One of the things I am proud of, and always will be, is the community of bloggers of which I am a member.
This community is made up of the most diverse individuals who I would have never met otherwise. Included in this group are readers, writers, critics, moms, dads – nearly every type of person: those of many races, beliefs, and opinions.
Among these are those I value the most: educators.
It is not an easy job, and sometimes not appreciated as much as they deserve.
Not long ago, I wrote an essay/commentary titled “A Canon Under Fire“. It was inspired by a situation that caused me to evaluate my own opinion on high school English curricula. Shortly thereafter, a discussion began on Twitter during which an English teacher, who is also a book blogger, brought up some excellent points and insights.
She followed up by leaving the following comment on that post. I reproduce it here, in its entirety (and with permission), as I wanted my readers to see an educator’s perspective.
Thank you Becky for your time and willingness to share. I applaud the work you do and the effort you make to help your students in every way you know possibly how.
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Wow. As an English teacher, who teaches both AP courses and regular courses, I have to say that the scenario your post centers on is not foreign to me. Every year I have a student who is either not allowed to read one of the pieces I’ve selected, or whose parents ask for a lengthy explanation behind its validity. I know, it’s my job, so I readily do my best to accommodate. A lot of times, the “canon” or “classics” are taught as a way of setting a literary foundation so that students see the progression that American and British literature have undergone. It’s HARD work, but there are definitely ways of drawing students into the canon so that they find personal connections, and ways of seeing the reasons a piece might have endured for so long. No, we don’t stick just to the oldies, but it’s funny how you’re “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” If you do teach them, people want you to teach more “relevant,” contemporary pieces. If you don’t teach them, people feel that you haven’t adequately exposed students to the foundation pieces of that curriculum. It’s a hard line to walk, and I know that with each year, I try to mix things up, and take away the best…tossing the worst! Who would have thought that my students would love what I had them do with Oedipus Rex by Sophocles (all read in class as a performance), and hate the contemporary short stories I shared with them out of Asia? In the end, I take responsibility, and have reevaluated my unit plans.
I really think that teachers need to already have a plan in place for possible accommodations, where they have to give a student another option. I also think though, that parents should get a global view behind why a novel is being taught before demanding it not be taught at all. If someone flat out told me that I couldn’t teach something, I’d be pretty gutted, because I wouldn’t have put it in place if I hadn’t thought through how I wanted to use it! Just this year I had a mother who refused to allow her daughter to read Kate Chopin’s novel, The Awakening, on the grounds that it’s “dirty,” and that women don’t feel that way. Because it was an AP course, I couldn’t excuse her from the novel, but gave her some alternatives.
The funny thing is though, that her banning from this book caused a real stir in my other classes, and we had several days of in-depth conversations about expectations we place on wife, mothers, and women. The conversations were fantastic, AND that test ended up being on the AP exam! By the way, to the commenter, please be aware that many AP programs are trying to grade students NOT according to where they will score on the AP exam, but on their progression across a hard, rigorous curriculum. I have no doubt that I probably have students that scored an A-/B+ in my class who probably showed up on the day of the test and didn’t pass.
Do I feel those students are prepared for college? Absolutely. The difference…they didn’t get credit and will be taking literature courses rather than jumping ahead. In my opinion, high school students are at a severe disadvantage when it comes to the the AP Literature Exam, as they don’t have the brain development and life experience to really “get” it. That’s a hard test, and we go into it with a full understanding that they have a lot they have to do to prepare for that test. I think it’s pretty unfair to say, “Ok. You did all the assignments, read all the pieces, but can’t intellectually understand the plight of an unhappily married wife and mother, so I’m going to dock your grade.”
We give them the skills to get there, but they can’t all wrap their heads around it, and I can’t just fail them. Most of my students work their tails off, and do all they can to pull a high B, high A in AP, but still might not pass the test. We do our best, but that’s the nature of using a test to quantify what a student knows. Honestly, I don’t give A+, but can say that there will be some students that will not do well on the test, even after all we’ve done to prepare them.
Listen, I get what you’re saying, and I don’t think kids are better prepared for college, because very few of them are motivated. To that end, I have my opinions (need more integration of technology and possible splitting of schools according to skill), but watered down curriculum comes as much from outside pressure as it does to a teacher’s lack. Sometimes, as with the situation created in the article, a teacher feels defeated and does whatever makes parents, students, and administrators off their case. Is that good? No, but I see why it happens. Thankfully, it’s not happening for all of us.
