Infecting Students with Passion, Infusing Family with Love
Author: Marianna Ruggerio
Marianna is the Physics teacher at Auburn High School in Rockford, IL. She currently teaches AP Physics 1 and AP Physics C. When she's not in disguise as Nerdy Physics Teacher she is busy at home as Nerdy Physics Mom with her husband Fr. Jonathan and sons Adrian and George.
I think I’m ready to reflect on last school year: the year of COVID-19. While we may not be post-pandemic, and while a myriad of mitigations will likely still be in place next fall, we have three effective vaccines, and nearly no mystery left.
Over the course oof 180 days we had 4 different schedules.
For the first 130 days we had 100 contact minutes with students per week, down from what would normally be 250 minutes.
I created and recreated so. many. materials.
This was the word cloud from our employee engagement survey in September. In hindsight I’m able to see and respect the positive words much better now than a year ago today.
There were two decisions I made at the start of the year:
1. Relationship, connection, belonging and compassion come above all else
2. Teaching students that there is more than one way to learn.
I created and kicked off my classes with this idea
What did I learn?
My students are far more incredible and capable than I’d ever given them credit. Even with half the instructional time, I’m pretty confident about my AP student preparation for the exam. My regular level physics students were doing incredible work by the end of the year, with much stronger evidence of learning.
I need to reevaluate my purpose. I believe my purpose is to equip students with skills to do science and to be critical thinkers about the field of science. This doesn’t require a specific number of topics, it requires depth of opportunity. In my regular level class I slowed the pace way down. Work and energy and momentum spilled into second semester and I did not get to electricity and magnetism. However, by testing students frequently, retrieval practices, standards based grading, among other things, my students truly learned and grew in ways I was surprised and delighted to see.
Digging into identity is a special privilege. I was really surprised by how much certain students opened up in their reflections. I also saw some of my students make growth in their own self-perceptions as we learned about scientist after scientist after scientist.
Where do we go from here?
The easy answer is: not back to the way things were.
We just can’t. It would make all of our time and energy this past year worthless.
I can’t go back to teaching in such a way that I lack trust in my students to truly drive their own learning
I can’t go back to teaching in such a way that my classroom is somehow a bubble of “classical Newtonian Mechanics” rather than a microcosm of the society and systems we live within.
I can’t go back to a place where compassion has boundaries, statutes and limitations.
One of the distinguishing attributes of first year physics students is the novice-style approach to solving problems, typically based upon common variables or equation hunting. Having students shift to more expert-like strategies, based upon more over-arching ideas or concepts is often a challenge in physics teaching. This talk will discuss several strategies implemented in an urban-emergent high school for both traditional junior level students, as well as AP level students to help shift student approaches from novice to expert.
If you plan on attending AAPTSM21 I hope you will engage in conversation with me! If not, this talk is accessible to all!
This week I had the incredible opportunity to keynote for RU’s student teacher celebration. I was super anxious about putting together such a speech… especially because I’ve sat through far too many graduation speeches I never liked… I had around 6 people read and listen to my drafts before delivering the final product. The result was deeply personal and really the product of my journey through education from student teacher until now, at the completion of my master’s.
On that first day of student teaching; the day we finally get to grasp the reigns; many of us believe we are more than ready to take on the world of education…though we might be grasping white-knuckled. We realize pretty quickly though that we still have a lot to learn
Two weeks into my student teaching experience I was expected to do a series of demonstrations on circular motion. You know, swinging buckets of water over your head. I had practiced the night before and with full confidence did not feel the need to practice the morning of. I got this I thought.
I grabbed the strings tied to the pie tin filled with red water, flung it over my head and SPLASH… red water everywhere…like a cheap horror flick. Except the only thing I had murdered was my pride. I learned one thing that day: always practice the demos that morning.
I proceeded to successfully complete the demo the next hour, only for my nervous fidgeting fingers to dump the water AGAIN as I explained the demo, my cooperating teacher laughing uncontrollably at me. The story should end here, lesson learned… but it doesn’t.
A week later I had the immense privilege of attending the national meeting for physics teachers which just happened to be in Chicago. I was sitting in a room with a handful of teachers I held in high regard, including my former AP Physics teacher. Teachers were presenting “take-5’s” 5 minutes to talk about a good idea for class, and one teacher shares the brilliant idea of using the cardboard circles from the pizza place as a platform for swinging water over your head.
I tried to sink low in my chair to avoid the elbowing and snickering happening next to me. After the take 5 the teacher asked if anyone wanted his sample. My cooperating teacher and his colleague sprung from their seats pointing at me: “she does!”… I was wishing I could dissolve into the chair. The story, of course, was shared with the REST of the teachers in the row (including my former AP teacher) but then…. something special happened. This cardboard circle got passed down the line of teachers and they each signed it leaving me words of encouragement and advice.
