Catching Up and Clarification
I’ve been home since Monday evening. I have re-cleaned areas of the house that the family *thought* they had cleaned before my return (our techniques for dusting, mopping, vacuuming, laundering and disinfecting don’t exactly match), and I finished reading The Other Boleyn Girl last night. I baked some cookies that are perfectly accompanying my coffee this morning, and I’ve just made it through all of the blogs I missed reading while I was away. Wowzer, was NetNewsWire *full*! I’ve emailed friends and family, sent photos of my trip, and fast-forwarded through most of my recorded t.v. shows on DISH. Catching up, catching up.
I’m not certain what inspiration will find me today, but I’m guessing grocery shopping and re-thinking the seasonal decor in the house will occupy some of my time this morning. Of course I’ll be working up tomorrow’s Show and Share blog, with more photos of some of the goodies I bought while in Oz this past weekend, and will keep my fingers crossed that our internet tech is able to find the source of our internet connection woes sometime today.
I’m looking forward to Shannon’s visit next week as is Dear Daughter. Having moved four times in five years by this summer, time spent with our family and friends who are family helps us to stay connected in between our travels hither and yon. No, still no news on where we’ll be stationed next- I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed that we will NOT be staying here in the Bordertown. Thank you for your good thoughts!
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Clarification:
For those of you who followed the link in my Knowledge is Power post, and were wondering if I was advocating that all parents pull their children out of school during mandated assessments, the answer would be “no.” I do encourage and am an advocate for parental involvement, LOTS of parental involvement in the lives of their children, but I believe that in our country’s present state of turmoil, not many parents have taken the time (for whatever reason) to really sit back and look at the long-term effects of decisions they’ve allowed others to either make for them or scare/convince them into making themselves in regard to NCLB. When I provide links that I’ve found interesting and thought-provoking, I share them in the hopes that their content will somehow engage others, get them thinking from another angle, or provide another detail or interpretation that will help with the bigger picture for those readers who are spending time to survey the terrain outside of their own backyard.
Remember, I’m not only a teacher (who has the year off, is not presently employed and is therefore not representing any state or any school district) but a parent as well. I don’t believe that my own children will get “do-overs” once NCLB and its testing malpractice(s) are shown to have succeeded in obliterating both the pros AND cons of our public school system. My children will be out of school, and hopefully in college, surrounded by other problem solvers, knowledge-lovers and big thinkers who survived in spite of NCLB, while younger students still in junior high and high school will be doing all they can to just make it through. How many students that reach basic proficiency through today’s drill and kill testing practices are really going to be motivated to attend or adequately prepared for a college’s or university’s rigorous curriculum?
Looking to the future, it’s probable that should my children decide to study Education while in college, they’ll take classes on the history of education, education reform, testing and assessment, etc. I suspect that college professors and other education analysts will tell future teachers that NCLB (and all of its programs, those based on punitive measures AND rewards) was one of the biggest and most successful tools used to control our country. Maybe my crystal ball is a bit cloudy, maybe my vision is a bit off, maybe I’ve had too much coffee… but WHAT IF…
What if the NCLB machine was engineered to make sure enough children failed? No, not every school, or every child. When enough students fail, the school puts canned programs into place that are not only endorsed but mandated by NCLB. When students continue to fail (and some always will, sorry to burst your Pollyanna bubble), for whatever reasons, school environments are taken over and restructured completely, and parents, if they so choose, can move their children to schools that have made AYP (Adequate Yearly Progress). “But what about those schools that have received accolades and rewards and who proudly advertise their school’s report card that PROVES they’ve made adequate yearly progress? Doesn’t that mean that at least those schools are succeeding thanks to NCLB?” Uh, maybe.
