The American School System Stinks!

It was 1970, and I was one of 15 teachers sitting in a large circle in the faculty room at Fairleigh-Dickinson University. Superintendent Bob Linette of Rockaway township was our professor. After asking up what we thought of the American educational system, one by one, he asked us to respond. I was the last to answer. After hearing 14 people sing the praised of our system, he said, "Mr. Wolinsky?"

I swallowed hard and said, "I think it stinks.."  The collective gasp in the room was audible.  Bob's response was to ask me to explain. I said that we were supposed to be preparing students for life, but we weren't teaching life skills. Life wasn't broken down into 1 hour subjects. The was no math part of my day, not science part, no social studies part. Life is problem solving, communication, and collaboration, but none of those things were what school was about.

His response was simple. He said, "You're absolutely right." Those few minutes validated what I felt throughout my high school and college years, and formed the based of my work for the next forty years. From that day on, I taught to give the kids what they needed and deserved, rather than what the system dictated and worked to try to change the system.

That often put me at odds with my colleagues and administrators. In my early days, I got the reputation as a radical nut, but 20 years later I found myself, like Bob Linette, working with teachers who were entering education. During one workshop a teacher asked me how I made the switch from the sage on the stage to the guide on the side. I told her I never made the change, because I never changed. The only thing that changed was the label. I was teaching that way since 1970.  The only difference was that back then I was a radical nut, and the previous week someone had called me a visionary.

Fast forward to 2018, and the pendulum of change is swinging slowly. There is no denying that the skills needed for today's world are at odds with the form and function of many or our schools, but change is often painfully slow! It only took 50 years for the chalkboard to go from prototype to common place, and 25 year for the overhead projector to make it from the bowling alley to the classroom.

Many schools are recognizing the importance of communication, collaboration, problem solving and project based learning.  This video is actually from India, it is just one of any number of countries who are moving toward 21st century education faster than we are.




Next Saturday, here in Raymond, New Hampshire, citizens have a chance to weigh in on the school budget at the 10:00 AM deliberative session. I know for a fact that people will be there arguing that the budget needs to be cut. While I support the budget, I completely understand their desire to keep taxes down, I am a serious odds with some of the rationale for doing that. They will point to graduation rates and test scores, but neither is indicative of what it going on in our schools.

Remember, change is slow. Over the past 5 years or so, our schools have been changing from teacher delivered instruction to problem and project based learning that develops the competencies needed for 21st century life. Evaluation is changing from one size fits all numeric and bubble sheet testing, to competency based assessment, that measures internalized skills rather than arbitrary memorized facts.

We have a new superintendent, a new curriculum director, and a new technology director.  All of them are well versed and committed to the necessary change, but as a community we need to support that change and give it time to take hold. 

I implore those who are concerned with taxes AND education, to learn more about school change and how it is being implemented and do whatever you can to support that change.  On of my contentions is that we are being held hostage by a multi-billion dollar testing industry that is hold us back, because it the kind of assessment needed for the 21st century is bad for their bottom line.

Einstein said, "Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."

Digging for Digital Gold

A few hours ago, my grandson and I were sitting on the floor examining the contents of my Rube Goldberg box.  It's literally a collection of junk that I've collected over the years.  I figured he was at the age where he could have some fun with it.

As it turns out we BOTH did.  I came across an old 4.0 megapixel camera.  We threw some batteries in it and found that worked. Unfortunately, it had a strange USB connection for which I didn't have a cable.  I told him there was no way to get the pictures off.

I got up to answer a text that had just come in and while I was texting, he was exploring the camera.  The next thing I heard was, "What's this, Pop-pop?" I turned around to see him holding an SD card that I had overlooked.

I put it in my computer and found digital gold.  There were pictures still on it from 2005!  Some were of projects from students at Southern Regional Middle School and some were pictures from students at the MLK Elementary School in Atlantic City.

The pictures brought back a flood of memories of projects, which back then were ground breaking. The ones from Southern Regional were part of a cross curricular unit in which the entire school participated.  The theme that year was Egypt.  Teachers throughout the school designed and shared lesson plans around that theme.  The energy in school was electric and the unit culminated in the school stage being turned into an Egyptian museum complete with about two tons of sand.

These are a few of about two dozen pyramids made by students as part of one of the math lessons during the project.



The Atlantic City pictures were even more exciting and what's more amazing is that I was talking about this project with my grandson three days before he found them on the camera!

In 2005, I was mentoring 3rd grade teachers to help them integrate technology into the curriculum. During the summer of 2005, Andy Carvin had given us a three day workshop on film making. As part of that July workshop we created what we believe was one of, if not THE first elementary school video blogs, called Atlantic City Rough Cuts.

In September, I introduced them to a digital story telling software called Kartouche. By November  Janine Riggins and her third graders were using Andy's lessons and Kartouche to create products shown in the video below.






Digital gold!

A Teacher's Influence

I grew up in Vineland, NJ and just joined a Facebook group of the same name.  While I'm waiting to get added to the group, I want to write about one of the first posts I read.

Suzanne Piccone wrote that she had recently seen Gene Agrons a retired biology teacher from VHS. I was surprised and delighted to hear that he was still around, because our 50th reunion is coming up in October.  I guess he must have good genes. 

Bad pun aside, it does make an appropriate segue to this blog enty.  He was my biology teacher, but more than that, he was a role model. I went on to be a biology major in college.  I taught science, math, and computers and consulted with schools for for 35+ years.  My two years with Mr. A., freshman biology and senior advanced biology, helped set the foundation to my career.

Things that happened in that advanced class and as a result of that class, are as clear today as they were back in the 60's.  I want to tell you about three incidents that stand out in my memory.

Let's start with the fact that people say he was a tough teacher.  Well he was, but after 35 years of teaching, I can tell you that ALL good teachers are tough.  Sure he was tough, but he was good, he taught well, and demanded nothing less than your best.

It was during my freshman year in college that I realized just how tough and how good he was. I attended Temple U. and had biology as my freshman year science.  During the first half of the semester, I hardly ever opened a book, something that I have been known to do in the past.  It wasn't because I was lazy, even though I've never been accused of being a book hound. I was always a hands on kinda guy.  I didn't have to open the book because, everything was already familiar to me from my senior year in high school.

When the midterm exam came around, I aced it while almost 2/3 of the class failed it.  That's  how good Gene Agrons was. Oh, I forgot to mention, that I never even finished Advanced Biology.  I dropped it near the end of the second marking period, but two marking period with Mr. A. was all that was needed to get me through college biology and make a lasting impression on me. I didn't drop it because of anything that Mr. A. did.  You can chalk it up to the fact that it was and elective and studying during a grueling senior wrestling season was going to be too much.

Now let me tell you of two other incidents that speak to his character and teaching style. It was just before Xmas break and we were setting up term projects for advanced biology.  My project involved studying the genetics of fruit flies. Of course to do that, you need fruit flies.

After everyone had long since departed for places unknown, Mr. A., my lab partner and I stayed late to brew up the medium of Kero syrup and ripe bananas that would be the food on which the fruit flies would grow over the winter break.

We finished up as dark was approaching, putting the last fruit files into the dozens of bottles of medium, and carefully plugging each one with a cotton wad.  We turned out the lights and heading home.

When we returned to the lab, apparently I wasn't as careful with one of the cotton wads, because there were literally thousands of fruit flies all over the lab.  Unlike some teachers who might have gone ballistic, Mr. A. took it all in stride.  I had a LOT of fly catching duty, but it was a wonderful life lesson.

I wasn't a model student, but I wasn't a trouble maker. I can only remember being sent out of class twice.  Once was in 9th grade for shooting a rubber band, and the other was in Advanced Biology, because of the text book Mr. A. had chosen for the class.  Unlike other text books, I actually read this one, because the author had a sense of humor.  For example, once while reading a genetics chart that dealt with the color of feathers in chickens, I noticed that the percentages didn't add up to 100%, but then I noticed the asterisk, with the notation that said, "Numbers have been rounded off to avoid the absurdity of counting fractions of chickens."

It was shortly after reading that item that I got in trouble.  I started browsing the book and came across an interesting chart in one of the appendices. As I read it, I began to chuckle and then almost fell out of my seat, laughing uncontrollably. Mr. A. tried to settle me down a few time, but I just couldn't stop. He finally asked me to leave the room and not come back until I collected myself. 

About 10 minutes later, I walked back in and with as much control as I could muster, I showed him what had set me off.  The appendix was titled Maximum Speed of Land Mammals.  Of course it listed animals such as the horse and cheetah, two standards, but it was three other entries that set me off. 

Massai warrior in full war garb 20 mph
Rhinoceros   25 mph
Massai warrior in full war garb, being chased by a rhinoceros 26 mph

While not exactly politically correct in today's world, the entry none-th-less reflects something I learned in that class.  Just when we think we have reached our limit, along comes a rhino, or teachers like Mr. A., who pushes us to go a little farther.

Thanks, Mr. Agrons!

Why I Became a Teacher

Vicki Davis, one of my Facebook and Google+ education friends posted a question asking folks to tell why they became a teacher. Because my story is neither typical nor short, I decided to blog about it and just provide a link from Google+ to here.

Forgive me if there are more typos and run-ons than my usual posts. I'm writing this pretty much as a stream of consciousness, or stream of semi-consciousness as I often call my ramblings.

