Janus: Thoughts from an Association Leader and a Self Proclaimed Supreme Court Nerd.

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Current Affairs, Uncategorized

On Wednesday, the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS for us Supreme Court watchers) released their opinion on the case of Janus v. American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees, Council 31.  For the majority and dissenting opinions visit: https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/17pdf/16-1466_2b3j.pdf.

Janus, as it’s popularly known, reverses an earlier decision (Abood v. Detroit Board of Education) made by the Court in 1977.  In Abood, the Court ruled that a public sector union could charge an agency fee to any person who decided not to be a member of the public sector union.  This fee is charged for the work that the union does on behalf of all of it’s represented population, not just it’s members. For example, when I, a local association president, go in to negotiate our  collective bargaining agreement (CBA) with the school district, that CBA addresses the work environment, compensation, and benefits for all teachers, counselors, school psychologists, instructional coaches, etc.. not just the dues paying members of the union.  This fee provides our local union officers compensation for the work that we do on behalf of the fee payer. In Washington State, agency fee payers can complete paperwork asking for reimbursement for any of those fees that have not been spent on their behalf but paid out for/toward activities/benefits that only members of the association can access (such as members only scholarships).

This isn’t the first time a case has come to the Court on this issue. Two years ago I wrote about the Frederich case here https://storiesfromschool.org/understanding-the-frederich-case/. This might help break down the challenges to a case like this and address some legal lingo associated with Janus, as well.  The Court ruled 4-4 in Frederich (Associate Justice Scalia had recently passed away and his seat remained vacant, hence only 8 members of this court).

So, two years later, with a Court of nine, the question posed in Janus is whether requiring an individual to pay the agency fee to a union is a violation of the individual’s First Amendment right to free speech.  The argument made by Janus and ruled by the majority of the Court (5-4) was that Janus’s requirement to pay the fee to a public sector union represents his agreement with speech that he may not condone.  Therefore his right to free speech was infringed upon by having to pay the agency fee.

So, on Wednesday, the Supreme Court issued their opinion and here’s what it boils down to:

  • Agency fee payer status does not exist in public sector unions.
  • Some teachers may choose to no longer become members because they want to save some money.
  • Those non members have lost a right to union representation (including legal representation) in any disciplinary meeting unless (according to footnote 6 on page 22 of the decision) the nonmember asks for representation by the union. Then, the union may charge a fee for that grievance procedure.
  • Fewer local dollars coming into the local union ultimately means fewer funds available to do the work.  

Why is this of concern?  Well here’s what our local association does:

  • We provide 3 scholarships to local graduating seniors.
  • We provide money in the form of grants to support classroom teachers. Our teachers use this to buy library books, guitar strings,  classroom snacks, materials, calculators, copy paper, student novels, etc…
  • We provide scholarships to our members.  This has purchased: robots for student use, guitars, attendance at college classes, and professional development at our local ESD.
  • We provide dinners and refreshments for evening parent teacher conferences so teachers can be fed when they have to stay at school late.
  • We bargain benefits, work environment, employee rights, and now, salaries.

These dollars support teaching and learning 

It’s not that I can’t see the argument held by the Majority in Janus. I’m an AP Government teacher who teaches civil liberties and the judicial process to my students each year. While it might be a fair argument to make, as a government and politics teacher, I learned a long time ago to see competing arguments as just that.  As a teacher and advocate for civic engagement, I instead encourage my students to embrace questions instead of opinions. So here are my questions:

  • What will bargaining look like now?
  • Will our local members remain committed to one another?

And here’s the big question:

  • Will our association continue to serve as a beacon of teacher leadership and strong student advocacy if resources are depleted?

Setting the Stage for Learning

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Education, Elementary, Professional Development

“Mommy made me mash my M&M’s,” trills from the nervous troupe of twenty-five on the stage. Kindergarten to high school, these children are all warming up their voices for this summer’s presentation of “Alice in Wonderland” to be presented at our community theater. It is an all-children production; children will be acting, building sets, running lights and generally spending their summer months of June and July busily learning the art of theater. Wow! It is a whirlwind of creativity and intense focus!

I sit in the seats and watch the artful director as she manages her cast and the chaos about her. She is a natural and is adept at bringing out talent in her students. She is trained. She is skilled. She is volunteering.

Who knows who might be on the stage in front of me; the next Bette Midler (cleverly disguised as the girl who is constantly poking the boy next to her and giggling) or James Dean, who sits nonchalantly at the edge of the stage taking it all in, coolly removed from the preparation of it all and yet, on cue, his voice solos a piece that draws you deeper into the play. Each child is actively discovering and shining their own diamonds in the rough.

