I recently visited a friend and former colleague in New York. We had been hired as new teachers at roughly the same time two and a half years ago, and so we bonded over our shared misery as teachers at a failing school. He—Chris—had been teaching in various capacities for over a decade, so he had some experience in the classroom. Chris’s prior acquaintance with teaching wasn’t enough to prepare him for the chaotic environment in which we had to teach. He lasted longer at our school than I did, but not by much: Just before the current school year began, he resigned.
Chris’s resignation was not flashy, nor was it desperate. He lived over an hour away from the school, so he was always looking out for another, closer job. Plus, by the end of the last school year, all of his friends had either left voluntarily or been shown the door. But the same issues that plagued me in the classroom—disrespectful students, unresponsive administrators—afflicted him, too. It was only a matter of time before he left, and, for his sake, I’m glad that he did.
I chatted with Chris about our school a lot while in New York. Chris is from an older generation and is a Broadway geek, so we don’t have a lot in common. But like foxhole friends, we connected over war stories. I was eager to hear about my former school: what had changed, what remained the same, and what its prospects might be for the future. What I heard from Chris gave me peace of mind—not for my former students or colleagues, but for my own decision to get out when I did.
For one thing, the woman who replaced me was apparently not up to the task. Evidently, my lackluster classroom management skills dwarfed hers. Students apparently got in fights in her class, which is not unheard of. But the way Chris told the story, the fights were frequent. And on more than one occasion, Chris had to report my replacement while Chris’s students were taking the Massachusetts Comprehensive Assessment System (MCAS) tests, the end-of-year standardized tests toward which the entire school year was oriented. Once, for instance, my replacement asked Chris if he could watch her class as she stepped into another classroom to grab some extra computers. But Chris’s students were taking the MCAS test, while hers weren’t. It seems, then, that the woman who took over my classes had little social awareness. (I suppose the cheap spray tan should have given that away.)
Of course, it wasn’t just my classroom that continued to have behavioral problems. The entire school, as it turns out, continued to slide off the rails after my departure. To name just one example, a group of students apparently began smoking a blunt in the hallway during class. The only thing that changed, apparently, was the severity of the behavior—and the audacity of the students.
For understandable reasons, teachers often blame their direct supervisors for the poor condition of the school. In many cases, I think that’s perfectly justified. After all, the administrators are in charge of establishing rules and routines for their schools, and their willingness or lack thereof to enforce their own directives plays a key role in whether the school feels adequately run. Chris certainly thought this was the case. He was wholly unimpressed with the principal who started at the beginning of our second year. She was very mild-mannered, so Chris would often ridicule her asking students politely to go to class. As you might expect, middle schoolers who are already unwilling to follow rules didn’t change their tune simply because the principal was being nice to them. I think Chris was being too harsh on her. She was much more present than our previous principal, who spent most of his time in his office completing his PhD. So I was heartened to hear that she signed a three-year contract to stay on as principal—even though I have little faith that she can really turn the place around.
My doubts notwithstanding, she seems to be reshaping the school in her image. One thing she did that Chris was unhappy with was the various personnel changes she made. One of mine and Chris’s friends, for instance, was asked to re-interview for his position at the school. He was on an emergency license, and his teaching skills were reportedly nonexistent. Unsurprisingly, then, he was not asked to return for the next school year. Additionally, the principal decided to restructure the sixth-grade English classrooms, which prompted other teachers to leave. It appears, then, that the staffing shortages that affected my school are ongoing
In fact, that’s the general takeaway I had from my conversations with Chris: Nothing substantive has changed. Despite several years of teacher complaints, faltering MCAS scores, and declining student behaviors, my former school has not yet figured out how to function like an actual school. Instead, the administration seems mired in poor decision-making and stuck in an endless loop like a bad dream. But why? To an observer like me, now thankfully removed from the everyday insanity of the place, it’s obvious that something big needs to change—not simply a restructuring of one subject in one grade, but a wholesale reversal of school culture. That’s obviously easier said than done, or else the school would have made the necessary changes by now.
One clue can be gleaned from the experience that Chris has had at his new school. Early on, Chris was put on administrative leave because some girls had accused him of making rude comments to them. As it turned out, the students were simply angry that Chris was enforcing the rules in his classroom, and they tried to retaliate. After an investigation, Chris was cleared of all wrongdoing. Subsequently, the principal had the girls’ parents in, all of whom were entirely supportive of Chris and the administration.
That seems to be one of the keys to success: parental involvement and support. Chris also told me that his school does not allow students to have their phones. They must put them away in their locker in the morning, and if teachers catch them on their phones, they can take them away. Parents seem to be on board with this, as they are with every other rule. Chris tells me that, if a student acts up, he simply has to suggest that he’ll talk to the student’s parents before they change their tune. And parents are on top of their children’s academics, such that they’ll email a teacher within hours of a poor grade entering the system. If my former school could figure out how to get parents on board, I suspect that many of their problems would simply vanish.
Of course, that’s only half the battle. Chris’s new administrators seem to be on top of their game in a way that my former school’s key disciplinary administrators are not. In addition to standing up for Chris during his brief investigation, the administrators seem to be vigorous enforcers of their own school culture. They are always roaming the halls, which allows them to respond to calls from teachers within minutes or less. They have established a robust detention system such that teachers can assign detentions without having to think about whether someone will be available to administer them. And they have set up a positive school climate, complete with monthly pep rallies, that gives students a sense of belonging.
It’s easy to forget how hard it is to establish a positive but stern school culture. People like me can write and talk about it all we want, but at the end of the day, human beings have to actually implement that culture. If those human beings aren’t up for the task, then it will be impossible to ensure its success.
Just wondering?? Was (is) the entire city school culture have the same issues as your previous school? What was your experience with the Superintends office? That is; are they aware, are there efforts to intervene? It would seem to me if your previous school was having that many problems (particularly in losing teachers) the administration would know and would be making some efforts of improvement for that school. (Possible reason for new Principle?) And since you are an educational product of that school system, although 5-6 years ago, do you have any recollections of these problems at that time. (Chance are you probably were just into your world and not worried about the 'hardship' of teachers.
it always fascinates me (not for good reasons) that when you write about your teaching experience, you rarely write about "teaching." seems if you change the word "school" to "prison," "teacher" to "guard," and "principal" to "warden," it all might make more sense.