I was asked to sit on a panel of teachers to represent my school district during the accreditation process. I assume I was chosen because I am eager to speak in meetings and apparently speak well. This makes me think my administration has only enjoyed the sound of my voice and not the content of my O so bold oration.

I noticed quickly that I was in a room full of yes men and women who teach in the more affluent schools in our district. They all smiled and sat nicely. They were there to be slaughtered like good little lambs. The team of teachers surrounding me, my co-teachers, were, not unlike me worse for wear and doubting. Lips pursed, eyebrows cocked, notepads out. We were prepared for whatever we were going to he expected to swallow without question. Of course, my group did not act in complete accord. One just parroted off whatever was expected. Another would nod in agreement with the rest of the flock.

This accreditation team is from Advanced Ed, a voluntary “quality assurance” company that comes in for a hefty price and helps ensure that schools are quantitatively meeting standards. They provide services ranging from professional development to teacher evaluations to curriculum development to brainwashing desperate administration. The people on the teams I have met are high paid zealots who offer instruction in best practices from corporate research done in schools far different from the ones they are currently serving. This is no shock. I’ve been impressed with their ability to stick to their script even when challenged. They utilize a method similar to Bill O’Reilly’s when challenged. They simply repeat their original point in a different tone and then say “well we don’t have time to continue this” or “for the sake of time we have to move on”. But they’re generally nice people.

Back to the meeting and the flock.

We were asked general questions regarding the state of our facilities, safety on campus, professional development related to Common Core, whether or not the professional development was useful, and many more. Most people nodded along in agreement with the flock.

And then we were asked if we thought our kids were prepared for college and/or the “real world” when they left or high school. The flocked bleated, “Yes”. They provided examples, “I am a product of this district and I was more than ready.” Several referenced themselves as examples.

I asked the “accreditors” who were superintendents from other states if they thought the students leaving their districts were prepared. They paused and looked at one another. I continued, “is it possible with the way things are segmented, and the focus on testing and extreme standardization for anyone to leave a school completely prepared?” The other teachers in the room began speaking. One shouted out, “I teach at the community college in the summers. Our students almost always have to enter remedial reading courses.” Another offered her child as an example stating how his first year of college was devoted to college prep courses.

The accreditors said we had to move on, but first he said: “off the record, we’re all in trouble.” And was back to the agenda. It was an interesting moment to see a stone face break for a moment. It was a nice moment of breaking from the flock for the teachers around me. It’s nice to see a Yes Man say no.

I’m angry because, after a weekend of careful planning, after differentiating an assignment for students who have mastered skills at different levels, after catching up on all of my grading, after getting my lesson plans in on time with the TEKS and the Reading Comprehension standards and the ELPS, I couldn’t print anything I needed for class because our copy machine is broken. Again. I’m angry because I had to make something up on the fly, putting my students further behind from where we should be right now. I’m angry that this roadblock put me in such a foul mood that I snapped at one of my students when he asked to show me his medal from the 10K he ran this weekend.

I’m angry because my 7th graders are taking their reading STAAR in a few weeks, and I am mandated to use Pearson’s test prep books at least two periods a week. I’m angry because this is disrupting their amazing theatre projects. I’m angry because Pearson is making money off of my students’ wasted learning time.

I’m angry because my 8th graders are being pulled daily from DEAR (Drop Everything And Read) to receive STAAR test prep for their science test in a few weeks. I’m angry because the school is telling them that bubbling in answers is more important than reading books they care about.

I’m angry because my school does not offer membership in a union, because Texas is an at-will employment state, and I could literally be let go for no reason and have no legal redress. I’m angry about teachers in other states who’ve gotten fired for being LGBT, for discussing Trayvon Martin, and any number of political “controversies.”

I’m angry because one of my students complained about not having enough time to do his homework — an assignment individualized to him that he is allowed to work on during class — and then chose to use his independent working time to talk to his neighbors and roll his eyes at me. I’m angry that I haven’t yet figured out how to gain this student’s respect.

I’m angry that parents, students, and administrators expect me to respond immediately to emails, even when sent after working hours and on weekends.  I’m angry that I’m angry at myself for practicing self-care this weekend and spending long days reading over coffee, instead of responding to emails. I’m angry that teachers are considered lazy for taking time for themselves, ridiculed by the media, by politicians — and that celebrities or millionaires or CEOs don’t earn the same scorn.

