And the saga continues. . .

I’ve written and rewritten several emails tonight – first to Audrey’s teacher with a c.c. to the principal, then one just to the principal explaining our concerns after Rick and I discussed how upset Audrey has been at the thought of us talking to her teacher. My last email was a scaled down email to the principal. I ended up erasing all of them – after all, we know our concerns won’t be heard. They won’t do anything. They haven’t all year – quite the opposite, actually. The principal had the tenacity to assign a Professional Development School intern from our department to this teacher’s room. I guess she was trying to teach us a lesson.

What’s more disturbing was the conversation we had to have with Audrey this afternoon – the first of many like it, I’m afraid. We finally crossed the threshold. Up to this point we’ve tried very hard to stick with the narrative “Good people make bad choices.” Today we finally had to have the talk: “Sometimes, honey, you’re just going to get bad teachers and you’ll have to endure it. This is one of those years.” There was no point dancing around it any more. Done. We used the “B” word explicitly and with elaboration regarding what we meant by it. I’m sure a number of people would argue that we’ve crossed a line we shouldn’t have crossed. To our defense, that big smelly elephant has been in the middle of all our nice and safe conversations up to this point, and tonight there were so many issues that had hit the fan that we just couldn’t talk around it any more. Rick went on to ask Audrey, "Since you want to be a teacher, think about how you felt today. What would you have done differently if you had been the teacher?" This isn't exactly turning lemons into lemonade because it's still a lesson no seven-year-old should have to learn, but it's all we've got.

Where do I begin? That the reading score appears to be based upon her Scholastic reading log – that thing that she’s been encouraged to read as fast and as many books as she possibly can. Heck, she got a lunch at the food court for reading so many. Of course, feverishly reading as many books as possible means that comprehension may go down – thus the 89% average and the B grade on the report card. Then there were the rewards for a computerized/standardized math test. I assume the awards went to those who showed growth because those who were typically higher in their achievement (and yes, why should I know this? Why, because Audrey knows) didn’t get the reward. Those who hit a plateau or perhaps went down but still achieved mastery and are above the mean didn’t get rewarded – and there was a big show of who did and did not get rewarded. Ultimately we told Audrey that this was a lesson in empathy: now she knows how all the kids feel all the times she gets prizes and they don’t. Now, lest you think that I’m just trying to defend my child and say she’s perfect (she’s not), I will add that she did get an A for writing. I’m not sure how, though, since there has been NO writing instruction this year and no opportunities for the students to engage in creative writing or any other writing more than a sentence on a spelling test.

So, instead of a letter, I’m sending the report card signed – along with a copy of Alfie Kohn’s Punished by Rewards that Rick didn’t let me give her at Christmas (yes, that would have been a tacky Christmas gift, but for Valentines’ Day, hey. . . ). Rick has now taken on the task of writing the email to the principal. I think he can reign in his sarcasm a bit more than I can reign in my fury at this point.

So, parents, help me out. What do you do when you feel there are no options? The central office will not listen to us unless we first go to the principal. The principal will smile, nod, and offer half-hearted assurances all the while knowing that she sees nothing wrong with this teacher (or worse yet, does see what’s wrong but feels it’s more important to teach us a lesson than provide a meaningful experience to a future teacher). When it comes to being engaged parents and advocates for our kids, we seem to be failing miserably.

The Reading Homework of Doom

So we’ve been trying very hard to pick our battles with Audrey’s teacher – sending notes in when we see her continue to grade things that are not a product of instruction, etc. We see it as holding our own and trying very hard to not let Audrey know how much we despise what this woman is doing. In spite of this, every once and a while I get yet another reminder that it’s not enough.

Today one of Audrey’s friends came over for a play date. I told the mom that we’d do homework here before they played. I sat down with this child to listen to her read. I pulled out a chapter book from her reading folder and listened as she struggled with every other word. This was a book designed to elicit laughter from children – Horrible Harry and the Drop of Doom. Fittingly, it was a book of doom for any child who could not read it. She struggled over words like “epitaph.” Since she couldn’t read it and didn’t know what it meant, the riddles that followed that were designed to be funny were just words on the page to read. That’s all the assignment was – words on page after page to endure. She didn’t understand the story. She couldn’t say anything about it. Sadly, this was the fifth chapter in this book – the fifth night this poor child has brought home a book and endured word after word understanding little or nothing of its content. A book that was written to draw children into the world of reading – when in the hands of this teacher – will surely reinforce for this child why she doesn’t like reading and why she isn’t good at it. When I picked up the reading envelop to return the book, I noticed that the mother had written on the signature page that her daughter was struggling with this book. She wrote it on the first night the book was assigned. The teacher responded that she may change the girl’s group, but she never did. No doubt she was too busy planning all the chaotic contests and special treats for the class – too busy to teach and too busy to ensure that this child’s very real needs are served.

