Experimenting with SOLO

I have a high ability year 9 set. The sort who are primed for early entry and school are hopeful of a decent crop of A grades from them. At the moment the SoW has us studying poetry; we are looking in particular at poetry from other cultures, and, after an observation where I was criticised for not pushing the top end high enough, we are reaching for the stars.

So far they have been great at the mechanics. They have been able to pick out techniques and to explore the meanings of certain words or phrases. Some of them have been able to offer alternative interpretations and are tentatively using phrases such as “it could mean X or maybe the writer means Y”.

So far, so proud.

What they have less confidence with and less of an ability to deal with is the context part of an A/A* grade.  Being able to link to ”own experiences” has been a bit of a push for some; to “others’ experience” beyond the realms of my wildest fantasies  – or so it seemed. These students appeared to have little imagination, understanding or empathy that there may be a different world view out there. Despite studying in a wildly multi-cultural school and living in a city with a diverse population they are still strangely insular. Getting them to react to poetry in a way that was beyond “it made me think” was really taking its toll. I really wanted them to start thinking about others, to view poetry as something real life – not just as a vague “thing” they “did” in English.

 I began with the poem “The Right Word” by Imtiaz Dharker. I loved the poem on first reading and decided that it was brilliant for my purposes of peeling away layers of meaning. It was perfect for getting the students to see how other people may have differing views and perceptions of the same event. I was excited about sharing this poem with my class. Looking forward to the discussions about language it would generate. My first attempt at sharing this poem with them however fell a little flat. Instead of the awe and wonder I had expected, reaching the end of the poem I was met with a chorus of “eh?” and “what?” I was disappointed and confused. I had expected more of them – and told them so.

I soon came to realise that it was no surprise. I thought about them and came to the conclusion that it was the actual thinking that was challenging my students – that if I wanted them to think longer, harder and deeper about something then I had to show them how. They knew the words in the poem – understood them individually but could not relate them to each other. No wonder they then could not link those words to their own feelings or those of others.

As is my wont these days I took to twitter to try and find a solution. I knew that I was looking for something that would get my students thinking differently, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it. I skirted round the edges of reading about SOLO for quite a while; truly not sure I quite understood it myself and then decided to be BRAVE. (Well actually school told me to be BRAVE, it is BRAVE week next week, and I realised this was the push to me giving it a go.)

So I went for it. I read everything I could lay my hands on about SOLO. Watched @learningspy in a few videos from teachmeets; read a few blog posts by @lisajaneashes here and decided that this was what would work for my year 9. I planned feverishly, deciding to “borrow” an introductory activity from @TotallyWired77 to introduce the solo concept and away we went.

I started with the concept of thinking. We discussed the image and then using Tait’s lovely activities (sorry I can’t remember the exact link should have saved it) we ranked the “cleverness” of statements about both X Factor and Leeds United. This led us nicely into a discussion of why one statement was cleverer than another – what was it that allowed us to judge those statements? How did we KNOW that one person had more, deeper knowledge of a subject than the other?

Answers were thoughtful, considered and included gems such as:

“Miss, he’s just said one thing”

“There’s a few ideas here”

“This one has linked to other things –it’s comparing”

Which led me nicely to the following slide:

 

                     

 

We discussed the phrases in black type – explored what they meant and at that point I gave them the words in colour and the SOLO Taxonomy sheet. We compared the extended abstract to A* grade criteria and found similarities immediately. I could see cog wheels turning and connections being made –they were ready for the next step.

 

In my slide show – each phase on the question grid came up separately – students discussed each square in groups then as a class.

They worked out the following:

1. nouns are words, naming words and labels.
2. Words choice is important so “you know what something is”
3. Words can affect you because they can make you feel
4. Your culture or experience matters because if you have been called names before those words might hurt you more. This led to lots of anecdotes about times students had been called names; and then to students linking in with gems such as “Like when we did that “Half Caste” poem Miss.

