Expectations High and Low

*A caveat to my readers: this post delves into personal

reflection on my own weaknesses, heavily relying on the

language of TFA that has surrounded me for weeks. As

such, it may not be for everyone, but I hope that a brief look

at it will communicate to you the struggles and necessities of

my journey in teaching.

The true heart of Teach for America's slew of acronyms, mantras, buzzwords, and rubrics is "High Expectations." This core principle is about expecting the very best from every one of your students, regardless of background, race, gender, personal situation, past successes, or apparent aptitude. As Institute has progressed, I and my fellow Corps Members have struggled with the complexity of this seemingly straightforward concept. Not only must we expect excellence in behavior AND academics, our failure to do so directly hurts our kids chances for success.

I could sit and explain/vent on this topic for a very long time, but what I think is more productive for me as a reflection and accessible to you as readers is more limited in scope. Consider that you work in a school that has been low performing. You walk into a classroom with particular expectations of what the school will look like, how effective the administration and teachers are, how invested and capable the students are, how the students will likely behave, etc. Confronting these surface challenges has been at least partially overcome now for me and my colleagues, yet things get more complicated as they get personal. Several students (this happened all summer) tend to sleep or lay on their desks in your class. You work on modeling and rewarding positive behavior, correcting inappropriate actions and inactions, and hope to see results. As the problem continues, you talk to a student or two and hear difficult things about their home life--for some a close relative has just died, for some a parent has been murdered in front of them (I heard this story today), for others they do not sleep at night and must be a caretaker for their families.

>>In this moment, what happens to your expectations for that child? This has been one of the hardest moments to grapple with so far. When this translates into accepting their lack of involvement out of pity, sympathy, or desire to cushion them, even weeks and months after an incident, I as a teacher have failed that child. Many folks wiser than I may have learned the lesson that you simply must get back on your horse and ride you must keep moving. As Langston Hughes in his poem, "Mother to Son" that we read in class,

"Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

It's had tacks in it,

And splinters.

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I'se been a-climbin' on, ..."

By holding them to the same high expectations as we would any other student, and in fact an even higher one, we can push them to succeed and transcend the struggles they face. Like the kid without legs we read about who strives not just to walk with his friends, but to run and be a Triathlete, those higher goals can inspire greatness in our students. This is the first hurdle.

The second challenge is recognizing when our expectations slip. This struck me in a powerful way today as I thought for a moment about the two to three kids actively sleeping or disengaging from the lesson and others who may be openly disobeying direct instructions. If I was sitting in a private, mostly white, affluent school, such as MUS, would this behavior be tolerated for an hour, let alone a day? I don't think so. If I were working at a private, affluent academy, would I look on 70% of the class mastering the day's objective with satisfaction? I know I wouldn't. It is this conflict of holding my students to the same high expectations that I would expect in a well-funded, well-supplied, well-staffed institution that at times strikes me in the face .

In these few days of teaching (less than 16, and split between two people), I have failed to navigate that conflict successfully and infuse my lessons and my teaching with the sense of urgency that is required to make the huge growth many of my students will desperately need. Tonight at closing ceremonies, I heard success stories of stellar corps members who had taken phenomenal steps to push their students. This is no longer my days in school where getting through at my own level was good enough for me and beating everyone else was not a priority. Now the stakes are so much higher and so much more real. When I don't work to put in the blood, sweat, and tears, as our Institute Director put it tonight, that I see from some of my outstanding colleagues, then I am giving my students less than my all and less than they deserve. For the students I teach who are 3 or 4 grade levels behind in reading or math, a decent education will no longer suffice. They need a GREAT education, and I want to strive to be that great teacher who pushes them towards lifelong learning and success.

Now, as I said before, I must take this passion and determination of my still, reflective moments and infuse it into the moments in front of the classroom, and in front of my students. This is the high expectation I must set for myself. For me, right now, this is the greatest challenge of all.

Quote of the Day:

So, boy, don't you turn back.

Don't you set down on the steps.

'Cause you finds its kinder hard.

Don't you fall now—

For I'se still goin', honey,

I'se still climbin'

Langston Hughes