Choose Your Own Adventure

Wednesday broke a lot of people in our building.

Last Tuesday my school board voted to close three elementary schools at the end of the year. It was the worst-kept secret in the Region as the closings had been long-rumored, generating a series of demonstrations by teachers and community members.

At the same meeting the board voted to approve layoffs for 173 employees with support staff, paraprofessionals, and custodial staff taking the brunt of the cuts.

Wednesday about half the teachers in the district woke up with a mysterious illness, causing the district to close for the day.

That afternoon the mayor held a virtual town hall and stated, “I don’t think they’re done cutting. If we don’t fix the funding problem, next year it may be Morton High School.” (46:40 mark of the video).

Morton High School. My school. Well. That’s a lot to process for one day. I have no desire to change schools again, but a year or two from now I may not have a choice.

Most of us just want to put this year out of its misery. Teachers are done with PD, kids want to get to the last week of May and get out of here.

It’s a delicate balancing act, reading the room.

In my district tests and quizzes account for 70% of the overall grade so the last thing I need is to offer my kids an assessment that will bomb their grade. But wait Mr. Dull, isn’t it your kids’ job to prepare for quizzes? I mean, if it’s that big a factor in their grade, shouldn’t they take it more seriously?

Yes, but. It’s also my job to determine the most appropriate way to assess my kids, to select a way for my kids to demonstrate their learning. In the first week of May in Algebra II, wrapping up the rationals unit, that looks like an activity. Choose your own adventure, it says here.

Enter DIY Row Games.

Row Games were a darling in the heyday of the #MTBoS. Students pair up and work a page of problems in two columns, one column for each student. Catch is, the answers for each pair of problems is the same. So the exercise is student-centered and self-checking. There’s a couple of folders of pre-made row games out there.

I grabbed one up (multi-step equations) to use as a bellringer, then set the hook: “Man, the answers to both problems were the same. All the way down? Hunh, that’s a weird coincidence. How’d the teacher that made this page do that?”

So we bounced some ideas around and eventually settled on working the problem backwards, starting with the answer and using inverse operations to work back to the original problem.

Then I introduced the assignment. (Doc here, template here). Students work in pairs to create a page of row games, one each of simplify, multiply, divide, add, and subtract rationals. They turn in a page of problems, a worked-out answer key, and the work they did to go backwards from the “answer” to the original problem.

They were tentative at first, then started to dig in. I made my way around the room to check for stuck students and demonstrate the process for a problem from the bellringer.

The big payoff came late. Students were working diligently on Day Two of the activity and making good progress but starting to sense they wouldn’t finish. The question developed independently from two sides of the room: “Can we keep working on this tomorrow?”

Wait. You guys want to do more math? On a Friday?

I don’t know….. well, maybe. OK. Fine. Due date is tomorrow.

And yes, I totally planned that in advance.

Because I’ve been doing this for a while and you learn to anticipate these things. So instead of all of us being frustrated with a traditional pencil/paper quiz over a really tough topic, bad grades and hurt feelings all over the place, I got kids so invested in an activity they want to keep working on it for a third day.

That’s a good Thursday in Room 130 right there.

Oh, and they’ll see Row Games again. I plan to take one or two of the student-made sets and use them as part of my semester review package coming up a few weeks from now. Because authentic audiences are awesome.


The coalition of state representatives from my Region put together a press release this week blaming the state GOP leadership for my district’s financial woes. (Indiana is super-majority Republican in the Statehouse so one party has great influence on education policy). You can make a case for their position on property tax caps and referendums and vouchers, just like you can question the decision-making at the local level. I spent all of last school year as a Teach Plus Policy Fellow studying the school funding model in Indiana. There’s aspects that need fixing.

But what I do know is that both of those things, state-and local-level policy-making, are outside of my control. I can advocate, but I don’t get to make laws. What I do get to do is make decisions about how I organize my classroom and plan my instruction to suit my students’ needs.

Choose Your Own Adventure. And I’m going to keep doing just that until they take my keys and lanyard away.

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

I’ve been told by teaching colleagues that I am too analytical. It’s a pretty good read. I’ve never been comfortable flying by the seat of my pants. I’d rather have as much information as I can get and have the pieces more or less in place before making a move.

Although that one Teddy Roosevelt quote hangs behind my desk because sometimes you just have to make a decision.

It’s not always possible to have all the knowledge you need. To be honest, a key moment in my life was when I learned to operate in a grey area, when “black-and-white” is not one of the options.

Did I ever tell you about the time we bought a house sight-unseen? Moving back to the Region from Vegas, we had enough money to fly back for job interviews but not enough to come back a second time for house hunting. We did our research online (on the baby Internet back in 2005), my wife’s stepdad was our agent, we’d find a house, he’d check it out and report back. He eventually did the walkthrough of the house we selected on his flip phone while we stood in the kitchen of our house in Vegas.

Sold. We never saw it in person until we pulled up in the U-Haul.

That’s when I understood the Colin Powell 40-70 rule. General Powell felt if he couldn’t be 40% sure the outcome of a decision, that was a “no”. But he also recognized he would never have 100% of the information, so he set 70% as the threshold. Once he was 70% positive, that was a “go”.

