Teaching in New York City is not for everyone. Sometimes you don’t have enough supplies, your principal only cares about standardized testing and half of your students don’t come to school. At the end of the day, you still need to teach!
“Only the strong go crazy. The weak just go along.” – Assata Shakur
I- Home Again
There I was, back on the block, back on the scene. I was in Brooklyn again, my hometown, and I was ready to teach, to instruct, to inspire. No, I didn’t feel like a missionary, but I was on a mission. No, I wasn’t attempting to brainwash, but I guess I was attempting to convert, both consciously and unconsciously. I was born and bred in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, New York, to Caribbean immigrants. Why does that matter? It matters because my parents sacrificed a lot for my brothers and me by coming to this country, a land unknown to them and their ancestors. However, it was all for the benefit of our education. What we learned would somehow validate who we were, at least according to my parents it would. As a result, education has always been at the forefront of my life. I learned to understand and appreciate the significance of education, especially in “underprivileged” and “marginalized” communities. However, I would soon learn that not everyone has these same beliefs.
II- First Day of School
My school was located in the East New York section of Brooklyn, a neighborhood I had never stepped foot in, until my interview. I thought I had experienced the “hood” but this hood was different. There were more drug addicts standing still on the corner, more littered streets, and more of a reality of impossibility. Unfortunately, this is what sociologists would call the antithesis of the American Dream. However, I wasn’t afraid. Although this “hood” was very different from the “hood” I was accustomed to, I still knew the basic ins and outs of street codes/life, etc. “I can do this” I thought convincingly to myself. I already anticipated problems, solutions, tears, fear and confusion. I knew it would not be easy, and that there would be many hard days. However, there was one thing that was clear to me, under no circumstances would I give up. By giving up, I meant quitting, or believing that a student couldn’t learn. I made that promise to myself before I knew what my students looked like.
I walked into my classroom that I had been decorating for the week prior to the beginning of class. The first bell rang and they came strolling in. There were thirty-two of them-mostly brown and dark brown faces. I was nervous, anxious and excited all at the same time. I had my teacher face on, stern yet friendly. As they walked in quietly, a few of them gossiping to themselves, I announced: “Please look for your names on the desks”. As each of them looked, I spotted some of them switching their nametags with other students. That is when I announced that I had a seating chart, so I was well aware of everyone’s seats. I saw some of the faces change, and everyone made sure to sit in his or her assigned seats (for that day at least). Once everyone was seated, I introduced myself and gave a short history of my background and my experiences. Everyone listened. Then I gave them an opportunity to introduce themselves. Everything seemed to be going at a smooth pace in those early days. Rules and procedures were introduced and modeled. “Wow, this is going to be a good year,” I thought to myself. I felt that my first year of teaching was off to a great start. However, I was introduced to the bureaucracy early on: portfolios, sourcebooks, work folders, lesson-plan monitors, etc. Why were so many people checking up on me? How can you measure my performance as a teacher based on a portfolio or a sourcebook? Why did I begin to feel stifled and constricted in the early month of September? Before I even had the chance to understand what teaching was or meant, I was bombarded with a checklist of things I was obligated to do.
III- The Practice
The first thing I ever had to teach, after rules and procedures, was test prep. It seemed like a nightmare. Kaplan books, Coach books, and Stars books, were all supposed to enhance reading comprehension. However, the reality was that these books were all on an eighth grade reading level. Most of my students were NOT on grade level, so how was I supposed to differentiate instruction, while being forced to use materials that were not on my students’ levels? I definitely wasn’t meeting most of my students where they were at- so in reality, was I even teaching at all? I didn’t feel as if I was. If I didn’t get those workbooks done, I probably would have been fired, because there were people checking up every other day, going through the workbooks. These “administrators” who were supposed to be supportive, were going through my workbooks, during my instruction. What message was this sending to my students? What message was this sending to me as a new teacher in the building? As a new teacher in this contrived educational system, where the needs of the children came last? I was so confused, but nervous about not being able to “produce.” Everyone around me, colleagues and administrators all seemed obsessed with bulletin boards and test scores, while all I could think about was getting my students to actually appreciate and understand the power of reading and writing. But how was I going to achieve that goal?
I started to do things my way, what I believed to be the right way. I didn’t intend on breaking all the rules as a first year teacher, however, I did intend on doing what was morally right. Although I continued to do test prep (I had no choice), I also continued to make the information relevant to my students by asking them questions they could relate to. On one cold, dreary winter morning, I posed a question on the board for the Do Now: Why is it important to finish what you start? My students looked at the board, and at first many of them seemed confused. They didn’t understand the relevancy of this question, or how it had anything to do with their lives. After five minutes of sitting in silence, they began to write. Some of them began to talk about what the other was writing. I enjoyed seeing this student communication. To me, that is what learning is truly all about-collaboration. As they began to write, I went around to see what students had in their journals. One journal entry that made me smile was by one of my most memorable students: “One reason it’s important to finish what you start is because if you don’t, then how will you know that you have accomplished anything? There is no point in starting something and then quitting along the way.” I really enjoyed reading her response, because it was simple and to the point. This student was obviously determined and aware of the significance in setting goals for herself.
