Scars of a Teacher

             

I've been teaching after-school programs for about fifteen years.  I've seen good kids, bad kids, great kids.  I've seen good parents and bad parents.  

A few weeks ago I received a phone call of the kind I had never received before.

This call was from a teacher at a public elementary school about a young girl (let's pretend her name is Elsa). Now, Elsa is a fairly decent student,  and, like any other 6 or 7 year old, she is full of questions,  both reasonable, and unreasonable,  is a bit of a worry wart, a bit of a perfectionist, and always, always, trys to do well.

I expected this to be a standard disciplinary call. Due to what I teach, I expected the phone call to be that the little girl defended herself against someone or got into a fight, and my standard reaction to this kind of call is that I would say I'd talk to the student, and, if necessary,  take my own disciplinary measures.

That was NOT the call that I got.

                "I'm calling about Elsa," the woman said, a little irritated, like she just got out of a yelling 

                match.

                "Yes? What did she do?" I tried to keep a nice tone, and keep her calm.

                "She was being rude, talking out of turn, and talking back for starters."

                "What happened?" 

                "Today we informed the students that there would be a schedule change, that lunch 

                 was being shortened by 15 minutes. And Elsa talked back."

                "What did she say?" about this point, I figured some swearing happened, but no.

                "She asked me why. Why lunch was shortened." The woman grumbled angrily. "She   

                 claimed that there was no reason for lunch to be shortened. She said that Erin (an ADHD 

                 student) couldn't focus in class without running around and playing on the playground 

                 first."

                "Ok…" I was not sure what to say about that, to me it sounded like a perfectly 

                 reasonable  question for a 6 year old to ask. "What else was said?"

                "I told her that's the reason why he has a special teacher. I also told her the reason for lunch 

                 being shortened was so that we could have more time to learn. Elsa said that it didn't make

                 sense to have a shortened lunch and force them to focus if they can't run around."

                "Ok, so what's the problem? Sounds like a reasonable question."

                "They aren't supposed to ask those questions." there was an edge in her voice.

                "They are kids, they have to run around to focus. It makes sense."

                "No, that's not the issue." She sounded like she was starting to get angry at me.

                "Then what's the issue?" 

                "She shouldn't be asking those questions!"

                "Huh?" 

                "She shouldn't be asking questions like why we have a schedule change. She shouldn't 

                 question her teachers! And apparently you're the one teaching her to question orders."

 I was utterly baffled. How can you expect kids to not ask questions?  How, especially, does a teacher not understand that kids are full of questions?

                "Why shouldn't she question an order like that? That is kind of silly not to let them run 

                  around and expect them to sit, for what? Seven, maybe eight hours? They're six."

                "They shouldn't be asking those questions though!"

                "And why not? As soon as a toddler learns what 'why' means they never stop. Questions  

                 help us get through life, we wouldn't have people like scientists or doctors without that

                 need to know." 

                "But they shouldn't be going against their teachers! We direct them!"  It sounded like she   

                 slammed a door behind her as she shouted into the phone.

                "And why should they follow orders blindly? In here if I tell them to jump high, or kick

                 high, they are going to ask me why, and I tell them why.  And, based on my answer, each

                 kid makes their own decision as to whether or not that reason is good enough to jump high,

                 or kick high."

                "You should make them follow the orders you give them! They shouldn't question or argue!

                 They should be able to sit and learn and not question!" it sounded like she was either 

                 stomping, or walking around a wooden floor like she was going to kill something.

                "Uh, that's not how kids learn. That's not how anyone learns. Maybe a few, but the  

                 majority of children have to move a lot, to get that energy out, before they can sit and 

                focus."

Now, in hindsight, I was never going to "win" with this person.  Frankly, I have no idea how they obtained a teaching credential.  But, I'm one of those people who believes, right or wrong, that most people are reasonable. People often say I'm a bit too polite. That being said, right then, I had a thought, I'd try to jog this persons memory:

               "When were you in elementary school?" I asked.

                "1990s." Tone softens from anger to the confrontational tone people get when defending 

                 their ego.

                "Ok," similar time frame as me, got the counter argument for that:  "So in school, in the

                  90s, how many breaks did you get?"

                "We got a 15 minute break, morning and afternoon, and a 45 minute to an hour lunch."

                 sounding only slightly calmer now that we were talking about her.

