Old School

My three year experiment in becoming a teacher has ended, and pretty much for the reasons that kept me from doing it many years ago. But more about that in a minute.

Three years ago last fall I came to Las Vegas after my good friend who lives here said that there was a shortage of teachers. I was temping and my prospects were dim and I've always been fascinated by Las Vegas so I jumped. I took a six-week course that enabled me to be hired by the Clark County School District, and I got a job teaching sixth grade English (six weeks is not long enough to learn how to be a teacher).

That was probably the first mistake. I had hoped to get a high school job, because my great character flaw is a lack of patience. So me trying to keep calm a room full of 11 and 12-year olds just wasn't a good proposition. But I had been looking for a job for a few months and took it, and I lasted two and a half years.

There was some good and some bad in those years. My biggest problem was classroom management, which is maintaining discipline through a consistent dispensation of rewards and consequences. But I just couldn't get it. No matter what I did the kids, being kids, were rowdy. Some were quiet as mice, but if you have two or three kids who will not do what their told, despite being sent to the dean, given detention, or having their parents notified, it will disrupt the class. I was both a softy and a meanie--I tended to look the other way on some things just to avoid problems, but when I did address something it inevitably involved yelling.

My third year through I thought I had improved, since the dean, who is on my permanent shit list, gave me a glowing observation. At the same time, though, she was recommending non-renewal, which meant it would be recommended to the Board of Education that I be terminated. This would likely keep me from getting hired anywhere else in the country. The acting principal suggested I resign, which would not indicate I did anything wrong, and try my luck elsewhere or at charter schools. After consulting with the union, they suggested the same thing, so I did.

I still thought I had what it took to be a teacher. I know my content backwards and forewords. The mistake I was making is that education is not the same as it was when I was a kid. I look back to my sixth grade teacher, who was a tough and strict man, and I don't think he would made it in this day and age. If kids talked he made them go sit in the hallway (verboten now--you have to be able to see all students at all times). He did not hit children, he grabbed them under the chin (he only did this to me once, when I lost a textbook). The principal paddled children, though, using a board drilled with holes that he called the "Board of Education."

Anyway, after a desperate summer of looking for work, including taking a job briefly at Dominos Pizza as a driver, I finally got a job at a charter school, teaching sixth grade again. I thought this might be different--it's more rigorous, does not push kids through grades like shit through a goose, and has a more structured atmosphere. At first it was great. The kids were like an oil painting, and I was able to handle things.

But then they, like kids do, got rowdier and rowdier. Remarks I made got back to my supervisor, such as when I called a kid a class clown and added, "Do you want a rubber nose and big shoes?" This was not taken well by the parent or my supervisor, although I thought it was a good line and perfectly appropriate for a kid who was purposely trying to disrupt the class (I didn't admit this, though). I was not allowed to write the names down of misbehaving students on the board, lest this stigmatize them. I could not say the word "hell." I did not use any other swear words, and I would never, ever, call a child stupid or dumb, but if they were not doing their work I let them know it.

Then I sent an email to a parent telling them their child needed an "attitude adjustment." I saw nothing wrong with this, but it went off like a bomb with administration. My psychologist, who used to be a school psychologist, thought there was nothing wrong with this. I was now an emotional wreck, walking on eggshells, fearing even making eye contact with my supervisor, who had nothing good to say about my work.

Thursday I had my semester evaluation, which couldn't have been much worse. I think the highlight was being told, as an English teacher, that I had the students reading too much. If you ask me, if a student had nothing else but a stack of books, if they read them they'd be educated. But no, there's all sorts of things you have to be aware of: Bloom's Taxonomy, Kagan Strategies, and then differentiated education for students with learning disabilities. I did acknowledge their accommodations, but was told I wasn't doing enough for them. I realized that according to my supervisor, I knew nothing. And maybe she's right. She did compliment me for not saying "hell" anymore.

That night I decided to resign, effective the end of the quarter. I have no other job lined up, but I do have some money coming my way that may enable me to retire. I'm certainly not going to teach anymore. I think I could teach college, or accelerated high school students, but you can lead a horse to water but you can't make them drink, and many of these kids don't want to drink.

Children are not the same as I was. They have very short attention spans. They are raised by mostly indifferent parents who don't discipline, and leave it to teachers. They have no respect for teachers. I was afraid of my teachers, at least until high school, when you could pal around with some but their was still respect. My sixth grade teacher, Mr. McLaughlin, who could be downright nasty (if he caught you chewing gum he'd make you sing a song in front of class while you threw it away) also had some fun with us. He'd show us movies and then show the film backwards (it was actual film, of course) which was always good for laughs. During the 1972 play-offs, when the Detroit Tigers were playing, he'd put the games on. And though he could be frightening, I learned. I grew up in an era when children could be hit or maybe even humiliated a little, and I turned out fine, in fact while I'm no genius, I think I'm pretty smart.

But those days are gone. Children are now treated like hothouse flowers, coddled, examined by endless standardized tests. If they are not engaged, it's the teacher's job to make them so, in some case enacting miracles.

All through school, and my memory may be spotty, I never remember any of my teachers being observed by administration. Certainly not Mr. McLaughlin. If he's still alive (he would have to be in his eighties) I'd love to tell him this story, and discuss teaching then versus now. But I'm done. I'm old school, and this leopard can not change his spots.