Another weary winter day. The temperature is in the single digits and the wind is blowing. Siberia, they call it here. It is really upstate New York and many creative people come here to live and work. The view is a black and white picture perfect pastoral scene…. sucking the warmth out of my soul at this moment….
A boisterous county sheriff deputy pushes his way into the main office and proclaims that he needs to see "someone in charge". Current federal law tends to make any topic involving school safety as an emotional and urgent matter. The vice principal motions him into the conference room where they can speak privately.
Laura makes her way down the hall toward the girls' bathroom to fix her makeup, pulling down her midriff exposing shirt in a futile attempt to avoid testing the student dress code. She passed a variety of characters, some still in a state of early morning dormancy, some sipping the second half of their morning latte as they chatted their way down the hall. Some teachers had been in their classrooms for an hour already and others were riding the wave of students as the tide washed over the entrance to the school with torrents of bright winter coats, scarves and anticipation of a new day in the emotional and social arena they regard as public school.
Morning faces offer such a variety of the human condition, she thought. Why can't everyone just get along? Some people just seem to be unhappy or disturbed in some way. It's not just the students, it is also teachers, administrators, adults in general…. What gives? Wham! The girls room door smacks against the wall as Kristen enters the room spouting about her mother and the confrontation which punctuated her exit from home this morning. "That Bitch! And she thinks that I don't know what's going on! She has some F..ing nerve!" Laura hurriedly put the final touches on her face and starts to slip toward the girls room door. The last time she witnessed one of Kristen's tirades about her mother, things were flying across the room and dramatically hitting the wall… things from her pocketbook… things one may not expect to be in a pocketbook…. It was sort of scary in a pathetic and depressing way. She had been talking about how she couldn't wait until she turned sixteen and got out of that hell hole of a household. Laura gently cracked open the door and just melted out without notice.
"Who is the jerk who owns that small blue sedan in the front parking lot", the officer persisted? The unsuspecting vice principal was still sipping the first few hot swallows of java on what was suddenly seeming like an unusually cruel Monday morning. Well, I'm not sure, officer. What seems to be the problem? She was wondering why the officer was visiting the school in the first place, since it was usually the school, who solicited the services of the local lawmen, not the other way around. "I was here accompanying Social worker O'Brien so we could investigate a hotline call made last night regarding young Morgan Jacobs in the third grade. It seems that the 19 year old sex offender you received the bulletin about last week has found his way into her home. The girl's mother happens to be engaged to his father, and the couple decided to go out and leave her and her little brother in his care. You've got to wonder how these people manage to think so little and do so much harm. Officer Garrett had seen a lot of the dark side of humanity in his short two years as a deputy sheriff. There seems to be a side of society that is vulnerable to the lowest common denominator of human behavior. Little Morgan would soon likely be subject to the deceit and betrayal from someone she thought to be a trusted adult if something wasn't done.
It seems that on some days there just doesn't seem to be enough common sense available to otherwise intelligent people. They are in too much of a rush. They didn't get enough sleep. They've had fights with their spouses, teenaged daughter/son, aging parent with good intentions. They couldn't get the car started on this cold morning…. whatever! The chemical balance needed for intelligent thought, insightful decision making, tactful communication and smooth operation in general, was lacking at its most critical moment. "There is a rifle lying in the back seat of that blue sedan out there", said Officer Garrett. After a few calls around the building, vice principal Smithson determined that the sedan belonged to one of the school district's most valued substitute teachers. The officer left word with the secretary that he would be confiscating the weapon and locking it in the trunk of his police car. Mr. Michaels, the substitute teacher had been turkey hunting the day before and had noticed part of the way to school that the rifle was in the car. He was a young man who had only had his teaching license for a short time and was aware of the new laws about school safety and weapons, but also didn't want to be late to school since his performance in this school was certainly going to be helpful in his securing a permanent position in the near future. He knew he had done very good work for this school. He had been told this by both the principal and vice principal. It was a tight job market for physical education teachers.
The parade down the hall of the high school was nearing its prime moment on this Monday morning. All of the students were eyeing each other and checking out how each was looking this particular day. The amount of time and effort that goes into the "look" each guy and girl presents in this social arena defies all laws of time and space. It is the time and space of their own creation. Close examination of each minute detail of hair, face, clothing and physical statement takes up much bathroom and mirror time in countless households every school morning. The meticulous detail attended to by some and the apparent total detachment from this detail in a few others makes for a daily smorgasbord of psychological and interpersonal contrast which constitutes the fabric of what most high school principals refer to simply as the "student body". The microcosm of the social community…. the youthful reflection of the local culture, tempered by what they see on television, hear in their music, read in the news, hear from each other…. In short, a recipe for hormonally punctuated confusion, excitement, anger, anticipation and hunger. They want it all at once and they want it now. It must be easily ingested through their senses. What form does it take? It takes the form of the images they are trained to thirst for. And this morning, they're thirsty.
