Sharon had taught dance and martial arts, and had trained restaurant employees. She liked to teach, enjoyed being with kids, and she wanted a “real profession.” At 31, with a bachelor's degree in psychology, she didn't have the time or money to return to school full-time. An alternative program offered her the opportunity to earn a master's degree in education while teaching in an inner-city school. Two nights a week for four hours she would study “performance-based” skills and theory; five days a week she would teach her own 4th grade class. Sharon was pumped up about the idea.
Not quite a year later, Sharon is a payroll specialist. She owes $4,000 for the coursework that would have been free if she had lasted two years in her public school district. She is disheartened about an “an idea that should have worked, but didn't.” And she has memories of kids she cared about. What went wrong?, I asked her.
Inadequate preparation. After a few weeks of orientation during which she and her colleagues watched a puppet show and listened to guest speakers, Sharon entered her classroom. She said,The first day I had to break up five fights; one boy, who I later found out had just had his medication changed, was running around the room. The room was one big space full of desks and nonworking computers. I hadn't seen my textbooks yet. I didn't know anything about how to set up my room for learning, create lesson plans, what happens on a typical first day, what an IEP was.
Bureaucratic system. Her night classes did not address the reality that she faced during the day. For example, her school district required her to spend a prescribed number of minutes each day on different subjects and to follow textbooks in a prescribed sequence—jumping from chapter 1 to chapter 12 within days—in a way that didn't make sense to her. She was required to fill out multiple forms in triplicate and write objectives on the chalkboard every day. (“We practiced for one-half day learning the required wording.”) Her lessons were geared to preparing students for a test that was supposed to arrive in the fall, but came in December two days before the holiday. Half of what was on the test had not been in the curriculum. Meanwhile, in her graduate course, they practiced how to introduce storybooks to students.
Overwhelming needs. Sharon was told that her class would be difficult. The class had had two teachers the year before; six students were repeating the grade. Several had behavioral or emotional problems. Sharon describes herself as “a strong personality,” and her colleagues told her she had what it takes to “control a class.” “But that's not the only thing I wanted to do,” she said.
Discouraged colleagues. Sharon's coteachers seemed to her to be cynical or downtrodden. They told her to try teaching in the suburbs or in a private school or learn to circumvent the system. The micromanagement and lack of respect wore everyone down. Teachers whom she admired said they would get out of teaching if they could.
Looking back. Sharon feels good about a few accomplishments. When she left, she had created a learning environment: bought a pencil sharpener, covered up holes in the walls with posters, brought in a bookcase and books and set up a reading corner.
And she liked the kids:I made it a point to believe in the “problem children.” The social worker said she never saw one boy in such a good mood as when he talked about my class. I started tutoring a girl who had a hard time learning math. One afternoon she told me, “Thank you for teaching me. You are the only person who believes I am trying.”One time when I was exasperated, I sarcastically told my class, “Thank you for behaving so wonderfully today.” A boy looked up at me and said, “You are saying nice things to us, but your face has that look you have when you are mad.” I realized that they were observing me all the time. I learned from them.
Taking stock. When Sharon decided to leave, she wasn't allowed to tell her students until the last day. She was told a replacement would come, but no one showed up. Later, one of the kids e-mailed her that another teacher told them that they “had driven another teacher away.” She e-mailed back: “No, you didn't drive me away. Not at all.”
Preparation, support, adequate teaching conditions, and respect. The lack of these things is the reason good teachers leave the profession, the authors in this issue tell us. A debate about the definition of “highly qualified teacher” rages on, with some advocates of alternative training suggesting that content knowledge and a desire to teach are all that is needed. Sharon seems to be the kind of person who is highly qualified to become a good teacher. She didn't, and the system and the kids were the losers. Too bad. I'll end with her words:A friend of mine who teaches special ed says nothing really prepares you for teaching. But you are responsible for kids' lives. You would think they would want you to be prepared.
