I Don't Like Talking About This.

I don't like writing about it, either.  But the fact that the man who founded this network, which recommends this hyper-sexualized and pornographic reading list for very young children, is now in charge of keeping our nation's public schools safe?  Frightening enough for me to bring it up here.

Bad move, Mr. Duncan.  One more reason to avoid public schools.

(A dubious thanks to Rod for pointing this out in an utterly discouraging post.)

My Morning

1:36 AM Fall asleep re-reading "Their Eyes Were Watching God" in preparation for final project, due in one week.

5:30 AM Awake to furious meowing.  Fumble for squirt bottle on nightstand.  Blessed silence.

6:30 AM Repeat.

7:30 AM Repeat.

8:45 AM Awake groggily; remember about test in 10:05 class.

8:48 AM Remember that test is a two-parter.  Awake fully and scramble downstairs in search of notes.

8:55 AM Put test together.

9:45 AM Print test.  Attempt to look somewhat presentable.

9:50 AM Drive to school.

9:55 AM Score Best Parking Spot in House.  Congratulate self on getting everything done with ten minutes to spare.

9:56 AM Enter school; smile at secretary.

9:56:10 AM Realize secretary isn't smiling back.

9:56:11 AM Vice Principal appears, frowning.  "You're half an hour late!  I was just running up to cover your class!"  Oh.  A Special Schedule, not written down anywhere.  Probably announced while I was not in the building.  Naturally.

9:57 AM Reach the classroom, breathless.  At least the students will be happy they don't have to take the whole test.

9:58 AM Students are furious.  Apparently half of them studied only for one portion, half only for the other.  Bitter division as to which half they should take today.

9:59 AM After an old-fashioned vote and much gnashing of teeth, students are settled and writing.

10:36 AM Class ends.

10:41 AM Home with a bowl of hot, spicy, creamy grits.  Is it too early for Cabo Wabo?

10:43 AM Didn't think so.

Training Teachers

I've complained many times about the pitfalls of graduate teacher education.  Finally, someone who GETS IT has a national platform.  Her main points:

These new teacher programs should be selective, requiring a 3.5 undergraduate grade point average and an intensive application process. But they should also be free of charge, and admission should include a stipend for the first three years of teaching in a public school.

Huh.  Not sure about the free of charge part, or the forcing teachers to teach in a public school part.  But selectivity is definitely key.  Call me crazy, but I think teachers should be smart.

Too often, teaching students spend their time studying specific instructional programs and learning how to handle mechanics like making lesson plans. These skills, while useful, are not what will transform a promising student into a good teacher.

TELL ME ABOUT IT!  Writing a lesson plan was a very useful exercise . . . the first time.  Now I know how to do it, and yet I've had to do it many more times since then, to no one's benefit.

Future teachers should continue studying the subject they hope to teach, with outstanding professors. It makes no sense at all to stop studying the thing you want to teach at the very moment you begin to learn how.

Especially when future teachers didn't major in the subject they hope to teach, as I didn't.  How is that legal?!

Teachers must also learn far more about children: typically, teaching students are provided with fairly static and superficial overviews of developmental stages, but learn little about how to watch children, using research and theory to understand what they are seeing.

Yes, and yes, and yes.  I learned so much about child psychology from my piano training and experience.  My classmates did not.  They are frequently blindsided and dumbfounded by some of the most basic principles.  Example: most children are so terrified of failure that they will resort to cheating, hitting, and shutting down before they will make an attempt that might not succeed.  Creating an environment that is nurturing and safe is absolutely paramount.

Give as many public schools as possible the financial incentives to hire these newly prepared teachers in groups of seven or more. This way, talented eager young teachers won’t languish or leave teaching because they felt bored, inept, isolated or marginalized. Instead, they will feel part of a robust community of promising professionals. They will struggle and learn together. Good teachers need good colleagues.

Again, I don't like that this is only applicable to public schools, but it's a great principle.  My first year was horrible, mostly because I didn't know anyone else who was struggling.  If I hadn't accidentally bumped into someone in exactly the same boat, or if I hadn't been married to someone who had been in the same boat before, I probably would have quit.  I remember vividly the afternoon I made a comment that led to a conversation that reassured me: students could be awful, the pay is awful, and I wasn't crazy for thinking both.  That gave me the courage to try another day.

