Scrum for Schools Blog # 7 for Chapter 7

In Sutherland’s Scrum, the explanation of happiness’s essence doesn’t follow the typical Merriam-Webster’s definition. Refreshingly enough, there’s no obsessive correlational to contentment; there’s no image painted of perpetual yellow-faced smiling. Missing is the consumeristic satisfaction in sitting back and swimming through pools of pleasure. Sutherland isn’t writing this chapter as a toast to all the warm and fuzzy feelings that derive from finding a “good job” or landing in the “right spot”. This isn’t a celebration in the guise of “happy, happy, joy, joy” (my apologies to Mr. Ren and Dr. Stimpy).

Professional happiness for Sutherland connects most strongly with three other abstract states of being: autonomy, mastery, and purpose. These three musketeers of marvelousness all correspond directly with the journey and not the destination. As an educator, this was vital for me to hear. Too often in our schools are we consumed by high-stakes testing, standards-based curriculum where end-of-year goals and proficient scores trump everything. The unfortunate sacrifice of this “standardized result” infatuation is, you guessed it, happiness. The ill-founded pursuit would most likely be described by Mr. Sutherland as “soul killing,” or something synonymous to strict adherence to timecards, daily journaling of tasks, or filling out paperwork piled higher than Pisa’s leaning tower.

My intention, per se, is not to decry standards or testing or even today’s common curriculum (although, if you’ve been reading this blog for any period of time, I do maintain beefs with all the above). No, there is something to be said for many of the tools within these constructs. People often qualify happiness as being uncountable or immeasurable. Sutherland disagrees with this notion. He believes that happiness should be quantified. So what helps most in this regard? Something that testing, assessing, and results-based activities do a great job of accumulating: DATA. If we as educators wish for our students to get better each day, they need constant and timely feedback. They need to see if and how they’re improving in their understanding of a particular subject. This data should not be, however, taken solely from the typical and tired sources like the endless variations of multiple-choice tests. Instead, engaging projects with specific rubrics and graded checkpoints in addition to focused short answers with clear objectives and scaffolded steps should instead be the norm. Students deserve individual constructive feedback which means workshopping or one-on-one meetings are two great ways to give a personalized experience to each pupil. The yield for this change in assessment and evaluation often is student happiness.

Let’s quickly jump back, though, to teacher happiness. Autonomy is the first ingredient to cooking up the right kind of educator happiness because it is equal parts empowerment and liberation. Although I nearly soiled myself at the beginning of my String Theory Schools experience when they told my fellow teachers and me that we would be building our own online courses, I came to realize that the autonomy granted in this enterprise made me feel respected and trusted as an adept purveyor of all things ELA.

Mastery, the second element of Sutherland’s hybrid of happiness, went hand-in-hand (for me) with autonomy. Having received my bachelor’s degree in English Literature from Northwestern, I was quite proud of the content knowledge I had worked tirelessly to build over years of dedicated study. Creating projects, activities, assessments as well as handpicking novels and poems contributed to this same sense of pride. I considered myself a master in understanding my subject area and the chance to master the education of others in this subject made me feel quite good as I embarked on the journey to transition from dedicated literary scholar to well versed literary educator.

Purpose, the third factor in Sutherland’s “productive happiness,” seems like a no-brainer for teachers. Our purpose is inherently vocational because, let’s be real here, no one gets into education for the Benjamins. We are dedicated to making the world a better place, one student at a time, one day at a time. We follow Mahatma Gandhi’s mantra, “Be the change that you wish to see in the world”. But our purpose, in what we teach and what we put in front of our students, must be evident and relevant every single time. Without this application, our purpose may be lost on our students, and that can be detrimental to our own happiness.

The last sentiment I’ll end with today comes from two of Sutherland’s last points, “Secrecy is poison; make work visible”. If your door is closed and if your mind isn’t open to change and if you’ve sworn off learning the next “new fangled technology” for whatever reason… your days of being happy as an educator are numbered if not already at zero. Keep your door open, don’t ever close your mind, and try everything (even the weird stuff) at least once. You can count on being much happier as a result.

