Aligning our ACTIONS with our WORDS.

Here is my testimony from today's City Council Hearing on School Closings in Philadelphia.  Teacher Action Group organized a panel of 4 classroom teachers from across the city to speak on the impact of the proposed closings and our suggestions for solutions to the current education disaster the we find ourselves in.  

My name is Anissa Weinraub, and I am in my 7^th year teaching in the School District of Philadelphia.  I am a proud member of the Teacher Action Group and the Philadelphia Federation of Teachers, and am also an active part of the PCAPS coalition to save our public schools. 

Please, allow me to first say THANK YOU for hearing the true feelings of so many of your constituents across the city, and voting on a Resolution for a Moratorium on School Closings.  It is absolutely a crucial first step, and reveals to all of us the council’s commitment to our neighborhood schools as important hubs for community health and security.   

My question to us all today –  you as elected representatives, and all of us an as engaged civil society – is: what will be our next step?  I am hoping that it is a collective effort to go after the resources we need.

Allow me to offer a reflection I have gained from my years of teaching: As a teacher, my students learn infinitely more from my ACTIONS than my WORDS.

Young people can see when those words and actions don’t line up, and they will not be shy about telling you.  For example, if I say that reading is important, but then my school has no books in the library or I only teach short excerpts from test-prep curricula, then my words end up falling short because I’m not actually SHOWING them with my actions that reading is something of value.  So I work hard to make sure my words and actions are aligned.

The same thing, I think, can be applied to our words and actions as school leaders and elected officials.  We can tell our young people to “stay in school” and “stop the violence” and that “education is the key to their futures,” but we also must take concrete action to SHOW that we value their education, our city’s safety and their futures, and so should they.

Right now, the actions of many adults in decision-making seats are not teaching our young people that we care about them.  In fact, we’re showing them quite the opposite.

Over the past 2 years, we have had our public school budgets slashed by $1Billion from the state level.  Those who have been elected to “lead” are vigorously disinvesting in our communities by underfunding our schools, and forcing our local District to shut down our schools or hand them over to the highest bidder, taking away the vital relationships that have been built between adults and young people, expecting us to teach and learn in overcrowded classrooms, to do more with less, and forcing us into shallow, scripted curriculum in order to chase test scores, instead of encouraging real student-centered, engaging and participatory learning.

But this doesn’t have to be the lesson we teach the young people of Philadelphia about what they’re worth.  We can make different choices that show them they are our priority and we won’t settle for less than what they deserve.

In Philly, it feels hard to stomach the chorus that “there is no money” when the glow of Comcast’s glorious LED screen lights up 17^th street or the University of Penn continues to acquire property in my neighborhood, when the Department of Corrections’ budget increases and Natural Gas keeps being drawn out of the earth. 

So, I have come here today to ask you, members of the City Council, to take the next step.  Show us your continued moral leadership, and help us to get the resources our city’s schools so desperately need, so that we don’t have to throw our communities into chaos through massive school closures, and so that we can actually redesign our schools to meet our students’ true needs.

Help us raise hundreds of millions here in Philadelphia:

1.  by taxing major center city commercial real estate holders and corporations that don’t pay their fair share. 

2.  by taxing the Mega non-profits on their real estate holdings.

And then join with us, your constituents, and let’s go after the money in Harrisburg together.  Let’s use your political muscle and our strength in numbers of teachers, parents, students, and community members, and let’s go get the money that our young people deserve.  If you lead, I promise you that thousands of Philadelphia residents will follow.

And then we will truly be aligning our actions with our words, as we put down our collective foot and fight for fully and equitably funded public schools, so that our young people can be prepared to build a future which prioritizes human dignity over corporate greed, a future where the suggestion of selling out our communities to balance a budget will never again be on the table. 

That will be the most profound lesson we could ever teach. 

Notes From A Teacher Fully Committed To Public Education Who Just Left The District.

What it means to be leaving / Why I have to.

I am not a stranger to heartbreak.  Being someone who loves with the intensity befitting my astrology, I’ve had my (overwhelmingly) fair share of break-ups.  I’ve stayed in relationships for months, even years, longer than I probably should have.  I’ve jumped wholebody into grief, cried with balled fists punching the ground as my friends watched in compassionate horror, documented the process and made art and journaled and participated in extended amounts of healing.

Like I said, no stranger to heartbreak.

But this is different. Nothing in my archives feels exactly like this one. Cuz this one isn’t about a torrid love affair gone wrong.

No.  This is about My Work In The World.

About a dream that I made up about the world I want to help build, the teacher I want to be, the level of community-based transformation I get to participate in.  A dream I believed in so fully that having to pry my fingers off of it to let it go has been excruciating.  And more heartbreaking than any relationship gone sour. 

How do we say goodbye to a dream?

This specific manifestation was working at my dysfunctional neighborhood public high school.  I know.  Not too many people’s dreams.  I get it.  But it was my dream. 

Over the past almost decade, an extensive coalition of students, parents, community members, educators, and alumni worked to build up a plan for comprehensive transformation at West Philadelphia High School.  You can find out more about it here:

http://thenotebook.org/blog/114021/let%E2%80%99s-remember-struggle-made-new-west-philadelphia-hs-reality

As a teacher in the city, a supporter of youth organizing, an activist, and a committed neighbor, I became engaged with their work for school change back in 2007.  It was the closest thing I’d seen to democratic, community control of school reform.  And they were doing awesome things. 

They went from being a school where young people were in rebellion, literally communicating their outrage at the education they were receiving by trying to set the school on fire, to a place where Restorative Practices were being used to handle conflict, where they got to work on real neighborhood issues of land use and urban transformation, where the academies functioned like small schools, where the principal believed in her staff and students and allowed for distributive leadership. 

I went to volunteer there on my year out of the classroom.  I wanted to work there.

And I got to.  Two-and-a-half years, and a position cut, hiring freeze, lay off, and last-minute hiring process later, I was officially a teacher at West Philly HS.

Except, it wasn’t West Philly HS anymore.

The District had targeted the school as a ‘failure’ and under its Race To The Top era version of manifest destiny, the school was “Renaissanced.”  This meant it was put through a highly controversial and political process of nearly being handed over to a charter, and then, a year later, being restructured under a cookie cutter reform approach called a Promise Academy.  In this process, nearly 90% of the staff was lost, a wholly new administration was brought in, and an overbearing central office rolled out its litany of new mandates and boxed programs and scripted curriculum and test prep and extended day and checklists and observers and reporting and and and…  You get the picture.

It was their approach to school reform.  But it wasn't focused on the real things our students, my colleagues, and the school really needed. 

The school culture that had been taking shape was totally gutted. 

In its place, we got blank walls to cover with standardized materials, white and khaki and navy blue uniforms, and an extreme Discipline and Punish new order.

As you can imagine, my original enthusiasm and idealism about the kind of change we were going to make in our community through this school quickly hit the wall of bureaucracy, bad ideas, and such rampant demoralization as I’d never experienced before.

What does it mean if you FINALLY get to the EXACT place where you WANT TO BE, but it NO LONGER EXISTS? 

It, in fact, had been undermined, gutted, and replaced with a model of teaching and learning that was uninspiring, to say the least, and, I would argue, actually harmful to students and teachers and the future of our city. 

The whole year I tried my hardest to make the best of a bad situation.

Nod and smile, give lip service, and then try to go under the radar.

Like so many teachers have had to do.

But it got to me, seeing students treated like criminals, watching administration care more about the color of a student’s uniform pants than what they were learning in my class, being told to follow a script with fidelity, being threatened by the looming danger of the central office if I stepped out of line, trying to build up a wall to not notice how horrible student behavior had become as they met adults’ expectations for how bad they would act.

