Monday, November 2, 2015

Am I too nostalgic?

I'm trying to get a job as a teacher.  I also have a stepson who has teachers.  I also work at schools as a substitute and those schools...you guessed it, have teachers.  It may be that I'm hypersensitive to problems because of the job I want to have, or it could be that my problem is thinking about the past with rose-colored glasses.

Obviously that statement has a ton of different directions I could be taking this.  I'm talking about the two emails I sent to my kid's teachers last week.  Now school has been going on over nine weeks and this is the first time we've talked to them.  And we initiated the communication.  However, we initiated the conversation because of some small issues.  In truth, we still haven't contacted his other teachers because we only call if he has a 'B.'

Obviously, my aggravation should be seen in light of my failure to get a job.  But, I told myself in grad school that when I was a teacher I would contact.  One reason is because the only calls my parents ever got from the school is when I had misbehaved.  I hated that.  I hate it now.  My parents could have gotten a short call every time I got honor roll.  School could have called to tell them that I was voted to be Key Club president and I wasn't even Catholic.  But no.  Do you think my wife got a call to tell her parents that she was top ten in her school?  No.

I wanted to be different because if you need to have your student's parents increase their investment in their child's education then you would have to invest in your relationship.  And in a lot of schools I know this is a changing principle in America.  I know a lot of elementary school teachers contact parents every six weeks.  I think that's great.  I know that when I was in Korea I called all of my students twice every quarter and gave them a little over the phone quiz and then their Korean teacher would discuss these and other results with their parents.  That was a lot, but it was private school.  We were expected to be in closer contact.  Public schools seem to be expecting more communication.  One of those things that teachers are expected to do above and beyond teaching like discipline, life skills, nutrition, manners, phonics, and teamwork.

So how much communication is good enough?  I think a short call to the parents once a six weeks and a form letter/news letter home every week to the family isn't asking a ton.  Specific e-mails about strengths their students have would also be great.  I've always dreamed about having a picnic at a park on a Saturday and inviting all my student's families.  I like the idea of making the class/teacher relationship more communal and less professional.  I feel like that's something we've lost.

Now, there is this meme/cartoon of the difference between education in the seventies and today.  In one box the parents are standing with the teacher and yelling at the student, 'What are you going to do about these grades?'  In the other box the same words are being shouted at the teacher by the parents.  Have you seen that cartoon?  Does that match your perception?  Isn't this losing a professional respect for what the teacher does?  Is this what's wrong with our educational system?



But wait didn't I say we've lost the communal to the more professional?  Yes.  I do think we've lost a certain amount of respect for the work of societies professional teachers.  But I think we gained that appreciation after we lost the teachers' communal investment in the society and life of children.  This may sound a little pie-in-the-sky-ish, but a long time before teachers were professionals weren't they a part of our society?  Before there were unions they were paid by the parents and the parents had input.  Teachers used to be allowed to participate in corporal punishment because they were so closely tuned with the disciplinary system of the the parents. Later on their professionalism didn't allow that closeness.

Now, I'm not saying professionalism was bad.  These days we're expecting more holistic education.  These days we demand more inclusion.  These days everyone has their own "special" education.  We're making modifications and specifications and teaching to standardized tests.  We're putting square pegs into round holes.  We've cut out professionalism and replaced it with post-modernism.  We cut out cold hard facts and shoved in amorphous feeling-based modules.  We're creating a peacock of education.  This is a mosaic approach to education that we used to think was possible when we had parents communicating with teachers.

However, I may not have my historical principles correct.  I may be too nostalgic about the past.  I may see a lot of genuine community when there really was underpaid, badly-treated teachers misused and disrespected by their local communities.  Maybe I'm miss-remembering rural communities graduating high school students who couldn't read.  Maybe I'm miss-remembering state hospital lobotomizing an Asperger's Syndrome that we'd give daily inclusion to.

So if you read this and you have an idea about community and professionalism please comment.  If you have an opinion about how much communication is good then leave a comment about how often you'd like a teacher to communicate with you about your kids.  Maybe you would like to delineate between fair and unfair expectations between primary and secondary education.  Do it?  Would you go have a hot dog picnic with your kids if your kid's teacher invited you one Saturday a semester?

