Tag Archives: arts education

Cycle 2: Losing the Big Picture

This week I spent two days working on the Michigan Arts Education Instruction and Assessment project known as MAEIA. I co-represent the discipline of dance in the creation of three products: a blueprint of what the “gold standard” dance program would look like for Michigan, the assessment development, and the audit tool districts will be able to use to self-assess. I am honored to be part of the project and excited to offer my two cents. It isn’t going to be simple, but I dare say it will be rewarding.

That said, between this endeavor and the readings for my MSU course, my mind has been churning ideas about curriculum in multiple yet related contexts. Namely, as the title of Cycle 2 suggests: What should schools teach? How should they be held accountable?

The Buy-In
Understandably, many of the discussions around curriculum come back to student involvement and prolonged engagement. As “theme” schools are introduced, reinvented, and redirected the intention appears always to be the same- get kids hooked on learning and they’ll become life-long learners.

In my own career, I have taught at such “theme” institutions, first as a dance specialist in a visual and performing arts magnet high school, and then a 4 year private liberal arts college. Each had philosophies that I deeply believe(d) in yet I was overcome with the obstacles that also stood in the way.

For the magnet school, it was adult buy-in. The kids were ready, able, and mostly fired up to have an identity beyond that of a typical high school experience. When I was hired, the magnet philosophy was hot and the publicity surrounding the school’s new persona was striking. As an arts team- consisting of faculty and students- we felt special. We worked hard. We all succeeded. The community took notice and supported us.

The magnet focus seemed to do the job of drawing students into the school district rather than out, yet once there, the greater goal in our building of using the arts to engage students in other subject areas was spotty at best. Frankly, there were only a handful of non-arts instructors willing to shift their lesson plans to accommodate what felt to many teachers as the latest fad. The notion had been that the math classes could relate to the arts through such things as budgets, the English classes with such things as press releases and critiques, science classes could consider arts based injuries or the concepts relating to light and sound…. It was a great notion but one hard to sell and even harder to maintain.

Due to varying circumstances and personal goals, I left the high school to direct the dance minor program at a liberal arts college but returned to the VAPA magnet school a few years later.

Much had changed- administration, district and building commitment to the magnet philosophy, and morale. While still “magnet” in name, the thrill was gone and I felt it through-out the whole day. The school had returned to functioning nearly as any other high school, with the exception of having dance and technical theatre courses. Students enjoyed performances but commitment to even those dropped drastically. Students needed to be convinced to participate in class in ways that had been ironed out previously….it was no longer a privilege to be there. There were families that didn’t even realize the school had an arts focus.

In three years, the momentum had halted and as far as I could see the only substantial change (after all, kids are kids) were the attitudes of the adults in charge and their lack of interest in rallying the forces.
I whole-heartedly embrace the idea that one’s “gotta get a gimmick”. As a professional dancer it was essential that I separate myself from the rest at every audition. Schools need to do the same. Yet, the movement can’t move if people refuse to budge and refuse to join in. Leaders can only lead if people are willing to follow. Imagine how the kids could lead if they knew the educational guides were willing to accompany, sometimes even to follow.
The Test
I firmly believe that traditional assessment- the boring old bubble sheets and nods to rote learning- slowed the momentum garnered in my first time around at the VAPA high school and darn near stopped it before my return.

Now, as my MAEIA colleague and I plan our description of the “gold standard” dance programming, we anticipate the needs of our field and our students. I begin to think that the test does not determine the success but in fact the success should help determine the test.

If we focus on project based learning, with performance/presentation components, not only does the effort improve on behalf of the performer, but the interest improves on behalf of the audience. Rather than looking at performance standards as opportunities to fail and therefore judge, we remember to support and uplift, to be constructive as we are critical, and to engage as we communicate. The greater community responds.

The performing arts, as described in multiple sources, are the pinnacle of high stakes testing and in the most public of ways. In recent years, I have had many conversations with colleagues concerned that test scores might be printed in the local paper and how that would impact teacher evaluation and reputation. I simply said that I understood- it is how I feel before every student concert.

But the value of performance/project based learning is the depth and the process. The making and the learning involved in connecting ideas between subjects, disciplines, methods and people stand the test of time and the test of versatility. Learning, at once, becomes practical as well as abstract. Multiple processes are engaged and the learning is embodied. It might not be the type of education best measured in bubble sheets but it will endure. Ultimately, shouldn’t that be the test?
The Outcome
I conclude this post echoing my thoughts at the end of Cycle 1. Our biggest assessment, and most important, is determining that our youth are prepared for an ever-evolving work force, ever-developing technology, and ever-shifting determination of success.
What we are teaching needs to be relevant, reasoned, and real. Our assessment practices need to be the same.

