I'm not gonna lie...

Why Teachers Lie About Their Classrooms - at The Atlantic

I don't lie about my teaching. I'm just never going to tell you the whole truth.

Yes, there's a kid who is falling asleep/cheating/texting while another kid has an epiphany. And tomorrow, the roles could be reversed. I literally don't care about the kid not paying attention.

When I was in the classroom, and now when I have group or individual sessions, or when I'm recording a lecture, I give 100% of myself to my students. I give that 100% to the students who give me 100% back. On any given day, that student could be a different person.

I don't hold it against them. If you and your mom got in a fight before school and she took your phone, you're probably distracted and not paying attention. It's nothing personal.

In my last 2 years in the classroom, the phrase "I'm not gonna lie..." was extremely popular. It would often precede a statement not worth lying about. "I'm not gonna lie, this was the best chicken biscuit ever. "

Sometimes, it preceded a hard truth. "I'm not gonna lie, class was really boring today, L-Mar."

I appreciated their honesty mainly because it gave me an opportunity to respond. Usually, it was, "You're right, the Puritans suck and I can't wait to be done with them." This was followed by laughter on both sides- they're not used to teachers admitting that something they teach is pretty awful (sorry, dear reader, if you like the Puritans).  And secondly, they saw me as a human. Which will lead to more "I'm not gonna lie... " statements in the future, which will lead to a better teacher-student relationship, which will lead to more learning.

Other times, it gave me the opportunity to notice that while the rest of the class was heatedly discussing the evils of Commie-chasing, this student was completely checked out and bored.

"Why were you bored?" "It was dumb."

"What's going on in your other classes?" "Ugh, everything is so lame right now. I think all of you teachers decided not to do anything interesting this week."

" How are things between you and your brother/mom/dad?" "My dad moved out yesterday."
(me, silently... AND THERE WE HAVE IT.)

also applies to teaching.

When I talk to my colleagues at lunch that day, do I share how the Puritans suck? Nope. I'm going to tell them about how my 2nd block was SUPER ENGAGED and everyone was making AWESOME CONNECTIONS between the Red Scares of the 1920s and 1950s.

I'm not gonna lie, but after you've been teaching a while, you get selective memory. You remember the awesome stuff and there seems to be more of it every day. You remember the really horrible stuff. But you don't remember the stuff in between.

Help me help you!

Students,
Dear, Dear Students,

You think teachers have all the power. So I am begging and pleading with you now, I am demonstrating to you that you are the one with the power. I cannot help if if I don't know what you don't understand.

Let me tell you a story:
Once upon a time, I took economics. This was in college, and it was the 90s, so there was none of this bullshit about students as customers. If you didn't like the professor, fuck off. If you didn't feel he (mostly he) taught very well, fuck off. Many (though definitely not all) of the professors at the university I attended had the attitude of "We are the very prestigious university and many other people could have had your place as a student, so sit down and shut up."

Some of those professors were wonderful. None of them taught econ.

I did not do well. I did not understand. I did not like economics. I received the worst grades I had ever received. I still minored in econ.

Ten years later (give or take) I was told I would be teaching economics.

I dreaded it. I did not want to teach it. I did not like it.

I was wrong.

I did like it. Kind of a lot. It's really useful information. You can apply what you learn to real life.
And because I struggled with it, I am really damn good at teaching it.

Now, ten years after that, I'm teaching AP economics. And I understand your struggle. I know that not everyone gets it on the first pass. I know that sometimes you need three or four or ten examples before things click.

HOWEVER.



When you say to me I DON'T GET IT. I totally understand how you're feeling. I do. I have been where you are.

Because I'm teaching online, this is all via email. It shouldn't be, but no matter how many times I tell you about the software that we use to meet in real time, you refuse to meet with me.

I send another email. And I ask you- can you give me an example of a question that you don't understand. A practice quiz question. An assignment. Anything?

And you email me back and say I just don't understand.




