Puzzling educations

July 19, 2014

As a public educator, I spend a great deal of time thinking about all that is wrong with public education.  

I taught in one of the worst middle schools in New York City for four years.  I am starting my fifth year in one of the best.  They are less than fifteen blocks away from one another. They are couldn't be further apart.  I've analyzed this dichotomy every day for the past four years. 

I have an answer; leadership.  

Same community, same population, same district, same students, same families, same everything.  Different leadership.

I grew up in a small town in the Midwest and went to the local school.  Many of the schools in neighboring communities were also small town schools.  Many of the schools were very similar. We had everything we wanted, more than we needed, at least in hindsight.  Our graduation rates were nearly 100%. We had athletic programs, arts education, drama productions, computer labs.  We had everything that I dream for my students now.  I always wonder what the determined of the successes of those schools.

I have an answer; resources.  We lacked for nothing. 

I've been in public education in five different countries during my travels. I've seen numerous similarities in each country.  I can put the pieces together; lack of resources, inadequate spaces, respect for authority, treatment of women, economic structures within the society, and the value on education.  

I put all of these pieces together and find myself staring at poverty.

For so many of the world's problems, I point the finger towards poverty. 

It's hard to be a functional society on a dysfunctional base.

Yet, here I sit, on this red soil, in the poorest place I have ever been, and I see the strongest educational system I have ever come across.  It's fascinating. 

I've been teaching kids that are using their only writing instrument, the last tenth of their pencil, to take as many notes as quickly as they can. They have no shoes.  Their clothing is falling off of their frames, unraveling at every stitch.  

The room is silent.  The only sounds come from them writing on their papers.  When I speak to make an announcement, they all turn to look at me.  Every single one.  I don't know what to do with myself.  

I've never experienced this before.  Ever.

It's fascinating.  

The teachers at this orphanage are volunteers.  They work here for free, mostly because they cannot find employment elsewhere.  The economy is so bad that they choose to live in an orphanage so that they have something to do with their days until they become gainfully employed.

I say that I'm offering training for teachers and the word spreads to neighboring schools.  Women walk for miles, with their newborn babies strapped to their backs, every single day to learn how to teach.

Last week, one of the children of my host family was sent home because she arrived back to school late from the semester break.  Her father had to take me to the orphanage and then drop her off at school.  We ride by motorbikes here and traveling takes time. She arrived late and was sent home, a six mile walk.  Her father took her to school the next day and was required to speak with the principal about her lateness the previous day.

I've never experienced this before.  Ever.

In Kenya, education is free through the eighth-grade.  High schools are boarding schools that require monthly fees.  If you don't pay, you don't go to school.  If you don't go to school, you literally don't have a hope for your future. 

It's school or it's nothing.  Education is the sole foundation of this country.

It's poorer than I've ever seen.  It's educational system is stronger than I've ever seen.

I don't mean in terms of content, because I haven't seen enough to know.  But in terms of respect, value, and necessity, I've never seen better.

I don't understand it.  I can't put these pieces together. They don't fit.

I have no answers, only infinite questions. 

What would happen if children in the United States were required to contribute to their educational journey?

What if more responsibility was put on families to answer for their children?

What if children believed that education was the sole hope for their future?

What if communities surrounded families, education, and children?

All of these questions would, in some way, solve and complicate all of our problems.  

I can't imagine all of the consequences of every proposed solution.  No one can.  That's why we are where we are today.  

No one dreamed that their decisions would lead us where we are. 

No one imagined that standardized tests, meant to ensure a quality education for every child, would be used against teachers and keep kids awake at night.

No one fathomed that providing a free education for all students would foster a sense of entitlement for generations to come.

No one conceived that putting all children with special needs in one classroom would isolate, label, and ostracize them.  

I'm sure these people had the best intentions.

I'm sure I do as well.  That's why I'm glad I don't have to make decisions.  I have no power.  I only have the broken system and my own two hands.  I get to make it work with what I've been given.  Here, in Africa.  At home, in New York City.  

I've seen the best systems.  I've seen the worst.  

I have to make it work. 

Whether with the stub of a pencil, gallons of paint, hungry kids, whole communities, or broken families.  

I have no answers.  The more I see, the more I know this to be true.

I'll spend my life asking questions.   

I'll spend my life making it work.