I was pleased with this and decided they were ready for the next step. I took them back to the poem “The Right Word” and gave them a new question grid.

 
Sorry they are a bit hard to read. From the centre 1. What are the nouns and verbs in the poem. 2. What do those words mean? 3. How does the image of the person change in each stanza? 4. How might someone’s culture or experiences change perceptions of the character?

 

 

And basically I let them loose. With no direction from me except for “start in the middle and work outwards” they were off. 20 minutes of beautiful, focused thinking ensued. I found myself floating round the classroom, almost awestruck, at how easy this had become and how well the class were working at this and answering the questions.

Our plenary focused on the technique – has it helped them think and therefore learn? A resounding YES! I’m not sure I got all the elements of SOLO quite right. But I do know I will certainly be trying it again.

Phonics is like Marmite.

I’ve been following discussion about phonics for a few days now; and finally reached the critical point where 140 characters are not enough and so have been driven to blogging once again to explain my thoughts.
Perhaps I should also open with a defence – this is all about me and what I think and feel. I haven’t done a huge research study; I don’t have books full of evidence and references either. I know what I know and what I feel. This is it. It is drawn solely from my experiences as a student, a teacher and a parent.

Phonics: well it’s a bit like Marmite isn’t it? You either love it or you hate it. There doesn’t seem to be much of a middle ground; I’ve yet to find anyone who is ambivalent towards it. I find myself straddling the two camps because depending which hat I’m wearing I feel both.
I was brought up to hate phonics (seriously). I’m product of those irritating parents who aren’t teachers but feel they know the best for their child. Thus way back in the day my parents withdrew me from “that trendy phonics nonsense” and “taught me to read properly” instead. My mum is a firm believer that the reason I can spell (unlike so many of my peers) is that I “didn’t do phonics” which according to her was all about “it didn’t matter if you spelt it wrong as long it sounded right” . Looking back I’m sure that much of that was either the teacher staggering the introduction of the variant spellings of “ee” and “or” or possibly the teacher trying to ensure we were ambitious with vocabulary choices regardless of spelling which could come later. (I know I often find myself saying now I’d rather have a wow word spelt wrong that a boring word spelt right) I think in many ways my parents were also lucky that I was quite bright. The fact of the matter is that I was reading by the time I went to school so I didn’t need to sit down and learn phonics – because I already knew the letters and the sounds that they could make.

Fast forward a few years and I’m a high school teacher who I spends a good proportion of every day teaching phonics. Two years ago when my boss informed me that I was to go on a course and I’d be teaching phonics the following year; full of my parents’ misgivings I was apprehensive. OK I’ll be honest I was dreading it. I had visions of myself in a room of bored teenagers doing floppy ears and who knows what. I was convinced it was going to be a disaster.

So hat number 1 – the teacher hat – I LOVE phonics. That’s right I love it. The programme we follow is brilliant and (I’ll say it again) I love it. At school we follow the Ruth Miskin Fresh Start Phonics programme. Each class has an hour a day and each lesson is a blend of phonics sounds, focused reading and well-structured writing. The programme has a great mix of literature and non- fiction and the writing has direction, purpose and range. I’ve found it really works with our EAL students who are new to English as well as our struggling readers. We are a school with a large proportion of students who join us in year 7 years below their chronological reading age. Phonics is one of the strategies we are using to close this gap. Phonics is something that has a whole school profile; it’s not just in English. So you will find speed sound charts in Science and Humanities; you’ll find vocabulary building strategies used in Art; you’ll find staff encouraging students to “sound out” and break words down in Maths. I work with teachers in other subjects to help them ensure that subject content is matched to ability and current reading level and phonically controlled where possible to match what is being learnt in English.

It’s an approach that is working. For the past two years the classes who have been following a phonics course are making a faster rate of progress ACROSS ALL SUBJECTS than any other cohort you care to name. It’s obvious isn’t it – once they learn to read they can access everything else in their other subjects. Rates of progress for these students are phenomenal. I am a convert to synthetic phonics and its biggest fan too.
So, at this point you’ll no doubt be asking what about hat number 2?

