This experience has helped me explore some of the educational issues that we have explored in class. My identity has not been shaped and molded into the form of teacher I have encountered, but rather into some type of rebellious opposite. I want to be a Kozol, fired for teaching poetry that is not read until the 8th grade level. I want to be Shor, challenging conventional teaching styles, and attempting to reach all students. I want to emulate Freire, challenging my students to ask questions, rather than demanding they memorize pieces of information. What I do not want to be is a teacher similar to those I have encountered, at least not while they are on-duty.
However, they did not want to be that way either. They did not want to teach to the test, even when what the test asked was insigificant. They did not want to have internal debates with themselves on whether they should focus on the skills children will need in the real world, or the "skills" they'll never need again... the "skills" the test requires profiency in. And surely, not one of those teachers entered the field hoping to be assaulted by white walls and mantras of success, or little blue-printed words they would near-memorize over the years. Not one of those teachers wished for a flawed No Child Left Behind.
Yet here they are.
Though I claim I aim to become a strong and rebellious teacher, someone who petitions for change, only time will tell if I can truly become an ambassador for it or not. I have seen some eye-opening things in the little time I was allowed to spend inside the classroom, and can only imagine how insightful some of my posts would have been with even more time inside the classroom, viewing its structure. From this experience, I have also gained the love of two little boys, who, in spite of whatever any test says, are intelligent human beings, and simply need some extra attention. Rather than employing a harsh use of punishment, if the school system attempted to distribute praise, perhaps they'd feel less self-conscious. Perhaps if the student who was called "slug" at home in his attempts to read had someone like me fighting off that label for him in school every month of the year, he wouldn't be "falling below profiency."
What I have learned the most from this experience is that in our attempts to be proficient and churn out perfect, autonomous students, we have forgotten to acknowledge our human element. We have forgotten to relate to our students, and ask for their unique point of view. We have abandoned our curiosity, and asked them to ignore theirs. We have taught to the test, but at the end of the day, what have we really taught them?
Nothing I hold to that high a scale, and nothing I plan to instill within the high school students I'm granted the priveledge to teach one day.
Monday, December 14, 2009
There is a great difficulty in today's world to gather parents for school events. At the school I frequented, the classroom attempted to host its own special afternoon for parents. The children worked for at least a week, constructing stories, re-tellings of events, to read their family (and the other children) at a "Publishing Party." The children were excited and overwhelmed, re-writing and crafting the same story until it reached some level of "perfect." The turn-out of parents was larger than I expected, with mothers carrying cameras to photograph every moment, and fathers encouraging their sons to speak louder, so everyone could hear.
Unfortunately, it was almost inevitable that some parents could not make it that day. With a majority of families bearing two bread-winners, there simply isn't that one housewife or house-husband who can drop everything and appear. Nor is there always that parent who can afford to miss a day of work. Though a large group of parents did make it, that did nothing to console those who were left to read their work aloud to strangers. Some read very quietly, nervous to present to a group they did not know. Others were loud and made a racket until they were kicked out of the classroom, feeling no need to be there or participate any longer. Similarly, the children who had parents there demanded silence while they read, but made noise or left the publisher's table during the reading of student without parents in attendance. The idea was, "what does it matter?"
Such are the issues a school faces when trying to generate parental involvement. Though the adults may have had greater success if this party were hosted during the evening, the issue then becomes, how many students would be allowed up that late? How many parents would feel like making the return trip to the school? What would happen to children whose parents worked the night-shift, and thus could not read to anyone, let alone their family? What would happen to children whose parents did not own a car, and may not want to take a long walk through a darkened Providence?
The event went relatively well, but the classroom needed a way to make the event important to students even without a parent in attendance. There needed to be someone to tell each child that they wanted to hear what they had to say, and that their words were important. Instead, students created their own form of segregation: students with parents there were important, and special. Students whose parents did not come were insignificant, and their stories irrelevant. Though I and my fellow tutor tried to approach and reach out to each of these children, it wasn't always enough.
Unfortunately, it was almost inevitable that some parents could not make it that day. With a majority of families bearing two bread-winners, there simply isn't that one housewife or house-husband who can drop everything and appear. Nor is there always that parent who can afford to miss a day of work. Though a large group of parents did make it, that did nothing to console those who were left to read their work aloud to strangers. Some read very quietly, nervous to present to a group they did not know. Others were loud and made a racket until they were kicked out of the classroom, feeling no need to be there or participate any longer. Similarly, the children who had parents there demanded silence while they read, but made noise or left the publisher's table during the reading of student without parents in attendance. The idea was, "what does it matter?"
