Stop Bashing Teachers...Stop!

(From the desk of a retired inner city teacher)

Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers…Stop!

Teaching is an honorable profession
Guiding minds in a quest for education
To discover… to learn
To build …to discern
How to break the social blocks
Of economic layers that tend to lock
Many of the future generation
Into patterns of self annihilation

When will the public begin to care
That young people are hurting every where?

Children with bright shiny faces
Come to school believing it will take them places
But others getting up early coming too
Pack their book bags filled with legitimate issues
Confused children occupy the land
Bullying and fighting walk hand in hand
Sex and violence sing over the airways
Rage and cursing is the norm for the day

Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers…Stop!

Teachers take the children of this time
And attempt to elevate the state of their minds
Working with spirits raised up in anger
Oblivious to surrounding danger
Content to laugh…punch…push…shove
Kicking academics under the rug
Dancing their way into negative situations
That could easily lead to incarceration

When will restorative methods be applied
To rebuild communities and help save lives?

Teachers play many roles
Working to help students set some goals
Along with academic responsibility
Teachers many times have to be
At times a counselor…at times a mediator
At time a social worker…always a peacemaker
Many willing to go the extra mile
In an effort to reach the total child

Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers…Stop!

This country’s battling over test scores
Teachers are considered the enemy in this war
People pointing fingers and blaming them
For children failing in the public school system
No one wants to examine the behavior climate
As to a reason why test scores may have plummet
And through the years certainly declined
In spite of Zero Tolerance and No Child Left Behind.

When will it be known that there is a correlation
Between social behavior and education?

The building of jails is planned ahead of time
Feeding into the "school to prison line"
Based on students that fail the 3rd grade test given by the state
Who then can easily lose hope and help seal their fate
Spinning into a behavior cycle of no return
Because at an early age it was hard for them to learn
1 out of 9 black males ages 20-34 are currently in jail
It’s society not the teachers that somehow has failed!

Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers…Stop

Word has it that barriers are formed by an exclusive atmosphere
Governed by an elitist stratosphere
That three percent of the population
Controls ninety percent of the wealth in this nation
Seems like for these people it doesn’t matter
Somebody has to be at the bottom of the ladder!
Question: Is public education designed to maintain
A class system that refuses to change?

When will America begin to show appreciation
For the teachers in the field of education?

The educational hierarchy must realize
It’s the teachers who are directly involved in the lives
Of the students that they see everyday
So teachers’ input is important in everyway
Making decisions about the curriculum
Researching innovative ways of dealing with discipline
Teachers are a national treasure
Whose worth and value are beyond measure!

Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers
Stop bashing teachers…Stop!

When will the public begin to care
That young people are hurting everywhere?

When will restorative methods be applied
To rebuild communities and help save lives?

When will it be known that there is a correlation
Between social behavior and education?

When will America begin to show appreciation
For the teachers in the field of education?

