Teaching the Students in Front of Us

Essay 4.1

How to Teach Introverted Students

April 12, 2016 (earlier version) · Edutopia

Earlier version at Edutopia · Read archived article · Source details

It’s 2005. I’m a junior at Brandeis University attending “Modfest,” a loud, crowded and sweaty party organized by student events. I’ve been socializing for two hours, and I want to go home.

It’s not that I don’t like being around people. I do. I just feel smothered. As I leave early, I walk by my roommate, who urges me to stay. I continue walking, and I fall asleep that night thinking that there’s something wrong with me.

Six years later, my mood changes upon reading Susan Cain’s Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. It’s the most helpful book I’ve ever read, and also one of the best researched.

“Introverts…may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas,” Cain writes. “They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussion.”

Cain has me pegged to a T, and I feel a great sense of relief and validation. I’m an introvert, a perfectly normal person living in a world obsessed with championing extroverted characteristics: dominance, assertiveness, spontaneity and loudness.

I am thrilled to speak with Cain, who says that of all the audiences she’s happy to reach, she’s most passionate about students.

“I hear too many stories of children who are given the message by very well-meaning teachers that there’s something wrong with the way they are,” Cain says. “I think well-meaning teachers see their role as being to turn introverts into extroverts. We really need to understand that an introvert is a totally normal personality type.”

I wonder about teachers who place a big emphasis on class discussion, and if this unfairly discriminates against introverted students. I’m equally concerned about whether teachers are doing right by encouraging these kids to “come out of their shells.”

“The most recent study found that half the population are introverts. Other studies have said a third of the population,” Cain says. “That’s one out of every two or three students. They don’t need to be changed, these students. They do need to be cultivated so that they make the most of their natural talents, so they learn the skills that they need to flourish in extroverted schools and workplaces. But that’s different from changing who they are.”

Cain tells me that introverted children often have an easier time identifying their interests, and that they become extremely passionate about pursuing one or two subjects. As I hear Cain talk, it’s like she’s reading my mind. With teaching, running and blogging, my introverted personality enhances my work ethic and productivity.

In an earlier article, I wrote about school culture’s unhealthy insistence upon instilling in young people leadership qualities. Before I even have a chance to ask Cain for her take, she’s already addressing the issue.

“One of the mistakes that I’ve seen in education as I toured the country and sat in on classrooms, I noticed that leadership has become a real buzzword,” Cain says. “There’s an expectation that everybody should be a leader. It’s kind of like, ‘Well, why? Why does everyone have to be a leader, exactly?’ I don’t think we’re designed that way. I think if you look at many of the great thought leaders and political leaders in history, they were not the ones who were leaders in the classroom.”

Cain is quick to provide an example.

“Gandhi would run home from school every day as soon as class was over because he didn’t want to have to talk to the other students,” Cain says. “He was very shy and very reserved. He came to leadership out of a sense of passion for his causes, not out of being a ‘natural leader,’ whatever that is.”

I can already hear the naysayers, insisting that fostering leadership potential provides the best possible avenue for success. To that, I say hogwash — and Cain agrees.

“Why can’t [students] be really creative or really thoughtful or really kind?” Cain says. “Or any number of other attributes that serve the greater good. It seems like a collective lunacy we’ve bought into, that everybody has to be a leader. Really, if everybody was a leader, we would get nowhere.”

I ask Cain how teachers can better reach introverted students. It’s important to acknowledge that this involves more work, Cain tells me.

“With the extroverts, they’re raising their hands,” Cain says. “They’re telling you what they know, what they don’t know. They’re giving you a very fun back-and-forth. It’s just easier. An introverted student is sitting in the class. Their face might seem impassive, so you have no idea. Are they engaged or are they not?”

Two years ago, I stopped grading students on class participation. Any type of assessment is subjective, but this feels especially so. I notice no clear correlation between how much an individual speaks, including the quality of what he or she says, and performance in all other aspects of the course.

“Why is engagement measured only through how often do you raise your hand?” Cain says. “There’s a lot of different ways of being engaged with material or participating in a classroom. This is especially true now in the age of technology and social media. I know teachers are beginning to experiment with bringing social media into the classroom. What I’m hearing is that if you generate a class discussion of kids that’s happening online that the quieter kids will often participate just as much when it’s online as the more vocal kids.”

I think back to my conversations with Curtis J. Bonk, Professor of Instructional Systems Technology at Indiana University. Bonk is also author of one of my favorite books about learning, The World is Open: How Web Technology Is Revolutionizing Education. I wish that he and Cain would work on a project together.

“If you are introverted in a regular classroom setting, online environments allow you to feel comfortable and at home,” Bonk tells me. “You are in a safe harbor. You can tinker with your ideas. You can search the Internet to find a visual cue to enhance what you’re trying to show.”

I’m eager to hear from Cain about how educators can more effectively teach and assess introverts.

“I think it is a matter of finding one-on-one time with those students, figuring out what are the areas that they’re really interested in and maybe calling on them or asking them to participate around those areas. Giving them extra assignments around their areas of passion.”

I have taught many introverts, and many fear that college admissions offices will frown upon a perceived lack of traditional extracurricular activities. Cain and I discuss whether this fear is justified.

“It feels like if you’re not the editor of the paper, president of the student body, or captain of the soccer team then nothing else counts because that’s what high school culture tells you,” Cain says. “But that’s not actually really true from a college admissions point of view. They might actually be more interested in the kid who is excelling in less common activities. It makes you seem more distinct and more individual.”

Before we part ways, I ask Cain to provide one final piece of advice for introverted students trying to succeed in high school.

“Find your niche,” she says. “Find the thing you really love to do. Find the people you really love to be with and don’t worry so much about the other stuff.”

