Between the Idea and the Reality

"Stranger and Stranger," by Maureen O'Hara Ure

(This is a re-post from last June, but year-end awards ceremonies are on my brain at the moment. Thanks again to Tea Levy for being brave enough to voice her words and allow me to share them on a bigger stage.)

Twice a year, we formally assess students' writing. I hand out a prompt and grading rubric about one week before the date of the assessment in order to give the students time to organize their thoughts in advance of the prompt. They then have two class periods to write their essay. It allows us to create a portfolio of writing samples from about second grade on, and the assignment also gives them some practice writing timed essays in class. Usually, the prompts are expository, based on the literature we have been reading in class - the mid-year assessment was about Great Expectations in the seventh grade and A Tale of Two Cities in the eighth - but in the spring, when the flowers are blooming, birds are singing, and attention spans are short, I opt for a more creative topic. 

This was the prompt I handed out last week:

Crossroads Academy’s core virtues curriculum is a central part of your education. Just as your education in math, literature and science informs your academic development, your education in the four core virtues informs your moral and social development. For your essay, please choose one of the virtues – justice, temperance, fortitude, or prudence – and write about a moment, experience, or event in your life when you relied on your education in the core virtues to guide you.

I love grading these essays. The students take it very seriously, and I am fascinated by their perspective on the core virtues, character education class, and the way students rely on the virtues to guide their actions. 

The essays were sublime this year, and I loved reading all of them. 

But this one...this one stuck with me. I was impressed with the writing, but I was also deeply disturbed by my part in her ordeal and the lessons that she and her classmates may have taken  away from the experience she describes. The author, Tea Levy, and her parents, have given me permission to share her words. Tea hopes that her words will help educators understand what end-of-year awards assemblies feel like from her seat in the bleachers. 

The Problem With Awards

In seventh grade during one of the last weeks of school, everyone headed down to Bancroft to attend the “culminating final assembly.” At the assembly, awards were given out to the students who had earned them during the year. I watched as nearly all of my classmates walked down to the podium to receive awards, but when the awards ceremony was finally over, my name had not been called. One of the teachers asked everyone who had gotten an award to come to the front of the room to take a group picture. When all of the award-winners had left the bleachers, three of my classmates and I were the only ones left sitting. The experience was devastatingly humiliating for me, but through my anger, I learned the importance of perseverance and optimism.

When my name was not called during the assembly, it made me feel inferior, as if my hard work had not been recognized, and my efforts wasted. I had done the very best I could on the National Mythology Exam, studied hard for the Grand Councours, and prided myself on my Latin poem, but after that morning the significance of all that seemed greatly diminished.

Suddenly I was angry. Angry with my teachers for creating what seemed to me at the time to be an exclusive and competitive atmosphere, but also angry with myself. I couldn’t understand why I was unable to be good enough to win or why everyone else seemed to be so much better than me. Optimism helped me cope with my anger. I had to remind myself that if I wanted to redeem myself, I would have to maintain a positive attitude. I reminded myself that the only way to have my efforts recognized in the future would be to remain as unfazed from this incident as possible and not limit myself based on my experiences.

The optimism I used to overcome this obstacle was linked closely to perseverance. My self-proclaimed failure gave me a new motivation to succeed that would push me through to the end of middle school. I wanted to prevail against the odds and become the perfect student. I quickly realized how unreasonable this goal was, but my desire to have my efforts acknowledged never faltered. I worked harder and concentrated harder and my work paid off. The first trimester of 8^th grade I received my first straight A report card. This achievement made me feel as though my perseverance had been noticed, and I was elated.

Although I still look back on that morning with dissatisfaction, the experience taught me many things. First of all, I acknowledged the fact that they couldn’t give prizes to everyone without making the whole thing seem like a joke. But more importantly, I realized how much I wanted my efforts to be rewarded and that I have the power to ensure that they are. 

The Mark of an Educated Mind

One of my sons got in trouble at school today. It doesn't really matter what he did - as long as he did not hurt himself or anyone else - because I know his teacher will help him understand what he did wrong and why he made poor choices. That's the magic of a great teacher. I trust her, I trust their relationship, and I don't need to intervene because she's holding him accountable for his actions, and I support her in that.

