I’ve been revising my first book over the past few days and have been struck by how much I’ve changed as a teacher (and a writer) in just ten years.  Some of the routines I used in my classes seem rather naive, and I’m squirming at how often I describe “heated arguments” with colleagues.  I don’t do that anymore.  I’ve found far smoother ways to work through roadblocks, but in my defense, for many years I taught students who struggled with reading and writing–some with serious behavior problems–and I was overly protective of these souls who made up the bottom rung of the educational system.

I’ve also been working with an inspiring group of teachers who make up the small staff of the charter school in a small public school district nearby.  Some of these teachers have little experience, others have been around for awhile, but what they share is an amazing amount of energy and worthwhile goals.  We will go through the accreditation process this year, so we’ve had to make sure that our courses match the state standards and the UC system rubrics.  I agree that there has to be a bottom line–some kind of system in place to verify that progress is being made by the students as they tackle a wide variety of skills.  However, we can become so focused on the tiny steps that we miss the big leaps forward.

In making up our course descriptions, I encouraged the teachers to keep the big picture in view by identifying the “Big Questions,” many of which cannot be definitively answered, and by pushing the students to grasp how useful the specific skills will be as they tackle the puzzle of their futures.  This year I placed six challenges before my ninth grade students: 

What and why should I read?

How do I make my writing worth reading?

What do I need to memorize?

How do I locate what I need to know?

What are the beliefs on which I base my life?

Why was I put on this Earth and what am I going to do about it?

I should think that will keep us occupied for ten months.  I also ask the teachers to stay focused on what made them fall in love with their subject in the first place so that the students will leave their classes with a clear idea of the passion behind the facts.  Or as T. S. Eliot would say, “We had the experience but missed the meaning.”

Yesterday I showed them how to use the thoughts in their journals to create a thesis statement for an academic essay on assumptions–they could argue either way:  1) Although assumptions can help us avoid dangerous situations, however, we must be careful of what we assume about other people because assumptions can lead to stereotypes, prejudices, and lost opportunities, or 2) Although assumptions can lead to prejudices and stereotypes, however, we need to make some assumptions based on our instincts because reasonable assumptions can help us avoid dangerous situations.

I like that this “although, however, because” formula forces the kids to address both points of view.  I begin the lesson with one of my favorite quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.”  This quote becomes one of the major themes of our class as we discuss cultural, political, and religious beliefs different from our own.  I make sure to tell the kids that they do not have to agree with an opposing point of view, but they should at least be able to present it clearly.

Their homework for this Labor Day weekend is to take five topics–dress code, the election process, survival of the fittest, lab testing on animals, and video games–and create two thesis statements for each:  one “for” and one “against.”  When I presented this assignment, I wore my button that says, “How far can I open my mind before my brains fall out?”  Pretty far, my dears, pretty far.

I’ve been trying to help a public school system start up a charter school; it opens in just  a few weeks and right now the task seems overwhelming.  After almost 30 years, I had no intention of working in a high school again, but the people behind this endeavor are so enthusiastic and idealistic that I threw my hat in before I realized what I was doing.  I’m a sucker for projects that seem impossible to pull off.  If the cause is worthy, the people sincere, and the path not yet paved, I’m in.  I once heard someone say, “Just because something is impossible is not a good enough reason not to try.”  Despite the flagrant double negatives, ’tis true, ’tis true.  Or as I say to new teachers, “If this job were easy, anyone could do it.”  It’s all about the vision and the faith.

Yesterday I spent some time with a man who returned to college after many years of working outside of education to get his teaching credential.  I truly admire his energy, dedication, and creativity.  He’s going to be a great teacher, but we just need to get him through his first year.  We’ve spent time arranging and rearranging furniture, but the real focus has been on developing a classroom management program that will work for him.  I can show him what I do, but he has to find what makes sense to him.  I’m enjoying the process–watching the wheels turn as he listens to my advice and either asks questions or lights up with the great “Aha!”  That’s one of my favorite parts of teaching–watching the struggle transform into a workable idea that now belongs to the learner and not to me.

Any discussion of classroom management will always turn to the topic of power or control.  I believe that teachers who are successful in creating a classroom where real learning takes place understand the nature of true power.  Without a doubt, the teacher needs to take control of a classroom before the opening bell rings.  The students should leave their first session with the sense that the teacher is clearly in charge and has a plan.  New teachers receive all sorts of advice as to how to do this.  Most have been told to start out strict then lighten up as the year unfolds.  This can work if the teacher has convinced the students early on that s/he has the students’ best interests at heart and has created a curriculum worth learning.  However, I’ve seen this “don’t smile until Christmas” approach backfire horribly if the power being wielded by the teacher is false; most students can spot a person pretending to have power within the first few minutes of class.