                "Ok. How much running around did you do in first grade?"

                "I don't remember." she commented dismissively.

                "No, how much did you run around?"

                "I don't know, a lot I suppose."

                "Ok, and on those days where it was raining, and you couldn't run, how much did you

                 learn?"

                "I don't know."

Fair enough, I can't remember much from those days.

                 "How much homework did you get?" 

                "A packet a week, maybe 30 problems for all subjects."

                "No, in first grade."

                "Half the problems maybe."

                "Ok, so... you ran around a bunch, got an hour lunch break, and very little homework when

                 you were a kid."

                "Yes."

 At this point I almost crushed the phone. Attempting to keep a nice, even, polite tone, I responded:

                 "And you're expecting Elsa to be ok with having half the lunch break, ten times the 

                  homework, and barely any running around, a bunch of structure, no daydreaming time, no

                  playing time unless scheduled, ask no questions, behave 100% of the time, and still grow

                  up to be a decent person???"

                "Yes." she stated flatly, sounding very proud of whatever thought process that led her to this

                 conclusion.

                "Sooooo…..you expect her to be a drone?" 

                "What do you mean?" she sounded utterly baffled by this comment.

                "A worker drone, someone who is incompetent at defending themselves, in any situation, 

                 someone who follows orders blindly even if it leads them to harm."

                "If it means order in the classroom, then yes."

                "Are they learning anything in your class aside from taking tests?"

                "Well, yes, they are learning math, English and some science." Acting proud again.

                "What about art?"

                "Once a week."

                "Ok, so you're teaching them to be mindless drones?  Teachers do not do that.  I do not do 

                 that. I teach children to think for themselves, to stand up and be strong. Honestly I don't 

                 know why this is an issue. She asked a question that had to be asked. I would have done 

                 the same in her position."

                "You're not listening!" she shouted, losing her temper again.

                "I am, you're not paying attention to what you're teaching." I admit, by this point I was 

                 fairly angry, and I might have sounded like I was going to punch something,  

               "They should know how to question. It's critical thinking. You're expecting a very intelligent

                young kid to become a mindless vegetable,  when she really wants to be a scientist. She 

                should question. She will need to ask lots of questions.  I do not blame her for questioning."

                "She shouldn't talk back!!!"

                "That wasn't talking back. She wanted an answer, and you as a teacher, should have given

                  her an answer. Now, on this specific question, I assume on this specific question, this was

                 the district's choice, not the school's. So you could have told her that and I think she might

                 have understood it. If you don't know the answer, then you don't know the answer."

                "It was to make them learn more!!!" she sounded like she was in the middle of a full-on 

                 temper tantrum of the four-year-old variety at this point.

                "Then that doesn't make sense. They can't really learn if they can't ask questions, and they

                  can't sit if they don't run! You know, I don't understand how you're a teacher if you're 

                 calling me about something as trivial as this. You could have told her that you didn't know

                 the answer, it wasn't your choice or that you'll add a game to make up that time, there are

                 more ways to quiet a question like that than get them in trouble for it. It was a good 

                question."

The next thing hit me harder than it really should.

                "You should NEVER teach them to ask!!!" she screamed...

                "I'll tell you what, if a your school insists on teaching kids not to ask questions, then I'll 

                 make sure that my students ask me at least one everyday. And. I. will. answer. them."

She then exploded into a diatribe of insults and expletives, calling me an idiot etc,  and I decided at that point it just might be a good time to hang up the phone.

                

It took me 2 weeks to realize what what the call was really about.  Initially, I made the mindless drone comment in anger...  But sadly that was the truth.  A few other students from other public schools claim the same thing, that important questions are deterred, avoided, muted, skipped over and sometimes even disciplined. Critical thinking is being allowed less and less in those schools.

Kids like Elsa get about a ½ hour of home work a day, but an 8 year old in the same school district gets about 2 hours of homework a day. They can ask a question, if they don't understand the math, or how something is spelled, but if something simple is bothering them, they can't ask about it.

I hear the same thing from parents in the 4 districts around me. Kids have too much homework, can't ask real questions, and get told not to think.

                

 And the only real time they are told that it is OK to think, ok to ask the simple questions every child has had since throughout history,  is by their siblings. or one of the few teachers like me.

As for Elsa, she got detention and extra homework because she asked a very simple question.

Something has to change.





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