Today I have the great privilege and honor of doing the same for you. Hopefully without any embarrassment on your part.
If I were to ask what makes a great teacher we would all agree on one answer: relationships. A teacher who cares for their students as humans, shows compassion, goes above and beyond. We each know have been touched by at least one of these teachers. Many of you today might even be able to name THEE teacher who inspired you to go into the profession yourself. When tonight is over I call on each of you to send a note to that “one” great teacher.
My one is John Lewis, my AP Physics teacher from 2005 whose life and legacy continue to impact me to this day. Mr. Lewis was…quirky. His voice would crack at random, he seemed far too fascinated in minutia, and every day we started class by playing a game by his rules, not the normal ones. For example, “one of these things is not like the other” but then he would ask us to find a way to make everything go together. Mr. Lewis believed in celebrating “yes moments” which are similar to Annie’s “bright spots” but are a specific celebration of tenacity and the final breakthrough when reaching an accomplishment. Mr. Lewis continued to act as a mentor to me throughout and beyond my college years, pushing me to be involved in our professional organizations, and in short order pushing me to present..
I had the unique privilege of working with John back at my old high school. I got to observe him from a different lens, that of a colleague, and how he navigated negativity and school politics while continuously upholding his own values and morals. It is easy to believe that our systems are so broken that it is impossible to work in them when we are fundamentally at odds with the foundation of the system itself. John proved this to be otherwise: when you focus on that which you can control, you can create lasting impacts.
John’s mentorship was so subtle I almost didn’t realize it was happening. I truly believed it was my unique and special relationship…until I I met another new teacher who was also his former student. We ended up casually comparing notes and found that we had both experienced very much the same process, down to the graduation card signed “your colleague, John” this process was now revealed to me as subtle, methodical and absolutely brilliant. It has taken over a decade for me to recognize and decipher everything John did for me as a student and as a mentee, and none of this would have happened without a genuine relationship.
I want to pause for a moment and recognize that each and every one of you clearly has great capacity to be that teacher because you chose to complete this degree amidst a global pandemic. In a time where everything about relationship and connection was stripped from us. In a time of uncertainty, unrest and upheaval you finished this program and you are committed to this path. You already know that there is such a thing as depth of compassion that has no bounds, you have already gone above and beyond in so many ways and…..you haven’t even had to chaperone a field trip.
We also need to take a moment to recognize the community that formed and shaped you, supported you and grounded you. Whether this be a family member or a loved one, a friend or a faculty member. They need to know that this is their moment too. It is through the relationships around us that we are who we are.
Our very humanity is built on relationships. Relationships are the foundation that lays the cornerstone of trust, and once the foundation and the cornerstone are laid, the household of belonging can be built, and this household, when filled with the community becomes the home to many, and sometimes the children even come back to visit. Teachers do not get to know the idea of “empty nesting”.
Teaching is unique because as students we often only truly see the value of what we learned long after we have left. Eventually we realized that Mr. Lewis’s voice cracked not because he had a problem, but because we had stopped paying attention. I realized when I began teaching in the gifted academy at Auburn that the games we played at the start of class were to coax us out of offering only the “right” answer when we were sure, and make us comfortable thinking outside of the box and offering anything we could think of
As teachers we are not only shaping moments in our students lives in their present, but we are creating lessons, whether for good—-or bad, that will be carried a lifetime. This is a great responsibility. Are you creating a home of belonging for your children?
In each and every choice that you make, from the way you greet your students to how you offer feedback, to random interactions in the hallway, you are expressing to your students what you believe is important.
Relationships can only begin through communication. The words we say carry weight and the way we say them determines their value. What are the values you wish to impart on your students? Who do you see yourself as? Are you the sage on the stage, the imparter of the gift of knowledge and wisdom to your students? Or are you a life-long learner? Fallible? A leader but also member and facilitator of your learning community? Our words should create the image that we desire our students to aspire.
Relationships are built on compassion and understanding, when we listen to learn we can try to understand another point of view, even if we do not agree with it. If a student asks you a question and you can’t do better than “because that’s the way it is” or “that’s the rule” or “because I said so” you have not been intentional in your choices. Ask WHY all of the time. WHY did my student respond this way WHY do I feel so passionate about this? What does my identity, positonality, relationships and prior experience bring to this classroom? What do my students value and why? And most importantly, when you ask these questions about your students and their families, don’t answer the question based on your own observations. Ask THEM.
Relationships are the foundation upon which the cornerstone of trust is laid. Trust is being able to say every day “Center your own learning. Ask for what you need, make space for what others’ need” and to be able to give that freely, even if it wasn’t the lesson plan today. Trust is believing that each child that walks through your door wants to be successful, even if every barrier has been built around them and thrown in their path that it seems the child in front of you is choosing to disengage. Trust is the space where “I don’t know yet,, I can’t do this yet” are valued for their honesty and openness to keep trying. When we lay the cornerstone of trust we set a precedent that all answers have validity, because even an incorrect answer or an answer steeped in misconceptions is an answer of value. Conversation is more important than correct responses.
