66 Minutes

If you were to look at all the categories assigned to this post, you’d see it covers everything from grade abatement to feedback to triage. Looking through those categories isn’t the point today, though; the links are there to emphasize that the post you are reading is important. Very, very important. Use-an-empty-adverb-and-italicize-it important.

The central concept here is that you must maximize your work for the 66 minutes of class time allotted this year. You’ll have breaks built in, including breaks you can schedule yourself; the rest of the time must be fully focused on our work.

You’ll have a flexible set of guidelines for this, which you can load below:

That schedule is printed and posted in the classroom, too. This post provides context. You will start with a list of instructional posts that have something in common.

You do not need to read these, because they are assigned when needed; several of them, in fact, have been sent in concert with the post you are reading now.

Again and again, these posts circle back, like so many falcons in the widening gyre, to in-class focus and feedback. Those are the keys.

The feedback in question is more than the feedback you receive on work. It’s the instructional feedback chain that you need to learn and to grow. You cannot be successful without sustained in-class focus and a habit of reading — closely reading — every instructional post, guide, letter, and comment.

This year, 2020-2021, you are physically present for our course only once a week. The odd Wednesday you attend will be dedicated to the Pareto Project. This is a strange schedule for a strange year.

Here are multiple versions of the full scope and sequence of the year:

What this exhaustive planning drives home for me is also what it should drive home for you:

  1. We spend the first four months of the year practicing and hopefully mastering the skills, traits, and processes of authentic learning.
  2. Only if you have built those foundations can you use the final five months to create extraordinary work.
  3. You cannot build anything in this space without serious in-class focus, especially on interstitial feedback and instruction.

In other words, if you do not make the most of your in-class focus, and if you do not invest fully in the instructional framework of this course, you cannot be successful.

Each week, you meet for just 66 minutes in person for a period of intense focus. This will include conferences, in-person workshops, presentations, lectures, and class discussions. You must make active, thoughtful choices.

There will be just 33 minutes additionally of at-home focus. This will include synchronous activities like discussions, lectures, and peer presentations. Distance learners can extend this beyond the required 33 minutes. You must make the best of the situation.

Again, you have access to a schedule for this:

Wednesdays will always be set aside for “genius hour” passion projects. Students who are on the schedule will workshop their projects, in person or remotely; the other students have the option of asynchronous feedback through Drive, Docs, or a meeting during office hours.

Overall, there is a limited amount of time for the critical in-person work on writing, reading, and the other Humanities skills and traits. You must, therefore, direct yourself outside of class time to prepare for in-person feedback and workshops.

If you do nothing else, you must treat the 66 minutes of in-person time as sacrosanct: You must do good, authentic Humanities work while you are in the classroom.

This is possible. 66 minutes is just 0.65% of your entire week. If you happen to be in person on Wednesday, too, that percentage doubles to just 1.3% of your life over seven days.

You can dedicate a single percentage of your time each week to this space. And a strange thing will happen, when you do: You will find it easier to dedicate more time outside of this space to this work. You will find the work more meaningful. It will be easier.

This is the trick of it: The more you invest in the class, the more you benefit; the more you benefit, the more you will want to invest in the class, and the easier it will be to do so. Authenticity and understanding stack.

Once more, here is the post that breaks down your 66-minute periods for 2020-2021:


  1. This is the text that you’ll find reprinted below, almost verbatim. 

Jettison Post Hoc

Students: If you’re reading this, it’s time to jettison some of the overdue assignments that are weighing us down.

As always, if you are willing to give up some of your free time to individualize the process, you can run triage to get extensions and even exemptions for assignments. This boosts your learning and, therefore, your grade abatement profile. More on this later.

Otherwise, you should jettison pretty much every missing or incomplete assignment and move on. The reason is simple: The plane is too heavy to keep flying, and if we don’t toss some of this stuff overboard, you will crash.

