The new issue of Education Canada (“Towards Fewer Dropouts”) has prompted a moderate despair for me. I had hoped that parents, teachers, researchers, students and administrators had come down a long painful path together; a path towards knowing why students do not “drop out” but rather how they enter into a complex spiral of leaving school before they graduate. As it turns out, a lot of youth do leave school early; especially those who have been made socially and/or economically marginal by society and/or Aboriginal youth for whom schools did not work – or much worse. As the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada has just aptly shown, Aboriginal youth were in fact harmed within school walls and in the name of a perverse form of education. Did the young Aboriginal students who ran for their lives and dignity “drop out” of residential schools? Absolutely not. This is the wrong term, and it leads to the wrong spirit of understanding education and youth. The term is therefore a purposeful call by CEA to provocation. It must be.
The term “drop out” has long been contested, found wanting, and thrown onto an ever growing, steaming pile of useless educational concepts and jargon that turn young people into the demons of day. On the contrary, most young people are actively working diligently and negotiating the intellectual engagements required by good teachers and schools. Some are not, and the reasons vary from having no time or opportunity to do so to finding themselves in a school or class that is a poor fit for bringing out the best in them. Some have also gone too far down the tech-industry’s rabbit hole to pay attention, but that is another long story.
The story here is that the system of public education often pushes students away from schools, but not from the true education they value, seek and demand. The act of leaving school is part of a longer-term process of disengagement and only one step in reclaiming education at a later date. But researchers and teachers don’t often get to follow these kids over time in the way that their parents do, it only appears like they have “dropped out” but they have important critiques and messages to share about public education. In fact, a growing number of young people and parents are turning these messages and demands for education into a political action. Politicians now contend with the fact that failing school systems will lead to fewer votes. Some students who leave school before receiving their diploma do so for very good reasons and show signs of courage in leaving. This is why “drop out” was a term I had hoped not to encounter again. But, see it we must. The good news is that my despair has been moderated in knowing that the CEA knows this history and has called us to action. And, in reading the articles by George J. Sefa Dei and Konrad Glogowski and the youth stories embedded in this new issue, there is much cause for hope over despair. In my next blog entry, I will tell you why.
This blog post is connected to Education Canada Magazine’s Towards Fewer Dropouts theme issue and The Facts on Education fact sheet, How Can We Prevent High School Dropouts? Please contact info@cea-ace.ca if you would like to contribute a blog post to this series.
Pathways to Education, an after-school, community-based dropout prevention program for low-income youth, began in 2001 in Toronto’s underserved Regent Park community. It currently operates in 17 communities in Ontario, Quebec, Nova Scotia, Manitoba, and B.C. The program provides a comprehensive set of four support pillars – academic, social, financial, and one-on-one mentoring – and operates in partnerships with well-established local community agencies and schools. At each program site, students receive ongoing support from a team of full-time professionals, including a Student Parent Support Worker (SPSW), who checks in with the students, advocates for them in the school, and monitors school attendance, academic progress, and program participation. Other program staff manage the mentoring and tutoring components, as well as the work of countless volunteers who provide tutoring services in core subjects four times a week.
The Pathways to Education program, however, is much more than the sum of its parts. While the four program pillars provide a “complex set of supports”1 and are aligned with external research on dropout prevention, the program’s transformational impact on the lives of marginalized youth stems from its unique approach to youth engagement and well-being.
Individualized support
Early school-leavers are not a homogenous group. Existing research on early school-leaving shows that dropping out is a complex and often non-linear process of academic and social disengagement, influenced by both personal and external factors – “the intersection of a variety of academic, personal, and family experiences and resources.”2 As a result, dropout prevention “services and supports must be flexible and customized to meet individual student needs.”3 A key element of that customized approach in the Pathways to Education program is the commitment to get to know all students and work closely with them on a personal level. Corrie-ann, an SPSW at a Pathways to Education site in Kitchener, Ont., sees that relationship as the cornerstone of the program:
“Finding out who the students are inside and helping them to come to a point where they are feeling safe enough with me or one of my colleagues to express and share some of their deepest problems and what they want to achieve gives us a really good inside look as to what’s motivating the students and where they are coming from. It helps us understand how they might respond in different situations and, therefore, how to best support them. That relationship is the source of our knowledge and, therefore, our ability to provide individualized support.”
Young people who participate in Pathways to Education in their communities encounter many difficult barriers. They battle emotional and social challenges as well as toxic relationships and environments. They frequently take on part-time jobs to help their families, or care for their younger siblings while their parents juggle two or more jobs. In order to best support individual student needs, front-line staff build relationships by listening, recognizing the assets and the resilience that reside within, and providing stability and consistency. Tanya, an SPSW in Toronto’s Rexdale community, makes it clear that the program’s focus needs to be, first and foremost, on student well-being:
“You can’t expect a high school student to go into school every day and focus and do his work when there are so many adverse things affecting his life… If he didn’t have any food last night, or was beaten, or didn’t have a place to sleep because his mom kicked him out, or if he has court tomorrow, he’s not going to care about going to Math class and doing a pop quiz. So, it is crucial that we support the students through these tough times… they need to be OK on many different levels before they can be successful at school.”
In other words, progress towards academic attainment begins with the student’s well-being, a sense of trust, and a consistent connection to an adult who sees the whole person. Tanya echoes the voices of many of her front-line colleagues across the program’s 17 sites when she observes:
“These students are used to a kind of chaos and instability in their lives, so that adult presence is the one constant. Also, believing in them is key… even if they mess up or don’t meet some high expectations, they must know that there is someone there who’s going to accept it, walk them through whatever the situation is, and help them re-evaluate their direction and decisions.”
The program’s SPSWs, however, do not solve problems, tell students what to do, or remove barriers for the students. Instead, they work with them and see their role as supporting and participating in the student’s natural process of becoming. SPSWs model how to navigate systems or facilitate conversations and interactions with peers, parents, teachers, or school administration. They help students reflect on their experiences, mistakes, and successes. Jahmeeks, an SPSW in Kitchener, Ont., says this process builds on the strengths within: “We want them to see that there is always a lesson to learn. You failed that test. What happened? Let’s reflect on what went wrong and how you can move forward. A lot of our one-on-one mentoring conversations are about reflection.” His colleague, Corrie-ann, adds, “it’s very much about supporting them on their journey but not interceding and telling them what I think they should do.”
When life experiences become particularly challenging for students in the program, SPSWs help navigate all the relevant systems and relationships, connect students to appropriate services, and ensure that academic responsibilities are prioritized. When students face suspensions, for example, the program offers a place to come and focus on schoolwork to ensure that learning continues. But that’s not all. Tanya explains, “We work with the school, walk the student through the situation, make sure he understands the incident and the consequences, make sure he doesn’t make the situation worse, and work with the family to help them understand what took place and the implications.” She adds that “through it all the student is still at the centre. Everything is based on his or her needs, and we make sure we connect them to all the resources and services necessary.”
One of Corrie-ann’s students benefited from this type of deployment of good will, guidance, and ongoing support. When Corrie-ann noticed that Mariam stopped going to school and wasn’t attending the Pathways program, she began to worry that she “was probably at a point where she was going to be withdrawn from the program because she had very low participation.” Corrie-ann shared her concerns at a team meeting, and it soon became clear that Mariam was not attending school and the Pathways program because she was helping at home and taking care of her younger siblings.
“So we tried to connect with her in a different way,” Corrie-ann says, “and that was by giving her credit for the work she was already doing: helping her mom, picking up her brothers and sister after school, cooking.” Where other programs might have seen an insurmountable challenge, Pathways staff noticed a strength – a young woman who had taken on the role of a caregiver to her younger siblings. They saw something to build on. “That work can count as your mentoring component,” Mariam was told, “so, if you can come to tutoring one day per week, we can build on that.”
Corrie-ann believes that this “process of connecting with Mariam where she was at opened a huge door: a student who was very quiet, and always looking down, blossomed over the subsequent year. Her personality just burst through.” By recognizing Mariam’s context and working within it, the Pathways program gave her a chance to build on it. “In the end, Mariam graduated from high school and is now in college, doing very well.”
Tapping into resilience
Much like their more privileged peers, students in the Pathways program succeed because they work hard, go to class, turn in assignments, prepare for tests. Unlike those peers, however, they also overcome complex challenges, adverse childhood experiences, and difficult relationships and environments. They earn their success with hard work, determination, and resilience, but they also benefit from the support of a small team of dedicated professionals at a Pathways to Education site.
Unless the students feel supported, safe, engaged, and valued, no amount of tutoring or financial assistance will help. While the four pillars of the Pathways to Education program provide an important evidence-based set of support mechanisms, it is the personalized wraparound support created by the relationships between front-line staff and the students they serve that makes these pillars possible. Dedicated and reliable adults who provide scaffolding, opportunities for reflection, and skill-building in navigating systems and relationships can and do ensure a lasting impact.
En Bref – Passeport pour ma réussite est un programme parascolaire et communautaire de prévention du décrochage s’adressant à des jeunes de milieux à faibles revenus, qui a débuté en 2001 dans la collectivité défavorisée de Regent Park à Toronto. Il s’est étendu depuis à 17 endroits au pays. Le programme assure du soutien sur un ensemble complet de plans – scolaire, social, financier et mentorat individuel – et fonctionne en partenariat avec des organismes communautaires locaux bien établis et des écoles. Les élèves inscrits au programme profitent du soutien continu d’une équipe de professionnels à temps plein, notamment d’un travailleur de soutien élèves/parents (TSEP) qui maintient un lien avec les élèves, défend leur cause à l’école et assure le suivi de la fréquentation et des progrès scolaires ainsi que de la participation au programme. L’impact transformationnel du programme sur la vie de jeunes marginalisés résulte de son approche inédite de l’engagement et du bien-être des jeunes : le personnel de première ligne répond aux besoins des élèves individuels et les soutient par une gestion de cas très personnalisée et par l’établissement de relations.
Photo: courtesy Pathways to Education
First published in Education Canada, May 2015
1 Carolyn Acker Norman Rowen, “Creating Hope, Opportunity, and Results for Disadvantaged Youth,” The Canadian Journal of Career Development 12, no. 1 (2013): 63–81.