I’m angry because, as a teacher, I am doing a job that is essential to the functioning of democracy, to the future of our society, and still barely getting by financially. I’m angry that my student loan payment is over $350 a month. I’m angry that I owe $500 in taxes next week and still have no idea how I’m going to pay it. I’m angry that teachers can only claim a $250 deduction for spending their own money on school supplies. I’m angry that I spent more than $250 last year… much more. I’m angry that teachers have to spend their own money in the first place. I’m angry that, despite my best efforts to go green, to go vegan, and to shop organically, I keep getting stymied because shelling out the extra dollar a pound for organic produce and non-GMO processed foods is scary when I’m so far behind on my bills. I’m angry that I will never be able to support my parents the way I would like to, because I will always be struggling to support myself. I’m angry that there are people working ten times as hard as I am, at jobs more dangerous and less rewarding than mine, in order to make ends meet and to take care of their families. 

I’m angry that my job isn’t the only thing I’m angry about. I’m angry that President Obama signed the Monsanto Protection Act. I’m angry that Governor Perry continues to support racist and sexist legislation. I’m angry that the Texas House is trying to pass legislation that would cut funding to school districts that offer benefits to same-sex partners. I’m angry that only 20 of 100 U.S. Senators are women, and only one is a woman of color. I’m angry that my newly engaged baby sister is barred from getting married in 41 of the 50 states. I’m angry that people still insist on using the phrase “illegal immigrants.” I’m angry that when asked to list their biggest concerns, my students list unemployment, climate change, and gun violence. 

Today, I’m angry. Tomorrow I will still be angry. But in my anger I’m reminded of this quote:

“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.” — St. Augustine

Today, I’m not ignoring what is making me angry. I’m refusing to keep that anger within the confines of the teachers’ lounge, or the happy hour, or the tears in the car on the ride home.  I will transform that anger into the courage to speak the truth about my experiences, and to challenge the forces that seek to destroy the voices of teachers and students across the country. 

I saw this video on “The Independent Project” thanks to a shout out from my old principal Mr. Adams. Within minutes of checking out the premise of the project, their website and this video, I was fascinated and frankly, hooked.

I think the idea behind a self motivated school situated inside a public school (a form that lends itself to more open learning if utilized to its full extent) is brilliant. That a bunch of interested students took focused time to work on a project that really interested them and had a concrete result upholds practically everything I’ve read on “modern education” thus far. Being affirmed in this project are various bits of Daniel Pink’s theories on the wonders of self-motivation, Cal Newport’s arguments promoting focused, concentrated effort and “the big project”, as well the general perceptions that school should fit the individual, and that a “good” school is one that helps further one’s development and instills values, information and ideas that stick and are relevant outside the classroom walls.

I think nowadays, school has come to take on a whole new slew of connotations. But at its core, school is place of learning. That’s it. The barebones definition of school should not require add-ons such as- helps you get into college, helps test-taking skills, a place that makes the district and teachers look good, workforce birther etc. Sure school can do that and help us in more ways than JUST learning, but the learning should come first- not standardized tests, not college, not jobs. Learning to learn, to have knowledge, to be aware to do things that require more than the rudiemntary skill fo filling in the bubble that matches with the memorized answer.

So it shouldn’t matter so much how that learning is achieved. In the video, one of the girls mentions how school “doesn’t help anyone because you’re trying to put people in boxes and humans just don’t fit in boxes.” We are all unique which means that, for better or worse, as a whole, we learn differently. Sure some people learn like others, but without any sort of delineation, teaching the same thing to the masses, regardless of their aptitude, their mindset, their interest or their learning style, is ridiculous and probably “unproductive.”

In the video, one of the group’s advisors mentions how in our society, students are simply passed along from class to class often with little to no enthusiasm or interest. These students sit on a conveyor belt powered by society and its requirements, which moves them glacially from one predestined location to another. By contrast, the students involved in the Independent Project, some of whom weren’t considered “great students” (grades wise) to begin with, are moving themselves. Just by being off the conveyor belt, the self-motivated environment overtime fuels a thirst for knowledge. As one student put it, they started “finding questions in everything” and wanting to learn about anything they stumbled across that they didn’t know.

That’s what makes this project so fantastic, in my opinion.

The students in the video also said some great things about why The Independent Project works and why it is even better, in some ways, than normal school.