It got to me, not having leadership who wanted to talk about our mission for why we were there or our vision for what we wanted our students to be like in 4 years, not having the deeper types of conversations with my colleagues about the purpose of education or reflecting on our practice and giving professional feedback, not feeling like my energy was being met and expanded upon but that it was being shut down on most fronts.

Don’t get me wrong, my classroom was, for the most part fun, creative, and critical.  My students grew, became more reflective and analytical, developed more empathy, tried things they’d never tried before.  My students’ parents for the most part knew me, were excited about what their children were learning, and were surprised with how many times I called just to say that their child did something amazing in class.

And, in all truth, even though I took more sick days this past year than I ever had, and even though I felt like the administration could turn on me at any point, and even though I couldn’t stomach how badly students were being treated or the things the school seemed to prioritize, and even though there was no assurance that our school would stay a public school for very many years more, I wanted to stay.

But then, like clockwork, last spring the central office sent me a form letter that told me I had been force transferred.  My principal told me I was a little ‘outside the box.’  My union couldn’t help me.

And the principal from this amazing alternative school, El Centro de Estudiantes, a Big Picture School, had contacted me.  They had a spot open for this next schoolyear.  Why didn’t I come in to check it out, find out more, apply?

And I did.  The whole model of the school is to place the learning back into students’ hands.   Teachers facilitate students unlocking their passions and interests, and then students get internships to do real world learning for two days a week.  When they’re back in school, they’re working on inquiry-driven, multi-disciplinary projects that somehow intersect with their internships.  Teachers, who are called Advisors, are more like project managers, helping students structure their learning and their projects.  The school has a small-community culture, where advisors truly support their students, conflict is handled in restorative ways, and students are trying to build themselves in preparation for their actual lives.

So, because of several reasons:
- Being jerked around endlessly by the District for the past 7 years
- Seeing the limits of innovation/vision that the current administration has for our district's direction
- Remembering my frustration with the climate/culture of my school last year
- Feeling genuinely excited about a student-centered, project-based environment
- Being ready to keep growing as an educator

I’ve decided to leave the District and work at this small alternative school.

I am heartbroken.

And it is bittersweet.

Because I am also excited.

Hopefully I can grieve the loss of something that, while intensely frustrating and absolutely dysfunctional, was what I wanted to do, so I can gear up for a new way of approaching teaching and learning.

I’m not a stranger to heartbreak. None of us in public education are. 

I know I can mend.  We’ve had to countless times before.

My Breaking Heart, or Stories of School Reform.

My heart is breaking today.

The person who tells me what to do, told me what to do: another endless pile of paperwork with an endless stream of check-off boxes.

No, she didn’t just tell me to do them, she said, “If you don’t, the person above all of us will come in and insult you in front of your students and then fire you.”

So, this is what we’ve been reduced to?

Threats.

Insults.

Endless Administrivia.

As far as I can see in my neighborhood high school in Philadelphia, everyone has been running around like mad for the past week about a minor type of writing program they want us to institute, as if this one thing is the new silver bullet for our schools.

As if it will somehow solve the educational inequity and entrenched poverty and generational illiteracy that truly plagues our students.

Again, I ask, is this what we’ve been reduced to?

Believing that if we just tweak a rubric, enforce more paperwork, hunt for some ever-elusive ‘accountability protocol,’ that we will somehow Fix Our Schools.

I don’t know if anyone else notices, but our country is facing some of the most severe problems we’ve seen in several lifetimes. People’s debt has soared, jobs are nowhere to be found, elected officials slash one social service after another, mass incarceration rates are skyrocketing, and the already extreme gap between rich and poor people continues to increase by the day.

At the same time, any teacher will tell you that students are coming to them with fewer hard academic skills, a decreased ability to deal with their emotions, and an incredible lack of critical thinking or analytical ability.

And the best thing anyone running the School District can think of is to force all of its teachers to fill out more paperwork?

