Maybe it's because I didn't grow up in a rough neighborhood. Maybe I was just offended when not one, but two police cars needed to flash their lights when they pulled me over for the first time in my sleepy suburb (on the morning of my 17th birthday, no less). Maybe I have an issue with the police officer who gave me my first ticket the week I came home from my honeymoon. But I can't stand that I live in a society where I feel anxious when I see a police officer. The thing is, when I'm driving, I don't want to have to worry if 5-10 mph (on a clear day, not weaving in and out of traffic... etc) will cost me $100. I don't want to have to be nervous if I walk out of a bar in college (after I was 21, of course), or out of a house party and step onto the sidewalk. I understand that police officers have a relatively dangerous profession, but that doesn't negate the fact that a good citizen like myself should feel nervous every time I see one. I constantly do the stomp-the-brake-stare-obsessively-out-the-rearview-mirror maneuver when I pass one. And I don't really think that's right.
I happen to believe that many police officers are in a profession in which they have a reasonable amount of power over others, simply because of the power card. The gun in the holster, but "I'm doing it for the greater good" mentality. The more I think about the examples in our society in which people exploit their power, the angrier I get at how passive we are about it. Now, it's easy to give examples of the exploitation of workers, government agents, etc, etc, etc. But I'm not really talking about those... we can recognize corruption and problems in those institutions. I'm talking more about the institutions that we accept as a part of our community... the institutions that shape our children, our homes, our taxes, and the future of our communities.
When I was interviewing for teaching positions two years ago, I met with many principals... some of whom told me outright I had the job. Others called me back for multiple interviews, only to inform me that I was #2... but would I take a long-term sub position instead and perhaps they could squeeze me in next year? Beyond the principals, I met with panels of high school teachers, staring me down, asking me to dissect poetry, prepare an 8-page lesson plan, grilling me on literary theories & teaching theories alike. Not one of them smiled, except when they said goodbye. I felt frustrated... they needed someone to teach theater. They needed a softball coach. They had a system in which they could plug the exact qualifications into a database and come up with a viable candidate. A square peg to fit their square hole... full of neat, 90 degree angles and perfectly able to morph into a triangle if necessary. I became discouraged with the system-- frustrated by principals (some of whom I worked for, most of whom I met), who were authoritative, sometimes quietly inflecting their power through raised eyebrows while telling me things. Others made me wait over an hour before they were ready to meet for the interview. And the teachers... they were the worst. Silently sizing you up, determining which table you would sit at in the teacher's lounge.
Once I asked a principal (after being rejected to even interview at his school) for 10 minutes of his time, to offer an aspiring teacher some advice. Plus, I wanted to introduce myself in person. My request was ignored, and I received a generic e-mail that I had already received from someone in the administration when I requested their time. It became disheartening... it reminded me of how suppressive high school can be.
I had always thought high school was suppressive because of hormones, boys, catty girls, my own insecurities and messed up priorities. High school was stifling because the teachers didn't "get" me, because the assignments were boring, because someone told on me for going out to lunch as a junior (thus resulting in ISS, an eventual kicked-off of the cheerleading squad, and my not joining NHS), or because I was awkward and had braces and was shy and didn't do my makeup. Instead, as I waded through the endless interviews, false promises, and form letters announcing my rejection... I realized that principals had a lot in common with the police officer waiting on the end of a dead-end road in my sleepy suburb, ready to pounce with his radar gun.
As I started diving into the world of education AS an educator, I realized that the suppressive-ness doesn't end in high school. I realized how highly political the hiring process can be. And just because you may be the best candidate for the job, some other donkey will most likely get 1 of the 2 positions available. Once I was told that they had over 200 applicants. It didn't matter to me; I believe I was better than every single one of them. As I began to see the hierarchies of the education system, the complexities of unions, administration, school boards, and the inability to affect change in the system (how many teachers do you know who are fired/let go? not many, I would imagine), and tenure issues... I realize that suppressive does not begin to cover the world of education. In what way can an individual teacher affect change in a system that is clearly built around "the way things have always been"?
And, most importantly, in what way do we teach children to be forward-thinking, to problem-solve, to affect positive change in their community, if they are told to sit down and shut up in neat rows of 25 desks per classroom?