Let’s assume those beribboned and shiny gold star schools are accurately reporting their test scores. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the teachers are providing your child with the most comprehensive and well-rounded educational experience possible: it means that students have been taught enough to pass a single test. And guess what, if that gold star school honestly continues to do well while neighboring schools fail, the students from the failing school get to overcrowd Gold Star Elementary, increasing class size, bringing their less-than-proficient scores with them, thus increasing the chance that the school will lose ribbons and gold stars in the future. Yep, in giving schools those fun little awards, the government goes out of its way to make it more difficult for those schools to continue to succeed, though somehow most parents feel placated when told, “don’t worry, your child can go to the good school now,” and don’t think too much past their own reassurance. For those who need an analogy:
Imagine a weight lifter. Strengthening his body, monitoring his diet, trying to make it to the next competition. He pushes himself, hopefully safely, by adding more weight, making his muscles stronger over time. He can bench press two hundred pounds, two hundred twenty five, two hundred fifty, three hundred, three-fifty, four hundred, success after success. Five hundred, six hundred, more. Believe it or not, there will come a time when someone puts enough weight on the lifter that no matter his training/development or his previous successes or trophies, he will not be able to lift it. Ever. Pick up the truck. Pick up the house. Pick up the weight equivalent to a neighborhood block. You can’t. You failed! YOU FAILED. Gee, how did *that* happen? Guess you need us to take over.
Tsk, tsk.
Another thought that today’s intake of cookies and coffee have fired off in my brain is this: If the NCLB machine has indeed been created to guarantee that all schools eventually fail, wouldn’t those beribboned and gold starred schools that continue to blatantly “succeed” no matter how much weight is dumped onto their own weight bars be easily spotted and eventually identified as deserving of investigation? Of, perhaps, misreporting their assessment scores? Of altering test administration? Of cheating? It would certainly be a red flag to me if I made sure everyone would fail (gradually of course, don’t want to tip people off), and one little upstart continued to succeed no matter what. In fact, if I were a real mastermind, I would have made sure that ribbons and gold stars were mandated as rewards BY ME, as my failsafe catch-all. Everyone would be on my radar, easy and clear targets.
Maybe my children will choose to study architecture in college instead. Maybe I should try a more well-balanced breakfast in the morning. Maybe it’s time for that grocery shopping I’m supposed to be doing today.
Subs, Aides, and Paraprofessionals
A former colleague of mine is now on maternity leave after the much-anticipated arrival of her daughter. My friend has been preparing her classroom, materials, and students for the long-term sub for months now, hoping that she and her students “get a good one.” I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed for her too.
For all of the wonderful substitute teachers, classroom aides, and paraprofessionals out there, thank you for all that you do. And thank you for all that you try to do.I was raised “a teacher’s kid,” and was therefore privy to the inside track of public education from a very young age, but I still had to “do my time” as a substitute teacher before I was given the chance to teach my very own group of students. And Ladies and Gents, I never had it as difficult as many of you do simply because of my upbringing and exposure to the world of teachers, inservices, and educational training. I knew which substitute teachers my mother would request by name and why she would request them, and I knew why some substitute teachers had their names crossed off of sub-caller lists after their first visit to a school. I had my mental file cabinet full of tricks and could navigate the “Yay, it’s just a SUB” minefield that miraculously appears whenever someone other than the classroom teacher enters a room.
Subs, aides, and para-professionals have to deal with so many issues when they step into another teacher’s classroom. The biggest one being that they are not the regular classroom teacher. It’s obvious for all to see, and the usual response from many students when a stranger enters the room is to assume all of the rules, limitations, allowances, and expectations of the classroom teacher were just thrown out the window. In response, many subs tend to choose one of several paths: they try to exactly follow whatever schedule or routine that has been left for them, attempting to don the costume, tone, mannerisms and authority of the teacher they are covering (while failing miserably on the classroom stage); they try to call down the thunder in their very best Viola Swamp impersonation, somehow failing to gain the compliance of the students as effectively as she; or they sit behind the desk, warming the teacher’s seat and letting the students run the show for the day, merely looking up to check that no blood is left on the linoleum. But the exceptional substitute teachers, aides, and paras, are all able to leave a positive mark on our students, encouraging the academic learning process to continue to motor forward, and giving students some valuable social experiences as well.
Here are some of Amazon.com’s recommendations for substitute teacher handbooks. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I haven’t come across a “Subbing for Dummies” book… or “Teaching for Dummies” for that matter.
As for my colleague’s sub? Please do a good job. Enjoy your new students as much as she does. Laugh with them, sing with them, read to them, share with them, encourage them, listen to them, guide them, teach them.No pressure.
Merit Hiring
I was reading Science Goddess’ “More Isn’t Always Better” post this morning and her thoughts took me down the road of introspection regarding my lack of employment this year. Her assertion that merit pay for teachers wouldn’t guarantee better teaching made my head nod vigorously in agreement, and made me wonder exactly what equation used for hiring here in “Mexico-North” is applied to new teacher applicants such as myself.