Such are the issues a school faces when trying to generate parental involvement. Though the adults may have had greater success if this party were hosted during the evening, the issue then becomes, how many students would be allowed up that late? How many parents would feel like making the return trip to the school? What would happen to children whose parents worked the night-shift, and thus could not read to anyone, let alone their family? What would happen to children whose parents did not own a car, and may not want to take a long walk through a darkened Providence?
The event went relatively well, but the classroom needed a way to make the event important to students even without a parent in attendance. There needed to be someone to tell each child that they wanted to hear what they had to say, and that their words were important. Instead, students created their own form of segregation: students with parents there were important, and special. Students whose parents did not come were insignificant, and their stories irrelevant. Though I and my fellow tutor tried to approach and reach out to each of these children, it wasn't always enough.
Within my visits to the school, there were slight attempts to acknowledge diversity. Although the school is one that lacks sufficient funding, some of my classroom's students are from private schools that were closed, and simply shuffled over. Other students truly don't have much money, and have never had the choice to attend private facilities. And then there is one of the most obvious diversifying factors: race. Though second-graders are too young for discussions of things such as the political aspect of education, or what socio-economic group is empowered the most through education, they are never too young to discuss issues of equality, in even slight ways.
This does not happen here. The closest the classroom comes to discussing difference is reading picture books that depict characters of color as the main subject. The classroom creates the illusion that race is inconsequential, and administers tests that way as well. It attempts to create an autonomous classroom. However, though that aim sounds pleasant, Delpit argues, "Many liberal educators hold that the primary goal for education is for children to become autonomous, to develop fully who they are in the classroom setting without having arbitrary, outside standards forced upon them. This is a very reasonable goal for people whose children are already participants in the culture of power and who have already internalized its codes."
In its quest to be an autonomous classroom, sometimes language is not even corrected. The students will say words with extra an extra s, or skip saying a word with an apostrophe because they do not comprehend the sound. Sometimes, they will use slang in their answers. The teacher will just continue on, without acknowledging the issue of the dialogue one must know culturally, and the formal english one must know to succeed. This sounds like a bit much to ask from a second grade classroom. However, after having seen their rows of posters giving lists such as state standards and rules for success; after having seen how they discipline students and teach obedience, it feels as if these students are already being treated as adults in certain regards. They must also be treated as adult and conscious enough to understand the need for formal english, and its impact on their future. If it is let go, it could have dire costs for them as they grow older.
The students also need a chance to learn material in different ways. Ira Shor argues that the traditional system of education teaches competition, by showing the classroom whose handwriting is the neatest, only hanging "the best" works of writing, etc. However, Shor finds such methods of teaching to be ineffective and create a negative attitude about schooling. Unfortunately, there is a very distinct reason teachers won't alter the way they teach: Shor was right, education IS politics.
On one of my later visits to the school, the teacher of my classroom showed me a book. It was the book of lesson plans she had been issued. She told me that she used to use her own lesson plans, and keep students in line through her own tactics. Occasionally, if she knew students were not paying attention, she would make an assignment a "quiz." She would grade it as originally intended, and it would count for nothing extra, but she would get every child's undivided attention simply by using the q-word. She does not use any of those little games or her own lesson plans anymore, nor does she craft her own speech.
She opened the lesson plan to a particular page, and I was aghast. "See that part written in blue?" she asked. "That's what I'm supposed to say outloud to the class. They tell you how to speak to the class about each activity." The activities all must be done in order and on schedule. At any given time, the teachers will be surprised by a visitor (such as the principal) and have to explain their lesson plan, citing its exact number. Though the teachers miss the creativity they used to have, they have their reasons for not rebelling against the system: seniority has been taken away.
With this privledge of teaching gone, anyone can be let go at any time. She gives an example: recently, an entire elementary school of teachers was laid off. They were all replaced with newer teachers. The schools, she explained, used the excuse that low-performing schools needed to change. So they would blame the teachers, fire them, and then pick up new teachers, who received less money. Now, when the schools fail again, it won't matter. At least they're paying 1/3 the price. Though teachers are evaluated to see how they perform, she is never at ease. Because the teachers are instructed to read the blue words from their planners verbatum, evaluations have become somewhat of a popularity contest. "Now it's a matter of who likes you and who doesn't," she said.
Who can blame her for not wanting to make waves?
