I Have Some Data Too...

Ummm...hello, out there...anybody home??

Can we talk for a minute?

Can we discuss what on earth is going on for teachers right now?

Our world has had an information explosion and schools have been bringing up the rear.

We have old fashioned desks, limited wi-fi, email that barely works, projectors that still use VCR tapes (no joke) or CD's for music and an old computer or two hanging around the back of the room, posing as a computer center.

Of course there are fancy districts with the latest technology.  

Those lucky teachers might have smart boards, doc-cams, the ability to stream something from their computer onto a screen or even a class set of Ipads.

But that's a tiny portion of our school districts.

Many are sadly out of date.

Shame on you Google, Yahoo, PayPal, Apple and the rest.

Have a symposium or some sort of summit, pat yourself on the back for your initiative, your drive and your stunning intelligence and for God's sake get some leadership going.

I know, I know...not your focus.

But you sure love to provide the data, don't you?

I have this job where I get to go around to all sorts of schools in all sorts of districts and see what's going on.  

I work with the best teachers who mentor my student teachers.

It doesn't matter how fancy the technology, the size of the cafeteria or if the school has a garden, a PE instructor, or a science lab.

It's the teachers that matter.

In the poorest districts, in the richest districts and everywhere in between the divining rod of excellence is the teacher.

And, boy, am I privileged to see excellence in action.

I'd like to be the Lorax and speak not for the trees (they seem to have plenty of people wanting to talk for them) but for the teachers.

The-day-in-day-out-nitty-gritty-not-glamorous warriors that take our children and love them like their own. They plan, teach, re-teach, assess, reflect and just generally obsess on how to help their students succeed.  These people come in early, stay late, use their own money, attend conferences on their own dime and with their off time and they love it.

They sign up and stay in the trenches for decades.

Not for any reason other than that is their life's calling.

They care.

They take pride in their work.

It matters.

Guess what has happened?

We've turned students into a commodity.

We can collect data on them.

Like the early cave man, we are hypnotized by the fire we've just discovered.

We can't stop staring...and we are getting burned.

We are drowning in data.

Oh, it's so very sexy.

Bar graphs.

Line graphs.

Pie charts and percentages.

Can you really measure a six year old like that?

Maybe.

But it better be a damn good test.

And trust me, I haven't found a single one that slides into the "damn good" category.

Most are junk.

Testing on standards that aren't used anymore.

In ways that are pedagogically unsound.

Most of the numbers are meaningless...but they are numbers and that makes them powerful.

Very powerful.

So powerful that I sat in a lunch room today with two stellar first grade teachers, one with 26 years worth of expertise and one with 28 years, who were shaken to their core.

These two are no joke.

They embody every single accolade I can  possibly think up:

selfless

hard-working

tireless

a true advocate for every child

generous

kind

child centered

professional

miracle worker

Those two people got data from their principal that gave them a sleepless night.

Their scores in literacy were down.

Way down.

The lowest in the district.

Alarm bells went off at the district level.

The data had spoken.

One of the teachers actually said, "Yesterday was the worst day of my teaching career."

No one bothered to wonder out loud why that data was so off.

Like the proverbial 5th grade science experiment, nobody bothered to ask a question.

Or hypothesize.

Or just say...sorry, that doesn't make sense.

The data had spoken.

Ummmm...yoooo hoooo....can you all pause for a minute?

I have data too.

My data says that after 28 years of learning your profession you actually know something of value and it's damn hard to measure.

These two are experts in teaching reading, writing and math but they are living sensei in the bigger picture.

They know how to comfort a child.

They know how to inspire a child.

They make school magical and wonderful and creative and fun.

They know what to do for second language learners that do not know a single word of English but get tested in it.

They know how to help the child whose mom "just forgot to pay that bill that keeps the lights on".

The child who's hungry.

Or dirty.

Or hungry in their heart.

No test measures those things.

There's no data on that.

And guess what??

What those teachers do day in and day out on behalf of the most vulnerable, voiceless victims in this whole data game is nothing short of heroic.

Shame on administrators who believe the data first.

Shame on parents and cities that take pride in high test scores when in reality all it measures is privilege and access to opportunity.

