Teacher Voice

Today I had the opportunity to stand in the regalia that is the office of the Governor of North Carolina and watch folks who love education as much as I do gather for the final celebration of the Teacher Working Conditions Survey. Since 2002, North Carolina teachers have had the opportunity to answer questions about their teaching environments relative to trust and respect in their buildings, resources that are available, and ideas about professional development. This year 103,934 teachers (86.46%) responded to the survey.

Each school that had 100% participation had the opportunity to win prizes for the school as well as for individual teachers from those schools. I watched today as members of the North Carolina Association of Educators, LEARN NC, the North Carolina Teacher Academy, the State Board of Education, and three business partners, AT&T, BB&T, and NCBCE gathered to draw names from a huge blue and green barrel built by local middle school students.

I couldn't help but watch the little slips of paper, over 50,000 of them, that held teachers' names (mine was in there, believe me!) And I was thinking about what those slips represented. Each was a teacher's voice, a teacher's opinions, a teacher's concerns. As the barrel rolled over, I watched that paper and thought about the enpowerment of educators, no longer quiet and speaking only to our students behind closed doors and closed minds. It is apparent that what we think matters, and for that I am extremely thankful.

See www.ncteachingconditions.org for more information.

There's Hope...

I had the pleasure today to present to a group of prospective teachers. My presentation was entitled "Why Teach?" but I was preaching to the choir. These guys have already made their decisions. Student teachers, you ask? Education majors?

No...the group of young people I worked with today are high school juniors! It was an absolutely amazing experience. I think back on my junior year...I made a 3 on an Algebra test (out of 100), I broke my nose on the school bus, I "forgot" about my history report because I had to cheer at a basketball game (with a "mask" on my nose,) I went to the prom with my sister's future husband, and he barely said three words (okay, so he talks now), but mostly I remember that college, not to mention my career, were light years away. (Did I know what light years were then?)

Most of the aspiring educators attending the Teaching Career Day at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro are members of one of two groups: the Future Teachers of America (FTA) or the Teacher Cadet program. According to the National Education Association, "FTA clubs assist middle and high school students in exploring teaching as a career choice, provide a realistic understanding of teaching, and encourage students from diverse backgrounds to think seriously about the teaching profession. FTA academies integrate a structured curriculum with classroom-based activities to prepare high school students for college teacher preparation programs." The North Carolina Association of Educators has a similar statement relative to the Teacher Cadet program in our state: "The Teacher Cadet Program is considered an introduction or orientation to the teaching profession. Its main purpose is to encourage students who possess a high level of academic achievement and the personality traits found in good teachers to consider teaching as a career. An important secondary goal of the program is to provide these talented future community leaders with insights about schools."

While these descriptions are official, what I saw today was inspiring. The gleaming eyes of my future colleagues were infectious as the students asked questions about classroom management and instruction as if they already had an education course or two under their belts. I could envision them in classrooms all over our state, and using this "grow your own" model of recruitment, I expect I will someday.

The title of the Career Day was "Exploring Your Future as a 21st Century Teacher." The truth is that these 17 year olds are much more competent in technology than I am. And I'm sure they have three times the energy. I think about our schools of the future...I think back to those faces today...and I feel a great amount of hope for this profession that I love.

Can We Just Go to the Gym?!

For the past two days we have been administering Mock Standardized Tests at our school. These assessments look just like the ones our students will take in May - same number of questions, same testing-ese (phrases like "tone of the passage" and "mood of the selection".)

I have been chosen to administer the read-aloud versions of these tests to small groups of students. Today was especially pleasurable - have you ever read a math test aloud?

Anyway, today the entire school was finished with testing when I was still reading, "What is the slope of x+ 4 = 2?" or something like that. Soon all of the students in the school were switching classes with the exception of the students who were listening to me. My own remedial reading students, who would have been on their way to my classroom, were diverted. They were told to go to the gym for a period of basketball. I pictured them running with glee when they heard that news.

I was done "reading math" (oxymoron) by the time my second class was on the way. Unfortunately, they passed my first class in the hallway. They all felt compelled to say, "WE WENT TO THE GYM!!!" So my next class came in, and like a rehearsed chorus they asked, "Can WE go to the gym? The other class got to go. That's not fairrrrrrrr!"

