We were having a “conversation” one day during a faculty meeting. It was during one of those Teacher Learning Days that happen before the school year starts. We had just been given the specialist schedule, which, for those of you who don’t teach elementary, is the schedule that tells you when your kids go to PE, music or the library. In other words, it tells you when you get your daily, 30-minute planning time.
The fourth grade teachers were upset. “We always get our planning time in the morning! Why should the fourth graders always get the bad schedule! That’s just not fair!”
I’m not normally one to enter into a vigorous debate between various groups of middle-aged women, but sometimes I can’t help myself.
“Actually, that is the only fair way to do it,” I said. “Think about it: if one grade level has to have a bad schedule – and apparently it does – then the fairest way to do it is to give the same grade level the bad schedule every single year. That way, every kid gets it only once. But if you move it around every year, then you practically guarantee that some kids will get it more than once and some kids will never have it.”
“Of course,” I continued, “that’s only if we’re looking at this situation in terms of what’s best for the kids. If we’re talking about what’s best for teachers, then that’s a different conversation.”
I’d like to say that my razor-sharp logic won the day, but I can’t. My comments weren’t appreciated, least of all from the fourth grade team, who only glared at me with their collective stink-eye. And as I recall, it was my grade level that ended up with the crappy schedule that year.
But seriously, how often do we really regard policy decisions from the perspective of the educational stakeholders who hold the largest stakes? How often do we look at the long-term benefits for the greatest number of students when we decide policy?