And I email you again. This time, again asking for a specific example of what exactly you don't understand. I want to help you.



Please, tell me, WHAT DON'T YOU GET? Do you not understand the theory behind it? Do you not understand the formula we are using? Do you not understand anything about gross domestic product or consumer price index or monetary policy?

I have given you EVERYTHING. At some point, you have to take responsibility. You have to read back over your notes. The textbook. The additional website I showed you that has videos. The website with definitions. The practice tests.

And then, you have to answer my questions. I will make you a video. I will write out painstaking, step by step instructions. But you have to answer my questions.

I'M STILL TEACHING.

This is the time of year when teachers leave their classrooms.

Some for a month or two. Usually they're back in a classroom of some sort for continuing ed over the summer, but it's not their classroom.

Some forever.

The Tough Decision To Leave the Classroom: from I am J Wal

Why I'm Leaving at United Opt Out.com

And Jason Pittman who reached national prominence with his story on This American Life, a year ago.  (PS: a personal note on this- don't talk about him on the TAL page on Facebook or he will send you a private message full of snide remarks about your finances, whether or not your husband makes enough to support your vanity job of teaching, and your actual ability to teach. True story. I'm actually glad this asshole is out of the classroom.)

When thinking about this post, I looked for blogs on why to stay. The best one: Why I Teach. It's not an individual, it's a collection of stories. It's inspirational. 

me, while reading the Why I Teach stories.

Why I Stay: 

I've taught the whole spectrum of students: poor, rich, English speakers, non-English speakers, college level courses to 15 year olds, and during the very next class I've taught 16 year olds reading on a 2nd grade level. 

I've been cried on and spit on. 

I've been swung at and hugged. 

I've been loved and hated. 

I've watched some kids rise and others fall. 

I've cried and laughed with my students. 

I've had wonderful administrators and horrible administrators. 

I've loved and hated my job. 

I've done many things well and I've made epic mistakes. 

Before teaching, I've worked for private businesses, public universities, and government institutions. And I know that I took a pay cut to teach. But I also know that when people say that you are respected in the business world, they are full of shit. I am afforded equal amounts of respect as a teacher as I was doing anything else. 

Not as much as I deserve:  that's how much respect I used to get and it's how much I get today. 

I did not feel more valued as a human outside of teaching. People are more open about their disrespect now- teachers can be openly disrespected, especially by parents. But disrespect is endemic in our society and nothing I did in the non-teaching sector made me feel any more respected. 

Most important than the respect of others, I value myself more highly as a teacher. 

A lot of these blogs about people leaving the classroom mention that they are award winning. I've won an award or two. Mainly I'm award nominated. I don't win a lot of awards. I don't try to. 

Leo feels my pain.

When I was in college, I thought I wanted to work in politics. I did for a while. The rush from campaigning was awesome. The day to day operations were tedious. 

That rush and the lack of it led me to change jobs every 2 years for a while. I decided to go back to school to become a teacher. And now I'm finishing my 9th year teaching, virtual or otherwise. 

It's fun for me. It's a rush. 

Everyday is an election: will they vote to learn? 

Every day I'm the majority whip: you better vote to learn! If you don't know what the whip is, I'm sorry you didn't pay attention in government class. Now go look it up.

Just like the whip, I have strategies. Will they need coddling? Coercion? Threats? Bribes?

Some days I use the right tactics and I win the battle. Some days I don't and I lose the battle. But the battle is not between me and them. I'm on their side. The battle is between me and everything else vying for their attention. 

Friends. Enemies. Parent pressure. Hunger. Abuse. Peer pressure. Violence. Gangs. Family issues. Expectations. Anxiety. Boredom. Technology. Alcohol. Sex. Drugs. Rock & roll. 

Despite losing battles, I win the war every year. 

Do I always follow the rules? You've heard the saying, "All's fair in love and war" ... right? 

I'm going to keep fighting the battles until I am carted off the field. My students will salute me and say that I always fought on their side.