Qualitative Data

Being the letter A for word study.

I wasn't a perfect teacher, by any means. I was, especially at first, a little quirky, zealous, undisciplined. I got accused, more than once, of "overshooting the mark."  Other teachers had color-coded charts of distinct reading strategies, with directions and examples.  I had discussions of juicy stopping points in a thrilling, slightly over-their-heads novel, prompted by the directive to simply "Say something." Occasionally, if I thought it would be memorable, I had our class scribe chicken scratch the proceedings on chart paper.  My colleagues called their students to line up a numbered table at a time, in preordained size place, girls on the left.  I advised mine to figure out how to get on line the way folks did at a bus stop, undirected, considerate, no unnecessary gender or height distinctions.  My students sat on desks, the floor, "went to the bathroom" when they just couldn't stand sitting in the classroom anymore.  I went too long and deep with topics that interested me, with not enough attention to grade standards, scope and sequence.  I was passionate, human, often patient but sometimes heated.  I planned lessons and read papers all weekend, collected interesting realia on every vacation outing, my family suffered, vocally at times.  I thought obsessively about what my students needed, but sometimes what I thought they needed was to allow a lesson about the Stamp Act -- with their tangential questions about what taxes are like nowadays, and protests about how unfair it was for the government to take part of our salaries -- to meander dangerously close to a liberal political consciousness-raising.

Story time at Harvest Festival

Relax, I didn't preach, just asked sort of open-ended guiding questions.  And we all download our philosophies, whether it's unwittingly but insidiously through statements such as, "In my classroom," or through a more conscious effort, as belle hooks put it, to "teach to transgress." Don't get me wrong, I'm not simply patting myself on the back, or defending all my methods.  My teaching left too many screws untightened, and was not comfortably scaffolded for all learners. My desk was often a heaped up, messy emblem of the deficits. And I did add some of those helpful Reading Strategy charts as time went on, alongside the "Random Acts of Kindness" poster and marker. A student once told me, "You're different from other teachers.  You're interesting."  I couldn't have been more pleased, but I also knew there were ways I was different from other teachers that inclined less in my favor.  I watched and learned and grew, became a somewhat more balanced teacher, with the passion and quirkiness still burning at my core.  I am now a coach, and I'll be honest -- my style is not for everyone.  With my unruly intensity, I do not always feel I am the best match for my efficient, fairly traditional faculty.

My (Our!) Teacher Center

I got a letter the other day from Proact, an executive recruitment firm for the Harlem Success Academy.  You know, the inhumanely theatrical lottery folks from the film Waiting for Superman. It said they had done research on me, found quantitative and qualitative data that convinced them I would be perfect for them as a coach.  I am, in the main, a rabid supporter of the public education system these corporate wunderkinds seek to dismantle.  Furthermore, the evidence of the superiority of charters is less than equivocal. I have to admit, though, I was flattered and just a smidge tempted.  They wanted me, with actual data on my offbeat but fiery quantities and qualities, to back their beckon.  I drooled at the thought of all that uncynical passion, commitment, the receptivity of their mostly novice teaching staff.  I asked around to see if this was just a crafty form letter, but no one -- not even at the exclusive, meritocratic professional organization of which I am a member -- had heard about such a letter.  I called the firm, just out of curiosity, you know... My curiosity was extinguished when I learned there was no reciprocity of benefits or pension, and I came back down to earth.  Of course I would never work for a charter school, nor did I have any real desire or motivation to -- I love my school, my teachers, and we balance each other perfectly, indeed need each other!

I did have one question, though.  Was there really data on me, and what did that mean?  Mr.Vranas explained that the quantitative included the size of a teacher's district and school, large and urban being preferred.  They calculated time in the system.  They noted improvement in standardized test scores. Things like that.  The qualitative meant they had found a description of me, something that had been written, possibly a blog.

I, it seems, my reflective horn-tooting alone, had provided my own qualitative data.  It's a good thing, I know, Rabbi Hillel ("If I am not for myself...) would approve. But  I was hoping for some objective, third-person omniscience, approval.

Did I say I was far from a perfect teacher?!  Perhaps I'd better stop pulling my toots a bit...