When Michael Copperman left Stanford University for the Mississippi Delta in 2002, he imagined he would lift underprivileged children from the narrow horizons of rural poverty. Well-meaning but naive, the Asian American from the West Coast soon lost his bearings in a world divided between black and white. He had no idea how to manage a classroom or help children navigate the considerable challenges they faced. In trying to help students, he often found he couldn't afford to give what they required--sometimes with heartbreaking consequences. His desperate efforts to save child after child were misguided but sincere. He offered children the best invitations to success he could manage. But he still felt like an outsider who was failing the children and himself.
Teach For America has for a decade been the nation's largest employer of recent college graduates but has come under increasing criticism in recent years even as it has grown exponentially. This memoir considers the distance between the idealism of the organization's creed that "One day, all children in this nation will have the opportunity to attain an excellent education and reach their full potential" and what it actually means to teach in America's poorest and most troubled public schools.
Copperman's memoir vividly captures his disorientation in the divided world of the Delta, even as the author marvels at the wit and resilience of the children in his classroom. To them, he is at once an authority figure and a stranger minority than even they are--a lone Asian, an outsider among outsiders. His journey is of great relevance to teachers, administrators, and parents longing for quality education in America. His frank story shows that the solutions for impoverished schools are far from simple.
Michael Copperman has a B.A. in English from Stanford University, where he graduated summa cum laude and was a Presidential Scholar. He teaches writing to low-income, at-risk students of color at the University of Oregon, where he received his MFA in Fiction. His nonfiction has appeared in The Oxford American, GOOD, Guernica, Creative Nonfiction, The Rumpus, Teachers and Writers, Stanford Magazine, Post Road, Anderbo, Eclectica, Brevity, The Oregonian, The Register-Guard, and The Eugene Weekly, and is forthcoming from New Madrid, GOOD and Copper Nickel. He was the recipient of the 2009 Walter Morey Fellowship from Oregon Literary Arts. His fiction has been published in the Munster Literature Centre’s journal Southword (after being shortlisted for the 2009 Sean O’Faolain Prize), The Arkansas Review, and 34th Parallel, and is forthcoming from Copper Nickel and Unsaid. From 2002-04 he taught fourth grade in the rural black public schools of the Mississippi Delta, and he is currently seeking representation for his novel “Gone,” concerning that experience.
Privilege. That word tends to elicit an emotional response, especially from those who have it but don't want to acknowledge that fact. Since I moved to Mississippi 8 years ago, I've had my own privilege stare me in the face multiple times. The stark reality is that thousands of children in Mississippi are severely underprivileged. According to Jackson's Clarion-Ledger, 34% of children in Mississippi live in poverty, and 79% of public school fourth-graders are reading below grade level (compared to the 66% nationally, which is a whole other issue). Our public schools are ridiculously underfunded, and the legislature continues to cut the education budget. Which schools take the hardest hits when it comes to funding? Yep, the Delta, home to the blues, cotton, and paralyzing poverty.
Mike Copperman spent two years teaching in the Delta as part of the Teach for American program, in which new college grads commit to teaching at underprivileged schools around the country. In his memoir, Copperman - a half Japanese, half Jewish athlete from Stanford - describes those two years and his struggle to connect with kids whose backgrounds couldn't be further from his. He has obviously changed the names of the town and likely the children, but the book could have described any number of public schools in the Delta.
Copperman taught not far from Cleveland, MS, which was ordered to desegregate not three months ago. He describes the White football players practicing at the Academy football field, a stark contrast to the overwhelmingly Black students in the public elementary school. He discusses his own experience as a minority among minorities, the stares and jeers toward the "Chinaman". He describes the rundown homes of his students juxtaposed against the large colonials on the other side of town.
I was particularly struck, but not in the least surprised, by the lack of resources the school provided for kids with behavioral or learning disabilities. I have dealt with the public schools before, provided very specific recommendations to help students succeed, and been completely ignored, whether because the school district doesn't have the staff to help, or whether they don't feel that the special accommodations are warranted. I have assessed high school aged children who have an obvious learning disorder but were never diagnosed, instead labeled as "lazy" or "problem child". I've even had a school counselor tell a patient's mother that her child's difficulty in school was due to laziness, not residual impairments caused by his BRAIN INJURY! So, yeah, special education and accommodations for students who need them are severely lacking in Mississippi, and likely Mississippi is not unique in that regard. End rant.
