From Ellie Herman, at
Los Angeles Times:
The kid in the back wants me to define "logic." The girl next to him looks bewildered. The boy in front of me dutifully takes notes even though he has severe auditory processing issues and doesn't understand a word I'm saying. Eight kids forgot their essays, but one has a good excuse because she had another epileptic seizure last night. The shy, quiet girl next to me hasn't done homework for weeks, ever since she was jumped by a knife-wielding gangbanger as she walked to school. The boy next to her is asleep with his head on the desk because he works nights at a factory to support his family. Across the room, a girl weeps quietly for reasons I'll never know. I'm trying to explain to a student what I meant when I wrote "clarify your thinking" on his essay, but he's still confused.
It's 8:15 a.m. and already I'm behind my scheduled lesson. A kid with dyslexia, ADD and anger-management problems walks in late, throws his books on the desk and swears at me when I tell him to take off his hood.
The class, one of five I teach each day, has 31 students, including two with learning disabilities, one who just moved here from Mexico, one with serious behavior problems, 10 who flunked this class last year and are repeating, seven who test below grade level, three who show up halfway through class every day, one who almost never comes. I need to reach all 31 of them, including the brainiac who's so bored she's reading "Lolita" under her desk.
I just can't do it.
Keep reading to get to the myth of extraordinary teachers, although I'll add this part:
I understand that we need to get rid of bad teachers, who will be just as bad in small classes, but we can't demand that teachers be excellent in conditions that preclude excellence.
Actually, I'm not even sold on the idea of "really bad" teachers. Some aren't that great and probably shouldn't be teaching. I can think of a couple of professors at my college who have absolutely no social skills, and hence have a hard time reaching a comfortable or appropriate level of interaction with their students. But I also often hear reports about how such-and-such teacher changed some student's life. It's that level of interaction that gives meaning. The students I'm able to help most are generally those who take the time to break from the routine of just showing up. I'll be there to help students, inside the class and out. I'm especially thankful when students make an effort to attend office hours and share with me their own challenges or difficulties. That's when I can assess what needs to be done, and I can design some kind of extra program of help or attention, from either myself or other resources on campus. But all those stories Ms. Herman shares about her students, well, I have some as well. It's the inside of education that's not always known or understood. A lot of this is economic disadvantage, but a lot is just the way things are, that not every student who comes to us turns out as a Ph.D. candidate to Harvard. You make a difference where you can, helping students to learn and move forward. And hopefully you get a little recognition in return, even if it's just a well-needed thank you for your efforts.