So now we have to decide whether we continue to hold our own or if we bring this to the attention of the central office. I only wish I knew the full scale of the experiences of the children in the class. I see Audrey doing well for the most part -but not being challenged – reading books that are far too easy and boring. She’s enjoying the little contests and games, but she seems to have lost her genuine enjoyment of learning that has always been such a critical part of who she is. We’ve been very fortunate that both Audrey and Niamh have been able to participate in a reading program at the university so they still enjoy reading, but if left up to her experiences in this classroom, I’d imagine that she’d not want to read anymore either. Now I see a glimpse of a struggling child, and I am even more disturbed than before.

Enduring has been a necessary survival skill up to this point, but in good conscience I wonder if we’re equally to blame for these kinds of travesties because of our silence. Like Freire warns, seeing injustice and doing nothing about it – particularly as an educator - is immoral.

Dashed Hopes and Pop Psychology

“We’re going to whip up on the boys. . .” my daughter exclaimed as she bounced into the car this afternoon. “Excuse me?” I asked. “That’s what Miss ________ said when we were practicing!” was her reply. “Practicing?” I inquired. “Yes, for the math relay - boys against girls!”

And there it was. The one glimmer of hope from this already-too-long school year dashed. In the midst of our pleas to the school administration two weeks ago, we heard one small message that gave us hope. “Oh, Ms. ________ has assured us that she won’t be doing the math competitions between boys and girls. . .” It was the only point in the meeting where we felt the administration had “seen” the absurdity of it all and responded. It was the one small effort on this teacher’s part of recognizing our concerns even when she wouldn’t budge on anything else. All gone.

I spent the ride home fantasizing about a conversation I might have with the principal – all in the folksiness that seems to be required of school conferences, “Why Ms. Principal, I don’t know how you do things here in West Virginia, but in Georgia we’d call that insubordination – just say’n. . . . “ to which (it is my fantasy after all) the principal profusely apologizes and immediately writes the teacher up for the infraction. Yeah, right. . . . .

Instead, I sent an email to the teacher and c.c.ed the principal – letting her know that there was no need to set up a conference regarding the issues surrounding the report card – that if she could not follow through on a promise she made to her own administration we certainly had no hope that she would listen to us or do anything differently.

Later this evening as I was wandering through the grocery store I continued to wrestle with the absolutely wretched behavior of this woman. At some point in the middle of a near empty store, it hit me. Please forgive the pop psychology that follows. I suddenly realized that I had been trying to understand this woman from the perspective of a functional and rational human being. I assumed that her line of thinking would fall in line with mainstream teachers and, if so, she couldn’t help but see the negative implications of her actions.

But then I thought about it. There are a lot of damaged and dysfunctional people in the world. To some extent, we all carry about a lot of baggage and could probably count ourselves in a very large part of the population that is functionally damaged in some way. For most of us, we learn to cope with our issues and hopefully find ways to be in the world that won't exacerbate our weaknesses or increase their effects on others.

So, I began to think, “What if this IS the way this woman sees the world?” What if life is some big competition for her? What could have happened in this woman’s life that would make her so obsesses with seeing the world full of winners and losers? Did she grow up as a loser and prove herself otherwise? Did she always see herself as a “winner” and now wants everyone else to be defined accordingly? Was her family highly competitive and thus her worth was only recognized when it was accompanied by “best” or any number of adjectives as long as they ended in “-est”? If that is the case, then I imagine that she sees her interactions with Rick and me as a competition. She is out to “beat” us. When faced with a simple problem like promoting gendered competition in math and in spite of assuring her own administration that she would stop, she continues. Something is very, very wrong. Why else would she do this unless it is to “beat” us - to show us a thing or two?

Wow. What a frightening possibility. Rick and I are at a loss to respond at this point. If Audrey was older, we could have a developmentally appropriate conversation with her and hope that she would boycott this competition. That is too much to impose on a second grader at this point. For now, we just sit and wait – and hope that some administrative intervention prevails. Unlike my last blog entry, I’m not holding out much faith at this point. . . .