2 K. Alexander, D. Entwisle, and N. Kabbani, “The Dropout Process in Life Course Perspective: Early risk factors at home and school,” Teachers College Record 103, no. 5 (2001): 760-822.
3 B Ferguson, K. Tilleczek, K. Boydell, and J. Rummens, Early School Leavers: Understanding the lived reality of student disengagement from secondary school (Toronto: Community Health Systems Resource Group, The Hospital for Sick Children, 2005).
What are the transformative possibilities of schooling and education today? I answer this question with two words: hope and caring. I am hopeful that we can begin to address the problem of school dropouts. I also believe strongly that most educators care about and want the best for their students. However, as many educators have also noted, sometimes our good intentions are not enough. We need to focus on the effects and outcomes of our practices.1 It is imperative that as educators and practitioners, we take students’ perceptions seriously and examine our practices and beliefs to ensure that students get to know who we truly are, that we do care about learning, teaching and administration of education and that we are intent on creating an inclusive learning environment for all.
In the early 1990s, I led a longitudinal study examining Black youths and the Ontario public school system. We concluded that the term “push out” was more appropriate than “drop out.”2 Our contention was not that educators literally push students out of the door. However, the messages sent by schools – what is valued and deemed legitimate knowledge, what is discussed or not discussed in classrooms, what experiences and identities count or do not count, and how students are perceived by educators – lead a fair number of Black youth to feel unwelcome and, consequently, become disengaged. It is no longer acceptable for educators and local communities to accept dropping out as simply a matter of individual responsibility. So how do we interrogate conventional knowledge?
Tuck, in an excellent read, discusses how schools push out students through humiliating experiences and assaults on learners’ dignities such that these students no longer want to be in school. She reasons that U.S. schools produce dropping out as a “dialectic of humiliating ironies and dangerous dignities”3 that stem from educational practices including assessments, exit exams, testing, and school rule enforcements that students find very humiliating. Clearly, when students leave school prematurely they are fully aware of the consequences of their decision in the context of the social and cultural capital assigned to education. Therefore, we must seek to understand why students make these decisions and acknowledge the interplay of institutional and personal responsibilities when accounting for school dropouts.
What educational research in Ontario tells us
Statistics can help us establish the nature and context of a problem. However, considering the general reluctance to engage with race, recent statistics often employ coded language to speak about the experiences of racialized students. For example, studies often focus on language, country of origin, length of time in Canada, or citizenship status as it relates to student disengagement. These studies can provide a glimpse into the issue, though without an honest conversation about the role of race, it remains an incomplete picture.
Research conducted by the Toronto District School Board (TDSB) on dropping out by key languages shows that Portuguese-, Spanish-, and Somali-speaking students leave school at the highest rates: 38 percent, 37.5 percent, and 35.1 percent respectively.4 By region of birth, English-speaking Caribbean and Central/South American and Mexican students leave at the highest rates, 38 percent and 37 percent.5 Combined with earlier statistics, these indicate issues that extend above and beyond language and place of origin and point, instead, towards a hostile learning environment for racialized students.
Educational research on the performance of Ontario high school students shows that despite successes, Black/African-Canadians, First Nations/Aboriginals, and Portuguese- and Spanish-speaking students are at the forefront of student disengagement from school.6 Disproportionate numbers of students from these groups are also enrolled in special education and non-university stream programs.7 Even for those students alleged to be doing well (e.g. Asian “model minority” students) we observe narrow fields of academic choices, such as the over-subscription in science/mathematics-related occupations.8
But the figures do not tell us about the human side of dropping out. In our study, we noted the human dimensions to the story of Black and minority youth disengagement from school. These are stories of personal struggles, of family and home hardships, socialization and peer culture struggles – of youth with stolen dreams and unmet expectations who develop a lack of faith in the system. There are also the challenges of navigating the school system, unfriendly and unwelcoming schooling environments, low teacher expectations of minority students, the differential treatment by race, gender, sexuality or class, and the lack of curricular, pedagogic and instructional sophistication.9 For Black/African students, the cost of school/academic success may be one’s identity and emotional stability.10 The process of disengagement starts early in the life of the student, culminating in the decision to leave school prematurely.
This calls for a critical interrogation of the structures and processes of educational delivery. Such interrogation allows us to hold systems accountable while also calling for community and parental responsibility. Producing school success is more than an individual undertaking. In asking parents and communities to share responsibility for the education of their children, we must avoid pathologizing families, individual learners and their communities. Such pathologies only reinforce constructed or false negatives of marginalized (working class and racialized) communities and stifle counter-debate. We often throw out the term “taking responsibility” without situating discussions with the recognition that taking on responsibility is only possible when we have the means to support our actions. It easy to sit in the comfort of one’s living room and say, “Gee… these people must take responsibility.”
Hence, in addressing youth dropping out of school we can maintain blind spots on the daily struggles and challenges of families and their resilience to succeed against all odds – and fail to learn from these real-life struggles. We do not value counter- and oppositional stances; yet, it is these counter-stances and strategies of resilience that offer crucial lessons for re-visioning education and thereby promoting change.
Dropping out: philosophical contentions
Rather than pinpoint specific causes and factors contributing to youth dropping out of school, I want now to work with a different intellectual gaze, highlighting some philosophical contentions. I see such analysis as part of a needed paradigmatic shift to understand schooling and education. A major discursive position I am taking is that dropping out is actually a consequence of the structure of the Euro-Canadian/American educational school system, and the collective inability or failure to look at its foundations. The foundation itself contributes to students dropping out – yet we are adding stories to a weak foundation rather than building a new one.
The current school system focuses on individual excellence and success. There is a heavy play on meritocracy, which promotes and sustains rugged individualism and competition. The values and credentials privileged by the Euro-American school system simply mask Whiteness, White power and privilege as the norm. What is presented as “universal” is, in fact, the particularity of the dominant. The values of the dominant that undergird the educational system do not hold for everyone. They are being questioned not because they are wrong, but because they are not universally tenable. They are not inclusive and we need to cultivate values shared by all of our humanity.
We are all in a collective struggle to transform our communities; we are each implicated in the existing inequities.
The implication for dropping out is that the absence of a “school community of learners” they can identify with makes some students feel alienated and disengaged. For example, while a competitive mode may help generate individual brilliance and creativity, it does not necessarily create sustainable communities for everyone. We need to bring back a positive reading to “community.”
It’s important to recognize that we are all in a collective struggle to transform our communities; we are each implicated in the existing inequities. As an educational response we must have all hands on deck, with value given to everyone’s knowledge, history, experience and contributions. This includes students, educators, administrators, policy makers, private, business and public sectors and parents, guardians, community workers and our varied communities – and especially dropouts. We cannot find solutions outside the contributions, experiences and voices of the school dropouts themselves.
Integrating learners into society is seen as an important mission of school. In Canada, there is unquestioned faith in integration, which is rooted in the multicultural paradigm. Our approach to integration is one size fits all. Those who do not fit are cast aside. But we must begin to ask: Integration for whom, how and at what/whose expense? Those who drop out do not find a place in the school system as currently designed. One size cannot fit all. Multiple visions of schooling, including educational innovations and initiatives from marginalized communities, must be envisaged and encouraged. They must equally be valued, promoted and supported. At the policy level, it is troubling to see how a blind faith in integration continues to lead even non-dominant, immigrant, racial minority, and Indigenous learners along the path of “cultural destruction.”
We cannot hope for success while continuing to do the same thing that is failing us. The denial of White dominance distorts reality and does not allow us to put our collective hearts and minds together to find solutions. We have not developed any explicit investment in creating a level playing field. This is because we have failed to recognize the uneven and inequitable circumstances in which education is embedded – the a priori inequality existing among students, within school cultures and educational discourse and in the Euro-American curricula. Teaching and learning should be about decolonizing minds, bodies, souls and spirits to be more critical of ourselves and of our communities.
Strategies for student retention
Dropping out of school is fundamentally a problem of youth disengagement from and disaffection with school. While solutions must embrace school, home and community connections, there are also some concrete strategies that educators and administrators can undertake to retain students in schools.
Many of the strategies discussed here relate to inclusion issues. I am increasingly skeptical of the bland and depoliticized talk of inclusion that ignores issues of power, transparency and accountability. I believe inclusion should lead to structural transformation rather than simply adding to what already exists, since oftentimes what already exists is the source of the problem. Instead, I want to work with “radical inclusion.” We need to recognize the space in between ourselves and others, where all the history, pain, trauma, resistance and love live, in order to see inclusion as about a wholeness, completeness and varied, complex communities.
Education must work with students’ lived experiences, myriad identities, histories, cultures, and knowledge bases – in other words, it must be meaningful and relevant to the students themselves. A holistic education should encompass the material, social, cultural, political, physical, psychological, spiritual and metaphysical realms of learners’ existence, including teaching about society, culture and Nature (i.e. environments and Lands). We need to reclaim multiple and multi-centric ways of knowing. Such knowledges are key to affirming learners’ and educators’ myriad identities, histories and social contexts of learning and teaching; promoting Indigenous cultures and language heritages; and addressing broader questions of curricular, instructional and pedagogic relevance.
All students must feel included and welcome in our schools. Identity is linked with knowledge production. Teaching must recognize the myriad identities that our learners bring to classrooms (e.g. racial, gendered, classed, sexual, (dis)abled). These social differences implicate schooling and are consequential for educational outcomes. Therefore, educators should teach about social difference as sites of power, strength and identity. Teaching must engage the home and community cultures of students. Local and Indigenous languages of learners must be broached alongside teaching in dominant lan-guages. Students must see themselves reflected in the school culture and in the visual and physical landscape of their schools. A diverse teaching and administrative staff will allow students to identity with people in positions of power and influence as equally coming from their own communities.
It is important for educators to access pertinent resources for developing an inclusive curriculum. Students themselves can be used as knowledge holders of their own experiences; parents, Elders, and guest speakers from diverse backgrounds can be welcomed as teachers engaging in multiple conversations with students and staff. Public conferences, seminars and community workshops, local print media and television, community bookstores and public libraries, and popular culture are all resources for youth education. These resources can be employed with a discussion of their social contexts and histories as entry points of dialogues.
