School choice allows parents to decide where to send their children to school, regardless of their location of residence. Research reveals that families – across ethnicities, income levels and socioeconomic statuses – consider common factors when choosing schools. These factors include high academic results, curriculum offerings, teacher quality, small class sizes, and the availability of day care and extracurricular activities. However, parents of lower socioeconomic status tend to rank safe environment as their primary concern, while parents of higher socioeconomic status prioritize the values that schools embrace. Although public schools are often assigned to children based on where they live, this difference in priorities reflects the diverse needs, interests and expectations of both students and parents when choosing a school.
Evidence suggests that increased choice can lead to greater inequality across schools, reduce diversity and further negatively impact students from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. As disadvantaged parents are more likely to have limited access to information and resources, they may experience difficulty in making informed school choice decisions. Therefore, ensuring equity must be considered in school choice initiatives to offset any barriers related to income and other resources.
Burke, L. (2014). “The value of parental choice in education: A look at the research.”
Retrieved from http://www.heritage.org/education/report/the-value-parental-choice-education-look-the-research
Lubienski, C. (2008). “The politics of parental choice: Theory and evidence on quality information.” In W. Feinberg & C. Lubienski (Eds.), School choice policies and outcomes: Empirical and philosophical perspectives (pp. 99–119). New York, NY: State University of New York Press.
Raty, H., Kasanen, K., & Laine, N. (2009). “Parents’ participation in their child’s schooling.” Scandinavian Journal of Education Research, 53(3), pp. 277–293.
OECD (2012). Equity and Quality in Education: Supporting Disadvantaged Students and Schools (pp. 64-72), OECD Publishing.
Bell, C. A. (2008). “Social class differences in school choice: The role of preferences.” In W. Feinberg & C. Lubienski (Eds.), School choice policies and outcomes: Empirical and philosophical perspectives (pp. 121–148). New York, NY: State University of New York Press.
Brighouse, H. (2008). “Educational equality and varieties of school choice.” In W. Feinberg & C. Lubienski (Eds.), School choice policies and outcomes: Empirical and philosophical perspectives (pp. 41–59). New York, NY: State University of New York Press.Gibbons, S., Stephen, M., & Silva, O. (2006/7). “The educational impact of parental choice and school competition.” Retrieved from http://cep.lse.ac.uk/pubs/download/CP216.pdf
Glatter, R., Woods, P. A., & Bagley, C. (1997). “Diversity, differentiation and hierarchy: School choice and parental preferences.” In R. Glatter, P. A. Woods, & C. Bagley (Eds.), Choice and diversity of schooling: Perspectives and prospects (pp. 7–28). London, UK: Routledge.
Gordon, L. (2008). “Where does the power lie now? Devolution, choice and democracy in schooling.” In W. Feinberg & C. Lubienski (Eds.), School choice policies and outcomes: Empirical and philosophical perspectives (pp. 177–196). New York, NY: State University of New York Press.
Paulu, N. (1995). “Improving schools and empowering parents: Choice in American education: Benefits of choice.” In M. D. Tannenbaum (Ed.), Concepts and issues in school choice (pp. 452 470). New York, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press.
Reich, R. (2008). “Common schooling and educational choice as a response to pluralism.” In W. Feinberg & C. Lubienski (Eds.), School choice policies and outcomes: Empirical and philosophical perspectives (pp. 21–40). New York, NY: State University of New York Press.
Tannenbaum, M. D. (1995). “Vouchers.” In M. D. Tannenbaum (Ed.), Concepts and issues in school choice (pp. 7–15). New York, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press.
Teske, P., Fitzpatrick, J., & Kaplan, G. (2007). Opening doors: How low-income parents search for the right school. Washington, DC: Daniel J. Evans.
Willms, J. D., & Echols, F. H. (1993). “The Scottish experience of parental school choice.” In E. Rasell & R. Rothstein, R. (Eds.), School choice: Examining the evidence (pp. 49–68). Washington, DC: Economic Policy Institute.
“It’s a pleasure having your son in my class; he is a positive influence in the classroom.”
The high school teacher who sent this email probably had no idea what a relief it was to read these few kind words.
Before landing in that teacher’s classroom, my son had been on a learning journey that was as unique as he is. With his twice-exceptional profile (he is gifted and has Asperger’s Syndrome and ADHD), Calum has never been a typical student. His first four years of public school were challenging, ending in a tough decision to try an online learning program, hoping that it would be flexible enough to meet the needs of my quirky son.
At some point in Grade 7, though, something changed. Calum’s interest in learning was ignited, and he discovered a passion and talent for math and science. With the help of tutors, Calum moved up three grade levels in math, then in science. But alongside his clear academic strengths, he struggled with many things a typical student might do without a second thought. Calum needed help to break down large projects into manageable tasks, or he would find himself unable to get started. He refused to watch the videos for his online pre-calculus course, citing frustration with the slow pace of the material, but would then struggle to complete assignments because he didn’t know how else to learn the concepts. He seemed incapable of keeping track of textbooks or the schedules he and his study skills tutor created to track what he should work on each day. If he didn’t understand the expectations for an assignment, he had a tendency not to ask for help, and to fall further and further behind. I wasn’t sure whether he knew what resources were available to help with his assignments, or how to make use of them. And yet when he could overcome these obstacles and get his work done, he got excellent grades.
No, Calum was not your typical student, but with university clearly in his future, it was time to develop some non-academic skills that he would need. If he was going to get used to the routines and expectations of a classroom, better that he do so in high school than struggle with these demands during his first year at university.
By Grade 10, Calum felt ready to try school “in a building” again – I just wasn’t sure that I was ready for the stress of making that transition! How would my outside-the-box learner, with his uneven set of learning skills, taking courses at three different grade levels, fit back into a school system that is designed for more typical learners?
My hands were shaking as I picked up the phone to call the local high school and ask if we could visit. But the secretary who answered couldn’t have been kinder. In fact, from the day of our first visit to the school, every person we talked to helped to make the transition smoother, from the secretary who kindly answered my first hesitant questions, to the vice-principal, resource teacher and counsellor who made time in their busy schedules to meet with us when we came to tour the school, to the classroom teachers who took a couple of minutes to check in with my son and ensure he was settling in well after classes started. Every single person in that building communicated that my son was welcome there and that they were genuinely pleased to have my quirky teen as part of their school community. Our distance learning teacher was equally kind and supportive – she made it clear that Calum would be welcome to come back if our school experiment didn’t work out, and even called a few weeks into his first semester at his new high school to find out if things were going well.
Educators are busy people, with many students to support. But the willingness of this school’s staff to make time for me and my son made his transition smoother; it made us feel cared for. The time they took to reach out, ask what we needed, and give us reassurance made all the difference for one teenager and his anxious mom.
Photo: Kati York
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
I’ve had three kids go through the public school system. That’s a lot of school. And looking back over all those encounters, here’s the incident that stands out – among many very positive experiences – as the thing that made me feel devalued as a parent:
It was the night of the annual fun fair, an event that, incidentally, depended on parents to both help organize and attend with their kids. It was late fall, so it was dark and cold by dinnertime. And as we dutifully arrived at the school a few minutes before the official event time of 7 p.m., the heavens opened and it began to pour rain.
And the doors were all locked. There was a new principal that year who had decreed that no one would be let inside the school until the stroke of seven. We huddled outside, soaked and cold, locked out of our own school. To this day I clearly recall the resentment I felt towards the principal who treated his students’ parents like a bunch of potential shoplifters who couldn’t be trusted to wander in unsupervised.
In her article, Debbie Pushor observes there are less obvious, and more damaging, ways that schools can make parents feel locked out. But she also describes schools that are making real efforts to welcome all parents – even those who “don’t have the right words” – into the school community.
For children with special needs, a strong parent-teacher partnership takes on extra importance, and Jeffrey MacCormack offers an insider’s view on working with these parents. Gail Prasad shares how welcoming and incorporating home languages into the classroom recasts parents and students whose first language is not the language of instruction as valuable experts. And on a bigger scale, David Price reminds us that parent support is often the overlooked missing link in effecting educational change.
Partnering with parents is a messy, complex undertaking. Parents may have language barriers or a personal history that makes communication challenging. Some may be difficult, demanding or indifferent. But they all play a crucially important role in their children’s lives,and are therefore key players in their children’s education. In this issue, we rethink educators’ relationships with parents and parents’ role in education. How can we build better communication, understanding, trust and teamwork with our students’ parents – and work together for positive change?
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Send your letters or article proposals to editor@edcan.ca, or post your comments about individual articles on the online version of Education Canada at: www.edcan.ca/magazine
Photo: Dave Donald
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
This is a book of educational anecdotes from successfully innovative Canadian schools, with an interwoven thread of commentary about the importance, and the viability, of educational programs that foster not only academic understanding but also the personal skills that prepare all students to thrive in a turbulent, complex and pluralistic world.
Those who accept the authors’ premises will find affirmation, encouragement and perhaps inspiration in the stories and helpful comments on the motivation for, and the logic of, the student-centered constructivist educational programs they describe. Those who do not are liable to remain unconvinced, because the pedagogical commentary is too sporadic to convert traditionalists. But that is not the purpose of this book.
A brief introduction is followed by a rich, eclectic collection of stories about schools and individuals that is sorted into chapters focused on math, creativity, social-emotional learning, technology, choice, parental/community involvement, and creating school systems that both push and support teachers to learn continuously. The stories are the strong focus of the book and the commentary, while insightful, is secondary. In the authors’ words, “Schools of the future exist in the here and now, and in this book we go out and find them.” (p. 8) This they do to good effect. However, the implication in the title that the book may explain (as opposed to illustrating) how schools can prepare our children today for the challenge of tomorrow is not fulfilled by the interspersed pedagogical discussion. I only wish there were a more clearly structured and conceptually sufficient discussion of theory and practice to make the most of the powerful anecdotal substance of the book.
Nonetheless, the stories themselves are engaging and illuminating. The book would be ideal for a study group of educators who wonder if the sort of innovation that they are expected to pursue is actually possible, and it could provoke very productive discussions in which participants might clarify and refine their own beliefs and intentions. Parents who wonder about the motivation for current educational reforms might also find this very accessible book to be an engaging introduction that whets their appetite for more extensive inquiry and gives them productive direction.
Photo: Dave Donald
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
Doubleday Canada, 2017 ISBN: 978-0385685382
Linguistic diversity has become a defining feature of Canadian classrooms today. Multilingual students, who speak different languages at home and at school, have become the norm rather than the exception, particularly in major urban centres. Take the Toronto District School Board and the Vancouver School Board: they both report over 120 languages spoken by their students and their families. It’s not uncommon for teachers today to have classes filled with students who speak many different languages at home. At a time when people are constantly on the go and technology makes it relatively easy to communicate around the globe 24/7, researchers have observed that children navigate their different language and literacy practices with natural ease; they have grown up in a world that depends on flexible language and literacy practices. Many teachers, however, don’t share students’ diverse linguistic backgrounds or experiences with growing up in a digitally mediated world. And teacher preparation programs often offer little required work with English learners and their families. Yet as classroom populations continue to diversify, the need to develop inclusive multilingual pedagogies also grows.
Are there ways to bridge this divide? How can teachers draw on students’ diverse cultural assets and build on the linguistic expertise that students bring into today’s classrooms, rather than constraining it? Surely, all students should leave school with more expansive linguistic repertoires rather than losing their home languages in the process of acquiring the language of instruction. Further, how can teachers engage parents in their children’s language and literacy development if parents don’t speak the language of instruction? Teachers, naturally, don’t speak all of their students’ home languages!
Dr. Jim Cummins has advocated that teachers engage multilingual students in the creation of what he calls “identity texts”: students are encouraged to use their home languages and cultural understanding alongside the language of instruction to produce multimodal texts for academic purposes that reflect students’ identities in positive ways.[1] Over the past decade, researchers and teachers across the country have been putting this idea into practice through the creation of a range of dual-language books, documentaries, installation art exhibits and dramatic performances.