I want this moment in my classroom; this theater, this drama, this drawing out of students’ talent. But…and yet…

But, I do not have the skills nor the training to finesse such a dynamic. I can clearly see the skill set the director before me has on display. It is a different type of with-it-ness than what I use in the classroom. It is an odd blend of “more loose” and yet more commanding. She knows how to spatially place her players and what will and will not work onstage. Her visions are grandiose. She makes bold statements of how a scene will play and I think, “What? They can’t do that. It is too complicated.” And yet, as if by the magic of the theater, the action takes almost immediate form on stage. She is skilled and gifted in theater. Neither of these are traits I possess.

And yet, it is clear that our state has fully embraced requiring schools to provide these opportunities for self-expression in the form of theater, dance, music, and the visual arts. As of 2017, we have adopted new Arts Learning Standards. These standards are being assessed in-district, using OSPI developed assessments. As a school, we recently completed a school accountability survey set forth by the Office Superintendent of Public Instruction of what we are currently offering our students in the Arts. How many hours are we providing per week? Who is providing the instruction? As a staff, in a small rural school, we often have to be very creative in how we make these experiences happen for our students.

Should schools require the arts to be taught in school? YES! According to the Dana Foundation, the Arts increases attention skills, spatial skills and motivation. Not only do these contribute to an increase in reading and math test scores, they impact a person’s entire life beyond academics. The ability to pay attention, to see connections in space relative to themselves or between concepts, and a desire to go and do? These are basic foundational needs that all learners need in order to be successful in their lives beyond school.

Should the state provide funding for teaching the arts? YES! Currently, there is not funding allocated specifically for the instruction of the Arts at the elementary school level. Our school supports our Arts Program through fundraising and grant writing. These tasks are often placed on the shoulders of our staff. Both of these are time-intensive tasks that take away from the education of students. It should not be this way.

Why do the Arts even matter? The answer to this could – and has – filled many a book. For me, on this sunny summer morning, the answer is in the awkward teen whose entire demeanor changes as he sets foot on the stage – shoulders lifted, a broad smile; he is in his element. His voice rolls forth in a solid sound, “Mommy made me mash my M&M’s!” So silly…so freeing…so theatrical! His face is one of newly found confidence; a new found self.

The power of art to not only to express who you are, but to learn who you are.

Thinking about Feedback

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Assessment, Life in the Classroom, Literacy

In the last few weeks of school I was admonished by two students from different classes, and different schools actually, about the feedback I’d given them on their writing. There was not enough, basically, is what they both said.

I don’t disagree with them.

I remember the power of teacher feedback when I was in high school, and college. In fact, my graduate program did not give out letter grades. Each semester our professor/mentor/writing guru would write a half-to-full page review of our work. I was not alone pacing in the vestibule before the wall of student boxes afraid to pick up that powerful envelope, open it, and read what those professors said about me and my writing.

And that was after a semester of generous feedback. My whole master’s degree program was modeled on writers in conversation about their work and the great writers of the world.

As a professional I have read Nancy Sommers’ Harvard study, Stanford’s information on how to improve student writing through feedback and many other sources.

I get it.

Currently I teach four different English courses across seven sections, and they are all writing intensive. I love it and I don’t want a different course load. But there are realities I must face with this course load, like the amount of hours I can remain awake. And I don’t need much sleep.

I have rubrics designed to give as much feedback as a rubric can with the circling of a box. I hold individual student conferences, a few times a semester because I can say more than I can write, and I strive to, at bare minimum, note something working and something not working in a piece of writing so students can give it attention and amplify it or rework it. I think that works. And I know for a fact there are weeks and, sometimes months, where I do this really, really well, and there are weeks or months where I do not do this very well.

Here is what I am thinking about, offering up, and plan on working on next year: the way students ask questions about their writing. The students who questioned my level and quality of feedback had a legitimate concern. I looked back at their documents and remedied the problem by offering feedback and asking them multiple questions. I don’t mind doing that. But what has stuck with me most in the exchange is the fact that these writers (these student writers—though I’d argue we’re all student writers) did little more than complain about a lack of comments and never engaged with their own work at any level.

If a student won’t engage with their own work beyond, “is this good?” or “what’s wrong with this?” or “I need your feedback to reach my full potential,” then one problem in my classroom is not my feedback or lack of feedback, but the way these writers are engaging with their work. I have not taught them how to ask questions about their own writing. Good writers are good tinkerers. They always look at their work from one direction, then another direction, delete something, add it back in, re-arrange, etc. I need to find ways to foster that mentality in students. I never know if a piece of writing is “good,” and I know for sure I have nothing to do with a student’s “full potential.” Those, of course, are things they must work out for themselves.

I read interviews with writers obsessively, and can say with some confidence that the majority of great writers will acknowledge that the quality of a piece is ultimately measured by the writers’ internal satisfaction with it, with the knowledge they’ve done everything they can and it is time to abandon the work. What the world does or does not do with it is, well, up to the world. All artists know this.

Therefore, the writers I know and share my work with have conversations about our writing that center around language such as, “I’m having a problem with the ending….” Or “is the tone off in the third paragraph?” or “do you believe this character?” or “dear god, I can’t think about commas any longer, but I’m sure some of the commas are off in this, could you take a look?” The point is the questions are specific and come from a perspective of deep engagement with the piece of writing.

That is my new teaching focus in writing instruction. How do I foster attention (beyond telling them to pay attention to their language and to ask specific questions, which I’ve done for years) in a student writer?

Good thing I have some time to think about it.

Shelton’s Evergreen Elementary: A Dual-Language Model

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Uncategorized

The Office of the Superintendent of Public Instruction recently convened a task force for the purpose of expanding dual language programs in our state for all students. Should the initiative get traction and be implemented throughout our state, this would make dual language available across our state. All students would have access to instruction in two languages. As an English language educator and the parent of a child in the Spanish Immersion program in Spokane, the prospect of dual language rolling out for all students is exciting. The benefits of bilingualism are countless, including expanded job opportunities and brain function.

Few districts in our state currently provide dual language programs. However, there are a few ahead of the game and can serve as prime examples of what dual language can look like and accomplish. Pasco school district has a robust bilingual program which particularly supports their Spanish speaking English Language Learners. They are working on expanding to all students. Seattle public schools also has several dual language programs in multiple languages and there are successful programs in Burlington and Mt. Vernon. 

One program in particular, though, serves as a model for the potential outcomes of successfully implementing dual language throughout a school – Evergreen Elementary School in the small district of Shelton, Washington. Evergreen elementary school implements a 50/50 model, in which students have instruction in both English and Spanish every school day, across all subjects. This is a key piece to the program. Students have access to academic language for every subject, which is essential to gaining true biliteracy. Additionally, Evergreen serves students from pre-k through 5th grade and has shown tremendous growth in all students. 

Under the new Every Student Succeeds Act which measures academic growth, Evergreen is a Tier 1 school, outperforming the other two elementary schools in the Shelton school district in academic growth for Hispanics, whites, students of poverty and English Language Learners. In addition, Evergreen has the highest transition rate for English Language Learners. This success is based on data from 2014 to 2017 (See data link below).

An additional impact of the program has been a positive effect on attendance. In Shelton, Evergreen has the highest attendance rate for the whole district at 94.4%. Students are not only learning content and language, but also learn to value school. They enjoy being at Evergreen and are so engaged in their classes and connected with their teachers and one another that they want to go to school every day.

I had the pleasure of meeting the pre-school teacher, Celia Butler. She is from Columbia. Her passion was clear from the moment I walked into her classroom and her connection with her students was inspiring. She greeted her students in English and in Spanish and had a room rich in color and in language. Each tiny student who came in, greeted their teacher with “Good Morning” and a hug. There was love in her classroom – an uplifting community to get them started on there journey through school. This classroom is representative of all the classrooms in this school. This in and of itself shows the community and engagement in a dual language environment. 

I am anxious to see what comes out of the OSPI task force for dual language. With such tremendous programs, like Evergreen elementary, with its excellent student outcomes, the Office of the Superintendent has good examples to draw from in developing the initiative as it rolls out across the state. One of my English language learning colleagues, Amy Ingram, is a member of the Task Force. I’ll be following Amy’s blog, as she documents the work of the task force. Particularly, how it will work in concert with existing English language learning programs and its potential positive impact on recruiting bilingual and diverse educators. 

Check out Evergreen Elementary’s date:

http://reportcard.ospi.k12.wa.us/SchoolIndex_2018.aspx?groupLevel=District&schoolId=1&reportLevel=State&yrs=2016-17&year=2016-17

(The report is on the OSPI Report Card site.  You have to press New WA School Improvement Framework, and then go into the SIF Data Display tab, and click on district and school.)

Framing the Debate on Immigration

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Uncategorized

Statue of Liberty seen from the Circle Line ferry, Manhattan, New York

I would be willing to guess that most people born in the United States have at least one immigrant in their family. Immigrants are people who settle in a country other than the one in which they were born. This can be said of most of our ancestors. Unless you identify as “Native American,” a member of an indigenous tribe here in the United States, you are likely the descendant of immigrants. Immigration is a permanent and important part of our shared history in the United States. Despite this shared history, every day in my newsfeed, I witness a heated debate about immigration. 

