Okay, it is time for school. In the air is a current of expectation, mixed with soupcon of anxiety. Here's how this works. The first week you make a seating chart which you will change in the second week which you will change every week until guidance gets all the kids sorted out which they had promised to do in spring last school year. So do all charts in pencil!
Then there are the rules you have to establish for your classroom. Don't go overboard! Remember they have to be able to remember them. Here is the rule: this is not a democracy, so get a grip! Don't even worry about the bathroom rule as someone in greater authority than you will tell you when and how they can go to the bathroom. Same goes for late assignments. Someone will shame you into rejecting them. Someone will also tell you how to set up your grading system. So don't worry!
Next we have supplies. Some teachers look for the perfect lesson planner. Whoever designed them has never written one lesson plan. And most teachers wear glasses after a certain age (which we won't mention here), so the space allocated for plans is so small that the teachers cannot actually read whatever they have written. Every teacher I have ever known goes into Staples, Office Depot, Office Max or Wal Mart and stares at all the writing implements. Which one, she or he asks silently, will raise less of a knot on my finger when I grade? How many pens will I need? Will the department supply me with any? Will I like them? Will they be so old, they have no ink in them? And then there are the pencils. Teachers stare at the box of 100 and think I am not buying pencils for my students this year. It ain't happening! So they put two of the boxes in their cart. Whatever!
The issue of paper is also on the agenda. The teacher wonders if buying notebook paper is necessary. Will students come with paper? The answer is NO. So if you don't want them writing on the desk top or their arms, buy paper. However, if a teacher sees a student taking notes in class, sit down before you faint. This vision is rare and often absent in a class of 25 or 30.
Now the teacher proceeds to computer and xerox paper. A friend of mine once said that paper to a teacher is like milk for a baby--absolutely essential. Yet the first item to be cut back in a lot of classrooms is paper for copying or printing. Best bet--go together with someone and buy a box of paper. It will last a good five to eight weeks and then you can buy more.
The conundrum teachers now face is textbooks. Where are they? Does the school offer enough to assign to each student? Interestingly enough, some districts don't assign a book to a student because he or she will lose it, never bring it back to class or leave it at a friend's house. So if you are a teacher who offers assignments requiring reading, half of your lesson plan is accomplished. Of course, you never ask how old the texts might be. After all literature never changes, only chemistry and physics. History never changes, only biology. And, of course, the teacher's copy weighs more than last week's groceries and so by the end of the year, you see this muscle in the arm of overweight, anxious teachers who look like they have been lifting only one barbell all year!
Now we come to the best part--inservice. I have never understood just what this term means for administrators. Who are we in service too? This is not Downton Abbey (although we could wish for a Carson to handle all our mishaps). Does anybody ever get anything out of an inservice? The data they throw up on the screen is the same data you are going to look at at intervals in the school year. Why rush things? What gauls teachers is that this time could be better spent in the classroom running down textbooks and making the computer work. So you sit for a day or half a day and try not to fall asleep since this is the first morning in nine weeks that you have gotten up before the sun! Teachers congregate at these meetings according to rank and file. Most of them sit toward the back where it is dark and they can snooze undetected. The coaches seem to collect in one small group; the social studies teachers do the same. The English department spreads out all over the place looking for a comfortable seat away from other people. And then there are the newly hired and inner circle people who find the front and have stars in their eyes because this is going to be "the best year ever." Everyone else feels sympathy for them. After the first nine weeks, or sooner, their world will collide with reality. It's harsh!
Now for those of you who don't teach and would never enter a classroom again, let me tell you this side of the story. Teachers go through hell to get ready for your kids. They agonize over IEP's and 504 plans because they want those students to get the very best they can. They consider how to set goals for all students to achieve and master. They try to be original and creative, but in this climate most teachers have little leeway in instruction. They do their best to accomplish a positive and reinforcing experience for your son or daughter. Give them the credit they deserve. Support them with all you can, including better conditions, more materials and a solid income.
Otherwise, you will be part of every teacher's back-to-school dream of death and destruction. They not only dream of teaching naked, but they also dream of the kid from hell and the parent who spawned him.
Teaching has been my life for the past 45 years and this has been the pattern of it for all of those years. The kid from hell I took under my wing and taught him to laugh and to learn. That was my job, as it is every teacher's job. Have a good and safe school year, all of you!