Most Valued Possession

“Bye, Miz Wells! See ya tomorrow.”
Brenda watched the last child disappear through the school doors. She could feel her energy level plummet as she started the long climb back up to the third floor, where her classroom was located. Squeals of laughter and excited conversation still filled the hallways as stragglers took their time leaving the building.
Hey, Wells, congratulations! Top prize in the science fair is no easy feat.” Mr. Jones, the teacher in the room next to hers, was on his way out. “Have a restful and peaceful evening.”
“Thanks, Mr. Jones.” Brenda felt somewhat out of breath as she reached the last landing. She needed to start back to walking in the mornings. She pushed the door open that led to the hallway, and made her way to her classroom. Retrieving the key from her pocket, she opened the door, went to her desk and sat down heavily on her chair. She was exhausted.
She always tried to get some paperwork done before leaving for the day. She began organizing the papers on her desk. Reflecting on the past few hours brought a smile to her face. She and the class had been elated when it was announced on the intercom that they had won first prize in the science fair. The class had built a buzzer and a simple motor from the electromagnetic kit that the school supplied the sixth grade teachers with for use in the classroom. She was sorry Hakim Young had been absent the last couple of days and wasn’t there to hear the announcement. It had been his persistence and tenacity that finally got the motor to start running. Hakim had come a long way.
After sorting through some more papers, Brenda pushed the chair away from her desk, stood up and stretched. She walked over to her closet, took the radio out of it, walked to the back of the room and plugged it in. She tuned into the jazz station. One of her favorite songs was playing, Billie Holiday singing, “God Bless the Chile that’s Got His Own”. Brenda started humming the melody.
The spring breeze coming through the window felt refreshing. The muffled sound of voices from the parking lot floated into the room reminding Brenda that she had to get some work done, and get on home. Her husband, Danny, didn’t like her staying past four o’clock. As she turned from the radio she saw Hakim quietly standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled. He was a handsome young man, stocky, well built and trying to grow dreadlocks. Ordinarily he looked clean and some of the young girls would always feel honored when he chose to grace them with a hug for the day. He was quite the lady’s man.
“Hakim, where’ve you been the last couple of days? Come on in and sit down.”
Intuitively she knew something was wrong. He had such a morose air about him that a chill immediately gripped her heart.
He came into the room, took a chair off one of the desks, and sat down. He still didn’t say anything. Brenda took the chair off the desk next to him and sat sown beside him.
“Hakim, what’s wrong?”
Suddenly he jumped up turning the desk over. Brenda pushed her chair back out of the way. He then ran to the wastebasket and kicked it as hard as he could, knocking it over spilling its contents out onto the floor.
“Hakim! Stop it! Open your mouth and tell me what’s wrong! I can’t help you if I don’t know.” She wasn’t afraid. Over the years, she’d run the gamut of emotions with her students. He collapsed at one of the other desks, and laid his head on his arm. She knew he was crying. She went to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and spoke to him softly. “What happened?”
“My mother…” He could barely speak. “My …mother….died…this morning.” His voice was almost inaudible.
His words were a knife, cutting deep into her spirit. Instinctively, she wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, but she knew his thirteen-year-old man-child temperament needed space. She stood there awhile and massaged his shoulders, then sat down beside him. There, in the empty classroom, void of the daytime liveliness of the children, surrounded by desks with chairs on top of them, she and Hakim sat in solitude.
She took one of his hands and held it tight. He squeezed it back communicating his unspoken grief.. They sat like that in solemn silence for almost an hour. Late afternoon was slowly moving towards dusk.
“Hakim, let me take you home.”
“Naw, Miz Wells, I’m alright.” He stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out into a world that was going about business as usual. “It ain’t fair, Miz Wells! Ma was gettin’ better. Said she was gonna beat it. Not to worry. She was a survivor. I believed her. Now she’s gone!”
Brenda heard the anguish in his voice and could feel her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry! Whatever I can do for you I will.”
Hakim remained by the window staring out of it. The sound of children playing and an occasional car leaving the parking lot intruded into the classroom. “First my father and now my mother. I know how my father got AIDS. He used drugs. Ma never did nothin’ like that! Why did she have to die too?”
Brenda felt as if a great weight had been placed on her shoulders. Her response was slow in coming. “I don’t have all the answers.”
Suddenly he turned facing her. “You always talkin’ about git your education. Well education can’t bring Ma back! I ain’t got nobody. I’m by myself!”
“You have your grandmother!” Brenda answered him calmly. She could sense the anger welling up in him all over again.
“My grandma’s house is already over run with people. Ain’t nobody to watch out for me but me!. I need to be right out there on the corner makin’ some real money!”