Afterwards, we had a class discussion about the Do Now question and it was amazing, because the students were speaking to each other, instead of worrying about what I thought. They seemed engaged in the topic. I then made the connection between the Do Now question and school. I told them that finishing school was also a goal that each and every student should take seriously. For some reason, this assignment was one in which I didn’t feel as if I were preaching to my students. Instead, I felt as if they had the opportunity to think of the question on their own and have a discussion about it, before I added my two cents. That day we started test prep work late, and frankly, I didn’t care.
I stared doing things my own way, counting down the days until the ELA test, because I just wanted it to be over. I could see that my students enjoyed true discussions and ongoing class debates. I didn’t always facilitate them in the best way possible, but many discussions happened. As time went on, I learned, that middle school students need to have discussions that relate to them. In my classroom, I attempted to create a world of revolution, where education wouldn’t be ruled by rubrics and fabricated standards. Sometimes this lack of “standardized” structure worked, in the sense that my students seemed to be learning how to talk to each other, and how to listen, and how to respond to a writing prompt without feeling pressured by the “forces that be”. However, my lack of “standardized” structure also led to many failed lessons, and students who sat staring at me blankly, confused as to what was going on. At those moments, I felt like a failure, a phony disguised as a teacher. Am I capable of teaching my kids? Do I have the skills and the resources to effectively promote change in my classroom? Those are the questions that haunted me and still haunt me to this very day.
IV- My Colleagues
For some odd reason I envisioned meeting a swarm of intellectual, like minded teachers, who were all on a mission to eradicate educational inequality. I came in as an idealist, because I am an idealist, and that will never change. However, everyone else seemed to be pessimists:
“These kids can’t learn!”
“Forget about that student, he will never change!”
“That is a lower level kid, he isn’t too smart.”
Who were these people? Educators? Innovators? How could I possibly interact with them, when my beliefs did not and would never correlate with the bureaucracy? All of the ELA teachers only talked about the bulletin boards, portfolio pieces and test prep. They talked about each student being able to produce book reports, but nobody talked about reading. I wanted to talk about student investment in reading and writing, and how to achieve that investment. But nobody around me cared, so how could I?
I decided to stay far away from my colleagues, because they were not uplifting me in any way or helping me feel excited about teaching. All conversations during professional developments revolved around upcoming deadlines, imposed upon us by administration, as opposed to student growth and student achievement. So I ventured out on my own, feeling lonely and unsupported most of the time. I needed to truly explore the art of teaching, however, I needed positive energy to do such a thing. So I did the only thing I knew how to do, I relied on my students to pull me through the fire. So you are probably wondering, why on earth are you a teacher? I think I might know half of the answer to that question.
V- The Answer
Despite all of the negativity and overwhelming experiences, I love teaching. Despite having to answer to the authorities regarding my lesson plans and my portfolios, I love teaching. Despite having to face the reality of a student being killed by another student in front of my school building, I love teaching. I love it. When I calculate the hours of my workweek, I spend the majority of my time with my students. They inspire me, keep me grounded, make me think, make me dance, they teach me. And honestly, I know for a fact that they have taught me way more than I have taught them. When we were reading Walter Dean Myers’ short story Angela’s Eyes, it was a student who reminded me that eyes were the windows to the soul, and that Angela, the main character, inherited her father’s eyes which explains her intuition. And on that same day, another student who hardly came to school, actually completed his independent reading (with enthusiasm) and answered all of the questions that followed. This is the same student who couldn’t pay attention for more than two minutes. Did I have something to do with this? Possibly. Am I really a teacher? Kind of. Actually, I am a teacher, and I love being surrounded by horny adolescents who are attempting to find themselves. I want them to see how to find pieces of themselves within and outside of literature and literacy. I want to help my students become excellent code-switchers, psychologists, literary analysts and creative spirits.
I am now at a point where I am comfortable with my teaching style, because naturally I am confident in my capabilities. I know how to push my students. That doesn’t mean that I have a 100% success rate, but I do have a 90% attempt rate. All of my students try to accomplish something, which wasn’t the case back in September. After reading several texts on motivating students that just don’t care, I realized that I was making several mistakes. Where was the ability for my students to truly feel at the center of every lesson? Where was room for them to challenge my views and opinions? I wasn’t allowing my students the opportunity to learn independently. Perhaps that stems from the fact that the people “above” me didn’t and still don’t allow me to feel independent. However, I cannot enforce what they do to me, onto my students (although it is quite easy to do so). Thus, I began to praise student effort instead of shutting them down when they only wrote two-three sentences. I began to emphasize that everyone must at least try to do something before realizing that they cannot do it. I have noticed a huge success rate in student output, since I began to emphasize effort over output. Students don’t feel as pressured, and therefore produce work naturally. This is a huge step forward for me and allows me to look forward to next year. Yes, there will be a next year, because as one of my brightest students taught me: “There is no point in starting something and then quitting along the way.”
