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Saturday, April 25, 2015

Teacher: What I wish everyone knew about working in a high-needs school - The Washington Post

Teacher: What I wish everyone knew about working in a high-needs school - The Washington Post:

Teacher: What I wish everyone knew about working in a high-needs school



 The following post was written by a fifth-year English teacher in a Title 1 middle school who blogs anonymously at the loveteachblog. It captures both the joys and overwhelming burdens of working in an under-resourced school with a large population of high-risk students  and in a system that makes it difficult for teachers and students to succeed. Though these are the experiences of one teacher, they reflect those of many others across the country.

The author insists on anonymity out of concern of retaliation by administrators, and to protect the identities of students. I rarely publish anonymous pieces, but do so when I know who the author is, believe their reasons for choosing not to be identified are valid, and think that they are relating a truth about public education that will have resonance beyond a single classroom.

Here’s the post by “Teach”, the teacher who blogs anonymously:
I’m in my fifth year of teaching English at a Title I middle school. Title I schools are public schools that receive special grants because of their high number of students who have been identified as at-risk. I adore my students and my teaching team. I love teaching. I’m really good at it. I respect my administration and feel valued by them.
But at the end of this year, I’m leaving. I’m not sure if I’ll continue teaching elsewhere or start a new career. If I do leave, I’ll be one of the 40-50 percent of teachers who leave during their first five years. A drop in the bucket.
To other teachers, I’m sure this isn’t surprising. Without knowing me or where I teach, they can probably easily guess why someone who loves her job and is good at it would be leaving.
But it’s not teachers who need to know what it’s like. It’s everyone else. People who have no idea what it’s like teaching in a Title I school. Some of these people are even making important decisions about education.
There are so many things I would tell them.
I would tell them about the bright bulletin boards, posters, and student work that are either taken down or covered with white butcher paper for most of the spring semester, because the state mandates that there can be no words of any kind on the walls during one of the 14 standardized tests.
I would tell them about the 35 desks I have in my classroom, and how in two of my classes, all the desks are filled.
I would tell them about the hours I’ve spent outside of class time writing grants to get novels because my school doesn’t have the money for them.
I would tell them that I get to school about two hours before the first bell every day, but I still spend less time at school than most of my colleagues.
I would tell them about how I’m not allowed to fail a student without turning in a form to the front office that specifies all instances of parent contact, describing in detail the exact accommodations and extra instruction that the child was given. I would tell them about how impossible this form is to complete, when leaving a voicemail doesn’t count as contact and many parents’ numbers change or are disconnected during the school year. I would tell them how unrealistic it is to document every time you help a child when you have a hundred of them, and how this results in so many teachers passing students who should be failing.
I would tell them how systems that have been put in place to not leave children behind are allowing them to fall even further behind.
I would tell them that even though I love my job and work harder at it than I’ve ever worked for anything, the loudest voice in my head is the one that is constantly saying you’re not doing enough. I hear it all the time.
I would tell them about the student in one of my classes who in August of last year, flat-out refused to do any work because of how much he hated reading. I would tell them that today, when he found out we weren’t going to be doing book groups, I heard him mutter, “Oh, man. I wanted to keep reading,” and I said, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” really loud and shook his Teacher: What I wish everyone knew about working in a high-needs school - The Washington Post: