Rules & Rulers

August 27, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

If the internet is true (and how could it not be?), there are some strange laws on the books in Oklahoma:

It’s illegal to take a bite out of someone else’s hamburger.
It’s illegal for women not licensed by the state to do anyone’s hair – including their own.
It’s illegal to have tissues in the back of your car.
AND NO ORAL SEX – even among consenting adults. It’s against the law. Stop it!

Many seem designed to protect our animal friends:

It’s illegal to make ugly faces at a dog, or carry a fish in a fishbowl on the bus. You may not promote a ‘horse-tripping’ event. (It’s presumably OK if the horse trips accidentally.)
It’s illegal for bar owners to allow customers to pretend to have sex with buffalo. (I assume actually having buffalo bar-sex is covered in a separate statute…?)
It’s illegal to have the rear legs of a farm animal in your boots. And whale-hunting is ABSOLUTELY prohibited – anywhere in the state, under ANY circumstances.

Presumably these are antiquated codes passed in different times and circumstances. Some would be difficult to repeal even if legit. What aspiring legislator wants to campaign FOR simulated buffalo intercourse, or come out as pro-hamburger violating?

But these laws aren’t really a problem. No one MEANS them anymore – not most of them, anyway.

No one’s been prosecuted lately for using a little gel or helping their bestie with her braids. Even in revenue-hungry times I’m not aware the TPD or Highway Patrol have EVER written someone up based on that revealing Kleenex box sticking out from under the seat.

The state seems content to let us make our best guesses which laws they mean, and which they don’t.

Even more modern, slightly less-ludicrous legislation can fall into gray areas. Staying parked on the street in a residential area for more than 24 hours can get you towed, but rarely does unless other issues are involved. Disposing of a car battery in the trash is big no-no, but I’m not sure anyone actually checks that sort of thing.

And then there’s all that oral sex. I assume it’s happening from time to time, somewhere in the bounds of this otherwise rather conservative state. Is that a 911 situation, or do you simply file a complaint form the next business day?

A citizen’s arrest would just be… awkward.

Some degree of confusion and clusterfoolery may be understandable – or at least tolerable – after a century of prolific law-making… especially given the general quality of our elected leaders. And there’s rarely real mystery what the authorities will or won’t bust you for – go ahead and make fun of your dog, but keep your boots away from that goat!

The same clarity is often lacking, however, in the rules and policies we institute as districts, school buildings, or in our individual classrooms.

Like our dear state, we do love our many prohibitions and contingencies. Anything undesirable which has ever happened in your district, been rumored to have happened in other districts, or been imagined as possibly happening one day in the most hypothetical of circumstances – there’s probably a rule about it in a handbook somewhere.

You can often tell how long a teacher has been in the classroom by how many detailed expectations and procedures make it onto her wall or into his syllabus; it’s like counting a tree’s rings to determine its age.

We can argue the depth and detail of rules and policies some other time. The problem here is that, much like some of the state laws above, we don’t actually mean all of them – at least not all of the time, for everyone.

Please understand, I’m all for flexibility in the application of consequences based on the student, the circumstances, etc. ‘Equity is not always equality’ and all that. What I’m talking about are the super-secret and ever-shifting distinctions between the rules we actually mean, the ones we kinda mean early in the year or when we randomly decide we need to ‘crack down’ on something, and the ones which simply sound good and we don’t really want to get rid of but have no intention of enforcing – and haven’t for years. We just kinda hope they ‘slow down’ the inevitable problems associated with ignoring them.

Maybe it’s dress code (“But I wasn’t WEARING the hat; I was CARRYING it!”), or student ID’s, or raising your hand before getting up at lunch to go to the restroom. Maybe it’s phones and other electronics, or tardies, or those leftover prohibitions about tattoos or multi-colored hair.

I don’t really care WHAT the rules are, but I do wish we’d try something crazy: if it’s a rule, let’s enforce it; if it’s not worth enforcing, let’s not keep it as a rule.

I realize this is right up there with doing away with grades, eliminating gender-biased bathrooms, and extra Jeans Days for meeting our United Way goal – it’s THAT crazy.

We’re infuriated with students who simply DON’T catch on that they can’t wear spandex to class, while at the same time we never really INTENDED to spend our entire lunch duty coordinating tinkle-time for six hundred teenagers. The girl who guesses incorrectly about which rules we actually mean gets busted for her booty-wear, while the super-demure cooperative honor student gets a UTI and loses circulation in her right arm.

