Had a very deep discussion with a professional educator whom I admire* (she wants to be called a “professional educator” as opposed to a “teacher” for reasons upon which I shall not elaborate here) regarding what actually matters in our jobs.
I was sort of moaning and groaning and stuff, being widdershins and uneasy about the State of Things in Public Education (one must use capital letters to give it the proper gravity, dontcha know) when this professional educator said this:
“Don’t do the stuff that doesn’t matter.”
What elegant directness! Even better than Thoreau’s “our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify, simplify! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumbnail.”
Oh, and lest you think this professional educator was speaking metaphorically, let me assure you she was not. When it came to administrative requirements (filling out forms sent to her, answering communications, completing bureaucratic necessities, et. al.) she simply…doesn’t do them. Not quite to the level of Peter Gibbons in Mike Judge’s Office Space, but still. It’s not that this professional educator is being ornery (though she can indeed be that in the most lovable and enticing way possible) as much as her deciding what is and is not important. And to her, if something isn’t good for her students, then she sees no need to do it. She’s not out to buck the system so much as only allow the system to function when it helps her do what she is trying to do. If putting a cover sheet on her TPS reports isn’t going to help a student read, then she sees no reason to do it. So she doesn’t. She figures that if the System really wanted her to do something, it will remind her over and over and demand she do it, at which point she’ll comply if only to remove the distraction.
There’s something refreshing in that approach to administrative needs. A school needs to function smoothly, sure. We need hall passes so campus security can identify who should and should not be out of class so they can get kids back into your room if they’re not supposed to be out of it. But do we need a sign-in sheet for the tutorial session we’re running before school starts? How does that sheet help me teach reading? When my school district asks me to watch a forty-minute video showing me an example of workplace sexual harassment between two physical plant workers and a box of donuts (yes, that happened) has that been time well-spent?
Many people in this profession talk about weariness. The strange thing is–the best people tend not to talk in disparaging terms about the actual students. The best time we have is when we’re actually teaching a child how to do something. Almost all of them want to learn. They might not want to do the work that’s required for learning (who can blame them?) but ultimately, they’d rather know than not know.
No, the kids are not the problem. And no, in general, parents aren’t, either. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe public school has simply gotten too big, too much of itself. Maybe we’ve taken on too much and are being asked to do more and more that isn’t teaching but which someone somewhere decided was a good idea and should be done.
Teachers are not very good at saying, “that’s not my job.” Even as a type it, I recoil from the notion. No, generally speaking, we’re a bunch of people who want to help and make things better, no matter what it is. Maybe the paradox is that only those who are truly helpers and problem solvers make good teachers, so the very thing that makes us what we are is the same thing that makes us say “more weight” regarding extra duties. And maybe that’s the very thing that will crush us all.
Maybe my professional educator friend has it right. I might amend what I said earlier–”don’t do the stuff that doesn’t matter to kids.” Serving the System is not what we’re here for.
Easier said than done, I’m afraid. I’ll try.
Be seeing you!
*It was my wife, Sue.
I was sort of moaning and groaning and stuff, being widdershins and uneasy about the State of Things in Public Education (one must use capital letters to give it the proper gravity, dontcha know) when this professional educator said this:
“Don’t do the stuff that doesn’t matter.”
What elegant directness! Even better than Thoreau’s “our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify, simplify! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumbnail.”
Oh, and lest you think this professional educator was speaking metaphorically, let me assure you she was not. When it came to administrative requirements (filling out forms sent to her, answering communications, completing bureaucratic necessities, et. al.) she simply…doesn’t do them. Not quite to the level of Peter Gibbons in Mike Judge’s Office Space, but still. It’s not that this professional educator is being ornery (though she can indeed be that in the most lovable and enticing way possible) as much as her deciding what is and is not important. And to her, if something isn’t good for her students, then she sees no need to do it. She’s not out to buck the system so much as only allow the system to function when it helps her do what she is trying to do. If putting a cover sheet on her TPS reports isn’t going to help a student read, then she sees no reason to do it. So she doesn’t. She figures that if the System really wanted her to do something, it will remind her over and over and demand she do it, at which point she’ll comply if only to remove the distraction.
There’s something refreshing in that approach to administrative needs. A school needs to function smoothly, sure. We need hall passes so campus security can identify who should and should not be out of class so they can get kids back into your room if they’re not supposed to be out of it. But do we need a sign-in sheet for the tutorial session we’re running before school starts? How does that sheet help me teach reading? When my school district asks me to watch a forty-minute video showing me an example of workplace sexual harassment between two physical plant workers and a box of donuts (yes, that happened) has that been time well-spent?
Many people in this profession talk about weariness. The strange thing is–the best people tend not to talk in disparaging terms about the actual students. The best time we have is when we’re actually teaching a child how to do something. Almost all of them want to learn. They might not want to do the work that’s required for learning (who can blame them?) but ultimately, they’d rather know than not know.
No, the kids are not the problem. And no, in general, parents aren’t, either. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe public school has simply gotten too big, too much of itself. Maybe we’ve taken on too much and are being asked to do more and more that isn’t teaching but which someone somewhere decided was a good idea and should be done.
Teachers are not very good at saying, “that’s not my job.” Even as a type it, I recoil from the notion. No, generally speaking, we’re a bunch of people who want to help and make things better, no matter what it is. Maybe the paradox is that only those who are truly helpers and problem solvers make good teachers, so the very thing that makes us what we are is the same thing that makes us say “more weight” regarding extra duties. And maybe that’s the very thing that will crush us all.
Maybe my professional educator friend has it right. I might amend what I said earlier–”don’t do the stuff that doesn’t matter to kids.” Serving the System is not what we’re here for.
Easier said than done, I’m afraid. I’ll try.
Be seeing you!
*It was my wife, Sue.
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