Essay 4.2

A Tale of Two Teachers

Fall 2013 (original publication) · Independent Teacher (NAIS)

Original publication at Independent Teacher (NAIS) · Read archived article · Source details

Coauthored with Preston R. Michelson

The role of “teacher” is changing. The best teachers embrace this development and don’t feel threatened by students who may know more than they do. Instead, they revel in a changing dynamic, in which students and teachers learn together to improve their collective understanding and mastery of relevant subjects and skills.

David teaches journalism at Palmer Trinity School in Palmetto Bay, Florida. In spring 2011, he began conferring with then-junior Preston, a strong student and local sports columnist, about how to improve campus media. Over a two-year period, their relationship came to exemplify what is possible when students and teachers learn together, beyond the traditional “sage-on-the-stage” dynamic.

Pioneering together

In early 2012, Palmer Trinity School was approached by PlayOn! Sports to partner in its live broadcasting venture. At a growing number of schools, students use PlayOn! Sports to cover competitions, ceremonies, graduations, interviews, and special events. All that’s needed is reliable Internet access, a digital camcorder, a laptop, and a video-capture cord.

Though Preston wasn’t yet enrolled in David’s journalism class, David and Preston had worked as a team to get PlayOn! Sports up and running. Since his sophomore year, Preston had served as the public address announcer for all varsity sporting events. In the second semester of his junior year, he started writing bimonthly sports columns for The Pinecrest Tribune, a community newspaper. He also published his own blog, Michelson’s Musings, and he had a strong idea that he wanted to pursue journalism as a career.

“I had done public address announcing, but I hadn’t done much in the way of live play-by-play,” Preston says. “It was going to be difficult and come with its fair share of live troubleshooting, but I was up for it. I was very eager to get more students involved in the program.”

David also wanted a medium for students to express themselves and build confidence. “To survive in any modern newsroom, a journalist needs to be able to do absolutely everything,” David says. With respect to basic broadcasting skills, PlayOn! Sports provided interested students with an opportunity to learn “absolutely everything.” It needed a cameraman, a producer, a graphics designer, and an announcer or two. And some of those roles could be consolidated. The job would develop crucial skills like teamwork, public speaking, and creativity. But despite PlayOn! Sports’s ease of use, it required a small but dedicated team. At a small school like Palmer Trinity, with 650 students in grades 6–12, this proved challenging.

“We wanted to show students and the wider community what was possible with this great technology,” Preston says. “If we could get the program operating smoothly and reliably, and show how easy and fun it was to broadcast, we felt confident that students would show interest.” Preston spent long hours in David’s classroom, mastering the ins and outs of the program.

“Preston seemed to pick it up quickly. It was right in his wheelhouse, and, for whatever reason, I couldn’t seem to get it,” David says. “It could have even been that I became uncomfortable with the fact that he could master it so quickly and I was still trying to understand the basics. The roles were reversed.”

In mid-April, the two traveled to Coral Shores High School in Tavernier, Florida, for the inaugural live remote broadcast — a girls’ lacrosse district-final game. “The public address announcer, the scoreboard operator — they had never seen anything like it: a high school streaming their game over the Internet,” Preston says. By year’s end, more students had expressed interest in joining journalism to learn how to broadcast events.

Learning together

David loved teaching, but he felt a sense of relief as summer approached. It had been a busy year for him and his journalism class. As part of the school’s efforts to go green and to teach 21st-century skills, students had scrapped the print edition of The Falconer, the campus newspaper, in favor of an all-online format. David tried his best to learn basic code and how to operate Squarespace, the online website builder that powers The Falconer. But he struggled with learning enough about special programming to teach how to make the site user-friendly, and its clunky design left much to be desired.

“Much of the content was a lot better than how the site looked,” David says. “I also had a difficult time learning and introducing the class to other storytelling tools, especially with how to produce a professional news broadcast. I didn’t know enough, and I felt overwhelmed.”

He spent his vacation reading books and watching YouTube videos, mostly geared to how to do and teach successful 21st-century journalism. David’s first order of business called for mastering advanced video editing software, and producing a virtual newsroom using a newly purchased green screen. He explored various options before stumbling upon HitFilm, an easy-to-use program. It was perfect for creating a professional-looking newsroom, he thought.

From there, David learned about Audacity, a free but powerful sound-editing program. He really wanted his students to create quality podcasts. He also improved his photo editing abilities to teach his photographers those essential skills. But despite all that he had learned, there remained much he didn’t know. He felt inadequate, as if he couldn’t possibly master everything before the start of another new school year.

Soon enough, David’s outlook began to change. That fall, Preston would join the newsroom. They had worked well together with PlayOn! Sports, and David felt confident that this collaboration would only translate to more success now that Preston was an official member of The Falconer team.

Indeed, as the new academic year kicked off, Preston provided significant vision, passion, and technological expertise. For the first time in his career, David really started to question the traditional role of teacher.

“I learned to be comfortable knowing that I didn’t have to know everything,” David says. “Preston understood how to use many emerging technologies much better than I. In fact, his knowledge would often surpass mine of various tools, and he would then take the time to teach me.” David leaned on Preston, who enjoyed teaching his classmates.

“Sometimes, David was busy with various newsroom matters and he felt confident letting me introduce new ideas to the class,” Preston says. “Often after class, we would have discussions about students and who needed more practice or one-on-one attention.” Preston felt up to the task. “I had spent the summer using Audacity, and I didn’t even know David was learning it at the same time. I was glad to see that he had a basic knowledge, and I was overjoyed to share some of the intricacies of the program,” Preston says.

Preston liked that the class also used iMovie for video editing. But he noticed that students weren’t making effective use of transitions, music, and voice overlay. “There were some truly basic corrections that I was able to make, and those increased the quality of the production significantly.” Preston worked with David to instruct students, and the newsroom improved on all fronts. The community responded favorably, requesting more coverage.

