In the Classroom Today

Dispatches from the Trenches

The Current Conflict

Since I became a public school English teacher in 2006, amid all of the ambiguity, one thing has become clear to me: a war is being waged. The sides are not yet clearly defined, however, and so at the present moment, I can only call it tribal warfare. As with other wars, it is driven by ideologies, money, and territorialism, and those with the most at stake bear the hardest burden and pay the highest price. 

Before I moved to Maine, unwittingly becoming a foot-soldier in the fray, I taught in private schools in the south, and although those schools certainly have their own distinct problems, too, it was accepted that families had sent their youngsters there by choice, had chosen to pay tuition and book fees, and therefore they shared the same objectives as the institutions themselves - to enhance the status and effectiveness of the schools and to make the students college-worthy. I am not necessarily advocating for private schools; there are plenty of ineffective ones around as well, and in any case, I believe in the American right to a free education. As long as we continue to offer such, why can’t it be a quality education in every town and neighborhood? The answers to that question, at present, are not in hand, but perhaps we can make some critical progress in identifying the challenges.

To begin with, the extraordinary success of American schools throughout most of the Twentieth Century has created a sense of autonomy and insularity. I have attended many faculty meetings and workshops in which the guiding question was something like “What new program or committee should we create to address this or that problem?” but I have never once heard a question such as “What did Finland do to build such an amazing educational system in only thirty years?” or “How has it happened that now even in Vietnam, for example, students’ scores on international tests have surpassed our own?” Simply said, it is out of arrogance that we do not examine the achievements of other societies and learn from them.

While unfunded arrogance may be harmless, the misuse of money - as with most social ills - colors the waters of education like bacterial algae. Shawn Moody, a Republican candidate for governor of Maine in 2018 was harshly criticized by opponents for remarking during a forum that Maine schools are overfunded. His choice of words was certainly unfortunate and likely contributed to Moody’s ultimate loss to democratic candidate Janet Mills, but Moody did try to provide further context for his statement. According to the Portland Press Herald, “Moody said he thinks schools need to ‘operate efficiently, and that he wants to expand career and technical education and help teachers he described as overworked and burdened by too much bureaucracy. ‘They need help and I’m coming to the rescue,’ Moody said of the teachers. The unions, he said, are ‘scared to death’ an outsider can do ‘the real reform that K-12 desperately needs.’” My own reaction? Moody was right. In a state that can already boast of the nation’s seventh highest annual per-pupil expenditure ($15,912, according to USA Today) yet suffers the 25th lowest median salary for all workers ($36,210), one might ask what more Maine folks can do. Indeed, a better question might be: how is the money being spent?

I have seen up close the bureaucracy Moody referred to; it is insidious and ever-festering. In their efforts to retain academic credibility, the schools where I have taught have implemented one costly strategy after another, from something called the “Pyramid of Intervention” to the unwieldy Smarter Balanced project (which the state abandoned after only one year, having paid $2.7 million for the privilege of piloting perhaps the most poorly designed standardized test in the history of standardized tests). Absurdly, classroom teachers - those who are most likely to know which initiatives stand a chance of actually working - have little to no part in such decisions.

As for parents, I believe that overall they are willing to pay increased taxes for stronger educational programs, as I certainly was when my own children were in school. However, we must be perpetually aware of the numbers involved and not allow our sense of distress concerning school funding and performance to determine what we will pay for. In the town where I live (not the one in which I teach), this past November, voters were presented with a referendum question seeking a $40 million loan to expand and renovate Yarmouth Elementary School, improve security measures at Yarmouth High School, fund a roofing project at Harrison Middle School, and upgrade the restrooms at Rowe School. I’d be the first to agree that a decent roof and new bathrooms are important, but to have it all in one swoop in a county that already imposes some of the highest property taxes in America seems cumbersome - especially when, as best as I can tell, not a dollar was earmarked for academics. Nevertheless, the measure passed 3,168 to 2,091.

Not all school districts here and elsewhere are quite so gung ho, of course, and even if they were, in most of them, families do not have the resources to entertain such exorbitance. The advocates of one proposed solution, school vouchers (which actually dates back to George H.W. Bush’s administration), account for another tribe in this war of attrition between guerrilla factions. Many critics see both vouchers and charter schools, which provide government funding for privately run schools, as part of the gradual privatization of education in the US. Analysts disagree as to whether this will result in equality of education or simply turn low-income districts into holding pens - unwanted territory, in essence. In her insightful essay for the Washington Post, called “Death by a Thousand Cuts: The Story of Privatizing Public Education in the USA,” Joanne Barkan writes,

As for the higher-performing charter schools, research has shown they often boost test

  scores by “counseling out” the most challenging students — those with cognitive and 

physical disabilities, behavior problems, and English language learners. These students 

remain in district schools, increasing the concentration of at-risk students in precisely the 

districts that have lost funding to charter schools.

