Leading like the great conductors

Talgam uses the conductor as a metaphor for leadership in general. He suggests that the most effective conductors do not lead directly, but rather allow the artists to collaborate and create...to lead themselves. In his first clip, we watch a joyful and energetic man flailing his arms on stage. Be forewarned, I know absolutely NOTHING about classical music (or any music for that matter). When the clip is over, Talgam asks the audience, "who should we thank for this success?" Should the players be thanked? The audience? The conductor? Or perhaps all parties involved warrant thanks for the success of the performance. Talgam mentions that the conductor, the joyful arm-flailing man, is responsible for enabling other people's stories to be heard at the same time. To allow each player, audience member, symphony hall worker, etc. to come together in one moment of musical bliss. The next clip has a dark-haired, eyebrow-furrowing conductor (he must be German). His arms are not quite flailing, more of a precise pounding of each note. To my ear, the music sounds just as nice. In fact, Talgam confirms this suspicion, arguing that this conductor elicits equal performance from his musicians. His musicians, however, wrote him a lovely letter asking him to resign. Why? They felt as if he treated them like instruments, not musicians. His leadership style was centered on direct control. Missing from this leadership, according to Talgam, is the "listening of each other that is needed for the orchestra to function." A few clips later and we are left with the original conductor "doing without doing." In fact, he is just standing there listening. Yes, his face is alive with expression, but he is not conducting. Moral of the story? Isn't that where we all want to be as leaders. Where we have trained those around us how to lead themselves. How to communicate, how to listen, how to make independent choices, how to create and inspire on their own?

Let's take our metaphor to any high school in America. In the orchestra, you have your flutes, and oboes, and tubas, and whatnot. In our high school, we have our science teachers, math teachers, English teachers, etc. We all have different parts to play (ha, ha...so hokey. but it's true. we do.). However, we must be able to come together for the benefit of our students. My class cannot exist in isolation from the other classes. There is no English solo in the concerto of learning (ok, this music metaphor is wearing on my nerves). While we have different tools, different styles, different content, we should have the same goal: educating our students. Some schools sound a little like the middle school band. They are technically all playing at the same time, but they are definitely not playing together. Other schools might sound like our wind ensemble. Their individual skills have improved and they are aware of the fact that other orchestra members do, in fact, exist. But how do we get our schools to sound like the New York Philharmonic? Leadership.

I'm sure we have all had leaders who lead with furrowed-brows and pounding fists. While those schools might be high functioning, they aren't pleasant places to work. How can I grow as a professional when I spend my entire career following orders? The type of leadership described by Talgam is how you create a school that, after much hard work and collaboration, isn't just high functioning, but also a great place to work. A place where your individual voice is heard. A place where teachers grow in their craft. A place where different methods are embraced, not shunned. A place where 60 artisans can come together to do something transcendent. Now the cynic in me wants to leave you with a "when you find that school, let me know." But no one just "finds that school." We have to decide to be a part in making that school. So this year, let's start working toward creating, communicating, and collaborating to reach our common goal: educating our students.

Surprises

TVAASS scores were released today. While we don't have our individual teacher report, I am pleased to announce that both of my teams made gains this year! The English II team made it into the green: as in good to go, ahead of the pack, my principal and department head will smile, we don't have to hide during the back-to-school data reveal.

After playing around on the website, I was able to find lists of my students that had their predicted and actual scores. It is so surprising to see who I under-served, who was listening even though I didn't think they were, and who just glided along as usual. I loved my ninth graders this year. I thought I was doing everything right. We had an amazing in-class connection, their work was stellar, and I just knew their scores would shoot through the roof. SURPRISE. I let a lot of freshmen fall through the cracks. It was my bright ones; the ones I sometimes forget about because "they got it." My tenth graders, however, were making incredible gains. SURPRISE. I felt like I kept putting them on the back burner of my pedagogical oven (that was a really awkward metaphor; I apologize). If I could only figure out how to serve ALL levels of my students--low, middle, and high. I know how to differentiate as far as learning styles go, but how do I differentiate for learning levels? Especially in an honors class. Next year, I have to raise the bar for all students and put supports in place for those who aren't quite ready for the challenge.

