6 months ago we created this video for our school’s vision. Today, while education is in turmoil, we stand behind this vision.
Category: being a teacher
Being a Good Teacher Means
It is no longer a secret that our nation is obsessed with the supposed battle between “good” and “bad” teachers. Apparently, according to many, America has an epidemic of bad teachers on their hands and it is only through dismantling of the unions that these bad teachers can be disposed of. So for the sake of research and help, I asked colleagues to finish this sentence “Being a good teacher means…” So America, here to help you with the definition of a good teacher, as well as how to evealuate them, see my favorite answers below:
Being a good teachers means…
- Being willing to reflect, change, and improve-looking for the best opportunities for student learning – @MrMacnology
- Laughter, lots of laughter. Laughing with your students – @HeidiSiwak
- Recognizing you are a learner, as well as a teacher and getting your students to understand that learning is for life -@henriettaMI
- Listening more than you talk … Often kids have a better answer and you just have to hear it – @Polygirl68
- Being open 2 our students drive their own learning in the classroom – @MollyBMom
- Always feeling the lesson could’ve gone just a wee bit better – @Attipscast
- Means u never stop learning and u always work to improve – @KTVee
- Being a learner. being humble. being empathetic. being flexible. being knowledgeable. being driven. @RussGoerend
- Always doing what’s right by the kids @Becky7274
So there you have it; what makes a teacher good. In my words; passion, change, dedication, transparency, authenticity, knowing when to be quiet, and knowing when to fight. No one said test scores, rigidity, or grades, so why do they seem to be the driving force behind what determines someones worth?
What is missing?
So I Work on the Weekends
Today is Saturday, the second to last day of my spring break, the day my daughter smiles the biggest, runs the most, and my husband beckons for me to read, relax, live a little. Instead I go to work. Mind you I don’t have to, no one told me in my contract that I had hours to fulfill. No one told me that I better get in there to check on everything, to plan, to prep, to clean. And yet in I go, blissfully so. So why do I work on the weekend?
I work on the weekend because there is not enough time in the week. Of course, there would be plenty of time left over if all I did was teach out of the book and not do any assignments, so perhaps I just have myself to blame. Perhaps when I decide to plan projects, extensions, and create opportunities for all of my kids to learn, I need more time. Perhaps when I decide that teaching straight from the book just is not going to cut it, then I need more time. I am not mad, or angry at the time I spend fore I know that I will get results back from the time invested. So I work on the weekends because my students deserve it.
I work on the weekends because it is quiet. I don’t turn on the music, the lights and I shut the door and let my thoughts roam. I practice, I reflect, and I tinker with what I am going to teach. I do this uninterrupted by students, coworkers, phone calls, needs for hugs, requests for lunch, mini meetings, or friendship counseling. I relish the quiet as my thoughts paint pictures of the results I want to have in the coming week.
I work on the weekends because it makes me a better teacher. By coming in, spending the time, and thinking once again about what I intend to do, I grow. I question my intent, I question my goals, and I always, always, think about the students. How do they want to learn about this? How can I be quiet while my students explore? How can this become memorable and not just another daily lesson? So I work on the weekend not by force, but by choice, because I choose to attain greatness as a teacher so that my students can attain greatness as well. I work on the weekends because my students deserve whatever extra time I can put in, they deserve that extra attention, they deserve the best. So I work on the weekends.
Give Me Time
I do not teach in a poor school, nor do I teach in an affluent one. I teach in your middle of America school, where we have our constraints but do not have to spend our entire paycheck buying classroom supplies. I am lucky in some respects, yet sheltered in others, so I wonder whether I can truly form an opinion on movies like “Waiting for Superman.”. Can I judge what this movie portrays when I have not taught in a fail factory or been labeled a bad teacher?
What I can respond to though are statements such as the one at the end of the movie, “Our system is broken…and it feels impossible to fix.”. Statements such as this does nothing to fix the problem but perpetuates the pervasiveness of just how horrible the American school system is. This angers me. The entire American school system is not horrible, there are entities of it that are, and yes, those entities need to be fixed but is throwing out the entire system really the way to do it?