Laura flashes a smile to Curtis who seems happy to reflect a cool, aloof, yet interested response as he takes off his coat and puts it in his locker, in a manner much like a model making his turn at the end of a runway in Paris or Milan. Linda slides between a few guys who seem to be poised and waiting for her arrival, anticipating the non-verbal, yet clear language of her movements as she pretends to be interested in reading the Senior Class bulletin board just beyond the group. Joe glares at Steve as they slice the air with their antagonism without a word. Mr. Berkley notices the barbs and takes note to be nearby as the boys deprive each other of air and space through their apparent mutual disdain. He makes a mental note to inform the principal of this slowly burning fuse, hoping that it is extinguished by fifth period lunch.
Mrs. Jenkins is busily arranging her day in her mind. Every little box of time has a use and a task that must be started, completed or evaluated in some way. There are so many things that have to be done. The yearbook deadlines are ticking away. Her staff depends on her leadership, organizational skill, motherly nagging and creative inspiration. The State Exams are looming for half of her classes in June as well as the Drama Club performance in April. Then of course there are her three young children, all demanding their mother's time, attention, love and support. … but she is "super-mom". She can handle it. She pushes through the sudden stress she is feeling, stepping into the hall to "razz" some of her colleagues and laugh with some of her students. The momentum of it all is its own kind of amphetamine.
It is a typical day in public school. The stress and anticipation along with the freshness of youth emerging into young adulthood is a drug that good high school teachers and administrators are addicted to. They miss it on weekends but don't realize what that yearning is for. They tell themselves that the job is stressful and frustrating at times. Some of them have forgotten what the "kid fix" feels like and regard their students as smaller, more deficient adults. They sometimes see them as lacking, needy, immature, less than perfect. Ironically, it is their very youthfulness that is the energy making everyone around them younger and stronger. Without realizing this, most of these privileged adults, otherwise known as educators go through the motions of doing their jobs, performing what they know is right, professional, logistically and practically feasible, yet from time to time, aspiring to an ideal they believe to be their own formula for success. Everyone's formula is somewhat different, yet seems to contain many of the same ingredients. Much of their own self-reflection is occupied with the determination of what those ingredients are. What ingredient is common to all teaching and what makes my particular style totally unique and personal? Teaching is an art, of course, and how am I the artist? How do I apply the brushstrokes of knowledge and insight to the canvas of this group of young adults?
It is a veteran faculty…… a faculty that has been through many forms of educational leadership… a faculty that has survived. Their survival techniques have allowed them to weather and at times thrive in a variety of workplace climates. They can remember the years of the school consolidation when there were no limits to the professional possibilities anyone could envision…. and practically no limit to the funds available to get them closer to these visions. All faculty members were included and considered in all decisions. The success of the consolidation depended on their support and sometimes their votes. There were many meetings and committees. There was a great excitement about the future of this school system and where it would lead the future youth. Educational utopia was being sculpted in this small rural community. The gravy train was flowing. Everyone was riding the wave of innovation, notoriety and financial gluttony. It was the late 80's and early 90's. The world was nearing the new millennium. There was much talk about schools of the 21st century and this was one of those model schools. Yes, they all knew that the enhanced funding was temporary and would be scaled back within a decade. They also planned that the changes and innovations would become institutionalized and part of the operating budget, part of the operating philosophy, such a part of the machine that all of those improvements would be affixed, melded, attached, and otherwise irremovable for future generations. This school was "set" forever.