Monday, August 12, 2013
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Sunday morning coming down
Writers write. They gather words like field hands gather beans. They carefully toss them into "baskets" and take them to be processed for us to pour over in quiet consternation or contentment. But who are they really? Do they all gather for cocktails this afternoon in a hotel in downtown New York or Chicago? Or better yet a pub in Chelsea? I read the New York Times Book Review every Sunday and wonder. How did those books get there? Does anyone really read them? Do they read them and then go to dinner parties or cocktail parties and impress others with the hours they have spent reading those books? Does anyone care? Is there an award one receives for reading the most books on the New York Times Book Review list? Something like the certificates you got when you were ten years old and it was summer and your mother made you go to the library to get some books for nap time after the beach or swimming pool? What is good writing? What is good reading? Should we be punished with erudite novels about impossible people or should we be able to plunge deeply into the fictional life of a compelling character who wins despite the odds? I prefer characters who are imperfect but have incredible moral compasses. So I don't read about Wall Street or Washington. I love mysteries because I like not knowing until the very end(sort of like Christianity--the not knowing til the end part). I used to read romance until I discovered that it was the greatest fiction of all. Overweight men and women hardly ever inherited their maiden aunt or uncle's mansion at a seaside resort and turned it into a bed and breakfast and then fell head over heels in love with their first guest! More like they baked muffins and made breakfast for slim, "don't each much breakfast" types who left it all for "staff" (that would be the overweight heir) to clean up after. My friend Jane would say I was being too hard on romance fiction, but she understands escapism; I don't. Biographies can be annoying or enlightening. Some historic figures should remain shrouded in the mists of time; others need broad daylight for comprehension. I've never been compelled to read "character driven" fiction. Often the plot is thin and I wonder why I should get to know this character. What am I learning about myself or my fellow humans through this character's affectations and discriminations? So the quest for good reading and good writing continues. And maybe that's why we read and why writers write. The journey to share stories which may or may not appeal is arduous and risky. I suppose if the writer is willing to risk exposure, I should risk exposure too. It's a fair trade.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Whatever took so long??
It takes time to think about what to say to readers. I don't have that many followers but there are the faithful and few and I owe you some time. Retirement has been the theme of the year. Making up my mind happened just before state testing windows of April and May. I wanted so badly to teach a selection of short stories I had collected online from the Library of Congress, but there was absolutely no time. It was devastating for the second year in a row. So I resigned myself to the situation and retired. After all, 45 years seems to be enough of me.
Some of it had to do with my mother's death this past January. Some of it had to do with my brother's retirement and some of it had to do with exhaustion. Sometimes the hour comes when you notice the hour glass is not turning over. There is no more sand. In my time to consider what I wanted to do as a result of these influences, I decided to become a student. Below is the blog I wrote the day I came to that realization.
May 30, 2013
Learning for the sake of learning. Ahh, there’s pleasure in that. To think for the sake of thinking. To think about thinking. To form a vision of the world from ancient
times til now and see the cord that stretches from that point to this. In Fiddler on the Roof, Tevya sings about
sitting in the synagogue all day “ and that would be the sweetest life of all.”
Yes. This is the sweetest moment in one’s life—to arrive at a place of thought
and reflection for the sake of thought and reflection.
I don’t have to take a test or write an essay on what I
study or learn. I don’t have to shape
and form my opinion to concur with others or anyone. I am free to move among ideas and see the
shape and essence of them without bother.
And to move at my pace. Days,
weeks, months will pass and I am still on page one and what does it
matter? If I understand page one, do I
have to answer to anyone for page two or two thousand? I accomplish what I accomplish. This is so breathtaking. Is this the definition of freedom?
Does all this come because I have paid my dues to
reality? Because I have given my 45
years to the growth and development of others?
Because I have raised my children?
Because I have sustained a successful partnership? Whatever debt I feel I have paid, I now walk
out of that cell a free person.
This is the journey I was meant to take. I am excited, liberated and at peace. This inner journey will be mine alone with
brief stops to nourish the realities of life I cannot nor do not want to
escape—husband, children, friends. But,
at last, I have my journey. Postcards
will arrive from time to time telling you of my stops and starts and
stays. But don’t envy me. I believe we each find this place and if we
are prepared to recognize it, we may enter.
Bon voyage.
This is dedicated to Nick, my children, Ann Bain and Dahna Willis (both mentors to me).
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Thank you!
Tomorrow is 10-10-10 and I will be 65. I think it is time to say "thank you" for the many and varied gifts I have received and none too soon, I say.
Through the years I have had many gifts from friends, relatives, family, students and educators. Today, although it is not about the classroom I write, I would like to thank them for the real "classroom" where I have learned, hopefully, to be a happier and more fulfilled person.
My mother was a professional educator in every way. I thank her for the model she gave me and my brother about teaching and connecting with students. From her we learned to appreciate the custodian and the superintendent, the students and the parents, the football coach and the band director. We learned the value of Friday night lights and a packed gym in January. She showed us that real teaching often happens after dismissal and real caring comes from attending solemnities required of community members.
My father taught me common sense. And patience. And forgiveness.
Of course, I have to thank all the teachers along the way. Mrs. Ortiz taught me not to lie. Mrs. Pittard read the Hardy Boys to us every day after lunch. Miss Parks taught me to write about what I know and Miss Smith taught me to be myself. Madame Brackett opened my dreams to French. Mr. Bertrand taught me confidence. Wherever they are now, I hope they know I have carried them with me all these years.
Three friends in high school helped me feel less isolated--Mary Jean Fitzpatrick, Julie Joffray and Cheryl Horecker. I dated twice in high school, neither remarkable but Bill Turkington is still the nicest person you can know. Everyone knows about my crush on Jon Swanson and no February 13 goes by that I don't think of him and hope he is well. He was "dreamy" and now he's bald. I would probably still be tongue-tied if I met him.