Scrum for Schools Blog # 6 for Chapter 6

When our High School English Department began creating courses in iTunes U at String Theory Schools during Orientation Week in August 2013, we knew resolutely that we first needed to build the outline. As we began to wrap our minds around laying the roadmap for the entire year’s curriculum, the task was daunting and the outline seemed to be the behemoth standing before us as the key to unlocking the year’s worth of valuable student work. After we completed the outline (and the syllabus with a matching timeline to go along with it), I felt a sense of accomplishment. What I did not realize at the time was something I learned in reading Scrum: The map is not the terrain. As teachers, we can plan until we’re blue in the face. It comes with the “territory” (for the sake of convoluting the aforementioned adage). We all want to go in there ready to face the day and sometimes we even attempt to predict our pitfalls or potential problems, which we then pair with potential solutions. But as first period begins (and as the entire school year gets rolling), I am reminded of two different Eisenhower quotes that coalesce perfectly.

Plans are worthless, but planning is everything. 

In preparing for battle, I have always found that plans are useless but planning is indispensable.

As soon as the first student enters the room or the first iPad malfunctions or the first lesson flops (or “the first bullet is shot” in referencing Eisenhower once more), everything seemingly goes out the window. Therefore, it is important to realize that planning only goes so far. The plan shouldn’t be a blueprint written in permanent ink because all moments, concepts, and learners are diverse. There’s no true value to sticking to a plan so steadfastly that it renders you or your department immobile. Yes, there are units that need more effort and preparation than others due their complexities (think: the “dog” sizing of the unit/project/activity and subsequent prioritization). But when you’re in the “thick of it” and in the midst of teaching, one must know how to survive and adapt on the regular. Sutherland recounts one anecdote when his cohort “planned with poker” in a type of random, Fibonacci-sequence-based assignment of timing for required tasks. He makes a point of telling this story because there have been innumerable instances when the day, month, or quarter’s worth of scheduling was so far off that it became laughable.

So what does a teacher do when the plan doesn’t work? What must occur after the lesson book must be thrown out? When the timing goes off, what adjustments must be made? Answers to these questions depend on the “terrain” of the situation. First, foregoing panic in favor of deep breathing is highly recommended. I hate to sound like Lawyer Murphy, but everything, at some point or another, is destined to go wrong. Be prepared by keeping this notion in mind when in the heat of the teaching moment. Secondly, sometimes it’s best to ask an Oracle (or someone with a deep content knowledge, vast veteran years of teaching experience, or specialization with a particular technology or innovation). The Oracle is at the top of his/her mountain for a reason and their wisdom in solving a lesson’s snafu or helping you overcome that snag could be worth the trip to your school’s next floor or the office/classroom down the hallway. Other times, it’s a matter of changing the velocity of the lesson plan to accommodate the proper delivery. This can often be intuitively sensed by your class’s rate of absorption for particular concepts. Exit tickets and informal assessments using Kahoot! or Socrative are awesomely flexible and easy-to-use measuring sticks.

I don’t mean to deride all lesson-planning with this post because it is always necessary, whether you’re building an outline in iTunes U or mandated to fill out of one of those thick and mangled teacher planners. In fact, I “plan” (in one way or another with mind maps, design thinking, and PDACs) now more than ever.

And don’t forget! There’s one type of planning that’s always worth it, and that’s the “goal planning”  (or setting) of Big Hairy Audacious Goals (BHAGs). Without these, there is a limit beneath the sky, and there becomes a hapless direction to your instruction. Without BHAGs, a dearth of inspiration or lack of self-motivation can be a “classroom buzzkill” as a teacher without energy or enthusiasm might as well be a piñata without candy. Don’t be that empty piñata. Be the candy that gets everyone excited.

Scrum for Schools Blog # 5 for Chapter 5

Waste is difficult to eliminate or fix if you do not precisely identify what it is.  When it lingers, it tends to permeate every aspect of your productivity.  The Japanese, lucky for us, came up with three very specific terms for categorizing waste: muda, mura, muri.

Muda is the wasteful part of an activity within the process of producing something.  This part does not add any value and can be labeled as extraneous.  If this element is removed, nothing feels missing as the prudent removal could be seen as “an addition by subtraction”.  For educators, it is critical that we pinpoint these unnecessary parts of our daily processes.  One example that comes from my own experience involves a redundancy in my grade entry.  At the beginning of my teaching career, I utilized one of those good old fashioned green grade recorder books.   This was  the customary means of grade entry for many of my colleagues at the Archdiocesan school at which I started. But just like the dunce cap in the closet, there was no need to maintain this paper-based grade book because each teacher was required to maintain a virtual one on GradeSaver. Instead of doing double entry and wasting hours putting things down twice for the sake of security (or God knows what!), easy screenshots or PDF/spreadsheet downloads cut out the repetition of picking up a pen to do the same thing I had been doing on the computer. Another quick example worth mentioning is the “political poison” that can seep into any working relationship. Time spent talking about others, facilitating drama, or focused on personality clashes is undoubtedly a murderous kind of muda. As one administrator once told me, “Put any and all the energy you might think to spend on silly arguments into the passionate work that goes into teaching students and doing the job you were hired to do.”

Mura is the type of waste which yields an unbalanced feeling, an uneven result, or something frustratingly inconsistent. As Sutherland has mentioned in previous chapters, getting into a diligent flow or working rhythm is critical to productivity, so anything that disrupts this could be seen as a big bunch of mura. There are innumerable examples of mura in education, and there are headaches created by both teachers and administrators alike. For teachers, being inconsistent with classroom management expectations can create a year’s worth of chaos because feelings of “unfairness” will inevitably bubble up among students when a teacher arbitrarily and unevenly applies classroom rules without an established pattern of enforcement. Administrators also falter in this regard when disciplinary procedures are not clearly outlined, procedures are not explicitly known by staff members, or the tracking of a “behavior problem child” isn’t shared.

Muri is waste which demoralizes workers by being overburdensome. When expectations are “out of whack” or the workload is too heavy, muri rears its ugly head and causes productivity to plummet. For en educator, muri is an all-too-common waste since it is so intricately linked to the dreaded “burn out”. And sometimes that burden looks like this. But muri can be fought by prioritizing and finding shortcuts. Essay assessment is perhaps the most burdening type of assessment that an English instructor must undertake, but there are ways to make it an easier and “lighter” experience. The inclusion of writers’ workshops, recorded feedback, concise rubrics, drafting/revising, and finite focus (5 strengths / 5 weaknesses) all contribute to a much happier ELA teacher, as opposed to the one who still believes it best to use a mistake slicing red pen for each grammatical miscue or a precious hour for each paper. Since there are always a million and one things on a teacher’s “to-do list,” multi-tasking must be avoided despite its temptations.

Experience helps to identify and eliminate waste hastily. Categorizing it leads to quicker solutions. And coming together to find solutions collaboratively may help teachers who flounder individually as they fail to find answers to the waste that piles up around them.

Scrum for Schools Blog # 4 for Chapter 4

Time is of the essence, especially when you are a teacher. Lesson planning, course creation, grading, parent-teacher communication, emailing students, tutoring, reflective teaching… the list of responsibilities goes on and on and on… ad nausea. And boy am I nauseous (and scatterbrained) at the end of most days.

I value my time tremendously because it is finite. If I do not treat it in such a way, I would never be able to manage it as the sands swiftly move to the bottom of my “daily hourglass”. Luckily, String Theory Schools has collaboration and preparatory time structured into each day. The collaboration time often is a nice chunk (51 minutes) in the middle of my school day where I can get together with my departmental colleagues in addition to any administrators we may need to make decisions. Oftentimes roles and titles are discarded (at least temporarily) in lieu of quick-paced decision-making. As best as we can, our department keeps our Head of School, Head of Operations, Curriculum Director, Innovation Specialist, and Dean of Students informed of everything. (Ah, the beauty of CC-ing admins on emails to keep everyone in the loop…) The process is expedited because everyone knows everything. When there is a need for people to pitch in, most people volunteer because they are “in the know” and feel confident that they can quickly help (with perhaps the notion that a quid pro quo looms after their favor’s completion).

