Tuesday, May 23, 1995
Last night, just as I closed down the keyboard from writing the journal entry, Lisa and I received a very interesting phone call. Earlier in the day, a message had been left on the machine by one of Lisa's students' parents, asking that I call her back. This woman's very bright daughter is to become a freshman at C.H.S. in the fall, so our guess had been that she needed some information about C.H.S. (it wouldn't be the first time one of Lisa's "parents" had pumped me for information... and that's fine by me... at least, they'll get the truth from me, not administrator-ese or p.r. bullshit from a counselor). So I had left a message on her machine.
When she called back at nine, I was not expecting the first sentence out of her mouth to be "So what exactly is going on at Chumash?"
Huh? What do you mean?
It seems that the latest rumor floating out amongst the general populace of parents is that Chumash had lost its accreditation (I guess the smoking gun was the pulling of our schedule, immediately following the WASC Committee's visit) and that we are now on a kind of academic probation. This notion is beginning to scare off many parents of good students who see their son's or daughter's academic career grinding to a complete halt because any college who might accept the student would refuse to take an unaccredited school's transcript (of course, only about two percent of our graduating senior class goes on directly to a four-year college, but that's another point entirely).
Well, I set the woman straight, telling her we had received a three-year accreditation (as opposed to the six-year, the one-year, or the revocation). I also told her that we were in the process of appealing our accreditation term, and why. I spent twenty minutes on the phone with the lady, quelling her fears, asking her to spread the truth among the parents, and telling her to have any other nervous parent call me so that I could set them straight personally.
By the end of the call, she seemed somewhat calmed, though she was still sure that there was something wrong with our campus, especially the counseling department. I couldn't help her there. Of course, just before ending the call, she asked the big question, one that I had expected: Would I send Kyle there? I didn't hesitate.
Yes. Absolutely. I think our staff is one of the finest. Even with Nicole’s defection to Academy. Even with our loss of Teddi. Even with the loss of Jane next year. Even if I were to quit. And I told her this (except that I may quit). And she seemed satisfied.
What I didn't tell her is that if our school suffers a few more years like these, with defections galore (despite the infusion of top-notch teachers like Cindy Daniels, Letty Garcia, Mira the new ESL goddess, and Hector Espinoza), I might change my mind. The next few years will be the crossroad epoch for Chumash. This opinion I also withheld.
Coming off the phone, Lisa asked if I was upset. When I said yes, she thought I meant I was upset that one of "her" parents had called me to bend my ear, but I set her straight, too. What upset me was the rumor mill, the falsehoods being perpetrated.
And so I sat down to listen to some old-fashioned gossip.
Two teachers on Lisa's campus had gotten into a fight last week. Spilling over from the verbal, the confrontation turned physical. One teacher, one not being hired back for next year, walked away with a separated shoulder. There is now talk of a lawsuit, or at least a grievance It's going to get ugly. But I can't help but smile, imagining how Lisa (who yesterday had to break up her first classroom fight in eight years of teaching) might have come in to stop this fight:
"Excuse me," she would have called out, stern, matronly, belying her own adrenalin rush and shaking knees, "Ladies..."
You see, that's the punchline: the two fighters were women.
Anyway, this morning, I went into Grey's office to tell her of the phone call, the rumor mill, and the need for some spin control in the sphere of public opinion. I recounted the phone call. I reiterated my concern. Her response: "Uh... oh... ok."
That was it. She blew me off. Uh... oh... okaaaay... I'm just gonna go back to my room now, okay, close the door, pull the drapes, and quietly wait for June... see ya in September... or maybe not.
On my disturbed and depressed walk back to class, I ran into Lori Teller. She was heading to the lounge to put flyers into boxes. I figured this had something to do with yesterday's Leadership Team meeting--maybe minutes from it or a late posting of their agenda--but I was wrong. It was better. The flyer read (in part):
A New Attitude:
School year 1994-95 has been a tough one. Each day we prepare for a difficult task with a not-always receptive audience. We do succeed. We are good! There are many more than just "some good" teachers at CHS.