The good news is that on all sides in the great battle are those who seem to share the objective of restoring and improving the quality and value of an American education (although it may go without saying that if education does become privatized, there will be some new billionaires on Forbes’ list). As for me, I can only count myself as one of the “grunts,” at times unaware of the nature of the forces at work but willing to serve the common cause with creativity and resolve, as do most of the teachers I know. And if, to some degree, I can also act as an observer, a sketch artist, if you will, then perhaps eventually we may both gain a greater understanding of the causes and best possible solutions to the conflicts we face.


In the Classroom Today

Dispatches from the Trenches

At the Altar of Choice

I am not angry at those who have more money and possessions than I have. For most of my life, I have striven to produce quality work as a writer, musician, and artist, but I’ve also worked as a teacher in order to have a home, send my children to college, and to bear the economic yoke of being an adult in my society. Along the path, I have also discovered that I very much enjoy teaching, and I believe that for much of my career, I’ve been an effective educator. I have arrived at this place in my life mostly through my own choices.

I am well aware that for many other people in the U.S. and abroad, such is not the case, but by and large, most of us make thousands of personal choices over the years that ultimately define what we become. The Determinists, the nihilists, and the fatalists may hash it out any way they like, but that is my considered position. I certainly was not born with a knack for decision-making; yet I believe in Natural Law, and thus adhere to the theory that we possess an innate sense of right and wrong. Still, I would also say that my ability to act upon choices had to be nurtured over time by my parents, older siblings, teachers, and so on. Sometimes that nurturing involved tightly limited, closely monitored choices. And in school, oftentimes and in certain situations, there were no choices at all.

I contend that students today have far too much choice. “Which of these books would you like to read, Cheswick? This one with the pretty cover? This one with all the words in it? Or perhaps one that you’ve already read before?” Suffice it to say that when it comes to books, most students don’t have the experience to choose those that will really contribute to their literacy. Only a knowledgeable and well-read adult can guide them in this.

The same applies to other kinds of choices, too. I have never forgotten a story told by a school superintendent in the district where I was teaching several years ago. He described a high-school boy who would come to him every spring for four years, “broken in spirit” because he could never make the school’s baseball team. “He just loved baseball. He had chosen the game because it was his passion.” It was clear to me that baseball had not chosen him, however, and I wanted to ask, “Why didn’t he just try out for the cross-country team? Baseball is hard, after all.” But the superintendent had worked himself into such a tear-streaked state of empathy that I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Having lots of choices in school - a “menu,” as one educational guru has put it - is, in fact, sometimes counterproductive. Students are addled by the various dishes placed before them, and unfortunately the healthy eater (to extend the metaphor) should have only one dessert.

I realize that there is a fine line between limiting choices and suppressing creativity. As a young person, I was greatly interested in art and had a powerful imagination, but I had no discipline. I did not know what sort of art I wanted to make. I asked myself, “Do I want to paint? If so, shall I work in oils, watercolors, or acrylics? All of these? What about drawing? Pencils? Inks? Charcoal? Am I a realist or an abstractionist? What about pastels? Then again, sculpture seems like a satisfying medium. Clay? Metal? Wood? Play-doh?” Eventually I was lucky enough to have a couple of mentors who perceived my strengths and my limitations, and they helped me to make specific, limited choices so that I might find some success. Of course, when my ambitions shifted to writing, the old wrestling match was renewed: Fiction? Nonfiction? Poetry? Drama?

I’ll go further and say that for these reasons, the teacher needs to be more than simply an education major who keeps up with the latest theories on differentiated learning and classroom management. The teacher must be an expert in his or her subject area. For example, an English teacher ought to be the most well-read person on campus, bar none, from the Epic of Gilgamesh to Harold Bloom and beyond, and at the very least, he ought to be able to write the same clear and lively prose he expects of his students. Only then can the teacher become a guide as trustworthy as Beatrice when the traveler enters the many spheres, both dark and celestial, of choice.


In the Classroom Today

Dispatches From the Trenches

The Keyboard is Mightier

I am beginning to believe that my generation has seen some of the broadest cultural shifts of any that has passed…but of course, I suppose that people of every age have believed that about themselves. Even the ancient accountant who said, “You know, Xenophon, perhaps we should put away those beans and try out this new-fangled abacus” undoubtedly believed that he was inducing sweeping change. 

A man born in 1890 who lived to be eighty would have seen the turn of the century, two world wars, the rise of the automobile, the advancement of commercial flight, the eruption of rock ’n’ roll, the Civil Rights Movement, the assassinations of MLK and two Kennedys, the first lunar landings, and so on - all a pretty good argument for his time on earth as the pre-eminent historical observer.

Yet consider this: as a boomer born in 1958 and turning a mere sixty this year, I have been privy to the most significant technological shifts modern civilizations have ever seen: the ability to transmit and glean information instantaneously, as well as the perpetual shrinking of the mechanisms by which we do it.