"Guys," I said. "I'm not testing anymore. Let's get some work done." One look at those faces, and they had me. I started thinking...I teach remedial reading. These are the kids who are pulled out of everything fun for tutoring. So I grabbed the nearest adult body, the counselor, and asked her to ask the PE teacher if I could bring my kids to the gym. I told her "my kids never get a break. We're always talking about 'the test.'"

She walked down the hall and soon turned around to give me the "thumbs up." My students looked like it was Christmas! I wouldn't let them run, but their hearts were racing. And they were grinning like the tests they had taken an hour before were only distant memories and not the horrible experience they had just lived through.

Later today, my sixth graders were typing letters to their elementary school penpals in the media center. Jonathan's letter ended like this: "I wish the state tests were over. That's all we talk about."

Immediately I felt bad. I've caught myself doing it: "You need to know this because it'll be on the test." Students these days feel like they go to school for one reason - to take a test. So let's say that someone of high authority realizes what Barack Obama has said, "No Child Left Behind? They've left the money behind. They've left the common sense behind" and they do away with it. Or let's say they at least revise it to make sense. Will our students ever know school as it was meant to be? Will they enjoy art, music, and gym classes without guilt? Will I ever be able to give assignments that are just fun and are not meant to help students bubble in correctly?

I recently heard a quote on television: "They're just children. They should be carefree."

I wish I had taken Jonathan's class to the gym. I think he needs a break.

First Day Back

Somehow I knew today was going to be "one of those days." I first got that idea when I realized that I was ironing my shirt with my hair dryer. (I didn't have time for the real iron, and I had the hair dryer on hot heat...same thing, right?)

Today is our first day back after Spring Break. My husband, the firefighter, works 24 hour shifts - on for 24 hours then off for 24 hours for 10 days. Then he's off for six. (Most firefighters, like teachers, work a second job during those "off" days, but that's another story....) Anyway, when the six days are over, they all report back to the station. They call it, every time, "first day back" as in "We'll talk about that new hose first day back." It's a special day to them, but I think "first day back" in a school probably beats it.

So the fact that I was ironing with a hair dryer this morning may have been an indication of how the day would go. We must always brace ourselves when students are well rested. And they were not tired today. I heard them before I saw them - the girls all squeals and giggles, the boys all talking about the NCAA tournament.

Back to the story - I had experienced a major epiphany over Spring Break: my students are bored. Every middle school student in the US of A claims boredom 57 times a day. But as I was looking at my lesson plans, I realized that my students really are bored. There are only so many exciting things I can do in a remedial reading class. My fear is that, this late in the year, I've done them all already. So I decided to get some student imput. I got online and wrote out an interactive survey. I asked my students questions like "Are you bored at school?" and "Are you bored at home?" My favorite - "What can YOU do to keep from being bored at school?"

I was proud to have thought of this idea. The students would surely have buy-in after completing this survey. They would feel empowered. They would have opinions. We would have a life changing discussion! I started class with, "Welcome back! I hope you had a great Spring Break."

I opened my mouth to talk about my boredom epiphany when Christian said (across the room to Matthew), "Did you see Wrestlemania? Man, that dude was BIG!"

"Christian. Matthew," I said. "I want to tell you about my idea. We're going to talk about why kids are bored at school and..."

Nicole piped in. "This is boring."

"Nicole," I said. "How can we work around being bored so that we can get our educations and get good jobs in our future?"

"I want to work at Hooters," she answered.

Then Breana jumped in. "Over Spring Break, I went skating, and my brother's friend was there. His name is Damon but we call him 'Cookies.'"

"Huh?" I don't even know where that came from.

My day continued like it started. Well rested students talked about anything and everything, and we got nowhere. After the final bell, I cleaned my board thinking tomorrow will be a better day.

Then I wrote tomorrow's date - oh no - April Fools Day.

Ugh. I don't think I have the strength....I guess Second Day Back won't be any better than the first.

