Down
In The Trenches, Anecdotal Evidence From The Classroom
By Emily Spence
26 August,2007
Countercurrents.org
We Can't Get No Educashion: A Critique Of US Public Schools
- Part Two
Read
Part 1
The first day that I substitute
taught for the "T" * school district, it was in a special
education school during the winter. I was elated to have been called
up the day after I completed my paperwork for the position! So, I could
barely wait to meet my class of eight and nine year olds, who had severe
dyslexia compounded by other problems (such as legal blindness, ADD
and other afflictions).
All was going fairly well except during rest hour before which I had
placed the children on the floor around my chair. Suddenly, after settling
them down, one of the boys abruptly arose from his blanket and stomped
on the head of a smaller boy whose glasses, then, shattered while his
face got all bloodied from the glass and the blows.
After checking the hurt boy, I told the children to keep lying still,
grabbed the aggressive boy with one hand and the victim with the other
while moving quickly to the intercom button where I asked for immediate
medical assistance from the nurse. (At the end of the school day while
I was filling out the accident report, the principal kindly told me
that I handled everything perfectly and that this sort of incident frequently
happens. Therefore, I shouldn't view it as an inadequacy on my part.)
At the same time, he invited me back to his school the next day to substitute
for five days in a classroom for emotionally disturbed teenagers. I
replied that I would be glad to do so and returned the next day to find
that the room's educational supplies and attendance book had been locked
in a closet. Meanwhile as I was checking the storeroom's locked door,
a thirteen year old, who had been raped during which time one of her
parents was killed, was trying to climb through the second story window
to commit suicide (an action which she frequently tried, I was later
told) while two boys, larger than I am, were trying to stab each other's
eyes out with pencils. What should I do under the circumstances?
I grabbed the girl with one hand and, with her in tow, I physically
placed my body between the boys while commanding them, in the most officious
tone of voice, that I forbid such behavior and they WILL sit down immediately
at their desks so that we can sort out their argument.
Other than a few further potentially perilous incidents, the week went
fairly smoothly as I managed, despite the lack of unavailable educational
materials, to engage the students in a project involving writing instructional
booklets about various subjects that they were learning for which they
took out books from the school's library. Then I let them take turns
teaching each other about these topics that they'd been studying during
the week before my arrival. It all was slated as a review of sorts.
In addition, I had, on the first day, brought my own educational supplies
and lesson plans, which I also used with the students. Indeed, my class
time went so well that the principal told me that he hated to see me
go, but had to tell the school district scheduler that I was one of
the best teachers who he'd ever seen and I, therefore, should be given
a permanent assignment.
The next morning at six AM, I was offered a long-term post to teach
a combined fifth and sixth grade class in X school. The building, itself,
was modern and, to save money in its construction, it was an "open
space " institution, meaning that there were no walls between classrooms.
Moreover, all of these were located on the second floor except for mine,
that was on the first and had, originally, been slated to serve as an
art center.
Initially, I wondered about this arrangement of having a separated class
and the assistant principal staying in the room most of the first day
that I taught. However, I figured that the school had run out of classroom
space and he was just being overly conscientious. Besides, he spent
increasingly less time in my company as the week wore on. By then, though,
I'd pretty much figured out (supplemented by information from other
teachers) about the overall arrangements concerning this particular
group of youngsters.
They went like this:
All of the fifth and sixth students who were deemed unmanageable were
put in the isolated room. This was in lieu of sending them to a special
education division in that the city managers had run out of funding
for special education and were even sending some children out of the
city to other public and private special education schools due to lack
of sufficient accommodations in "T." In addition, the backlog
for evaluating students in dire need was two years + as there were only
two psychologists for the whole district evaluating a student body comprised
of over 20,000 students.
At the same time, all of the teachers preceding me had abruptly quit
the class (so that the youth had had no steady teacher for the whole
school year except, occasionally, the assistant principal), Meanwhile,
the last two had walked out due to quite unfortunate circumstances.
The first, when the whole class had run out of the building, decided
to chase them and she got buried in a snowbank. (Luckily she was uncovered
before there was a need for an ambulance crew). The second was duct
taped to a chair which was dragged to a broom closet where a janitor
found him well after the school had closed for the day. Deeply ashamed
of the whole affair, he helped the custodian clean up his urine puddle
before leaving the school for good.
My own defining moment, during which I decided that I would not continue
with this class, occurred after I got a contact "high" upon
leaving the bathroom attached to the "art room" at the end
of the day. I had gone in it to make sure that the facets were turned
off and that the stalls were not trashed.
Afterwards, I floated down to the principal to tell her that I was sure
that I knew about which boy had smoked in the bathroom and explained
my evidence. I also asked whether I could wait on school grounds until
I felt normal as I didn't want to drive under the influence. Likewise,
I asked whether I should call or visit the boy's parents to discuss
his bringing marijuana to school.
In reply, she stated that she'd once met the boy's mother and, in an
uncontrollable rage over a non-confrontational comment by the principal,
the mother swore and threw a chair at the her. In addition, the boy's
older brother had thrown Molotov cocktails out of the apartment that
he shared with the boy and his mother. This had occurred during a raid
two weeks previously due to a prostitution and drug dealing ring operating
out of the household coming to the attention of the police department.
Molotov cocktails aside, the officers, eventually, broke down the apartment's
door and overwhelmed the brother by force. (He was currently in jail
awaiting trial.). So now the boy only lived with his mother. Therefore,
all looked pretty good, the principal alleged, if the boy were only
using marijuana. Besides, it would be dangerous to tangle with his mother.
Therefore, I should just let the incident go.
Besides, she continued, I couldn't definitely prove that it was him,
anyway, and she could positively guarantee that I did not want to get
on the mother's bad side since she could hunt me down using the telephone
directory. Then my life would be in utter havoc. Therefore, she emphatically
repeated, I should just let the whole affair go.
Indeed, I did. I let it All go because the class was just too tough
to manage on top of which I didn't need any possible altercations with
violent parents.
I gave a two day resignation and, after my final day of teaching, I
bid farewell to the whole class, which had been so hard to teach that
I had a stomachache each day while driving to work. I also wished the
two pregnant girls good luck and sent two other children to the nurse
due to evidence of ringworm and head lice (both of which are highly
contagious). Then I, literally, washed my hands of the whole matter.
The day after leaving, I was again called by a "T" dept of
education official and asked to become a long term substitute in, I
was assured, a far easier class. The assignment had come up, she added,
due to a teacher's death.
So, this new position was for a forth grade at a different setting and
I decided to try out the next offering as the staff member was so adamant
about the new group of children being a breeze to handle.
After arriving at the new school, I found out that my class had thirty-two
students. Two thirds of them had remedial classes outside of my classroom
at various points during the day, which made it hard for me to teach
a lesson to the whole group. However, I was assured, by the other fourth
grade teacher at the school, that this was the bright fourth grade class,
amongst two in existence at the school.
As she alleged to me concerning their intelligence... They may seem
smarter than my children and they are. All the same, they are really
quite stupid and cannot learn. Therefore, don't bother to teach much.
It's a waste of your and their time. Instead, simply let them play most
of the day and then you'll have only few disciplinary problems in your
class.
Therefore, my recommendation is that you just write up your lesson plans
as stating that the value of some games are that they teach problem
solving, strategy in competition and so on. Then you will have a soft
time in the classroom and you can easily stick it out, as I am, until
you retire and get a pension.
Another teacher, a sixth grade teacher, had a different plan about his
own future in lieu of hers. Indeed, he told me that he had had too much
of "T" teaching and was totally burned out. On account, he
was planning to leave instruction forever at the end of the current
school year despite that he had been an educator for almost fifteen
year. At the same time, he hadn't a clue about whatever he would do
for work instead.
Then he went on to related his reasons for choosing to leave. They are
as follows:
He was tired of constantly having to keep his eyes on the students at
the back windows. Since they didn't have screens and these pupils always
stole scissors from the supply closet, there was a constant problem
involving their shooting the implements like arrows out of the window
when anyone was going into the school building. (His room's windows
were directly above the entrance door, although several stories above.)
