Bend over and we’ll teach you to teach
(Blogger’s note: Twenty years ago I wrote a book called Is This For a Grade? — a collection of essays about teaching high school. My latest book project is re-issuing that book, only amending it; adding to the original text my current opinions on the same topic. You’d be surprised how school–and I–have changed in twenty years. Since I and most of my friends in education are trapped in Inservice this week, I thought I’d offer up my outlook on the process. As you’ve probably guessed, it ain’t pretty. You can tell the amended from the original by the bold, italicized script.)
Every year the teachers come back a week before the students do. (Now it has become seven school days.) I think it’s our way of staking our claims on the building. The immediate irony is that by mid-August most kids can’t wait for school to start (even the ones who deny it), but I’ve rarely met a teacher who feels that way.
But we come back early so we can learn to be better teachers. A‑hem. I could count on one hand the number of useful insights I’ve received from inservice training, and on one fist the insights which translated into improved classroom performance.
The school district goes out and hires presenters to teach us during these inservice sessions. We used to have a variety of presenters, but more and more they just herd us into the school auditorium and let one educationist rattle at us. I’m sure there are fiscally prudent reasons for doing this, and I wouldn’t complain anyway. It is easier to achieve anonymity in an auditorium audience. (Actually, there has been a slight change. In what I am sure is a cost-cutting measure, we hire fewer and fewer outside presenters—now we mostly present to one another.)
A lady called the curriculum director is responsible for lining up the presenters for our inservice sessions. I don’t know where she finds these people but she seems to have two fairly rigid criteria: first, the presenter must hold fast to the tenet that the behavior most to be avoided in the classroom should be modeled during the presentation (i.e., boring instruction); and second, the presenter must speak in a monotone at all times. I’ve often wondered what the curriculum director does the rest of the year. Sleep a lot, I suppose.
Of course, these sessions are highly annoying to the classroom teacher. We know as well as our students when we are not learning anything. So we’ve devised our coping mechanisms. At the start of each inservice presentation you will see teachers scurry to find seats next to those they feel most comfortable talking with; they will proceed to converse throughout the session, trying to maintain the maximum level of volume which permits hearing without coming across as blatantly rude. (It’s a fine line, often crossed.) (I’ve noticed the audible level of conversation has dropped significantly in recent years–now, everybody is texting.)
Creativity is required of those with a less garrulous nature. My favorite game is surveying the crowd. I give out three awards: The Most Wide-eyed, to that teacher (always a rookie) who actually believes something of benefit is to be derived from the session; The Most Changed in Appearance, to the teacher most unrecognizable after a summer’s makeover (the reigning champion is a coach who returned with a gut-splitting perm); and The Most Unmannered, to the teacher who makes the least pretense of listening. (Sleepers and knitters are disqualified. I admire the audacity of headphones.)
Not all presenters are idiots. Some realize immediately that they are dealing with a hostile audience, and the proud but few are even willing to engage the battle. I have grudging admiration for the inservice presenter who will clear his throat into the microphone, or adopt a verbal mannerism that is impossible to ignore ( one memorable lady hissed all her s’s), or even haul out the nuclear warhead of inservice combat–group involvement activities.
You have to feel a little sorry for these people. After all, it’s an ugly job, they only get to do it about once or twice a year, and they can’t be paid all that much for it. What is the poor presenter to do? Well, I know what he shouldn’t do. As a public service, I’ve formulated The Eleven Don’t’s of Doing an Inservice Presentation. Educationists, take heed!
1) Don”t use an overhead projector.
2) Don’t lecture for over fifteen minutes.
3) Don’t ask anyone to move up to the front.
4) Don’t take your audience response personally.
5) Don’t use any “touchy-feely” group therapy techniques.
6) Don’t forget to bring coffee and donuts (especially coffee!).
7) Don’t speak in a monotone.
8) Don’t ever plead with your audience.
9) Don’t pretend you wish you were still a classroom teacher (we hate that).
10) Don’t wake the teachers when they appear to be in REM sleep.
11) Don’t read your inservice evaluation forms.
That tells you what not to do, which is kind of like advising a drowning man not to go under and take a deep breath. Could I be more helpful? Probably not. The best advice I got from the School of Education came from a professor who took me aside and told me that most of what he was teaching in Techniques of Classroom Management was folderol. “What matters,” he said, “is whether or not you can stand up in front of a class and turn it on. And you can’t be taught how to do that.”
An afterword: All the above remains mostly true, and it is more frustrating than ever! I have to give my school’s administration some credit—they have found a way to greatly diminish the problem of “teacher inattention.” Instead of sitting in a large auditorium having speaker after speaker move up to the podium while we hide in our seats, we now move from one classroom to another for very abbreviated sessions which address separately the topics on the agenda. The physical movement keeps us awake, and the closer proximity to the speakers makes texting, reading, knitting far more difficult. Insidious! But my major objection to Inservice remains content. Session after session of our most recent inservices have focused on things like our Continuous Campus Improvement program, a curriculum program called C‑Scope, and eight million ways to prepare for the new STAARS tests. I have seen the same sexual harassment video at least four times. We sit through these sessions like zombies. And it’s a shame, because the truth is that there are very valuable things we could be learning during all this mandated teacher training. Education is being transformed by the wave of technological tools and social media that can be adapted to restructure how we deliver content to our students. My librarian showed me internet materials available for doing research that make note cards and copy machines obsolete. We have Smart Boards and Twitter resources and databases that can enable us to learn anything about everything. And most of us teachers have very little idea how to use these resources. I can barely manage the most basic functions of our Gradespeed accounts and our campus email deliverer. I know I am just scratching the surface of what is available to me. Admittedly, I’m probably behind the curve in using these resources, but no one is way ahead of it! But instead of learning more about this valuable stuff, I am sitting in a darkened auditorium or a classroom, not listening to someone prattle on about the latest educationist wave.
LOL — my district actually developed their own sexual harassment videos using staff members from around the district so it’s at least a little more entertaining to see your co-workers desperately trying to act. The “blood borne pathogens” video is likely the equivalent of your sexual harassment video. I’m pretty sure that hasn’t changed in the 6 years I’ve been with this district (and from the looks of it I believe it maybe the same video they used back in the 80’s). Still, I agree that it would nice if someone could really think out of box and come up with a better way to present things. Not saying I’m any better than anyone else as it’s not likely I have something revolutionary up my sleeve, but so many brains you would think one could come up with something better!!
It’s funny how only few are bold enough to write about it (even though they all think the same exact way). The longer you teach the more cynical you become (towards the educational system). I mean teachers do what they have to do, and most do a great job, but when it comes time to be honest, faculty meetings and inservice days are pure torture. It’s like getting paid back for all the stupid things you did as a kid (that’s the only reason of can think of as to why teachers have them). Maybe we should allow first-time offenders of petty crimes, as punishment, to sit in on teacher inservice training. That would set them straight in a heart-beat. By the way, I am an 18 year veteran of public high school education, so I know a little of what I’m talking about. And so do you… Teachers will never get what they deserve, but hopefully, some day, they will start to get a little more respect. We are so much alike.… Scary.