False power relies on threats designed to make the students afraid to misbehave.  I’ve seen coaches who can pull this off, but often they have a deeper relationship with a number of influential students based on their shared experiences on the athletic field.  But a teacher who relies on shouts, physical intimidation, or public humiliation will maintain control of a class as long as that level of fear is maintained.  This, of course, is exhausting; this kind of control works only as long as the teacher is focused on making it work.  The reason this type of power is labeled “false” is that it disappears as soon as the teacher turns his/her back or relaxes for a minute.  True power is where the students behave because they choose to.  They feel they have a stake in what will happen in this class and are anxious to learn what is being taught.  The climate of the classroom quickly moves from teacher control to self control.  False power controls physical actions; true power changes people’s minds.  My job is to help the teachers tell the difference.  Such interesting work.

I was 28 when Delaney was born; I liked the idea of making a family someday, but I had just quit my job and was planning a cross country trip in an old VW with the girls’ father “to look for America.” Then we found out I was pregnant and everything changed. We were thrilled and I have never regretted having children – I often tell expectant parents that you will never fall in love again like you will with your babies – and Delaney was my first healthy, all-consuming love affair.

I approached motherhood in the same way I take on any new challenge; I studied, planned, and organized my home and myself. If I was going to do this, I was going to give myself over to it completely. I had been a teacher for a few years and had begun to build a reputation as having a way with even the most difficult teenagers. A baby would be a piece of cake.

What threw me was the fact that motherhood was a 24-hour gig – I’m sure I intellectually understood that, but I was not prepared for the fact that for the next seven years, I would rarely experience anything close to a full-night’s sleep. Also, I’m the type of person who works hard when I’m on the job, but I need privacy and quiet every day to refuel. Babies don’t understand that. And I solve problems and create relationships with words. Luckily, Delaney was verbal at a very young age, but there were definite parameters to our conversations. Often, when I was home with a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and a newborn, I felt like I was just surviving, which made me feel guilty. I thought I should be reveling in this experience. I have a sister-in-law who lamented the fact that her babies would become children who would become adults. I couldn’t wait for my kids to grow up.

But the odd thing was, from all accounts, I did a pretty good job as a mom. I was far from perfect, painfully human, but my daughters tell me that when they have kids, they’ll use me as one of their role models. I think that’s the greatest compliment I’ll ever receive.

I do know that we don’t raise children on the side; even if we’re working parents, our first commitment must be to our children. When you’re submerged in toddler-land, it can seem like you’ve lost your identity or your dreams, but the time period that kids need your full attention is shorter than you think. Well-raised kids get on with their lives, so the day will come when all they need from you is your interest and encouragement.

I often tell my students that no one teaches us how to parent. Most of us will do what we observed as children. As a mother, I embraced my father’s example of consistency and my mother’s example of unconditional love; but I struggled with my father’s inflexibility and my mother’s martyrdom. Without question, parenting is the best and most difficult work I’ve ever done. In the following pages, I’ll share with you what I learned.

I believe the goal of your career isn’t money, fame, or power, but that could happen. Money, fame, and power are byproducts, like sludge or vapor - the far more worthy goal is to spend your time doing worthwhile work that improves your life and the lives of others.

I believe that often those who are obsessed with gaining power can trace their obsession to feeling like a loser at some time in their lives. That’s why many of our heroes were reluctant leaders.

I believe that part of our life’s work to is locate our center - nostos - our authentic self. It doesn’t mean we are always at our best, but at least we have a clear vision of what that looks like. We choose work that utilizes “what is within us” and we choose our closest companions from those who bring out our higher selves.

More on this later.

I believe it is my job as a teacher to disturb the calm.  These are students who get through school literally by the seat of their pants - they sit in desks, turn in whatever work is required, and leave with a grade.  If I ask them to copy out the index of a textbook by hand, they’ll be annoyed, but they’ll do it.  Many of them are considered to be “good” students because they never give their teachers any trouble, turn in their homework on time, and earn decent grades.  They think it’s impolite to ask, “What’s the point?” in the middle of a lesson.  My job is to shake them up a little, get them to question the ideas we discuss, and to be able to explain clearly why we are spending time in class reading, writing, and thinking about the course objectives.  Many enter my class with opinions about certain social or political ideas; however, they often cannot offer specific arguments to back up their opinions, or, even worse, they’ll adopt my opinion because I’m their teacher.  I want to help them become active learners - seekers of wisdom and truth.

It’s also my job to calm the disturbed.  Every year I meet students who are plagued by what I call “noisy minds.”  These are often highly intelligent individuals who think too much.  Sometimes they’re angry about situations beyond their control at home; sometimes they’re fighting (or defeated) by addictions; sometimes they are being driven crazy by the thoughts that swirl endlessly in their heads.  I try to help them discover something worth reading or something worth writing about that will distract them enough to give them periods of peace.  I want them to understand that these are tools they can use whenever they feel their thoughts spinning out of control.

Teaching is about so much more than disseminating information.  Often it’s about either creating or clearing away the agitation so that something of value can be learned.