An Unexpected Gift

The buzz began during first period: “There’s no water!  What’re we supposed to do?!”  “I dunno, but I REALLY gotta pee!”  The Pavlovian reflexes spread like wildfire: the moment they knew they couldn’t go, everyone had to.

During the break between classes, I squeezed apologetically into line for a bagel.  (Teachers are allowed to cut, but I felt guilty anyway.)  As I ambled back upstairs munching, I passed the vice principal.  “So, we get to leave now, right?” I joked.  “We’ll give it 15 more minutes,” she answered, completely serious.

I swallowed and returned to my classroom, where the students were gathered in a whispering huddle of misery.  “Omigod, I have to go SO bad,” one moaned.  Inwardly, I rolled my eyes.  Girls.

The bell rang, and eight pairs of eager eyes were trained on me – silently, for once.  “It looks like they’re going to cancel school,” I said, smiling.  A series of high-pitched noises ensued: they had not dared to hope for this!

No sooner had I closed my mouth than we heard the click of the PA system.  “May I have everyone’s attention, please.” You could hear a pin drop.  “The county has not been able to give us any more information about the water main break, so we have no choice but to close sch – ”

The poor secretary never finished her sentence; or, if she did, it was drowned out in a chorus of shrieks and cheers that ran the length of four hallways on four floors, from the mouths of hundreds of giddy teenage girls (and probably a few teachers, too.) Immediately, they began making plans to go to lunch together on their day off.

I knew I wouldn't be going out to lunch; I had so much catching up to do, grading and planning, that I'd probably be there until the final bell rang anyway. (I was.)  But something about group giddiness is awfully infectious, and  I couldn't help but be filled with wild joy along with the rest of them.

Lines and Labels

Interesting article from CNN (though a few months old -- I can't read it all, people) about the boundaries between teachers and students, and how they've changed as a result of social networking:

The Lamar County School Board in Missouri recently implemented a policy forbidding teachers and students from having any text-message conversations or social-networking friendships.

Jim Keith, an education lawyer who represents several school boards in Missouri, has been giving talks to teachers in which he explains that most of the inappropriate student-teacher relationships start out on a friendship level.

Keith spoke of one instance where a parent thought her child was spending extra time with a teacher who was trying to help her child overcome shyness. At Keith's urging, they checked the child's phone bill and found 4,200 text messages between the teacher and student.

"As an educator, there is a line of demarcation between you and your student," Keith said. "It's a line that you cannot come close to, let alone step over. You've got to establish it from Day One and say, 'I'm not your buddy; I'm not your friend; I'm just your teacher.' "

The article focuses mainly on the possibility of sexually inappropriate relationships, but I think there's just as much harm to be found when teachers forget about the natural impediments of friendship between them and their students.  This is very, very hard for me.  My students are just on the verge of adulthood, and they have fleeting periods of depth and maturity that are so convincing I believe for a moment they are just like me.  Then they want to debate a recent quiz grade or offer an excuse about homework, and I suddenly remember they are children; barely so, but children still.  And that makes me the adult.

I have other reasons for staying away from social networking, but this is the greatest.  Even if I posted every detail of my life, there is little that could be incriminating in the future (I'm not sophisticated enough for dual identities.)  But just the thought that my students could be friends with me, know that I'm going shopping with my mother or having friends over for dinner, makes me feel uncomfortable.  We're not friends.  My job is to be their teacher.

A Great Idea

My posts have all been negative lately.  I guess it's been a rough week.  But I was really inspired after reading about this idea, being implemented in Milwaukee schools:

So maybe there was a little drama between you and another ninth-grader, you know, some problem.

You could get suspended for that at a lot of schools, three days or until your mom or dad comes in and has a conference with the principal or somebody like that.

At Audubon Technology & Communication Center High School, you have a circle.

Maybe 10 people, mostly other ninth-graders, sit in a circle, with some object like an electric candle in the middle. You can't talk unless you're holding on to a ball or a little figure or something that that you have to pass around to each other.

