Sunday, February 13, 2011
Anonymously yours...
Last week, I read a newspaper story about a teacher in the suburbs who received a suspension for comments she posted about her students on her blog. Apparently, she expressed a wish for report card comments that were more descriptive than the boilerplate "needs improvement" or "poor attendance" rigmarole that typically appears on board of education approved paperwork. Things like "dresses like a streetwalker" or "just as bad as his sibling." Even though no specific students were criticized, the teacher's general attitude caught the attention of both teachers and students, leading to a temporary dismissal. The latter group went so far as to make a Facebook group for those who felt "victimized" by her.
Even though I am no longer in the classroom, seeing things like this still make me shudder a little bit. After all, this teacher's actions were not that different from what I did on this very blog during my time at Underwood. Just as I alternated discussions of life in my classroom with discussions of pop culture (scifi movies, etc.), my fellow blogger interspersed her thoughts about school with writings about television or her new year's resolutions. And now her job is at risk. One can only imagine what would have happened had my blog become public knowledge prior to my departure for graduate school.
The state education association, in response to this case, has warned potential teacher-bloggers to be careful what they post online and to think about whether or not they'd want their students or supervisors reading it. After going through the archives a little bit this evening, I find myself torn. On the one hand, I can honestly say that I stand by everything I wrote about my time at Underwood. On the other, I admit, I'd be nervous about my opinions becoming public knowledge. Hence the conscious decision, from the outset, to adopt a level of anonymity that my fellow blogger seems to have forgotten.
Only by embracing invisibility could I have a public outlet for the stress and anger, and occasional glimmers of hope, I felt as a first year teacher and beyond. Looking back, I could have done things differently. I could have confined my reflections to a word processing document or a journal, or I could have modified the privacy settings of this blog so only people on a preordained list could read it. But I didn't do those things. I wanted people to know what it was like to teach in a place like Underwood. To realize, even if they just stumbled upon this blog accidentally, that people like me were in classrooms across the country trying our best to change a rotten system from the inside, banging our heads against the walls hoping that one day they might come tumbling down.
And now I've left that all behind. Thanks to this blog's archives I know that it was five years ago today that I received a phone call confirming my acceptance into graduate school. That means that all of the students I taught have now left Underwood. Hopefully most of them graduated. The principal, Ms. Oldman, is still there as are many of the faculty, but more and more retire each year and in another five years I'd wager that I'll be almost completely forgotten.
All that will remain from that time of my life, arguably the only truly permanent record, is this tiny little piece of cyberspace which I staked out so very long ago and made my own. One day I will likely abandon this blog, which has served me well for all these years. Perhaps the responsibilities of being a college professor will take their toll or I'll have a family to keep me diverted. Who knows what the future will bring? But I do know that even after that day comes, this blog will remain one of the most important things, along with my dissertation, I have ever written, and arguably, have ever done.
To any future teachers out there thinking about recording their experiences online, I can only offer this advice. Work hard, do your best, and when you blog, and I hope you will, both for your sake and for a public that doesn't realize how hard it is to be in the classroom every day, embrace invisibility!
Last week, I read a newspaper story about a teacher in the suburbs who received a suspension for comments she posted about her students on her blog. Apparently, she expressed a wish for report card comments that were more descriptive than the boilerplate "needs improvement" or "poor attendance" rigmarole that typically appears on board of education approved paperwork. Things like "dresses like a streetwalker" or "just as bad as his sibling." Even though no specific students were criticized, the teacher's general attitude caught the attention of both teachers and students, leading to a temporary dismissal. The latter group went so far as to make a Facebook group for those who felt "victimized" by her.
Even though I am no longer in the classroom, seeing things like this still make me shudder a little bit. After all, this teacher's actions were not that different from what I did on this very blog during my time at Underwood. Just as I alternated discussions of life in my classroom with discussions of pop culture (scifi movies, etc.), my fellow blogger interspersed her thoughts about school with writings about television or her new year's resolutions. And now her job is at risk. One can only imagine what would have happened had my blog become public knowledge prior to my departure for graduate school.
The state education association, in response to this case, has warned potential teacher-bloggers to be careful what they post online and to think about whether or not they'd want their students or supervisors reading it. After going through the archives a little bit this evening, I find myself torn. On the one hand, I can honestly say that I stand by everything I wrote about my time at Underwood. On the other, I admit, I'd be nervous about my opinions becoming public knowledge. Hence the conscious decision, from the outset, to adopt a level of anonymity that my fellow blogger seems to have forgotten.
Only by embracing invisibility could I have a public outlet for the stress and anger, and occasional glimmers of hope, I felt as a first year teacher and beyond. Looking back, I could have done things differently. I could have confined my reflections to a word processing document or a journal, or I could have modified the privacy settings of this blog so only people on a preordained list could read it. But I didn't do those things. I wanted people to know what it was like to teach in a place like Underwood. To realize, even if they just stumbled upon this blog accidentally, that people like me were in classrooms across the country trying our best to change a rotten system from the inside, banging our heads against the walls hoping that one day they might come tumbling down.
And now I've left that all behind. Thanks to this blog's archives I know that it was five years ago today that I received a phone call confirming my acceptance into graduate school. That means that all of the students I taught have now left Underwood. Hopefully most of them graduated. The principal, Ms. Oldman, is still there as are many of the faculty, but more and more retire each year and in another five years I'd wager that I'll be almost completely forgotten.
All that will remain from that time of my life, arguably the only truly permanent record, is this tiny little piece of cyberspace which I staked out so very long ago and made my own. One day I will likely abandon this blog, which has served me well for all these years. Perhaps the responsibilities of being a college professor will take their toll or I'll have a family to keep me diverted. Who knows what the future will bring? But I do know that even after that day comes, this blog will remain one of the most important things, along with my dissertation, I have ever written, and arguably, have ever done.
To any future teachers out there thinking about recording their experiences online, I can only offer this advice. Work hard, do your best, and when you blog, and I hope you will, both for your sake and for a public that doesn't realize how hard it is to be in the classroom every day, embrace invisibility!
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