On the second day I ever walked into my school (the first being days before, for my job interview) I was shown the way to my classroom by the secretary and the custodian. As soon as I saw the pencil sharpener attached to the wall and realized it was MY pencil sharpener, it all became real. In the time it took for that to sink in, I’d been left alone with my desks, my student reading books, my teacher’s manuals, and not much more direction than that about how to begin. Fortunately I was minutes away from being welcomed by the other teachers on my grade level team, all of whom I would come to rely on heavily in many different ways.
It doesn’t seem so long ago when those first unofficial warm-up days of the year at our school were wrapped up in tradition. We used to see several kids from the neighborhood orbiting the school on their bikes as soon as teachers showing up to unload their cars became a familiar sight. Class lists used to be taped in the windows beside the front door, and as soon as the word got out they’d been posted dozens of parents would stop by to see which classes their children were in, usually standing out on the front sidewalk and catching up with each other for a time afterward. They’d politely greet the teachers as we excused our way through the crowd while moving in; often there would be plenty of kids more than willing to help carry in a box or two if it meant they'd get a quick peek at whatever changes had happened inside the school over the summer. Some teachers would come in for short bursts of time to get head starts on the work needed to open the year, sometimes for a day here or there even two weeks early. Some of us had running jokes with the secretary about who was pestering her the earliest about getting a look at our class lists. They were good times, and they helped build a warm anticipation about starting back.
Predictably enough, times have changed since my first year. I saw a lot of relatives at a wedding not long ago, and more than once I was asked how I felt about summer coming to an end and the school year starting soon. My stock response had been, “I’m not dreading it.” Sadly, even if that was as positive of an honest response as I was able to come up with, it still felt like a win.
Now if I want to go in to get a head start on my classroom, I need to wait for a letter or an email from the principal letting me know what days are available, if any, since so many construction projects and summer programs limit the amount of time the custodial staff has to complete their summer work. This year we were given three mornings, which was more than we’ve had in a long time. Instead of relying on manuals and my own creativity to guide the lessons I teach, I have district created materials to follow that have been specifically written to directly address the state education standards the students will be assessed on in the spring, along with spreadsheets listing all of the materials that have been assigned to my classroom (and if they aren’t in my classroom, it usually takes at least a day or two of email chains and legwork to track everything down). If I want an early look at my class lists I can look them up on the district online data hub, but there still aren’t any guarantees. I’ve seen changes happen to my student rosters four times in the past two weeks, and I know better than to consider them final until mid-September. The students find out which classes they’re in from postcards their families receive in late summer, since data privacy prohibits class lists being posted publicly.
If feels to me that the tradition and mystery and anticipation we used to have at the opening of the year has been replaced by something more mechanical. So much of those first weeks is devoted to learning the academic abilities of the students that it could be argued we see them as data variables before we have time to really learn who they are as people. Other parts of their lives are discovered more gradually now, and speaking as someone who has averaged about eighty students a year since 2005, sometimes it takes intentional effort to do that. You can’t let those relationships evolve on their own since you won’t get the time.
Are these changes unavoidable products of our times, or just our best responses to potential worst-case scenarios? I suppose there’s no clear answer to that. I firmly believe that everyone who works in education today is doing all they can in the effort of living up to the credo/platitude of “what’s best for kids.” The tricky part comes when we have varying interpretations of what “best” should mean.
For me, what’s best has always been to create a classroom environment where everyone feels comfortable, safe, and believes they can be successful. Some years I’ve done that better than others. As I officially start back to work tomorrow, my goal will be to help my students be successful in whatever way that would be defined for them. I want to take advantage of the available data that will inform my instruction, and I want the students to be excited about what we do so they engage themselves in their learning. I want them to benefit from the structure of 21st century education and feel happy about doing it.
I want to find a balance between the way things are now and what they used to be.
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