The Joy (and Peace) of Not Knowing

“Now faith is assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

Tonight I’ve been thinking a lot about faith – any sort, mind you. Naturally, I tend to think about the nature of spiritual faith and how people seem to hang onto it. While it may be, as noted above, a conviction of things not seen, I do believe that for many believers, faith in a higher power is connected to something seen or experienced. It may be one’s awe in the incredible beauty found in nature. It may be the experience of holding one’s child for the first time. It may be because of some apparent divine intervention in one’s life. While we may hold onto faith in things unseen, I still believe there are connections to our lives and our experiences that influence and sustain that faith. After all, the Bible is full of stories of visions and events that help people restore and/or sustain their faith.

I’ve been thinking about this tonight because I’ve been trying very hard to count my blessings in the form of a first grade teacher. Now, more than ever, I realize how we cannot take good teachers for granted. Tonight was one of those nights where I NEEDED to think about all the good things that are happening in that first grade classroom. As I thought about it, I realized that much of what I “know” about Mrs. Wilson’s class is based upon “things not seen.”

For the most part, I do not know what goes on in Niamh’s classroom. I’ve seen the schedule. On parent night I got to see the cool morning work they do on the Smartboard, and I know the basic topics/objectives of the week because her teacher sends them to us. And the beautiful part of this is that I do not need to know. It isn’t important for me to have a play-by-play of the events as they unfold in that first grade classroom.

I don’t need to know that because of what I DO know:

• · I know my child runs to the car in the afternoon with a huge smile on her face. This tells me she’s spent the day in a warm and caring environment.
• · I know my child loves to read. She hasn’t missed a beat from the gains she made last year. More importantly, she WANTS to read. She loves showing us how much she has learned and how she is able to read “harder” books now.
• · I know my child is learning math. I don’t know this because of a mountain of worksheets. In fact, I’ve seen very few. Nothing could thrill me more. The fewer worksheets I see, the more I know she is actually LEARNING. Again, more importantly, she WANTS to do math. She asks to do math games and practice flashcards at home even though they’re not assigned homework. She doesn’t want to do it to “beat” someone else or because she is afraid she isn’t doing well on assessments in class. She thinks it’s FUN.
• · I know that in spite of all the pressures to teach only math and reading my child is learning a lot about science and social studies. Several times each night she gets a big grin on her face and says, “You know what????” and she follows it with a series of facts that she has learned.
• · I know that my child has the opportunity to think during the day. I hear her describe connections that she could only make if there is time that isn’t stuffed with competitions and other “noise.” Knowing how critical those connections are for Niamh’s overall understanding, I am thrilled that she has those moments to make connections. I see the ways in which simple experiences encourage those connections: a book she made about bridges – how wonderful! Her mind raced as she discussed each page with me; a simple sheet where she was asked to write down the years she found on pennies. This is such a simple exercise that led Niamh on all kinds of mental adventures.

I have faith in the kinds of experiences Mrs. Wilson is providing for my child. I appreciate the fact that I do not “see” what is going on. I think it means that Mrs. Wilson is there for the kids. She is focused on the right things. She is a tremendous steward of the discretionary space the school and district have given her.

While it’s a faith in the unseen, it’s not a blind faith. As E. O. Wilson warns,

“Blind faith, no matter how passionately expressed, will not suffice. Science for its part will test relentlessly every assumption about the human condition.”

I know enough about good teaching to have faith in the unseen. I SEE a great deal in the midst of that not known, and because of that, I KNOW, and, I am thankful.

Facing the Circled Wagons: A Challenge for School Administrators

When I got home from class last night I saw a fairly large envelope we’d received in the mail. The return address had Audrey’s teacher’s name. It was a sympathy card and a small book about grief. She noted that it had helped her when she had suffered loss. She’d also sent Audrey a card where everyone in the class had signed and included a note. Seeing the cards and the book certainly gave me a moment of pause. It was a reminder that this person was not a villain and that it is very easy to villainize people when we are angry.

Nevertheless, good people make mistakes, and those mistakes need to be corrected. I started thinking about a situation I experienced as a middle school administrator. A group of girls were caught drinking vodka and orange juice in music class. This was a group of girls that never got in trouble. The principal took the lead on the situation since the other assistant principal and I were each in the middle of handling fights (It was one of those days.). When I walked by her office and saw the look on her face, I knew this would be no ordinary discipline referral. One of the girls was the granddaughter of the former principal. This was not good. Ultimately, the other girls and their parents took responsibility, accepted the ten-day suspension, and they indicated that they would seek help for their daughters during that time. The daughter’s family of the former principal, however, refused to accept the punishment and insisted on a hearing.