In the end, there should obviously be differences in expectations and curriculum for the different types of classes. Communication between all involved, and some accommodations in place “just in case,” would probably have solved a lot of the bad scenarios presented.
Becky
One Literature Nut…
I can only hope that my children gain a teacher who is willing to go under fire and take some bullets to get good and relevent literature to them in the class structure. I understand over parenting and over concern about literature has always been around but we as Americans seem to take it way too seriously. More seriously than any European country. Children will learn about things we do not want them to regardless. I would rather my children be exposed to the evils of the world via literature and in a controlled enviornment where a teacher leads a discussion and my children are better off by example.
As a non parent and a substitute teacher, I’m in awe of what teachers have to do today to walk a line. I also seriously think that I was smarter in high school than I am now – braver? more in-tune with the education construct? I still remember my parents telling me that kids are ‘smarter’ ie know too much and are yet less mature than prior generations and it just fascinates me to no end. I just read Awakenings a few months ago… dirty!?!? TV commercials these days are ‘dirtier’! life is just so wierd.
After reading A Cannon Under Fire and drawing from my own experiences, I have to question the idea that parents “need” to be involved in their kids’ education at the high school level. In grade school or middle school, I can see a parent expressing concerns over reading material; I can even understand parents who don’t want their little kids to read Harry Potter–I think it’s over-reacting, but I understand it. But high school? Exactly how much are you going to stunt these kids’ intellectual and emotional growth, parents?
The thing is, books are all about ideas. I see teenagers as being capable of evaluating the merits of an idea–maybe not as fully as someone with more life experience, but they don’t take everything at face value the way little kids do. Therefor it boggles my mind that parents would want to control their teenage children to the point where they would want to regulate the very ideas that their kids are exposed to. Kinda psycho, imo.
I see here two words that, to me, mean two different things yet have validity to what you are saying.
Need and control.
Parents do need to be part of their child’s education, but not so much that it becomes a form of control.
For me, needing to be part of my son’s education was more a desire to watch him grow intellectually as well as emotionally. That when he felt confused, or was questioning a decision or idea, I had some clue as to what was going on and could be as supportive and informative as I could if he chose to disucss it with me.
By the time they are in high school, teens have been exposed to much more than we think. Another reason I wanted to be involved, but not at the point of controlling. I reserved that aspect of my parenting for things such as abiding by a curfew, expectations that homework and chores would be done as required, to adhere to a set of ethics not simply of my own choosing, but those that make all of us a productive member of society.
As for abortion, murder, homosexuality, etc. he drew his own conclusions regardless (not in spite of) of my own opinions. It amazes me that in some respects we can differ so much, yet the respect we have for each other keeps those differences from ever becoming contentious.
I truly believe that this is because I have always been involved in, but not controlling, my son’s education and, more importantly, his life.
I guess to condense this “rambling” of mine:
Parents do need to be involved. But as for control and regulation? I agree, when they are younger as they are simply too immature. As teenagers, we must begin to step back and allow them the space to grow into the adults they are soon to become.
Not that I could ever be accused of being an indulgent parent. On the contrary, the stories of my over-protectiveness are legendary. Hey, I’m a mom. It’s like a rule or something.
Daughter of teachers here. I’ll be brief.
My mother read all the books I was assigned; you can do that sort of thing if you don’t spend half your life watching TV. We discussed them over dinner and whenever she felt an assignment was ridiculous or useless, she would explain her opinion to me, not the teacher, and then we’d make fun of the Teacher’s Edition interpretation.
I read Tom Sawyer, Witch Week, Lolita and MacBeth and I didn’t turn into a racist, spell-casting whore who murders guests in their sleep. While I admit Faulkner’s Sanctuary sparked an interest in self-defense, I was far from traumatized by it.
Having taught refugees English idioms and American culture, however, I find myself more and more explaining these common literary references to born-Americans simply so they can get more enjoyment out of jokes they missed on the Simpsons because their parents wouldn’t let them read controversial books which form the basis of our collective culture. I find that disturbing.