College friends like Patty Shelton were important and tragic. We parted ways over a boy. How stupid of us but how typical of us. She arranged for my first date with my first real sweetheart--Peter Torgrimson. Wherever he is today, I apologize for not understanding your subtleties. A mistake I rued for some time. But not today. It would have never worked.
Memphis and students who taught me how to be a minority. How to deal with racist slurs and intolerance and Dr. King who gave me the example to share with my students. To the class of 1971 at Southside High School, I thank you. Vicki Collins, wherever you are, I hope you got that job life guarding!
Three ex-husbands and California. My roommates on S. 10th--thanks for the party, continuous and gay! My brother had an especially nice time. They introduced me to Yosemite. For that I am and always will be grateful. It is my spiritual home and I was fortunate to work there with Charmaine Gerecke and Dianne Mueller. Two wonderful women who helped me put Viet Nam behind me and look to nature for my life.
From there to Missouri. I would not have survived the next few years without the friendship of Pat Stokely and, in turn, her family. She made me watch the evening news again and taught me about small town intolerance. She was a true friend. And a great cook! Thank you for many, many happy memories and to John Brown for being a beautiful dog!
Those three husbands all turned out to be flukes. I was much too young to consider that I wanted to stay in a relationship with one person for any length of time. But I do thank Bob Polack for my son and for the long Jungian fest that was our marriage. Despite it all, I think I explored a lot of my own self in those few years and was rewarded for my pain and suffering. My marriage now is much richer for the earlier mistakes. I am thankful for lessons learned in no other way which make me more capable and willing to share and grow with one person.
To the Metzgers, the Bains and the Weltmans--my other families. You each, in turn, have given me a "home" when I felt I had none. I regret that time and distance now keep us parted. But you and your children have touched me deeply in the richest of ways and I carry those treasures always.
Affton--Mary, Jane, Karen, Marilyn, Renee, Sandy and Gay--sisters and mentors. You have forgiven me in my frustration many times. You have offered me a helping hand, a shoulder to lean on, an angel to walk with me, advice and comfort, and the acknowledgment that I was a good teacher and person. From my heart I thank you for those years and the continued blessings of your presence.
As for today--Stella, Mercedes, Erika--new sisters, companions along the way. Betty Van Rees, wherever you are, you need to come back to us. Mandy Horton for teaching me new ways of helping kids and Linda Pelli for spiritual guidance.
The families I have known along my way--the Blasburgs, Derek especially, the Dierkers, the Jasons (who are hosting my birthday party tonight). Thank you for supporting me and believing in me as someone who could lead your children to higher ground.
As for all the students, going all the way back to 1967, you have been amazing gifts. Each of you came wrapped in significant ways and you challenged me to take you in other directions. I am proud to say we had a great journey together.
Last for my husband and children--who goes through life with so many blessings? All of us but do we ever stop to say thanks? I want the people of my life to know this because many of them I will never see again. For those I see daily, thanks is always there. My husband Nick is the best gift I have ever received. My St. Louis family knows what we two went through to pull our lives together. Wasn't easy. John, my oldest, is a constant reminder that I can have a positive influence and I do have a legacy in him. He is my joy. My step-children are frequent reminders that starting over at 50 was not such a bad idea after all. I love them dearly. We have had a lot of fun "growing up."
And so tomorrow I celebrate 65 years as a visitor here, gathering up the goodies I can and trying not to be tempted to do something foolish. I only hope I have many more people to thank before this ends. I would welcome the lessons and gifts!
Through the years I have had many gifts from friends, relatives, family, students and educators. Today, although it is not about the classroom I write, I would like to thank them for the real "classroom" where I have learned, hopefully, to be a happier and more fulfilled person.
My mother was a professional educator in every way. I thank her for the model she gave me and my brother about teaching and connecting with students. From her we learned to appreciate the custodian and the superintendent, the students and the parents, the football coach and the band director. We learned the value of Friday night lights and a packed gym in January. She showed us that real teaching often happens after dismissal and real caring comes from attending solemnities required of community members.
My father taught me common sense. And patience. And forgiveness.
Of course, I have to thank all the teachers along the way. Mrs. Ortiz taught me not to lie. Mrs. Pittard read the Hardy Boys to us every day after lunch. Miss Parks taught me to write about what I know and Miss Smith taught me to be myself. Madame Brackett opened my dreams to French. Mr. Bertrand taught me confidence. Wherever they are now, I hope they know I have carried them with me all these years.
Three friends in high school helped me feel less isolated--Mary Jean Fitzpatrick, Julie Joffray and Cheryl Horecker. I dated twice in high school, neither remarkable but Bill Turkington is still the nicest person you can know. Everyone knows about my crush on Jon Swanson and no February 13 goes by that I don't think of him and hope he is well. He was "dreamy" and now he's bald. I would probably still be tongue-tied if I met him.
College friends like Patty Shelton were important and tragic. We parted ways over a boy. How stupid of us but how typical of us. She arranged for my first date with my first real sweetheart--Peter Torgrimson. Wherever he is today, I apologize for not understanding your subtleties. A mistake I rued for some time. But not today. It would have never worked.
