Thank
you very much for those kind words. I’m very honored to
have been selected as one of the Ernest Caverly Award recipients
this year. I want to thank all my Runkle colleagues both past
and present who supported my nomination and those with whom I’ve
had the pleasure and privilege to work with over the years. I
also want to thank all my family members and colleagues who are
here today. After thirty years in the classroom, I still find
teaching to be a very humbling experience most days. Right now,
I’m experiencing a major case of the Impostor Syndrome knowing
how many outstanding educators there are in the Brookline Public
Schools. Usually, I begin developing these feelings of insecurity
around early August when I start thinking about the upcoming school
year. At the end of every summer, I have a hard time imagining
if I can “pull off” another year—knowing all
that goes into a successful school experience. However, this particular
extreme case of the Impostor Syndrome began around 10:30 on the
morning of Wednesday, April 14.
It
was at that time, about a month ago, that Dr. Silverman, Skye
Kramer, and Runkle School Principal David Summergrad walked into
my classroom to inform me about the award. They offered their
congratulations as well as a subtle reminder that I would need
to give a speech. In fact, they left my classroom reiterating—we’re
looking forward to your speech. This started what became an ongoing
pattern for the next few weeks. People would offer me their congratulations
and almost immediately thereafter would remind me that I would
have to give a speech with several people also mentioning I would
probably also have to get a new suit as well. So as I thought
about it for a few days “have to give a speech and get a
new suit” --it occurred to me that just about a year ago
to the day I faced the same predicament—my son Josh’s
Bar Mitzvah—I had to get a new suit and I had to give a
speech. I began to feel somewhat relieved. I had a relatively
new suit and a pretty good speech. The suit still fit but when
I dug out the speech and began by reading the words Mazel Tov
Josh—I knew the speech would need a little tweaking for
today.
I sat down and many thoughts, children, colleagues, and experiences
started flashing back in my mind. I thought about playing school
with my siblings at a young age and how in high school I confronted
one of the few teachers I respected and asked him—Bruce
MacDonald—why on earth he wanted to be a teacher. At that
time, I had some vague idea I would study economics and law. Being
very disheartened by my high school experience at the time, I
just couldn’t imagine why a seemingly bright and capable
adult would choose to be a teacher when he could have entered
business, law, or some other more rewarding profession.
Well--a
funny thing happened on my way to Wall Street and the business
world. I never got hired or fired by the likes of Donald Trump.
During my freshman year at college, I started tutoring a middle-aged
man and helped him obtain his GED. At the same time, I got involved
in my college’s neighborhood tutoring program at a local
elementary school. One thing led to another and I soon left the
world of supply and demand for the land of number 2 pencils.
Wanting to try and make school more enjoyable than my own experiences,
I entered the profession with some noble goals for sure—wanting
my students to become lifelong learners and connecting the school
curriculum and community to the world at large. But in reality,
I think I served more in the capacity of being a big brother and
party planner with little sense of goals and actual learning.
For
my first few years of teaching in Chicago, I encouraged my students
to call me Jay and several classes took to affectionately naming
me Shuggy. I was fine with this. The students seemed to like me,
I liked them and like any good party planner we seemed to have
a good time most days. About fifteen years ago, one of my former
Chicago third graders appeared at my classroom door one day greeting
me in fact with “Hey Shuggy, how’s it going?”
He was about to start law school in the area and he had found
out I taught in Brookline. We had a pleasant chat, reminisced
a bit, and coincidentally, this former student was just featured
in a New York Times article last month discussing his work as
chief legal council to Chicago Mayor Richard Daley.
So
in looking back at my initial entry into the profession, maybe
I did learn that developing close and genuine relationships is
one aspect of good teaching—even if I wasn’t too effective
managing the classroom or pulling off very many smooth lessons.
I
entered my next stage of teaching when I began in Brookline 25
years ago. Going from big brother and party planner to teacher
as magician or as I affectionately describe it teaching by osmosis.