Our once-a-day collaborative get-togethers are only supplemented by a weekly all-faculty stand-up on Tuesdays. These 15-minute stand-ups have effectively supplanted the typically torturous  “faculty meetings,” which seem to drag on endlessly as eyes and ears begin to bleed profusely (I only kid). The meetings grease the wheels on cross-curricula integration and provide assistance to those teachers in need of help with outside-of-school events (dances, performances), long-term projects (iBooks series, conference presentations), and in-class fun (Pi Day celebrations, science competitions). The sense of community that can be built within the 15-minute meetings is also surprisingly successful. If other people know what you’re doing, showing public appreciation and offering private congratulations becomes much easier.

Finally, Jeff Sutherland adheres to another belief as it relates to his agile manifesto where great work is completed in half the time. That belief is “demo or die”. Now, having mentored a student teacher this year for the first time, I have obtained a cursory understanding of what this phrase means. At the beginning of her semester, Bella, my student teacher, would strictly observe my day-to-day actions. She would witness my ups and downs, successes and failures on a period-by-period basis. Most importantly, however, she would watch my pedagogical approaches, solutions to classroom management challenges, and instructional habits. Soon after watching, she would then try her best to emulate this de facto demonstration. I quickly learned that all my errors and flubs would be replayed in her own teaching. Bella was making the same mistakes I had made by simply observing my tendencies and copying my movements. Perhaps not coincidentally, as Bella grew and blossomed as a teacher I, too, in turn was strengthened by pinpointing some of her flaws and fixing my own.

Scrum for Schools Blog # 3 for Chapter 3

Being a member of a transcendent educational team has always been a dream of mine. I have pictured myself in many of the same ways that members of championship teams or flawless performers imagine themselves. I was once told when I owned the pipe dream of becoming a Division-I basketball player that the best thing to do when shooting free throws was to imagine oneself making the shot before actually shooting it. So I continue to dream big. I continue to imagine the shot swishing through the net.

In order to be a leader or an integral member of a dream educational team, I know I need to pull the right levers. Too often have I been in teams where people are pressing all the wrong buttons. Petty disagreements and personality clashes too often get in the way of true progress as fundamental attribution errors start to rear their ugly heads. It pains me to say that I have witnessed childish tactics utilized to manipulate or “lead” a group in a certain direction, championing the individual in the eyes of evaluators as opposed to celebrating the entire team. Transcendence becomes impossible when there is silly infighting and wasted time over perceived internal threats and unexplainable, borderline neurotic insecurities.

Autonomy, the type I have often been granted at String Theory Schools by my administrators, has been a huge ingredient in my growth as someone technologically fluent and pedagogically well-versed. This autonomy has also lead to flexibility on my end as I have served to increase my cross-functionality when it comes to assessment, learning management systems, coursework, course-building, and app implementation.

I have been lucky, too, to have those who celebrate my “small wins” and encouraged me along the way. For example, when I published my first iBook, the members of my administration took it upon themselves to post a link to the book in the faculty announcements to showcase an example of my labors.

As I seek to establish or become a member of a transcendent team, I know that the “blame game” or finding fault too easily in others will simply not work. It’s not helpful to see members of your own team as the enemy or as opposition, even if you are a competitive force. It’s better to celebrate their small wins, their daily victories, and be happy for their successes. You’re not only giving birth to positive vibes and facilitating an environment conducive to great work; you’re celebrating the potential of mankind and rooting for everyone. It’s always fun to root for transcendent teams. It’s even better to be a part of them.

Scrum for Schools Blog # 2 for Chapter 2

While I am no expert at karate, martial arts, or any type of fighting (since I am, by nature, a pacifist), I have a deep appreciation for the Japanese concept of Shu Ha Ri. This idea is easily applicable to my progression as a teacher, the maturation of my teaching, and the development of my own iTunes U courses.