We’re bewildered by both of them, but their crime was the same – incorrectly guessing what we really mean, despite what we say.

I get that no one wants to “give up” on dress codes or ID’s and just let them wear… whatever, indecipherably grunting their name as needed and wandering into class whenever ready. I support our desire to avoid packing ISD with anonymous students wearing yoga pants or arguing over how long it really takes to get to 3rd Hour – they need to be in class, where there’s at least a chance they’ll learn something. We want to prioritize the important things – our primary function.

Unfortunately, “holding the line” and “not holding the line” are, well… completely contradictory.

I fear the real reason we keep so many rules in place without the willingness to follow through when tested is that it makes US feel better.

“We have high expectations, by golly – just look at our rules!”
“We’re so caring about the individual student and value learning over dogma – just look at how we never enforce any of our rules!”
“New Shimmer is a floor wax AND a dessert topping!”

We need to figure out what our actual goals are, both as a whole and in our individual classrooms. Is the purpose of our rules to help things run smoothly? To keep everyone safe & opportunities relatively equitable? To introduce life skills like ‘manipulation’ and ‘guessing which laws actually apply to ME?’

Are we trying to breed creativity? Compliance? Independence? Cynicism?

I’m not saying it’s easy, or that anyone’s intentions are suspect. But our kids are already surrounded by chaos and injustice, uncertainty and the general flakiness of those purporting to lead them. At the very least, we shouldn’t ADD to the madness by forcing them to guess how things work THIS week, or punish the ones who take us at our word – while only those willing to constantly test our sincerity can check that text from mom or pee from time to time.

Then again, at least they’re not keeping Kleenex in their cars or pretending to have sex with buffalo.

RELATED POST: Obedience School

The Elevator Is Broken

August 22, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

Our school elevator was finally replaced. It’d been unreliable for over a decade now – breaking down regularly, making suspect noises even when working, and generally scaring off all but the neediest passengers… of which there were still quite a few.

It took years of analyzing and advocating, months of allocating and approving, weeks of R.Q.-ing and P.O.-ing – but eventually actual work could be done. While the replacement wasn’t entirely NEW, it was DIFFERENT. It went up and down with some consistency. The buttons even lit up when you pushed them!

That is, until yesterday. When school started. It stopped and wouldn’t go no more. Period.

In the midst of the chaos of the new school year, some of the most capable and over-qualified administrators in the state had to stop and figure out how to accommodate a dozen students and staff who for various reasons absolutely rely on the elevator to get from floor to floor.

Turns out it’s not ‘broken,’ exactly.

Internal sensors detected the lack of a required safety switch – several weeks into actual usage – and shut it down.

The switch is thousands of dollars – money NOT discussed, allocated, approved, R.Q.-ed, or P.O.-ed. And, thanks to the intricacies of state law, county codes, local regulations, district policies, bid processes, contract specifications, and a half-dozen other layers of red tape, no one is actually responsible in any way for whether or not the switch exists or the elevator actually works.

So the process begins – the discussions, the fiscal juggling, etc. Phone time. Emails. Best case, the first several stages are ready for approval by the next monthly board meeting.

It will get fixed, eventually. Kids will miss classes and employees will waive their rights under ADA, but one day it WILL elevate again. What can’t be recovered are the man hours and lost focus spent on something that (a) shouldn’t have happened, and (b) no one person or group has the power to prevent – meaning there’s also no accountability.

The system is all-powerful.

Several years ago, I was on a committee in a state which shall remain nameless, during a phase in which Common Core was going to save us all. (This was a few short years before Common Core was going to destroy us all.)

The goal was to revamp state curriculum to make room for the time-intensive skill-building advocated by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was (correctly) presumed that we could not maintain our already bloated content standards AND expect teachers to legitimately commit to the kind of analytical reading and evidentiary writing called for under the new priorities.

We gathered in an atmosphere of revolution. Renewal. This was it – nothing was sacred! Old things had passed away; all things curricular would become new!

As various overhauls were proposed, it was revealed that the state had already invested zillions of dollars in the test bank from which the various high stakes exams are assembled. Creating new ones would require months of writing, more months of review, seven layers of approval and revision by thousands of stakeholders, costing millions of dollars, and culminating in the sacrifice of several newborns and a red-headed virgin to a deity named ‘Zuul’.

