Fire Them! February 25, 2010

Dear Matt,

I just read an article about a school in Rhode Island where all the teachers are being fired at the end of this school year because the students consistently underperform.  The article says Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan, applauds the plan.  He says that we can’t just let schools continue to underperform because kids only have one chance at an education.

While I agree with Mr. Duncan that we can’t accept a substandard education for any of our students; that every child deserves a good, not just adequate, education; I disagree with his methods.

When Mr. Duncan was CEO in Chicago I had the same problem with him.  He institutes methods that decrease cost and look good to the public instead of doing things that will really make a difference.  In the Rhode Island situation countless number of teachers are being fired.  Who will be hired in their place?  New, untried, inexperienced teachers.  This is better?

What about instituting smaller class sizes?  Teacher mentoring programs?  More social service support for students and families?  More special education supports and early identification and intervention for students with special needs?

What’s wrong with these ideas?  They cost money.  It sure is a hell of a lot more cheaper to fire a bunch of teachers on the upper end of the pay scale.  Tell everyone it was their fault that students are failing and then hire a bunch of entry level teachers to replace them.  A few years from now will they just fire them too?  If we keep starting over then we can keep up the illusion that we’re doing something to solve the problem.  When really we’re doing nothing.  And more and more children pass through our education system uneducated.  What a crock.

Pray for those teachers losing their jobs.  Pray for those students losing their teachers.  Pray for those parents whose children will be lost between the cracks of political rhetoric.

Pray.

Margo

Wit-ty February 24, 2010

I introduced the “it” word family today.  Students began brainstorming words that end in “it.”  One student offered the word, wit.  I acknowledged that it was a word (as opposed to dit or jit) and wrote it on the list.  But then, doubting him, I asked him what it meant.  He answered, “You know like when you want bread wit your soup.”

Emotional (In)Competency February 21, 2010

Dear Matt,

Over the last year or so I’ve been able to articulate a dream of mine in a way I haven’t before.  My end goal is to develop a component to teacher preparation programs that help teachers develop the emotional competencies to 1)meet the emotional needs of children in the classroom 2)meet their own emotional needs in the classroom 3)in meeting these needs create livable environments for everyone involved.  The end result of this would be reducing the number of teachers that quit within the first five years of entering the profession and increasing morale in schools.

I’ve heard people say that they quit teaching because there wasn’t enough money in it.  That there were aspects to the job that weren’t worth the money.  But really, who goes into teaching thinking about the money?  It’s pretty widely known that teachers don’t make that much.

Other reasons I’ve heard for teachers quitting are the bureaucracy and the “system.” No doubt bureaucracy is a pain in the behind and the system is a faceless but powerful force that seems to block success at every turn.  But again, isn’t this something people know about before they enter the profession?  Almost every job, especially ones in public service, have to work with bureaucracies and systems.

I think the reason people leave the profession early is because of the emotional burden teachers have to bear.  No one prepares us for the students that just won’t cooperate or who are outright defiant.  No, that’s wrong.  We do talk about techniques on how to deal with kids with problems.  What we don’t talk about in college is how to deal with the anger that naturally arises in us when a kid calls us a name, or throws over a chair or refuses to move, or refuses to do work, or hits another kid etc.  We don’t talk about what to do about the feelings that arise when a parent blames us for their child’s struggles or is rude or degrading.  There are lots of books and workshops out there about what to do with those situations but not what to do with the feelings that follow us home and keep us from sleeping.

So how does a teacher stay in the profession for 30 years?  Are these just the few that know how to ignore their feelings, or how to deny their feelings,  or how to not have feelings, or have the money for good therapy?  My mom used to say “Water off a duck’s back, Margo.”  So maybe these are the few that know instinctively or have the personality or have learned how to just let it roll off.

It seems to me that if we could identify those who do allow themselves to have the feelings and know how to deal with the feelings in a way that doesn’t cause high blood pressure we could maybe help others develop those competencies.  (I wonder what percentage of teachers struggle with stress related health issues compared to other professions.)

Last Friday, I planned a Writer’s Celebration.  I invited parents.  The students wrote something in response to a book I read aloud.  It started well.  A small number of parents came.  This I expected since it was the first time I had held this kind of event and it was still during the work day.  I had already explained to the students what we would do and reminded them to be on their best behavior.

After everyone was settled I read the book that had inspired their writing.  Then I invited the students to go to their tables and share their writing with the adult that was there, while I prepared the food.  They were finished sharing before everyone had food, so there were a few students (the regulars) who were out of their seat and causing some chaos.  But once all of them had their food, it settled down for a bit.  After they ate though, it became chaotic again.  I really don’t have  a clear picture of what happened.  No one got hurt and no real harm was done but I watched my hopes for a relaxed and enjoyable afternoon fade like a mirage of an oasis in the desert.  I know my stress levels were high.  I tried to keep everyone together but even students who are normally well behaved had to be strictly redirected more than once.  All this in front of parents whom  truthfully, I wanted desperately to impress.