We will need to move away from some of the traditions of American education not because the traditions are not valuable but because they may not be best suited for American life as we know it now or in the future. And who, then, knows what the future will be like? Well, those that will craft it…the kids.

I don’t propose that we let the children rule the school. We can, however, let them in on how and why to learn. We can also admit that fun is fun and learning that is fun is enduring.

With all of the invention they will be bring, the best preparation and therefore education that we can offer, is to let them create.

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Cycle 1: How much of what we teach is “curriculum”?

Let’s face it, I am fortunate in that my subject area- dance- is not included in the standardized tests that my students take each year. That doesn’t mean, however, that I am not careful and intentional in how and what I teach. As I see it, there are three main types of teaching/learning relationships in every classroom and how we choose to acknowledge those relationships goes along way in determining our success in teaching people.

When posed with the question of “what is curriculum?”, my mind begins to flood with complex and conflicting thoughts. At the outset, I would describe curriculum as the intended content a teacher strives to share with their students; information and skills that are developed to reflect state benchmarks. Concepts that will be assessed in formal ways and will result in deciding how money is spent, jobs are allocated, and experiences lived.

When asked “what is curriculum for?” I think it is an attempt to create a common foundation- a common language if you will,  for teachers within a state, a grade level, and subject areas to agree. In theory, this might ensure that students moving from one school to another may not miss essential concepts that help them advance to the next grade. In theory, this might ensure that all graduating high school students might be equipped for their vocations or for college with the skills appropriate for those paths. In theory, curriculum would evolve to draw from big ideas maintained in “the Classics” but also include methods for preparing students to adapt to ever-changing demands of daily and professional life.

And yet,…..

I am distracted by what I have come to know and understand as I have developed, time and time again according to varied teaching environments, my own “curriculum”. I am conscious of how my ability to authentically help  students has shifted with experience and how this has in turn shifted how I choose content and methods for delivering information through experiences. I am embracing my “ways of knowing” to realize that I approach all of life as a dancer and translate every situation and interaction through my mastery and analysis of movement, body language, and non-verbal cues. And I am acknowledging truly, that as an educator my views of the world provide the fabric for my practice- even as I gaze on what I do through the lenses of intentional, innate, and hidden curriculum.

Here we arrive at another question. “What does that mean?” Well, here is what these things have come to mean in my life up to this point.

Direct or Intentional

I would describe direct or intentional curriculum as the stuff teachers set out to teach. This is the material that will be tested. This is the material that has been deemed most important. This is the material that fills books. This is what you write on your lesson plans. I would dare say that in most classrooms, this is boring.

As a dance educator, the direct curriculum is what I check the state standards for- terminology, definitions, age appropriate skill development. Boring. Until….I think of interesting ways to connect these things to non-boring things- images, textures, feelings, forces of motion, patterns as they exist in the world, cycles of ideas/relationships, current events, and more.

I find that when I apply context and guided experience to the programmed “curriculum”, the content comes to life. It isn’t necessary the stuff that is exciting but the discovery of how it is exciting.

Indirect or Innate

Innate curriculum helps me sleep at night when I have reached the tipping point with a challenging class and I stop pushing engagement and allow myself to “lead” class rather than “teach” it. I am not proud of these moments- I have just admitted they keep me up at night. But the innate curriculum is what my arts discipline “does” when I do little more than teach in the traditions of how dance has been taught (follow the leader, do what you are told, do it better, and don’t ask any questions.) This is when I rely on what the arts are credited as doing even when little thought has gone into the “how” of how these things are  achieved- things like providing self- discipline, conditioning bodies, building coordination, self-esteem, and being “fun”.

Innate curriculum is the material we assume is being learned simply because kids are in classrooms. These are the lessons that kids are not being explicitly taught but are using cultural inference to figure out and practice. And it leads to my third teaching/learning relationship category. This is the work that depends on the environment to be conveyed rather than the direct acknowledgment. An example might be: “you should behave in school better than you do at home, because well, you are at school. ” It is a standard expectation that is often assumed and not necessarily uttered out loud.

Hidden Curriculum

This is what kids notice about you and your classroom. This is how kids determine what your real expectations are. This is how kids decide if they will allow you to teach them. There is only one guarantee.

Kids. Notice. Everything.