Shame on testing companies who make gobs of money convincing districts that they don't need field trips but instead a whole lot more tests...that measure what exactly?

Literacy?

Numeracy?

Character?

Honesty?

Grit?

Courage?

Creativity?

Spoiler alert: There's quite a bit of teaching and learning that is hard to quantify.

And I would argue that the non-quantifiable things are truly what matter most.

How do you measure a teacher who won't give up on a child?

A teacher who believes that every child can learn?

A teacher that can transform the way the child sees himself?

Tonight I am grateful for two very special teachers and the tidal wave of other similarly fantastic teachers who never hear this:

YOU ARE DAMN GOOD AT YOUR JOB.

You rock.

You stay strong and drown out the nay-sayers.

Own it.

I am proud to know you and see your excellence in action.

No test can measure what I know to be true.

You are what every educator aspires to be.

And the test is what has failed, not you.

We Long To Belong

 

Sitting in my seminar this week with my student teachers we talked about how to manage kids in the classroom.  

We discussed the three guest speakers we had had the week before --

excellent teachers from all walks of life.

All three of them kept repeating the same message.

Even though they were from different cities and from different schools with different populations of students.

They said it many different ways but it all came down to this:

The student must feel unconditional acceptance from you.

The students need to feel loved and connected...

...and then, said so simply by one of my student teachers, this gem revealed itself:

we long to belong.

I've been rolling that around in my head for a few days...

smoothing it over like a favorite blanket...

petting it...

visiting those simple rhyming words...

and letting them sink way down deep.

No duh.

We know this at such a basic level that we overlook it.

As parents.

As friends.

As family members.

As community members.

As a couple.

And yes, as teachers.

I've been working on a little dream of my own recently and it has everything to do with belonging.

Everything about feeling worthy and celebrated and accepted.

We long to belong.

Every child should feel worthy.

Every child should feel cherished and treasured and wanted...

especially at school....

most especially if we say we're Catholic and work to have our children attend Catholic school.

Parents of children with disabilities are a special group.

They've been separated and isolated through almost their entire parenting journey.

That feeling of isolation can be crushing.

Not to mention lonely.

These families have most definitely felt like outsiders standing at the gate.

They knock on the door...but they just aren't sure it will open.

It's time we threw the door wide open.

We long to belong.

Yep, folks, right here.right now. we are working on full inclusion in Catholic schools.

We are supporting families, educators, administrators and priests or other religious with our 

vision and hope.

 Turns out belonging has a name -- fullinclusionforcatholicschools.org  

There's no entrance fee.

No golden ticket required.

You belong just by being you.

You are welcomed and wanted.

Come on in.

Tony Tobin Elementary School -- What Do You Stand For??

*** Note: This might seem eerily familiar to my last post.  It is!! This is a special post written on behalf of a friend who is working full tilt to have her son attend his neighborhood school fully included.***

Do you ever wonder why

social change takes so long?

PEOPLE AWARE OF AN INJUSTICE

THOSE WHO CARE ABOUT IT

THOSE WHO SPEAK UP ABOUT IT

THOSE WHO GIVE MONEY

THOSE WHO GIVE TIME

THOSE WHO TAKE INITIATIVE

Be an ally.

*****

Beautiful Temecula, California holds an elementary school called Tony Tobin Elementary.

It's named after an amazing long time citizen of Temecula, Tony Tobin.

He was interested in recording his area of the world's history.  

He helped to build a museum and worked to save the historic chapel in town.

He was proud of Temecula and worked to make his city better.

Would he be proud of his namesake school?

Here is the mission statement of Tony Tobin Elementary:

"To ensure that each student will build a strong foundation of knowledge and skills, think independently, work collaboratively, and develop mutual respect and self-worth.  

Our school will set the educational standard of excellence of 

today, tomorrow and into the future."

That's a pretty noble mission statement.

I'd be pretty proud if I was the real Tony Tobin...

except for one tiny thing...

that mission statement doesn't seem to apply to all of its students.

It appears that if you have Down Syndrome, 

you don't get to attend the same school as your sister.