I’ve reflected some on the afternoon and realized that the procedures I have in place for misbehavior were not used effectively.  For some reason, I resorted to verbal re-directions over giving the normal consequences.  But what is more relevant to this discussion is that it is an example of how high stress can get in the way of making the best decisions and then get in the way again of even remembering clearly what happened.  As I was standing there, frustrated over the state of affairs in my classroom, two moms were visiting happily it seemed.  And one, who had volunteered earlier in the day, even commented on how well things were going.  Stress blurs my perceptions.  This I know.

The only thing to do is reflect, learn and go back tomorrow.  Try to stay focused on the present and clear about what is happening in front of me.  Monitor the feelings that ebb and flow during the day.  And when those feelings begin to intensify, stop, think and breath.

I know I’ve grown because I no longer think to myself that I just need to quit when I feel like I’ve failed.  (Watching the Olympics I’m struck by how many of the athletes would never have achieved their medals if they had quit after their early, or even later, failures.)  But there is still more growing to do – which is a blessing I guess.  What else would I do for the rest of my life?

Love you,
Margo

Amazing (G)race February 12, 2010

Dear Matt,

Once again, I have taken a break from writing.  I have not written over the past months because I was on a journey, 0ne that I was unable to articulate.  In the midst of it I was afraid that I would have nothing inspiring or hopeful to say.  Since I last wrote I have traveled through vast emotional geography.

People started asking me how I felt about teaching Kindergarten before the year even began.  I would answer, “Ask me at Christmas.”  As Christmas approached I realized I was still struggling.  I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t enjoying myself.  Two days before Christmas vacation I told my administrator that I didn’t want to teach Kindergarten next year.  I had decided.

A series of failures led up to this decision.   In early December I was faced with my inability to help a particular student any further, despite great effort on my part.  My administration, in an attempt to help, had commandeered my classroom, changing the arrangement, building new cubbies and changing the color.  There was evidence that some parents may not be happy with my performance.  I decided that it wasn’t that I couldn’t be an effective K teacher.  It was that when people offered advice, the very idea of their suggestions went against what I valued.  It seemed that being a good K teacher meant not requiring students to sit down and listen so that they could learn.  I shouldn’t require students to complete their lessons/projects or even participate if they didn’t want to.  Obviously, they were not developmentally ready and so should be allowed to do things that would make them happy, regardless of their educational merit.  To me, this meant that I was, in essence, babysitting – not teaching.

I went on vacation thinking that I just needed to get through to the end of June and I could forget about this year.

I’m not sure what the first thing was that changed my mind.  I won’t try to report them in order.

One thing that changed my outlook was realizing I needed to laugh more and that kindergarten offered many opportunities for this.  One day two of my boys seemed to be slapping at each other first thing in the morning.  Frustrated, I disciplined each and sent them on to where they were supposed to be.  Not much later, we were lining up for an ancillary class when again, they were slapping at each other.  I asked them what was going on.  S said that D wouldn’t stop touching him.  D raised his hands in the air and said, “I’m trying to read his mind.”  At the time, I replied in exasperation.  However, later when I was telling the story, my listeners burst into laughter.  I stopped and thought, ‘Why didn’t I laugh?  That was funny.”  After that I started looking for the funny moments and for “the funny” in the not so funny moments.  I started laughing more.

And then I learned that the teacher I thought might want to take my place – doesn’t.  I realized that I may not have a choice.  I also realized that I didn’t want to change jobs.  That I like where I teach.  I like the school and my colleagues.  I like teaching where my girls go to school.  I like teaching in my neighborhood.

Since these two things, I’ve found a new joy in teaching kindergarten.  The kids make me laugh everyday.  Like when one of my students sang “You Spin My Head Right Round,” for show and tell.  I tell students that I love them by telling them they are my “favorite (insert name).”    I’ve done this with older kids and they usually respond with, “I’m your only ______,” with a grin.  One afternoon I had said this to several kids,  I wasn’t sure they were understanding me when one little girl came up to me with a big grin and said, “You’re my favorite Mrs. Frizzell.”

Also, after two assessment cycles now I’ve seen enormous progress – something you don’t always get to see in the upper grades.  I have one student who couldn’t write his name at the beginning of year, who is now writing recognizable words.   Students who were afraid to attack a new word at the beginning of the year are now reading easily.  Students were were hitting, pushing, running and jumping in the classroom are having entire days without having to be redirected.

I’m still experiencing small set backs.  Some parents are still critical.  This is part of the job.  I know this.  But with some Amazing Grace and a little Vitamin D, I’m traveling out of the dark part of my emotional landscape and seeing the light.

Kindergarten next year?  Maybe.

Love you,

Margo