May 5, 2009
In my worst moments, this is what I feel like I am doing when I teach. Planting seedlings tenderly, watering them carefully, giving them enough light, and food, and then watching them wither away to nothing as I realize the real problem: there’s no atmosphere.
Not because of the kids, or my subject matter– both of which I love with my whole heart. Not even because of my colleagues in the building, who are legion in their smarts and kindness. No; it’s the mountain of evidence that has accumulated for me, particularly in the past two or three years, that the overarching system of public schooling is not designed for real education to take place.
From the unremitting factory approach in our schedules and numbers, to the lack of resources tied to inequitable funding, to the constant de-professionalism and isolation of teachers, to the national love affair with mechanistic and ineffective standardized assessments, to the absence of a truly wholistic approach to a child’s health and education– the list goes on, and on, and on.
These are challenges which, I believe, can, have been, and will be overcome. Call it optimistic fatalism. Either we will figure this out; or we won’t, the system will fall apart, and we resourceful and clever human beings will start from scratch, better off in the end for its departure.
I’ve noticed, though, that only one thing is common amongst all current successful attempts at reform: Herculean effort. Line up my educational heroes in the classroom, from Nancie Atwell to Rafe Esquith to Lynn Gatto, to the nameless brilliance in every hidden corner of schools, and you will find people who have willingly led careers above and beyond the call of duty.
I trust both the impetus and the outcome of these choices. If these people have committed themselves to this degree, then I believe fully that they have done so with health; and that they will be successful.
I just wonder if I can do the same.
This is not self-degradation; I’m not hanging my head in shame here. It’s just pure fact. For multiple legitimate reasons, I do not have the time, energy, or other resources to be even remotely as single-minded.
So I’m faced with a syllogism, one that I fear cannot be explained away, circumvented, or half-assed.
Premise: The ubiquitous and unparalleled dysfunction of the American educational system is such that double duty (or more) is required of its educators in order to ensure success for its students. Anything else only has the net effect of perpetuating the dysfunction.
Premise: I can not contribute, or sustain, this level of effort in my practice.
Conclusion/Question: Should I continue to be a teacher?
It’s that simple. Isn’t it?
May 5th, 2009 at 4:29 pm
My 5-year-plan has included becoming a teacher for about…3 years now. Or it did. This school year, I learned a lot about the reasons to not be a teacher, and I think the one you’ve hit on is the key: it’s not possible, as a teacher in the current education systems, to do what the students deserve; doing anything less than what the students deserve is tragic and somewhat disgusting.
It’s left me with a predicament that doesn’t seem to have any win-win results…I’d still like to be a teacher, but my status now is more “wait and see”.
Your situation, in my opinion, has a much easier answer than mine. If you can’t do what needs to be done because of systemic problems, then your best option might be to change the system. You, Dina, should be a principal. I’d start on my certification immediately if it meant I could work under you. : )
May 5th, 2009 at 6:26 pm
My hunch is that it is not that simple, but I can’t think of anything useful to add.
May 5th, 2009 at 8:05 pm
Should you be a teacher? Absolutely- you are creative, compassionate, and challenging, to name a few adjectives starting with “c”.
But, can you be a teacher? and not lose your sanity, and take care of your family, and pursue other dreams…
Your call.
May 5th, 2009 at 9:33 pm
Do (y)our students deserve even a hint at a better education? If they do, then you should keep teaching. Because, although you might no be able to make everything perfect, you are able to offset some injustices these students will face now and in the future.
Would you tell your students that if they couldn’t do a great job, not to try at all?
I’m not saying that these are not valid points and that I don’t share them. I do. Every single one of them.
I really want to go on and type these really meaningful and motivating comments, but I have a feeling you (we) have heard them all.
May 5th, 2009 at 10:16 pm
I admit I’ve been having the same thoughts. I have two young daughters and often find myself having to choose between my daughters and my students. It’s a terrible choice to make. Maybe I’d have to make it no matter where I worked or what I did. I don’t know.
Like you, I also feel like there are times when everyone and everything is trying to stop me from helping my kids. Little stuff, like newly tightened web filters. To bigger, systemic things, like who we pink slip and what programs we’re cutting. And then, as you said, the whole factory system itself.
At times, it’s too much. In the end though I realize I’m a pretty good teacher. Maybe it’s just ego, but I think that somewhere, there’s some kid who’s life would be drastically different if I wasn’t there.
May 6th, 2009 at 1:36 pm
Hi Dina
I have been poking around your blog for a little while but this post really strikes a chord. I understand the questions you are asking, but I wonder if your premise isn’t flawed. How can one be certain that doing double duty will ensure student success? If your premise is true, then would being a good parent and a good teacher be mutually exclusive? That eliminates a lot of us right off the top.
May 6th, 2009 at 2:31 pm
Wow.
