Last week, we received permission from the Costa Rican Ministry of Education to host SAT tests on campus this past Saturday.  I was both surprised and grateful that the Ministry allowed us to move forward, obviously with strict social distancing protocols.  It was the first time we had students on campus in classrooms since March.  

In some ways, a Saturday morning SAT test is a rather unremarkable thing.  In fact, I’m not a big fan of the SAT – it’s something of a necessary evil that I’ve been secretly hoping would loosen its grip on college admissions thanks to the pandemic.  While that has been happening (especially with the University of California system announcing they were suspending the need for the tests), there are still plenty of schools requiring it.  Some of our students at Lincoln were planning a 5 hour drive across the country to sit for the test in a region where such in-person testing had been authorized.  We aggressively pursued the possibility of hosting the test ourselves, and just a few days before the test itself, received the necessary permissions.

As I stood at the curb Saturday morning, we probably welcomed no more than 25 students onto the campus.  One by one, they came into the school – washing hands, wiping feet, keeping their distance.  Yet, I couldn’t believe how refreshing it was just to have students there in person to welcome to campus.  I told Ms. Lampinen, our high school Vice Principal who was supervising the event, that it was the first time since March closures that I felt like a true school administrator.  Of course we continue to offer school virtually (and, arguably, with a high degree of quality), but it still felt good to be there and to interact, even if for only a few moments and for an event as mundane as an SAT test.

The moment was fleeting.  We just approved distance learning through the end of 2020, in accordance with national health and education requirements.  It is likely the prudent thing to do after all, we can offer a high quality program virtually.  It is a privilege to be able to connect 100% of our students, and so we move forward, choosing to focus on the positives.  But still, at least for a morning, it was wonderful to see our students, give them a word of encouragement, and remember what it is that energizes us in our work as educators.  It reminded me that while difficult, the pandemic will not be here forever.  We’ll be back on campus before we know it, and I imagine we’ll be a little more appreciative of opportunity.  

I’ve been trying to learn more about different approaches to collaborative instructional planning and classroom observations, so this month, I’ve been reading the book Lesson Study: A Japanese Approach To Improvement Mathematics Teaching and Learning.   In this widely read case study narrative of math teachers at Tsuta and Ajinadai Nishi elementary schools, Clea Fernandez and Makoto Yoshida introduce us to the details of lesson study as a philosophy and approach to teaching and learning.  They immediately immerse us in teacher conversations as teams work together to plan lessons they believe will best lead students to understanding and application of key mathematical principles.  As the authors point out, for these Japanese teachers, lesson study is not a program but an embedded approach to their day to day work as classroom teachers.  

The basic structure of lesson study begins with the teachers coming together to plan the lesson collaboratively.  In other words, participating teachers design and teach the same lesson in their respective classrooms.  This detail-oriented process carefully outlines the model lesson, drawing on the collective expertise and insight of members of the team.  Then, one of the teachers gives the lesson in his or her classroom, while the other participants observe the lesson that they helped design.  Following the lesson, the group comes back together to discuss what happened in the classroom, with reactions and suggestions for revision.  Then, a second teacher will teach the revised lesson, with other members of the team coming to observe.  Again, the lesson is followed by a group discussion and reflection about how the lesson went.  

Like the shared problem of practice of Instructional Rounds, the focal point of any given lesson study is connected to a broader goal area being pursued by teachers across the school organization.  This broad area of focus, known in Japenese as the konaikenshu (“in-school training” focus), helps create coherence across the school.  Interestingly, the konaikenshu is usually developed collaboratively by the teachers, focuses less on specific skills and more on broad student dispositions towards learning, and often remains the same over more than one year.  As Fernandez and Yoshida point out, “the konaikenshu goal chosen by a school is explored through the conduct of lesson study.  This provides lesson study with an umbrella goal that is well motivated and carefully selected, and of concern to teachers.  Conversely, this combination of konaikenshu and lesson study provides a concete process for thinking about how to bring a school’s selected konaikenshu goal to life.”    

This detail cannot be overstated.  The power of both Instructional Rounds and Lesson Study, in my estimation, is derived from the momentum that is built as teachers make the connection between broader school goals and the specifics of instructional planning and practice.  Another interesting resemblance between lesson study and Instructional Rounds is what is known in Japan as the lesson study open house, where teachers at nearby schools and other educators come visit the school to come observe and discuss a set of study lessons that the host school has been working on in connection with their konaikenshu.  As is the case with rounds, both the host school and visiting educators benefit from the opportunity to observe and discuss instruction together.  With lesson study, teacher teams often go one step further by producing a written report at the end of the year that highlights the lesson study work for the year.  These “research bulletins” will typically include the lesson plans that were developed at the school, along with key insights and ideas associated with their development and delivery.  

