Although I've had a lot of jobs, the three I've held the longest sort of define a career path within education. I spent eight years at an educational publisher attempting to hawk English-learning books in foreign countries. Within the same corporation, I transferred to a dotcom targeted at college students. Of course, that bomb no longer exists, but I am sure that if it did I'd still be sitting in my Aeron chair looking at the Chicago River through floor-to-ceiling windows. (By the way, I'm in that Aeron chair right now since I negotiated for it as part of the severance package. The current view is of my neighbor's yard in a decrepit New Jersey town.) Most recently, I spent four years teaching third and fourth grade in way, way upper Manhattan.
Teaching is hard. It's a lot of work for little immediate gratification from a mostly disinterested audience. Luckily, I had two things on my side. The kids thought I was funny when I was in a good mood and scarier than their scariest nightmares when something interfered with that good mood. I could turn it on and off like a light switch, and the kids would scramble—to get their work done or to peer pressure the naughty into good behavior—whenever they found themselves in the dark. As a result, I didn't have too many distractions from my teaching.
There were a lot of things I could have done better, but the one subject I knew I taught well was reading. I am, after all, a reader and I think I'm pretty good at it. Obviously, I also love to talk about books. As a result, my approach to teaching it was practice and discussion. During each lesson, I'd read a short passage with a focus on a particular item (like character or metaphor), they'd talk about it briefly with a partner, and then we'd discuss it as a group. Reading time was spent practicing what they just learned. Each student had a reading partner, and they were encouraged to talk quietly as long as the object was better understanding of the lesson. Homework was more of the same, but practiced individually.
This teaching model was standard for the entire school, but worked better in classrooms with the best discipline. It worked particularly well for me because I only needed a glance to send a kid, quivering, from Daydreamland to Superstudentistan. Yet, discipline was only a small part of the equation.
I think I was a successful reading teacher because I led by example. The kids were required to keep reading logs to track their progress, so I kept one as well. Parents and teachers signed off on theirs, and I let them sign off on mine. They would freak out seeing how many books and pages I read each day, not realizing that my six-hour train commute allowed for lots of reading time. I also read nearly every book in my classroom, which is why you won't get a Best of 2006 list from me. My reading log is obnoxiously heavy with Lemony Snicket, Artemis Fowl, and Judy Blume.
Even the worst-behaved students want to please the teacher. They wanted their reading logs to look like mine, but volume wasn't the only goal. Reading the same books gave us common ground. We were able to laugh about why ASOUE: The Vile Village
Trust me, this was all heavy stuff for fourth graders. Especially fourth graders who were, on the whole, below reading level and living in an inner city environment that competed for their attention. On the surface, it seemed like the books we read weren't relevant to their world, but the things we discussed, like feelings or mourning, most definitely were. Their progress was amazing and firmly solidified my disgust at people who say city kids can't learn or malign teachers at public schools. They don't know what they're talking about.