Memphis and students who taught me how to be a minority. How to deal with racist slurs and intolerance and Dr. King who gave me the example to share with my students. To the class of 1971 at Southside High School, I thank you. Vicki Collins, wherever you are, I hope you got that job life guarding!
Three ex-husbands and California. My roommates on S. 10th--thanks for the party, continuous and gay! My brother had an especially nice time. They introduced me to Yosemite. For that I am and always will be grateful. It is my spiritual home and I was fortunate to work there with Charmaine Gerecke and Dianne Mueller. Two wonderful women who helped me put Viet Nam behind me and look to nature for my life.
From there to Missouri. I would not have survived the next few years without the friendship of Pat Stokely and, in turn, her family. She made me watch the evening news again and taught me about small town intolerance. She was a true friend. And a great cook! Thank you for many, many happy memories and to John Brown for being a beautiful dog!
Those three husbands all turned out to be flukes. I was much too young to consider that I wanted to stay in a relationship with one person for any length of time. But I do thank Bob Polack for my son and for the long Jungian fest that was our marriage. Despite it all, I think I explored a lot of my own self in those few years and was rewarded for my pain and suffering. My marriage now is much richer for the earlier mistakes. I am thankful for lessons learned in no other way which make me more capable and willing to share and grow with one person.
To the Metzgers, the Bains and the Weltmans--my other families. You each, in turn, have given me a "home" when I felt I had none. I regret that time and distance now keep us parted. But you and your children have touched me deeply in the richest of ways and I carry those treasures always.
Affton--Mary, Jane, Karen, Marilyn, Renee, Sandy and Gay--sisters and mentors. You have forgiven me in my frustration many times. You have offered me a helping hand, a shoulder to lean on, an angel to walk with me, advice and comfort, and the acknowledgment that I was a good teacher and person. From my heart I thank you for those years and the continued blessings of your presence.
As for today--Stella, Mercedes, Erika--new sisters, companions along the way. Betty Van Rees, wherever you are, you need to come back to us. Mandy Horton for teaching me new ways of helping kids and Linda Pelli for spiritual guidance.
The families I have known along my way--the Blasburgs, Derek especially, the Dierkers, the Jasons (who are hosting my birthday party tonight). Thank you for supporting me and believing in me as someone who could lead your children to higher ground.
As for all the students, going all the way back to 1967, you have been amazing gifts. Each of you came wrapped in significant ways and you challenged me to take you in other directions. I am proud to say we had a great journey together.
Last for my husband and children--who goes through life with so many blessings? All of us but do we ever stop to say thanks? I want the people of my life to know this because many of them I will never see again. For those I see daily, thanks is always there. My husband Nick is the best gift I have ever received. My St. Louis family knows what we two went through to pull our lives together. Wasn't easy. John, my oldest, is a constant reminder that I can have a positive influence and I do have a legacy in him. He is my joy. My step-children are frequent reminders that starting over at 50 was not such a bad idea after all. I love them dearly. We have had a lot of fun "growing up."
And so tomorrow I celebrate 65 years as a visitor here, gathering up the goodies I can and trying not to be tempted to do something foolish. I only hope I have many more people to thank before this ends. I would welcome the lessons and gifts!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Small is Better
Good Morning! I have just about finished my New York Times, but my husband just shared with me Thomas Friedman's column "We're No. 1(1)!" In the article Friedman relates that Newsweek's poll places the United States as number 11 of the best countries in the world. Number one is Finland, and in descending order: Switzerland, Sweden, Australia, Luxembourg, Norway, Canada, Netherlands, Japan, Denmark. Do you see a pattern? Categories used to rank these countries are: education, health, quality of life, economic dynamism, and political environment.
Friedman makes the point that until we return to the values of the greatest generation (my mother and father's generation--the ones that won a more compelling war (we were defending ourselves, not being the aggressors) we will continue to not make the top five of that list. I would like to offer my reasons for our lost situation.
Small is better. Smaller communities, smaller schools, smaller religious places, smaller downtowns, smaller industries, smaller transportation, smaller farms, smaller stores, smaller, smaller, smaller. Today we are lost in a vast and wickedly expanding world that will not and does not slow down for anything or anyone. Words like "development" and "SUV" are a genuine part of our mindset.
I am best acquainted with the school situation. I have contended for all of my teaching career that smaller schools were the answer. I began in Memphis in a high school with an enrollment of almost 2000. I moved to a high school in Missouri with a population of over 1500. Finally, I taught in a school in St. Louis with a population of 700 and one of 400. Only in the last two schools did I know all the faces I saw in the passing period. I knew the teachers from the industrial arts area in the back of the building to the math teachers at the upper end of the hall way. I knew the modern language teachers, the science teachers. I even knew teachers in other buildings in the district. Imagine being able to call on a teacher in the third grade for help with a student whose family she had known long before me. Can you imagine that? In every other school I have been part of, I have known only those teachers on my planning period and that was because we all ended up having to go to the bathroom at the same time every day. My principals in those smaller schools also knew me. They knew what went on in my room and whenever there was a problem, they personally came to me and gave me every opportunity to address the issue, and because they knew me well, they defused any situation long before it became an issue. I appreciated that.
