Adventures in Education Reform

So.

The school where I work is one of three in the county that serves the at-risk communities in the area. To paint the picture: more than 90% of our kids are on free/reduced lunch; more than 75% have performed below grade level in math & reading during their entire middle school careers; more than 50% learned English as a second language....and other statistics that send most teachers in the other direction....

At some point, I'll talk to you about the complete failure of the American public education system - how the people that make educational policy have no idea what the implications of their policies are on what happens in a classroom; how the push towards "equitable" education, specifically the way we handle students with physical handicaps or learning disabilities, is doing a disservice to students without those challenges and an even greater disservice to the students we're supposed to be helping; how zoning within a district and tracking within a school limits the perceived potential of a child and dictates the quality of education a child is going to receive; how nearly 30% of the school year is devoted to standardized testing; how testing is a multi-billion dollar industry; how passing/failing a standardized test is not a true measurement of how much material a student knows, nor a measure of whether or not they are prepared for the next grade/course; and how "teacher accountability" cannot mean the same thing as "good test scores". 

But there's no time for that today. Today's educational travesty is centered around these children believing the hype of the American dream, without understanding the reality of American struggle.

And of course these kids understand struggle. Some of their daily lives are horror stories that most folks couldn't stomach long enough to read,  but they see no connection between scholastic success, and success in their lives as adult. Case in point: Asked the question, hat do you want to be when you finish high school?" to one of my Seniors (pause - I teach (9th grade Pre-Algebra and Algebra 1) - his very sincere answer, "Either like, a real estate agent, or an accountant." Others chimed in: "Lawyer," "Pediatrician," and other such occupations, because at some point, some adult in their lives told them, "you can be whatever you put your mind to," which is very true - but then the education system gives them the okie doke by convincing them that they don't have to work for it. Why would you?

Here's the part where I admit to having an above-average level of laziness. So if I figured out in 5th grade, that I was going to go to 6th whether I passed or not...I would have set my mind to "coast" and doodled all day. (Well, no I wouldn't have....because Mom and Pop would have taken a foot/belt/frying pan/extension cord to me until I did better...but that's another conversation).

We tell students they have to complete a task in one hour, and if they don't - we give themm two additional hours without penalty. We tell them that they have to make certain grades to pass on to the next grade; when they don't - we pass them anyway with no explanation. Students are passed through from exam to exam - grade to grade, perceiving that every standard set for them is a vague suggestion at best, at worst, a complete waste of air and energy, and so they believe that they can make failing grades in every course, every year of high school....and somehow still graduate on time, attend college, and obtain the advanced degrees necessary to move into high-powered careers.

The need for education reform is real. The need for education reformers who actually understand education is even more real.

Peace Be

Adventures in Change

So.

For those who haven't been keeping up: I've recently started teaching a new subject, to a new grade level, at a new school, gotten a new apartment - both in new cities, and am trying to navigate some new rules for an old relationship....hmmm...For those who have been keeping up...we know that I don't deal well with new.

This is where Chriss (and everyone else in my inner circle) will tell me that a line of medical defense would be extraordinarly helpful against this state of depression I've been choosing to "beat back" with cookie dough and sleep. But you don't have to know me well at all to know what my response to that looks like.

What does this mean?

Be on the look out for some really bad, really angsty poetry...or maybe some really hostile pseudo-political rants here in the near future. And if are one of the "chosen few" that edits my stuff for me (is it wrong to say groupies? Are you mad? You can call me your groupie too if it helps)....be on the lookout for something honest.

Speaking of poetry - guess who decided to take a year from Slam? This is not a throwback to the time I took off from writing (Do you remember that foolishness?) - this is a "it really isn't cute to disappear from your job to spend all of your money acting like you're 20 with a group of poets also pretending that they're 20." Next year, when I've built some cred with the boss and have *gasp* set aside some money for this kind of trip, I'll take my spot on the team back. Because that's not arrogant. I'll compete again, and hopefully be able to get a spot amongst the best that Piedmont's got to offer.

More to say, but I'm...tired of talking. So.

Peace Be

Adventures in Poetry

on Monday
the word is alarm clock
mine a shrill pounding on the head of my ear drum
a war cry awakening aimed at beating the sleep away from my body
it is twisted sheet and snooze button
and praying I set the coffee timer
cautious hand reaching to brush the hair away from your gentle face
the way I would when the wake up call was good morning
and a kiss

on Tuesday
the word is tantrum
since it's your turn to do the dishes
and I did them yesterday
and will be made to do them tomorrow
do you know the weight of dishwater
when you can't stop cooking for two

on Wednesday
it is pep talk
from anyone paying attention
to the way I refuse to go home after work
a seething cauldron of empty words
boiling into a witches' brew

on Thursday
the word is usually regret
which washes into Friday's reckless
eleven shots of anything strong enough for my heart as target practice
jukebox and table dance
and sloppy on the bar stool
it is lip and teeth and tongue and hands
to whomever presents themselves willing first
it is knowing memories are a dime a dozen
and paying the cost to be forgetful

Saturday morning
the word is mirror
and how the reflection grays in the frame
a dull whisper in the sag of my eyelids
each with the weight of the world on its lash
and I force myself to be still
to stand heavy and broken
lost and unsure
as to how to cull smiles from the ache in my throat
to shed tears
and not see your face

there is no word
for how I miss you on Sunday
hands raised during morning worship
a chorus of church folks calling on God
when all I want is to scream your name
their tears
a connection to something holy
mine
a desperate longing to hold you
to hold you
and be made whole again
and have no need to find words