And so it is in so many areas of life. Gather your data, assess the probabilities, move forward. It’s why the probability unit in Algebra II is so rich with opportunities for real-life connections. Yeah, we do do plenty of Fundamental Counting Principle practice, we figure permutations and combinations (“How many ways can three runners finish first, second, and third in the 100-meter dash in a field of eight runners?”)

But the big money payoff is when students see how understanding probabilities and likely outcomes can help them manage an uncertain (at best) world.

We start the prob/stats unit with a deep dive into March Madness, including a bracket challenge with their new-found handicapping knowledge.

Then out of long habit I make the assessment for the unit a pair of activities: First (because Indiana), John Scammell’s “Free Throws For The Win” .

They were like “Mr. Dull can we do something happy tomorrow? Because that was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

We follow that up with an investigation into the Monty Hall Problem (doc here). Both days they do real math and see the real applications of probability that they can start using really as soon as tomorrow.

The big takeaways are that even what seem like highly improbable things still sometimes happen. And that just because something is statistically your best move doesn’t always guarantee success. You have twice the probability of winning the car on Let’s Make A Deal by switching doors, but in any one play (which is all you get when you are a contestant), there is still a 1-in-3 chance you get the Zonk.

Goat 🙂

Weigh your options, and roll.

A lot of my friends in the building are making exactly these mental calculations these days. At our next school board meeting next week the district is expected to announce its decision on school closures and teacher layoffs. Consensus is we will shutter 4 of our 12 elementary schools, and we were told back in November that the defeat of a funding referendum would require cutting 250 teaching positions.

But as a colleague of mine pointed out, folks aren’t waiting. In his words, they are “RIFfing themselves”, lining up new jobs before the axe can fall. In some cases, making the move before the school year is done. We had four resignations from just my building on the personnel report last month, and I suspect the number will be similar this month. (That’s 10 percent of our teaching staff in eight weeks, if you’re scoring at home). And can you blame them? As the famous economist observation goes, when you lose your job, unemployment in your house is 100%. It doesn’t matter what the “official” statistics say.

I’ve been on the other side. Some time ago I left the district I call “the Family Business” for a green leafy suburban school. Well, the grass isn’t always greener. I came back. For the people and the kids. I took a pay cut to do it. There’s no district out there where the hallways are paved with gold. Few are paying significantly more than we are. There are so many districts (even in relatively affluent areas) in financial distress right now, it’s the living embodiment of “the devil you know”. You could jump districts and land someplace worse.

I feel horrible for the families who will have to make plans for their kids to attend a different school next year. For the kids who will leave their friends. I ache for my teacher friends who are going to be forced out of a job they’ve poured their soul into. For the clerical staff and custodians who won’t even be allowed to finish out the year. I’ve been told that due to the number of vacancies and emergency permit folks in the district, teachers with a degree and a license are probably safe. But even for the folks who are above the cut line, the daily anxiety over the future permeating my building is physically exhausting.

And the concessions that will likely be written into our contract (yeah that’s not even settled yet, five months after the state-mandated deadline to conclude negotiations) are frankly petty and punitive and are chasing teachers away. Folks who stay will get no raise and shoulder the burden of an unsustainable insurance premium increase.

Tuesday of Holy Week, this line from the Gospel of John hit hard:

Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I hand the morsel after I have dipped it.” So he dipped the morsel and [took it and] handed it to Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot.  After he took the morsel, Satan entered him. So Jesus said to him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.”

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2013:26-28&version=NABRE

That’s all of us right now: whatever the plan is, get on with it. Just tell us. Then we can take that information and make a decision.

Just like they taught us back in Algebra II all those years ago.

Keepin’ It Real

all: To keeping it 100.
Source

We had our last-ever New Tech Network training this week. The project-based learning model which arrived with great fanfare concurrent with our district’s consolidation from four high schools to two will continue in practice, but our contract with NTN is up and is a luxury in our district’s current financial state.

We spent part of the day with our school coach doing learning walks through our classrooms, looking for evidence for the Thinking indicator on our evaluation rubric. One of the descriptors is that students apply what they have learned to “real-world” situations.

Back in the 2010’s those would have been fightin’ words amongst my online math connects. Like, what even is “real-world”? Especially if the problems don’t match up with our kids’ actual, real-life, real world.

While state standards, evaluation tools, and every textbook ever call for applications of the math, in reality that means students often wrestle with problems that have been rendered unrecognizable by the contortions required to bend them into a word problem.

Our Wednesday Early-Release PD was a session from the New Tech Annual Conference last summer on Problem-based learning, what the NTN people call PrBL. (If you know three-act math, you have a good mental image). Long story short, we created a math fight over the proper way to evaluate exponential expressions, including negative exponents.

The assembled math, science, and special ed teachers were good sports despite well, (gestures broadly) everything. They played the role of freshmen algebra students to a T. It took a nudge to get them to describe their thinking, not just to speak out loud the math they’d put down on poster paper. But they got the spirit right. Student-centered learning, with a competitive twist.

My co-presenter did an outstanding job of pointing out that this wasn’t a “real-world” problem as traditionally understood but it hooked them in in a way no worksheet or MathXL assignment can.


