Betty goes to private school

Today, we dropped our daughter off to her first day of kindergarten. She has been in daycare her whole life, so it wasn't a heart string tugging moment as it might be for other parents. And Betty* couldn't wait to run through the doors of her Catholic school. And, yes, I am a public school teacher and send her to private school and I have no qualms about that at all. Even though you might.

From time to time articles and OpEds appear in the local newspapers purporting disgust that public school teachers send their kids to private schools. The tone of these pieces all seem to imply, and some state out right, that there must be something wrong with the teachers. Wrong. The teachers in the Chicago Public School systems are devoted, highly educated, individuals who believe in giving the best to some of the neediest students. I would be thrilled to have any of my colleagues teach my child, but not in a CPS school. The classrooms are too crowded and the security system, espeically in the elementary schools, is weak.

My family lives in a very nice neighborhood with one of the best public schools in the Chicago Public School System walking distance from our home. In fact, Arne Duncan, the Secretary of Education for the United States of America, often points to this school as an example of what a public, urban, school can be. And it is a very good school. There is a fabulous art program; local businesses sponsor events in conjunction with the school that nurture and excite the neighborhood kids; after-school programs abound; and a summer camp provides much needed care for many kids with working parents.

But, when we were investigating schools for Betty, my good friends took a tour of this neighborhood school. My good friend who has heard the stories that I am blahging asked the parent guide: "How is security?" The answer from the tour guide was "poor, but we're working on it."

So, Betty goes to private school.

I teach in a pre-k to 8 school. There are no metal detectors. And there are gangs. Last year for the CPS writing test, the question posed to the students was "what is one thing you would do to improve your school." Paper after paper from the kids suggested better security and metal detectors because as one young scholar wrote, "kids come to school with weapons."

Betty goes to private school.

I'm not naive. I'm sure Betty's private school has problems. And I'm sure there are students who have attended who have been diagnosed with behavioral problems. But, you know what? If a kid comes to Betty's school with a weapon. That student would be kicked out the next day. Two years ago, I had a student come to school with a knife. He was suspended for three days instead of ten because as was explained to me by a higher up, "the knife was less than ten inches long and was not serated."

So, seriously, can you blame me for sending Betty to private school?




*Names changed

Blahg

Five years after purchasing a laptop for the sole purpose of writing a blahg, I am finally venturing forth. It's 12:11 a.m., two nights before the first day of school. And as with every year since 1975, I cannot sleep with the start of a new academic year so close.

As a student, I was awake with anticipation and excitement. I couldn't wait to find out what I would be learning. I loved the smell of the textbooks, and reading through the table of contents, guessing how far through the text we would make it. As a new teacher, I couldn't wait to set up the year's curriculum, the seating chart, the classroom bulletin boards.

It's my 8th year of teaching.

Now, my mind is racing, gearing up for battle. Ready to fight the good fight. And it is a fight.

I'm a middle school teacher, after all.

And not just a middle school teacher, a special education teacher.

And not just a special education teacher of middle school students, but one of students with emotional disorders in a neighborhood ruled by gangs.

And with each passing year, it feels more and more like a fight. Not just a fight, but a war. A war against poverty, drugs, gangs, ignorance and hopelessness.

I eat, sleep and breathe this job. I ache for my students to see passed the present, and I all too often see them on street corners dealing, smoking, representin'.

There is an almost 50% drop out rate of high school students in Chicago. One hundred percent of my 2004 8th grade homeroom students has dropped out or gotten kicked out of high school. (Albeit, as a special education teacher, I have a small homeroom and 2004 saw just four students. But, still. It's depressing.) I wonder how many students with IEPs make up that 50% drop out rate. I would guess at least 80%. And I would bet that in 99.9% of the dropout cases, there was a teacher along the way begging some case manager to evaluate the student for special needs. How do I find this out? I don't know. But this is one of the goals of this blahg. I am going to add one more fight to the cause and see if I can dig up some information. I will keep you posted.

The other goals I have are less inspiring. One is simply to approach the new school year in a new light to avoid complete burnout. This year I am looking at my classroom as a research project. Perhaps it will improve my teaching; perhaps getting the word out to the digital abyss will interest one reader who is inspired to figure something out to help in a way that I have not yet thought about?

Another goal is to decompress. I have some challenging students in my homeroom this year. I've already bought my new shoes for the school year---sneakers.

It's taken me five years to finally begin the blahgging. And now that I have, I plan to write at the end of every school day for at least one school year (and any nights when my insomnia kicks in). I imagine some days I will be inspired to go on and on, as I have done tonight. And other days, I might only have left in me one or two swear words. Who knows? I'll keep you posted....whoever you are.