Of course my heart is breaking.

This isn’t education. This is busywork. And very consuming, depleting busywork at that.

Where is the space for real conversations about the purpose of education in our students’ lives, for the future of our city?

Where is the encouragement to move our curriculum and pedagogy to be more engaging, relevant, student-centered?

Where is the mentoring for educators to improve the ways we make learning whole, the ways we ask powerful questions, the ways we craft a day?

Where is the fierce belief that we can all move ourselves toward a new world in which we are liberated and free, equipped with the skills and strategies needed to solve the problems that life presents us?

Nowhere, as far as I can tell. Just broken hearts and broken promises and broken-down schools that get turned over to private managers.

It is not too much to demand that our schools fundamentally change to meet the needs of our changing society.

It is possible.

But, what I’m realizing today, what I’ve been working for years to not say out loud, is that it may not be possible inside of a top-heavy District with endless mandates and no true direction.

So, today my heart is breaking, because I want to believe so fully in the potential of the neighborhood school where I work. But not under these conditions. Not under this lack of vision. Not inside these threats.

I want to be an educator in a school that is fully funded, has a liberatory mission, distributes decision-making through true local governance, and ensures curricular autonomy.

Don’t you?

Then, how can we get there? I’m ready.

SRC Testimony -- Asking the hard Questions

This week I was one of the 2300 or so teachers and staff members laid off from the School District of Philadelphia. I’ve taught for 5 years in this district, at Science Leadership Academy and Kensington Urban Education high school. I’ve given countless hours and dollars to do my best to teach hundreds and hundreds of students to be creative and critical thinkers, able to solve the problems of the world they’re inheriting.

But I still got laid off.

Indeed, I am just one casualty in the increased attack on teachers, and the state’s prioritization of prisons and fracking over public education.

2300 staff members gone. That’s hard to wrap your brain around. But let’s just say that each of those 2300 people affected 30 students each. That’s 69,000 students who will be forced to learn in even more over-crowded classes, who will no longer have their favorite teacher, NTA, or counselor. That’s 69,000 families who have lost connection with another adult who played a crucial role in their child’s life. That’s 69,000 future citizens of our city who have just been stripped of a relationship that could have been the difference between graduation and getting pushed out of school.

I know what you’re going to say. “It’s a budget crisis. It’s out of our hands. Don’t blame us. Blame the governor and his State Budget.”

But we do blame you.  

The truth is, this is a time when there are choices to be made and you are making choices. You are making the choice to lay-off teachers, to give over schools to private companies, to create a tiered system of schools in our city, and dismantle instead of fix public education. You are making those choices rather than taking a real and committed stand for the children and families of our city. Rather than listening to the students, parents, and teachers, who have been eager to share another vision for positive school transformation not based in test scores and scripted curriculum, but in real student-centered, engaging and participatory learning. Rather than joining the growing collaboration of community members who are demanding money be put not into prisons and policing, but into our education system. In fact, there are places to get money. And your choices show priorities.

So then, Commissioners and Superintendent Ackerman, if your priority actually is with creating the best possible public education system, I want to ask you directly: what are you willing to do about it?

Indeed, these are people’s very lives we’re talking about. 2300 staff members today. 69,000 students next year. The ripple effect of your decisions will have a massive impact on our city for decades to come.

So, let me ask you all sitting here before me again, with the urgency that this question demands: What are you willing to do about it?

In fact, I want to ask everyone in this room: What are WE willing to do about this? What risks are we willing to take to get our city back on track without selling out our students, teachers, and communities to the highest bidder?

For anyone who still has a job in this District, how are you going to overcome the absolute Culture of Fear that pervades our schools and forces so many of us into silence? How are you going to speak out for what’s right for your students?

For anyone who still is a student in a District school, what are you going to do to organize with your fellow students to change the way the schools are being run to criminalize you and give you a sub-standard education?