Nasir highlights “four aspects of teaching and learning that support this sense of belonging and identification: fostering respectful relationships, making mistakes acceptable, giving learners defined roles, and offering learners ways to participate that incorporate aspects of themselves.”11 These strategies hold lessons for the classroom. Fostering respectful relationships and making mistakes an acceptable part of the learning process can create cohesion, a sense of community, and build confidence by reframing failure as an opportunity to learn and grow. Defining informal roles based on interests and strengths gives learners a sense of expertise and a valued identity within the group.
Educators should strengthen students’ abilities to ask new and difficult questions in class. The students can begin by questioning their own selves and local communities, the school and wider society. Teaching should also emphasize learners’ responsibilities to their communities, peers and to themselves. Allowing all students to showcase their own voices and knowledges, and to reflect on and assess their own schooling, are important educational strategies of inclusion. Prioritizing students whose voices and knowledges are absent is critical. Educators can also examine their own classroom pedagogies, diversifying the curriculum through the infusion of multiple teaching methodologies. For example, there must be a consideration of more dialogical curriculum co-creation involving students, parents, local communities, and schools.12
Educators must re-conceptualize rigid Euro-centered evaluation and assessment methods and work with multiple definitions of success. Classrooms should promote collective successes, with evaluations taking into account how students are supporting each other. A failing class would be one that could not support all its members. We could evaluate on the basis of improvement. We can introduce peer reviews and grading, so that the teacher is not solely in control of grades and the hierarchies are less severe.
Educators can recognize and honour multiple ways of knowing and being by enabling students to be creative and present non-traditional papers (arts-based, multimedia).13 We can consider orality as an equal medium to written text. Educators must include community-based events, which often provide access to Elders or other “teachers,” as sites of learning. School-based learning becomes more meaningful and practical when students can connect it to community work.
These strategies allow students to develop a sense of ownership of their knowledge and knowledge creation process.
Decolonizing education is about looking critically at the structures and processes of educational delivery and changing the ways we teach, learn and administer education. Decolonizing education is about promoting counter and oppositional voices, knowledges and histories, bringing into focus the lived experiences of students who have been marginalized from the school system. Through inclusive practices that engage the diverse group of learners, schools can become welcoming spaces, and the resulting sense of belonging and ownership of the schooling process can help engage students and allow them to stay in school. It is difficult to understand why someone who feels welcome, valued, and engaged will decide to leave school prematurely.
Thanks to Kate Partridge of the Department of Social Justice, OISE/UT, for commenting on an earlier draft of this article.
En Bref – Comment peut-on revoir la scolarisation en fonction des besoins des élèves différents? Dans cet article, George J. Sefa Dei réfléchit aux liens existant entre le décrochage scolaire et les pratiqueséducatives (enseignement, pédagogie et initiatives liées au curriculum, ainsi que culture d’école) qui sont et peuvent être documentées par les apprenants, leurs histoires, identités, mémoires culturelles et patrimoines, ainsi que par leurs expériences et attentes de tous les jours. Il confronte des questions difficiles relatives au pouvoir, au discours et à la représentation des expériences des jeunes qui provoquent et contextualisent le décrochage scolaire. Il se demande comment nous pouvons commencer à démanteler les relations hiérarchiques du pouvoir liées à la scolarisation. Il examine également certains facteurs conventionnels menant au décrochage scolaire et suggère aux éducateurs et aux écoles des façons pouvant favoriser la rétention et la réussite. Il est reconnu que le milieu de scolarisation peut être inhospitalier pour les élèves ne faisant pas partie de la culture dominante (marginalisés par la race, le genre, la sexualité, la classe, etc.) et qu’en décolonisant l’éducation, plus d’élèves auront un sentiment d’appartenance et s’approprieront leur éducation.
Photo: Rich Legg (iStock)
First published in Education Canada, May 2015
1 M. Fine, Framing Dropouts: Notes on the politics of an urban public high school (New York: State University of New York Press, 1991).
2 G. J. S. Dei (with L. Holmes, J. Mazzuca, E. McIsaac, and R. Campbell), Drop Out or Push Out? The dynamics of Black students’ disengagement from school. Report submitted to the Ontario Ministry of Education and Training, 1995; G. J. S. Dei, J. Mazzuca, E. McIsaac, and J. Zine, Reconstructing “Dropout”: A critical ethnography of the dynamics of Black students’ disengagement from school (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997).
3 E. Tuck, “Humiliating Ironies and Dangerous Dignities: A Dialectic of school push out,” International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 24, no. 7 (2011): 817.
4 R. S. Brown, Research Report: The Grade 9 Cohort of Fall 2002: A five-year cohort study, 2002-2007 (Toronto: Toronto District School Board, 2008),16.www.tdsb.on.ca/Portals/0/AboutUs/Research/The%205%20Yr%20Study%2002-07.pdf
5 R. S. Brown, Research Report (2008).
6 R. S. Brown, A Follow-Up of the Grade 9 Cohort of 1987 Every Secondary Student Survey Participants (Toronto: Toronto Board of Education, Research Services, Report No. 207, 1993); M. Cheng, M. Yau, and S. Ziegler, The Every Secondary Student Survey, Part II: Detailed profiles of Toronto secondary school students (Toronto: Toronto Board of Education, Research Services, Report No. 204, 1993).
7 R. S. Brown and G. Parekh, Research Report: Special Education: Structural overview and student demographics (Toronto: Toronto District School Board, 2010), 35.
8 M. Cheng, “Factors that Affect the Decisions of Racial/Ethnic Minorities to Enter and Stay in Teaching and their Implications for School Board’s Teacher Recruitment and Retention Policies” (Ed.D diss., Department of Sociology and Equity Studies, OISE/UT, 2002).
9 Fine, Framing Dropouts; Dei et al., Drop Out or Push Out?
10 Dei et al., Reconstructing “Dropout”; G. J. S. Dei, “Schooling and the Dilemma of Youth Disengagement,” McGill Journal of Education 38, no. 3 (2003): 241- 256.
11 N. Nasir, “Everyday Pedagogy: Lessons from basketball, track, and dominoes,” Phi Delta Kappan 89, no. 7 (2008): 530.
12 G. J. S. Dei, “Decolonizing the University Curriculum,” Socialist Studies/Etudes Socialistes 10, no. 2 (forthcoming: June 2015). www.socialiststudies.com
13 Dei, “Decolonizing the University Curriculum.”
The most important voices in a discussion on reducing the dropout rate are those of the people most affected: the students who leave school early.
The three youth who shared their stories with us range in age from 18 to 25. They have all, since dropping out, returned to some form of schooling and are working hard at it. The special programs they’ve taken advantage of have been crucial to their academic success. While their paths and challenges were all different, what they have in common is that the regular high school program did not work for them.
PAUL-ÉMILE HÉBERT, Montreal, QC
Paul-Émile is fluent and articulate in his second language, English. High school for him seems to have involved a series of setbacks, complications and discouragements, all reinforcing the message: “School is not my thing.”
How did you come to leave high school early?
Things started to go wrong when I left the private school I had attended through Grade 7 and followed my older brother into public school. There, based I guess on reports from my old school that I was inattentive and had ADD, they placed me in a “chemin particulier de formation”– a class of about a dozen students, all different ages and learning needs. I found it weird that I was put in this group and although I got myself out of it a year later, I didn’t get the proper depth for the regular program.
In Grade 9 I failed French and Math. Then in Grade 10, repeating French, I failed it again. It was an extremely difficult class; there were a lot of bright students in that class yet the average grade was maybe 65. Still, I couldn’t understand why my grades were so low. I would show my texts to other students and they couldn’t see what was wrong with them. At that point I started losing hope, though I did still have some pride in my other classes.
Going into Grade 10 I had a lot of anxiety, about my academic path and in general. There was a lot of pressure at school and from my father. I had broken up with my first girlfriend, and hooked up with a different group of people who did a lot of partying. That year I failed a bunch of classes and went to summer school.
In Grade 11 I switched to an alternative school and at first it went well. The semester system they used was better for me: I could do fewer classes at a time for a shorter period. I did well in the first semester. In the second semester, I sort of impulsively moved in with my girlfriend, an hour’s bus ride from the school. She was going through a difficult situation and I felt I had to help her out, so I skipped a lot of classes. I failed that semester.
In the third session (Sept.), the school suddenly adopted a hard-line policy about lateness and absence. I wasn’t able to adapt, and I ended up getting kicked out.
What have you been doing since?
Right after leaving school I was living back at home and working at McDonald’s. It was a sad winter – I was depressed about my life, and only getting a few hours when I really wanted full-time work. But with all that free time, I started developing an interest I’d been dabbling in through high school, which is DJ’ing events. I started doing a lot more gigs and working on my own music.
In April I got a full-time job in a better restaurant, and had enough money to go out and connect with people I wanted to work with in the music industry. It gave me a new perspective, in that a lot of people in music don’t have big academic backgrounds.
What’s going on in your life now?
I’m attending an adult centre to complete my high school. It’s not the standard “here’s a huge textbook; go home and come back when you’re ready to write the exam” kind of program. I attend class, with a teacher, every afternoon. We do one course at a time and complete it in six weeks and this is way better for me. I passed my first English course with flying colours and am almost done my next course. I’m still working part-time and doing some DJ sets, so right now things are going pretty well. I should be ready to graduate around the time of my 19th birthday.
What would have helped make school work for you?
I would have liked clearer criteria: Tell me what, exactly, am I being graded on? And there was so much weight placed on the final exam, but what was on the exam didn’t seem to reflect what we did in class – as if nothing you did in class mattered. So I guess for exams to match the content of the class better.
For me, and I would guess for many kids with ADD or ADHD, a ten-month course can seem excruciatingly long. Fewer courses at a time for shorter periods of time works so much better for me.
I don’t feel I really got any support or accommodation at all with my ADD issues.
Any future goals?
