Must Teachers be Martyrs to be Saints?

Peeking in on new teachers' groups I've joined via social media isn't really helping my mood.

All teachers are concerned about their students' health and welfare if they continue to have to stay at home without food, without access to the internet (or reliable internet) and digital devices, and where abuse and neglect occur. Some teachers are MORE concerned about those students than their own health, which I understand: that's the default setting for almost all of us.

Other teachers (even after considering school shootings and other crimes) are for the first time adding their health, their lives, and the lives of their families to the same side of the scale, joining, not dismissing or demeaning their students' needs. For many teachers, this is a first, a precedent in our careers. Not every teacher who needs to stay home will have the option to do so. Not every student who needs socialization will get it in socially distanced classrooms.

When teachers get sick (and we will), our substitutes, if available, won't first be looking for signs of abuse or neglect and it's possible that they may not teach to the standard of a veteran educator. When children get sick (and they will, if they don't come to school on the very first day asymptomatic or symptomatic and medicated to mask it), they'll have to have digital back-up resources provided not only in an attempt to keep them connected and learning, but to provide districts data that demonstrate they deserve to retain their accreditation. Why not start digitally for everyone, then use those color-coded district plans in reverse, as we acknowledge the surge in cases that is currently happening (red), achieve some flattening (yellow) and then get the clear-as-it's-going-to-get status proven by study and research (green)?

Trying to pick one side of this debate over the other ignores that there may be yet three more angles and options of which we're unaware or unwilling to explore simply because we are fixated upon a first-day-of-school date that should be just as sacrificial as traditional high school graduation ceremonies were. Sacrifices hurt, but I cannot teach if I've on a ventilator or dead. It's incorrect to label instinctual self-preservation as only selfish.

Must we be martyrs to be saints?

Hindsight

Hindsight is the understanding of a situation or event only after it has happened or developed.  Interestingly, it is possible to both anticipate and understand scenarios, especially if 1) you're older and 2) you've been paying attention.  If your resulting decision-making culminates in better choices and more satisfactory outcomes, you end up being credited with demonstrating common sense.

In so many aspects of life, common sense often partners with compromise, especially when mitigating factors make it near impossible to follow your plan as originally imagined. When faced with a forced, unanticipated readjustment, you experience shock, denial, anger and/or frustration, and you try to bargain with whatever the opposing element may be to see if you can't work a compromise to get back what you're terribly anxious to not lose, even if the loss is temporary. You may wallow in despair when a compromise can't be reached, finding no point in the idea of trying to carry on. You refuse to accept the simple truths laid before you as you repeat the cycle of anger, bargaining (even begging) and depression over and over again.

You grieve, which is normal for all of us. 

Some educators have been grieving since mid-March, while others, likely administrators, haven't been able to grieve fully since they first caught wind of the directives that were going to come from their governor's offices.  They had to experience a much-abbreviated moment of shock before being leapfrogged into acceptance and action, being problem-solvers first, keeping their students, teachers, colleagues and staff safe before steering the ship to turn on a dime while advocating that the need for schooling, the establishment of new learning routines and environments and the building of even stronger parent-teacher partnerships were necessary for the emotional and academic well-being of all of our students.  They reminded us that we'd all be in the business of granting and receiving grace and that our own self-care was critical.  They led and gave us direction.

Families grieved while having to take back many of the responsibilities that they've ceded to schools over the years. Some succeeded, some struggled, and some failed.  Some parents, who previously demonstrated little appreciation for their child's teachers experienced cathartic revelations of having seen the light, pledging to purchase any and all future class supplies and offering to subscribe teachers and staff to wine-of-the-month clubs and advocate for higher pay if we'd "just take my kids back."  Humorous bargaining, but bargaining just the same. "I don't know how ya'll do it" and "no one will ever take you for granted again" were some of the affirmations showered upon us.  March to May was doable for some families, a blessing for others.  Some families, for whatever reasons, never rose to the occasion.