Beyond the ESL classroom, identity text work can offer mainstream teachers a powerful strategy for building all students’ appreciation of linguistic diversity and for leveraging students’ and their families’ multilingual literacy expertise. Over the past seven years, I have collaborated with classroom teachers across English and French schools in Canada, France and the U.S. to explore the affordances, challenges and outcomes of engaging students collaboratively in multilingual project-based learning (MPBL). Most recently, I’ve partnered with elementary teachers in Toronto in English, French immersion and French language schools, as well as a private school, to design and implement MPBL across content areas such as social studies and science.[2] Over a two-year period, we worked with children in Grades 4-6 to produce collaborative multimodal and multilingual books using English, French and students’ home languages. Examples of students’ work can be seen on the project website: www.iamplurilingual.com.
Across these school partnerships, five principles emerged that can guide teachers and administrators seeking to cultivate a multilingual orientation and to design collaborative multilingual inquiry projects to enhance learning and to build social understanding of linguistic diversity:
1. Draw on the diverse languages of the school community, including but not limited to incorporating students’ home languages, local Indigenous languages, and the language(s) of instruction. Even if your student population does not include many speakers of other languages, teachers can always incorporate Canada’s official languages – English and French – local Indigenous languages and other languages represented across the wider community. Investigate language resources in your community so you can cultivate a rich language ecology in your classroom.
2. Invite parents, families and community members to contribute their language and cultural expertise to help students bridge diverse home, school and community language and literacy practices. Parents, grandparents and other family members may be hesitant to volunteer in a school where they don’t speak the language of the classroom. Invite them in to share their languages and experience as multilingual role models, not only for their children but also for the entire class.
3. Group students of different language backgrounds to work collaboratively on content-based projects, as a context for developing language and literacy skills along with content knowledge and understanding. While having students who speak different languages work together may seem counter-productive at first, keep in mind that the goal is not that they become fluent in all of the languages represented, but rather to develop a welcoming curiosity about languages and one another.
4. Build students’ metalinguistic awareness explicitly by actively comparing different languages and how language(s) function, and identifying patterns for cross-linguistic transfer. Draw students’ attention to how languages work and how they are related. Bridge from what students already know in their home and community languages to the language of instruction.
5. Publish collaborative multilingual projects for authentic audiences through an end-of-project celebration, and through the use of technology to reach broader audiences. Celebrate students as creative, multilingual producers rather than consumers. Plug into other schools, community groups and families to share the multilingual work that students generate to extend it beyond your classroom and to receive feedback and inspiration to keep on.
Students’ reflections about themselves and their work speak to the importance of inviting students’ languages into the classroom. One student said about her group’s multilingual book, “No one knew I can speak Swahili before. It’s like now they know me for real.” Another student commented, “My work makes me feel original. I am the only person in the class who can read and write these three languages and that makes me special.” And yet another student remarked, “Before this project, I never liked reading and writing. Now I think I like it!” These powerful identity statements highlight how supporting students’ use of their home languages within the classroom increases their engagement; consequently, they produce high-quality work in which they take pride.
Beyond the students’ positive responses, teachers consistently report that doing multilingual work with students shifts how they see culturally and linguistically diverse parents.
MPBL creates an authentic opportunity to invite parents into the classroom and the school as language and literacy experts. This positioning of multilingual parents as having valuable language expertise allows parents who might otherwise feel marginalized because they don’t speak the language of the classroom, to feel welcome into the school. Furthermore, when teachers host celebration events to present students’ multilingual work to their families, teachers have noted that they have greater turnout and that in many cases, parents and extended family members have come to the school for the very first time. As one teacher explained, in reference to newcomer families:
“I’ve seen a greater confidence of parents in school… the fact that we valued their home language and culture within our French class allowed parents to be involved in the learning of French in some way. Even if it may seem paradoxical, the fact that we purposefully drew on their family’s language created a reassuring context for engaging in learning. They knew that we were not trying to exclude their culture or their identity.”
In my interviews with parents, I’ve found myself surprised by parents’ expressions of appreciation that the school affirmed to their child the value of their family’s home language and culture through MPBL. The sense that has emerged is that MPBL builds reciprocal relationships among teachers and families. One mother, for example, who had compared trying to get her daughter to learn Farsi to forcing her to eat her vegetables, recounted:
“[My daughters] weren’t curious about this ‘other’ language for a long time and the writing the translation in Farsi was a good thing and [my daughter] was happy that I could actually do it for her… it kind of opened up the door a little bit. Like she now thinks she’s more interested in the language.”
When schools affirm students’ home languages and cultures, parents become language and literacy experts in the eyes of their children, and multilingual parents are empowered to actively participate in their child’s learning at school and at home.
Another parent further explained how valuable it is for parents to have their children’s home languages affirmed by the school:
“I think the project has been good for [my daughter] because I think sometimes you need to mirror back to a child what they have… It hasn’t been apparent to them as a gift possibly and so having the school… pay attention to that is a way of saying to them, ‘You guys have gifts! [It’s] a really lucky thing that you have access to another language!’ It’s also powerful when it comes from teachers… As a parent when you hold the mirror up to your child to say, ‘This is the wonderful gifted person I see you are,’ it’s like, ‘Whatever, Mom.’ I think [kids] dismiss it. I think they’re pleased on one level but you as a parent sometimes don’t have as much weight. But when an external person validates that, it gives them a level of thoughtfulness about themselves that they don’t necessarily get when it’s just a parent mirroring back… When it’s valued elsewhere it’s a solid reinforcement!”
This parent’s reflection highlights that MPBL can forge mutually beneficial relationships among teachers, students and parents that multiply opportunities to affirm children’s identities as they integrate creatively their home and school language and literacy practices.
My current research investigates MPBL as a school-wide strategy for building multilingual language awareness and intercultural understanding with a local elementary school in Madison, Wisconsin. In this work, parents’ reflections about their children’s collaborative multilingual work continue to affirm that teachers and parents must be partners in raising children to become thoughtfully engaged citizens in our diverse world. In closing, listen to the responses of parents following the creation of multilingual class books with five Grade 1 classes as part of a science unit about plants:
• “I was so pleased with the book I was almost brought to tears. Particularly considering the xenophobia in our culture today, it’s a wonderful way to promote the inclusion of different languages and cultures. Thank you!”
• “I think it was great to have [children] working on something together. This book is definitely something we will keep and reflect back on and share with other family members.”
• “We wished we could have contributed with a foreign language of our own! [Our son] can recognize the different languages (mostly) on sight. He was very proud of being able to say a few sentences in Arabic.”
• “My sense is that seeing… languages together in the book gives children the visual reminder of other classmates’ perspective. This project seems original, creative and useful!”
Around the world where racial, linguistic, religious and political differences threaten to divide communities, the need to build bridges among teachers, students and families from diverse backgrounds is critical. Affirming and leveraging students’ cultural and linguistic assets helps move towards building more inclusive schools and gives students an opportunity to learn how to work together across their differences, within the microcosm of their classrooms.

Image: courtesy Gail Prasad
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
There’s a vintage piece of market research about how we make our choices as consumers. Stop a bunch of people in the street and ask them how they like their coffee, and the overwhelming majority will say the same thing: strong, black with a powerful aroma. Follow those same people home and watch how they make their coffee. The chances are that it’ll be weak and milky. It wasn’t until the 1990s that the coffee shops in Seattle made it cool to ask for a weak, milky coffee by calling it a latté.
This disjuncture, between our stated wishes and our actions, doesn’t just apply to coffee preferences. As an observer of “parent evenings” in the U.K., I see one parent after another speak the language of black coffee. The talk is of grades, targets, revision strategies, or homework compliance. Talk to those same parents outside the intimidating atmosphere of what many Australian parents call “the five-minute speed dating exercise” and the conversations have a very different, latté-like tone: Are their kids happy? Do they make friends easily? Are they speaking much in class? Have they experienced bullying?
I’m lucky enough to work in schools around the world, and it was this universal dissatisfaction with these encounters between parents, teachers and students – often amounting to little more than a performance review of a disgruntled employee – that convinced me there had to be a better way.
In most countries, it seems that the input of parents into the culture-building of schools too often fails to rise above what Australians call the “sausage sizzle”: primarily, organizing or participating in occasional fundraising social events. This seems to be a great opportunity missed. I have long maintained that the biggest underutilized resource, that schools ignore at their peril, is the skillset within its parent body. Here you’ll find senior executives, skilled craftsmen and women, artists, community lynchpins – yet how often are those skills woven into student’s learning experiences?
In an attempt to recast the concept of parental engagement, I put together a series of workshops that would bring teachers and parents together to get beyond speed-dating and black-coffee conversations, so that deep learning conversations could take place. In the first parent workshop I led, in Canberra, as part of a national tour sponsored by the Australian Parents Council, I asked discrete groups of teachers and parents to brainstorm ways that stronger partnerships could be built. The teacher group suggested weekly newsletters and social media tools to update parents on their child’s progress – strategies to inform, not involve. The parents had other ideas: they saw themselves as potential reading coaches, classroom assistants, assessors of student presentations of learning, field trip organizers. There was no denying their desire to be in the thick of all things learning.
I’ve observed this divergence – not to say gulf – in ideas for deepening parental engagement in several countries. From hypercities like New Delhi to rural communities in England and Ireland, I’ve felt the same urgency from parents, no longer content to be supporting from the sidelines, asking instead to be active players.
First, we should see this call for greater parent participation as an opportunity, not a threat. I’m not being naive here. We’ve all encountered parents who seem to view schools as little more than child-minding provision, the salve for all of society’s ills, or the reason why their child missed out on that Nobel Prize. But the majority of parents well understand the pressures schools operate under, and – here’s the kicker – really want to better understand this thing we call learning. Get a bunch of parents in a room, ask them to identify the design principles of their “dream school” or show them videos of direct instruction/inquiry-based learning in action, and two things inevitably happen: they realize how complex the task of teaching 25 kids with widely differing needs actually is; and second, they become immersed in deep learning conversations.
I once spoke with an inspiring school principal who voiced a frustration commonly shared by school leaders: “The biggest obstacle we face, when trying to innovate, is parental perceptions of what ‘school’ is supposed to look like. They have a mental model from when they attended, and they find it hard to see it any other way.” I spoke to a highly successful parent in Gurgaon, in India, who appeared to confirm the problem: “I know the traditional model of an Indian school classroom is not going to survive the 21st century, but I came from a small village, and now I work for a multinational corporation – it must have worked for me!”
So, resistance to change is often greater in schools serving wealthier populations. But when I ask school principals what they’ve done to involve parents in discussions around the imperative to change, the response is almost always “not much.” And here’s the rub: if we want to redesign schools for the unique challenges that our kids will face, we can’t do it without getting parents involved in the conversations.
Part of those discussions, I would suggest, needs to be around what is meant by “parental involvement.” Most parents feel that the best way they can support their child’s attainment in school is through interventions associated with being a good parent: reading to them, helping with homework, attending PTA meetings, monitoring their test prep, and so forth. The confusing reality is that there is no clear evidence to show that any of these things work.
The seminal work on parental involvement, The Broken Compass: Parental Involvement With Children’s, [1] concluded that what seems to improve test scores in one context (say, parents discussing school experiences with Hispanic children) had a negative effect in another (parents of Black kids doing exactly the same thing). Authors Harris and Robinson also demolished the homework myth (helping kids do their homework usually has a negative effect on test scores) and the “Tiger Mom” illusion (there’s no evidence to show that Asian parents value education any more than other ethnic groups). The researchers did find evidence to support some parenting strategies: regularly talking about post-school aspirations appears to have a positive correlation with better attendance and attainment, and regularly reading to children before they start going to school has an obvious impact upon language development. Other than that though? Not so much.
It’s hard to overestimate how counter-intuitive the evidence appears. Having parents engaged in their child’s learning must be a good thing, right? Not if you equate success with academic scores. However, there are many other reasons for advocating greater parental involvement – and many other forms it can take.