Other People's Children

This week my baby boy needed me. Okay, he's not a baby. He's 24. But he'll always be my baby and the baby of the family - the youngest after three girls. This week he had a zillion issues - physical, emotional, financial, and career oriented. He just plain needed me. So I left school after finding someone to cover my classes and then drove three hours to him. All I did was pay his water bill, buy him some lunch and groceries (it was four in the afternoon, and he hadn't eaten all day), and give him some gas money. Then we hung out a little, and I drove back home. No big deal - I felt better and he felt better; he just needed a mama fix. My husband said things like "He's 24. He can take care of himself" and so on. Men don't get it.

The next day at school was a little rough. I was tired, having arrived back home at midnight the night before, and as another teacher said, "The sap is rising." Middle school children can smell Spring Break and are exhibiting the fidgetiness and conflicts that are reserved for this time of the year. Two days this week eighth graders had violent fights that left teachers and students shaken, and one day when they didn't fight, they ate their lunches watching seventh graders fight outside the cafeteria windows.

Meanwhile, in the little world that is my classroom, I'm trying everything to calm my students so that they can actually read two lines (it is a reading class, after all) and not walk around the room. I threatened my last class yesterday with cough syrup. I think I was kidding.

Anyway, this story is mostly about my student Justin. Boy, can he be nasty. He's rambunctious and can't stay in his seat; apparently his pencil is never sharp enough. Walking to the pencil sharpener or trash can doesn't present a problem for most students; however, Justin has to smack three people on the way and three people on the way back. I really believe he counts - "SMACK - that's one, SMACK - that's two, SMACK - that's three." And although he can be very endearing when he wants to be, he can also snap at a moment's notice and growl, snarl, and talk back to any authority figure who is within earshot. He can turn a pretty nice day into one of those I'm-stressed-why-did-I-pick-this-career day. My former principal called this type of student "the thorn in your side." Justin's an entire thorn bush on most days.

Yesterday we were scheduled to have a conference with Justin's mother. Justin warned me, "She's coming to cuss you out." I was ready. I had documentation in my hand when I entered the conference room. I had written down every nasty thing he had said in two weeks. I had his binder and his journal. I had stacks of pictures he'd drawn while I was teaching. As it turned out, his mother was late, and I had more time to think about the attack that was coming. Justin's other teachers and I sat around that table and waited....some of us drumming our fingers impatiently. The longer we sat, the more nervous we felt. "You think she's mad?" someone asked. "But we didn't do anything wrong," someone else chimed in. Yea, but what has Justin told her? we thought.

She walked in seconds later. I caught her eye and smiled. She didn't return the favor. She sat down and began "explaining" her problems to us. We had not contacted her as often as we should have considering the conflicts we were having with Justin. She explained that she couldn't deal with his behaviors if she was unaware of them. Our principal promised to call her in the event that there were incidents that required her attention. Then each teacher talked about their experiences with her son.

As my turn to speak came, I looked over at him sitting alone at another table, and then I glanced back as his mother. He's her baby, I thought. I imagined her kissing him goodnight, Justin with the soapy post-bath smell, and the snarls on his tongue just memories of the school day. I opened my mouth to speak and quietly balled up the documentation I was holding in my hand. I started with "He has the funniest laugh," and went on from there.

His mother looked at me, tears in her eyes, and said, "I'm sorry I came in so mad."

I returned with, "You don't need to apologize for caring about your child. I understand."

And I do. Lisa Delpit tells us about being sensitive to others in her book Other People's Children. We teach other people's babies, and from now on when that thorn starts jabbing me in the side, I'll picture my students sleeping as their loving mothers stand beside their beds.

And I'll think about my baby three hours away and hope that someone else's mother is being nice to him.

Am I Just Too Old to Crank It?

I read with interest an article in the current NEA Today magazine. The title, "Teachers Crank That Soulja Boy," as well as the entire article, reminded me of, well, me. It talks about how teachers who are learning this dance are "connecting with students" and giving students "the opportunity to teach for a change." My philosophy of education - relationships with children - was referenced in black and white.

It was in the After School program that I first saw the Soulja Boy routine. After students worked for an hour, they were given the opportunity to break into groups and do non-academic activities. My group chose to dance. A short-in-stature-but-big-on-personality sixth grader, Montez, taught me the steps. I hadn't heard the song. So that night I looked it up on YouTube. (Everything's on YouTube.) Catchy song, I thought. Cute little dance. I was hooked!