For anyone who still has a child in the District, who are you going to pressure so that your child isn’t treated like a prisoner, isn’t stripped of their right to a free, quality public education?

From the middle east to Wisconsin, we’ve seen communities come together to move mountains, change the structure of society, end unfair legislation, and try to deliver justice to their communities. 

We are facing a crisis, Philadelphia, a crisis caused by the priorities which have thus far dominated our way of living, and it is up to all of us, parents, students, teachers and citizens, to work together with a common vision to change our schools so that they serve and prepare all of our young people for their lives today and tomorrow, and prepare them to build a future which prioritizes human dignity over corporate greed. A future where the suggestion of selling out our communities to balance our budget will never again be on the table.

So I ask us all again: what are we going to do?

********************

This piece was written with the help of Dana Barnett and Hanako Franz, TAG members

Doing the job of an educator: life in the midst of lay-offs.

Today I was laid off from the School District of Philadelphia.

Upon hearing the news, I made a quick, distracting joke: “And they didn’t even have the consideration to print the pink slip out on pink paper.”

8:52am and I needed to map out a gameplan for my life, make some decisions for my next career steps, start strategizing for the media campaign our organization needs to roll out in response to the dissolution of public education, and schedule an appointment at the optometrist before my health insurance runs out next month.

However, I still had copies to make for my classes, and the second hand of the clock was continuing its persistent swoop.

In the copy room, my colleagues gave me hugs, told me they “love my spirit,” and lamented the short amount of time we had together.

I carried my books and copies and computer up the three flights of stairs; as I ascended, the heat rose by 20 degrees and my morale drooped to an unaccustomed low.

This is the reality of working for a highly-centralized bureaucratic institution. Someone who has never met me, never sat in on one of my classes, never asked Daysha Gregory her opinion about mainstream media’s portrayal of teenagers, never asked Delilah Vazquez to read them her poetry about the complexities of life, just hacked away at a list and circled my name as one of the goners.

And it feels bad. It just feels bad. The countless hours and dollars I’ve spent in this District trying to do my best to teach hundreds and hundreds of students to be creative and critical thinkers, able to solve the problems of the world they’re inheriting.

They don’t really care.

Pink Slipped.

The School District of Philadelphia doesn’t really care.

But that isn’t even the worst part.

Today, I lost my job in the School District of Philadelphia, and the worst part had nothing to do with my paycheck, my 403(b), my health insurance, or the imminent scramble to figure out what to do next.

The worst part was the tears streaming down my students’ faces when they said: “But we fought! We organized! We went to Harrisburg and DC and the District. We marched and protested and doorknocked. And we lost. The state is still not giving us the money, and we’re still losing our teachers. I can’t believe we fought so hard, but lost anyway.”

And just before the dreaded “what’s the point?” could even fall from their mouths, I interrupted: “We’re going against a huge machine. It’s got money, and politicians, and slick PR. But we’ve got people power. And, for real, we’re going to win. We just have to organize more broadly and effectively.”

“But we lost.”

“And you’ll probably lose again. You’re going to win and lose countless times.”

“We were going to build a better school – one where the city could see that a neighborhood school CAN be great. But we’re losing all of our teachers, they’re severing our relationships, the class size is going up, and all they’re giving us is more security cameras. We’ll never build a great school now.”

“Listen: Life is long and the universe is expansive. If you wake up in the morning and believe that the world can be a better place, then you’re an organizer. And you’re going to figure out an improved strategy to win. Otherwise, you’re just going to have to lay down and watch everything crumble. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“OK. Then be sad today. That’s fine. But tomorrow, you better wake up believing that the world can be transformed. I will be here to help you think through how.”

And with that, they cried some more; I gave them all hugs and told them that we’d make a video on Tuesday that we could send out about the impact of teacher layoffs on students.

Hopefully they haven’t already lost all hope in movement-building.

Today I may have lost my job in the School District of Philadelphia, but I did my job as an educator.

