“A curriculum should be appropriately challenging and rigorous.” This is something all teachers I’ve met want for their students: to find that sweet spot where a student is being challenged but still able to forge ahead, using their supports and references to meet that challenge and really extend their learning.
It’s often easier said that done, especially in a special education setting.
I’ve held off on writing this post for a while, as my own approach to the idea of “attainable rigor” is still very much a work in progress. However, as a way to celebrate the recent gains I’ve seen my students make in the classroom, I thought I’d take a stab and push myself to get my thoughts on this topic out in a post.
First and foremost, let me define my terms. Rigor, at least in the way I’ve heard it used in education circles, is holding your students to a high standard of excellence. It’s also providing them with work and instruction that pushes them to grow and progress in that specific subject area. It’s also creating a learning environment where students can identify and meet the expectations of the class.
“Rigor” covers a lot of bases.
I always picture it as holding the bar up high. And helping students reach that bar without…lowering it.
That, for me, anyway, has always been the problem with rigor. It’s not super challenging to set the bar high…when a student falls short of the bar, though, despite your efforts and best laid plans…?
Well, for me anyway, that’s where the “attainable” part of “attainable rigor” comes in.
To be clear, “attainable” does not mean lowering the bar. The bar needs to stay up high; if you let it drop, you’re sending all sorts of unintentional messages: you don’t have to meet these expectations, or, even worse, you can’t meet them. Those kinds of lessons are the antithesis of a growth mindset.
Whereas “attainable,” as I mean it, is meant to foster a growth mindset.
Attainable means extending. Revising. Supporting. Personalizing. Taking risks. Celebrating small victories.
In less flowery language, attainable means creating an environment where students aren’t so afraid of failing that they don’t- can’t- try.
Allow me to use a recent example of an assignment I ran in my 7th Grade ELA class. While the assignment wasn’t perfect (the concept of perfection, in my opinion, is also an enemy of a growth mindset), I liked how the design allowed students to move through the phases of their planning at their own pace, receiving feedback as they went. I liked how it reiterated the standards and expectations at each step of the way. I liked how it celebrated when students were moving in the right direct and gently guided them when they weren’t.
I also liked that it looked like a board game, and so did my students.
I can’t claim full ownership for this idea; I used a format for something similar that I found online. I did, however, tweak the format, play with the pacing, and make the general rollout my own.
We’ve actually used this format twice in class now, both for extended writing assignments (once for a creative writing assignment and once for an analytical essay). I’ll try to attach pictures of the “hub world” for each below. The general gist is that, like a board game, students move at their own pace through the required assignments. Natural checkpoints provide opportunities for feedback, both from peers and me (the teacher). This allows for students to have their work formally reviewed before they’ve committed too much effort to an idea that might’ve been off track.
This concept is actually really simple and easy to put together (Google Slides, tables, and links are the main components). But because it’s gamified and because students have to pass certain checkpoints before being able to move on, it’s really easy to encourage students to maintain that high level of rigor throughout.
Especially if you design a really solid rubric.
Without going off on too much of a tangent about rubrics (which, honestly, could be a blog post all their own), I believe a major component of attainable rigor comes from informing- and reminding- students on how they are specifically being scored.
For any assignment of mine that uses a rubric (and, since I teach ELA, there are a lot of them), I always endeavor to introduce the lesson with the rubric. I myself am a fan of the 5-point rubric (example hopefully shown below). I find it’s extremely clearcut and easy for students to take ownership of; it’s an “I’ve got it or I don’t” kind of rubric.
And, for me, that’s helpful when conferencing with a student who “worked so hard” and is upset that I’m asking them to go back and make changes or revisions. And this does still happen; I struggle to think of anyone who enjoys being told to return to a project once they thought it was already done. It’s human nature to not love it when you’re told you’ve got things to work on.
But, over time, I’m starting to see this immediate impulse to declare it’s done lessen in my students. They’re becoming more receptive to my feedback, their peers’ feedback, and even their own feedback. They’re realizing they can do better than “good enough.”
Again, that’s not to say these models and lessons are perfect. They’re a work in progress, just like everything else in life. But that’s exactly what I’m trying to teach my students, so why not lead by example? For our next long term writing assignment, I’m planning on revising and reflecting on what worked in my previous strategy and what could still use some fine tuning. One way that I’m planning to do this is by providing models for each section of the essay as they come, as well as giving a model copy that students can analyze before they begin writing. We’ll have to see how it goes.
One thing I do want to acknowledge before wrapping up is that this inevitably takes time and you may not always see a return on investment right off the bat. Not only does it take time for you, but for your students as well, and that’s part of what we’re working towards. You want students to have the opportunity to revise, reflect, and redo…but you also don’t want them spending a week writing one 8 - 10 sentence Quick Write in 7th Grade. I’ve noticed that time as an expectation isn’t always bolded as an expectation, even though I think, to some extent, it should be.
It’s understandable: as a teacher, I always want to give my students more time to improve their work, to get it right, to fully realize their vision. But it’s important to remember that time isn’t infinite. Far from it: our time with these students is extremely limited and precious. So, I think it’s okay to have expectations for how long something should take. I think it’s fine to communicate these expectations, and I think it’s possible to do that in a way where the students don’t feel like they’re being rushed. Especially in a special education setting: extensions happen, and that’s fine, but I don’t think I should be striving to make that the norm in my classroom. I want my students to develop habits that will help them meet deadlines. I want them to be confident in their work. I want them to be able to approach a problem or assignment with a strategy and follow through on their plan. I want to be able to do all I can to help them reach the bar on their own.
Kids need high expectations. They need to know we believe in them so they can believe in themselves. I’ve learned, working in a middle school, kids are acutely aware of how they’re being perceived and what people, adults included, think of them. They know when they’re being talked down to or given easy, busy work. They know who’s there for them and who’s not. I don’t think a teacher has to be strict or mean to have high expectations, just like I don’t believe a nice teacher has to give “easy” work to be considered nice.
Above all, I think that having high expectations for myself and those in my profession, while also realizing that “perfect” is an unreasonable standard, is the best possible example I can try to set for my students.
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