On the first day of class I tell my writing students I will teach them everything I know about writing, knowledge acquired over years of study and practice, provided they promise me one thing: to use what I teach them about writing for good. Once you know how to craft language effectively, once you find your voice, once you know how to unleash words upon others for the greatest impact, you can do so either with grace or with malice. Lately I feel like malice is winning out in so many arenas, in Newtown and in Boston, and by proxy at the NRA national conference and in Congress, though not necessarily in my students' work. As we read through Hamlet, witnessing firsthand Denmark's disease and decay, I was thrust into the world of malice quite tangibly, surrounded though not yet consumed by it. Through Shakespeare's mirror I could clearly see the field of education's corrupted reflection and for at least the past two years, those of us in education have heard little but malice directed at us every day.
Current education reform places the entire blame for America's academic woes on inadequate teaching, ignoring the larger culprit of poverty (and all of its subsequent accoutrements) which has been proven statistically to be the overwhelming determining factor in student achievement. Billion dollar money maker corporations who know nothing about children or learning bear no shame for their purposeful malicious ignorance. Driven by their lobbying efforts (a whole lot of wordsmithery), states have granted these corporate managers unfettered access in a misguided effort to raise the achievement levels of children when all that's really being raised is profit. Most of these billion dollar "reformers," in the corporations and in the legislatures, have spent zero time in the classroom other than when they were students so long ago. And coupled with their glaring ignorance of pedagogy, child development, and matters of curriculum, all more significant factors than rigorous tests, they possess a total lack of ethical sensibility. The rot has extended down the food chain to even educators themselves, largely administrators, who seem more concerned with test scores and numerical data than nurturing students and staffs and their unique talents. These same tainted administrators tell half truths, often by omission, to staff and students regularly as they build their resumes in a quest for superintendency. These same corrupted administrators would throw a teacher under a bus without second thought if it meant pleasing a parent, avoiding a lawsuit, or impressing their supervisors. Unprofessional, immoral, they inexplicably behave with impunity. How many educators out there haven't yet been caught desperately manipulating test scores like those in Atlanta and Chicago?
To see one's profession become so grossly distorted, to face such an unstoppable flesh eating disease consuming all in its path, spawns futility. One toll already being paid is one of collective silence and fear. In a fit of learned helplessness against such overpowering gangrene, many teachers have simply amputated their will to fight. In a slow chipping away of one's integrity, one's passion, one's soul, we wonder what will, at the end, remain?
I can only hope that my colleagues and I may be buoyed enough by the rising number of Davids out there challenging these Goliaths. The teachers in Seattle who refuse to administer standardized tests, the parents who refuse to subject their young children to hours of testing at the expense of other active learning opportunities, the state of Kentucky calling for a moratorium on the new CCSS online assessments until Pearson can eliminate all of the connectivity and scoring issues, in their slingshots rest words, spread by social media, spread at education conferences, spread among the disheartened, disenfranchised, and the discouraged.
For through all of my experience I know this. If we do not use our words for the betterment of society and ourselves, if we do not use our words for good, if we do not write the truth and speak it repetitively despite possible repercussions, malice wins. When that day arrives, I fear a large number of incredibly talented, beloved teachers will leave the profession in droves. I may be one of them, And it is unlikely that the best and brightest among us will line up eagerly and passionately to join in the festering decay that remains.
Malice or good? It's time to choose.