Algebra II taxes a teacher’s ability to make “real-world” connections like maybe no other high school math course. I once described the second semester of Algebra II as “weird” to an administrator, which didn’t win me any points with him but I think at least accurately described a super-theoretical, super-abstract semester of math that relies in large part on a group of kids with terminal junioritis recalling and using their algebraic manipulation skills from long ago.

So we do a lot of projects second semester. This year (in a nod to NTN’s project-based model) I led off the probability and statistics unit with a March Madness investigation and Bracket Challenge. That hooked them in and has served as an anchor as we work our way through the unit. Plus it gives me something other than gambling as a real-world application.

Today, once we had finished notes and guided practice on probability of multiple events, I switched gears again. I had hinted that TV game shows all revolve around math, and several kids copped to watching The Price Is Right at grandma’s house as kids.

So I shared a piece of video with them.

We paused often as we went along. “How many of those baseballs have digits on them? How many strikes? OK, what’s the probability she draws a ball with a digit on it? Five out of eight? Awesome.”

I let Drew Carey fill in the contestant on the rules, and then a quick aside: “OK, so there’s five digits in the price of the car. How many ways can she put 5 digits in order? Five factorial, yeah. So somebody do the math. What is that? 120 ways? Wow.”

Every time she pulled a baseball out of the bag we re-calculated the probabilties of a digit and a strike.

“OK, so if she gets a number and puts it in the right position, then how many ways are there to arrange the other four digits? Just 24? Let’s go.”

We agonized as she struggled to put the digits in order to nail down the price of an Alfa Romeo. (A what now? When we were kids that would have been a pretty nice Chevy, but welcome to 2024). Everybody had a pretty good sense the first digit wasn’t a two but after that? Anybody’s guess. Including the contestant, who wasn’t able to place a single digit before striking out. “This game is impossible! How does anybody ever win?”

It was five quick minutes, but five good minutes. Some rapid-fire, non-Google-able practice on a couple of the topics we’d covered this week.

And it made the math real. Which is all I want with 38 school days left and spring fever here and teacher cuts and school closures looming. When teaching’s all I got left, I’m gonna use every tool I got.

Lemons. And Project-based Lemonade

Being a teacher in my district in 2024 is a daily mental struggle. A protracted contract battle, threats of school closures, an upcoming reduction in teacher force, all things contributing to a morale problem the size of a volcanic crater. It’s hard to see a moment on the horizon where things turn around and get better.

Declining enrollment is the root of the problem. Fewer kids means less state money. And eventually it means you have too many employees and too many buildings.

So being a math guy and a pessimistic optimist, of course I decided to give my students access to the enrollment numbers over the last 20 years and start doing some math with it. Project-based learning and all, right?

Introducing the SCH Enrollment Investigation. (here’s my planning doc including the basic format ChatGPT spit out when I asked it to write the project for me).

I’ve got a Desmos activty examining school district enrollment I’ve been doing with my kids forever (so long that when I first rolled it out it was a pencil/paper activity). I show them a coordinate plane with five (linear-ish) data points. I ask them to create a line of best fit and write equations for the line, then use that model to predict future enrollment. Hook is, I give them five years of data that were the tail end of decades of linear growth, that leveled off a year or so later when the global financial crisis hit. Takeaway: The model is good until it isn’t. Sometimes the model is bad to start, sometimes the world changes. (Foreshadowing alert!)

In that Desmos activity I asked them to model the enrollment of a district (Clark County, NV, home to the Las Vegas schools) that was experiencing rapid growth. Now I want them to think about whether we could use a similar tactic to model enrollment in a district in decline. Pointed them to a couple of recent newspaper articles on the issues in the district and aked them to write some facts.

Then I set up a table in a spreadsheet for them and linked them to the IDOE’s giant mega sheet of enrollment by district since 2006. OK kids, go grab the figures you need for our district, complete the table and insert a scatter plot and trendline.

My motivation for this project is to get a look at exponential and logarithmic functions before we study them in the upcoming unit. So I encouraged the kids to try out different functions for their trend line and see which one modeled the twenty or so data points best.

At 30,000 feet (the Google Sheet chart) the four types of functions don’t look all that different, so Tuesday when we get back together I’m going to give them a quick look at a Desmos graph of the 20 or so data points, and the trend lines for exponential, logarithmic, and polynomial functions.

One of these things is definitely not like the others. Those last four data points are the post-pandemic, post-consolidation years. There are a couple of other contributing factors, but what I’m hoping my students will see is the model is broken, and then I’m hoping that will get them asking questions.

I also linked them to a demographic study our district commissioned after two elementary closings but before we consolidated from four high schools to two. I’m asking them to compare the real-life numbers to the projections of a paid professional.

My hope is this underlines that such reports are built around a specific set of assumptions, and sometimes the world changes. That doesn’t mean the researcher didn’t know what he was doing, or that the numbers were bad.

The culminating event of the project is a student presentation sharing their findings and including their recommendations for the district.

As part of their work I asked them to think about why they thought the enrollment was shrinking in our district. They gave it some serious thought:

Others mentioned increasing housing costs in our city and families seeking new districts due to school closures or seeking in-person school during the shutdown.

They are on this, folks.

