Here's the Letter I Would Write

August 19, 2011

To Whom It May Concern:

I am a dependable, conscientious, spirited teacher. There is plenty of data to back it up. Any given year, my students’ standardized test scores over my thirteen-year tenure with the school district have been comparable with or better than any other teachers in the state of Arkansas in my disciplines and subject areas. During that tenure, I have taught eighth grade, ninth grade, and twelfth grade Regular English. I have taught Pre-AP Physics to ninth graders and Pre-AP Biology to tenth graders. Now, I teach Creative Writing, a twelfth grade elective course, and I teach AP English Literature and Composition—the two highest-level English courses that our school district offers. Former students, many of which I wrote, and continue to write letters of recommendation for, are currently attending or have graduated from the finest universities in the nation. They have travelled the world on prestigious fellowships to study and to explore. They are graduate students, teachers, lawyers, popular culture celebrities, scientists, artists, and military officers. They are my tennis teammates, adopted family to my wife and three year old son, fellow band members, hiking partners, and confidantes. They have been featured in news publications for scholarships that they have received as a result of hard work, determination, and the stellar guidance and interdisciplinary instruction that they received at a fine high school with the finest administration.

This year, at the pre-school in-service sessions I was unimpressed by the organization, preparedness, and relevance of the professional growth seminars that were offered to the English teachers in the district. At the high school English meetings this year, my experience was a living nightmare—set in a circus. Day one was almost intolerable. But the most specific and apt proof I can give was the day two presentation for AP English teachers in the district. We were told in advance that we would receive training on the new textbooks we had adopted for the coming school year. I was eager to see the new materials and to learn how they could be utilized in my classroom. And this was important. Adopting a new textbook means extra preparation: new syllabi to prepare; new works of literature to annotate; page numbers to log; units of study to create; lectures to write; activities and assessments to design. In short, I needed this P.D. It was supposed to be valuable.

When I arrived at 8:15 for my 8:30 a.m. meeting, I was met at the door by a supervisor who informed me that I needed to behave in a more professional manner today than I had the previous one. I was cordially warned that I was being watched. (I must say here that day one, I listened to every piece of information that was presented, and I completed every task that was asked of me with due diligence, if not enthusiasm.) That was how my day started. When I reported to the classroom where AP teachers were to meet, I immediately learned that the presenter was there to provide a full, six-hour workshop on the textbook that the AP English Language and Composition teachers adopted this year. The presenter was disoriented, rattled even. She didn’t have the materials that she had been promised. There were NONE of the new English Language books or the new English Literature books to be found anywhere in the building! We searched; trust me. She had prepared for and was expecting a room full of AP Language teachers. In that room were ten AP English Literature teachers and two AP Language teachers. We were furious, disheartened, and deflated. The morning session was a two-hour, slow motion train wreck while we sorted out the confusion. The AP Language textbook expert apologized profusely and assured us that she had been told she was there to present to AP Language teachers. I felt horrible for her. What’s more, she was one of the authors of the textbook!!! There she stood, the supreme authority on the subject matter, and the district could not get its act together enough, pay her the professional courtesy to have the materials that she needed to present an effective, informative workshop?! I think I speak for everyone in that room, and I think it is an understatement, when I say that we, the teachers, were embarrassed and exasperated.

The books were delivered around 10:30. We all agreed to take a short break, gather ourselves, and to come back and make the best of the situation. We did that, and no thanks to the planning and foresight and intentions of the powers that be, we had a reasonably good and productive afternoon. The author/presenter, bless her sweet, brilliant heart, gracefully answered questions we had about the AP Language curriculum. We learned some differences between what she teaches (Language and Comp) and what the vast majority of the people in the room teach (Literature and Comp). We discussed the differences and similarities between her experiences in private education and ours in public education and the commonalities and individuation between Arkansas teachers and New York teachers. (She had not experienced the same level of frustration and contention that we had with her school’s P.D. opportunities, by the way. She is given enormous freedom to fulfill her continuing education requirements as sees fit.) So the day wasn’t a complete waste. Mind you, that’s not what she had been hired and paid good money to do.

In my thirteen years with the district, there have been a dozen in-service, professional development training workshops like the one I have just described for every organized, appropriate, or illuminating district workshop in which I have participated. And the problem has only gotten worse. Ask. Any. Teacher. They will echo that sentiment. Simply put, this is unacceptable.

I am in a certification year. My licensure expires December 31^st. Because of the school district’s P.D. policies, I am being forced to prove to the ADE that I served as an AP Reader in 2007 and 2008. (I received credit with the the district for participating in 2006, before you changed your rules—therefore the ADE has a record of those hours.) The ADE and College Board and AP Central certify and endorse 42 hours of professional development for high school teachers and college professors who attend these ten-day, summer training and exam grading sessions. EVERYONE who participates agrees that it is the single most valuable professional growth opportunity that they have the honor and privilege to be a part of every year. But you, school district, don’t acknowledge this training as worthy and valuable, and as a result, I will have to go to great lengths to insure the security of my livelihood this fall. I have all of the documentation on file, and I should be recertified with little formal hassle from the ADE. But it should not have come to this. As a result of your P.D. policies, I will have to make appointments with state education officials, deliver documents to the capital, and hope that the powers that be there follow through and issue me the recertification that I have earned and that I deserve. I should have received an automatic renewal, but that is not what has happened.

It is my hope, my dream, that one day you will finally listen to the classroom teacher—the true expert—and allow her the professional courtesy and respect that she has given you for years. There has to be a change. We are dying out here. You are sucking out our souls every year, slowly, a little more and more and more. The highest ranking officials in the P.D. division, quite frankly, have been inaccessible and condescending. I do not charge any one individual with guilt or responsibility or ineptitude in these matters. The entire professional development system is fundamentally flawed—from the top, down.

I do appreciate your time and attention. I would never intentionally disrespect my authorities unless their behaviors and policies disrespected and threatened my professional abilities, my family’s financial security, my livelihood. This means too much to me to float idly in the eddy of organizational mediocrity any longer while a broken, archaic system ruins it for everyone involved. I am paddling.

There are new leaders in place this year. There is a new organizational structure in our administration. Now is the time to do something new and something better. It is never too late to acknowledge and identify our problems, make new priorities, find common ground, and chop away at our weaknesses—together. That is the essence and beauty of education. Do not let ignorance or blindness define you.

Sincerely,

Dirt Bombs