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!
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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