• As one girl said, “knowledge isn’t memorization, it’s more an exploration of facts.” As a result, the rote memorization required in most classes promotes less absorption of knowledge. If the same concepts were explored through a series of well crafted questions, designed to probe different aspects of the idea or problem, and the students found the answers on their own and then shared their findings so everyone got the big picture, the knowledge would be much more concrete. Research shows that being able to effectively teach a concept and answer most questions about said concept, shows a certain level of mastery. As a result of the Independent project, knowledge and information is more personal and you begin to make connections across the board which helps information stick without the help of the usual assessments. One student remarked that “I don’t need tests or quizzes to show I know something. I know that I know it and that I can express myself through it.” That sounds good enough to me…
• While attending “normal school” prioritization is key. Sadly, if you’re not involved in an organized extra-curricular in your area of interest, other projects that you often have greater interest in are sidelined for school work. As the student who made a film said, “I can either push aside my creativity to struggle on something I simply don’t care about or I go with my creativity and do awful in school.” The beauty of the Independent Project is that it combines the project work with “academic work,” by splitting the day into chunks of time dedicated to those two things.
• The guy who was effectually the creator of the project said that “it works because students end up doing so many creative things.” The advisor of the project also commented on how having the freedom to learn whatever you want (within the subject of the week) lends “a sense of agency, and that changes the way you act.” I think it’s important that she noted how the freedom influenced their actions, because I feel like some people would discount this project on the belief that nothing productive would emerge and that students would simply goof off. However this teachers statement proves that when given an opportunity to follow their interests “for credit” students will do just that.
• Finally, another student echoed an idea I’ve supported for a while which shows why the students involved with the independent project thrived. He said that “you can’t achieve the broader goals you want and you don’t have the motivation get good at things unless you make school a place where people wanna be.” Because the students who participated in the independent project WANTED to be there, they accomplished great things.

Other people, more qualified and educated than little old me, also agree with the statements I have proposed above and the fundamental ideas behind the “Independent Project”. For example, this project exemplifies the school that the names I mentioned above preach about. In fact, this is not a passing fad. Some schools even make this sort of thing a potential course offering called the Independent Study. Independent studies, which at my school are offered to seniors, are one semester long (approximately) and usually require approval from a higher power as well as some sort of result at the end of the period but as for the topic, well, the sky is the limit.

There was one quote I heard that I felt really summed up the power of this project. When asked what they learned, a couple of students said something along the lines of “We realized that, everyone has interest in things and everybody truly wants to learn. We learned how to teach, we learned how to learn and we learned how to work. We learned how to ask questions and explore the answers in different methods. we learned to take what we learned and share with the others because it was our responsibility to make sure everyone in the group also learned from our work.”

To teach, to learn, to share, to explore, to listen, and to create- any school has the potential for their students to do this.

One concern that always comes up when talking to other teachers about bringing social justice to their classrooms is, “I don’t want to lose my job.”  I’ve invited fellow teachers to rallies, meetings, and protests; I’ve shared resources discussing issues ranging from immigration to racial profiling to standardized testing. Too often I get rebuffed with the question, “Am I allowed to that?” In this post, I want to give on example of how I’ve incorporated little “p” politics in my classroom, as well as the experiences of another fellow teacher.

Right now, my 8th graders are working on persuasive writing. I found about 15 texts for them to use as anchor texts, discussing different political issues (i.e. immigration reform and the school-to-prison pipeline). I also included articles about standardized testing, homework, school uniforms, and school lunches — issues less social justice focused but more salient in my students’ lives. We analyzed the essays and decided which arguments were the most effective and why. We compared two different sides of one issue and tried to figure out which one we most agreed with.

We’ve spent some time discussing how writing an essay isn’t necessarily going to be the most effective strategy; it’s great to learn persuasive techniques but how we need to know different ways people can make change happen. Our list included speeches, videos, rallies, boycotts, protests, petitions, and sit-ins. We talked about Cesar Chavez, and how if there had been only one farm-worker standing up, s/he probably would have been fired and forgotten about — to make change, you need a lot of support.

In class today, the students were especially riled up about their uniforms (surprise — they hate them). They were pretty discouraged about being able to change this, as the uniform policy applies to all of the schools in our system. What was I supposed to tell them — you’re right, you have absolutely no power, you can’t change your circumstances? Obviously… I told them they had the power to change anything they wanted, if they were organized and had a good strategy.