Sunday, January 11, 2015

You were right. I am wrong.

Why is it that in an argument we interpret the phrase, "I don't care enough to argue," as... "You're right.  I'm wrong?"

That was a long sentence.  You understand?  Like Peanuts characters hearing adults talk as, "Wah Wah Wah."  In the real world sometimes we feel as if the phrase, "I don't wanna argue," really means, "I give up."

I've felt this way when I've heard this white flag from my argument-sworn-enemies.  I've felt like this when I was arguing something and thought, who cares, but relentlessly held on to the argument.

Here are some examples.  My mother and I were arguing today about a box that I had taken out of my father's van and put into her house.  My contention was that it was 'my van' while I worked for him and he should clean it up.  Moreover, he likes to keep this box of both trash and sundries that I feel he should go through regularly or irregularly.    I put the box inside the home so that he'd be forced to deal with it.  I'm using the box to manipulate him to do something I think he ought to.  *I admit this is stupid.
My mother's contention is that it's always his van so he should get to leave the box in there and if not then it shouldn't get put into the living room because I might as well be manipulating her to manipulate him to clean it.  It isn't fair to her and it isn't my place to manipulate anyone.

I hope I'm giving her side a polite and genuine retelling.  I'm not hoping to get people to rule in either of our favors.  I am lamenting the time and energy I took to try and convince her that I was right.  We even continued the argument after my father had sorted the box into trash and usable stuff which took five minutes.  My pride, my black-as-night desire to be correct, wouldn't allow me to help clean out the box.  Sin that pervades my life wants me to be right.  It wants me to throw up barriers between my mother and me, thorns on our good soil choking our relationship of its life and peace.  I couldn't say that this doesn't matter because my heart told me that saying that would be admitting she won the argument.
*"Mom, sorry to air our dirty laundry.  You were right.  I was wrong.  I shouldn't have tried to manipulate Dad or recruit you to help."
*"God, teach me that this humility I seek actually does mean becoming the LEAST of these.  Teach me when to fight tooth and nail for the kingdom, but let it go when all I'm protecting is my own pride. 

Another example.  My brother Dan sent me an article about who would win in a fight:  Star Wars vs. Star Trek.  I have spent so much time thinking about energy-based galactic economies I don't even want to make it public.  It actually has been what I think about while I'm drifting off to bed a couple of nights this last week.  It's tragic.  I haven't even talked to my brother about it.  My strange breed of neurosis wants to have a fully fledged answer before nonchalantly tossing the article's argument into the trash bin of scientific lore.  I hate that I'm losing the debate with the article writer.  It's terrible.  After trying to get some information on how food synthesizers and holo-decks work on Star Trek I realized... this is fiction.  It doesn't matter.

My pride got in the way again.  Not even a pride in myself but simply pride over which fictitious Universe I liked more.  Since I liked it more it had to be the one more capable of destruction.  I know I sound like a crazy person, the truth should be that I like one more or less if it was so.  Trying to decide who would win a fight, was pathetically outside the mission God has for me in the world.  Figuring it out doesn't matter.
The answer isn't THE answer.

*Daniel Fryar, Star Trek would win.  Unless you disagree.


*God, I don't like golf, video games, or sports.  I thought this made me relatively diversion-free.  I was oh so wrong.  Fill me up with things that matter.

Last Summer some men who help me to be better from time to time offered me a challenge.  The challenge was to NOT argue when I disagreed with someone.  This didn't help me much because it was a challenge for biting my tongue.  The true challenge would be to not care about that which God doesn't care about and to let opinions stand up without scrutiny.  I should have seen the other person's feelings rather than a chance to be right, to show God's love rather than my debate and logic skills.

I know I don't have a lot of readers.  To those of you who do read, I'm trying again to create 50 posts this year.  Last year I hoped for one a week and succeeded at once a month, sort of.  I am leaving Ecclesiasticus behind but am hoping to stay on the theme of Wisdom.  I think it would be smart of me to never lose an argument, but it would be wise to argue much less.