Hat number 2 is my parent hat. I have a four year old son who is about to start school in September. A child who, in no circumstances do I want learning phonics when he starts school. I know I’m a huge contradiction right? How can I not only see the value of phonics as a teacher but preach the wonder of phonics too, and then say not for my son? As I toured primary schools last September to make my choices I found myself turning into one of “those” parents, asking difficult questions and trying hard not to tut at the answers. Horror of horrors, I found myself turning into my mother.
At risk of sounding like one of those hideous over achieving middle class yummy mummies, I don’t want my son doing phonics when he starts school. I think it will confuse him. In his current childcare setting my son learns sign language – the nursery teaches it not only because “baby signing” is de rigeur among those yummy mummies I mentioned earlier; but because his nursery has a number of children who for a number of reasons, have sign language as their main form of communication. All the children are taught to sign in nursery so that all children are included in play and conversation. Obviously he isn’t fluent – but he does know his name and the letters of the alphabet and (thanks largely to Mr Tumble) a fair few random words too – platform is one of them which he told me happily on Friday when we went on a train. I digress. When he already knows the sign for “e” is the tip of your forefinger how will he feel in reception when suddenly “e” has something to do with making donkey ears? What possible connection can he make there?

I really don’t want to sound here like a Secondary teacher who thinks all Primary teachers are terrible; that somehow Secondary teachers are better than their Primary colleagues because I really don’t. In fact I think we have a lot to learn from our Primary colleagues in terms of rigour and standards (I feel a new project coming on soon) and I think that much of the year 7 dip is probably down to “us” (more on that later too.)
However, among the primary schools I have visited as a parent; and the ones I have read about blogged on twitter (largely thanks to @oldandrew), what I hear about phonics concerns me. I do not want my son setting at age 4. I don’t want him in a fixed group, following phases rigidly, doing all sorts of silly actions and learning silly songs. I hate the idea that he will be drilled in phonics. I can’t bear the idea that his current joy for letters and words may be taken away by phonics overkill. I hate the idea that as young as 5 he will be labelled as “pass” or “fail” based on one test. I want him to learn to read properly yes, I want him to have a love of books and learning. I’m just not sure the way he’ll probably have to go about it is the best.

I know I’m a walking paradox. I actually do not know how to reconcile these two sides of myself. Whilst I genuinely believe in synthetic phonics; whilst I can prove the power of synthetic phonics from within my own classroom I have huge reservations about how it will be taught to my son.

I hope that the alarmist ideas I’ve heard are just that. I hope I am proved wrong.

Progress

So I decided to make my first foray into blogging a safe one and take part in  April’s #blogsync blogsync.edutronic.net/. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing but…

Here goes.

Progress – What does it look like? Well as the old stock interview answer goes: “It’s when they know more on the way out than they did on the way in.”

I, and many others I know, have got jobs off the back of statements like that. Trot them out in interviews and you sound knowledgeable, committed and concerned; all the things a consummate professional is supposed to be. You know they’ve made progress when they walk out of the school one sunny day in August with a whole raft of A*-Cs under their belts. You can sit back, satisfied they’ve learnt, therefore you’ve taught well. Easy, right?

Well no, that’s the thing isn’t it? It’s not that easy. That magical almost mythical word “progress” looms like a dementor over many of us whenever either of the vile beasts Ofsted or Performance Management observation get mentioned. Progress has become the stuff of nightmares for a lot of teachers. It’s a word heavy with negative connotations; a word that can pitch a once fabulous teacher into the depths of despair and mediocrity. Progress has become a common staffroom lament; “I would have got a (inset grading of choice here) only they said (mumble mumble rant rant)”. Inevitably “progress” crops up during that rant somewhere. That word “progress” has been the cause of many a Friday night sniffle into a glass of wine. But why?

