Ambush in Public Education

 

Ambush in Public Education

Believe it or Not was a TV series based on Ripley’s book of strange facts but the title might be just as relevant for what is going down in public education as we try to redefine achievement. On the other hand, perhaps, you prefer science fiction to a more reality based show. Okay. How about The Outer Limits? Don’t adjust your monitor screen. You would have to have seen an episode of the Outer Limits to understand what I mean by that. My favorite weird show when I was a kid was The Twilight Zone. You are about to enter the twilight zone of public education.

Act I

(The scene opens with Ted, an old English teacher, sitting in a high-speed train. He can see through the front window what is in front of the train as it speeds through a train yard and passes a station. On the station platform, people hail the train to stop. The train is moving so fast that they get blown over in its wake. There is no engineer driving the train. The station master runs inside the station and picks up the phone.)

"Hello! Hello! Emergency!" the station master shouts. "I need to speak someone in charge. Hello! Is there anybody there? Hello!"

(The steering toggle drifts aimlessly from side to side as red lights blink crazily on the dashboard. Ted is sitting with his teacher colleagues who are being tossed about as the train dips and curves on a ride that is out of control; but the dips and curves are not affecting Ted. Suddenly, the train hits a hard bump. Ted feels this bump as he reaches around and grabs his back as if he had been stabbed by a knife.  Briefcases, books, and teachers fly through the air. Ted awakens from the nightmare sitting up in bed panting, sweating, and exhausted from his dream. He looks over at the alarm clock. It’s 4:26 in the morning.  Ted's wife, Maria, turns sleepily toward him and touches his shoulder.)

"I told you not to eat before going to bed, didn't I," she says.  She turns to the side of the bed slipping on her slippers.  She stands and puts on her housecoat and says, "I'll make some coffee."  She walks around the bed to the bureau, turns on the light, and shuts off the alarm.  "Come on," she says, "You'd better get up. Ben needs to get to college early today to study.  He told me he has a big test today in chemistry."  Ted quickly swings his legs to the side of the bed and braces to get up. "He'll need to use the bathroom.  Come on,"  Maria says.

     "Did he study last night?" Ted asks.

     "I think so," Maria says.  "He was in his room all night.  Come on. It's almost four-thirty.  Better move your ass, gordito."  Ted gets up and limps to the bathroom.

Act II

(Ted and his wife are at breakfast in their kitchen.  It's still dark outside.)

     "I had a bad dream last night, Maria, " Ted says.  Maria dishes out eggs on his plate. "Gracias.  I dreamt I was on one of those fast trains.  Like a monorail.  It was moving so fast and out of control.  There was no engineer, you know, no driver."  Ted looks up at Maria.

     "Bread?" Maria asks.

     "Yes, please," Ted says.  Maria places two pieces of buttered bread neatly on his plate.  "Ms. Martin was there.  You know that young teacher I told you about who's having troubles.  The one who has no control of her classes. And Mr. Barry was there, too.  The bastard who's going to retire this year."

     "Wow," Maria says.  "¿Mas café?" she asks.

     "Yes, please," Ted says.  She gets up and pours him more coffee.

     "Barb was there too," Ted says.

     "Barb, too?" Maria asks.  "The Barb that won't talk to anyone anymore?"

     "Yep.  She was there," Ted says.

     "Did she say anything in your dream?" Maria asks.

     "No," Ted smiles.  "Not a word.  She just looked up at the ceiling and held on to the armrest."

     "That's a shame," Maria says.  "The Puerto Rican kids always liked her, didn't they?

     "Yea, they did. It's a shame.  She could really communicate," Ted says.  "She's totally devastated from what they did to her.  You know, making her change buildings, assigning her to two buildings.  Making her drive all the way across town.  Horrible."

     "At least she have a job, Ted," Maria says.  Did you hear what they doing in Puerto Rico?"

     "This isn't Puerto Rico, Maria," Ted says.  "Not yet, at least."

     "What do you think the dream mean, Ted?" Maria asks

     "I think it means that everything is changing so quickly, too quickly for me to catch up, you know with technology and all.  I think I'm in for a fall.  Like a bad evaluation or something.  I've never had a bad evaluation.  I am due one, I guess.  You know?  I just have to be prepared to accept it.  Keep my dignity and all, you know?  Wouldn't it be ironic though?  All distinguished evaluations last year, and this year unsatisfactory.  That would be a kicker."

     "Ted, who gave you those evaluations last year?" Maria asks.  She knows the answer.