Despite the confusing and even discouraging evidence they uncovered, even the Broken Compass authors wanted to see greater parental participation.
“Effective parental involvement might, in fact, be in reach, but we are stuck in conventional ways of thinking about parents’ roles. What we need in this country is the next step – explaining to educators and parents that parents matter on a much more intangible, abstract level. That has to do with their effectiveness in communicating to their children how essential education is to the kids’ lives.”[2]
“It is clear that powerful social and economic factors still prevent many parents from fully participating in schooling. The research showed that schools rather than parents are often ‘hard to reach.’ The research also found that while parents, teachers and pupils tend to agree that parental engagement is a ‘good thing,’ they also hold very different views about the purpose of engaging parents.”[3]
The Broken Compass conclusion was that parents shouldn’t worry about volunteering or observing in a classroom, but should focus instead on “stage setting”: a theatrical term meaning to create the right environment for the actors (teachers) to perform. But I would argue that parents want to, and should, be on the stage, not passively supporting from the wings.
There is, however, an even bigger potential gain to be had from an equal, and genuine, partnership between schools and parents, and I sincerely believe its time has come. For those of us who believe that politically-driven education “reform” is a poor substitute for educator-led system transformation, who preach the urgency to re-think schooling so that it can be future-facing, we must ruefully accept that there isn’t a secretary of state for education anywhere in the developed world who will listen and act purely upon the guidance of professional educators. As the U.K.’s former education boss, Michael Gove, observed during the divisive Brexit campaign, “I think the people of this country have had enough of experts with organisations with acronyms saying that they know what is best and getting it consistently wrong.”
But they will listen to parents, because parents vote, in large numbers. And parents really care about their children’s education. What’s more, parents are becoming more vocal, more autonomous about ensuring that their children get an education worth having. In growing numbers, they are withdrawing their children from anxiety-inducing, relentless testing regimes; more of them are even taking the difficult decision to homeschool their kids. In many countries parents are demanding more from their politicians, and from their schools. If we’re being honest, most educators would have to accept that they’ve not done a great job in getting parents onside and tapping into parent power. But that’s beginning to shift. We’re realizing that if we want to see an education revolution, we need to work more closely alongside parents.
“The people we have to engage with are parents. When I started working on the book, I asked parents on Twitter and Facebook what their biggest concerns were about education. I had literally hundreds of responses within half an hour. It was just like lancing a boil. The narrative is changing in education, because the world around it is changing so much. And it’s been happening for a long time: the falling value of university degrees, the costs of getting them; the whole political economy of education is shifting, and parents are sensing it… There are forces for change that we’re not inventing, we’re just trying to account for them. (Parents are) the audience that we haven’t been able to get through to yet. We need to get better at getting the message across.”
There may be scant evidence to support greater parental engagement as a means to improving test scores. There is, however, a social and, I would suggest, a moral imperative for us to re-visit our perceptions of parents as partners in learning. Put bluntly, we need them much more than they need us. By thinking beyond their role as mere “stage setters,” we can not only significantly enhance the learning experiences of our students, we can tap into their enormous political influence and power to help bring about the transformation of schooling, and future-ready students.
Photo: Anne-Sophie Hudon-Bienvenue
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
[1] The Broken Compass: Parental involvement with children’s education, K. Robinson and A. Harris (Harvard University Press, 2014).
[2] www.macleans.ca/general/helping-with-homework-isnt-important-but-talking-about-kids-post-high-school-plans-is/
[3] Alma Harris and Janet Goodall, “Do Parents Know They Matter? Engaging all parents in learning,” Educational Research 50, no. 3 (2008).
[4] G. Claxton, What’s The Point Of School? (OneWorld Publications, 2008).
Home and school associations or parent councils form an important part of the school team. These associations/councils are composed of an Executive and parents and/or community members who volunteer within the school. These groups support programs such as breakfast and hot lunch programs, fundraisers, construction of playgrounds, libraries and physical education activities and the procurement of technology for classrooms and offer parental educational sessions.
Research has proven that children whose parents are active in the school environment are better achievers. Parents are a child’s first teacher; they know their child better than anyone. Partnering with the school gives parents and educators a better insight into changes in the education system, and allows parents to actively support these changes as well as discuss their concerns and the effect of these changes on their children. The teamwork of the students, parents and educators leads to the success of program changes in education.
Being a member of a provincial organization brings parents together with Department of Education committees and offers the opportunity to consult on issues and attend educational workshops, which would not be available to individual parents. Parents are a vital asset to success in education and need to be seen and respected as collaborators.
At the national level, the Canadian Home and School Federation (CHSF), parent volunteers meet with educational associates to discuss issues that are shared across the country. Parents and educators alike are examining best practices in the fields of mental health, physical health, stress in both our educators and children, use of technology, and inclusion – to mention a few topics. CHSF is a member of the Education Coalition (Copyright), continuing to support the current copyright legislation. The opportunity to speak with Senators and Members of Parliament on the bills coming before them for consideration and the ability to bring their messages back to provincial parents and to share parental concerns is invaluable.
Home and School Associations and Parent Councils support excellence in public education and advocate for the social well-being of children and youth.
Photo: Anne-Sophie Hudon-Bienvenue
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
On Wednesday mornings, my usual spot used to be at a little table sequestered in the back of the library. I hid there because I meant business – the business of getting through stacks of sticky, half-soggy, kid journals. There I would sit, surrounded by the teetering piles, furiously racing to read, grade, and correct my students’ writing. One morning, a colleague found me in my grading fort as I was nearing the end of the marathon. As we chatted, I noticed that I was missing a few journals, which sparked the inevitable, “there has to be a better way” conversation. Well, as we would discover, there is in fact a better way: digital journals.
In my second year at a new school, I made an abrupt about-face and ditched the paper journals. Since making the switch, I have had the time to actually enjoy my students’ writing, taking pleasure in reading about an elderly character with hair only on the “east and west sides of his head,” or about the joys of a vacation on the “sky blue planet” of Uranus. It beats rummaging through sticky backpacks during recesses, searching for long-lost journals.
1. I made a post on Google Classroom entitled “Digital Journals,” and clicked the button, “Make a copy for each student.”
2. Students were then able to simply view the post (on any computer in the world!) and write in their very own Google Doc journal.
3. On journal due-date, I simply had to sit at my desk (not race the halls with an overflowing clunky bin and my two class checklists) and click on the post to scan each student’s document.
For the first few weeks, some students continued to write in their paper journals. I went old-school and graded theirs by hand during the transition.
Once we solved the most basic (but mind-bendingly stressful) issue of getting students’ work submitted, the unexpected magic happened. Gone are the days when the students simply scan their paper for a grade and maybe a sideways glance at the shiny R2D2 sticker they are gifted, disregarding my painstakingly specific suggestions for improvement. When reading journals, I simply highlight a section and make a “Comment” on their work. Before my students write a new journal entry they have to “Resolve” all comments made by me (as well as comments by their peers, if you are the kind of teacher who has figured out the elaborate dance that is meaningful peer feedback). They are accountable to correct all of their journal entries, and as a result, they are learning from their mistakes – and the proof is on the page!
My comments include basic grammar and punctuation corrections, vocabulary alternatives (tailored to their ability level), rephrasing suggestions and (here’s the kicker) links to grammar lessons. For example, I sent one of the boys a lesson on the difference between their, there and they’re and to another student, a Youtube link about how and when to use brackets (he has an aside for everything). I have also made comments as enrichment, explaining that the word “octogenarian” is another way to say “83 years old.”
Do my students delete four weeks of work in one haphazard keystroke? Yup. You will undoubtedly become well-versed in the “See Revision History” feature (and may get relieved hugs from 11-year-old boys when you magically make their work reappear with one mouse click!).
Do all parents love new-age digital journals? Nope, not all. But over time I won them over. For me the biggest payoff was during portfolio conferences. The students sat one-on-one with their parents and their iPads. First, they taught their parents how digital journals work and reviewed comments from the whole year. Then they took the time to read one piece aloud. Parents did not flip through their phones absent-mindedly while their children read; rather they were actively engaged in their child’s year-long writing journey.
This year, paper journals are not on my supply list. On Parent-Teacher Information Night, I will teach parents the wonders of digital journals right out of the gate. I plan to have last year’s parents give testimonials on the ease of using digital journals, so that this year’s parents will be ready to nix the excuse of, “I can’t do my homework, I left my journal at school.” Nice try, but not this year!
• Use the quick keys to create “Comments” (Ctrl + / for Windows/Chrome OS or Option + ⌘ + M for Mac).
• Use the “Topic” feature to tag your post as “English Journal” so it is easily searched by students.
• “File” / “See Revision History” restores all previous drafts of the text (including revealing the time the work was completed, perhaps 15 minutes before class started!).
• “Resolve” comments allows students to read your suggestions and to then fix the errors themselves.
• The “Comments Thread” reveals all comments made on a document so you can review all of your hard work throughout the year with one mouse click, even if comments have been “Resolved” by students.
Photo: iStock
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
Recently I read a viewpoint about parent engagement stating that it is critical for parents to speak the language of education if their children are to succeed and, thus, it is a responsibility of educators to build parents’ capacity in this regard. When I read this comment, I was immediately drawn backward in time to a poignant moment I experienced with an Indigenous parent. An attendee at a workshop I was facilitating on parent engagement, this mom approached me during the nutrition break and said to me, “I want to be engaged but I can’t go to my kids’ school. I don’t have the right clothes and I don’t have the right words.” Looking into the mom’s face and hearing the painful emotion in her words, it was heartbreakingly apparent that the place for change did not rest with the mom, but instead with the structures and practices being lived out on the school landscape.
The statement about parents troubles me for two foundational reasons. First, it reflects a “schoolcentric”[1] way of thinking, one in which the current structure of school is accepted as is and left unquestioned. The focus of conversation, then, centres on how parents can serve and support that taken-for-granted school structure, rather than on the changes that are needed in the school structure in order to realize the strengths, needs, and desires of parents. Second, when educators assume the need to build the capacity of parents, they are placing themselves in a hierarchical position above parents, as both more knowing and more capable. In both instances, parents such as the mom I mentioned are left to feel lesser and excluded by the school. As I share practices that I feel are familycentric[2] rather than schoolcentric, I make central my belief that embracing a philosophy and pedagogy of “walking alongside” is at the heart of working with all families.
To walk alongside parents means to be with them – whoever they are, whatever the context in which they live. It means to recognize them as individuals who began their children’s education at birth and who are continuing to educate their children throughout their lives, as they strive to realize their hopes and dreams for their children. It means to see them as individuals with capacity, with parent knowledge of their children, and of teaching and learning.[3] It means, as a teacher, to see oneself in relationship, as someone who accompanies[4] parents on this journey, supporting them by providing schooling for their children. It means, as a teacher, to “care for” and to “care about” parents,[5] to be concerned with creating a rightful place and voice for all parents in their children’s learning – whether or not they have the “right” words and clothes. It means acknowledging that the teacher cannot achieve alone what it is possible to achieve when parent knowledge and teacher knowledge of children are used together.
So, how might one walk alongside? A new school year often begins with a “Meet the Teacher Night,” a historical and deeply ingrained schoolcentric practice that places the focus on the teacher and the curriculum to be covered in each grade level or course that year. How do we interrupt such a practice for parents with a residential school history and a resulting distrust of schools? For newcomer parents who do not yet speak the dominant language or understand the school system in Canada? For parents who do not have the right words or the right clothes? For parents who do not have childcare, transportation, or a work schedule that enables their attendance? We can discard this practice and replace it with a familycentric approach in which teachers go to homes and communities to meet families and to learn with and from them. This creates an opportunity to build trust and relationships early, for teachers to learn of parents’ hopes and dreams for their children, and to become awake to the capacity parents possess.
