Tribute Trouble

I am facing one of those landmark moments. My daughter is a senior in high school and with each college application, graduation robe deposit, or yearbook photo, I am more and more aware of the approaching turning point. I can’t say that I like it. I have a difficult time imagining the house without two children or living apart from my daughter for more than four weeks. But that is what I will have to do.

When we received the email from the school asking for a “youth” photo and some words to print in the yearbook as a senior tribute, I was baffled. Frankly, I have never given that section of the yearbook much attention. My daughter’s graduation was so far away and I never wanted to consider it.

So I opened a few old yearbooks and took a look. The pictures varied from blurry and bizarre to cute and commonplace. For the most part, they looked like the pictures in our old albums. A few stood out because they were either particularly well done or felt so much like snapshots that I wondered if any thought was given when selecting them. I resolved to do better and create a more interesting and arresting image.

The picture was the easy part. I had dozens of pictures of my daughter as I little girl. She and her mother whittled them down to two or three and I wrapped a big Q around them. They picked the picture and my daughter fussed with the color of the Q. Done.

The words are where I am stuck.

Most of the senior tributes directly address the graduates. Our instructions are to write about fifty words. Fifty words! I have fifty thousand or none at all. “Stay close to home,” sounds desperate. “Come back home,” sounds worse. I have so much to say to my child but much of it I don’t want to publish.

A few of the tributes have inside jokes, cryptic memories, or odd statements. As I read them, I wondered if those parents understood what they were doing.

What am I doing? What is the purpose of this yearbook tribute? The name suggests perhaps an expression of thanks or a compliment. Of course, it could also mean money that is extorted. That sounds like college tuition.

I am so grateful to have been part of my child’s growing up. “Thank you,” doesn’t begin to express my gratitude. While there are dozens of compliments I could write about my child, I am hesitant to publish them next to pictures of her classmates.

This audience gives me pause as well. The kids will be the only ones who really look at this section of the yearbook. The parents may look at their own and skim over a few others, but the main audience will be my daughter and her friends.

What do I want to say to them? Make good choices! I love you! I will miss you. Are those the messages for the yearbook tribute? They don’t feel “tribute” enough. The landmark, the assignment, and my feelings are getting mixed up, but that doesn’t make the problem go away.

I have considered pithy quotes. My current favorite is a set of lyrics from a Stephen Schwartz song that we used as part of my daughter’s bat mitzvah service. It is basically an acknowledgement of her maturity and of how difficult it is to for me to let go.

And that is the heart of my problem: I am not ready to let go. I am writing a public goodbye note when I have not yet had the time to prepare for the farewell. She is not leaving for good and we will have the summer and, given the job market, she may even move home after graduation when I won’t want her back.

Nope. I will always want her back. And I still don’t know what to write.

High School’s Real Core Curriculum

The big deal in education right now is data. We want to measure how well students are meeting standards and learning the curriculum. But what do we measure? What do we want students to achieve? What do they need to know? What should they be able to do?

How much of a high school education do students retain? If much will be lost, why are we pounding so much into them? Why all the hoopla if a vast majority of what we are fussing about will wash away or, worse, become obsolete?

Because they need to pass the tests. Because high school prepares them for college and life. Does it? Is an undergraduate education only preparation for graduate studies or employment? Do students’ experiences in high school (and college) have any intrinsic worth or they only stepping-stones to the next stepping-stone or items on a test?

If high school is simply pre-college, we could approach it as many students approach college admission testing. Students could just study for those areas they intended to pursue. They could have short term cram classes that gave them what they needed to succeed in highly specific coursework. Who needs all of the graduation requirements if they have no connection to a future college course of study? Why should a student who wants to study political science take calculus or biology? Why should a future engineer take literature? Many would argue that such discipline diversity is necessary and appropriate. Why?

Because students are still developing and their talents and interests are still emerging. Because most kids don’t know what they want to do for a living at fourteen or eighteen. Even the few who are clear about their goals often change their minds. And although not everyone is going to be a scientist, mathematician, or writer, everyone deserves to taste a wide variety of subjects. Not only for a possible career, but to experience the beauty and breadth of human accomplishments. The journey through high school is one of magnificent change.

Which brings us back to the question, what should students learn in high school? College preparation and an exposure to a variety of academic areas are two areas, but they are not enough to fill or justify four years. If what kids learn in high school must be measured using objective testing, then we are doomed to make high school irrelevant, boring, and soon, expendable.

Think back to high school. What sticks? For many people, some of our first thoughts (and second and twenty eighth) aren’t about the curriculum. We remember the moments, activities, and social experiences. Memories of the classroom are often focused on feelings and relationships: we loved a book or respected a teacher; we were inspired, challenged, or excited by a lesson or idea.

