Education Scandal Is Nothing New

With the scandal in Atlanta so recently in the news, I thought about some of the stories I have heard, similar to my own, about teachers who have suffered in the hands of the testing machine.  On this blog, I will occasionally share  stories of teachers who left school systems "poorly." Names of people and schools have been changed to protect anyone involved, directly or indirectly. Because the first story is so close to my own, I named the teacher Ms. Stokley.

Ms. Stokley

  

     Nothing in education surprises me anymore, most especially what happened in Atlanta. My last year of grade school teaching was at the prestigious St. Cassian School, which sits in the most affluent neighborhood in my city.  The school offers the very best of  benefits including catered lunches and a state-of-the-art computer lab. Most of the students were from wealthy and influential families.  When I arrived in 2002, another English teacher warned me, "You will think they are gems until you start breathing coal dust." She left me with that. I wish I had  gone with her. The 8th grade class not only out-witted me, they cost me my career. 

   Most kids in the 8^th grade English class were headstrong, and worse, arrogant. They could care less about present and past participles, favoring instead Spring Formal and the next St Cassian School social event. Homework seemed to be optional. If they bothered with it at all, it was taken from David, the only hopeful scholar in the group, and copied word for word. I kept warning them that the zeros for homework would count. Their incredulous glares spoke their opinion and intention, but I didn’t begin to realize what these kids were capable of until one of them, Sam, asked to see me after class one Monday. 

     “Ms. Stokley,” he said, “You don’t seem to understand how we learn.”

     “Don’t I?” I asked, wondering who he had heard this from.

     “No. You give all these stupid assignments, busy work, which you seem to lose or never grade, but we don’t know anything new.”

     “You are speaking for all of your classmates?” I asked.

     “Yeah, I am. I’m the only one not afraid.”

     “Afraid? Your classmates are afraid of me?”

      Laughing, he said, “No, not of you. Of consequences. Of  failing English 8 when you get angry, which happens all the time.”

     “I’m not angry all the time, Sam. The assignments you deem so stupid will help you review for the high school entrance exam. You are planning to go to St Albert’s next year, right?”

     Walking to the door, he said, “You don’t seem to get what I’m saying to you, Ms. Stokley.”

    I didn’t “get it.” He was a 14 year old, after all. Not until a month later, when I was called to the vice principal’s office, did I understand the warning. The VP, Mrs. Elliot, new to the post, was  degreed in early childhood education. Her poor understanding of teenagers led to what happened. 

     “Ms. Stokley, I have concerns that you hold biases against some of the students in the 8^th grade class.”

    “I disagree,” I said. “The 8^th grade class is a very intelligent group who spends their time avoiding assignments. I don’t dislike any of them, but I do expect them to complete assignments. Has there been a complaint?”

     “Yes. Sam came to see me. He said that he hasn’t been given back any of his homework assignments, and that you don’t seem to care if he passes or fails. Most troubling, he said that he is intimidated by you because you get angry all the time. He’s scared to ask for help when he doesn’t understand a grammar concept.”

    God help me, I chuckled. What an ingenious plan, I thought. “Forgive me, Mrs. Elliot. I believe Sam is very capable of any assignment I give him. His test score on the standardized test is one of the lowest in the class, so he needs to spend more time with English, but he is a very intelligent, capable student.”

     Well, I have to say, Ms. Stokley. Your laughter seems to prove his concerns. I am appalled by it. This is a serious matter. Do you have a problem with his race?”

     “Oh, please don’t misunderstand. I am not laughing at him. I am impressed by his maneuvering. He couldn’t persuade me to excuse him from the work, so he came to you to force my hand.”

     “He says he did the work.”

     “No, ma’am. He didn’t. He never does.”

     “Perhaps you have misplaced it.”

     “No ma’am. I haven’t. He never gave it to me.”

     “Everyone, including you, can make mistakes.”

     “But I haven’t in this case. He never gave it to me.”

     Mrs. Elliot lowered her head slightly. “Ms. Stokley, I think the error is yours, and I have written a citation for your employee file. Your behavior is prejudiced and unprofessional. This explains why 30% of our 8^th graders failed their entrance exam to St. Albert’s.

     I protested. “I have been teaching this group for three months, and you are holding me responsible for their entire education?”

     “Just what have you been teaching them? All of the students who failed the test were A students until they reached your class.”

     “I follow the curriculum guide to the letter. It’s true that I have to spend a little more time on some concepts.”

     “You couldn’t be. You produced failing grades.”

     Stunned, I left Mrs. Elliot’s office without signing my citation. She had effectively called me a liar. I kept teaching the 8^th grade class as best as I could, but it was the most miserable year in my career. The students refused to give any effort, and attempts to contact their parents failed. At the end of the year, I was summoned back to the office, this time with the principal, Mrs. Mitchell.

    “Well, Ms. Stokley, as you know we are in the middle of offering contracts for next year. I have decided not to offer you a contract based on your prejudiced views and inaccurate record keeping, both of which have irreparably damaged some in our student population. In short, you are being fired.”

    Quietly, she let that sink in and added, “You have the option of resigning. If you choose to resign, I will remove the citation from your record.  No other school needs to know about it.

     Fighting tears, I said, “You have accused me of something I am not guilty of, Mrs. Mitchell. An accusation like that will end my career. You know that I am under the alternative route to licensure. If I don’t teach in the same school system for another year, I lose more than just a job.”
     “That’s very unfortunate. Perhaps you can go to the public school system. Did you bring your laptop?”

     She couldn’t have heard me.  I will not teach at all, anywhere! I wanted to scream. Instead, I answered, “Yes, ma’am.

     “Good. I have a list of names who have reported you. You will change the 0s to 100s now. It will make the remaining of the year go smoothly.”

     Thinking she meant to fire me immediately if I didn’t comply, I changed the grades, reducing myself to a liar, which I learned didn’t matter in the eyes of the Church as long as the dishonesty fell to their favor.

     In October of the next academic year, I found a job at a career college teaching medical assistants how to write well enough to maintain their jobs. For a number of years, I tried to return to grade school. I even enlisted the aid of my senator, to no avail.

    The scandal in Atlanta doesn’t surprise me at all, but before anyone starts burning teachers at the stake, consider everyone involved. High stakes testing makes sinners of everyone.