Whether going into the community takes the form of a community walk or canvas to say hello and make introductions, brief purposeful drop-by visits, or scheduled home visits, it lets parents know, “You matter to us. You have something to offer your children’s schooling. We have much to learn from you.” Heidi Hale, an educator working in a core neighbourhood in Saskatoon, made home visits to meet the parents of her Kindergarten students. At the end of one visit, an Indigenous grandmother, with tears in her eyes, said to Heidi, “No teacher has ever come to our home before.” Katelynn Moldenhauer, a Pre-Kindergarten teacher working in a culturally diverse neighbourhood, jokes that she has to be careful not to schedule too many home visits in one day, as she is not able to eat and drink all of the beautiful cultural food and beverages that are specially made for her visit. In a community canvas to share information about Howard Coad School’s summer programming for children, parents, and families, four of us visited approximately 30 homes. The very next afternoon, 65 children and parents took part in programming, an increase of about 40 individuals over typical attendance to that point. When teachers visit in homes and in community, a one-way relationship becomes two-way and reciprocal. Teachers shift from solely expecting parents to learn from them and the school to being open, also, to learn from parents and from their rich knowledge and experiences.
Once parents are comfortable to enter the school landscape, how do school personnel welcome them in order to ensure they feel “good” or “right” enough about being there and to keep them coming back? I believe we can learn some lessons from Princess Alexandra Community School in Saskatoon. School staff recognized that when they required children to go to the office for a late slip, they were defeating their own desire to increase children’s instructional time and their sense of inclusion in the school community. Upon reflection, they dropped this practice and, instead, welcomed children warmly into the classroom, at whatever time they arrived, saying something like, “We are so glad you are here. Have you eaten?” Caring for and caring about the children, the staff enacted a strength-based approach in which they expressed appreciation for the children’s presence and ensured the children were well positioned to learn.
Seeing the results of this change, the staff extended their welcoming practice to parents as well. Upon entering the school, parents too were greeted, perhaps offered a cup of coffee or asked if they had had breakfast, perhaps asked how they were doing, whether they needed assistance, or perhaps offered a place to sit, a computer to use, or a newspaper to read. Initially, the school’s elder, known as Kokum Ina, often did the greeting as did Ted Amendt, a Métis man who served as the community school coordinator. Both individuals were well known in the community and presented a “mirror” to parents, reflecting back to them their own Indigenous identity. Soon school leadership realized that if greeting was important, it had to become the work of the entire school community and not be left to one or two individuals. At school assemblies, all staff and students were taught and were given time to practice extending a warm greeting to parents, family members, and visitors entering the school. As the wave of greetings became the daily norm at the school, the landscape shifted. Instead of harbouring reservations such as, “I can’t go to my kids’ school. I don’t have the right clothes and I don’t have the right words,” the parents at Princess Alexandra felt a part of the school.
Golden Greeters are retirees who visit Archbishop M.C. O’Neill High School in Regina on a regular weekly basis, greeting students as they enter the school. The mission statement of the Golden Greeters reflects their belief that “no child should go to school without their name called in love.”[6] I believe that neither should parents enter a school without their name called in love. A warm and genuine greeting, which reflects both caring for and caring about, creates a feeling of safety and belonging for parents and honours who they are and what they bring to the school landscape.
Once parents are present on the school landscape, how are school structures created or adapted to give them an authentic and meaningful voice? I frequently hear parents say such things as, “Oh, I didn’t know I could attend the School Community Council meeting” or “I thought that notice was for other parents but not for me.” Further, the governance structures and practices of parent bodies – official and prescribed roles, voting processes, formalized meeting procedures such as Robert’s Rules – are often threatening or intimidating to those who are unaccustomed to them and serve to marginalize or silence many parents, or to keep them away all together.
Schoolcentric practices, typically reflective of a Eurocentric worldview, are often at odds with the communal and collective approach characteristic of Indigenous ways of thinking, being, and doing. When Vernon Linklater was “chair” of the School Community Council at his sons’ elementary school in Saskatoon, a school with a student population which was about 95 percent Indigenous at the time, he chose to organize their meetings in a circle, with school leadership, staff, and parents intermingled, all visible and present to one another. As Vernon explained, a circle, in First Nations culture, has always held significance and deep meaning because it is a prominent symbol in nature. With no beginning and no end and all members positioned equitably, Vernon found that a talking circle was a richer and more inclusive way to give everyone voice, to make decisions, to discuss issues, or to solve problems. When schools and school bodies work in culturally responsive ways, parents do not have to have the words of the school or of unfamiliar governance structures to participate. They are able to join the circle, to speak from their own knowing, to share their own wisdom and insights, and to positively influence outcomes for their children and their families.
As a core neighbourhood principal in Saskatoon, Yves Bousquet put a great deal of time and thought into issues such as attendance, retention, and transiency. His belief was, “We can teach students successfully when they are here. Our challenge is to get them to school and keep them engaged with us over time.” This is true for parents as well. I believe strongly that all parents want to be engaged in their children’s teaching and learning and to do whatever they can to support and facilitate their children’s success. To get them to school, we need to first extend ourselves to them, get to know who they are, see their capacity, and learn from them about their children, their families, their cultures, and their hopes and dreams. It is then, when we are walking alongside, connected through trust and relationship and equitably positioned on the school landscape, that we can share with them the language of education, of why and how it is used and what it means, of how it can become part of their repertoire too. We can support them in realizing their capacity so that when it is important for them to know and use the language of education, they have the right words and are confident to use them.
Notes
[1] M. A. Lawson, “School-family Relations in Context: Parent and teacher perceptions of parent involvement,” Urban Education 38, no. 1 (2003): 77-133; D. Pushor, “Bringing into Being a Curriculum of Parents,” in D. Pushor and the Parent Engagement Collaborative, Portals of Promise: Transforming beliefs and practices through a curriculum of parents (Rotterdam, NL: Sense Publishers, 2013), pp. 5-19.
[2] D. Pushor, “Walking Alongside: A pedagogy of working with parents and families in Canada,” in L. Orland-Barak and C. Craig (eds.), International Teacher Education: Promising pedagogies (part B) (Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing Ltd., 2015), pp. 233-251.
[3] D. Pushor, “Conceptualizing Parent Knowledge,” in D. Pushor and the Parent Engagement Collaborative II, Living as Mapmakers: Charting a course with children guided by parent knowledge (Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing Ltd., 2015), pp. 7-20.
[4] M. Green and C. Christian, Accompanying Young People on their Spiritual Quest (London,
UK: National Society/Church House Publishing, 1998).
[4] N. Noddings, Starting at Home: Caring and social policy (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2001).
[6] Dr. Jerry Goebel, Communities of Trust, personal communication.
An engaging buzz begins to move throughout the building as the narrow hallways fill with people. Familiar music played over the public address system signals a change of energy and the smell of homemade grilled cheese sandwiches and popcorn begins to waft through the air. Strategically placed members of the local constabulary ensure a sense of order and safety, while elected officials seize the opportunity to connect with their constituents. The local bank opens for the day as merchants make final preparations before opening their doors to eagerly waiting customers.
A scene from the local shopping mall? You might think so. In this case, however, as surprising as it might sound, it’s Market Day at Aspen Heights Elementary School in Red Deer, Alberta. It’s the day of the week when student-run enterprises, not-for-profits and services open their doors to the public. And it’s the day when members of the community – students, staff, parents and sponsors – come to support and participate in Canada’s only MicroSociety school.
Nearly ten years ago, two Aspen Heights teachers, Milt Williams and Allan Baile, were concerned about the level of apathy that seemed to be building among students, as well as a sense that more could be done to engage the parent community. After researching programs that might help address these challenges, they landed on MicroSociety, a U.S-based not-for-profit founded on the belief that, if we want to educate today’s children to be able to run the world, we have to give them a world to run. And that’s exactly what the Aspen Heights MicroSociety does.
A MicroSociety is a living, breathing, fully-functioning community, facilitated by adults but organized and run by young people. An annually-elected government allows students to create the laws and ordinances that will govern the community, while the Royal Aspen Mounted Police have the authority to issue tickets and fines and, in more serious cases, move grievances through an internal court system.
At Aspen Heights, students are free to develop their own ideas for new initiatives, learning how to create the business models, not-for-profits and social services to bring those ideas to life. In the context of their enterprises, they develop new products, hire staff, learn to maintain financial records, pay taxes and even buy and sell stocks.
At the start of each year, all students are required to attend MicroUniversity, where they learn the business skills that they will need to carry on their work throughout the year. Business and service owners hold job fairs, accept resumes and conduct interviews with prospective workers.
For students, half of the six hours per week dedicated to MicroSociety is spent developing products, meeting with their employees and taking care of any enterprise-related issues. The other half is spent participating in Market Day, either as shoppers or business operators.
A look down the main corridor of Aspen Heights reveals that these students have considered much of what is needed to ensure that their community is thriving. The bank converts Canadian dollars to Stingers, the official currency of Aspen Heights. The smoothie bar is always busy, as is the Penguin Ave. Café. The Ace Theatre offers students a chance to relax, enjoy some popcorn and take in an episode of their favourite TV program. There’s a wellness centre, a bottle recycling depot and Helping Hands – a charitable outreach program. On the sustainability side, some students spend their time learning about hydroponic gardening, while others raise the urban chickens that provide fresh eggs for the school’s breakfast program.
Some may look at what is happening at Aspen Heights as an impressive and engaging simulation, while others may wonder how it’s possible to find time in a busy schedule to make this work.
For the students, staff and parents at Aspen Heights, it is clear that this is not preparation for some life beyond graduation. This is life – very real life! It’s what draws them to this place every morning and it’s what captures their imagination when away from school. Business owners think about how to improve their products and services. Employees consider how they might strengthen their skillset.
And teachers look at what is happening in the MicroSociety to help inform their curriculum. Amanda Williams, a Grade 2 teacher at Aspen Heights, appreciates how the model connects the entire school, regardless of age, grade and ability. But, like her colleagues, she also watches for opportunities to ensure that her classroom program resonates with what students are doing in the MicroSociety community. “You work with it, you plan with it, you get involved,” says Williams as she warns against seeing MicroSociety as an extra-curricular initiative. Instead, it becomes a powerful context for learning both inside and outside the classroom.
Current coordinator Allan Baille passionately underlines the point that this is not a simulation. For Baille, MicroSociety begins with a very engaging invitation and challenge: “Let’s bring the community to us and not have these walls be the limit of the education of our students.” And that invitation has become a game changer for Aspen Heights. Students who, in the past, may have been apathetic about coming to school are voting with their feet, leading to some of the highest attendance numbers in the entire division. Parents, once reluctant to come into the school, are now seeing Aspen Heights as part of their identity and their life.
A parent satisfaction rating of 97 percent speaks volumes about how MicroSociety has transformed this community. And the willingness of outside businesses and organizations to support what is happening at the school brings the idea of partnership to a whole new level.
There is no doubt that students graduating from Aspen Heights after six years of life in this MicroSociety will have an enviable array of business skills and competencies. They will have a keen sense of what it means to live in the world as creative thinkers, risk takers and problem solvers. They will have the capacity to communicate their ideas more effectively and with greater confidence. But they will also have experienced the learning that begins when you get out from behind your desk and get involved in something that really matters.
Photo: EdCan Network
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
Plagiarism remains a hot topic in the 21st century. The 2017 case of former Toronto District School Board director Chris Spence, who was found to have plagiarized his PhD dissertation,[1] brought discussions around plagiarism to the forefront among educators, researchers and members of the general public. There is no question that plagiarism is a serious academic and professional issue.
The question is: What can we do about it?
The term plagiarism means “theft of text,” but that doesn’t quite cover modern-day understandings of what it means to steal from someone else’s original work. Scholars and policymakers today agree that plagiarism goes beyond merely copying written text. It can include stealing another’s ideas, text, music, images, art, computer code, multimedia and so on. There is no single definition of what constitutes plagiarism in modern educational institutions.[2]
Plagiarism can be either intentional or unintentional. Intentional plagiarism is when an individual knows they are doing something wrong but does it anyway. This is generally considered more offensive than unintentional plagiarism, which happens when someone lacks the understanding of how to cite and reference others’ work appropriately.