So you jettison the work. Check that the following two criteria have been met:

  1. You’ve been asked formally to read this post, probably through Google Classroom. It will be an assignment, even if all you must do is mark it read.
  2. There hasn’t been and won’t be a face-to-face or one-on-one meeting to discuss what missing work to do.

In that case, jettison everything due up to today that you were planning to hand in late. Jettison all of it. Lighten the plane and move on. Find the nearest upcoming deadline. Focus on that.

Note: This includes major writing assignments that you might be re-assigned later. Those will be posted as new work. Everything old goes over the side, unless we meet to work out a way to keep it.


More Words on This


This post will be updated with a link to more contextual information and student data. For now, let’s leave this bit of text as a reminder to return later for more feedback.

GAP Score Triage: Overview

This post explains “triage” delivered through Google Sheets and posted alongside GAP scores during some, but not all, GAP panels. This triage is designed to help students be honest with themselves as they implement the feedback built into the GAP scoring process.

Examples of spreadsheets are at the very end, after the crucial discussion of why and how this works.


Weakness Into Strength

I will now explain why I am taking such pains to create a spreadsheet instead of using Infinite Campus, which is the online gradebook most courses use. As always, this feedback is in addition to the many kinds of feedback we use regularly.

First, a spreadsheet requires each student to do a little more work to see what is missing, what is insufficient, etc., which shakes off the fog of habit. Infinite Campus is part of a routine. Feedback outside of that routine is likely to be processed more mindfully.

Second, this shows each student the entire class. The notes are anonymous, so it’s about the collective learning environment. Every student has a role to play in what kind of classroom we have. We have to push out low-information resistance and build herd immunity.

Third, this kind of spreadsheet is somewhere in between scores on individual assignments and the assessment ideal, which is a narrative. I believe Alfie Kohn is right that “posting grades online is a significant step backward because it enhances the salience of those grades and therefore their destructive effects on learning.” Unfortunately, online gradebooks are inescapable. So we must look for a way to fight that toxic salience through some kind of sustainable feedback model.

Here is a clarification of grade abatement that elaborates on this idea:

Clarifying Grade Abatement

Look especially at this section:

The crux of grade abatement is the idea that we can gather and assess all the information we need to help students learn without resorting to grades on individual assignments. There are a number of points to address, however, before we delve into how that works:

Grades aren’t necessarily toxic. The presence of grades does not preclude effective teaching and learning. In fact, the case can be made that grades are useful, that they motivate students, that they provide valuable data, and so on. It also doesn’t do us any good to demonize grades. All we need to do is acknowledge that…
Grades do warp learning. Grades change the learning environment. Kohn covers a lot of the research worth studying — research into student engagement, self-esteem, self-efficacy, and so on — but anyone with experience in a classroom knows what grades do. As soon as numbers are introduced, the student’s relationship to the material changes. That’s why the quotation at the start of Kohn’s essay rings so true: When the student, Claire, says, “I remember the first time that a grading rubric was attached to a piece of my writing… Suddenly all the joy was taken away,” we hear our own students. And that’s because…
While grades aren’t necessarily toxic, they are vectors for toxicity. Think of them as clouds of mosquitoes in a malaria-ravaged country. Grades can — and often do — lead to gamesmanship, cheating, hyper-competitiveness, disengagement, and almost every other enemy of authentic learning. Students scrap and fight over a hundredth of a point. They define their self-worth in numbers. They’re afraid to take risks. Grades spread this negativity from assignment to assignment and quarter to quarter. Unfortunately…
Whatever we believe, grades are unavoidable. It isn’t possible to abolish grades in a public high school. You might as well try exterminating every mosquito in the world. What we can change is the extent to which grades affect learning in our classrooms. We can’t change the entire system, but we can remove grades from most steps in the learning process, chip away at a student’s extrinsic motivations, and build a self-powered kind of learning.

Grades are vectors for toxicity. They spread the habits that hurt authentic learning. That’s the key distinction I keep forgetting: A number itself does nothing until it’s tied to a GPA, the threat of failing, the shadow of college acceptance, and so on.

