Working with the Adults

Penelope. . . .

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I can’t help it. I get an email announcing that a renowned author will be visiting our school. I immediately become intrigued and want to look her up. What has she written? What is her Twitter feed like?  Is she someone that I would have things in common with?  And then I stop cold. Nope. Not going to do it. Because that’s exactly what “she” would do. But “she” wouldn’t stop there. “She” would all of sudden become this author’s greatest fan. “She” would have all of her books– probably even read them all before the visit. “She” will be the first in line to meet the author when she comes in the building. “She” will make sure that everyone else knows that “she” is the resident expert on the author.

I know this sounds incredibly bitter. And overall, not very kind! But before you write me off as snarky, let me ask you, have you met Penelope? I am sure you have, although your “Penelope” may go by a different name. I have been able to name “her” after reading Escaping the School Leader’s Dunk Tank: How to Prevail When Others Want to See You Drown by Rebecca Coda and Rick Jetter.  Their concept of identifying what is holding you back, naming it and then figuring out how to prevail has given me the courage to put this particular situation into words.

Here is on of my favorites:

In other words, “she” is the classic Penelope one-upper.

I don’t want to compete. And yet, “she” draws you into competition with even the most mundane comment. If I were to follow through with my initial impulse and research this author, I start to question my own motives. Am I genuinely interested, or am I trying to  . . . well- pull a “Penelope” myself?

I am reminded of this quote:

Yes- I like to feel special and distinguished.

Yes- I like to stand out from my peers.

Yes- I am willing to do extra research and schmoozing to  network and connect.

Yes- I think that you can go too far.

Yes- I think that “she” represents the extreme of the mild form of my tendencies of this behaviour.

The main disfunction that this situation incurs is that I alter my natural actions based on another person.  This is not uncommon for many of us.  But it is the resentment and frustration that accumulate that are unhealthy and detrimental.

How have you dealt with your “Penelope”?

Are you the “Penelope”, and if so, is it such a bad thing?

What are examples of “Penelope” that you have faced and what have been successful strategies?

My Musings

Potential, peripherals, inspiration. . . .

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Elizabeth Gilbert is all about inspiration in her new book, Big Magic. I’ve been listening to it daily on my commute to and from work. But this is not a good idea for me. I want to note, mark, agree, highlight, question, and, well, that is not possible with an audio book. So I bought the hard copy. I’ll go back and reread, annotate, and mark to my heart’s delight! But truth be told– who has time for that?! There is a reason why I first bought it on Audible. I can’t seem to find the time to sit and read right now.
I am bursting though. Her words are inspiring because she’s inspired. They foster an urge to act. Even more so, to create. So as I drop my son off at soccer, I try to decide where to go. (Yes, I leave. Really- he is in capable, adult hands, and I don’t really need to sit and watch a series of drills in order to be a “good mom.”) Where to go. . . . Not really feeling like a beer or glass of wine. Not really hungry. Green tea sounds delightful, but I don’t feel coffee-shopish. Then it hits me- the bookstore! I LOVE bookstores! I know, I just complained about not reading, but a bookstore is so much more.

Potential.

That’s what is in a bookstore. The shelves are lined with potential. Guides to become something, learn something, teach something, study something. Writers offer up their souls after sharing their struggles, while sharing their struggles. Some have it figured out, others are on their own journey. My soul is at peace in a bookstore because I feel that all the answers exist inside somewhere. Not in one book, but collectively. In everyone’s story. In everyone’s struggle, in everyone’s success.

Peripherals.

Not to mention the peripherals. The two college students discussing frustrations with the store manager at American Eagle and when they first became friends with a mutual acquaintance. Or the woman sitting, with her mouth slightly open and tongue protruding, skimming through a book about the Paleo Diet before picking up a diabetes cookbook. These peripherals remind me of what it was like to be young and working on figuring out life. Remind me to be grateful that I am not diabetic and, while I enjoy the Paleo diet plan, I am not beholden to it.

Inspiration.

The inspiration comes from seeing the stacks and stacks of books written by people who “did it.” They did it. They wrote a book. They learned something. They can teach something. They did it. Their words are out there and it’s up to someone else to buy the book and read it, but they have done their part to satisfy the universe.
I find peace here. I love that it is so organized- genre, alphabetical, visually displayed. I love the selection and variety. I love the randomly placed comfy chairs, tables with students on laptops, kids with their parents cozied up in reading corners.
Just walking through the aisles I feel a mix of calm and a call of action wash over me. The titles alone beg attention. The covers have been explicitly designed to appeal to the passerby to stop and pause. Such a flood of words opens my mind to possibility. Could I? Why not? Would anyone read it? Maybe not. What would I write about? I don’t know. But, again, channeling Elizabeth Gilbert, you don’t write for “them.” You write for you. And if you’re lucky, you might write something wonderful.

My Musings

Mr. Keating was fired . . .

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It is the night before my 13th year of teaching. I find myself flipping through random channels as I thumb through a local newspaper that features two articles about education and teaching. As fate would have it, I find that I am just in time to start at the beginning of Dead Poets Society.

John Keating. . . . 

The untimely passing of Robin Williams a short time ago generated an appreciation for his many talents and movies. For educators especially, his role as John Keating served as the inspiration to join the ranks of education. As a senior in high school, I created a video compilation of movie clips that represented who I was and the aspirations I held for my life. Clips from Dead Poets Society were present in large quantities as I began my journey in education.

