Whose in Charge Anyway?

When I began my long an illustrious career as a graduate student in Education I spent an unfortunate five weeks in a summer class where the professor had selected the thesis of "authority" as our focus. Her whole theme was centered around whether we has future teachers intended to consider ourselves as the authority in the classroom as opposed to a classroom where the students helped in choosing the course work, having a say in assessment, and leading the class through questions as opposed to selected questions with appropriate answers. This would have been an interesting exercise if the professor had not made it perfectly clear from the onset what our response was to be. Maybe I was missing something, but...

Authority is a tricky business. Those of us born before the 1990's (and those of you who were born after 1990, I mean no disrespect) fairly understood the difference between being in authority as opposed to being under authority. I was born in the 1960's. I never questioned the authority of my teachers, even those whom I hated a with a purple passion. I had never been taught otherwise. Your teacher tells you to do something; do it. Don't question, don't talk back; just do it. Now, back to the graduate professor. Even an old woman like me recognizes that the don't question approach to authority is full of holes and potential problems. Some folks have no place in authority. Like the Freshman Civics teacher who was such a stickler for rules that he left my fourteen-year-old self alone on a deserted street at 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning because my parents had the audacity to allow me to go on a field trip without the appropriate permission form. This was before the days of cell phones and I had to walk to a nearby store and borrow the phone to call my father (who happened to be the newspaper editor of our small town) to tell him I had been left behind. That Civics teacher never left another child again. He nearly never taught again. But I digress. My point is that I understand that teachers are not meant to be dictators, tossing out impossible orders under impossible situations. That being said, I think that somewhere we have lost the importance of one chief. We are after all a democracy. I try my best to give my students as much say as I can. I take a democratic approach as to what we read, how they are to be assessed. I consider how my students learn, how some of them do best with certain types of assessment as opposed to others. I want them to succeed. I want them to learn. In the end, however, someone has to be accountable for what they learn and that they learn. That someone is me. If half my class fails Junior English, I cannot tell my principal that I left it in the hands of my students.

I am thinking about this today when our president was left with the unenviable task of firing Gen. Stanley McCrystal. In all my years of listening to NPR, reading the papers, watching CNN, I have never witnessed such a meeting of the minds as I did today. Today, Republicans, Dems and media alike appeared to be on the same page; the President had no choice. My politics aside, (I am a Democrat) I was reminded of a West Wing episode when a young Republican was hired by the democratic president. The young woman was getting criticism from some fellow GOP's and her response was, "I serve at the pleasure of the President." I was reminded also of a time when my eighteen-year-old-smart-ass self said something rude about then President Reagan. My mother, who was such a liberal she makes me look like Sarah Palin, nearly slapped me in the face. "He's our president; don't ever talk that way again." I was stunned. She hated that man. But she respected the office. I guess what I am pointing at is that as long as we as a culture recognize that there are figures of authority, whether they are teachers or presidents, the buck has to stop somewhere. Someone has to be held accountable. My students are accountable for their grades. I, however, am accountable in terms of whether they learn what they are supposed to learn. I accept the responsibility of whether they pass the finish line or not. Some one does have to take authority.

Not off the Radar Completely

I received an email from one of my former students today. Well, to call it an email would be stretching. She was clearly texting - or at least I hope so given the poor spelling and brevity. I was touched that a seventeen-year-old would think to send a message to her English teacher. She wrote, "Mrs. Curl how r U?" We volleyed back and forth and she told me she was bored, missed school (skool) and missed having me as a teacher. I was touched and I will admit it helped my sagging optimism. Surely, something will come through.



