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Teacher’s Last Day

In the spirit of alumni competition I’d like to nominate the Class of 1972 as one of the most difficult to teach and eagerly anticipate worthy challengers to the title: “Class Most Likely to End a Teacher’s Career.” For concrete evidence I submit our eighth grade version, a year we lost almost 50 percent of our teachers. I believe all three quit, or were fired, before the end of the year. I’m completely certain Chesty Charlie didn’t make it to the end, not as certain about the other two who most definitely didn’t return for round two, but I don’t think any of the three finished the school term. We were a most talented group of junior insurrectionists, and while I had my moments, I can’t claim topflight status. I’m tempted to formally name my betters, but hope they will soon step up to claim their true rewards independent of my nomination.

And then there’s the much more serious side, the terrifically challenging task of guiding young people to knowledge and better choices while staying safe and sane in the process. Continue reading “Teacher’s Last Day”

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Another Classroom “Monster”

Leroy crashed into my world with deliberate, disturbing intent during the middle of class three weeks after school started in my first year of Texas teaching. My 28 charges were deeply enthralled with CLA III, a low level English program supposedly designed for students not having the ability to master more rigorous subject matter. CLA stood for Correlated Language Arts, but teachers’ lounge interpreters informed me CLA really meant “Can’t Learn Anything.” I soon began calling CLA III “Combat English,” and think it’s a pretty accurate description of the job, if not the curriculum.

After a most belligerent charge, Leroy hovered over my desk like a bear sizing up his next meal. He then proudly announced his extended absences were battle casualties requiring recuperation from six different stab wounds suffered in a gang fight. He tossed a hospital-issued absence excuse in my direction to prove his injuries, and I never questioned the gang part. I already entertained elements of two opposing gangs, one African-American, the other Hispanic, and the additional reinforcement on the African-American team could not have been more unwelcome as the current roster was potent enough. Continue reading “Another Classroom “Monster””

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Teaching and the Rodney Dangerfield Syndrome

“I get no respect. The way my luck is running, if I was a politician I would be honest.”

Rodney Dangerfield

A few years back I received a nice, but unfortunately negative response to a book proposal about education. Having spent years selling and also being frequently rejected for book and article ideas of all sorts, the rejection was not particularly painful, just another aspect of the writing game, but part of the reasoning for the rejection opened a door to perception with respect to how teachers are viewed by the general public in terms of professionalism and expertise.

As with much in this blog, my book proposal concerned teaching and pathways to better performance of schools. As part of the proposal, I noted over 30 years of successful classroom experience in challenging environments, nationally published articles, numerous teaching awards, and a master’s degree in education, what I considered to be fairly solid credentials. Apparently, these weren’t considered very significant. Let me share part of the literary agent’s response. Continue reading “Teaching and the Rodney Dangerfield Syndrome”

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Charter Schools

I’d like to put a personal face on charter schools from the perspective of a retired public school teacher. I often felt like America wrongly blamed teachers for a slogging war on ignorance much like it unfairly blamed returning Vietnam War soldiers for losing an unwinnable war. The popular insinuation for many today is that teachers have somehow failed our country and the remedy is to bring in the mercenaries, private charter schools, to fight the education war the right way. To anyone who has ever been on the front lines in the war on poverty, the notion is ludicrous, and I’ve taken some solace in my retirement in thoughts that, eventually, just as we did with Vietnam, most Americans will come to the realization a lot of good people were mistreated by the country at large and will some day come to see the light of reason, painful as it may be.

I will have much to share about the “education reform” movement and people like Betsy DeVos as I weave my tapestry, but let’s take a brief look now at the general charter school concept.     Continue reading “Charter Schools”

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Mission Impossible

A master cookie thief, provocateur, trespasser and weird noisemaker of the highest order, JJ won my heart as he destroyed any semblance of serenity. The diminutive rascal toddled more than he walked, often rushing about like a blind man with his pants on fire: arms extend, balance tentative, direction erratic, but still demonstrating abundant enthusiasm that generally made me smile no matter what JJ did, which often involved getting into some sort of trouble. I was tasked to change his life, but don’t believe I did much except to inject a little light into the deep darkness of poverty.

JJ careened like a pinball off of furniture and other kids who rarely became upset as they would if some other kid invaded their space. It seemed everyone understood JJ required a different set of rules. Shorter than a yardstick, he often lived in his own tiny world, almost a cartoon character in behavior but very real all the same. However, JJ’s actual future in a less than hospitable larger world was more than slightly clouded, my responsibility established to improve daunting odds owing to JJ’s disability and misfortune. The brutal reality is that the little black five-year-old born prematurely with obvious disabilities would face many challenges. I tried to make his future a little brighter, but often felt and still feel I hadn’t the time, talent or resources to pull off any major transformation and could only make JJ’s days with me a little better. Continue reading “Mission Impossible”