Brenda jumped up from the chair she was sitting on and quickly went to the window where he was standing. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his chin trying to get him to look at her. “Stop talking foolishness! You’re upset and I understand that!”
He avoided looking in her eyes. “Jojo was right all along. This a white man’s world. A black boy gotta do what he’s gotta do if he wants some real money in his pocket.” The agitation in his voice was evident.
Brenda put both hands on his shoulders. “Hakim, listen to yourself. You’d rather choose violence, jail, and or possible death? Your mother didn’t want that for you!”
“I tried it Ma’s way. What did it git her? She ain’t never did no wrong and she’s dead! Leave me alone, jus’ leave me alone!”
He broke away from the grasp she had on him, turned quickly and headed straight for the door. Brenda went after him, hoping to be able to stop him from leaving.
“Hakim, wait!” she called to his back.
“It ain’t about nothin’ you got to say. I don’t wanna hear no more!” His words echoed in the corridor as he disappeared down the stairs.
Brenda was shattered. Six months of working closely with Hakim’s mother and now she was gone and Hakim was headed for the streets. She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. The wailing sound of a saxophone emanating from the radio punctuated her feeling of isolation and helplessness. She went over to the window and closed it, and then unplugged the radio and put it back into the closet. Time seemed as if it had almost come to a standstill. She went over to her desk, and gathered her papers together. Her hands were trembling. She stuffed them in her briefcase. Taking her purse out of the drawer she headed for the door.
Everything was a blur. She was vaguely aware of the drive home. All she knew was that she eventually arrived there. She saw her husband’s truck in the driveway. She was glad he was home. She needed someone to talk to. She parked her car next to his truck and tiredly got out. After locking the door she ascended the three stairs leading to the house. She noticed that the grass was almost a foot tall. She must remind Danny Jr. to mow the lawn. With all the rain, the grass had shot up and now looked like a mini jungle. She put her key in the lock, and opened the front door.
“Hello!” she yelled out. Something certainly smelled good. Music from the same jazz station she’d been playing at school greeted her. She and Danny loved jazz. The mellow, mournful sound of a trombone accentuated her grief.
“Hey baby, I’m in the kitchen,” her husband yelled back ”I got something good in the oven. I hope you’re hungry.”
Brenda really didn’t feel like eating, but said nothing. Danny rarely got home before she did. She set her bags down in the vestibule and went into the kitchen. “What are you doing home so early?”
“We finished a big job today so I thought we’d celebrate with some steak for a change. And with me cooking it! How about that?”
It was hard for Brenda to share Danny’s enthusiasm. She didn’t answer him. She sat down at the kitchen table, put her elbows on it, and propped her head up with her hands. She watched him silently. He was very muscular, not an ounce of fat on him. He exuded strength.
“Hey, why are you so quiet? What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“One of my student’s mother passed away.
“I’m sorry baby. I know you must feel awful.”
She watched him as he opened the broiler checking on the steaks. “It was Hakim’s mother. You know, the student I’ve been telling you about.”
“Isn’t that the one whose mother had AIDS?” he said as he turned the steaks. “You knew it was going to happen at some point. You need to just put it off your mind for now, and join in this celebration with me.
“Danny, I’m really tired right now.”
“ I stopped by the deli and got your favorite string bean salad, along with some other goodies. Brenda this job was a major accomplishment!”
She felt emotionally, psychologically, and physically fatigued. An inexplicable anger began to rise in her. The high, shrill sounds of a trumpet, playing in the background, accentuated the mounting tension in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry Danny. I feel horrible. I refuse to pretend otherwise, not even for you.” She looked at him. She knew she had hurt him but at this point she didn’t care. It seemed as if she was the one that was the leaning post, the one that always had to be all things to all people, wife, mother, teacher, confidant, nurse, psychologist, mediator, housekeeper, cook, to name a few. She needed her space.
“Brenda, if you wanna have a pity party you go right ahead, but I refuse to let you dampen my spirits. This was a fantastic day for me! You need to learn how to leave your job at work.”
“I don’t need to hear this coming from some who works ten to twelve hours a day, six days a week, and only comes home to eat and sleep.” Brenda knew she was being unfair but she was emotionally beyond the point of return. “You wanna do something for me for a change, feed the children and all of you just leave me alone.”
She jumped up from the table, ran from the kitchen, up two flights of stairs to the attic. The attic was her sanctuary and her study. She went in and closed the door behind her. She lay down on the day bed and buried her face in her pillow and cried. Tears flowed freely for Danny, for her children, for all children, for Hakim, and for all the Hakims she’d encountered in her classroom over the years. Eventually she fell asleep.
When she awoke, the stars in the black sky twinkled their brilliance at her through the window. She took a deep breath, trying to allow their beauty to soothe her troubled spirit. It must be late. Danny and the children were probably asleep. Continuing to look out at the magnificent night sky Brenda prayed.