    "John did," Ted says.

    "Pues, and they fired John last year for changing kids' grades, right?" Maria says.

    "I miss John," Ted says.  "We were hired together, you know."

     "I know, Ted, but he shouldn't have changed their grades, either.  You know better than that," Maria says.

     "He did what he thought best for the kids," Ted says.  "Everybody changes grades today, Maria.  It's called differentiated instruction or making accommodations, or some such thing.  Just like everybody cheats today and calls it collaborative learning.  It's all smoke and mirrors."

     Maria sits down. "I thought dreams mean the opposite of what they appear," Maria says.

     "That's what they say.  I don't know about this one," Ted says. "Because I'm so old and make so much money, maybe they want to get rid of me.  They could hire two teachers on my salary. 

     "You're just...scared.  No, what's the word? Maria asks.

     "Paranoid?" Ted says.

     "Yes," Maria says pointing her finger at Ted. "That's it.  You paranoid."

     "I hope that's it, Maria," Ted says.

     "Why would they want to get rid of you?  You are a good teacher.  Don't the parents like you?" Maria says.

     "That doesn't matter, Maria, you know that," Ted says. "When it comes to money..."

     "You don't know that.  This isn't Puerto Rico or Coatesville, Ted," Maria says. "They have plenty of money over there. Those people in those big houses, they're not going to let anything happen.  That's why they live there. Money isn't everything."

     "I hope you're right, Maria.  I hope you're right. I just hope I can stay below the radar for three, maybe four more years until I retire until I'm outta there.  I'll do my best until then.  You know that, Maria."  Ted puts his hand on Maria's shoulder to convince her as if to promise her that he still is the man she married thirty-two years ago.

     "You a good person, Ted.  The kids love you too.  I know that.  People tell your mother that.  She told me." Maria says.  "No preocupes, OK?"

     "Really?  When she tell you that?" Ted asks.

     "Ted.  People talk.  They know," Maria says.

     "Well, I've always given them their money's worth.  That's for sure. I haven't missed a day in fifteen years.  It would be pretty hard to fire somebody with that kind of record."  Ted gets up and checks his briefcase.

     "Have everything?" Maria asks.

     "I think so," Ted says. 

     "You need a new briefcase and new shirts, too.  Want your coat?" Maria says.

     "Yea, I better take it with me just in case...Is it supposed to rain today?  Ted asks.

     "This morning, yes," Maria says.  "It should be nice this afternoon though.  Warm."

     "Oh, I forgot to tell you, sorry.  I'll be a little late coming home today," Ted says.

     "That's OK," Maria says.

     "I forgot to tell you we have parent conferences next week," Ted says.

     "I knew that, Ted," Maria says.

     "How'd you know that?" Ted asks.

     "Everybody have parent conferences before Thanksgiving, Ted," Maria says.

     " Oh," Ted says. "I need to stay after school today.  Clean my room, you know, make things look nice."

     "I'm going with Carmelita today," Maria says. "We going to have lunch at Country Buffet."

     "Oh Lord," Ted says.  Ted and Maria laugh.  "I guess you're going to watch the lady who eats so much, right?  Is this her day to show up?"

     "Yes, every Monday," Maria says.  "Last week she tried to hide pastries in her pocketbook."  Ted and Maria laugh.

     "Oh boy," Ted says.  "Did they catch her?"

     "No.  Nobody care," Maria says.

     Ted opens the door. "You behave yourself," Ted says.

     "Do you have many conferences?" Maria asks.

     "No, just the ones I don't need to see," Ted says.  "The bad part is we have conferences Tuesday night."

     "Will you come home?" Maria asks.

     "No, I'll stay," Ted says.

     "You know we have to pick up the turkey Tuesday night," Maria reminds him.

     "Oh shit, I forgot.  I'm sorry, Maria," Ted says.

     "That's okay," Maria says.  "Ben can drive me over to pick it up.  He'll be home early Tuesday."  She kisses him and hands him his brown bag lunch that she has made for him everyday for thirty-two years.  "Vaya con Dios," she says.  "Trust in God, Ted."

     "And tell the truth," Ted adds.  "The truth will set you free," he mumbles to himself as he walks up the hill to the garage.  "The truth will set you free," he repeats as the sensor light goes on illuminating the yard and his car.

Act III

(Flashback to two weeks before.  It's Friday, November 5th.)

     A calendar appears with the date November 5th. On that date the words, Grades Due is written in bold black letters. Ted appears at his desk entering grades and checking the entries in his gradebook.  At last, he lifts his index finger and comes down hard on the keyboard.