There's an icebreaker to start the conversation - what's your favorite food, that kind of thing. Everything that is said is supposed to be confidential, and no one can speak without respecting everyone else. Then down to business, with one of the kids leading the discussion and following a process in which everyone gets to present their side and talk about what impact the problem had on them. Then there's a discussion of what ought to be done and how to get to a point of trust and respect.

You're supposed to work it out, in other words.

When we fought, as kids, there was always The Couch.  My parents sent us there, seated at opposite ends, until we'd resolved the problem.  This is basically the same thing.  And, just like my brilliant parents' idea, it works:

As of last week, there had been only four suspensions so far this school year among about 100 ninth-graders at Audubon . . . in Milwaukee Public Schools as a whole, 45% of ninth-graders were suspended at least once during the 2007-'08 school year.

The most interesting thing about the article (which really deserves a full reading) is that the presence of other students often serves as a more strict watchdog than administration alone:

Teachers say that often the students speak more strongly to kids who caused problems than staff members themselves would, and hearing it from people their age has more impact on the offenders.

I have seen this often.  The truth is that good students resent interruptions and rule violations even more than teachers.  Last week one of my colleagues, Harriet, unloaded on me about a student who had been extremely disrespectful in her critique of a recent test.  Harriet was pretty rattled by the incident until after class, when several other students came up to her to apologize for their classmate's actions and voice their support of Harriet and the test she had given.  It's great to see kids take a stand for justice, even when it means standing up for The Rules.

The First Day of the Rest of the Year

Today was the first day of orientation.  I always leave the first day with my head swimming, full of new information, but three things stood out today:

1) The spiritual connection I feel with my colleagues here is such a great blessing.  I say it often: if I can’t teach at an Orthodox school, I am so happy to be teaching at a Catholic school that is so well-aligned with Orthodox thinking.  They are one of the most conservative groups of Catholics I’ve ever met.  Nearly all come from large, two-parent families, go to confession frequently, and pray before every class.  The first thing we do as a school is attend Mass, followed by a prayer service for the upcoming year, with petitions for students and their families, relatives who are ill, and grace and wisdom for the upcoming school year.  I can’t think of a more unifying, uplifting way to begin this new journey.

2) Everyone looks so relaxed on the first day.  They actually take the time to look into your eyes, ask how you’re doing, and mean it.  By the end of the year, we’re all wound so tightly we almost can’t form a complete sentence in conversation with another adult.  It’s nice to remember that these are real people, with outside interests and families they love.

3) I never thought I could like a principal as well as our departing principal, who was a thoughtful, wise and humble leader.  But this new one won me over in the first five minutes by directly addressing my biggest (and really, only) complaint about my school: The communication here really sucks.   So much that I’m willing to use a vulgarity in describing it.

Well, she began by saying that her personal philosophy can be summed up in one word: Communication.  Almost all problems can be solved through better communication, so it is her goal to communicate as much and as well as possible.  She mentioned a “Friday Memo” that would contain all the upcoming “special events” for the following week – something I’ve been advocating (begging, really) for ever since I first arrived and realized how haphazard communication is.

The amazing thing is that teachers are willing to do almost anything for an administrator, especially one they like.  What they resent is when these duties are thrust upon them with little or no warning.  They also resent what I’ve talked about before: the feeling that all the major decisions are made behind closed doors, regardless of how deeply they are affected by said decisions.  The new principal addressed this as well.

Our new principal also mentioned that she wants to come observe everyone within the first few weeks.  I’ve heard this every year since I’ve been here, and I’ve never been observed except by another teacher.  I hope it happens this year.

Toughing it Out

Sarah Fine, a fairly new teacher, is so overwhelmed and disheartened that she's quitting.  Statistics are fuzzy, but it's estimated that half of all new teachers will follow her before the five-year mark. Burnout is the most frequently cited reason:

But there is more to those numbers than "burnout." That term is shorthand for a suite of factors that contributed to my choice to leave the classroom. When I talk about the long hours, for example, what I mean is that, over the course of four years, my school's administration steadily expanded the workload and workday while barely adjusting salaries. More and more major decisions were made behind closed doors, and more and more teachers felt micromanaged rather than supported. One afternoon this spring, when my often apathetic 10th-graders were walking eagerly around the room as part of a writing assignment, an administrator came in and ordered me to get the class "seated and silent." It took everything I had to hold back my tears of frustration.

