We are what we pretend to be...

(My initial timeline, the assignment that determined the eventual flow in SI.)

Kurt Vonnegut, one of my favorite authors, no longer among the living, begins the introduction of his timeless text Mother Night with the following statement:

“This is the only story of mine whose moral I know. I don't think it's a marvelous moral, I simply happen to know what it is: “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”

Since becoming a teacher, in 1999, I would repeat this prescient declarative to myself and share it with my students. I would pretend to be a master teacher, and they would pretend to be lawyers and actors and doctors and nurses and, God help me, rappers. Eventually, I began to pretend I was an agent of change in the monolithic matrix known as Public Education, with a specialty in “Urban” Education.

It is during these yearly, yearlong exercises of make-believe that, at some point, the hot air is removed from my fancy balloon and I come crashing down back to harsh reality: I am what others perceive that I am, and they are not careful about what they perceive me to be.

This summer, the UNCC Summer Institute 2014 provided plenty of hot air to re-inflate and return aloft my hot air balloon. I can now resume pretending to be a master teacher. It honestly wasn't what I thought it would be; it was better, much better, in ways that I didn't foresee. I entered solely intent on making my students better writers and thinkers. I overlooked the fact that I, too, must improve as well, and my improvement begins with honest writing, something I strayed away from for professional and personal reasons.

Some of these reasons are landmines in this piece. You'll know them when you step on them.

A constant reflection of mine, an insistent inquiry if you will, is why do so many administrators, parents, politicians and citizens shoot the messenger instead of listening to the message? My message, in essence, is that there are many things wrong and utterly broken in public education, particularly as it underserves and mis-educates those who are minorities, those whose socio-economic status is dire, those who are ESL. My intent is to solve the problem through the filter of truth. I may, for example, provide 500 mg of veritas to my principal when I inform him or her that no, all of my AP students will not be scoring 5’s on their AP exam. I may use sugar-coated lower dosages of veritas for marginally delusional parents and Flintstone Chewable veritas for my students--a variety of flavors, too.

A metaphor of my feeling about these anti-agents of change can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qse_wf57tZM

A humongous dose of veritas came in the guise of my book Thoughts and Lamentations of Urban Education. It was a poetic documentation of one year of what me and my friend Ryan Marshall endured and witnessed as "urban" educators. It was our version of the truth, but man, did our admin and parents ever shoot the messengers! The journey started great, but we ended up in HUGE dog houses--and Ryan left education altogether.

https://www.haikudeck.com/copy-of-lamentations-uncategorized-presentation-sViwauhzDr

Instead of being grateful for the truth, I become the target for which they cast their knives and darts and spears and aspersions. Really, is this the thanks I get?

So, in addition to how I can make my students better writers, I wanted to know if I should resume the role as harbinger of all-things still afflicting all stakeholders?

I received several epiphanies along the way. One such moment occurred during our trip to Imaginon. Of all the stamps in the world, this was the one that literally spoke to me.
It said "Speak the truth." 

Another kiss from God was "The Danger of a Single Story" video. Somewhere in there, honesty as a writer came across to me--as well as the pretext we place on each other based on a single story (stereotype, generalization). Chimamanda Adichie's quest for her cultural voice is a journey shared by many writers, including me. We must embrace the journey.



Still, what would fellow educators in the G+ community think of my bits of veritas? I loaded up some samples: One was entitled "Child." I wanted to see if I would be excoriated for a poetic representation of what I see daily in my class room.

I got some hits!

I thought hey! Try a longer piece--and it too was well received. 

“And Somewhere In There…Teach”

The plan starts off

Simple: Teach kids

What they should know.

But then Voodoo Math makes a move

To multiply my every movement in class

With countless grains of improvement sand

Leaving me in a desert of despair

Location “Nowhere Near Teaching,”

Situation “How Did I Get Here?”

When above all, the plan is simple:

Teach kids what they should know

It starts with a week of meetings

Before the semester even begins

Robbing us of prep time for our classes

Much to our chagrin

It continues with the breakdown of

Copiers—1 of 2 types:

1 has a programmed limit of copies

You can copy

And the other 1 breaks down

All the time.

Now add

Gentle admonishment to

“Use overhead projector more!”

Complicated by the edict

“Use more technology in the classroom!”

Here’s a hint: A light bulb projecting a barely legible

Graphic organizer on a raggedy screen

Is not 2010 technology—but the projector bulb blows out anyway,

And so now I’m stuck with

Dry erase markers, no copies,

No technology—But somewhere in there…teach

It continues with

Additional training:

Acquaint yourself with the grading software,

Attendance software,

And software to track academically

Students who aren’t academically

Qualified to be in the magnet school

In the first place. Now you

Understand how to enter grades, attendance,

And excuses;

Sexual harassment training;

Curriculum websites, personal websites,

Websites of professional interest—but somewhere in there…teach.

It continues with

Additional jobs and duties:

Watch kids during lunch;

Walk the halls during prep;

Call parents, mail tardy letters to parents,

Mail absence letters to parents,

Mail failing letters to parents;

Return e-mail;

Send home homework to students whose stupidity

Got them suspended in the first place;

Watch the bus lot;

Watch the parking lot;

Sponsor a student group;

Tutor kids before school;

Tutor kids after school;

Clean your room when the custodian “forgets to”;

—But somewhere in there…teach.

Eventually,

You realize that

Your paper-chase

In the long run is

Sound and fury signifying nothing.

You are the idiot telling the tale

Of NCLB in order not to fail

Any child.

Eventually you realize that

You have to make a choice:

Either do what they ask you to do,

Or do what you have to do…

To teach somewhere in there.

So there I was: re-engaged with my own writing!

Maybe I should complete a sequel to T&L--or maybe I should produce a new piece same topic, different genre!

After this Institute, I now feel (again!) how I want my students to feel about writing. How could I not return to my room a better teacher? 

I've got more activities for them!

I've got more Ice-Breaking Improvs for them!

I've got more non-essay  assessments for them! 

More goals? Of course!



My goal is to reclaim the teaching profession, as mentioned in Diane Ravitch's blog:

http://dianeravitch.net/2014/07/13/teacher-how-we-lost-our-profession/

My goal is to return even bolder with the truths of my job.

My goal is to return as a better instructor of writing.

My goal is to issue this reality: The vast majority of teachers are simple people valiantly attempting to master a complex, if not impossible job, in environments ranging from hostile to surreal, with the rules of engagement undermining most real attempts of actual instruction. The two minorities of teachers are the rarefied Super-Teacher—you know, cartoonishly selfless, spends 50% of a paycheck on supplies, students score extremely high growth every year, whose students love all lessons and are constantly in motion with some darling strategy du juor, attends all meetings, visits and calls all parents weekly, yada-yada-yada—and the Bad Teacher who actually cannot teach a fish to swim or even get wet. What politicians and parents and bureaucrats and bean-counters believe is that the majority of teachers are actually Bad Teachers needing to transform into Super-Teachers, and as a result, the majority of teachers are treated like something that the cat dragged in. We should all be—not imitate or emulate or strive to be, actual transform physically and assume clone status and become—the clichéd Super-Teacher—and do all of this without raises, with salaries well below what any math or science or business teacher could garner outside of education in their actual fields of study, without complaining, with the presumption that you took a vow of poverty to teach kids Algebra or English.

SI showed me a variety of ways to write and document public education's shameful condition? Now, first of all, who wants to improv?