Webster’s dictionary defines osmosis as an often-unconscious
process of assimilation or absorption. As an osmosis disciple,
I thought that just having the students engaged in the process
of learning and doing should be more than enough to be an effective
educator and still have a good time. Present students with an
engaging project and the learning will come—my version of
the field or classroom of dreams. No need for much skill work
or formal lessons. Maybe I wasn’t the only one in the mid
1970s and early 1980s who thought this way, but my seemingly total
reliance on process learning to the neglect of content and assessment
makes me cringe a bit today when I think how ineffective I probably
was at that time.
It
was during my teaching by osmosis stage that the Brookline Education Foundation
came into existence. At a time when there were many blue ribbon
panels prescribing how teachers should teach and how schools should
operate, I was somewhat skeptical about the Foundation at first.
But as I got to know several of the board members-- Stephen and
Jane Lorch, John Hodgeman, Deborah Brooks, and David Hilburn--
I became a true believer and ardent proponent of the Foundation’s
efforts. From the start and to this day, the Foundation members
have only cared about supporting teachers and their endeavors
with no hidden agenda. With their encouragement and through the
collaborative efforts of many Brookline colleagues, we started
and published a journal entitled Reflections, which featured the
writing and artwork of Brookline teachers for seven years. The
Foundation also supported my initial efforts to start a cable
television program featuring Brookline and other educators, which
we’re still involved with to this day. Through the support
and encouragement of the Foundation, I’ve been able to learn
about the benefits of reflecting about one’s practice and
the value of working with colleagues both in and out of the Brookline
schools.
Having
the opportunity to work with my Runkle colleagues in the Learning
Teaching Collaborative with Simmons College since 1989, has underscored
the value of collegiality. Being able to serve as a mentor to
a number of interns and student teachers has, in turn, significantly
informed and improved my own practice.
The
birth of my own children between 1990-93, helped remind me that
all students, all children are individuals and that as teachers
we need to try our best and meet their special needs and interests.
That as teachers we have a sacred trust with parents as we work
with their children on a daily basis from September to June.
1993!
While we could all go on and on about the 1993 education reform
act in Massachusetts, this movement has helped me become more
explicit with my own teaching. It’s helped me be clearer
in my own mind as well in my students’ minds what we’re
trying to accomplish on a daily basis. These reform efforts have
helped me leave the teaching by osmosis stage and have helped
to clarify for me what high expectations should be and the value
of ongoing assessment.
This
brief summary of the stages I’ve gone through as a teacher
brings me to the present. All my past experiences have helped
influence what I value today as an educator. Respecting and appreciating
students as individuals, the benefits of collaborating with parents
and colleagues, the importance of being explicit and having high
expectations, creating an engaging curriculum and making connections
outside the classroom to the real world. What I’ve also
learned about teaching is that there is no clear-cut, step-by-step
recipe for good teaching. There are many successful styles from
which we can all benefit from observing and learning about. Because
while there may be some common aspects of effective instruction,
the craft of teaching cannot be bottled and mass-produced.
Writing
instructor Peter Elbow and teacher Simon Hole remind me of this
point and those August feelings of inadequacy I shared earlier
when they talk about “Teacher as Rain Dancer.” In
his book Embracing Contraries, Peter Elbow shares how ”[Teaching
seems] too much magic and mystery. I always felt nervous, even
afraid. If I got the steps right for the rain dance, rain came,
but I never knew till I was wet whether I was close. I never seemed
to have any sense of what a good rain dance looked like.”
So while I’ve gotten wetter and wetter in the classroom
as the years have progressed, there are still too many dry moments
reminding me that there’s at least another stage or two
I need to enter as a teacher.
Well,
I’ve been able to make it through the speech part and I
hope the suit holds up for another few years. Because as far as
I know, the next public speech I’ll have to give will be
in two years at my daughter Sarah’s Bat Mitzvah. While it
didn’t work today, I look forward to starting that speech
with Mazel Tov Sarah.
In
closing, I’ll just say again, that standing here is like
standing in my classroom most days –a very humbling experience.
I hope we all continue to become better rain dancers and that
our students get drenched on a daily basis. Thank you very much.
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