Let's invent the language that will get the public talking.
I'll start.
If we can't afford our schools, how can we afford the rich? Reform the tax rates of California!
Every cut is a crime against children.
Democracy is non-negotiable! Stop the privatization of our schools!
Education is a right, not a race. (Got that from Cornel West)
Lost Earning = Lost Learning
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
When Crumbling Infrastructures Attack
I have a personal story about the crumbling infrastructure in our public school system. We all do. Mine involves shock, bloodshed, and the haunting look in a student's eyes that became, for me, an unforgettable metaphor: You can't keep the outside from crashing in.
The lunch bell rang on a Wednesday. I remember the day of the week because a group of colleagues were meeting in the library at 12:30 to share ideas about Teach Like a Champion and I had it on my calendar to attend. That was not to be. I was on an intellectual high after an especially good discussion with the kids about 1984. Not every day is this way, but there are times in that class when I'm fielding so many provocative questions that one more would make my head explode. In a good way. The buoyant (not a word one expects to associate with 1984) energy in the class lingered after most of the students had dispersed, and as I hurried around the room putting things in order, I made mental note of various new avenues for future lessons now opened by our discussion. In short, the sun was shining, I was in a positive mood, and as we are often told these days, positive thinking is all we need to move mountains. Brave New World, the novel my students read after 1984, grinds that proposition to dust. But I digress, not unlike Holden Caulfield.
Holden needs no introduction as the stream of consciousness narrator of Catcher in the Rye, the novel we are now reading. He is alienated and angry at the world's phonies, and many students find meaning in his existential crisis. He may be unreliable, as you will read in the spark note style skywriting everywhere visible on google, but at least he is searching for authenticity in a world besieged by hypocrisy and lies. In the midst of his emotional crisis and subjective appraisal of his environment, we can sense his humanity. His point of view is limited, but he struggles to know reality in a deeper way where so many others will conform to what is on the surface; that searching quality, however frenetic, may be why Holden is so popular with so many students who hunger for the truth, no matter how grim. But again I digress.
There are some prominent phonies setting education policy alright, people who want you to buy all that bull about "choice" and accountability, but by accountability what they really mean is selective accountability. I mean when do you see the Wall Street Bankers holding themselves accountable? Never, that's when. It kills me. But I'm talking about infrastructure here, not people, and what I learned on that sunny Wednesday is that my classroom windows are phony. That's right. Phony!
Troubled adolescent that he is, Holden's voice nails it for me these days. Every day I work with teenagers who are capable of cutting through the crap when a large portion of the rest of the society is conforming its way into moral, ecological and spiritual oblivion. And I wish I could protect that questioning spark in them while at the same time protecting their feelings, but you can't always do both. If it's a contest between happiness, (or more rightly comfort), and truth, then I'll side with truth.
Here is the truth: Our windows may give the impression of protecting us from the cold, the wind and the rain, but it is a false impression. Sure, there are those days when my windows are tightly shut against the elements, the heater works for more than 5 minutes without coughing up a noise that would distract a meditating monk, let alone a hormonal teenager, and all is calm in my own private learning environment. But then there are other days, like that afternoon I went to let in a little air after my class had ended, and was startled by the glass shattering at the mere pressure of my hand pushing outward on the window handle.
Lest there be confusion, I'm referring to the kind of window handle that is designed for the very purpose of pushing outward on it to let air into a room. As a teacher who believes in constant self-improvement, I am sorry to say I was not innovative in opening this window. It was a lazy, automatic gesture and yet, I did exercise a certain degree of force for a woman of my slight size and stature. Full disclosure: I felt some resistance and for approximately 10 seconds pushed outward on the handle as hard as I could. Many of my windows are stuck, so I was used to this strenuous pushing. I did not push or even touch the glass, thankfully, or my hand might have gone right through. I simply tried to open a window on a warm day and when I did, the glass shattered and gave me several puncture wounds, two on my right forearm and one on my right knee. There was blood. And there were students in the room.
