The Other Half of the Equation

There are two sides of education.  Sitting stage left is Team Instruction consisting of teachers and administrators.  I've done many pieces on this team, and will do many, many more.  But what about those sitting stage right?  That would be Team Learning: parents and children.  It's high time we discuss Team Learning, for they are just as responsible for our current mess as Team Instruction.

Team Learning may, in fact, be more responsible for the current mess, because in the end we are talking about their failures.  When students don't learn, teachers get fired and schools are put under new management.  The students themselves (and their parents, during the ages when students are too young to understand their actions) face no consequences, and yet they are the ones who are not getting their jobs done.

You might say, "Wait a minute, what about grades?  Grades reflect a student's success or lack thereof.  Too many F's mean repeating a grade."  I would respond, "That may have been true in 1944, but not any more.  Teachers are under tremendous pressure to not give F's.  In many schools failing grades have been outlawed altogether.  But that's another post."

You might say, "What about being held back a grade?  In my day students who failed 1st grade had to repeat it."  I would respond, "Again, maybe that happened in 1944, but it's now 2014.  Social promotion rules the roost.  Psychologists tell us that repeating a grade is devastating to self-esteem, and so it too has been outlawed by nearly every school."

You might say, "What about all these standardized test I keep hearing about?  Surely they don't count for something?"  I would respond, "Despite being the ones having to actually sit there and take the damn things, students are in no way effected by standardized tests.  They have no incentive to do well on them.  Absolutely none."

You might say, "What about their parents?  Surely a student's parents can demand they do well in school and dole out genuine consequences for failure."  I would respond, "Aye, there's the rub!"

To be continued...
 

What's wrong with American Education - Reason #248593

Crappy Curriculum

There are amazing curricula out there, for every subject under the sun from Art to Zoology.  Granted some of it is pricey, but lots of it is affordable, some is even (shudder) free.  Why is it that American teachers insist on using sub-standard crap for lessons?  Why are American teachers proud of the shit they use?  Nobody else points to a steaming pile of poo, inhales loudly, and declares it to be a bed of roses.  Yet American teachers do.

Are we really that anti-intellectual?  Are we really that stupid?

There are experts and scientists in every field (yes, even music) who have done (and are continuing to do) the research and *know* the best way to teach their subject.  How to break down the knowledge and skills.  How to sequence it.  How to tailor it to different types of student.  They are shouting their findings from the rooftops.  Some are writing books with easy-to-follow lessons.  Others are giving workshops and attending conferences for teachers.  Yet the biggest consumers of these amazing resources?

Homeschoolers, that's who.

Now homeschoolers do not have any special enlightenment.  They work hard to find the right materials to suit their students, and they listen to the experts, not the publisher's sales rep with the flashiest swag.  Can't we teachers climb off our high horses and learn something from these dedicated parents?

Oh yeah, right.  Teachers don't get to choose curriculum.  Administrators do.

*headdesk*

On the Road to Hell

Yes, I teach.  But I sure as hell don't understand the vast majority of teachers.  Probably never will.

Modern teaching is the queerest of careers. Knowledge and expertise are not only unimportant, they are constantly and continuously degraded by those who are supposedly the masters of the field.  (But that's another post.)  Teaching is the only subject where it is better to care about the job rather than do the job well.  Just as long as a teacher cares about little Johnny, it doesn't matter whether she teaches him to read or do math or the contents of the Bill of Rights.

My question is:  Which will be important for Johnny twenty years from now?  Knowing how to read, or having vague memories of someone who cared about him 12 years ago? 

When you come right down to it doesn't teaching Johnny how to do math show that you care? Doesn't teaching Johnny how to behave in civilized society show that you care?  Doesn't making sure he has the tools to live the life he wants a demonstration of love?  One that is much, much more powerful than a few dozen smiles and hugs?

Think about this the next time you tell a teacher she's mean, or strict, or demanding.  Think about the fact she sees her students not as they are today but how they will be twenty years in the future.  Think about the multitude of ways people show one another they care.

Think about it.

Stranger in a Strange Land

My teaching career has not been an easy one.  Rather than a smooth superhighway of success and growth, mine looks more like a heavily rutted logging track.  My supervisors pick on me regularly, while at the same time parents and their children love my work. 

We cherish the individuality of our students, why can't we do the same for teachers?

My supervisors expect me to fit into a very specific mold.  I'm not suppose to require all the students to pay attention.  I'm not supposed to care when students break my rules.  (In fact it would be better if I didn't have rules at all.) I'm not supposed to give consequences when students misbehave.  I'm not supposed to require all the students to participate in class (in other words, do the work) if they don't want to.  I'm not supposed to ask for silence before giving instructions.  I'm not supposed to restrict the bathroom privileges for older (grade 3 and up) students.  I'm not supposed to give students suggests on how their work could be better.

You know what?  Doing all of these things makes me a great teacher.  I am honest with my students, and I take pride in that honesty.  If something is not right, be it academic work, or behavior, we work on making it better.  My goal is to teach students, not to entertain them.  I know why my methods of instruction work and the science they are rooted in.  The love I have for my students is demonstrated with congratulating their accomplishments and challenging them to strive for excellence.

Parents love this.  After school I tutor students privately, and each year I receive more and more requests for lessons.  In the past week alone, I have added six new students.  It has become quite the contortionist act to schedule them all.  I do no advertising, all of these after school clients come from word-of-mouth referrals.  Some of them don't need tutoring any more, but continue on anyway.  When I ask why, they say that they really enjoy how I teach and what they learn.

But because I don't look like the other classroom teachers, I am somehow deficient.  I should use the crappy materials "because the kids like it."  I should let the kids do what they please "because otherwise they will feel stressed."  Every time I try to explain what I'm doing and why, I am shouted down.  Every time I point out the disconnect between their requests and what my private clients say, I am shouted down.  Every time I show these supervisors the accomplishments of my students, they are dismissed out-of-hand and then I'm shouted down.

I'm an intellectual drowning in anti-intellectual flood.  Somehow I must keep swimming.  Sometimes I feel like Hamlet, only I'm not questioning my continued existence.  I'm questioning whether I should hold to my ideals.  I take solace in these guys.

“Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." -- Albert Einstein.

“Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.”  -- Ralph Waldo Emerson.