Who Owns You, Baby?

I had no idea that winning a teaching award goes hand in hand with getting lots of free stuff. For each state teacher, The Smarter Kids Foundation provides a huge technology package, including a SmartBoard, a projector, a wireless slate, a student response system, software licenses, and two days of intense training. I got a free car to drive for a year from Toyota West Virginia—a silver 2007 Prius. I was awarded a big check from Mountain State BlueCross BlueShield, which has done wonders for defraying some of the expenses I didn’t know I’d encounter (makeup, an evening gown, a costume for the parade at Space Camp). I have received free food at local restaurants, fancy shoelaces, cookies, books, flash drives, trinkets, flowers, gift cards, and a ton of other stuff. With each of these, however, comes the implication of some kind of connection.

I also did not expect to be approached by individuals and organizations seeking endorsements. At first, I said yes to anything that seemed worthwhile—and much of what’s out there is designed to be beneficial to kids and to teachers. How can I not review a book on alternative teaching strategies, particularly when they’re strategies that I know are effective? How can I not endorse a program that encourages community wide reading? How can I not participate in a public presentation to support our local library? How can I not accept this shiny new technological gadget on behalf of a major company when there are no obvious strings attached? Hey…Wait a minute…

After a while, I realized that I had to think critically about the offers I accepted, do more research, and decide whether the philosophies of the companies seeking an endorsement from me (from ME?) really did jibe with my philosophy as a professional educator and as a person. Now I’m a little less likely to agree to back products and services just because I can. Funny, these are the skills I ask kids to use every day, yet somehow I wasn’t using them myself. (It’s a wonder I didn’t spend that entire BlueCross BlueShield check at Hot Topic.) Still, I remembered my own instructions, eventually, and now I’m more selective about whose agenda I support.

Last week, then, I had the opportunity to do a presentation at a state convention to endorse an organization I really do believe in. In April, all the Teachers of the Year were welcomed at the Smithsonian Institution for an Educator’s Day. On that day, we divided into small groups to visit individual museums, view and use some of the available resources, and discuss our own classroom applications. Later, we attended a presentation and training session and were all given the opportunity to become Smithsonian Teacher Ambassadors. While I am all for the Smithsonian’s mission of the “increase and diffusion of knowledge,” I wasn’t sure that I was ready to sign on for anything else. Then I checked out the educator website. Wow.

At the Smithsonian Educator website, teachers can find appropriate teaching resources for any activity imaginable. We can interact with other teachers, artifacts, and information. We can print PDF files of Smithsonian in Your Classroom publications, plan field trips, and schedule professional development (at a Smithsonian site or in a virtual setting). The most impressive thing, however, for me and for the teachers I’ve shared this with, is the fact that we can search the resources by state content standard, grade level, and subject area. There is a section of the site for parents. There is also a section for students, which means, for me, an easy way to direct them to an alternative to other, less reputable sites. And although I feel like a walking, talking (and, now, typing) infomercial, I guess I’ve learned a lesson of sorts.

It’s the beauty of the irony again, the idea that I always have to apply those things I so actively teach. I have to be able to recognize the pitfalls of being a consumer, no matter how—or what—I consume. Just because a product is sold to me doesn’t mean I have to buy it, even if it’s wrapped in a pretty package. Not only does this make me a better thinker, it gives more meaning to the things I do choose, and that’s valuable education.

Walking the Line: Working with Pre-Service Teachers

It was a former student who gave me the idea that I might be of use to pre-service teachers. Rachel is a student in English education at West Virginia University, and she came in to do an observation with me during her second year in the program. She’s smart and funny, and during her second observation I turned the class over to her. The way I see it, most of us spend the first thirteen years of our formal educations observing public school teaching, both good and bad. She didn’t really need to observe; she needed a safe, supportive environment in which to “test out” her ideas and a clear, pedagogical discussion afterward. This seemed like a deeper, more productive exercise for both of us. So, in that way, I was able to influence her as a teacher on more than one level—as a student, then as a colleague. This seemed—still seems—especially meaningful to me.

