So the “new bright shiny thing” novelty of being in a new building isn’t quite wearing off, but I’ve most certainly been given a healthy dose of reality. In each department, one person is designated as the “ITL” (Instructional Teacher Leader). It is that person’s job to…well, to be honest, the job itself has morphed into a vague memory of its original self. Originally, the ITL ran the department. It was the ITL who had the ultimate input into the master schedule; it was the ITL who helped colleagues get those supplies that the principal insisted weren’t in the budget; it was the ITL who ran interference when parents came in for conferencing. Now, however, the primary function of the ITL is to meet with the other ITLs and administration and carry messages of “top-down” edicts to their peers in their respective departments. With that said, my lesson plans for the week (which, granted, deviated from the lock-step curriculum) were met by the English ITL with words of warning. “One day off curriculum,” she warned. “You have one day.” My initial reaction, of course, was to stomp my feet, cross my arms and clench my teeth. Instead, the more “mature” me smiled and said, “thank you.” I wanted to follow it with “may I have another?” but I bit my tongue to bleeding instead. When that incident seemed to have lost its immediate ability to cast a pall over our conversation, I took a stab at my next apparently “rebellious” act. Polleverywhere.com is a tool I’ve been itching to utilize in my classroom, and I tried to casually mention that fact as the discussion turned to future plans. When the ITL finally stopped gasping and was able to formulate a response, it came out as a hybrid cross between “oh my GOD” and “you can’t be serious”, seasoned with a little “you better learn your place here”. I was informed of the strict no tolerance policy regarding cell phones; the consequences should I choose to ignore that policy; and a not-so-veiled threat that seemed to smack of “I dare you.” I realized then that simply changing schools, even in a new capacity, wasn’t going to free me of the internal struggle in which I have become engaged–how do I balance the teacher I WANT to be with the teacher I HAVE to be?
I thought this new position would allow me more flexibility, but the cold hard facts are that I will once again be forced to follow a lock-step curriculum, reading a verbatim script, while the teacher inside of me continues to die. I want to utilize new technology; I want to dress in costume and have my students perform Shakespeare; I want to have them build newspaper castles to learn the writing process and draw comic strips to learn to identify significant moments. I want to use Wordle when we talk about identity and blogs to explore current events. I want to engage my students in distance learning opportunities and video conferencing with schools around the world. I want to create and implement service-learning activities; show my students what it means to volunteer; take them to see the opera and the ballet. I want them to read about what interests them then challenge them to think outside the box. The sad truth, however, is that I will, instead, have them read archaic pieces of politically-correct literature; identify significant moments; talk about the “gist”; write and reflect on the text. I will read scripted questions and respond in a scripted fashion, writing on chart paper instead of a whiteboard, using lined paper instead of MSWord.
Is it too late for me? Am I living too far in the past, when teachers had some autonomy? Should I truly be looking for another profession? For God’s sake, the kids aren’t even back yet, and already the frustrations are mounting. Any suggestions welcomed before I spontaneously combust!
No question–no fun.
I would look elsewhere. But while you are there do everything you can to smile. They will NEVER listen to you if they don’t like you. You will find the 5 minutes here or there to sneak your new ideas. Use them to build success. Focus on that.
You go, girl, I can’t wait to find out how it turns out. Keep pushing the envelope. Your students deserve to be engaged.
Thanks Brandt and Virginia! I intend to keep plugging away until they tell me to go…which, incidentally, might not be far off!
so, do the shit they tell you to do. then, when that shit fails to get the kids to meet objectives, do your shit as “extra credit” to give them a chance to pass, and to make sure your kids meet AYP.
but also? think about starting ‘writing workshop’ or whatever, where you are now. you were by far my most effective teacher ~in~ the classroom, you and mr. donaldson, but you taught me a TON outside of the classroom too, and i think that was just as valuable, if not moreso.
you know, because of you, i read ‘a prayer for owen meany’, and got introduced to John Irving. I would ~never~ have picked that up on my own–back then, i was either reading YA trash, or Black Panther tomes like Soul on Ice. But from John Irving, I found John Updike, and I got introduced to a whole new world of literature that I would’ve never known, if it weren’t for you.
but the thing is, part of why i respected you, was because you weren’t LIKE the other teachers. you seemed to actually give a damn about your students. and i could tell you cared about your material.
so–i say, level with your class. 30 kids is a lot, and you won’t reach all of them, but you can say–here’s what they want me to teach. i have to do it this way, because i have kids. but if we can get through this–if we can do the boring stuff, then i promise you a world of interesting learning–if you can eat your veggies, then i will bring you cake for your brain! you’ve got a 50 50 shot of getting a few kids who will feed the teacher inside.