In short, overhaul the entire curriculum – as long as the state could still use the same test questions at the same grade levels.

No one in charge saw this as particularly limiting; in their world such neutering of all hope was the norm. They were bewildered at the Negative Nancies who saw this as more than a minor inconvenience – a feature, more than a frustration. Let’s keep a positive attitude! Enough nitpicking – let’s get started!

By the time we’d wrestled for two and a half days culling the content standards, they’d grown by roughly half-a-page per grade level. THEN we added the Common Core standards. They, at least, are still there – although under more rhetorically friendly headings.

It was proclaimed an amazing victory and a huge improvement thanks to the hard work and radical rethinking done by all.

The resources and man-hours invested to make everything mostly-the-same-but-slightly-worse (a) shouldn’t have happened, and (b) can’t be fairly blamed on any one person or department. No one may be held genuinely accountable.

The system is all-powerful.

Last one. I promise.

My district is in dire need of qualified teachers of color. Most districts are. The state has expressed a similar concern, along with bewilderment about what could possibly be done. It’s a subject of much discussion and some emotion.

I had a paraprofessional for one of my low-performing classes last year. Strong Black male. Great mindset towards education and towards kids. Street savvy enough to have credibility with those so-inclined, but professional enough to pull kids of all colors and backgrounds into the light with his strong personality, his obvious love for them and for learning, and his lack of pretense.

His content knowledge was workable, and growing. I wasn’t worried – most of us learn our subject matter best by teaching it. Besides, for the kids with whom he was having the most dramatic impact, the ability to analyze technological improvements during the Civil War or cite from memory major cases involving the Establishment Clause wasn’t really a priority.

He took his certification test and fell short – but not by much. No worries… he’d do better next time. Another season of study and preparation and hustle, above and beyond the time spent in school all day, with family at home, and working his two other jobs – because this, he believed, was his calling. These were his kids.

He took the state test again and missed certification by one point.

A few phone calls put him in touch with some dear lady at the State Department who explained that the computer software which graded his essays didn’t like how often he’d repeated certain words and that he hadn’t varied his vocabulary or some such thing. She encouraged him to try again.

He moved on.

I’m not suggesting we lower our standards, but a person didn’t reject him by a point – an algorithm did. I’m guessing it didn’t factor in our desperate need for strong teachers of color, intelligence, and the ability to reach kids… even if they don’t write quite whitely enough for the software developers as they change those lives.

Losing him was completely unnecessary. It (a) shouldn’t have happened, and yet (b) no one person or office could have circumvented the bureaucracy involved even had they wished.

The system is all-powerful.

Why, with the hundreds of studies, books, charters, and breakthroughs, can’t we change anything of substance in public education? Why can’t we implement even those things widely acknowledged to be good for kids?

Why is it, with all the talk, the rallying, the hand-wringing, and the bluster, nothing seems to fundamentally evolve?

There are multiple factors – some personal, some logistical, and many economic. But chief among them, I belligerently suggest, is the maze of paperwork and policies on a dozen levels which make it impossible for anyone to simply DO anything useful. No one’s in charge, therefore no one’s capable… or accountable.

The nightmare of red tape purported to prevent anyone from doing anything bad, anytime anywhere, is far more effective at preventing us from being particularly helpful. It’s against the rules. The one thing at which bureaucracy excels is perpetuating and growing itself to the expense of all else.

We are smothered in procedure and policy so tangled as to preclude substantive progress. Unless we find the will and the means to destroy the roots of this systemic kudzu, our continued efforts to prune or pretty up the results will continue to be futile.

The elevator is broken.

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What Misfits Wish Their Teachers Knew (Guest Blogger – Courtney’s Voice)

