It is a truth easily identifiable that Education is a difficult place to be. Especially now with political correctness, impossible NCLB standards, and children who learn so differently that it’s easy to blame technology for all those ills. Let me be plain before I explain further in my story: they learn differently, but we are responsible for teaching them nonetheless. Still, I am flummoxed at our nation’s denigration of our efforts.
I like change, lots of it. For work, for my personal life, and for the learning that accompanies it whether I take it at the time or have to learn the lesson later. My career thus far has spanned teaching English/Language Arts in four different school buildings, one private school, two middle schools, two high schools, and a plethora of different people. During this tenure, I have been classified as a teacher, teacher leader, literacy coach, and administrator. Much of what I learned about myself, then, is that I love to work with the less fortunate, the humble, the ones who crave learning. The biggest difference between teaching at a private school was the sense of entitlement and I’m ever grateful for the learnings I acquired from a simple, old janitor named Allen. When I left that building I digested much of the attitude of those teachers and sorted through it to discover that kids are kids and my job doesn’t change just because the population does.
Leaving that school I went on to work at the highest poverty middle school in our district and gave as much as I gave previously only to discover that for those students there was such an appreciation for my efforts. Their parents expressed it, too, and it was then I studied the amount of triumph of those students was proportionate to how deserving they felt. What a sobering thought, but that’s just the reality of it.
Recently, I ran into two of the private school teachers who asked what I’d been doing in the six years since I had taught with them. I rattled off the litany of accomplishments and what I’d been busy with and we chatted cordially. We were, it needs to be said, in the middle of a department store and I knew it was the kind of polite conversation one has when catching up with acquaintances.
“So, you went over to teach at School X. Hmmm. How was that?”
Her meaning wasn’t even thinly veiled. She wanted to know, “What’s it like working with poor kids? With lots of Black kids? With those heathens and hoodlums who only come to school to fight and wreak havoc?”
It was to be a polite conversation. This really shouldn’t ruin it, but her tone set my blood to boiling in a matter of seconds. So I began the process of heaping burning coals on her head.
“It was great! I loved it there!”
“Yes, but was it different?”
I hated the way she said that word. Different. It crossed my mind to slap her right upside the head.
“Absolutely not. Twelve year olds at one school are the same as twelve year olds at another. They all have the same basic needs and deserve an education. They are all teachable.”
“Oh.”
Not the answer she wanted, I assume. Not what she hoped to hear that perhaps I feared for my life on a daily basis and that I’d been caught up in a fight or two and had to put someone in a headlock. That was, of course, true. But she was positively dripping with anticipation of hearing this. She nearly drooled to get The Goods On Poor Public Educators.
“So, you left there. Where are you now?”
I was under the impression, what with all her salivating, that she already knew. She had heard that I pretty much followed those Poor Kids to the high school where I am currently a guidance dean so I offered it up to her minus any fanfare.
“Oh. WOW. You’re there?” There was no way she wanted to hide her incredulous response. She reminded me of the viper news reporters chomping at the bit to get a juicy story.
“Yeah, I love it. It’s great.”
“Well, I hear bad things about that place. What are YOUR thoughts on working there?”
While I am ever conscious of the fact that I represent my school, my district, my city, and my career in education I know that I am to always be positive. It pains me to give anyone ammunition with which to shoot all educators. Yet, here I was in the middle of a store browsing the aisles for sweater sets. My arms were full of a couple of outfits and I had yet to try them on and didn’t want this to ruin my day.
But I didn’t even have to reply to her.
Out of nowhere a woman came around the corner. She had been listening to our conversation on the other side of the dress rack and came to confront the woman to whom I was speaking.
“What’s the matter with you!? Am I to understand that YOU’RE A TEACHER? There is nothing wrong with where she teaches or works or whatever she does there. My daughter went there and just graduated and I was skeptical of sending her there because of PEOPLE LIKE YOU who bash everything in this town when you don’t know anything about it. Why don’t you take your ass over there and see for yourself? My kids have gotten great educations at both those schools this lady just mentioned!”
It occurs to me that, obviously, I am This Lady.
But This Lady, the one who rocked my world by coming to my defense and the defense of all whom I care to represent, was now my favorite person on the planet. Would she balk if I kissed her full on the lips? Would she hate it if I picked her up and twirled her around the store? Could I send her on an all-expenses paid cruise to the Caribbean?
This Lady, me, will forever be grateful for that bitch slap moment when I didn’t have to sigh and explain myself ad nauseam about why I do what I do. The relief I felt after watching this stranger unleash on former colleagues was thoroughly satisfying.
To The Lady who saved me from having to defend my passion for educating ALL STUDENTS: you are my heroine. I didn’t even buy a dress or those sweater sets. You also made me restructure all future “polite conversations.”
April 28, 2008 @ 6:46 am | Filed under Education | Permalink |
Kristin Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 8:00 am
*sigh* not only are you the prettiest woman on the internet, but you are the center of my envy for having found your passion… i’m glad this woman was there to support what care so deeply about, but i have no doubt you could have kicked some snooty a** all by your lonesome!
MeL Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 8:22 am
When I grow up (hah!) I want to have the balls to do what she did - to stand up for what is right in the face of the doubters and the haters and the self-righteous.
