What Teachers Make…
Lately I’ve been carrying weight on my shoulders. This is obvious to those who are around me, as I repeatedly face the question, “Are you okay?” The truth is, no, I’m not okay. But then, neither are the people asking the question, so how can they possibly help? Unfortunately, this is a burden that cannot be alleviated or transferred. It simply is to be carried.
I have no intentions of turning this blog into a study of teaching, but since that’s what’s bothering me lately, I’m going to vent about it just a little bit. That’ll make two entries about teaching in a row, so expect the next entry to be about something else. Unfortunately, this is about the ugly side of teaching – the political side – the side I had hoped to avoid for as long as possible. Unfortunately, as long as possible wasn’t even long enough to make it through to tenure.
This week sees students in Virginia taking the first of their End-of-Course English SoLs. While this is a test that assesses 11 years of educational training, it falls to 11th Grade English teachers to review and reteach to ensure students pass the test. With the weather in Virginia this year, we have had less classroom time, which means my time covering this has been a little more concentrated than usual, but I stand behind my methodology and my students. I have no doubt my students will do well on the test, but the stress is there, nonetheless.
Meanwhile, our economy is in a state of disarray (at best). Millions of dollars are being cut in education alone. In my school district, schools are being closed and the plan is (currently) to eliminate almost 40 teaching positions. This doesn’t include non-faculty staff who will also find themselves trimmed. Some of these will be taken care of through retirees who are opting to bow out early thanks to a few incentives, but some people will lose their jobs. I don’t anticipate being one of those, but Fate always has a tricky way of tapping you on the shoulder and then ducking behind your back when you turn to look. Therefore, the stress of the current educational world is heightened.
Oh, and lets not forget those ever-popular words these days: “Next year is supposed to be worse.” That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The budget is not only bad this year, with schools closing and teacher positions being eliminated, but it’s anticipated to be worse next year. What happens when districts run out of schools to close, and we hit the age cap where all of the older teachers have retired and the younger teachers still have years to go until they can bow out? So, if the current stress isn’t bad enough, there’s more on the horizon.
Last week, my area Congressman held an open Town Hall meeting via conference call. I knew nothing about it until I received a phone call asking if I wanted to opt into the conference. For the first time, I did. I sat and listened for 45 minutes as the Congressman took questions ranging on immigration (a question which bordered on offensive) to social security (a popular topic) before an question about the current state of the educational budget came up. As a Congressman, he pointed out that questions and concerns on that subject needed to be pointed toward local government, as that was determined at the state and local level. Great sidestep Congressman.
To tie the topics together – SoL testing in the state of Virginia is part of the state’s conformity to the No Child Left Behind Act – a Federal piece of legislation. I take a big issue with my field being ordered around by Federal legislation, but Federal legislators sidestepping the issue when education is brought up. If we are truly expected to concede to this piece of legislation and ensure “no child is left behind,” then someone had better figure out where the funding for such a noble effort can come from, because with schools closing and educators being left behind, you can guarantee students will be lost in the mix as well.
Meanwhile, one of the hardest areas hit in the world of education is technology. My students currently have access to laptop computers, although the district has already started phasing that out. As my school’s technology resource instructor put it, it’s hard to justify buying laptops and carts for the machines when people are losing their jobs. I agree wholeheartedly with this statement, but it means we are moving away from preparing our students for the world beyond high school. Look at the register the next time you step into a Wal-Mart or Taco Bell. They are more and more computers and less and less simple machines. Students have to have a grip on technology to make it in the outside world, yet education is regressing away from technology and focusing more and more on preparing them for one test.
All of this leads to a frustrating environment, because I didn’t get into teaching to see students fail in the outside world, nor did I change to this career to help students prepare for one single test that doesn’t mean anything outside the walls of public education. When the focus of the educational environment shifts so hard in that direction this time of year (and it has every year I’ve been a teacher, with both SoL testing and budgetary crises formulating at the same time), I often need a reminder of why I did get into teaching. Someone asked me this last year: why did you get into teaching? My answer borrowed heavily from Thoreau (see Dead Poets Society), but since I haven’t gotten to that point in my year yet, and am currently focused on poetry, I thought I’d include this gem from Taylor Mali that goes right to the core of my being.
I got into teaching because I wanted to make a difference. And I have. In only a few years, I know I have affected and influenced students, not only in my heart, but in comments and feedback I have gotten from those in my classroom. It is something I plan on continuing to do for some time. So I’ll take the burdens and ridiculousness of the current political landscape and educational atmosphere and carry it as long as I have to. And if you see me lost in thought while all of this is going on? I’m just remembering the last line: I make a god-damned difference. What about you?