Relationships in education extend beyond your classroom. As a teacher you commit to being a life-long learner. The teacher who refuses to learn, to become stagnant in their ways because “it’s the way things have always been done” or because “it works for them” has reached a point of intellectual death. Keep your mind stimulated and alive and never be too afraid, too embarrassed or too proud to ask for help or feedback. Mentorship doesn’t end because your formal education has ended. Find your trusted group of colleagues and find a mentor (or two, or three!). They can be in your building, in another building, another district, another state even! The pandemic has shown us just how open our world can be. Go to the conferences, connect with the community, and before you even think you’re ready…. SHARE what you are learning with others in as many different ways as you can.
We think we know what is best for us as we live in whatever moment we are in, but the wisdom in lived experience is how our mentors know how much discomfort is necessary for growth. Surrounded by teachers I admired, I never felt worthy of presenting in their company. But when you keep things to yourself you are keeping a gift away from someone who needs it.
Relationships are the foundation that lays the cornerstone of trust, and once the foundation and the cornerstone are laid, the household of belonging can be built. Our students come to us with so many intersecting layers. Their identities are comprised of race, gender, class, citizenship, age, and ability. Students are also potentially coming to our classes with stereotype threat and imposter syndrome, which work together to cloud the joy and potential they could have in our classes. It is possible that for up to 17 years the child in front of you has been told explicitly or implicitly that they do not belong here, whether here means this country or this city, or this math class, or this AP class. Some of our students have been told they do not belong for so long they have no reason to believe otherwise. It is not our job to “save” the child. It is not our job to “inspire” our children. Children…yes, even the 17-year-old ones, are inspired by their natural wonder in the world around them. It is our job to show them that they too are a part of and can join the community in the areas of our expertise and passion and also how to be stewards of our world because their unique contribution based on their unique experience matters. When we show a student they belong and are valued in our world, we show them that we believe their lives matter.
I want to close with one last story. Teachers will never say they have a favorite class, but…. There are certain classes that are uniquely special. It was my 8th hour class my first year at Auburn. This class was special, not because of anything I did, but because of the love and joy of my students. In April, with only 8 weeks left, we received a new student into the class. She had moved from Chicago where she went to a magnet school and rode the public bus two hours each way to go back and forth from school. She was brilliant and motivated. She had a plan for her life she intended to execute. She was welcomed with open arms into the family home of our classroom. She shared that our class was the only one where she talked because it was the only class she felt she belonged. When finals week came around she was absent and I made the mistake of not following up. It was the last day of the school year and it’s not uncommon for students to come in and out of Rockford. I assumed she moved back to Chicago.
Summer passed and a new school year started and I ran into her in the hall. Shocked and surprised I asked her how her summer was and what happened to her during finals. She proceeded to share a lengthy story, none of which was her faulty, and resulted in her moving in with her grandma in Chicago during finals. I asked her if anyone else knew. She said no, she just wanted to get her credits so she could graduate and go to college. Standing before me was this brilliant, resilient young woman, so familiar with barriers that she had no fight left to give. I, on the other hand, was ready for battle. How could we make this girl make up 4 semester credits when we only knew her for 8 weeks? I went to the counselor and shared the story, he was on the same page as me and he worked with teachers to create a plan for the student to get her rightly deserved credits. She was able to graduate on time and with a scholarship to her college. It is important to note that this is not my success story. This is the success of that whole class who created a place where she belonged and felt valued. A place she knew she would be trusted, and that trust formed through the relationships in that class.
Relationships are the foundation that lays the cornerstone of trust, and once the foundation and the cornerstone are laid, the household of belonging can be built, and this household, when filled with the community becomes the home to many. What is the house that you will build?
Teaching during the pandemic has created a heightened sense of every emotion imaginable. Teachers were shocked and enraged that districts would ask them to return to the classroom in the fall. Scared about the safety of themselves, their own families and their students. Overwhelmed by the demands placed upon them to reinvent their craft while simultaneously needing to engage more with students, connect more with families, communicate more with colleagues. The sheer amount of “more” is enough to feel like we are drowning.
As many schools begin to reset, and in some cases reinvent themselves, it’s easy to ask “can I really do this any longer?” the answer to that question inevitably will have to be “yes” for most teachers, but how?
Teach with compassion. Many teachers have been doing this from the start, but it remains an important reminder. What is it you hope to truly teach and instill in your students? Is it a large collection of facts or is it more than that? It is easy in any year to say “that child is failing because they will not engage” and place the blame on the student, the parents or the environment. While this is never the right approach, it is even more problematic under the current circumstances. Behind the black boxes and muted microphones there are real, live children. Many of whom want desperately to not fail this year, but often lack the courage to ask for help. Many of them already blame themselves for their apathy and lack of motivation. It is upon us to teach with abundant and unending compassion.