Monday was the first day of school and Hudson had to stand at the door of his home and watch his sister get her backpack on and head to second grade.

He had his backpack on.

He was ready for kindergarten.

He was uninvited.

To a public school.

His neighborhood school.

Alongside his sister.

Why???

Husdon, it turns out, has a little too much Down Syndrome.

Which, by the way, isn't even a thing.

People with Down Syndrome either have it or they don't.

They are all learners. 

They all have hopes and dreams.

Some might be more delayed but that doesn't mean they aren't learning.

What's going on in kindergarten that a child with Down Syndrome can't participate in?

Is it the social skills?

Well, let's be honest, Hudson won't be the only one who needs to work on that.

Is it the academics?

Pretty sure that Hudson isn't the only one who could use some extra help there.

Do you think that Hudson is so retarded that he can't "develop a foundation of knowledge, think independently, work collaboratively, and develop mutual respect and self-worth."

Pretty positive that Hudson could do every single one of those things with your guidance, support and high expectations.

Hudson isn't broken.

He doesn't need any fixing.

He just needs an opportunity.

The opportunity to go to his neighborhood school.

You know when they wrote the federal law in 1972, the authors had the audacity to write that "disability is a natural part of human experience and in no way diminishes the rights of individuals to participate in or to contribute to society.

Way back then, before the internet, Google, apps and Ipads, those visionaries thought 

BIG and BOLD.

They actually believed a person with a disability had the ability to learn and contribute.

How can Hudson learn or contribute if he can't even attend his neighborhood kindergarten?

How can he contribute if he is segregated?

May 17th, 2014 marked the 60th anniversary of the United States Supreme Court Decision of Brown vs.The Board of Education.

SIXTY YEARS ago the Supreme Court decided that "separate was not equal".

How in good conscience can you perpetuate segregation sixty years after the fact??

It is educationally unsound.

We have thirty years of research to support the academic and social success for students with disabilities who are fully included.

We also have the research for the rest of the kids.

Every single study.All of the research.Supports the positive social and academic benefits for typical students too.

We need bravery.

We need courage.

We need a whole crew of people to step up and shout that Hudson deserves to be here.

Right alongside their own kid.

Learning and growing.

We need voices.

We need action.

We need to live social justice and not just talk about it.

Come on.

Tony Tobin -- the school, the faculty, the parents, the students -- where are you??

Do you even know this is happening?

*****

I know because I've lived it.

My own son, Patrick, who also has Down Syndrome, went to kindergarten at 

St. James School in Davis, California.  

His neighborhood school...six houses away from our house.

He actually went to first and second and third and fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh and yes, even eighth grade there.

Fully included.

He just graduated this year.

Was it perfect?

Nope.

Did we learn a lot?

Yep.

Was it worth it?

Most definitely.

Could we help you??

Of course!!

I've got not just one kindergarten teacher but two that would be willing to help.

(Heck, I've even got a couple of principals who would talk to you!)

They are amazing teachers and yes, they believe that Hudson can learn 

alongside of his classmates.

In fact, they know he will read and write and learn his math facts just like the rest.

It might take some more repetition.  It might take several different ways.

But it will happen.

In Hudson's way. In his timing.

And it will be exactly right.

And, I'd love to have an excuse to visit you down in beautiful Temecula 

and introduce you to Patrick...heck, maybe I could even meet Tony Tobin himself!

I'd love to do an inservice for your teachers and share what we've learned.

I work with beginning teachers as my job with our local university, UC Davis.

I can send you a resume.

And guess what?

We know what to do.

We know the teaching techniques that work.

We know what apps work.

We know how to use technology to help learners like Hudson

...and here's the good part...

that research, that technology, those teaching techniques won't just help Hudson, 

they will help all of your struggling learners...

and let's not pretend that Hudson is the only student who struggles.

There's a guaranteed  10% that struggle.

In every classroom.

Your entire school will benefit with Hudson's inclusion, both academically and socially.

Here's another mind-blower:

In the entire United Kingdom, it is standard practice to place every child with 

Down Syndrome into their neighborhood school fully included with support in kindergarten.  

