Hey Chris Christie, this is why I teach (not that you bothered to ask)

 

On Diane Ravich’s blog (which I cannot recommend highly enough) there have been several posts on the subject of why people become career-teachers.  The first of these posts were spurred by New Jersey Governor (and perpetual bully) Chris Christie’s comment at the RNC, “Teachers don’t teachers to become rich and famous. They teach because they love children”. 

   I realized that I wanted to become a teacher when I was a senior in high school.  At that point, I had worked with kids at a summer camp for a couple of years and worked as a ski instructor in the winters.  I loved reading and writing.  I loved the whole academic experience and most importantly I loved sharing and passing on knowledge. 

 I was fortunate to make this realization so early in my academic career because as an undergrad I was able to seek out opportunities to mentor, observe, and interact in a variety of classrooms.  I didn’t have the gall to say that I wanted to become a teacher to “change the world”, but I certainly had a bit of chip on my shoulder.

As a junior in college, I spent a month as an intern in a Boston public school, working with an amazing English teacher.  We were talking after school one day and she asked me why I wanted to teach in a high-needs city school. I regurgitated some stock answer about helping kids who really needed it.

She looked at me very seriously and said, “Don’t come here to save the kids. The students don’t need saving and they certainly don’t need a teacher who believes they need to be saved.  What they need is a teacher who believes in them and who is not afraid to challenge them”. 

Beyond that, it’s been my experience that coming into any situation with the goal or expectation of saving the world is a recipe for burn out and disappointment.  Of course, this is not to say that teachers shouldn’t try to affect change. Educators are uniquely positioned to have a profound impact on children’s lives, but it is unfair, unrealistic and even disrespectful to approach teaching with a savior-mentality. 

I had another experience with this “save the children” attitude in my first year teaching.  

 I was talking with one of my parents’ neighbors and I explained where and who I was teaching.  She looked at me like you might look at a newborn puppy and said, “Aw, that’s so wonderful.  Thank you so much for doing that”. 

Surprised by her patronizing tone, I said, “Well, they do pay me. I mean, it’s not volunteering”. 

She said, “Oh I’m sure they do, but it’s so nice what you’re doing for those type of kids”.

As a teacher, I want to be respected for my work, not pandered to or pitied. 

I don’t blame this woman for her reaction. It’s the same type of “you poor dear” attitude that many upper middle-class, suburban folks take toward inner city students.  They care, I really believe that, but they often fail to understand the realities of poverty and inequity. 

So what does all this have to do with why I became (and remain) a teacher?

I don’t have any illusions that I’m saving my students. I don’t pretend that the hour they spend with me each day will erase the effects of poverty or ease the pain of violence.  I teach because I have a passion for sharing knowledge.  I love learning, challenging, and being challenged. 

In my classroom, I push my students to think, read, and write critically.  We look at everything from classic texts to modern films to lived experience and attempt to draw conclusions.  We make arguments and support them with evidence.  We learn together.

That is why I teach and I doubt Chris Christie or any corporate reformer will understand it.  It does not fit  with a results-driven, free market definition of success. I don’t teach to feel better about myself or to build a resume of experience “in the trenches” (a term that I hate). I don't do it to make millions or have summers off or retire early with a fat pension (neither of which I do). 

I do it because sharing knowledge is what I love to do.  I love the challenges, the headaches, and, of course, the successes. 

Change the things you can...

 

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference”

 - “Serenity Prayer” attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr. 

I feel like this should be renamed “An Urban Teacher’s Mantra” (I’m going to avoid the word prayer).  It embodies so much of what my colleagues and I remind ourselves at the beginning of each year (and day for that matter). 

In urban schools (and schools in general), there is so much that is out of our control.  From district and school-wide mandates to students’ personal lives, some things just are and try as we might, there’s little we can do. 

In light of this, I was talking with some of my colleagues about the biggest challenges at our school and what we can do to address them.  Above almost anything else, we agreed, attendance is our biggest struggle.  However, we felt there was not a whole lot we, as teachers of students who are primarily over 18, can do to deal directly with our attendance issues. 

[True: there are a number of approaches that have found some success in some schools, from incentives to home visits to modified schedules, and we’ve tried several, but alas we still average around 70 - 80% daily attendance]

 

I then turned my attention to the issue of students who come to school, but leave around or after lunch, cutting their last few classes. 

To this one of my colleagues responded, “Yeah, security and the case managers need to do a better job guarding the door.”

“But what do you think we as teachers at a small school can do to curb this trend?”, I asked.