They asked me if  they could boycott the uniforms for a day, if they could organize the rest of the 8th graders to sign a petition asking to have more free dress days, and then all show up to school one day without their uniforms. “Will we get in trouble?” someone asked. “Well, they can’t suspend all of us,” someone replied. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud.

The next period, I printed off some articles advocating against school uniforms and other examples of student organizing that has been successful — students in California boycotting their school lunches, for example. I very carefully explained to the students that I wasn’t giving them permission to be out of uniform or officially endorsing any of their actions. They understood: “Don’t worry, Ms. Lane. We won’t tell you anything else, so you don’t know what’s going on. This is our thing.”

While this is happening, I can’t help but think of one woman at the ASJTIG meeting, a veteran teacher from San Marcos, and the assignment she gave her 4th graders. They discussed the issue of the City Council controlling a particular riverfront tract of land — should it be made into a park? or should the city build apartments to bring in more revenue? The 4th graders almost unanimously decided they wanted a park. Since they were studying persuasive writing, the teacher had them write letters to the mayor, asking for the park. When the mayor received the letters — which were against the policy he’d already decided on — he contacted this teacher’s principal to complain that she was using her classroom to push students towards a particular political position. The teacher was reprimanded by her principal, and warned about doing this kind of thing in the classroom again.

Yes, there is risk involved. But I would argue that this is so urgent, it is worth the risk. Those students in San Marcos got a real-life lesson about the nature of our democracy, and the power of collective voices to bring attention to their concerns. We must teach students academic skills, but we must also teach them how to apply those skills in a real way — not just for the sake of getting an A or passing a standardized test. Teachers can turn complaints into campaigns, by planting seeds of possibility. Students often feel so disempowered, disengaged from their schools — like they have no control over their classrooms, their family lives, their society. We should not only be discussing issues they care about, and taking them seriously, but helping them speak truth to power by amplifying their voices and concerns.

Maybe I’m a little reckless when it comes to bringing the world into my classroom. Maybe we should just talk about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta — not expect our students to model their lives around activism and social justice. But it’s not about bringing my politics into their lives — it’s about allowing them to discuss the politics they see in their own lives.  This is not me guiding my students to see my side of the issue, but helping them to articulate their deeply held beliefs, to communicate their opinions and feelings effectively — and act upon their beliefs, to successfully bring change to their communities.

So: today it’s 8th graders and school uniforms. Tomorrow… who knows. The possibilities are endless.

I have two dreams that I have been able to articulate in my life. One is for me and the other is seemingly more benevolent. As I get older I see they can be intertwined. The first is to work as a performer. I want to be a musician, a dancer, and an actor. I love being on stage. I do it a lot. So that dream can and does happen. Daily I work with a great group of artists.

My second dream is to ensure others who want these opportunities have access. I want to see equal access to the arts and quality education. I want to see kids learning to read, write, and create—never domesticated. Empowered. Literacy through the arts is deeply empowering. It isn’t the sort of literacy that involves just calling words or even gleaning meaning from a textbook. It is a new and wider literacy that can encompass those things, but it reaches far beyond that. It leaves children, humans, empowered to do what makes them happy. It gives them the power to see what is important. It gives them the ability to choose their path instead of leaving the choice in the hands of another. It is empowering to create. It’s equally beneficial to learn the discipline and perseverance required to master and art form. Arts puts power and responsibility in the hand of the creator. The internal discipline required spreads to every area of life. It allows a drive that otherwise would not exist to develop, and it’s self-reinforcing.

From time to time I forget why I do what I do. I remembered this morning.

It’s Christmas Eve, or the start of it at least, and I can’t seem to stay asleep. I haven’t been able to really write for the past few months—not consistently. Things have been topsy turvy at best personally and professionally. As a teacher, I’ve been in a haze, as a human I’ve been more awake then ever before. And to avoid being completely obtuse I’ll be flat out truthful. We almost lost my mother-in-law a few months ago, my focus shifted to supporting my wife. She’s still recovering, but doing so nicely. Then, after that seemed to be clearing up, my wife was in a head on collision. She called my from the accident when she came to, before or after calling for help. She told me “I’ve been in a head on collision, and I can’t move.” I was on lunch duty. I walked out grabbed my things, and told my principal I had to go. He took care of things that day and the next. My wife is still recovering, by the way, and back at work. Not paralyzed. Still struggling though.

