Tag Archives: education

Don’t be Times Square. Be the Flatiron Building. (from the archives)

This blog owes a great deal of traffic to a steady stream of internet searches for “times square,” which I sort of enjoy.  In honor of the new year and my renewed commitment to sensitive, responsive teaching, I’m reblogging my most popular post of 2011.  Happy New Year!

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A surreal teaching video recently put into focus just how artificial class can be, and in particular how inauthentically the role of teacher is often played. I want my students to see me as human, deserving of their respect. I don’t want my authority in the classroom to arise from the power of grades, or sending kids out, or threats, or yelling, or just being an adult, so how do I gain authority with my students?

I can backtrack this for a long time, stopping thought after thought, thinking “yeah, but how do I do that?” How do I show them that respect is important? How do I get students to give each other their attention? How do I get them to deserve each other’s attention? How do I get them to do anything without already having authority?

I try to do this a little differently every year. I’ve tried “norming.” Several times, I’ve included, “just don’t piss me off.” (pathetic in hindsight) I’m looking for something more sustainable, a potential motto for my students and me alike. Here’s what I’m thinking.

Don’t be Times Square. Be the Flatiron Building.

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Times Square

I live in New York City, and I love the architecture. One place I really hate, though, is Times Square. As a new yorker you almost need an excuse for being there, because no one wants to be caught dead in such a gaudy tourist trap. Times Square is screaming at you with its lights, sounds, and overactivity. It’s almost oppressive to the senses. Times Square demands your attention, like all caps – LOOK AT ME!!!! I’M WORTH LOOKING AT!!!! SEE!?!?!?!?!? COOL HUH?!!? Every time I see it, I want out.

I was talking today about a teacher who typifies the “Times Square” approach to authority. He is overpowering, dominant, and very very loud with his elementary school students. Many students come to love him, but some, so I hear, are traumatized each year. My approach to teaching relies on student values, but his method is all about pressing value and compliance down from above. It’ll never work for me and my students.

Times Square is sensational, but completely unsustainable. How much time can you spend there, in the lights and the crowd, before being completely overwhelmed, fatigued, and disinterested? Who grows thoughtful in that environment?

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The Flatiron Building

The Flatiron Building, on the other hand, is my personal favorite. One of the first skyscrapers, and once the tallest building in the world (at a mere 285 feet), there’s no question it was originally an attention grabber. Even still, its design is striking and has stopped me in my tracks several times, but it’s much quieter architecturally. It gives you room to stand and admire it. Every time I see it, I want to stare.

What makes the Flatiron so compelling and inviting is its simplicity and beauty. If I can just show my students beautiful and inviting mathematics, and give them the space they need to respond and take it on, they might stay longer in its presence. This means taking time to appreciate content, and it means quieting down to share in the experience together. If I can model this behavior and bring them the Flatiron building, perhaps they’ll follow suit.

Everyone knows Times Square for the lights and the crowds, but who knows what the buildings actually look like?

In the thick of it

School is on for real now.  Some days are amazing, and others I have a hard time keeping on top of it all, being my best, and staying energized.  This is the standard “school’s making it hard to find time to write” post, but I have lots to share coming up.  Stuff like:

An update on free-choice time | Thoughts on being observed by my department chair | Rave reviews on some edtech stuff I’m using | Some plain good math stuff

Escher Sketch

The post about technology was a request by some of my awesome Twitter followers. (Though really I follow them.)  I love when this blog gets discussion started, and I’m happy to respond to prompts and questions, so feel free to send them my way.

Sculpting Hands

So no, there’s not any real content to this post, but the great news is the internet lets me very quickly find a series of excellent photos to share.  Here’s more in the M.C. Escher “Drawing Hands” theme and variation series.

More good pics here, and here’s one made with Lego.

-Keep learning.  Talk to you soon.

[Grades]: More recent experiences

This last week I had two minor scrapes with grading, but when I sat down to write it up, this came out.  I figured it was important to share some background, since grading is such an important issue to me.