Given the lack of a consistent technical definition of plagiarism in a world where the copy-and-paste functions of computers make it easy to lift just about anything from an online context and use it somewhere else, we need to flip our thinking to keep up with the times. Instead of focusing on plagiarism after it has happened, it is more productive to proactively teach children why it is important to give others credit for their original work and how to do that. Teachers can be agents of change when it comes to teaching children about Creative Commons[3] and copyright, for example. A key lesson for 21st-century students is that not everything on the Internet is open access. Opening up conversations around ethical ways to use others’ work can help students develop more refined decision-making skills for themselves.
Just as we talk about how to make responsible choices in other areas of life, talk to your students about why it’s important to give others credit for their work. This is not limited just to text. Many people have been trained to cite other people’s written work, but it does not occur to them that we also need to cite photos we find on the Internet, for example. The key principle to convey is that we give others credit for words, images, music, code and any other work created by an individual or a group. It is important to teach students that some things online are proprietary (not to be used without express permission) and others can be shared (with credit). The topic of copyright is complicated and it can be easy to feel too overwhelmed to even talk about it. The point is not to get lost in legalities, but rather to raise learners’ awareness that even when material is online, we start with the intention of giving credit to the creator.
Learning what plagiarism is can be a good first step. Learning how to avoid it is an even better one. Interactive lessons convey key concepts in a powerful way.[4] There are some excellent online learning games for plagiarism prevention[5] that allow students to learn about the topic in a fun and non-threatening way.
Making writing a multi-phased activity that gives students a chance to talk about why the topic interests them and what they want to focus on. Foster emerging ideas through drawing, mind maps, outlines or other activities that help students to develop their own ideas before they begin a writing project.
Providing dedicated in-class writing time gives students a chance to practice their writing skills in a supportive learning environment. Make your classroom a space where it is fun for students to write.
Emphasize that learning is a process, not just a product. Offer feedback on drafts of writing, making sure to point out what students are doing well and how to strengthen their work (including crediting their sources). Remember, formative assessment is all about helping students to improve.
Educators play a key role in helping students to understand what it means to cultivate a personal ethic of academic integrity. Preventing plagiarism is just as important, if not more important, than imposing punishments after it has happened.
Photo: Dreamstime
Notes
[1]As highlighted in news reports like this one: www.theglobeandmail.com/news/toronto/former-tdsb-director-guilty-of-plagiarizing-his-phd-panel-says/article35403977
[2] S. E. Eaton, “Comparative Analysis of Institutional Policy Definitions of Plagiarism: A pan-Canadian university study,” Interchange: A Quarterly Review of Education (2017): 1-11.
[3] https://search.creativecommons.org
[4] An excellent example of a hands-on plagiarism workshop can be found here: www.csus.edu/indiv/s/stonerm/understanding%20plagiarism%20workshop%20lesson%20written%20lesson%20plan.pdf
[5] See, for example: www.lycoming.edu/library/instruction/tutorials/plagiarismgame.aspx
Quinten was four years old when his mother, Rina, finally “accomplished” his diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder. “Accomplished” is how she describes it. Rina called around and found three pediatricians who could give a diagnosis, but the waitlists were almost a year long. Paying for a private diagnosis was not an option; Rina had left her job to care for Quinten’s needs and money was tight. The wait was excruciating, because everything Rina read about autism told her that early intervention was crucial to long-term success. Every day she would sit with Quinten, trying to engage him in some social play. She watched the days slip by as she waited to hear back from the doctor’s office. Rina cried on the phone to her mother and tried to explain why she felt so powerless and frustrated. In fact, she found herself crying a lot during those months.
In an act of sheer desperation, she called the doctor’s office and pleaded to be moved up the waitlist. “I was not a pretty picture,” she would later tell her friends, but through the weeping and her stubbornness, the office secretary finally broke down and found a timeslot for Quinten. It worked! It actually worked! After a lifetime of being polite and waiting her turn, Rina realized that she was going to have to be ferocious for Quinten. As the relief washed over Rina, she resolved to never let Quinten lose out on something because she was too mild-mannered to demand it.
In my role at the Faculty of Education, it often falls on me to explain to new teachers how to collaborate with parents. Parent-teacher collaborations can be difficult and, as a teacher and as a parent of a child with special needs, I know first-hand how complicated and combative these relationships can be.
One of the first things I tell my student teachers about collaborating with parents is that parents of students with special needs, like Rina, are dealing with pressures beyond those faced by all parents. The research on the well-being of parents of students with special needs is very clear: the added pressure often leads to toxic stress, depression, and chronic health concerns. When parents like Rina are overloaded with those stressors, it has been my experience that they may respond in two extreme ways. I call those two extreme responses the Summer Bear and the Winter Bear.
The Summer Bear describes an active, protective parent that uses will, strength, and dedication to navigate the school system.
Quinten is starting Grade 5 now, and since his diagnosis, Rina has stuck to her resolution to be a powerful advocate for her son. At first Rina found the school system to be slow to respond to Quinten’s needs but, with a little prodding, she found that it can be moved to action by passionate, informed parents like her. It may have taken some intense conversations with his resource teacher, some toe-to-toe battles with Quinten’s classroom teachers, and even threats of legal action, but Quinten has had the resources and supports that Rina knew he needed. She doesn’t even mind her reputation for being a pushy parent. She has found that Quinten’s new teachers have been less resistant to her ideas if they are somewhat intimidated by her.
You may have already crossed paths with one or two Summer Bears during your career. The Summer Bear is an unstoppable force. A Summer Bear will call you at your home to ask you about the student’s progress in geometry. Then, when you let the call go to the answering machine, the Summer Bear calls your principal to discuss the school’s failure to communicate clearly. If the principal is not available, the next call goes to the superintendent. Sound familiar? Summer Bear-type parents are so notorious that representations of them have been popping up in prime-time television shows.
In the opening sequence of the first episode of ABC’s Speechless, a sitcom about a family with a son with cerebral palsy, mom Maya DiMeo wants to treat her family to breakfast with a nearly expired 50-percent-off breakfast coupon. With three minutes until the coup-on expires, Maya loads her family in the car and drives wildly through town to the restaurant, at one point using the shoulder as a passing lane. As might be expected, the speeding van is noticed by two police officers in their cruiser. The younger police officer turns on the siren and readies himself to begin pursuit, but is stopped by the older police officer. “Not her,” the older officer says, turning off the sirens and sitting back. “Life’s too short.”
Although the representation of Maya DiMeo as a force for her children is played for laughs, the intensity and dedication of parents like Maya DiMeo can make the work of educators very difficult.
Quinten is in Grade 7 and Rina has been advocating for him tirelessly for years. Recently though, Rina finds herself exhausted by the process. Her battles with the school have worn her out. Starting in January, Quinten’s educational assistant support was reduced by .25 and, rather than organizing a meeting and demanding it be returned, Rina let the issue go. Not only that, but Rina has been finding herself less able to do the small things, like pack Quinten’s lunches. She used to use Sunday afternoon to cook a week’s worth of organic lunches, but for the last couple of weekends, she has spent her Sundays recuperating. Last week, she bought some of those pre-packaged meals from the grocery store and sent those in for lunches. Every day for years, she spent an hour after supper reading with Quinten and reviewing his homework – but now she just can’t summon the energy. “What happened to me?” she wonders as she cues up Quinten’s favourite YouTube show on her iPad and passes it over to him.
Another response to the parental demands of raising a student with special needs is the Winter Bear. To understand this parent, imagine a bear, still sleepy from its winter nap. The Winter Bear parent is slow to respond and may appear to only do the minimum to support the student. The Winter Bear won’t respond to your emails and has to cancel meetings at the last minute. It can be frustrating working with Winter Bears, but do not be too quick to judge them as inadequate or selfish.
Okay, confession time: the reason I know about the Summer Bear and the Winter Bear is because I have been both types of parent. Like Rina, I worked extremely hard for several years and then – though I’m not proud of it – I had to take a step back. I was completely exhausted! As for my daughter’s teachers, I have no doubt they had a difficult time working with me in both of those phases.
So, what do I tell new teachers about working with parents of students with special needs?
When working with parents of students with special needs, we should navigate three fundamental tensions: communication, access, and power.
Communication with parents of students with special needs involves more than sending a weekly newsletter and placing an occasional phone call home. Meeting early and meeting often will help you to “recruit” parents to your vision for the classroom. And, make no mistake, you need to convince parents to join your team. In my experience, meeting your child’s new teacher in September is terrifying, like you are about to throw your child into the river. It is hard to pass over custodianship of a vulnerable child’s academic and social needs to a stranger. Parents are, quite rationally, reluctant to trust you. Communicating effectively with parents is important because they need to know that you are capable, willing, and dedicated to the cause.
Here are the types of things that you can say during the first meetings to recruit parents to your side:
“I’ve read over your child’s reports and spoken with some of his former teachers, and now I’d like to hear from you. Tell me about your child.”
“Besides academic outcomes, what are your goals for your child this school year?”
“What are some of your anxieties about this year?”
You will also need to communicate throughout the school year. Be sure to set up a two-way system of regular communication. Establishing a “best time and method” of communication gives parents and teachers optimal access to each other when communicating.
Because parents of students with special needs often do their own research and come prepared with pointed and clear questions, it can be intimidating to discuss accommodations with parents. There may be no more passionate scholar of mild intellectual disorders than the mother of a student with a mild intellectual disorder. That said, it is a mistake to use edubabble as a defense tactic. Edubabble is the acronym-heavy and overly technical language we use to communicate a lot of information efficiently with other teachers. And, as you may have discovered, edubabble also has the adverse effect of shutting down parents by confusing them with unfamiliar language.
Parent: “Yes, but the new diagnostic tools have eliminated that criteria from the condition. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”
Teacher: “Well, that issue is more of an IPP issue so it will be more relevant on the IPRC than the PAT. If you check out the TPA, you’ll see that I’m right.”
Without formal training in education, parents may be unfamiliar with the specialized terminology often used by teachers – but they will recognize and resent when it is used tactically to assert authority. Whether the discussion is about identifying a child as exceptional, developing an individualized plan, or giving more information about a project, the purpose of the conversation between the parent and teacher is about sharing information so that they can work together to better support the child. With this in mind, technical language should be avoided or defined clearly.
Power When tensions arise between parents and teachers, they tend to be about power. Who knows best? Who makes the decisions? Parents and teachers contribute different areas of expertise: teachers tend to be the experts on learning and classroom policy in a general sense (“I know how children learn”) and parents are experts on their son or daughter (“I know how this child learns”). It is important to recognize that both parents and educators offer important contributions to the discussion. Additionally, educators and parents should avoid making one-sided decisions and then forcing them on the other side. Arriving to a meeting with a list of demands may inspire resistance rather than cooperation. What is the solution? Instead of prescribing, try describing. When parents and teachers describe the situation, power is shared.
“You need to use a different math technique.”
“You need to change how you get Sandeep ready for school in the morning.”
“I’ve noticed Sandeep often becomes distracted during my lessons – have you ever noticed this type of thing at home?”
“Do you have any ideas about what the issue might be for him, or what I can do help him stay focused?”
When we use description-based statements, we are agreeing that both sides are equipped to recognize the situation and evaluate the solutions.
Avoiding tensions related to communication, power, and access is an important first step to working with parents of students with special needs, but we may need to do more. For example, working relationships with parents of students with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASDs) may require a gentle touch. There tends to be a lot of stigma related to being the parent of a student with FASDs, particularly for mothers. Also, family breakdowns are common when children with FASDs are involved; many children with FASDs come from single-parent homes. The stigma and family pressures related to FASDs compound the difficulties we face when trying to develop positive relationships. It is important to consider the perspectives of these parents – potentially feeling guilty, judged by others, overworked, and alone – and to appreciate that in order to support students, we may also need to be a support for parents. We can do a lot to support families that are struggling, but we also have to recognize our limitations. Teachers are not therapists, and sometimes we help the most when we point parents to family services and other appropriate professional supports.
The purpose of this piece was not to suggest that parents of students with special needs are only ever Summer Bears or Winter Bears. I also don’t mean to say that these parents are caught in a cycle of yo-yoing between those two archetypes. I single these two patterns out because, in my experience, these responses are widely misunderstood and can ruin home/school relationships.
Look, it can be really tough being a parent of a child with special needs. That is just the truth of it. Parents don’t need your pity, though; they need educators to be understanding and to let them have some space to not be at their best. By supporting the parents and helping when possible, educators are building teams. After all, students only have two allies: parents and educators. If educators allow power struggles and the intensity of parental responses to deteriorate working relationships, the student suffers the most.
In closing, let me leave you with this advice: don’t fight the bear. Rather than resisting parents, find ways to be supportive. When we can work together, we do a better job of protecting the cub.
Even when teachers and parents agree on what needs to be done, funding can be a confounding tension. Schools are often asked to do more with less, so allocations of educational assistant funding and school resources may be shifted suddenly. From a school perspective, triaging funding to support the greatest need may make sense, but those funding changes can feel like a catastrophe to parents. I remember how hard I worked to secure the resources and support my daughter needed and how terrible it felt to have it all taken away. “Look how well she is doing,” I was told. “She no longer needs full-time educational assistant support. It’s good news.” As a parent, I was unconvinced. Losing the supports that helped her to be successful seemed like a pretty unfair reward for her finally doing well.
Photo: iStock
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
It’s the end of the period, and as the clock strikes noon you can hear students from other classrooms running down the halls, excited for class to be over. In my classroom, the students are so focused that most of them haven’t noticed it’s time for lunch. One of my colleagues walks past my class and stops in the doorway, surprised to see students still in the room. “How do you do it?” she asks in shock.
As teachers, we have two main responsibilities. First, to make sure students are happy and safe, and second, to accommodate students to the best of our ability so that they can succeed to their fullest potential. For the latter to occur, students must be engaged in the learning process, but this can be a challenging feat with a class of unique individuals. The philosophy of differentiation suggests that “the same classroom experience often affects different learners in different ways depending on their gender, culture, interests, life experiences, learning preferences etc.”[1] Consequently, I have adapted my teaching strategy to accommodate my diverse class of adult literacy level English students.
The strategy that has worked best for me is learning stations and differentiation. The goal of differentiated instruction is to provide opportunities for more students to succeed, compared to the one-size-fits-all approach to teaching and learning. The station rotation model, when used effectively, can help to facilitate differentiated instruction based on interest, readiness and students’ learning needs. In addition, stations allow students to learn in a non-threatening environment while engaged in activities of speaking, writing and collaborating, which consequently stimulate higher order thinking.[2] I have found learning stations to be an exceptional strategy, which not only helps to accommodate for large class sizes, but also allows me the time to work closely with smaller groups of students.
In the first two weeks of the session, I get to know my students. I observe and collect samples of their reading, writing, speaking and comprehension abilities, which allows me to assess their strengths and weaknesses. Based on these observations, I divide my class into three groups.
The red students are the most advanced group, followed by the intermediate green group, and the yellow group, which make up the students with the lowest literacy levels. These levels are not fixed; I can make changes throughout the session. Also, there are a few students who have two colour groups. For example, a student who is advanced in oral language could be intermediate in written production. In that case, the student will be part of a different group depending on the activity of that day.
While the planning for three levels may seem time consuming, it’s actually not that much extra work. Although the skill level or method of production (listening, reading, writing, speaking) may be slightly different for each group, the topic and essential knowledge remain the same.
I usually start by creating a lesson plan for my intermediate group (green). Then I use that same base lesson plan and make minor alterations to make it more challenging for my advanced students (red) and less challenging for my lower level group (yellow). These alterations are based on Bloom’s Taxonomy, which take into account the complexity of higher order thinking.[3] I have found that my lower-level group requires the most attention and scaffolding, especially at the beginning when they are trying to understand the activity or task. However, the other groups still require an explanation. By providing clear written instructions, my intermediate and advanced groups are usually capable of beginning the task on their own. The intermediate students often want validation in the middle of the task to make sure they are on the right track, while the advanced group usually requires my attention for further explanations and questions at the end. The main advantages of teaching in stations is that it helps me to meet each student’s unique learning needs by personalizing instruction, circulating through the class, and helping each group while the other groups work together on different tasks.[4]
In the station rotation model, students engage in several 20-minute activities in small groups. When the timer goes off, they get up and move to a new station. The stations offer engaging hands-on activities while promoting oral interaction and can be adapted for all subjects and levels.
In my class, I organize stations while paying particular attention to grouping. Depending on the activities, sometimes I group my students based on levels of readiness (red, green, yellow), and other times I mix them up, grouping students of multiple levels together using my “groups” board. Using this method, “Teachers are able to match the right student with the right content at the right time.”[5]
When setting up my classroom for stations, each table has the necessary materials prepared in advance, as well as clear, short, step-by-step instructions. Many teachers in all grade levels have found they have to repeat instructions multiple times. In my experience, written instruction sheets are extremely helpful and have made a huge difference in the success and fluidity of the stations. I then prepare a Google timer that goes off every 20-25 minutes. When the timer goes off, everyone rotates clockwise to the next station.
Listening station: Students listen to a short audio or video clip on iPads. They can listen as many times as they want and pause whenever necessary. Then, based on their colour groups (level of readiness), they have different tasks to complete. Red will listen and take note of key information on a blank chart (“application” level of Bloom’s), Green will listen and classify specific key information outlined in a chart (“comprehension” level of Bloom’s), and Yellow will recognize and fill in missing words from the written transcript (“knowledge” level of Bloom’s).
Conversation station: In groups, students discuss different conversation questions based on the topic or grammar point we are learning about. Red group students are encouraged to ask follow-up questions to keep the conversation going (application). Green level students are given speaking prompts or vocabulary lists to assist them and Yellow students are asked to answer questions verbally with short answers. It is very simple to differentiate by interest, simply by providing students with a series of questions and allowing them to choose the ones that interest them.
Writing station: Students are given pictures of different scenes, again differentiated by interest. Red students are asked to write a short story together on chart paper about the picture while focusing on a specific verb tense (synthesis). Green will be writing sentences (application). Yellow students will be asked to brainstorm a list of vocabulary words they see in the picture (knowledge).
Teacher station: For this station, my students come with questions of their own. It gives me the opportunity to focus on any difficulties they may have and provide formative assessment. While I’m working with a group, the rest of the class helps each other since I am unavailable to answer any questions. For that reason, I think this station should only be introduced once students are comfortable with the station rotation model.
Extension station: I put a small collection of short stories at this station for any early finishers. Students who need practice reading can choose a levelled reader on a topic of their choice, and those who need practice listening can listen to short audio stories on iPads by choosing a story according to their colour level and scanning the QR code. This station is extremely valuable because not only is it differentiated by interest, readiness and learning needs, it also helps keep the flow of the classroom and occupies students until the next rotation.
Overall, the differentiated station rotation model has helped me maintain a structured but student-centered classroom that accommodates students with a variety of learning styles. While all are engaged in activities matched to their interest and level, I am able to work with small groups of students and give them more individualized attention. For these reasons, I have definitely noticed significant progress in my students’ learning.
Best of all, I have had a lot of positive feedback from my students. One student told me, “I like working in stations because we can hear many people’s opinions about different subjects. There is better interaction between small groups with the teacher, more opportunity to talk, ask questions and improve our pronunciation.” My students enjoy the activities and often don’t even realize how much they are learning in the process.
Watch a video to find out more about Lindsay’s use of stations and to see her classroom in action
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OczPdXerMfU
Photo: original courtesy Lindsay Harrar
First published in Education Canada, December 2017
[1] C. A. Tomlinson and M. B. Imbeau, Leading and Managing a Differentiated Classroom (Alexandria, Virginia: Association for Supervision & Curriculum Development, 2010).
[2] E. Dolan and J. Collins, “We Must Teach More Effectively: Here are four ways to get started,” Molecular Biology of the Cell 26, no. 12 (2015): 2151-2155.
[3] Dolan and Collins, “We Must Teach More Effectively.”
[4] J. Watson, Blending Learning: The evolution of online and face-to-face education from 2008–2015 (The International Association for K–12 Online Learning, 2015).
[5] Watson, Blending Learning.
Aspen Heights Elementary School (Red Deer Public Schools)
Red Deer, Alta.
Imagine a school where children experience math by having jobs, paying taxes and running businesses that sell everything from smoothies to clothing to dreamcatchers; a place where students study logic and law by taking their peers to court and fining them in the school’s currency; a place where kids come to understand politics by drawing up their own constitution, and drafting their own bills and laws; a place where these laws are enforced by the Royal Aspen Micro Police (RAMP). Imagine a school where citizenship is not just a character pillar that is talked about, but a continuous experience in playing with the building blocks of modern society. The Aspen Heights MicroSociety is just such a place. MicroSociety is embedded into the daily program of this K-5 school and is learning-by-doing at its finest. It’s a thriving, modern-day, mini-country – complete with an elected government, entrepreneurial hub, non-profit organizations, consumer marketplace, courts, police, university/college and community gathering spaces – created and managed by students and facilitated by teachers and community mentors. By making informed decisions in a safe and caring environment, students gain insight into what to expect in the real world of business and finance while honing their financial literacy, service learning, environmental awareness, community involvement, cultural appreciation and their health and wellness.

Toronto – September 19, 2017 – Education leaders from across Canada will gather in Toronto for the Educator Well-Being: A Key to Student Success symposium from October 5-6 to discuss how they can create a climate that supports well-being for all.
The EdCan Network is concerned that the steep hike in reported cases of student anxiety[1] and suicidal ideation[2] is creating stress and emotional exhaustion among teachers.[3] Schools aren’t mental health treatment facilities – principals and teachers cannot be expected to shoulder the entire burden.They can, however, be an important part of the solution.[4]
Registration spaces are still open. This is an essential opportunity for School Board Mental Health Leads and Administrators, Guidance Counsellors, Principals and Community Health and Social Workers to shift the conversation from ‘fixing symptoms’ to addressing how we can proactively support our educators to develop wellness within entire school community cultures.
“In today’s world, classrooms don’t turn off at the 3:00 p.m. bell,” says Darren Googoo, Incoming Chair of the EdCan Network. “Education leaders have roles to play in providing safe zones for teachers and principals to navigate their own journey to well-being and continue a long career.”
Through this symposium’s hands-on group discussions and case study presentations, leading experts will explore what it means to embed well-being in diverse school and community contexts. Participants will return with new ideas for building resiliency in themselves, their colleagues and their students.
For more information about the Educator Well-Being: A Key to Student Success symposium, please visit: www.edcan.ca/well-being and follow #EdCan on Twitter @EdCanNet.
With over 125 years of experience as the leading independent national voice in Canadian K-12 education, the Canadian Education Association is proud to launch the EdCan Network to support the thousands of courageous educators working tirelessly to ensure that all students discover their place, purpose and path.
[1] R.C. Kessler, P. Berglund, O. Demler et al, “Lifetime Prevalence and Age-of-Onset Distributions of DSM-IV Disorders in the National Comorbidity Survey Replication,” Archives of General Psychiatry 62, no. 6 (2005): 593-602. See also: Health Behaviours in School Aged Children, Ontario 2014 data, and The Mental Health and Well-Being of Ontario Students, Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, 2016.
[2] Findlay, L.,“Health Reports: Depression and suicidal ideation among Canadians aged 15 to 24,” Statistics Canada (2017).
[3] D.M. Rothi, G. Leavey, and R. Best, “On the Front-Line: Teachers as active observers of pupils’ mental health,” Teaching and Teacher Education 24 (2008).
[4] Kenneth Leithwood et al., “School Leaders’ Influences on Student Learning: The four paths,” in The Principles of Educational Leadership and Management, eds. T. Bush, L. Bell, and D. Middlewood (London: Sage, 2012), p.1.