As a result, these spreadsheet numbers are simplified. They convey only the most basic kind of feedback about work — again, because more meaningful feedback is given in other ways. But some students truly need to be shown that they aren’t handing in work. Telling them isn’t enough. Showing them in person isn’t enough. Even a GAP score isn’t enough. They need to see a zero next to an assignment.


What This Means

We have to recognize that institutionalized students are motivated by certain symbols. These spreadsheets weaponize that through a simple set of annotations and some conditional formatting added to Google Sheets1.

Any student work that has the potential to receive feedback gets a 0, 1, or 2. Other work (e.g., bringing in donations for a charity drive, submitting a form) gets checked in for completion only. That’s a stripped-down version of this:

Take that, which is clear enough, and strip it down further, and it’s just 0, 1, or 2. The conditional formatting added to the Google Sheet automatically converts those three choices to a color. A student doing an adequate or better job sees green, as in, “Keep going.” A student not doing work sees a zero in red — probably the two most powerful symbols of error or failure in school.

The zero is not factored into an average in any mathematical way. It indicates only that an assignment wasn’t completed. Some students need the zero in a red box to begin to process and adjust to the reality that they didn’t do the work.

The vexing part of this is that no student should be that unaware when an assignment doesn’t get handed in. The deadline comes and goes. The work is discussed. We use a dozen different techniques to differentiate and reiterate and redirect. Look at this post on the co-teaching environment:

Inclusion Co-Teaching in the Makerspace

We shouldn’t have to show students that work is missing before assigning a GAP score, but we know it is necessary.

What this kind of spreadsheet really does, therefore, is this: It pushes students to take couple of extra steps to engage with numbers that aren’t vectors for traditional toxicity, and it uses red, yellow, and green colors to trigger something basic in them.


Note: Functionally Missing

Some students hand in work that is so insufficient that it is functionally missing. It’s barely there. There’s no there there. The work isn’t missing, but that’s another reason to avoid traditional grades: That area of student quasi-compliance has to be investigated with more nuance. Yes, there was an effort to hand something in, but it doesn’t matter when that something is a non-starter for feedback.

This is explored in great detail here:

Insufficient vs. Sufficient Work

The ideas are elaborated further in a separate post specifically for students in Honors or AP courses.

The message can be made even simpler. I’ll use an assignment that asked for a response to a lengthy article on procrastination — part of a unit on that sort of thing. Students were given the article ahead of time, and then they were given 40 minutes in class to write. They had the rest of the day and night to finish, as necessary, before submitting the work.

The instructions called this response an essay. It didn’t have to be five paragraphs or feature a thesis, but it had to echo our writing process. It had to be developed. It had to say something meaningful, since it would then be part of in-class discussion, further reading, and additional writing.

Here’s a submitted response with significant composition errors (“perposley,” run-on sentence, etc.) and no development:

Humans are addicted to procrastination you can stop hesitating to work by making work the only thing to do like perpoisley be bored like the author of the hunchback of notre dame he locked away all of his clothes and wore a sackcloth so he can stay home and finish his books. Moral of the story it is more important to start work than to get it done.

That’s not an essay, no matter what definition of the word we want to use. In pre-GAP triage, that response would be coded as a 1. It can’t be given any real feedback. It’s insufficient for a makerspace, regardless of what kind of in-class discussion we’re having.

Here is a response that would be coded as a 0:

Procrastination is an impulse; it’s buying candy at the checkout.
This quote means that Procrastination never fails to beat someone

That one is functionally missing. There is no feedback to give.


Note: In-Class Focus

In-class focus is the first and most important step to successful learning. It’s repeatedly emphasized through instruction, lessons, feedback, and so on. Making good choices in class is essential, which is why this is a recurring unit:

The Return of the Fatal Flying Guillotine

That unit is revisited all year, every year, through posts like this one on the classroom space:

Objects in Space

Each day requires a goal, and each goal is checked and rechecked. In-class focus is more important to the GAP process than anything else.