Creating together

David and Preston then redirected their attention to The Falconer’s redesign. They agreed that the site lacked appeal that made it exciting for users to post and access content. “Students want to post on something that looks cool. Something that’s different. The former iteration of The Falconer wasn’t any of those things. We needed a change,” Preston says. David and Preston developed the basic look and feel of the new website, but they soon discovered that even as a team, they lacked the technical knowledge to continue. They contacted a professional website designer, who built the site with their input.

“We spent long hours with the designer, trying to create a website with the functionality and design of USA Today, with attention-grabbing colors, embeddable videos, and interactive content,” David says.

On the day of the relaunch, David and Preston hit a snag. They had accidentally deleted some code, resulting in huge, empty white space on the homepage, and the school’s Internet was down. They couldn’t stand going home without a solution.

When school ended, Preston left to use the Internet at a nearby Starbucks. He sat down, took out his laptop, and got right to work. No sooner had he taken his first sip of coffee than he saw David rush in, frantically trying to find a seat. They looked at each other, laughed at the situation, and got right to work.

“I couldn’t believe that we both had the same idea of going to Starbucks, and at almost the same exact time,” Preston says. “We were in this together, and nothing could stop us from finding a solution.” Preston eventually found a copy of the deleted code in an old e-mail, and The Falconer was back in action.

Once the new Falconer launched, site traffic more than doubled — as did the enrollment in David’s second-semester journalism class. “I was thrilled to have 21 students in the class, but I was even happier that I could rely on Preston, whom I began to regard more as a co-teacher and co-learner than a student,” David says. “We worked together, equally hard, to help a growing newsroom produce quality content each day.” Student journalists could now produce that higher quality content and cover more stories.

In late January, Preston directed live student coverage of Martin Luther King III’s campus visit. Afterward, Preston used the virtual newsroom setup to interview the famous civil rights activist’s son. That night, local news agencies used The Falconer’s coverage in their own broadcasts.

“If I had interviewed Mr. King a year prior, I would have been especially nervous,” Preston says. “But I had already interviewed different people in David’s journalism class. In the beginning, we would work together to form questions and rehearse. Then I developed greater confidence to further hone my skills.”

As David and Preston’s collective understanding and passion for online media evolved, so too did their yearning to follow their own journalistic pursuits.

Inspiring each other

“I got a chance to experience the nitty-gritty of being a journalist while existing in a comfortable learning environment. I felt that it was acceptable to make mistakes — which I did,” Preston says. “David and I were able to make learning through failure an invaluable component of our growth.”

Preston used his experience working with David to develop himself as a journalist. He took comfort in the fact that the experience prepared him well for the rigorous curriculum at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism, where he is now enrolled.

“The green-screen technology, the photo editing, the voice-over work — it made me a stronger worker. And instead of being taught the inner workings, David and I were able to learn them together. I have no doubt that that made my information retention stronger and more lasting,” Preston says.

For his part, David rekindled his own passion for journalism. In college, he had been a reporter for The Justice, the student paper of Brandeis University. He eventually became the news editor there, before stringing for The Boston Globe’s metro section.

David drew new inspiration from Preston, and after six long years, he finally decided to return to reporting. This time, though, David decided to forgo objective storytelling, and instead express his thoughts on the current state of education. He launched the blog, SpinEdu, featuring his take on emerging teaching and learning trends for the 21st century.

“Without Preston’s support and encouragement, I would never have started SpinEdu,” David says. “He inspired me to adapt my skills as an old-school news reporter to those of a passionate education blogger. I’ve become a much better teacher and learner, and I’ve had the chance to interview so many remarkable individuals.”

Reflecting together

Preston and David continue to support one another’s personal endeavors. Now that Preston has graduated, they consider themselves close colleagues. As a final project together before Preston moved on to college, they wanted to reflect on their co-learning experience. David says, “I will miss Preston’s presence in the newsroom, but I know that he will accomplish great things.”

Preston is encouraged to know that in all likelihood, this won’t mark the last time that he and David learn from one another. “The best students and teachers know that they don’t know everything. If that is realized, then the future of education is truly bright,” Preston says.

Essay 4.3

When Lessons Are Harmful, Insensitive

Original date unconfirmed · July 10, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

Read archived article · Source details

Editorial date note: This essay predates Elie Wiesel’s death on July 2, 2016; present-tense references reflect the time of writing.

It’s Saturday and after a relaxing morning of sleeping in, I check my news feeds.

A New York Times headline puts me over the edge, undoing whatever good ten hours of sleep did for me: “Students Told to Take Viewpoints of Nazis.” An unidentified 10th-grade English teacher at Albany High School in Albany, New York, asked students to write a “persuasive essay” to argue why Jews are evil.

I discover that Scott Waldman of Albany’s Times Union broke the story, “School Apologizes for ‘Nazi’ writing assignment.”

“Students were asked to watch and read Nazi propaganda, then pretend their teacher was a Nazi government official who needed to be convinced of their loyalty,” Waldman writes. “In five paragraphs, they were required to prove that Jews were the source of Germany’s problems.”

I think back to my time as a history student at Brandeis University, where I studied under Prof. Antony Polonsky.

Though I’m sure Polonsky feels similarly, I fear that he would be disappointed with my initial reaction. I am justified in my rage, but I am letting this emotion cloud my better judgment. Bruce Musgrave, my editor, tells me something similar when he returns a rough draft of this article. I need to clearly express why this assignment promotes antisemitism, and why it’s wholly unacceptable and offensive. I reach out to Polonsky for his take:

“There was a similar controversy in England when in one of the public examinations students were asked to explain why [antisemites] hated Jews,” Polonsky writes to me in an e-mail exchange. “The problem is drawing a line between understanding ethnic and religious hatreds and justifying them. I think in this case the line was crossed.”

