December 1999
Dear friends:
Greetings from the feudal kingdom of the LA Unified School District !! -- that strange academic netherworld where problems are eliminated by finding the correct label to pin on them and then renaming existing solutions to fit the underlying ideology of the new label.—that capricious wonderland where a .05% increase in Stanford 9 test scores could mean an awards ceremony, while a .05% decrease could put an entire administration on probation.—That decaying temple of 70’s style pedagogy where a recalcitrant priesthood of educational bureaucrats screams in horror as sacred buzzwords are pulled from their pedestals by iconoclastic politicians in search of public literacy !! -- Yes, greetings, and a belated Merry Christmas to all.
My journey into this kingdom began when upon receiving my passing competency test scores I ventured into the dark recesses of the Grand St. Personnel building. “Oh dear,” said the off track middle school teacher earning extra money in a new found bureaucratic role in which people actually listened to him, “this letter of reference is more than three years old and this other letter was not typed on official letter head stationary; you’ll just have to get new ones.”
It wasn’t easy, but several weeks later I was able to get new letters. I then discovered that my 23 semester hours of upper division English credit were being questioned. One four unit class at U.C. Davis was a part of my ESL teaching preparation. Could it be properly labeled an English class? If not, it would drop my English units down to 19. This would fall below the required 20!
“Well,” the cubicle dwelling viceroy suggested, “you could call the university and have them fax down a copy of the course syllabus and I’ll present it to the credentials committee?” He beamed an insipid smile. I bit my lip. It was difficult, but I fought back the impulse to spoil what appeared to this man to be a magical moment of helpfulness by blurting out something like: “why don’t you pick up that phone in front of you, you oaf, and take care of this ridiculous crap right now?”
The class in question was taken more than 10 years ago. It is no longer offered. I spoke with a generous soul at U.C. Davis who went through the trouble of researching old files in the English Department. She found the course syllabus and faxed it to the cubicle fortress in the deep dark recesses of the Grand St. building. I was clearly qualified for the district intern program and should now be free to interview at some of the high schools with vacancies—HA!
A twenty day, eight hour a day, orientation session awaited me during the month of August. A hundred and fifty of us recently recruited mercenaries sat through this trial by ordeal on hard metal chairs in a stuffy band room at Bancroft Middle School in Hollywood. We were paid nothing. Conflicting and often contradictory voices clamored for our allegiance. Each speaker pleading in earnest tones, used sentences which began with words such as: “research indicates ......” or “studies show that .......” Wasn’t it Mark Twain who once said, “there are lies, there damn lies, and then there are statistics?” I listened to them. One speaker advocates structure, routine, and teacher direction as the keys to classroom management and student learning. Next week an advocate for “cooperative learning” takes the podium. His presentations are replete with quotes from Stephen Krashen whose notion of “affective filter” has stood as the theoretical justification for turning a classroom into a circus event for over a decade now. Students can’t learn, says he, if they are stifled by routine and intimidated by heavy expectations. Traditional lectures are an educational dinosaur. Students must be split into “pods of four” with each member of “the pod” being given a task to complete. Research proves, says he, that this is the most effective way to teach. I feel like grabbing him by the ear like an angry nun and leading this man to North Long Beach where he can see his “cooperative” playground in operation.
A former civil rights activist pleads with us to move to standard based student evaluations. She throws bar graphs up on the overhead projector which illustrate how an “A” in a school from an upper income area of Orange County does not mean the same thing as an “A” in a lower income area of LA. Students should be evaluated on the basis of skills which they truly possess. She makes good sense. The very next day, however, a principal from a middle school in the San Fernando Valley stands in her place, inveighing against a P.E. teacher at his school who flunked 75 kids. This principal strongly implies that any teacher who gives out too many failing grades at his school will be suspected of poor teaching. Well, as a side note, I’ve substituted for enough PE teachers to know that 75 out of 300 students in a day probably do NOT dress-out or participate. Once again, the district is sending us mixed messages.
The first school interview in September went reasonably well. There were a few common sense questions posed by a rather mousy English department head. A rather self confident principal who had kept me waiting without apology 40 minutes beyond an appointment time chimed in with a few of the more banal lines of questions about how not all students are agreeable and how I might deal with the occasional discipline problems.
I was then asked for an example of my teaching style. I naively offered the essay I had written for high school students years ago on “ways to pick your nose in public without being caught”, noting how carefully it followed standard essay format. The expression on the principal’s face let me know immediately that I had blown the interview. As a foot note I might mention that within a week from the day that I was politely escorted from her office, a teachers’ union representative appeared on the local evening news demanding her removal because she was “inept” and “autocratic”. I believe this principal is now in early retirement.
My interview at Huntington Park High School was much faster.— “So, Mr. Keller, you want the job?”
Teaching at Huntington Park could best be described as teaching at an English language school in Mexico. The ethnic homogeneity creates a fairly peaceful campus. There may not be much violence, but apathy, laziness, and sheer lack of basic academic skills surface quickly as other inner city school problems which are perhaps more difficult to address than weapons and fist fights. What do you do when kids don’t seem to have any concept of what learning is about and are all too ready to turn their chairs around into “pods of four” so they can play around with their friends? -- Go with the flow and label it “cooperative learning?”
Veteran teachers bear the scars of such psychological battles in the forms of deep frown lines and furrowed foreheads. Their lunch time humor is reminiscent of the mess tent in the TV series, “MASH.” They scream and cuss at each other during English department meetings, and speak tenderly of their upcoming retirement years.
As a district Intern I’m required to attend weekly three hour Thursday evening classes. These sessions do little other than fulfill state mandated teacher preparation requirements. The steady stream of memos and booklet size hand-outs makes one feel as though he were serving on some sort of Presbyterian task force. Oregon lumber companies must surely have special treaties signed with the kingdom of LA Unified. I wonder if there is an embassy located in the deep dark recesses of the Grand St. building? -- next to the copy room, no doubt.
All in all, I’m fortunate to be at Huntington Park High School. I have unlimited xeroxing privileges, great flexibility in curriculum, and tremendous resources in books, videos, and audio-tapes. At the risk of sounding too influenced by stereotypes, I’ll confess to observing that the Mexican kids have a certain sweetness in them which is not so easily observed among their Anglo, Asian, or African-American counterparts. There are always exceptions to such generalizations, of course. This is why we keep referral slips handy.
I certainly hope everyone’s holiday season went well, and that all made it into the new digital arrangement unscathed. It’s always great to hear from people at least once per year—so keep your Christmas list updated.
Love and Kisses,
Phil
P.S. My health seems to be holding out. It looks like I may be walking the earth for at least another 20 - 30 years or so. -- Funny, but I don’t really think about it much anymore.
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