A week or so later, the school shootings. A colleague shared with me that one of her grown personal children had been attacked by their spouse. Attempted murder. Just blow after blow. And, of course, the punches keep on coming. Out of it all, the adage, “Any day above ground is a good one.” comes to mind. A bar tender in college told me that. That bit of wisdom passed to me through a most perfect human interaction has brought me such joy; rather, it has made me aware of the joyous things right before me in such a seemingly bleak time.

And this moment of joy reminds me of why I teach. Teaching is one of those jobs that allows for, demands even, that we connect with our fellow human being. We are not teachers to meet some quota, or make test scores happen, or discipline people, or train automatons, or even happily keep our jobs. We exist to help make possible the awakening of a consciousness from this dismal world of subsidized slumber. We hope beyond hope to be a part of the humanization of another and to join in the mutual benefit from that moment.

I’ve tried to revive my hope in my chosen profession, to much avail, through philosophical ponderings and pontification. And it is bleak. It’s the system and its trappings that are bleak, not us. We are human beings. We teach human beings. If ever I have had reason to write a Hallelujah, this is it. Cheers dear friends.

So on Mondays I have two of our local middle school helpers in my room….and sometimes they show and sometimes not (when they are overwhelmed with homework, for example.) Today they both were here, and the 6th grader brought up the shootings, asking had we heard about them.  The eighth grader responded with yeah, she had heard about it, but it apparently wasn’t a big deal to her at this point, days later. I asked the younger one if she had seen it on the news, and we talked about how it had been all that was on  pretty much all weekend. Both helpers, though, seemed okay and didn’t seem to want to dwell upon it, but I did find it interesting they brought it up. Then the 6th grader said there had been a school dance Friday night.

Boy, did I feel for THOSE chaperones. The kid I was talking to said that was pretty much all anyone talked about at the dance…here I was worrying about kids’ feelings 3 days later and those teachers had had to deal with it fresh. Wow!

I certainly hope I never have to live through anything like that–but if I do, I hope I do it with half the bravery and grace of the Sandy Hook faculty and staff.  They were quite simply, amazing.

Then I check my email and find one from a friend…a quickie about what people prayed for during our daily minute of silence–that we could keep kids safe, that it never happens to us and our kids–or kids anywhere–and that broken locks get fixed.

I have to say that the story of the teacher who hid her kids in her cabinets and closets and faced the gunman disturbed me the most. It really made me think about where I’d hide any kids with me. Gives new meaning to the term learning space and thinking about how to arrange a classroom.

But, what would I pray for?  What HAVE I prayed for? That we find kids who are lonely and reach out to them.  That we all build relationships with kids-and parents–so that no one ever feels the need to go on the rampage. The relationships those Sandy Hook teachers had with their students will forever be a model for us all. I’ve prayed that teachers understand that school isn’t about power and control, but caring and building, and helping everyone be their best intellectually, socially and psychologically. We all have to care and build skills and strengths and self worth like those teachers have. I’ve prayed that principals and coaches and anyone above a teacher listens carefully when we express concern about a child being a loner or angry or being obsessed with firearms or wanting to hurt another being–or when we see someone who always writes about war and armies and killing…. The mental health aspect is crucial to our conversations–all of us anywhere. (See Sandy Hook Shooting: Why Did Lanza Target a School?
http://ideas.time.com/2012/12/15/sandy-hook-shooting-why-did-lanza-target-a-school for some research on school shooters.)

I’ve hated the discussion centering on guns.  It’s not the tool, it how the tool is used. It’s just like we all say about technology–when a kid misuses it, we don’t strip it from them, we center on teaching correct ways of using it and helping them understand the whys and wherefores of their behavior being wrong. I didn’t grow up in a gun household, but my children did. My grandson’s passion right now is hunting, and he is more knowledgeable than his dad will ever be about tracking, the woods around their house, changes in their land and seasonal behaviors of some of the animals around them. He knows more about guns than I ever will–or ever want to know. I like what he is learning, and I have faith that he will never be on a rampage, because of the person he is and is becoming.

Instead of making this tragedy an issue about gun control, why can we not make it around mental issues, relationships and centering on what’s right, with people making good choices for themselves? Why can we not look at this as a wake up call to examine our own behavior and see who we leave out–purposefully or inadvertently? Why can we not be present in the moment listening, instead of using this situation to further a personal (or organized corporate) agenda?

