What makes schools successful? The results of standardized tests? The amount of money thrown at a school? The curriculum that is taught? Or the education that goes beyond the national standards? I think I do. I make schools work.
Before we write me off as a boastful rookie teacher who thinks. I can make a difference! Please note I am not that person. I am jaded. I am tenured. I am tired. But the thing is, I keep showing up every day to work. And, also, when I say "I," I mean that teacher who does the same thing I do. No matter the hoops you are given to jump through. No matter the new state or national mandates that are sent down the pike. No matter how late you were there at parent-teacher conferences waiting for that one parent you really needed to talk to but they never came, you keep showing up for work the next day. You keep showing up because there is that small part of you that thinks you can make a difference. But there is an even bigger part of you that knows what should be at the heart of your thoughts every second you step into your school-the students.
In Sharon Otterman's study of the Harlem Children's Zone, it was inconclusive whether the amount of money spent on a child's education mattered (Otterman, 2010). It was even stated by one of Otterman's resources that "'The fact the impact has not been proven doesn't mean if doesn't matter'" (Otterman, 2010). Compare that to the passion and tone of Deborah Meier's account of the Central Park East Secondary School (Meier, 2002). From the first paragraph you can tell that Meier loved teaching children even though that was not her intention for getting into the classroom (Meier, 2002, p. 48). Being the jaded professional I am, I often advise those considering going into education to find a different job. Who would knowingly go into a profession where your pay, credentials, amount of success and growth students are making and the fact that you get a little time off in the summer to breathe is being questioned and put on the chopping block? Yet, here I am. I still keep showing up.
And when I arrive, I am engulfed with my students to the point where it may become a little obsessive. I take the time to get to know my students. Not just as a learner, but who they are outside of the classroom. Meier found great success in doing the same thing (Meier, 2002, p. 49). I share who I am so I do not appear as the ruler toting power figure (even though I am told I can be kind of scary and kind of like that) but an approachable adult who is a person and who cares. I have targeted in on my personal areas of expertise and developed them so I feel I could be evaluated as a master teacher (Meier, 2002, p. 53). But the bottom line is, I care about kids. I care that some day my kids will be in a classroom and I hope they are treated with the same respect and passion I choose to use. I want students to know that for the seven hours we are together, five days a week, I am the one they can come to not just if they don't know how to regroup across a zero, but because they had a really rough morning. And no matter how rough my morning was, I will still be there.
When I started to read Meier's chapter I chuckled to myself that she thought Kindergarten would be a great place to get her feet wet as an educator (Meier, 2002, p. 48). I often joke that if I was transferred to teach Kindergarten, I might as well just quit now. But, this is the truth. I wouldn't. I would be extremely nervous and more of an emotional wreck that I am already, but I would show up. And I would bring the passion that I have for students every day.
Plus, a copy of this book wouldn't hurt either.
http://robertfulghum.com/index.php/fulghumweb/booksentry/all_i_really_need_to_know_i_learned_in_kindergarten_15th_anniversary_ed/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgvAGOGGuaQ
