Deb's work at One Schoolhouse has pushed her out of her comfort zone. She confessed, "Getting me a little bit out of my comfort zone is a good thing. Sometimes you just kind of get set in your ways." As Deb worked alongside Carol, and with her instructional coach, Lynnae Boudreau, she could "see different ways, different approaches of what teachers can do"--and that's made a difference in her work.
One of Deb's new skills is creating practical applications of mathematical concepts. "Coming up with my own real world applications pushed me," she admits. "I was honest with my instructional coach about that. But then, as I was brainstorming with her, I came up with some cool ideas." The result? Deb developed a set of teaching tools that were uniquely her own. "Now I have these tools ready to go," she says confidently. Now, Deb's students collect and apply information to real-life situations. For example, she challenged her students with a scenario: "Because of flooding, you need to go around a river and you're going to use vectors to do it. Come up with two vectors to get you to your final destination." Deb admits, "It's more complicated to grade than a textbook problem because everyone has their own example and situation. But it's worth it because each student's work makes me see what they understand and what they don't understand." When Deb's students learn online, they don't click through multiple choice questions--they put their learning into action. "I think they will remember experiential learning more than reading a problem in the book and trying to solve the problem. So I think anytime students can be outside or move or collect information, I think it has more impact than just reading a problem in the book," she says. Real world engagement cultivates an environment for the students to connect with the subject matter on a deeper level. In Multivariable Calculus and Differential Equations, Deb already has students who are passionate about her discipline. "These students think math is exciting," Deb says. "They talk about internships or jobs where they're doing real work, whether it's in science, medicine, math, or researching physics on their own. They're all highly motivated to do well, and they love math." Many of Deb's students, however, find themselves alone when it comes to their Multivariable Calculus class. They’re the only one at their school taking this class, and therefore, they don’t have a peer to discuss or collaborate with. From Carol, Deb learned the importance of connection in online courses: "When our students reflect, they say it was great to talk to someone else who is also really advanced in their math studies and really likes the concepts. Friendships can develop because the course creates opportunities for them." Teaching with One Schoolhouse expanded Deb’s students' learning experiences, and her own horizons, too. For Deb, it's not just about teaching math; it's about cultivating a community of passionate learners for her students and for herself. At One Schoolhouse, we're nurturing those communities too. Want to learn more about teaching with One Schoolhouse? Fill our our teacher interest form online.
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I can remember my husband and me at our kitchen island, him on his laptop, us laughing, as he fed questions into ChatGPT like, Why can’t my wife load the dishwasher correctly? This was the date ChaptGPT was “born,” and like many seismic cultural events, it created a flashbulb memory for me. At that moment, ChatGPT felt like a bit of a parlor trick, a novelty whose relevance was, as yet, unclear, but one that my husband and I imagined could quickly turn into something out of a sci-fi novel. The launch triggered some iteration of the Change Curve in me – shock/denial, anger/fear, acceptance, and commitment. After that initial playful interest, denial set in, and I disengaged from the topic only to be pulled directly into fear as headlines like “Bing’s AI Chat: ‘I Want to Be Alive’” emerged, and the dystopian sci-fi joke began to feel a little too real. It was early 2023 when we first began to explore the implications of AI at School of the Holy Child. Our Director of Instructional Technology Michelle Sherry and I offered a voluntary after-school session on explaining what ChatGPT, and, more broadly, generative AI is. A handful of teachers attended. We began by explaining what AI is - we’ve been using it for years (Siri, Alexa, Google Maps, et…) - how generative AI is different from predictive AI, and how we’ve seen other technological disruptors - the calculator! Teachers had an opportunity to test out ChatGPT. Language teachers, science teachers, humanities teachers were all huddled together around one another’s screens watching ChatGPT answer questions that they had routinely used in classes. It seemed that, at least, that this portion of the presentation found us squarely in the “fear” stage, and the remainder of it focused on the most immediate fear: cheating and how AI might necessitate changes in how we teach to avoid students using AI to complete their work. By spring, we finally found ourselves in “acceptance.” As part of our alumnae engagement, Holy Child offered an evening during which alumnae visited campus to take mini courses from current faculty. I chose to lead a session on AI and, in my presentation to alumnae, I added some of the initial predictions of how AI would impact white collar work. We may have been in “acceptance,” but the way forward seemed entirely unclear, particularly as educators. The topic was and is overwhelming, the sheer number of articles, resources, and tools is vast. As we looked ahead to the start of the school year, we had moved into “commitment” and knew that we needed to engage all faculty on AI, not just those who volunteered to learn more. We also knew that it needed to connect to our mission. For our first all-school presentation, our Director of Instructional Technology updated her previous presentation and collaborated with two of our Ethics teachers who also teach a senior elective entitled, “Technology, Morality, and the Future of Humanity.” They placed the ethics question in the realm of Catholic Social Teaching’s emphasis on human dignity and shared a powerful quote from Pope Francis’s Laudate Deum: “God has united us to all his creatures. Nonetheless, the technocratic paradigm can isolate us from the world and deceive us by making us forget that the entire world is a “contact zone.” Following this meeting, we launched a voluntary committee to look at the issue of AI for the school. Eight teachers volunteered their time, and, luckily, they broke down nicely along disciplines: two in humanities, three in STEM, and three in languages. What follows below is the framework for how we are organizing the committee, establishing its goals and deliverables, and our cadence of meetings. We hope that these guidelines can be helpful to Academic Leaders as we uphold our mission and values and negotiate with this new technological “disruptor”. School of the Holy Child's Meeting Framework
Goals
Guiding Questions
Structure
Timeline
Possible Deliverables
In January, we come together to honor and celebrate the diversity of our community. We commemorate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day on January 15 and International Holocaust Remembrance Day on January 27. These monthly recognitions reflect our commitment to fostering a sense of belonging. Our goal is to create a community where every member feels valued, heard, and empowered. To learn more about these recognitions, read our blog post on how and why we acknowledge. Learn about the history of Martin Luther King Jr. Day: The National Museum of African American History & Culture details the 15 year battle to make Martin Luther King, Jr. Day a holiday. Accurately represent Dr. King’s commitment to social justice: Learning for Justice details the ways that teachers can avoid “a sanitized narrative” about Dr. King’s work, and accurately represent and teach his “more radical approach to justice” which requires antiracist action and not colorblind neutrality. Teach the complexity of Dr. King’s work:
Learn about the origin of International Holocaust Remembrance Day: The Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp was liberated on January 27, 1945. The United Nations first recognized the International Day of Commemoration in Memory of the Victims of the Holocaust as January 27, 2005.
Accurately represent the Holocaust’s victims: The Holocaust Encyclopedia offers a series of articles and resources on Nazi racial ideology, exploring the full range of targeted groups, including Jews, Roma, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and homosexuals. (Please note that some images may be upsetting.) Teach the complexity of the Holocaust:
Education proclaims noble aspirations that independent schools tend to characterize in values language: equity, community, inclusion, and justice, and I believe that most educators are very sincerely committed to these values. Alas, however, we have inherited a system in which rankings, ratings, scores, honors, and awards are endemic and where their presence in a school’s practice is often a signal that the school values “rigor.” Some believe that these recognitions are motivating to students.