If you don’t think so then they are your mirror image. They know you don’t think they care or don’t think they can do it and they will show you exactly that.

Hidden curriculum is varied and comprehensive:

  • Why should they turn assignments on time if you are late to school every day?
  • Why should they organize their ideas if you can’t organize your classroom?
  • Why should they be prepared to start the assignment when you say so if they know you will say it three more times ?
  • Why should they like math if they know you don’t like math and are uncomfortable teaching it?

Do you see the pattern?

Many educators, I think, place the power and importance in the order I listed: direct, indirect, and don’t consider the hidden messages in the class. I, however, place the value and therefore power in the exact opposite order.

There is a lot about the field of dance that challenges perceptions of people and of the world. I use hidden curriculum to encourage awareness and even conversations among kids that I don’t necessarily have time to conduct. And truly, kids are smarter than we give them credit for. They are capable of having important and discerning conversations when there is something worthwhile to talk about.  Want them to stop gossiping? Give them something juicy to think about and discuss.

In my classes, one way I do this is in the pictures I hang up. In recent months, I decided one challenging topic is the body and expected gender roles.

Dance challenges our acceptance of the body as something to see, watch, move, and touch. Gender roles in dance challenge our perceptions of relationships in many different ways.

Now, in my teaching I have limited time (30 minutes per week for each elementary classroom, 45 minutes per day for each middle school dance elective class) and we all know class discussion- especially about fascinating topics- can eat up those blocks of time easily.

I have found simply posting pictures of bodies in different kinds of shapes, costumes, and relationships have raised discussions of bodies and people in safe and constructive ways that carry over into the hallway before lunch or on their way to their next class.

While I listen to the conversations as they peruse the pictures, I often say very little until there is a direct connection to our classwork or if they have any questions they want to ask. Or until there is room for me to make a very brief but powerful statement.

I have been impressed at how their imaginations have anticipated movement that came before or after the image they actually see. At how they discuss weight or partnering- often delicate matters- in mature ways. I have noticed that they sometimes will make an accusation and then look at me to see what I think. And that is when I can address how their word choice might be offensive and why. I am not mad at them. I am seeking the opportunity to change their perception and be mindful of others. But I don’t necessarily need to do this in front of the whole class at the same time. Word spreads in other ways and the lesson is shared.

It is also not something that is necessarily in my “curriculum” but serves them in life. Isn’t that what education should do?

So when I think about “curriculum”, I agree with Sir Ken Robinson when he says schools are killing creativity and the paradigm is shifting. Kids are expected to ingest the information and not contextualize or develop a sense of themselves as it relates to the information.

Yet I also wonder what determines college “readiness” or another measures of success. Is it the memorization of a map and ability to identify states based on sight? Or is the ability to find an app on your smartphone that shows you the state as well as the ability to understand what the geography means in terms of what to wear and what you should eat if you visit those locations.

What leads to a fulfilled, productive, contributing life?

Thinking and problem-solving. Willingness to take risks, change assumptions, hazard a guess, and use mistakes to advance your thinking.To reflect on your own existence and make a positive impact on your community and the world at large. This is what fulfills my life and what I hope to inspire my students to do.

Shouldn’t that be goal of education?

What is in your “curriculum”?

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Playing Superhero: The Dark Side of Discipline

Discipline in the arts is usually one of the major “gains” in training and one of the reasons many parents choose to enroll their child.

Discipline in pre-professional dance, for me, was what separated those that wanted to succeed and those that did.

Discipline in professional dance takes on a different perspective in response to the nature of one’s success. For those with company success, discipline may still be dedication to their craft, daily technique class and the commitment involved. For those without consistent work it can mean carving out the time and money to maintain one’s technique and conditioning and challenging one’s self to stay engaged at the fullest level.

But when all is said and done, discipline can have a dark side. The cape donned in the thrill of physical prowess and being at the top of one’s game can lead, in other scenarios, to a mask of re-hashing and obsession over improvement with less healthy side effects.

This is where I sometimes find myself now. I have come to the opinion that, in teaching as well as other aspects of life, reflection is what separates those that want to be successful and those that are. But there is a precipice where success can fall into obsession the longer one dwells. From the outside things may still look very successful, and they are, but the inside graphs another story.

I have mentioned before that the last twelve months have been challenging. For all the positives, I tend to focus extensively on the areas in need of work. There is my challenge.