     "Export," he says.  "Done."

     He sits back in his chair relieved. There's a knock on his door.  "Come in," Ted says.  It's Henry, the old Puerto Rican foreign language teacher.

     "You done, cabrón?" Henry asks.

     "Yep, just finished," Ted says.

     "How many you fail?" Henry asks.

     "Shut the door, man," Ted pauses to count from his gradebook. "Eight."

     "Eight?  That's a lot for you.  What happened?" Henry asks.

     "Scared, Henry.  Scared to change too many grades," Ted says.

     "Oh yea.  Know what you mean," Henry says.  "I didn't fail anybody.  Passed 'em all.  70's."

     "You're a lyin' ass, too," Ted says.

     "Nope, ni uno, man," Henry says.  "You think I'm a dumb portojo, man?"

     "It's probably better that way, Henry.  That way you won't hear any bullshit from parents or administrators," Ted says.

     "Hey, did you hear what happened?" Henry asks.

     "No.  Don't tell me.  It's Friday.  I want to go home with a clear conscience," Ted says.

     "You know that new math teacher from Hungary they hired.  The one who hardly speak English?" Henry says.

     "Yea, just like you mother fucker.  It's speaks English, pendejo," Ted says.   And by the way, dickhead, she's Russian, not Hungarian."

     "Fuck you, man.  Come on, what's her name?"  Henry asks.

     "I don't know her fuckin' name, man.  It's some long bitch of a name no one can pronounce. But I know who you mean.  I spoke with her once, way back.  She's clueless.  She won't last long," Ted says.

     "Why they hire her, man?"  Henry asks.

     "Same reason they hired you, knucklehead.  Diversity," Ted says.

     "Hey, I'm an America," Henry says.

     "Yea, look what they doing to YOU Americans.  You get your new birth certificate yet," Ted asks.

     "Oh yea, got mine last month," Henry says.

     "That's good man.  Maria got hers last month, too," Ted says.  "Cost thirty-seven dollars to prove your Puerto Rican."

     "You right, brother.  She won't last long," Henry says.  "In fact, word is, she gone already."

     "Oh shit," Ted says.  "What happened?"

     "She failed over half her kids," Henry says.

     "You're kidding," Ted says.

     "No, man," Henry says.  "And she didn't even notify the parents."

     "Oh shit.  Didn't anybody warn her?"  Ted asks.

     "I guess not. You know man, once the word got around, you know how parents talk, they all got together and went to the administration," Henry says.

     "Oh, God," Ted says.  "Poor kid.  She still thinks she's in Europe. I had a feeling something was coming down.  Had a dream man."

     "Yea, I got a dream too.  In three years I'm the fuck outta here, back in La Isla de Encanta, cabrón," Henry says.

     "Yea, maybe me too but Maria don't want to go back." Ted says.

     "Hey man," Henry pauses.  "It's doesn't want to go back."

     "What? Oh. Get the fuck outta here," Ted laughs.

     Henry lifts the strap of his bag over his shoulder.  The bag is full of papers to correct.  "In three years, I'll be drinkin' Cuba Librés and cañita all day, man," Henry says.

     "That's the way to do it," Ted says.  "I can't argue with that."

     "I'll see you Monday, man," Henry says.

     "Cuidao, cabrón," Ted says.

Act IV

(Flash forward two weeks to Friday, November 19th.)

     Ted feels pretty good about his students and himself and he is ready to give it another go the second marking period. Of his 120 students, only eight failed.  He has phoned and emailed the parents of the eight students repeatedly over the marking period but only one has answered his email. None have returned phone calls.  None have scheduled a parent conference.  None came to the open-house.  Except for those eight students, everything has gone well, maybe too well, and that bothers Ted.

     As he packs his briefcase, he remembers the dream. He tries to dismiss it. After all, report cards have been printed, delivered to his building, and are ready to be distributed Monday. Then, at 4:26 P.M. on Friday afternoon, just before Ted shuts down his computer and leaves, his computer says, “You’ve got mail.” The email is from some unknown administrator from the administrative offices known by the teachers as Party Central.  He reads the email.

To All Teachers: Please confirm that you personally made documented personal contact with a parent or guardian if a student failed your class. If you did not make personal contact, let your building administrator or grade level administrator know immediately.  Grades will be changed to 70. You cannot fail a student if you did not make personal contact with a parent or guardian.