What did I really learn in high school? Yes, I learned content in subject areas. I learned how to speak another language (although I can’t really speak it today). I read some good books and had some great discussions. But I really learned about myself. I really learned how to approach school and studies. I learned what I liked and didn’t like, even if that has changed since. I discovered some passions. I learned how to make, maintain, and end friendships. I tried on different selves and found which ones fit.

How do we measure these things on a test? Which core competences do these fulfill? Where are maturation, reflection, socialization, and identity on the high stakes tests? Are we analyzing the important data or just collecting the data we can measure?

Education reform has become more about turning educators into calculators and students into test takers. We need to refocus on high school’s real core curriculum and make education truly meaningful – even if those lessons can’t be measured on a multiple-choice test.

The College Search Process: Part 3

The part of the college process with which I feel the most comfortable is the completion of the application. I have been working with college essays, applications, personal statements and recommendations for almost two decades. I felt like this part of the process should be a breeze for us. And for the most part, I was right. What I didn’t realize was that this part of the process was going to be the fulcrum. It has been during the application process that my daughter has made the college search her own and used it to refine and develop her college needs.

She leisurely began writing her essays the summer before her senior year. One essay was nearly complete prior to the beginning of the school year and a few others were on the way. Fortunately, many of the tips I give other students, I did not need to tell my daughter. She is a strong writer who values the writing process; she has a distinctive and authentic writing voice. Her work was focused and well structured. The mechanics and grammar did not need my attention.

We did need to brainstorm about topics. She leaned toward some of the traditional dead end topics: camp, grandparents, even dead pets. However, as we discussed the application questions, especially the Common Application, we were able to identify holes: parts of her that were not fully explored in the rest of the application. These holes became the focuses of her essays.

She started writing and sharing. She would write a draft or two and eventually read it to her mother and me. We would ask questions and she would revise. She was wonderfully open and relaxed in this process. I advise students to write without thinking about word limits and then, once their essays are nearing completion, to deal with editing. My daughter is a stubborn editor; she often refused to cut much of her work. She became very attached to her writing.

Our daughter knew that some short answer questions were not as open ended as they seemed. On the “why our college” questions, she knew she needed to demonstrate not only her interest but also her knowledge about the school. This forced her to do some more research on the schools (and to really consider WHY she wanted to go there).

As the process continued, she prepared several short pieces on co-curricular activities and professional goals. She added application deadlines to our home calendar so we all knew the timeline.

Her organizational and people skills have been significant assets during the application process. She spoke with her counselor and two teachers about recommendations. She was able to build relationships with admissions counselors at some of the colleges. The application process really forced her to look more deeply into each institution and examine them more critically.

It was fascinating that, at the beginning of the process, our daughter was going along with her overeager parents. Now she is undisputedly in control. She decided on which topics she would write. She began to remove and add schools to the list. She decided we still have one more college to visit – and we are.

As she has researched and written about each school, and made the last few visits, she further refined her needs, priorities, and even the fields she wants to study. Soon, she will press the submit button and the applications will leave her hands. However, the process will not stop there. She is more knowledgeable about schools and that has made decision-making even more complex.

Friend or Unfriend

Facebook friendships are not the same as friendships in the real world. There are many ways to end a real world friendship. You can do it with a click on Facebook.

Facebook friendships don’t have any real costs. It is far easier than being a real friend. Of course, Facebook friendships can (and sometimes do) become more substantial relationships. However, it is my experience that the friends who will pick you up at the airport, cover your back, or rush to your rescue were that way without Facebook.

So if on the scale of friendship, Facebook friends are lighter weight, what does it matter if you lose a few friends or are rejected by some? If you have several hundred Facebook friends, who cares if one or two drop out or choose not to join your team?

Intellectually, that makes sense. However, if an old college classmate refuses my friendship, it makes me rethink our years together. If a friend disappears from my list, I wonder if I did something to offend. If a family member fails to approve my friendship request, I worry about our real world relationship.

If Facebook friendships are superficial, how light do they have to be before they are meaningless? While many people will not accept a friendship request from a stranger, many accept the request as long as there is some modicum of connection. My policy is I accept any request from anyone I know, even distantly, in the real world. See my post on bring a friend. However, if the connection is thin, I may start the person on limited profile so I can find out how my acquaintance behaves on Facebook. It costs me nothing to be accept the friendship, especially when my acceptance can be qualified. So why do I perseverate when sending a friendship request?

Because rejection hurts just like it did in the junior high lunchroom. Why did that person unfriend me but is still friends with our common friends? What did I do to offend that person? Why is that person friends with me in the real world but not on Facebook? What’s wrong with me?