So spreadsheets like this one below can be used to indicate how focused students have been. In the past, some have argued that they were only off-task for a moment, or that it only looked like they were off-task, or that they finished the work, or some other excuse. But this misses the point.

No one is not looking to catch students off-task. We are looking to help students who are focused. We are looking to help them with their work. We are giving them feedback and redirection. We are building posts and projects and lessons. That takes our focus and attention. We aren’t watching the room for mistakes.

If a student is off-task often enough or significantly enough during a GAP panel for it to affect a profile, it’s a serious lapse. These are students who are doing homework for other classes without permission, who are on social media repeatedly, who are gossiping and chatting. It’s well past the point of semantics, debate, and appeal. It’s obvious:

Dürer’s Rhinoceros

It’s also critical for students not to elide how often they’re told to get back on task. This isn’t a gotcha environment. Any teacher in this space is constantly and kindly pointing out the serious repercussions of not doing work. We’re here to help you to focus, which is why, to link to it again, there are entire units built as triage for exactly that purpose.

Therefore, a student with a 0 or a 1 for in-class focus on a spreadsheet has obviously, seriously, and repeatedly broken that contract. They have not to meet the most basic expectations of the space, despite constant feedback.

The 0 or 1 for in-class focus, like the 0 or 1 everywhere else, is designed to deliver a sort of limbic shock: Yes, you need to work harder.


Examples

For Q1A of 2018, students were given a set of exhaustive notes on their progress. Here are the spreadsheets:

For Q1B, they were again given notes on collective and individual progress in English 10, English 11, or AP English. This time, the spreadsheets were posted to Google Classroom.

On November 5, at the end of the first quarter, they were given another post of exhaustive, annotated data. This time, the spreadsheets were moved back to the instructional post:

Another good example is is the following spreadsheet, from February of 2019, which includes every class and links back to this post:

It includes data on daily goal-setting, an example of how test prep is incorporated into the makerspace, and an in-class focus score. It also removes the provisional GAP scores, which forces students to grapple with the granular feedback, not just a final profile.


  1. In this post from a previous year, the feedback is much lengthier, but it teaches a tremendous amount by being so lengthy. Over time, these old posts become connective threads: links that can be used for truly motivated and invested stakeholders to deepen their understanding. The practical work, like the implementation of a spreadsheet, can be more straightforward, as a result. 

A Better Kind of Quiz

The origin of the term is also its purpose: A pop quiz asks what a student actually remembers, not what was crammed into short-term memory in the moments before the bell. A pop quiz reveals what is internalized.

Except when it doesn’t. In my experience, pop quizzes don’t work. They operate on fear and anxiety, which undermine knowledge and skill. Quizzes require obfuscation and subterfuge on the part of the teacher, too, resulting in a kind of arms race between student gamesmanship and real learning.

What I did with that realization is here:

View at Medium.com

The first two paragraphs are mostly the same as the start of this post; the rest of that Medium essay explores what pop quizzes do and how we might reimagine them.

Data-Driven Quizzes

In a makerspace, the goal of a quiz would be to gather data that lets us direct instruction and learning. For example, during a unit on narrative writing and literary analysis in English 11, we needed to test students’ understanding of literary devices. That led to this quiz:

The directions are repeated at the start of the Google Form, too, for the sake of a kind of engineering redundancy:

DDQ: Literary Devices (1)
Complete the following quiz without using any additional online or offline resources. Match the term to the definition. Identify what you have internalized. Then use the resources of the makerspace to make sense of your performance. Submit evidence of that metacognitive insight as indicated elsewhere.
Terms and definitions: https://blog.prepscholar.com/list-of-literary-devices-techniques
Header image: https://dribbble.com/shots/5330302-Creativity-Book-Club

The focus is on how students learn, not a quiz score. The scores help students self-assess their needs and advocate for their roles in a different and often better form of feedback.