Anyway, after Teacher of the Year was announced, I got an email from a friend and colleague who is on staff at West Virginia University. She said that Rachel was in her class, and she thought it would be beneficial for pre-service teachers to be able to speak with me. I agreed and spent a little more than an hour with her group of future English teachers, doing a demonstration on using art as a bridge to written analysis. They were amazing: asking questions, taking notes, journaling with me, writing, sharing. The temperature in the room was about ninety degrees, but they were fully engaged—on the level of learner and of teacher.

This experience led me to other, similar visits with pre-service teachers: a pedagogy class at Shepherd University, a curriculum and instruction class at WVU. In every situation they drilled me with questions—from simple stuff (“What do you do about bathroom passes?”) to complex conundrum (“How do you handle a challenge to your beliefs in the classroom?”). Several times I had to be comfortable saying those words traditional teachers are often most afraid to say: “I don’t know.” These visits are some of the most rewarding activities I’ve done in my role as Teacher of the Year.

Conversations like the ones I’ve had with teachers in training require me to reconsider my own fears and also to come to terms with the fact that I’ve been very lucky. In my career, I’ve been protected by strong administrators, a safe community, and involved colleagues. I wasn’t that long ago, though, that I was a student with many of the same fears, questions, and hopes for my future. Seven years ago, when I entered the field, I was frightened and excited. I could have used the insights of someone who had experience but who also could relate to me. I think I am different from the traditional model of “teacher” in this respect: I don’t know the answers. I am always learning, I think I learned that perspective in my teacher education classes; I was asked to be both a student and a practitioner—to straddle the line. Now, as a professional educator, this perspective still continues to work for me, as it seems to for those pre-service teachers.

As I began to think about this, I realized that the West Virginia University professor whom Rachel contacted me through served much the same function to me as I do to Rachel. I was her student in a young adult literature class when I was studying in the education department, then, later, we were peers as fellows in the National Writing Project at WVU Summer Institute. Now, we are co-leaders of the Summer Institute ourselves, leading teachers to different kinds of learning. Maybe, for me, the real secret of successful teaching is this web of professional collegiality, the fluidity of relationships, the idea that we are all learners and that we never stop learning. It’s this that draws Rachel to me, and me to her, and to any other teacher who can shift between roles, walk the blurry line, learning from me, learning with me, and leading me to learning at the same time.

The Twenty-ninth Annual School Homecoming

On September 30, 2006, I witnessed a gathering of community like none I had ever seen: The Twenty-ninth Annual School Homecoming was held at CaCapon State park. Each year, former students of Mt. Wesley, Bath District, and Berkeley Springs High School meet on the last Sunday in September to enjoy lunch and to reminisce about their days as students.

I was honored to attend such an event and to be recognized by such a group; Morgan County’s teacher of the year is invited each year, but, as West Virginia Teacher of the Year, I was able to see just how many people were aware of and proud of me—I truly felt, witnessing the fellowship of a population of students and teachers, the support of the community in which I live. When I entered the building, Jay, one of the organizers, and her sister, Liz, immediately greeted me. Jay is a formidable woman, a former school librarian, with piercing dark eyes and an intense intelligence. Liz is fair haired and smiling, but equally sharp and a warm conversationalist; she was my escort for the entire afternoon, pinning a corsage to my sweater, showing me around, introducing me to guests, and generally making me feel very much at home.

The group gathered first to mingle in various parts of the lodge, drinking coffee and visiting with one another. As people were lined up to enter the dining room, I realized just how large the group was, and this came even clearer once we were seated. All the tables were filled in the very large room. The Class of 1956 sat at the head table, with 31 members in attendance. This year, they were guests of honor since 2006 marks their fiftieth anniversary; this was the first year they were invited to attend. The classes of 1946, 1936, and beyond were also recognized. Given that I graduated from high school only fourteen years ago, the idea of a fiftieth reunion is amazing to me. More amazing were the numbers of other classes represented, including two members of the class of 1928!

The meal was nice, standard fare for a buffet: salad, beef and chicken, potatoes, vegetables, rolls, coffee, and cake. The program was wonderful, including recitations by a member of the class of 1936, and introductions of the alumni of honor. When I was introduced and presented with an apple, the whole room applauded. Later, I walked to my car, stunned. I was touched to be recognized by such a community, awed to be in the presence of so many years of learning and experience. They are the legacy of education in Morgan County, evidencing its effect on generations past, and providing hope for the future.