My grief cycle has been dictated by my self-and-family-preservation button remaining engaged causing me to hurdle back and forth through and/or over the usual stages. Schools are now closed: shock, d-e-n-i... acceptance. You have thirty minutes to grab necessities from your classroom: shock, acceptance. You'll be using tools that you've never used before in your classroom beginning next week: s-h-o... acceptance. No, you can't use appropriate content even though you know how to run it through filters and have been for years: anger, acceptance, depression. You'll be teaching your teenager curriculum content along with digital resource navigation while you teach from home: bargaining, acceptance, anger.  You can have fifteen-minute Zoom meetings once a week for your seventeen students and their families: bargaining, anger, acceptance, bargaining, depression. Time to come back to the building to pack up for the summer: acceptance, depression. 

All of these emotions have continued to be in play for me this summer as I've watched and reflected upon the civil unrest, racism, inequality and frankly bad behavior of rather entitled members of our society.  My husband and I continue to discover COVID19 infiltrating our circle of friends near and far, and we see that the numbers haven't dropped, the curve hasn't flattened, realizing now that it likely won't thanks to so many Americans placing their wants before their neighbors' needs.  Taking part in PD and regularly crocheting between visits to my greenhouse and tending my gardening spaces has provided me with pockets of peace and glimmers of hope, but they're not as enduring as I'd like them to be.  As I navigate suggested solutions via social media ranging from homeschooling or digital academy options, pool-noodle hats, temperature checks that don't identify asymptomatic carriers, seven or eight students per classroom, ten online with the acknowledgment that it's likely to be all seventeen or eighteen online a month later, optional mask-wearing partnered with masks worn incorrectly, and at least four times more cleaning and disinfecting that will increase the likelihood of poisoning which is still preferable to dying from "the 'rona," my mind remembers the already present avalanche of other germy, illness-producing normalcies that still occur in classrooms during the best of years.  Twitter users and those posting on Facebook are being polite by not mentioning the urine and feces that accompany the snot, saliva and barf.  I'm thinking this isn't the time to adhere to decorum and professional mystery.

Like many other educators, I'm having a great deal of difficulty believing that the lives of my students, myself and my colleagues are of much value as people granted more decision-making power who want to get back to their own sense of normalcy push us into environments that are now deadlier than they were in March.  They are dancing every version of the sidestep possible in order to justify avoiding common sense and simple truths, and they are willfully, stubbornly committed to the present, not the future.  They're acting as if they'll never have to look back and measure the costs of the decisions they've made. 

I get it. But it's not good enough.

This is tough and it's going to remain difficult.  We don't have all of the answers we need... yet.  They're coming, but not on our fall-through-spring/early summer school schedule.  We're wasting time pretending that they will.

It's also a waste of time trying to ease people into the idea that it will only take some adjustments to get students back to a traditional-ish school setting, and once that setting closes again (which it likely will... ~hindsight~), we're back to square one.  To quote a tweet I stumbled across, "rip the bandaid off, already." Commit to remote learning, and ease back into shared spaces.  We could start making tangible, real plans and preparing, acknowledging that it's a difficult precedent, and sharing the common goal of being back together when it's the right time.  It will only be right when it's more, not less safe for us all, no matter what the budget ledger looks like.

Calling this pandemic a hoax doesn't make what we're experiencing any less deadly.  Not everyone believes what they should, but educators, child advocates and mandated reporters don't get the luxury of being passive spectators. We must err on the side of safety even if it's not perfectly defined and we have no guarantees.  Our solutions can be imperfect, but they must not be dangerously so. 

Setting a precedent happened in March.  It can happen again in August.  It's easier to do difficult things when we can reassure ourselves that the price is worth it.  My son's life is worth it. Your life, my life, our lives are worth it.  Simple.

Inconvenienced is better than suffering and dying.

Grief is normal.

Unpopular is better than guilt-ridden. 

Hindsight is 20/20.

(found on Facebook- contact me if you're the creator so I can credit you, and thank you for the common sense)

An Educator's Code of Conduct

I've spent my summer participating in and learning a lot from an online teaching workshop (about online teaching and remote learning, of course), growing cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and bell peppers in my greenhouse (melons, cantaloupes and pumpkins are just starting to take off), keeping up with household chores, crocheting and reading.  As I surf social media, I find myself intending to sift through but often drowning in updates, news, and opinions expressing not only how we might safely open schools this summer, but IF we should even try until winter, or spring...or next fall.

