Teacher for a Minute

In survey after survey, most Americans say that public schools are lousy -- except in their own neighborhoods. To some (usually people who get excited about "school choice"), this is a case of massive denial. Americans, they say, have a blind spot when it comes to their local schools.

Self-delusion is not uncommon; there are also surveys showing that a majority of American men consider themselves hunks. But it's possible to delude oneself in many ways, as I learned a few weeks ago.

Just about every Friday we have Teacher for a Minute (TFAM) in my Modern Literature class. I come in and announce, "I'm too tired to teach another minute! You'll have to do it yourselves today!" Then each student is required to stand up in front of the class for at least one minute to talk about whatever we're reading that week.

Some of my visiting scholars are enthusiastic and acute. Some fall back on the teacher's trick of asking questions ("So, class, what do you think of this book?"). Some stand there silently for sixty ticks, then sit down. I grade each lecture (check-plus, check, check-minus) and try to keep my mouth shut.
But the last time we had TFAM, one of the lessons was so profound I literally held my breath for fear of breaking the spell.

The teacher was a boy who came to ConVal from another district this fall. None of my other students knew him -- he was hard to know. Frequently absent, he often slept in class, and never spoke up in discussions. A pleasant, respectful boy, he rarely did homework, flunked all of the quizzes, and turned in none of the papers. He finished the first quarter with an average of 18 out of 100.

He was reluctant to take his turn in front of the class, but I insisted. He came up, sat at my table, and addressed his classmates. He admitted he hadn't read the book. He told them he was flunking this class and all his others as well. He just couldn't get motivated to study. "I've really messed up my life," he concluded quietly.

As teaching moments go, this was a pip. My students were magnificent -- they urged him not to give up, offered him tips on how to concentrate. A girl who's also on the verge of failing said she knew exactly how he felt. Nobody laughed.

Someone asked him how he'd done at his previous school. Okay, he said -- he didn't do any work there, either, but nobody seemed to notice or care. "This is a really tough school," he added.

My regulars were stunned. ConVal a tough school? "

Oh, yeah," piped up another newcomer, who lived out West last year. "My last high school was a joke. Everybody got A's for doing nothing. Teachers here really make you work hard."

It was a thoughtful bunch of juniors and seniors who left class when the bell rang that day. Unlike the people in the surveys, they had always assumed their school was one of the lousy ones. Here was evidence to the contrary.

Sure, it was only anecdotal evidence. But it was nice to hear.