A Non-Freaked Out Guide to Teaching the Common Core: Using the 32 Literacy Anchor Standards to Develop College- and Career-Ready Students

Preface

The first time I thought about creating a blog around the Common Core, it was for two reasons: First, even back in spring 2012 I, as a full-time English and social studies high school teacher, was sensing the freaking out that, like some kind of psychotic midwife, attended the Common Core's entry into the world. Second, I was curious to see what all the freaking out was about. This curiosity was quickly frustrated, however, by a dearth of down-to-earth, straightforward treatments of the standards. I simply could not find any solid, helpful, approachable information. And so I, a guy who had no idea what the Common Core State Standards actually said, started a blog called Teaching the Core with the intent of simply reading through the document and writing about what I read.

Yet something funny happened as I read and wrote and interacted with a growing number of teachers online around the topic of these learning goals: I started becoming passionate about the wasteful cost that the Common Core freak out was inflicting on the U.S. education reform discussion. I saw a lot of energy getting spent on negative tweets and articles and blogs and conversations and rants, and, to make matters worse, very little of this negativity actually lined up with what the standards contained! It was becoming apparent that many folks hadn't even read the standards (or, if they had, they hadn't understood much). It reminded me of religious adherents who, rather than reading or reflecting on their religious texts, believe fervently in their preconceptions and then use either real or imagined parts of the texts to support what they already believed to start with.

And so I came to advocate for and write about a non–freaked out approach to the Common Core. This grew out of a desire to serve those educators and parents and policymakers who refuse to freak out while pursuing the greatest aim of education: the long-term flourishing of human beings. If you are committed to remaining focused on that central aim, casting away anything that gets in the way of long-term student flourishing, even if that is your educational philosophy or bias or comfort zone or pet lesson, then this book, my friend, has been a labor of love for you.

I do hope it helps. If I can be of any additional service to you, please be in touch through www.teachingthecore.com/contact-dave.

Dave Stuart Jr.

Acknowledgments

What you hold in your hand is a book (crazy, right?), and books are generally these audacious collaborations of people who all chip in to communicate a thing. And although you can decide, based on the pages that follow, how well I've done at communicating the thing, I want to take a couple of pages now to make one thing very clear: anything helpful or encouraging you read here is entirely due to the people I'm about to thank. This book, my first, wouldn't exist at all if it weren't for some of them, and it wouldn't be worth existing if it weren't for all of them.

First, as a kid, I started dreaming of writing books, and because of people like my grandparents—Dean and Carol Stuart, Bud and Murt LaJoye, Donna and Norval Sinclair, Jack and Gloria Burg—and my parents—Dave and Kathy Stuart, Brian and Lisa Sinclair—my dreams, little sparks at the time, were allowed to catch fire. Thank you all for showing me what it means to work humble and work hard; if you hadn't taught me these things, I wouldn't be much of a teacher, writer, husband, or friend.

I have more close family members who give me much cause for joy and gratitude, without which my writing would be flat: my parents-in-law, Bill and Sylvia Edwards; my siblings, by blood and by marriage (I forget the difference most times), Mel-Dawg and Brandon Krieg, Nicko and Amber Edwards, Adam and Benjibu-san Sinclair, and Brooke Edwards; and the three most inside-and-out gorgeous little girls ever: Hadassah Ellen, Laura Lindsay, and Marlena Grace. You've all taught me better how to laugh with and relate to and love on people, and I hope that comes through in how I write.

Then there are the people who, despite no blood or legal connection, have irrevocably made their mark on my life as mentors; without these people, you wouldn't hold a book in your hand, because I wouldn't be driven by such a desire to imitate them, their excellence, and their service to others: Laura VanRyn and Lindsay Veitch taught me to be a joyful servant; Brian Scriven taught me to be bold and visionary; Trent Gladstone taught me the holiness of striving for excellence in the workplace; and Tim Knapp pushed me to find ways to use my gifts outside of the classroom.