My info? College graduate, twelve years teaching experience, licensed/certified to teach in Alaska, New Mexico, Kansas, and even here, Texas. I have glowing letters of recommendation, an excellent résumé, and wonderfully gracious references. Resources? My own extensive childrens’ library, professional library, math/science/literacy/art/music manipulatives, classroom decor, puppets, puzzles, blocks, audio/visual teaching aids, computers (yes, I provide my own computers for my students) and even sleeping mats. Like most teachers, money for play dough, paint, glitter, glue, dress up clothes, and every small yet necessary detail for kindergarten explorations (sunflower seeds, cotton balls, snacks) comes out of my own pocket. I’m also not burnt out on teaching and I actually *like* children, both very valuable commodities.
After submitting résumé after résumé to school districts and having several interviews for kindergarten and other primary grade classes, I’ve not been offered a job. My observations as the parent of a student have had me cringing, shaking my head, venting, and vowing to move away from here as soon as Uncle Sam lets us. At this point I’m a fan of “merit hiring,” hiring someone who is the most qualified, who offers the most resources, and who has the most desirable background as vouched for by other education experts. I was, in fact, under the impression that hiring highly qualified teachers was a requirement mandated to school districts nationwide in our latest educational reform. But like everything else, “highly qualified” is interpreted very differently here.
Budget constraints rule the day, and the logic used in the Bordertown when trying to address the needs and requirements of NCLB (not that I agree with them) just doesn’t fit. The community is at least eighty-percent Hispanic, which makes not hiring me because I don’t speak Spanish an understandable decision. The need to communicate effectively with all students, build those bridges, and give the gift of multiple languages to students are all goals I respect and believe in. In not speaking Spanish, I am not the most highly qualified. Hiring a Spanish-speaking aide with whom I could team-teach isn’t an option here like it is in New Mexico however, perhaps because you really can’t get two for the price of one.
During one of my interviews, a principal asked if I had any questions for her, to which I replied “yes, how does your school utilize technology, and what resources are available to kindergarten students?” The response of the other teachers in the room was polite laughter, while the principal explained that none of the kindergarten classrooms in her school had computers yet, though they were waiting for some old ones to be donated by a military Academy class here on post (which my husband attends) this year. I then asked her if sharing learning centers amongst kindergarten classrooms would be possible since I had computers for student use that I’d be happy to share. “Oh no, that would be unfair, one teacher having computers and the others not. We don’t even have computer standards for our pre-k or kindergarten classes yet, just guidelines.” Totally missed my point and offer, but apparently the bottom line was that NO students would have computer time if all classrooms weren’t equipped. It’s all or nothing.
Several weeks after my last interview, I ran into one of the teachers who had been part of the interview committee at a fast-food restaurant. She remembered me and we did some chatting while waiting in line to order. She said she was sorry I hadn’t been hired though I was qualified and I had “done so well” during my interview, and said her principal had hired another applicant because she “wouldn’t cost as much.” She also divulged that the person hired was certified through an alternate licensure program that required she only complete a year-and-a-half’s worth of education courses and practicum experiences before being employable by any district here. Budget again. I’m wondering how much classroom money, if any, she was given to set up all of the learning centers necessary to provide appropriate educational experiences for her students. With her limited knowledge and experience with public education, would she even know to ask for funding? Perhaps “clueless” is desirable.
Hiring Spanish-speaking applicants with the least amount of experience (and possibly skill) and least amount of classroom resources doesn’t seem to be the best plan of attack when it comes to addressing this town’s interpretation of NCLB’s biggest rules:
1) All students must pass.
and
2) All students must pass in English.
Students are hit with monthly barrages of TAKS “practice” tests which take away from learning anything OTHER than how to take the TAKS. They are allowed to take the test in their “native language” until high school, when TAKS must be passed in English by all students, regardless of ethnicity or language experience.
Huh?
Okay, so maybe it’s *just me.* Either I’m grossly underqualified because I just don’t see (nor understand) the big picture, or I’m grossly OVERqualified because I’ve noticed that there isn’t one.
Still, it would be nice to have a paycheck.
Ten Tips
… that might help if you’re a newbie kindergarten teacher. Well, *any* grade teacher I suppose, but these have worked out specifically for me during the past decade-plus, so I’ll keep this advice in the early childhood education realm for now.
