So, in my last post I discussed grappling with surprising feelings of pessimism that stemmed from some of the stark perspectives posed in my recent reading assignments. After chewing over some of these ideas, I think I’ve stumbled upon the heart of this angst: I have a hard time reconciling such enthusiastic idealism with the reality of the United States public school system.
Take the education of English Language Learners (ELLs), or folks who grew up with a native language other than English. As I’ve read it, the strategy for educating ELLs breaks down into three main categories: immersion (where students are forced to participate in all their classes using only English), “ESL Education” (where ELL students meet for some time every day, for coaching in English, and tutoring is available from multilingual teachers), and multilingual education (where all students are educated in classes using more than one language, whether English is their native language or not).
From the idealist perspective, multilingual education clearly carries the greatest advantage. Students whose native language isn’t English would be placed on similar footing as the English-native students, or put in the position of greater ease due to their own native fluency. And the English-native students have the benefit of leaving their Secondary education as bilingual, or multilingual individuals.
Yet this raises the question of logistics: on what scale could we implement this approach? Should all schools require all new hires to be at least bilingual? How many different languages should be represented within a given school system? Who makes those decisions? Can the current educational budget afford such a radical shift? All these questions garner a range of answers, all of which could likely be defended with equal veracity, letting alone the politicized issue of whether English should be considered the “Official Language,” thus barring teaching in non-English languages.
Untangling the myriad threads that stem from the simple question “How do we implement this ideal?” speaks, to me, as an indicator of the ridiculous complexity involved in organizing a nation’s education. The majority of educational researchers may agree (though they rarely do) on a single ideal, yet to instate such change takes time, effort, and a keen eye for the big-picture.
Take school de-segregation for example. More than half a century has past since the Roe v. Wade decision, yet many districts are more segregated than ever. What we can learn fro the de-segregation example is breakdown of such a process. At one point, someone had to ask, “Ok, given the complexity of this issue, what is the next logical step, assuming we want to carry through de-segregation of schools?” And somebody came up with an answer. Wrestling with such ideas as “democracy in the classroom,” or “deconstructing the school-to-prison pipeline,” the enormity of the posed problems is intimidating.
I can only guess, or hope, that by keeping the ideal solution in my mind, and tempering my understanding of such issues with my experience in the classroom, I can arrive at my own conception of “the next logical step.” My only remaining question is “Why haven’t I read this anywhere else?” Is it too local a concept? Does “the next logical step” only apply to an individual school, or are there trends that we can address in the national culture of education?
Uf, long post, but big ideas too. I hope I didn’t put anyone to sleep as they read this, but weigh in if you’ve got ideas to share.
So I misinterpreted my homework today. “Who does school work for” was really the aim, but I struggled with “What works well in schools?” Obviously, I think that certain things work well, but damn it if I wasn’t hard pressed to articulate at least one of them.
I think part if it is due to a lot of the reading we’ve been assigned. Don’t get me wrong, I’m one hundred percent behind teaching for social justice, but to study this pursuit is to read some truly bleak shit. For instance, an article I read earlier this week is entitled “Dismantling the School to Prison Pipeline”. A novice educator can easily get overwhelmed.
So there I was, grappling with myself to articulate just one positive element of secondary schools in the United States. Twenty minutes later, I thought, “I don’t think I’m a pessimist, am I?” Easily distracted, apparently, but I thought I was largely hopeful.
I ended up writing about the freedom enjoyed—at least to a degree—by American educators. Clearly this is under an increasing threat from standardized testing, and pressure to “teach to the test.” All the same, very rarely do two English teachers teach a British Lit class the same way, or with the same texts. That variety, a microcosm of the variety seen in American universities—our real educational wealth—still inspires me, but is the product of something much greater: our educators themselves.
I’m biased, sure. My mother is a reading teacher; with any luck, I’ll be in the classroom in the next week or so; I’m still friends with some of my High School teachers. Still, talk to anyone and ask the to name five people who really had an impact on their lives, and I’ll bet you there’s at least one teacher in there. I look at my classmates, and I see inspiring people who will make a difference in the lives of their students. And I know we’re still at least doing something right.
I found $2 in change in my slippers this morning. The odd boon, unexpected as it was, colored the rest of the day in a rather peculiar way. Had it been that long since I had worn my slippers? How did I get dollar coins anyway? Nobody uses those except airports. Since when did slippers accrue interest? One might expect to find the forgotten $20 bill in the pocket of the recently-unearthed light jacket, not worn since last Autumn, but to find cash in your slippers is a truly strange experience.
Catch as catch can, I suppose. Convince your attractive classmate to join you for impromptu burritos. Impose a self-invitation to your friend’s game night. Take those fifteen minutes you’d spend waiting for the bus, and walk across the square, and turn those two slipper-found dollars into a delicious mint brownie from the local café. And then find you’ve locked yourself out of your apartment. Whoops.
I digress, but there was never much focus here to begin with. That meandering exploration of the unexpected, which leads you to great explorations on one side, and causes such squandered opportunities on the other, makes for a suitable meta-theme to kick things off here. This will, one day, become a chronicle and journal of what I learn from teaching, and the unexpected elements of the classroom prevail upon us to sharpen and develop ourselves. But, until then, I hope it will remind you to check your sleepwear for cash.
