Life's Renewed Curriculum

I'm really not a great teacher.

And I'm not sure I'm still in love with it.

In 2011, I was hired after my first interview. I had a third grade class. There were 4 of us on the same team, a veteran and two young ladies who were new to teaching like me. The school was as inner city as you could get in Columbus. The neighboring apartment complex was nicknamed "Uzi Alley". When we first walked the streets to make home visits, there were more boarded up apartments than livable ones. I've had enough memories there to write a book. September 11th attacks, sexual harassment charges towards my partner and a removal from the school, lots of yelling on my part, 2nd grade teachers who had to teach in the library because we didn't have enough classrooms, a new principal, a student from Africa who knew no English and lots of other things too. I had a kid run away from the classroom, from the school!  I learned a lot about myself that year. I was passionate about making myself a better teacher. Personally, my wife and I were trying to have our own family with no results. I had a house, my very own house!  I was a certifiable adult.

I taught five more years under 3 different principals and an ever-changing curriculum. I had a rock star team for several of those years, but slowly we were split up. I started a soccer team I hated to leave once my second child. Heartbreak followed by miracles. We suffered through miscarriages more than once until we ended up adopting our oldest daughter. From zero to three in a heartbeat. I accumulated more stories for another book. Insubordination towards my principal, affairs between teachers, arguments with staff during meetings or in the halls, arguments with parents, a curriculum that had several detours, restarts and blowups.

But somewhere along that line I think I lost something. For the first several years, I would watch the kids leave the school on the last day and weep. Sobbing right there on the front steps like some big crybaby. I used to complain about the summers and if I could have gotten into the school in July I would have.

At my new school I became a new teacher all over again. I taught 5th grade this time. A new ballgame. They ran me that year, for a bit anyway. A couple of months in, they split my class. I taught a 4/5 split for two years and it challenged me once again to juggle the demands of 2 grades. Sometimes the fifth graders were so high it was tough keeping them on task. I became a Christian right around that time, too. Suddenly I looked upon this gift I was given, this ability to teach, as a mission field. It wasn't about the test. It was about relationships, fighting the culture, inspiring them to think outside the box.

Other priorities took precedent. Family, a commitment to serve within my church, sports with my own children. Teaching became a job instead of a mission. The consistencies of teaching--the kids, the curriculum, my teaching partners--became inconsistent. The surge towards testing has left a stain on education. The curriculum changes come seemingly overnight. This new initiative towards PARCC places demands on all of us. My kids are taking on-line tests that require the kind of skills that take practice. You know how many times I get the kids in computer lab? Once a week for one hour. With this testing, we haven't been in the lab for over a month. And because our librarian is needed as a proctor, our students haven't checked out a new library book in over a month.

Recently, I've had a spate of discipline issues. In February I attributed in to the lack of consistent schedule and because we were stuck inside. While I always felt I was self-reflective about my teaching, I wasn't in terms of my management. I'm laid back compared to my counterparts. Kids in my room sometimes sit on their desks. They take off their shoes when they silent read. We have tons of opportunities for group work, projects and experiments. Sometimes we're loud. We know silly songs and dances. I like to think that by allowing the kids to have some freedom, they can truly learn the way they want to. But sometimes that freedom is enough rope to hang themselves.

So this past Friday I became the first-day-of-school teacher again. We reinforced the rules, separated groups, went to zero noise. They raised their hands when they wanted to sharpen their pencils. The only way I can keep some of them from getting into drama or to complete their work to their best ability, I have to be literally be monitoring them 24/7. Something cool happened when I buckled down.

The kids responded.

My suspicions of the kids who were copying came to fruition when I saw them struggle while sitting alone. Without all the discussion, the kids who value more structure thrived. Two of my students actually came up to me and said they liked it that way. When I did hear talking, I heard conversation with numbers, about strategies. By the end of the day, I left smiling. I didn't sigh when I boarded the bus students. I didn't have that Friday Night Blues face as I left the school.

I know that the need for discipline is the true lesson in all of this. When I have time for myself, I don't always choose wisely. In the classrooms where my teachers didn't seem to care, I carried on all sorts of nonsense. I gave answers to my friends on tests, I listened to my cassette player (remember those?), I passed notes and doodled. It had nothing to do with how interested I was, it was all about the lack of structure. Same thing with my home life. My diet needs consistency. My faith walk needs consistent maintenance. My kids need love and support too. Discipline.

I'm not sure when I'll know I've become a great teacher. I think it's the same thing about life. How does one define oneself as a great person? A great Christian? A great father? I'm none of those. But I'm striving towards. When I think I've made it there will be a new test, life's renewed curriculum. Perhaps at the end of the year, I'll weep again, counting the days until August when I can return.