As a student, I slid by on my ability, often asking teachers, "When will I ever use this?" Even in junior high school I questioned the value of much of what we were being taught. However, I wasn't a rebel nor a trouble maker. So I just cruised along with a C average right through college.

Because I received a 4 year grant at the end of my freshman year of college, not because of my academic ability, but because of my performance on the wrestling team, I stretched my college career into 5 years and took classes that I would not normally have been able to fit in my schedule.

In my senior year, I only had classes three days a week. An injury prevented me from wrestling and I took a part time job on the other two days. I was a substitute teacher in the projects in Philadelphia. My experiences there were makings of a small book. It was an entirely different world than I had experienced up to that point and it gave me a hearty respect for the dedicated souls who tried to provide these students with an education.

I graduated from college with a liberal arts degree, but didn't go into teaching. I took a job as a management trainee for Rickel Lumber, the Home Depot of the 1960's. I didn't really care for the politics or the organization in general, and so I went to work for the newly formed Pathmark Supermarket Corporation as a warehouse management trainee.

After about six months with them, I got drafted (into the Marines), and I have a story that would rival Arlo Guthrie's tale of White Hall Street and the Group W bench, but that's for another blog. To make a long story short, I got out at the last minute, because of my wrestling injury.

That night, at the end of August 1969, my friends and I were celebrating the fact that I would not be going to Viet Nam. I mentioned that I wasn't really crazy about warehouse life. As far as they knew, I was in the army and I could take a week and look for another job. One of my friends said, "Hey, there's new middle school opening down the road. Why don't you try there?"

That Monday I walked into the Sayerville Middle School and ran into a man in jeans who was pushing a large cart of books. I asked if he needed a hand and he answered that he could use one. I helped him move the books and put them away. Then I asked him for directions to the Principal's office. He asked why I wanted the principal, and after telling him, he informed me that he was the principal.

We went down to the office and chatted. He told me that they were fully staffed, but with a large young staff, he expected to lose people to draft. He said he would go to the board to see if they would hire me as a permanent substitute in the building.

The board agreed and thus began my teaching career. The two years I spent in Sayerville were absolutely amazing. The first year I as a permanent sub, I made it my mission to teach things the way "I" thought they should be taught. Whenever I encountered a sub plan that would have had me asking, how will this every help me in life, I tried to change it so that it had some relevance.

At the end of that first year, the Assistant Superintendent asked me if I was interested in a special class. I asked what he meant and he told me I would have the 14 worst discipline cases in the 9th grade in a self-contained classroom. I would have full control and answer to no one by him. Other than that, they would be mine. I could send them to regular classes if I felt they could handle it and I would deal with discipline and parents. The only time he wanted me to come to him would be if they did something that was a police matter.

I was interested, but still had a few questions. What about curriculum? Would I be constrained? What would I do about teaching material. To the first question, he answered, that aren't learning anything now, so anything I could teach them would be a bonus. As to the second question, he reached into his pocket, handed me the master key to all the classrooms and told me to take anything I needed.

That sealed the deal and thus began what was unquestionably the toughest, most challenging, and most rewarding years of my life. I don't know how much the kids learned from me, but I know that by the end of that year, I had learned more about teaching and about life than I had learned in the previous 20+ years. It set me on a path that I followed for the next 30 years and will follow until the day I die.

Toward the end of those 30 years, I was conducting a WebQuest workshop with Tom March. At the end of the workshop a participant came up to me and asked how I made the change. I asked her to explain what she meant by "the change". She said, "You know, from the sage on the stage to the guide on the side."

My answer was simple. I told her that I never made the change. I've been doing the same thing for 30 years. The only thing that changed was the labels, which prompted her to ask me what I meant by the labels. I told her that 30 years ago, I was labeled a radical nut and the other day someone called me a visionary.

Thanks for asking the question, Vicki. I brought back a wonderful flood of memories.

It Really Stinks!

I started teaching in 1969 on an emergency certificate. I was a liberal arts major with no teaching courses under my belt. In order to get my permanent certificate, I had to go through the paper chase and take the necessary courses.

Of course one of those courses was supervised teaching (practice teach for those who are already teaching). I would be observed twice a week and once every two weeks, all of the teachers in the program would meet for a three hour group session at Farleigh Dickenson.

The teacher for that course was Bob Linette, then the Superintendent of Rockaway schools. I never met him before or after completing the class, yet I will remember his name until the day I die, because three words from him on our first day of class, confirmed my beliefs and helped set the direction of my teaching for the next four decades.

There we were about 15 of us seated in a circle. He posed a question. I was seated on his right and one by one, starting on his left, he asked for our answer. The question was, "What do you think of the American education system."

For those of you who weren't even born then, there were very few mandated tests and those that were given, confirmed our scores were right up there near the top. One by one, each person extolled the merits of our educational system. When it got to me, I simply said, "It stinks!"

