You design it, they can help paint it."
I paused to investigate his thoughts on this. He continued with his vision for the group of students who had behaviors that were interfering with their learning. He said he expected that, with their new found confidence, their sense of belonging to something bigger than themselves, and the pride they would have after completing the project, it would boost their self-image. Not only that, all the other kids would see what they had done, and their peers would admire what the students had done.
I nodded. I had no idea what these kids could do or would do, but what fifth grade student doesn't like to paint or draw? I said okay, let me know when you are ready to start the planning.
That conversation took place last fall. Today it was mentioned in passing again. I just told him to let me know what he wants me to do.
The truth is, I will go along with it. I agree with his vision and his philosophy. If you expect a kid to do a great job, he will live up to it. Likewise, if you expect little from him, that's exactly what you will get. It's called the Pygmalion Effect, or the self-fulfilling prophecy.
So, I'm going to tote my camera to school tomorrow, take pictures of the building from all four sides... to be my before shots. And if.... I should say when.... we really do follow-up with the vision in the head of my assistant principal, I will have some great shots to share with you by summer.
If for some reason, the plan does not materialize, I will definitely be making plans to paint the inside of my classroom. With the assurance that I will be there in that same room again next year, of course. That will come straight from our principal's mouth before I start painting.
And if that doesn't happen, I will at least have pictures of the mural the students are going to paint this spring....
Yes, I think I should get my hands in on that project. This is what school is all about. Learning. Not testing.
(uh oh, I feel a mild rant coming on...)
IMO, NCLB has been taking all the fun out of learning. Testing has become the focus in our schools over the past five years. Giving tests, preparing for tests, taking tests, practice taking tests, and talking about the test results afterward.
Testing is only one way to measure learning, but it is not the learning itself. Test scores do not build character, do not create citizenship, do not encourage compassion within the hearts of children. Test scores don't even tell you who the good or the poor teachers are. You give tests to a school with a majority of second language learners and expect them to grow at the same rate as the rest of the American population... then penalize the school because they didn't make adequate growth... itjust doesn't make sense. The ones suffering from the penalty are ultimately the children. And many highly qualified teachers.
You can test the kids until multiple choice answers drip from their noses, but you can't make us stop thinking of ways to help put the creativity back into our classrooms!
I'm going down fighting with a paintbrush and a palette of colors!
Right after I teach reading, writing, and math <grin>.