Today I teach in another "mega" school. I have been there five years and still cannot recognize teachers and what they teach. I have served on committees, have been at social functions, been to sporting events and visited the planning area, and still I don't know many, if not the majority, of them. Heck, I don't even know all of the people in my department! What does that do for me and my students? What does that do for students and their families?
It is the same in our communities. Do we know the neighbors? Do we have neighborhood block parties? Do we visit one another in times of grief or loss? Do we go to funerals? Do we visit the sick? Do we take dinner to a shut-in neighbor? Who do we know at church besides the people who regularly sit in the pew with us or in front of us? Do we know the people who go to a different service, earlier or later than us? Does our grocer know us? Does our postal carrier know us? Can we name the people at our bank who know us or whom we know? I carry dozens of business cards, but have no recollection of the face that goes with the card. I just know to ask for that person-if that person still works at that branch or for that business.
I know it is nearly impossible to take back the time and reduce our situations. The recession might actually be good for that, but I doubt we will learn. I envy people who live and thrive in small towns. But small towns are drying up. When Wal-Mart moves in or Lowe's, people gravitate toward the big box store leaving the small business owners on main street to die a torturous death. This death reflects the death of many a small system, like the family farm, the family business, the family.
We are quickly losing ground. We think we are better communicators because of the web, but mostly what we communicate to one another is gossip and innuendo. And it spreads like wildfire, worse than small town gossip. At least in a small town you knew who to avoid telling something to unless you wanted everyone to know it. On the web you have no idea where your thoughts are going. We believe whatever a stranger tells us and we never really open up a conversation with anyone we know for fear they will leave us alone and afraid.
So what is the answer? Small is better. Whatever chance we will have of being a great place to live, we have to have a better system of values. Wanting it all and having it all is really not a good way to live. It definitely leaves a lot of people out of the process. And that is the value we live by today. Surely we can find a way to regain ground with values that serve us better. Besides, I really would like to know all the faces I see in the passing period. They are the members of my "small town" and they should know we are together a community.
Friedman makes the point that until we return to the values of the greatest generation (my mother and father's generation--the ones that won a more compelling war (we were defending ourselves, not being the aggressors) we will continue to not make the top five of that list. I would like to offer my reasons for our lost situation.
Small is better. Smaller communities, smaller schools, smaller religious places, smaller downtowns, smaller industries, smaller transportation, smaller farms, smaller stores, smaller, smaller, smaller. Today we are lost in a vast and wickedly expanding world that will not and does not slow down for anything or anyone. Words like "development" and "SUV" are a genuine part of our mindset.
I am best acquainted with the school situation. I have contended for all of my teaching career that smaller schools were the answer. I began in Memphis in a high school with an enrollment of almost 2000. I moved to a high school in Missouri with a population of over 1500. Finally, I taught in a school in St. Louis with a population of 700 and one of 400. Only in the last two schools did I know all the faces I saw in the passing period. I knew the teachers from the industrial arts area in the back of the building to the math teachers at the upper end of the hall way. I knew the modern language teachers, the science teachers. I even knew teachers in other buildings in the district. Imagine being able to call on a teacher in the third grade for help with a student whose family she had known long before me. Can you imagine that? In every other school I have been part of, I have known only those teachers on my planning period and that was because we all ended up having to go to the bathroom at the same time every day. My principals in those smaller schools also knew me. They knew what went on in my room and whenever there was a problem, they personally came to me and gave me every opportunity to address the issue, and because they knew me well, they defused any situation long before it became an issue. I appreciated that.
Today I teach in another "mega" school. I have been there five years and still cannot recognize teachers and what they teach. I have served on committees, have been at social functions, been to sporting events and visited the planning area, and still I don't know many, if not the majority, of them. Heck, I don't even know all of the people in my department! What does that do for me and my students? What does that do for students and their families?
It is the same in our communities. Do we know the neighbors? Do we have neighborhood block parties? Do we visit one another in times of grief or loss? Do we go to funerals? Do we visit the sick? Do we take dinner to a shut-in neighbor? Who do we know at church besides the people who regularly sit in the pew with us or in front of us? Do we know the people who go to a different service, earlier or later than us? Does our grocer know us? Does our postal carrier know us? Can we name the people at our bank who know us or whom we know? I carry dozens of business cards, but have no recollection of the face that goes with the card. I just know to ask for that person-if that person still works at that branch or for that business.
I know it is nearly impossible to take back the time and reduce our situations. The recession might actually be good for that, but I doubt we will learn. I envy people who live and thrive in small towns. But small towns are drying up. When Wal-Mart moves in or Lowe's, people gravitate toward the big box store leaving the small business owners on main street to die a torturous death. This death reflects the death of many a small system, like the family farm, the family business, the family.
We are quickly losing ground. We think we are better communicators because of the web, but mostly what we communicate to one another is gossip and innuendo. And it spreads like wildfire, worse than small town gossip. At least in a small town you knew who to avoid telling something to unless you wanted everyone to know it. On the web you have no idea where your thoughts are going. We believe whatever a stranger tells us and we never really open up a conversation with anyone we know for fear they will leave us alone and afraid.