Watching and listening to the President, the Vice President and the Secretary of Education, none of whom could teach their way out of a paper bag (if they even know what a paper bag is) insisting upon our schools opening sooner rather than later at full capacity, just-throw-them-into-the-deep-end-of-the-pool-without-floaties-and-they'll-either-sink-or-swim style is something I find maddening.  I consider this an incredibly appropriate response because it means I'm neither numb nor indifferent to the responsibilities of my job: I am a kindergarten teacher.  I am a mentor.  I am a colleague.  I am part of a district team, and our shared goals are to educate children, guide them, and support them in the hope that they develop a love of learning and many talents that will help them live what we all hope will be long, happy, illuminated, creative, purposeful, giving, inspiring, joyful, healthy lives.

I'm an early childhood advocate and I'll be starting my twenty-fifth year of teaching this fall which should make it fairly clear that I'm committed to much more than my paycheck.  I love teaching.  I love coaxing unsure children and families into larger learning communities and watching them blossom and grow as they make friends, broaden their understanding of the world, all while being safe, kind and helpful along the way.  I love doing the voices of characters during storytime.  I was an anxious and insecure child, which is perhaps why I cannot contain my pleasure and awe as I watch my Super Stars explore and share freely, considering it a success when their use of me evolves from wanting me as their training wheels to simply going about their business with confidence and purpose while still considering me good company. Parents' heartstrings are pulled when they realize their children don't need them as much as they used to, while I revel in seeing how far my students go after our time together.  I've reported parents to Child Protective Services and I've encouraged families to seek out counseling and help, all as an advocate of children. "My kids" aren't mine because I'm some sort of surrogate parent, they're mine because of the affirming relationships and experiences we had during our time together, even if some of them weren't fun.  I have been and continue to be invested in not only their academic success but their well-being.

This morning, after reading through tweets and posts volleying back and forth debating teacher responsibilities, parent needs, and the disparities between state and national agencies that can't seem to get their stories straight regarding school openings, I thought it might be interesting to check back in on my state's Educator Code of Conduct.  Have you read your state's guiding educator document?  Mine is divided into three components, beginning not with responsibilities to my district or the profession itself, but to my students. I cannot help but believe that this is by design: children, our students, must come first.  Responsibilities to students include:

"Make reasonable effort to protect the student from conditions detrimental to learning, health, or safety." 

"Nurturing the intellectual, physical, emotional, social and civic potential of all students."

"Fulfilling all mandatory reporting requirements for child abuse."

"Fulfilling the roles of mentor and advocate for students in a professional relationship."


Inappropriate conduct includes "committing any act of child abuse."

Recall that "child abuse" is defined as physical, sexual, and/or psychological maltreatment or neglect of a child or children, especially by a parent or a caregiver. Child abuse may include any act or failure to act by a parent or a caregiver that results in actual or potential harm to a child, and can occur in a child's home, or in the organizations, schools or communities the child interacts with.


Educators should understand that these responsibilities have been articulated not as suggestions but as requirements. We must protect children from anyone or any situation that may hurt them.  I would like to believe that students are listed first in the Code of Conduct not for sentimentality's sake or to advance public relations, but because a commitment to them must be prioritized.  I don't see how we can allow ourselves and others to pretend that schooling, education and child protection should take place as usual with possibly insufficient modifications touted as "protection," ignoring that we're in the middle of a global pandemic. COVID-19 is a potentially life-altering, deadly virus that we're still learning about.  Trying to convince others that it's a hoax, pretending that if we just turn off the television and unsubscribe from news alerts that all of this will just go away is irresponsible. So too, are punting and not-so-blindly hoping that our gamble will pay off as we "act as if" we're able to safely maneuver around a virus that may be transmitted in aerosol form in classroom settings.  NASCAR won't even allow adult spectators who choose to observe social distancing into an open-air venue and many colleges and universities will spend the next semester or year only delivering content online.   Fake it 'til we make it isn't good enough, and hoping isn't an actual strategy.  Inventing "solutions" that from the outside appear creative, proactive and even entertaining, such as the pool noodle hats shouldn't actually convince anyone that schools will be safe enough.