I began "cranking" it all over the place. If my students answered correctly, they'd all shout, "Do the Soulja Boy!" I'd crank it in front of the classroom. At the school dance in the fall, I was out there cranking it with the best of them. I even downloaded the "Soulja Boy Instructional Video" for the After School Program so that we all could crank it.

Then at Christmas my son came home. My son is a 24 year old actor who's a whiz at pop culture. It's part of his business actually. I was very excited to show him how cool I am. Minutes after he got home, I started cranking.

He looked at me strangely. "Mother," he said. "Do you know what that song means?" Of course I did. I told him that "Soulja Boy" is a dance, and when we do it, we're "cranking that Soulja Boy." He laughed and then told me that there was no way he had the nerve to explain the real meaning to me. He suggested that I look it up on urbandictionary.com.

What I read was horrifying. I can't even figure out a way to explain what it means to "Superman," one of the repeated lyrics in the song. There is no nice way to say it. It's profane, it's disgusting, and it's not appropriate for the pre-teens that I teach. At the very least, it's only potentially appropriate for two consenting adults.

I wanted to cry when I thought about the times I thought I was "cool" performing it in front of my classroom. I have since stopped doing the Soulja Boy dance. I have dropped all references to it, and if the students ask me about it, I tell them that it's not appropriate. They always snicker - they actually know what the lyrics mean!

I wrote NEA today to tell them about my experience. I ended with "In the future, I'll investigate the products that I promote."

I'll never listen to the song or do the dance again. And I'll do everything in my power to keep lyrics like that out of the hands of minors in this sex-saturated society.

Crank THAT, Soulja Boy.

Springtime Memory

It's not spring. In fact, there's a "winter weather advisory" today. But I can see some buttercups outside my classroom window (William Wordsworth would say "a host of daffodils") and those mean spring. Every spring I begin having the same thoughts...thoughts of Brian....

It all began in 2001 when I sent an email to my stepdaughter, Heather, who had graduated from high school with Brian in 1996 and her husband, Chad, who was in the Marines at the time. It went like this:

One of the joys of teaching is that everywhere you go for the rest of your life, you run into someone you taught, a relative of someone you taught, or someone who knows someone you taught. This morning I was having breakfast with a friend when I recognized the waitress as Letitia, the sister of my former student Brian.

Brian was in my seventh grade language arts class in the 1990-1991 school year. I had him 4th period. How do I remember that? Because I had the entire junior varsity football team 4th period! I told Letitia that on game days, the players would wear their jerseys to school, and the entire room would turn red.

Brian was a good-looking guy and a talented football player. Schoolwork was not his favorite activity, but he did it, knowing that I would talk to "coach" if he didn't. He did an average job on that work, but he played football like a hero...with a passion that most seventh graders haven't yet found. He was also polite and had a smile that never left his face. No matter how hard I was on him...for forgetting his homework, for talking about football instead of doing classwork, for begging me daily to take the class outside so the boys could throw a football around, he would sit and grin at me. On the days that he would wear me down, and we would go outside after lunch, he was a natural leader, breaking everyone into teams and calling plays.

Letitia broke into my thoughts, saying, "Brian is in the Marines now."

Do you know how that feels? Someone reaches into your memory, pulls out a seventh grader, and makes him a man.

"They can't break him," she said. "But they're trying."

I thought, "Nope, they won't break him. They'll try, but he'll just grin..."

Then I thought back to my 4th period class of 1991. There, in the back, looking bored, and counting down the minutes to the football game, sits Brian Anderson, future Marine.

In April of 2003 (the beginning of spring), I found a copy of that email and added the following:

Today I was given news that hit me straight in the gut. Brian, the Marine they wouldn't "break," was killed last Wednesday outside of the Iraqi city of Nasiriyah. I think of all the cliches - he loved what he was doing, everyone who knew him is proud, the world will be an emptier place without him, and so on.

But mostly, I think of that grin...and when I look back across that 4th period class, the last desk, in the middle row, is empty.

This will be our fifth spring without Brian Anderson. But I have learned something important. Now I look at my seventh graders not so much for the lanky legged, giggling kids they are now...but for what they will be someday.

Rest in Peace, Brian.