This week, after the blink of an eye, we’re back in school. Soon, my colleagues and I will be sharing laughs about and dissecting the latest episode of Abbott Elementary. We love it; it often captures what we’re up against — lack of funding, antiquated equipment, asbestos-filled buildings — and we recognize in Quinta Brunson’s character, Janine Teagues, the idealism that brought us all to the classroom in the first place. I’ve been teaching 7- and 8-year-olds in the Upper Darby School District for two decades, and I still get a thrill every time I see the dawning of an idea spread across the face of one of my kids.
But, increasingly, we’ve noticed something missing in pop culture portrayals of life inside an urban school: A sugar-coating of the deteriorating state of discipline. Often, on Abbott, the majority of students will be docile, attentive even — with one misbehaving student the exception, and not the rule. “I’m waiting for the episode when a student smears feces on the bathroom wall while another flips his desk and two more elope from the class,” one of my colleagues said after an episode that found Abbott teacher Greg Eddie frustrated after sending a disruptive student to Principal Coleman’s office — only to have the principal refuse to discipline the child. “How do you think it feels for a 6- or 7-year-old to make that walk of shame?” the principal explains.
I believe in restorative practices and there is ample evidence that school punishments like suspension are disproportionately meted out along racial lines. There’s a difference, though, between knee-jerk punishment and accountability — and increasingly we are seeing our students evade accountability. Misbehavior in classrooms becomes viral; once, I had a young girl — Amaya — cry out “I want to learn!” a plea to her classmates who were disrupting the day’s lesson. We have to hold children who flout the rules accountable if we’re going to honor our commitment to her and the other kids who show up day after day to learn.
Once, I had a young girl — Amaya — cry out “I want to learn!”, a plea to her classmates who were disrupting the day’s lesson.
One year, I had a student who pushed me down and often flipped over his desk in fits of rage; I had no choice but to refer him to the front office some 70 times. Alas, until I complained about it, 20 of the 70 referrals hadn’t even been opened. Another time, my students looked out our window to see a disruptive student who had been sent to the principal’s office on the basketball court, shooting hoops with the security guard. That does not serve Amaya’s interest in learning.
I work with teachers and administrators who all share a deep devotion to our students. I regularly interact with heroes every day, from principals to custodial staff. But we’re all so stressed out because our job descriptions have been stretched to their limit. When my colleagues and I talk about Abbott Elementary, we can only do it fleetingly. That’s because we don’t have anywhere near the downtime that the teachers on the show enjoy. But when we do, we often comment upon just how the characters on our favorite show seem stress-free compared to us, our administrators, and even our students’ parents.
Let teachers teach. Please.
It doesn’t have to be like that. We laugh when we hear the issue of education discussed in the news: It’s all charters, vouchers, and funding. In fact, what happens in the classroom between student and teacher isn’t about governance. And while, yes, funding disparities are real and need to be addressed, we can make change immediately in a much more practical way. You want to improve educational outcomes? Let teachers teach.
That’s not my phrase. It’s the name of the recommendations made earlier this year in Louisiana by State Superintendent of Education Dr. Cade Brumley and State Teacher of the Year Kylie Altier. It’s a set of 18 very practical steps that could be taken tomorrow to help our kids do better in school right away. I suspect that, while the politicians and pundits argue over vouchers and funding, any teacher will immediately see the wisdom in these common-sense steps. Precepts like Make collaboration meetings worthwhile and Ensure ample time for classroom preparation and Stop forcing teachers to be mental health professionals should be music to teachers,’ principals’ and parents’ ears.
On discipline, the Let Teachers Teach reforms call for — finally! — getting cell phones out of the classroom. And there’s this: Trust us — don’t blame us. Students who are excessively disruptive to the learning environment should be removed from the classroom.
In golf, I’m told, there’s a concept called “intermittent reinforcement.” One good shot is enough to keep you coming back and playing again, despite the game’s frustrations. Well, my colleagues and I on education’s frontlines know all about intermittent reinforcement. Last year, 14 of my 14 students increased their spring reading fluency test scores compared to the previous fall’s testing, improving by 56 percent as a class, the second best performance in my school. That was a win that made dealing with the daily frustrations worthwhile. As was the day when Jalen visited; 12 years after I’d had him in my class, he came back as a college student to thank me for seeing something in him.
I don’t share this to brag — quite the opposite. For me and my colleagues, wins like these are increasingly fewer and farther between. Our days are instead spent dealing with behavioral and mental health issues that used to go beyond our mandate, and that are personally draining. An Education Week survey finds that 74 percent of elementary school teachers are “more likely to say that more support for dealing with discipline would help improve their mental health.” In our school, we’ve taken on gallows humor. “When does the teaching start?” we’ll ask one another, as we wade through so many of the social issues that keep our kids from even getting to learning.
That’s why the reforms in Louisiana speak so loudly to us. Think back to the teachers who shaped you, and where you’d be today were it not for them. If we could just get back to letting teachers teach, don’t you think our kids would be better off?
Bet Mizgala, wife of Citizen Co-founder Larry Platt, is a 22-year teacher at Stonehurst Hills Elementary School in Upper Darby.
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