Let Johnny Choose His Teacher?

There is currently no good way to evaluate an elementary-school teacher.

Classroom observation is useless, because it is demonstrably subjective—two evaluators rarely correspond in their observations. It is also useless because we do not actually know, we cannot agree, what classroom traits make a good teacher.

How students do on standardized tests is a better measure. But even here, the correlation between two classes taught by the same teacher turns out to be low, and most subjects yield no coherent pattern. If you stick to math, and measure the same teacher teaching exactly the same curriculum over three years, you can come up with something statistically significant—for about 30% of teachers. Fifteen percent will perform significantly better than others, and fifteen percent will perform statistically worse.

How useful is this? At most, it is useful only for evaluating the teaching of math. For there is no reason to suppose that the techniques that work best for teaching math work best for other subjects.

We do, by contrast, have a good method of evaluating teachers at the tertiary level. We simply ask the students. As they are there voluntarily, and are adults, they are best placed to assess their own experience. Studies show that their evaluations also correspond well to the results of standardized tests, and remain the same after years in the workforce.

It's that simple.

So what would happen if we evaluated elementary and high school teachers the same way?

Heck, it might work. The assumption is that students below the age of majority are not responsible, not able to judge. They will vote for anyone who gives them candy, and against anyone who gives them homework.

But think back to your own experience. Are there teachers you loved at the time whom you now doubt were very good? Or vice versa?

Not me.

It would be an interesting study, and I appeal to readers to give me feedback on this question. Has your opinion changed on teachers you had in grade school and high school? Are there teachers you thought then were bad whom you now think were good, and vice versa?

If not, that means our adult judgement confirms our childhood judgement, and therefore that kids are indeed competent to rate their teachers even at that level.

In my own case, three teachers in particular stand out: Miss Anastasia Tobin, in Grade 2; Mr. Moore in Grade 6; and A.P. Smith in Grade 13 (yes, in those days in Ontario, there was a Grade 13). All three were a joy, all three have influenced me deeply, and formed a part of what I am. I loved them then, and I love them now. I had other teachers who were good, and some who were bad, but these three stand out.

To continue the thought experiment, can I say anything about what made these teachers exceptional for me?

First, all three seemed terribly knowledgeable. Surely this is the essential thing in a teacher—to know a lot?

But this was not the only issue. I had other teachers who also had strong academic credentials, and presumably knew a lot. And they were good teachers. But they did not shine as these ones did. There was more to it than that.

The more distinctive and impressive thing, it seems to me, about these three, if I can put it in words, is that they leveled with us. They talked to us straight; they did not talk down to us.

Miss Tobin, for example, I still recall, explained to us that she was supposed to teach us to spell “today” as one unhyphenated word; but that she herself always spelled it “to-day.” When I insisted, having taught myself to read, that the word “foreigner” ought to be read with the “g” sounded, she disagreed, but then let me read it aloud my way. When I objected to the taste of cod liver oil, she did not insist on me taking my capsule every day with the others. And when I asked if I should marry Terry Tozer, who sat next to me, she advised that it might be a little soon for such decisions. In sum, she treated us in Grade 2 as if we were human beings with a right and an ability to choose and make decisions for ourselves.

Mr. Moore was equally wonderful. He did not stay on the curriculum. He would go off on all manner of subjects. From him I learned why pilots can lose consciousness when a plane nose dives. He talked to us about James Joyce's word play, with examples, and about John Lennon's too, in his books—perhaps a little closer to our level. He talked to us about the controversy over the birth control pill, and reasons why the priest should face towards or away from the congregation—not saying what should or should not be, but giving the arguments both ways. He was knowledgeable, and clearly had some special literary talent. As a result, he had a knack for explaining things; he was entertaining to listen to. It was teaching as a rhetorical art form. I have noted this since—that good writers make the best teachers.

He did not just lecture. He would also have us talk, or write—he staged formal debates, and we put together a newsletter. He encouraged literary talent; and was a keen critic of it. He was, for example, the first teacher who ever pointed out to me that I was using unnecessarily fancy words in my writing—a vital stylistic issue.

He was interested in thought for its own sake, and writing and speaking for their own sake, and wanted to encourage both in us.

A.P. Smith was also loose with the curriculum. He threw in a week or two when we worked with an issue of Atlantic magazine instead of the textbook. He brought in guest lecturers. He was certainly not a disciplinarian, any more than were Miss Tobin or Mr. Moore. He let us hand in assignments at any time, so long as it was still the same term. He let me talk shamelessly in class, flirting with the girls near me; to the point that other students complained to me. He talked on a personal level, as if we were all friends in a living room: I learned that he liked jazz music and Leonard Cohen's poetry; he was aware that I had conflicts over politics with my father, and was big on Marshall McLuhan.

One other matter in which these teachers seem exceptional: I retain a strong impression of how I did in their classes. It seems this was always made clear. I knew in Grade 2 that I excelled in reading and spelling, but was weak in penmanship. I knew in Grade 6 that I excelled in composition, but was not doing well working in groups, or at phys. ed. I knew I used too many fancy words, and that I did not complete my homework. I knew in Grade 13 that I excelled in composition. I often do not have such clear impressions for other classes, in other years.

Partly, these teachers remembered to praise. But it was not all praise, either. They levelled with us, both ways, more than other teachers. The feedback was also detailed, and credible. I hear it said that students want teachers to be “fair.” That was part of it; but not just that. It is more important that they see and deal with each student as an individual. Often the standards by which student work is judged seem arbitrary, artificial, or even nonsensical, for the sake of some abstract quantifiability, which passes for “fairness.” With these teachers, the standards on which we were judged seemed sensible and realistic—they only marked what really mattered, and what mattered got marked.

Was it just me who liked these teachers so well? I believe not. I know from other students and other past students that Mr. Moore has a continuing fan club. Mr. Smith was and still is respected by everyone in the small town for his great knowledge.

Can I summarize from this the traits of a good teacher? Not terribly well—specific examples of the way they taught, as above, seem to me to convey the idea better. But here's a stab at a few points:

1.Knowledgeable; not just in their own field, but good all-rounders with wide general knowledge.
2.Good speakers.
3.Not disciplinarians; give students their head and their dignity as much as possible consistent with good order.
4.Loose with curriculum; avoid the assembly-line for a more relaxed, holistic approach, open to the real world outside the classroom.
5.Vary their teaching techniques and experiment with new material and approaches.
6.Show an interest in their students as individuals.
7.Enjoy teaching and are doing it for its own sake, not for money or status or the chance to control.
8.Speak clearly of how students are doing.

All of which, if it applies more generally, might suggest certain directions for teacher training.

Do readers agree? Do they have any experiences or points to add?