On a more personal (and somewhat random) note….

*Before I get going, please know that I have started a response to all of the wonderful people who commented and messaged me about the whole teaching thing. Expect to see that in a day or two. With that having been said…

It’s a difficult thing to look inward, but I’ve done just that recently. One of the many reasons that I love my wife so much is that she “keeps me honest.” If you know me, then you know that I absolutely need that! It’s not an easy task to have to deal with me, so let me say that I really appreciate the fact that she never lets me get away with anything. (And I’m serious about that.) All it takes is one look or an offhand comment from her and I’m immediately into self re-evaluation mode. (For some reason, this comes to mind.)

At any rate, sometimes life can be a real pain in the ass. I’ve been struggling lately in a perpetual state of mental anguish. It’s not something I go through very often, so it’s been a bit foreign to me, but it has been tangible and strong. If you’ve read my other posts, then you’ll see that I’m not quite satisfied with my job right now. More on that later, though. For now, suffice it to say that I’ve had quite enough of all of it: the myriad stresses that life imposes upon us. And for what? To make us more miserable? stronger? who knows?!….

You can take a boy out of ole’ Dixieland,

but you’ll never take ole’ Dixie from a boy. 

We moved 600 miles south, only to find that we ain’t in the South anymore. Good grief! I miss it. I never imagined that I’d miss the South as much as I do, but Ronnie’s words ring so true for me right now. The people down here are just, well, not Southern. They’re way more upfront in their assholery and they are wwwaaayyyy lacking in the common sense department. It drives me nuts that these folks just don’t have manners or politeness or tact. Or, at least it has driven me nuts. While I miss the “bless your hearts” and the “kill ’em with kindness” mentality of my fellow Southerners, I’ve also decided that I will no longer allow my environment to negatively impact me. That’s a tall order, but I just can’t keep going on like I have.

There comes a time in everyone’s life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

Being a passenger in the seat of life is no way to live. That’s just no way to live. I’ve had a number of personal and professional epiphanies of late. I must thank my excellent online friends for their input and their love.

I’m just…well, I should just probably stop. I’m running the risk of becoming all-Romeo in Act I, scene i or Hamlet at pretty much any time in that play or – dare I say it? – maybe even Prufrock and I don’t want to become an overly dramatic parody of myself (anymore than I already am). It’s just occurred to me that we’re all fighting our own battles, so to speak. And those who are dearest to us have such an impact….

Isn’t this what’s life really all about? A continuous re-creation of self? Always seeking and forging one’s own way? Dealing with that heinous bastard called life?!

It occurs to me that perhaps there’s a beauty to all of that – those struggles and questions and doubts and triumphs – that a better philosopher can comment on. It just amazes me that it took me this long to see it. Or, maybe more precisely, that I need to be reminded of it this constantly…

A freakin’ ray of sunshine

I plan to respond to the excellent comments and questions I’ve received later. Maybe tomorrow or Thursday.

For now, though, I’d like to bask in today. Don’t get me wrong: 5th period was still, well, BLEH. And we probably lost out on an awesome rental house we really wanted (by 15 MEASLY MINUTES!).

Those setbacks pale in comparison, however, to the fact that it was a damn good day.

For the second day in a row, work was good! A few days ago, I wrote to a former professor:

Part of the reason the students are behaving like they are is because I’m allowing them to. I might not be able to fight their home lives or the area’s culture (and disdain for education), nor can I really fight their teenage-attitude-angst-entitlement junk…but I can control what happens inside of my classroom.

So these last 9 weeks will be different.

And the last two days have been. As I’ve told the students (warning: corny teacher speech forthcoming):

I am doing things MY way for these last 9 weeks. That means that we are going to work hard, but we’re going to have some fun while we work hard. We’re going to learn a lot and do some cool things. If you want to be a part of that, great. I want you to be! So hop on my train and let’s go. If not, then there’s the door. (this is the time for a dramatic hand gesture: slowly point and look toward the door.) Please leave and report to student services. Stare at the wall down there until we find you somewhere else to go. It’s your decision; but all I’m asking for is that you try, you have a good attitude, that you do the things I ask you to do, and that you’re ready to work.”

Then I put my money where my mouth is, so to speak. It took three discipline referrals and a good bit of redirection and re-training, but we had a good time yesterday and today. You would not imagine how much freshmen enjoy being able to insult each other and their teacher using Shakespeare’s words (I have a .doc if any teacher buddies want it). We had a lot of fun doing that. Maggot pie, pignut, and fat-livered have been pretty popular so far. And, yes, I played along and they were able to insult me, so long as I could return the favor. We had some really great laughs and many students took the sheets with them so that they could insult other friends later, which I thought was a small victory in a weird way.

