NBCT Challenges....

I'm looking for a little help from those of you who are NBCTs. I'm writing a piece about National Board Certification that focuses on some of the challenges that NBCTs face after certification.

One of the things that I know that I've faced is that since certifying, I've had any number of opportunities to lead: either by providing professional development, supporting struggling colleagues, mentoring new teachers, or serving on school or district committees.

And what is interesting is that many people expect me to be an expert in all of these areas because of my Board Certification. They assume that because I am a NBCT, I will fill leadership and professional roles without any kind of struggle or challenge. To many, NBCT means more than just accomplished teaching. It means automatic accomplishment in all areas.

But honestly, I'm not accomplished as a professional developer or a "teacher of teachers." Working with other adults is quite different from working with the 12 year olds that roll through my classroom every day...requiring skills that I haven't mastered and that weren't necessarily the focus of my certification portfolio. While I appreciate (and often accept) the opportunities to influence that have come as a result of Board Certification, I wonder if I'm truly qualified some of the roles that I'm asked to fill.

Has anyone else ever felt this disconnect?

I guess I have three questions that I want to focus on in my article:

1. What kinds of roles have you had the opportunity to fill since certifying. Have you struggled with any of these roles despite the expectation that you would succeed? How did you cope with that? What strategies did you use to master the new skills required to succeed in these new roles?

2. Do you think that Board Certification carries an obligation to lead and to teach other teachers? And do we learn skills while working through the certification process that can translate into new roles as professional developers and lead teachers?

And finally:

3. Have any of your schools or districts taken proactive steps to support the professional growth of NBCTs after certification? What have those steps looked like? How can administrators, central office staff members, and other professional organizations help to support NBCTs as they grow as leaders?

Interesting questions, huh?

Looking forward to your responses!

Teacher v. Teaching Quality

Imagine this scenario:

A school employs a woman who is woefully inept as a teacher. Her plans are disconnected and unrelated to the curriculum. She regularly hands out "packets" that the kids work quietly on for months at a time.

After joining a team of committed colleagues, her instruction changes for the better....but only because they were planning together and she was drawing from their base of knowledge. At first, the team didn't mind because they knew that her kids were better off. But over time, having to plan for another person unable to bring anything of value to the table grew frustrating.

The school principal knows that this teacher struggles, but can't pressure her with poor evaluations because in his classroom observations, he "sees" good instruction. He knows that this instruction is a direct result of the support this teacher receives from colleagues and is happy that her students are benefitting from the collaborative relationship---but he also knows that the other teachers on the team are growing weary of supporting a colleague with little return.

Does this highlight a disconnect between "teacher quality" and "teaching quality?"


I guess there are two ways to look this scenario:

1. Poor teacher can actually deliver high quality instruction if the right kinds of supportive conditions are in place, making a positive impact on the lives of children.

2. Supportive conditions mask the inability of poor teachers, leaving those in supporting roles exhausted and frustrated.

Where is the middle ground?

What IS Accomplished Teaching?

Here's an interesting question for you: How would you define the characteristics of an "effective teacher?"

That's a question I've spent the better part of 15 years trying to answer. Determined from the first day that I walked into a classroom to be a difference-maker, I've spent countless hours trying to "perfect my craft." While that has included a careful study of instructional practices, it has also included a careful study of children and an emphasis on relationships.

You see, I want to inspire as much as I want to teach. I want my children to see their abilities and to believe that they can accomplish mighty tasks. I want them to leave my room as good students, but more importantly...as good people.

And by many standards, I've been "effective." Parents and students constantly remind me that I have been important in their lives. Just yesterday, a dad dropped me a note to thank me for being a part of his son's life. "As always, we're thankful," he wrote, "that our son had the opportunity to know you."

But is that enough?

Am I paid to be an "inspiration?"

Is it possible to be memorable and unsuccessful all at once?

The reason that I wonder is because conversations around teaching quality are trending towards an overt emphasis on one's ability to produce results on standardized tests. In Houston, for example, teachers whose students scored well on last year's end of grade exams were called "the cream of the crop" last week---and awarded bonuses of up to $6,000. Also, a widely respected commission studying No Child Left Behind recently advocated for the use of standardized test scores to judge both principals and teachers.

So what if I changed lives in deep and meaningful ways, yet couldn't produce top-tier results on mandated exams? Would that cheapen who I was as an educator in your eyes?

Another thought: Would your decision depend on your role in the educational process? Do parents define effective differently than taxpayers, principals or community leaders? Do these differing definitions have an impact on our ability to "educate" children?

Interesting questions, huh?

I'm looking forward to hearing your answers.....

Heartfelt Groans

My professional life has been a whirlwind over the past few years. I’ve had great successes, seeing my work published and joining in educational conversations at the highest level. I’ve sat on Governor’s Councils, worked for state and regional teaching partnerships and led staff development in countless forums on countless topics. To earn the confidence and admiration of decision makers has been a storybook ending to a professional dream.

But I’m exhausted.

Days run long for me — rarely less than 14 hours — yet I never seem to shorten my list of things to do. Juggling memberships on meaningful committees with writing for journals and planning for presentations leaves little time for family and friends —especially when you’re teaching a full load and have 12 sets of papers to grade! Sometimes, I’m left to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off taking a full time position in a leadership role.

Those positions come at me from all directions sometimes. Having built a strong network of professional connections, rarely a week goes by where I don’t receive a call from someone checking to see if I’m interested in doing something new. “Look me up,” they’ll say, “as soon as you’re ready for a change. We’ve got the perfect position for you.”

And lots of times, they’re right. I’ve been tempted by opportunities to lead school reform or work in educational policy. My personal passions run deep, ranging from the creative use of instructional technology to meeting the challenges of staffing our highest-need schools. I’ve learned lessons that I know I could share with others, making an impact on education far beyond the four walls of my classroom.

But I’m torn because I believe that part of my credibility with practitioners and policy makers comes from my work inside those four walls. In every setting, I speak with the first-hand knowledge gained from daily interactions with children. I am constantly carving new ground as an educator — which is convincing regardless of my audience —and I worry that my “expertise” would decrease with each year away from the classroom.

Besides, teaching is more than what I do — it’s who I am. I’m surrounded by the smiles of students who are simply jazzed to learn from me. The best moments are those when I know that we’ve connected. Heads nod and hands rise as new discoveries are made. Mental synergy makes our room come alive and the bell is often met with groans.

The groans hurt, however, each time that I announce that I’m going to be out — yet again — to go to what my students have come to call, “another stupid teacher meeting.” Their heartfelt desire to spend the day with me is genuine and real, leaving me to fear the day when they don’t groan because I’ve become irrelevant to them.

I guess I wonder if it’s possible to remain a classroom teacher and lead at the same time. At what point do my efforts to elevate teaching prevent me from being a teacher