July 22, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 6 Comments

Courtney’s Voice is the online manifestation of a young lady who has wrestled with more in 18 years than many of us do over a lifetime. Rather than hide it away and use the magic of the interwebs to paint a shinier picture of herself and her world, Courtney lays it all out in brutal honestly – right or wrong, hurting or healing, accepted or attacked.
Sometimes it’s rather poetic, and others… painfully blunt. Often it’s both.
While I don’t claim to fully embrace everything Courtney has to say about every issue, I’ve come to rely on her for an unfiltered perspective on things for which teacher school couldn’t possibly prepare us. I love her transparency and willingness to struggle publicly in order to make it a tiny bit easier for other teens or young adults to confront their demons or accept their differences.
And it does.
I asked Courtney if she’d be willing to contribute a guest blog on the subject of “What I wish my teachers knew about me,” primarily from the point of view of the misfit or misunderstood. I’m in no way suggesting teachers consciously neglect ANY of our kids or have some secret malice towards those we don’t quite understand. Honestly, the fact that we connect with as many as we do is something of a miracle, given the generational differences and sheer numbers in front of us every day.
But none of us are omniscient, and none immune to the frustrations or failures associated with carrying responsibility for kids we don’t always ‘get’. This is not a lecture, but a reminder of what we so easily miss if not ever-watchful and ‘tuned in’ to our little darlings. It’s as a reminder of our calling.
Thanks, Courtney. I’m glad you’re here.

Hello. You don’t know me, you probably don’t even remember my name, but I’m your student.

I’m that eager beaver over achiever who sits in the front of the class and raises her hand for every question. What you don’t know is that the pressure my parents put on me, and that I put on myself, is starting to break me. When you “talk” to the troubled kids, I often wish it were me you were talking to so I could open up about how much weight is on my shoulders.

I’m that kid who sits in the back, slouching and you don’t think I’m paying attention. Truth is, I am trying really hard but my effort goes unnoticed. Teachers constantly tell me to try harder and it makes me want to give up because I feel like I am not good enough.

I’m the class clown, always loud and making inappropriate jokes. You try your best to hide how you really feel about me, but you don’t realize my jokes are me crying out for attention. Maybe I am unheard at home and enjoy that people listen in class. Or maybe I am hurting and use comedy as a way to cope. It is my way of yelling for help without having to say the words.

Sometimes I think that making others laugh will somehow mute my pain.

I’m that quiet kid who never speaks. You call on me, but barely hear my answers when I give them to you. Sometimes you look at me like you pity me. But I don’t want your pity; I have social anxiety and you put me in a tough place by forcing me to answer in front of the entire class.

I’m that girl that dresses like a guy and prefers a different name from the girly one I was born with. Or I’m that boy that likes other boys even though it means getting beaten up in the locker room because everyone thinks I’m checking them out. Or maybe I’m that girl who just isn’t sure if she likes girls or guys. And I am just starting to come to terms with who I am.

It’s been a long journey of self-discovery, and all the kids around me make me hate myself because they don’t understand. I cower when you call on me because I don’t need any more attention brought to me. They ask me why I’m the way I am, or lecture me about what is “right.” I’m tired of trying to explain that it’s just who I am. I can’t help it, or explain it so they’ll get it.

All I want is for someone to care, and for my feelings to matter, even if they don’t agree with them.

I’m that kid who can’t even fake a smile for the jokes you think are so funny. Every day I walk in looking like I haven’t slept in days, and often I haven’t. Depression has set in with me and I just can’t make the effort.

Every student, no matter how they behave, has a story. We all go through things we wish others would see.

That misfit student you can’t seem to put your finger on? The one that gets on your nerves for being silent, or for being too loud? They are screaming in one way or another for your attention. Sure, they may be cold with you at first when you try to talk to them or you try to get them to have a one-on-one conversation. But don’t walk away. Don’t give up on them.

Honestly, they need someone to try for them, to fight for them, to show them they matter. They want you to know that they are struggling, whether it’s stress over college and the future, or whether they’re worried they won’t have food on their plate tonight.

Some are being bullied so badly all they can think about is how much easier it would be if they were no longer here. Others may be worried about just passing so they can go to the next grade.

I have been all of the students I listed above. Each year I tried a new persona as a way to cry out for help when none of the other ways worked.

Luckily, my 6th grade year, I had a teacher who genuinely noticed how “off” I was. She saw that I was pressuring myself too much while also battling social anxiety. She’s the one who encouraged me to write as a way to cope with my feelings, and to be more vocal. It was obvious to her that I didn’t have a voice, and she thought that writing could be my voice.

She was an English teacher, and after a few assignments, she came to me after class one day. “Your writing is raw and emotional in a way I haven’t seen in a while.”

