Fifty percent of all new teachers will leave the field within the first five to seven years. This statistic may actually be higher, as more and more school districts across the country are finding themselves going into state receivership due to serious financial cuts because of a growing number of charter and private schools. Public education---one of the best things that our founding fathers ever devised---is in its violent death throes, and politicians don’t care. Teacher turnover rate is a serious issue. It has surpassed the divorce rate in this country.
When it comes to our failing educational system, politicians (conservative ones, at least, although some liberal voices seem to echo them) would put the onus on teachers, as if everything wrong with public education is their fault.
Never mind that for the past four decades, teachers have been mandated to follow policies and practices---at the risk of losing their jobs---devised by people in Washington, D.C. who have never taught, never worked in the field of education, and who expect schools to follow these mandates without offering any attempt to help pay for them.
Never mind that teachers are still accused of being “money-grubbers” and “whiners” when it’s the administrators and superintendents who are getting paid ridiculous amounts of money. Strangely enough, it’s their salaries that get yearly raises while most teachers haven’t seen a raise in their salary for the past ten years, and, in fact, most teachers have seen a decrease in salaries due to rising healthcare coverage costs.
Never mind that many people within the general public harbor an inexplicable hatred for teachers, most likely borne by FOX News, one-sided media attacks (such as the film “Waiting for Superman” which was unquestionably anti-union and pro-charter schools), and ridiculously unfair Hollywood-ized depictions of teachers as either horrible people (“Half Nelson”, “Bad Teacher”, “Fist Fight”) or miracle workers (“Stand and Deliver”, “Dangerous Minds”, “Freedom Writers”).
Never mind the number of completely false “truths” that still exist in the minds of most people: teachers get paid all year, even on the three months they’re off in the summer (they don’t---their salaries are calculated for a nine-month calendar, but teachers have the option of having paychecks spread out over 12 months), they only work part-time hours (if, by part-time, one means over 60 hours a week because a teacher’s day never ends at 3 p.m. and it doesn’t end on weekends), it’s impossible to fire a bad teacher (it’s not; it’s quite easy in fact, although it depends on what one means by “bad”), and teachers are overpaid (if, by “overpaid”, one means, as a national average, roughly $55,000 a year.)
But, hey, it’s still the fault of the teachers. Well, the bad ones anyway. So, what exactly is a “bad” teacher?
John Owens attempts to answer that in his 2013 book “Confessions of a Bad Teacher”, which describes his (brief) tenure as an eighth-grade teacher in the New York City school system. He was, by his own admission, a “bad” teacher. But what made him “bad”?
It may help to illustrate Owens experience with my own. Because I was a bad teacher, too.
In the 2008-2009 school year, I started teaching at an east side Cleveland public high school. A predominantly black suburban demographic, the school was a pretty typical one, dealing with the typical problems of budgetary cuts, a lower-income populace, and a growing gang problem.
I was excited to get the job, mainly because I was excited to get a job, any job, teaching. Despite the fact that I had many people express worries about me working there, I actually wasn’t worried. A small part of me may have been nervous, but only because my only experience prior to this job was a private Catholic high school. The demographics may have been different, I thought, but kids are still kids.
Things started to go sour almost immediately, but it wasn’t the kids at all that was the problem. I loved the kids. They may have been a little more rough around the edges than I was used to, but they were great. Discipline-wise, they were certainly more of a challenge than the parochial school kids, but one learns to adjust.
The problem actually came from an unexpected source: the faculty.
The teachers I worked with were a great, and diverse, mix of personalities and teaching styles. I was excited to learn from them, and they seemed earnestly excited to offer a helping hand. If what I describe in the following paragraphs gives the impression that that wasn’t actually the case, then I apologize, because my view of them still stands: they were good people. And good teachers.
The problem (and I have had several years to ponder my experience at this school, so this is merely my assessment based on those years of reflection) is that many of these teachers were veteran teachers, some had been there for many years, some for a few, but all had more experience than me. Their worldview was shaped by the fact that they simply had a better understanding of how the educational system really worked, not how it SHOULD work. I think what happened is that the system was so corrupt and problematic, these teachers simply adapted---for their own sanity---to accommodate to the system. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to remember what their original ideal of what being a teacher was anymore.
I remember, during the first week, I was teaching a lesson on the Transcendentalists. In class, we read aloud an essay by Emerson and a short excerpt from Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience” and discussed them. The reading was short enough to keep the kids engaged and interested, but the discussion that followed was amazing. The kids were excited. We talked about Naturalism and Fate and, somehow, our discussion brought in everything from Freudianism to Stephen King. These were ninth graders, mind you. I doubt most of them had even heard of Freud or even King, for that matter.
Anyway, during our weekly staff meeting, I was pumped and excited to share my first success story. I told the group of teachers in my department about my lesson and about the way the kids were engaged. I told them what we had discussed, the wide range of topics that came up in the discussion, and how the kids were really interested.
Based on the expressions of the faces as I told the story, however, one would think that I had pissed in their breakfast cereal. One lady actually shook her head and said, “Oh no, no, no...”
As it turns out, what I had done was wrong. I had strayed from the important things, such as the state standards, and I had taught nothing that would help the students for the upcoming standardized tests that was mandatory for all of them and would determine whether they would actually graduate. I hadn’t “taught to the test”.
I felt sick after that meeting. I put on a happy face and pretended to heed their gentle and (in their minds) extremely helpful warnings, but I was devastated. It literally set the tone for the rest of my year there. When, in May, I was called into the principal’s office and told that my contract was not going to be renewed for the next year, a large part of me was actually relieved. Outwardly, I was upset and saddened (and terrified---I would, after all, have to find another job), but deep down i actually felt as if it might actually be the best thing for me.
I was a bad teacher. Or rather, I was made to feel like a bad teacher, and that’s pretty much the same thing.
Owens’s book resonated strongly with me because he had a similar experience. It has, apparently, resonated with countless other teachers across the country.
This country is in crisis. Anybody with eyes and ears already knows this, but it goes beyond being a problem that can be fixed by throwing money at something or changing a few policies here and there. It is deep-rooted and systemic. It has been rotting from the inside out for decades, and what we are seeing is now the cascade of devastation and death of the educational system in this country.
I want to have hope. I have to have hope that things will get better, but I---and millions of other bad teachers out there---see it getting much worse before it gets better, if it ever does.