* Gaining experience is a gradual process, so it will take some time to develop your own consistent voice. As you develop it, don’t forget to hear and listen to others’. Their ideas and interpretations can help you find ways to enjoy your job or rethink a problem to find a solution.
* You don’t know it all, so ASK questions.
* Pendulums swing far and wide in the world of public education, never really coming to rest in the middle. It’s up to you to find the best middle ground, get a good foothold, and remain flexible (sign up for a Pilates or yoga class now…a climbing class wouldn’t hurt either).
* Learn something new and add it to your repertoire if it will benefit your students, but avoid throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
* Understand that dictating, bribing, and threatening are NOT the same as teaching, guiding, and facilitating.
* You are partners in education with parents of students and colleagues, even if THEY don’t think so. Behave accordingly.
* You’re going to meet a lot of diverse, colorful, entertaining, strange, even dangerous people. Understand that if evil can manifest itself in any shape or form, so can good.
* Your students should enjoy school and learning because of you, not in spite of you.
* Learn discretion and exercise it. There will be MANY moments with colleagues, administrators, parents and students that will work out for the best if you think it, don’t say it.
* Finally (and this is the ultimate in “inside-scoopness”), don’t do cut-and-paste activities the day before Picture Day. Really.
{The number poster can be found here}
Happy New Year!
A Lifetime of Personal Diversity
Alice’s post at In Practice was a good read this morning. Addressing how to handle diversity in schools, neighborhoods, and society IS a tough issue, and not just for Caucasian folks. Many people simply want to know how and IF (and when and where) to acknowledge ethnic/cultural diversity. The acts of asking someone about his or her background, of learning something new, of trying to be considerate, making sure no one feels looked over, left out, or unwelcome can actually be awkward for people thanks to humankind’s history, no matter how enlightened, unbiased, worldly, just plain kind and inquisitive, or politically correct they may be. But more than some people do feel threatened by anything outside of their own comfort zone, allowing assumptions and stereotyping to influence what I feel are their fear-based behaviors. For some personal history:
I’m a half Eskimo, half Caucasian female born in Kentucky, raised for the first ten years of my life in a bordertown in TX. I lived the next twenty five years of my life in an Eskimo village, a small farming town, and a college town in Alaska. Being a woman who has often been incorrectly stereotyped throughout her life, I grew up wondering who and what I was “supposed” to be with each new hometown locale we moved to. In many cases I was too “brown” for predominantly white communities, and too “white” for predominantly brown communities. A half-Caucasian half-Inupiaq Eskimo girl raised in Texas, eating pâté de foie gras, enchiladas, and hamburgers, while interested in learning French, how to make parkas, and playing the clarinet and violin was apparently an interesting addition to many schools and neighborhoods. I am brunette with dark brown eyes and I tan like nobody’s business. Many people assume I am Hispanic. Others admit they assume I am “something,” but they’re not quite sure *what*. As an adult, I’ve moved as a military dependent and have been stationed in New Mexico, Kansas and Texas, driving through the states each time a new move is required. Teaching in culturally diverse schools has been the norm for me even in places like Kansas thanks to the high military population.
As a young child, my mother was regularly asked if I was a “Vietnamese war orphan.” When I was in the third grade (here in the bordertown), I got in trouble with my Spanish teacher and school principal for “not speaking my language,” which according to them was my mother’s fault, as she is white. I told the teacher and principal I was Eskimo and was then accused of lying. My mother brought my Bureau of Indian Affairs card in to the principal and told her that yes, while the accusations of my mother not making sure I spoke SPANISH were accurate, it was in fact because in addition to English, I should have been speaking Inupiaq, a language NOT taught in Texas. The harassment from the Hispanic teacher and Hispanic principal stopped. The irony? I did speak Spanish with my Spanish-speaking-only friends on the playground or outside of school.
As a junior in high school, my family lived in Fairbanks, Alaska. The school I attended was the largest I’d ever seen at that time, most students either already sorted or in the process of sorting themselves into social cliques. As the weather cooled, I chose to wear a parka to school that I had made. Standing inside in the commons area waiting for the first bell to ring, still wearing “outdoor gear,” students visited with their friends. The punks, the jocks, the band kids, the geeks, the gearheads, etc. were all separated and socializing in their staked-out territories as were the students who sorted themselves by cultural heritage or grade (only the seniors seemed to have license to roam free, socializing or harassing students from any group). I stood with a friend from the bus, talking and laughing, wondering what our French teacher had in store for us that day, when I noticed two students from what appeared to be the “African American Group” pointing, smiling, nodding, laughing, and pointing some more at me from across the room. After some quizzical looks on my part, one of the boys came over, laughing, and told me “we’re getting a good laugh, ’cause here you are, wearing that coat, that Eskimo coat, pretending you’re a native, when everyone here knows you’re half Black.” I was floored, not because I perceived what he was saying was an insult, but because somehow I had become a joke based on what people who didn’t know me at all thought about me- what they had decided about me all on their own, without asking.