Simple words, but for me they held so much meaning. To me, it meant that the feelings I poured out into everything I wrote were being heard. After that day, I began to pour myself into my assignments even more. I started showing her poems I had written that were just for me. I opened up to her and talked to her about the serve depression I was facing, all because she took the time to acknowledge my feelings; to acknowledge me.

Years later, I connected with her on Facebook and explained to her just how much of an impact it had, her taking time out of her day to encourage me and comfort me. Little did she know that simply talking to me would lead to that voice being amplified by that writing she had pressed me to continue. There was no way she could have known that it was because of her that I would start writing and speaking up against the injustices I faced and I have watched others face.

Taking just one minute to talk to your students really can change their life.

Sometimes we just need a boost. Every now and then we need a shoulder to lean on and an ear to talk into. Just because we don’t come to you first doesn’t mean we don’t need you. Sometimes we just have our own ways of trying to get your attention. Sometimes we think we don’t want your attention, even when we do.

Don’t think that we don’t care about what you say, even if we do have an attitude. Sometimes we simply can’t admit to needing the help. But your words run deep and ignite things inside of us. Teachers are inspirations. Use that power for good.

I was a misfit. Fitting in just wasn’t something I could do. I was suffering from serve depression and anxiety. But my recovery started with one teacher who took the time to understand me and talk to me, even if she didn’t believe in everything I did or support all the causes I did. Her taking the time to say, in so many words, “Hey I care,” helped me to realize there are people out there who will listen and there is a reason to keep fighting.

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State Testing: The Ultimate Solution

July 10, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 5 Comments

Oklahoma is rewriting standards for the 143rd time in the past decade – each time ‘raising the bar’ even higher than the time before, we are assured. National struggles continue over Common Core in all its manifestations and retitled remnants. Should we move to the ACT to save money? Is it better to grade writing exams with crappy software or crappy temps rounded up on Craigslist? Should we punish 3rd graders for not developing at a pace of our liking? Stop high schoolers from graduating for their test scores? Devalue teachers who take on tough classes and work in the most challenging districts? The rhetoric alone gives me a headache.

We’re can’t even agree on WHAT we should be measuring – which subjects, which skills, and at what level. Should we one day solve that (we won’t), we’ll still have to reach some sort of consensus HOW we can evaluate whatever it is with any sort of accuracy or consistency (we can’t) – and all at lowest-bidder prices.

Fear not, my Eleven Faithful Followers – for I am about to reveal to you the final truth regarding this matter. I am confident my solution is both eloquent and attainable, for that is how I roll. You might want to sit down for this.

To hell with the tests.

Seriously, $&%# ‘em. I refuse to care about them one way or the other anymore. I’m tired of watching good teachers with missionary zeal end up stressed out and derailed due to the pressure of some stupid state test and its randomly shuffled cut scores. I hereby revolt against the entire process.

Parents are already opting out in some places, and a few brave teachers in Tulsa Public have refused to administer anything they believe is bad for their kids. I applaud each and every one of them.

But what I’m instituting is more basic. Starting today, we universally refuse to worry about tests or testing. When they happen, they happen. Our kids will do well, or they won’t. Our schools will shine, or they won’t.

We must no longer give even tiny little damns.

You didn’t go to teacher school to improve test scores – none of us did. You, like the vast majority of your peers, signed up to save the world – or part of it, anyway. You became a teacher because you love kids, and history, or music, or art, or math, or literature, or some other life-altering something. You signed up because you care.

Silly idealist.

You may teach a high stakes, heavily tested subject, or something marginalized as ‘extra-curricular’. Maybe you coach, or sponsor, or organize, or publish. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you just show up and teach your tired old butt off every day and that will just have to be enough.

But you signed up to make a difference. You signed up to teach kids.

So let’s teach. Let’s love our kids where they are and who they are, without concern for where they stand in relation to someone else’s legislative pablum. We’ll challenge them, and push them, and demand great things of them no matter WHAT their circumstances or gifts – but I’m no longer willing to frame anything important in terms of state standards or national goals. I’ll work for my clueless lil’ darlings, and I’ll do it because I like it. I don’t care about the rest.

So to hell with the tests.

Most of the time, if we just teach the way we know we should, the kids will do fine on the tests anyway. But even if they won’t, as soon as we begin to focus on things BECAUSE they’ll be on the test, or rush through content BECAUSE the test is coming, our priorities drift away from our calling. Testing puts us in an adversarial role towards our weaker students, and rewards ZIP codes over zeal.