The first of day of post-planning I was taking a few things out to my car. It was one of those early, humid, hot days in Georgia when you spend as little time outside as possible. Walking out to my car, I passed a young man pushing a dolly loaded down with cardboard boxes. I presumed he was a delivery person of a sort. When I returned to my classroom, the same young man I had passed in the parking lot was unloading his dolly in my classroom. Awkward. I inquired helpfully, "Can I help you?" He looked worried and said "No, Mrs. (we'll call her "Smith") wanted to send some things over. Is this your old classroom?" I realized that my replacement was moving in. "It soon will be." I replied. To his credit, he immediately took stock of the situation and apologized. "I'm sorry...I..." I smiled. "It's okay. I was a late hire so..." He finished my sentence, "So you weren't re-contracted. I'm really sorry." It turns out this twenty-three-year-old had planned on teaching himself when he got frustrated that he was not getting a job so he applied for a job with the school system. Now he's delivering boxes for other teachers and making more than I am. Hmmm. I was doing well until this point. I had not cried, even when my fifth period students threw me a surprise party. I was so close to getting out the door without an outward show of emotion then this kid shows up with his dolly and says; "I don't mean to get personal, but are you religious?" I said yes. He continued, "I really believe that God puts us where we're meant to be." He pointed to my white board where my students had left me farewell love notes. "Clearly they love you. You'll get something else. You just have to put it God's hands." It was at that moment, to my utter horror, that in front of this relative stranger I burst into tears. I thanked him and ran out of the room.

Many teachers are loved by some of their students. Many teachers are remembered for one reason or another by their students. I realize it does not make me an exceptional teacher nor does it necessarily speak to my abilities in the classroom. What it does speak to are the connections that are made every day by classroom teachers. I think those connections are what keep many of us in the profession despite the poor pay, despite the uncertainty, and despite whatever issues. That's what brought the tears that day; the connections I would lose.

But I've only just started...

Last October, 2009, I was hired to replace a teacher who broke her contract to move to another state. I had all but decided I would never be hired, having applied for dozens of teaching positions without so much as an interview to show for my trouble. When this job came through it seemed to me a redemption of sorts; a confirmation that I was pursuing the right goal. I had wanted to be a teacher since I could remember, despite the detours that I had taken, I was now finally achieving that dream.
It was a good year - eight months. I loved my school, loved my administration, my fellow teachers. Though I had pictured myself as an elementary school teacher, I had no hesitation in accepting this job as a junior English teacher and Drama teacher. I grew to love my students and high school. It wasn't easy. I, as the new teacher, the replacement, the interloper, was rejected by most of the students, despised by a few, but eventually they came around and within a few weeks they were my students. It was my first year. I made all the rookie mistakes, but I and my students survived them. My first, second and final observation reviews were glowing.
Then in late January when the rumors of layoffs began and it seemed that the unthinkable - that the economy was catching up to education - was a reality, we all began to worry. Was I safe? It was my first year, but I felt good about it. I taught two disciplines, surely...
One day, immediately after the final bell, I was called into the Principal's office. I was reminded that as a late hire I had known (had I?) that re-contracting was not promised. I had known (really?) that this might be the case and I did remember (did I?) that this had been discussed. I left her office in a fog of disbelief. For all my efforts, for all my earnest ambition, for all the love...I would not be re-contracted.
That was February. I worked through the stages of grief. I avoided the other teachers for a while, even my friends, especially the teacher who I was sure was getting my position. Then I cried. I cried a lot. A lot. Then I realized that I had months to prove my necessity and that perhaps, something would come up, perhaps, not all was lost.
I left my first year as a teacher with glowing reviews and lots of promises that something would come up and with encouragement to be hopeful; something would come to me. I am, I am told, a good teacher.
The first few weeks of summer flew by me. I threw myself into domestic chores, spending time with my children and checking my email twelve times a day for some word from former colleagues. Now it is nearing the end of June and I haven't heard from anyone in some time. My fear of falling off the radar is growing.
So what will I do? What if I do not get another teaching job? Will my first year be my last year? What do I do with all these ideas of mine? What will I do with these lesson plans un-taught? What does one do when one is living the life of an Ex-Teacher?