It was two days until the “Ides of March” and a Friday. That
made it Friday the 13th. Hmmm. I was driving to work at that early
part of the day we call dawn, not to be confused with the dish detergent
that cleans oily ducks. As I drove down Rummell Road, a giant vulture flew from the left across the path of the car, narrowly missing me, but I just kept driving merrily along as if all was
well. Well, it wasn’t. I just hadn’t figured that out, yet. I looked in the
left driver’s mirror and caught an amazing view of a rising sun behind me. It
would have been enough to elicit awe on its own merit, but what made it even
more impressive was the fact that I was driving toward a setting, full moon. I
was caught between a rising sun and a setting moon. That phrase, later that
day, became the theme for a quick write exercise I presented in the last
classroom I ever taught and the last class I ever visited, a classroom of
middle school students, unusually cooperative, amusing and creative. The amusing and
creative is not uncommon for middle school kids, but the “cooperative” can be a
crap shoot, depending on the drama of the hour or the classroom management skills of the daily teacher. So, what happened next?
I went to the office, and as I was putting my purse under my
desk, the phone rang. It was a call from a high school teacher who was present at my last
“writing” workshop-as the district wide language arts writing instructor, I
had been stripped of my ability to introduce fun, enticing writing instruction and, instead, was given the responsibility of presenting, over
and over, trainings to middle and high school teachers on how to teach
a three paragraph essay for FCAT, the same essay fourth
graders, or maybe third graders were taught to write- back to the phone
call. From the other end of the line, I heard the tear-filled voice of a high school language art’s teacher, sick about the weak curriculum. She felt as if she were letting her students down,
not giving them the instruction they needed for their futures. I felt her pain.
She told me she wanted to speak up about
the situation but was afraid she would lose her job. The economy was in
the dumps in 2009, and a teacher’s job was more secure than most. I
consoled her as much as possible and ended the call with this, “Don’t worry. I will be your voice.” I quickly pulled together
the lessons I was going to use in my classroom visit and started for the door when I noticed I was way too early for my appointment, so I went back to my computer to
check email. I couldn’t concentrate on anything I read. I was feeling
tugged by a voice in my head or maybe my gut. I am not sure where that voice
came from, heaven or hell, but it echoed so strongly between my ears that I immediately began
to write an email to the world. Literally, to the world. Since the email was a
protest about what we were being made to do with our FCAT essays, I put it in
the formula of the essay for effect. It was effective. Yes, indeed, I
should have paid more attention to my early morning omens.
I finishd the email and shaken by my actions, I headed out the door toward my car, leaving my lesson plans behind, thinking about how many
times I had begged my new director and the new superintendent to talk about
their writing initiative. I began that plea, verbally, at the first meeting the new
superintendent pulled together for district resource teachers and
administrators for an introduction to his initiatives. When the
superintendent began to present his plans proudly, I must say, I was
astounded by the lack of depth in his plan for writing. The room watched and listened in awe, nobody saying anything of value in contradiction for fear of alienating
the “new guy”. I am not sure why, but I did not get that message, and so I
spoke up. I think I pushed it a little too far when two principals came and sat
on either side of me and stared at me with that look that says, “please
shut-up”. I did not, and so from that day on, “the new guy” cold shouldered me
with deliberate intent. I sent emails and begged. I tried to talk about the data
in our team meetings, but my new immediate boss came in from the “new guys”
district. Therefore, I spent the fall and winter presenting mediocre material
that set mediocre expectations for even our finest and brightest… until I didn’t.
Then, I wrote the email to the world, literally, to the whole world.
My take down, when I came back to the district that Friday
afternoon, was quick and painful. My computer and desk were remanded, my duties
put on lock down, and I was sent to the IMC where they put the “bad” teachers awaiting
punishment or reprieve. Some teachers lovingly named it "the rubber room". My job of nine years was cut completely by the next week due to "budget restraints". My new post was a table next to the loading dock. I was
no longer allowed to contact anyone, the world, without it being viewed by one
of the superintendents. I was no longer allowed to associate with any teachers,
other than my fellow banished, nor do any trainings or have any voice at all. “I
will be your voice,” was a bit presumptuous on my part. I worked on curriculum
the rest of the year and tried to appeal to the "better persons" in the people who I
thought had "better persons," but to no avail. After a series of appeals and a losing
mediation, I left education at the end of that year, 2009, and opened a
motorcycle repair shop with my husband, which I run to this day.
I am sharing this story because it seems
appropriate. My message still stands, and what has happened to us as Americans
in the last election, shows how timely the message still is. Here is a copy of the
email: Change of plans. The email will not let me copy it, so I will just rewrite it as the original was written. However, you will not be able to see the evidence that I sent the email to "the world". Note: "The Hook" and following titles are just names given to the parts of an essay when using one particular writing model. Oh, I just had to revise the first sentence, only, just a little, for clarity. None of the meaning or intention has been altered.
Subject: URGENT! PLEASE OPEN IMMEDIATELY!
Dear Friends,
The Hook
The power of the written word is once again made evident by the fact that many of you, because of the subject line, are reading this email when, otherwise, you may not have bothered. The written word is so influential that a simple email such as this can put a person's entire career in jeopardy. Yet, the instruction of writing is at risk throughout our pubic education system because it remains a secondary focus.
Support
The foundation of everything we teach as public educators has been passed down through generations of writing. I would even go so far as to say that our very existence depends upon where our written word came from and where it will go from here.
In spite of all of our slogans and campaigns, reading does not come first. That is not possible.
The 2008 report from Writing Now states, "Research cannot identify one single approach to writing instruction that will be effective with every learner because of the diverse backgrounds and learning styles of students...Still, current research on writing makes these things clear: Instructional practices, writing genres, and assessments should be holistic, authentic and varied." (James R. Squire, Office of Policy Research)
Call to Action
Do not accept weak methodology and generalized programs of writing that target our children of low resources and imply they can only become successful, real world writers with tightly scripted, single model formulas. Every child deserves the best curriculum we can possibly give them within our means. Financial resources may be slim, but we are rich in human resources and possibilities. The solution is not simple, but it is attainable. Give our students "real" writing across the curriculum, and train every educator to rise to that task. The power of the written word and the understanding of that power is a fundamental key to a bright future for us and our children.
Sincerely,
Linda Oliverio, LRS, Secondary Education
P.S.
Upon reviewing this piece, I would say that the power of the piece is not necessarily in the role or the topic, but it lies in the format and consideration of audience.
P.S.S.
To my Educational Leadership professor who stated that all movements in society are top down, I never believed that.