Did I forget to mention the students? The class had ended, but a few students stayed to hang out in my room; they had the misfortune of seeing me, their stunned teacher, getting paler as the pools of blood came into focus. I struggled to keep up with the reality of this unreal moment. "Has this really happened," I thought. "Are you okay?" one of my students asked with real empathy and alarm? I looked in her eyes and, in that instant, I had to be okay. I had no idea how serious my injury was when she asked me because I was in shock. (Only later was I relieved to find out that my wounds were not serious.) I knew only that I had to be okay because she had to be okay. I wanted to create a screen between my wounds and this girl, to protect her from the figurative missile that had just landed in the room. That is what teachers are supposed to do. We nurture and protect our students while they are in our charge. But I couldn't protect her from the flying shards of glass that day, and it haunted me.
The window that broke was promptly replaced by the district. The people there handled the accident smoothly and properly. Everybody at my site did everything right, from the beloved friend and colleague who escorted me to the office to the kind, reassuring nurse who bandaged me up for a trip to the emergency room. From my caring, calm and efficient Principal to the concerned students at the scene, to the teachers who made sure to check in with those student witnesses, everybody did everything right. In fact, nobody I know did anything wrong. And yet the glass still shatters when it shouldn't, and in earthquake country that COULD lead to avoidable injury or even death. I'm not saying it WILL. I wouldn't want to make a mountain out of a mole hill.
I do wonder how much it would cost to replace the windows in a school with safer glass. Is there a rich foundation that wants to pump that kind of money into a very good public school? It seems that brand of largesse is reserved for charter schools which, if they choose, can throw their struggling learners out the proverbial window. Is there a Race to the Top competition for safety in schools our state can enter? Should we train our students to compete on tests that will decide whether their classrooms are physically safe learning environments, among other things? Oh wait, in a sense we already do. Our kids deserve better, and it's not the teachers who are to blame. If we really want to protect our young people from poverty, or drugs, or racism, or homophobia, or any social ill, then we better start letting them in on the full picture that has only begun to come into focus in Holden's blurred vision.
Mine is only one insignificant story about the crumbling infrastructure in public education. We all have them, and I wouldn't want to turn a mole hill into a mountain. I'd have to be Superman to move a mountain. But that's only if I had to do it alone.
The lunch bell rang on a Wednesday. I remember the day of the week because a group of colleagues were meeting in the library at 12:30 to share ideas about Teach Like a Champion and I had it on my calendar to attend. That was not to be. I was on an intellectual high after an especially good discussion with the kids about 1984. Not every day is this way, but there are times in that class when I'm fielding so many provocative questions that one more would make my head explode. In a good way. The buoyant (not a word one expects to associate with 1984) energy in the class lingered after most of the students had dispersed, and as I hurried around the room putting things in order, I made mental note of various new avenues for future lessons now opened by our discussion. In short, the sun was shining, I was in a positive mood, and as we are often told these days, positive thinking is all we need to move mountains. Brave New World, the novel my students read after 1984, grinds that proposition to dust. But I digress, not unlike Holden Caulfield.
Holden needs no introduction as the stream of consciousness narrator of Catcher in the Rye, the novel we are now reading. He is alienated and angry at the world's phonies, and many students find meaning in his existential crisis. He may be unreliable, as you will read in the spark note style skywriting everywhere visible on google, but at least he is searching for authenticity in a world besieged by hypocrisy and lies. In the midst of his emotional crisis and subjective appraisal of his environment, we can sense his humanity. His point of view is limited, but he struggles to know reality in a deeper way where so many others will conform to what is on the surface; that searching quality, however frenetic, may be why Holden is so popular with so many students who hunger for the truth, no matter how grim. But again I digress.
There are some prominent phonies setting education policy alright, people who want you to buy all that bull about "choice" and accountability, but by accountability what they really mean is selective accountability. I mean when do you see the Wall Street Bankers holding themselves accountable? Never, that's when. It kills me. But I'm talking about infrastructure here, not people, and what I learned on that sunny Wednesday is that my classroom windows are phony. That's right. Phony!
Troubled adolescent that he is, Holden's voice nails it for me these days. Every day I work with teenagers who are capable of cutting through the crap when a large portion of the rest of the society is conforming its way into moral, ecological and spiritual oblivion. And I wish I could protect that questioning spark in them while at the same time protecting their feelings, but you can't always do both. If it's a contest between happiness, (or more rightly comfort), and truth, then I'll side with truth.