They also loved talking about the ten statements on the anticipation guide for Romeo & Juliet. We ended up having some really good discussions in each of the classes and I think many of them are hooked and excited about reading R&J.

And today the counselor came to talk about schedules, grades, and college – which is usually code for “time to send a bajillion emails, write lesson plans, and work on that power point for tomorrow.” Today, though, I listened to what she had to say, largely because I’m new to the education system down here and needed the information myself!

In two classes, some students and I ended up having good conversations about college. They thought it was crazy that my freshman Chemistry class had 400 people in it, which led to us all discussing the pros and cons of community colleges, smaller 4-year colleges, and universities. (It’s really difficult, by the way, to utter the words: “The University of Florida is a really good school.”) They were thinking about their educations, grades, lives, etc. It was good stuff.

And then…two moments occurred after school today that really helped to soothe, and possibly even mend my soul a little. I had a lengthy discussion in the hallway with a brilliant child from one of the honors classes. This is the same child who I urged to read Emerson and Whitman – even let her take my copies of their works home with her. And she’s read(ing) them. In fact, two Whitman poems showed up in her poetry anthology last quarter. She’s got that rebel/individual streak, so I knew she’d like ole Walt. Plus, the rebels/individuals are always among my favorites.

We covered a variety of topics that one might not expect a high school freshman to be interested in, much less know anything about, but she does: abnormal psychology, serial killers, paranoid schizophrenia (turns out we each have a history of it in our families). She wants to be an author, and she is quite a good writer, so we talked about whether or not college was necessary. I threw out the fact that many of our great writers – Shakespeare, Faulkner, Hemingway, Twain – never went to college. Her retort? “We can’t base what we do off of them. They had experiences and opportunities that we may not, so we can’t really look at them as examples.”

I love it when that happens.

Another gem: “Have you ever read any Kafka?” You know you’re not dealing with a typical freshman when s/he asks you if you’ve read Kafka. She wasn’t just giving it lip service, either. The Barnes and Noble Kafka collection was apparently quite affordable, so she’s currently working her way through “The Metamorphosis” and has “head that ‘The Hunger Artist’ is pretty good, too.” Yes….yes it is. So she plans to come talk about those when she’s finished them.

Before she left (turns out that instead of waiting outside for her ride, she decided to pop in on a couple of her teachers to chat), we talked more about Faulkner. She was interested in The Sound and the Fury, but I convinced her to tackle As I Lay Dying first. She’s borrowing one of my copies when she finishes Kafka.

Then, as I’m walking out to the car with a really awesome colleague and friend, I see a student and her parent. The student says, “Mr. Turpin!”. She’s obviously proud of the fact that I get to see her drive away, and she should be, so she’s wanting to get my attention. Her mother then approaches. We introduce ourselves and her mother begins our conversation with, “So, you’re the Mr. Turpin that M is always talking about? It’s so good to meet you.” It was a lovely and warm conversation. M is a hard-working and bright student, and her mother was incredibly generous, kind, and funny throughout our conversation.

That’s why we do this. Now, I’m not saying that I’ve resolved my issues with this profession or that I’ll hang in for another 30 years. Our discussions are far from over and I’ll get to them in due time…but it feels great to have intelligent conversations with fantastic students. To know that there are serious students of literature and philosophy and thought out there who are hungry for mentors and direction. It’s awesome when parents recognize what we do and express their appreciation for the impact we’re having on their kid’s lives. And when we’re able to express our appreciation to those parents for raising such awesome, smart, and hard-working young people.

The past two days were good.

Even better than all of that, though, is that we went to the pool for the second day in a row. There’s not much that soothes the soul like helping teach the 4-year old how to swim and seeing how much he loves playing in the water. It is a little scary that he’s completely fearless, but that’s also great in a way because that lack of fear pushes him to do some cool things. We just have to watch him very carefully. Very carefully. (I blame his mother for that fearlessness, by the way.)

I rubbed his back and watched him as he dozed off to sleep this evening. That was incredible, and I am overcome with emotion and gratitude that I had the opportunity to doze off myself on his floor beside him. And I’m incredibly grateful that I’m about to go hug my incredible wife good night again.

I am truly blessed. And I consider each of you a blessing, as well. Good night. Happy tomorrow.