A few key people at the University of Michigan helped shaped me into an eager, semi-able first-year teacher: Joyce Sutton, you made my transition from pre-med to pre-ed as painless as possible (you were also so kind to me about my admissions essay); Christian Dallavis, Vicki Haviland, and Anne Ruggles Gere, you are the best ed profs ever; Deborah Ball, you received an impassioned email from me and, despite being a busy dean, took the time to sit with me and chat about it. Thank you all for your investments in me.

You don't write well about teaching unless you've spent years doing it, and my years in teaching would have been pointless apart from the influence of educators. At Woodlawn Middle School of Baltimore, Maryland, where I began my career, I am indebted to so many of you: Wilson, Frazier, Salipata, Skinner, King, Benedetto, Jones, Maul, Ingram, Oliver, Zamarron, Strother, Newman, Prioleau, Dixon, Longstreet, and Clarkie-Clark. I don't understand why you treated me as kindly as you did, but I am a better teacher and a better man because of your influence. Again, thank you to my first head principal, Brian Scriven: you took me under your wing like a son—you, sir, taught me to pick up garbage in the hallways; you brought me suit shopping after church one Sunday; you showed me what it can look like to give sacrificially and fully in a public school; and you spoke to me about the book I might someday write. I didn't know it would be about this, but I haven't given up on it, thanks to you. Thank you for your mentorship in a critical stage of my professional life.

Before moving to Michigan, I lived in New York City for a year, and I owe much to the people of the 42nd Street Capital Grille, the 168th Street Starbucks, Ross Global Academy, Atrium Staffing, and Youthworker Journal, all of whom employed me at the same time and were therefore patient as I learned to juggle multiple jobs at once. If it weren't for your kindness toward me, I would never be able to teach and write and business and dad and husband with a modicum of competence.

When I did move to Michigan, I arrogantly thought that my three years of teaching experience would guarantee me a job anywhere I wanted, and I wanted to be in an urban school in Grand Rapids. Confoundingly to me at the time but thankfully to me now, I was humbled during that season of job searching and ended up a long-term substitute in Cedar Springs (thanks, in huge part, to the Tackmann family, who believed in me before ever meeting me). This district is home to another group of educators who have shaped me significantly. I am indebted to many people in the Cedar Springs Public Schools, most especially those whom I work with frequently. To Ron, who hired me; to Doug, who taught me to value instructional time; to Painter, who forces me to think and graciously gives me rides to school in the winter; to Steve Seward, who nudged me to offer teacher workshops; to the English professional learning community (PLC), who intimidated me with their excellence; to Amy, who recommended that I join the Lake Michigan Writing Project; to Scott Hazel, who invited me to Spring Hill; to Anne, who dealt with my book-writing crazy; to Ken and April, who dealt with my inexperience when I was a total newb in Cedar Springs; to the social studies PLC, who put up with me during my first year in the group, and who still do; to Sairah, who deals with my crankiness—thank you all. I've saved one group of Cedar Springs High School people for last because of how closely we work each day: the teachers and students of the Tech 21 Academy. When I was first offered a job teaching in Tech 21, I thought of it as job security; I now see that it was a chance to learn beside three master teachers in their respective content areas—Erica Beaton, Steve Vree, and Brooke Holt. It is humbling and inspiring to teach alongside those who are clearly my betters. I also don't know what I would do without our Tech 21 kids—I love you guys. We really are a family and a team. Erica, you especially were a dear encouragement to me when my blog was a tiny baby and you shared it in your many spheres, and also with your reminders that done is better than perfect.

When I first began writing for teachers, it was for a self-started blog on an issue I wanted to learn about: the Common Core. Over the course of a hundred posts and countless more interactions, I have benefitted immeasurably from the community that has grown around a non–freaked out approach to the Common Core. Without you all, I would never have been motivated to keep on writing the blog posts that would eventually evolve into this book. Also, I'd be remiss not to mention that, when this started as a PDF ebook on the blog, Heather Bunker's cover design was instrumental in convincing folks to spend a dollar on it.