Practice genuine gratitude. When yet another change comes down the line it is easy to quickly become upset, apprehensive and defensive. The complaints begin to gush like an open hydrant, often directed at individuals who barely have more control than we teachers do. When everything is manageable we tend to keep our heads down and just do the work. Take a moment to look up for a moment and express genuine, specific gratitude. Share it with your students, your colleagues, your administrators. We all need to be teaching and leading with compassion, and part of compassion is the ability to share appreciation.
Find and celebrate the bright moments. There is no doubt that this is one of the most challenging school years for all of us. There is no debate that the vast majority of this school year is dark. For this reason it is all the more important to find the bright moments. What has the pandemic caused you to do to or learn or focus upon that you might not have in another year? Who has been a source of comfort or stability at this time? When did your students impress or surprise you, even in the face of everything we are struggling with today? Name those moments. Write them down. Share them with someone trusted.
When met with the fire of adversity we have two choices. We can let it burn us alive, or it can refine our personhood leaving us stronger, wiser and more compassionate towards those around us.
Physics Education Researchers know that active learning is better for students than lectures. At the same time, anyone who has attempted active learning environment knows that students do not always believe this to be true. The same holds true for study methods and habits. Instead students will balk and complain that “my teacher doesn’t teach”. Most recently a student told me they believed that by asking them to actively learn and collaborate, “the burden of the teacher has been placed on me”. I believe it was at this point I was ready to post Rhett Allain’s Telling you the Answer isn’t the Answer on every tangible and virtual learning environment I occupy. I didn’t do that.
At the end of Chapter 6 of The Science of Learning Physics, Mestre and Docktor share that students should learn about the research surrounding effective studying. I would argue that the same should be true about the active learning environment. In the past I have mentioned this casually to students, however the challenges of COVID required me to shift casual mentions to intentional direction.
Brian Frank shared that Jennifer Docktor had a webinar on the book. Excited and curious I watched the video. I was most excited that it was only 30 minutes, meaning it would be digestible for my students. The talk is an overview of the highlights of each chapter of the book. If you haven’t already ordered it and are interested, this is a great entry point!
Shortly thereafter I assigned the video in google classroom and provided the following:
As you prepare for finals and reset for semester two, I’d like you to listen to this talk by Dr. Jennifer Docktor. She is a professor of physics at UW Lacrosse and recently co-authored a book about how students learn physics. Watch the talk and write a short reflection. Include the following. Remember, you should be digging deep and synthesizing, rather than simply agreeing or disagreeing.
What resonated with you?
What ideas challenged your current thinking about how we learn and learn best?
What do you now wonder after listening to this talk?
What resulted in an “aha” moment for you.
Lastly, as a student, what can YOU take away that you’ve learned in order to improve your learning next semester?
I will be completely honest. I have a few students who have been extremely verbal about their hatred for active learning. I read their reflections last. I was also nervous because as a teacher, I’m a life-long learner. There are components that Docktor discusses and shares that I haven’t yet implemented or perfected, especially thanks to the COVID monkey wrench. Would students call me out? However, I was really impressed by what the students had to say.
Some students reflected on recognizing the intentionality put into our classes:
“I like our weekly practice tests, but I didn’t know they had an educational backing. When she started talking about interleaved practice, I thought about the momentum problems with a twist and some other homework problems that we’ve had.”
I had several students comment about applicability and connections to education outside of physics
“I now wonder, after listening to this talk, if other fields of science education, and other education in general, put this much effort into how material is taught to students, or if I have just never been aware of how I am being taught in the past.”
Another student actually posed that physics exposure happen at the elementary level so that kids have a better scaffold of experiences, rather than needing to uproot firmly held misconceptions in high school. (Big YES to that!)
What I really enjoyed, however, was students seeing themselves in the studies. Many students admitted to equation-hunting rather than starting with the big picture. I found this particular statement to be really fascinating about why they default to equation-hunting,
“I do this myself sometimes the reason why I do this is when I don’t feel confident in the work or I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Students overwhelmingly reported that an idea that resonated with them was how they are not blank slates, and experiences shape misconceptions. They saw themselves in the research and were shocked (and in some cases bothered) to hear that lecture and note-taking are ineffective, along with many of their tried and true, but passive study habits. One student who has been particularly insistent shared “the studies she talks about seem to prove me wrong about the lecturing method being more effective”
After completing this excersise here are my lingering questions:
Given the demands of AP 1, how can we encourage students that they are growing and learning by leaps and bounds, even if they aren’t at a 4 or 5-level for AP yet? I feel this is easy for me in my non-AP courses because I set the bar, and so I can raise the bar as the year progresses, without students realizing this has occurred.