This does not happen here. The closest the classroom comes to discussing difference is reading picture books that depict characters of color as the main subject. The classroom creates the illusion that race is inconsequential, and administers tests that way as well. It attempts to create an autonomous classroom. However, though that aim sounds pleasant, Delpit argues, "Many liberal educators hold that the primary goal for education is for children to become autonomous, to develop fully who they are in the classroom setting without having arbitrary, outside standards forced upon them. This is a very reasonable goal for people whose children are already participants in the culture of power and who have already internalized its codes."
In its quest to be an autonomous classroom, sometimes language is not even corrected. The students will say words with extra an extra s, or skip saying a word with an apostrophe because they do not comprehend the sound. Sometimes, they will use slang in their answers. The teacher will just continue on, without acknowledging the issue of the dialogue one must know culturally, and the formal english one must know to succeed. This sounds like a bit much to ask from a second grade classroom. However, after having seen their rows of posters giving lists such as state standards and rules for success; after having seen how they discipline students and teach obedience, it feels as if these students are already being treated as adults in certain regards. They must also be treated as adult and conscious enough to understand the need for formal english, and its impact on their future. If it is let go, it could have dire costs for them as they grow older.
The students also need a chance to learn material in different ways. Ira Shor argues that the traditional system of education teaches competition, by showing the classroom whose handwriting is the neatest, only hanging "the best" works of writing, etc. However, Shor finds such methods of teaching to be ineffective and create a negative attitude about schooling. Unfortunately, there is a very distinct reason teachers won't alter the way they teach: Shor was right, education IS politics.
On one of my later visits to the school, the teacher of my classroom showed me a book. It was the book of lesson plans she had been issued. She told me that she used to use her own lesson plans, and keep students in line through her own tactics. Occasionally, if she knew students were not paying attention, she would make an assignment a "quiz." She would grade it as originally intended, and it would count for nothing extra, but she would get every child's undivided attention simply by using the q-word. She does not use any of those little games or her own lesson plans anymore, nor does she craft her own speech.
She opened the lesson plan to a particular page, and I was aghast. "See that part written in blue?" she asked. "That's what I'm supposed to say outloud to the class. They tell you how to speak to the class about each activity." The activities all must be done in order and on schedule. At any given time, the teachers will be surprised by a visitor (such as the principal) and have to explain their lesson plan, citing its exact number. Though the teachers miss the creativity they used to have, they have their reasons for not rebelling against the system: seniority has been taken away.
With this privledge of teaching gone, anyone can be let go at any time. She gives an example: recently, an entire elementary school of teachers was laid off. They were all replaced with newer teachers. The schools, she explained, used the excuse that low-performing schools needed to change. So they would blame the teachers, fire them, and then pick up new teachers, who received less money. Now, when the schools fail again, it won't matter. At least they're paying 1/3 the price. Though teachers are evaluated to see how they perform, she is never at ease. Because the teachers are instructed to read the blue words from their planners verbatum, evaluations have become somewhat of a popularity contest. "Now it's a matter of who likes you and who doesn't," she said.
Who can blame her for not wanting to make waves?
The students attending the elementary school I frequented bring a great deal of cultural capital to the classroom. Infoworks shows that at least two percent of every ethnic group is represented within the school, with 35% of students being white, 33% Hispanic, and 26% African-American. My own classroom was diverse, with only a handful of students being white, and the rest of various races.
This atmosphere provides something Kozol would want, to an extent. A school free of racial segregation; unfortunately, it is not a school free of economic segregation. The school itself does not garner the most funding, and worries greatly about passing the state-issued exams each year. These children, Kozol would argue, are still being denied access to things other children are being granted; a chance at a greater education.
He gives an example about the school system in New York, where "affluent parents pay surprisingly large sums of money to enroll their youngsters, beginning at the age of two or three, in extraordinary early-education programs that give them social competence and rudimentary pedagogic skills unknown to children of the same age in the city's poorer neighborhoods. The most exclusive of the private schools in New York, known as "baby ivies" cost as much as $24,000 for the full-day program. Competetion for admission to these pre-k schools is so extreme that private counselors are frequently retained, at fees as high as $300 an hour, to guide the parents through the application process."
In a stark contrast, students in the Providence public elementary schools do not have the advantages of students in private institutions, or even of those who attend public schools in areas with more money to spend. When asked where they intended to send their children one day, 9 out of 10 teachers from my own school itself stated that they would enroll their children in private schools. Although they were Providence public school teachers, all but one did not want to subject their child to what they felt was not the most stimulating educational facility. One said that yes, they all tried their best, but with the restrictions the school placed upon them, some children inevitably floundered. She did not want her child to be one of them.