After the collective gasp and silence, he asked me to explain what I meant. I said, "What part of your day is the math part? Which part was the science part, and which the English part. Aren't we supposed to be preparing kids for life? School needs to be more like life. In life we solve complex problems and work with others."

I continued for a while and when I finished, he uttered three words, "You're absolutely right!"

That was the start of my journey. If he had told me I was crazy, my path might have been more difficult, but I'm stubborn and determined. It wouldn't have changed my opinion. Fortunately I was teaching in a district where Jim Moran, the then Assistant Superintendent felt the same way as Bob Linette and I. He took me under his wing and nurtured the rebel in me rather than squelch it.

I traveled a path that few others had the opportunity to travel. Over the next 40 years I had the good fortune of working with like minded administrators in some truly unique situations. There are some truly amazing storied to tell, but I'll save those for another day.

That was 1969. If I was in the same situation today, I wonder how those other people would answer that question. I know that I would answer differently. I would have not said those same two words. I would have expanded a bit and said, "It really stinks!"

Four Days in Hammond, IN

I just finished 8 presentations in 2 days at two schools in Hammond, IN. I got to talk to students, teachers, and parents. I love it when I get to talk to all three groups. Regardless of whether they agree or disagree with all or part of what I have to say, it get's them all on the same page and discussions can take place based on common ground. You can read about the presentations at NWI or 3DWiredSafety blog, but this post is just about the trip and the people I met along the way.

Normally I would fly out of Philadelphia, but for this trip I drove to MA and dropped off my wife to visit our new grandson and flew out of Logan. My daughter who lives in MA told me that they avoid Logan like the plague and fly out of RI whenever they can. However, I figured it was a Monday and the middle of the day. How bad could it be?

It started with a one-hour bus ride from Newburypot to Logan on the C&J Trailways line. It was a new bus, comfortable seats, tv programming, music, and even an AC outlet for laptops or whatever you might want to plug in. Next time I'll have to bring my laptop or a microwave.

I glanced up at the screen and saw a show with a woman who looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her. I plugged in my headset and listened for a while. It was comedy. I could best describe it as I Love Lucy with a brain. When the credits rolled, I saw that I was watching Life with Elizabeth with Betty White, a show I don't remember. But then again, that was 1963 and it was my sophomore year in college. I don't remember much about those years.

We arrived at Logan with not traffic problems and I braced myself for what might be coming next. When I walked into the terminal, there was noone ahead of me at check-in and only three people ahead of me at the security check-in. I stopped at the book store, got the last copy of Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Largest Mercenary Army, sat down and read until my flight boarded on time.

Everything was going smoothly until the doors closed. About 30 seconds later the pilot announced that due to high winds at O'Hare, they were going to keep us on the ground for an hourl. Sooooo close, but Murphy had to step in and enforce his law. I guess I really can't complain. It probably would have been the same situation regardless of what airport I used.

It seems that there is an unwritten law that when I take a trip I MUST forget something. It's never anything critical, but it's something that I would use. In this case, I was going to rent a car and I thought I packed my GPS. Unfortunately, I just peeked into my bag before I left and what I thought was my GPS was actually my digital camera. So it was going to cost me $8.95 a day to rent one.

It was 30 miles from O'Hare to my motel and it only took an hour in Chicago traffic. The Ramda was nothing to write home about, but it was clean and the people were friendly. There was a decent restaurant just outside their door with about the most efficient wait staff I've come across. The only place where I got more attention was on our 25th anniversary when I took Jill to NYC and wen't first class all the way. We went to Maxwell Plum, which was still open then. We had our own personal waiter and unending attention. After dinner, I reached to pour Jill a second cup of coffee and the waiter almost dived to the table to intercept me. That's a bit TOO much attention.

Hammond used to be hopping back it the days of steel and rails, but now it has gone the way of many similar cities. It has downsized and adapted to the new times. No traffic problem, not much crime, but enough of the inner city problems so that I wouldn't classify it as a sleepy hamlet.

I gave presentations to 4th-8th graders, teachers and parents at St. Stanislas School and well as similar talks to 7th-12th graders, parents, and teachers at Bishop Noll Academy. Both schools had great student bodies and staff members. It was a hectic two days. They were tiring, but painless and trouble free.

The trip home was uneventful except for two things. At O'Hare my belt set off the medal detector. At Logan, I had asked if I should take it off. They said no and it went through fine. So I didn't ask at O'Hare. Had that been Phila., it would have meant a full pat down and probably a full bag check. Not so at O'Hare, probably because the line was short. They just made me take it off and go through again.

When I arrived at Logan, I did and OJ through the airport (that was a sprint, not a murder) to try to make my bus, but I just missed my bus by about two minutes and had to wait another hour. Now I'm here in MA and chilling with my daughter and grandson who is just waking up. Enough with the blog...