Back to School: Day 1 . . . 179 to go

August 31, 5:04 AMDC Public School Teacher ExaminerT.S. Grant

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Doesn’t take long for a teacher to remember why she or he contemplated leaving the profession last year. My first week back to school was, well . . . less than ideal.

I have always worn a suit and tie in the classroom since entering the teaching profession. I don’t know why. Perhaps because the majority of my students have always been considered part of the “minority” of America’s population. And so, when I first stepped into a classroom in Baltimore—whether at the conscious or unconscious level, I don’t known—I was resolved that Black and Hispanic youth will see this Black man in a suit and tie!

I learned that my consistent suit-wearing in the classroom is so unusual that other staff members remark that I look, “sharp,” “professional,” or that I look like an “administrator.” Veteran teachers and non-teaching staff quietly and almost conspiratorially whisper their wishes that all teachers would dress likewise.

Well, the first week of this school year, with unbearable 90-degree weather in the Washington Metro Area, with no draft, in a sardine-packed classroom of 30-plus students, with no air conditioner, I have shorn the jacket. With no dress code, I had the thought of trying to “teach” a lesson to those secret whisperers. Perhaps I should stroll in wearing a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Here’s the point: My principal, assistant principal and building engineer all have the luxury to wear suits—their offices are air conditioned! Hundreds of students and a goodly amount of teachers do not have that luxury.

The heat was the most consistent complaint I heard from students all week. Not the homework. Not the upcoming exams. No, my students want to learn. They were respectful, yet exhausted by the thick, stifling heat, impatient with their annoying blue and khaki uniforms as they clung to their sweaty bodies.  There they were, the first week. Maleable. Ready. Open vessels. Seekers of knowledge.  There I was prepared. Anticipatory. Stimulated.  Yet, by the end of the week, I was enervated. Drained. Exhausted. Not by the students. It was the heat.

It is a simple concept but seemingly elusive to educational "leaders"-- They and I do not want the business of education to be conducted in sweatshop conditions.

And, there were other pesky issues.

In my high school we have a couple hundred teachers and two paper copiers in the teachers' lounge for our use. However, one of them was inoperable on the first day we returned.  You can only imagine what types of gridlock and inconveniences this poses.

Also, in the 4x5 ft. men’s restroom in the teachers’ lounge, there was absolutely no soap. How is E. coli spread? Feces, right? Hmmm.

I am not talking about two weeks or even a month into the school year. This is the first day of the first week with these conditions not being fixed all week. Oh sure, we were told that work orders were put in, and yeah, someone came by on Friday with a clipboard noting the classes without AC. But, nothing was done.

Like I stated in a previous post on air conditioning distribution, I am convinced that if administrators were prohibited from basking in the comfort of climate-controlled air until every class had the same comfort, all classes would be cool!

So what is one to do? Surely I am not being punished for performance. In the 2008-2009 school year, more students scored 5s (highest score) and 4s on the 2009 Advanced Placement Psychology Exam (which I teach) than in any other AP exam in the building. I had the highest pass rate on our government exam than any other teacher of government in my building. And, in Government, I do not have the honors students. I have the general (“comprehensive”) students, so this was unexpected. Upon returning to work, the principal extended his hand with a big smile and told me the news of the scores.  Boy was he so proud.  And, by the end of the week, I felt taken for granted.

I am a teacher.  I am a professional. So, you could imagine that, when on Monday, a colleague sent an email, entitled, “Day 1. . . 179 to go,” I was disappointed at such a negative, glass one-drop full perspective.  But, by the end of the week, I was far less judgmental.