I suspected they would connect with this activity because it is 100% real to them right now, and that connection has played out. The last thing I want (or need) to put a bow on the project is a community partner, someone who could come to the classroom and answer questions from students (why close that school? what if we kept more kids/families from leaving the district? is there a way to keep more teachers and still cut costs? why doesn’t the state provide more funding? can the city do anything?)

Real data is messy. Which is why I love it. Giving kids a chance to math with real numbers that really matter to them is absolute gold. Can’t wait to see their presentations this week.

Planning, And Planning Ahead

“Parabola Bean”

I toggled back to Algebra II this year after a couple of years of geometry, and we also switched from Google Classroom to the Schoology LMS so my planning has taken a slightly different form. I’m still working off our district-made curriculum map and using a digital calendar/planner as well as planning out quarters on paper, but I’ve been tweaking my lessons to fit an in-person audience since last time I taught Alg II we were still remote for three-quarters of the year, then hybrid.

In the midst of my planning, and sharing resources with the math team, I realized I needed something better to use as an assessment for quadratic functions and after rooting around a little bit ended up on the Parabola Selfie Project ($) from Algebra and Beyond.

I planned out three days in class for the work and one day for the gallery walk/parabola swap where they verify a classmate’s math. But that timeline counted on my students finding a parabola in the wild outside of school over the weekend and taking a couple of photos so they could start work right away on Monday morning.

OK, so what happens on Day One if no one comes back with a photo?

Writing in his Substack last week, Dan Meyer pointed out that one of the most important skiils a teacher needs is knowledge of student misconceptions, or common errors. This is not exactly that, but related. I’m not sure I would have had the foresight to do this as a first or second year teacher, but in the days leading up to the launch of this activity, I definitely scouted the building to see if I could find anything that could stand in for a parabola in a pinch. Then if we needed to, we could take part of that first day and make a field trip of the second floor and snap photos.

Planning ahead paid off. Big time. Virtually all of my students needed a parabola photo to get started.

Everyone got a parabola (-ish) photo they could pull into Desmos. Most were able to wrap that up in the 15 or so minutes we had left in class after our “field trip”. From there over the next couple of days they identified characteristics of their parabola including the equation of the axis of symmetry, coordinates of the vertex, named a point and its reflection, the zeros and y-intercepts. Then they wrote the equation of the quadratic in vertex form and enetered that to their Desmos graph to confirm it matched their shape. They also converted to standard form.

I’ve mentioned often in this space that we’re still dealing with the long tail of pandemic-era schooling. I plan everything knowing that my students are going to come to me with gaping holes in their foundational math knowledge. I spent much of the three class days we spent on the activity sitting at our table groups and providing support on things like binomial multiplication.

Which is good. One-on-one time is hard to come by in a 45-minute class.

We ran out of time to make poster displays so I collected their pencil/paper work and made a quick Google Doc where they could paste in the Desmos link, a screen shot of their graph, and their original photo and selfie. They submitted this doc to me through Schoology.

They did some pretty solid work. There was actual math in there. And I’m not above bribery so I made it a quiz grade.

But it was not a spur-of-the-moment decision to make this activity a quiz grade. Every topic we covered was included on the project. I planned from the outset to use this activity as my assessment for the first half of the quadratics unit.


We’ve spent a considerable portion of our PD time this year on NIET rubric, which is our evaluation tool. We want to help our teachers see how their actions in the classroom correlate to scores on the rubric. As part of our early-release time a couple weeks ago our PD focused on the areas where we as a school scored lowest last year: questioning, grouping, and problem-solving. Part of our purpose was to help our teachers see how they could increase their own scores, part of our purpose was to help them see the evaluation tool is meant to support teaching/learning and student achievement, and part of the purpose was to show that many of the descriptors are inter-related. How does intentional questioning relate to teacher content knowledge and assessment? Intentionality felt like the common thread.

I shared a couple of things out by email to the math and science departments a few days after the PD. Not only the Meyer Substack, but also some documents on the Backwards Assessment Model (BAM) from the Southern Nevada Regional Professional Development Program back in my Vegas Days, and an excellent article on the topic from Jennifer Gonzalez. Like, it’s the top search result in Google for “backwards assessment model”. That good. Gonzalez walks her readers through the process of matching assessment items to the standards before the teaching even begins. Super-powerful stuff.

It’s been one of my areas of emphasis for myself in a year when I’m kinda-sorta planning a new prep from the ground up. It helps me walk my talk. And, in a year when the state of Indiana is rolling out a streamlined version of the standards for each course, it will help us implement the new standards with fidelity.

As an added bonus, backwards planning also helps develop project-based activities as we continue in year three of a shift to a project-based learning school. In the SNRPDP materials, teachers see how they can plan a unit assessment together, determining what type of items will be used to assess what standards. Now trade out “project planning” for assessment planning and let’s go.

In a year when teachers in my district have seen their plan time cut in half and their department and PLC time cut to zero (at least during contracted hours) due to a schedule change, this might feel like an impossible ask. Like, “backwards planning? with what time?” But it also feels like the teaching equivalent of “measure twice, cut once”. A little bit of care and up-front planning avoids a lot of duplicate work and keeps us en route to the goal.

