Related to something I mentioned in yesterday’s post, Peter and I found it interesting that the English teachers at school were given overhead transparencies to prepare students for the CELDT (California English Language Development Test).
Check out the instructions emailed to teachers:
In particular, Peter and I were trying to figure out how to best utilize the transparencies in the classroom since many teachers have Smartboards. Maybe they would look something like this:
In an effort to get all of the students to fit on campus, my school has converted our former woodshop into two different classrooms: a biology and a history class. Originally, one teacher was supposed to teach upstairs and one downstairs.
Both teachers agreed that the second floor alcoves felt too prison-like to actually conduct classes in.
I think these forgotten materials are pretty much all that’s left of the woodshop classes. So much for shop class as soulcraft.
Here’s the view from the top of the stairs walking into the main classroom space – you can see the history teacher’s desk at the bottom of the stairs and the biology teacher’s student desks in the background.
The high ceilings, walls lined with wires, and mysterious HVAC unit on the ceiling make it a little difficult to decorate and personalize the space. I imagine it’s got to feel like taking a class in an abandoned Costco.
That’s the history class in the small corner – they had to make use of the small space to offset the noise when both classes are in session.
I find the yellow lines left from the woodshop class fascinating. If I were a student here, I know they would be endlessly distracting to me.
I want to conclude this tour by briefly addressing the way that Manual Arts has been discussed in public lately. As much as I feel like I helped accurately represent the teacher concerns at school in Saturday’s column, today’s follow up column by Sandy Banks is disappointing in how little it actually says.
I’m also disappointed in Mike McGalliard’s response to all of this. While I’ve heard from many incensed teachers about the lack of respect and navel gazing that he accomplished, I don’t want to waste energy pointing fingers, sniping about details of what’s happened at the school, etc. However, I want to address being called a “whiny” teacher.
[First of all, really? Is this really what Mike is bringing our level of discourse down to? Really?]
When classroom conditions are clearly beyond what is equitable and are now a civil rights issue, I think it’s time to make sure you are whining in public. 22 extra days won’t do anything when teachers cannot work within an environment. I see the critical lens I am trying to shape on this blog as a way of advocating for a profession that is continually portrayed as “whiny” and the perpetuation of the label by the former head of an organization that teachers brought on campus via a grassroots campaign is saddening.
It all makes me wonder if Mike and the people that “want to see the needle move” ever feel like there is an okay time for teachers to whine?
Should my colleague that has had a leak in front of her classroom with overflowing buckets sit idly? (The leak’s been their since May.)
Should the students be wondering why we don’t have a librarian?
The students that haven’t gotten lunch because they don’t know where the line is for students without meal tickets and haven’t gotten the applications be allowed to whine?
Can I whine that I’m given overhead projector transparencies as an instructional aid even though we’ve spent hundreds of thousands on smart boards?
What about the signficant number of teachers still subbing for themselves?
You see, it’s not that any one of these is a dire problem in-and-of-itself, necessarily. However, when these different challenges (and the many, many more that have arisen this year) are compounded, they create a pretty dismal learning experience for students and a soul-deadening outlook on work for even the most leveled teachers. If Mike’s hoping to lead with the dollars of “corporate America,” maybe he should also think through his own recognition that he should be listening to why I am whining and for whom I am advocating.
Sandy Banks wrote a new column about what’s happening at Manual Arts today. Yes, the class sizes she reports are accurate; the photo above is from the online attendance system for one of the teachers I work with. I appreciated the conversation I was able to have with her in preparation for this column (and it sounds like there may be a follow-up column next week, too). As we exchanged emails to schedule the interview, I sent her a link to a blog post where I was critical of her analysis of what’s happening at my school. It’s also striking for me to review the timeline of what happened in terms of tumultuous change at the district and at the school level last year.
As several of my colleagues and I continue to develop our plans for the Schools for Community Action, I can’t help but think about the many missteps from school admin, the district, LA’s Promise, and–yes– even teachers in the past year that are making this a very unfortunate beginning to the school year for the more than three thousand students at our school.
[In case you were wondering, RIFd teachers like Peter are not qualified to be department chairs at Manual Arts.]
I’m both intrigued and troubled by the prevalence of stories like this one. At once I am fascinated by the voyeuristic look into the rigorous lives of “the other” while also concerned about what the prevalence of these narratives say in maintaining the competitiveness from a capitalistic perspective in the United States. We’re still #12, after all, right?
I also think there is a danger in presenting this article in a way that ends up feeling like it’s a universal proclamation of the lived experience of an entire nation – not just a handful of individuals.
I’m reminded of this news article I read with my 11th graders last year. From the Wall Street Journal, the article discusses how – for many Americans – junior year is such an intense year (with AP classes, volunteer service, afterschool clubs, SAT prep, and whatever else will pad a college application) that many students aren’t even interested in going to college by the time they get to the point. Like the above article about the crazily intense “other” studying harder, better, faster, stronger than everyone else, the article was an exciting peak into the lives of youth. The only problem was that it reflected absolutely none of the experiences of my students here in South Central. They read the article with a mixture of confusion and with concern: wait … were they, too, supposed to be doing all this stuff to be getting into schools? Was someone going to tell the black and brown kids down at Manual Arts about the way the other half lived and operated?