     Ted repeats what he cannot believe, “Grades will be changed.  Personal contact?" Ted jumps out of his seat, out into the hallway, and runs from room to room looking for other teachers to warn them. 

     Over the weekend, the teachers go about their private lives with the expectation of the upcoming two day week because of Thanksgiving vacation and parent conferences. Parent conferences are scheduled for Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Wednesday is a half-day with no students. The teachers are unaware of the impending catastrophe on Monday. Only one teacher, Ted, is aware of what is in store Monday but he is helpless to do anything about it. Should he phone some of his older colleagues to give them a heads up? Maybe, he should at least phone Henry.  No, he thinks. Henry didn't fail anybody or did he? That will just cause panic and maybe, he hopes, he doesn’t understand the email. He thinks, maybe, he missed a previous email and is taking the statement out of context. He repeats, “If you did not make personal contact, let your building administrator or grade level administrator know immediately.  Grades will be changed to 70."  All he can do is wait for Monday.

Act V

(The ghost of Rod Serling speaks)

In every game, there is a winner and a loser. In every story, there is a hero or a villain. Ted doesn’t mind losing because he knows there are some things in life, like his students for example, that are worth losing everything for. There are enough letters in his personnel file to demonstrate whose team he has played for all these years. There are enough stories in his professional narrative to document who the heroes have been and who the villains were. In this game, he knows one sure thing. Forget the over and under of weighted credits for higher-level courses; forget the point spread of the achievement gap between minority students and white students. Those are all mute points now because all the kids lose when the word achievement is redefined and we have nothing left for ourselves but the gap. (Flashback. There has been a train accident. The train has been derailed. Ted scrambles up the railroad embankment and forces open the train door. He looks inside and screams in horror.) Ted’s wife was right. The dream does mean the opposite of what it appears. It is his students who have been riding the out of control train not the teachers. They are the casualties of the derailment. Be forewarned lest you buy a ticket on this train. You have just had class in the twilight zone of public education.

Sound like a good plot for a story? It might be if it weren’t true but it is. The above email sent teachers scrambling and cackling on Monday. Here’s why:

1. There were hardly any teachers in our high school building to receive this email at 4:30 P.M. on a Friday afternoon. Our contracted day ends at 2:50 P.M. and when I walked to my car at 4:45 P.M., most of the parking lot was empty.

2. The marking period ended on November 5th. This email was sent on the 19th, a full two weeks passed during which this FYI could have been sent out.

3. The teachers have interpreted the policy to inform parents by either email or phone if their child was failing for the course not just for failing one marking period. To fail the course, the student would have to have an average grade below 70 after two marking periods.

4. The email states, “I will be sending out the district policy for failing a student next week, however; it is also in your teacher manual.” This implies that teachers should know every aspect of the teacher manual. No one except the Union Reps read the teacher manual. It is a massive document designed to delegate administrative and clerical responsibilities to teachers. It is a document as thick as Obama’s health care plan but not as thick as Hillary’s 1993 version. It is a document full of contradictions (See #4 below) so that if something goes wrong, the administration can point to some part of it and find somebody other than themselves to blame.

5. Teachers have never had to document the contact even though it is suggested for legal reasons that they do and at the same time, it is discouraged to keep documentation on students for legal reasons due to FERPA. With parents having access to grades online, progress reports being emailed home and given to students, and access to teacher telephone numbers and email addresses, it would seem overkill to document every parent contact.

6. What does it mean to “make sure you personally [make] documented contact with a parent or guardian...”? Does an attempt to contact a parent count? What happens if a parent never returns a phone call or email? Should teachers send certified letters to parents? What happens if the parent doesn’t respond to the letter? Should teachers then make home visits?

7. The email is explicit. “If you did not make contact with a parent or guardian you cannot fail a student” and hence, the grades of failing students will be changed. That means the grade will be changed to a passing grade of 70.

8. If you think the above email is about being proactive with parents or increasing communication between parents and teachers, think again. It is about a school that does not want teachers to fail students even if those students deserve to fail. Why? The school district does not want to be perceived as passing students on to the next grade even if they fail. This is what happens at the middle school. This ambush might be a reaction from the administration on complaints from high school teachers that students are coming into ninth grade misplaced in higher-level sections and unprepared for the expectations of high school teachers.