Stop Waiting. Start Acting. Just like Thousands of Teacher Activists are doing.

If you’ve been keeping up on the debate around the direction of public education, you know by now that the “failing of America’s public schools” is because of me.

I’m a 5th year public high school teacher in Philadelphia. And I’m the face of the downfall of the public education system.

This is all according to the slick stylings of Davis Guggenheim’s documentary, Waiting for Superman, the crown jewel in the multi-million dollar marketing plan being orchestrated by a range of policy makers, urban school district administrators, charter school management groups, philanthro-preneurs like Bill Gates and the Walton Family, and a host of others.

Even with its contrived drama and obvious agenda to blame teachers unions for the state of schools, the hype of Waiting for Superman has swept public education into the spotlight. Sadly, the “debate” that the movie has elicited hasn’t centered on the real issues that my students, their families, and my colleagues are dealing with everyday.

I’ve gone to the movie. I’ve read the blogs. Now I’m ready for a real debate about the future of public education – one that focuses on the meaning of public and the purpose of education.

In Districts across the country, publicly elected School Boards are being dissolved and replaced by Mayor- and Governor-appointed Commissions. Here in Philadelphia, we see backroom deals and state-level politics play out in our local schools -- through hires, contracts, and land handovers. Isn’t school supposed to be the site of preparing young people for civic engagement? Then let’s act like it. We must create structures for meaningful, informed and inclusive participation in the decisions made about our schools. Ensuring local parent, educator and student leadership at all levels will strengthen the direction of education, as those who are most affected must be those helping to steer the ship.

This is especially true in this moment in President Obama’s reform agenda. Instead of bringing in outside managers to “turn around” schools that don’t perform well on standardized tests, we should look to local communities, students, and educators to shed our wisdom and knowledge on what our schools need to be transformed into institutions that truly meet our needs. Again, this process must be bottom-up, participatory and highly democratic. Let’s put the public back in public education.

And, while we’re at it, let’s bring meaning back into schooling. While my colleagues and I are not Supermen, we are trying our best to facilitate the process of human development – learning and growing, unlocking curiosity and following lines of inquiry into new understandings. Unfortunately, that train gets derailed far too often by today’s standardized testing regime. Instead of scripted test preparation, my students deserve opportunities to develop their critical thinking, with curriculum anchored in their lived experiences and cultural histories. And they deserve high quality, comprehensive assessments to demonstrate both their growth and the places where they still need to be pushed. Bubbled-in answer sheets are not going to help this generation be equipped to solve the problems of the world they are inheriting.

The truth that Superman fails to portray is that there are thousands of other teachers like me working in districts around the country to build partnerships with student, parent and community groups in our quest to improve a meaningful, public education system.

To anyone who truly wants to see a change in schools in this country, I encourage you to stop Waiting and start Acting. Join an organization fighting for equitable funding, relevant curriculum, an end of the criminalization of youth. There is never going to be a hero that sweeps us away into the clouds. There will just be the collective power of millions of us moving toward the transformation we want to see.

I’m ready. How about you?


Anissa Weinraub
Philadelphia High School Teacher
Member, Teacher Action Group Philadelphia
Member, Teacher Activist Groups National Network

Going against the schedule: How sitting in a circle transformed my students

Let me take this moment to say a huge THANK YOU to the folks at the International Institute of Restorative Practices. They helped me harness the energy of my amazing, although highly misunderstood, students today, by having taught me the power of the circle. In 47 minutes, I was able to turn a class of angry and frustrated 9th graders into excited, self-motivated learners/doers. If it hadn’t actually happened to me, I would think this were just another storybook case study.

7th period rolled around and through my door trudged a reluctant bunch of angry faces. They were yelling at each other, telling each other to shut up, get outta my way, don’t make me come over there and hit you, I hate you, I hate being in this stupid class with that stupid kid. After a few minutes of unproductive shushing and attempted redirecting, I looked at the board, with my perfectly labeled ‘objective’ and ‘do now’ and thought: this class doesn’t need to explore imagery in a piece of fiction. We need a community circle.