Mr. Michaels was called to the office to be informed of the "problem" found in his car by the police officer, who just happened to be walking past. The officer was already out in the parking lot removing the weapon intended for the small gobbling enemy found in fields in upstate New York on such winter days, traveling unsuspectingly in small flocks. When VP Smithson informed him of the circumstances that had unfolded, his face fell. His dreams of being a Physical Education teacher with his own classes and the warm fall afternoons coaching young athletes on the gridiron suddenly seemed farther away. His world suddenly was being haunted with eventualities he would have never imagined in his worse fears. How things can change so quickly with so little warning…. circumstances pivoting on a single, seemingly insignificant event. The "event" was the decision of whether he went home, returned the "item" that no one would likely see in his car since it was "his car", a private space reserved for those conversations one has with himself on the way to work in the morning. Making him late to school in the morning was something everyone would notice since he did have a first period class which would obviously be untended. The risks seemed so marginal, the likelihood so slim. Couldn't someone so young and competent rely on something in return for the reliability he provided? He was an ideal teacher, employee, friend, person. Isn't such a person entitled to better luck than this? What were the chances of anyone, to say nothing of an officer of the law, walking past his plain little car on this cold winter day with the wind blowing the snow nearly to zero visibility? How does one know that his luck was in such limited supply? Others seem to have unlimited luck and renewed good fortune at every turn in their lives.
Kristen's day was off to a bad start. This was generally a bad indicator that the rest of her day might not show much improvement or get worse. She had a small group of friends who were very loyal to her, not because they were fearful of her tirades or her toxic stream of obscenities, which spewed forth when her luck seemed to go south. They shared a common condition of teen-hood…. a condition that most teenaged girls spent much time working to avoid or remedy if the social tides were shifting. They were simply not popular. Popularity is a condition which lends itself to many types of interpretation in the world of fifteen to seventeen. It isn't something that must occupy a front row seat in the world of teen priorities, but it is a nagging reality which won't ever totally go away. It is one of those things that every teen must continually keep in perspective since it has the ability to take on a distorted and exaggerated importance if one isn't careful. The mind is a resilient place that is always perceiving and reinterpreting the world on a day by day basis…. but not usually hour by hour… Hence, bad days tend not to get better easily.
The mind also has an ongoing mechanism for healing. A person who wakes up in the middle of the night preoccupied with a problem such as finances, family issues, etc; is less likely to be as fixated on these obsessions when she gets up and starts her day, makes a cup of coffee and gets into the rhythm of life. Ask any long timer who has weathered a life of these waves and contrasts. Real life will present real issues and problems that most teens can't even imagine. They are a reality on the horizon requiring perseverance, patience, good decision making and problem solving skill. Kristen's life was exceptional in that she was being thrust into the world of adult issues in the midst of the teen issues already plaguing her. Her mother's boyfriend was making romantic overtures to Kristen when her mother wasn't around. It presented a problem that Kristen didn't really know how to deal with. Her relationship with her mother was already very tentative much of the time. Kristen did not reciprocate the feelings of this man, but he was there, in their house and unavoidable some of the time. Fortunately, he was taking her reactions to his remarks seriously and had managed to back off. He wasn't out of control, yet his actions continued to make Kristen very uncomfortable at times. She wasn't sure what to do about this, so she buried her concerns and feelings as long as that strategy continued to work.
As the High School principal, Mr. Williamson had begun his day by hitting the ground running as usual. There had been a snowfall last night so he had to fight his way out of his long driveway. His daughter was coming to stay with him later that day since it was "his weekend". She was fifteen and had her own needs… the needs of a fifteen year old. He knew those needs well since he lived in the world of teens every day. He often wondered if it made him jaded or insensitive to the needs of his own teenaged children over the past six years as they were going through this time. As he tended to the last few staffing and coverage details, he left his office to walk the halls as he did every morning, greeting the students, the faculty and the support staff as he made his way through the high school arena. Some greetings he received were enthusiastic. Others are reserved. Some were non-existent. Some of the adults obviously enjoy what they do here. Their smiles and sentiments make that obvious. The morning is one of those times when people are enthusiastic about the possibilities of the new day, yet a little scared about what that day could hold. Teenagers are somewhat unpredictable. Some are, more than others. Everyone gets a few of those unpredictable students. Those are the class periods you may grow to dread or look forward to, depending on your intentions. If you are a teacher who is looking for a challenge with a long-term commitment to improving young minds and spirits, you see these things differently than you do if you are simply looking to survive until you can retire. There are some of both in every faculty. This faculty has many who are glimpsing retirement on the horizon. Many of them are already retired and just counting the days. They are playing the surviving game.
