Power to the Teachers

I don't live for the approval of others anymore. Sometimes it is nice, but it doesn't define me. The thing I am really learning is that when I am truly reliant on a God of my understanding, I don't need anyone's approval except that of my Creator. Further, I am created in God's image and likeness, making me a perfect expression in human form.

All of that being said, I think it is important for me to really know myself and my motives. I have a good friend who tells me there is no truly selfless act. In his mind, everything has a payoff. He is far more cynical than I, but in some respects I see what he is saying... When I do something, even if it is a kind or unselfish deed, I am rewarded by an intrinsic good feeling. So, am I doing something for someone else because of the good feeling I get, or is it because I am expecting something in return?

In education, teachers are largely undervalued. Oh, don't get me wrong... People can give us plaques and wax poetic saying things like, "If you can read this, thank a teacher..." It's all true. But, we are part of a crumbling system that has been dragged through the media declaring education a miserable failure for our children. We are mandated to death by politicians who have never set foot in a classroom and dare I say-- administrators who haven't been in the classroom for a very long time. And, we are trying to dig our way out from under mounds of paperwork assigned to hold us accountable, even in the face of parents who change their phone numbers and don't give the school an up-to-date contact in the event of an emergency with their child. Frankly, it stinks. And, I understand why so many teachers are leaving the profession. I get feeling completely fed up.

However, I would encourage teachers to take your power back. To the teacher who after teaching a full day rode the bus around the neighborhood to monitor student behavior, I will say, "You did that because student behavior is important to you, and you care not only about academic achievement-(Although, you ROCK at taking kids from the bottom level and moving them up and up into better performers than anyone ever could have expected...)-but, you care about kids growing up to be good people who are able to exhibit safe and socially acceptable behavior."

To the teacher who stayed late to tutor students long after everyone else went home, I would say, "You did that because you wanted your students to really learn the material, not just pass the test."

To the teacher who went out of their way to help another teacher navigate yet another computer program even though she went to a training over the summer, but had already completely forgotten everything about it, "You did that because supporting peers and furthering the teaching profession is important to you."

My teaching friends, you are doing all of the things you do because it is the right thing, and because somewhere down in your heart there is an intrinsic reward. If you are waiting for a thank you, or even an acknowledgment of what you are doing right instead of people constantly looking for where you are falling short, keep waiting and feeling frustrated and upset. You will never be told often enough, loudly enough or forcefully enough just how important you are. This job is hard, and the fact that you have chosen to undertake it anyway speaks volumes about your character.

We are doing the things we do because we love children, and we believe in our United States educational system in which we educate all the children, not just the top performers. Let the politicians and the administrators and outright nay-sayers do whatever it is they do... It's their job. But, our job is to teach... To teach the children... And to teach the children because it is what we know is right deep in our hearts. Thus, when faced with a discouraging moment, remind yourself, you aren't doing it for them.

Making a Difference

Don’t we all just want to know that our very existence isn’t just for naught? I mean, my brother is an actor/writer/director… He creates because he feels passionately, and he wants to bring meaning to life’s experiences. At least that is what I have always believed about what he does. My sister is a nurse. Her life is about assisting those in moments of great vulnerability. My cousin is a plumber. She works with her husband, and together, they strive to improve the quality of life for customers by helping fix pipes. Lots of times, they manage to ensure that the aroma of human waste isn’t the first thing people experience in the morning. These roles that my family members play are important in society. They make a difference. I can see it.

When I first started teaching, I was filled with all sorts of notions about “making a difference”. Maybe that is what everyone strives for in life… A sense of meaning… A sense of purpose… But, as with everything, I carried this idea of making a difference to a whole different level in my own mind. I wanted every student who passed through my door to develop a sense of self-worth, a love of learning, a respect for life and the miracles that it holds, a feeling of security and independence, and knowledge that they were the masters of their own destiny.