Many students shared the sentiment of “well everyone is different, and this doesn’t apply to me” neglecting that this is a large body of work and research spanning decades and involving thousands of students. I’m wondering if more work in the realm of cognitive science and how we learn would be beneficial. But how to weave this into the structure of my courses?
Launching off of my previous post about sharing, I thought I’d share some ideas for putting together a presentation. Let’s be honest, we might all be teachers but if you’ve been to any meeting we’ve all definitely sat through really bad presentations.
First you choose the technique, demonstration, resource or activity you are going to share. Even a twist on an tried and true idea is valuable!
Rather than start talking, draw your audience in with the main conflict. For example, if I were sharing one of my testing strategies I might open with:
Perhaps your conflict is a demo where students missed the point, or a lab that where students missed the big picture.
The next part is causality: what were the series of events linked to the conflict that make you adapt something new or shift? In the example I provided I would probably follow up with something like:
“AP Physics 1 has these exceptionally challenging multiple choice options on the exams. I need to give students real AP items as much as possible, but it’s not uncommon for students to miss EVERY item. “
It is at this point that you can start presenting your idea. Walk us through what you set up and why, making the your thought process visible to your audience. Did you run into challenges on the way? Or perhaps you had some concerns, initially. Did students end up doing something you hadn’t intended? All of these additional complications build a compelling story, and also help your audience begin to envision themselves going through your process.
Lastly, don’t forget your main characters! Your students! You know that, in truth, sharing of ideas is best done when you can actually do it yourself like in a workshop. When that isn’t possible lean heavily on pictures of students working, student samples and quotes from student feedback.
What about Slides?
While the meat of your presentation is truly in what you say and do, if you prepare slides it is equally important that they receive the same kind of care. Generally speaking you can plan on 1-2 slides per minutes of talking. Avoid font under 24. Avoid bullets. Avoid typing out anything you’re going to say. You know literally no one wants to hear you read your slides. If you need to say “I know you can’t really see this but” then you need to take it out. If you include any data, graphs or charts the point of the chart should hit you in the face. Don’t make your audience need to analyze the graph like an ACT exam! It’s a presentation!
Ok, so I’ve clearly nixed everything on the slides right?
Slides are a visual, so they should literally be that. Can you boil your idea for slide 3 into three words? Better yet a single word? What high quality images can you put on the slide? Keep the color schemes simple and readable. Bear in mind that if you have anyone in the audience who is colorblind pure colors might not be visible. Stephanie Evergreen has lots of great resources on this topic. Here’s a checklist for your presentation.
You Don’t Know Until You Try!
It’s ironic that as teachers we effectively present daily, and yet presenting in front of collegues (or god-forbid college faculty!) is terrifying! Remember a few things:
Everyone is together to learn and grow together! No one is going to chew you out. Even the absolute worst presentations I’ve seen still get a few questions asked afterwards.
You Got this! You’re talking about something you do in your own space. You are the master of it! I mean.. in as much as you can get up with confidence that you’re not going to mess up.
The positive feedback loop is real and addictive! Once you start you won’e stop! The encouragement and continued conversations from your peers after that first time make it so much easier to present again and again. Before you know it you’re running workshops!
When I student teaching my former AP teacher told me I should come to a Physics Northwest meeting. PNW meets monthly during the school year at different high schools so teachers from all over can get together for “Phood, Phellowship and Phun”. The host school provides dinner and after an hour teachers get up and share different ideas from their classroom.
After attending several my former AP teacher nudges my shoulder and tells me next time I should get up and present.
Mentally I scoffed at the idea. All of the teachers presenting had 15-20 years of experience. They were incredible at their craft and obvioulsy way better than me. (cue imposter syndrome). There is NO WAY that I could possibly have anything of worth to share!
However, as I continued to attend meetings what I noticed was that often teachers did share something familiar, and other teachers would share hints, tips or a twist. This was truly a collaborative environment. So eventually, I got up and shared. Feedback was really positive. About two years later another new face shared the same resource, and still received positive feedback! While I still get anxious about sharing (I presented at a national conference for gifted education before any AAPT meeting), sharing makes everyone better. Even if you think you have nothing to share. Everything is new for someone in the room.
I presented at my first state section AAPT meeting only recently. Those presentations are far more formal than PNW, last 15 minutes and typically include a slide deck. I decided since I likely wouldn’t know too many people at the state meeting I could present something possible valuable. I got up to present and there wasn’t a single high school teacher in the room. I was presenting exclusively to college faculty. Add to this that one of the long-time, major members, who tends to comment and ask tough questions on every presentation was in my room. I was so anxious. Yet, by the time I was done I had great interactions with everyone (including the one faculty member who made me most anxious).
About six months later I signed up to present at the Chicago Section. This was the most nerve-wracking of all. There reason being that Chicago Section is packed with teachers I admire and aspire to be like. Teachers who have all been teaching since I was in high school. Teachers who train and speak and publish. I know that we all support each other, but for me the stakes were high. I was pregnant so my already elevated heart rate peaked to 120 as I sat in my seat during the presentation before mine. On top of this, I had decided it would be a great idea to bring four students with me.
Once again, I was shocked and surprised (I really shouldn’t be at this point). My presentation had one of the highest rates of engagement and conversations lasted all the way through lunch break. Naturally, the positive feedback loop makes it a little easier to share the next time around.
Not only are sharing or presenting a way to build connections (especially hard if you’re super introverted like me!) but it allows you to get some great feedback. After all, we are better together. Everything is new to someone in the room.
Find your local section of AAPT, post some pictures of something you did this week on twitter using the #ITeachPhysics hashtag and welcome to the family.
25 minutes. In the length of time it takes to watch a sitcom on Netflix, I’m expected to engage 25-30 students in physics. Time has a funny way of shaping our priorities.
This week I started reading Ainissa Ramierez’ book The Alchemy of Us. It is a new release and if you are the kind of person who loves fascinating connections I strongly recommend this read. In the first three chapters Ramierez focuses on time and clocks, steel and the railway system and the telegraph and communication. What endures for me is the thread within these three chapters of time. Modern transportation and telecommunications effectively shrink our world, bringing all of us closer together by reducing the time required for an interaction.
The time permitted for interactions with our students has been slashed dramatically. In a normal school year I would have 50×5=250 contact minutes with each class. In our pandemic model that time has been cut in half.
Teachers have panicked about “getting through” material and wondering how much more they can sacrifice from their curricula. Meanwhile administration and society continues to discuss the “learning loss” or COVID-slide, which, mark my words will end up being measured by some new costly exam from Pearson.
When time is stolen from us, we have the opportunity to recognize what is important.
As a teacher it’s important for me to recognize that the enduring teachings and understandings my students will walk away with have little to nothing to do with physics content. It would be arrogant to think otherwise. Who would I be, to think that my teaching of physics content is so life-changing that it is absolutely critical to a student’s future? The sheer diversity and variety of curricula attest to this fact. Yet, students can choose to pursue whatever field they desire, provided the opportunities, the awareness, and most importantly, mentorship.
What is enduring?
Problem solving skills. The ability to question. Discernment. Attention to details. Skepticism.
If we can teach our students to think like experts, and masterfully tackle a challenge, does it really matter the volume of content we use to teach these skills?
I’ve had similar conversations regarding final exams. At 20% of the overall grade, finals do very little to move a student’s letter grade. Final exams provide me with little information I already know from weekly assessments, except for showing me who studied for finals and who did not. Our administration has directed us to give “holds harmless” finals, meaning a final exam cannot hurt, but only help a student’s grade. Many teachers are insistent on giving their traditional finals, even though the district is not providing us with a traditional finals schedule. Add to the fact that the PSAT has taken away one day during finals week (because, clearly the answer to learning loss is running the PSAT/SAT not one, but five times this year), and a second day is purely for enrichment and student support, yet teachers are going to force this upon students anyway. I cannot help but ask “to what end?” What is engrained so deeply in our own academic culture that we feel this is the only way learning can and should happen? Is it, perhaps, a byproduct of the Puritan mentality that every minute must be spent in productivity, that “time is money?”
There have been numerous reports that black and brown students have thrived in remote learning. Many of these reflect specifically on microaggressions in schools, but I cannot help but wonder if perhaps a component has been the ability for students to take ownership of their own time through asynchronous learning opportunities. I consider how, in my own circles, we often joke about “Greek time” or “Arab time” and wonder if the strict, factory-like bell schedules and “on time every time” mentality potentially creates another layer of hostility to the learning environment.
In a time of great opportunity to shift the narrative of what it means to teach and learn, so many have dug their heels into the ground of a crumbling system. If Schitt’s Creek and Arrested Development can tell a compelling story in 30 minutes, why can’t we teach meaningful academic lessons in the same time?
Why do you teach? It’s certainly not for the competitive salary, the great respect from society or the flexible work schedule. Do you remember writing that philosophy of education statement? What did it say then, what does it say now? Most statements say something along the lines of “I believe all students can learn” “students learn at different rates” “students need to be met where they are at” so on and so forth. What is critical here, is the use of the word “all”.
The reality is that while every teacher might say they believe in “all” our school systems are not designed for “all”. They never were designed for all. When the rubber hits the road and we’re deep in the muck of teaching we categorize “those” students, whatever that means. “Those students” will go straight to military/factory/automotive shop so “they” aren’t interested in higher math or physics. “Those” students don’t need physics because they aren’t majoring in science. A far more insidious part of this reality is that “those” students are overwhelmingly growing up in poverty and are often our Black and Hispanic students.
