Reconsider

I came to teaching through an alternative certificate program, the New York City Teaching Fellows.  I now recognize it and its more famous cousin Teach for America as myopic attempts to fix deeply embedded social inequities. 

When I became a teacher I had no idea that I was entering a battle for the very soul of public education. I didn't understand that alternative certification programs were a tool of the market driven reform movement.  I was manipulated into believing (and egotistical enough to swallow) the idea that wanting to "do good" was enough to remedy systemic injustice. That all "these kids" needed was a bunch of someones who worked hard and really cared (underlying message being that what they currently had was a bunch of someones who didn't do those things).

But it is the system itself that doesn't care. If it were otherwise, how could you explain the willingness to let the poorly trained guide the worst off?  Teachers who go through real education programs spend hours and hours being observed. They are mentored by experienced veterans. They have time to explore, compare and form ideas on the philosophy of education. They learn slowly and thoughtfully how to address the needs of the whole child.  

A teacher in Chicago put it this way, "Beauticians in the state of Illinois are required to complete 1500 hours of practical training before they can get a job in Illinois. But [TFA] teachers can take a whole class of needy children after just 20 hours of practice? Of course, those undertrained novices are only for low-income children of color. No affluent school would allow someone-however well meaning-with no training to teach their children." 

For years, my students had a teacher who was unqualified. As I went to school at night and lessoned planned long past midnight, I was less than I should have been. I excused it with phrases such as, "But I'm working so hard" "At least I care" and "I mean well."  It was wrong. I was wrong. I didn't know better then but I do now. 

So if you are considering joining TFA (or any such alternative certificate program) I ask you to reconsider. Let your good intentions lead you to do what is right and refuse to participate in a program that foists upon needy and unsuspecting communities those with more gall and guts than knowledge, skill or experience.  To do otherwise is arrogant and furthers inequity upon the innocent.

Advice for Executioner Cuomo

Last month, New York's Governor Andrew Cuomo said there should "be a death penalty for failing schools." Cuomo's analogy was both reckless and insensitive and he should reconsider his position.

While speaking about the death penalty, former President of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference the Reverend Joseph E. Lowery said, "By reserving the penalty of death for black defendants, or for the poor...we perpetrate the ugly legacy of slavery...teaching our children that some lives are inherently less precious than others." Much like its criminal counterpart, the "death penalty" for schools disproportionally effects low-income minorities. Thus sending the message that schools populated predominately with low-income minority students are less vibrant, less important, less "precious" than those populated with wealthier and/or whiter students. Killing beloved institutions in poor minority communities, rather than rehabilitating them, signals a fundamental disrespect.

The administration of capital punishment assumes that it will be done with fairness and justice. School executions are unfair and unjust since there are no agreed upon measurements of school success. Current measurements, such as test scores or graduation rates, do not take into account population disparities and inequitable funding. Justice Thurgood Marshall called the unjust administration of the death penalty "...a cruel and empty mockery. If not remedied, the scandalous state of our present system of capital punishment will cause a pall of shame over our society for years to come." Marshall's prediction has come to pass: our present system of capital punishment for American public schools is society's public shame.

Even if the the death penalty could be administered fairly, the Governor should rethink his desire to be seen as the "executioner" of public schools. According to a book by Joel Harrington, "The Faithful Executioner: Life and Death, Honor and Shame in the Turbulent Sixteenth Century," throughout history the job of executioner has not been well-respected. In fact, society has generally scorned executioners as outcasts. They have been "universally reviled as cold-blooded killers for hire and accordingly excluded from respectable society at every turn."

So a word to the wise, Governor Cuomo: If your swift sword falls upon the head of a public school, mine will fall upon a lever other than yours in the voting booth. Use your executive clemency power instead and I'll consider using mine on your behalf.

Teachers Who Stay

A recent article in the NY Times examined the benefits of short teaching careers. "...[T]eaching for two to five years is seen as acceptable and, at times, even desirable." Others argued that "...students need stability and that a system of serial short timers is not replicable across thousands of school districts nationwide."

I would like to advocate for teachers as professionals, that is, teachers who stay. Teachers who stay establish and build relationships with colleagues and support staff. They readily lend supplies, become the source for institutional memory, serve as trusted advisors and can point colleagues, parents and students to which resources best explain the difference between factors and multiples. Teachers who stay earn the confidence of students, their families and the larger community. They are invited to family picnics, introduced to grandparents and recommended to cousins. Teachers who stay can be counted on. Their former students come back for advice, help with homework or to introduce a new baby. Teachers who stay are enriched by and contextualize experience and knowledge over the course of time. They know when and how to voice concerns and objections. Teachers who stay care. They are not cultural tourists in the community where they work but active members. They contribute to food banks, participate in voter registration drives and march against unfair police practices. Teachers who stay function as beacons of continuity and consistency in communities where familial disruption and economic instability are the rule not the exception.