I always strive to find the best in people (another lesson from my grandmother, Joan), and I concede that in all likelihood, the Albany High School teacher had no malicious intent.

The teacher had even planned for the class to read Night by Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, whom I’ve had the honor of hearing speak on several occasions. All the same, as Polonsky points out, a line was crossed, and any well-intentioned meaning gets tossed aside — especially when a teacher forces students to justify the destruction of 6 million Jews.

I also worry that such an assignment stops just shy of promoting Holocaust denial — a difficult problem that still plagues America — by asking students to argue that “Jews are evil and the source of our problems.”

At Brandeis, I remember reading Prof. Deborah Lipstadt’s Denying the Holocaust. I dust off my worn copy and find a highlighted passage:

The attempt to deny the Holocaust enlists a basic strategy of distortion. Truth is mixed with absolute lies, confusing readers who are unfamiliar with the tactics of the deniers. Half-truths and story segments, which conveniently avoid critical information, leave the listener with a distorted impression of what really happened. The abundance of documents and testimonies that confirm the Holocaust are dismissed as contrived, coerced, or forgeries and falsehoods.

If students ended up doing this assignment, I imagine that many of them would find Web pages dedicated to this line of thinking, needed to inform any analysis that their teacher expects of them.

Even if the Albany High School teacher harbors no antisemitic feelings, as I would like to believe, I am equally upset by the ignorance behind the assignment. As a college junior, I remember attending an event at Boston University, where Wiesel teaches. I don’t remember Wiesel’s exact words, but I do recall his talking about ignorance and persistent antisemitism.

I surf the Web and stumble upon a 2011 story by journalist Jill Garbi in the New Jersey Jewish News, “Elie Wiesel warns about persistence of anti-Semitism.” I am reminded that Wiesel delivered a similar message when I heard him speak, more than five years ago:

“We live in a democracy in America. Our voices can be heard,” he said. “Even if we cannot cure hatred universally, we can make people aware.”

I spent five years of my life studying Polish history, the Holocaust and other atrocities throughout the ages — often resulting in nightmares that would cause me to wake in a cold sweat.

I wholeheartedly support Wiesel’s stance, but for me, becoming truly aware of the nature of raw hatred took a huge emotional toll. In fact, it’s a main reason why I didn’t want to pursue a doctorate.

I wonder to what extent I should blame the Albany High School teacher, who, in all likelihood, lacked anything close to my privileged education.

Of course, this teacher is an adult, and “I didn’t know” is no excuse for wrongdoing. But I do worry how difficult it seems to effectively educate, or simply raise the awareness of certain individuals on sensitive topics.

Upon learning of this story, I first felt intense anger that this unknown Albany High School teacher is still unknown. But after dinner last night with Fred Truby, a fellow teacher and one of my closest friends, I concede a logical explanation for such well-guarded anonymity.

At the time, Florida Atlantic University Professor Deandre Poole made national headlines after he had students partake in a controversial assignment. I read Sun Sentinel reporter Scott Travis’s piece, “FAU puts ‘stomp Jesus’ instructor on leave.”

“During a March 4 class on the Davie campus, Poole asked students to write Jesus on a sheet of paper, throw it on the floor and then step on it,” Travis writes. “It was part of a lesson on the impact of words included in the instructor’s guide of the class textbook, written by a professor at St. Norbert College in Wisconsin.”

Travis also reports how Poole, “who is black, has had death threats and racially charged messages left on his voice mail and in his email.”

I hold immense disrespect for the Albany High School teacher. Even still, in light of this FAU incident, I would never want to harm this person or put the teacher in harm’s way.

I want teachers to push the envelope, so to speak, and to engage students in worthwhile discussion. But at the same time, academic freedom is not a free ticket for race baiting. In trying to educate young people about delicate matters, some teachers cross the line. I’m not sure how to solve this problem, or even if it can be completely solved.

All the same, educators should promote understanding, not misunderstanding. On that score, these teachers failed.

Essay 4.4

Responding to Trump’s Language in the Classroom

Original date unconfirmed · August 29, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

Related version at HuffPost · Read archived article · Source details

Editorial date note: This essay predates Gordon S. Wood’s death on June 7, 2026; present-tense references reflect the time of writing.

As a high school history teacher, I had always felt strongly about remaining politically neutral.

For the following reasons, I justified my stance to my students.

1. Indoctrination. I believe that much of the nation automatically identifies teachers as liberals. While there might be some truth to this stereotype, as with all stereotypes, there are exceptions. Moreover, a teacher who may hold liberal sentiments is not necessarily out to recruit new party members. That is ludicrous thinking, but to avoid the headache of defending against accusations, I have refrained from sharing my personal views.

2. Perceived bias. Each year, I’m aware that many new students assume I lean left, an impression for which they have no evidence, other than that I am a teacher in Massachusetts, a liberal state. Still, I am unwilling to provide ammunition for those of any political affiliation, who, unhappy with how I assess academic work, might point to my political views rather than a student’s struggles as the reason for a lower-than-expected grade.

3. Independence of thought. A more compelling rationale for retaining the appearance of political neutrality is my larger concern that outing myself politically would tempt students to agree with me. I am fully aware that as a high school humanities teacher, I have significant influence over how students think and feel about anything under the sun. I am not in this business to foster like-minded young people.

But we’ve never had somebody quite like Donald Trump in the Oval Office, who makes frequent use of racist, sexist, and xenophobic language. With his election, I came to the conclusion that I had a duty to speak out against his behavior, or else risk students taking my silence to mean apathy or support. Unless I expressed my own stance clearly and firmly, I risked creating a gap between me and my students, who, understandably, wouldn’t feel as safe or supported in the learning environment — or having me as their teacher.

Curious for his take, I reached out to Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Gordon Wood, also affectionately known as the dean of American historians.

