Please allow me to write honestly and drop it like it’s hot for a moment. To put it bluntly, I am afraid. You see, I have a recurring nightmare that often leaves me drenched in sweat with sky-rocketing blood pressure and my nerves shot. This dream, made unpleasant by a persistent sound of the mouse click, usually catapults me to an upright position in bed, only to stare into the darkness and whisper to myself, “Thank, goodness. It was just a dream.” Or was it? Let’s face it. Obtaining educational data today is a simple click away. If I seek professional improvement in the area of my weakest teaching areas as they apply to the American Literature End-of-Course Tests, I study the online data of my students’ test scores. If I am curious about the weakest standards on a recent Socrative quiz in AP Language, I download the results via an e-mailed Excel spreadsheet and look for any columns of red. If I want my students to take full advantage of their peers’ assessments of their timed essays, I develop an elaborate and highly successful lesson plan that integrates Google forms and an ensuing self-prescribed project to patch up any standards-based holes. What is the prevalent sound of these professional practices? A click of the mouse in search of data. I would be absolutely lying if I said I didn’t want my students to succeed on their standards based assessments. In fact, I want them to excel. I want them to completely demonstrate mastery of all standards in every domain measureable. There is not one lesson plan or learning activity that takes place in our collaborative classroom, Studio 113, that isn’t standards-based. Therefore, I use data. So what is my fear? What is my recurring nightmare? I fear the incessant mouse clicks to ascertain my latest teaching evaluation, to upload professional documentation, to peruse my students’ latest scores, and to retrieve the multitude of data needed for today’s educators might ultimately “data-ize” the students and mute the most important source of educational feedback I have come to know in all my fourteen years in a Language Arts classroom…my teacher’s heart.
Interactive Learning Structures
A Teacher's Heart and Foundational Data
(Originally published on GettingSmart.com on March 14, 2013.)
Please allow me to write honestly and drop it like it’s hot for a moment. To put it bluntly, I am afraid. You see, I have a recurring nightmare that often leaves me drenched in sweat with sky-rocketing blood pressure and my nerves shot. This dream, made unpleasant by a persistent sound of the mouse click, usually catapults me to an upright position in bed, only to stare into the darkness and whisper to myself, “Thank, goodness. It was just a dream.” Or was it? Let’s face it. Obtaining educational data today is a simple click away. If I seek professional improvement in the area of my weakest teaching areas as they apply to the American Literature End-of-Course Tests, I study the online data of my students’ test scores. If I am curious about the weakest standards on a recent Socrative quiz in AP Language, I download the results via an e-mailed Excel spreadsheet and look for any columns of red. If I want my students to take full advantage of their peers’ assessments of their timed essays, I develop an elaborate and highly successful lesson plan that integrates Google forms and an ensuing self-prescribed project to patch up any standards-based holes. What is the prevalent sound of these professional practices? A click of the mouse in search of data. I would be absolutely lying if I said I didn’t want my students to succeed on their standards based assessments. In fact, I want them to excel. I want them to completely demonstrate mastery of all standards in every domain measureable. There is not one lesson plan or learning activity that takes place in our collaborative classroom, Studio 113, that isn’t standards-based. Therefore, I use data. So what is my fear? What is my recurring nightmare? I fear the incessant mouse clicks to ascertain my latest teaching evaluation, to upload professional documentation, to peruse my students’ latest scores, and to retrieve the multitude of data needed for today’s educators might ultimately “data-ize” the students and mute the most important source of educational feedback I have come to know in all my fourteen years in a Language Arts classroom…my teacher’s heart.
Please allow me to write honestly and drop it like it’s hot for a moment. To put it bluntly, I am afraid. You see, I have a recurring nightmare that often leaves me drenched in sweat with sky-rocketing blood pressure and my nerves shot. This dream, made unpleasant by a persistent sound of the mouse click, usually catapults me to an upright position in bed, only to stare into the darkness and whisper to myself, “Thank, goodness. It was just a dream.” Or was it? Let’s face it. Obtaining educational data today is a simple click away. If I seek professional improvement in the area of my weakest teaching areas as they apply to the American Literature End-of-Course Tests, I study the online data of my students’ test scores. If I am curious about the weakest standards on a recent Socrative quiz in AP Language, I download the results via an e-mailed Excel spreadsheet and look for any columns of red. If I want my students to take full advantage of their peers’ assessments of their timed essays, I develop an elaborate and highly successful lesson plan that integrates Google forms and an ensuing self-prescribed project to patch up any standards-based holes. What is the prevalent sound of these professional practices? A click of the mouse in search of data. I would be absolutely lying if I said I didn’t want my students to succeed on their standards based assessments. In fact, I want them to excel. I want them to completely demonstrate mastery of all standards in every domain measureable. There is not one lesson plan or learning activity that takes place in our collaborative classroom, Studio 113, that isn’t standards-based. Therefore, I use data. So what is my fear? What is my recurring nightmare? I fear the incessant mouse clicks to ascertain my latest teaching evaluation, to upload professional documentation, to peruse my students’ latest scores, and to retrieve the multitude of data needed for today’s educators might ultimately “data-ize” the students and mute the most important source of educational feedback I have come to know in all my fourteen years in a Language Arts classroom…my teacher’s heart.
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