Absent Heroes

I finally made it to the theater yesterday to see Waiting for Superman, a film that both depressed and inspired me. I don't necessarily agree with all the reasons for the failure of the US education system that the film purports. The problem is bigger than crappy teachers. It's dangerous to assign blame in one area when there are so many factors. The film also seems to advocate the banking model of education, which is, in my opinion, part of the problem with US public education. But the overall message of hope is valid. So is the panorama of a drowning system in desperate need of heroes.

US citizens on average cannot compete in a global job market. US students rank 25th in math and 21st in science out of 30 developed nations. In 1993, the average American could read somewhere between a 7th and 8th grade level, and US literacy rates are on the decline not the other way around. President Obama is criticized for being too "professorial" even though speech analysts have ranked his public addresses at a 10th grade level. Should our president be forced to dummy down his speeches, or should statistics like this be a wake up call?

The US education system is failing, and our country will fail as well. Despite the staggering statistics forecasting the downfall of the US's intellectual stature, US citizens have no lack of self-confidence. Our nation is dumber yet more confident than ever before. When will we wake up and realize the nightmare? After 2/3 of US jobs have been filled by more intelligent, more skilled, more competitive applicants from around the world?

Watching this film brought tears to my eyes, but even an ocean of tears will not fix the problem. All I could do was question who I am and all I do. What am I doing to change the world? Everyday, I go to work at Lincoln Land Community College. Everyday, I do all I can to reach a student, to inspire just one of them to fight for their dreams, to fight for success, to fight for their futures. Even though most days feel like failures. After work on Mondays, I leave my students behind, and my daughter and I volunteer for MERCY Communities, hoping that in some small way this meager effort will help these moms turn their lives around for themselves, for their children. But in no way am I doing even close to enough.

I have been told countless times by my colleagues that I am "too invested in my students" and that what we do is "just a job." Is it possible to have too much passion? I don't think so. Teaching is not "just a job," and I will go so far as to say that anyone who feels that way has no business teaching. Teaching is a labor of love. Anything less than that is unacceptable. I teach because I am passionate about learning. Because I am passionate about teaching. Because I am passionate about writing. Because I am passionate about the power that words can give a person. Because I am passionate about the academic and personal success of each and every one of my students. This is the standard I set for myself. It is the standard I expect of anyone who calls him or herself a teacher or any of its synonyms.

Our kids need heroes. We all need heroes. Somewhere, someone is waiting for YOU to be a hero. What the hell are you waiting for? Or will you just be one to point fingers when this nation crumbles because we were all too stupid or selfish to save it?

Just Another Lesson Learned

My second semester teaching, I implemented what I call self-evaluation assignments in my composition classes. I can't recollect what engendered the idea, but I imagine I must have read about someone who assigned something similar. After teaching at UIS one semester, I learned how to use this assignment more effectively and made quite a few changes.

Basically, students reflect on and analyze their writing practices including process, writing strategies, language mechanics, and feedback from readers including myself, classmates, and possibly friends, family, or writing center staff. This is probably the most challenging assignment my students tackle in my first-semester writing courses. Their responses must not only be thorough and thoughtful; they must provide specific examples from their own writing which they analyze in order to support their self-assessments regarding the effectiveness of the writing they produced.

Despite the challenge of this assignment, I believe in its power to transform the way my students think about writing, thus their ability to write effectively. I have noticed an unsurprising trend. Those students who perform well on their self-evaluations--that is, those who actually do the assignment correctly--have made drastic improvements in their ability to write more and more effective prose. Those students who don't take the self-evaluation assignments seriously, have literally made no improvements in their writing skills.

I have done all I can think of to reach a generally apathetic, uninterested, and completely disengaged group of students and have failed to help them see the importance of proficient language skills to their present lives or their futures. Unfortunately for most of them, based on the trends I've seen on their rubrics over the course of the semester, I foresee only a handful of students passing. Perhaps in retrospect, as they struggle to pass this course again next semester, my words will echo in their minds. Perhaps they will work harder to achieve what they are all capable of.

They somehow think minimal effort is enough to get them by. They don't seem to understand that the effort they are putting forward is not even close to the minimum it would take to pass. They see the A's and B's and C's on homework assignments and quizzes and somehow forget that their writing portfolio counts as 60% of their final grade. When most of them are receiving below expectations in most categories on the rubric, I can't even begin to fathom how they have deluded themselves into thinking they're all set to pass the course. Many will be learning a hard but much needed lesson if they don't change their attitude and work ethic asap because what they are currently submitting just isn't cutting it.

Most of [you] hiding

Others are shining

You know when you find it

In your darkest hour, you strike gold

A thought clicks, not the be-all, end-all

Just another lesson learned