How to justify a wasted day

What I am about to confess is embarrassing. I spent the entire day, well nine straight hours of it, reading. How is this embarrassing you might ask? In fact, on the surface it seems so erudite. Please imagine away that I was captivated by War and Peace or Moby Dick. In actuality, I was reading yet another Sookie Stackhouse novel. If you don't know what I'm referencing, turn on HBO on Sunday nights. You will get an hour's worth of brain candy (perhaps brain crack-candy): True Blood. Vampires, werewolves, fairies, and a telepath. The TV show is no longer enough to satisfy my obsession, so I started reading the books (not sure that they even warrant being called novels) that the series is based on. Charlaine Harris' books boast such insightful titles as Dead Until Dark, Dead as a Doornail, and today's entertainment Definitely Dead. Now as an English teacher, I'm sure you're starting to see how this confession must stay within the confines of my blog. When my husband returned from a day in what I like to call the real world (you know...where people sit in front of computers in their cubicles doing "important" stuff), he was less than impressed that I hadn't managed to even brush my teeth until 5:30 (PM...just in case you were confused!). My first reaction was shame. How could I waste so much time? I'm not really big, however, on feeling guilty about my procrastination tendencies. So my second reaction was, quite clearly, justification.

In order to justify my binge-reading, I decided that reading is good for my brain. I actually spent nine hours running a mental marathon. Yes. This made me feel much better. Until I admitted deep within my subconscious that it was more like a nine hour mental stroll. Or was it? Is all reading good for my brain? I definitely employed my proficient reader skills: prediction, visualization, vocabulary development (Sookie uses a word-of-the-day calendar). When I googled brain development and reading, I couldn't find any sites that clearly specified WHAT I needed to be reading. Most of them instructed me to "read, read, read." In fact, the Franklin Institute cited a study where participants were able to increase pinky strength by 35% by simply imagining that they were exercising their fingers. I was imagining all sorts of things as I read...my brain must be getting stronger.

Which finally brings me to my classroom, that is, if anyone is still reading. Please understand. I am not going to dump Othello for Sookie any time soon. However, I do want more information on the effect of all forms of reading on my students. Let's be honest, even in an honors class, many students simply do not read. If it is long, old, and complicated, most students won't give it a chance. So I start to wonder if it is actually a disservice to my students to mix in some easier reads. Books that might not find their way into the literary cannon, but actually find their way into students' hands. Does reading The Hunger Games provide an equal amount of cognitive stimulation to, say, Lord of the Flies? It does if the students actually bother to read it :) If you want to point me towards more data, please do.

I think I can, I think I can

Alrighty. After playing around with classblogs, wordpress, tumblr...I think I found what I'm looking for. I didn't have to read an instruction manual or google any terms to set this up. I could actually simply click and go. Just my speed :)

It is weird, after several years of writing for myself, to write for another audience. This must be how my students feel when we share our writing in class. So vulnerable. Will they think I'm smart? Funny? Articulate? Will anyone even care? What if I make one of those glaring mistakes like use "effect" instead of "affect." (The world might ACTUALLY end!?!) It's funny how quickly our perspective changes when we move to the front of the classroom.

In essence, I want to force myself to remain reflective. “Follow effective action with quiet reflection. From the quiet reflection will come even more effective action.”(Oh yeah. I googled a quote to fit my needs. Makes me sound smarter, doesn't it?) Next year will be my 5th in the classroom...right about when teachers start to get lazy, right? Last year, I found myself cutting corners. "I've taught this unit three times already, I don't need to re-plan it." "I'll just make those copies in the morning instead." Seriously? When did I become THAT teacher?? So I want to slow down this year. Push myself to constantly reflect and, therefore, improve my practices. Blah, blah, blah. Now I have a blog. We'll see what comes of it.

On my mind this summer: revitalizing and possibly redefining my teaching beliefs, mission, and vision.  Having the discipline to set up a year that will better prepare each student I teach.