“I believe that teachers should not reveal their political leanings no matter how much the students want to know,” Wood told me in an email exchange. “They want to know a lot of things about a teacher (their love life, their eating habits, etc.), but we don’t indulge their desires. I think we can talk about the early Republic without the students knowing what our political views of the present are. It’s a challenge, I know, but I believe it is essential that they see their teacher as above the current political divisions.”

Wood isn’t wrong, but after reflecting on his words and my own practices, I don’t know if he is entirely correct either.

I gained valuable insight from reading an award-winning book, The Political Classroom: Evidence and Ethics in Democratic Education by academic researchers Diana E. Hess and Paula McAvoy. In the introduction, they touch upon one of my biggest concerns: “Many teachers choose to avoid using political deliberations and discussions with students, often because they are unsure about how to negotiate accompanying pedagogical challenges. Further deterring teachers is the polarized climate outside schools. Fear of parental and public backlash leads some teachers to retreat to lectures and textbooks.”

While I embrace students’ engaging in political deliberation, I often fear the possibility of backlash from what is or isn’t said in my classroom. For her advice, I recently spoke with McAvoy, a professor of social studies education at North Carolina State University. I didn’t pull any punches, immediately asking if I am justified in feeling rattled about doing the right thing, and what, in our political climate, “the right thing” even means.

McAvoy said that teachers have competing and often shifting responsibilities, depending on the students in front of us. Moreover, she said, teachers have an obligation to prepare students for democracy, and how to engage in the deliberative process. At the same time, teachers are also constantly thinking about following school policy, which may or may not permit them to express differing views, while weighing that against their beliefs of what constitutes effective teaching.

“To teach is to sit between these competing responsibilities,” McAvoy told me. “What teachers are constantly doing is trying to think about what’s the best choice in any given situation. Sometimes, it’s, ‘Okay, I have to follow policy because that’s the policy.’ Sometimes, it’s ‘No, there’s room here for judgment, and I’m going to go this way.’ This is just the challenge of teaching.”

McAvoy’s words provide equal comfort for those who decide to share or conceal their political leanings, but I still worry. Right now, feelings about politics are so heightened that everything that comes out of my mouth might be perceived as partisan or unfair. I told McAvoy about my frustration, and once again, I was soothed by her response.

McAvoy says, “It’s one thing for a student to say to a teacher, ‘What do you think of Trump?’ or ‘Did you vote for Trump?’ That’s very different than a teacher’s standing before a class, without invitation, saying, ‘I can’t believe what this guy just did yesterday.’ I don’t think teachers are on solid ground very often if they’re standing in front of the room and just being part of the partisan rhetoric.”

Still, a teacher sharing their political views in class is a tightrope to walk. As Joel Sohn, Director of Community and Equity at Episcopal High School in Alexandria, Virginia, recently wrote me, good judgment extends far beyond what teachers say in the classroom.

“If we acknowledge that bias exists within our own teachings, then can any classroom ever truly be apolitical? Depending on what language I use, what texts I select, or what topics I bring up in the classroom, each one of my choices stems from a political ideology,” he writes.

Sohn shares his political beliefs with his students, but always in the context of the learning environment he has fostered, one in which students challenge and explore each other’s beliefs, while searching for a greater understanding of truth and underlying issues. Sohn tells me that he wouldn’t simply come out and urge students to share his convictions. “Absolutely not,” he makes clear to me. But he sees value in the open exchange of opinions, including affording sufficient time for productive dialogue and research about why individuals hold distinct beliefs. According to Sohn, this has gone a long way toward making his students more politically aware, and more invested in their own learning.

In line with Sohn’s philosophy, McAvoy’s research reveals that most students want to know where their teachers stand politically. But what’s most important, she told me, is that students know that teachers care about them: “Teachers need to be on the side of their students, and I don’t mean political side. I mean that it’s clear to students that I’m here. I take my role as a teacher seriously, and I care about your growth and development,” she said.

McAvoy’s research also reduces my fear that if I did share my political views, students would feel pressured into echoing my opinion for a higher grade. Mostly, McAvoy said, students who report that they hear their teacher’s views also say that the instructor expresses those views responsibly, without alienating or penalizing students who disagree.

After speaking with McAvoy, I feel more confident about how to hold political discussions in the classroom, while doing my best to avoid partisan, polarized behavior in the classroom.

“We can’t make the world seem as simplified as the parties do,” she tells me. “High-level academic talk is what we’re going for.”

That’s something I hope all teachers, regardless of political affiliation, can agree on.

Essay 4.5

Why Student Tracking Is Just Plain Wrong

Original date unconfirmed · July 1, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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After two years at another independent school, I returned as a junior to Brimmer and May, where I had spent the majority of my lower and middle school career. I looked forward to reuniting with my friends, but scheduling differences required that I take more advanced courses.

As a sophomore, I had taken non-honors American History and American literature, courses Brimmer and May requires of its juniors. If I wanted to return, I had to take AP English Literature and Modern United States History, both senior electives with talented but demanding teachers. Even as the only junior enrolled in them, I would receive no special treatment.

Needless to say, at the time, I lacked faith in my academic abilities. I couldn’t write very well, and I couldn’t imagine being able to keep up with academic juggernauts. Having taken only non-honors courses, I thought that I had a fixed potential — that no matter how hard I tried or how much I wanted it, I would never get to be one of the “smart kids.”

Teachers posing as soothsayers had decided the limits of my future potential, and I dared not question them.

Once the new academic year arrived, my teachers stayed true to their word. They didn’t offer special treatment, but they did do something much more beneficial — they pushed me to my limits every day. These magnificent professionals demonstrated an infectious love of learning, encouraging me not only to master a deeper level of proficiency for my own intellectual benefit, but also to prove to myself that labels like “honors,” “regular” or “college-preparatory” are good for nothing.

