Dear Editor:
Of all the professions, teachers are perhaps the most isolated from one another. Lawyers, doctors and business people confer and compare notes regularly, policemen ride in cars together and firefighters gather for meals and camaraderie at the local firehouse. The typical teacher, on the other hand, has no idea what’s happening in her colleague’s class across the hall. Faculty rooms, the designated space for teachers to socialize, are too often dominated by the presence of negative, burnt out, complaining teachers who create a poisonous atmosphere. This is especially toxic for young and idealistic teachers. Indeed, my graduate school of education professors at NYU went as far as to warn new teachers to avoid faculty rooms.
For the past six years I’ve taught English at three different NYC public high schools — challenging assignments where in each case I replaced the regular teacher who quit — and as an adjunct professor at colleges in New Jersey. I’m currently on a quest to teach high school in Hudson County.
One of the few spaces for collegial conversation I’ve discovered is a salon for educators that takes place in the NYC home of noted education philosopher Maxine Greene. This salon has been transformative for me, both as a teacher and a person. The questions I continue to encounter there, especially about the crucial role that the arts, dialogue and community building should play in education, I wish so badly to explore with my Hudson County colleagues.
How, for example, can the popular arts that young people already resonate with such as music, film and dance be affirmed so that apathetic classrooms come alive — in a way that doesn’t compromise standards? The lovely film My Big Fat Greek Wedding, for example written as an autobiographical one act play by Nia Vardalos, could teach students to affirm their own lives as a rich source of material for stories as they reach beyond fixity towards their own transformations. And now that hip-hop has finally made it to Broadway in Def Poetry Jam, a vital pastiche of young voices that pulsates with energy and life, might stodgy and stuffy teachers afraid of the new be more willing to begin a dialogue with young people about the song lyrics that matter to them?
Or consider the power and beauty of such timeless works of song art as the Beatles “Let It Be,” or Simon and Garfunkle’s “Sounds of Silence?” Think of the social relevance and healing nature of these poetic tunes — of the moods, feelings and conversation they could evoke and inspire in classrooms. As corney as it may sound, I recently led my students in a recital of Fred Rogers’ “A beautiful day in the neighborhood,” a tribute to the passing of a wonderful soul and deeply caring educator. I find that a “music day” where everyone, including the teacher, brings in and plays a song that’s special to them, is a wonderful way to break down barriers, affirm student voices, instill appreciation of the arts and create community in the classroom all at the same time.
Speaking of community, the other night at the Hoboken Elks Club, where I’ve been a member for six years, I looked around and counted my blessings that so many caring older men know me and take an interest in my life. Too many of our young today are hurting simply because they have no adults who pay attention to them. Might we imagine new projects for the young — a junior Elks Club perhaps — or spaces like the weekly conversation salon I facilitate Wednesday evenings at the Symposia Bookstore at 511 Willow Ave., to give young people a greater sense of connection to each other and the adult community? Because George Bush and Colin Powell are both big advocates of mentoring (Bush mentioned mentoring at least six times during his State of the Union speech), there’s federal grant money available now for mentoring programs.
To explore these and other questions related to our teaching, I’m beginning a dialogue group for educators in Hudson County. If you’re interested in being part of an inquiry-based conversation that seeks to break from submergence in the fixed and given, overcome apathy and dare to imagine schools (and the world) as it ought to be rather than how it is, please join me. As we share our stories and stay connected, we’ll refresh, renew and invigorate our practice. At long last we’ll emerge from isolation. My number is 201-792-0085. Thank you.
John Bredin