What sets Copperman's book apart from many discussions of inequality is the stories. The stories of children who have grown up with very little, with broken homes, tossed from foster home to foster home, those that endure bullying, those that bully, those that are beyond his ability to help, and those that welcome his help. He vividly portrays the frustration and the feelings of inadequacy in the face of overwhelming obstacles. Amazingly, I don't believe Mr. Copperman ever completely lost hope for these children, and for every child lost to the chaos of their lives and circumstances, there is a story of triumph, of a child that the author was able to reach, even for a brief moment.
I cannot recommend this book enough. I wish I could make every Mississippi lawmaker (hell, every national lawmaker), every person who denies the presence of privilege, every teacher who has lost hope, read it. Yes, there is such a thing as pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, but when those boots are stuck in concrete, that is much, much easier said than done. These kids deserve better. Kudos to the many, many teachers throughout the nation that try to reach these kids, even for that brief moment.
Thank you to the University of Mississippi Press for providing me with an ARC through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
This book. I read it in two sittings, interrupted only by a few hours' sleep. I really couldn't wait to get back to it. It reads like a thriller, and I mean that in the best of ways: I couldn't wait to find out what would happen to Michael, what he might learn, what conclusions he might draw. This is such a valuable book, on multiple levels: The person who wants to know about different demographics gets to know a classroom in poverty-stricken Mississippi. The minority reader gets to hear about what it's like to be the Only One. The writer gets to luxuriate in Copperman's layered descriptions. And the person who values humanity will be so, so glad they picked up this work, so they can pass it on, and on, and on. Read this. You won't be sorry.
Michael Copperman's Teacher conveys his struggles and disappoints, the highs and the lows, without lambasting the others--teachers, administrators, TFA, parents, students and community. Without being explicit, Copperman lets his readers know that the issues he faced do not just pertain to his 4th grade class in MS, but schools and communities all over, as well as some college students who he currently teaches at University of Oregon. I highly recommend.
**advanced copy provided by publisher via NetGalley
I will admit to an ulterior motive when I requested an ARC of Teacher by Michael Copperman. The memoir from a young man with Teach for America (TFA) brought back memories of the program. I was lead teacher for ten to twelve second grade classes with as many as three of these young people assigned to teach on my hall.
Some came open and willing to learn from the experienced well-trained teachers in our school who wanted them to succeed in their classrooms. Others had attitudes that I attributed to TFA that they were coming to an area where the educators themselves were inadequate. In the multi-cultural school where I taught, the need came from a shortage in the number, not capability, of trained teachers. Classroom discipline, another major issue, seemed to come from a TFA philosophy that if the teaching is interesting, problems will not happen.
Idealistic Michael Copperman left Stanford University for the Mississippi Delta and taught two years with the TFA program. His very honest account rang true to what I knew of TFA with the additional problem of the extreme poverty in the delta.
Political emphasis on teaching the test complicated his high ideals. Classroom management raised its head early for Mike with the “Teach well, and you’ll succeed,” philosophy from TFA crossing with the philosophy of the assistant principal’s paddle. A better answer than either of these came with the card-behavior system he borrowed from an experienced teacher – a system we used effectively in our second grade classes.
His second year began with a more realistic preparation for the challenge of classroom discipline and a focus on his students as individuals. For instance, he built on the beginning by a TFA colleague to engage one student with Boxcar Children books and the child’s determination to read them. He also came to realize one of his problems was that the world tells delta kids that this is all there is, a hard-to-fight attitude.
After he moved away into another job, still teaching students from challenging backgrounds, he confronted a speaker who disparaged the long term effects of the TFA program on young college graduates. He said the speaker “had no idea just how affecting the TFA experience was, that he couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in America’s troubled schools, to be responsible for children with so much promise and so little opportunity.”
Michael Copperman gives an honest and well-written account of his own experience with Teach for America. He pictures a program with high ideals that would be even more effective with practical guidance replacing some of the inspirational speeches. I would concur.
