Struggling through with joy... |
kind of.
Struggling through with joy... |
In the middle of the night my daughter cried out for her father, and after he left the room to comfort her I lay half-awake, thinking about water. Two nights ago the rain hammered on our roof and I took comfort in my snug home, thinking about the soaking the infant plants were getting in the garden, the rain a respite from the dry winter we’ve had. I remembered the rain we had the year before we moved back home, the days and days of rain that made many parts of our city an island, cancelled school for a week, left hundreds without homes. I thought of monsoons in wetter climates, when rain ceases to be good and is, at best, something to be endured, at worst, a vehicle of destruction.
I’m hard pressed to think of much that isn’t like this When I think of schools and education, this is how I think of it. A blessing for some, a place of refuge and hope, and for others? School destroys them, strips them of their humanity. Those are strong words from a teacher who absolutely believes in the power of education to changes lives. I hope, in my career, I have not been a teacher who strips my students of humanity, even in the most banal ways. But we all make mistakes. We all have bad days, bad years, even, when we are less than who we’d like to be. When I was in high school I had a few horrific teachers. Let me be clear: most of the teachers I’ve ever had have ranged from average to excellent. I don’t think I got a bad education in public school. My high school, however, was home to some serious racist, homophobic, sexist teachers. Freshman year, my algebra teacher, a man who looked like a skeezy, human version of Bugs Bunny, used to tell his female students the best way to earn an A was to wear a short skirt and sit up front. Preferably with legs open. I flunked. Sophomore year, my geometry teacher used the term “porch monkeys” on numerous occasions and forced me to stand in front of the class and explain why I was wore a “Make love, not war” t-shirt that said, while he sat with his stubby legs on his desk, sucked at his teeth and shook his head. Passed that class with a D+. My sophomore year, the speech and debate coach organized a student assembly where one of her students defended the idea that homosexuality should be illegal because it was so abhorrent. I quite speech and debate. That was the one that finally landed me in the principal’s office, asking him why he was allowing students to say such damaging things. My principal? He listened. He asked thoughtful questions. He agreed, the content of that student’s speech was incredibly hurtful. He apologized. He promised to speak to the speech teacher and the student. From that moment on, he knew my name and always acknowledged me with a smile. Not much else changed at my high school and I was miserable most of the time I was there, but I felt listened to and seen. I also had some great teachers in the following years, teachers who actually wanted to educate me, who were interested in helping me learn how to read critically, write well, or solve a problem efficiently. I knew, when I went to school, there were a few adults who cared about me. They made the days more bearable. Now we work to make school a place where children learn to make life more bearable. They still learn all the basics, and to a greater depth than I think they ever have before, but they also learn vital aspects of self-care I only started to learn about as an adult, when my life was in tatters and I had to figure some way to put it back together. I think this is a general trend in education, but the urgency in my community is greater because we lose several young people a year to suicide. We realize these kids are somehow lost, isolated and unable to find the help they need when they need it. We teach them how to care for themselves, where to go when they’re troubled, and we tell them every day, “You are valued, just the way you are. We care about you. We are glad to see you here.” No, not every single teacher will do this. Not every single teacher feels this way. But they muscle through because it’s a district directive. We’ve got to save our kids. Most of us have bought into this idea, one way or another. The teachers who haven’t? Many of them will leave, some will change, and I hope the force of all the teachers who truly care will flood our students with the love they need to sustain through the years with the teachers who don’t. I hope the good will overcome the bad.
2 Comments
I agree that the students need supportive teachers. I wonder why so many low quality teachers make it past the interview process.
Reply
Sonja Schulz
3/28/2018 07:00:56 pm
I struggle still to understand why people are so closed minded----particularly some educators. I'm proud things are better---mostly much better---but we still have a long way to go.
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
Archives
March 2021
Categories |