At its core, lesson study is another example of the improvement power that results when teachers themselves take ownership of the observation and feedback process, instead of each step being tightly orchestrated by administrators.  This is a difficult balance to achieve in practice, as administrators can and do play an important supportive role in aligning resources to make such collaborative practices possible, not to mention helping out with logistical details that must be addressed if teachers are to have the time and space necessary to plan and conduct lesson study sessions.  

I saw an article over the weekend about a school district that was placing 50+ students into every distance learning classroom.  Of course this is a temptation that is to be largely expected.  At a time when budgets are stretched thin and schools are scrambling to find ways to save money, it is hardly surprising to find schools that are stuffing digital classrooms with more students.  

In my opinion, the logic behind increased student to teacher ratios in digital learning spaces can  be connected to the broader effort on the part of ed tech companies to create student adaptive technologies that can function without the need for teacher involvement or intervention.  In this perspective, personalization is not about a teacher to student relationship, but is about tailoring work to the individual learning needs of the student.  In essence, it is the automation of the learning process.  When the classroom is automated, a bot or algorithm is all you need to personalize learning for each student.  Class sizes become somewhat irrelevant when learning is automated, and the economic benefits and profits of going quickly to scale become achievable.  Perhaps the underlying belief is that such a learning experience is superior as it cuts out the need for teachers, who are not only expensive but produce widely different outputs.  So goes the thinking.  

I am certainly not antagonistic to high quality, student-adaptive learning technologies.  In fact,  I think they represent one of the most exciting frontiers in school reform happening right now.  Used in moderation and strategically, such technologies can certainly help develop and strengthen targeted academic skills.  What I take issue with is the notion that such automated learning experiences and technologies can or should take the place of the teacher/student relationship.  In other words, I strongly believe that student-adaptive technology does not rise to the level of personalized learning.  I have written previously about how the heart of personalization are the relationships between learners and teachers.  Personalization is not just academic tasks tailored to individual students, but encompasses the emotions of inclusion, the excitement of authentic social interaction and engagement, and attention to the developmental needs of each and every child.  Personalization is about a learning environment where a student knows that they are both known and loved on a personal level.    

Perhaps the best comparison I can make is parenting.  Parents can certainly benefit from utilizing technology that makes them more effective in their parenting.  But parenting itself – instilling values, supporting pro-social development, building attachments and healthy relationships – these are functions that cannot be outsourced or automated.  In fact, our entire society is wrestling with the impact that modern technologies are having on the mental health and development of our children.  The data that drive individually adaptive technologies are also increasingly viewed with suspicion and concern.  When I hear someone advocating for the de-emphasis on access to caring adults in the classroom, I grow wary.  

Which brings us back to the topic of class sizes.  I have been an education administrator for over a decade, and there is hardly a year or a negotiation cycle where the conversation doesn’t turn at some point to topic of class size.  Often, the defense for heightened class sizes is that the academic research is clear that larger class sizes do not have a negative impact on student learning.  My purpose here is not to hash out the academic literature on class size (which I should add, is mixed and mostly emphasizes the positive benefit of highly skilled teachers regardless of class size).  Typically, the dependent variable being tested with variations in class size are academic outcomes and not other desirable outcomes such as student social-emotional development or teacher morale and well-being.  In any case, I certainly understand that increased class sizes sometimes are necessary.  Resources are not infinite, and we are constrained by funding models in both public and private settings that have implications for what is possible in the design and delivery of instruction.  I’ve personally had to make the decision to increase class size in the schools and systems I have led.  But let’s call it what it is – an economically driven decision.  My favorite litmus test for this type of decision is one suggested by Geoffrey Canada, who applies the simple test of asking what do students from wealthy families get.  They get lower class sizes.  

So, let’s not be too eager to find efficiencies in schools that negatively impact students’ access to caring, meaningful relationships with adults.  

I was out early this morning for a jog, listening to a recording from Gordon B. Hinckley, all the way back from 1974.  Then a leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Hinckley’s topic was about choosing to be optimistic, despite the overwhelming political and social challenges of the day.  I wasn’t alive in 1974, so I can’t make a direct comparison, but I smiled to think what he would have been saying about 2020.  It’s certainly been a tough year.

I was feeling that toughness a bit this past week.  After a month of school, some of our teachers were already finding it difficult to sustain the 6+ straight hours of rotating small groups every day.  I found myself discussing structural adjustments and possible solutions with members of the leadership team.  In our own house, one of our children had a bit of a breakdown on Friday night after we discovered that the work being turned in for the day had not met expectations.  While siblings enjoyed our Friday movie night tradition, I sat with my child who worked through revisions and some tears.  Of course, a long weekend helps in these moments.  Labor Day in the US this weekend, and here in Costa Rica we have an extra day off this coming weekend in celebration of Costa Rican independence.  It’s a good time to recharge batteries. 