In Alaska, I attended WEIO (World Eskimo Indian Olympics) each year with my Inupiaq grandparents, mother and sister, and I learned how prejudiced my “minority” grandparents really were. When my grandparents encountered girls from families they knew from the village at the sporting events and in the artisans’ gallery, I was quickly introduced. But if those girls had African American friends or boyfriends with them, the girls themselves were blatantly shunned by my grandparents by not being offered the traditional outstretched hand or even eye contact. After the girls left the area, my grandmother would scoff, shake her head, and gossip while returning to her beadwork. Interestingly enough, several years later, girls my grandparents had originally shunned who had gone on to have children with African American males were warmly welcomed back into the fold because “taqsipak” (mixed skin color/heritage) babies were considered the most beautiful. I have never spoken fluent Inupiaq. My grandmother has often told me she was glad all of her children “listened to” her when she told them in their youth that they needed to “marry white people to get ahead.” My father, and all of my aunts and uncles did just that after graduating from high schools outside of Alaska (Bureau of Indian Affairs “boarding” schools where Inupiaq language and culture were not allowed).
Visiting family in Oklahoma for the baptism of my daughter, I was put into social situations where neighbors, church patrons, and most locals would ask “what ARE you?” After one inquiry led to a tense half-hour-long question/answer session explaining my ethnic backgroud in a greasy spoon diner, the owner of the establishment with whom I was speaking finally offered his hand to shake, pulled me in close and said “well at least it WORKS FOR YOU.” Yes, he was referring to what he assumed was my heritage. Yes, I was offended, because I couldn’t understand why he felt there was an actual NEED to determine whether or not I was deserving of polite interaction (and frankly service in his diner) in the first place. I didn’t care about his skin color, but he certainly felt he needed to make a few decisions based on MINE.
Thankfully throughout my life I have had family members, friends, and teachers who have encouraged me to “keep the best and toss the crap” of my life’s experiences. I prefer duck soup (made on the beach in Barrow during Naluqatak) over muktuk, “real” enchiladas over Mrs. Stouffer’s, and pâté over okra any day! While a fluent English speaker, I enjoy expanding my vocabulary with conversational phrases, expressions and vocabulary from other languages. Perhaps someday I’ll be fluent in either French or Spanish, though I have little hope of speaking Inupiaq as long as I’m away from Alaska. Sign language also comes in handy, pardon the pun. I have an eclectic taste when it comes to my preferences for home decor, fashion, literature, music and hobbies. I can make a parka, mouton mittens, and sew a fur ruff to finish it all off, and enjoy counted cross stitch and crocheting. A wonderful teacher in high school taught me how to make wonton- she was Chinese, while my German friends have vowed to teach me how to make sauerkraut one of these days.
I am aware that I am more likely to have problems with alcohol abuse and diabetes because of BOTH my native and non-native heritages, but my crooked teeth come from my father’s side of the family, and my penchant for sparkely jewelry from my mother’s. I don’t care to go fishing, but certainly love my Aaka’s smoked salmon and her deep-fried halibut bites with salmonberry jam. I’m no hunter, but can make a mean moose pot pie thanks to my mother. I like theater but not opera, and the rhythm of the Barrow Dance Team’s drums is a sound (and feeling) I’ve missed for the last five years. Mariachi music makes Mexican food taste better, if that’s possible.
I will admit that my mother’s family would probably feel more comfortable in my home than my father’s. We live different lifestyles. We have different tastes. We have different philosophies and beliefs. And it’s okay. To me. And there’s the problem. Diversity is okay to people who aren’t threatened by it, to those people who are selective in their preferences without having fear or cruelty dictate their tastes, whose intentions are kind, inquisitive, or at the very least, polite. I haven’t met too many people who fit that description. Not in neighborhoods, not in churches, not in restaurants, and unfortunately, not even in schools.
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