I asked them to get into a circle, which they did, moaning and groaning and slapping the tops of their desks. I picked up my squeezy apple stressball and said, “We’re going to pass this around. When it comes to you, just say one word or phrase that describes your feelings.”

I started with mine: Thrown off.
Then theirs: Agitated. Frustrated. Angry. Annoyed. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored.

“Ok,” I said. “How would you prefer to feel?”
Productive. Happy. Excited. At home. At home. At home.

“Ok. You all said that right now you’re in a crappy mood. And that you’d prefer to feel better. Given that we’re at school for 7 ½ hours a day and we can’t just go home, what do you think you could do to feel the way you’d like to feel?”

And then I just let them take control.

“I don’t want to be with the same people the whole day.”
“I want these teachers to not be so boring. They’re not teaching us anything.”
“I want to learn something interesting.”

They then wanted to know why the Support Aid was with them. Were they the ‘slow class?’

I told them to ask her. She was a person. Just ask her.
And someone did.
And she told them that it was her job to give teachers more support, and this was just her assignment. She wanted to help them.
They suddenly realized that she was an actual human doing her job, and not just some random policing force, or, worse in their eyes, a symbol that they were ‘slow.’

The conversation turned to why another school got to have brand new facilities and we had such an old, falling apart building.
And then why we didn’t have any performing arts opportunities, because, as one of my students said, “I’m sure we all want to perform.”

I told her that she should ask everyone what their talents are.
So she did. She passed around the apple, and everyone said that they were artists, dancers, and athletes.

And that’s where everything changed.

One student asked for the apple, and said “Why doesn’t our school get dancers together and perform for the Puerto Rican Day Parade?”

At that point, the class erupted in enthusiasm.

“Yeah! We should represent our school!”
“And wear our shirts.”
“And do bachata.”

I asked them what they thought they needed to do to make that happen.

One girl decided to be the facilitator. They listed all the steps it would take to reach their goal. Two others made flyers to get students interested. They made a plan for a rehearsal schedule and asked me to be their sponsor. Who could say no to student initiative?

During all of this, the students who had been feuding were working together. The class spoke directly to the guy who was constantly being disruptive, asking him to be quiet. But this time, they weren’t mean. They were just not interested in being distracted from their goal. And he listened.

It turned out that we were too late to register for the parade, but they didn’t care. They decided to self-organize a dance club, to do bachata, salsa, hip hop, and break dance. And they convinced another teacher to organize a talent show for October, so they could show off their soon-to-be-amazing moves.

As the class period ended, I asked them to sit in the circle again. “Give one word to describe how you feel.”

Excited. Happy. Motivated. Excited. Excited. Excited.

It felt like a sitcom. Unruly high school students sit in a circle and talk about their feelings. They transform instantly.

But that’s what happened.

That’s the power of allowing students to voice their concerns, ideas, emotions, and humanity. They normally know exactly how to solve their problems, and, if given the space and the structure, will come up with something that is more motivating than what anyone else could force onto them.

And I wondered, if an administrator from the District had been in my classroom, would they have approved? Or would they have rated me unsatisfactory for not meeting the scheduled standards and the scripted outcomes? Would they have told me that I wasn’t helping raise test scores or meet AYP?

But they weren’t. So I did what needed to be done.

I’m glad I was able to have the autonomy to use my classtime in a way that could build a sense of community in my classroom and personal power in my students. What if I’d just been following a script, like hundreds of my public school colleagues are forced to do everyday?

To the reformers in their office chairs and their clipboard monitoring walk-throughs, I was diverting from the ‘schedule.’ To my students, I was helping them unlock their passion, energy, and motivation for being in school. You tell me, Mr. Reformer, isn’t that the point of education?