By Mark
It was at a intervention meeting, where her child's teachers (including me) and the grade-level counselor had gathered to strategize how better serve her child, that she said to me from across the table:
"You didn't do your job. You were supposed to fix my child. Why didn't you fix him?"
She said it with steel in her eyes and barbs in her voice. She was simmering near her boiling point and I started wondering if anyone else in the room knew the extension to reach the school resource officer.
Everyone was flabbergasted. She went on about how at the summer orientation I talked about all the things I do in class to help struggling students: extra support to break down complex tasks, face-to-face writing conferences, online resources, peer support, modified texts...the list went on. In truth, I had done all those things for her son. I had offered these to her child, yet her child still was failing.
Isn't it always the case that we think of the right thing to say well after the moment has passed? That moment passed six years ago, but here goes:
"Ma'am, I'd be more than happy to share with you the reason I didn't fix your child...
The only one who can fix your child is himself. He chose not to be fixed."
Sure, I could have lit some much better fireworks, but I'd rather opt for the truth over hyperbole.
To me, this is the truth: I can use every best practice and be the most engaging teacher on the planet, but ultimately, it is the child who must pick up the pen and put ink to paper. I can connect them with every high-tech gizmo and every resource to meet their needs, but ultimately, it is the child who must log in and choose to place fingers on the keyboard.
I tell my freshmen: I am writing you a check for a million dollars, and some of you are not walking over to take it from my hands. That is a choice.
To be educated is a choice.
And anyone who thinks they can force a teenager to "make the right choice" has clearly never had kids of their own or been a teacher.
Of course, we try very, very hard to help students make the right choices. We create curriculum and programming and supports which guide students toward those better choices. What we cannot do, though, is make the choice to succeed for them.
Sure, some kids have barriers to success. Perhaps hundreds of those kids have passed through my classroom over the years. Many of those kids, with barriers seemingly insurmountable, succeeded with flying colors not because of anything magical I may have done. They succeeded because they chose to. In spite of reading disabilities and ADHD, they chose to succeed. In spite of parents at the dinner table calling them ugly and stupid and a waste of their breath to even talk about, they chose to succeed. They chose to do that assignment, and they chose to ask for help when they were confused. Maybe something I did helped them make that better choice, but it was that child who made the choice.
When we look at data, testing, and whatever else we use to judge a school's effectiveness, we cannot disregard this factor. I've heard rumors of kids who left their WASL (Washington Assessment of Student Learning) tests blank as a statement against a math teacher they did not like. I know many kids who admit to giving minimal effort on the science WASL because of the perception that it "doesn't count."
The data to prove this idea of student choice? In the year prior to the reading and writing WASLs being required for graduation, our building's pass rate for reading was 76%, writing was 77% and math was 55%. The year the requirement was put into effect, the pass rates jumped to 90%, 90% and 69%, respectively. Statewide, the numbers jumped as well. Did the teachers all over the state suddenly learn to teach in that one year? Doubtful. Kids chose to take the tests more seriously...and yes, they were very open in telling us that.
I used to beat myself up horribly when my students wouldn't finish homework or master the skills I'd tried to teach. As I've matured as an educator, I've had to learn to ask myself: did I give them every reasonable opportunity to learn? Did I adjust, give feedback, explore alternative means of achieving the learning goal? Did I do everything I could have done to clear a pathway to success for that student? If I could honestly answer "yes," I had to learn to absolve myself of the responsibility of that F or that missing assignment. Ultimately, it was beyond my control.
We need to keep this in mind every time we examine data on student success and turn our pitchforks on failing schools and selfish teachers.
Sometimes, we need to admit that the only ones who can "fix" our students are themselves.



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Yes, Travis, wow! You never know who will read this blog and for what reasons. These anecdotes and opines offer a description of how many people view this generation of public school teachers. It can feed anti-public school sentiment. And, it seems unclear how it helps a public education policy maker decide whether to support teacher recommendations.
I'm always surprised at how similar teachers are across the district. In my district we have a few struggling schools. I meet those teachers at trainings, meetings, or by visiting the school and they aren't any different from the teachers at the successful schools. In fact, sometimes they're better - tougher, more creative, more informed.
So what's different between the safe school up on the hill and the raucous school down in the valley? Socio-economic status and the education level of the parents. The school on the hill raises money to pay for all sorts of extra stuff that the other school can't afford.
It's not a matter of parents caring or not caring, it's a matter of how much they can do about it.
I think it is worth mentioning, too, that I have had many wonderful experiences with parents who have no illusions about their children. They understand their child's strengths and areas for improvement, and while not trying to limit their child, try to remain realistic about what can be accomplished how fast.
And as for choice, we need to also be honest about students' successes. The choice theory applies there as well: perhaps we have provided opportunities, but it was the child who made the choice to excel. I think we are better in our profession at recognizing and applauding those kinds of choices. Rarely will you meet a teacher who will point to a successful student and proclaim "I did that!" We are quick to give credit to the successful kids (which is a good thing) but also quick to blame ourselves and the system for the failing kids.
I've been struggling to decide which Kindergarten to send my son to next year: the neighborhood school down the street, with test scores that are on the low end, and a rougher rep; OR to the school in the district where I work, where I know more of the teachers, the "data" suggests "better learnin'," despite it being 26 miles from our neighborhood.
Initially I was worried about the neighborhood school because of the test scores...but a wise friend told me "I bet there are some alumni of that school who are doctors and lawyers as well." Even with low average test scores?? Of course that school has produced doctors, lawyers, and contributors to society, because those children chose to become those things
Ultimately, how can one school be "blamed" in the same breath for kids who prosper as well as kids who don't? Something else must be at play.
Late one spring I had a mom ask me if her daughter still had a chance to pass my middle school math class. I said yes, and as clearly as possible delineated what the student would need to do. The girl chose not to do those things, and she did not pass. The mom came back in, furious, and said that I had lied to her. I said no, I didn't. I don't have a crystal ball that will let me see which students will step up to the challenge. How could I know which choice your daughter would make? My job is to feed hope, not extinguish it.
"To be educated is a choice." This is the elephant in the room. It's true at the elementary level, too.
You are right.
One year I had a student teacher who was killing herself trying to engage a child who wasn't interested in academics during class, no matter what she designed that was intended to engage him. She went to his football games, she read his file, she called home and met with mom, she challenged him and respected his mind and he flat out refused to succeed.
Her university supervisor conferenced with her after an observation and said, "You are not here only for him. You are also here for the 31 other children in the class, and you aren't paying any attention to them. You may have to let him make his own choice right now."
I agreed then and I agree now. As someone who has failed a class or two, I know that no one can make you succeed. Sometimes, failing meets a more pressing need and teaches a more important lesson.
And the contractual obligation to bring each child to standard? I'm not going to fail 31 children just to meet the bottomless need for attention that one child has, and maybe if I stop meeting his need for negative attention he'll start using his skills to fight for some positive attention and instruction. When that happens I'll be ready, as I'm sure you would have been with your student.
Wow