Right now, I need to have time to grieve, to think of all that could have happened–and be thankful most of it did not. While what happened was absolutely terrible, we are all thankful it was no worse. I need to have time to hug my family, my students, my colleagues and say thanks for my well-being–and theirs. I need time to be happy with my kids, to enjoy the upcoming time off,  and not be inundated with petitions to sign, politics to worry about and admonitions to hear. I need to be able to talk with and listen to my students–to see what they are thinking and feeling to help guide them through what can only be for them a confusing, stressful time. I need normalcy and laughter. This last week before winter break does not need to be filled with darkness and sadness, but it absolutely should be filled with reflection and thoughtful rumination on what we can do to reach and teach every single child who walks through our doors–to make them feel loved  and valued and honored for the good they have to offer. I want every kid to feel the confidence to say “I know karate.  I can lead.”  (But I DON’T want them to ever have to do so!)

I’d rather spend my energy processing and revisiting how to get better and how to reach more and how to connect in deeper ways that make a difference in someone’s life.

After all, that’s why I became a teacher–to make a difference.

I’ve written a series of depressing posts. Perhaps I’m in my blue period as a teacher. I certainly find the mess surrounding me depressing. My conversations with teachers at my school are similarly hopeless. But, we are not without hope. Before proceeding, the juxtaposition of my position, and the position of the students I serve and the educational bliss experienced by the kids and teachers across the railroad tracks is a bit disheartening at first glance.

What is “my” situation? Why is it so awful? Is it as awful as I perceive? What can I do?

To begin, I am not without hope or fight. I am greatly concerned for my students and the teachers with whom I share this sinking ship. Our vessel has been boarded by pirates who have the golden elixir that will systematically heal all that ails us. I could have called it a coup. Intervention is too benevolent of a term. You intervene when you care, not when you wish to take control. And that’s what’s happening here (and in many other places). Our “interventionists” are here to “organize” our already ineffective system into a smooth operating system that will close the achievement gap and heal the societal wrongs that can only be measured with a standardized test. How can this be done?, you may ask. You take an existing structure that is dying or in crisis (a created crisis, mind you) and you hire outsiders. Pay them at least three times as much as the teachers. It never hurts if they drive and wear their wealth. It makes it easier to distinguish the teachers from the saviors. These saviors will bring with them a plan to be implemented by the teachers and administration. It will involve a lot of paper work and extra meetings. In these meetings teachers should analyze every aspect of the school function, from finance to curriculum. The kicker is that you must ask the teachers for suggestions how to make improvements and then shoot them down kindly. Say something like, “that’s a really great idea, but it probably won’t work for us.” Do this until teachers understand that their voice will not be heard. Also, pit teachers against one another in meetings. Give then things to debate and use emotional topics to divide them. Or better yet, just frustrate them with opposing ideas that could never be mitigated. And so on so on so forth.

We have three outside organizations in our school working to help us “fix” the problem. That comes to approximately 3 evals a week with at least 4 more walk throughs. We have quality in house academic coaches by the way, but they’ve been deluged with even more paperwork. We’re under constant surveillance. We’re internalizing that and beginning to function as we are being watched constantly, and not to the betterment of our students. We’re following a simple algorithm for staying out of trouble, not teaching.

The answer? Conversation. We, as a faculty have to talk. We have to join forces. I’ve seen it work before. The faculty came together and agreed to teach regardless of the outside forces. We supported each other. We banded together. We talked. We became closer in and out of the work place. We made a huge impact on our students, each other, and not surprisingly test scores. We’re just a little further down the hole here. This faculty has been incredibly divided for some time now, but the other one was too. That’s the answer, we have to give voice to our problems. We have to wade through the never ending pile of papers and constant observations and observed meetings and really work together. I don’t know if I’m in a position to do this at this school, at least not overtly. We’ll see what happens.

And, then to tackle this on the systemic piracy.

Addendum:

I was giving my students a stern talking to this afternoon, what my grandmother would have called a “come to Jesus meeting”. An evaluator walked in in the middle of our “meeting”. I continued as usual. The kids have given up, or have just decided they’re finished trying until after the holiday break. I understand. These things happen. Sometimes we all need a little motivation, even if it’s a little stern, a little loving, and a little not in line with the chosen objective that’s on the lesson plan on the board. I will hurry to my box in the morning to see what charming remarks my dear friend left me. We have to teach. I have to teach. Nothing happens if I keep jumping through their hoops.