When I look back on why I decided to teach high school... I get a little stumped. It wasn't because I had a particularly great experience. In fact, I can't name one teacher that inspired me (my entire life) or challenged me, or touched me in any way, until I get to college. It's worth noting that I went to a high school with an enormous amount of respect in the Greater Cleveland Area, a top-performing, Excellent-rated, highly sought-after school district. And yet, not one teacher really inspired me to teach. I mean, you can say my mom had an effect on me... she is a teacher, after all. But she taught special ed. She taught me how hard she works, in a converted janitor's closet, sharing with another teacher, and how they usually have 15 kids in the room at a time... and don't get to take a lunch. They requested a larger room... but... again, amazing how things don't work out. I'm willing to bet the only reason they requested the larger room was because it would help the kids learn better. But, I'm getting sidetracked.
Anyway-- why teach, then? Why high school? (well, because I don't want to babysit 1st graders, for starters). But when I look back on what I love and want to do in the classroom... I'm brought back to my involvement in a (seemingly... bear with me here) nerdy program called Destination Imagination. DI is something I am passionate about, and will forever give up Saturdays to appraise kids and celebrate creativity. DI is a program that encourages kids to join together in teams to solve a central "challenge"-- an open-ended challenge with many different elements. The kids can choose which challenge they want to solve (there are ones that involve engineering, building structures, or simply creating skits), and then they present their "solution," which is always a performance of some kind that showcases their work. The kids are NOT allowed to have any interference from parents or anyone outside their team-- that's rule #1. Rule #2 states that if it doesn't say you can't... then you can. Ok... not sure if that's a written rule, but here's some bullets of what I love about the program:
- The vocabulary: We appraise, we don't judge. We offer positive feedback, and have team managers, not coaches. We value DaVinci Awards, Renaissance Awards, and the Spirit of DI (i.e. lending another team an extension cord if yours was lost in your u-haul truck)
- The vision: teamwork, creative problem solving (find the answer that is well-integrated into your solution, but something unusual and effective!), questioning, attempting new things, performing and interacting with appraisers, utilizing everyone's strengths for the greater good.
It's non-oppressive. Everyone wants the kids to succeed... and yes, it can get competitive... but a good competitive... you find yourself striving to beat the best team you know about, simply because you know that if you do that, you have achieved more than you thought possible.
That's why I wanted to become a teacher. To challenge students to question themselves, their world, to make sense of others' perspectives. To communicate effectively and creatively. To be interesting, to work together & stand out, to make a difference, and to affect positive change. And I believe that through writing and reading... there is no better medium to teach diversity, free-thinking, and creativity. There is no better medium to encourage critical thinking and problem solving, to challenge students to understand their world, and make an imprint... even if it's a tiny pinky-finger imprint... to leave it a little better.
And as I stumbled through teary rejections, or tried to polish off my edges so I could be this square that they needed to fill their hole... my vision of a classroom and an environment brimming with creativity & voices (not mine) slowly became muddled. I began to see the catty sorority sisters become teachers in other states... I looked back at some of my own teachers, and realized that the system was in place. Too many principals made me feel beneath them. Too many teachers were unable to relate to a confident, yet still slightly nervous young aspiring teacher, looking for a little guidance, even as I sat opposite a panel of them. Too many people were unable to be courteous to me... a principal I knew very well, one that had told too many people I had the job, one who joked with me that I was his favorite... sent me a four-sentence rejection letter after I went through round 2 of the interview process.
When I finally met with the company I am with now... I was tired of being that square peg, and felt reassured, somehow, that they saw me as a whole person... my family, my ethics & values, my work ethic and tenacity. I'm in a field which, by all accounts, I have no business being in. I'm not passionate about either thing that the company does... except, I am passionate about feeling valued. Feeling as though my ideas (from a young, 24 year old female) matter. And not feeling suppressed. I'm not even writing this because I know there's a chance they could read it (and no, my job is not rainbows and butterflies... sorry guys), but I really feel as though my bosses are not necessarily superior in that they need to let me know that they are above me. Instead, I respect them because of their vision, work ethic, and values. Isn't it sad I can't say the same for the education system?
I remember vaguely reading education articles about the oppressive nature of our classrooms and public education. And it wasn't until I met these people who run our schools, who treated me as though I was less of a person, less of a person of value, less of a teacher... that I realized how true that might be. Question how we equate success in school. Question how children get into college. Question how many decisions kids make every day... how many decisions they are asked to make, regarding their education, their learning, or their own thoughts and beliefs.
And then go to www.destinationimagination.org and sign up to volunteer with a program that truly is all about the kids. Because for me, that's what I signed up for when I took hours of classes on constructivist teaching, when I created silly bulletin boards and sat through a Praxis test (which I scored an "excellent rating" on, by the way. -- eat that, Mr. Principal) selecting a's and b's and showing that I knew who Robert Frost was and how many syllables are in a haiku. Because that's what mattered, right?