The discipline hearing was a circus. The former principal decided that she would be the defending counsel. She subpoenaed a number of teachers from the school to come and testify – none of whom were witnesses to the incident. The teachers were at a loss as to why they were subpoenaed. As the hearing progressed, each was called in. The former principals asked, “Is ___________ a good girl?” to which the teacher would answer yes and then confirm various “good” attributes the student possessed. The principal and I responded, “Do good girls make mistakes?” to which each teacher answered yes. We then asked, “And should mistakes have consequences?” to which they also answered yes. We finally asked, “And should consequences be consistent?” Again, they answered yes. Given that the panel was hearing this message over and over again, the daughter’s grandmother soon gave up and did not call all the teachers in to testify.

I must admit, this was a brilliant plan on the grandmother’s part. She knows human nature – especially as it plays out in schools. As it is with Marley’s ghost, so it is with educators: We’re in the reclamation business. As such, being “good” is important. It is so important that it often leads to the assumption that you should never do “bad” things to good people. I think this is one of the biggest challenges for school administrators when it comes to working with teachers. Teachers are good people. They sacrifice and work long hours for little pay. They are abused by the media as well as by many students and parents. They come to school sick, hurting, exhausted, and they are expected to smile and make the learning environment as positive as possible in spite of what may be going on in their own lives. All of this is true. So how can an administrator admonish a teacher – particularly if the potential fall-out of their actions is not obvious or immediate?

I have witnessed this personally. As an administrator in another school we had a situation in which a teacher was struggling with so many personal issues that she had not been able to function at even a minimal level in her classroom. We began to see the full extent of her problems halfway through the first grading period. It was so obvious that other teachers were telling us that they were concerned. In spite of our interventions, it became clear to us that her students had lost nearly a semester of “learning” as a result of this teacher. We pulled her out of the classroom mid-year, gave her something to do the rest of the year that would have as little impact on children as possible, and by the end of the year explained she’d have an assignment the following year that we knew she could not and would not take. She had to quit. Ironically, those teachers who saw the damage she was doing to her kids were the same teachers who attacked us for being so cruel and pushing her out. It is human nature. She was a good person. She just happened to be a good person who was hurting children. Yes, good people make mistakes. Yes, mistakes should have consequences, and yes, those consequences should be consistent.

If teachers are so quick to circle the wagons, even in an extreme case like we faced, then how will they respond if they feel one of their own is under attack? What makes this even more challenging for a school administrator is when the issues that need to be resolved have consequences that are more ambiguous. Whose to say that excessive competition will have long-term effects? As the administrator who observed the class noted, “How do you know whether the kids know who is on what level? I couldn’t tell.” So what if a quarter science grade is only based on one paper and it’s not about science. What’s the real harm in that? I think this is why the counselor was so quick to note that she saw no obvious signs of anxiety or negative feelings about math. If you don’t see something immediate and explicitly connected to the work of the teacher (a bruise, a melt-down, etc.) then no harm-no foul. I also think this is why judging teachers simply by test scores is so seductive to so many – it is far easier and removes administrative culpability: the numbers don’t “lie.”

The crossroads of teaching reform come together in dangerous ways here – much like many of the “crossroads” here in Morgantown where the curves prevent you from seeing the risk. First, it’s very easy to villainize, so some administrators (and parents) are quick to resort to this. In these cases, the administrators and/or parents become the villains and no good can come of it. Second, it’s human nature to excuse bad choices when the person making them is a “good person.” For many administrators, there is just too much potential fall-out to deal with issues, so they ignore them and hope that nothing blows up on their watch.

But, good people make bad choices. Bad choices hurt children. You may not see a literal bruise, but you know that it will affect how they see themselves for years to come. Therefore, bad choices need to have consequences. I still support the “reclamation business” of schools. I still believe that if administrators appeal to teachers’ core commitments to children and help them SEE what their choices are doing to those children that things can get better. However, I also believe that when and if a teacher sees what her actions are doing to children and chooses to not change, then the administrator has to take action. There are times as an administrator when you must deal with the circled wagons for the sake of the children.

The "WTH" of Assessment: Lord, Give me Strength. . .