This summer, like spring, has been overwhelming for us all. No matter how tempting, don't sit at home waiting for someone else to come up with a way forward that sounds doable to you.  Check your state's Code of Conduct for Educators, articulate your intentions and purposes as a teacher, and find a way or better yet, several, to contribute to the health, wellbeing, and safety of your students. Putting them first might require that we teach remotely even if our spring baptism wasn't all we had hoped it would be. Don't expect to have closure this weekend or at the end of the month.  We may not even get closure if we're back to brick and mortar, settling into a new routine when COVID-19 reminds us that we're on its timeline, not ours, and sends us all back into lockdown.  We're going to be uncomfortable, and frankly, we should be.  No one should be sleeping easily over the decisions we're trying to make, because we're the guinea pigs in the experiment that will create a data set from which future decisions will be made... unless we choose an experiment with a far less harmful and much less deadly possible outcome.

Sounds remarkably well aligned with my code of conduct, come to think of it.  How about yours?


*****

I did not specifically mention accessibility, home abuse/neglect or inequality in education issues in this post because I'm assuming educational professionals are already well-versed in how they weight either side of the scale of school and other societal responsibilities.

Goodnight Room... But For How Long?

My room is packed and put away, my report cards are finished, and my curriculum is checked in.  At the same time that I was turning off the classroom lights and turning in my key today, other schools in the country were opening back up and admitting students.  I'll admit it: I cried. I cried for myself, cried for my Super Stars, and cried for the teachers and students stuck in horrible situations where going back to school while COVID19 remains just as dangerous and deadly is preferable to staying at home.

Because at home there might not be any food.  Or at home, the only engagement from family members may be abusive or neglectful. Maybe there isn't a home at all.

As for the accommodations that reopening schools are making for students, especially in regard to kindergarten and other early childhood grades, I just want to cry some more.  It doesn't matter if you space individual student desks and chairs six feet apart: young children seek connection, and they seek to interact with toys, materials, books, textures, nooks, crannies, scents, tastes, and one another.  They don't just want hugs when they get hurt, they need them.  They need them when they're scared, proud, unsure, and filled with joy.  They explode with enthusiasm, anger, fear, relief, discovery, and acknowledgement, and it doesn't matter if there's a poster with rules on it or a sticker chart "rewarding" (shaming) them into compliance, or a reminder note, or the threat of a phonecall home put in place to "manage" them: NOTHING is going to change the fact that these dynamic, organic, spontaneous and constantly inquisitive learners will not be contained.

And if they decide that their masks itch, or are too tight, or feel gross after they open-mouth cough and sneeze into them leaving a soggy mess rubbing against their skin?  How many extras will be sent to school in backpacks, or distributed by teachers? How about when students play with the masks or take them off while using the restroom, dropping them to the floor, or dangling them from their little fists as they grip the toilet seat and flusher?  How "preventative" and "protective" will that be? Nosepickers and booger-eaters (just keeping it real, because it's important that none of us ignores all authentic aspects of childhood as we swift march ourselves toward "solutions" that make grownups feel good) aren't going to stop picking, eating, and wiping those germy morsels all over themselves, the furniture and other surfaces or objects just because they're wearing masks.  And when those masks begin to chafe and hurt their faces, or families discover that their children are allergic to the fabric content of the masks and ties?  How about the vomit?  Good lord, the vomit.

Arranging desks six feet apart is a new classroom layout. It is not proof that the children who sit in them (or the teacher who will sit and stand elsewhere) will be safe. Requiring children to wear masks shows that we're attempting to reduce the spread of disease, but it doesn't prove that we're going to succeed, especially when we continue to make decisions while purposely refusing to consider how young children will, in fact, remain tactile young learners who simply aren't designed to leave things alone.  And for those students who will remove their masks, refuse to wear them, or wear them ineffectively?  Who will be blamed when those children become sick?  How many long-term subs will be available to replace the teachers who become sick due to exposure from children or from the over-use of disinfectants?  How many family members who remain at home will become ill from school children?  And when parents return to work, only to become sick themselves?  Their family goes into quarantine, including their schoolchildren, correct?