Goals

Back in the early days of my quest to learn how to be better at teaching, I stumbled across Shawn Cornally, an ambitious and thoughtful science and math teacher in The Middle Of Nowhere, Iowa. His brilliant blog no longer exists (RIP ThinkThankThunk) but he is best known now as the co-founder of Iowa BIG, a project-based school in Cedar Rapids.

Now that we’re on our own PBL journey in my district, I encountered Cornally’s thinking again on a podcast he produced with BIG co-founder Trace Pickering. One episode the two chopped it up on project-based learning especially as it relates to math and science. It was a fascinating and wide-ranging conversation (one student proposed a project to learn the best way to smoke bacon, and not only designed and fabricated his own smoker, he won a ribbon at the county fair). Cornally closed with the following thought, which was so powerful I want to quote it verbatim:

I’m proud of the experience we’ve given every single student, even the students who don’t succeed, or leave partway through their experience here. I think that we always represent to them a reality where adults respect teenagers, where the community’s problems are the school’s problems, we’ve modeled for students that learning is something you do, not because “when am I gonna use this?” or “exactly how much money will this make me?”, but because it makes you smarter, and it makes you more pliable, and it makes you more useful, in any situation. The question shouldn’t be “when am I ever gonna use this?”, the question should be “am I smart enough to extend this into any part of my life?” That should always be the question you’re asking.

The Iowa BIG Podcast Season 2 Episode 11 https://open.spotify.com/episode/2phrhncf8TcPiu41htKEVY?si=6VtuRCn6TU2GMJ2Og9IVBg

That sounds a lot like the goals we have for our building (in an aging Rust Belt city) in our third year of a consolidation and our third year of a conversion to a project-based learning school.

Trying to duplicate Iowa BIG in our traditional high school setting would be like trying to build a modern-day seating bowl in a historic stadium.

Soldier Field, Chicago. Photo cred: By Sea Cow – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120032773

It might not quite fit.

But our journey can definitely benefit from benchmarking some of the thought processes that went into the Iowa BIG launch.

The founders’ vision came into focus as a result of the Billy Madison Project – more than 60 community members were invited to experience school as students do. What did they learn?

  • Everything kids do in school is fake. Students do work for one person. The teacher. There is no authentic audience who has a reason to care about what they have produced.
  • There are no interactions with people outside of their narrow age band, so students don’t really learn how to work with people older or younger than them.
  • School hasn’t really changed much in 60 years.
  • Every teacher’s class is The Most Important Thing In The World. No one recognizes that the kid who has the lead role in the play that premieres tonight could give a shit about finding the zeros of a polynomial function in Algebra II this morning.
  • The whole point seems to be grade-chasing rather than actual functional learning.

Cornally has pointed out (especially in the STEM fields) that we have designed the curriculum and the standards around the 0.05 percent of people who are going on to be Ph. Ds in math. But then we miss the rest of the students badly.

And they know it.

So what do we do with that?


I’ll note that the idea of community partnerships in the city of Hammond is nothing new. The district’s FIRST Robotics team, Team Hammond 71, is a four-time world champion. That is the natural product of a partnership between industry mentors in the city, and the students of the city of Hammond.

There’s tons of problems that need solving in Hammond, and no shortage of people who can articulate those problems to our kids. Boom. Instant community partners. If we know where to look and who to ask.

And it dovetails beautifully with our district’s vision. We spent our district-wide PD afternoon this week breaking apart the pillars of our Strategic Plan. The stated priorities are:

  • Student success
  • Retain students and staff
  • Commitment to Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion
  • Improved communication at all levels
  • Fiscal responsibility
  • United district community

We know, from district office to the building level, that we need to make our instruction meaningful and equitable for all of our students. We know we need to leverage our community’s assets to better serve our students. We know we need to make school relevant to our students’ lives, to tap their passions to ignite their learning. We know we need to prepare them for “life after Morton”. That’s what project-based learning, properly executed, does.

They are good goals. Compelling goals. And: Our goals for our students are similar to Iowa BIG’s even though we might be approaching them from a slightly different trajectory.

It’s an ongoing process. Three weeks in to my new role as an instructional coach it’s been fascinating to see the movement behind the curtain to make project-based learning a reality in my building. As a teacher I’ve sat in on the PDs from the other side of the table, I’ve shared problem-based learning activities with my PLC. Now I’m in a position to share more widely, and to push the ball forward in this effort.

And for me, it’s comforting to know that there are people out there who have carved out the path we are trying to follow.

One last thing: the new principal at the other high school in my district is a former colleague of my mother-in-law, at a neaby district which has been on the project-based learning journey for a decade.

On a call with our New Tech building coaches this week, she pointed out that her daughter graduated from a New Tech school and all this time later she still raves about the experience. We have cheerleaders for the movement leading our schools. The pieces are in place to make the vision a reality.

“Am I smart enough to extend this into any part of my life?”

I might hang that as a sign over my classroom door.