What tipped the balance?

After a posting on my Facebook wall expressed my exasperation and frustration with teaching and my desire to pursue a new career path, a former professor left me a wonderfully caring and insightful message, wherein she asked:

“what tipped the balance this week?”

That question has haunted me since she asked it. I’ve ruminated, if you will, and after some distance and rest during spring break, I was jotting some notes and preparing to address it.

Then a former college roommate and buddy posed a similar query the other day:

“I would be curious to better understand what’s driving your current attitude towards the profession. Shitty students? Apathetic parents? The fact that every new semester doesn’t play out like Dangerous Minds?”

I’ve ruminated enough; I’m finally ready to respond.

Perhaps the biggest thing that drives me absolutely nuts right now is that my job often feels like a bad (or good) episode of The Office. We know what works in schools. It’s not rocket science, after all, and they’ve been studying education for a hundred years now. Hell, Arter and Spandel traced the history of education from 1890-1995. They titled their book The Failed Promise of the American High School. That should tell you most of what you need to know about their findings: we’re NOT doing what works. We’re not living up to the demands of a diverse, populous country such as ours. We’re not preparing students for the workplace as well as we should. We’re not preparing them for college as well as we should.

But we know what works! We know how to raise test scores (yawn) and we know how to make students better readers, writers, and thinkers (whoo!!). It’s really not all that difficult, either, to be honest. It does, however, require leadership with a vision and the ability to get others behind that vision.

As much as we might poke fun at its hokey-ness, a former school district had their vision absolutely right. They called it the 3 Rs: Relationships, Relevance, and Rigor.

Relationships are the most important thing that teachers do. As I’ve said to my students, “I don’t teach English; I teach teenagers. I teach you.” If a curriculum isn’t relevant and based in real-life learning, then what’s the point? There’s not one. And rigor. We must hold our students to standards of excellence academically and behaviorally. It’s like Field of Dreams: If you build it, they will come*. With students, if you expect excellence, then they’re generally going to live up to it.

Nothing about those simple tenets is too terribly difficult, although none of it is particularly easy, either. Because this is damn hard work. Developing and fostering relationships with teenagers is incredibly rewarding for both teachers and students, but it’s wrought with the perils of teenage angst, hormones, and drama that requires the patience of a saint. Making learning relevant is also difficult, but if students can see the real-world applicability of the things you ask them to do, then they’re more likely to take it seriously and learn something from it. And standards. It’s easy to set high standards, but takes determination to hold students to those standards through their whining, angst, and hormones.

But – and this is a big but – all of this comes with the profession. I had no delusions of grandeur when I went into teaching; I knew all of this and didn’t mind the work. I committed myself to finding a way to make it work and when it wasn’t working, I went back for a Specialist degree. I had the good fortune of meeting like-minded people who encouraged me as I forged my beliefs and practices in the crucible of experimentation, dedication, and doing things a little – or a lot – outside of the box. I was also lucky enough to have some truly awesome colleagues who cheered me on, gave me advice, and kept me honest along the way.

I came out on the other side a damn good teacher with my own way of doing things. My students benefited. I was happy. Our test scores soared (more indicative of a great group of teachers in our department). My students actually learned to become more critical observers of their worlds (whoo!!). They read better. They wrote better. It was wonderful!

As I’ve ruminated about “what tipped the balance” and “what’s driving [my] current attitude,” it became apparent.

Yes, I know everything that comes with teaching. The long hours. The bajillion papers to grade. The lesson plans. The whiny teenagers. The lack of respect. The abysmal pay. I know all of that.

I also know what’s it like to work at a place where my approach to teaching is not only not welcomed, but met with open hostility and unprofessionalism from colleagues and administrators. I also know what’s it like to work at a place where there’s little administrative support for holding students to even a bare minimum standard of excellence and where micromanagement and control supersede good, sound teaching.

When good teachers are put in these kinds of environments, it’s soul crushing.

It’s even more soul crushing that we know what works, but aren’t doing it. There’s almost an antipathy, in fact, toward doing what works. Toward enacting meaningful changes in education. And not just “big R” Reform on a national level but “little r” reform in our classrooms and schools and districts.

Worse than that, it’s soul crushing when no one even bothers to ask any of us teachers for our input. No one cares what we think – the people who actually do this job day in and day out with 165 students on our rosters who face the challenges inherent to teaching well.

Education is in serious trouble in this country when we not only face threats from the outside (media, politics, a public who doesn’t value or respect our profession), but when we also face internal threats.

It’s soul crushing when we start turning on each other. When we stop supporting each other; when we don’t do what we know is best for our students; when we aren’t working with a common vision toward a common goal of helping kids; when people who are “in charge” detest and refuse to hear different opinions from their own; when people who are supposed to be working together for the greater good of kids can’t be bothered to give a damn about each other…in fact, can’t be bothered to even ask others what they think…we’re in trouble.

And right now, we’re in trouble.

(There’s more to come, but this is enough for now. The rest needs to ruminate some more)

*It was in a Kevin Costner movie, so you know it’s true. Well, except for anything in Waterworld.

Why Teach? (part 1)

Why teach? I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately, so I thought that it might be a good place to start with these ruminations of mine.

It might be stating the obvious, but we need good teachers. Our education system depends on good, intelligent, dedicated professionals who impact young lives. We need caring people to foster the talents and abilities of our nation’s youth. I’m reminded of this passage from Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed:

Education either functions as an instrument which is used to facilitate integration of the younger generation into the logic of the present system and bring about conformity or it becomes the practice of freedom, the means by which men and women deal critically and creatively with reality and discover how to participate in the transformation of their world.

I know many damn good educators who practice the latter part of that passage: they help adolescents learn to become critical observers of their worlds and they do their best to equip their students with the tools necessary to, as Freire puts it, “transform…their world.”

Many of my former students and colleagues would probably say that I, too, teach that way. It’s certainly what I’ve tried to do since those student teaching days when I had a mentor teacher who showed me what it meant to actually care and help students while teaching them something along the way. I pushed myself when I had a great group of students who really responded well to the new approach I implemented after taking a “Theories of Teaching Writing” class with another mentor.

It was great. A group of students made an entire film version of Julius Caesar. We had some great and in-depth discussions. Even when I moved schools and got another fantastic group of students, it was still just fun. We worked hard, learned a lot, helped each other, and managed to have a good time while doing it all.

Now that I’m in my 3^rd school in two years, though, it would seem – in the famous words of BB King – that “the thrill is gone.”

It’s like I only had so much of myself to give to this job, and now the reserves have been used up and there’s nothing left in the tank.

This past quarter was incredibly difficult. Probably the most difficult period of my career. Apathetic kids. Awful teenage attitudes. Terrible work ethic. It just felt like everything I did was in vain. There was some sort of vortex that pulled me down and down and down, deeper into this depressive job-hating funk.

I felt this way once before – early career burnout after two years in the classroom – but that feeling pales in comparison to the feelings I’m having now. Looking back, I pushed myself too hard that year and didn’t necessarily remain true to my teaching beliefs. I imagine that’s a common phenomenon among early career teachers because inherent in teaching, unlike many other professions, is a tremendous on-the-job learning curve. But I adapted then by going back to school and committing myself to finding a way to teach the way I wanted to.

In the midst of my current saga, however, it’s become increasingly difficult to see any bright spots. The dread I feel each morning as I get into the car and drive to school is soul numbing. As I climb the stairs to the second floor, the weight of the world bears down because I know I’m about to climb another mountain by having the audacity to hold my students to academic and behavioral standards. How dare I expect them to read? Write? Think? Turn work in?

It’s just too much. Why would good, intelligent, caring people stay in a profession like this one where the pay is abysmal, the hours can be grueling, the workload is tremendous at times, and there’s minimal value put on what you do?

It just doesn’t make sense. I used to think that if we – the good, caring, smart teachers – worked hard enough, did our job well enough, and got great results, then we’d be able to change things. Idealistic, I know. Silly, too, I think. Now I question whether or not I can even help change the environment in the school that I’m in.

And people wonder why nearly 50% of teachers leave the profession within five years?

More to follow…

Ruminate

Ruminate (verb): 1) to chew the cud or 2) to think and ponder.

I used to blog a LOT. I’d link to those musings, but I deleted them. I thought that being an unabashed progressive might hurt me as I attempted to get a job in conservative America, so I took some misguided advice and deleted the whole thing. Shouldn’t have, but did. Cowardly move on my part. Oh, well…such is life.

So why did I decide to start blogging again? I’ve wrestled with the notion for a while, but just couldn’t find the motivation. Recently, though, I’ve done a bit of “soul searching,” if you will, and I realize that I still have a lot to say – even if it’s only to and for myself. Selfish, right? I know. But I think this might be the best forum for me to organize my thoughts, work through things, all that jazz.

We’ll see.