His invaluable support notwithstanding, there have been questionable moments--for as I believe I've mentioned, this business is not for the feint of heart. Long before the current book series craze, I cherished a series penned by the incomparable C.S. Lewis, only recently "discovered" (in part) by Hollywood. In the second book, a character named Peter makes a woefully bad decision that yields disastrous effects. I feel for him every time I read the story because I know all too well how to make woefully bad decisions. Like just this week, when I turned to a student who annoys me to no living end and called him "What's-your-face," which I resort to when I forget my own childrens' names. But he doesn't know that and no doubt took it as a sign of disrespect given that I haven't exactly hidden my frustration from him. Then there was the moment, not 48 hours later, when he and his mom sat before me during Parent- Teacher conferences and I wondered how to get around mothers who playfully tapped their sons' shoulders when they hear how they taunts other students, seemingly with the goal of starting a fight, when they should be either reading or writing. He's not the only student of mine reclining under the expansive shelter of No Accountability, and like the others, he knows it well and maximizes the short term advantages shrewdly (the latest video releases and the like). If only he understood the long-term liabilities.
To ratchet the whole affair up the scale of complexity, there is the ubiquitous, maybe even pernicious, insistence with which governments insist our students meet so-called high levels of performance. They must, among other things, critically analyze readings, question deeply, and make connections. None of these things are out of reach for my students. What does evade me and cause my heart to sputter dangerously is the exact formula for designing a classroom in which there is success for all--even if for one student that means coming to school for five consecutive days while yet another writes a lengthy analysis exploring author's purpose in a classic novel.
I especially call on my strong pulse when other teachers want to expound on the "problem with these kids." It's not these kids. It's all of us who have believed the lie--that devolution is our only option and hence cannot rise above our propensity to whine, complain, be defiant, rude, lazy and irreverent.
Swimming against the tide does require a really strong pulse, and I consider it my duty if I am to teach as I would want to be taught.