Furthermore, in spaces such as physics, this idea of “who” does physics is even more exacerbated in the larger scientific community. The work of identity building, literacy development and social justice do not exclusively live in the realm of english and history courses and “African American Study” courses, it is work that belongs to every single teacher who claims “all students” deserve the opportunity to learn and grow.
This work is challenging and it begins with most of us sitting with a lot of discomfort. It also involves a large volume of reading and listening on our part. In physics, especially, this work can seem even more challenging (and some argue unnecessary!) because it is not clear how this work fits in the scope of a physics class or perhaps if you are ready to tackle the work you are unsure where to begin.
I had the pleasure of diving into two incredible books this year, Culturally Reponsive Teaching and the Brain by Zaretta Hammond and Cultivating Genius by Gholdy Mohammed. I truly believe that these two texts together serve as an excellent foundation for engaging in the work of narrative shifting within you classroom. Hammond shows us how our cultural underpinnings shape the way we interpret and learn information while Mohammed brings hundreds of years of Black excellence and literacy to the forefront of education in today’s classroom.
Muhammed lays out what she calls the Historical Relevant Literacy (HRL) framework. In the framework she identifies four critical components: identity, skill development, criticality and intellectualism. One of the most important details of the framework is that culturally relevant learning should not be a one-off lesson in a particular month to celebrate a particular group, but rather engrained in every fiber of the curriculum to consistently give students the opportunity to learn about others and themselves within their coursework.
Physics Identity Encounters
For the last few years I’ve made a deep dive into issues of representation in physics and the largest recurring theme is the importance of developing a physics identity. It became clear to me how the HRL framework could apply to my own classroom. With the added challenge of the pandemic I knew that trying to recreate and do everything with excellence would quickly lead to burn-out and failure, so I made the decision before the year began that I would make connections and relationships my number one priority, with identity development as a critical component of that priority.
Twitter and the sweeping social justice conversations has made it easier than ever. With everyone working, teaching and learning from home, many people began to develop content that was accessible to all in the form of webinars and other livestreams. I began to integrate these opportunities in a rather fluid manner into my classes. For each, I asked students to reflect on what they had heard. Specifically, I asked them to do the following:
Discuss a concept or theory that resonated with you
Discuss a concept or theory that challenged you
Discuss a concept or theory that left you wondering
Discuss a concept or theory that resulted in an “aha” moment for you.
Last, (if not included already), discuss how the concepts discussed might apply to you as a student.
In October I livestreamed an event from Women in Science that featured Dr. Jessica Esquivel (here’s a link to the talk). She talked about identity and the sciences, but perhaps more importantly she told her story as an AfroLatinx woman from Texas who wanted to pursue a PhD in physics and what that meant as she navigated conversations with her family, peers and colleagues.
Dr. Esquivel was also a foundational member of the #BlackInPhysics movement, which was primarily geared towards college physics students. The movement included a roll call, in which black physicists used the hashtag to introduce themselves and their work. Through this movement I learned about Tamia Williams who has put together an incredible project called Being Seen of interviews where physicists and physics students talk about how they integrate physics into their passion for the arts. Her participants reflect an immense diversity of backgrounds. Aside from the obvious coolness of this, many of my students are part of our district’s highly competitive creative and performing arts program.
The last guest of the year was a former student of mine who is finishing her physics degree. She already has an incredible story about her own journey and future plans. Not only did my students get to interact with someone who is underrepresented in physics, they heard it from someone who has truly been in their shoes.
Students shared how much they enjoyed the assignments. Many of my students saw themselves in the stories that were shared. One of my students, after reflecting on her shared experience ended her reflection with, “I think videos like this should be shown more often to high school students. It was inspiring to me so I know it will be to others as well.”
Students shared themes of resilience and recognition of the systems in play in their reflections. “a theory that blew my mind was that if you can’t go down the path that you want. then you should make your pack and do not let anyone bring down your path and not let you reach your goal.”
Another reflected (unknowingly) on stereotype threat, “Most of the time I do ask whatever questions I have to those around me but I often hesitate in doing so for fear of sounding unintelligent. But like Olivia Lowe said, we’re all learning. No one in the class is an expert in physics. It’s likely everyone’s first course and even if it isn’t, physics is a difficult subject. It’s okay to be confused. No one should have a fear of getting the help they need.”
I was also really impressed by the impact the assignments had on my white students. One shared “I was just wondering why people struggle for being different. I don’t understand because I have never had that experience.”
I could say all of these things to my students all day long, but hearing it from someone who is in the field, who is a current student and who has shared lived experiences is far more powerful than anything I could ever lecture them about.