Likewise, he felt terrible that he had an a seventeen year old in his
class, a slow minded boy who'd been retained for many years in grade
after grade. Although papers had been filed for four years to track
him toward special education, the boy was rejected for special education
provision. So he remained in "regular" classes despite that
he didn't, in terms of his emotional and physical maturity, fit in with
eleven and twelve year olds. All in mind, the teacher suspected that
the boy was not removed from regular education as he was mild mannered.
Lastly, he felt that he really couldn't make a difference in the lives
of his students given the lack of teaching materials, the difficulty
of controlling aversive behavior and other factors. Demoralized and
anxious much of the time, he simply was waiting it out until the end
of the year when he could be done of this madness, as he called it,
once and for all. Enough was simply enough, he concluded.
He certainly did make some valid points, I thought, while surveying
my classroom. Let's see -- my twelve history books, the ones I was supposed
to use to teach that subject, were from 1953, were not age appropriate
(i.e., were made four high school students), were missing pages and
parts of pages, were written upon and were supposed to be sufficient
for a class of thirty-two students, all of whom read below grade level
except for two children.
These books existed on broken down shelving with a few other well-worn
books ranging in reading level from preschool (i.e., the inexpensive
types that one sees in supermarkets and buys for toddlers) to college
level, including an esoteric text on a botany topic written in the 1930's.
The information in it was technically written and way out of date.
At the same time, these books were supplemented by a few others -- teacher's
texts and a supply of overly used ditto masters -- that were kept in
the supply closet with scissors, paper, busted crayons, chalk and glue.
In addition to these, I had one stapler and two erasers, forms for accidents
and other needs, as well as a bunch of pencils in a cup on my desk.
The pencils were ones that I bought for the class, myself, and collected
at the end of each day as I quickly learned that the writing tools,
a seemingly treasured item, would disappear homeward never to return
if I didn't gather them before the children left the school grounds.
At the same time, there was no school library. That fit in with the
fact that there was no gymnasium either as the building only consisted
of a cafetorium (a combination of cafeteria and auditorium space with
folding lunch tables and no stage), an administrative office, one bathroom
per floor, a small teacher's lounge, classrooms and a small play yard
covered in asphalt and divisional metal fences.
The latter location is where Physical Education classes took place after
lunch -- during recess period at which time I tried to involve any willing
participants in games. (This seemed necessary since the State had on
the law books that the only class necessary to be taught in the State
was PE. I'll add that this State was in the Northeastern US.) Consequently,
I earnestly tried to teach PE and felt bad that the only teachers supplemental
to the regular classroom ones were the remedial aides to whom I sent
children in batches each day. In other words, there were no music teachers
(nor instruments), no art teacher (nor art supplies besides the notorious
scissors, paper, crayons and glue), no class trips except to picnic
spots within walking distance, and no special all-school programs for
enlightenment and a change of pace.
Meanwhile, the students, themselves, were varied and problematic. For
example, there was John, the twelve year old. Held back two consecutive
grades in a row, he was small for his age as he had lacked adequate
nutrition at an earlier point in childhood. In addition, he had lived
in five foster homes (including two group homes) and had been in five
different school districts during the past two years.
Separated from his mother and siblings (the latter of whom were also
in various homes), he'd only learned of his father's identity two months
previously. In addition, he was legally blind and had to have his nasal
passages cleaned out from cancer at a children's hospital in another
state every two months. This history was imparted to me by his social
worker, who also asked that I "cut him some slack" on account
of his dire hardships.
Unfortunately John couldn't make it in my classroom and often spent
the day at the principal's office as he would race around the room screaming
or sit in the supply closet methodically rocking and sucking his thumb
all of which I documented for the school records and his social worker,
whose case load was far too large to pay adequate attention to the boy.
Eventually, though, he was removed from my classroom by three husky
policemen. It took all three as he was so wild and strong during the
moment that he was trying to bust his head open on the corner of a desk
during which time blood was splattering everywhere, including on my
clothes as I tried to single handedly stop him prior to the police arrival...
