Well, as of yesterday, I am officially leaving my school, going to give it a shot at a charter school in Harlem (don't worry, not this one).
This was the worst choice I've ever had to make. I think I know what my kids need. And if I've done nothing else, I've tried like hell to give it to them. I've spent three years thinking of almost nothing else. And now I'm just another TFA guy who left. That's it.
I'm not sick of the kids. I love them. I want them to have a great math teacher more than anything else. When they do the "wrong thing", academic or otherwise, a little part of me (or, many times, all of me) cries because I know I did the wrong thing. And wrong thing upon wrong thing upon wrong thing has become too much for me to bear. I haven't given up on them. I have a ton of respect for all of my kids; so much that it breaks my heart to know they have an inadequate math teacher. In a way, I've given up on me. I don't have the answers, and I came to realize that I don't think I'm going to find them at my school, at least not at a pace I could be satisfied with. I've lost hope that I can be the teacher I see in my head here.
To make matters worse, my school is a bizarro world kind of place where I walk home every day wondering how I could ever be effective, but I am constantly put on a pedestal for being a model teacher. I receive a ton of praise from a ton of people. I get smiles, slaps on the back, thank yous, technology, and the freedom to do whatever I want. I'm not tooting my horn; this drives me nuts when I see and I know how much my kids aren't learning about math, self-respect, personal responsibility, pride, teamwork, justice and active citizenship. To name a few.
Why didn't they learn it? Because I didn't teach it to them. Because I don't know how to pull it all off.
So what do I want? I want to get better. I want to be more effective. I want to be that teacher. I became convinced where I'm going next year will help with that. Maybe I will get my ass kicked. Likely, I will. But if it makes me learn and get better, so be it. And then maybe I can take what I've learned and go somewhere, build something, do something. While dealing with my own inner charter turmoil somehow.
When I first joined TFA, before I ever even picked up the chalk, I had dinner with a guy who was leaving at the end of his two years. He told me, "I just can't be around all this failure." I see it now too, only the failure is all mine.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
What Matters
Great to run into a block from school walking to get lunch/trying to figure out how to let 'em know MATH MATTERS...
Where is everyone....
Period 7 (right after lunch). Started at 1:31. No one there. Hallway full, hallway clears. 1:35. No one. We're eight minutes deep (that's right, 1:39) before I get one student. A total of three show up, out of what is a paltry 21 on the roster, the last one at about 2:00.
What do I think while I'm waiting? What did I do to make this happen. Why isn't my class the exciting, wonderful place that "brings math alive", that no one would ever cut, for fear of missing out on a miraculous moment of learning? Or, in another light, why isn't my class the place where students feel at all times the searing laser of accountability, fueled by high expectations, where cutting would seem like academic suicide? I know, because, despite all of the hours and tears I've poured in, somehow I've poured them the wrong way, and my classroom didn't end up, in May of my third year, the way I wanted it to for my students. And knowing (1) what my students need (2) that I have wanted nothing ever at all more than to give it to them (3) that I haven't given it to them is usually more than I can take.
What do I think while I'm waiting? What did I do to make this happen. Why isn't my class the exciting, wonderful place that "brings math alive", that no one would ever cut, for fear of missing out on a miraculous moment of learning? Or, in another light, why isn't my class the place where students feel at all times the searing laser of accountability, fueled by high expectations, where cutting would seem like academic suicide? I know, because, despite all of the hours and tears I've poured in, somehow I've poured them the wrong way, and my classroom didn't end up, in May of my third year, the way I wanted it to for my students. And knowing (1) what my students need (2) that I have wanted nothing ever at all more than to give it to them (3) that I haven't given it to them is usually more than I can take.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Happy Memorial Day
I hope you are having a sunny/fun long weekend. Mine's been nice and relaxing.
A quick plug for a book I just finished: The Teaching Gap, by Stigler and Hiebert. It offers a really interesting comparison between middle school math education here, in Japan, and in Germany. It also treats teaching as what I think it really is, what the authors describe as a "cultural" practice. That is to say, our society's view of what teaching and learning are is so deeply entrenched, change is difficult to bring about; in particular, change is impossible using traditional, university research-based, wonkish, top-down approaches. The authors argue for an approach, modeled on the Japanese lesson study program, that begins with individual classes and lessons and builds outward.
In the the end, the authors contend, change will only ever be slow and gradual, which presents its own set of problems with a public that is impatient and indicators that fail to register small changes. While I'm not sold that the Japanese have perfected teaching, the comparison of what happens here, as opposed to Japan, is pretty eye-opening, and the alternatives proposed by the authors are worth some thought. Plus, it's a quick read.
PS: The stock exchange trip was tremendous. The kids were amazing and really into it. Still hearing some backlash from those who couldn't go, but it's dying down...hopefully...
A quick plug for a book I just finished: The Teaching Gap, by Stigler and Hiebert. It offers a really interesting comparison between middle school math education here, in Japan, and in Germany. It also treats teaching as what I think it really is, what the authors describe as a "cultural" practice. That is to say, our society's view of what teaching and learning are is so deeply entrenched, change is difficult to bring about; in particular, change is impossible using traditional, university research-based, wonkish, top-down approaches. The authors argue for an approach, modeled on the Japanese lesson study program, that begins with individual classes and lessons and builds outward.
In the the end, the authors contend, change will only ever be slow and gradual, which presents its own set of problems with a public that is impatient and indicators that fail to register small changes. While I'm not sold that the Japanese have perfected teaching, the comparison of what happens here, as opposed to Japan, is pretty eye-opening, and the alternatives proposed by the authors are worth some thought. Plus, it's a quick read.
PS: The stock exchange trip was tremendous. The kids were amazing and really into it. Still hearing some backlash from those who couldn't go, but it's dying down...hopefully...
