EWA's blog about education issues and topics from a journalist's perspective. The Educated Reporter is anchored by Emily Richmond with contributions from EWA staff and guests.
EWA’s blog about education issues and topics from a journalist’s
perspective. The Educated Reporter is anchored by Emily Richmond with contributions
from EWA staff and guests.
How about that: John’s Incompleters are in fourth place, ahead of
Barack Obama (18th) and the Completers (73rd). Not sure how that
is possible, given that seven of his Elite Eight are wiped out
already, but I guess he gets lots of points for all the upsets.
This sort of makes me wish I played a real bracket,
because I hate losing.
Well, a couple hours later and I am already out of the game, most
likely. Notre Dame, 95 percent of your students graduate!
However, you lost in the first round and therefore cannot win the
tournament, as I had hoped. Old Dominion (49 percent) triumphed.
This whole project is amusing to me mainly because my husband is
now randomly proclaiming “Go UTEP!” Yes, he had to look up what
that stands for, and no, he has never cheered for a sports team
before in his life. He and the Incompleters were tied, last I
looked, for first place in the pool.
The big randomized Head
Start Impact Study that the federal government released
earlier this year may be good
news or
bad news, depending on your point of view. The one thing
it was not, to many: news at all.
The press releases flowing into my inbox in the past week are
mostly some form of “Association for XX Reacts to
Administration’s Blueprint for ESEA Reauthorization,” and they
are utterly unsurprising. A sampling (and I am not doing this
again, so please do not take this as an invitation for
more press releases):
When we are talking about, say, buildings, the word “blueprint”
means a detailed model of what a structure is going to look like.
When we are talking about federal education policy, it turns out
“blueprint” means something far vaguer.
“Structured recess” sounds like an oxymoron, especially to those
people who are, as one girl in Not Much Just Chillin’ put
it, “allergic to anything with the word ‘ball.’” For the
introverted and athletically uninclined, fresh hell might be a
coach forcing you into a game of kickball during a precious
half-hour you could be spending slumped along the wall of the
school building, undisturbed by the classmates who will never
understand you, reading kiddy manga.
Yesterday’s Education Sector panel on college and career
readiness was a success; you can see the video
here. Which is funny given that one of the presenters
announced that everything she was about to say was on background.
I know congressional staffers often aren’t supposed to be quoted
instead of their bosses, but this is one Washington habit that
will never make sense to me.
Yes, I am overdue in saying something about Diane Ravitch’s book,
and I intend to. But in the meantime I will just say this: The
reviews of a book are not the book. Especially when I wrote
Tested, I was amazed at how people misinterpreted what I
wrote; later I would learn they did not read the book but only
reviews of it. So an offhand comment by Sandy Kress in National
Journal’s conversation about
how the feds would hold states accountable on RtTT hit a raw
nerve for me.
When it comes to food I maintain what I see as a sensible balance
but what others might find hypocritical or insane—there may be
cookies in my house, but they are made from scratch and washed
down with organic milk, and while this afternoon I snapped at my
husband for getting me a doughnut filled with “kreme” rather than
custard, far more often (and with nearly equal enthusiasm) I
snack on cherry tomatoes.
People often ask me for updates about the kids from
Not Much Just Chillin’, who were in middle school eight
years ago. I’m in touch with all of them to varying degrees, from
Facebook friend to practically siblings—way too close to retain
any professional distance. So despite Lily’s mother’s pleas to
write another book about her daughter so that she might get into
her brain again, I never did so.
Now that turnaround is the concept of the moment, we need to
investigate what it yielded in the olden days when it was called
“restructuring.” Last week
I suggested journalists keep in context that zero-based
staffing, as whole-school firings (or reassignments) are called,
is not new.
Final Four update: Go Incompleters!
How about that: John’s Incompleters are in fourth place, ahead of Barack Obama (18th) and the Completers (73rd). Not sure how that is possible, given that seven of his Elite Eight are wiped out already, but I guess he gets lots of points for all the upsets. This sort of makes me wish I played a real bracket, because I hate losing.
Upset.
Well, a couple hours later and I am already out of the game, most likely. Notre Dame, 95 percent of your students graduate! However, you lost in the first round and therefore cannot win the tournament, as I had hoped. Old Dominion (49 percent) triumphed.
This whole project is amusing to me mainly because my husband is now randomly proclaiming “Go UTEP!” Yes, he had to look up what that stands for, and no, he has never cheered for a sports team before in his life. He and the Incompleters were tied, last I looked, for first place in the pool.
Grad rates and Final Four: putting my money on it.
Secretary Duncan said yesterday he would like the NCAA to restrict its basketball tournament to schools that can actually graduate their players.
Got preschool?
The big randomized Head Start Impact Study that the federal government released earlier this year may be good news or bad news, depending on your point of view. The one thing it was not, to many: news at all.
Press release roundup: blueprint reactions.
The press releases flowing into my inbox in the past week are mostly some form of “Association for XX Reacts to Administration’s Blueprint for ESEA Reauthorization,” and they are utterly unsurprising. A sampling (and I am not doing this again, so please do not take this as an invitation for more press releases):
The blueprint: more questions than answers.
When we are talking about, say, buildings, the word “blueprint” means a detailed model of what a structure is going to look like. When we are talking about federal education policy, it turns out “blueprint” means something far vaguer.
Story of the moment: recess coaches.
“Structured recess” sounds like an oxymoron, especially to those people who are, as one girl in Not Much Just Chillin’ put it, “allergic to anything with the word ‘ball.’” For the introverted and athletically uninclined, fresh hell might be a coach forcing you into a game of kickball during a precious half-hour you could be spending slumped along the wall of the school building, undisturbed by the classmates who will never understand you, reading kiddy manga.
College-ready: off the record.
Yesterday’s Education Sector panel on college and career readiness was a success; you can see the video here. Which is funny given that one of the presenters announced that everything she was about to say was on background. I know congressional staffers often aren’t supposed to be quoted instead of their bosses, but this is one Washington habit that will never make sense to me.
A review is not the book.
Yes, I am overdue in saying something about Diane Ravitch’s book, and I intend to. But in the meantime I will just say this: The reviews of a book are not the book. Especially when I wrote Tested, I was amazed at how people misinterpreted what I wrote; later I would learn they did not read the book but only reviews of it. So an offhand comment by Sandy Kress in National Journal’s conversation about how the feds would hold states accountable on RtTT hit a raw nerve for me.
How fat are our kids?
When it comes to food I maintain what I see as a sensible balance but what others might find hypocritical or insane—there may be cookies in my house, but they are made from scratch and washed down with organic milk, and while this afternoon I snapped at my husband for getting me a doughnut filled with “kreme” rather than custard, far more often (and with nearly equal enthusiasm) I snack on cherry tomatoes.
The NMJC kids and college.
People often ask me for updates about the kids from Not Much Just Chillin’, who were in middle school eight years ago. I’m in touch with all of them to varying degrees, from Facebook friend to practically siblings—way too close to retain any professional distance. So despite Lily’s mother’s pleas to write another book about her daughter so that she might get into her brain again, I never did so.
Everything old is new again: turnaround edition.
Now that turnaround is the concept of the moment, we need to investigate what it yielded in the olden days when it was called “restructuring.” Last week I suggested journalists keep in context that zero-based staffing, as whole-school firings (or reassignments) are called, is not new.