The solution then is to make it more difficult for high school teachers to fail students. The biggest reason why students fail is because of the lack of support students receive in the home. The number one reason why students fail is that they do not do homework, that is, they do not do schoolwork outside of school. They are too distracted by technology to read texts and or write. Some view homework as an evaluation of parental involvement with their children not as an evaluative instrument to gauge a student’s progress. They have a point and the administration could use this point as a rationale to change policy if they were so inclined to state a firm pedagogical philosophy rather than to set policy by precedent. Setting policy by precedent in layman’s terms means, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Whoever complains must be placated because the customer, that is, the taxpayer, is always right. This is the business model of education at its worst.

What sparked this furor over failing kids had nothing to do with contacting parents. It so happened that a first year teacher failed the majority of her students in her math class. This teacher is from Europe. She was unaware of the culture of American public education. She did not realize that failing a student was a mark of failure on the part of the teacher. After the word got out amongst the parents that so many kids had failed, the parents went to the administration. The teacher had emailed parents and sent home progress reports but that wasn’t good enough. The administration seeking a rationale to placate parents invented a loophole and reinterpreted policy. The teachers have interpreted the policy to inform parents by either email or phone if their child was failing for the course not just for failing one marking period. To fail the course, the student would have to have an average grade below 70 after two marking periods. The teacher had not made personal contact with the parent.

Now, if some parents aren’t monitoring their child’s school performance already by accessing their grades online, or emailing and calling teachers, or attending parent conferences or open house, what makes you think that teachers are going to be able to access the parents personally to inform them their child is failing. None of the parents or guardians of the eight students who I failed the first marking period called to schedule a parent conference with me. None attended the open-house in September and only one returned my email I sent out Friday evening. The eight students who failed my class also failed other classes. Wouldn’t you think that parents would have some inkling of how their kids are doing in school? Do you think that documenting that you made contact with parents is going to make difference to these kids?

1: English + 1 class = 2 classes

2: English + 1 class = 2 classes

3: English + 2 classes = 3 classes

4: English + 2 classes = 3 classes

5: English + 2 classes = 3 classes

6: English + 3 classes = 4 classes

7: English + 4 classes = 5 classes

8: English + 5 classes = 6 classes

I caught a glimpse of the future at the last in-service with middle school teachers who told us that they were no longer permitted to fail students for not doing homework. The reason for the in-service was to bring high school and middle school teachers together to discuss curriculum alignment. At least that was the party line or the spin. However, since there have been no curriculum revisions since 1994, and there is no money for new books or for paying teachers to work on curriculum revision, I suspected that it wasn’t the curriculum that the administration was seeking to align but rather policy and philosophy.

The email that was sent out Friday redefines the high school as a middle school. It is an email that sends a redefining message to high school teachers about their roles, about the value of the content they teach, and about the values of hard work and achievement. It is the coup de grace, the straw that breaks the camel’s back, for those who still believe in the constructs that define a high school. Now, I do not mind changing the construct of a high school. If you want the high school to follow the middle school model, if you want the tail to wag the dog, that’s fine. However, I do not like being instrumentalized to lower the rigor, standards, and measures of achievement that characterize a high school and that are designed to prepare students for college. It is not fair for high school teachers to be demonized by parents who find out that their kids have to take non-credited, remedial college courses and pay for them because we did not prepare their kids.

If the administration has cause to change the high school paradigm, they have a right to do so. They are the policy makers. But, they should not covertly change the paradigm by making it more arduous and time consuming for teachers to fail kids and make it appear that the students are performing to their potential and achieving . In the end, high school teachers like middle school teachers will not fail students. Faced with the onerous tasks of mentoring and monitoring parents to be parents, teachers will adjust their grading practices and not fail students.

I had eight of about 120 students fail for the first marking period and yes, over the course of the marking period, I contacted or attempted to contact the parents of students who were not doing well in my classes.

I even make contact with parents whose kids don’t turn in assignments but I do not document it. I do not have the time for that. However, I will take the time from now on. The first step I will take is to not give zeros for assignments that are not turned in. Hence, all my students will pass. How can I justify this? I can only evaluate my students for work they turn in; not for work, they do not turn in. Good enough? Sound rational?

I have been teaching for 32 years. I am experienced with what I call ambushes. I am not anti-administration. I was an administrator from 1988 to 2000. I sympathize with the administration and I realize from experience that more ambushes are set for administrators than for teachers. The email itself and the timing of the email was an ambush. This is why I check my school email over the weekends, over holidays, and over summer vacation. Call it paranoia, but it is one reason why I have survived in public education all these years. I do not know why the administration set this ambush but we will find out Monday and we will know whom they have targeted for the ambush.