One can only imagine the mayhem that resulted for the rest of the children
during this incident for which, I was told the next day, John blamed
me in his police report, saying that I was pounding his head into the
desk. I was relieved to learn that no one believed him and, therefore,
I would not be charged and brought to court.
Then there was Ronald. Ronald was an obese boy who liked to deeply daydream
and draw doodles all day. So, I had to remember, throughout the day,
to loudly say "Ronald" every five minutes to get his attention
and bring him mentally back into class. In addition, he occasionally
smelled of liquor and I was not surprised when his father stumbled into
the class one day while rip-roaring drunk during which time he declared
in thunderous, slurred yells, "I love my son, Ronald" and
"that's my boy" over and over.
Of course, Ronald was all huffed up with pride with these public declarations!
How important he felt in front of his peers to whom he kept repeating
over and over, "That's my dad! He loves me!"
In addition, there was Anna. She seemed to be afflicted with some sort
of pronounced autistic problem. As such, she barely spoke except to
mimic others in a singsong voice while copying their behaviors. She
also would spend the day making spitballs and eating them, as well as
chewing up pencils for which I constantly tried to stop her. I, also,
had to protect her from the other children as they detested her and
mercilessly tormented her.
Furthermore, there was Reg. Reg liked to lift up the skirts and dresses
of some girls and grab their chests. Therefore, I had to be sure, when
I had them in line to go to the cafetorium for lunch, that he was not
near Mary, Sue or Lynn as these three liked his touching their bodies
and would wiggle their hips provocatively when he did.
Then there was Dave, who'd seemed like one of the more responsible boys,
until the time that his mother brought him to me during recess while
relating that he had run home a few minutes before and had been in a
psychological evaluation process prior to, recently, moving to his current
school from another one in different township.
I apologized to her for his leaving the grounds, but mentioned that,
while counted all of the thirty-two children frequently, it was hard
to keep track of them dashing about amongst the (approximately) two
hundred and fifty other children also milling about the playground.
This was compounded, I included, as I was also trying to run a PE class
for anyone interested in it.
In response, she indicated that she certainly understood my dilemma
and told me that it was an impossible task to keep track of them all
during every single minute. I appreciated her understanding.
However, not all the parents were so supportive. Reg's mother certainly
wasn't as I soon discovered.
I found out because, one day, I'd ask Reg to get back to his seat during
a math lesson that I was teaching using the chalkboard. He, meanwhile,
was trying to sneak up behind Lynn's desk to, I presume, try to raise
her dress yet another time.
Yet, instead of doing as he was requested, he flipped over three desks
and started erasing the entire chalkboard. As a result, I sent him to
the principal with Ronald escorting him, along with a note stating the
actions that Reg had done. In addition, I wrote a note to Reg's parents
for him to take home in which I, again, stated about his behavior in
the classroom and my wish that they would talk to him about expected
classroom standards.
All considered, I was elated the next day when his mother showed up
shortly before the children. I thought that she must really care about
her son and wanted to share with me about what she told him regarding
his misbehavior.
However, she simply said this, "I don't want you ever sending my
son to the principal again. I don't want the mark on his school record
about him having to visit the principal. It is your job, not the principal's,
to make him behave. Therefore, if you ever send him again to the office,
I am coming into this classroom and see that second story window over
there? I am going to shove you butt first through it. And I really will!
I mean it."
The next day, four girls refused to leave the classroom at the end of
class, went to the supply cabinet, for which there was no key, took
all of the scissors and started out the door. I said for them to put
the scissors back and one of them said, "Make me" and made
a very threatening gesture with one of the pairs when I blocked the
room's one exit door. The other girls surrounded me and did the same,
but eventually put the scissors back. Meanwhile, I was trembling.
I always felt, though, fairly safe for the most part as I thought that
the principal, a towering man, would always help me in the end if I
ever got in an impossibly bad moment. That is... I thought so until
the day that, during recess, I saw him being chased by running adults
of which some were smoking something while screaming, "We're going
to get you, you bas%#&*!" They were, at the same time, swinging
chains, bats and plumbing pipes.