So, report cards came out today. Thank goodness Rick was the first to retrieve it so Audrey didn’t see me explode. As noted in previous blogs, we have the unfortunate circumstance that our child is subjected to a teacher that uses assessment instead of actually teaching – something I brought to the attention of the school administration and about which nothing has been done.

So, what’s the harm in assigning grades to stupid worksheets that don’t align with clear objectives, aren’t the products of actual instruction, and seem to make little or no sense? Well, the power of a number is that it implies certainty – something the clueless and cowardly in life cling to. It empowers the cowardly to make unwarranted claims about those under their supervision. It further disenfranchises those parents who feel they can do nothing in the face of the all-powerful teacher. The fact that she talks down to them all only reinforces their fears. So, there is power in numbers, and the unscrupulous teacher will use that power over students, parents, and whoever else may get in her way. Who cares if those numbers mean absolutely nothing?

Yes, I’m ranting. I’m angry. I’m angrier than I have ever been about a teacher – and believe me, I’ve been angry about teachers. As an administrator, it was my “job” to help struggling teachers, but it was also my job to career counsel some the hell out of the school if they were hurting kids. I believe it’s my moral obligation to be angry. As Freire reminds us, we have the obligation to be angry because of our capacity to love. If we love kids, then we MUST be angry when we see teachers hurting them.

Now, Audrey is not “hurt” by the report card. Not this time. And if we are forced to endure this woman for the year, she will never see a report card – at least as long as they continue to say absolutely nothing about what she does and does not know about second grade skills and competencies. My child will NEVER define herself by what this woman puts down and calls grades. But, I think about the other children in the class – those whose parents don’t realize how meaningless these grades are. How many children tonight are getting scolded or spanked because of these grades? How many children feel less about themselves because they’ve seen the grades and their parents have “explained” that it means they’re dumb?

Let me interrupt this rant to give you a bit of context. After all, how are you to know the extent to which I’m justified in my rant without the full back story? Audrey got a D, yes a D in “CATS” which we can only assume involves science and social studies – subjects the principal herself admitted aren’t taught because of NCLB. What was the basis for this grade? ONE worksheet on bus safety that had bizarre and confusing pictures with a cut and paste activity. Audrey brought it home – having missed 2/6 – upset because the pictures were so confusing. She shared with us how the images could mean more than one thing that that she was confused. I will now pause for this to soak in. A school does not teach science or social studies. Nevertheless, they have a “box” in which a grade must be placed. A teacher shows a film, passes out ONE worksheet, grades it, and then lets that one worksheet count for the entire quarter’s science and social studies grade – bus safety, mind you – hardly science OR social studies.

Moving on. . . . Audrey got a B in spelling. We’re not parents that insist on As because our child is brilliant. Please keep that in mind. We reviewed the grades on-line (which, by the way, privileges those parents who have access to Internet at home in a community with 50-60% poverty, but I digress), and discovered that her 85% was the result of three things: getting a 70% on her first spelling test because she forgot her punctuation on her dictation sentences (which, by the way, were never taught or practiced before the test and have absolutely nothing to do with spelling), a worksheet where she got a 70% because she used words from the larger spelling list instead of those relegated to a particular word box, and (the clincher) a 40% on a paper where she answered each fill-in-the-blank correctly, spelled each word correctly, but on the word box she underlined the words vs. circling them, and after all, the directions said to circle them before putting them in the sentences. She didn’t even put the grade on the paper because she knew we would scream – instead she tried to hide it in the grades on the computer and then averages it in with the rest.

So yes, I’m angry. I’m angry not only for my child but also for the 24 other children who must endure this “award winning” teacher. I’m angry about the parents who feel helpless tonight. I am angry about how this teacher will talk down to them Thursday night when she meets with them in parent conferences (by the way, we declined our conference) – the same way she talked to them on Parent Night. I am angry that the administration will not touch this 37-year veteran even though we are bringing up case after case of inhumane treatment of children. I am most angry about how other children in this class will begin to see themselves as a result of the utterly unprofessional and immoral acts of this woman.

Deep breaths. I know in some objective realm of “me” that this will pass and in one way or another Audrey will ultimately be “o.k.” It will take a LOT of work and perhaps a LOT of reinforcement to assure her that she is not the sum of her horrid second grade experience. I can’t help to think, though, that some of those 24 kids will not be o.k. This will be the beginning of a downward spiral regarding how they see themselves and how their parents see them. That’s what keeps me up at night.