I want to work full time for a while to support the costs of my music, which I plan to continue with, and so I can afford to move into my own place. But longer-term, I’d like to qualify for a trade, and I’ve started looking into various options, like pharmacy assistant or cooking.
I’ve come to a place where I feel my personal goals and talents matter more than my grades. A degree is not the most important thing about a person.
NATALIE GERMAN, Toronto, Ont.
Natalie has returned to an alternative program after taking a year off school. Though she sounds confident and energetic in our interview, this is not how she felt through her teen years. Her story shows how vulnerabilities in mental health and a poor fit with the standard academic program impede school success.
How did you come to leave school before graduating?
School was pretty much OK for me until high school. Then I started really having a hard time showing up, arriving on time, or getting motivated to do my assignments.
I wasn’t skipping school to party or anything. Really I guess it was part of a larger teenage depression. It was more than not wanting to go to school; I often didn’t even want to leave the house. I had really low self-esteem and school was just more than I could deal with.
My mom tried putting me in therapy, and I went to one or two sessions, but I didn’t like them and I stopped going.
Even with all that, I was on track to graduate going into Grade 12, but then I failed that year and didn’t go back.
What have you been doing since?
I took a year off and worked as a fitness instructor for kids. That year helped me in lots of ways. I took on a more adult role and was working with adults. I had to come out of my shell, talk to my co-workers, talk to the kids’ parents. That was good for my self-confidence; I can talk to people now. And it’s a really direct reward system: you show up for work, you get paid. Miss work, you don’t. It makes you grow up.
I enjoyed the job, but it also motivated me to return to school. I realized I don’t want to work at minimum wage forever, you know?
I tried to finish high school doing online courses, but I didn’t succeed. It was way too self-directed for me at that time. I couldn’t even manage to show up for classes, let alone read chapters upon chapters of material and write essays all on my own time.
Looking back, is there anything that could have been different at your school that would have worked better for you?
I did have some teachers who were involved and really cared and who tried to help, but with others, it was like if you fell off the radar they just cut you loose. Like they had other things to worry about. So you just get moved through the system – it’s too institutional.
I also think schools need to be able to approach things differently, for kids like me who learn creatively and are more hands-on. The academic approach – read this, write this essay – doesn’t work for them. There could be more options for students to learn the same concepts in a different way. They don’t even really have vocational schools any more.
What’s going on in your life now?
I started at the Oasis Skateboard Factory in September,1 and just started my second semester. I heard about it from some friends who went, and so far it’s going really well. It’s more arts- and reality-based; less like high school, more like a studio. I think also because of the time I took away from school, I’m ready to take advantage of this.
The environment in this program is more relaxed; we do have assignments and deadlines but we can work at our own pace. And the relationship with our teachers is more personal; it’s like we have one teacher and one boss. I’ve been OK this year, but there are students who are struggling with personal issues and the teachers give them a lot of support.
Any future goals?
I’m actually in the process of applying to university right now. I’ve applied to OCAD, but my number one choice is Ryerson for Interior Design. The only thing I know for certain is that I want to work in an art-related field, but I’m willing to change what that is specifically, depending on how these next few months pan out for me. In the meantime, I’m working towards building an online presence so that I can work as a commission artist.
MORRIS CROW SPREADING WINGS, Lethbridge, Alberta
From a young age, experiences of racism, addiction and personal loss turned schooling into a struggle for Morris Crow Spreading Wings. His story is tough to hear, yet it also speaks to hope and resilience.
How was your early school experience?
I started school on the Blood Reserve, but we moved to Lethbridge (Alta.) after my parents divorced. I was only in Grade 2 when a little girl asked my why I had braids and brown skin, and when I told her I was Aboriginal she said, “Aren’t they the bad people?” That was the start of the racism I encountered throughout my life. Teachers and students would question whether I was a girl because of my braids. I was blamed for fights, accused of stealing when things went missing, and received punishments more severe than those given to White students.
Junior high was not much different, except the racism from other students became more vicious and hurtful. I was routinely called abusive names in front of teachers, with no repercussions. Once a kid lost his saxophone reed in band. I wasn’t sitting anywhere near him at the time and didn’t even play a reed instrument, but he decided that I stole it. The teacher brought me into the office and accused me relentlessly. I was so shocked and upset I couldn’t speak up for myself for fear of breaking out in tears.
When I was 12 my father broke my arm. There was no one I could trust enough to tell, so I said I fell down the stairs. They wouldn’t let me take my pain pills at school, assuming I would likely abuse them.
How about high school?
Soon after this I began experimenting with drugs and alcohol, and by high school I was pretty deep into the drug culture. I became the stereotypical “bad kid,” I guess.
I had a social studies teacher who would put me on the spot as the only First Nations student, asking things like, “Do you think it’s right that First Nations people get all this stuff for free?” I didn’t know how to respond and the rest of the class fed off that.
When I was 14, my mom kicked me out of her house and moved to Ontario, so I went back to my dad’s. He was terminally ill and I tried to look after him. He died the next year, and then I was on my own. The school was aware of this, but nobody made any attempt to offer me support or make any accommodations.
I felt threatened by my step-brothers, who wanted my father’s property. I got in trouble for sleeping at school, but it was because I stayed awake all night, on guard against them with my father’s loaded rifle.
By Grade 12 I was really only going to school to sell drugs and make money. I was just focused on survival. I quit in my second year of Grade 12.
What happened with your life after you quit school?
I got a job and worked for the same employers for seven years. Through that time I was constantly the butt of racist comments from my bosses, my colleagues and the customers. I believe that led me further into hard drugs and addiction. I made a number of attempts to get clean over the years, but always fell back.
What made you decide to return to school?
It was in the sweat lodge at the Young Offenders’ Centre, in 2011, that I made the decision. A career counselor hooked me up with the Red Crow Community College upgrading program. I took it seriously and excelled, even while I was working full time and still struggling with addiction. In two years I completed my upgrading and got into the University of Lethbridge First Nations Transition Program, in the Health Science stream.
I was successful in the program, but still couldn’t shake the addiction and the codependent relationship I was in that supplied it. Finally in March 2014 I started on a methadone program and got clean. I had a relapse in August but recovered and have been clean since then.
Where do things stand for you now?
I’ve found my goal – to be an addictions counselor – and am in my second semester of the program. In my first semester I had a GPA of 3.4 and this semester I’ve won a TA position.
School is going great. But I am still struggling with many areas of my life. I’m overcoming the challenges though. I have positive feelings about what the future holds for me.
En Bref – Lorsqu’on parle de réduire le taux de décrochage, les voix les plus importantes à écouter sont celles des personnes les plus concernées : les élèves qui quittent l’école prématurément. Trois jeunesâgés de 18 à 25 ans partagent leur expérience scolaire avec Éducation Canada. Tous trois ont décidé de décrocher avant d’obtenir leur diplôme d’études secondaires. Depuis, ils sont tous retournés aux études sous une forme ou une autre, et les programmes spéciaux dont ils ont profité ont été déterminants pour leur réussite scolaire. Quoique leur parcours et leurs enjeux diffèrent, ils ont quelque chose en commun : le programme régulier d’études secondaires n’a pas fonctionné pour eux.
Photo: M. Evans (istock)
First published in Education Canada, May 2015
1 OSF is an alternative program offered by the Toronto District School Board, previously profiled in the Theme 2012 issue of Education Canada: www.cea-ace.ca/osf
The vast majority of school dropouts are male. It is my profound belief that the core of the problem has to do with student engagement and effort in learning. Any teacher knows that these are important, but the brain science demonstrated to me that they are more than that – they are indispensible for learning – and staying in school.
This is a story about school-based change on a broad scale. It is about how one school board embraced a series of government directives with two basic beliefs: (1) all students can succeed and (2) the path to school improvement is through sustainable teacher-learning networks. Developing such networks both within and between 67 schools at the same time is a challenge, given traditions of school and teacher autonomy and independence. However, our results, as we move through this process, give us reason to be optimistic. The English Montreal School Board (EMSB), the largest of nine English boards in the province of Quebec, increased its graduation rate from 83 percent to 88 percent between 2009 and 2014, fully five years ahead of its targeted date for that level of achievement.
Quebec’s graduation strategy
At the start of 2008, an important consultation process took place with the main education stakeholders in Quebec. A 28-member group, including representatives from the Quebec Ministry of Education, the business world, educational organizations and experts working in the field of student retention, released a report entitled Knowledge Is Power.[1] These experts reported that Quebec was not doing enough to ensure students were graduating with a high school or vocational diploma. The authors of the report painted a bleak picture of the potential long-term impacts, both economic and social, of the high dropout rate in Quebec. They argued that “promoting student retention is nothing less than rescuing our children from the life of poverty, ignorance, exclusion and distress that awaits them if they drop out of school.”
The report sounded the alarm that the Quebec education system was letting one in three students fall through the cracks. As a consequence of the report, significant changes were made to the Education Act through the adoption of Bill 88 in 2009. This introduced a results-based management model for school boards. School improvement, from that point on, had to be based on measureable results.
The Ministry identified five common goals[2] that every school board in the province had to address, with the aim of increasing the provincial graduation rate from 69 percent to 80 percent by 2020. A signed Partnership Agreement between each school board and the Ministry of Education, and similarly, between every school board and its respective schools, were used to ensure coherence and complementarity between the Ministry of Education’s strategic plan, the school board’s strategic plan and the school’s success plans. These agreements are aimed at integrating all actions within a global vision.
The added challenge facing the EMSB was to increase its graduation rate, which was already relatively high at 83 percent. The target graduation rate of 88 percent seemed impossible, given the range of challenges facing our schools: the EMSB includes 37 inner-city schools and 11 alternative schools; one-third of our student population lives below the poverty line. Despite the successful initiatives that established our baseline at 83 percent, we realized that new strategies needed to be considered.
EMSB’s response
The core values and beliefs guiding the school board did not change with the partnership agreements. What did change was how school improvement occurred, both at the school board level and at the local school level. The partnership agreements provided a framework and mechanism that allowed schools and the school board to use student achievement data to identify areas of strength and weakness, to set attainable goals and identify the pedagogical strategies to achieve them. While this did not suddenly make changing schools and improving teacher practice easy to do, it did lead some schools that had lost momentum to reflect on their successes and challenges, and to formalize plans for improvement. What these agreements did, then, was to turn our beliefs into concrete actions.