I'm no virologist, but I **know** kindergarteners.  I **know** children.  And I **know** adults.  So do you... which is why reopening schools is an experiment, at best.

At worst, it'll cause more than just tears.

Summer Reading Suggestion

Many teachers choose to participate in a book study (or several) during their summers "off."  I've come across some wonderful titles that have caught my eye, but would also encourage colleagues to read through each and every Brown Center Report on American Education, first published in 2000.

The Brown Center Report each year analyzes the state of American education using the latest measures of student learning, uncovers and explains important trends in achievement test scores, and identifies and evaluates promising educational reforms. 

These reports were written "...to report on the direction of achievement in U.S. public schools, that is, to determine whether it's going up, down, or sideways; to figure out whether any change that is detected is big, small, or insignificant; to dig under the numbers and uncover the policies and practices influencing the direction of student achievement; and, finally, to figure out whether the public is getting the full story on student learning. Americans spend $350 billion each year on elementary and secondary education. They deserve an accurate, non-partisan, no-holds-barred, data-driven account of what they're getting for their money."  (Director: Tom Loveless)

New-to-service teachers can catch up on the recent history (and the reasons behind it) of public education, which may enlighten them as to why their veteran colleagues either keep their noses to the grindstone (often wearing blinders) or appear rabidly up-in-arms over "every little thing."  Veteran teachers may appreciate the clarifications as well as the acknowledgement of many of the realities of education that we know to be true, but oh yes... it's likely you'll still be up-in-arms.

Start with the 2000 report.  It helpfully describes the NAEP, the National Assessment of Educational Progress (there are two versions, both generating different results), which is referenced in all of the reports.  Each volume of the report covers multiple years, for instance Volume 1 is covered in the reports for 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2004.  Volume 2 begins with 2006, and ends with the 2010 issue.  Volume 3 begins with 2012, and is summarized by Tom Loveless thus:



The Brown Center Reports analyze and summarize test scores, trends, policies and teaching practices in public education, and encourage the reader to avoid knee-jerk reactions to their findings as "correlations do not prove causality."  The reports identify biases, and acknowledge when there isn't enough data to draw accurate conclusions.  The reports never express a battle cry nor do they try to sell the reader a product.

This is big-picture data, and the reports explain how it is manipulated, misrepresented, and often misunderstood by the decision-makers who steer policy.  Teachers often suspect the blind are leading the blind, but administrators, teachers and parents might want to rethink willingly closing their eyes.  "Knowledge is power."  Imagine what the right knowledge could be.

The link at the beginning of this post will take you to the Brookings site where all of the reports can be found.  Each report can be downloaded (pdf), linked to the right of each year's summary.  The reports are over twenty pages long each, but they are written in layman's terms.  Educators and parents shouldn't have to work hard to understand them.

If they do, we're already in big trouble. 

My End of the Year Reflection: Thank You for the Cupcakes

Summer vacation, Day One: slept in 'til almost 9 a.m.  First year in seventeen that it's happened.  Not sure if it's because being a little slow on the uptake, my body has finally figured out what its non-work-week rhythm should be or if it's simply because of the Everest-sized mountain of stress the last two weeks of school piled onto my shoulders.  Maybe it's a combination of both.  To this I'll say: ~Whatever~.  I'm having another cup of coffee.  To friends and colleagues who have also started their summer, pass me your mug, let me fill 'er up.  Cream and sugar?  To readers who are still in the throes of wrapping up their year, let me fill your cup AND your jumbo-sized travel mug.  I've got your back.

I like to blog an end-of-the-year reflection and response to questions that have arisen each May because I'm a closure type of person.  When I finish reading a book or series, or when a favorite show on t.v. ends its run, I appreciate the authors and producers who choose to leave no loose ends.  I don't want to wonder what if and I don't want to be left hanging in anticipation that I might find out how it all really concludes.  Something wonderful (or interesting) began, it happened, it ended.  And then I move on.

