It's been over two years since I stood in front of a class of high schoolers, explaining the formula for the area of a triangle and what pacifism looks like in practice (I taught at a pull-out special-education school, and my courseload was more varied than that of my students). It almost feels like another lifetime. But lately, as reports come in of teacher-union supporters threatening individuals and vandalizing their property, or engaging in angry, mob-like protests over states' proposed education bills, memories of my tenure at my small urban high school in Boston come flooding back.
I get that teachers are angry at the potential of losing tenure, losing benefits, losing pensions. And that they feel threatened when, after ten, fifteen, or even twenty years in the classroom, someone is just now thinking about coming along to tell them how good they are at their jobs. (As a novice teacher, I simultaneously yearned for and desperately feared that feedback?the feedback that would both make me a better teacher and remind me that, despite my efforts, the long hours, and the stress, I could be doing better.)
But then I remember how much angrier I got when I had to cover another teacher's Friday class every other week when she systematically called in ?sick.? And how annoyed I was when a veteran teacher retired mid way through October, forcing the district to assign a long-term sub for her Algebra classes for the next eight months). And how unruly my students would be after a period with a teacher who did little more than show video and assign worksheets.
There are millions of fantastic teachers out there. And yet, there are millions more who add little to no benefit to their students' lives, who sully the reputation of the K-12 educator.
It's time to professionalize teaching. And that's surely not going to happen through continued stronghold tactics and petty arguing.
?Daniela Fairchild