One important piece of that debate is terminology. I see people use the terms, “immigrant,” “documented immigrant,” “undocumented immigrant,” and “refugee” interchangeably. I also see some use other terms, more derogatory terms that seek to dehumanize others, which only work to divide us. Since this post focuses on creating a shared understanding, I will not share those here. 

When we use “immigrant,” “documented immigrant,” “undocumented immigrant,” and “refugee” interchangeably, we are confusing the conversation. It is essential when discussing people coming to our nation seeking refuge that we use the appropriate terminology, otherwise, we have the tendency to group all people and “other” anyone not born in the United States. This leads to fear and isolation, neither of which connects our communities or makes them stronger. 

Here are the basic definitions of the three terms:

Immigrant: A person who comes to live permanently in a foreign country.

Documented Immigrant: A person who comes to live in a foreign country, either permanently or temporarily, having the appropriate legal documentation. 

Undocumented Immigrant: A person who comes to live in a foreign country, either permanently or temporarily, not having the appropriate legal documentation.

Refugee: A person who has been forced to leave their country in order to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster and has been granted legal refuge in a foreign country.  

More importantly, behind each of these terms, is a person – a man, woman or child – with a story. As the teacher at the Newcomer Center at Joel E. Ferris High School in Spokane, Washington, I have the honor of being the first teacher for some of the immigrant and refugee children in our country. In the United States, public schools are responsible for educating all students and cannot check a student’s immigration status or otherwise discriminate on the basis of a students national origin. As a public school teacher, I get to know these students and their families as people, hear their stories and understand their cultures. It’s incredible. These stories are what is missing from the debate I read about each and every day. Here are just a few: 

Sara is a refugee. She came to the United States from Kenya. She was originally from Sudan, but war and persecution in her home country forced her family to flee their nation in order to find hope and life in a foreign country. During their journey to refuge, they walked on foot for hundreds of miles and spent several months hiding in caves. When they finally arrived at the refugee camp in Kenya, they struggled to provide enough food for the family and lacked sufficient water. Due to this upheaval, Sara had severely interrupted formal education. They applied for refuge as a family. After seven years of waiting, they were granted legal entrance into the United States. Sara came as an eighth grader. Despite her limited formal education prior to coming to the U.S., Sara graduated from high school only five years after coming to our country. She entered University and is studying to be a nurse. She applied for and took the exam to become a U.S. citizen as a freshman in college. She is now a U.S. citizen and productive member of our community. 

Jesus was a documented immigrant who became undocumented. Jesus came to the U.S. with his mother, brother, and sister. His mother was working in a law firm in Mexico, but after she discovered corruption in her office, she feared for her family’s safety and decided to move to the U.S. She applied for and was granted a six-month work visa. After moving to the U.S., she had some difficulty finding work that matched her skills, but found a job on an orchard. She attempted to extend her work visa, but was denied. Back in Mexico, her former boss had been arrested, and feared returning home until she knew it was safe for her children. She overstayed her visa, and the family became undocumented. Jesus, the oldest son, wants to attend university to work with computers. He is an excellent student, but is not sure there is a path for him to attend college. He hopes one day he can a U.S. citizen. 

Linda was an undocumented immigrant from El Salvador who became documented. She came to the United States because of extreme violence due to civil war in her nation. Her life and the lives of her family members were in danger, and they had to flee their home. They fled on foot, crossed rivers, road on busses and trains to get to the border. They crossed the border at the southern end of our nation and took refuge with a church, who fed their family, clothed them, and gave them a safe place to stay as they attempted to navigate the immigration process. After countless more Salvadorians entered our nation due to the civil war, the U.S. finally granted them temporary protected status, opening a way to citizenship. After a lengthy and difficult process, Linda received her Green Card, became a permanent resident, and after fifteen years became a U.S. citizen. She works as a Paraeducator, helping to instruct students who are going through similar traumatic experiences.

It is important as we address immigration in our nation that we understand the difference between documented and undocumented immigrants, and refugees. It also is important that we be compassionate and empathetic to the circumstances under which most people leave their home countries in search of refuge in the United States. While refugees are granted entry to the U.S. due to violence and persecution in their home countries, it is clear that many documented and undocumented immigrants also seek entry into the U.S. for equally dire reasons that are not yet recognized for refugee status. No one wants to leave their home. It is not easy and takes a toll on themselves and their families. But what would you do if your children’s lives were in danger? Moreover, what I have come to learn the most as the Newcomer Center teacher is that immigrants and refugees who come to this nation are dedicated, focused, and determined to give back to this country. They are committed to becoming productive and successful members of our communities and they succeed in doing so. 

