Did you know that there is a National Association of Self-Esteem? It’s true. There is. They have special clothes you can order, books on tape, videos, questionnaires you can fill out, it’s all there. Great quotes to get your day started, too.
So there’s this dead guy named Michel Foucault. He was a theory guy who wrote a lot about power relations between people in our society, sexuality, how systems are set up in society, stuff like that. In one of his writings he compares prison systems to school systems. Pretty interesting, huh? Kind of strange, you think? I used to think that too.
I’m sitting here today trying to get my mind off of the daunting things in my life as of late, thinking about the idea of self-esteem in this article I’m reading at my leisure, and how people have very different ideas about what self-esteem actually IS and what it might mean for our students. Do we praise them? Do we not? Do we support them so that they can succeed? All of them, or just the ones who we think can succeed?
All of this casual thinking on my townhouse steps as I’m skimming the article on the National Association of Self-Esteem watching my kitty cat chase her own shadow so innocently in the front mini-yard, and I’m also thinking about my student teachers: who they are, where they have come from, and what kind of students they want to teach. Pretty much all the really smart rich kids, from what I can gather so far. So I talk and talk to them; I question them; I talk at them; I talk with them; and I question some more. I try and get them to reflect on who they are and who they want to be as a teacher. Whose purpose do they want to serve? Everyone’s, or just a select few? I preach and preach on the tallest boxes of suds and beg them to believe in their students, to have hope for all students, not just the ones in “gifted classes.”
And they sigh. They sigh and they sigh and they say, “You just don’t get it, do you? These kids are lazy. They won’t put in any effort. They have bad parents. They are poor. They are black. They are Mexican. They will never succeed anyway. Their teacher has already given up on them so I can’t do anything for them now.” I’m serious. They say these things to me. What do I do or say in response, you ask? Nothing. I stare. I go into that place in my head so I won’t cry…or better yet, so I won’t reach out, gently place my soft hand on their lapels, and sweetly ask, “Are you F*****g kidding me that you really believe what just came out of your mouth? Are you human?” I don’t do that. Good, huh? Nice of me to refrain. Because if I did that—if I gave up on my student teachers like they want to give up on their students—I would be them. And I’m here because I want to help them not be them anymore. Or at least think about being a newer version of them. I guess. I mean, that’s why I originally came. We’ll see next week.
[Insert Twilight Zone music here for the rest of this section while you read]
And then I think about the students. I walk into the schools here and there they all are:
walking down lines of tape on halls in single file lines with absolutely no talking. No recess for some middle school kids here; no problem-posing learning; no field trips allowed (too risky); no praise from the National Association of Self-Esteem. At one school I went to the other day they had a table at the entrance with an administrator and a police officer. There was an “intruder” last year at the school whom they caught, but he got in the school in the first place. So now they have this table with these people all day, police officers in every hall way—all day, and students are never allowed to leave the classrooms during class time—all day. They walk the halls on some big taped lines, single file, silenced, and they have to walk in a circular pattern. Meaning, if I leave one teacher’s room to go to another teacher’s room, but it happens to be on the LEFT of my teacher’s room, I have to walk to the right all the way down the hall on the tape, make my u-turn at the end of the hall, and then come back up to the other teacher’s room. (Are you sick to your stomach yet?) What? Was I visiting the local jail on a field trip, you ask? Nope. Just the local middle school.
They looked at me really funny when I asked at the front desk where I could pick up my orange one-piece uniform. OK, no I didn’t really, but wouldn’t that have been kind of funny?
[Remember to keep playing the music in your head as you continue reading]
So there the students sit. In 100% tracked classrooms, all subjects—and even tracked beyond tracking, as most have to go to ELT (extended learning time) once or twice a day to work on drill and skill for an hour each class so they can “pass” the test and move up a grade. And those students in the ELT classes? They’re poor. And they’re black. And they’re Mexican. And they’ve been in these classrooms their whole academic careers—about eight years—and they’ve had teachers who give them worksheets and tell them they can’t play games and go outside because they haven’t “earned it” or don’t “deserve it.” Am I serious? You betcha! What kind of things are they learning, you ask? Oh, you know, the usual: a really expensive math program that several districts bought that “for some reason” only work with the “gifted kids,” but we’re pretty sure it’s because the “other” kids are just “lazy.”
Reading program? Hell yes! Everyone reading from the same literature text book because those new texts they bought magically have the Georgia state standards IN THEM and the worksheets to go right along with the stories in the books from 1869 that have much to do with kids’ lives these days. Science? Well that’s easy. Pretend labs in the text books from 1987. The kids can see pictures of real scientists in the book doing what they will pretend to do on their papers. It’s pretty riveting stuff. Social studies might be my favorite at some schools because they have decided in this area that talking about the Civil War is just too sensitive for students, so they breeze over it over in two days or so and move on to the amazing contributions of the white leaders from Georgia. (Ok, I’m kind of exaggerating here, but not much…)
I think I’m going to get in touch with the National Association of Self-Esteem and see what they think about some of the school systems here. Maybe they’ll pop in for a visit to see how the kids are feeling about themselves. Pretty good, I’m sure. Oh, and by the way, the three or four schools I’m referring to that resemble that Foucault theory about prisons and schools are um…not overloaded with white kids. Is this a shocker? All of the “other” schools have music and laughter and elves playing in the fields sucking on lolly pops and kids running around outside blowing bubble gum bubbles and teachers who smell of sweet liquorish and principals who know their teachers can teach because they were trained and kids who don’t have to walk on tape and they can talk in the halls and they get recess. And I think they get to talk during lunch, but I’m not sure. They each might get a class pet, too.
A great quote from the National Association of Self-Esteem:
“You can't choose your circumstances, but you can choose to overcome them.”
Yes kids, yes. You are in a dreary situation here with your school. Everyone thinks you’re lazy and we all think your parents suck and don’t love you and are apathetic toward education and you’ll never get out of worksheet hell, but the attitude you come to school with is YOUR choice. That’s the only choice we’re giving you in your life—how you approach this hell you’re living in—but at least we’re giving you something.
I’m sorry, did I say I might need a break from education? Don’t worry. I have a shrink.
HEH
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