As a direct result of the partnership agreement, the EMSB created a plan to adopt evidence-based practices. Using an evidence-based approach for decision making meant that we had to acquire data literacy skills, to ensure that we used data effectively. Prior to 2008, schools did set objectives as part of their strategic plans each year; however, these tended to be generalized goals that were based on teachers’ observations rather than concrete data. Moreover, the old plans did not establish clear, measureable objectives, or the mechanisms to determine if they achieved those objectives. The data that was available to schools prior to 2008 was either in the form of local, teacher-set assessments, or in the form of global exam results that did not provide the kind of focused, relevant information required to inform practice. Furthermore, teachers did not have a structured forum for sharing this information.
Within the framework of the partnership agreements, teachers meet on a regular basis to reflect on the effectiveness of their practices and share knowledge about how to better serve the needs of their students. These changes did not occur overnight – in fact, some changes are not fully in place five years after the introduction of partnership agreements. We faced several challenges in this process, perhaps foremost among them the need to convince all stakeholders that data can be used as a guiding light to inform pedagogy and interventions, rather than as a punitive tool to lay blame where results were disappointing.
Recognizing the complexities involved in changing traditions and mindsets, we adopted a tiered approach to establishing teacher learning networks. This tiered approach, which involved four stages, began with a summit that introduced the concepts of professional learning communities (PLCs) and data teams to all our stakeholders. We followed up with PLC and data team training for all our in-school administrators and educational consultants. Moving from a broad to a more focused support model, the next step involved training lead teams from each school, comprised of teachers and administrators, accompanied by an educational consultant. The fourth stage saw consultants going into schools – on multiple occasions – to provide site-based training to school staff.
The adoption of an evidence-based approach and the creation of PLCs grew directly out of the partnership agreement. It is important to recognize, however, that some initiatives that had already been introduced prior to the partnership agreement became a priority and were strengthened within the new framework. These include a literacy initiative and the system of alternative learning schools.
Early literacy initiative
A balanced literacy initiative at the elementary level had been introduced two years prior to the launch of the partnership agreements. This initiative recognized the importance of early intervention as critical to student success. Based on solid evidence that students’ chances of success in high school and beyond can be traced to their reading ability as early as Grade 3 – or even by the end of Grade 1, according to some research[3] – the need for a literacy strategy was evident. Two principal objectives governed the creation of this strategy: promoting literacy instructional practices that would allow all students to be successful, and implementing a professional development model that would support the teacher learning needed to make this happen. This required far more than a few workshops on literacy instruction; it meant putting a comprehensive plan into place, one that would bring human and material resources to schools and pedagogical expertise to teachers, and that would incorporate a long-term strategy for effective, sustainable professional development.
The more challenging part of the literacy plan was creating a model for ongoing, sustainable professional development for teachers. Our response was to create a network of in-house literacy facilitators – one teacher from each elementary school – which was supported for five years as part of the ongoing balanced literacy implementation. These facilitators met once a month for five years for professional development and sharing, and were released for one day each week to work with other teachers in their own schools promoting best practices in literacy instruction. In some schools and classrooms, this work took the form of mentoring and modeling; in others it took the form of co-teaching, or collegial talk. The part-time release for facilitators in each school was intended to jumpstart the change process by fostering professional sharing.
Results from standardized testing, which have been analyzed yearly by our academic partner, Concordia University, provide reason for optimism. The rate of students reading at grade level in our original cohort increased from 67 percent to 88 percent over the five-year period. However, even with this notable investment in human resources, changing practice proved challenging. In some schools, traditions of autonomy were stronger; in other schools, local priorities received more attention. Buy-in among teachers – and even among administrators – was dependent on many factors that either impeded or promoted the change process.
The implementation of the partnership agreements shifted literacy instruction to the forefront, even at some schools where it had not previously received much attention. With heightened levels of accountability, schools were obligated to set measurable objectives along with specific strategies to achieve them, and they had to report back to their stakeholders on their progress. Vital to our success, we believe, is that the process of using data and producing these reports was not a punitive model. Schools were free to choose their targets and their strategies, and encouraged to reflect on their successes and challenges. What was required, though, was that school teams examine their data together in order to prioritize student needs. They were required to evaluate the success of their efforts with a view to considering how to continually improve.
Alternative schools
Another initiative at the EMSB that pre-dated the partnership agreements, but that took on a new focus within the results-based framework, was the system of alternative learning schools at the high school level. This network of alternative schools caters to high school students who are struggling to achieve in the more traditional learning environments found in mainstream high schools. These schools offer a range of flexible learning environments according to the particular needs of each school’s at-risk student population. Students in the alternative system are those who may have otherwise dropped out of school because they felt like they were not able to work within the confines of their time schedule, learn at the set pace and/or find their place and purpose in the mainstream school setting.
Prior to the results-based management framework, teachers in our alternative schools sometimes struggled in isolation to deal with a wide range of student learning needs. Within the structure of the partnership agreements, these schools came together to set goals and objectives specific to their student population. This network allowed teachers to share their challenges and their collective expertise and knowledge of how to best serve their student population.
Changing practice in schools is never easy; it comes with its own set of challenges. The tradition of working independently is something that many teachers hold dear and continues, at some schools, to be an obstacle to collaborative networks of learning. This challenge is exacerbated by school structures that often impede teacher collaboration: timetables, physical layout, and a range of extra duties leave teachers with little time to work together. Moreover, staff and administrator turnover is a constant destabilizing factor that affects the building of trusting relationships. Yet change is occurring at the EMSB.
Many schools have found creative ways to build in common meeting times for teachers to collaborate during the workday. Teacher teams are beginning to use data as a catalyst for discussions focused on pedagogy and student learning. School teams regularly visit colleagues’ classrooms in other schools to learn and share ideas and practices, and teachers from the alternative schools are meeting to find solutions to the unique challenges their students face. While we are only midway through this process, we are optimistic that we are on the right path: The data we are collecting show that student learning and graduation rates continue to improve.
En Bref – Une commission scolaire dont le taux de diplomation est élevé peut-elle relever la barre et améliorer ses résultats en cette ère de reddition de comptes? Cet article indique comment la Commission scolaire English-Montréal, dont plus de 50 pour cent des écoles sont désignées comme étant en milieux urbains défavorisés, a accru son taux de diplomation de 83 à 88 pour cent en sept ans, soit cinq ans avant la date cible du gouvernement. À mi-parcours d’un plan d’action décennal provincial, la commission scolaire continue de miser sur l’instauration de pratiques fondées sur des preuves, le développement de réseaux d’apprentissage pour les enseignants, la priorité accordée à l’alphabétisation précoce et le soutien d’écoles secondaires alternatives. D’après les données recueillies, l’apprentissage des élèves et le taux de diplomation continuent de s’améliorer.
Photo: Marie-Claude Bergeron, English Montreal School Board
First published in Education Canada, May 2015
[1] In the Quebec context, student retention refers to student perseverance in school, not to holding students back a grade level as a result of failing.
[2] The five Ministry goals included: increased graduation rates of students under the age of 20; reducing the number of dropouts; improvement to the mastery of the French and English languages; greater success for students with handicaps, social maladjustments or learning difficulties; promotion of a healthy and safe environment through the adoption of violence prevention measures; and, lastly, increasing the number of students under the age of 20 registered in vocational training programs.
[3] P. B. Gough and C. Juel, “The First Stages of Word Recognition,” in Learning to Read: Basic research and its implications, eds. L. Rieben and C. A. Perfetti (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1991).
I’ve always understood that kids leave high school before graduating for all kinds of reasons, often affected by multiple converging factors. But the chance to speak with three young adults generous enough to share their school stories with me (and with our readers) really brought home just how varied and complex the road to dropping out can be.
I worried at first that my “sample” was not broad enough: after all, all three interviewees were now back in school. But as Christine Pinsent-Johnson points out (p. 9), the majority of early school leavers in Canada do go on to earn their secondary school equivalency. And even though I was missing the voice of a student who dropped out and stayed out, I was amazed at how many threads were present in just these three stories. I heard about the sense of unwelcome, the experience of racism and the systemic “push out” experienced by many students from non-dominant cultures that George S. Dei writes about (and challenges us to address) in his article, “Reflections on Dropping Out of School” (p. 12). I heard about personal crises, such as depression and addiction, that stood in the way of school success. I heard about unsuitable – or nonexistent – support for learning challenges. And I heard, loud and clear, that the standard school approach is just not a good fit for some students, and that alternative, mature student and transitional programs play a critical role in enabling students to succeed academically and personally.
I found it interesting, then, to read that as part of a province-wide push to increase graduation rates, the English Montreal School Board (p. 26) found it important to strengthen their early literacy and alternative school programs. The early literacy intervention will ensure that more children are equipped to succeed at school, while the alternative high school program acknowledges that for some students, a different approach is needed.
Just as there is no one path to dropping out, there is no one strategy that will help all kids graduate. I hope you will find much to think about – and renewed resolve – in this issue. And don’t forget to look up our web exclusive articles, which profile some inspiring programs that support at-risk students.
Write to us!
We want to know what you think. Send your letters or article proposals to editor@cea-ace.ca, or post your comments about individual articles on the online version of Education Canada at: www.cea-ace.ca/educationcanada
There is a controlled chaos in the cafeteria. It is 3:30, classes are over and most kids have already left for the day. Yet groups of five to ten still remain seated or mill around the picnic-style cafeteria tables. There is a buzz about the room. Some students are reading, some are completing math assignments, others are making collages, but most everyone is deeply engaged in one or many conversations, all at once. This is Homework Zone (HZ).
Homework Zone connects McGill students with an after-school tutoring program for inner-city children between the ages of six and twelve. The goal of HZ is to help elementary students form an emotional connection to school through positive educational experiences. The rationale behind the project is an aspirational one: that the forging of strong links can impact the young in positive ways; that tutoring can give them the tools to be successful learners; that mentorship can provide a model of educational attainment that young learners can identify with.