Here’s an example: rather than simply rejoicing in the fact we have a 9 month old baby, a bright and active 4 year old boy, a nice home, seemingly stable jobs, a challenging new teaching environment, new and interesting problems to solve, satisfying side projects, and opportunities on the horizon,…

…I find myself dwelling on whether or not my baby has as much of my attention as my son did at her age and what I can do about it, if my son is in the right learning environment and what the arrangements should be made for him next year (whether he starts school or not and where), the dust and the cleaning that is so sub-par based on my pre-children standards and the related shame whenever anyone comes over, the overwhelming awareness of judgement (positive or negative) when working in a new place, with new people, new students, and new curriculum, how to balance what is artistically satisfying with what I do and how I have to do it, what I need to do to maintain my artistic, educational, online, friendly, and familial reputations, and so on.

Instead of material goods, the Joneses that I am trying to keep up with are the top of their fields no matter where they are working: at home, in the classroom, in academia or online. In my mind, I find myself competing with the moms that stay home focusing most exclusively on the family and the home, the teachers that dedicate themselves and many extra hours/days to supporting their curriculum, to the professors that balance teaching and publishing and presenting, and the internet gurus who seem to be able to seamlessly document their lives or their creations (I visit a lot of craft-based lifestyle blogs).

Has my profession taught me to always feel I can’t quite measure up and there is always more work to be done?

Has the sheer number of times as dancers we’ve been told, “there is always a replacement” elicited a feeling that you can’t possibly be less than super-human if you still want to be good at what you do? In all that you do?

Has the emphasis placed on cross-training and generalist approaches to dance academics seasoned me for eXtreme multi-tasking and over-achieving  and thinking it is”normal”?

Or is it all personal?

Which aspect of my personality does this reflect most- the artist or the perfectionist? Can they be separated? Or which came first? Is one a product of the other or the inspiration?

Often, people seek my advice in teaching, or balancing professional and personal lives, or both. But now, perhaps it is me that needs the advice.

In truth, I do rejoice in our kids and family life, love my job and my opportunities, and all that go with it. Yet….

What do you do when you can’t find anything to let go of……  When life demands that you have your hat in many rings and your personality and/or your conditioning doesn’t allow you to be second rate in any of them….

Or am I the only one?

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The Worst of Times

A couple months ago I wrote about an interaction I had with my son following a displacement meeting for my school district. At the time, I was facing a one class reduction which I ended up picking up at the visual and performing arts K-8 feeder school. While any kind of change can be unsettling, this has turned out to be a great thing for many reasons. That entry primarily focused on my decision to live in the arts, the resulting cuts that my career has inevitably faced, and the fact I would still make the choices I have made to get here. This one, is about the secondary point of that entry- education.

My school district is facing a $25 million deficit, I have heard 300+ lay-off notices will be distributed, and more than 55 jobs will certainly be lost. The cuts will impact teachers that have been in the district for 15 years. We all know about the debates in Wisconsin and Ohio. Michigan is quickly joining the ranks in actions against collective bargaining, freezing wages during contract negotiations, and so on. The fight is not pretty and I can’t help but feel deflated, discouraged, and in some amount of despair. The part that troubles me most is not necessarily the loss of income that would come with paying more for insurance, or a freeze in pay (hey, I am in the arts remember- I have to support my family but I don’t do this strictly for financial gain) but the tone with which all of this is being handled. It isn’t being handled. It is being forced. And there seems to be no thought for whom this will ultimately hurt- the kids. You know, our future. Of course I don’t want to lose my job. No, I don’t think I do get paid enough for what I do compared to what I could earn teaching the same amount of hours in other dance settings given my experience, credentials, and contact time with students. But that, for me, isn’t the point.

I choose to be in the public schools for the connections I am able to present to students outside my discipline alone. I choose to be there to help them find a voice to express themselves and an opportunity to explore what they might want to say. I choose to be there to assist them in thinking outside the box which will help them solve problems on many different scales and in many different contexts. I choose to be there because I genuinely care about them, their successes, and their failures. So, when my profession (one or both- dance, education) is so viciously attacked by people (and shall we go ahead and acknowledge that many of them are parents), I feel disillusioned and alienated. I want to say, “you don’t have to value me, but I would hope you value your child.” Since teachers play such a large role in the development of children, the two hopefully go hand in hand.

I get the hard facts. I see the deficit. I understand the issues at hand. I don’t, however, see how many of the debates being battled are fixing the problems. I just see bullying.

Sigh….And then I listen to David Brooks be interviewed on the Diane Rehm show and am reminded again of the exciting possibilities in education, including arts education- If anyone other than the teachers cared.

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