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
What Breeds Belief?
Tomorrow, another math teacher and I are taking 20 kids to the American Stock Exchange. Due to some unfortunate incidents in the past, field trips at my school are limited to a maximum of 20 students, with at least two adult chaperones. So, I had the unfortunate task of choosing 10 (my half of the 20) out of the 45 ninth graders that I teach to attend the trip, based on no particular criteria.
By the time students realized, today, that some students had been chosen for this trip, and others had not, there was a very negative vibe in my period 4 class. One student continuously repeated "I can't go on the business trip because I'm not a business man." He went on to make statements such as, "It's 'cuz we're Black and Latino, that's why" and "It's 'cuz we're from the ghetto and you don't want to take us ghetto kids on a business trip".
This isn't the first time these issues have come up in class. I came right back with all the typical teacherspeak that I knew. I tried to "address" the issue of race. I tried to officially explain why I had to choose certain students. To a certain extent, this "worked".
While I know that his and other comments were meant to be less than serious, I know that there is a lot behind what he was saying. Many of my students may be 15, but they are all already aware of what you might call "society's perception" of students that look, act, and talk like they do. They will make statements about our school being a "ghetto school". Ask any one of them if they would ever want to be a teacher; the response, "No, I wouldn't want to teach kids like these." They know that the world outside of our school doesn't expect a ton from them; it doesn't really want to be near them, sees them in the subway and might be a little wary of them, too.
While I have reiterated time and time again how much I believe in my students and of all they are capable of, and many of my dedicated colleagues have done the same, incidents such as this one remind me of how powerful the opinions and expectations of "society" are. Expressed through varied and intricate channels, these expectations are a lot to combat, and can be quite defeating for educators who seek to inculcate in students a sense of hope and possibility.
All of which, believe it or not, reminds me of Barack Obama's semi-famous "race speech" from March 18. One fact only teachers will ever really know is that it's not good enough to stand in front of a segregated classroom in a segregated school and remind students to "help themselves". As Obama brilliantly noted, "embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change". While I may convince many of my students that they can do more and do better, what is the meaning of this if they do not believe that society will ever expect more of them? Or if they do not believe that society even has a place for them? Or that society wants them anywhere but the neighborhoods they now inhabit?
Perhaps the most pressing question: Do my students have any real reason to believe any of these things?
By the time students realized, today, that some students had been chosen for this trip, and others had not, there was a very negative vibe in my period 4 class. One student continuously repeated "I can't go on the business trip because I'm not a business man." He went on to make statements such as, "It's 'cuz we're Black and Latino, that's why" and "It's 'cuz we're from the ghetto and you don't want to take us ghetto kids on a business trip".
This isn't the first time these issues have come up in class. I came right back with all the typical teacherspeak that I knew. I tried to "address" the issue of race. I tried to officially explain why I had to choose certain students. To a certain extent, this "worked".
While I know that his and other comments were meant to be less than serious, I know that there is a lot behind what he was saying. Many of my students may be 15, but they are all already aware of what you might call "society's perception" of students that look, act, and talk like they do. They will make statements about our school being a "ghetto school". Ask any one of them if they would ever want to be a teacher; the response, "No, I wouldn't want to teach kids like these." They know that the world outside of our school doesn't expect a ton from them; it doesn't really want to be near them, sees them in the subway and might be a little wary of them, too.
While I have reiterated time and time again how much I believe in my students and of all they are capable of, and many of my dedicated colleagues have done the same, incidents such as this one remind me of how powerful the opinions and expectations of "society" are. Expressed through varied and intricate channels, these expectations are a lot to combat, and can be quite defeating for educators who seek to inculcate in students a sense of hope and possibility.
All of which, believe it or not, reminds me of Barack Obama's semi-famous "race speech" from March 18. One fact only teachers will ever really know is that it's not good enough to stand in front of a segregated classroom in a segregated school and remind students to "help themselves". As Obama brilliantly noted, "embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change". While I may convince many of my students that they can do more and do better, what is the meaning of this if they do not believe that society will ever expect more of them? Or if they do not believe that society even has a place for them? Or that society wants them anywhere but the neighborhoods they now inhabit?
Perhaps the most pressing question: Do my students have any real reason to believe any of these things?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
First Post
After two previous failed attempts to begin a consistent blog, I'm giving it a shot again. This is mainly because I've recently found myself inspired by the educational blogging community. In particular, this post by TMAO really hit me in a big way. I would estimate that I read the last paragraph about twenty times, then probably reviewed it in my head about 100 more over the course of the last couple of days. The more I teach, the more I understand what the kids need and what it takes to be effective; yet the more I teach, the less I feel happy and capable of doing that work that needs to be done.
Over the course of the last few years, I've developed and come to relish a dream to one day open and run a school of my own. I've always wanted to be going there, building towards a model of schooling that I believe in that works. Now, I wonder if I'll ever get there, as I start to feel a little more tired and downtrodden each day.
As I hang on for another year (possibly in a different setting, more on that in the future) I hope to engage in some meaningful discussions and posts about the role of teachers in an effective educational system. If teachers are the answer, and I strongly believe they are, how do we get them to enter the profession and stay there? What is a sustainable model of excellent schooling?
Over the course of the last few years, I've developed and come to relish a dream to one day open and run a school of my own. I've always wanted to be going there, building towards a model of schooling that I believe in that works. Now, I wonder if I'll ever get there, as I start to feel a little more tired and downtrodden each day.
As I hang on for another year (possibly in a different setting, more on that in the future) I hope to engage in some meaningful discussions and posts about the role of teachers in an effective educational system. If teachers are the answer, and I strongly believe they are, how do we get them to enter the profession and stay there? What is a sustainable model of excellent schooling?
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