If it's good enough for the UK, don't you think Tony Tobin Elementary could try?

I know you want to do what's best for Hudson 

and the rest of the students who attend your school.

I know you care.

What's best for Hudson (and the entire student body) is creating an environment that allows Hudson 

to learn at the same school as his sister.

What's best for Hudson (and the entire student body) is the message that he is valuable.

And worthy.

And good enough.

That's how you develop "mutual respect and self worth."

You actually walk the walk and talk the talk.

You live it.

As a school.

It stops becoming just some words on a website and starts to actually become the vision for your school.

ALL students can learn here.

ALL students are valuable.

We'll find a way.

Can you imagine how proud Tony Tobin would be??

Can you imagine how proud you would be as educators??

No one gets into education to be a separatist and exclusive.

Educators by their very nature love the underdog.

You should love your struggling students in such a way that they feel valued, honored, supported and expected to do great things

...and then watch what happens...

they'll do just that.

They will rise to the occasion.

They just need an opportunity.

Access to the curriculum.

And an unwavering belief that they will achieve.

Tony Tobin could put his name to that.

Stop being afraid.

Stop thinking you can't do this.

You just have to believe it is possible.

Do you think it's an accident that Hudson's mom and I crossed paths?

I don't.

I know it's what the universe intended.

Here is Patrick on his graduation day, May 30th, 2014.

It is my fervent hope that Hudson's mom will be inviting me to Hudson's graduation from his fully inclusive placement in 5th grade at Tony Tobin Elementary in six years.

Believe it.  

Anything Can Be

Anything can be.

Anything.

Tonight is proof.

5,445 days ago a little baby was born.

He had Down Syndrome...a heart defect and later leukemia.

5,445 days ago I didn't know a thing.

I was biased and prejudiced.

Flattened and broken.

I believed the mustn'ts and the don'ts.

And the universe handed me a child...and his soul whispered to me,

"Anything can be."

I didn't know what to do or how to be.

But my older two kids did.

They knew how to love and they poured it on thick.

They were delighted with this baby filled with shouldn'ts and won'ts.

They knew the secret:

Anything Can Be.

Slowly.

Following the path of love and the glittered steps of preschoolers who knew best, I learned.

I learned that mothering this new baby was the same as mothering those other two...

love, belief, faith, being there....day in and day out.

*****

Recently I read this essay about wishing out loud.

I loved it.

In it, Mitchel encourages you and me to: "Share your wishes freely to anyone who will listen."

I've been doing that for awhile.

Wishing out loud.

LOUD.

Please, please, please let all children learn alongside each other.

LOUD.

Back in 1999, when Patrick was born, honestly, it felt like my wishing flame pilot light had gone out.

I didn't know what to wish for.

I felt alone.

Isolated.

I had no road map...and for someone who used to pour over the giant world atlas, that felt weird.

What does this new world of mine look like?

Who is with me?

Am I as alone as I feel?

*****

5,445 days have gone by.

The baby has gotten bigger, grown stronger, and is sitting on the edge of manhood.

He's reading, writing, passionate, funny, exuberant and his very own self.

Incomparable.

Inexplicable.

Indefinable.

Miraculously irreplaceable.

I could never have known his place that he alone would carve out for himself in this world of ours.

I could never picture his truth.

All I could do was live alongside him and show up each day...learning the lessons meant for me alone.

5,445 lessons...perfectly circular...perfectly balanced.

Tonight it all came together.

Tonight Patrick graduated from 8th grade...from a Catholic school.

He's the first in the diocese to be fully included in the regular classroom,
learning alongside his typical peers,
attending the same school as his big brother and sister.

The first.

In blue cap and gown he walked in holding a lit candle.

Light in the darkness.

Another reminder.

Anything can be.

He strode up to receive his diploma.

He sat back down and listened to the award winners.

Award winners for art, math, science, social studies, PE, literature.
His name wasn't called.
It didn't matter.
The award for most improved in Computer Class came and his name was announced.
He popped up -- eager to be singled out and awarded.
It felt good.
We moved on.