Testing is anti-learning, and anti-education. It doesn’t even $#%&ing work the way they keep pretending it does.

I can’t prevent lawmakers from labeling my kids as losers, or failures, or stupid, but I don’t have to be the instrument of such blasphemy. Bill Gates may excoriate my darlings for their lack of college and career readiness while Sir Michael Barber shakes his mass-mandated little fingers at them for their reading scores or their lack of interest in Algebra II – but I don’t have to help.

I don’t have to abuse my kids to please lawmakers or publishing companies. I refuse.

My students are awesome. Some of them are lazy, but that’s fixable. Others lack certain skills or critical content knowledge, but I’ll ride their behinds until they progress. They’re amazing, even while they make me crazy. They’re perfect, even when I have to kill them dead in front of God and everyone in order to get their attention. Give me those tired, poor, muddled classes, yearning for a ‘B’.

I love them.

What will happen to my kids if they don’t pass their state tests? They might have to take them again, which kinda sucks. If not, there are a dozen alternate ways to graduate. Generally, as long as the children are suffering, hate anything involving learning or school, and replace natural belief in their own possibilities with a deep loathing towards their truest selves, the state is satisfied.

I don’t want students to go out of their way to fail the damn things, but neither will we divert meaningful time or energy into passing them – the trade-off is simply too great.

If this is a calling, then let’s do it as a calling. That’s why we put up with the crappy conditions in some places and the degrading pay in most. It’s why we’re so tired, and why it’s sometimes hard not to become jaded, or bitter, or simply give up and go through the motions.

If this is a calling, then let’s do it as a calling. Make a difference, help kids, pour yourself out in a desperate effort to light a few more fires. Look your broken ones in the eyes and tell them that the world is a liar, and that they’re amazing, and beautiful, and powerful, and smart. If you can’t – if you’re afraid because someone’s pressuring you over test scores, and that’s the priority – then why are you even here?

Seriously – go get a real job. There are better gigs. Some even pay.

Let them fire you. Fire ALL of us. Well, the good ones, at least – the ones unwilling to play that game, even a little. The ones who’ve decided to follow their calling until they’re shown the door.

Let those principals and superintendents reach out to that long line of people desperate to teach public school in Oklahoma, or Texas, or wherever you are. Around here, that line consists of something like… zero people.

OK, that’s not entirely true – there’s that pompous unshaven guy with all the degrees who spills his coffee everywhere, and that weird chick with no concept of personal space or social cues. I guess they could hire both of them. But after that, their options are pretty much exhausted.

The rest of us aren’t going to worry about the tests, no matter how many times they’re revised or how high a ‘bar’ some legislator thinks they’ve set. Our bar is higher anyway – and so much better.

If they don’t like what we’re doing, they can find someone who will cooperate. We’ll sell shoes or fix computers or work in our brother-in-law’s insurance office. More money, less stress.

To hell with your tests. I don’t care about them, and I won’t play along any more. I’ll no longer compromise my calling or my kids to cater to the rhetoric of liars and fools.

And neither should you.

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“Why Teach?” (Response to #OklaEd Blogger Challenge)

June 28, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

#OklaEd blogger extraordinaire Mindy Dennison recently issued a challenge to fellow edu-bloggers to address the question, “Why Teach?” She’s already received a dozen quality responses taking a variety of approaches – including my personal favorite so far from the Marauding Mentor. MM details many common reasons for going into teaching and finds them delusional at best before concluding – “…but we need you…”

I appreciate the many posts about how rewarding and fulfilling teaching can be. I’m thankful for so many out there who connect with, nurture, and challenge their students throughout each year. I’d have to agree that’s the primary energy on which we feed – those little moments of success, of insight, of realization. It’s not particularly selfless; it’s simply swell when you manage to say or do just the right thing to help some young person’s day suck less than it otherwise might.

It’s less swell when you fail, but still…

The biggest reason I teach is that it needs to be done, and no one else will do it. Don’t misunderstand – there are many, many people across the state and the nation teaching. Many are amazing and will never be recognized as such. Others are largely dead weight but between systemic problems and teacher shortages, we have little choice but to keep them. Most are somewhere in between, depending on circumstances, and can be good when the spirt moves or the situation promotes such. They rise and fall with the pressures of their reality.