First Day of School . . . . 

I stifle a laugh as the opening scene unfolds. The film takes us from classroom to classroom as teachers begin their classes. There is the Latin instructor that firmly believes in the repetition strategy of instruction as the boys repeat a series of words over and over. We see the instructor that outlines all his rules and policies and warns the boys not to challenge him on these points. A few more introductions and coma-inducing procedure lectures leave the students waiting for more of the same as they anticipate  Keating’s arrival. They are startled by a cheery whistle and sit in confusion as he leaves the room after gesturing for them to follow. It is here that we experience one of the most iconic moments of the film.

Carpé Diem . . . .

Gathered in a hall, the boys are surrounded by trophies, awards, medals and photographs of the glories achieved by the alumni. Keating encourages the boys to look into the faces of those that came before them as he whispers, “Seize the day! Make your lives extraordinary!“

 Disruption . . . .

 The rest of the movie features additional moments where Keating is pushing and challenging not only his students, but the status quo of the traditionalist institution. It is hard to not smirk, or to break out in a wide grin when Keating challenges the notion that 17 year-old boys cannot be free thinkers. The sharing of the secret society that “sucks the marrow out of life” has us leaning in with delight for the beauty held within poetry. With the headmaster watching disapprovingly from above, Keating leads the boys through a lesson showing ease at which we fall into conformity by having the boys walk in the courtyard. From ripping pages from text books that describe mathematical formulas determining the success of poetry, standing atop desks to see the world from different point of view, and, the final straw, infusing the boys with the “carpé diem” spirit to such an extent that Todd defied his father’s orders and continued his acting. It was this rebellious act that ultimately led Todd to end his life – a life he couldn’t fathom living without acting- and Todd’s father to allege that it was the teachings of Keating that were to blame.

 Reality. . . . 

Back to the local paper I was reading while channel surfing. One story focused on the disservice done by Hollywood by portraying teachers as saintly martyrs instead of active professionals (Mentors Not Martyrs). The article features several iconic teachers, and I realize, they all battled to teach the way that they believed in. Why? Why do we have to battle so much? I want to be a Keating-type of teacher for my students, but does this have to come with the price of potentially being removed from teaching? Is insubordination the worst thing I could do?

Disruption. Creativity. Innovation. 

They certainly come with a price. I personally, have decided it is one that I will gladly pay. I’m sure there will be some technicality or minor error that will snowball into substantial reason to let me go. So far I have been reprimanded for requesting student emails (for crosschecking our database), saying the word “crap” (Junior High??), and being “too overwhelming” for some people with my enthusiasm/passion for teaching. At any rate- fear can cripple creativity and passion to the point of mediocrity. It is when egos supersede camaraderie,  protocol over personalization and control trumps creativity that kids are truly failed.

Mr. Keating was fired.

Working with the Adults

What is best for kids . . . .

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Go ahead. Google the phrase “What is best for kids.”  You will get a long list of sites, blogs and information for administrators. One of my favorite people to follow on Twitter is even listed on the first page-  so I don’t mean to present this as a completely negative outcome.

My point is this: What is actually meant when administrators use the phrase “What is best for kids”?
On a day that teachers are attending building opening meetings, it seems to be the top catch phrase.
I understand that for some situations, it may be said in an effort to make some hard choices, or to get outside of our own egos, comfortable spaces, old habits and fixed Mindsets.
But does it carry an implied message? When it follows new procedures, policies, or assignment changes, it can feel manipulative, subversive, or at best, condescending.
This last year I was shifted from my role teaching 7th grade English/Accelerated English to a schedule with three different Reading classes and three regular English classes. This shift also included being moved “off-team” from three fantastic educators that I worked with very well.
When I asked for reasons for this shift, it came down to the need to fill positions with people that were “highly qualified” and this included moving a 9th grade teacher into 7th grade classes. This teacher was adamant about not wanting to teach 7th grade. She felt she was not a good fit with the – let’s say- energy level of that age group.
The solution was to put her “on-team” where she would have “support.”
This move was filed under the phrase: We believe this is what is best for kids.
I am incredibly grateful to have had the summer for reflection and “silver lining” finding, however, I still chew on this phrase.
From my perspective, “what is best for kids” would be access to a teacher passionate about teaching the writing skills assigned to the 7th grade English  curriculum. A teacher who thoroughly enjoys the transformation of student during the 7th grade year from children to young adults. A teacher who works well with the teachers of the other subjects and meets on a daily basis.
Is this the whole picture? No. It’s my perspective. Could there be more to it? Certainly. Are kids really going to be traumatized by this decision? Doubtful.
I welcome and appreciate the opportunity to grow from this new challenge, as is the new 7th grade English teacher. We can’t change our situation, but we CAN change out attitudes.
I continue to hear “What is best for kids” as the final line from administration.
I would appreciate if ownership was taken that it is THEIR VIEW of “what is best for kids.”  I have wondered, “Why don’t they realize that is EXACTLY what I’m trying to do?”
Let’s talk. Let’s drop the lines that can imply a lack of effort, caring, intelligence and, especially, professionalism: what’s best for kids, just use common sense, etc.
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