Wes had been hired to teach math, but that wasn't his first choice of disciplines. He'd always hoped to teach social studies, and when a position opened up on the other sixth grade team, he took it, splitting up our tight little trio. His departure, another one of those August surprises, shifted the dynamic on our team, but the underlying tension from the year before remained. As with any conflict, there were allies and adversaries, and lines of allegiance drawn in the chalk dust. We had some volatile personalities on the team, and there were a few blow-ups in our meetings, but eventually things settled into a tepid truce.
All of that was a distant second concern to what was going on in our classrooms, anyway. Once inside with the door closed, it was easy for me to forget any disagreements we may have had when the students weren't around. Teaching was my first priority, and we had some tough kids that year. What do I mean by tough? Well, over half of our students were on free or reduced lunch, and, at that time, the school was about 30-30-30% Black, Hispanic, White, and 10% Asian or other. Over 20% of our student body was special education, and at least 25% were second language learners. Even so, those kids I considered "troubled" cut across all those lines. They didn't have much in common, except that they didn't like school in general, and they didn't like my class in particular.
How many students is it acceptable to give up on? To cut your losses on, say you've done more for than can be expected (because, likely, you have), chalk up your failure to reach them to their laziness or lack of family support or a personality difference? To justify turning your attention away from them because they are depriving other students who want to learn? Is it five percent or maybe ten? Just one or two out of each class that aren't getting with it-- isn't that okay, because, after all, nobody's perfect-- you can't win 'em all?
If I look back on my class lists from that time, I could give you a number. I could point out the names of the kids in my class who never engaged and were not successful, and I'm abashed to admit that, at that time, I thought it was fine. I believed that I was doing all that I could, and that it was enough.
(Note to self: include redemption in later installments?)
THankfully one of the freedoms I enjoy as a community college teacher is the burden of feeling responsible for a student failing to suceed. I know that weighs heavy on my K-12 colleagues and I'm grateful for your attention. But I've also come to realize that the old adage, horse to water but can't make them drink, is more true than we can possible know. Then the challenge becomes to understand the motivation to get the horses to drink, not an easy task.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy your writing--your working out this dilemma in print. It's one we all struggle with, yes even us who are inured to failing students.
Elizabeth