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I debated going to Teach For America’s 20th Anniversary Summit right up until the last minute last weekend. I was tempted by memories of the contagious energy that comes out of TFA events and by the hope of seeing old friends from my cohort. But I was also wary because I often end up feeling alienated and irritated by the content and structure of TFA events. I decided ultimately to save the price of bus fare and the admission ticket and stay home.

It’s easy to get caught up in the spirit of TFA and be inspired by the message and the stories (which, unless they’ve changed since my last experience, are pre-formulated so as to end with “And that is why I teach for America”). And for some, myself included, it is also easy to sit, stew and scribble vitriol in the margins of your agenda about “vague statements,” “missing the point,” and the inappropriateness of “teacher-as-hero.” What I continue to find incredibly difficult is to keep a balanced perspective and piece apart the good and the bad. So, for my own sake, I tried to pick out two small things that embody the good and the bad.

One of the most important lessons instilled in me with TFA was the “academic impact model.” (As a caveat, I have seen many non-TFA teachers fully embrace this model, and it certainly was around before TFA.) The academic impact model is an image with “Student Achievement” at the top, being driven by “Student Actions,” which are driven by “Teacher Actions,” which are ultimately driven by “Teacher Skill, Knowledge and Mindset.” In other words, it is the teacher’s actions and mindset that drive everything else — it is the teacher’s job to always, always, always reflect on what he or she could be doing differently to drive student outcomes.

It can be so frustrating to watch a teacher set up a student for failure and then blame it on the child. When meeting with teachers at both my previous public school and current charter school, I have found too many teachers too easily dismiss the lack of individual student achievement as the fault of the student or the family: “That kid is just plain lazy.” “The only problem is that they don’t do anything with their kid at home.” “That kid just doesn’t know how to behave; they are never doing the right thing.” “This kid still hasn’t gotten it and we’ve gone over it a thousand times.”

Is it the teacher’s job to go to extreme lengths to involve themselves in the child’s home life? No. (more…)

“Dear Ms. Pallister,” reads the meticulous handwriting of a second-grader at my school. “Happy Birthday!  The school commutiay would’nt be the same without you! I remember you helped me and M with math about coins. Are you excited that today is your birthday? Or, you are not very excited?  I adore you very much! Sincerely, A.”

“Dear Ms. Pallister,” reads another. “Happy Birthday you are the tec good teechr tetr in Plot! Love, T.” and on the back, “wiuh you are A tech tecch r wiuh?” This one has green marker looped in a zigzag around every word and is one of the few I really can’t decipher.

Another simply says in pencil in the upper left corner “u  p  y  o  g” and underneath that “You pick your own gift,” and in the middle in green marker, “Ms. Pallister.” I am potentially the most intrigued by this card, but there is no identifying sign anywhere on it, so I don’t know which child is promising me a gift of my choice, or if that is necessarily even the intended message.

One of the most continually astounding and often frustrating aspects of teaching in an elementary school is seeing the dramatic spans of academic achievement and developmental ability within a single classroom. I am continually torn in how to respond to that gap. (more…)