Let's prepare for 1995-96 with a positive outlook--a new attitude. Each one of us has something to share with another teacher. We each have a little trick we use to keep records or successfully manage our classrooms. We each have a dynamite lesson strategy. Let's share them...
Please share any tip or technique, no matter how trivial. Your fellow teachers may find it incredibly innovative and helpful... The volume of powerful teaching tips will be published during the summer and ready to help us greet '95-'96 with a new attitude. Please submit any and all ideas to Lori Teller by June 16.
Now there's something. We get real reform yanked, so what do we do? We call for basic ideas. Band-aids.
I'm sorry. Lori does have a good idea here, and the best of intentions as well (I even have outlined three or four items I am going to submit myself). But it seems like a, well... a retreat.
Again, I'm sorry. Maybe my level of frustration is beginning to bubble over again.
A month ago, I went to the English 9-10-11-12 restructuring meeting at the D.O.. I had hoped for a complete revolution in what we do with the standard students. I wanted someone to say, "We need to change everything we do with these kids. And we must start with our expectations... of what we expect these students to do with their lives after they leave high school." That would have been something. It would have forced us to reconsider all that we do for students who are not going to go to college (as opposed to merely watering down the college prep courses for them). Instead, what the group decided during the second meeting (which I missed because I was in the process of putting together computer stuff in readiness for the Electronic Portfolios) was that we need to share what already works in these classes.
While the admirable decision was made that we need to make consistent the expectations and frameworks for the classes across the district, the group failed to address what I consider to be the real issue: if we are preparing the college prep student for college, then for what are we preparing the standard student? The committee is made up of heavy hitters, long-time English teachers from around the district. This is what they want, a streamlining of the status quo.
Well, we all pick and choose our battles. This is one I will not fight. I've already told Bruce (just last week) that when he creates the schedule for next year (assuming at this moment there is a next year for me), I want him not to schedule me any English Nines. I've done my tour of duty. I need a change (how big a change is still up for debate).
The battle I choose to wage will be over technology. The Electronic Portfolio experiment I am running in the 4/4H class is convincing me more than ever that technology is the farsighted means to the righteous end. I am preparing a HyperStudio stack that will introduce the class members' stacks, all of which will be turned into a open video letter to the administrative powers that be. The letter will outline the project, how it succeeds, and how we need multimedia labs on campus. It will then put the ball in their court. The last few paragraphs of the "letter" will read:
"I am not an administrator. I know not the ways of budgeting and creative finance. And I am aware that the initial capital outlay would be tremendous. A rough financial estimate of creating a multimedia lab (with 20 Macintosh LC computers, 3 PowerMacs, a site license for HyperStudio, 2 Apple QuickTake cameras, 2 flexcams, 2 Apple Color One Scanners, 3 VCRs, 3 laserdisc players, and a printer; but without a server and a larger storage device) is $40,000. Yes, this is a huge number.
"But it is an even larger test.
"A test of your commitment. For great reform and change, great commitment is required. Do we--on this campus, within this district--have the commitment for REAL change?
"I haven't seen it yet."
Then there is a QuickTime video clip of me before the computers saying, "The future is now," followed by a video clip from Dead Poets Society--Robin Williams saying, "‘That the powerful play goes on, and that you may contribute a verse...’ What will your verse be?"
This videotape will be completed when the project is over; my framing stack and all the student stacks will be packaged as a video and sent to Grey and Knight in the front office, and Johnston (staff development chief), GoD, and Kurtzmann at the D.O.. It'll be either the dawning of a new age of enlightenment or it will the Court-Martial of Billy (Mitchell) Walters.
But at least I'll be going after revolutionary change, not some fucking band-aid.
We shall see.
No comments:
Post a Comment