“God help me with my hurt and anger. Danny’s a good husband and I know it. And please God, Hakim is like one of those stars shining so brightly. He’s one of yours. Please show me how I can help him.”
Turning on her back, she decided to spend the rest of the night in the study. A lone tear was beginning to make its way down her cheek. She reached over to her desk and got some tissue out of the box and wiped it away. Closing her eyes she tried to relax her mind. She fell into a fitful sleep.
Brenda…
Brenda…
Turning on her side, Brenda opened her eyes for a moment and then closed them again. Her face muscles twitched.
Ya got to fight for ‘em…Don’t give up chile…don’t give up. Brenda tossed and turned in her sleep. Remember…stop…look back…look back to the ships with sails billowing in the wind and stuffed with African humanity rolling over the seas to the fate that awaited them on opposite shores. Families ripped apart at the auction block are sent into slavery to be beaten and slain by prejudice and hatred “I ain’t got nobody now!” cried youthful voices in their native tongues. Good for only picking cotton and working in the sun from can’t see in the morning ‘til the work is done. Don’t you dare teach them nigras to read! “Education can’t bring Ma back!” Looking to the North Star, having dreams which seem to be so far out of reach. Keep them backs bent in that hot field! Don’t even ponder what might be over yonder. Whack smack. “…and before I’d be a slave I’d be buried in my grave.” I don’t want my child going to school with no niggers! Hatred held at bay by the National Guard surrounds schools as little black children tentatively make their way into uncharted territory. “Education ain’t all that!” “I have a dream…” expounds Dr. king standing in the bosom of Abraham Lincoln. Mercedes, saabs and jeeps stand at the curbside smiling at poverty. “I’m gonna quit school and make me some real money!” “I have a dream…” “I’m gonna make me some real money!” “I have a dream sings Dr. Martin Martin Luther King!” “I’m gonna make…”
“Baby, wake up!” Her husband Danny was shaking her. Sitting up slowly Brenda could feel her head pounding. Her face felt all puffy.
“Brenda, tell me what’s bothering you.” Danny sat down beside her on the day bed. She sat up, put her arms around him, and buried her head in his chest and started crying all over again.
Brenda snuggled close to him as he continued to hold onto her. He reached over to the desk and got some tissue. Gently he placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face towards him. She kissed him through her tears. He began wiping them away.
“Baby, please stop crying.”
“Hakim’s mother was such a beautiful person. She wanted the best for him. It’s not fair Danny!”
“Who ever told you life was fair?”
Brenda sat up straight. “I don’t care. It just isn’t right. The real kicker now is that Hakim is talking about quitting school. Says he’s going to make some real money. You know what that means? He’s going to start selling drugs!” The agony in her voice expressed the intensity and depth of her feeling.
“Stop beating on yourself. You’re a great teacher! You always give one hundred percent to your students. You taught Hakim about the importance of school and so did his mother. Now he’s got to find his own truth.”
Sighing deeply, Brenda laid her head against Danny’s shoulder. They sat quietly together in the dark room. The stars twinkled at them from their lofty position in the sky. Brenda felt comforted and consoled by Danny’s presence. She and Danny had weathered many a storm over the years.
“Danny, I love you so much. You know I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
“I know. Guess what? Part of the good news was that I wouldn’t have to keep working such long hours, and I can be home more with you and the children.”
Brenda put her arms around him and hugged him. She held on to him for a long time. Danny was right. Where was her faith in herself? She was an excellent teacher. She had seen many of her students excel. Hakim was speaking out of grief and probably didn’t mean what he was saying.
“I just wish I could make the world see how precious these children are that society wants to throw away,” Brenda said softly, yet fervently.
“Baby it’s a shame we don’t have more teachers of your caliber. You take a personal interest in your students. I just wish you wouldn’t upset yourself so much.”
“I can’t help it Danny. You know that.” Brenda gently disengaged herself from his arms, sat up and looked him in the eyes. “I was having the weirdest dream when you woke me up.” She paused trying to recall her dream, and then continued speaking.
“Our ancestors died for our right to a decent education and not for the right of our children to sell drugs! Children are the future of our race. They are all valuable, the good ones and the not so good ones. They should be our most valued possession!”
“Woman it’s almost four o’clock in the morning and you wanna talk about a dream! Conversation to be continued!” Danny said emphatically and stood up.
“Danny, I want to go to Hakim’s grandmother’s house to see if I can help in anyway.”
“You know I don’t want you going into strange buildings by yourself. If that’s what you want, I’ll go with you. I’ll close the shop early and meet you here after school. C’mon on now, let’s go to bed please.”
Brenda took his hand and allowed her self to be pulled to her feet. She now felt at peace within her spirit. She followed him out of the study, taking one last look back at the stars, which continued to twinkle in the night as their sparkling splendor radiated beauty.