Here is the truth: Our windows may give the impression of protecting us from the cold, the wind and the rain, but it is a false impression. Sure, there are those days when my windows are tightly shut against the elements, the heater works for more than 5 minutes without coughing up a noise that would distract a meditating monk, let alone a hormonal teenager, and all is calm in my own private learning environment. But then there are other days, like that afternoon I went to let in a little air after my class had ended, and was startled by the glass shattering at the mere pressure of my hand pushing outward on the window handle.
Lest there be confusion, I'm referring to the kind of window handle that is designed for the very purpose of pushing outward on it to let air into a room. As a teacher who believes in constant self-improvement, I am sorry to say I was not innovative in opening this window. It was a lazy, automatic gesture and yet, I did exercise a certain degree of force for a woman of my slight size and stature. Full disclosure: I felt some resistance and for approximately 10 seconds pushed outward on the handle as hard as I could. Many of my windows are stuck, so I was used to this strenuous pushing. I did not push or even touch the glass, thankfully, or my hand might have gone right through. I simply tried to open a window on a warm day and when I did, the glass shattered and gave me several puncture wounds, two on my right forearm and one on my right knee. There was blood. And there were students in the room.
Did I forget to mention the students? The class had ended, but a few students stayed to hang out in my room; they had the misfortune of seeing me, their stunned teacher, getting paler as the pools of blood came into focus. I struggled to keep up with the reality of this unreal moment. "Has this really happened," I thought. "Are you okay?" one of my students asked with real empathy and alarm? I looked in her eyes and, in that instant, I had to be okay. I had no idea how serious my injury was when she asked me because I was in shock. (Only later was I relieved to find out that my wounds were not serious.) I knew only that I had to be okay because she had to be okay. I wanted to create a screen between my wounds and this girl, to protect her from the figurative missile that had just landed in the room. That is what teachers are supposed to do. We nurture and protect our students while they are in our charge. But I couldn't protect her from the flying shards of glass that day, and it haunted me.
The window that broke was promptly replaced by the district. The people there handled the accident smoothly and properly. Everybody at my site did everything right, from the beloved friend and colleague who escorted me to the office to the kind, reassuring nurse who bandaged me up for a trip to the emergency room. From my caring, calm and efficient Principal to the concerned students at the scene, to the teachers who made sure to check in with those student witnesses, everybody did everything right. In fact, nobody I know did anything wrong. And yet the glass still shatters when it shouldn't, and in earthquake country that COULD lead to avoidable injury or even death. I'm not saying it WILL. I wouldn't want to make a mountain out of a mole hill.
I do wonder how much it would cost to replace the windows in a school with safer glass. Is there a rich foundation that wants to pump that kind of money into a very good public school? It seems that brand of largesse is reserved for charter schools which, if they choose, can throw their struggling learners out the proverbial window. Is there a Race to the Top competition for safety in schools our state can enter? Should we train our students to compete on tests that will decide whether their classrooms are physically safe learning environments, among other things? Oh wait, in a sense we already do. Our kids deserve better, and it's not the teachers who are to blame. If we really want to protect our young people from poverty, or drugs, or racism, or homophobia, or any social ill, then we better start letting them in on the full picture that has only begun to come into focus in Holden's blurred vision.
Mine is only one insignificant story about the crumbling infrastructure in public education. We all have them, and I wouldn't want to turn a mole hill into a mountain. I'd have to be Superman to move a mountain. But that's only if I had to do it alone.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Reclaiming Accountability
What goals do we have as educators that might replace the arbitrary measurements imposed on us from outside sources? Conversely, which current measurements do we support and wish to bolster with our own self-assessments and self-reflection?
Fighting For Our Schools: Winning Strategies
This is the space to discuss strategies to improve working and learning conditions in our schools. What negotiating tactics are most effective? When are concessions productive and when do they weaken our cause? How do we get more money into education? How do we reach the public and let them know what we see on the ground? How do we reframe the issues so that teachers are at the vanguard of a real reform movement? Add your questions and comments!
Does This Blog Matter? It's Up to You.
Someone in Malaysia has viewed the blog. And Canada. It has been viewed 800 times since the calendar vote. Ok, so the person in Malaysia might have accidentally stumbled into TheEdutalk while fumbling for the url to Edutalk. The 800 views is actually just a couple of you guys going wild. (It's not me - my settings don't allow the stats to track me.) And anyway, what does one person in Malaysia or Canada have to do with Santa Rosa City Schools?
