Ask the Teacher

I want to write a column for the local newspaper that mimics a Bill Simmons Mailbag. But instead of sports, I'd field questions about school and education. So, I'll try it here on the blog first. In the comments section, ask a question. I will answer the question in a future post.

Read the Dictonary

I just finised reading Dennis Fermoyle's post titled, "What I Believe: June, 2008." Belief number five regarding who is to blame when students fail, reminded me of a word I will never forget: culpable. A great professor at Northwest University, Dr. Hobson, uttered the word while reading to us from Cornelius Plantinga Jr.'s Not the Way It's Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin. Not an easy read!
What I remember most, though, was the discussion about the difference between responsibility, which denotes both "answerability" and "accountablity," and culpability, which denotes "blameworthiness." Most discussions regarding educational blame use the connotative meaning of responsibility to cast teachers as blameworthy. However, we must learn to use the nuance of language to adjust our perspective.
First, let us allow for the truth that some teachers lack the insight to self-reflect and thus recognize their culpablity in student failure. Certainly low quality teachers exist, but there is no evidence to sugges that the whole of teachers are of low quality.
A great teacher should always accept responsibility when students fail to achieve. In this sense, I mean that he should be able to answer the question of why that student failed. Sometimes, a responsible teacher will evaluate his efforts and realize that, indeed, he is culpable for the failure.
As my school year comes to a close soon, I will evaluate my year as a unit of work. I believe I am answerable to my students, their parents, and my administrators for the content choices and pedagogical approaches. I can already tell you that I am, in part, culpable for some student failure. In at least one case, I failed to create a connection with a student who clearly could have used my attention.
When it comes to casting blame for student failure, teachers need to accept responsibility, but we don't always have to accept culpability.

No offense, but why do we read this stuff?

You know what's coming next when someone begins, "No offense, but...." So when my student began talking to me using that phrase, I knew it would be about Othello. We've just started reading the play this week, and I had to have the purchase the play on their own to avoid having to teach Julius Caesar.
It is a legitimate question, and one that I have struggled with more this year as I teach many students who don't want to go to college. If the purpose of English class is to create competent readers and competent writers, does it really matter what texts we use? If my students would be more interested in reading non-fiction about the life of Snoop Dog, why not have them read that book?
Let me say that there are really two main skills that I focus on teaching my students when we read fiction: analyzing character and analyzing theme.
In our everyday interactions, we need the skill of analyzing character. We need to pay attention to what others say, do, and have said about them. It helps us to determine how we interact with those people. But that can be taught through memoirs about Snoop Dog.
Additionally, we need to recognize the magnitude of events in our life and analyze their impact on us. Analyzing theme allows us to learn this life skill. But again, we can read for thematic content in the memoir of Snoop Dog.
Okay, it isn't a classic, but who cares? Does every student need to read Othello or All Quiet on the Western Front? Probably not. Which leads to a more complex question. Does our current education system need a complete and dramatic overhaul? This overhaul does not imply that all teachers are worthless, like some critics would want you to believe. Instead, the overhaul would be directed at our approach. Why can't we get away from town by town school districts and instead move towards highly focused institutions much like the collegiate system.
For instance, a high school graduate looking to pursue a broadcasting degree searches out schools like Syracuse University. But the engineering types might choose Northwestern University. Create schools that are focused on interests, and students will respond. Because frankly, I don't blame some of my students for being bored by Shakespeare; they're never going to use its wisdom and grace beyond my classroom.

What do students hear?

A failing school with a high minority population brings a guest speaker to motivate students. The speaker, a minority himself, tells his inspirational story of rags to riches despite hustlin' during his teen years.
He talks openly about how he didn't see the value of "math or english" to help him get through the hell he was forced to endure. In the end, he figures it all out and is trying to make a difference.
He encourages students to have a vision, to have the courage to move up, and to read anything they can get their hands on. A great message.
But do the students hear that message, or do they pay attention to the model--"I had to do what I had to do to get by."
I enjoyed his message. I enjoyed his delivery. But I can't help but wonder what message was heard today.

Horse Racing

A brief divergance from educational blogging follows.

If I weren't a teacher, I might have chosen sport photography. An image can enliven us or sadden us; make us think or make us laugh. Yesterday's Kentucky Derby brought tears to my eyes as Eight Belles collapsed after the race. The image of her suffering on the track just before she was put down brought back the single most powerful sports photograph I have ever seen--jockey Chris Antley holding Charismatic's leg after he fractured it trying to complete the third leg of the triple crown. I can't look at that photo without crying.

Influencer

The district I work for has a difficult task in front of it. Student achievement lacks the growth necessary, and teacher turnover rates soar. I can't decide between my desire to influence both the system and the students and my desire to both reduce my stress level and enjoy my toddler daughter.
Last night, I picked up Influencer: The Power to Change Anything. The first few chapters stirred my desire to influence. As I read, my mind wandered to various ways that our district could improve the reading ability of the incoming generation of students. We should influence the parents before their children ever enter our building.
My wife, who teaches fourth grade in the same district, assigned a journal prompt which asked, "1. Who read to you as a child? 2. Who reads to you now? 3. Who would you like to read to you now?" The answers showed why, when these students reach high school, they cannot read at grade level. Only a few students listed someone who read to them as a child.
That is one of our problems.
So, I walked into school today full of desire to influence. But alas, by the ten minute mark in first period, I was ready to influence somewhere else. I've been dragging reluctant students along for over 150 days; I just don't have the energy anymore.
It is a depressing place to be, vocationally speaking, when I feel like those teachers I loathed for "mailing it in."
Is it wrong that I don't want to hear, "This school fucking sucks," or watch a student refuse to turn his shirt that reads, "No Bitch Ass Ness" inside out? Am I a failure, as some education critics believe, because my students refused to complete a sentence starter that read, "Money allows me to...." simply because it was first period and I "shouldn't make us work during first period"?

I'm tired, I guess. This has never happened to me before. What kind of influencer can I be this way?

Spygate

In a follow up post to my last post, the Everett Teacher's Union feels that teacher Kay Powers was spied on by the district.
I wonder if Congress will investigate, or if Roger Goodell will have something to say.