What Makes for Valuable Feedback? Teachers Weigh In
I’m with Ann and Keisha, who discuss the value of student feedback. You can
learn about my experiences at My Best Posts On Students Evaluating Classes
(And Teachers).
Ann Hlabangana-Clay has been an instructional leader, coach, and presenter
serving students and adult learners in Delaware and Pennsylvania for 28 years.
She is host of the Coaching You Through All Things Education Podcast:
As an educator for 28 years, I have had many supervisors, principals, teacher
leaders, and mentors provide constructive feedback. I have welcomed it all by
keeping a growth mindset.
The most meaningful critique I have received about my teaching was provided by
the least-tapped feedback group—my students. I modeled an SEL strategy for how
to react when frustrated and shared that I have challenges with this, too. I
simply asked my class to gently remind me when I mishandled my frustration and
to provide me with feedback for ways to improve. They were more than willing
subjects, and it didn’t take long for the opportunity to surface. 🙂 This
request for feedback helped every learner realize I was human and to feel as
if they belonged.
The same is true as an administrator. The least-tapped feedback group is our
staff. I’ll never forget how powerful this model was after a code red lockdown
last year. A group of educators, office staff, and a custodian were discussing
some of their concerns the following day after the lockdown. Though our admin
team had discussed our successes and concerns with the safety team the
previous afternoon, this group of four had insights and perspectives we’d not
heard or anticipated. I inserted myself into their discussion with a listening
ear.
After they had exhausted their concerns and posed some possible solutions, I
stated that I want my staff to see me as transparent and to feel free to share
feedback regarding school safety or any topic anytime. I wanted to convey to
them that their voices mattered. I assigned myself an accountability partner
to check in about my progress with the action steps that developed from the
feedback. I could not grow and better serve my students and staff without the
knowledge that I learned that day and I valued having that authentic feedback
that established a culture of improvement and grace.
One of my assistant principals complimented a task she observed during my
lesson. She then asked me about my approach to the lesson. After listening,
she asked me how I think the lesson would have gone if the task was presented
first. I hadn’t originally thought about it that way, but thinking aloud
revealed what I assumed about scaffolding and the unintentional inequities
that existed in my classroom.
After talking through what my goal was with the lesson for all students, I
realized that I needed to approach lessons differently. Not only did I have
more success with fully engaging all students, but my lessons became clearer
for students, especially regarding a unit’s north star. Lessons became more of
a collective journey that everyone was invested in, sought to collaborate on,
and celebrate wins of individuals and the collective.
This critique was the tweak I needed to complement my practice as a whole. It
provided the space necessary for me to observe my own practice in order to
better work on articulation of my intentional teacher actions and why. The
shift illuminated teaching as an art.
Keisha Rembert is an award-winning educator who is passionate about
anti-racism and equity in schools. Currently, Keisha is a doctoral student and
an assistant professor of teacher preparation at National Louis University:
My most meaningful critique came from a student. I cannot even remember the
context and I am not sure they even meant it as a critique. The student said,
“Y’all don’t listen to us anyway.” It was said without any malice, and I am
sure the student did not understand the brevity of the comment. Honestly, I
did not, at first, myself. I could have blown it off as a typical middle
schooler complaining, but it nagged me. Is that why my students were merely
going though the motions? There was truth, and I had to grapple with the sheer
honesty of statement. Everything in my students world was dictated, and I had
not been aware enough to get their input, to release the controls of a class
that they really controlled through apathy to even listen to them.
I am so grateful for that student’s critique. It really transformed my
teaching. Soon after, I enacted “student focus groups.” They became
cogenerative learning spaces. Students join me to plan units of study. They
made texts and content selections, helped craft lessons and assessments and
then co-taught the unit with me. It renergized my students and I. There was
buzz and life in the classroom. There was shared ownership of learning, and it
was real. We were listening to one another, and since then, I have not stopped
listening and learning from and with students.
Mary K. Tedrow taught in the high school English classroom beginning in 1978,
ending her K-12 career as the Porterfield Endowed English Chair at John
Handley High School in 2016. She currently teaches and directs the Shenandoah
Valley Writing Project at Shenandoah University in Winchester Va. Tedrow is
also a lecturer at Johns Hopkins University and the author of Write, Think,
Learn: Tapping the Power of Daily Student Writing Across Content Areas:
Two experiences resulted in meaningful critiques, both of which transformed my
teaching practice. Unfortunately, neither was a part of the official school
observations—but they could be.
The first came at the end of the Invitational Summer Institute of the National
Writing Project. During our summer, we each demonstrated an effective lesson
for our peers. All of the fellows from every discipline and grade level were
exceptional teachers. Our community was built through the shared risk of
making our classroom practice public.
The critique was a collaborative discussion among the teachers and institute
staff who had observed the lesson during the week. Because I had seen and
esteemed everyone’s work, the opinions were valued. The discussion protocol
asked presenters to first describe “What went well?” That self-assessment was
followed by the group’s observations on what they considered a successful
teaching practice. This discussion was followed by the question “What would
you do differently?” Again, the presenter spoke first, and then the others
offered suggestions around revisions.
Though the critique had meaning for that particular lesson, its framework had
lasting value. These two powerful questions became a guideline for my own
reflective practice in the years that followed. The second question is
particularly powerful in its invitation for improvement, even if the teaching
is already strong.
The second critique came during a bid for national-board certification. In
this process, the teacher videos him or herself and then writes a reflection
based on watching the video. The questions used in the institute were a guide
to objectively viewing the tapes. My reflection included both what went well
and what I would do differently. After writing about the changes needed, I
enacted them.
These two experiences were indeed transformative. They provided a framework
for continual improvement and built valuable, trusted professional
relationships. The trust encouraged professional discussions around practice
for the life of my career.
Both models could be a part of every teacher’s job if the time and framework
were built into the day. The encouragement to talk and share with other
classroom teachers about pedagogy has the power for ongoing reform everywhere.
I had to go outside of my system and building for the professional support
that encouraged both lifelong learning and continually improvement.
The self-reflective practices also bleed into the classroom. My experiences
taught me to bring students in on evaluating their own work. Students work
hard when they have individualized goals for improvement. Thinking and writing
about improvement heightens the likelihood that change will occur.