This is my seventh year of teaching. Tonight, I ran into a former student at the mall… A student from my first year… “Joe” transferred to me from another school toward the end of the school year. I only had him in class for about 4 months. However, his file was probably two inches thick. In special education, I suppose the student with the thickest file wins. Joe’s file was rife with reports about his horrible behavior problems. As I read through the file, my head was certainly filled with visions of terror… “Jumping from the tops of file cabinets…” “Cursing…” “Threatening to ‘dismember’ the student teacher”… Those are just the bits that I remember all these years later. But, amidst all of that, I saw that the kid had an I.Q. of 135. And, given my clientele that first year, I figured he would fit right in. The students I had my first year had horrible behavior problems. Many of them hailed from the projects and are now known drug dealers in our fair city. So, Joe didn’t really seem too different from any of the rest of my students, and I was questioning whether or not I was going to continue teaching after that first year anyway. I figured he could ride out the rest of the year with me and maybe I could find out why this bright kid, with unlimited potential was a) in special education, and b) saddled with a file that read like a rap sheet.

The remainder of that year was a wild ride. I was just holding on for dear life, doing the very best I could with a whole gaggle of very difficult students. And, for some reason, Joe never gave me a lick of trouble. He would find reasons to come back to my class in the afternoon. He was supposed to return to his homeroom class for Science and Social Studies, but usually he would meander in and we would talk. Honestly, I was grateful for his company. He was so smart and funny. One time, I even had an opportunity to show him his file and ask, “What are these reports doing in here, Joe? I don’t get it. You don’t act like this in my class.” He would just shrug and say, “I never felt like I needed to do that here. You get me.”

Joe moved before the end of the school year. Maybe that was part of the problem. He moved quite a bit during his elementary years. But, his mom had said that they were staying in Gautier, so I hoped he would get a chance to finish middle and high school with the same group of kids.

Tonight, I saw Joe at the mall. He is running around with the “gothic” kids. He looked basically the same, and I had a chance to speak to him.

“Joe Neely,” I called.

“How do you know me?” he responded. He looked at me, snapping his fingers trying to put a name to my face.

A friend joined him, who was a former student of our school and prompted, “She’s a teacher…”

After much struggling with his memory, I let him off the hook and told him who I was. I don’t honestly believe that he remembered me. He just said, “Teachers and me did not a good team make…”

I asked him how he was doing and he revealed that he has quit school. He is sixteen now. He never made it to high school. He quit in middle school. When I asked what happened he said, “I just wouldn’t do the work.” He says he plans to get his GED and go to college. I encouraged him to do just that.

Obviously, I didn’t really make the type of difference I had intended for Joe Neely. He didn’t even remember me. But, maybe Joe made a difference for me that year. I remember contract renewals came around at the end of my first year and I did not sign mine immediately. My co-teacher, and now friend, Kenna, kept telling me that I couldn’t quit. Still, I thought, “Like hell I can’t quit… This is too hard. It isn’t worth it.” Then, I thought about Joe and kids like him. I thought, maybe I can make a difference for those kids. At least he went to one school where someone “got him”.

I’m sad that I didn’t make a bigger difference for Joe. I want him to get a high school diploma. He is probably still the smartest kid I have taught. But, maybe kids like Joe are just thrown into the mix so I can make a difference for some of the others. I don’t really understand how God works it all out or keeps it all straight.

At the end of each school year, I write my students moving on to the middle school a letter. The letter is personal for each student, but usually I tell them the story of Albert Einstein… Here is a portion of a similar letter to another student: “Being a person of true character means meeting your disability with an attitude of gratitude. Being grateful for the gifts and abilities you have, rather than focusing on the areas you are lacking will help you build your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. Albert Einstein (one of the smartest men who ever lived) had a learning disability. His mother did not listen to the teachers who told her that he did not have the capacity to learn to read. Because Einstein's mother believed in him, he began to believe in himself. If I could give you any gift in life, it would be the ability to believe in yourself. I believe in you. You can be your own worst enemy or your own greatest ally; the choice is yours.”

Interestingly enough, Joe’s presence in my classroom led me to conclude that I have certain gifts and abilities to offer my students. Because my class was the one place he didn’t exhibit behavior problems, I thought that maybe I could offer something to others with significant challenges. I think I have gone on to offer something. I’m not sure it is as grand and wonderful a something as I had hoped it would be in my first years of teaching. But, I know for sure that the choice to continue trying and believing is mine alone.

And, who knows… Joe and I have crossed paths again. Maybe that diploma is on the horizon for him. (Wink.)