*Names and minor details such as locations in each story were changed to ensure identify protection.

Teacher Leaders: Letting Our Light Shine

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Education, Professional Development, Teacher Leadership

Early in May, the Washington Teacher Advisory Council hosted a conference with the title Vision and Voice: The Future Is Now. Award-winning educators from all over the state gathered to share ideas and learn from one another. The conference was packed with high-powered teacher leaders that I admire- educators with blogs I love, whose podcasts I listen to, whose advice I have taken, and whose encouragement has bolstered me. We even kicked off our first evening with a keynote from the newly minted National Teacher of the Year, Mandy Manning. What an amazing experience to be among my educator heroes!

As I reflect on that event, I am so grateful to all of the amazing teacher leaders I have encountered over my career, and I know that their impact on my own practice has been immeasurable. I never fail to be inspired. I always learn. I return to my classroom reinvigorated and ready to shine my own light.

I teach English, so I my love of figurative language should come as no surprise. When I think of “light” as a metaphor for learning– from the proverbial “light bulb” moment to “lighting a fire,” these images work for me. As an educator, I’m all about creating light, spreading it, and feeling its warmth.

But there can be more to it than just bringing your light to your classroom and sharing it with your students. If you have talents to share, if you can inspire others, then you may see it as your responsibility to become a teacher leader. You’ve heard the phrase, “Don’t hide your light under a bushel,” right? We have the responsibility to give back to our colleagues, our communities and our profession whenever we are able.

That phrase about the bushel sticks with me. So often, as a professional, as a woman, as a child of poverty, I was in situations in which I was expected to know my place, to stay quiet, to comply and fade into the background. Something inside me has always rebelled at this, some idea that I can do more good for others if I stop dwelling on my own insecurities or a twisted sense of modesty or humility. (See Imposter Syndrome Ted Talk)

In a letter to her younger self, Hilary Clinton tells how her sixth grade teacher told her not to hide her light under a bushel basket. She passes this advice on to other young girls in this Teen Vogue article.

So what is this “bushel basket” all about? It’s from the New Testament. In the King James version Matthew 5:15 says, “Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.” Now, historically, a bushel was a container for goods, such as grain, that became a unit of measure. So this is a bit weird in modern terms. But you get the idea. In this context, the light could be your faith, but it can also be your wisdom, your learning, your spark. Why hide a light?

 

Beyond that, if you have it, share it. An old Italian proverb says, “A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.” We educators know that sharing our wisdom, our learning and our knowledge is the greatest gift we have to give. When it is needed, we must be ready to share. And we lose nothing in the sharing of it.

It’s relatively easy to go to our individual classrooms and share our knowledge. Teacher leaders take it a step further: staff trainings, mentoring, coaching, conference presentations, blogging, etc. That light that such teachers share grows exponentially.

We all have different talents, viewpoints, strategies and solutions to share. There are many paths to leadership, as varied as the individuals themselves. Some lead by supporting their colleagues on a day-to-day basis. Others take their show on the road, spreading their light leading professional development or giving keynote speeches. Some blog or participate in chats on Twitter. Some take a path that leads them out of the classroom and into administration, but, as long as their hearts are still in the classroom, they lead as teachers.

Now let me take this a step further. Where there is light, there is darkness. And let’s face it; there have been some dark moments in our schools recently. There are dark issues faced by our students and our colleagues. To fight the darkness, we need to rally behind the light. We teachers can do so much to help our students as they face the future, as they become the problem-solvers of tomorrow. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., famously said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” (from his “Love Your Enemies” speech) 

 

Don’t we have a responsibility to lead? To lead our students, and perhaps also our colleagues and communities? Find your way to bring the light. As Oprah Winfrey says, “You have to find what sparks a light in you so that you, in your own way, can illuminate the world.” (from the finale show) 

As for me, I’m all in on this light metaphor. I’m going to let my light shine, and, furthermore, “I am on until I am dead, like a light bulb,” as Henry Rollins once said. (from Henry Rollins: Still Angry After All These Years, LA Weekly)

So, get out there and shine, my teacher leader friends. You are needed now more than ever to strengthen our profession and guide our students through troubling times.

Remember:
“Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.” – Maya Angelou

 

Letter to a T-shirt in the Bookstore Window:

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Current Affairs, Education

Dear T-shirt:

I agree with you we should Celebrate STEM! But I could do without the exclamation point.