This year began with fewer professional responsibilities, which was a relief after last year's mayhem.  On my list: teacher, Social Club Committee member, Yearbook Advisor, Student Intervention Team member, KTOY panelist, and I hosted an education student for part of a semester.  Secret Santa was enjoyed in December and I was asked again to take care of an appreciation treat that has become a new tradition: gift baskets for our incredible and very deserving custodial staff.  The majority of my time was spent with my Super Stars and their families, just the way I like it.

My students arrived shyly, eagerly, nervously and excitedly in the fall and getting to know them all was a bonding process, often fun, occasionally hysterical, with a few tears and worries along the way.  Needs were accommodated for, smiles and hugs were shared, expectations were met, and hiccups were maneuvered around.  This was a year of strong personalities who jockeyed for position and were attention-seeking to the end.  Thankfully, the month of May found my Stars "in shape and ready for first grade."  Despite the abundance of behavior modification strategies (most of which involve some form of cutesy bribery or negative consequence), I'm not a believer that every child in a class can be coaxed, pushed, or forced into continual and matched compliance with all of his or her classmates year 'round.  This is likely because I've had "those years" with "those students" before.  It's doubtful this year's dynamic will be repeated for first grade teachers now that my students have been divided up between new classrooms and some of them are traveling to new schools in new states or countries thanks to Uncle Sam.  That's how it goes in our neck of the woods.

Most of my Star Families were involved, engaged, and supportive, sharing their humor, resources, information and patience with me all year long.  Regular email, class blog updates, and lots of photos via both have helped families to feel connected to what happens at school.  Conferences and after-school chats helped me to touch base, and my students and I benefitted from the partnership built with their parents.  Regular readers know about the Cupcake Queen too!  Her creations were enjoyed by students and teachers alike.

Spending time with education students and new-to-the-profession teachers, the advice I gave most this year was to create a friendly, sincere, professional relationship with your students' families.  Don't add them on Facebook or other social networks, don't share intimate information (or encourage them to do so in return), but do consider redefining the role of your classroom door, phone, and school email account: they're open and to be used by your families for communication, even when times are difficult.  Parents, like their children, need and deserve to be heard.  When they're heard, they begin to trust, and when they trust, they allow you the freedom to build the necessary classroom environment to see your students through their first year of public education.  Relationship-building might feel time consuming at first as well as emotional, and some teachers might not be comfortable with the touchy-feely aspect or perceived loss of time.  Colleagues who prefer doors to remain closed and their teaching practices sequestered from the eyes and ears of parents will certainly advise differently, but in this digital/sharing age, these teachers often end up appearing abrasive and secretive, receiving more complaints than trust from parents.  Change happens, and educators address it in their own ways in their own time.  Decide your parameters, but be kind in enforcing them.

This May wraps up seventeen years of teaching for me, though I was born into a family of teachers and have been involved in public education for nineteen.  I have three children, a college graduate, a college sophomore, and a newly-minted second grader.  I've experienced stabs and full-on attacks from "champions of educational reform" (most of them non-teachers) via No Child Left Behind and the Common Core Initiative as a teacher and mother in the three states in which we've lived and I've taught.  I have distinct memories of educational issues, reforms and changes that both my mother and uncle endured during their tenure.  Being a blogger and an avid reader of other education and teacher blogs, journals and websites, I know I'm not the only educator with over a decade's worth of concerns regarding the practice of blaming teachers, creating distrust in schools, and the advocacy of student achievement "guaranteed" by scripted instruction and the piling on of interventions.  Many of these strategies and interventions aren't effective because 1) they're developmentally inappropriate and 2) salesmen and politicians have convinced many administrators, parents and new teachers that play isn't learning.  It's difficult to know everything about every topic concerning public education, especially as many of us tread water with each new change and mandate lobbed at us annually, but it's important to be aware of and informed about the big picture in order to be best prepared for our students.  Working in a district gated from the rest of the state, the effects caused by political and societal changes have merely been delayed, effects I've witnessed having worked and visited elsewhere. Despite my efforts to share what I know and what I've seen, it's frustrating when colleagues spend years simply attributing these changes to their dislike of me, my teaching philosophy, or my pedagogy.