So what is the answer? Small is better. Whatever chance we will have of being a great place to live, we have to have a better system of values. Wanting it all and having it all is really not a good way to live. It definitely leaves a lot of people out of the process. And that is the value we live by today. Surely we can find a way to regain ground with values that serve us better. Besides, I really would like to know all the faces I see in the passing period. They are the members of my "small town" and they should know we are together a community.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Paying Your Dues
This is the season for ludicrous! No, not the rap artist, but the beginning of the school year. All across America this week, last week, or next week, teachers will begin the hustle and bustle of getting back with students. “Sit and git” meetings for hours accompanied by committee meetings scheduled around tasty high carb “breakfasts” along with “lunch provided by ____,” will fill their hours. Maybe one of the days or maybe two of the days will be unimpeded for unpacking, putting away, writing lesson plans, getting material to the printer or Xerox, collaborating or not, department meetings for directions and instructional focus, and meeting with a mentor or mentee. Then comes open house where we distribute syllabi we will never get to teach and attend freshmen orientation for those ninth graders who probably don’t need the information we give them about discipline and expectations because one of our expectations is that they show up for orientation. See how that works?
I know that many of you reading this are not teachers. I know that many of you just simply don’t understand what the fuss is about. After all, this is a profession that requires a lot of preparation, application and assessment. We must spend time doing this before we see our first class on opening day. We must. But something you are probably not aware of (unless you were in one of my classes) is that between the last exam in the spring and the advent of fresh faces in the fall, we continue to work. We do. We always have and we always will. If you believe we go home and put our feet up and watch the world go by, you have been given very dubious information by a politician, probably a school board person or your local city council member, or someone who has never in his or her life been back to a classroom since they sat there and did as little work as possible. Because the real line in the sand gets drawn at negotiations time. It seems that all of you from the mayor down to the dog catcher would never have whatever you have were it not for the cadre of teachers you faced year after year until you either succeeded and graduated,or failed and dropped out. So this particular message is for all of you. Every last one of you.
In America every one of us gets an education. We make a very special effort to educate every child—no matter his or her creed or color, national status, or political affiliation. We teach anyone sitting in front of us and sometimes those not sitting in front of us. This is what happens in our democracy. Our founders believed in this principal without any consideration of an alternative. Our first schools were in the kitchen of a local wife who taught the very basics to village children. Then the boys went off to advanced education and the girls became wives. Then we discovered women knew something too, so they joined the young men and went off to advanced educations. Today they go off in droves every spring, hopefully more literate than when they first arrived in the classroom. And what becomes of the teachers they have left behind? We pack up for summer with multi-page “to do” lists for the classroom or the subject and hope to get that done before August.
We stay behind while our students move on. And that means all of you. You have moved on, but we are still here. We are still in that classroom—some of us years later—attempting to repeat our past successes and avoid the failures because we know the new faces need the education. In fact, we know better than almost anyone how much more important the education has become. We have seen first hand the changes, enormous changes, in the way America works, banks, lives, votes and thinks. We realize more than ever the importance of critical thinking skills, vocational skills, computer literacy, math skills and reading skills. We recognize the value of an educated electorate, which Jefferson warned us was the only way to preserve a democracy. So we labor on into the late afternoon, still at our desks, attempting to find a myriad of ways to reach each and every student sitting in front of us tomorrow.
Noble, huh? Passionate? Dedicated? Determined? Deliberate? Tragic? What? Tragic. How so? Because for every hour we sit there piecing together a valid learning moment, we receive less remuneration than most people with far less education and responsibility. Now before you kill your screen, think back to my opening. How did you get where you are? How did you obtain those skills? Who labored over much to get you to remember to complete an assignment, much less turn it in on time? Who called you on your recalcitrant behavior? Who didn’t write you up for your behavior, but instead kept you back for a few minutes at the end of class and spoke from the heart about better things from you and for you? Who got you into that vocational class or school? Who helped you with your college essay? Who? She or he sits today in that classroom long after you’ve been gone and long after her or his current classes are gone doing their best to bring their best to students on what might be their worst day. Who taught you and focused your teenage brain on the concept of negative numbers or explained and relentlessly pushed you to look words up in a dictionary when you couldn’t spell them? Who helped with extra study sessions for AP exams or IB exams? Who wrote that letter of recommendation that got you into that school or into that summer job? Who?
Many Americans right now are having trouble paying their mortgages, for their cars, for their children’s college tuitions, for food. Teachers are among them. And of all the people in trouble, I will argue that teachers should not be among them—ever! Our way of life in this democracy depends entirely on the lessons of the classroom. Nothing, and I am serious, nothing works without education. If you as a member of your community, wherever you are, imagine that you can get us to continue to “be there for the students,” you better think harder (remember we taught how to do that better). Education is withering on the vine because newer teachers see the changes and are not as certain as they once were about entering the profession. Older teachers are leaving at the bell and working “to contract” because they simply have no more to give to a situation that repeatedly treats them shabbily. And this is a universal truth across America.