Michael Copperman writes about teaching with an appealing blend of confidence and humility. In my experience, no teacher can succeed without both of these. As a teacher I always long to discover and develop every student’s unique gifts, and above all to grow alongside them. Copperman leans his full weight into the shoulder at the wheel in his two-year Teach for America assignment, then shows us how his failures are his greatest life lessons. He writes as a mixed-race Asian American, as a Stanford graduate, as a man of slight build that black kids in Promise, Mississippi call "Chinaman" and white folks in the Delta stare at with suspicion.
He confronts his own privilege as a Stanford graduate, and the racism ingrained in Promise’s poverty and unequal education system. Most of the black Mississippi fourth-graders of his classroom come from impoverished and broken homes, but rise above stereotyping as imaginative boys, bookish girls, enthusiastic, shy, and sometimes tragically brilliant and angry in Copperman’s individual portraits of them. I feel privileged as a reader to know their stories through his work, and inspired as a teacher to turn my doubts into challenges.
I appreciate Copperman's wrestling with the unwinnable position Teach for America put him in; he handles moral ambiguity with grit combined with a healthy dose of the inevitable shame that comes from acknowledging that one's sense of being able to move mountains comes from privilege as much as it does personal determination. He fails to explain a broader context for the classist, racist narratives that fueled No Child Left Behind, but paints a vivid picture of those elements through his exploration of personal experience, showing the reader instead of telling. I personally enjoyed his writing style, getting entirely invested. I felt each heartbreak so that the very, very sporadic triumphs hit me even harder. There are some descriptions that read poorly. His occasional description of "too much makeup" or "too revealing clothing" presented in the context of otherwise lavish scene setting, as if the author's judgment is sufficient, feel a bit creepy and unexamined. A reader's willingness to overlook discomfort will bode well, however. Gendered uneasiness aside, the author's willingness to deeply and personally examine himself as an individual in the context of inescapably being a cog in a much bigger and impersonal system allows the reader to reflect on their own participation in the systems that regulate our opportunities or lack thereof.
As an educator I have been looking for a book that helps me to put my everyday career into words. While our stories and classrooms are thousands of miles apart and vastly different demographics, I felt every word like a personal attack or more often allyship. Teaching is not for the faint of heart. I loved the brutal honesty of Copperman in this novel. He did not downplay his failures, even in the end. I do think that when reading "Teacher" it is also important to think about the story critically. While it has been a while since Copperman wrote the story and taught in the deep South, it is important to realize that while this story is important it does lend to the "white savior complex" and sensationalizes school lives of Black American children. We must remember that this is not a whole of a culture, we cannot continue to read the book without talking about the stereotypes in which it propagated. Overall I really enjoyed the book as an educator and a fellow UO alumni.
I am voluntarily reviewing a copy of TeaCher through the publisher and Netgalley:
Michael Copperman left Standford University for the Mississippi Delta in 2002 where he would teach underprivileged fourth graders. Michael Cooperman finds himself teaching students whose reading and Math levels are far below their grade level.
Michael Cooperman found himself in a classroom full of angry, hurting, children who often took that hurt out on each other.
Michael Copperman's experiences got me engaged enough that I googled for more information on the town where Copperman taught and the Stanford professor who opines about Teach for America at the end of the book. I learned that both names are fictional.
Copperman's description of "Promise" Mississippi reminded me a lot Indianola where I spent some time with my sister while she arranged her husband's funeral. She had never lived in Indianola but her husband had grown up there and was to be buried there. During that time I stayed at the home of one of his childhood friends ( a white attorney who consulted on The Chamber). There was much reminiscing about the changes in Indianola, a town which had been relatively prosperous in the 1950's but was pretty bleak in 2007. When I googled Promise, Mississippi to see where it was in relationship to Indianola, I found it did not exist. There are so few towns of any size within commuting distance of Parchman Prison, that it appeared Promise was Indianola. The population and the distance to Delta State matched. A check of Copperman's Linkedin profile confirmed that he had taught in Indianola.
When I was there, our host thought his town would succeed in creating one integrated grade school which might expand to higher grades, but though the wonder of google, I was able to learn that effort largely failed. The Indianola school district went bankrupt and was forced into a county wide consolidated district by the state in 2014 and the school where Copperman taught was closed in 2015.
This is a book that brings out the contrasts between western Oregon (Portland and Eugene) and rural Mississippi. I suspect that Copperman captured a lot of truths, but I wish the introduction had indicated the level of truth. Were only the names changed? Were the students and teachers composites? Were all the experiences his own or some those of other teachers? It loses something when the reader doesn't know.