In this example, the questions were simple enough: given the literary device, match it to the definition. For each term, all 19 definitions (we cut it down from the 24 suggested in the instructional post) were randomized, which forced a basic kind of repetition. Here is the start of the choices for verbal irony:

In a quiz like this, each question is instructional, and determining the correct answer is about learning, not performance. On my end, I am able to look at real-time data like these:

That screenshot is illustrative of the process. One tab is open to an instructional post; another, to this quiz and its data. For each question, I am able to see what students seem to know. Irony, for instance, is a difficult concept; perhaps these students need a lesson in irony, then, or a model text that demonstrates verbal irony. I’ll know the answer when I read their metacognitive analysis of the quiz.

Moving Forward

That’s an explanation of the pedagogy. For students, it’s now a question of efficacy: Does this help you to internalize information? Does it make your learning habits more transparent? How does your performance improve as a result of this kind of reimagined quiz? Use the comment space here to ask questions and offer insights — including any onomatopoeia that might replace “pop” with a better metaphor.

How to Improve without a Grade


An Email Exchange: September, 2018


The email from a student:

Fri, Sep 14, 2018 at 3:06 PM
To: Marcus Eure <meure@brewsterschools.org>

Mr. Eure I remember you said on the first day of school that there’s not really a “grade” put on assignments but in a lot of your posts and resources it talks about growth and improvement. I’m just confused as to how, objectively, I’ll know if my writing has improved without any grade. Like how can I gauge if I’m getting better because I don’t know if I’ll be able to just self evaluate that. I don’t have a problem with no grade (haha) but I’m just curious as to how you’ve explained this growth process in previous years to students. Thank you

My reply:

Mon, Sep 17, 2018 at 7:20 AM
To: [REDACTED]@brewsterschools.org

Thank you for the email. The short answer is that you never have to just self-evaluate; you always need expert feedback, and it needs to be clear and actionable. Grades don’t convey how to improve. (They convey a general sense of good/bad performance, but even that is so subjectively rendered that it often isn’t helpful.) Feedback does tell you how to improve, but there are issues to getting the right amount of feedback to all students at all stages of the writing process. The solution is to reimagine what feedback looks like and the role each student plays in creating that feedback.

Your initiative in sending an email lets me illustrate this through you. You have the opportunity now, because you’ve taken that initiative, to teach others. Start here:

Mongering and Congeries

Be especially certain that you read the “Better Form of Feedback” essay linked in that post:

View at Medium.com

If you read all of that, two things will absolutely happen:

1) You’ll understand more — if not all — about how you can improve without a grade.
2) You’ll have read a lot of writing designed to show you how to write well.

Talk to me in class about how you might be able to take this and use it to teach your peers the answer to your original question. Teaching others, online or in class, is the best way for you to strengthen your own knowledge, and it generates evidence of the best kind of learning — i.e., the highest profiles.

Thank you again,

Mr. Eure

And a PDF version of the exchange:


What’s Next?


This is closest to a style of makerspace learning called an atelier, in which an expert trains others to create art. The teaching is centralized, but it spreads out from that central point. As you become skilled, you teach those skills to others. As you gain knowledge, you spread that knowledge to others.

It works because of student initiative — the kind shown in that email. Initiative invites feedback. That builds knowledge and skill. Then the student can decide whether or not to help others by sharing what they’ve learned.

Two phenomena helps us here. The first is the protégé effect. The second is herd immunity:

View at Medium.com

You are as strong individually as you are together. That is the way of the world, which is why it is the way of our classroom.

A Glass Case Full of Lost Treasures and Fossils

This is a lightly edited repost of instructional material from May of 2017. It has a little more universality and a little less class-specific feedback.


Shrapnel

The focuses of this instructional post are in-class focus and feedback. The impetus is that it is never too early to warn you against straying from the path. We shouldn’t wait until the spring to discuss poor decisions; we should talk about it now, at the end of the first week, before any bad habits metastasize. The worst habits, like wasting class time and ignoring instruction, will slowly poison you.

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