You have forgotten us. When tax issues are discussed, no one wants to part with more money. No one wants to investigate where the tax dollars go. You can’t depend on local newspapers or television coverage. They don’t want to know any more than you do. But for all the advantages you had from our classrooms, for better or worse, you will begin to see more and more of the problems surface in education that have to do with teacher workloads and salaries. It’s coming to a school near you, if it isn’t there now. So do your homework. Go to board meetings. Visit schools. Get a sense of what is being asked and how teachers are being paid and treated. We are your greatest investment and we are your greatest obligation because, in the end, we have the greatest obligation of all—to educate you and yours.
I know that many of you reading this are not teachers. I know that many of you just simply don’t understand what the fuss is about. After all, this is a profession that requires a lot of preparation, application and assessment. We must spend time doing this before we see our first class on opening day. We must. But something you are probably not aware of (unless you were in one of my classes) is that between the last exam in the spring and the advent of fresh faces in the fall, we continue to work. We do. We always have and we always will. If you believe we go home and put our feet up and watch the world go by, you have been given very dubious information by a politician, probably a school board person or your local city council member, or someone who has never in his or her life been back to a classroom since they sat there and did as little work as possible. Because the real line in the sand gets drawn at negotiations time. It seems that all of you from the mayor down to the dog catcher would never have whatever you have were it not for the cadre of teachers you faced year after year until you either succeeded and graduated,or failed and dropped out. So this particular message is for all of you. Every last one of you.
In America every one of us gets an education. We make a very special effort to educate every child—no matter his or her creed or color, national status, or political affiliation. We teach anyone sitting in front of us and sometimes those not sitting in front of us. This is what happens in our democracy. Our founders believed in this principal without any consideration of an alternative. Our first schools were in the kitchen of a local wife who taught the very basics to village children. Then the boys went off to advanced education and the girls became wives. Then we discovered women knew something too, so they joined the young men and went off to advanced educations. Today they go off in droves every spring, hopefully more literate than when they first arrived in the classroom. And what becomes of the teachers they have left behind? We pack up for summer with multi-page “to do” lists for the classroom or the subject and hope to get that done before August.
We stay behind while our students move on. And that means all of you. You have moved on, but we are still here. We are still in that classroom—some of us years later—attempting to repeat our past successes and avoid the failures because we know the new faces need the education. In fact, we know better than almost anyone how much more important the education has become. We have seen first hand the changes, enormous changes, in the way America works, banks, lives, votes and thinks. We realize more than ever the importance of critical thinking skills, vocational skills, computer literacy, math skills and reading skills. We recognize the value of an educated electorate, which Jefferson warned us was the only way to preserve a democracy. So we labor on into the late afternoon, still at our desks, attempting to find a myriad of ways to reach each and every student sitting in front of us tomorrow.
Noble, huh? Passionate? Dedicated? Determined? Deliberate? Tragic? What? Tragic. How so? Because for every hour we sit there piecing together a valid learning moment, we receive less remuneration than most people with far less education and responsibility. Now before you kill your screen, think back to my opening. How did you get where you are? How did you obtain those skills? Who labored over much to get you to remember to complete an assignment, much less turn it in on time? Who called you on your recalcitrant behavior? Who didn’t write you up for your behavior, but instead kept you back for a few minutes at the end of class and spoke from the heart about better things from you and for you? Who got you into that vocational class or school? Who helped you with your college essay? Who? She or he sits today in that classroom long after you’ve been gone and long after her or his current classes are gone doing their best to bring their best to students on what might be their worst day. Who taught you and focused your teenage brain on the concept of negative numbers or explained and relentlessly pushed you to look words up in a dictionary when you couldn’t spell them? Who helped with extra study sessions for AP exams or IB exams? Who wrote that letter of recommendation that got you into that school or into that summer job? Who?
Many Americans right now are having trouble paying their mortgages, for their cars, for their children’s college tuitions, for food. Teachers are among them. And of all the people in trouble, I will argue that teachers should not be among them—ever! Our way of life in this democracy depends entirely on the lessons of the classroom. Nothing, and I am serious, nothing works without education. If you as a member of your community, wherever you are, imagine that you can get us to continue to “be there for the students,” you better think harder (remember we taught how to do that better). Education is withering on the vine because newer teachers see the changes and are not as certain as they once were about entering the profession. Older teachers are leaving at the bell and working “to contract” because they simply have no more to give to a situation that repeatedly treats them shabbily. And this is a universal truth across America.
You have forgotten us. When tax issues are discussed, no one wants to part with more money. No one wants to investigate where the tax dollars go. You can’t depend on local newspapers or television coverage. They don’t want to know any more than you do. But for all the advantages you had from our classrooms, for better or worse, you will begin to see more and more of the problems surface in education that have to do with teacher workloads and salaries. It’s coming to a school near you, if it isn’t there now. So do your homework. Go to board meetings. Visit schools. Get a sense of what is being asked and how teachers are being paid and treated. We are your greatest investment and we are your greatest obligation because, in the end, we have the greatest obligation of all—to educate you and yours.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Going Back and Leaving All This Behind
Summer has been wonderful! I have a new son-in-law and my step-daughter had a wonderful, beautiful wedding. As her first hospitality event (her major), she did wonderfully and her dad and I are very proud of her!! We spent too little time with our children in St. Louis, but they have busy lives and we were lucky to spend any time with them.