Maybe it's just me getting worked up over a measly 350 views the day of the calendar vote, and all the great comments that have dwindled since then. No big deal, right? We've held steady at 100 views every day, but again, it could be a core group of people going on there 30 times a day. So what if it is? Doesn't that say something about the energy radiating from that core? Over time, it could be infectious. That's how I have to think because this is my contribution, right now, at this moment, to the revolution. Accidentally on purpose, we may unleash a fervor that can't be stuffed back down.
It's like being in a classroom. You teach your heart out whether or not you can measure the difference it makes. Yep, I said "measure." On rough days it feels like there is no point. Nobody is listening. Nobody gets it. Nobody cares. But then you go to lunch and have a laugh with colleagues and an inspiring conversation or two. The students make you smile with endearing antics, or razor sharp insights. Maybe a few crowd around your desk right before the bell to clarify a point that was made in class. But it's always something, and for me it's been 10 years of somethings that have kept me going.
Now I'm trying to make a difference outside of the classroom, but it's the same energy moving me. And I'm trying to move the energy, just like we do in the classrooms when everything feels dead. Donna had the idea for this blog and I started it because of the calendar vote. We went to that lunch meeting and many of us thought our union was playing dead. No, we didn't change the vote, but we did change some minds with that blog. I know because I heard from those people directly.
Ok, maybe I shouldn't extrapolate from just a few to masses of people, but isn't that what teachers do, in a sense? We magnify the small teaching moments into life-changing paradigm shifts. New ideas lead to new life. It happens ALL the time, and that's the magic of this profession.
I'm asking the magicians among us to have a little faith and start helping me create a ripple effect that will, in Michael Moore's words, "arouse[d] a sleeping giant" right here in Santa Rosa. Obviously, the blog is not going to do that on its own. The times are. You know it, and I know it. We are living through a radical moment. Anything is possible right now, and now is the time to act. You can't tell me you have never heard of a meme. Ideas are not hemmed in by geography or numbers. They can travel very far, very fast even if shepherded by one person. Luckily, we have more than one person in this fight.
Imagine if every single person in our district who had these thoughts fleetingly on a given day posted, "followed" or shared the blog with others. Imagine. We could jolt this city into awareness of the budgetary crime being committed against its kids. How else do we have a prayer of passing Brown's tax extension? We need to be pressuring our legislators yesterday, marching through the streets and campuses yesterday to fend off the coming economic disaster that is expected to take place in 2012-13. But we only have today. Luckily, memes can make up for a lot of lost time. Imagine change at light speed and shake off the incremental blues. Imagine.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Calendar Vote
Yesterday afternoon we SRTA members at Montgomery High School had a visit from President Andy Brennan. The sentiment in the room was strongly opposed to the new Calendar negotiated by SRTA with the district. People made excellent points and raised serious concerns about accepting additional furlough days with no quid pro quo; the district is under no legal obligation to minimize layoffs even if these salary cuts go through. Moreover, the district has put no offer on the table, such as reduced extra duty time, to warrant acceptance of these cuts. Since so many of us in the room, and at the town hall meeting at SRHS this past Monday, have substantial misgivings about the rushed nature of this vote and the calendar itself, we implored Mr. Brennan to set up a blog in which a district-wide dialogue could take place before the last day of voting. This request is obviously time-sensitive, but the newly created President's Blog on the SRTA website is closed for comments pending technical teacher expertise to block out spammers, a concern expressed by our President on the site.
Many of us in the English Department at Montgomery feel that this discussion needs to start right now. The last day of voting is tomorrow, and we believe it is imperative that we have a vigorous dialogue among as many members as possible. The low turnout at the recent town hall meeting might suggest that not all of our members have taken the opportunity to participate in a public forum regarding this momentous decision. To paraphrase one speaker at that meeting, this is a critical moment in our school district's trajectory. Decisions made now may haunt both students and educators in the future, and none of them should be entered into without dialogue and communication among members. In that spirit, would all of you receiving this link please forward it as widely as possible to SRTA members. Use Facebook or personal email addresses to spread the word about this forum. Although it was started by people raising objections to the calendar, we invite diverse points of view and encourage as many responses as possible. Some of us may have valuable information and wisdom that we need to share with others.
Thank you,
Simone Harris
Montgomery High School
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