Sean O'Brien
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"Those Who Can..."

9/28/2023

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Boy do I hate that saying. I hate it so much I don’t even want to finish it. I suppose I should, if for no other reason than to let you know what I’m talking about. It’s the one that goes, “those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” The quote is attributed to George Bernard Shaw in a 1905 play called Man and Superman.  I won’t say much more, except to add that Shaw was an admirer of Mussolini, Stalin, and Hitler. So to all of you quoting Shaw to stick it to teachers everywhere, maybe pause a moment before you quote a Hitler apologist.
    To be fair, let’s tackle the quote on its merits. Consider the high school or university professor (I am purposefully ignoring the elementary school teacher for reasons that should become obvious soon). How many of them actually do the things they teach? A biology teacher, for example…does she engage in scientific research, conduct studies, publish findings, and the like? Does a science teacher actually do science? In the upper levels of the academic world (universities and the like) the answer is yes, though with an asterisk. Many universities boast scientific research programs that discover cures for diseases or advance our knowledge of the human body or develop genetically engineered crops for higher food yields and so on and so forth. Many of the researchers working on those projects are also teachers at their universities. Yes, it’s true that often professors who know how to do something fall short of being able to teach that thing (think back to some of your own teachers who obviously knew their stuff but somehow couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate it clearly to you) but we’ll accept for now that at the university level, teachers are both doers and teachers at the same time.

What about below that? The high school level? 
    How many high school science teachers are actually doing science when they’re not teaching it? Probably very few. Now, much of that has to do with the idea that science often requires extensive equipment that is simply outside the reach of ordinary citizens. Still, how many teachers of, say, astronomy are also amateur astronomers in their own right? And how many of them have actually made a contribution to astronomy, even if it is a slight one?

Move away from science and go to history. How many high school history teachers are historians when they’re not teaching? Publishing articles, developing historical theory, and the like? Math teachers–how many are statisticians or analysts outside of school?

I’ll end with English Language Arts teachers. How many of us are writers (essays, stories, poems, books)? Or public speakers? Or even critics and reviewers?

I know what my teacher brothers and sisters are saying right now, and I agree with you. “Sean,” they say, “how in God’s name do you expect us to do what you say? We spend at least forty hours a week on just teaching (often more). Are you saying we should go home at the end of a day and then analyze recombinant DNA in our homemade lab? Or track down a source document about the Aztecs so I can write my article on Women in Aztec Culture? When precisely do you want me to do all of this? Six o’clock at night?”
A very fair point, hypothetical teacher. 
I wonder sometimes. I know in the higher levels of academia, the mantra of “publish or perish” commands respect and fear. Professors are tasked with advancing the frontiers of their field as well as teaching the subject to their students. But the university world is often just the inverse of the high school world: at university, many professors are elite experts in their academic fields but deficient novices in the teaching field (and, all too often, see “teaching” as beneath them and a meddlesome requirement to their real work in their discipline). High school teachers are often outstanding educators but only moderately proficient in their discipline. To be harsh, how many high school chemistry teachers could be hired as industrial chemists? How many high school history teachers could be hired by a think tank or worked for the U.N.?
And how many English teachers have written something–an essay, poem, story, or novel–of professional quality?
Again, I’m not necessarily saying my brothers and sisters can not do this work. But I am saying that it would be a good idea to encourage them to do so. Education has to interface with the world outside itself or it’s meaningless. We can’t teach kids just to be good at school so that they can succeed at more school. In a way, I suppose, I am advocating for what is now called CTE (Career-Technical Education) but not in the way it’s usually presented. Usually, vocational education and academic education are seen as antagonistic to one another. A kid is seen as either a welder or a future college student, for example. Why can’t a student be both?
This goes back to one of my core beliefs about the Renaissance Person (go back a few entries). Teachers who don’t do (not can’t) their discipline are probably missing out. I’d like to find ways to adjust the current system to encourage teachers to actually practice their disciplines on their own. That means time, sabbaticals, resources…I am not advocating teachers feel bad because they don’t scan the night sky with their telescope nor write the next Great American Novel. I’m advocating that public school–especially at the high school level–find ways to encourage and celebrate teachers practicing their disciplines. It can only make them better teachers, right?
And it would shut up those idiots who quote Shaw.
Be seeing you!