I also benefited greatly from my classmates, whom I admired deeply. Never before had I engaged with such curious and respectful kids, who cared as deeply for their own success as I did for my own. I am grateful for their support, and while time and distance have separated most of us, I am forever in their debt for helping direct my path. My great distaste for labels aside, I eventually earned high honors that year.

Here are my top-five reasons why tracking students by ability does more harm than good.

1. Tracking instills psychologically damaging labels

Schools do students no favors by labeling courses. Before returning to Brimmer and May, I truly believed that I had below-average potential. Why else would I be placed in all non-honors courses? Worse still, for a time, I believed all the falsehoods about what I could and couldn’t do in the classroom and beyond. I cringe upon thinking of the innumerable driven, capable, and curious students taking courses that don’t ask or expect them to reach beyond a certain, preconceived barrier. I also feel for students in honors courses, who have a different burden of always being expected to excel at whatever they pursue.

2. Tracking creates unhealthy competition

Tracking fosters a culture of condescension and social stratification, one in which “smart kids” can justify a sense of superiority over their non-honors counterparts. As a freshman and sophomore, on several occasions, I recall being made fun of for my supposed lack of intelligence — and for “dogging it” by taking only easy classes. I also fear that tracking encourages cheating by students wishing to move up to and remain in more advanced courses. Unfortunately, some parents also attribute their status to the success of their child, and often feel embarrassed without a “my-child-is-an-honors-student” bumper sticker. These children are then encouraged to appease their parents, even by dishonorable means.

3. Tracking fails to acknowledge true and varied intelligences

I question how my teachers designated me as “non-honors,” given my tremendous future academic success. In many cases, a teacher who instructs freshman English, for example, decides what students will take honors or non-honors history for the following year. But what if an English teacher is just plain bad at her job, and even after a year, she can’t accurately assess a student’s growth or potential? Likewise, what if a science teacher failed to deliver effective, varied instruction and different assignments? In such a case, it would be impossible to accurately place most teens.

4. Tracking rewards good behavior, not academic ability

I fear that sometimes teachers connect honors recommendations with good behavior, not academic ability. True, it’s easier and often more enjoyable to instruct students who possess both positive characteristics, but a crucial distinction exists. Moreover, perhaps misbehaving students, however defined, are misbehaving more for reasons having to do with lazy, ineffective instruction than any true character flaw in the student. As a sophomore, I had my share of bad teachers, whose flagrant apathy drove me to lose focus, daydream, and goof off.

5. Tracking prevents students from learning

Students, just like athletes, improve best and most easily when training with more advanced partners. At Brimmer and May, I learned as much from my peers as I did from my teachers. These remarkably insightful students supported my ideas, asked for my opinions, and when appropriate, respectfully criticized my contributions. I wanted to show my older and more academically advanced peers that I respected them, and I conveyed this by coming to class each day prepared to engage in scholarly debate. By not sharing my unique understanding, I thought, I would deprive others of my unique interpretation, as well as fail to contribute to the learning process.

Exception

Subjects with more inherently distinct levels, like math and foreign language, ought to consider making certain exceptions to the no-tracking principle. A student ready for calculus, for instance, won’t benefit by being placed with others still mastering trigonometry, and vice versa. Still, my view holds that all classes should shed the “honors” distinction.

Takeaway message

I strongly encourage all schools to do away with tracking, which has the potential to inflict psychological damage on otherwise smart, capable, and innovative students. Instead, let students of all abilities and intelligences benefit from each other by placing them in the same classroom.

Essay 4.6

How to Help Increasingly Stressed-Out Students

June 5, 2018 (original version) · PBS NewsHour

Original version at PBS NewsHour · Read archived article · Source details

Once during an exam on the Civil War, one of my 11th graders burst into tears, fearful of what a low grade on the test might do to her future. “I’ll never get into college now,” she told me, as I tried to console her. “I might as well give up now. What’s the point?”

Another time, when presented with irrefutable proof of her having lifted portions of her research paper, an otherwise strong student started crying hysterically: “I know it was really, really wrong, but this anxiety I feel to be perfect, it’s overriding my normal behavior and better judgment.” She told me that in an attempt to balance her AP classes, sports and social life, she had become stressed and saw no other way to earn a good grade.

I’ve heard countless similar stories from colleagues who teach at all types of schools. Students push themselves daily to unhealthy and unsustainable limits, often to get ahead, seek approval or both.

This behavior is having a harmful impact on student stress, depression and anxiety — including for those already enrolled in top colleges and universities. In extreme cases, as I learned from watching a recent PBS NewsHour segment about students who attend MIT, this may lead to thoughts or actions of self-harm.

All of us feel sympathy for students who experience anguish and who make poor decisions. I don’t understand all the underlying causes of complex and difficult emotions, but I have done my best to reach out to experts for ways to help my students learn from setbacks and then move on.

1. Give frequent low-stakes assessments

Failure on big tests suggests to anxious students that growth is unattainable, and that it’s easier to give up. To combat that thinking, I favor frequent low-stakes assessments, where a few bad performances don’t devastate an individual’s overall grade.

A few years ago, I spoke with Mark A. McDaniel, co-author of “Make it Stick: The Science of Successful Learning,” and co-director of the Center for Integrative Research on Cognition, Learning, and Education (CIRCLE) at Washington University in St. Louis. McDaniel told me that frequent low-stakes assessments signal to anxious, grade-worried students that, “we’re not testing, we’re helping you learn.”

It’s also important to remember that just like adults, who sometimes experience bad days in the so-called “real world,” a student who has a headache, who is hurting from the loss of a friend or loved one, or is dealing with any other outside struggle, might not perform at optimum levels during an exam. We need to hold students accountable for their learning, but we also need to show compassion.