Don’t get me wrong, I like science, technology, math and the like. I seriously like electric light, heat, washing machines, and toasters. I just think your exclamation point is a bit much. And, yes, I am an English teacher and hold my own biases, but I, honestly, am as interested in dark matter as I am in doppelgangers. I love physics, but just can’t do the math. What I’m concerned about is the implied hierarchy, or prominence the exclamation point insists upon.

The exclamation point is not often used (or is discouraged) for good reason. It has power. Implies strong feelings or shouting. It is an exclamation. An imperative. All of this implies STEM should or has the right to eclipse other subjects. What would happen if you were surrounded by fellow T-shirts with similar emblazonment? Celebrate Art! Celebrate Humanities! Celebrate Social Sciences! That’s a lot of imperatives.

Truth is, I like you, shirt, I really do, and I’m concerned about you. I actually think the exclamation point is not good for you either. I don’t think everyone should learn Calculus. Or learn how to code. Or learn how to scan a poem, for that matter. I don’t think everyone should do all of these things, because everyone is not necessarily suited to them. Dabbling is great, as it allows for discovery, and everyone should dabble (hence my reading in theoretical physics, and my coding classes, etc.) as it helps cull us into the people we will become (or are constantly becoming). I guess what I am saying is that everyone should get to explore each element of education as they wish, and that I wish our culture could mellow out about it. STEM isn’t a celebrity, why treat it that way linguistically?

I recently read that in Finland students get as many hours of music instruction as they do math. It is just the way things are; the subjects are integrated—as subjects are naturally. For a grand example, see Malcom Gladwell’s Revisionist History episode called Divide and Conquer where he makes a case for Texas’ right to become five states thus multiplying their influence in all elections is already granted by congress all because of a semi-colon.

All this cultural campaigning for STEM is odd to me as it is already central to most school curriculum and this campaigning mostly means to make it central to funding and student interest. It helps create access for students, and I respect that. I also dream of an education system that stops trying to prepare students for “jobs we can’t imagine” (what else has education always done?) and just educates them in a way that allows them to become the best version of themselves, and apply transferable cognitive and physical skills to whatever task is before them. I believe if we make students interested enough in their world, and give them skills to discover things independently and collaboratively, we’ll have all sorts of weird and wild Einsteins.

I love the weird and wild Einstein. I love him because he played the violin, translated poems, loved to sail. I love him because he came up with his theory despite most academics not wanting to work with him, that he just could not let his curiosity rest and drum away hours at the patient desk, and that most people don’t understand his theory and revere him as a genius anyway. I love that he saw through that, that the ticker tape parades amused him and were not something he felt he deserved. I love that he had trouble connecting to his son. He was a man and the humanity of him is loveable. I love that I’m fairly certain he would have similar concerns about your exclamation point, T-shirt, that he would argue everything is connected, and relative, and the things most imperative to our culture and our education are not tied to any subject, but to the humanity that lies behind our growing, learning, and living.

Sincerely,

English Teacher
(wearing an Emily Dickinson T-shirt with a line portrait of the poet and the quote “Forever is composed of nows.”)

An Open Letter to a Supportive Family

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Education, Life in the Classroom, Parent Involvment, Weblogs

Dear Supportive Family,

When your boy came to me, he was a small guy. Restless as he paced outside the circle of the adults convened in the hallway discussing him, his past, what his future may hold. His eyes flicked our way and he offered only curt words and shoulder shrugs in response to the questions asked in a way that told me you were hoping he would contain himself long enough for me to agree to give him a try.

I stepped back out of our circle, stopping his swirl around us. I looked over him – at him felt too strong. “Creed, would you like to be here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t? No? Okay, well if you don’t then there is no point in us talking about it.”

“What, I didn’t say no. I said know.”

“Know what? Know that you know it is a no?” A small smile from me. Would he catch on?

I knew it wasn’t no. I just needed to connect and get a feel for him. Your kid had some serious baggage he was dragging along behind him – violent outbursts, ADHD and a lack of friends were just a few of the items tossed in. Was I willing to spend the energy and time to help him unpack it? Was I willing to bring your child into my classroom, one that had been humming along quite nicely all year? He was a “choice-in” student from a neighboring district. I could say no. You knew that.

His head tilted as he puzzled at the silly word play. Eye squinted for a second and then the flash of “Aha!” that couldn’t help but come out as a flash of a smile. I couldn’t say no to that kind of smile, that mind. I agreed to a one week “trial” where I would then meet with you to give my answer.

Day one, hour one. Your Creed flipped a desk in anger. He was sent out into the hall to copy a paragraph about “Impulse Control.” Hissing in anger, he slammed out the door. Hard. I heard his clipboard skitter down the hall. It was an hour before he walked back in with the sheet crumbled and torn, but scribbled upon. He tossed it in my general direction.

