The First Days of School

Institute Day

S'BERG--Now both our computers are on the fritz, so I'm scribing this in a notebook, for later transcription. Not that this matters a whit.

Having lulled my persistent cough and postnasal drip into a grudging slumber with a generous helping of DayQuil, I entered the building today in a middling haze, insulated against the shake-downs, schedule-shifts and other brands of fuckup-ery awaiting me. I tossed half my mail away, ignored several memos, nodded hi to a few coworkers, and settled into a corner of the auditorium for the First Meeting Back. In previous years, our administration had taken the time to point out several things to us: Why our school rocks, Why our school rocks but Could Rock Better, Why You Guys Rock but Need to Rock Harder, Why our government hates us but we need to Rock All Year, and my all-time favorite, Why You Need to Care About Who Thinks You Rock and Who Doesn't. Subtitle: Students (and soon parents) vote with their feet.

(Turns out I vote with my Foot. When it's Up Your Ass. You dig?)

Of course, this year we had so many new higher-ups, it would be difficult to get an immediate read on how the year would progress in that front. I'd spent much of the evening before drafting a few ideas of my own, but, surprise surprise, I was not called upon to give a speech. Others were. Here, in complete honesty, candor and forthcomingness, are my notes from the meeting:

8:05 a.m. First speaker reminds us we need to start on time (now)
8:11 a.m. Speaker starts
8:12 a.m. Speaker tells a joke
8:14 a.m. Speaker quits waiting for someone to laugh at joke
8:15 a.m. First speaker asks for a moment of silence for us all to remember friends, family, and especially coworkers who have passed on over the summer. "They are precious to us," he intones. "They cannot be replaced."
8:16 a.m. "Now let's meet who's replacing them."
8:22 a.m. Another shot of NCLB in the arm: our state test average has gone up .6 points from what it was in 2000, after a plummet in the years between.
8:23 a.m. We finish celebrating the .6 points. Speaker announces that, to celebrate and to show the school's appreciation of our hard work and dedication, Fridays will consist of community-fostering activities. This Friday will be Build-your-own-ice cream cone Day.
8:24 a.m. I pinched myself. That really is our reward.
8:26 a.m. Speaker announces our two percent goal. "If we can improve everything, tests, graduation rates, attendance, effort, everything by 2 percent, we'll accomplish the limits." Good. I can crack that out by the middle of September, and then I'm outta here.
8:27 a.m. Second speaker takes over. Quotes extensively from a letter from Lincoln to his son's teacher: "He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just and are not true. But teach him if you can, the wonder of books.. but also give him quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun and flowers on a green hillside."
8:31 a.m. In my planbook, I scribble, "Friday--outside, contemplate birds in sky." Done. Take that, AYP!
8:33 a.m. Next speaker urges us to attack biased language. "When you hear a student complain about something being 'gay,' I think you should stand up and say, 'You know what, that offends me. I'm gay! I'm gay, straight, bi and asexual. I'm black, white, red, yellow, brown and orange. I'm man, woman, able- and disabled. I am Everyone."
8:34 a.m. Anson, a co-worker, sits next to me. "I came late," he whispers. "What did I miss?" I point casually. "That guy just came out of the closet."
8:38 a.m. New staff intros at this point: Two black men (unheard of in this district), phys ed aides. Two platinum blondes (Roma was all over both of them in no time). Two rehires (nodded wearily at being introduced all over again). Two who haven't graduated yet ("in October, I promise! Really! Teacher gives me lots of gold stars and happy face stickers!")
8:45 a.m. Awards go out for 10, 20, 30 and 40 years of service. Predictably, the non-teachers get the most applause. Especially Joy, the cafeteria worker.
8:50 a.m. Our motivational speaker, an old college drinking buddy of the boss, gets up to speak. He immediately calls for another round of applause for Joy. The crowd obliges more than willingly.
8:51 a.m. "Every time I've interacted with this school, I've been impressed." Naturally. We haven't crossed paths yet.
8:52 a.m. "Every time I think of school, of the years I've put in, I get a little lump in my throat." Wonderful. Now the profession is cancerous. "You guys work hard. I can see it. It has nothing to do with money. This place reminds me of a small school in Santa Fe, which has a large number of illegal immigrants. They risked their lives to get a good education, their teachers know it, they're proud of it, and that's who you remind me of." The Republicans in the crowd are daring to frown disapproval over this comment, but that's all they're daring at the moment. "I'd like to amend the first guy's Appreciation Friday idea: Wine Tasting Friday." The Republicans continue to frown. "Or how about Beer and Burgers?" Now they're smiling. All is suddenly well with the world.
8:59 a.m. "Once you get teaching in your blood, you never get rid of it. I don't care who you are, what you do. It never leaves you." Great. Another disease metaphor. "And if you can't find it, it's time to go do something else." Are you telling me to take a walk, buddy? How about I get a job giving first-day-of-school speeches? Take that Mr. Motivational Speaker.
9:12 a.m. Talks at length about passion: "Passion for what you do transfers into the classroom." I make a note: Passion has been nixed in this building in favor of the MEL-Con.
9:14 a.m. Closes with a set of scriptural quotes. Gets a lengthy round of applause. Joy is beaming, though: She's still got him beat for popularity.

As far as motivational speakers go, I've heard much worse. I'm still struggling, though. I've spent the last year taking classes, attending seminars and listening to worldly experts discourse on the role of the educator, and how we're not here to teach content, but skills. So I contemplate my position, in light of my new motivation:

I can motivate my students by motivating myself. I motivate myself by embracing my curriculum and wallowing in the power of words. My passion, according to mandated NCLB changes, sucks. Therefore, I suck when I teach fromthe heart, and as a result, my students stink up the classroom and I lose my job, thereby providing me the exit he subliminally urged me to take at 8:59 a.m. In short, motivation equals unemployment.

Hmm. Quite the Catch-22.

The rest of the meeting, representatives walked us through a new evaluation model. First, we have an observation. Then we observe them doing an observation. Then the observation gets observed again, and we write up a memo on it. If these are all negative observations and a follow-up is required, it's To the Arena:



At this point, the speaker reminds us that there will be a Teacher Training Day Training Day, where we get to Train for Training and Train the Trainers. All higher-ups will be out of the building. Joy is put in charge, to thunderous applause.

And that's about it. So I. Am. Out of here. For the evening. To return tomorrow triumphantly. Rested. Refreshed. High on DayQuill. And fully cognizant of where my room is and which key goes in which door. Like a poet once said, you gotta reach for the stars.