This atmosphere provides something Kozol would want, to an extent. A school free of racial segregation; unfortunately, it is not a school free of economic segregation. The school itself does not garner the most funding, and worries greatly about passing the state-issued exams each year. These children, Kozol would argue, are still being denied access to things other children are being granted; a chance at a greater education.
He gives an example about the school system in New York, where "affluent parents pay surprisingly large sums of money to enroll their youngsters, beginning at the age of two or three, in extraordinary early-education programs that give them social competence and rudimentary pedagogic skills unknown to children of the same age in the city's poorer neighborhoods. The most exclusive of the private schools in New York, known as "baby ivies" cost as much as $24,000 for the full-day program. Competetion for admission to these pre-k schools is so extreme that private counselors are frequently retained, at fees as high as $300 an hour, to guide the parents through the application process."
In a stark contrast, students in the Providence public elementary schools do not have the advantages of students in private institutions, or even of those who attend public schools in areas with more money to spend. When asked where they intended to send their children one day, 9 out of 10 teachers from my own school itself stated that they would enroll their children in private schools. Although they were Providence public school teachers, all but one did not want to subject their child to what they felt was not the most stimulating educational facility. One said that yes, they all tried their best, but with the restrictions the school placed upon them, some children inevitably floundered. She did not want her child to be one of them.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The elementary school I've been visiting since September reminds me of a type of school defined by Jonathan Kozol at his lecture; one that cannot "afford" to allow its students to get distracted, and places emphasis on discipline, and getting through its designated lesson plans. It has no playground or grass outside for the children to run through during recess: instead, they play in an empty area of the parking lot. Inside, the hallways are dingy and barren. Children are taught to file through the halls without making a sound; those who do not do so are quickly taken aside and reprimanded.
My classroom did nothing to detract from my opinions. Though some student works hang from its walls, the majority of the classroom is covered in rules and standards. From each corner hangs a different list of standards. How to walk in the hallway quietly, how to succeed, etc. In the front of the room is a chart with a list of every student's name. Under each is a color. Green is good, yellow is slightly bad, orange is the final warning, and red means a note is going to be sent home, and priveledges lost. It does not take much to lose the status of green, and once a student does, the only way to regain it is to remain quiet until a certain incriment of time has passed.
Although the teachers within this school have been nothing but kind and courteous, the school itself bears a strongly off-putting vibe. It greatly values discipline, and lacks the emphasis on fun and creativity my own elementary schools bore. Teachers are encouraged to be strict, and "tough." The first day I attended the class, the principal herself came in to scold the children for being unruly, and the worst second grade class in the school in terms of discipline. In later weeks, I myself have been encouraged to exemplify a greater toughness with my own students.
My impression of the school's sense of values has only increased from visit to visit, as I've gradually been exposed to more classrooms and examples of "tough" educators. The students, rather than being intimidated, seem to be resilient, still doing anything to get away with dancing and chatting amongst themselves. They only begin feeling remorse when they receive a negative note to send home: that's when the tears start.
My classroom did nothing to detract from my opinions. Though some student works hang from its walls, the majority of the classroom is covered in rules and standards. From each corner hangs a different list of standards. How to walk in the hallway quietly, how to succeed, etc. In the front of the room is a chart with a list of every student's name. Under each is a color. Green is good, yellow is slightly bad, orange is the final warning, and red means a note is going to be sent home, and priveledges lost. It does not take much to lose the status of green, and once a student does, the only way to regain it is to remain quiet until a certain incriment of time has passed.
Although the teachers within this school have been nothing but kind and courteous, the school itself bears a strongly off-putting vibe. It greatly values discipline, and lacks the emphasis on fun and creativity my own elementary schools bore. Teachers are encouraged to be strict, and "tough." The first day I attended the class, the principal herself came in to scold the children for being unruly, and the worst second grade class in the school in terms of discipline. In later weeks, I myself have been encouraged to exemplify a greater toughness with my own students.
My impression of the school's sense of values has only increased from visit to visit, as I've gradually been exposed to more classrooms and examples of "tough" educators. The students, rather than being intimidated, seem to be resilient, still doing anything to get away with dancing and chatting amongst themselves. They only begin feeling remorse when they receive a negative note to send home: that's when the tears start.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
My name is Ashley Massotti, I'm a Secondary Education major, focusing on English. Unfortunately, when I'm not at school my life tends to be ruled by work; I've been working 35-40 hours a week at a local Rite Aid for over a year. Fortunately, I'm switching jobs sometime in the next week --- hopefully, I'll be able to explore some my interests again. Among them are photography, scrapbooking, writing, and watching juicy soap operas.
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