He replied, “Well, I’m not going to force them to be here. If they really don’t want to stay, they are welcome to leave. That’s their choice”. 

To an extent, I agree with him. Our school is voluntary and we consistently run a 100+ waiting list, but I’m not satisfied that there’s noting we can do keep them in the building.

I suggested that we re-commit ourselves to engaging, relevant, and active lessons in our classrooms, especially in the afternoon. On one level or another, our students made a choice to re-enroll in school and whether they’re willing to admit it or not, they want to learn something.  Just like I hate irrelevant PDs or pointless meetings, they don’t want to be bored  or feel like they’re wasting their time. While I know there are still students who will cut my afternoon classes, I refuse to let it be because they don’t feel like they’ll be challenged, entertained, engaged, or accomplish something in that hour. 

This is what I mean by controlling the things you can.  I can’t always change the girl who can’t come to school because she doesn’t have childcare, nor can I change the guy who has to work to afford dinner or who misses a week because he’s locked up and no one can bail him out.  Though these situations affect me deeply, they are not as easily in my control. 

Ensuring that when students come to my class they will be met with challenging material that is relevant to their lives and will make them stronger citizens of the world, however, is absolutely in my control.  It's important for me to note that this isn't some kind of "hero teacher" mentality. Instead, it's just a reminder of the effect that an engaging classroom can have on students' attitudes.  It's not about "we believe every student can learn", every student does learn.  As a teacher, it's up to you to decide what lessons they're going to learn in your classroom. 

The Rhee-Appeal OR "Hey, at least she’s doing something”

 

One of the curses of being a teacher is that since everyone went to school, they all feel that they have some brilliant insight about education that they are dying to share with you.  Though these experiences are nothing new to me, I had one a few months ago that really opened my eyes to what I’m now calling the “Rhee-appeal” (referring to former D.C. chancellor Michelle Rhee). 

I was at a party at my girl friend’s father’s house. Most of the attendees were upper-class, white suburbanites who, upon hearing that I was a teacher in the city, decided that I should hear their solution to “the urban school problem”:

- One woman promptly asked me, “Well, what do you think of Michelle Rhee?” and before I could answer, followed with, “because we just saw her speak and think she’s wonderful.” 

- Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I offered, “Yes, well she is certainly a controversial figure in education”. 

- Continuing her own line of thought the woman continued, “It’s just terrible what those teachers’ unions did to her in D.C., but she’s not going to let them stop her.  They should bring here in to Philly and she’d get these schools into shape.  I mean, at least she’s doing something!”

- Getting very frustrated and not really knowing how to contain myself, I just smiled and excused myself to go make a strong drink at the bar. 

As I reflected on this interaction, I realized that this woman was exactly the type of person that Michelle Rhee and her ilk are hoping to appeal to.  These corporate reformers don’t take time to engage parents or teachers in dialogue.  They rarely invite community members to the table when deciding how best to steer their schools.  Instead, they populate their boards with people whose perception of urban schools is based on the media and Hollywood films.  (don’t even get me started on the number of people who have told me that I should just try to be like that nice girl [Erin Gruwell] in Freedom Writers…)

Further, corporate reformers drum up the support of wealthy suburbanites through marketing campaigns disguised as documentaries (Waiting for Superman), “true” stories (Won’t Back Down), miracle stories (The Bee Eater) and even charity benefits (like the nauseating teacher benefit that aired on Friday).  Since being ousted from D.C., Rhee has been working the speaker series hard, spewing her insane reform agenda (and ignoring the massive cheating scandal that she left in her wake) and it is clearly working (see the interaction earlier in this post).   

Though it pains me to admit it, I was once taken in by this “Rhee-appeal”.  I was still and undergrad when my brother began teaching in D.C. through a Teaching Fellows program.  I started reading about this woman who had recently been named Chancellor and who was completely shaking up the system.  She was putting students first, the articles said.  She didn’t care about teachers’ excuses or interests, just wanted what was best for the children.  I found myself sitting back and saying, “well, it may not be the right choice, but at least she’s doing something”. 

I look back on this experience every time I read about a new reform agenda or miracle agenda.  Though I don’t advocate cynicism, I do think that realism is essential in education and perhaps if I had a few more years under my belt, I would have felt more confident  engaging with the woman at that party a few months ago.  Those of us who work in urban schools and communities everyday see how truly damaging this “Rhee appeal” truly is.  City kids are too often treated like guinea pigs in some corporate reform experiment.