THE
TEACHERS WE NEED, Part 1
One Exceptional Teacher, 500
Characters
A
sacred – if daunting – responsibility for any professor is writing those
letters of recommendation that send our students on their way to new
ventures. For my students applying for
teaching positions, I try to paint a portrait, tell a story – include that
detail that will make a hiring principal or department chair ask “where’s the
file on that Rice student, you know the one who….” created history lessons based on the
artifacts she worked with in the slavery museum, or had his ecology students
paint a “habitat” wall from sub-terranean and littoral margins to lofty tree canopy
to help younger students visualize the interdependence of species, who wrote a
short story featuring a hearing-impaired girl after finding so little fiction
for adolescents features hearing-impaired kids as central characters, not just “best
friend.” That Rice teacher.
I’ve
long ago given up on trying to “out adjective” the competition of superlatives,
thus my tradition of writing a strong letter, the opening paragraph emphasizing
the student’s solid grounding in his or her subject matter field, then
describing our program of courses on theories of learning, education history
and policy, pedagogy, curriculum development, and intensive field experiences
in our city’s culturally rich and complex urban schools. The second paragraph tells the story about
this particular new teacher: concrete
detail of compelling papers written, inventive strategies developed for
engaging reluctant learners, an especially creative and scholarly analytical
paper. The letter concludes with my statement of why this young teacher is just
right for your particular school, its programs, its relationship to its
community, its students. And of course
for years that letter would be printed on Rice letterhead, good quality bond
carrying the university’s seal, an endorsement both symbolic and literal: we claim this student, this graduate, as
ours. Treat with respect.
Such
a letter assumes school district officials want teachers who have a deep knowledge
of their subject field. It assumes a
principal is actively seeking that math teacher experienced in designing
lessons for kids who “hate math,” that English teacher who is attuned to kids’
reading interests and whose first question will be what the budget is for
classroom collections of print and digital books. It assumes someone reading the letter will
want to know if this teacher knows multiple approaches to teaching and has a
deep and broad repertoire of ways of assessing children’s learning. Such a letter assumes someone thinks of
teachers as intellectual resources, as role models of learning, as guides to
students’ development.
It
assumes someone in the teacher recruitment office reads. As you can guess by now, I seem to keep
making these naïve assumptions --- even after all these years!
Recommendation
forms went digital quite a few years ago, with boxes to check, ratings to fill
in on a three- or five-point scale, with a box for “additional comments” that permitted uploading an actual
letter of recommendation. No good letterhead bond, but a chance to tell this
teacher’s story, include that distinctive detail.
The
“all my assumptions are wrong” shock came this past spring when a former
student who had recently moved back to the States from abroad asked me to
recommend her for teaching positions in another part of the state. What an easy letter to write! She had taught in Europe and in North Africa,
had founded a tri-lingual school where she taught math and history. Her experience as teacher, school leader,
and tri-lingual curriculum developer would make her the dream candidate for any
urban district in Texas. The letter essentially wrote itself.
I opened
the link to the rec form of the school district she was applying to, then
clicked through the quick-answer questions.
Yes, yes, and yes. Then to upload
the letter: No! A pop-up warning said the “comments” could be
only 1000 characters. I first read that
as “1000 words” and knew I was way under that limit. Then I realized “characters” and saw the
added “including spaces.” What? I cut, counted words, cut again,
re-counted. The resulting listing of basic facts did not hang together
as a narrative – more like incomprehensible fragments: French? School founder? Math? Arabic? Is this
all one person? The 999 "characters" did
not represent this extraordinary teacher’s accomplishments nor the strength of
my endorsement.
Surely
the next district’s form would allow me to be more informative. Not so: the usual irritating check list, then that
“comments” box, which I approached with trepidation – could I upload my entire
letter?
“Comments limited to 500 characters, including spaces.” The message might as well have said, “This
is all a formality, but you are free to add some sound bites if it will make
you feel better. No one will read them.”
Our
teachers get blamed for everything that’s wrong with education, with “kids
these days,” with poor test scores and low school ratings. And lots of people have an interest in
amplifying that blame: the charter
chains eager to pounce on any weakness in the public’s schools, vendors of
“teacher-proof” curriculum software, superintendents needing scapegoats for low
scores or the slow pace of their latest “reform” efforts. The politicians wanting to break teacher
unions, the chief financial officers whose short-term accounting justifies
replacing experienced teachers with new, cheaper ones who won’t stay long,
school board members who think of teachers as “labor costs” rather than
children’s guides to learning.
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Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ford_assembly_line_-_1913.jpg |
But
has anyone looked at the hiring process itself?
Are districts deliberately, or thoughtlessly, screening out strong
teacher applicants or perhaps filling slots with teachers whose attributes
fulfill a check list of minimum qualifications as though they were workers on the assembly line?
Does
the screening and hiring process itself discourage – or fail to encompass – the
teacher who is educated across multiple disciplines, whose professional
preparation built on what we know about the ways children learn, who knows and
advocate for authentic assessments and close connections to the children’s
families and communities?
Schools
that hire on the basis of check lists of minimal credentials, with no curiosity
about the candidate’s story, are unlikely to seek out and value that teacher who
brings to her teaching a desire to know and connect with the stories of the
children.
I
hate being complicit in this system, in this systemic degrading of teachers,
teaching and teacher recruitment. But I
haven’t yet found an effective way to resist or protest or circumvent this
500-character “border” wall. The rec
forms provide no address or person’s name or office for sending a
recommendation letter by mail or electronic means. Nor would it be likely to be
incorporated into the applicant’s file.
If you have a better idea for how we can advocate for teachers who are
knowledgeable, deeply committed to children, even exceptional in their talents
and their desire to grow as professionals and as assets to their schools, I
invite your advice.
And limits to the
number of words, characters or “spaces” do not apply.
To see exactly what kinds of
questions those “check lists” ask about people applying to teach in our
children’s schools, see my next post!
(Bring a tissue – you may want to cry.)
To share your thoughts, click on the word “comments” below.