I use a browser extension that monitors my Facebook friendship list. When I am unfriended or my friendship request is denied or, more passive aggressively, merely ignored, I feel like I did when I was the last one chosen for the team or told I couldn’t sit at a lunch table.

Is it better not to know? Should I turn off my browser extension and shut my eyes? I might feel better (until that person shows up on my feed). Is it possible that those who have unfriended me or refused to be my friends think that I don’t know?

I have come to the conclusion that our approach to Facebook friendship is a mini-mirror of our approach to relationships in general. I love hearing from my former students and, when one of them thinks I have done wrong, I want to make amends. I like seeing pictures of my family and, when one of them is angry with me, I want to work it out. I have never found that burying my head did anything but give me a mouth full of sand.

So I have landed on the policy that I do not unfriend. I may limit access or remove postings from my newsfeed. Likewise, if there is even a modicum of real world connection, I accept the friendship request. While it take only a click to be mean, I can certainly afford to be nice.

Update: Eric Zorn has a recent column on this subject. He suggests that people’s behavior would change if they knew that their former friends were aware of the unfriending. He also notes that he would care about these unfriendings.

The Parent-Teacher Partnership

While teachers’ first responsibility is to their students, we spend a significant amount of time working with parents. Students are best served when their parents and teachers are partners working for the same goals. However, sometimes finding common goals can be challenging.

Recently, lauded teacher Ron Clark wrote a strongly worded column on CNN.com asking parents to work with, rather than against, teachers, administrators, and the educational system. He laments parents who make excuses for their children, treat teachers poorly, or refuse to hear anything but positive things about their children. He states that, “Today, new teachers remain in our profession an average of just 4.5 years, and many of them list ‘issues with parents’ as one of their reasons for throwing in the towel.”

My experience as a parent and a teacher supports Mr. Clark’s contentions. However, there is a surprising flipside: many parents are afraid of contacting teachers! As a parent, I have been shocked at some of the things that have happened in my children’s classrooms and stunned that no one has said a word! Likewise, I fully understand why some teachers would prefer to send an email or do nothing at all rather than directly speak to parents.

Once we have had a negative experience with a parent or teacher, we are less likely to reach out again. Once that teacher (or coach) has said to our child, “We don’t want your parents making a fuss again, so could you please tell them what we did today?” The parent is less likely to call any other school staff member. If a parent overlooks all the time, effort, patience, and care a teacher has given and refuses to acknowledge what that teacher sees in class, that teacher is less likely to pick up the phone and call any parent or guardian.

And the experience need not be first hand. Parent or teacher experiences spreads through the school and community. Teachers find out which families are difficult and parents know which teachers will take it out on the kids. The walls go up around these people and no one wants to deal with them.

Then there is the fatalistic factor. How many calls to the teacher or parent will it take to effect change? If calling the teacher or principal isn’t going to change anything, why bother? If calling the parent is only going to get you beat up, what’s the point? Parents and teachers can easily rationalize themselves out of talking to each other.

Increasingly, parents and school personnel have more communication vehicles. We have email and online grade books, websites and blogs, newsletters and social networks – and we still have difficulty talking to each other.

I have excellent conversations with the vast majority of parents. Most of the time, when I have contacted teachers, the response has been professional and appropriate. We are really talking about that not-so-apocryphal twenty percent.

Do teachers need additional training in communicating with students’ homes? Do parents need help learning how to partner with schools? Could we do this together? Almost every school has an organization that is called, in some form or fashion, a Parent-Teacher organization. But they aren’t. My experience has been the PTO is a mostly moms club.

It is time to leap over the walls between school and home. It is time to create ways to bring parents, students, and educators together for more than a crisis phone call or intervention meeting.

Mr. Clark’s column is asking for parent cooperation. I am asking for collaboration. It is not enough to be nice. It is not enough to be professional. We need to be innovative, inclusive, and indefatigable! It is in our children’s best interest!

The College Search Process: Part 2

Now that we are neck deep in the college process, my family and I are learning a great deal about not only what colleges might be a good match for our daughter, but how this process works.

During the past year and a half, we have visited large state schools, tiny liberal arts schools, colleges in the country, cities, and suburbs. We have seen stretch and safety schools and colleges in between.

As an educator, I encourage families to fit colleges to students like a tailor fits clothing. However, competitive colleges seem very desirable to many families. Some students only want to go to schools that are just out of their reach. While I understand the lure of prestige, I can’t understand why parents would want their children to be the kids with the lowest grades or scores on campus? Although most parents believe that their children will be able to succeed under such circumstances (and sometimes they are right), my experience is that students do better when they attend schools that are a good academic and social match. Finding that match has been the focus of this part of the process.