One-Man Book Club: Making Americans (x NTAC)

One of the ongoing benefits to my Teach Plus experience is an informal but real connection to other Policy Fellow alumni from around the country. So this spring a book showed up in my mailbox by Jessica Lander (Teach Plus MA) – Making Americans: Stories of Historic Struggles, New Ideas, and Inspiration in Immigrant Education. When the Teach Plus Indiana folks offered me a free copy of the book I jumped at it, knowing it would have an influence on my teaching and advocacy.

Lander teaches at a Massachusetts high school that serves a population of students that are predominantly recent immigrants. She weaves the stories of her own students into a rich tapestry of the history and struggles of immigrant-origin families as they fought for the right to a public education in America. She augments these compelling stories with snapshots of schools across the country that are breaking the model to innovate and serve their families and students who are new to the country.

I want to steal every single idea, from offering students a chance to study real community issues and write about their findings for an authentic audience, to realizing the value of the experiences of my students’ families and offering family members an opportunity in the school building to share their skills and knowledge and support each other, to changing the way I offer my students a way to engage with geometry or algebra when they are at the same time trying to navigate the world in an unfamiliar language.

For years in Guilford, North Carolina, as elsewhere, many considered the EL program remedial — a class to practice pronunciation, trace letters, sound out phonics, review grammar. But by 2017, Mayra Hayes, after nearly fifteen years as Guilford county’s director for English learners, was still unsatisfied with the district’s progress in serving EL students. Decades earlier Mayra herself had been an EL student in US school, after her family moved from El Salvador to New York. Over her time in Guilford, Mayra had implemented new curricula, adopted education programs, recruited tutors, and crafted professional development. Many students succeeded, but not nearly enough. Yearly test scores crept up in math or reading one year, only to sink back the following spring. Of district students who started in kindergarten or first grade, roughly one in seven remained classified as English learners eleven years later. As Mayra recalled. “The status quo wasn’t working.”

In the fall of 2017, Mayra and her team began implementing an approach born of a bicoastal partnership. More than a decade earlier, two women had teamed up: Berkeley linguist Dr. Lily Wong Fillmore who had devoted a lifetime to understanding how children acquire language and Maryann Cucchiara, a practitioner responsible for supporting many of the New York City’s EL students. Where often EL classes favored simple texts and isolated grammar rules. In classrooms, the duo began demonstrating to teachers how they could use rich, grammatically demanding language—sentences stuffed with dependent clauses, adjective phrases, and compounds. Rather than teach vocabulary and grammar in isolation, language learning would be teased out of studying animal adaptations, immigration histories, and ancient civilizations. Rather than read simplified books, students would analyze articles drawn from Smithsonian and National Geographic and would decode newspapers as well as grade-level books.

In Guilford, Mayra’s team fanned out across the district. They sat in the back of classrooms, conferred with teachers, sometimes even, at a teacher’s urging, stepped in to teach. They tracked down complex texts and helped craft lessons that teased meaning from the sentences. Once a month teachers regrouped, swapping notes and trading lessons. to shrink the miles between classrooms the EL team launched a newsletter: see how students in this class are working collaboratively to deconstruct and reconstruct complex sentences; take a look at how this teacher has made a wall of synonyms using colorful paint sample chips to help students visualize subtle difference between words — hungry, starving, famished. Soon the newsletter was brimming with photos snapped in classrooms, videos of students debating passages, lesson plans constructed by teachers. Slowly, in classrooms, teachers began noticing a shift: Their students, some for the first time, were speaking in complex English sentences, incorporating new vocabulary, asking insightful questions about class texts.

https://www.gse.harvard.edu/ideas/ed-magazine/22/10/making-americans

It’s taken me most of the summer to work my way through the book, which is fine because I’ll finish it just in time to head back to school with all the optimism I can hold.


Of course the stuff I read doesn’t just sit still in my brain. Neurons fire, synaptic connections are made. “Ping ping ping”, we call it in my house. Mrs. Dull has grown accustomed to me adding seemingly unrelated anecdotes to our dinner table conversation. Helpfully, I preface the segue with “ping ping ping” and away we go.

I am attending the New Tech Network‘s annual convention in Dallas this week with a cohort of teachers, instructional coaches, and administrators from my district. The intent of our transition to a problem-based learning school is to deeply engage our students in ways that connect what we do in school to the world around them, and to seek out ways for them to be their authentic selves in the process. So I’m consuming each session through a lens of equity as I learn the nuts and bolts of this change of style.

Our building principal is here and set up a shared Google folder for us all to dump our notes into (seven brains are better than one, right?). And Lander’s book has shown up more than once in my notes as I insert my own prior knowledge anchors to process my new learning.

My sessions:

  • Curriculum Mapping and PBL Design
  • Identifying and Removing Barriers to Student Engagement In The Classroom
  • Using Learner-Centered Agendas to Support Day-to-Day PBL Instruction
  • Breaking Down The Buzzword: Using the NTN Culture Practice Cards to Support SEL (Note: I skipped this session as we took this time to debrief as a building team and think about how we could apply our learning to our practice this year).
  • Creating Transformative Learning Experiences with Community Partnerships
  • Getting Better at Getting Better: An Introduction to Improvement Science
  • Bookend Lessons: Teaching to the Learning Outcomes In Your Daily Instruction
  • Supporting Your PrBL Practice With NTN Resources
  • Notes From The Field: The Current Challenges and Success of Network Schools
  • Self-Guided Field Trip to the Dallas Museum of Art (extension of the Community Partnership session)

So obviously that’s a lot to process. And true to my nature I started synthesizing and connecting sessions. There defintely was a common thread in the community partnership and enaging students session. The improvement science session obviously applied to everything. And in a related story, I came in with an open mind, knowing I had a lot to learn about implementing PBL in my classroom. In that regard I had a lot of company.

