I have a confession to make. I know it’s risky to say it out loud, but here goes....I’m a huge fan of the Danielson Framework for Teaching. I know this might not be a popular opinion. I know I could be shunned. But I will own my beliefs. Danielson has changed the way I teach, the way I interact with my students, and the way I speak with other teachers. And I bet it has changed you, too.

If teaching in the NYC Department of Education since 2006 has taught me anything, it’s to be flexible. Easier said than done, of course. How can we be expected to remain flexible, positive, and open-minded in a culture where accountability for teachers has ranged from a “Satisfactory” rating to an over-complicated system of 21 rubric items? But when I made a choice to embrace that system, rather than fight it, I started to immediately see a change in my practice...and changes in my colleagues.

Like you, I’ve been hit with my fair share of PD initiatives within my school. There was the notebook craze, the deep dive into student data, the mountains of formative assessment documentation, and, of course, most of it felt only peripherally relevant to my department of “misfit toys--” art, theatre, Spanish, gym, and technology. So I spent the better part of my first decade teaching seeking out my own professional development opportunities. By piecing together these experiences, I developed a scope and sequence for a three year theatre curriculum--mandatory for all students at our middle school. The curriculum tracks storytelling from imaginative play in sixth grade to playwriting and theatrical design in eighth grade. My greatest discovery in my early years in the classroom? Student choice. And it is a recurring theme across all three years.

My theatre curriculum is student-driven from the moment they walk into the classroom and are asked, “What do you need to be successful in this classroom?” And it’s worked. Student choice has been on my radar since my principal first introduced me to the term “managed choice,” and I never looked back. I carry this idea with me into every PD workshop I lead, every pre-service course I teach, and every student-teacher debrief meeting I have. It’s my greatest weapon for student engagement, access, and buy-in. 

On my quest for professional development I landed a gig with the Office of Arts and Special Projects with the New York City Department of Education, facilitating a series of Teacher Effectiveness workshops that focused on aligning theatre pedagogy with the Danielson Framework for Teaching. While not the catchiest of taglines, the Teacher Effectiveness workshops offered the “how” of teaching while other citywide PD series offered the “what.” It’s the missing piece for many educators, and working so closely with the Danielson Framework shifted the lens through which I saw my own classroom. It became a space for me to try out some of the strategies discussed at our PD sessions, giving me a deeper understanding of what is really behind the overwritten verbiage of that complicated rubric. As our PD series evolved, we started to see through the codes and jargon to what’s at the heart of Danielson (hint: it’s the students), and that’s when I noticed the shift in my classroom. That’s when I unlocked the next level of my practice.

The more theatre teachers I spoke to about their curriculum, the Danielson Framework, and points of alignment, the more I wanted to work with them. I wanted to share everything I’d learned from working so closely to understand Danielson. I wanted them to see that it’s not just another tool “the man” uses to bring them down. Yes, it’s formulaic. Yes, it’s dangerous in the hands of administrators who don’t truly understand it. Yes, it can be misused as a “gotcha” for teachers. But it also challenges you to think differently about your lesson planning. It challenges you to hold yourself accountable for reaching all (okay, at least, most) students. It challenges you to rethink the questions you ask in class. And it challenges you to give your students choice--to engage them in the work they want to be doing, rather than what you think is important. Talking to teachers across the city--new and veteran--about the Danielson Framework allowed me to see how much more we can be doing as arts educators to prepare our students for a future as art appreciators. 

We aren’t out there training the next generation of Broadway performers or Academy Award winners. We’re out there training empathetic, collaborative, and creative human beings. When we lose sight of that goal, when our arts curriculum is just about playing games and skill-building, we do a disservice to our students. That’s where Danielson comes in. This framework serves to remind us that even as arts educators, we aim to teach the whole child. And that means meeting them where they are. 

And that is why I’m the Danielson Framework’s #1 fan. And you should be, too.