My head spins and my eyes glaze over after several hours of trying to make sense of Interim assessment data. Time is the most precious resource teachers have, which means I must make every effort to avoid wasting in-person collaboration opportunities with teams. So I run my self-ragged pulling numbers from various platforms including NWEA MAP, running record data, and Lexile levels. Wracking my brain to makes sense of computer adaptive testing, I carefully study high-frequency standards, hoping the intellectual power I'm investing in the process will pay off. It doesn't.
It's Monday morning, and I feel panicked. A campus leader reached out two weeks ago and requested I help develop a STAAR boot camp plan alongside her fourth grade team. The teachers didn't request the support. Instead, the leader recruited my services, which means I'm apprehensive and on edge long before the day begins. My number one charge is to assist with identifying priority standards and ensuring the team establishes common agreements about what test prep can look like after Spring Break. Arriving in the conference room a few minutes early, I find one educator carefully pouring over her data, while others ease into the day with a soft start. There is a tension in the air donuts, juice, and coffee can't fix. Instinctually, everything in my spirit says, bolt. Professionally, I settle in for a long morning.
Because some educators associate my role with the district office, it's not uncommon to become a punching bag when their lack of autonomy and agency manifests as anger. I took a lot of blows today, and by the time I got home, I felt bloodied and bruised. I vented to colleagues. I shed a few tears. I reflected, questioned, and complained. When I asked myself, "What's the most difficult part of this?" the answer came quickly. I wasted a Sunday evening on work that didn't make a damn bit of difference.
So there you have it. Resentment is not a good color on me. Perhaps I'll turn my attention elsewhere. Data triangulation, analysis, and interpretation require time and headspace—two things that are in short supply in our schools. Even when the pathway has been cleared, some folks aren't interested in using student learning outcomes to make instructional adjustments. Ultimately, we perpetuate the cycle of dysfunction each time we plow ahead without pausing long enough to ask, "Is this working?"
As apathy and indifference nip at my heals like a relentless Chihuahua, I'm reminded of a quote I recently encountered that stopped me in my tracks. The most compassionate people I know are also the most boundaried. Defining what is okay and what's not okay takes courage. Tonight I'll name that it's okay to feel helpless and frustrated by a broken system. It's not okay to act in unprofessional ways or to dehumanize colleagues who seek to be of service.
phew boy! I needed to read this! Coaching is a delicate balance...how to advocate for teachers, to nudge who needs nudging, and still do my job. You captured it beautifully!
ReplyDeleteAngela, thanks for taking a few moments to reply in solidarity. Years ago, one of my coaching mentors, reminded me my job is to nudge when needed and hug when things are heavy. Figuring out this delicate balance is a never ending struggle.
DeleteAt first I thought you were a teacher looking at data, but then the role you describe started sounding very familiar, from the curating of data and documents to way you hope you've pulled the right stuff to reach the right outcome. My favorite line: "There is a tension in the air donuts, juice, and coffee can't fix." I know these days, and I too, settle in for a long ones. I also appreciate how the tone shifts when you name your feeling of resentment, and by the end, you name the common ground from which you can move forward.
ReplyDeleteMorgan, I appreciate your thoughtful reply. It's evident from your comment, you've walked in my shoes. It's nice to know we aren't alone in the struggles. Thanks for the affirming words that help me know my writing goals were achieved. I wanted to wrap up the blog in a way that redeemed a crummy, difficult day.
DeleteThis line was EVERYTHING for me. EVERYTHING.
ReplyDelete'Ultimately, we perpetuate the cycle of dysfunction each time we plow ahead without pausing long enough to ask, "Is this working?"'
Make it our motto, please. Honest Slice, lasting thought. XOXOXO