Now I turn myself in a new direction. School starts for teachers on Monday. What a blast! To sit and get for hours on end and hear all the best we have done and all the best we can do and try to believe some of it. I've been thinking lately that those of you who read this must think I am a very negative person and probably wonder why I don't get out of teaching. Well, I am not negative about students; it's the others that make my day endless. It's the state people who have no clues and the tax payers who think we have nothing to do all summer and leave school at three and spend our weekends on our boat.
I like teaching. This is my 43rd year and I still haven't worked out all the kinks. I want to do right by my students. I want to be prepared and I want to accept the challenges they present and take them past the place they call comfortable now. But the hurdles are many and the day is not long enough to make everyone happy. Nonetheless, I am back at it on Monday.
I am leaving behind a summer filled with reading. May I recommend Sarah's Key and Little Bee and any Lee Child you can find? Also lunch and dinner sometimes at the Cottage Grill here in Port St. Lucie? And may I recommend any black and white movie after 1934 and before 1955? There are also evenings sitting outside in the ocean breezes (no bugs) and enjoying a glass of something cold. It was enjoyable to sleep late, eat breakfast, have lunch and then dinner without rushing through any of those meals. I enjoyed emails and texting with friends and family. We took pictures and looked at beautiful plants and sunsets and children and laughed at funny moments--all without the weight of Monday morning on our shoulders.
I've had lots of time this summer to think. I think about Nicholas Kristof and the columns he writes in the NY Times; I think about my friend Renee who gives so much of herself to her profession; I think of my friend Mary who still wants to make a difference for students at Affton High School (somebody please thank her) and my friend Karen who solves all my math queries and always calls with the most interesting issues. I wonder at banks and their greed. I wonder at oil people and their insensitivity to the environment. I wonder about the two students who argued about global warming with me in a pub in England one night last spring. I wonder how they view the world now or if they still buy Glenn Beck's spin on things. I wonder at the wild west of Florida law and ethics. And I come to the conclusion sometimes that we simply must put one foot in front of the other and keep moving like Cormac McCarthy's protagonist in The Road, looking for sanctuary in an inhospitable and hostile environment in the hope that even if we don't make, our children will.
I am promising to you, dear reader, to be more timely this year. I may not always have something to say about teaching, but the broader picture is a classroom in a much more important educational program. I hope we can all learn something this year--something that makes the dark lighter, the burden easier and our love for each other and ourselves more significant.
Now I turn myself in a new direction. School starts for teachers on Monday. What a blast! To sit and get for hours on end and hear all the best we have done and all the best we can do and try to believe some of it. I've been thinking lately that those of you who read this must think I am a very negative person and probably wonder why I don't get out of teaching. Well, I am not negative about students; it's the others that make my day endless. It's the state people who have no clues and the tax payers who think we have nothing to do all summer and leave school at three and spend our weekends on our boat.
I like teaching. This is my 43rd year and I still haven't worked out all the kinks. I want to do right by my students. I want to be prepared and I want to accept the challenges they present and take them past the place they call comfortable now. But the hurdles are many and the day is not long enough to make everyone happy. Nonetheless, I am back at it on Monday.
I am leaving behind a summer filled with reading. May I recommend Sarah's Key and Little Bee and any Lee Child you can find? Also lunch and dinner sometimes at the Cottage Grill here in Port St. Lucie? And may I recommend any black and white movie after 1934 and before 1955? There are also evenings sitting outside in the ocean breezes (no bugs) and enjoying a glass of something cold. It was enjoyable to sleep late, eat breakfast, have lunch and then dinner without rushing through any of those meals. I enjoyed emails and texting with friends and family. We took pictures and looked at beautiful plants and sunsets and children and laughed at funny moments--all without the weight of Monday morning on our shoulders.
I've had lots of time this summer to think. I think about Nicholas Kristof and the columns he writes in the NY Times; I think about my friend Renee who gives so much of herself to her profession; I think of my friend Mary who still wants to make a difference for students at Affton High School (somebody please thank her) and my friend Karen who solves all my math queries and always calls with the most interesting issues. I wonder at banks and their greed. I wonder at oil people and their insensitivity to the environment. I wonder about the two students who argued about global warming with me in a pub in England one night last spring. I wonder how they view the world now or if they still buy Glenn Beck's spin on things. I wonder at the wild west of Florida law and ethics. And I come to the conclusion sometimes that we simply must put one foot in front of the other and keep moving like Cormac McCarthy's protagonist in The Road, looking for sanctuary in an inhospitable and hostile environment in the hope that even if we don't make, our children will.
I am promising to you, dear reader, to be more timely this year. I may not always have something to say about teaching, but the broader picture is a classroom in a much more important educational program. I hope we can all learn something this year--something that makes the dark lighter, the burden easier and our love for each other and ourselves more significant.
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