2. Allow for full-credit retakes

If teachers must give high-stakes assessments, outside of state-mandated tests, allow for full-credit retakes.

I learned as much from Rick Wormeli, author of my favorite book on education, “Fair Isn’t Always Equal: Assessing & Grading in the Differentiated Classroom.”

This approach certainly involves more work, but it’s worth it. When students know their teachers care about them and their learning, their anxiety diminishes.

3. Promote healthy amounts of stress

All of this isn’t to say that teachers should demonize stress and anxiety. I had an earlier email conversation with Jessica Lahey, author of “The Gift of Failure: How the Best Parents Learn to Let Go So Their Children Can Succeed.”

Humans learn best when we struggle a bit to apply our knowledge to new contexts, according to Lahey, or work to figure out how to apply knowledge to a problem of a slightly higher level of difficulty than we’ve encountered before. If two kids of similar intelligence show up at my classroom door, Lahey went on to say, the kid who is comfortable with frustration and confusion, and consequently more able to take a moment to think rather than give up, will learn more — it’s that simple.

With that insight in mind, I often tell students how stress in healthy amounts helps me rethink ideas, meet deadlines and improve upon my work. I want my students to feel comfortable being a little uncomfortable, which reinforces risk-taking as an important part of successful, lifelong learning.

When it comes to student mental health issues, there is no single magic solution. But that doesn’t mean teachers can’t make immediate and long-term changes to offer students relief. In this respect, I’m trying my best.

Essay 4.7

Why Parents Stink at Communicating

Original date unconfirmed · July 10, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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Editorial date note: The author had not yet become a parent when he wrote this essay.

Before today’s morning bell, I ask one of my students about college acceptance news.

“Nothing new,” she says, as her eyes gaze into an iPhone. “I’m still on the waiting list.”

I have had this person in three courses: American history, United States government and journalism. Outside of class, I have spent countless hours teaching her essential writing and analytical skills. I also wrote a highly supportive college letter of recommendation on her behalf, and I helped her with college essays.

I’m hurt that she looks at her phone while we converse, failing to afford me the most basic sign of human politeness. I admit to her as much, but I’m just as offended by her response:

“Aw, don’t worry, Mr. Cutler,” she says. “You have my full attention. I’m just multitasking.”

It takes me a few minutes to digest the encounter.

This student has always displayed the utmost politeness toward me, even giving me small gifts as tokens of her appreciation (which I always feel uneasy accepting). I know that she speaks highly of me to peers and teachers alike. After a while, I come to the conclusion that she means no disrespect; rather, she has been raised to believe that this is acceptable behavior.

It’s not her fault — not really. It’s ours.

In the summer 2011 edition of Independent School, a marvelous magazine geared toward, well… independent school educators, ethics and comparative politics teacher Karen Bradley writes a fascinating article, “Can Teens Really Do It All: Techno-Multitasking Learning, & Performance.”

I’m both comforted and frightened by Bradley’s opening anecdote:

[Daniel] was a student in my AP U.S. History class recently. We were talking about study habits, distractions, and time spent doing homework one day, and Daniel excitedly said, “I have to listen to rock and roll on my iPod while I’m studying! It’s the only way I can focus!” Nothing could convince Daniel that the music he listened to as “background” was interfering with his learning. Yet, his understanding of the material lacked depth, and his grades showed it.

To perform well in school, Daniel feels that he must have his iPod. To afford others their due attention, my student feels that she must have her iPhone, at least under certain circumstances. Daniel couldn’t see how listening to music could interfere with his learning. My student couldn’t see how using her iPhone in a face-to-face chat could constitute inappropriate behavior.

Bradley explains that people fool themselves into believing that multitasking is possible. It’s not, and even attempting to do so can be unhealthy and unproductive.

“Rather, [the brain] switches gears, which takes time, reduces accuracy, and inhibits thought. In many cases, it is simply less efficient than working on tasks sequentially,” she writes.

For a short while, I consider speaking more harshly to my student. But then I remember my discussion with Dr. Larry Rosen, author of iDisorder: Understanding Our Obsession with Technology and Overcoming Its Hold on Us.

“I go speak to parents all the time, and teachers all the time, and one of my suggestions is that you need to allocate more time for learning communication skills, because we’re not very good at it, and our kids are probably going to turn out to be [expletive] at it in the long run,” he says.

I’m not sure it’s my place to tell my eighteen-year-old student how to act, or in this case how to put away her phone when speaking with someone. If parents accept and demonstrate certain behavior, especially when it causes no real harm to others, what authority do I have to question or override such accepted family norms — however strongly I might disagree?

Moreover, I’m not a parent and other than in this one instance, this person excels in all other facets of life. I’m confused, and once again I have more questions than answers.

I turn to Dr. Rosen for some insight into parental responsibility:

I think that it’s too easy to give up your parenting practices for other people. This is one where I think you’ve really got to step up and go, “Yeah, it’s my job as a parent to train my kids to know how to communicate.” That means you’ve got to take time. That means you can’t just sit them in front of the TV or in front of an iPad, or phone or whatever. You’ve got to actually have communication during dinnertime, and you’ve got to have family meetings where you talk, and you have to play games with your kids, and engage them, and co-view television with them, if that’s what it takes. But sadly, that’s not happening.

A few weeks ago I spoke with Kristen Blair, an education writer and co-author of From Santa to Sexting. She provides adults with effective tools for parenting in a technology-saturated world.

Kids need to possess technological competencies, but I think that there’s so much confusion about what that is, what does that mean, what does that look like. I think there’s a lot of fear in how do I equip my child to compete in a global economy. Those fears are valid given the economic climate, but there’s also just this pressure and lack of awareness…When we talk to parents, I make the point that yes, your kids need technological competencies, but that’s not spending four hours a day on Facebook.