Now that that’s out of the way, let me tell you about this week.

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I’m in the last year of a Masters program in math, so each term I take a couple courses at Hunter College.  Hunter, like most colleges, gives letter grades to its students.  That’s fine by me for the most part, mostly because I usually do well in school, especially when I’m studying math, my personal fave.

I guess I like my program in general, but my experiences have certainly been mixed.  I’m extending my expertise by learning lots of stuff, and it feels really good to be surrounded by knowledgeable math nerds.  On the other hand, a lot of the chalk-and-talk lectures are pretty boring, and the head of the program once said “my job is to beat you up.”  Usually my job is to do the homework and regurgitate proofs on exams, which is not my ideal learning experience, but thankfully, I can do as expected, follow lectures, and also think on my own, make my own connections, and ask my own questions.  This doesn’t make me a genius.  It simply means math is where I connect with my “element.”  (Can you tell I’m reading Sir Ken Robinson’s book?)

Homework is my chance to take on tough problems and share my mathematical work with my professor.  These are graded, of course, and in my Real Analysis class, only 8 out of 10 will count for our grade, so last week, I simply didn’t do my homework.  I put it off, then said “forget it.”

Systems like this all head the same way – towards me calculating what I can get away with not doing.  (And I actually like math!)  I totally could have done it, and it isn’t like grades made me not do the homework,  But really, I can’t help but beat the system.  In highly structured systematic schooling, I suspect students spend a considerable portion of their energies trying to outwit the designers.  I’ve seen it at that boarding school, and I’ve done it all my life.

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I spent a year in a graduate program for Education and in one of my classes, I had to create a powerpoint presentation as a major component of the course.  Unfortunately, and somewhat ashamedly, I calculated that I wouldn’t need it to pass, so I wrote the teacher and explained I wouldn’t be doing it.  I’m not proud of this, but it is one from a long list of similar stories.

At EdcampNYC a teacher asked about how Saint Ann’s worked without grades and said,  “in a pass/fail class, students never try as hard as the do with grades.”  He’s right, but that’s only when pass/fail is the alternative to grades.  Outside of that system, a great deal is possible.  Students can surprise you and themselves when school is simply about learning and development.

Salman Khan of Khan Academy was recently quoted as saying “school is a game,” (and by implication ‘I’m here to help you win.’)  Grades and grading systems epitomize the game mentality of schooling.  When school is about doing what it takes to make the grade, economizing energy and investment is what makes you successful.  Really though, passionate, meaningful learning experiences requires the opposite relationship to investment.  The more of you that’s there, the more you absorb.

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Finally, Justin showed me a neat little game called RayRay that some of his fifth graders played for free-choice time.  I suggest you try it out.  I didn’t really get it at first, so I clicked around until I figured it out.  I started thinking about group theory applications (Each table of n RayRays is a subgroup of (Z2)n, so which subgroup is this?) and didn’t really focus on doing the puzzles perfectly.  I was happy when I solved each one, and when I beat them all, I was proud, even if it was the easy level.

The RayRays betray me - F on Easy

Then, out come the cute little RayRay’s in perfect formation to inform me of my “F” ranking.  I was crushed, betrayed, and angry.  I went back and tried to find simpler solutions, and earned a C.  Then I gave up.  I realize it’s just a game, and I have faith that I could improve, but honestly, do I really need to get an F on a dinky little flash game?  My colleagues will tell you, I was actually affected by this.  Am I just being thin-skinned, or is there something unnecessarily negative in grading like this?

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Grades are not inherently evil, but if grades constitute the core of a feedback system, that system is inherently weak.  The system can be scammed, and the feedback is less valuable. (more proof here.)

No grading system should allow you to dump the hard work that will help you grow in the ways you care to grow.  No system should thoughtlessly hand out grades or ranks without meaningful, helpful feedback, and careful consideration.

When we communicate more freely, one person to another, we have a richer opportunity for understanding and growth.  Really, what is the argument for grading?  Can it possibly come out of a student-centered mentality?