And don’t you knock on yourself for not being the one to say it; You love what you do and you give your whole heart to it. It’s not easy for ANYONE with salivating vultures waiting to gnaw on our soft underbelly to roll over and expose it for the ripping. You’re protective of what you do - of the kids whose lives you guide toward something great. That’s admirable, and all it says about YOU is that you have an abundance of feeling; a quality, by the way, which also makes the best and most passionate teachers.
sonrie Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 8:24 am
Wow-great entry. I have been in your position many-a-time, but what I would give to be able to say it from the other lady’s perspective. That was terrific.
KC Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 9:29 am
WOW. I love that woman. I love that she stood up like and put that snobby teacher in her place. You rock Mocha Momma. Thanks for sharing that moment of raw honesty and passion. It’s inspirational.
Fat Lady Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 10:19 am
Beautiful! Both you and the woman who spun around from the other side of the clothing racks. I am heartened by this story in ways you can’t imagine.
I’ve been saddened and discouraged at times by teachers who work at schools like yours, yet feel as your former colleague does. And by government and bureaucracies that are determined to create one size fits all educational systems - sapping the energy and enthusiasm out of educators, students and parents alike.
Whenever I encounter someone like you with the vitality and passion for helping and educating kids despite all the obstacles, I can’t help but feel like I’ve gotten a glimpse of a rare and shining star in the midst of a sky covered in clouds and smog.
All I can say is thank you - and that the students and parents at your school are lucky to have you there.
anonymous Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 12:31 pm
What an amazing experience! This would make a great scene in the soon to be (I hope) movie of your life. The woman who wrote Juno could do the script and then you could redo it. Hmmmm what music for this “avenging teacher” scene?
Angella Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 12:44 pm
Hooray for both of you. You inspire me, and That Lady inspires me.
I would have loved to see the expression on the other woman’s face. Ha!
Bri Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 1:11 pm
Wow! What an amazing conversation! Yay for both of you!
I haven’t told my family yet about my plan to teach for STL city district, yet. Trying to put off “those” conversations as long as possible.
Heather Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 1:31 pm
That is a great story. Good for you and good for her and I hope those other women got their education for the day.
White Hot Magik Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 2:21 pm
Awesome!
ms_teacher Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 5:35 pm
When people find out where I teach, I am often met with a sympathetic look mixed with much horror. The majority of my students do not look like me and there are days where I feel like drinking one too many appletini’s. That being said, I love my school and I love my students.
I went into education with the profound belief that all children deserve a quality education provided by quality teachers. It is rarely my students that I have issues with, rather it is too often lack of positive administrative and parental support. When people ask me why I continue to teach where I’m at, my question to them is if not me, then who?
Lara Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 5:58 pm
a cool blogger i know just started a new site called “thank a stranger” (http://thankastranger.blogspot.com/), and this would be a perfect submission for there. you should have it posted over there.
strangers who take up for us? they’re just awesome.
Mompaca Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 6:06 pm
Kudos to you for following your passion and being so successful. You are teaching children whom you are talented enough to reach. It is good that those teachers are not in your school because they should not be there and have the good sense to stay away.
Daisy Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 6:39 pm
This was the post I needed to read. I got home from a very discouraging day of staff development in which so many little things went wrong that I almost wished for the Big One to go wrong and get it over with. But when tomorrow arrives and the kids are back, I’ll remember that I teach some wonderful, wonderful children. And anything I did or said today, I did/said it for them.
Maybe I should have gone shopping instead of making extra-butter popcorn and pouring a wine cooler!
Jakki Said,
April 28, 2008 @ 8:45 pm
Bravo to you AND Your Avenger. Wouldnt it be nice to have someone with you at all times to do this very thing??? To bring That Lady to her place in such a classy way…hats off.
Betsy Said,
April 29, 2008 @ 9:06 am
Hunt that woman down and send her over to my school. PLEASE. My community needs to hear that message, too.
Kim Said,
May 2, 2008 @ 8:02 pm
Ditto! Amen! Yup!
I, too, teach in “one of those neighborhoods” and wouldn’t be anywhere else! I have even had my students over to my house for a Christmas party! They were so appreciative and had such a good time! It is a memory I will always cherish.
It is impossible to put into words how gratifying the little victories and successes are - the ones that would seem insignificant in the private schools or even the high socio-economic public school where I once taught.
Thank you for loving “our” kids!
kate5kiwis Said,
May 2, 2008 @ 9:09 pm
ah yes, the Polite Conversations.
i have those all. the. time. with well-meaning members of the public who bail me’n'my three homeschooled kiddos up in the middle of the supermarket, asking all the same questions.
(and i also get it from the homeschoolers who think we’re mad giving our two older kiddos the option to go to school.)
may i have an extra helping of graciousness, puhleeze? i am sometimes so tempted to get snarky. cos well-meaning people think they are the *first* ones to ask the questions, and to steer us back onto the “straight” road.
funny, i have just connected with three girls i used to teach 18 years ago (on Facebook). they remember me!!! and all said some beautiful words. teachers have such an opportunity to pass on the love to their students.
one thing i notice every time i read here, kelly, is your heart for people. all people. and you inspire me.
mwah X