No Balance Palace

When I made the decision to start this blog, I made a personal vow to keep any form of venting to an absolute minimum. Complaining rarely ever accomplishes anything other than being divisive, and it’s usually a road to unhappiness and discontent. In my relatively brief time as a teacher (going on six years), I’ve seen the effects of negativity on the overall morale of a school building. It can seep in slowly at first, and before long, people are avoiding the staff lounge at all costs, eating lunch in their rooms, and exchanging only the occasional, half-hearted, “Hey, how’s it going?” as they pass one another in the hall.

On the flipside, I’ve also seen what positivity and frequent, clear communication amongst staff can do for a learning environment. Students are happier, parents are happier, and teachers and administrators are happier. Everyone wins. Therefore, I want to refrain from turning this blog into my soapbox for everything that I find to be wrong with education.

And truth be told, I also happen to want you to continue coming back to read what I have to say, so I’ll do my best to keep it positive, constructive, and, with some help from my students, a place to read some rather entertaining and crazy stories.

Having said all of that, from time to time I will walk the fine line between constructive criticism and complaining. This happens to be one of those times.
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January 8, 2002 is a date that lives in infamy in education circles across this fine country of ours (given that this blog is barely a week old, I’m guessing none of you guys live outside the U.S. Perhaps by next week the blog will be read internationally). That day was the final step in the lawmaking process for one of this country’s most well-intended, yet completely misguided, attempts at “fixing” the American educational system.

It’s a law that is so despised by teachers that its name is rarely spoken by educators everywhere. It’s become the Lord Voldemort of public education.

That’s right. I’m talking about the one and only, No Child Left Behind.

Without going too in depth, No Child Left Behind is the cause behind the annoyingly heavy burden of assessments that educators constantly shoulder as they balance all of the other responsibilities that come along with helping students succeed. And tied ever so tightly to the assessments is a large portion of the funding that is vital to the ability of a school to function properly.

Now, I know I promised to avoid falling into the trap of complaining and venting. Therefore, it’s at this point that I’d like to introduce to you an incredibly likable student I had my first year of teaching.

In the interest of protecting the student’s identity when this blog becomes an international success next week, I’ll be considerate and refer to him as Caleb.

Caleb possessed one of the most unique and magnetic personalities of any student I’ve been around. To go with his electric personality, he had an adorable mop of long, curly blonde hair that he frequently had to brush out of his blue eyes. Caleb stood a few inches shorter than most of his classmates, but his attitude and nonstop enthusiasm made up for his lack of height.

What made Caleb’s outlook even more admirable was the fact that he was living with a neurological disorder that affected his ability to learn. Despite his eagerness, learning was not something that came easily for him. The majority of his school day was spent struggling to learn and remember concepts many of his classmates had very little trouble with.

Fortunately, there was one part of school that Caleb truly excelled at more than his fellow first graders.

The subject: Recess.

You see, when it came to making friends and interacting in a social setting like recess, Caleb’s personality allowed him to thrive. On some days, recess was the only part of the school day that offered Caleb a chance to experience success like an average 6-year old.

In late April of Caleb’s first grade year, I received a phone call from his mom a couple of minutes before school was to start. If I remember correctly, it was the first time all year that she had initiated a phone conversation, so I was a bit caught off guard. She began the conversation by apologizing for bothering me and then asked if I’d noticed Caleb having “accidents” at school. She said that he hadn’t had any trouble with it until recently. She also mentioned that she was dealing with the same issue when Caleb went to play at the park. On more than one occasion, he’d been too busy playing to stop and run home to use the bathroom.

She was slightly embarrassed to be calling to talk to me about such an issue, but I assured her that accidents in first grade aren’t completely uncommon. At the same time, I was feeling like a fool for having failed to notice the times an accident had occurred at school.

In order to help solve the problem, I told Caleb’s mom that I would simply make sure he went to the bathroom before going out to each recess. She thought that sounded like a good idea, and we ended the conversation both hoping that it would help prevent any further personal hygiene issues.

When it came time for the class to go outside for morning recess, I asked Caleb if he needed to use the bathroom. He said he did, so he stopped by the restroom on our way outside. Then, as lunch recess approached, I once again asked Caleb if he needed to use the bathroom before going outside to play. Once again, he said he did, so he ran to use it before heading outside.

When afternoon recess rolled around, I had forgotten about the arrangement I’d made with Caleb’s mom until I was holding the door open as my first graders were sprinting outside towards the playground. Caleb happened to be at the back of the line, so I was able to catch him before he made the mad dash to the monkey bars. I said, “Hey Caleb, do you need to use the bathroom?” I’ll never forget what happened next.

Caleb looked at me with the most astounded look on his face before practically screaming, “How do you always know?!”

He quickly went back inside, used the bathroom, and the accident prevention plan was successful the rest of the year.

At this point, you may be wondering what Caleb and the story of my mind reading abilities have to do with Lord Voldemort (a.k.a. No Child Left Behind). The answer is, the story really doesn’t have anything to do with it. On the other hand, Caleb and the success a kid like him experiences at recess is becoming an unfortunate afterthought in the educational system. With so much emphasis placed on what a child is or isn’t able to do academically and little attention given to the social side of education, No Child Left Behind has created an unbalanced educational experience. And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the goal of education to prepare our children to become successful members of society? If that’s the case, we should be valuing the social side of school far more than what No Child Left Behind currently allows.

For someone like Caleb, meeting grade-level standards may never be something that is a realistic goal. However, if success is measured by an individual’s level of happiness and fulfillment, Caleb’s personality and ability to relate to others in a social setting will make him as successful as any of us.