This post pretty much sums up my life. Except that I always thought school was a poor setup for learning and therefore a Bad Thing. Then I accidentally became a teacher. At first I felt very odd, but then realised that, since school wasn’t going to go away tomorrow, somebody was going to have to stand in front of those kids. Why not me? I even sometimes felt good about it – they could have one of those authoritarian idiots I had as teachers. At least they had someone trying to make a difference, trying to see them.
Now with 3 kids of my own and chronic lack of sleep, I don’t feel like such a good teacher. I’m just part of the system I’ve always hated. The only comfort is that I’m beginning to see possibilities for how this job could be done.
So I can’t help you. Kim L. says it all above here. Still, I hope you keep going. It’s a comfort to me, knowing you’re out there.
May 6th, 2009 at 8:25 pm
Really I have nothing to add here, but for some reason I still feel compelled to add my two cents. It’s an uphill battle and the great majority of us can’t be Rafe Esquith or such. We can’t dedicate our entire lives to our job. I think that’s okay. I think we give all we can give (which, for me at least, is not nearly as much now that I have two little girls) and hope for the best. We can’t ever know how much difference we make.
May 6th, 2009 at 10:36 pm
Unless you can convince everyone else to quit with you, quitting will also have the net effect of perpetuating the dysfunction. So that isn’t a very good decision criterion – it doesn’t distinguish quitting from staying.
There is only one person’s success you can hope to ensure — yours — and actually you can’t even ensure that. What you can do is make sure you spend the, what, 20,000? days you have left on the planet doing something you find really joyful. If you can think of something more fun than watching kids react to literature, philosophy, and each other, then why not try that for a while? The important thing, as others have commented, is to give yourself the support you’d give your students. That might mean encouraging yourself to change your scene: try gardening somewhere with an atmosphere (like a caringly-run private school) for a year or two just to investigate what’s truly different about that and what isn’t. Or it might mean giving yourself permission to keep doing what you love just because you love it, even if you can’t control how it all turns out. Especially since you can’t control how it all comes out.
But wherever you go, please keep blogging.
May 7th, 2009 at 8:52 am
Whoever the Dan above is, I hope he writes more and tells us where we can read it.
May 7th, 2009 at 9:55 am
Huh, this is a tough one for me, as I’m leaving teaching this year mainly because of the frustrations that you articulate here. My socialization into education started with experience as an environmental educator. You know, engaging kids in the wonder of nature and providing the visceral experiences that allowed true wonder to take hold. It was difficult to make a career in that, as programs don’t exist that pay enough to support a family and also educate in that way. And so I went into public school teaching with the idea that I would bring those powerful experiences to the modern school system.
But, over the years, and you know this, it’s crushed my spirit. Yes, the kids have to spend lots of time in school, and yes, I believe I have made a big impact in the lives of some of my students. But at what cost? Do we continue to plug away at something that we fundamentally don’t believe is in the best interests of children?
For me, the answer is no. There may be a day when I regret this decision, but I don’t think so. I’d rather put my energy into developing other models of public education that work to really engage kids in their passions and don’t promote alienation from their environment and communities. For me, I just can’t do it anymore. It’s too broken for me. I want to make the alternatives.
I think the question you ask at the end is a false one. Of course you will continue teaching. It’s how we make sense of the world with other human beings and you’re damn good at it. It seems to me that the question should be “should you keep teaching in the system as it exists now”?
May 7th, 2009 at 9:57 am
And right after I wrote that, I got a sweet email from a former student thanking me for my mentorship with the hopes of staying in touch as the years progress.
Sigh.
May 7th, 2009 at 3:13 pm
This blog came at a moment when I was considering my life in teaching and what I should be doing. I am not a teacher (at least not in full-time post in school) but I have been a trainer in lots of guises over the years: university lecturer, trainer for the Samaritans, trainer for a Biotechnology company in the US and Europe, mother to three boys and most recently as tutor to eight children of various ages who need extra help because it is almost exam time and they are panicking. The problem I am seeing every day is that everything it taught as ‘modules’; teach it, test it, forget it. Then there comes a ‘new subject’ called: ’synoptic essays’. This apparently fills the kids with dread because they “learnt that stuff ages ago” and never expected to need it again. How could this ever happen in teaching? What happened to learning because it was interesting? I begin to feel I am a dinosaur except for one thing – three times this week the STUDENTS have said they are interested in science now because they understand where it fits in with their life.
Perhaps I could never be a school teacher – the kids would never be let out to the next lesson because I cannot stop telling them ‘one last interesting thing’ – but I always believed the job of a teacher was not just to provide information, but to demonstrate an enthusiasm for a subject you love. If you are doing that not all is lost and you should just battle away.
May 10th, 2009 at 4:50 pm
I think that all teachers go through a phase of depression about whether they are having any lasting effect. Some quit at that point, others either work through the depression or get something that pulls them out of it (like a heartfelt thank-you from a former student).
One possibility is to try a change of venue—keep teaching but at a different school, one more in agreement with your pedagogic style and philosophy. This may mean moving public->private (or vice versa), or it may mean a different commute to a neighboring school district.