Suddenly, the teacher mentioned a special award.
She spent time explaining the award.
She detailed the recipient.
Describing attitude, effort and perseverance...lessons taught, day in, day out.
Patrick's name was the one on the award.

And like a crazy dream, he leaped up to receive the award
as his classmates cheered.
His classmates stood up.
The audience stood up...
the room transformed into a full standing ovation
I just sat there...
until the energy of the room pulled me up and I turned to my mom and asked,
"Is this real?"

I couldn't take it in.
Couldn't really make sense of it.

Anything can be.

This child of mine -- so broken to the outside world -- was fully seen, fully recognized,
fully accepted on this day, in this moment, at his school.
He was worthy.
He was good enough.
In fact, he was admired and awarded.

And in this moment, in this dream-like world, we were one.
Every single one of us in that big church belonged.
We were valued.
We were loved.

The message was loud and clear.
You, Patrick Foraker, have taught us something.
Something we didn't know until you showed us.

There will always be mustn'ts and can'ts.
Don'ts and wont's.
None of it matters, friend.
Anything can be.

So today I am grateful for this moment of hope and encouragement.
Profoundly grateful to the many, many encouragers who met us on this path.
Grateful to Sarah and Steve and Ashley and the many priests, principals, teachers, aides and staff who found a way to make anything be real.
Grateful for ordinary holiness, sacred acceptance, and this moment right now.

Anything can be.

Dreams come true.
Share your wishes out loud.
Wait.

Watch what happens in a few thousand days.

Happy Graduation, Patrick!

Sixty Years Later...

God, I love this man...who uses intercourse and injustice in the same quote and rocks it like no other? MLK.

Here's a trick question:

Do you know what Supreme Court decision was remembered yesterday?

Have you ever heard of Brown vs. The Board of Education?

1954 is when it all went down.

Sixty years later we are still talking about it and yes, still celebrating the decision.

Sixty years ago segregation got the boot.

Sixty years ago.

Sixty years ago a grandson of a slave, Thurgood Marshall, stood in front of the United States Supreme Court and argued against allowing segregation in schools to continue.

The Supreme Court unanimously agreed.

--> SEPARATE BUT EQUAL HAS NO PLACE! <--

Do you hear that?? It has no place.

Sorry to yell but this is something that educators are still talking about.

And I wanna know why.

Sixty.freaking.years.

Today, of course, thanks to Thurgood, it is taboo to suggest that a child of color should be removed to a separate learning area just because of the color of his skin.

But that doesn't stop the system from having an overabundance of children of color identified as needing special education services and then removing them from the classroom that way.

Segregation is alive and well and yes, educators, very well-intentioned ones, try to use the whole separate but equal idea in a subtle way.

They say things like:

Your child will receive special services in the separate classroom.

We can meet your child's needs better in a smaller classroom.

The "educational gap" is too big and your child needs to go to a different classroom.

It's all crap.

SIXTY years ago it was decided.

We all get to learn alongside each other.

Everyone.

In the same classroom.

I sure wish schools would get the memo.

No special room.

No special class.

Nothing special...just the regular class.

That's all we want.

All our kids need.

We have thirty years of educational research that support the sixty year old decision.

We know what works.

Separate classrooms don't.

Engagement, technology, teaching with supports, visual aids, music, clear, specific feedback

these are the things that matter.

It really isn't hard.

We just need access.

Sadly, people with intellectual disabilities get denied access to their neighborhood classrooms all the time. 

Still, 60 years later.

So I'm writing this as a message in a bottle.

Thurgood went to battle.

He had the strength of the Constitution and common sense on his side.

He won -- unanimously -- 60 years ago.

If he can win,

so can we.

Fight the system.

Demand to have your child placed alongside his typical peers.

Don't back down.

Share the stories of success.

Follow the ripple of inclusion.

Watch your child grow and thrive.

If he doesn't.

Don't give up.

Tweak and adjust.

Believe.

It can happen. Successfully.

The Supreme Court is on our side.

Federal Law is on our side.

We are on the side of love, acceptance, tolerance and inclusion.

That's the side that matters.

Be their voice.

Speak truth to power.

Watch with wonder as miracles happen.