The preferred method of fixing anything in education seems to be to throw it all out and start over. You see it in school districts all over; desperate to fix falling scores or inadequate growth, money becomes the solution. Buy a new program! Buy a new test! More training! More supervision! More, more, more! It appears we are choking ourselves to mediocrity and then wondering who is to blame for the lack of oxygen?
So my plea is simple; enough with the reform! We have been reformed to death these last many years. Stop changing the strategies, stop changing the methods on how to test us and just let us teach. Let me teach. Give me time to reach a deeper level with my students. Give me time to let them create and explore. Give me time to differentiate for all of my students and not just the easy ones. Give me time to speak, to listen and to develop. Some may say that time is all teachers ever have been given. Not true; our time to learn with our students has been taken away minute by minute by new curriculum implementation, standards, tests and more guidelines. So before you tell me to change again, give me time to learn how to teach this way. Then I can become a better teacher and prove to you that our system is not impossible to fix, just give me time to teach.
I Go to Work
I go to work every day believing that today will be the best of all days.
I go to work every day knowing that my students will have success.
I go to work ready to work, to give, to dream, to hope.
I go to work every day knowing that the responsibility lies with me for these students.
I go to work every day knowing that this is what I am meant to do.
I go to work every day ready to face the challenges.
I go to work every day renewed in my belief as an educator.
I go to work every day ready to change the world.
I go to work every day because it is not just work, it is a life.
It’s a Half Percent
“I don’t mean to alarm you but it appears that your baby has an elevated risk for Downs…” The road blurred in front of me as the words took shape in my stomach. “The test results are back and normal is 1 in 10,000, yours is 1 in 214.” It’s a half percent, it’s a half percent, it’s a half percent ran through my mind like a mantra, willing my hands to stay on the wheel and my eyes to stay on the road. “The doctor will call you in a couple of days when he reviews the test results.” And with that my whole world changed.
The first frantic phone call was to my mother, who was waiting for the airport bus. I could barely choke out the words. Shock, and then mommy reflexes sparing into action as she repeated “It’s a half percent.” Finally got through to my husband, shock, then husband reflexes, and then anger. Where was the doctor, why was a nurse calling with this information, what did this all mean? Soon the Internet became our go-to place; forums, statistics, percentages all became mandatory reading for this unwanted and unknown territory. Life dreams were revisited, rechecked, redreamed.
There were decisions to make, tests to have or not, what would a life look like with a child with Downs? Could we provide the support and medical care that this child could possibly need? Where had the bubble of the first 16 weeks of perfect pregnancy gone? Why us? Why me? What had I done wrong? 2 days later, after many calls wondering whether the doctor had reviewed my tests, the call came. He was angry. Why had they pushed this extra test on me anyway? The first test had been normal, so why do a second one? I could barely hear his words, all I kept hearing was “It’s a half percent, it’s a half percent…”
So we went ahead and had the evasive sample test done because we knew that no matter what this child possibly had, we wanted to be prepared for it. The worry consumed me for days as I begged my body to not lose this child, that all I wanted was answers, whatever they would be. That this child would be loved, no matter the cost, so please, please just stay with me.
I was home alone, another phone call. The results were in, “Your little girl is fine, no need to worry.” My heart stopped beating for just a second. “Did you say fine? Did you say little girl?” Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Another visit with the doctor and again that same anger; why would they test you? Why did they want one more? I felt embarrassed to tell him that I had jumped at the chance when it had been presented to me, after all as a first time pregnant person, I thought the more tests, the better. After all, don’t we want to rule everything out? He looked at me and said, “If one test works, then there is no need for another one.”
How often could we apply those same words in education? That one test should be more than enough, if we actually are able to trust the results and choose to use them correctly? Instead we barrage and deluge our children with test upon test, just to check once more. How many times have we falsely diagnosed problems that were merely there because the test created it? How many times do we ask for just one more test to make sure there isn’t really a problem? How many times will we continue down this path of only believing the tests, rather than everything else?
Pernille Ripp 