Not working for me. A new sheet; clean, not crumbled nor torn. Begin again.

Seething, he snatched it from my hands – tearing it.

“Give me another.”

“I will. After you finish the one you just tore.”

And so it went for the week. I pushed your child as hard as I could without losing him all the way. I wanted to see what I was getting into.

The day of our meeting arrived. I had no idea what Creed had gone home and told you about our “adventures” at school. All I knew was that for him to grow and change, it would take ALL of us adults to be on the same page. I laid out a contract of behavior that focused on Creed’s behavioral needs and my specific methods for helping him.

But, this contract was different. I also required you to pledge your support of the actions I would be taking to help your child learn to manage his actions and emotions. There would be no way to effectively help him make the deep changes required if I were constantly worried about what your reactions would be. Stern words? Repeatedly rewriting a sheet done too sloppily? Actually holding him accountable? I needed you on board. There would be no coddling, no excuses.

My deal? I would not be calling you with every poor behavior your child had. As a matter of fact, I would not be calling unless Creed was a danger to himself or others or had his first day where he just fit in like any other kid.

Flashes over the two-and-half years since:

Breathe Creed
Punch the wall
Glare back tears
I will NOT breath!
Have it your way Creed…
Hissed
Gritted teeth
Shaky
Breath
Deep relief

Caged in his own mind. Pacing.
Sliding down the wall, eyes covered,
“I am getting taken off all my medications.”
Try not to look stunned.
This has been Creed medicated?
“If you feel like ever hurting yourself, you have to tell someone.”
Fat tears of fear and shaking small body,
“I’m so scared.”
First phone call home.

Metaphorical fists up!
Put down your fists Creed.
A friend?
One. For a moment.
An unfortunate, mild incident
NOT sorry!
Put down your fists Creed.
Tried anew
Kicked the new.
Quick, hard
Anger!
Sorry!
No. Sorry?
Yes.
Emotional regulation is so hard!

Reams of “Impulse Control” sheets
scribbled and rewritten.
Clipped, unclipped, clipped again from the clipboard
Pencils sharpened, dulled, re-sharpened
“I am coming to the realization…”
Thoughts of what it means to discipline self,
imprinted on his paper and his mind.

“Mrs. Cruden, you and me are a lot a like.
I am a Bugatti engine,
trapped in a lawn mower’s life.
You are a Porche engine,
trapped in a mini-van’s life.”
So right your child was.

Grinding, grinding, grinding
Discipline,
as if he were my own.
Believing in what I am doing,
believing in Creed.
We believe.
Change is happening.

A day
regular and sunny
nothing out of the ordinary.
Months in the making.
“Oh God, what did he do?”
“Nothing. Today was just a regular day for a regular kid.”
Breath sighed out. Relief.
That was my second phone call home

Younger grades at his feet.
Talking science in a lab coat.
Goggles askew, hands wildly waving!
He is alive!
Your Creed… is a teacher!

Appendix out.
His classmates are worried.
Big sloppy, “Get Well!” cards.
Hand delivered to your home.
His face is that of loopy joy.
Your child has become a class beloved.

Dapper in a button down
Tie straight
Flowers in hand
Taking a sweet girl to the 8th grade dance
Smiling picture posted on FB
Creed has arrived.

It must have been hard to trust in the process and keep belief in the importance of learning self-discipline. As promised, there was no coddling, there were no excuses; from any of us. Your support enabled me to do my job – all of it. Teachers across America crave what you gave me – the gift to teach. For that I thank you.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Cruden

P.S. Soon Creed will walk across the stage and graduate 8th grade. In his mind are the keys to his Bugatti engine. Enjoy the ride! Maybe send a few postcards along the way…

In Loco Parentis

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On the morning of April 20, 1999, I stood inside the Student Union Building at the University of Puget Sound and watched the images on the two TVs with captions blaring “School Shooting in Colorado.”  At first, I wondered what a “school shooting” even meant – back then, this phrase was not a part of our everyday lexicon.  Then I wondered what school it could be.  Finally, it slowly dawned on me that this was my high school, Columbine High School, from which I had graduated only ten months earlier.   Those were my friends, running out of the school with their hands up.  Two days later, I flew to Colorado to be with my community. I attended vigils, memorials and funerals.  I sat with grieving and scared friends. I hugged teachers and neighbors.  

I am now exactly twice as old as I was on that day in 1999.   So for half of my life, I have lived with the idea that schools are not always a safe place to be.  But for fifteen years of my life, I have worked in schools as a teacher, coach, supervisor, mentor and volunteer.  For six years of my life, I have sent my daughters to schools.  I will always be a part of schools and they will always be a part of me.

So what does being a Columbine alum mean for me as a parent?  It means that I send my daughters to school with a blessing every single day.  It means that I have to hold back my fear and tears when there’s a fire alarm when I’m volunteering in my daughter’s preschool class as I imagine what their experience would be like if this were the “real thing.”  It means that my stomach turns when my daughters play “lock down” as part of their imaginary play.   It means that I wonder when they’ll understand that the event they read about in their history books happened at my high school.

And what does being a Columbine alum mean for me as a teacher?   After all, this is a blog about being a teacher, where “policy meets practice.”  One might assume with the ongoing school shootings and the talk about how teachers might play a part in stopping them, that I might have given this some serious reflection, that I would have a detailed plan for what I would do in such an event.  But I don’t.  Honestly, I am way more worried about the immediate and real dangers of poverty, sexism and systemic racism that deeply affect my students’ everyday experiences.

But there is one thing I know as a teacher, one policy that I know will be true if it’s ever the “real thing” at my school.  In loco parentis.   Latin for “in the place of a parent.”   This is the idea that teachers and other responsible adults will act on behalf of the student when the parent is not available. There have been two occasions in my career when my schools had legitimate lockdowns.  My parental instincts kicked in.  I jumped into full mom mode, calming and protecting my kids.   It was only after the events were over and I was by myself that I could fully reflect on and pour out my emotions and fears that had been triggered in those moments.

Every day, I am thankful that I send my daughters to teachers who care for them in my place for the 6 ½ hours that I am away from them.  Every day, I try to love on my students with the fierce love of a parent: I push, challenge, console, support, feed, and advocate for all of my students.   And every day, I hope that the doctrine of in loco parentis is engrained deeply enough that I will know how to act and what to do should the nightmare of April 20, 1999 ever echo in the halls outside of my classroom.

Another School Shooting

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Current Affairs

I read those words and felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

A girl at Santa Fe High School in Texas said she wasn’t surprised. “It’s been happening everywhere,” she said. “I felt — I’ve always kind of felt like eventually it was going to happen here, too.”

After the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, and after all the student–led protests, it felt like we might be building some momentum. Just this week I got an email from David Hogg, one of the student organizers for the Never Again movement, asking if I would help with high school voter registration at one of our district’s high schools.

I was feeling optimistic. Not for the immediate future. But at least for a few years down the road, when these kids start to vote. (And run for office.)

But for now, the thousands of high school students who just want to go to school safely get outvoted by the handful of unhappy students with guns.

The news stories impact the kids at my school.

Just a week ago an announcement come over the intercom, “All students on the playground must come into the building.” Moments later we heard, “We are going into lockdown.”

After school I heard stories from other teachers of high anxiety with their students. One teacher dealt with the rising panic by having the kids barricade the door to the room they were in. One fifth grade teacher had a student who threw up. There were tears in multiple classrooms.

Even our little kids watch the news. They know what’s out there. They are afraid.

When the announcement came on, my kids went into high alert. So I talked to them as I moved around the room. “I’m checking to see if there is anyone in the hall. Nobody. You all know I keep my door locked so all I have to do is close it. I undo the roll of paper to cover the window so no one can see inside.

“Oh, by the way, check this out.” I pushed the wooden wedge under the door and kicked it tight. “That’s an extra lock.”

They laughed. “It’s old school, but it works!”

“What about the other door?” a student asked as I moved across the room.

“It’s always locked,” I answered as I rolled down the paper strip over its window too.

As I was taking care of the doors, one of my boys—on his own initiative—closed the shades on all the windows in the room.

Then I went back to the front of the class and said we could go back to the lesson we had been working on.

Kids said, “Wait! Aren’t we supposed to get under our desks or hide or something?”

I reassured them that the announcement hadn’t said anything about a dangerous individual. And it started with getting kids off the playground.

One student said, “Yeah, at one of my schools we had a lockdown because a bear got on the playground!”

I nodded. “And I worked at a school where we had a lockdown because the neighbor’s bull got loose and it got onto the playground.”

We got back to work. Even my high-anxiety students did fine.

A few minutes later, the lockdown ended.

Shortly after the Florida shooting In February, we had a lockdown drill at our school. I wrote a brief note to parents after the drill:

We had a lockdown drill yesterday. I explained how we keep the doors locked and the windows covered. I said in a real emergency the most important thing for kids to do is to listen and follow directions.

It’s my job to take care of them.

Then I reminded them all that I have been thinking about students’ safety and planning and preparing for how to keep them all safe since before they were born.

(And you should know the district is continuing to plan and implement additional security measures.)

They’re not just your babies.

Jan

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