Mentors volunteer for many reasons, but they all agree that it is as much a growth experience for them as it for their mentees. Friendships blossom over weeks and months, and what is learned goes well beyond the textbook. The older students mentor about hard work and perseverance, while learning about active listening and relational being.
One volunteer recounts helping his student persevere: “I was trying to teach him Mathematics and he was just giving up too fast. I was like, ‘Come on. We’ll do it together.’ And I was really trying to show him my support and not be hard, like, ‘I’m with you.’” Working through hard problems together, mentors provide an affective anchor, giving the students the support they need to find their own solutions. The mentors create a safe place for the mentees where they can learn to do things with the help of a more knowledgeable other – what Vygotsky termed the zone of proximal development, where students can try things they might not yet be ready to do on their own.
Now in its third year, Homework Zone is a partnership between McGill’s Social Equity and Diversity Education (SEDE) office and Montreal’s Lester B. Pearson School Board (LBPSB). Matthew Albert, project leader and consultant with LBPSB, builds links with local Montreal organizations to improve student retention and success rates as part of the Hooked on Schools initiative. SEDE is one such partnership. Anurag Dhir, community engagement coordinator for SEDE, has helped build up a network of local partners that enables McGill to connect and share resources with the Montreal community at large. Together they coordinate HZ activities along with a cadre of undergraduate volunteers. Gabrielle Jacobs, a full-time political science major at McGill, has been the HZ Program Coordinator for the last two years. Hired by SEDE, she’s responsible for the day-to-day operations of HZ including recruitment, training, and providing year-long support for the mentors at the schools and through mentor reflection events. Gabrielle believes strongly in the transformative power of HZ. She says, “It’s really amazing to witness how volunteers grow out of their shell. A really shy volunteer in the fall semester will have turned into a leader by the winter.”
SEDE organizes two training events for the HZ volunteers, an orientation at the beginning of the semester, and a reflection event, near the end. These events are meant to equip students with tools and strategies but also to have them reflect on their role with the program by asking, “What does it mean to be a mentor?” and “What is community engagement?” During one such reflection event, Anurag leads a dialogue about establishing and maintaining a positive mentoring relationship, dealing with conflicting agendas, and fixing a mentoring identity between being a friend and a figure of authority. Once these practical concerns have been addressed, there follows a deeper reflection of the goals and ends of mentoring and community engagement. The hope is that students will pursue their mentoring relationship beyond their initial commitment. Many students do choose to continue over more than one term; unfortunately, many others find it hard to negotiate the demands of a full-time university course load and their volunteering work. As an added incentive, SEDE provides their volunteers with a certificate attesting to their experience, which they can add to their resumé.
So what is being a mentor? It’s about empathy – about transcending horizons of difference. In the words of one volunteer, “It’s a lot about sharing your experience and about hearing theirs and trying to teach them something at the same time. You have to be open-minded. You have to realize that this person might be very different from you, in terms of background, or opinions or values.”
Homework Zone may ostensibly be a tutoring program but the structure of the day belies a more complex reality. In addition to providing help with homework, mentors and invited guests lead workshops throughout the year. But most tellingly, HZ just feels different; it’s less study hall, more drop-in centre. In fact, witnessing HZ, one is struck with the impression that it is more about human connection than homework. Sure, the original impetus lies with tutoring in numeracy and literacy, but as is so often the case when we talk about education, discussions of academic achievement conceal the multifaceted character of the educational project. Defining school solely by its activities “misses the forest for the trees.” In the end, school is fundamentally a relational enterprise, connecting people and places and ideas. Many students struggle with feeling disconnected; Homework Zone gives them a place and a community to connect with.
In September, when Matthew greets the newest cohort of undergraduate student mentors, he repeats what’s become the mantra of Homework Zone: “Just the fact of your being here, makes you successful,” he tells these university students. “Just you being here, in this role, makes you a hero in these kids’ eyes.”
More info
For more information, visit Homework Zone’s website:
Photo: courtesy David Lemay
First published in Education Canada, May 2015
“What links all learning moments is there is a change in understanding, a shift in awareness, a movement of the soul.” – Coral Mitchell and Larry Sackney1
There was a time not that long ago, before downloadable books and online libraries, before email and Google hangouts, before Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn, before PLN’s and PLC’s, when the most familiar face of professional learning was the large convention centre, hotel ballroom or high school auditorium. It was a time when big-event professional development was the norm, when large groups of teachers would be gathered together to hear the latest wisdom from the latest experts on a topic usually chosen by someone not directly connected with their classroom context. There would likely be a keynote speaker, breakout sessions led by more outside experts, an opportunity to purchase resources from the large publishers’ display, and coffee – plenty of coffee.
At the end of the day, evaluation usually took the form of a brief survey requesting feedback on the sessions, the facility and the food. And then people headed back to their schools, their classrooms and their teaching lives.
It was a time before we spoke about professional learning, per se. Instead, the emphasis was on development, on training or simply on professional activity. Usually, the focus was on the delivery of information – a chance to add to what teachers already knew about their work or announce new policy directions – with little emphasis on how the message might be received, implemented or developed back in the classroom.
While there was talk of new approaches to classroom practice, there was not a great deal of emphasis on large-scale change, school improvement or even student achievement.
From the perspective of those in attendance, professional development days were “sit and git” experiences. From the perspective of those presenting and leading the events it was, to a large degree, “spray and pray,” the hope being that some of the seeds planted would fall on good soil and take root.
While you’ll still find evidence of this traditional approach in many school districts, the past decade has witnessed substantial changes in the learning dynamic experienced by educators. Large-scale events like the ones described here have become much less frequent, as “professional development,” or “PD,” has given way to a more intentional focus on “professional learning.”
Today, the primary site for most professional learning experiences is not the ballroom, but the classroom. Today, the implementation is less future-oriented (what I might try someday) and more focused on the “here and now” of our local contexts (what I need to try today). And most important, today a very direct line has been drawn between the learning of educators and the learning of their students.
This shift has opened up the professional learning landscape in interesting and exciting ways. The single-source PD experience has given way to formal professional learning communities and networks, regularly scheduled Twitter chats, personal blogging and podcasting projects, grassroots gatherings like EdCamps and Ignite events, as well as LinkedIn and Facebook discussion groups. Some of these approaches and initiatives have been given the stamp of approval by school districts, ministries of education and the research community. Others, while still operating under the radar of what is considered official practice, are beginning to gain momentum and are affecting the way that many educators around the world are thinking and talking about their professional learning lives.
Yet this important opportunity comes wrapped in a challenge. In our efforts to ensure that our vision for professional learning is more finely tuned to the learning needs of our students, how might we avoid replacing the traditional one-size-fits-all form of PD with a one-size-fits-all approach to professional learning? Stated differently, how might we begin to see and create connections between the growing number of ways in which education professionals are able to engage in experiences that result in powerful learning for themselves, for their colleagues and for their students?
Just as the early astronomers mapped the night sky by observing patterns, is it possible for us to map out constellations that will guide and enrich our professional learning, allowing us to critically reflect on the value of the many burgeoning stars in this expanding system?
While many of the existing criteria for effective professional learning are helpful in assessing the value of individual experiences, they may be less useful in helping us to draw the important connections between our traditional approaches and some of the powerful models that are on the rise. Yet three strong themes emerging from the research base on professional learning hold particular promise in this quest for greater connectivity:
An important factor in ensuring that learning events and experiences don’t simply allow us to reinforce common, yet quite possibly ineffective, practice is the introduction of provocations, information or input that forces us to challenge our assumptions.2 By actively recruiting evidence that counters our perspectives or the prevailing status quo,3 we come face to face with our values, beliefs, biases and dispositions. Welcoming this diversity of opinion is an essential part of the type of learning needed to substantially shift traditional practices; it is an important element in our professional learning.4
Many researchers and authors also point out the fact that we are not naturally predisposed to having our perspectives challenged. In fact, as Katz and Dack suggest, quite the opposite is true. We are wired to prefer that our view of the world remain largely undisturbed and unchallenged. For this reason, real, transformative learning is difficult and somewhat contentious.
Traditional PD events have been rather poor at providing this type of challenge. By contrast, collaborative, school-based Inquiry Teams, in theory, seem an ideal context for these challenging conversations. But depending on the size of a school team, the degree of trust and the presence of strong and courageous leadership, attempts to disturb thinking meet with varying levels of success.
The good news is that educators are actively and independently reaching out and engaging in this type of provocative behaviour in several contexts beyond the walls of the schoolhouse. Twitter conversations, particularly those that are organized around questions of practice, can often put participants in touch with alternative perspectives, research links that supply a selection of contradictory evidence and the space to enter into lively discussions.
The expanding blogosphere has become a place where the daily practice of educators – both the challenges and the successes – is often discussed rather explicitly, allowing for a unique type of normalization of learning struggles and opportunities that might otherwise remain hidden or secret in one’s own school. While comments are generally supportive, a growing trust and respect among participants is allowing for the type of diversity of perspective and challenge that can make learning come alive in a virtual setting.
This is a rich opportunity for provocative thinking, making contradictory evidence and ideas more accessible – an opportunity that can, at the very least, support and enhance conversations already taking place in the school setting. At its best, the conversations taking place outside of the local context have the potential to raise the bar on those that are happening at the school level.
One of the hallmarks of the school-based learning team is the ability to gather thinking and resources around a particular set of students and a particular set of challenges. In her work on professional learning, Helen Timperley presents a context for learning that conjures up the image of a set of Russian nesting dolls. Teachers are asked to consider what specific things these students need to learn to achieve greater success. Principals and school leaders are asked to consider what specific things these teachers need to learn in order to meet their student’s needs. In the same way, district leaders are asked to consider what specific things these school leaders need to learn in order to meet the needs of their teachers. Everyone has a class of learners to consider and the ability to hold these considerations in a local context is vital to being able to respond effectively.5
We are wired to prefer that our view of the world remain undisturbed and unchallenged. For this reason, real, transformative learning is difficult and somewhat contentious.