I sat with a really good group of middle school teachers from Samueli Academy in SoCal at a session on creating learning-centered agendas. That session ended with a “I used to think… Now I think….” summary. One of my new fellow learners said, ” I used to think my agendas were pretty good, but now I feel like I have a lot of work to do in that area.” Same, dude. Same. But we have good company. We’re all here growing together.

In a week of powerful learning, our team debrief on Monday afternoon was maybe the most valuable. Teachers, admins, and an instructional coach all sitting around the same table, all opinions valued, and all having input on how these topics will fit into our goals for the year.

We’re shifting our bell schedule this year from 80-minute blocks on an A/B setup to a traditional 7-period day of 45-minute classes. Our “north stars” are meaningful, equitable instruction, and bell-to-bell teaching, where expectations for learners and teachers are clear. We talked a little bit about what the expectations for lesson components are (for evaluation purposes, and for teaching-and-learning purposes), and how we can implement the learner-centered practices that support PBL into our day-to-day.

And that’s the common thread to this reflection – Jessica Lander examined how we can make school meaningful and equitable for our newest students who face our biggest challenges. And it’s not by scaling back, offering simplistic readers and mind-numbing math worksheets. It’s by intentionally designing rich, relevant activities that are community-connected.

That’s our goal with problem-based learning for our diverse population of students. As one of my Day Three presenters pointed out, the way we talk about what we are doing matters.

As he said (paraphrasing), we’re not “doing NTN”. We want to think about moving along the spectrum of deeper learning. Are we employing student-centered lessons consistently, then moving to developing and teaching multiple PBL units per semester? The New Tech learning objectives are designed to be directly aligned with how the field talks about deeper learning (mastering rigorous academic content, learning to think critically and solve problems, working collaboratively, so forth).

The takeaway from that session, as I frantically typed in my notes, was a great way to summarize the week:

The move to a “deeper learning” mindset is a process. District and building level support and collaboration amongst PLCs and across buildings in the district supercharges the effect of a move towards embracing deeper learning. Sharing materials, sharing big wins and challenges, sharing best practices is critical. You need “cheerleaders” or “champions” in the building to kind of bridge between the IC and teachers in the PLC.

It’s not easy, but it is doable. It’s the education we owe our students. I consider it part of my role as an Indiana Teach Plus Policy Fellow alum, how my advocacy manifests itself in my classroom and in my building. And it’s worth working at, together, to improve.

Can I Treat This Like A Triangle?

My Algebra 1A freshmen were very freshman-y today. Retaking a class they hate, last day before a four-day weekend, quiz day. Recipe for disaster. OK maybe “disaster” is a strong word but nobody’s packaging up today’s sixth hour and sending it to the Teaching Hall of Fame. The bell rang to end class and I took a minute to walk the room and straighten desks and pick up left-behind review pages and pencils and snack wrappers, feeling like a not-good teacher.

We’ll try again Tuesday.

But take your minute to sulk (a good playlist helps) and then get your head straight because geometry is coming in like four minutes. I had a singleton Grey Day ahead of the long weekend. We just started our Right Triangles & Trigonometry unit, two sections in, so we had done the Pythagorean Theorem and Special Right Triangles. We had our ups and downs, in about equal measure. What I need for this day is a Three-Act. Taco Cart has been a go-to for years, with the added benefit of being an application of the Pythagorean Theorem. Perfect for my Never-Ending Quest to fill in my students’ pandemic-related foundational holes.

We started off with a Would You Rather rates bellringer since we’re going to be thinking about distance and time.

Then rolled right into the Desmosified version of the Taco Cart activity.

We did our noticing and wondering, made predictions, asked for more information, then I turned them loose in pairs to math this out. And in my last class of the day, it happened: “Mr. Dull, can I treat this like a triangle? And do that a-2 plus b-2 is c-2 thing?”

Hell yes you can. A right triangle even. Let’s go.

We’ve been kind of hammering away at using the principles of a right triangle to solve problems when we have a vertical and horizontal distance. And she connected the dots. It was epic. It’s super-important to me that we can take the training wheels off and let my kids ride on their own. (Pro-tip that was passed on to me by a wise older dad: take the pedals off your kids’ bike when they are learning to ride without training wheels. They’ll learn balance first, and the next thing you know, we ride at dawn!)

With some nudging many of the students produced solid work. Some quality questions in there too. “Were the tacos worth it?” “Do they really walk slower in sand?” “Don’t they have a car?”

Meet them where they’re at , walk with them to get started, and magic will happen.

So that’s how you recover from a disaster of a sixth-hour class. And how you roll into a long weekend. With singing, obvi.

Oh, and I’m not giving up on the freshmen. Gonna tweak my Algebra II survey/data project a little bit and turn them loose on that this week. Bribe them with a quiz grade. Do some math and give some hope. But that sounds like a whole ‘nother post.