When we peak into the lives of the hardworking student, the secret sect of an alternative music scene, or even the inner-workings of gold farming, there is a danger in making broad generalizations and reporting them. While I don’t doubt the factual accuracy of the articles described here, I’m concerned by the way these articles function to further dominant, hegemonic narratives that inevitably distance communities, pressure communities, and fuel narratives of capitalism.
As teacher layoffs have become a frustrating norm for several of my friends, I wanted to find a way to personalize for the public the mass layoffs that affect the teaching force. Peter and I sat down for an afternoon trying to figure out a way to clearly explain the mess that has been his employment status over the past few years. The conversation took nearly four hours and spilled over dozens of post-it notes. The result is the above children’s book. Though it glosses over details and even more infuriating bureaucratic mistakes and lack of communication, the general difficulty with determining seniority (and thus ensuring a job) is pretty clear. The messy scrawl is all mine – Peter made all of the images using a program we used in our journalism intersession class. (The slideshow can be slowed down by clicking on the options once it’s launched.)
[As should be obvious, the images and quoted text in this post were not made by me.]*
As schools are being cleaned, painted, prepared for the new year and as many of my friends collect unemployment and search for teaching jobs in charters and small non-LAUSD schools, I want to spend some time on this blog describing some of the individual challenges I’m seeing my school community face. I plan to dedicate several posts over the summer looking at what budget cuts and educational reform look like through the lens of my school. Starting right now.
The problem, of course, is that there isn’t even a pretense of objectivity in what I’m trying to do here. Pertaining specifically to the words and images here, I’m trying my best to simply offer you, the reader, a snapshot of what is happening. What I want to show now is how teachers are voicing, organizing, and enacting civic action within a public & open digital sphere.
“The Truth About L.A.’s Promise” Facebook group has only been up for about a day. I don’t know what kind of response the members can anticipate. As a bit of background, L.A.’s Promise is the “Network Partner” for Manual Arts; the company manages and oversees the organizational and academic operation of the school in conjunction with LAUSD. As I’ve written about before, the climate at the school over the past year has been less than harmonious. [If it sounds like I’m downplaying any conflict or tension, you would be absolutely correct; the focus here is on the Facebook group.]
Though I will weigh in at some point down the road, I want to simply show one way the current circumstances of public education are engaging teachers in responsive ways. The fact that many of the people, my friends & colleagues, who are voicing opinions in this digital space are no longer working at Manual Arts is not lost on me. Being liberated from this work environment allows for dissenting voice. However, for the teachers like myself that are still working at the school next year, I am interested in how this open Facebook group will protect and share support for teachers still teaching at Manual Arts and those that will not be teaching there in September.
Ultimately (and from the “safe” view of researcher), I am fascinated by the ways these teachers advocate and continue to “teach” within this space; former students speak up and participate in this group and the lessons of activism are seen by students – through what kind of interpretive lens is not up for me to decide.
Similarly, taking the traditionally text-heavy interface of groups, the participants of this open group are weaving images into a clearly digestible campaign.
Again, I have yet to see a response to this group. It’s membership and organization is still nascent. I am intrigued about the way Facebook’s process of recruitment – a current member simply “adds” me – signals to outsiders how I am to be read. Though I did not choose to join this group, I am automatically affiliated with them (and, conversely, I haven’t yet chosen to “leave” the group either).
Pragmatically, L.A.’s Promise could quickly scan the membership of this group, see that I am included, and see me as an individual that opposes them without engaging me in dialogue one way or another. I am essentially placed in an oppositional position simply through sharing digital space at the behest of a friend. Intrigued, I’m encouraging (but not “adding”) you to follow along.
*If you were to think that I was worried about retaliation or being seen as libelous, you would be correct.
[UPDATE: 7/29/11 12:21 a.m] This was posted by a member on the Facebook group:
Hey Everyone. Looks like I got REPORTED by someone on Facebook. Problem is I removed myself from “Admin” status when I started this group because I believed that it should be open to all.
I guess that’s how this group will be engaged for progressive dialogue.
Thursday was the final day of the school year at Manual Arts. It was the end of a very long year with significant changes. As the students left the school, they walked away from a campus that has been under constant operation for nearly a decade. This will be the first summer since I’ve worked at Manual Arts that the school is not in session (aside from a paltry summer school offering). What will the school’s return to a traditional calendar look like next year? Will student, teacher, and parent concerns about security at the overcrowded campus be addressed? Will we adequately meet the needs of students in classes that are averaged at 40 students per teacher? Will the incredible (absolutely incredible) graffiti murals at our school be painted over? (Strong signs point to yes.)
Thursday was also my final day as an official employee of the U.S. Department of Education. And though my role as a 2010-2011 Teaching Ambassador Fellow has come to an end, I am excited about the network of individuals I have been able to talk with and from whom I hope to continue to draw expertise on future projects.
This summer, I am focusing on coding, analyzing, and writing up preliminary findings for my dissertation. I am also teaching a few classes in and around L.A. and will be consulting for a few education-related projects. I hope to share information about these in future posts.
I am also pleased to be working with the Schools for Community Action design team. We are developing four amazing (amazing!) small schools to serve the South Central Los Angeles community. The work before us is exciting, difficult, and (occasionally) overwhelming. You are welcome to join us. At the least, please consider following us on Twitter.
I am excited to share a bunch of other work in the coming weeks:
I can’t wait to get to all of this! And if you are interested in engaging in an American Crawl conversation and want to collaborate here, this is your official invitation to reach out and make this happen. School’s out! Time for learning!