Yet, despite the challenges, I couldn’t help but think about the need to find space for gratitude and optimism.  Certainly in our family, we have been tremendously blessed.  I have had the opportunity to join the Lincoln community and family.  While starting a new job in distance mode and building initial relationships through a computer screen has been challenging, I can’t imagine a more supportive school community.  Lincoln School, with 75 years of history, has found ways to perservere and thrive in the midst of the pandemic.  The teaching and support staff have continually sought out innovative ways to connect with our students and families, from 8 nights of Back to School Night, to Virtual Recess, to weekly Mindful Meetups.  Kids across the school, including my own children, have been engaged by upbeat and enthusiastic teachers.  Certainly I know that behind the scenes, it hasn’t been easy, but everyone gives their best for the benefit of our students.

Distance learning has also had some personal benefits for a me as a full-time educator and administrator.  For starters, I’ve been able to eat dinner with my family almost every single night for nearly 6 months.  Of course my kids might be growing weary of my face, but I know how precious and fleeting these years are when our kids are small and at home.  Many of my colleagues have expressed similar sentiments, from an unexpected college student returning home for a few months, to a return to daily time for reflection in nature or reading.  In a much broader sense, it seems that the working world may even be developing a greater appreciation and understanding of the essential role that educators play in our day to day lives.  Those outside of the professional are being reminded that ensuring our kids can read, write, do math, and think critically is much more than child care (not to mention the economic impact when parents don’t have a place to send their children during the working day).   

Of course the point of being optimistic is not to assume everything is wonderful.  Gordon B. Hinckley reminds his listeners back in 1974 that it wasn’t time for rose-colored glasses.  Those were sobering times, and we don’t have to pretend that our current circumstances are any less challenging.  It’s okay to wish for a return to in-person classes, or struggle with the day to day energy and motivation necessary to continue engaging students through Zoom calls.  I certainly am looking forward to the time when my work day doesn’t require me conducting work meetings while simultaneously trying to keep my 10 year old off of YouTube.  But until then, we persevere, with gratitude for our privilege to connect in isolation, and appreciation for those who continue to put themselves at risk for the benefit of our collective health and prosperity.  We optimistically push for broader connectivity and access, recognizing that while we are still far from our goal of universal access, there is evidence that the pandemic is forcing us further in the right direction.  

At the very time that technology allows a single user to broadcast synchronous and asynchronous learning options at a countless number of students simultaneously, I find it interesting how small group instruction is becoming increasingly important.  Our preschool teachers, for example, have broken their teaching blocks into smaller groups.  Instead of having 20 students in a classroom setting simultaneously, they spend 20 minutes with smaller groups of 6-7.  It’s the equivalent of digital centers.  

Two of my own children, a set of twins in prepa (in Costa Rica it’s the grade level just prior to 1^st grade), have been the benficiaries of this approach.  Having the smaller groups allows the teacher to more directly and individually engage with students in a synchromous learning setting.  My kids are talking and conversing back with the teacher and other students with much greater frequency.  Plus, by dividing screen time into shorter 20 minute segments, my little people are only on-screen for 1 hr – 1.5 hrs each day, which makes me feel much better as a parent who is concerned about the heightened screen time all of our kids are experiencing during distance learning.  

Of course small groups get exponentially more challenging at the secondary level, where groups of students cycle through classrooms period after period.  For schools on a straight set of six or seven daily classes, 25 students in a classroom quickly equates to well over 100 students on a daily basis.  Even for schools on a block schedule where daily loads are cut by a third or more, finding structures to accommodate small groups can be a challenge.  A lot of our teachers are finding success with office hours and flex schedules one day a week to allow for small group instruction to focus on students who may be struggling with the material.  These more flexible blocks of time allow students the opportunity to sign up for additional support and instruction.  The benefit of distance learning is that teacher help is no further away than a text message or phone call during specified time blocks.  

I’m curious to see how other teachers are leveraging the digital environment to incorporate more small group instruction into their day to day teaching.  While some platforms allow for breakout groups and small groups within the same class, I have not seen that being used as much on a class to class basis.  Part of that reason I believe has to do with limitations of software.  While Zoom, for example, has always allowed for breakout groups on their platform, some of the other platforms like Google Meet and Teams have been slower to adopt the feature.  In some cases, it felt like teachers had to choose between enhanced software features and the safety concerns that were inherent in using Zoom – especially during the first weeks and months of physical school closures.  Hopefully with time as safety features and small group breakout options both become stronger on the software side, teachers will become increasingly familiar and comfortable using them.