Road Trip

We are three-quarters of the way through the school year and almost halfway though my building’s conversion to a project-based learning model. From the jump it’s been a team effort, planning together and taking turns suggesting activities. This unit one of my geometry colleagues was struck with a PrBL inspiration at a faculty meeting and quickly worked up a rough draft of an activity to share. I went and tweaked it a little (because we collaborate like that) and away we go.

Because Spring Break seems like an ideal time for an Imaginary Road Trip.

Our kids began by locating Hammond on the map, then identifying two other cities they have lived in, have visited, have family in, want to visit, know from music or movies or books, whatever.

They placed points on the map for each city, connected the dots, and then measured out the straight-line distance between each city. Using the scale on the map, they wrote and solved a proportion to find the mileage.

Cool. But roads between cities don’t typically go in straight lines. So off to Google maps we go to find the actual driving distance.

We grooved to wide-open spaces driving tunes while we worked.

Next up, let’s attach some real-ish world math to our project. I grabbed up some data from my last cross-country trip to see my Army MP son and had them write and solve proportions to determine how many gallons of gas they’d need for the trip and how much they would spend on fuel. We wrapped it up with my kids calculating the average cost of a gallon of gas on this trip, and their miles per gallon.

My geometry students are part of that cohort that spent their formative algebra years either learning remotely or wearing masks in rows and columns in class, and many tell me they feel shaky still when it comes to the Xs and Os of algebra 1. That’s fine. It’s always been my job to find those gaps and help fill them in. So if we beat proprtions to death these last few weeks, trust me when I say we needed to.


Spring break is here. I know because I stretched out for just like five minutes after dinner yesterday and woke up an hour later when there was just enough light coming through the window that I wasn’t 100% sure if it was 7:00 pm or 7:00 am the next morning.

I needed to find the juvenation machine. For that purpose, ain’t but one place to go. Or maybe two.

Mrs. Dull told me I seemed very relaxed at River St. Joe. It’s that obvious…

Never happier than I’m I’m by water. It was good to be on my feet and moving, good to be by myself, good to hear frogs and birds and leaves and nature sounds (and I am the king of loving trucks and busses and horns and city sounds).

Much needed.

But even in the midst of My Happy Place™, math is never faw away.

“What do you notice? What do you wonder?

Sometime in the next couple of days I’ll post my quarter grades, make sure work clothes are clean and gas tank is full and lunches are prepped. But until then I can squeeze in a road trip or two. Imaginary or otherwise.

Teaching To The Student

Today is the first day of Daylight Saving Time. It is unquestionably Mrs. Dull’s least favorite day of the year. For her that lost hour of sleep is a thing she can never get back and it feels like its been unfairly taken, the same reaction you have as a kid to dropping an ice cream cone on the ground.

For me, it’s one of the unmistakable markers of the coming of spring. Truth be told, I’ll be dragging tomorrow morning too but there’s a 7:00 sunset scheduled for Monday of spring break and that re-energizes me for the last 9 weeks of school. I’m very Vitamin D-responsive. I’m more motivated to get my dogs and myself out for evening walks when it’s light out later. I’ll put the patio chairs back out and spend some quiet time sitting outside after dinner. It’s mentally and physically healthy for all of us.

Everybody out there trying to get what they need, and some folks need something different. For Cath, we’ll balance out the sleep deprivation some night soon with an impromptu pizza dinner on the beach at sunset.


My district revealed its testing numbers a few weeks ago. There was good news and bad news: we are improving but still lagging the state-wide average. And breaking down our students’ I-Ready and PSAT results, we have got significant work to do.

Our principal shared out the results at last month’s faculty meeting, and added a note of guidance: if we have a large portion of our students reading at well below grade level, and we are giving text-based assessments, we can’t be too surprised that our students are struggling grade-wise in our classes. His suggestion: can we consider and implement other ways we can give our students to show us what they know?

Amen. Preaching to the choir right there.

I’m a long-time project-as-assessment guy. Especially when Algebra II gets weird.

Last week we finished triangle similarity and took a Desmos quiz on the topic, with so-so results. I followed it up with the Capture-Recapture goldfish lab and made that a quiz grade. It checks plenty of my favorite boxes: collaborative, crunching numbers, real-world application, a quick snack while mathing. They are after all The Snack That Smiles Back™.

If you want the definitive write-up and docs, Julie Reulbach is my go-to. And you’ll probably dig the BBC video that serves as the hook.

There was some quality math on display and plenty of productive table-talk, and a little competition (which group came closest to the actual number of goldfish in the bag) never hurts.

They showed me they can set up and solve proportions, which is a major objective for the unit. That was my motivation for making it a quiz grade. As a former colleague of mine likes to say, “you learn it, you earn it”. For many of my students, it helped balance out their score on the more traditional quiz. Which seems eminently fair to me, and is aligned with the philosophy our school leadership is espousing.

Win-win. I can teach to the test, or I can teach to the student.

Kind of an easy decision, as I understand it.

Now let’s make it throught this last week of the quarter, enjoy spring break, light the Weber and bathe in the soft light of a late-March sunset.