What a Great Job!

I’ve made a momentous decision. I have decided to retire from the Newark Public School System as of 7/1/10. It was a gradual decision that I prayed about and asked the Lord for guidance. This past year put the letter C in the word challenging. The amount of paperwork added to an already overloaded teacher paperwork system coupled with the insensitivity of the hierarchy to come to the realization that innovative/therapeutic classrooms need to be designed to address not only academic needs but behavioral and social issues as well.

It is now time for me to hang up my public school teacher shoes and put my dancing shoes back on and return to the arts. It will take a lot of self-discipline. There will be no more time clock to punch…no Kronos…it will be me and the muses hanging out and teaching by creating meaningful pieces that speak to the soul of the people.

It’s been a roller coaster of a ride with the Newark Public Schools but all good things must come to an end. God blessed me with an excellent job that had great benefits. The job enabled me to put all six children in private high schools…it enabled us to move from the projects…to a townhouse…to our own home. We’ve been able to travel in the summers together as a family and I have been blessed with a wealth of experience and knowledge that I can draw on for the rest of my life.

A republican governor took over and a gargantuan bite out of education has affected all of New Jersey’s public school systems…layoffs hurting all school employees…a huge number of retirements…cut backs in programs…paying for health benefits...reconfiguration of pensions...and a host of other concerns.

The next few years are going to be difficult in the NJ spublic chool systems. My prayers, my heart, and my love goes out to all those that remain and who still care enough about the children to want to make a difference in their lives.

Diary of an Inner City Teacher II

2/1/10
Today was a pretty cool. I spent the day in the rolling hills of PA at a workshop on Restorative Practices. The leader was dynamic and has somewhat made me a believer...of course until I get back in the classroom and my hair stands straight up on end bracing for the onslaught of energy that will be unleashed.

Restorative Practices is taking the concept of Restorative Justice and developing a broader setting in which its practices can be employed; the premise being that “human beings are happier, more productive and cooperative, and more likely to make positive changes in their behavior when those in positions of authority do things with them, rather than to them or for them.”

“You’re out of here”… “I’m writing you up”… “Keep it up and you’ll be suspended!” These are short phrases that describe the zero tolerance policy in today's educational setting which is problematic and needs to seriously be examined. Is suspension or expulsion the answer? No, because in urban areas the streets become the teacher and in suburban areas the internet becomes the comforter. Is classifying students the answer? No because many classified students will be returning to the regular education setting by way of the inclusion movement thus requiring that the behavior climate in the regular education setting should be ready to receive these students back.

School climate is a definite concern in many school systems and restorative practices is an emerging discipline that addresses this concern.