A Pound of Flesh, or an Ounce of Grace?

Both of my grandmothers were teachers.

My mother has been a parapro since before I was born.

My aunts worked in different positions in the school system.

My step-dad is a custodian.

Basically, I’ve been in school, hearing about school, or helping with school since before I was in school myself. Along the way, my beliefs about education have changed many times.

The biggest change centers around what I believe about students, especially behavior. Early in my career (and I guess you could argue that I’m still early on in my career), I believed what I was hearing about students: they were increasingly disrespectful and little turds that needed discipline. It was my job to have high expectations and hold my students to it, no matter what.

Of course, the standards that I set were based on my own upbringing, on what I was taught was proper and acceptable behavior. In short, I expected my students to become conservative white children. In all fairness, I was still very sheltered and naive to the complexities of the world. It was doubly compounded by the fact that my first teaching experiences were at predominantly white, wealthy schools. Aside from some Jewish influences, the culture and expectations matched my own.

My cookie-cutter world began to crumble my first year at Kent-Meridian High School. For those who don’t know about KM - or Kent, Washington in general - you should know that the area is very diverse. I believe that there are more than 60 primary languages spoken in the school. There was a high level of poverty (measured by those able to receive free and reduced lunches). Working at KM gave me my first real look into true poverty--systemic poverty. I learned what it looked like for a student to grow up with a whole system that was designed counter to their culture and upbringing, but that was pouring resources into programs aimed at reaching such students.

I walked away from those five years with a belief that if parents could rise above poverty and not make horrible choices like become addicts or drug abusers, that the educational system would magically return to the system I knew. I believed that parents were absent and thus not teaching their children proper behavior. If parents would read to their students. If parents would eat dinner with them. If parents. If parents. If parents.

Facing burnout, I left KM and made my way to a much whiter (and what I thought) a much easier school to teach at. I will probably write more about my experiences at Tahoma, but I’ll just state that these wealthy students who had a culture much like mine were equally disrespectful. They struggled equally with the content. So, maybe it was just that students were inconsiderate jerks made that way by an influx of technology and social media. In fact, I got a long way better with the students at KM than I did with “my own.”

I left and went to CWCA. Now you may be thinking that I was working my way up to an even wealthier situation. Not true. While CWCA was a private school, most of the students were not from very wealthy families. They drove cars that would break down regularly. They questioned where their school payments would come from. Again, I will write more about my CWCA experiences, but I will say that I learned a really important lesson while working there: relationships make all the difference.

I had the same students pretty much all day. It forced me to get to know them and share who I was with them. If forced me to be vulnerable and show where I struggled in teaching and leading. I went on trips with them and got to know them in all manners of life. These students will always have a special place in my heart.

When I accepted the position at Harrison, a very large number of people were worried for me. They view Sunnyside as a dangerous place. The students were just as dangerous. Rumors of out-of-control gangs and drugs are still a problem. However, I can honestly say that I have some of the kindest, hardest-working students ever. Are they all? Of course not. But do I go to work afraid? Never. There are some teachers who struggle with lots of behavior. When I really look at it, it’s the teachers who struggle with creating real relationships with students.

This year, we have been looking at bringing PBIS back to life, along with implementing restorative justice practices. These systems connect with what I have come to believe about students: they are looking for community and safety. They may not be able to find that at home. The majority of my students have more ACEs than a poker champion. We know that poverty, ACEs, and systemic disenfranchisement does not set up a person for success. However, as I have tried to implement trauma-informed decisions in my classroom, and I look at unexpected behavior as a signal for unmet basic needs rather than an attempt to take away my control, I have found myself less frustrated, and absolutely writing less discipline referrals. In fact, I can’t think of the last discipline referral I wrote.

By no means do I think that I’m the best teacher. I know I’m not. I’m also not the best at relationships. Just about anyone in my life can tell you how awkward I am with genuine connection. However, I believe that my students can recognize that I’m trying, give grace when I mess it up, and continue to love me despite my flaws. If they, as underprivileged sixth graders can do that, so can I in return. After all, they are just trying to figure out what it means to be human. And we’re all in this together.