As most of my friends and family know, I’ve spent the last three weeks teaching high school summer school, which will serve as my final teaching experience before I leave the profession to pursue my PhD in Education Policy. Most of them know of this decision, because I’ve done nothing but complain about it since the first god-awful day. The experience has turned out to be nothing short of an adventure, and as a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and “as it should”, it turns out I can’t imagine my teaching career without it.
Three weeks of waking up early and working for four hours seemed like a small sacrifice for the much-needed money that would help Evan and I’s move across country. But from the second I walked into the school on the first day, I wondered if this was going to be one of the worst decisions of my life.
I walked into complete chaos. My roster indicated that I would have 12 students in class (15 is the maximum for summer school classes.) Feeling as though I should be prepared for anything, I had gathered supplies and copies of work for 15-16 students. 30 minutes into class, I had 24 students (5 more would trickle in over the next two days.) Not only did I not have enough computers for each student to begin their work, those students who DID have a computer could not log on to the network, which poses a major problem for a curriculum that is completely online.
For the first hour, I attempted to distract the students from the amount of time that was being wasted by explaining the online curriculum, the amount of time they had to complete it (it’s 100% self-paced) and the rules and regulations of summer school. I met a boy named *Paco who I’m pretty sure secured a drug deal the first five minutes of class with the boy in the trench coat next to him. I realized the girl who had chosen the computer closest to mine had some sort of severe social disorder (later confirmed), when she kept screaming “STOP BOUNCING THAT BALL” repeatedly at the top of her lungs.
The kids yelled at each other, and I yelled at them. The four hour class was beyond chaotic- it was pure hell. As the kids left the room at the end of the class, I felt like I had just been run over by an 18-wheeler.
Attempting to gather myself and clean up the aftermath, I began to question my six years of teaching experience. Had I been so spoiled by motivated students and a well-supplied school system that I really had no idea what the real world of public education is like? Does this mean that I really am a naïve optimist, and all of my dreams and visions of “saving the school” deserve the skepticism they often receive by educators who have long lost hope in the system? Am I bound to be just another one of those skeptics?
Deciding I didn’t have the time or the energy to consider these questions, I armed myself for a new day with extra supplies and a positive attitude. I walked into the classroom the second day to find that one of the students had left me a smiley face made out of grape jelly in the seat of my chair. Ten minutes into class I realized that my folder containing all of the answer keys and previous students’ work had been stolen and passed out to several different students in class. My typically calm, “you respect me, I’ll respect you” teacher attitude turned into attack mode. I was angry, hurt, and determined not to let these brats get the best of me.
The rest of that first week of summer school consisted of hours upon hours of grading papers after school to keep up with the pace of the students. I would look across the hallway at the teacher who had four students in her class and wonder who I had pissed off in order to be put in this situation. Every day was a game of trying to keep my head above water, meanwhile preventing a fist fight or mental breakdown among the students. Looking back, I’m not sure how I kept it together.
Around the beginning of the second week, a strange thing happened. Several of the students began completing their work, and as I would send them home with their final progress report, I found myself incredibly proud of these students I knew nothing about. I wanted to know their story- why were they in summer school, what grade should they be in, how can I help them achieve the goals they have for themselves? As 29 students became 20, and 20 became 15, I latched on to these students and finally had the time to pay attention to their struggles and their needs.
*Jose works the night shift, which he would never admit to me because he’s 14 with illegal parents. Working 11 PM to 7 AM makes staying awake in a four-hour, self-paced classroom rather difficult. We worked out a deal. I promised him he could sleep 20 minutes for every two assignments he completed. After 20 minutes, I would wake him up, and he would complete two more. Jose finished the course three days early.
*Amanda has major self-esteem and self-concept issues. She has given up on her self, physically and intellectually. It’s obvious she has no one at home telling her how beautiful she is and how neglecting her school work means wasting an obvious intelligence that she has been given. How easy it was just to check in with her every day and tell her what a great job she was doing, and see her effort completely turn around.
*Paco, the drug-dealer, not only finished his coursework early, he received an A. A well-earned A. It took a few days and several questions he asked on his assignments to realize that Paco is a perfectionist. He moves at an incredibly slow pace, because if he isn’t 100% sure an answer is correct, he will research and ask questions until he knows the correct answer. What a valuable asset his attention to detail will be for a future employer.
These are only three of the examples of the memories I will take with me from these past three weeks. What began as such a nightmare has turned into such an inspiration as I begin this new chapter of my career. It’s students like these that remind me why I so strongly believe that there is no place for skepticism when it comes to public education. They remind me why visions and plans for greater success in our public schools are not only dreams, but necessities. And why giving up is simply NOT an option.
Because when it comes down to it, we’re not just trying to “Save the School.” We’re trying to save the students.
*Names have been changed to protect identity of students.