– 30 –
For more information:
Max Cooke
EdCan Network Director of Communications
416-427-6454 mcooke@edcan.ca @max_cooke

I arrive early and sit at our table by the window, looking over the menu while I wait for the others.
John and his wife just had their first baby. He announces, “I don’t think I’ll be able to come here for a few weeks. Until you bring that baby into the house, you have no idea how this turns your life upside down!”
Todd’s babies are preschoolers and his wife has gone back to work. He tells John, “It only gets busier! Now that we’re both working, someone has to buy the groceries, pick up the kids from daycare, get supper… I’m leaving here in time to read them their bedtime story. And I’ll get to my school work after they go to sleep.”
There are about ten of us, and we range from first-year teachers to retired principals. The conversation is boisterous and there is much laughter. We call ourselves “The Men’s Group,” and we’re an informal collection of men who teach.
When I became a kindergarten teacher in 1978, I was featured on the front page of the Calgary Herald. I was excited about this coverage, but no one wrote about any of the dozens of new female kindergarten teachers. Male primary teachers are noticed.
I now teach part-time at Mount Royal University and the University of Calgary. The first thing I noticed is that the gender imbalance I experienced in elementary schools continues. In every class of 25 students, there may be two or three young men. I am increasingly concerned for those men as they move into their future work world.
Men who choose to teach elementary school are both valued and vulnerable. We are valued because we offer an image of the role of men in advancing gender equality. We are men who are good with little kids, who sing songs and read story books, who play games in the gym, who show boys they don’t have to be tough, who show boys and girls that men can treat others with respect and kindness. We are vulnerable because we are men amongst young children. We are viewed as potential predators, can be targets of suspicion and we experience complex relationships with students and colleagues.
One evening my friend Todd and I got talking about this gender imbalance, and we wondered if men would come to informal occasional dinners. We invited a few friends, and now the group meets on a semi-regular basis. This is one way to support male teachers.
What do we talk about? Like any group of teachers, mostly school stuff – on this night, the report cards and interviews coming soon. Our vacation plans. The retired teachers talk about their part-time jobs. The first-year teacher just listens, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I’m wishing more beginning teachers came out and I’m wondering how we can find them.
Joshua mentions he serves in the reserves.
“Whaa? You teach Grade 3 and you’re in the military?” For some reason the juxtaposition strikes us as funny.
“The kids love it!” he says. “I wear my uniform for Remembrance Day and tell them about my other job.”
“And do they always give you the difficult boys?”
“Yeah they do, actually.” Joshua shrugs. “I don’t usually have too many problems with them.”
Brian, a Grade 4 teacher, adds, “The principal always gives me the difficult boys. And I’m not a military guy, I’m a kinda quiet guy. I want to say, why can’t the other teachers take him?”
“And the moms request me.” More laughter around the table.
After two hours, sometimes three, we pay our bills and head home. It’s that simple.
For those thinking of starting a men’s group, I have some suggestions. Start small, by calling a handful of men you know. Arrange a time and place – dinner in a pub is better than meeting in a school – and ask each man to invite a guest. Don’t worry about the size of the group; many evenings we are a group of four, and the conversations are often richer with a small number. Start an email list at the first meeting.
I like to bring an article to hand out. Start with Allan (1993, 1997), Eng (2004), Johnson (2008), Jones (2002), Kadane (2015) and Smith (2004). But don’t turn it into a study group. Let the conversation flow – and have fun!
Photo: iStock
First published in Education Canada, September 2017
For more information about the EdCan Network’s Educator Well-Being: A Key To Success Students Symposium
Mindfulness and well-being have become critical topics in the education landscape, as students, teachers and, indeed, society face increasing struggles in their quest for balance. In response, Kevin Hawkins, in his book Mindful Teacher, Mindful School: Improving wellbeing in teaching and learning, puts the focus on teacher well-being as the starting place for addressing this critical issue.
This book presents itself as part workbook, part textbook and succeeds in providing a theoretically rich, experientially grounded look at the topic. Through the extensive use of stories, exercises and recommendations for further reading, Hawkins leads his audience through various opportunities to both understand and participate in the work. The book is organized from the personal to the institutional, beginning with a clear and compelling look at the shift in focus that is currently needed, moving to a definition of mindfulness and what it means to the individual, to teaching, and to school culture. Central to this examination is the call to “consciously cultivate our skills of attention, self-awareness, [and] emotional regulation” (p. 7) as a function of 21st century schools.
In my opinion, this book has a great deal to offer anyone with even the slightest curiosity as to what mindfulness entails and what it can offer. The book does not ask the reader to commit wholeheartedly and, in fact, asks that a healthy skepticism be employed. My only wish is that the book were presented in a more concise manner, as its length and tendency toward repetition of similar ideas may discourage busy teachers from reading it – and I firmly believe this book should be read by as many busy school staff as possible. The opportunities it provides for increased skill development in the areas of mindfulness and well-being for students, school staffs and those in teacher education make this an important resource.
Photo: Dave Donald
First published in Education Canada, September 2017
SAGE, 2017 ISBN: 1526402858
Listen to podcast
Schools are increasingly viewed as an essential part of the system of care for children and youth. Simply put, it is where most children are and where their universal needs of development in the physical, emotional, learning, and social areas are met and nurtured. The evidence is now clear, identifying:

Teacher roles are changing as they find themselves on the front line of child and youth mental health. Research has indicated that teachers are often overwhelmed by students’ mental health concerns, which pose a serious threat to their ability to work effectively. And, while most teachers report feeling inadequately prepared to take on this important role, they are unanimous in their recognition of its importance. They report being eager to learn more.4
Mental health literacy in education is broadly defined as a range of cognitive, social and professional skills that promote mental health and wellness for students, families, teachers and school communities. Teachers, in their role as caring adults, can – and do – make a positive difference in the lives of students through their professional knowledge, supportive relationships, cultural and community awareness, and inclusive attitudes and practices. It is important to be clear that their role does not stretch to being a mental health expert, but rather the caring professional who notices, understands and positions student behaviour and performance as a function of well-being (physical and mental). The expected outcomes of mental health literacy for teachers and school leaders include increased awareness of the connection between mental health and engagement in school and work, and knowledge of existing resources that support wellness and how to access them.
Mental health is important for teachers and for students, and research has helped us better understand how each can affect the other. We know that teachers’ reports of higher levels of stress are related to higher levels of stress among primary school students, and that higher levels of teacher stress are connected to lower achievement and academic disengagement for students.5 These data, however, do not paint a complete picture.
In 2014 we investigated what teacher education programs in Canada were teaching preservice students about child and youth mental health.6 We crossed the country holding round-tables, interviews, focus groups and informal conversations with teachers and teacher educators, asking what teacher education candidates need to support their understanding of mental health. An important theme emerged: teachers need support for their own mental health before they can address the mental health needs of their students. “What about me?” said one teacher. “I’m drowning here and no one is helping me!”
Understanding how to develop and maintain mental health and resilience for teachers is critical in a profession where attrition can mean both the loss of highly qualified teachers from the profession, and the loss of experienced teachers in classrooms. High quality research on the topic of teacher attrition in Canada is lacking, but has been estimated at 30 percent for teachers in the first five years of their career.7 The vast majority of those who leave cite stress, student behavioural problems, workplace stress, or a combination of all three as the reason.8 This loss is a problem on numerous levels: the unacceptably high distress among teachers, the loss of resources that have been dedicated to their education and development, and the impact of their loss on students and the school community.
This “parallel” experience of stress and mental health challenges for both teachers and students led us to develop a resource that places educator well-being front and centre. It is based on the premise that for educators to help students, they must have their own wellness needs met.
Teachers emphasized that they did not want more curriculum resources. As one educator lamented, “There’s no dearth of curriculum out there… I have boxes I could give you.” Rather, they called for resources that would help them support the needs of their students and their own wellness. They needed these resources to be accessible within the limited snippets of time they have available each day before the students arrive and after their administrative and preparatory work is done. Our task became clear: to bring critically important resources to teachers to support mental health at school and work, and do it in a way that works for teachers.
Our vision was to create an innovative website that curated resources – one that was built with teachers, not simply for teachers. It would be intuitive in its use and responsive to the needs of educators. We brought together a Working Group that included educators, school leaders, mental health professionals and researchers and used an active and iterative design process to create the website and the resources within it. Working as a team, we defined the problem as a fundamental lack of learning, exchange and support opportunities to develop mental health literacy that are accessible, relevant to teaching and teachers, and embedded in professional knowledge and practice.
Each group worked to identify and fill gaps in available resources; for example, the teacher wellness group came up with a brief “tip sheet” and shared the things they wish they had known as new teachers that would have made a positive difference in their personal and professional well-being. Relevance came from their experience in the education system; accessibility was assured in that it was brief and digestible with links for deeper information. All resources were piloted with a wider audience. This co-production method for developing resources builds on strengths, good relationships, peer support networks, addressing barriers between stakeholders, and creating the conditions for giving and receiving support.
To guide all phases of this project, we also co-developed a number of guiding principles so that no matter what activities or tasks we took on, we were clear in our purpose. These goals included: enhancing teachers’ knowledge, confidence and resources to encourage resilience for their students; enhancing and supporting mental health literacy; engaging teachers in a community of practice; and offering effective and practical strategies to support their own and their students’ mental health.
We focused on the lived experience and expertise of teachers as well as the evidence-based literature. In identifying which intervention programs were evidence-based, we undertook detailed analyses of the quality of the research evidence and the strength of recommendations for universal and early intervention programs spanning resilience, anxiety, depression, and mindfulness for students and teachers, that also included occupational health and safety for teachers.9 We also developed a list of criteria for curating the external resources for mental health and deciding those that would be included on our site.
We worked closely with the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH), who not only provided a wealth of excellent resources, but who have the technical expertise and capacity to create a new kind of web-based source for tools designed specifically for the needs of teachers, including:
We created these tools and resources when we had a synergy of interest and expertise within our Working Group, along with the research evidence to support the tools.
The result, www.TeachResiliency.ca, was officially launched in May 2017. Teach Resiliency serves as an online access point through which educators can search and organize relevant evidence-informed mental health resources. All resources are, as directed by our Working Group, “searchable, digestible, and social.”
There are plans to develop an online community of practice, and for an empirical evaluation of users’ experiences of Teach Resiliency. Preliminary assessment of available resources and the framework of Teach Resiliency was conducted through a mixed methods case study.10 Results suggest that participants viewed the website as effective, indicating their intention to reuse the tool and recommend it to others. In particular, participants were pleased with the accessibility of the online access. One participant shared:
I definitely would [recommend this tool] as there is so much here and it is all in one place. It saves time in trying to search various resources to solve a problem. It also presents information in a variety of formats to adapt to different situations.
This project has demonstrated that bringing together teachers, schools, mental health practitioners and researchers to develop practical, evidence-informed strategies and practices to support child and youth mental health is itself a process that supports educators. Developing longer-term and ongoing connections promises to further support resiliency and mental health wellness. We have discovered that learning together fosters knowledge, not only regarding what is available, but of who to call and how to open up dialogue. We hope that a more visible, ongoing network of activities for teachers will also help normalize mental health awareness and further reduce the stigma.
TeachResiliency is a new kind of resource – a searchable data base designed with teachers, featuring co-created resources for mental health and resilience that align with the best research evidence and respond to their needs, their lives, and their classrooms. When you ask teachers what works, what they need, and what their students need, they have terrific ideas!
www.TeachResiliency.ca is designed to support mental health and resilience for teachers and their students. The site includes quick search functions, podcasts, videos and tip sheets on topics including teacher stress, resilience, mental health, and workplace health. The site and all materials are accessible through any smart phone, mobile device or computer.
TeachResiliency.ca is a partnership with Western University, the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH), and Physical & Health Education Canada (PHE). The project is funded by Physical & Health Education Canada with support from The Cooperators.
