The stifling impact of classroom observations

Some districts say they use observations to improve instruction. In truth, they’re to control it.

Originally published in the Moultrie News.

Every week my daughter says a different observer takes notes on what the teacher is doing. Should I be concerned the teacher is in trouble?

Probably, but not in the way you’re thinking.

Observations are a tool to assess teachers. An observer (usually a principal, coach, or administrator) enters the classroom (sometimes announced, sometimes not), watches what happens, and gives the teacher feedback. Sometimes the feedback is informal; sometimes it’s part of an official evaluation.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with this model, though it’s worth noting that few other professions use it. Does your boss ever follow you around, grading everything you do?

Often the observations are based on a standardized form that may have check-off boxes (“Did the teacher call on all students? Y/N”) or require a numerical assessment (“Score the teacher 1 to 5 on creating clear expectations”). Sometimes the criteria are specific (“Did the teacher post the day’s learning standard?”). Sometimes they’re vague (“Was the teacher proficient at cultivating an inclusive environment?”)

The more prescriptive an observation, the more worthless it is. Prescriptive means cookie cutter. Cookie cutter means conformity. Students benefit far more from diversity than conformity — diversity of teaching style, of philosophy, of materials, etc. Teaching is an art, not a paint-by-numbers set.

One problem with conformity is that the benchmarks are usually arbitrary. For example, most observation forms disdain direct instruction — straightforwardly teaching kids things they don’t know. Group collaboration, “turn and share,” or “draw your feelings on this banana” may be effective learning strategies in certain cases, but if you came into my classroom 10 times and never witnessed me teaching anything directly, would you think that’s cause for celebration? The observation instruments do.

Some districts say they use observations to improve instruction. In truth, they’re to control it. The more control desired, the more observations required, which may be what’s happening in your daughter’s class. The idea is simple: to avoid a shameful observation, teachers better paint the numbers the observer came to see.

This is counterproductive. Observer criticisms are usually too subjective, too nitpicky, or rife with faddish nonsense. They make square individuals unnaturally contort to round holes, shedding their talents and innovations in the process. This causes teachers to become discouraged, lose confidence, and, in many cases, want to quit. In part, that’s because such observations foster adversarial relationships with the people in the building who should be a teacher’s biggest supporters. This always has a trickle-down effect on kids.

To bad teachers, conformity-based observations could conceivably instigate (though never inspire) slight beneficial change — at least while the observer is in the room. But for good teachers who love what they do and constantly seek to improve, they produce little more than surplus disappointment in an already dispiriting job. That’s why I’ve learned to read them only if I value the experience and insight of the observer. Otherwise, I pay them no attention. I’m already doing everything I can to get better. Reading a list of the ways I’ve failed to conform to an arbitrary slate of dubious practices isn’t worth the price of discouragement.

How can instruction be improved, then? Most development happens outside the classroom. It occurs when leaders set high expectations for principles, not methods — ideals like rigor, proper planning, and student engagement. If a respected leader sets the standard, teachers will follow. Teachers who fall short should be managed individually.

Should we eliminate observations altogether? No, the right kind of observations provide accountability. But if our ultimate goal is to improve learning, we should discuss broadening the focus from teacher observations to student observations.

How much better would schools be if observers entered classrooms looking for ways to help struggling kids? Instead of judging teachers on their hoop-jumping ability, they could help students improve their focus, behavior, study habits, and attitudes.

To my knowledge, nothing like this has ever been considered. Meanwhile, bureaucrats continue to stamp a depleted core of teachers into cardboard cutouts, driving even more out of the profession. So to answer your original question: should you be concerned that the teacher is in trouble? Indeed she is, and so is the rest of her kind.

Read the original column here.