August Project Day 13: Ruminations

It’s Friday, and today my former place of employment is conducting registration for the Senior Class of 2011.

I’m so glad I’m not there.

Leaving was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made – so hard, in fact, that Ben ultimately made it for me.

I loved my job.  I loved my students, and my coworkers, and the whole “working for a higher purpose” feeling that I got when I was there.

I did not love the politics.  I hated playing the game that the administration building expects you to play.  I did not enjoy the drama that goes on behind the scenes.

I just wanted to teach – and I don’t necessarily mean an academic subject, although I certainly enjoyed that aspect.  I just wanted to make a difference for my students.  I wasn’t looking to change the world; I just wanted to be a constant in my students’ lives – someone who cared about them and about the decisions they made.  I wanted to talk to them about choices, and about how no matter how difficult your life outside of school is, in my classroom, you always have a choice.  There’s always another option; you’re never controlled by “fate.”  Just because your parents were gang members doesn’t mean you’re destined to be one, too.  It is within your power to choose something else for yourself.

I wanted to do what was best for my students, and in today’s era of high-stakes testing and “accountability” – a term defined by people with no classroom experience who send their own children to elite private schools, only to have the nerve to try to dictate what’s best for students in public schools – in the atmosphere that politicians and other “game players” have created, it gets harder and harder to do what’s best for the people who should matter most in this discussion: students.

The whole situation frustrates me, and the worst part is that I don’t know how to fix it.  The general public seems to think testing kids more and demanding “accountability” from schools is a good thing.  I can’t in good conscience vote for anyone who runs for office with those “ideals” as part of their platform, but it seems those are the people who keep getting elected.  It is what it is, but in my head, we’re just doing things the same way we’ve always done them and expecting different results.

If we want things to be different, then we have to change the way we do them.

Think about it.

My school was a place where things were done differently, and it was designed that way on purpose.  It turned out that doing things differently worked.  Was it perfect?  Absolutely not.  But we got a lot further than the more traditionally-run high schools in the district.

That’s when things got complicated.

Disclaimer: I can only tell you how things looked from my perspective.  I can’t speak to the motives behind decisions.  I realize there are a lot of things that go on that I’m not privy to.

The more success my school had, the more it seemed the district tried to take over.  That may or may not have actually been their intent, but it sure felt like it.  It was confusing….  There are a lot of times I still want to say to them, “You designed us to be different.  Why are you now trying to make us the same as everyone else?  Aren’t you the people who decided “the same” wasn’t working…?”

I struggle with the feeling that by resigning, all I did was give in.  I think I’ll always feel like that’s true.  I don’t think I was anything more than a tiny pebble standing in the way of conformity, but now I’m out of the way altogether.  I let The Man squish me.

Still, there are some positive things I can take away from my experience:

• I want to work in an environment where people question the status quo.  I worked as part of one of the most “rebellious” school staffs around, and it’s one of the qualities I most treasure about them.  Even though they’re facing a ton of changes this year, I know they’ll find ways to stick it to The Man and ignore the “rules” in order to do what’s best for their students.  They always do.  That ability to innovate in the midst of adversity is what makes them fabulous teachers.
• If a future principal/administrator has a problem with me questioning the status quo, they are not a person I want to work for.  I don’t want to work for someone who’s just going to do what they’re told; I want someone who will stand up to the administration building and question policies that are obstacles to effective teaching and learning.
• My five years in education cemented my identity as a teacher.  I’m staying home with Brynleigh this year, but I’m NOT a stay-at-home mom.  Don’t put me in that box.  I’m a teacher, and I’m taking some time off to hang out with my daughter while I figure out what my next step is.

I’m not writing this post to burn bridges, though if I do, I’m probably okay with it.  There are some bridges that I’d rather burn than cross in acquiescence.

When I started this project, one of my former colleagues asked that I write about how being home with Brynleigh is different than being at school.

Well, I’m much more bored.  Some days I feel like I’ve lost a sense of purpose.  I worry that my brain is going to turn to mush, and it gets pretty lonely around here most days.

On the other hand, I’m much more relaxed.  There’s hardly ever any drama.  No one’s ability to complete a task hinges on my ability to troubleshoot their issue(s).  The Comic Sans and Papyrus fonts no longer haunt me.  I can be myself without fear of judgment.  Day to day, my biggest, most life-altering decision involves whether or not to wash my hair.

I know that leaving was the right decision, but I miss my colleagues and the camaraderie I had with them.  I love following their tweets and their Facebook status updates.  They’ve been in staff development all week, and while I could tell it wore on them, they had such funny things to say about it!

Dear JESA crew, wherever you are now:

Know that as you start the new school year, I’m behind you 110%.  Focus on your students; at the end of the day, the rest of it doesn’t matter.  Do great things with them.  (As if I have any bit of doubt that you’ll do just that!)

Let me know how I can help.

Sincerely,
me