Cheaters Never Prosper

I read a disturbing opinion piece in The New York Times.  “How I Helped Teachers Cheat” by Dave Tomar (November 9, 2013)  is the author’s description of ghostwriting essays for teachers and aspiring school leaders in education programs at the undergraduate and graduate level.  While Tomar’s book has made waves (it’s called The Shadow Scholar: How I Made a Living Helping College Kids Cheat), cheating is something I see almost daily in high school and expect to happen, at least in theory, at the college level.  What I don’t expect—what deeply disturbed me—is that individuals in our “noble profession” resort to cheating.  With a tone of both judgment and understanding of his clients, Tomar describes writing lesson plans, fake observations, IEPs, even papers for educational leadership classes.  His part in the cheating cannot be excused and calls into moral question all of his opinions.  However, by participating in nearly a decade of plagiarism, he is able to make insightful moral observations about our education system.  In essence, he confirms that in the U.S., the systemsworld has colonized—has strangled—the lifeworld to such a degree that teachers and administrators have (in many cases) become immoral.
Tomar credits the high-stakes state proficiency testing for putting teachers “under intense pressure to make sure their students pass,” (Tomar 2013) and creating district-wide cheating scandals in Los Angeles; Washington, D.C.; Atlanta; and Philadelphia (Tomar 2013).  Clearly, teachers are driven by systemsworld concerns:  Tomar states that teachers cheat because: “Their jobs, their mortgages, and the well-being of their families are on the line” (Tomar 2013).  How in the world are teachers to be viewed and treated as professionals when many of us have been “possessed” by the dark side of the systemsworld?
Sergiovanni claims, “changing teaching into a profession worth of faith and trust requires changing the views of policymakers” (Sergiovanni 2000).  Yet policymakers will see these scandals and assume that cheating is indicative of the profession as a whole, the same way suspicious teachers assume that kids will plagiarize papers and copy each others’ homework.  In order to be viewed as professionals, we must act like professionals: we must force the national educational conversation back to the values and concerns of the lifeworld, for our own good and ultimately for the good of children in the U.S.  We must be involved “in establishing shared purposes, values, and norms that provide frames and standards for [our] practice; and [create] opportunities for heightened collegiality that leads to greater interdependence among teachers and the development of communities of practice” (Sergiovanni 2000).  By fostering this teacher autonomy and professionalism at the school and local level, schools can go a long way to combat the moral lethargy that accompanies cheating.  I don’t believe teachers will become cheaters unless they’ve given up on their values a long time ago; they won’t cheat unless they believe the system is so broken that they have no power to fix it.
Interestingly, Tomar addresses the need for a revived lifeworld in U.S. educational policy.  He points to the use of standardized testing as the major culprit: “Use of standardized testing to make evaluations is fine.  But we are using them as a replacement for real education, to prod educators toward unrealistic goals, and to punish and reward:  These are the conditions that make cheating a pragmatic solution for so many” (Tomar 2013).  By defining the problem as a systemsworld colonization—tests aren’t bad, but tying tests to evaluations kills the lifeworld—Tomar has made the argument that we have lost sight of what a “real education” is.  Until we have re-established the dominance of our lifeworld—our shared vision of what real education—we have a systemsworld that tacitly rewards immoral behavior like cheating, or even nudges good people to become cheaters.
I wouldn’t have expected to take advice from a cheater.  But I agree with Tomar’s assessment: “We need to return to a focus on the enrichment and creativity that make learning as well as teaching worthwhile” (Tomar 2013). Enrichment and creativity are lifeworld values, and they are what need to drive education, even in troubled urban districts.
How do we make these values part of U.S. education?  Maybe at the school and local level, we can allow teachers to be “Origins” rather than “Pawns.” It’s actually pretty simple.  By giving teachers “a say in decisions that affect the classroom” or allowing “empowerment—a deliberate effort on the part of the district to provide the direction, support, resources, training, and other means to enable teachers to use their discretion successfully for kids” (Sergiovanni 2000), teachers are more like to become the moral agents of change that the U.S. needs.  With empowerment and support, teachers will behave like and be the professionals who bring enrichment and creativity to the classroom, shifting the focus to the lifeworld, where it belongs.






References
Sergiovanni, T.J. (2000).  The lifeworld of leadership: Creating culture, community, and
  personal meaning in our schools. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

Tomar, Dave (2013, November 10). How I helped teachers cheat.  The New York Times,
Sunday Review, p 9.

Why Amazon is Hurting Our Students

Amazon is the bully on the playground, shaking down the weaker kids for their lunch money.  As The New York Times reports, Amazon is engaging in what some are calling blackmail and extortion to force book publishers to pay higher rates or else.  The or else has taken the form of delayed book shipments, book price increases or, in some cases, the disappearance of titles altogether.  These tactics are not just bad business practice and potentially illegal, they stifle crucial information.  They hurt publishers and authors, yes, but they harm readers even more.  And interestingly, they injure students.