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Just Lay Off For a Moment, Please

9/13/2023

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Be seeing youFair warning. I’m in a pessimistic mood. You want to know why I’m in a pessimistic mood? I’ll tell you why I’m in a pessimistic mood.

Because the basic joy of teaching–of transforming some kid who walks into my room not knowing how to find and use evidence in support of a theory to one who does know how (or at least is better at it) is increasingly being eclipsed by the fecal matter produced by adult male bovine. 

Things are getting in the way. Stuff is piling up between me and my students. The idea that I can just teach someone how to do something and that’s the end of it is so laughably far away that I sometimes can’t even see it.

The hell ot it is, a lot of the stuff that’s in the way is just the natural by-product of any large organization that has taken on far more than it was originally intended for. Ask any layperson (that is, someone who is not an education professional) “what happens at a school?” and you’d get a shrug and a noncommittal answer, “teachers teach stuff and kids learn, I guess.” 

Would that it were so simple. 

In order for me to “teach stuff,” I need to account for student presence AND promptness (not enough to record who is here and who is not–we also have to record several times a DAY who was here, who was not, and who was not on time), create AND display my plan for the day (which includes agenda, objective, standards, and homework, posted BOTH electronically AND visually in the classroom) make sure students don’t have their cell phones on their person, and note which of my students have to leave early from class to participate in the rally today (different groups had different times for departure). 

All of that was BEFORE I started teaching today. 

Right now as I write this, I am preparing to go to an after school meeting (my second this week) regarding how the English Learner program is working (this will include but not be limited to arranging for OTHER after school meetings with parents, arranging for testing times for various Newcomers (that’s what we call those who have only recently arrived in the United States–I know it’s the same term used in Rockne O’Bannon’s Alien Nation) and dealing with the Federal Program Monitoring stuff that is coming our way. I expect to hear yet again how there’s more I need to be doing [FUTURE NARRATOR: He was indeed told that] on top of actually teaching kids English.

I interrupted this blog post to go to my various meetings, and I’m now writing this one after attending day 1 of a 2-day seminar on literacy. I will admit that I did learn some techniques I can use (never too old to learn) and had some validation of techniques I’m already using. The presenter (a perfectly pleasant woman who seems passionate and knowledgeable) is from the same mold of all presenters of these things: someone who claims to have been a teacher but who became a presenter and writer of teacher books which she sells coast to coast and goes district to district as a consultant. Yeah, yeah, I’m slightly jaded about this, since it’s just…well, a bit galling to be told how to teach by a person who ISN’T ACTUALLY DOING IT ANYMORE, but there it is.

The honest, unvarnished truth is that there IS some value in these seminars and workshops (perhaps not two days’ worth, but let that go) but it is an ENDLESS stream of telling us what we’re not doing and why we ought to be doing this other thing (or, worse, how we ought to ADD this new thing to what we’re doing). 

I don’t know if anyone realizes the cumulative effect of seminars, workshops, symposia, and the like on teachers. The implicit message–sometimes hidden, sometimes not–is that whatever you’re doing, you’re not doing it right, or at least, you’re not doing it as well as you could. From an outsider’s perspective, one might say, “why wouldn’t you want to improve your practice?” I agree. You should want to. But the cumulative effect is significant. Over and over we’re told, in one way or another, “You know how hard or how much you’re working? There’s always just a little bit more you could do.” Coupled with the laughable notes on “Teacher wellness” (which are, paradoxically, simply adding to the problem by telling us “You know how hard you’re working? Don’t forget to work on yourself in addition to that.”) and the natural response from teachers is a folding of the psychic arms and a refusal to learn or do anything more.

I read recently something that happens in workplaces called “toxic positivity.” (side note: can we PLEASE find another word to ease the burden on the word “toxic?” How about “corrosive?”) Anyway, it’s not quite what I’m getting at here, but it is a close cousin. What I’m getting at is that it seems to me that there is a trend among professional educators to be almost pathologically attracted to improvement and reform on a constant, inescapable level. Maybe I should restate that. There is a disturbing mindset prevalent among education professionals that what we do in school needs to be fundamentally reinvented and improved on an almost quantum level; that virtually nothing we’re doing is “best practice;” that the research by this gaggle of experts and the books written by this other assemblage of professors and the seminars put on by this other conclave of consultants and the directives issued by this other canavanseri of legislators is vital, vital I tell you to improving the lives of the younglings who depend on us…and so it goes. So many people–including the public–telling us every goddam day that we’re doing school all wrong and our schools a broken and teachers are at best lazy good-for-nothings who couldn’t do and therefore teach and at worst are groomers and pedophiles…is it any wonder that teachers are leaving the profession in droves?

I’m just a poor classroom teacher. I’m not an assistant principal, or a principal, or a superintendent, or even an educational consultant. I’m not a cognitive behavioral researcher or a brain specialist. 

I’m just the guy who’s actually in the room with the students every day. I’d love nothing more than to teach them to the best of my ability, and I hope I’ve got enough integrity to strive to make “the best of my ability” better and better.

If you could just lay off telling me I’m doing it all wrong and that I’m not worth that much money and I’m only doing this job because I couldn’t actually do anything else and that I want to sexually abuse children, maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to teach all of your children better.

​Be seeing you!
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Beltrunner Aftermath Publishing Journey Part XII

9/5/2023

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A few days ago, I sent back the (now-heavily) revised manuscript for Aftermath. The edits and revisions were fairly minor at this point, though a few significant issues remained. I was speaking to one of my teaching colleagues (a woman for whom I have tremendous respect but who I will not name here to guard her privacy) about how curious it was that people like us can be so passionate about the minutiae of writing: the Oxford comma, the semicolon versus the colon, proper uses of the passive voice, and so on. We had as jolly laugh about it, but it got me to thinking.

Later in the day, I spoke with another set of colleagues about the finer points of football (I switched hats from my teacher mortar board to my coach’s cap). We were debating whether or not to teach wrong-arm technique to the defensive ends. I held that since the linebackers coach and defensive coordinator wanted the outside linebacker to handle the B gap, it would be a mistake for the end to wrong-arm a puller since it would give up contain. 

Today, one of my oldest friends and bona-fide genius will be running a Dungeons and Dragons game in which I participate (as a player, finally–I thought for years I would be relegated to Forever DM status). When we run the session, I am sure we will have to look up whether or not the spell Sanctuary requires an action or a bonus action (it turns out it is a bonus action, which makes it a slightly better spell).

What am I getting at here? I’m getting at the joy of being consumed by detail. More than that–being consumed by arcane detail that a layperson would not only not understand but would almost certainly mock as insignificant.

Is this what privilege is? Being so secure, so safe, so flush with resources (of whatever stripe) to be able to dive into detail? I am privileged in that I received a top-notch education at the hands of my parents first, then from an excellent public school system and then a private college. I am privileged in that I was able to pursue my dream of becoming a teacher and, if I may say so, meet with some degree of success in the field. I am privileged in that I can also pursue another dream, that of being a writer. And I can dive into a sport that, by itself, is not just meaningless but downright dangerous and deal with the tiniest of adjustments as if the world hung in the balance therefrom. 

I could go on, but the point I am making is that perhaps one measure of privilege is being so secure and full of resources that one can indeed examine the finer points of an art or skill. Were I less privileged, I might be so consumed with mere survival that the fine points of life would be as a luxury forever out of reach.

“Stop and smell the roses” only applies if two things are true: first, that one has the security to be able to “stop,” and second, that there are roses available.

“Follow your dreams” is far easier to obey if one is not being chased by the wolves of want.
​

Food for thought, my gentle readers.

Be seeing you!

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    Hello to you. Glad to have you here. I'm going to write what I feel in this blog, and while I'm not going to go out of my way to offend you, neither am I going to hold back.

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