I know at least one thing for certain: with ineffective parenting, teachers can only do so much to help students succeed.

Essay 4.8

What I Want My Students and My Son to Know

October 16, 2018 (original publication) · PBS NewsHour

Original publication at PBS NewsHour · Read archived article · Source details

As an educator and a new parent of a son, I intend to do my best to raise him into a caring, responsible individual. In this endeavor, my wife and I are aware of the current political climate, especially the growth of the #MeToo movement, and what that means for treating women, and everyone else, for that matter, with respect, equality, and thoughtfulness.

Unfortunately, those three crucial traits are sorely lacking in American culture today, and our elected representatives, who should strive to embody all things decent, seem to prefer partisan squabbling, name-calling, and behavior so poor that calling it “juvenile” would be overly generous — giving too little credit to children, who know better than many adults in Washington.

As I see it, my role can help to make a difference on that score.

Respect

Teachers must call out leaders who show indifference or worse toward women. This isn’t a practice in political brainwashing, but rather an effort to help young people think and behave kindly and humanely toward each other. With this in mind, I can’t help but think of recent headlines.

President Donald Trump’s claim that he respects women is one thing, but it seems he doesn’t care about how his treatment of them is perceived. As much was evident when he mocked Palo Alto University Professor Christine Blasey Ford, who, after the leaking of a confidential letter, demonstrated outstanding bravery, publicly alleging that when they were teenagers, new Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her.

For the record, I believe Ford. Anybody who would put herself in the middle of a political firestorm, with nothing to gain (and everything to lose), has the right to be believed. But that’s beside the point. At the very least, Ford has the right to be respected, but Trump thinks otherwise, as he made plain at a “Make America Great Again” rally in Mississippi in October 2018, before Kavanaugh had clinched his confirmation.

“‘How did you get home?’” Trump said, mocking Ford at the hearing, as the crowd laughed and cheered. “‘I don’t remember.’ ‘How’d you get there?’ ‘I don’t remember.’ ‘Where is the place?’ ‘I don’t remember.’ ‘How many years ago was it?’ ‘I don’t know.’”

As a human being and as a teacher, I was truly shaken by Trump’s words and the responses they elicited from so many. I would tremble if my students or son responded in a similar fashion, and I write this certain that some (or many) readers will find this suitable cause to accuse me and others in my field of hoping to indoctrinate impressionable young minds. I plead guilty, but only to actively promoting and modeling kindness and respect, including a curiosity to understand new and different views of the world around us. Other than this, I would never tell my students what or how to think, and I value the uniqueness of each of them.

At the rally, Trump also said, “A man’s life is in tatters,” referring to Kavanaugh. Along with respect, I want my son and students to empathize with Ford and her family, who have received death threats, prompting them to move to safer locations. “My greatest fears have been realized — and the reality has been far worse than what I expected,” she told the Judiciary Committee. I would prefer that my students dwell on these words — not those of Trump, or of Kavanaugh, both of whom have everything to gain by another political win.

Equality

Of course, politicians aren’t the only ones lacking in common decency. I also want to help young people become aware of when and how the media treats men and women unfairly, and what to do about it.

I’m no tennis star (in fact, my forehand is almost as embarrassing as my serve), but I enjoy watching the sport. I have nothing kind to say, however, about how the media covered the recent U.S. Open women’s final, especially Serena Williams’s so-called “meltdown” while arguing with chair umpire Carlos Ramos over repeated code violations. Other media outlets used different unkind words — including “outburst,” “furious rant,” and plenty more — for Williams’s behavior, which left her with a $17,000 fine.

I’m not nearly as concerned about whether Williams was justly or unjustly penalized as I am about how, responding to her attempt to defend herself, the media portrayed her as mentally unstable. As an educator, I shared my disappointment with the media, including foreign news outlets, especially the Australian Herald Sun, which published a horribly racist cartoon of the tennis star.

Slamming Williams doesn’t simply stink of racism; it’s also misogynistic, telling females to remain silent in times of hardship and real or perceived injustice — that their feelings and sense of truth don’t matter, and that nobody wants to hear from them.

I’m in good company. In a powerful opinion piece for The Washington Post, former tennis champion Billie Jean King, now a champion for equality, said, “I understand what motivated Williams to do what she did. And I hope every single girl and woman watching yesterday’s match realizes they should always stand up for themselves and for what they believe is right. Nothing will ever change if they don’t.” As a teacher, and as a father, it’s my job to help girls realize the wisdom in King’s words, and to help my son grow into a staunch supporter of female empowerment.

Accordingly, I teach students how to write their own opinion pieces, which they can share online or with their local newspapers. My students have powerful voices, and it’s my job to help them realize that they can use them to make a difference.

Thoughtfulness

All of this comes back to the current toxic discourse polluting our interactions in every imaginable way. It’s not just that we don’t want to listen to each other. That would be an improvement. Today, we don’t even want to hear from others who, just maybe, hold different views, and somehow, to too many of us, that equates with offense or anti-Americanism.

For example, look no further than politicians, on both sides of the aisle, seeking to block debate on too many matters to list. On college campuses around the country, students are protesting speakers, however controversial and offensive, from even appearing. People have a deep desire to be heard, at the very least. Preventing that from occurring, no matter how offensive the speech, leads to more callousness.

I won’t shield young people from potentially offensive or upsetting ideas and events, especially when they appear in the media. Hearing doesn’t equate with consent or agreement, a truth that too many of us have forgotten.

No doubt millions felt uneasy, even threatened, during the Judiciary Committee hearing and the testimony of Ford. I want my son to know that opening one’s ears is never as dangerous as closing them. I can only hope that he gets to come of age in a nation where people do more than tolerate hearing, but actively listen to each other with the respect and kindness we all owe one another. I remain hopeful that such a day will come, if not in my lifetime, then in my son’s.