But teacher-student –family -community interactions are not the only examples of the benefits of relationship building. Many daily interactions are enhanced by the existence of ongoing and long-term relationships. For instance, I've visited my local beach so frequently and for so many years that when I leave my beach pass at home, I am still admitted - because they know me. Then there is the owner of my favorite Mexican restaurant who remembers that I like a salted margarita and a few weeks ago lent me travel books because he knew I was going away. And there’s the print shop that doesn't charge me tax when I develop photographs because the staff knows I'm a teacher and the pictures are for my classroom. Conversely, it has been my experience that the delivery of excellent medical care and services has been reduced because, like the teaching profession, medicine has devolved into a series of discrete interactions designed only to achieve a set of metrics while failing to recognize the importance of the arc of relationship.

The other day I got a letter in the mail from my health insurance company informing me that I had to select a new primary care physician because my now former physician no longer participated in their plan. It is the third such letter I have received in ten years. This "doctor churn" was not the norm when I was a child. In fact, my entire family went to the same doctor for more than twenty-five years. He understood our health concerns in multiple contexts: individual, family, community, short-term needs and long-term goals. I remember my mother calling our doctor at night. I remember my doctor coming to my bedside at home. I remember my doctor meeting me in the emergency room when I needed stitches. At my new doctor's office, I spent time filling out forms which asked if I'd ever had surgery or was allergic to any medications. There is no way that that questionnaire or the five-minute consultation that followed could substitute for a quarter of a century of relationship building. There is no way I would feel comfortable calling my new doctor for medical advice in the middle of the night - at least not yet. We just don't have that type of relationship.

Teaching Is Going To Kill Me

Last night I got five hours of sleep. Sadly that is typical for a school night as I diligently attempt to juggle the demands of grading (while providing thoughtful comments for each student), phoning parents, lesson planning, designing bulletin boards, getting supplementary books from my public library, shopping for supplies at Staples for, writing IEPs, collecting and analyzing data and attending professional development classes. 

I'm afraid to go to my doctor because of what she will say to me about my weight and blood pressure.  
During quality review week, I suffer from lower back pain. During state exam month, I get headaches and diarrhea. In general, I don't have time to exercise or even to cook while the Sword of Damocles dangles over my head in the form of teacher ratings, school report card grades (that's right my school gets graded), letters to file, teaching observations, quality review and more. Over the years, I've gone to school with a sprained ankle, a twisted knee, a bulging disc, laryngitis and colds of various levels of severity. Many, if not all, of my colleagues do the same.

In the early 1900's, unionized workers fought against exploitive employers who forced them to work long hours with little time off in unhealthy circumstances. Workers were literally dying in unvented, unsafe, poorly lit, deafening factories. More than one hundred years later, I work in a dirty building with bed bugs and lice, mouse droppings, banging radiators, flickering buzzing PCB lighting, and no air conditioning for approximately ten hours each day (6:30am - 4:30pm). My reward when I get home? Another three to five hours of work preparing for the next day.

I won't die in a headline-garnering tragic fire at the "factory." I'll die at home from a stroke or a heart attack but all the same my death certificate should say, "Cause of Death: Teaching." 

The Loveliest Child

This year, I have been blessed with a student who may be the nicest kid I’ve ever taught. Always prepared with an ear-to-ear smile and enormous enthusiasm, he is friendly to everyone even the mean kids. When he walks past my classroom door, he will pause and wave heartily, like he has been waiting to see me all day. When he arrives for class, he greets me as if we haven’t seen each other in years. No matter how challenging the lesson is for him, he works hard to understand. He is a walking ray of sunshine. Each day I am delighted to see him; if he is absent, I miss him. He’s the kind of kid you want to clone because then every school day would be a joy.

Also this year, I have been saddled with a student who cannot retain any information. Nothing, zippo, nada. I model it. I give him manipulatives. I’ve had other students tutor him. I’ve given him extra homework. I’ve given him no homework. I’ve let him investigate the topic using videos or computer games. I’ve kept him at lunch for private tutoring. If he does understand the lesson, it lasts only a short while and certainly not into the next day. He drives me crazy because he has made absolutely no lasting progress. When I see him, I see a walking “1” because that is the score he is going to get on his state exam.

Have you figured it out yet? It’s the same kid. The boy with the warmest heart can process information in the moment but not keep it or use it later. The mixed emotions he stirs in me, epitomize the current battle over my teacher’s soul. I want to appreciate and nurture all the children placed in my care but I also feel resentful when I think about how their test scores could drag down my evaluation.

           

One of the hallmarks of the education reform movement has been assessing teachers by measuring the progress of their students. Because I feel such tremendous pressure to show constant student growth for each and every child, I find it challenging to simply appreciate this young man's genius. Instead, I often see him as an obstacle to my being labeled an “effective teacher.”

And that makes me sick. It is not who I am as a teacher. It is not who I am as a parent. It is not who I am as a human being.  

Each child deserves to be loved for the blessing that he is and for the gifts that he possesses. I am ashamed of myself. I've allowed the funhouse mirror that is the education reform movement to distort my relationship with my students. Anyone have a hammer?