When I was a kid we created all sorts of imaginary violence: cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, heroes and villains. The #1 rule was Take Your Deads. If somebody killed you, you had to lie down. It wasn't fair to holler, "You missed me" or "It's just a flesh wound." (That was the BMP Era: Before Monty Python) But it seems to me that many people these days don't take their deads when it comes to education. When caught without the necessary skills, they say, "They missed me" or "They didn't do it right." In other words, "I don't have to take responsibility, I can keep playing."
A recent discussion on DorothyL is on the educational system, with some emphasis on English classes. Being a retired English teacher, I understand all the arguments people make: some teachers don't care, many students emerge from high school lacking skills or even competence with language, and schools look the other way. It may be true, but students everywhere, Take Your Deads. If you didn't care, if you didn't try, if you didn't learn, it's your fault. Not the school. Not the teacher. Not your parents or the school board or the Lunch Lady. Yours.
Too often we take the notion that students are little empty vessels ready to be filled with knowledge through the magic of wonderful teachers in a stimulating environment. No. They are human beings with likes and dislikes, able to choose whether they will cooperate. And they often don't. Even in the most stimulating environment, some students don't learn. Due to home life, due to learning problems, due to attitude, whatever. They don't. Even in the most unstimulating environments, some students do learn. Same factors? Doesn't matter. They do.
I once knew an administrator forced by budget constraints to return to the classroom one hour/day. He was going to show the rest of us on staff that every student matters and can be reached by the right methods. He had a boy in his class who had normal intelligence but refused to put anything on paper. I watched for weeks and months as that administrator tried everything he could think of to get the boy interested. Nothing. In the end he gave up, and the kid sat at the back of the room, not interfering with the class but totally separate from it. Stimulating, caring teacher, one-on-one attention, personalized instruction. No response. His choice.
There's no counting the times students told me that they'd never before heard of some concept, whether it was nouns or onomatopoeia or the five-paragraph essay. I might have fallen into that trap had I not taught ninth grade my first year and then moved to tenth grade in my second. They would claim they'd never heard of it when I knew I had taught it myself. So it wasn't stimulating enough? Maybe. Or maybe it didn't matter in their lives right then to know the difference between "sit" and "set." I can't change the fact that education only matters later on, when you need to show you've got it. Their choice.
So am I excusing poor schools or poor teaching? No. I hated the bad teachers and I hate some of the policies that make it more difficult to help students. But don't let the student off the hook. Another teacher friend had a student who seemed unable to do math. Being a great teacher, she took him aside and began working with him one-on-one. He still said he couldn't do it. Finally she said, "I don't understand why you say that. I can tell you understand what we're talking about, but you say you can't do the problems?"
In a moment of total candor the kid said to her, "If I do these problems, you'll just give me more to do." His choice, but will he tell the world forevermore that the school system failed him? Probably. It's easier than taking your deads.
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