I have been a teacher of literature and writing for nearly twenty-eight years now and need only look at a handful of changes in the way I do my job in order to see the impact of computer technology. I don’t recall the first year that I typed grades and comments into a computer program, but it was probably in the mid-1990s. Until that time, my poor students and their parents had to struggle to read my scrawling. I’ll never forget the teary-eyed sophomore who came to me to ask why I had written that she was “horsing around this quarter in class.” She calmed down after I explained that what I had actually written was that she was “having a sound third quarter in class.”

Email has forever changed the way teachers communicate with parents and students. In addition to individual conferences every semester and the odd afternoon phone call just before happy hour, I am now obliged to read and respond to a stream of emails from over-zealous parents who wish to monitor their children throughout the day: “Crenshaw’s irritable bowel flared up this morning. Please allow him to see the nurse as needed,” or “Crenshaw left his p.e. shorts on the breakfast table this morning. His older sister will drop them off on your desk around ten.” Still, I suppose the involved parent is preferable to the ones that I never hear from at all (and there are plenty of those).

The weight of administrative tasks has been greatly increased by computer technology. I know - advanced communication capability was supposed to make us more efficient…but such has not been the case, sadly. Certainly we have saved a good deal of printer paper, but it is a special brand of anxiety that sinks in when I open my mailbox every hour and find ten new emails demanding my immediate attention. On the other hand, fun is frowned upon: please do not take up valuable kilobytes with trash talk about your alma mater’s basketball team or links to noteworthy articles in The Onion.

These are only three of a myriad of drastic shifts that have occurred in one educator’s daily life in this “developed” world. As to further changes bound to happen at any second, I still take some comfort in thinking back to a workshop I attended roughly twenty years ago, during which a young professor of literature showed us his website. He said that everything he did throughout a given semester or so was there: all the lectures, word-for-word, all assignments, even audio clips of birds honking to enhance a reading of Yeats’s “The Wild Swans at Coole” were accessible at the touch of a fingertip. After his presentation, I asked him, “Has it occurred to you that now that everything you do is on a website for your students’ edification, your university no longer really needs you? The real you, I mean, not the virtual you.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he replied. “I just heard a great lecture last week by an expert in higher education. He made an air-tight argument that students still need interaction with real people. There will always be a need for teachers, since there’s no substitute for the human touch.”

“Interesting. Was it at your college or someplace else?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I watched it online.”


Playing the blues

Does the artist really work in abject loneliness? Does the creative act as executed by painters, sculptors, musicians, writers, et al, truly require confinement and utter solitude? I am lately coming to understand that art is a way of binding our relationships more closely, rather than dividing them. I can say with certainty that the phenomenal experience of knowing that others have been moved by something that I have produced makes me feel connected to them in a unique and significant way. I've also learned that making these connections demands the sort of honesty that can burn you in any number of ways. Besides, an audience can smell a fraud from a mile away.

To my thinking, one of the worst kinds of fraud is the artist who has not done his work. For instance, any musician can play a blues song with only three chords, and one must certainly feel the blues in order to play them, but for the modern blues player today, knowing the great tradition of the blues is essential. I say this mostly as a listener: as a musician, I would not call myself a true bluesman, but I did learn quite a lot of rural blues when I first started playing the guitar, and these days I often have the privilege of performing with a good friend whom I consider a master of the form. As he has done, any aspiring blues artist should listen to the oldest gospel music he or she can find, from both black and white churches across the American South. That music is deep in the roots of the great tree, so to speak. All of the struggle, sorrow, and triumph is in it. We build upon it, grow into it, lean upon it. Then the player must study the giants, the strong-shouldered spiritual heroes - Son House, Robert Johnson, Robert Wilkins, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Leadbelly, Mississippi John Hurt, Furry Lewis, Skip James, Tampa Red, Pine Top Perikins, Sonny Terry, Brownie McGhee, Memphis Minnie, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Bessie Smith, Bessie Jones, Ma Rainey, Elizabeth Cotten, Blind Willie McTell, Willie Dixon, Muddy Waters, Gus Cannon, Charley Patton, and dozens more... Then he or she should try and master the styles of at least three of these demigods, though he never truly will, for this is a lifetime's undertaking. In the end, all he can really hope for is that some of the richness and depth that grew from a people's daily lives of bitterness, laughter, loss, and hope will stick to him just a little bit, and that maybe just a a little bit of the heat of a Mississippi cotton field or the whine of a northbound train will come through in the playing and give it a degree of authenticity.

And if he has done all of this and reaches a point at which he can begin to write his own stuff, the blues artist might then be able to find words and tunes and riffs and rhythms that seem real and that seem as if they have always existed. Only then, as in these lines from Son House's "Death Letter"...

                   I walked up right close, and I said I looked down in her face
                   I said the good ol' gal, she got to lay here 'til the Judgment Day

                   Looked like there was 10, 000 people standin' round the buryin' ground
                   I didn't know I loved her 'til they laid her down

can there be no doubt as to the truth being spoken.

John Lee Hooker | Photo: TeamRock

John Lee Hooker | Photo: TeamRock