Each day is a political survival game in this school for Mr. Williamson. He is one of two employees among the 140 or so employees that is not a member of a union. Nor does he enjoy the protection or benefits of being a member of such a union. There was a time in his career when he did not feel that there would ever be a need for such protection. After all, he knew he was very good at what he did and had been told as much by many people in his career; people who were in the know about such things. Professors of Educational Administration and Policy Studies, former Superintendents of large suburban area schools, former High School Principals, Directors of State-Wide and National Educational Think Tanks, and Former BOCES District Superintendents. At this time he was informed by his Superintendent that he was being denied a pay raise this year because the Board of Education was unhappy about something, but he seemed to not be very sure exactly what it was. It must be student discipline. This is an area that everyone or someone can be unhappy with at any given moment. Sure…. Most of the students are doing very well, obey adults, follow the rules… but there are always a few students who don't and surely we can site that as a pervasive problem since anyone can be accused of not being aware of "what is going on" under the surface at any given time. After all, fear of the unknown is the American way… You can't be too careful. Also, hasn't the attitude of a few previously good students shown a decline? Have they not appeared to be less compliant, less applied to their studies, less respectful of adults, each other, education in general. Isn't there one or two or ten of those that you've noticed over the last six months? It must be a sign of a declining educational environment due to declining student decorum, commitment, attitude or some other intangible that can be blamed on the guy at the top.
Politics can be unforgiving and blind, especially in circumstances where those with the political power already have an attitude problem driven by jealousy, greed or some other form of personal dissatisfaction. Much depends on a universal and consistent understanding of what leadership is and how it works. It is one of those in tangible qualities that one person may recognize while another overlooks.
He does have tenure and therefore has property rights to his position and is protected by the tenure law. In light of the resentment the Board of Education has about tenure in the cases where it has protected employees who simply weren't doing their jobs, they were happy to flex what muscles they do have over people by controlling and limiting the pay raises of those on "individual contracts". The fact was that some employees in the district had no contracts to speak of and the phrase "contract" was a euphemism for whatever the Board of Education decided to give the unfortunate few that fell into that group. They were at the mercy of seven individuals, most of whom had not been out of the county for much of their lives. This was their opportunity to say no to something that would certainly sting someone. After all, being on a Board of Directors was supposed to be about power, wasn't it? They didn't have the insight to notice that it was the person who actually was in the closest control of something like quality in their school, that had true power and more importantly, made a difference. This is the place where leadership really mattered.
One must ask what drives us as educators. Are we focused on filling the heads of our students with facts, formulas and concepts; much like filling up vessels with fluids or tanks with fuel? Or is it our goal to plant questions that smolder until they are either answered or lead to bigger and better questions or consume entire evenings in conversation and conjecture?
Mr. Neils fell more into this last category. He had a talent for engaging students in thoughts about events and the ripples those events caused in human politics, government and culture. History was seen more as connections between ideas, actions and effects as they occurred. Cultures were seen as groups of people with unique causes and unique ways of seeing their worlds. He saw standardized tests and textbooks as governors on the engines of thought and revelations. Leonardo DaVinci could not have thought of ideas and relationships if he had been focused on passing New York State Assessments when he was in 8th grade. He would not have conceived of the mind state behind the smile of the Mona Lisa if he had spent the evening studying which type of Question would likely be asked on June's English Language Arts Regents.
Most educators of teens would agree that it was sharing their day with youth that brought the most reward to what they did every day. It is the energy, the optimism, the freshness, the innocence, the first time experiences, the immediate reactions, the smiles, the surprises, the clear yet naive thinking and of course their capacity for all human learning and emotion. All of these qualities are the fountain of youth for the lucky adults blessed with their company on a daily basis. The burden that those educators must bear, however, is the dark side of youth and society.
The learning mind and the political arena have been pressed uncomfortably close together in the naught decade. Where are we exactly? What will history call this confusing and contradictory time in the evolution of our educational institution and our culture? Is it a period of overcompensation where we are being forced and pressured into accounting for what we have determined to be the weaknesses and mistakes of the past? Do we really know more than ever before? Are we using what we know or are we just twitching in the throes of over-communication, instant messaging, the hyperactive news media always looking for a new angle, scoop or fear to drape over our momentary feelings of accomplishment or success. The truth is that we are accomplishing more than we ever have before in schools. Many would say that we are trying to do way too much.