In Teacher: Two Years in the Mississippi Delta Michael Copperman describes the two years he taught with Teach for America in a place very different than his home state of Oregon. I value that fact that he wrote this book. He details life in a poor African American community where he as a Japanese American stood out or didn’t always fit. His students come alive as do his hardships. This short-term job changed his life and raised questions I have had about possibilities of change and equity. I spent two years in the Peace Corps in the Central African Republic – very different and yet raising some of the same questions. This book is not always easy to read, but I strongly recommend it.
Copperman sets out bent on "changing the world through sheer force of will," fails by his own naive metrics, and contemplates his old and new perspectives on race and class inequalities in education in America.
The author is candid and humble about what teaching in an impoverished school district does to his inner self while also sharing a gripping story where you find yourself rooting for everyone to succeed despite the hand they've all been dealt.
This is a good read. The author talks about his first two years of teaching. A graduate of Stanford, he idealistically takes a job with Teach for America and is assigned to the Mississippi Delta for two years. The book is fascinating as he relates his experiences with the students and faculty in his new school. This book made me think, and I recommend it.
This book is a memoir from a man who taught with Teach for America in a rural school in the Mississippi Delta in the early 2000s. He is very honest about his efforts and the problems that the students had, and how he was often unable to help them. It was somewhat depressing, but an interesting window into a world with which many of us are unfamiliar.
A comment further down nailed what I was wondering: Where did this take place? My guess was Indianola, based on the reference in The Atlantic story from some time back on the local academy's football stadium that is circled with barbed wire fencing.
I picked up this book then put it back down so many times. The long and slow descriptions in the prologue just didn’t grab me. Finally, I pushed through, and I am so glad I did! After the prologue, the story really picks up, and it is beautiful and heartbreaking and insightful. I really loved it.
I don't believe anyone who has not taught would appreciate this book. I really liked it, even though it made me very sad. If you've taught, you know it's all truth.
Quick read. Certainly interesting. As a teacher I can sympathize with the feeling of failure and devastation when dealing with hard students. In some ways it felt too quick to really feel like you got to know him or the kids... The perspective of an Asian American in the south was interesting and not one that I had thought about before. Not sure I would highly recommend this one.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Copperman's book attracted my attention initially because I, too, have been a teacher of at-risk kids, and identify with the struggle of not knowing whether I am doing, or can do enough for the little ones with whom I've fallen in love. He relates the ups and downs of his two years in the Delta with candor and humor, if not a little self-aggrandizement perhaps. The bouncing around with his current life far away from the Teach for America journey was a bit disjointed, but all in all, the author's voice came through loud and clear. I would have been happy for the book to end with one of the special stories about Felicity or one of the other stand-out students in his classroom. However, Copperman moves into an editorial role in the final pages, by putting forth his opinions on education and how it should be done differently, as well as on the overall value of No Child Left Behind, the Teach for America program itself, and other sundry educational topics. This was quite off-putting, in that I can appreciate his struggles in the classroom and identify with the humor and personalities, while not necessarily agreeing with him politically. It is unfortunate that education has become so political, but it has, and Copperman's views are simply another voice in that battle, especially when he uses terminology such as "Bush's broken system" in his final pages. It left a sour taste in my mouth.
Brave, vivid, and thoughtful, Copperman's memoir invites engagement on so many levels. I'm not sure what captured me most: the personal journey of geography and psyche, the rawly exquisite prose, or the fresh and honest reflections about education and culture. It was all good, honestly. This book will stay with me for a while.
I listened to Michael Copperman read from this excellent memoir just a few weeks ago. There is no sentimentality here, only stark realism. Ten years after his time spent doing his best to teach poor children in Mississippi, he recalls and reflects on what he learned and how those children continue to impact his life as a teacher at the UO. A gripping, grim story.
This book was excellent, but difficult and depressing to read. It truly brings home the impact and effects of poverty on education. There are no quick or easy answers to solving or even addressing this multi faceted, multi leveled educational and economic problem. I think it should be read by everyone!
His stories and realizations as a first-year teacher are spot on. However, his Faulkner-like impersonations with paragraph-long sentences and arrogant tone I can do without.