Photo: courtesy Susan Rodger, Kathryn Hibbert and Alan Leschied
First published in Education Canada, September 2017
1 R. C. Kessler, P. Berglund, O. Demler et al, “Lifetime Prevalence and Age-of-Onset Distributions of DSM-IV Disorders in the National Comorbidity Survey Replication,” Archives of General Psychiatry 62, no. 6 (2005): 593-602.
2 K. Grimes and G. Roberts, Return on Investment – Mental Health Promotion and Mental Illness Prevention (Ottawa: Canadian Institute for Health Information, 2011).
3 D. Santor, K. Short, and B. Ferguson, Taking Mental Health to School: A policy oriented paper on school-based mental health for Ontario (Ottawa: The Provincial Centre of Excellence for Child and Youth Mental Health at CHEO, August 2009).
4 D. M. Rothi, G. Leavey, and R. Best, “On the Front-Line: Teachers as active observers of pupils’ mental health,” Teaching and Teacher Education 24 (2008).
5 A. K. Arens and A. J. S. Morin, “Relations Between Teachers’ Emotional Exhaustion and Students’ Educational Outcomes,” Journal of Educational Psychology 108, no. 6 (2016): 800–813S.
6 S. Rodger, A. Leschied, and K. Hibbert, Mental Health Education in Canada: An analysis of teacher education and provincial/territorial curricula (Physical and Health Education Canada, 2014).
7 S. Rodger, A. Leschied, and K. Hibbert, Mental Health Education in Canada.
8 Canadian Teacher Federation, “Teacher Recruitment and Retention: Why teachers enter, stay or leave the teaching profession,” Economic and Member Services Bulletin (Ottawa: October 2004).
9 S. Rodger, R. Bourdage, K. Hancock, et al, “Supporting Students: A GRADE analysis of the research on student wellness and classroom mental health support, Canadian Journal of School Psychology (Dec. 2016).
10 R. Bourdage, “Supporting Educator Access to Evidence-Informed School-Based Mental Health Programs: An effectiveness evaluation” (2017).
The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) recently declared “post-truth” to be the 2016 Word of the Year. According to the OED, “post-truth” relates to or denotes “circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.”
In recent years, we’ve clearly seen the confusion that results from so-called “fake news,” and the at-times devastating effects of misinformation. In December 2016, for instance, the spread of the “Pizzagate” conspiracy theory (which has been proven false), related to U.S. Democrats’ supposed involvement in a child-sex ring, eventually culminated in a man opening fire in a restaurant that was supposedly linked to the ring; the full account of the spread of the lie is traced on the Pizzagate Wikipedia page1 (note that Wikipedia articles are crowd-edited – this page was accurate as of February 8th, 2017, but may have been updated since then). Unfortunately, social media often acts as a vehicle for spreading lies; in particular, racist, sexist, and homophobic posts circulate freely and are legitimized by those who share them.
The digital spaces in which our students live, learn, and play are not immune to or sheltered from hateful posts and images. Consequently, today, perhaps more than ever before, we as educators have a serious responsibility to address social justice issues in online spaces – even if the resulting discussions are uncomfortable or controversial.
As teachers, we know that if misbehaviour isn’t addressed, students will quickly learn that the behaviour is acceptable. The same goes for the false or hateful content that kids find in the digital world. If no one speaks up, children will have no reason to question the hurtful things that they see – and no reason not to join in. When it comes to social justice issues, silence is complicity.2
Of course, educators can’t be present in every online space, but we can model ethical, justice-oriented behaviour in the digital spaces we do occupy, which could mean anything from posting about current social justice issues on a personal blog to sharing articles or resources that promote equity on a class Twitter account. We might also bring online spaces into the classroom for critique and comment, perhaps by screencapping a problematic Facebook post and working as a class to construct an appropriate response. Without these actions, we risk raising a generation of young people who have neither the skills nor the desire to fight back against injustice or to work toward a better world.
Digital literacy, and in particular the ability to discern whether an online source is trustworthy and accurate, has always been important, but as the Pizzagate example shows, it is even more critical in a post-truth world because the consequences of believing falsehoods can be dire. Misinformation and fake news can be used to perpetuate hateful and/or hurtful actions toward particular groups; for instance, the fictional “Bowling Green Massacre”3 was used by the Trump administration to justify banning all refugees and immigrants from several Muslim-majority countries. Additionally, as Garry Kasparov tweeted, “The point of modern propaganda isn’t only to misinform or push an agenda. It is to exhaust your critical thinking, to annihilate truth.” That is, sometimes the spread of fake news is intended to tire us out to the point of no longer questioning what we are told, which can be exceptionally dangerous (look into the Milgram Shock Experiment4 for clear evidence of this).
Thus, as educators, we must learn how to evaluate and verify digital sources so that we can teach our students to do the same. This involves learning about and then teaching students tips and tools that can be used to identify problematic or false content,5 and bringing digital articles and images into the classroom for critique. For example, students might be asked to fact-check a list of terror attacks that U.S. president Donald Trump has claimed were not adequately reported by the media,6 in order to determine the veracity of the claim (hint: there are several major issues with the list).7 Of course, in order to bring these ideas into the classroom, it is necessary for educators to seek out, explore, and hopefully address these issues in online spaces themselves.
In a post-truth, digital world, it’s no longer acceptable for educators to sit on the sidelines claiming to be neutral. Hateful, hurtful misinformation can no longer be left unexamined and unchallenged. Rather, as teachers, we have the responsibility to fight back and to show our students how to do the same.
For more information about the EdCan Network’s Educator Well-Being: A Key To Student Success Symposium
Illustration: iStock
First published in Education Canada, September 2017
1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pizzagate_conspiracy_theory
2 http://katiahildebrandt.ca/in-online-spaces-silence-speaks-as-loudly-as-words
3 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bowling_Green_massacre
4 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milgram_experiment
5 www.npr.org/sections/alltechconsidered/2016/12/05/503581220/fake-or-real-how-to-self-check-the-news-and-get-the-facts
6 https://twitter.com/danmericaCNN/status/828768074031587328
7 www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/white-house-terror-attacks-list-isis-media-ignored-donald-trump-covered-widely-reported-bowling-a7566951.html

It started with a conversation about a couple of highly vulnerable learners whom we felt we could do better by. It led to a year of exploration that has not only sustained itself, but propelled us into another year of learning and celebration as we see the impact it has had, not only on the students, but also on the participating teachers.
In the 2015-2016 school year, I facilitated a Case Study Inquiry project for teacher teams (consisting of one learning services teacher and one classroom teacher) from each of our district’s eight schools. Supporting the project was myself, as District Principal of Learning Services, our SET-BC (Special Education Technology – British Columbia) District Partner (a learning services teacher who helps coordinate referrals and services from SET-BC), and our Technology Education Resource Teacher. A SET-BC Consultant also helped us to facilitate some of the training sessions.
• To put an extra lens of care toward highly vulnerable kids to increase their success with academic learning and improve their overall social-emotional well-being
• To engage the teachers in developing strategies that would benefit all of the learners they support.
Over the course of the year, teachers participated in ongoing collaboration, anchored by four structured sessions, where they explored whole-class instructional approaches as well as ways to personalize learning for individual learning tasks. We began in late October with an information session where we outlined the goals of the project and the expectations of participants. Four additional half-days were scheduled for November, February, April and May.
The evolution of the individual teams was really interesting to watch. Over the course of the year, the emphasis of the conversation shifted from a focus on what the students couldn’t do, to a celebration of their strengths and knowledge of themselves as learners. (See Figure 1.) There was never a moment where we “decided” to change our lens. A strength-based approach just grew.
What was responsible for this shift? How did these teams grow to know their learners so deeply, and move them so far, over the course of a single school year?

The conversation in our initial gathering was challenging. The planning team noticed that most of the data focused on poor student engagement and the challenges the teachers were having to adapt the curriculum in a way that met their students’ needs. We had very little data describing areas of strength that we could use as a springboard for further work. At the same time, it was clear that the teachers had chosen their focus students because they were actively seeking new ideas and strategies. These were hard kids to figure out, and their teachers were concerned about them. Helping the teams find a way to engage these vulnerable learners and include them in the classroom community became the most important place to start.
For our first full afternoon together, the Case Study team explored the ideas of Universal Design for Learning (UDL) and differentiated instruction. Our district had been working with Shelley Moore,1 a consultant who is passionate about inclusion. Shelley talks about beginning at a place where everyone can access the learning, rather than teaching to the middle and adapting from there.
Using some of Shelley’s templates, as well as our own model, we introduced the concept of “all, most and some” in developing unit and lesson plans. Jolin Olson, Case Study participant and classroom teacher in a multi-age (8-10) program, explains:
“Planning in a multi-age classroom was almost overwhelming in the beginning, however if I structure my lessons according to Shelly Moore’s idea of “all, some and few,” the teaching becomes very fluid and all of the students feel involved and successful.”
Our goal was to provide whole-class instruction in a way that included all students, not in an adapted or “sit-with-an-education-assistant-at-the-back” kind of way, but in a “we-picked-a-starting-point-everyone-can-launch-from” kind of way. (See Figure 2.)

When we checked in with teachers a few weeks after our initial planning meeting, they reported that they were more aware of ways to include all students in lessons, but that they needed some tools to be able to do this in a seamless and sustained way. When we met in January, we split into three groups, and each facilitator modelled a whole-class lesson using the differentiated planning templates in combination with instructional strategies and technology tools. Our goal was to demonstrate how whole-class lessons could be moved into individual student work in an inclusive way. Strategies and resources were selected based on the feedback and questions we’d received after the first session. One group focused on reading response, a second on intermediate mathematics, and a third on secondary mathematics.
Three weeks later, the teams completed a survey to identify which tools were being used successfully and which needed more support or adjustment. The facilitators then joined planning conversations and visited the classrooms of the individual teams, to provide additional coaching.
Like most long-term projects, we hit a bump in the road. As we approached our April session, several teams were concerned they would have little good news to share. Some of the students had started off well, but had not sustained their high levels of engagement or success. The teams had jumped in enthusiastically with their initial changes, but we were working with structures and strategies that were new, and lessons hadn’t always worked as successfully as they’d envisioned.
Fortunately, these dedicated, empathetic educators weren’t stepping away from a challenge. We offered additional training and support, and the teachers tweaked and adjusted their approaches.
Our conversations continued through the spring, and for our final session in May, the facilitators moved from a focus on whole-class lessons to a focus on personalizing the tools for individual students. Participants were looking for ways to add additional layers and options for their classes. They were once again excited to share the progress made by their focus students. We had come through the period of frustration and worry, and now had much to celebrate.
“I have seen students become more in charge of their own learning… We introduced new tools to ALL of the students without suggesting which students should use which tool. We let them decide what would help them the most. There were so many ways that students accessed these tools, and this changed depending on what the assignment/task was. This is such an important step in them becoming more reflective about their own learning. It put them in the driver’s seat!”
Each session was designed to address the questions or concerns raised by the participating teams. At each gathering, we engaged in reflection and problem solving, and prompted participants to consider specific questions in terms of identifying students’ strengths and lagging skills. We explored teaching strategies and resources to support their focus students, and encouraged teams to work together.
“There were many students that this case study project benefitted in our school. In fact, students who were not even on our “radar” use the tools that we introduced on a daily basis. These tools have supported both their academic growth and their overall self-confidence in their own learning. It helped to create a voice for each student – as each student learned something about themselves as learners.”
Personalizing learning for the adults allowed them to personalize it for their students. For me, this is the true benefit of this project. We began with a conversation about meeting the needs of a highly vulnerable group of individual students. Today, we continue to celebrate and deepen our capacity to provide personalized, differentiated learning for all.
For more information about the EdCan Network’s Educator Well-Being: A Key To Student Success Symposium
Photo: iStock
First published in Education Canada, September 2017
1Shelley Moore, Blogsomemoore: Teaching and Empowering all students. https://blogsomemoore.com