But there aren’t enough. It’s a running joke with my superiors when I’ve yet again managed to stir someone’s pot or complicate an otherwise simple situation (I simply do NOT understand how this occurs so regularly!) that I freely submit to their wrath and invite them to start interviewing that long line of highly qualified professionals who desperately want my job.

Because no one wants it, you see. So I keep stirring. For the children.

(Actually, several probably do want my job – I have a sweet gig, teaching-wise. But they’d all be coming from other teaching positions, keeping the net shortage the same and merely shuffling the particulars.)

The fields are ripe. Teenagers are a huge pain in the ass, but they’re not all as stupid as they’d like for you to think. Many of them are quite entertaining if you let yourself see and hear them, and far more than you’d think are hungry for an adult with a reasonable sense of professional boundaries to show even token interest and affection for them.

Many have the potential to be rather smart, if driven to be so. They won’t wander there on their own, thus ruining decades of anticipation regarding the miracle of technology changing education forever as students hungrily devour knowledge according to their individual interests, but most will meander along the trail with some success if you stay focused and on your horse and have a good pedagogical cattle dog.

I kinda lost that metaphor along the way. Hopefully you get the idea.

So we teach.

I’m smart and capable enough, but not as naturally gifted as so many others who don’t even consider this as a serious career. They don’t want it, or don’t ‘get it’. So I do what I can do, and over time I’ve become reasonably good at it. I must. We must.

Because the need is great. One of my favorite posts on this topic was, of course, written by me. The Spartans at Thermopylae were outnumbered and outsupported by the Persian hordes storming their shores. But they stood in the gap for as long as they could – not from any delusion of winning, and not because they could guarantee it would change anything substantially. They did it because it was the thing to do. They couldn’t control the outcome, but they could damn sure go down swinging.

Come home with your lesson plans or on them.

I’m not comparing a little high school history teaching to the kind of dramatic sacrifice made by the 300 (of course I am), but I do believe we’re too easily distracted and derailed by talk of reform and assessment, of structure and standards. We lament funding and formats and charters and TFA and technology and teacher school and sometimes I just don’t even care about ANY of it.

What difference does it make what names, hair color, or preferred weaponry each Persian brings with them? Do we honestly believe there’s some strategic scenario in which we win? Some combination of lobbying efforts and public enlightenment that turns this one around for those in the gap? Occasionally we can sweep aside an Ephialtes or celebrate a Dienekes, but that’s not why we stay.

We teach because we believe.

Kierkegaard spoke of an essential “leap to faith,” but such terminology is a bit presumptuous, even for me. Being in Oklahoma, we could just as easily go to Scripture, where “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (Hebrews 11.1, NIV).

Both of these capture the idea that our convictions don’t stem from having a pretty good plan. They’re not the result of measured goals or cost/benefit analysis. They’re certainly not based on having the slightest idea where we’re going or how this will turn out.That’s what makes it ‘faith’ – it’s terrifying and futile and probably wrong, but we commit as if we know know know know KNOW what we’re doing makes sense.

I teach because I choose to believe. I choose to believe in my kids and their possibilities, even as I recognize we’re going to lose some of them. Probably most of them.

But not all of them.

We must save enough to hold the gap. We teach because someone has to stand here next.

Given that we’re talking education, I should probably quote a book:

“We are all bits and pieces of history and literature and international law, Byron, Tom Paine, Machiavelli, or Christ, it’s here. And the hour is late. And the war’s begun. And we are out here, and the city is there, all wrapped up in its own coat of a thousand colours…
For if we are destroyed, the knowledge is dead, perhaps for good…
Right now we have a horrible job… It’s not pleasant, but then we’re not in control, we’re the odd minority crying in the wilderness. When the war’s over, perhaps we can be of some use in the world.”
“Do you really think they’ll listen then?”
“If not, we’ll just have to wait… A lot will be lost that way, of course. But you can’t make people listen. They have to come round in their own time wondering what happened and why the world blew up under them. It can’t last.”
Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury)

I pride myself, however, on spreading my wisdom and insights with all peoples equally – profound, and yet so very accessible. So, rather than look to Existentialism, Literature, or the Word of God, I’ll conclude with R.E.M.:

All the people gather, fly to carry each his burden – we are young, despite the years.
We are concern; we are hope despite the times.
All of a sudden, these days, happy throngs – take this joy wherever, wherever you go.

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