Gary Hoban offers a slightly different perspective by encouraging us to look at schools as a complex fabric, with many interrelated threads woven in and out, back and forth to create a rich context. Hoban warns us that in trying to affect just one thread in the fabric, other parts of the context also become involved.6 An important point to be made here is that our professional learning needs to be grounded in the unique setting in which the problem of practice occurs. Actions must be imagined, developed and tested in that same context. Teaching practice is not something to be mastered, but something to be continually examined in light of this environment at this time.
To be sure, initiatives that establish and nurture reflective school-based conversations and inquiry teams represent an important development but, again, other modes of interaction are presenting themselves as promising models for how professional learning conversations might be deepened and enlivened in school contexts.
One of the bright stars making its way above the horizon is the EdCamp model. Often referred to as an unconference, EdCamps are participant-driven events that recognize and leverage the fact that some of the best learning conversations at traditional PD events occur in between formal sessions, over coffee and on the way to the parking lot at the end of the day. By enabling participants to bring their own questions for conversation and by acknowledging the expertise of those gathered, the EdCamp model places the learning experience in the hands of the participants. EdCamp participants come to learn; they also come to share their knowledge and experience.
“Anyone who has taken part in an EdCamp or any other type of education-related unconference format will attest to the fact that the conversations almost always circle back to students: their learning, their well-being and their engagement.”7
There are at least two promising results of the proliferation of EdCamps across the country. First, participants new to the process are seeing value in using the model in their own districts and in their own schools. Voices are being gathered in promising ways to engage in learning conversations that matter to them and to their communities. Second, in the desire to keep conversations alive after the events, new professional relationships and networks are being forged, strengthened and expanded.
A final theme that holds some connective power has to do with accessing outside expertise to inform our conversations, our perspectives and our professional learning. Without attention to the inclusion of informed experts, our most valiant attempts to centre learning initiatives in our local contexts will likely suffer from a lack of fresh insights or knowledge. Expertise is one of the ways that we can seek that contradictory evidence that will help us to challenge our assumptions. This is not to diminish the knowledge and skills already available in our own learning communities. Instead, it recognizes the fact that learning often requires external input to help us approach challenges from new perspectives.
Earlier models of PD were very good at presenting important expert knowledge but, quite often, it has been both delivered and received out of context, leaving participants with the challenging task of bringing it to life in their own schools and classrooms. With new models of site-based professional learning, the challenge is flipped, with a need for ready access to relevant expertise that addresses learning needs in situ.
Fortunately, there are several very powerful ways to bridge the expertise gap in a way that is both cost effective and sustainable. Beyond the increased availability of online research libraries and databases, more and more traditional “keynote” addresses are available through services like YouTube and Vimeo. In addition, some of the most sought-after experts have already had important ideas published as TED Talks. Some school districts are investing in simple video conferencing software that allows for virtual interaction with researchers, university professors and authors. Closer to home, and perhaps one of the most under-utilized sources of expertise, are the educators among us who are enrolled in advanced qualifications courses and graduate studies programs. They represent an exciting link between current research and school-based practice.
Never before has expertise been more readily available and easily accessible!
The transition from large-scale PD to more responsive, site-based systems of professional learning will, no doubt, continue. While it might be tempting to raise up one or two single models as best practice, a mindset that encourages us to intentionally look for ways to connect the rich and diverse ways in which modern educators are approaching their learning will likely serve us better.
We know that learning teams rooted in local contexts are essential to meeting the needs of specific groups of students. Yet, we also know that it is often challenging for local school teams to engage in the provocative conversations and access the outside expertise that will effectively disrupt their own assumptions and ways of thinking.
By remaining attentive and open to the many ways that educators are embracing their learning, drawing in a world of expertise and feedback and eagerly engaging in new ways of thinking about their practice, the professional learning happening in more local contexts stands to become more enriched and enlivened.
Developing a type of astronomical mindset could very well help us to make the important connections, highlight the effective patterns and open up powerful possibilities for both professional and student learning.
In their book, Intentional Interruptions: Breaking down barriers to transform professional practice, Stephen Katz and Lisa Dack8 insist that not all of what’s being done in the name of professional learning holds value in our mandate to focus on student learning. In fact, much of it may not count as learning at all.
Their definition may seem rather stark: Real learning always results in a permanent change in thinking or behaviour. It is not something that sees us trying something for a short time, only to fall back into our old ways of doing things. Instead, it truly changes the way we think about the work we do, or the way that work is conducted.
Somewhat more poetically, Coral Mitchell and Larry Sackney make a similar point about the results of learning: “What links all learning moments is there is a change in understanding, a shift in awareness, a movement of the soul.”
En Bref – De plus en plus d’attention est accordée au lien étroit existant entre la réussite des élèves et la qualité des pratiques du personnel enseignant, amenant un passage marqué de la formation et du perfectionnement professionnels à l’apprentissage professionnel. Dans cet article, l’auteur prévient qu’il faut éviter de remplacer le perfectionnement professionnel uniformisé par un seul modèle d’apprentissage professionnel. Il soutient plutôt que la métaphore d’une constellation peut nous aider à reconnaître la valeur intrinsèque du vaste éventail d’approches dont disposent maintenant les éducateurs. En constatant les types de liens entre les équipes d’apprentissage d’école, les activités émanant des conseils et commissions scolaires, les événements locaux et les réseaux de médias sociaux, nous pouvons engendrer des possibilités diversifiées et riches d’apprentissage professionnel approfondi.
Photo: iStock
First published in Education Canada, March 2015
1 Coral Mitchell and Larry Sackney, “Extending the Learning Community: A broader perspective embedded in policy,” in Professional Learning Communities: Divergence, depth and dilemmas, eds. Louise Stoll and Karen Seashore Louis (Maidenhead, UK: McGraw-Hill/Open UP, 2007), p. 31.
2 Helen Timperley, Realizing the Power of Professional Learning (Maidenhead, UK: Open UP, 2011).
3 Steven Katz and Lisa A. Dack, Intentional Interruption: Breaking down learning barriers to transform professional practice (Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin, 2013).
4 Mitchell and Sackney, “Extending the Learning Community.”
5 Timperley, Realizing the Power of Professional Learning.
6 Garry F. Hoban, Learning for Educational Change: A systems thinking approach (Buckingham, UK: Open UP, 2002).
7 Timperley, Realizing the Power of Professional Learning.
8 Katz and Dack, Intentional Interruption.
When obtaining a first principal position, two phrases that may be heard are: “Good luck,” and “Embedded culture.” That can entice you even more, without thinking of the courage that is required. But very quickly that excitement can turn to fear. Scared or not, the excitement of wanting to make a difference means taking the plunge. With that plunge, you soon realize the importance of being knowledgeable. Michael Fullan writes:
I AM AN ACCOUNTANT by trade – a consultant who specializes in strategic transformation, guiding organizations through post-merger integrations and other major projects. I truly love my work. During my career I’ve also taught and mentored in corporate settings. I have always enjoyed teaching and sharing my knowledge. I wanted to give back on a larger scale, so last year I decided to dedicate myself to teaching part-time at the college level for the Winter 2013 semester. I thought that with my work and corporate teaching experience, it would be easy to transition into the college environment. I was somewhat naïve about that…
In December 2012 I applied to two Ontario colleges that had job postings for part-time accounting faculty in their full-time business programs. I was hired by both colleges – let’s call them Cumbrae and Halston.[i]
It was only after I began teaching that I understood the impact of teaching hours on union and benefit eligibility. Cumbrae hired me to teach one section of an advanced cost accounting course. I was paid $3,000 to teach the course and I was classified as a part-time teacher with insufficient hours to qualify for temporary union membership or benefits. At Halston, I was hired to teach two sections of introductory accounting. Having two classes gave me sufficient hours to qualify for the union and benefits.
In the final days of December, I was offered two additional courses at Halston. Instinct told me this full course load might be too much to handle in my first semester of teaching, so I declined these courses. Later I learned that accepting the other two courses at Halston would have made me a sessional appointment, which would have impacted my eligibility to teach in upcoming semesters per school policy. I admit that this was my first employment experience where I only really began to understand contract terms and rights after being hired as an employee.
Adapting to college life
For my first semester teaching college, I was confident about my subject material and clueless about college norms. I had never completed a teacher training program, so I had no idea how to use the Scantron machine or what the term “accommodation” meant. I, like the other “new to college” part-time teachers, had entered a foreign environment. I was fortunate that I on-boarded at two colleges simultaneously because I could contrast the experiences.
At Halston, there was formal training in December that I missed because I was hired too late. That being said, I had a fantastic course leader who spent many, many hours with me discussing course structure and approach, and sharing past years’ tests for me to use as framework guidelines when building my own tests.
I know I was blessed to have this course leader at Halston, because at Cumbrae I had the total opposite. He practically rolled his eyes when I came by and made it clear that he was too busy to “hand hold” a new teacher. I relied on the goodwill of my office mates to help me fill in the blanks on Cumbrae norms. What Cumbrae did have was a very robust teacher training program that I completed during the semester. It was a struggle to keep up with the homework at times, but it did educate me on teaching theories in a formal classroom setting.
The economic realities of contract teaching
My intention going into the semester was to teach part-time and consult part-time. The teaching paid a lot less than the consulting did, but this was a sacrifice I was willing to make. The challenge was that the class preparation and marking took a lot longer than I had ever estimated. Within the first month, I transferred my client to another consultant because I couldn’t give proper attention to both client and students. With the absence of consulting work, the semester became very punitive financially. I contemplated teaching another semester but in the end I realized I couldn’t afford to teach part-time during the day at the college level.
Most of the other contract teachers in the full-time programs were primarily or solely dedicated to teaching. Many showed concern about contract renewal as we neared the semester’s end. During my semester, I caught a student cheating during a test. When I asked the six other contract teachers who shared my office what to do procedurally – meaning, what form to fill out and who to inform – every single one of them told me to forget the incident. I was shocked by this. To me it seemed crystal clear that I should report an incident of cheating to school administration. My more experienced contract peers advised against this because I would then carry the administrative burden of completing the necessary paperwork and meetings on the matter. I also risked my contract renewal through association with the incident, gaining unfavourable attention from my Faculty Chair. I reported the cheating because I felt that it was the correct thing to do, but it surprised me that many of my peers were unwilling to do the same.
Improving the effectiveness and retention of contract teachers
Given how heavily the college system relies on contract instructors, it seems obvious that better support is required, to ensure stronger out-of-the gate teaching performance and encourage retention of good staff. I suggest the following steps:
1. Provide practical online training resources
I can remember running around one day trying to find someone, anyone, to show me how to use the Scantron machine to mark a test. These skills are taken for granted by those who are familiar with college life. While the teacher training program was great for sharing modern classroom management concepts, new teachers who have never worked in an institutional setting need help with the basics. I suggest offering expanded online resources (e.g. webinars) that we can use to gain necessary knowledge. Many of the stressors for the new teacher can be avoided by providing training on these practical topics.
2. Share class materials
I learned that lesson plans and lecture notes are often considered proprietary by the teacher who creates them. One of my classes was a foundational course offered in 15 sections each and every semester, and I had to build my own lesson plan and notes. I question the purpose of asking each teacher to build their own set of materials for a course that is extensively deployed. At the end of the semester, I gave all of my materials (lesson plans, notes and exercises) to my school for sharing with all teachers. It took a lot of time and effort to build the materials, so why not share them? If the colleges fostered a culture of sharing, all teachers would benefit.
3. Offer longer teaching contracts
Teaching contracts enable the colleges to adjust resourcing to enrolment levels, but I believe short-duration contracts result in unintended behaviours and drive away the very teachers who should be retained by the colleges. The preoccupation on renewal leads many contract teachers to suppress reporting classroom issues for fear of becoming adversely recognized. Offering longer contract terms (e.g. 12 months) would give workplace security to teachers and enable them to focus upon effective participation in the college.
4. Reward teachers for administrative compliance
During my college semester, I reported classroom incidents and provided sessions for my students with accommodation. I did everything I was supposed to do. Some of my peers did not. We were both paid the same rate and both given the same renewal opportunities. I argue that if the colleges want to see appropriate behaviours in teachers, there should be recognition for performance. This is how it works in business, and the educational system would benefit from the same approach.
I CONTINUE TO TEACH through my professional organization. My workplace is a recognized training office and I am mentoring two students through their work experience and exams. But I am not inclined to repeat my college teaching experience. It’s a shame, because I believe that career professionals offer a lot to today’s students. I hope that one day the colleges will see the need to better integrate these individuals into their delivery models.
Photo: iStock
First published in Education Canada, November 2014
[i] I have not used the real names of the colleges to protect the identities of the individuals reflected in the article, some of whom expressed concern about repercussions to their employment status, should their identity be revealed.
Teachers, students, administrators and other stakeholders share what they think is standing in the way of change.
A little over two years ago I was asked to become the Director of Partner Research Schools, a new initiative in our Werklund School of Education. Delighted at the challenge, I immediately said yes and then wondered, what exactly does this mean? As time passed and people asked me what my role was and what were Partner Research Schools, I found myself stumbling for a response.
A CEA Symposium that gets to “the how” of education systems change
Last year, I wrote a series of posts in response to Ontario’s plans to expand its teacher education program.
This content has been re-posted from https://storify.com/
For more information and to get involved in CEA’s ongoing What’s standing in the way of change in education? national conversation, please visit http://standingintheway.ca and follow @cea_ace and #CanEdChange on Twitter.
I’m not a student but I would like to be one.
A few weeks ago I asked my friend Christine if she would show me one of the libraries on the University of Western Ontario’s campus. Christine has a busy work schedule on top of her duties as a student; taking a trip with her to campus was a rare privilege.
I can only describe stepping into the Waldon Library as heaven. A well-lit building full of art, thousands of books, seats and desks everywhere felt too good to be true but I knew it was real. As I stood in wonder at the potential around me I felt completely at home.
Yet I haven’t returned to the Waldon Library because the city bus to campus is too crowded for me to handle. I get so anxious when people stand close to me that I feel like I’m going to die. I have social anxiety, major depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder. I live off of the Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) and so I can’t afford a taxi, let alone a car. And if I could afford to take a taxi, I wouldn’t, because that too requires me to be in close proximity to a stranger.
If I could share my experience with educators to teach them about how to support youth with mental illness, I’d like to say that mental illness interferes with everything. It doesn’t matter if you know you need to get out of bed, if you have to go to class, if you need a degree for a stable job in the future; if your illness is interfering with your performance, you can’t reason your way out of it.
And so, instead of returning to the UWO Weldon Library daily, I’m literally counting the days until exam season is over so that the busses are less crowded and I can return to the place that feels like home.
I’m twenty-nine years old. I completed high school at the top of the honour roll but never went to university because of my anxiety. I barely made it out of high school alive.
I love to learn more than anything on the planet. I try to be content with teaching myself all that I want to know, but the older I get the more I realize what a handicap it is not being able to go to university.
If I could share my experience with educators to teach them about how to support youth with mental illness, I’d like to say that mental illness interferes with everything. It doesn’t matter if you know you need to get out of bed, if you have to go to class, if you need a degree for a stable job in the future; if your illness is interfering with your performance, you can’t reason your way out of it.
I spent the first half of my twenties hating myself for having mental illnesses. I told myself that I had no reason to be unhappy, that I should be performing better, that I should be working or in school, but none of that helped. Only facing the reality of my illnesses and treating myself with respect got me to a place where I could function better.
Sometimes it’s the best students who are having difficulties. Perfectionism is one way of coping with the stresses of life.
If a student is missing class, is late on assignments, or has a mental illness interfering with other aspects of school, being hard on them about it is just going to make the problem worse. Also, poor performance at school isn’t the only indicator of problems. Sometimes it’s the best students who are having difficulties. Perfectionism is one way of coping with the stresses of life.
Mental illnesses affect everyone differently. If you know of a student with a mental health issue, ask them what they need. Keep communication open.
Keep educating yourself on mental illnesses, reading a wide range of material. Open your mind and your heart.
Not all of us learn in the same way, but we can all learn and better ourselves no matter the difficulty.
This blog post is part of CEA’s focus on student mental health, which is also connected to Education Canada Magazine’s student mental health theme issue and a Facts on Education fact sheet on what the research says about effective approaches to improving students’ mental well-being. Please contact info@cea-ace.ca if you would like to contribute a blog post to this series.
Relationships, relationships, relationships! It sounds cliché but in fact this is the heart of the matter. Every student has a story and the story is crucial to his or her sense of well-being. It seems easier, more manageable to know the “stories” of our students in the earlier grades. One teacher and one group of classmates equal a family. Where we seem to have more difficulty navigating the storyline is in our secondary schools. Students have many teachers, many sets of classmates, changes throughout the year and from year to year.
Our school is the hub of the community. It is a safe place for students to reveal their story. There are professionals who care. Our teachers want to make a positive difference in the lives of students. However, teachers cannot do this work in isolation. It is crucial to develop practical systems that support their work. They want to impact society and prepare the minds of the future. Where the tension exists is when dealing with matters of the heart, the emotions? This was previously the responsibility of the parents. These were discussions that lived privately within the confines of the family. This has evolved and these conversations are presenting in our schools.
How do we foster an ethos of care in our school that extends beyond the confines of academics? As a school community we have been compelled to answer some hard and challenging questions. How we effectively equip our teachers to deal with students who are struggling? Do we know the true reasons why students are not succeeding? Is it intellect, effort, a lack of support or is it our systems and school culture that need transforming? Do we believe that all students deserve to experience success? How do we define success for our students? Are we just committed to preparing students for the future, for their “real life”? Can we agree that their real life is right now and are we able to assist our students in building their own positive futures? Are we willing to listen to the “stories” of our students and respond appropriately?
Where the tension exists is when dealing with matters of the heart, the emotions? This was previously the responsibility of the parents. These were discussions that lived privately within the confines of the family. This has evolved and these conversations are presenting in our schools.
These challenging questions are at the heart of many robust conversations amongst our staff. The discussions take time and do not happen overnight. There are implications for scheduling, teacher assignments, and the allocation of resources. Most importantly, what success indicators we will accept that we are moving in the right direction as a school and how we will celebrate the successes.
We agree that the most vulnerable times for students are when they experience transition. We have decided to get to know our students prior to them arriving at our door. We begin to work with our feeder schools as early as possible. We identify students who might be experiencing difficulties in their school and family lives. We put our energy into transitioning all students and do not just make room for the “good” ones.
We endeavor to ensure that there is one adult who knows the story of every child in our school community. Each teacher chooses a student to put some extra energy into, to find out his or her story. Teachers agree to document what works and even more importantly what fails. They agree to share this information with their colleagues on a consistent basis.
We have established a Mental Health program in our school. We have 4 youth support workers who act as mentors to students with mental health challenges. We discovered we were losing Grade 10s in their first semester of high school. We have our youth workers spend time in our feeder schools getting to know the Grade 9s. Their purpose is to build relationships and begin the conversations about successfully transitioning to high school.
We invite all of our Grade 9 students who present as having challenges to join us in summer programming prior to their Grade 10 year. We offer two courses that are required for a high school diploma. We staff these courses with “rock star” teachers. These students earn credits for two courses, they get to know us with a smaller student body, they become familiar with the school and our culture of high expectations and they don’t spend the summer worrying about the transition.
We want to debunk the myth that students will be “on their own” once they get to high school. We have built support systems for our teachers and their charges. Getting to know the stories of our students is the only way to begin to deal with the “health” of our school!
This blog post is part of CEA’s focus on student mental health, which is also connected to Education Canada Magazine’s student mental health theme issue and a Facts on Education fact sheet on what the research says about effective approaches to improving students’ mental well-being. Please contact info@cea-ace.ca if you would like to contribute a blog post to this series.
For the average high school student, life is full of potential stressors. In a recent survey, our research team asked over 900 Grade 7 students what they identified as the biggest stressors in their lives. “Academic difficulties” was reported as the greatest stressor by 33.2 percent of students, followed by “conflict with parents/family” (31.4 percent), “conflict with peers” (20.7 percent), and “conflict between parents” (13.9 percent). Of particular concern is how these students are coping with their stress.[1]