In case you were wondering, this is what I believe about teaching and learning. As a teacher in physics, and as a female teacher in physics, I believe it is my obligation to give all students who come to me the opportunity to expand their minds not just as students of science, but as stewards of our world and society. I belong to a school where the rich student diversity in background and expression is what gives life and vibrance to our school hallways. As an educator it is my responsibility to show students that they belong and are capable of success in any course of study they desire, because we need that same vibrance from diversity of thought and experience in order to tackle the complex problems in our world.
Teaching is so much more than ensuring students have content and content-related skills. We have the very special opportunity to help children envision and create their future trajectories in life. This is a great responsibility that we can never forget.
I need some space to pause and reflect and I’ve chosen to do it here. Perhaps you might relate to some of these reflections and we can recognize and accept our shared experiences admist these impossible hardships.
I’ve been reflecting on the stages of my own emotions and disposition over the last few months. While the commonly known 5 Stages of Grief are recognized as unfounded in empirical evidence, I feel it serves as a decent framework through which to organize and express my own experiences.
We have often discussed that the experience of the pandemic is one of ongoing trauma, and with trauma as a current “hot topic” in the education world having conversations from that frame have been helpful to many. I also feel that it is important and valid to frame our experiences as teachers as one of grief and loss. These reflections are mine and relate to my situation in my school, district and community.
I mourn for energetic and busy hallways that are now empty or less full I mourn for the students who find a safe haven in our buildings that we can no longer provide I mourn for the silly interactions with students I mourn for normalcy.
Yet I’ve found myself growing increasingly comfortable with our current normal, while still yearning for what was and what could be.
Over the summer many of us assumed districts would make the choice to go fully-remote. If districts opted for in-person learning we assumed we would be closed by Thanksgiving. We talked about how it’s impossible to teach with spacing and masks covering mouths and facial expressions. How everything that is good teaching is forbidden. How students cannot learn under the constraints of an in person setting. Yet Thanksgiving came and went without much incident. Our district, like others, put students on an “adaptive pause” and then after winter break we were back.
I felt this in my absolute core. If you caught me in the hallway and asked how I was doing I would say, “I’m fine. I’m always fine” the reality was I was not fine at all. I was feeling like a failure daily. I felt unsupported from every angle, even if that wasn’t the reality. I felt enraged about what we were being asked to do. I felt disheartened that no one seemed to value our thoughts and opinions on anything. I felt helpless in supporting my students and families. And I blamed everyone with fire from my core.
Some teachers made pleas for a shift to fully remote learning. Some tried to find a way to get by, bargaining with themselves that trying to do one mode well would be better than juggling two modes poorly. We struggled with student learning losses “if only they would turn on their cameras” “if only I could connect with them more than twice a week” “if only we taught full remote instead of hybrid”. I spent many days wondering what life would be like “if only”
I think I cycled though the first three phases every time a change was laid out, and not only when school started but also leading up to school. I had a meeting with teachers from other districts a week before my school started. They had already begun. While I was still eager and hopeful I could make things work, the exhaustion and frustration was already apparent on their faces. I would soon join them the following week. Once the anger ran its course depression took center stage. I found myself plugging my headphones in to listen to cathartic music and just cry, something I haven’t done since I was a high school student. Simultaneously realizing I was at my edge and also recognizing I had a lot of anxiety as a high schooler. I didn’t care about finishing my master’s. I wanted to not care about anything at school. Seeing cases rise and hospitals fill again, coupled with increased mitigations brought on the cloud of despair that this was unending.
I’m not entirely here because every new curveball sends me though all of these emotions all over again. (We are starting a new schedule in two weeks). However I’ve realized a few things.
The end is in view. Every day another friend of mine is getting vaccinated. Every day treatments are getting better in the hospitals. Every day we creep a little closer.
I am more resilient than I realized. I generally have a strong dislike for change, but each time change has come around I realize that certain things I was worried were going to be the worst thing in the world aren’t quite as bad as I imagined. We have shifted so many times I’m now able to tell myself to wait and see.
I am continuing to focus on my circle of control. I don’t have the emotional energy to complain about everything that I cannot change.
I am surrounded by a lot of good people. The colleagues in my hallway are all similar-minded. We can agree this sucks, but we keep finding ways forward.
My kids aren’t actually doing as bad as I feel. This last one is enormous. I told my husband in October (the usual teacher slump month) that teaching right now feels like being a failure every day. It’s true because I know what my best teaching looks like. It’s true because there are students who might otherwise be succeeding right now. It’s true because of a million things that are out of my control. And yet, when I look at my student work, they are actually doing ok. They are resilient and brilliant.
I have to also be very real with myself that I have not had a normal year in three school years. Last year we started the year with ransomware and ended with the shutdown. The year prior I had a baby in April. I am constantly reminding myself that this too will end. We will not, and should not go back to normal. I’m still working through so many emotions daily and everything is intensified with the backdrop of events in our nation and world. There is a lot I’ve learned and in many ways I’ve grown. I will continue to practice gratefulness and seek the bright spots, even in these dark days.