How do I handle both the positive and negative changes in education that others either wholeheartedly (unquestioningly) embrace or vehemently oppose?  I cherry pick my way through them.  My interests and tastes outside of the classroom are very diverse.  I dig through and choose the best recipes, advice, treasures and tools that I find and I leave the rest.  In the classroom, I have almost two decades' worth of experience and knowledge about how young children learn that help me recognize sh** from Shinola, canned programs from quality material, and I know how and where to find information and feedback from other teachers who have discovered new tools or are adding new tricks of the trade to compliment the tried-and-true.  I share what I know with new teachers.  I can discriminate between expertise and salesmanship.  I can compromise, and understand that I must as long as I'm not my own boss.  My paycheck is a necessity, not a luxury.  I cannot tell you how appreciative I am that I still love doing this job in spite of the changes created by our nation's faith in snake oil salesmanship.  I do more good for my students by recommitting myself to their quality instruction than I would by allowing myself to wallow in dismay over changes with which I don't agree.  This is the balance I have chosen for myself.

I appreciate it when administrators ask for my opinion, but I understand that they too are caught up in the momentum of their own schedules and rapid-fire decision making.  They meet many more salesmen than I do, and must shake hands and work with politicians who often use the classroom setting as a photo opportunity, campaign promise, or political tool.  Doing what they can to ensure funding to educate not only my students but my own son, I understand the compromises that district higher-ups make and admire the endurance they maintain.  They are parents of schoolchildren too.

Vocal child development experts and politically active teachers know that the effective advocacy of students relies heavily upon the setting and delivery of our message.  Heartfelt pleas are too emotional, invitations are considered pandering, and challengers become targets.  It's also a full time job, with very little steam, buzz or momentum created by a single impassioned email or letter.  One voice should matter, but it takes an awful loud one to cut through the media's barrage of "celebrity" teen moms, fashion faux pas and administration bashing.  A mere fifteen minutes of fame isn't enough time for teachers who must first distract the masses from the usual curricular or financial debates before introducing a truly pro-student focus.  The educational issues, battles and scandals in our nation's public school arena are as diverse as our students, making one-size-fits-all the most ridiculous goal ever set by reformers.  Children are not components on an assembly line.  It's a simple truth, not a terrifying inconvenience, and I admire and support those that have dedicated their voices to sharing this truth with the public.

Teaching is a pressure-filled job.  I'm appreciative for the simply given yet substantially felt support I continue to receive from administrators, many colleagues, my Super Star Families and child advocates who continue to work hard to fight on my students' behalf as I create and maintain a safe, engaging, and joyful learning environment for my kindergartners.  Thank you for your help, your hugs, and your high fives.

And thank you for the cupcakes.

It was a good year.

~Michaele~

*****

Want to visit other teachers who are looking back on their year and forward to their next teaching adventure?  Head over to iTeach 5th (and consider adding your own memories and goals to the party):

It's Okay to Like Not-So-Silent Teachers

After years of teaching, blogging and of listening to and reading the news, I'd just like to remind you of something:

It's okay to like teachers.

To respect us.  Trust us.  Admire us even.

Education issues will continue to rage as big-name, big-wallet "important" people work to silence the voice of those responsible for innovating, developing, and sharing the day-to-day learning experience with students.  We guide your children, teach them, and support them as they learn all about this great big world.  We take chances and provide opportunities each and every day, and no matter what you've been told, we're not wrong to take a stand in defense of our students, our schools, and our jobs.

Non-experts, bound by profit margins and not by the goal of developing lifelong learners have convinced many well-intentioned parents that we are a threat.  "Who knows what that teacher will expose my child to" has replaced "I know that teacher will expose my child to the best learning situations and opportunities possible."

As you read and listen to the news regarding the rights of teachers, think back and remember the ones who made a difference in your life, and honor their legacy. We certainly remember the ones who made a difference in ours.