In the years since I started teaching the game has changed immeasurably. No longer can you just turn up, do your stuff quietly and head off to the pub every Friday lunchtime. No longer is the completion of predicted grades forms an annual event. (I think we’re on about no. 6 already, I’ve lost count.) Some may say accountability has gone crazy but regardless of whether we agree or not; we must, more so than ever before, not only do our jobs well, but be seen to do our jobs well, and crucially PROVE to anyone who might happen to ask; whenever they happen to ask, that we do our jobs well too.

No pressure then!

There are, to my mind, two firm sides to this issue– first the magical 20 minutes “progress in a lesson” and second, where “over time” is the most important buzz word.

Now I’m more inclined to go with @kevbartle on the issue of progress –http://dailygenius.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/the-myth-of-progress-within-lessons/  time is more important; both for our students and to satisfy those evil dementors. I mean what can you really learn, and SHOW that you have learnt, in 20 minutes? Seriously what? I challenge you now. Learn something new – juggling? crochet? plate spinning? -in the next 20 minutes and then come back and prove it. Not easy is it?

I had the (somewhat daunting) honour of being asked to present whole school CPD on the issue of demonstrating progress recently. The session took the form of a workshop, in which colleagues worked in departments to evaluate their own practice and decide an action plan of next steps. How can we best show progress? Do we need thermometers and flow charts in every lesson? Some sort of wall display graphic? A tick sheet in every book? In every classroom? A flight path that follows students from entry to the end of KS4? Reams of highlighted and annotated papers for every child, in every subject, in every course? Cleverly designed spread sheets with whizzy tables and pivots and colour coded automatic formula designed to flag up those falling behind? (with alarm bells and sirens as standard!)

The thought was horrific to some and I was asked at one point, “do we really need to be doing all this?”

Actually, to be honest, I think the answer is yes, to all. I think we do. We can’t just exist in a little bubble of “my classroom”. Of course we have to be accountable for what we have done (or not done) and how we’ve done it.

I don’t think that it is unreasonable that, as part of our daily life a teachers we prove that we are doing what we are supposed to be doing. I think it’s only fair that we take our students, our leaders and their parents and carers on that journey with us. I think it is only right that at the beginning of each year, each term, each week, and even each lesson, we set out our stall, signpost where we are going and how we’re intending to get there. It is only natural that in addition we then measure that too. Otherwise, well what’s the point?

But the pressure to demonstrate the amazing learning (and therefore teaching) you have facilitated, either within that stressful 20 minutes, or over the course of a year or more,  is immense. Sometimes, as a colleague once said to me, we are so busy demonstrating progress that there is no time left to teach!

So how do we do it? How do we manage our workload, cram in the necessary curriculum, and also manage to prove, at a moment’s notice sometimes, that progress is being made? In my humble opinion I think there are 4 ”must haves” for the progress conscious teacher.

1. Track – some sort of grid, table, chart with the key elements of your course broken down into levelled or graded chunks. Every half term at least sit down with a whole folder of these (one for each student) and simply highlight and date where they’re at. Easy to do (and easy to shove under someone’s nose when they walk in unannounced too).
2. Involve – get the students doing it for you (it is their learning after all) A nice, topic by topic “This week I have learnt…”; “This term I am better at …” sheet looks great stuck at regular intervals into an exercise book.
3. Post it – an oldie but a goody! Use your starter and plenary (and mini plenary when necessary) to prove that learning and progress is taking place. Post its on a thermometer, or a success continuum that students can move or add to as the mood strikes them is an easy way to show progress.
4. Feedback – shoehorn the “P” word into your comments when marking. Congratulate students for their progress in using commas, capital letters, embedded quotes or whatever the objective is (only if they have obviously I’m not bad!) to make it obvious to all that progress has been made.

 

So, I stand by my opening cliché on progress, “It’s when they know more on the way out than they did on the way in.” But, really, the next time I have an interview I should add to that; “and it’s being able to prove it too.”