Along the journey of growing into a teacher-author, I was blessed to know two kind masters. I thank Jerry Graff, author of books with more than a million copies in print, who began a generous and rich email correspondence with me in September 2012. It's an understatement to say that you humble me. Similarly, I appreciate Jim Burke, who, like Jerry, initiated a bountiful, unsolicited correspondence through email almost a year ago. These juggernauts of the edu-writing world are heroes to me; if they are Obi-Wan Kenobi, I am a sprocket in R2-D2's head.

At the time that I was first contacted by Jossey-Bass about this book, I was being heavily influenced by the kind people at Staff Development for Educators, most notably Lisa Bingen, who has since become a dear friend, adviser, and mentor; Tom Schiele, who was and always will be my first editor; and Noële Faccidomo, who believed in me as a speaker far before I believed in myself. Lisa, you are far too gracious to me; Noële, you are far too kind to me; and Tom, I owe you a complex IPA the next time we meet.

When Jossey-Bass did contact me, it was through the kind and visionary Kate Bradford, my acquisitions editor, who somehow saw potential in the self-published ebook this book began as. Kate, thank you for taking a chance on me—it has made a great difference in my life. After Kate, the book went into the kind, able hands of Robin Lloyd, my production editor; Tracy Gallagher and Lily Miller, Robin's assistants; Francie Jones, my copyeditor (your eye is a work of wonder; all of my blog readers know how badly I need you, Francie); and Diane Turso, my proofreader (the same is true for you, Diane). Thank you all.

Finally (I know, right?), I dedicate this book to the two most influential people in my life: Crystal Stuart and Jesus of Nazareth. I can't escape the influence of either of you; you each call me to higher and higher ground; with every day, I fall more in love with both of you; when I die, I will look back and owe the most to the two of you, at the very least because you both put up with so much more from me than I deserve. I love you desperately, and in you I want for nothing.

About the Author

Dave Stuart Jr. has taught in public schools for eight years; he currently teaches English and world history at Cedar Springs High School in Cedar Springs, Michigan. This is Dave's debut book, and it all began with the decision to start a little teacher blog in May 2012 called Teaching the Core. That blog has grown into a movement of over ten thousand monthly readers who refuse to freak out about the Common Core. In addition to teaching high school students, Dave enjoys his roles as an adjunct professor at Aquinas College and an educational consultant who travels around the country speaking to teachers. He holds a bachelor of arts in education and English from the University of Michigan and a master of education in curriculum and instruction from the American College of Education.

Introduction

An Epic Journey Beckons

Every great story pits a protagonist against overwhelming odds, and yet, through a combination of the protagonist's continued focus on the end goal and the help of various guides along the way, the grand journey ends in triumph. Despite the opposition of immortals, Odysseus returns to Ithaca; beneath the very eye of evil, Frodo destroys the one ring; regardless of the great power of the Sith, the Skywalkers bring balance to the Force. None of the epic heroes are perfect—many of the failures that punctuate their quests are caused by their own character flaws—and yet we cannot help but admire them, if for nothing else than their unquenchable desire to see the thing through.

Maybe it's the nerd in me, but whenever I stand back and take a wide perspective of the Common Core State Standards (CCSS) and the hubbub around them, I can't help but see the epic journey they invite us into. In this quest, you—whether you're a teacher, a parent, an administrator, or a policymaker—are the protagonist. The quest is absurdly large, as you seek to do nothing less than make sense of how to help students become people who flourish in the long term in a rapidly changing twenty-first century. Before the CCSS entered the scene, the conversations around this quest were varied, scattered, and isolated; now that forty-five states have adopted the standards, the conversation, with all of its passion and energy, has gained a widely shared focal point.

The CCSS, despite all the hoopla, are not the metaphorical equivalent of the evil Sauron