Over the past few weeks I’ve struggled with my problem with top down models of education. I attempted to allow the thought “this is for the greater good” into my mind. I tried to hold it in my mind and make it fit. It only made me sick the way the body rejects foreign objects. I’ve labored over the necessity of my concern. Will contemplation of this directly benefit my students? Will it benefit me? Or should I simply give in and follow orders in order to be at peace? If I can’t fall in like with the system perhaps I should quit? Is resistance futile?

I’ve also questioned the purpose of writing and publishing these internal quarrels. Do I write to benefit others? Am I simply an exhibitionist? Am I writing so someone, anyone, will hear my cry as my ship sinks slowly? Am I looking for a rescue? Support? Perhaps I’m planting a revolutionary seed that will grow beyond my imagination? I hope all of the above are true. That is for you who finds this message in a bottle to decide.

But, back to my original aim and/or question: should I resist or acquiesce? Certainly, if you are familiar with me or my rantings and raving you know that acquiescence is not an option. Compromise is a possibility and is best, but is not always possible. I have to also wonder if my rantings are spur me, or someone, on to action or am I merely bitching. If my reflection does not lead to action it is nothing more than mental and rhetorical masturbation which is the utmost waste of time and energy.

So, has my worry recently been of use to me? I think so. It’s helped me to understand where I am and what I’m doing professionally and personally. I’ve certainly lost sight of why I teach for a stint. My focus has shifted from the students to pleasing evaluators and jumping through hoops. I’ve tried to keep the devil off my back, and in doing so I’ve forgotten the world of which I’m a part. I’ve simply lost sight of anything. I can only compare to the panic that occurs when one believes they are drowning. The only fight is for life. I’ve been in that fight as a teacher. I’ve spoken of that fight theoretically, but no matter how much we practice or reaction to drowning there is no comparison to the real thing.

I’m fighting to regain footing to I can teach what I know is best. I am a mediator between curriculum that is prescribed, which is not necessarily to be rejected, the curriculum that is needed, and the human beings that are, or should be the recipients of what will be taught. I think I’ve found the life vest. It’s time to move forward. It’s time to teach, and resist, and voice my dissent. It’s time to reconnect. Thank you for your constant support, dear reader. May my confusion ever be of some benefit to someone.

I have a bit of venom toward the system that employs me. It has been suggested that “if [I] don’t like it, then leave.” That suggestion discounts my reasons for staying, and indicates that I’m concerned namely with/for my own well-being. I can see how an outsider might see it that way. Alas, I am a teacher—misunderstood, angry, and often misinterpreted. Those things are constant, but I’d like to speak to ye naysayers and support those who understand because they’ve stood where I have.

To the common comment “if you don’t like it, then leave/find a new job/go to a better school/etc.” Statements such as this one seem to assume that I have dissatisfaction with the work I’m doing. Which would be true to an extent. I’m bothered greatly by the structure of the system, and the way it presents itself. School, public school, presents itself as a benevolent system aimed at making lives and communities better. This also is true to an extent. Certainly, we teachers strive for that goal. However, actions are being taken to measure our effectiveness. Also a good thing, but no one is sitting down and looking at the qualitative data to see how a child is succeeding because of her interactions throughout her schooling. The way she has developed as a human being is given no credence. The way she can read and comprehend and understand and then apply to make her world better is never considered. She is a piece of data presented by a 3rd party testing corporation that measures arbitrary bits of information to compare data set to data set. Legislation has been passed to ensure this practice continues. The data collected is required and the companies that have lobbied for such mandates profit and profit and profit. The statement that I began with assumes that what is being done with public education is actually for the benefit of the children. “If they score better on these tests, then their lives will be better, we’ll have proof.” Of course, there is no real concern for such trivial things as well being.

Yes we live in a world that equates everyone with a certain group of numbers and data. Our existence can be summed up in numbers, if we allow that to be. As teachers we must resist the pressure to dehumanize those with whom we share this world. As humans we must strive to interact as humans and not as divided beings. I will continue teaching in such a way that values the human above the test score. I cannot allow myself to see data instead of kids. This continued belief will be my professional undoing. I refuse the newly prescribed definition of teacher. Perhaps partner in humanity would be better. I’ll be a wrench in the cogs until I’m plucked from the machine.