Teaching in the Trenches: A Reflection

It’s about that time!  Some of us are going back to school this week. Some of us are setting up our classrooms and counting down the days until the roads are packed with yellow busses once again.  We are all trying to prepare physically, mentally, spatially, or philosophically for a new crop of kiddos and a brand new start.  Personally, I will be entering my classroom for the first time tomorrow morning.  Our school year will not begin until the end of the month, and I am just now back in the USA from my honeymoon.  I guess you can say that I’m getting a late start… but I know that somehow it will be okay…even if my obsessive-compulsive tendencies try to tell me otherwise via that voice in the back of my head.

My husband and I decided to go to Riviera Maya, Mexico for our honeymoon.  We chose this location because it is near the gulf and has many Mayan ruins to visit.  I was excited about reading on the beach and walking where the Mayans once walked.  I anticipated learning a great deal about their civilization, their culture, their advanced knowledge of the universe, and the construction of massive temples like the one found at Chichen Itza.  What I did not anticipate was the profound impact the trip would have on my psyche and how much I would reflect on education on a somewhat global scale.  I just want to take a moment to share some of my thoughts.

Sometimes it’s so easy for us to feel frustrated with our perceived lack of resources.  Sure, we all know that education costs money, and many schools are underfunded.  We all know how much money it costs to maintain a classroom and teach well.  It’s not cheap, and let’s face it, we’re not exactly bringing in the same kind of revenue as, let’s say, engineers.  This can sometimes be disheartening and frustrating.  Sometimes we feel shortchanged or under pressure by mandates such as No Child Left Behind.  Sometimes, we vent.  Sometimes we rant.  Sometimes we slump.  It’s easy to slip into that “If only… then…” mentality.  I’m sometimes guilty of negative thinking, especially as a perfectionist.  It’s easy.

Now, let me describe the Yucatan Peninsula for those of you who have never been there.  For one thing, the Yucatan was formed 3,000,000 years ago when a meteor struck Earth forcing limestone that was once below the ocean to the surface.  The land is young, with only about an inch of soil over solid rock.  There are no rivers, only cenotes, or sinkholes, that trap fresh water and dot the landscape.  Only short trees and shrubs can grow there, and they don’t yield many crops due to the lack of rich soil.  Now consider this:  the Mayans migrated to this part of Mexico thousands of years ago.  Their descendants have been living there in small villages ever since.   Cancun, in contrast, is only about 40 years old, as it was created in the 1970’s for tourism.  Most of the peninsula is comprised of dense, short jungle.  Here and there, you see resorts along the main drag.  Mostly, you see palapas which are essentially grass huts.

Now, I’m someone who came from a very humble background, but seeing the way people live in this part of the world made me feel insanely guilty. They are happy.  They have everything they need to live, and yet, they have very little.  Their schools are concrete boxes with very few windows or doors, at least the few I was fortunate enough to see. Considering that our district built a fabulous new air-conditioned elementary school last year with technology upgrades, I felt a pang of guilt.  Seeing pictures of schools in Mexico, Haiti, or Afghanistan certainly gave me some level of awareness in the past, but there’s nothing like seeing one with your own eyes to make it resonate to your core. Our old crumbling building was more elaborate and more structurally sound than their current “new” building, and their high school was in another village a few miles away.  Do you think they have a bussing system?  No way!  They ride bikes or use their feet. Often though, their parents keep them at home to help sell souvenirs to tourists.  After all, everyone knows it’s harder to say no to a cute little child than an adult.  That’s why Girl Scout cookies are such a success here in our country.  Sadly, that’s why these Mayan children are denied educations by their own parents.

What does all of this mean for me?  Well, it means that going into a new year, I am trying to focus on what I have, rather than what I don’t have.  It made me think back a few years to my very first teaching assignment.  My first year of teaching was spent in an urban behavior school with middle schoolers that couldn’t make it in their home schools.  I was taught remedial reading with little to no resources except what I was able to gather from my own funds, from the internet, or from the public library.   I didn’t have a classroom to call my own or house many materials.  I spent most days in the conference room, but if a new kid was enrolled, which happened often, I had to teach in the hallway.  I spent a considerable amount of time counseling kids that apparently felt comfortable confiding in a 22 year old teacher.  To be honest, I cried a lot that year.  I knew that had to create and implement  a brand new Title I program at the school with very little support from the staff in the beginning and lots of negative comments.   The kids were challenging and transient.  My roster was always changing, sometimes daily.  My heart ached for them.  One fifth grader watched his sister get hit by a bus, another girl’s brother got shot in a gang-related incident, and I had a 7th grader who was reading at a 2nd grade level and struggling with drug addiction.  Every kid had a story of their own.  Keep in mind that these kids, who perhaps need more support than our typical students, were working out of outdated workbooks and working with very few resources beyond that.

I only spent one year at that school, but by the end, I knew that it was possible to make a difference with a lot of perseverance and creativity.  I was able to help a few students get back into their home schools and saw growth in nearly all of them.  I cultivated relationships with even the most stand-offish teachers by offering to help with special projects and lending them my collection of books written by African American authors for Black History Month when I learned that there was a need.  I built great rapport with my students.  With a little bit of elbow grease, I transformed a sterile looking conference room into the North Pole at Christmas time and plastered student work all over the hallways.   I began to implement more themes to share with everyone who entered that space.  It may not have been my room necessarily, but “our room” had a nice ring to it too.  I eventually found ways to engage each student, even the 7th grader who read at a 2nd grade level.  Once we  did a study on some of Dr. Seuss and the symbolism in Yertle the Turtle, The Butter Battle Book, The Lorax, and The Sneetches.  I was able to use the internet, old comics by Seuss, and other books to teach the history or message behind each story.  This interested him, and kept him from feeling like he was reading a “baby book”.  Every small success felt like a huge one.  By the end of the year, I left school knowing that the purchase orders I wrote would continue to make a difference even after I was teaching in a more rural district closer to home.  I knew that I had accomplished many things with a little innovation and elbow grease.  I imagine that’s what it takes in the Mayan schools as well.

There’s one more thing I came to realize when I was in Mexico, and this realization came to me after a conversation with three primary teachers from England.  We are not alone.  The shifting standards, high accountability, increased paperwork, and government mandates are not unique to the United States.  As I found out from the English educators, teachers on both sides of the Atlantic are feeling that pressure.  Is it stressful?  Sure.  Do we feel overwhelmed sometimes?  Absolutely.  However, to me, it’s all worth it in the end.  When I feel myself drifting towards negativity, I try to shift my thinking.  Instead of thinking about what is being done TO us, I try to think about what is being done FOR the students.  Higher standards and higher accountability are not inherently bad things.  We have a responsibility to our students to strive for greatness  and to always play our best cards.  It’s not always easy.  We don’t always see instant results or understand how far our influence stretches, but it’s always worth it.  Just remember, you are not alone.  We are all in the trenches together, fighting the good fight.  Remember that the changes we are seeing here are also occurring on other shores, most likely due to globalization.  When you’re thinking globally though, don’t forget about the teachers in Mayan schools, Pakistani schools, Afghan schools, among others.  Mostly, don’t forget how truly blessed and fortunate we are.

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