Godspeed and many cocktails to you

Now I don’t want this to be construed as pessimism or naysaying, but I recently got a note from a new reader that has made me do a lot of thinking. Mark is a special ed teacher who wants to move to New York City from Texas to be a public school principal. Mark wants to make a difference. I don’t want to be too quick to judge, but I think maybe Mark doesn’t know what he could be getting himself into.

I’ve never regretted that I moved to New York right out of college. I took a teaching job in one of the most difficult areas to teach - Harlem - with the most difficult age group to teach - middle school - with no real experience to guide me. I had a dream that caring about the kids was enough to bridge the gaps of inexperience, ignorance, and politics inherent in the endeavor.

I was wrong.

I never understood that too many urban public schools perpetuate the vicious cycles of inequity, because no one in NYC knows any other way to do it. Everyone knows the schools are dangerous and many of the students are passed until they can drop out. Everyone knows that principals will flub numbers of assaults, test scores, etc. just to keep school doors open. But sometimes, sometimes doors have got to be slammed shut and locked forever.

Because I’m stubborn, I was impervious to the warnings I got about teaching in NYC from fellow educators (and really, anyone with half a brain), literature, and case studies. I wanted to be the change I wished to see in the world. This meant feigning not igorance so much as complete resolve and disregard of all the statistics. I had to see things for myself to get it.

Teaching at the public school where I worked last year was not rewarding. It’s the craziest thing I ever did in my life, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. I especially wouldn’t wish it on an idealistic person who really wants to teach.

But let me finish. After a grueling, painful year at a completely chaotic school, I got a different job. I still work in NYC with a population that has historically been denied a good education. I still work in a public school. I still teach middle school. The difference: I have some experience now and I’m teaching in a completely different type of school.

The school where I worked last year had something like 950 kids in three different grades. It was run by a large revolving door of staff members, many of whom I knew only by their formal Mr. and Ms. names. The school where I work now has 300 kids from kindergarten to eighth grade. The staff is small and everyone goes by their first names. My principal calls me Amanda.

My school isn’t a cattle yard where teachers merely try to prod students from one pen to the next, shooting or abandoning those who get infected with Mad Cow Disease along the way. (I actually think a bovine metaphor is most appropriate in this case). There’s always a focus on where the kids are going with their knowledge, including lots of re-emphasis, assessment, and reflection. I’m buried in paperwork now, but I feel like I’m actually a teacher.

This is what I wanted all along, and I guess I’m sharing this as a warning and a wish for my new reader, Mark. May you not be stunted by ineffective bureaucracy and social injustice, my fellow Texan. May you not fall for the same trap I fell for, but if you do, may you be agile enough to stand back up and dodge some of the danger. May you realize that you can choose where you go (or don’t go) and that it’s okay to change your mind about who you are and who you want to be.

May you do good work in a place that lets you.

Related Posts

1. What you should know before you teach in an urban school
2. Getting a job in NYC public schools: Teach For America vs. NYC Teaching Fellows
3. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta
4. The meaty belch of opportunity
5. Yes, it’s still that bad
6. Dressing down
7. So you want to be in Teach For America?