As my students hadn't noticed the scene, I immediately asked Lynn, the
child closest to me, to do me a favor and go to the principal's office
and tell his secretary that I said for her to look out the window. Then
I quickly assembled all of the children while yelling after Lynn to
meet us all back in the classroom..
Then I told my class to hurry up as I had a big surprise back in the
room and, consequently, I wanted to cut recess short.
The replies were predictable: "Please, we want to stay outside."
"Aw, do we have to?" "You're mean!" "Boy, the
surprise had better be really good." Meanwhile, I was racking my
brain so as to try to figure out some surprise that I could give them
for obeying me in lining up so I could get them out of any harm's way.
I learned later that the incident was all about the principal facing
retaliation for shoving a twelve year old up against the wall by her
neck while yelling at her that he would kick his black shoe up her black
assh*%# if she ever misbehaved again. Apparently, her parents and their
friends didn't take too kindly to his blatant threat.
(For him to act so extremely, the girl must have done something really
awful -- whatever it was. Maybe she was the student who'd clogged every
toilet on all the floors except for one in the building. I didn't know.
It was not my business to inquire about her details. However, the day
that he was chased and due to which his secretary, yet another time,
called the police, I no longer felt safe at all. All the same, I managed
to make it to the end of the school year.)
At its close, I had forms that I could fill out to recommend children
for psychological evaluation. I really wanted to fill out the papers
for around twenty of my thirty-two, but was told that I'd have a better
chance of having any evaluated (within two or more year's time that
is) if I only picked one or two children. So I elected Anna as she had
gotten more dissociative as the school year had worn on and a boy who'd
acted very sadistic -- so much so that he scared everyone in class --
even the tough bully-boys. All the same, it was hard to choose amongst
the many children who needed and deserved psychological assessment as
I felt that I let down every single one who I didn't select.
In review, my experiences while teaching in the "T" schools
weren't a total disaster. Indeed, I had a few very fine moment, such
as the time that the mother of one of my students, a lunchroom aide,
had meekly asked if she could see me during my lunch break for which
she would get someone to cover her in the lunch room.
I'd replied in the affirmative and she, upon meeting with me, asked
me to explain multiplication and division to her on account of my having
sent a note home asking that parents help their children with memorizing
the tables. She, though, had no idea as to what this meant even thought
she was a US public high school graduate. All of this in mind, she told
me, she wanted very much to help her daughter learn what I'd requested,
but had no idea about where to start.
So I lined up pencils from the pencil cup in sets and showed her graphically.
Well, the amazed and joyous look on her face when she the whole matter
dawned on her for single digit by single digit multiplication and division
was something to behold. It was all quite new to her and I was deeply
pleased over her happiness and sense of success!
While this outcome and some others brought me much satisfaction, they
also made me upset. Why have I come across an adult, educated in the
US, who didn't know of simple math processes? Why have I, at other times,
come across classroom aides who can neither read, nor write except for
a few simple words? Likewise, why have I come across parents, who don't
know that the Civil War and the Revolutionary War are not one and the
same? Further, why have I met others who think that London is in the
country of Paris and suppose all sorts of other wildly erroneous notions?
In the end, I gave up my "dream" of helping disadvantaged
youth in a school setting. Instead, I decided to apply to a private
school. I thought that I'd likely be a better match for its students.
I simply no longer wanted to face the types of troubles that the special
ed students, the children in the art room, the fourth graders and their
parents could bring my way. I, also, felt helpless to fix an educational
program that had gone terribly wrong.
All the same, I could still "make a difference" in the lives
of children. Yet, I, like the sixth grade teacher, had simply had enough
of dysfunctional schools for now, I firmly decided. I felt ineffectual
and overwhelmed by the day in and out of them. After all, I cannot be
responsible for everyone everywhere despite that, in many locations,
the need for dedicated teachers is critical, especially in settings
such as I just described.
Yes, across the American landscape, there are countless villages, towns
and cities with dreadful schools. These are not places where much learning
can occur unless one considers learning new models of deviant behavior
as instructional. That many of the children feel like running away from
the school's grounds, inflict harm on themselves to avoid attendance,
prefer to daydream in lieu of paying attention (passively running away
in their minds) and haven't the bare minimum of adequate curriculum
supplies is indicative that, even if they were to want to learn in school,
it is impossible to do so for many children in the US.
In addition, many of these schools are breeding ground from criminal
activities (such as drug use, promiscuous behavior, and vicious activities
such as scissor tossing). On top, other children and adults teach that
the children are not worthwhile, such as the other fourth grade teacher,
surely, exemplified. They, also, teach that violence is an acceptable
way to deal with rule breaking (such as the principal at the last school
did).
In the final reckoning, these tragic schools teach that it is perfectly
acceptable to have a two-tiered educational system -- one for the wealthy
and another for the poor. That this, largely, takes place along racial
lines is equally lamentable and all but ensures that the lower class
will maintain its placement generation after generation and, thus, be
retained as a source for cheap, manual labor.
As stated by management at Mindfully.org.:
"We see the actions and policies of everyone from the President
on down to Endicott [of the US Department of Education], and further
down to the individual citizen who allows the actions and policies to
pass without challenge as the enemies of the state. For the purposes
of this comment — the state is any and all people who are citizens,
and for simplification, excluding noncitizens.
"All people are due
equal education and everything else that goes along with maintaining
a healthy society. All must have equal health-care, food, water and
environments to live in.
"In short, nothing less
than a paradigm shift is required to facilitate the well-being of society
in the USA. All must be free or none will be free.
"This may not agree
with the reader's opinion, but as we see it, the inequality that exists
presently must end if this country is to survive.
"It really does come
down to that — if the rich continue to hoard wealth and abuse
the other 95% of society, then they continually make themselves superfluous.
By doing so, they receive the same treatment that they dole out to the
less fortunate. This effect is clearly seen throughout the US presently,
as life as we know it is disintegrating before our eyes and chaos increasingly
rules.
"Those to blame are
everyone from the President on down to individual citizens who allow
these actions and policies to pass without challenge [1.]"
"You're either part
of the solution or you're part of the problem." — Eldridge
Cleaver, Speech in San Francisco, 1968
While educational standards
worldwide are deplorable (i.e., approximately 70 % of humanity cannot
read and write) [2], one would expect, from the wealthiest country in
the world, that there would exist a high universal interest in preparing
future citizens to be well equipped to benefit our country and reap
rewards from having citizenship. One would think that this happening
would be of paramount concern.
That it clearly is not is outrageous and alarming. The loss, on both
the personal and the national level, is thoroughly appalling and unconscionable.
As Jonathan Kozol puts it, this is truly "the shame of the nation."
Moreover, in that our society and government not only allows this to
occur, but purposefully ratifies such an unjust, pernicious educational
system as exists is unbelievable.The damage to individuals, the lack
of development in human potential and the injury to society at large
is tremendous. That so many impaired lives (and, ultimately, impairment
to whole communities) occur is unacceptable while the harm, itself,
is simply incalculable. All considered, all of the pathetic and poorly
run educational programs across the US must immediately be radically
revamped! There is absolutely no other choice than this!
* "T" is a capital of one of our US States. I did not want
to single it out as being especially bad as I am certain that conditions
in other capitals are just as bad as or worse than the ones that will,
subsequently, be depicted. So, "T" should not be given any
sort of notorious prominence. All in all, this is the reason that it,
specifically, was not named.As such, it should be considered as just
a capital city -- any capital city across our country.
[1] This quotation is from the first page of: Still Separate, Still
Unequal: America's Educational Aparthe... (http://www.mindfully.org/Reform/2005/
American-Apartheid-Education1sep05.htm).
[2] Please see this, originating from a teacher at Stanford School of
Medicine, to obtain an overview of humanity's present circumstances:
[thelist] OT: "As the World Turns" URL lost (http://lists.evolt.org/archive/Week-of-
Mon-20020218/104164.html.
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