The first year of the pandemic, when schools went hybrid and remote, was incredibly difficult—a principal said that he felt like he was juggling on a unicycle in a hurricane; teachers felt the same. Every day blew us into unchartered territory. We re-experienced the daily anxiety of being a first year professional—all new, all untested. We did our best to not crash. Kudos to all who hung in.
I am old enough to have been there at the beginning of special education, and fortunately, I completely missed the euphemism of “special.” I knew schools were filled with students who were disengaged, abused, overwhelmed, scared, with quirky learning difficulties that would not go away simply by avoiding the required reading and writing and math curricula.
Despite the boredom and enforced pass-fail monomania of schools, I still love being in them. I see when students experience, despite all the barriers, the moments of joy for having their minds opened and their neurons firing in unexpected patterns and, in those moments, transcendence.
This is an exhortation, a plea, a pat on the back and a push up the hill. It is meant to inspire and unsettle, and to help you find your passion and determination. It comes as a request and a challenge: Don’t plan to go into class and tell your students, “This is the boring part.”
All too often, math teachers sit in silent complicity when it is said that math is exact and linear—humanities are not. Math is about answers that are right and wrong—humanities are not. If math teachers don’t interrupt the status quo, who will? Consider sharing this narrative from an alternate universe:
Picture a school system with hundreds of teachers. Some of the teachers have been with the system long enough to be eligible for a special benefit: job security (tenure), upon completing 24-60 months of high quality work.
Our factory model of schooling obscures the fact that all learning is personal. We’ve been forcing too many children at the same time to be presented with the same stimulation in hopes they develop the same understanding.
Let me begin with unequivocal praise: Amy Ballin’s , “The Quest for Meaningful Special Education” (Rowman and Littlefield, 2017) is well written, robustly researched, as often heart-warming as it is heart-wrenching, and laser focused on equity and excellence in our schools—equity and excellence for all students.
After years of helping schools hang in with challenging students, it was time to clarify when to stop hanging in.
Too much restriction can tamper teens’ individuality and resolve, as well as destroy school staff relationships. Here’s how to pare them down.