There's enough evidence in the weather to know that summer has arrived a tad early. The grass is a light yellow, thirsty for nurturing water. The remnants of charcoal sprinkles the patio underneath the pit. If you wave your hand over the grill, you can still feel the warmth from the previous nights' feast. The pool waves circulate from the wind and pump, and the water is clear now. Goggles litter the landscape.
Even the house shows the changes. Shirts are left on the floor in defiance of sweat and sun. Pool towels take residence on the chairs. Doors remain ajar as if they await visitors. Glasses rejoice at the red juices and teas that fill them. Cabinets spill forth its contents to be rearranged, redistributed, its books to be read, bookmarked and hi lighted.
My sleep times become more erratic, as if I'm cramming for some unseen movie/tv show exam. I reflect constantly about school. Try as I might, I always tell myself I am going to relax and not think about school whatsoever, and then I read something, or talk to someone, and then the mind gets going about what to amend, what to add and what to discontinue.
The year had its moments. I felt conversational with the students from day one, but I felt a loss of control with my emotions with others. As a teacher, I expect results. I teach, you learn, we test and we show growth. I find I am this way with my friends too, sometimes even with my own kids, my marriage. The kids have gotten more challenging as the years have gone by, but the major difference is the time I devote to them. It was nothing for me then to stay after school for tutoring, or to walk a student home to meet the parent who has failed to call me back.
This past week, I was introduced to 4 different types of schools. One is the Darwin school. In the Darwin school, it is the survival of the fittest. Kids are tracked based on their ability and aptitude, rather than creating students equipped for what their futures might bring. I grew up with some aspects of the Darwin school. I remember being in tracking groups, most likely the one for sarcastic, silly boys. Teachers expected us to remain seated and to complete all of our work.
The second type of school is the Lombardi school. The Lombardi school believes that effort will provide results. Failure leads to learning in this type of school. And if you haven't met your goals, try harder. I can say I fall into this category daily in my own teaching. While effort does have a lot to do with learning styles and ability, many kids are trying hard. No kid wakes up and says to themselves, "How can I screw up my learning today?" I find that my words of affirmation to my kids are more directed towards effort instead of academics. I had a professor in college who used to call his sweat stains and red-faced look after class "power teaching." If you aren't sweating, you aren't working, right? I hi-five kids whose wrists hurt from writing too much. You sure worked hard today.
And in terms of failure as motivation, today's children fail time and time again but never see an end. They are working hard, considering the fact they are sometimes multiple grade levels behind in reading. They have completed their work, on time, with little assistance sometimes. They kids are so used to seeing failing papers boomerang back to them, what's the difference between what I'm teaching them and what others before me have taught them?
The 3rd type of school is the Chicago Cub school. No matter how you are doing academically, a teacher in the Cub school knows that it doesn't matter because "you'll get it eventually." The Cubs draw record crowds every year no matter that they will never amount to much. Teachers who teach to the Chicago Cub way love and nurture their kids, but in the end, do they really ever learn anything?
The last school is the Annie Sullivan school. This is the "whatever it takes" school. Annie taught Helen Keller, basically from scratch, right, and by any means necessary. According to our speaker, why wouldn't we want our kids to be involved in a "whatever-it-takes" school. At first I took this as a negative. Does this mean do whatever it takes to raise test scores? Does this mean that we place every rambunctious boy on medication to achieve sameness?
Do I do whatever it takes every day in school? What did I try for my autistic boy, the new girl with drama, the kid 2 years behind in reading, my silly boys and my over achieving girls? And am I reluctant to do so because I'm still vain enough to demand visible and undeniable changes I can measure and detect that very year? I don't always get to see a child grow, from an educational value-added score, or the ones that mean more, from year to year. I felt looping with a small handful helped me see some of the changes I yearn for. Maturity, the ability to finish a task, writing an essay when they barely could write a paragraph. But I don't get to see the same students years from now. How many end up in college? Or accepted to the National Honor Society. I know 3 of my kids have children. Does that make them unsuccessful?
I begin to see what it must have been like for Moses. Here is the man who spoke with God, his face radiant from the light and power of the burning bush. He has led his people through the desert, from Pharaoh's army, from starvation and the grumbling of thousands. But does he get to see his people led into the promised land? No. Does he get to see his teaching in action? No.
And imagine if Moses had been able to cross the Jordan into the land of milk and honey. How long before the Jews would have placed him on a pedestal? Could Moses have even walked the streets in his time without a plea from a peasant, or to squash a dispute? Eventually, it would have been all about Moses and not about God. It's only natural. Would Moses have succumbed to the feeling of power?
And what if I had knowledge of all my ex-students' successes at my disposal (and I do with a handful, thanks to Facebook)? Would I eventually begin to take credit for that one year of learning despite their parents' intervention? How long would it take for me to take credit when no credit was to be given? I have to realize that I am but a small part in a complex system of experiences, relationships and decisions. Ultimately, a child's success has little to do with me and everything to do with their household. I am thankful for the time I get to spend with 30 kids every year. God has provided me with a sense of purpose. But that purpose can be thwarted with ego and self-congratulations.
I'm sure it was difficult for Moses to watch his people cross the Jordan into the promised land. How long would it have been before he felt a twinge of jealousy? I have to learn that I may sometimes get to help them cross the river, sometimes hand in hand, and sometimes I'm led to just watch from afar. Just knowing that I am powerless is humbling enough.
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