It would be easier if we simply said to our child, “You are going the big state school.” Many families make this choice and there are many good reasons to do so. Our state universities are not only excellent and less expensive, but offer students an outstanding education. As a family, we have chosen to both spend more money and time and explore smaller private colleges.

It was wonderfully validating for me that the school with which my child fell in love was one to which she has a good chance of being admitted. While she liked several schools that are more selective and academically competitive, she “connected” more with schools who usually admitted students whose grades and test scores look like hers.

As we visited campuses, talked to students and college admissions counselors, a much more clear set of criteria developed. She figured out what characteristics were important to her. She was able to see more subtle differences between schools and connect those differences to her educational and personal needs.

By the end of the summer, the process shifted from search and select to evaluate and research. My daughter started drafting college essays and looking over the Common Application (commonapp.org). She researched a few more schools that appear to meet her criteria. We are making plans to visit two or three of these schools but we believe the list now has a clear end to it.

My daughter is doing focused research on a handful of “finalists.” She is reading their newspapers, looking more closely at their course and club offerings, and using guidebooks to hear about others’ views of them. Chances are we will make second visits to two or three of them.

Many colleges ask students to write about why they want to attend. The process of answering this question has required additional research and reflection. As she starts to fill out applications and supplements and write essays, she has to slow down and really think critically about each school.

While I would not say that picking a college is no big deal. Yet, I believe that my daughter would have a great experience at any of the schools on her short list. However, the flavor of that experience would vary. And figuring out how these schools will feel, with a little taste from visits and good research, requires digging far more deeply than glancing at glossy books, surfing websites, or taking tours.

Don’t Let Dialogue Die

As I witnessed the ugly and inflexible discourse surrounding the recent federal debt crisis, I wondered if dialogue was dead. Legislators, commentators, and agitators were screaming at each other but no one was listening. No one had any interest in “finding common ground” or “moving toward the center.” It was a publicity game and the one who yelled the loudest longest was going to win.

So the rest of us lost. Since our representatives were so intransigent and inflexible, their game of brinksmanship took all of us off the brink. More and more, that is the tone of political rhetoric: we won’t back down! We won’t back down means we’re unconditionally right. We won’t back down means that my view is the only view worth discussing. We won’t back down means we won’t even entertain the possibility that we might be even a little bit wrong. We won’t back down means that the views of those who disagree with me, democracy be damned, should be disregarded.

There are things about which we do not compromise. But they are very few and they should be extremely clear. Every issue cannot be the line in the sand. If the non-negotiable list is too long, then the real message is that if you don’t play the game my way, I won’t let the game be played.

We all have encountered bullies and prima donnas who must have their way on even the finest points. This point of view seems to have infected our political process and is in danger of destroying one of the most important features of our representative democracy: the crucible of debate and discussion.

If I don’t get my way, says the two year old, I am going to kick and scream and raise such a ruckus that you will do anything to make me quiet. I will cause you so much pain that you will give in to my unreasonable views. We’ve all witnessed this: the panicked parent with the tantrum throwing two year old in the check out line. Perhaps we have all given in to that but we know what happens when giving in to tantrums becomes the primary parenting strategy. Our job as a parent is to get our children to use their words and listen to us. Perhaps we need to parent our politicians.

But this was THE issue. This was the issue worth throwing a tantrum. This was the BIG one! Baloney! That is a politician’s (or toddler’s) excuse for saying what I really wanted was to get as much attention as possible and thus get my way. If you ask your friends, family, and neighbors what are the areas that, if under attack, they would yell and scream, it would not be the debt ceiling or the budget. It might be free speech, the right to vote (which too many people neglect) or issues of choice and self-determination. Maybe it would be taxes, but even there I doubt it. Ask them when they have called or written their representatives.

When the person at my door says, “ You are going to hell if you don’t practice religion my way,” or the salesman on TV says, “The only way to be healthy (or popular) is to use my product,” we should be suspicious. When we are threatened with doom and gloom because people are so sure of themselves, it is a warning of small minded thinking and a lack of listening. There are always multiple solutions. There are always multiple “right” points of view. To dismiss that reality is to see the world through a narrow tunnel and miss the more important and larger view.

Doubt is a good thing. It indicates that the thought, “I might be wrong” has checked ego and arrogance. Compromise isn’t capitulation; it is collaboration and the creation of community. It is coming together through listening. Those who will not listen, those who insist they are right without reservation, are more dangerous than any polarizing issue. Because if dialogue dies, democracy goes with it.