Many of my students have learning disabilities, struggle with reading, or simply refuse to read.  Desperate to teach them the critical reading and writing skills they need before they leave for college, I have resorted to what I call "extreme differentiation."  A non-reader who loves baseball and is a varsity shortstop?  Quick: One-click the new Babe Ruth biography so that he can read excerpts and write a reaction paper on them.  Disengaged, "Black-Ops"-loving dyslexic?  Quick: One-click World War Z and ask him to compare and contrast the various zombie apocalypses with which he is familiar.  A diligent ELL student fresh from Afghanistan, bravely wearing her headscarf, struggling to learn the intricacies of English grammar?  Quick: One-click I Am Malala and ask her to respond personally to the heroism of a girl not unlike herself.

But Amazon is foiling more than my desperate and expensive catch-as-catch-can method of engaging students with texts.  By eliminating the web pages of books and authors (according to The New York Times, Anne River Siddons's The Girls of August has been summarily disappeared), they prevent students not only from buying literature but also from knowing it exists.  Students today treat Amazon as the Oracle: It will link them to any work by any author on any subject that they can imagine.  Amazon's censorship  isn't absolute--kids are free to search for and buy books other ways--but frankly, they may not.  If they don't know a book exists, how can they read it?

This is where my plug for independent booksellers comes in.  My local bookstore will kindly order any title I want that they don't have on their shelves.  Maybe I can't get it overnight, but I can ususally get it within a couple of days.  This is also where I plug our local library.  Not only are they accommodating about finding books through interlibrary loan, but they also are free.  Perhaps this is a chance for me to break my addiction to One-Click and to teach my students about the importance of freedom of information and competition in the marketplace.

One thing is certain: I am boycotting Amazon until they cease holding publishers hostage for higher payments and eliminating the titles of those who won't comply.

Want to join me?


Boycott:
https://blog.zolabooks.com/we-stand-with-readers-support-hachette-authors/

More reading:
http://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/05/23/amazon-escalates-its-battle-against-hachette/?hpw&rref=business

http://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/05/22/one-womans-lonely-boycott-of-amazon/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0

Who cares about New Jersey suburban education?

Urban education gets a lot of attention.  Rightfully so: students in urban schools frequently face poverty, overcrowding, a lack of resources, inadequate facilities, subpar teachers, or charter schools competing for space and funds.  These are real issues and deserve serious attention.

But New Jersey's suburban education deserves a spotlight, too.  Suburban schools are the quiet kid near the back of the class.  They are attentive, don't make trouble, and seem to be working.  But get to know them one-on-one, and you may find a different story.  Suburban schools have genuine struggles.  While they may not seem as urgent and dire as the problems urban districts face, they are real.

Some of the struggles suburban schools face include:

• Diversity.  New Jersey is decentralized and our identities are town-focused.  Kids think they know what it means to be from Newark, or Millburn, or Maplewood.  Schools reflect this sense of identity.  As towns become more diverse--racially, ethnically, sexually, and socioeconomically--schools must accommodate the values, culture, identities, and agendas of the entire community.  And kids must as well: How many of us have seen all the black, latino, or otherwise non-white kids sitting together in the cafeteria?  Hanging out together in the hallways? Lumped together in the same level of class?
• Leveling.  Educational equity is not just an urban issue.  Look around an inclusion class or basic skills class.  What kids are placed there?  Why?  Are we shortchanging, over classifying, and underestimating the kids who are less affluent, less white, or who behave more like stereotypical boys?
• Drugs and alcohol.  How many of us have "coded" kids in the past school year, have watched in dismay as drunk kids are arrested at sports events, or have gritted our teeth at the prospect of potentially chaperoning a school dance?  How can we partner with parents and the community to ensure that kids are safe, whole, and intact while under our care--without turning into a police state?
• Pressure.  The "dark side" of excellence is the pressure some (not all!) students feel to please, excel, and achieve.  What do we truly believe education is for and about?  How can we educate according to our values, rather than caving into our fears for our kids' futures?
• Testing.  PARCC, in many parents' minds, symbolizes the pressure their kids are under as well as everything that's "wrong with education today"-- outside/government control, teaching to a test, inordinate amounts of testing, and the fear of failure.  How can we keep high standards, allay fears, and maximize genuine, deep learning?

Suburban New Jersey educators aren't refugees from urban districts. We aren't using teaching as a steppingstone to loftier achievements.  And we sure aren't facilitators of "failure factories."  What we are is dedicated to a career in the classroom, care deeply about our students, and see their needs as genuine and valid.

Join me in a conversation about New Jersey suburban education today.