That's the grace-in-the-ordinary...it's right in front of us.

Thanks to Thurgood.

He's Not Broken, Your System Is

"You are here to allow the divine purpose of the universe to unfold.  
That's how important you are!" -- Eckart Tolle

So, my kid is graduating 8th grade.
He's moving to high school.
Leaving the only school he's known for 9 years.

He's excited about it.
He's ready for an adventure and the thrills of high school that he has watched happen with his brother and sister: proms, dances, dates, football games, hanging out with friends --
independence.

His speech teacher that he has had since he was two said it best:
"He's excited because every change he has had up until now has made his world bigger and better."
He thinks change is good.

He's upset to say good-bye to his beloved friend and aide, Sarah.
He's not too sure of how to get to his new school...or what to do once there.
He's trying to picture it and he can't.
But overall, he's pretty excited for it.

Then we went to his first hour of formal testing...with a stranger...who gave him candy...and let him quit when he said he didn't know the answers anymore.
Would she let any typical kid quit??
Is that being nice...or is that having low expectations?
Is this test just a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Sure feels like it.

My kid needs to enter a system...a formal system that specializes in disability...a system that prefers to segregate...
and list all of the things Patrick can't do.

I look at all of the things he can do.

A system that wants to prove its value and needs to keep perpetuating this myth of can't.
The myth of "experts".

I'm the expert on my kid.

I don't need a special ed credential to know what's the right placement for him.
It's the one he's had since kinder -- fully included, with support, in his class with his typical peers,
100% of the time.
That's been working for nine years.

On May 1st, I'm going to sit in on a meeting filled with strangers...who will list all of the various gaps in my son's knowledge.

The gaps identified, by the way, from tests that are created for people with 46 chromosomes, not 47.
They're "standardized" but for what kind of kid??
Someone with autism, sensory processing disorder, cerebral palsy, Down Syndrome?
Is this a one-size-fits-all test??
If so, how can it measure anything meaningful?


They'll be overly polite.
They'll make comments about how charming Patrick is.
They'll smile...and act as if they know what's best for him educationally.
When they don't have a clue.

If I could, I would dismantle this system.

All children would start in their neighborhood school, in the typical classroom.

No one would have to earn their way in.

I'd train every single teacher in the country in good teaching practices...teaching teachers how to be engaging, how to mix up their class time with active/passive learning, how to monitor and give meaningful feedback, how to use technology to teach, reteach and assess for understanding.
I'd encourage creativity and cooperation and constructivist learning.

If every teacher knew how to extend a lesson and scaffold a lesson and offer support to all learners, we wouldn't need special ed...
which by the way, isn't freaking special.at.all.

Imagine all the money we could save if we didn't test and create goals and retest every three years.
Not to mention the time.
Precious time being wasted so the system can prove over and over how valuable it is...
when the results STINK.

75% of people with intellectual disabilities are UNemployed. 
--> 75% <--

Completely intolerable.

3/4 of the people in your system do not end up working...
hello...
why do you hold on to the outdated (and educationally false) notion that separate is equal??

25% of students with intellectual disabilities are fully included in school.
and...
25% of people with intellectual disabilities are employed.
Isn't that an amazing coincidence??

Does it take a graduate degree to connect those dots?

Why do we have this system again??

I know I will have parents tell me amazing stories of amazing special ed teachers doing heroic things...
even a broken clock is right twice a day.

There are good people...terrific educators...heroes...in a terrible system.

I don't want to dismantle the people.
Just the system.

I want to crush the oppressive bureaucracy of deficit thinking.

A system that itself is disabled --
blinded to the many things the student can do, in favor of underlining and in bold all of the many things the student can't do.

 I view Patrick as a violet living in a daisy world.

He isn't a broken daisy.

He's rare and beautiful and exceptional in his violet-ness, just hanging out with the daisies.
Our garden is better for the variation in the beauty.
Our world is better with it...it is the very definition of grace-in-the-ordinary.

Can you see his violet beauty?
Or do you see a broken daisy?
He's not the one who's broken...your system is.

"Peace requires everyone to be in the circle -- wholeness, inclusion."  -- Isabel Allende