Yeah. . . I don't think this is what Dewey had in mind. . .

We left our conference with School #2 administration with some degree of hope for our future in the community. It was a productive conversation. They listened. We listened. We hope and pray that we didn’t come off as a professorial stealth bomb that has hit their building. I tried to listen with my administrative ears recognizing that they could not and would not say anything negative about the teacher. I believe they listened with their parental ears and acknowledged that we are primarily advocates for our children regardless of our day jobs.

Initially there were moments of frustration. They were quick to note that many parents want this teacher and that if they honored requests, she’d have many. They told us she won a Sam’s Club teaching award for the county or state – either way, it certainly speaks volumes for those sorts of awards, doesn’t it? The counselor assured us that she’s seen no negative effects of this teacher’s approach when she works with children in summer school, and the principal added that she has not heard any third grade teachers express concerns regarding the children’s attitudes toward math.

Yeah, but here’s the thing. . . life isn’t so simple as to produce immediate and clearly identifiable consequences from bad teaching. Children are not going to self-diagnosed themselves as having math anxiety when they are in third grade. Shifts in how one perceives oneself – however subtle – may take years to manifest themselves. Certainly, children are resilient. After all, most if not all of us endured at least one year of a “mean” or otherwise ineffective teacher, and we survived. It’s part of life, right? Simply because children have tremendous capacity to recover from bad experiences does not justify imposing bad experiences on them in schools.

As for our concerns regarding constant competition and extrinsic rewards for learning, the principal lamented that life is competitive. “Perhaps,” I responded, “But does that mean second grade must be?” You see, I don’t think Dewey had this sort of image in mind when he described schools as embryonic communities. I don’t think he was advocating that we take all that is wrong with society and impose it on children in the early years to toughen them up.

I imagine a proposal now: “The Mountaineer Curriculum: Teaching Kids to Suck it Up, Toughen Up, and Win!” And perhaps the parents sporting the university colors everywhere possible (attire, signs on cars, yard signs, flags, etc.) might be in favor of such a curriculum. After all, this teacher supposedly gets numerous requests. If schools honor the community and create experiences that reflect children’s experiences, then perhaps such a curriculum would be appropriate. If that’s the case, then perhaps schooling should be one long tailgate party for learning, right?

But wait, we’re forgetting a few things. Those experiences that Dewey considered the center of gravity around which everything evolves actually need to be educative. They need to lead to growth: growth of the child and potential growth of the community. Now I know I could really get myself in trouble if I start quoting Dewey’s notion of what the best and wisest parent wants for his children is what the schools should want for all children and then present Rick and I as those “best and wisest.” So, how do I get out of this ideological corner I seem to have painted for myself?

I guess I could try to distract you with the fact that these issues are more prominent now because there is no normative conversation regarding schooling these days. We never talk about the purpose of schooling – merely assume that it’s to score well on tests to get in good colleges to get good jobs. As long as we don’t have a basis from which we can engage in meaningful conversations about schooling, then we all just compete to be the “best and wisest” - pushing our agendas like its some giant reality show and hoping we don’t get voted off. In this reality-world curriculum, parents and teachers are adversaries, concerns are dismissed, and there is no hope for progress within the school community.

I think it would be incredibly difficult to introduce the notion of purpose in most public schools today. It would be so far removed from the natural form of educational discourse (but if you look back at articles in the 1970s and early 1980s, you would see such conversations). Perhaps we could begin with baby steps. One question I asked multiple times during the conference today would be one place to start: “But at what cost?“ The principal noted, “We were one of only three schools to make AYP. . .” My response, “Yes, but at what cost?” The principal indicated, “Teachers in upper grades have noted that children don’t know their math facts, so we are focusing on more drill. . . . “ My response, “Yes, but at what cost do you drill daily and in a way that promotes competition?”

This is a difficult question for teachers or administrators – but it is one that they need to ask daily. At what cost do we do what we do? Every initiative comes at the expense of another. For example, the NCLB focus on math and reading has all but killed early experiences in science and social studies. There are far, far too many opportunity costs in schools today that go unacknowledged. While we may not be able to engage in larger debates about purpose during these dark times in public schools, we can ask educators to consider what is being lost in the process. And with that discussion in mind, we can do more than mourn the loss. We can demand otherwise and try to reclaim those things that “the best and wisest parent” knows are vital for a life well lived and for a society worth living in.