The morning is such a cruel time of day. The body is at total relaxation. An abrupt sound slices the air. What is that sound? It may be a buzzer, a ringing bell or in many cases it is music. Whatever the sound is, it is sound and it is a change from the silence that has laid across the darkness like a blanket of solace. The morning is all about attitude. The attitude dictates the action, the follow through, the reaction and the direction. Differences are made based on attitudes. It is a lesson taught by many historic figures who can connect positive change to positive attitude. We all talk about attitude. We preach to children and students about attitude. Do we live what we preach? Sometimes we do and sometimes we don't. We are, after all, only humans and are victim to our own frailties and imperfections like any other mortal. But the morning is a special time. The mind is a fragile place, which is subject to many influences. The people around us help form our attitude. Our workplace helps form our attitude. How do you change your workplace? Show another person how to be and when you've shown that person, show another. Be a shining example of the attitude you'd like others to have. When you find people who aren't evolving, talk to them. Make it clear (in tactful ways) that you've noticed that (s)he seem to be under the weather, down in the dumps, suffering, whatever term tactfully best fits the condition. Most people already know all of this babble about attitude. It isn't anything new. Many people have made very good money talking about attitude to groups and populations of people. The topic is not a new one and especially any person in the business of working with people knows that attitude makes a difference. They sometimes do have trouble "living" the belief or "walking the walk". This is where the coworker comes in.
High schools are places of attitudinal variety. Duh. Revelation. They are the ICU of attitudes. Critical attitudinal cases are sitting in our classrooms, teaching in our classrooms, walking down our school hallways and lurking around every corner and in every office. Where there is difficulty every educator knows that there must be intervention. Intervention requires planning, and the rewards are great. The lesson is an easy one, but one that requires persistence and resolve. Start with those in your immediate area. This could be your curricular area, your geographic area, your psychological area (those you think like and see the world like). Then work on affirming and confirming your belief system with those people. Start small and allow the fruit to grow. What are those beliefs? All students can learn and grow. God doesn't make garbage. I can make a difference in the lives of students. Etc. There are many beliefs that we all continually forget to remember and seldom remind ourselves of. They are the basis from which we operate and make our choices.
We also harbor many myths or lies that also drive our actions and decisions. They are primitive. They are persistent. They are with us all of the time and to ignore that fact is to underestimate their impact on us. They are the source of our insecurities, they are the force which erodes our belief system. They often drive us to making bad decisions or going down the wrong road when adversity produces those roadblocks we all know and encounter. In order to deal with those myths and lies, we need to be looking for them all of the time. Desperation may cause us to overlook them at precisely the wrong moment.
What is the nature of desperation? How do we know when we have reached that level of intensity and pain? It doesn't show when we look in the mirror, or does it? Consider the meanings in the song "30 minutes" by Tatu. The fifteen year old girl starts by saying Mama, Papa forgive me. … and then goes about considering the last thirty minutes before she decides to blow herself up:
Thirty minutes, a blink of an eye
Thirty minutes, to alter our lives
Thirty minutes, to make up my mind
Thirty minutes, to finally decide
Thirty minutes, to whisper your name
Thirty minutes, to shoulder the blame
Thirty minutes, of bliss, thirty lies
Thirty minutes, to finally decide
What is it that brings us from the state of dormancy, inactivity, dread and fear every day when we go from the state of peaceful sleep to waking up to a new day? Is it the people, what the day promises to hold for us, the weather, the season, the human needs? For Laura it was her own enthusiasm for life. She wanted to get out and probe the world for life, reaction, response, and opinion. What was it that caused you to leap out of bed the last time you did? Was it the prospect of what you were going to do at your job that day? Was it the fear of being late for work, an appointment, a plane, train or bus? Was it the enthusiasm that you stored up over night about what you were going to do that day? Were you on vacation? Was it a work day or a "day off" from work? For Laura it happened most days. She was curious about everything. She wanted to get to know everyone. She was interested and curious about boys, but she was also interested and curious about life in general. Males and females see things differently. She knew that but wasn't entirely sure what that difference was. Little did she know that she would likely spend much of her adult life wondering about this small but persistent enigma of human life. Kristen, on the other hand wanted to stay in that peaceful state of blissful sleep where she could control her thoughts, the events she lived and the people around her. The fear of the darker side of her life governed her actions and her attitude.
Rural Americans tend to make an effort to keep the world a simple place. That often means simplifying the complex. One complexity, which baffles all people is the complexity of human endeavor. It is a multifaceted concept and as diverse as the differences among people. Rural Americans tend to try to simplify the chapters of human endeavor in their lives and outside of their lives. One small but tragic application of this formula is the act of "writing off" one person's story as the same as another person. As a result, many people are "pigeon holed" into the patterns of others, not only in the eyes of the "beholder", but also in the eyes of the "owner". This causes many individuals to resign themselves to a course of action, life script, or plan which may lack not only originality and individuality, but also may lack input from the most important person….. the person whose life it is!
But tomorrow is another day.