And we record these plaudits and include them on things like applications and transcripts, creating distinctions when, say, two students from one school are applying to the same college or next school. One has the little award notation, and one does not. Even if the reader has no idea what the award actually represents, it will likely shine like a little gold star on the record and have its influence. Each of the brick-and-mortar schools where I worked distributed awards on one fine day just before graduation. Some of these awards were obvious in their intent and purpose, but many—the Class of 1897 Character Award or the Algernon Percival IV Award or the Ivy League Book Award—were mainly, it would seem, more intended to honor the original donor or someone from the distant past than to encapsulate some meaningful value, even if the citation read at the ceremony was laced with value-laden words. In the last of these schools, we saw and felt the disconnect and took to heart the disappointment of students. A look into award-winner demographics over a few years demonstrated that the school’s strategic priorities around equity and inclusion were not playing out in the distribution of awards, including the “honor society” to which the school belonged and to which the school could only admit a defined percentage of students in each class. Something needed to be done to try to bring what we did into alignment with what we said. A small committee was formed—diverse in all possible ways including experience level—and we began to do research and brainstorm ideas. It was clear that the awards concept was too deeply embedded in the school’s traditions and culture to be eliminated entirely. We started with a confidential survey to students, asking 1) what students thought about the scope and perceived purpose of existing awards (“Meh”), 2) whether students thought these awards had any relation to the school’s values (“Maybe some”), and 3) whether students found them motivating (“A hard NO”). We even asked which awards should be scrapped or added. We listened. First to go were the college-named book awards. These were, it seemed, not only just rather fluffy but had been instigated as product placements for the colleges. And they confused people: If you won the Ivy League Book Award as a sophomore, doesn’t that mean that you will automatically get into Ivy League, maybe with a scholarship? Well, no. Fare thee well. In the end most of the old awards regime was tossed and three new “major” awards were instituted at each upper school grade level. The first was for “students who have contributed in positive ways to life at [the school]” and have “shared the gift of their own passions and values” and “demonstrated a consistent willingness to take responsibility for enhancing the quality and meaning of membership in the school community.” The second recognized students “who have demonstrated outstanding intellectual curiosity and engagement … and a deep respect for the collaborative and communal nature of learning. These students have shown exemplary quality in their own work and exemplary spirit and values as members of a learning community.” The third was awarded to “students whose efforts in all areas of academic life have been exemplary” and “have demonstrated their understanding of the principle that education is an endeavor worthy of sustained commitment.” Service to the school community, academic achievement, and hard work—these mirrored what both students and faculty had identified as meritorious, and they echoed both the school’s mission and its venerable motto. No handcuffing criteria, and awards at each level were to be discussed and voted on by all the teachers involved with that grade. Multiple winners were welcome. The school also made a point, when the honor society inductions were announced, to include a somewhat lengthy (and possibly tedious) definition of the society’s published criteria for selection. Whether the school would remain a part of the society was an open topic. And the awards concept in general remains an active conversation—along with things like traditional grades. The unexamined award, we determined, is very definitely not worth giving. A final note. One year at the awards ceremony the student council president rose to announce the initiation of a council-voted award for a teacher. The first recipient was to be the teacher for whom the award would be forever named. The mortified teacher, taking the engraved silver bowl, mumbled, “I really should be dead before this kind of thing happens,” and remained embarrassed throughout their career whenever the annual winner was announced. Sometimes winning can be as difficult as being lumped among those who did not win. And consider this: If only winners are named, is it so strange that some who are not named might feel a bit like losers? Is that what we want?
I applied this approach unthinkingly, and I did so for many years. The policy was clear-cut and seemingly fair. I had no idea how detrimental the policy was to my most vulnerable learners.
Punitive late work policies have little impact on high performing students. Those students, likely motivated by a fear of low grades and/ or a desire to please their teacher, rarely miss deadlines. Indeed, their lateness occurs so infrequently that it is often excused as an aberration. Struggling students, however, turn work in late for any number of myriad reasons. Lower performing students learn from an early age that their efforts and contributions are valued less than other high performing students. And students who grow up seeing that their work is worth less are at risk of eventually believing that their work is worthless. My current late-work policy is simple: students can earn up to a proficient grade (B range) for any work submitted late. This policy is anchored in the premise that it’s my responsibility to cultivate learners, and that the purpose of assessments is to give feedback that helps students achieve a proficient standard of learning. Proficient B’s are the mid-range grade for students aspiring to college: a B is less than an exemplary A, but it’s more valuable than the less sufficient C. This approach trains students for college and beyond by reinforcing the fact that submitting work late isn’t exemplary, and that such habits do have consequences. But it also communicates to students that their work is worthwhile, and that they are worthy of whatever support I can provide to help them achieve a proficient level of learning. |
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April 2024
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