She asked him to fill out a reflection on his behavior, a reflection I was required to sign this afternoon. The prompts for his reflection are:

Here's what I did;
Here is why this was a poor choice;
This is what I should do next time so it does not happen again;
The virtue I violated was.

I will not bother to go in to the details of what he did wrong, mainly because that's his business, not mine, but it's pretty much what a lot of boys encounter in school as their energy levels increase and attention span decreases.

The virtues my son believed he'd violated were (in no particular order, other than his own mental processes): loyalty, self-control, gratitude, generosity, responsibility, heroism, stewardship, wisdom, and perseverance. Don't get me wrong, I know he did some mischievous stuff today, but I have to admit to being proud of his understanding of what he'd done wrong. That's what character education is all about, and I put my money where my mouth (or keyboard) is.

One of the most challenging aspects of being a teacher is the response some parents have to the news that their child is being held accountable. I've received angry phone calls, irate emails, and more than once, parents have stormed in to my office before homeroom to demand that I reconsider my actions, that their child could not possibly have done what I say they did. Demanded that I not discipline their child for anything unless I discuss it with the parent first.

Please, parents. Let your kids fail. Let them take responsibility for their mistakes and learn from them. Allow them to learn from failure. This is one of the greatest gifts you can give your children.

The Lovely Voices

Today is one of those days that make me giggle. The sun is shining, the students are happy, and best of all, it's Friday.

I spent first period correcting vocabulary while the students were in clubs and musical rehearsal. I opened the book on the top of the pile to chapter 14, and a student had left a little note for me: "Mrs. Lahey, you gave me a 19/20 for chapter 13, but I actually got two wrong. I should have gotten an 18/20." I wrote back, "My mistake, thanks for your honesty. You can keep the 19."

This happens all the time around here - the honesty, not the mistake - and I am sure it is a direct result of Crossroads' emphasis on character education. There's mumbling and grumbling here and there about character education class, but when it comes to these small moments, its clear that the students take the core virtues curriculum to heart. We teach them to "know the good," guide them as they come to "love the good" and then, if the stars align just right, we get to bear witness when they "do the good."

Second period, I had English 7, and they were on today. The vocabulary term for the day was belle epoque, and, as Adrienne Rich died yesterday, she served as our cultural literacy lesson. I read two of my favorite poems, "Storm Warnings" and "Diving Into the Wreck." A student raised her hand at the end of "Diving into the Wreck."

"Is she going into the underworld? That's what I see." I paused for a moment, and considered sharing Ms. Rich's feminist philosophy and her place in feminist history. In the end, I decide to wait. My students are twelve, and Ms. Rich's role in the feminist movement, her contributions to women's artistic, social, and political power in America remains an abstraction.

I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body
We circle silently about the wreck
we dive into the hold...
we are, I am, you are
by cowardice and courage
the one who find our way
back to the scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.

If these lines represent a descent into the underworld, if that is what they see, if that image helps them revel in Ms. Rich's language, then so be it. A more "correct" reading can wait until Monday.

I used to correct them right away, to hand them the "right" interpretation for each poem. But recently, I have found that when I tell the students that their interpretations are no less valid, no less "right" than mine or anyone else's, they are more invested. They develop a relationship with the poem. I can't believe it took me so long to figure that one out. Of course they hate poetry when a teacher tells them that their reading is wrong, that they don't "get" what the poet it trying to say. Where is the joy in that?

I do guide my students toward a more thorough and careful reading of poetry, but I have learned to let them have their revelations.

Misunderstandings and mis-interpretations provide some of my favorite moments. In the second scene of Twelfth Night, Viola hears that her brother may not have died when their ship went down in a violent storm. The captain tells her that he saw her brother tie himself to the ship's mast. I asked the class why they thought he might do tie himself to a mast, and one boy said, "To save himself from the sirens?"

To save himself from the sirens. Oh, how I love my job.

Right image, wrong story. Odysseus kept from being lured in by the sirens' song by stuffing his crew's ears full of beeswax and tying himself to his ship's mast. Viola's brother, on the other hand, was simply holding on to a super-sized life preserver in an attempt not to drown in the Adriatic Sea.

I'm willing to go with the flow on the underworld interpretation of "Diving Into the Wreck," but sometimes, mistakes are just mistakes. No matter how much they make me giggle.