The teaching itself was exhilarating but disheartening. There were triumphs: energetic seminar discussions, cross-class projects, a student-led poetry slam. This past year, my 10th-graders even knocked the DC-CAS reading test out of the water. Even so, I felt like a failure. Too many of my students showed only occasional signs of intellectual curiosity, despite my best efforts to engage them. Too many of them still would not or could not read. And far too many of them fell through the cracks.

Bolded sentences are my "Amen!"s.  This year, God willing, I plan to be one of the half that stays in teaching, but I can't tell you how many dozens of times I've wanted to quit.  I especially sympathize with her comments about administration, who shuts down the majority of good ideas and micromanages the rest into mediocrity.  And yes, it is utterly defeating to encounter people who don't love learning, especially when you love it as much as she and I do.

Fine spends the second half of her article talking about how little respect her profession receives from the outside world.  My experience could not be more different.  I've had total strangers call me a hero upon learning my occupation, and my friends (those who aren't teachers themselves) are deeply appreciative as well.

In fact, it could be that  the only reason I'm still here is my diehard optimism: I love the thought of a class where ideas are shared and intellects are shaped, and no matter how unrealistic that idea may be, I'm seduced by the fleeting glimpses I've received over the years.  The student who exclaimed in discussion last year, "I love this class!  We get to talk about stuff!"  Inarticulate, spontaneous and sweet, those comments stay with me.  Maybe I'm a sucker, or maybe I just love what I do.

It Could Be Worse!

I try to tell myself this every time I open my mouth to complain about school.  I'm not always successful.  In fact, I'm rarely successful.  Complaining is easy (and free!)

But a story like this is a good wakeup call.  I really do have a cushy job.  My biggest class at the private school where I teach has been 19, and that seemed HUGE.  My smallest class was 4, which dropped down to 3 later.  Most of my classes are around a dozen.  Still, I fret about giving each student enough attention.  I can't imagine what I would do with 30 or 40 kids!  Those teachers should be canonized.

Goodbye, Summer

Not just my summer (although that's fading alarmingly fast.)  Maybe yours, too.  This week TIME magazine mentioned our President and Education Secretary's predilection toward year-round schooling.

There are some cool things about summer, like:

• The beach. And, fine, the pool is an acceptable substitute.


• Cold beer and grilled bratwurst. By the light of a lantern in the evening.  When you don't have to get up early and teach the next day.


• Friends. Yes, I know you can have friends anytime, but we don't get a chance to socialize much during the school year.  And I've eaten more steak in the last month than in the whole school year prior.  Most recently in a Guinness-curry-chocolate sauce, which was most swoon-worthy thanks to Jim.


• Sudden drenching rainstorms. I've loved these since before I stopped being afraid of them.

And there are some dumb things about summer, like:

• Mosquitoes.


• Summer camp (I'm not referring to a week or two in a cabin with spiders, canoes and campfires, building character.  I'm referring to the obsessive to-the-moment schedules of many kids, who go to so many specialized camps they hardly have a day to themselves.)


• A non-agrarian society which doesn't really need summers off anymore.


• A dumber population. Sorry, it's true: look around, and you'll see we are far below the standard in Asia and Europe.  By contrast, a test at Jersey City High school in 1885 contained the following questions.

Find the product of 3 + 4x + 5x2 -6x3 and 4 - 5x - 6x2.

Write a sentence containing a noun used as an attribute, a verb in the perfect tense potential mood, and a proper adjective.

Name three events of 1777. Which was the most important and why?

(Here's the killer: it was a test for admission to high school.  So the kids taking the test were 8th graders.  I'm a high school math and English teacher, and I don't think I could answer any of those questions! Taken from The Bell Curve.)

Bottom line: I think summer school is a great idea.  Shorter terms, maybe four per year, with holidays between.  Yes, and we should also adopt the British system of calling vacation "holiday."  It sounds so much classier.