SHU: When I first started teaching, I absorbed almost any “teacher expert” or “teach yourself to be a teacher” book available. Unlike some of my colleagues, I did not finish my undergraduate experience with an education degree (or any credits towards a hypothetical degree, for that matter). Therefore, I felt that I needed to obtain a firm grasp on the fundamentals of teaching and establish for myself a strong foundation of pedagogical principals and disciplinary procedures. Initially, my day-to-day duties as a teacher seemed very structured and quite predictable. I wrote a lesson plan. I executed the lesson plan. I guided students’ practice. I assessed students’ learning. The same could be said for my classroom management as I vowed to be firm and fair day in and day out. There’s zero chance, however, of you finding a sparkling evaluation for my teaching during that first year, but I was confident that my skills were being honed.

HA: During my second and third years, I began to branch out. I sought out other teachers in other grades teaching different subjects than me. I observed their varied disciplinary strategies and I adopted or adjusted what I witnessed in my own classroom. I started to understand the malleability of managing the behaviors and moods of my learners. My lesson planning also went beyond the basics as I began to discover resources through my PLN (Professional Learning Network). Soon enriching websites, better presentations, more engaging apps and activities all filled my lessons. No longer did I stick to the “tried and true methods” I once held so dear. Instead, I opened up to other theories and integrated diverse ways to appeal to my students with multiple intelligences and proximal zones of development. The more master classes (I was, after all, enrolled in an M.Ed program at the time) I took, the more I saw the innumerable possibilities with my daily instruction.

RI: String Theory Schools offered me opportunities and the perfect setting for this third stage. Stressing innovation, collaboration, and collective creativity, I pushed myself to improvise on the fly and originate altogether new content. I built my own courses rather than follow another teacher’s path. I tailored my instruction to match the individual student such that differentiation and modification were prioritized over any potential uniform or universal methods. My educational ecosystem expanded to include assorted pupils as I completely ditched the homogenous style of teaching. My confidence at times was so high that I reached glorious moments of transcendence. (Admittedly though, I did not achieve this magnificence for prolonged periods of time… but I’m certain I’ll teach like Larry Bird’s Celtics teams played some day.)

I feel very blessed that I’ve traveled this particular teacher trail so far. I cannot wait to see what the future holds as I continue to push beyond imitation and assimilation in pursuit of pure innovation.

Scrum for Schools Blog # 1 for Chapter 1

Lesson planning at String Theory Schools is a collaborative process which sometimes moves at warp speed (depending upon the time we have between the “day of creation” and the “day of implementation”). We often achieve great successes with our curriculum and content at a high velocity. It’s an exciting place to teach and plan.

In this same vein, failing (and failing fast) is also a common byproduct. But since we at String Theory follow the mantra that a daily “failure bow” is a good thing, these failures are embraced and viewed as valuable learning experiences. These failures are fixable ones, ones that Scrum author Jeff Sutherland would view as potentially beneficial for optimizing productivity and results. Changes are necessary, and the best changes often come after inspecting those aforementioned failures.

One example of a “failure” occurred as a result of moving quickly to compose our ninth grade literature circle unit. In order for our literature circle members to take note of their important discussion details effectively, we rapidly created a graphic organizer that allowed space for students to jot down those notes in a PDF editor like UPAD and Notability. When the students began submitting their notes, a realization, however, dawned on us that this aspect of a collaborative assessment wasn’t exactly collaborative. We realized collectively that an adaptation was needed. Since we were already advocating the use of Google Apps for Education, we figured out a way to change the requirements of the literature circles so that the students’ interest levels wouldn’t wane or “die”. Soon the graphic organizer found its way to Docs in the form of a table and every student now owned access such that they could easily add their notes to a shared form.

Our initial planning was not perfect. But we also did not blindly follow our plans. Since we were willing to fix our early mistakes, we truly found a better way to make the assessments more collaborative and more rewarding.