kolmanlit
Letters to a Young Teacher (VI)
Boston, MA
Dear Sandy,
Hello, once again, to my dear apprentice.
Come with me today on a journey.
Imagine you are in a class with no order,
no rhyme or reason,
and you are wondering why as you stand there,
in the midst of chaos,
children not listening, not working.
You are imagining a solution to the temporary distraction.
You have just witnessed textbooks thrown across the room.
Shouts are heard, abusive language is heard.
That is not the way you ever imagined a classroom to be.
It is your classroom.
It could be your own fifth grade,
or maybe an eighth grade you accepted to teach.
The children even harder at twelve and thirteen.
Are you with me?
Have I lost you?
That's not the love life or lovely life you're dreaming.
So, you can't get it to stop.
What are you thinking? What are you imagining?
The Iraq war is marching across the classroom.
The high unemployment rate from every city
is marching across the room.
The crime from the streets is marching in your classroom.
Scenes of domestic violence perhaps have
trnsmogrified themselves before your eyes.
You desire a classroom!
I know that you behaved as a child and paid attention.
No, guess what, I offer no solace.
I've studied disadvantaged children all of my life.
This can happen.
Security guards have become actors in the education process.
You are left with a problem, not education.
Now, happily, you can invent new concepts
to deal with the confusion that parades itself
before you daily in the classroom.
We can create new positions
to staff the need to handle it all.
Hope springs eternal.
Dear Sandy,
Hello, once again, to my dear apprentice.
Come with me today on a journey.
Imagine you are in a class with no order,
no rhyme or reason,
and you are wondering why as you stand there,
in the midst of chaos,
children not listening, not working.
You are imagining a solution to the temporary distraction.
You have just witnessed textbooks thrown across the room.
Shouts are heard, abusive language is heard.
That is not the way you ever imagined a classroom to be.
It is your classroom.
It could be your own fifth grade,
or maybe an eighth grade you accepted to teach.
The children even harder at twelve and thirteen.
Are you with me?
Have I lost you?
That's not the love life or lovely life you're dreaming.
So, you can't get it to stop.
What are you thinking? What are you imagining?
The Iraq war is marching across the classroom.
The high unemployment rate from every city
is marching across the room.
The crime from the streets is marching in your classroom.
Scenes of domestic violence perhaps have
trnsmogrified themselves before your eyes.
You desire a classroom!
I know that you behaved as a child and paid attention.
No, guess what, I offer no solace.
I've studied disadvantaged children all of my life.
This can happen.
Security guards have become actors in the education process.
You are left with a problem, not education.
Now, happily, you can invent new concepts
to deal with the confusion that parades itself
before you daily in the classroom.
We can create new positions
to staff the need to handle it all.
Hope springs eternal.
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Letters to a Young Teacher (VI)
Letters to a Young Teacher (VI)