Teaching College > Teaching High School (for all the reasons you might expect)

Last week, I filled in for a government class over at the Henderson campus of the College of Southern Nevada High School. Students at CSNHS come from all over Clark County and have already completed their first two years of high school. They apply for admission during their 10th grade year and ,if accepted, have an opportunity to complete a two-year degree while they finish their last two years of high school, all on the district's dime.

The program appeals to students who find the normal high school experience tedious and pointless, look forward to more flexible class scheduling options, and are self-motivated enough to tackle a heavier course load with less adult oversight. It's a pretty good deal.

One of the students asked me, "Mr. Rice, what do you like teaching better, high school or college?"

I taught or trained plenty of post-secondary students during my 25 years in the Air Force, and I taught roughly 1,200 high school students in my 5.5 years at Spring Valley High School. I have only been teaching in higher education for 7 weeks. I loved mentoring and teaching and training and guiding and leading in the Air Force. The outcomes there were immediately tangible and almost always positive. But the kid had asked me to choose between college and high school teaching.

I found the answer came quickly: college.

My reasons are pretty predictable, not fully fleshed out, and in no particular order:

• High school students have no  buy-in since they cannot easily grasp where or how their education is being funded. This tends to result in high school students comparing high school to prison. While this analogy is inaccurate, one can see how they might, in their naivete, arrive at the conclusion. Because they often perceive high school as something they are forced to do rather than an opportunity they get to do, more than a few students work diligently to avoid learning anything while "incacerated."

• Most high school students have not experienced the difference between having a formal education and not having one. Young college students have at least been convinced that a higher education is beneficial and thus put some effort into succeeding. Adult students who have experienced years in the working world often put much more effort into succeeding. I am still amazed at how quickly my college students pick up concepts that before would have taken all year to pass along to high school kids.

• College students are free to come and go and completely shoulder the benefit or loss as a result.
• High school classes are constantly being interrupted by requests for students to go to the Deans' office or the counselor or to see the coach or help set up for an event or to head off to a rally.
• College students don't get parent-teacher conferences and I don't need entertain parental complaints about the appropriateness or pedagogical validity or challenging nature of my coursework. Students are expected to take those issues up with me directly.
• College classes don't take on a revolving door of transient students.
• As a college instructor, I am not expected to keep an additional set of entrance and exit books that could easily fall out of balance with the high school registrar's books, force students to comply with arbitrary dress codes, ask for parental permission to show video clips that contain taboo language. The bureaucracy, at least at my level, is almost zero. High schools, on the other hand, expect teachers to share a larger and larger part of the daily administrative load.
• My college doesn't filter the Internet or restrict where I or my students can roam. As a high school teacher, I could rarely use my classroom computer to assemble lesson plans because, and this is ironic given the push in education to integrate engaging technology, image and video search functions were disabled. Of course, lessons involving writing for public consumption were severely restricted because all major social networking sites were also blocked.
  
  And yes, I am aware of the pitfalls of college instruction as well. Perhaps a blog will be in order after I trip into one.

Grandpa's Lessons

My gender identity had yet to coalesce

My Grandpa Lambert could rig up just about anything. He could shinny up a flag pole, sing along with his own piano accompaniment, strip an electric motor, and build just about anything, however inelegant. Most of his constructions, as he was wont to point out, "Weren't pretty, but hell for stout."

The man kept good company, drank congenially, and smoked himself to death. He had a 6th grade education but also knew what it meant to be educated. Educated people, my grandpa knew, didn't toil in coal mines or lumber yards like he did. They didn't work on printing press floors only to be unceremoniously dumped when bankruptcy killed a company and managers fled with the cash drawers.

He didn't "take no truck" with the educationally lazy. He and my father got along famously, the more so because my father brought education to the family in the form of an BSEE.

In the early 20th century in poor and rural Ohio, a 6th grade education was considered enough and few had any opportunities to go beyond it. By the age of 11 or 12, a young man was strong enough to begin work. And work meant physical labor. As my grandfather grew in experience, he began to understand what education could bring, but realized his opportunity had passed.

In my day-to-day contact with high school students, I find many of them do not really comprehend what it is like to work without a formal education.

Sure, there are examples of ambitious and motivated individuals who have done just fine without formal degrees. Steve Jobs jumps to mind. And there are plenty of examples of those with formal degrees who are back in their childhood bedrooms, wondering where all the promised cash went. Still, in the aggregate, more education means more opportunities and less chance of unemployment.

I have found, however, that older college students have an urgent understanding of this principle. They are investing heavily in collecting diplomas. They work, raise kids and cram in classes when they can. It seems real-world experience heightens one's perception of the value of formal education.

So here is my fantasy:

Allow students at the end of the 8th grade (two more years than Grandpa had) to choose between moving on to high school or moving straight into the work force for a minimum of two years. Adjust child-labor laws accordingly. Those who wanted to go to high school would proceed normally.

Those who chose to leave school would have some percentage of their after-tax income deducted from their paychecks and  automatically deposited in their parents' accounts to go for food and lodging. Junior high school counseling staffs would be bolstered and linkages developed between schools and local businesses. Now, 8th grade graduates who opted out of high school would not be required to find work; they could chill at home with their parents. This would go over well with their parents, I am sure.

At the end of two years, those 8th grade graduates would again be offered the opportunity to go to high school. How many would choose to re-enroll? Would their experience either of working for a paycheck or working at home and being constantly nagged provide the adequate incentive?

I realize I am riding on a unicorn over a rainbow here, because the probable outcome would be even fewer high school graduates with less opportunity and more instances of anti-social behavior. Most kids are not going to be like my grandpa. Kids would stay out of school, because the momentum would be gone and as they grew older, a certain fatalism would creep in.

Still, think of what it would be like to teach high school. It would be like teaching college.

A Spoonful of Respect

I spent yesterday filling in for a colleague at Spring Valley High School:

12th graders.

Basic US Government.

All 5 class periods.


Now, I suppose at this point you're expecting a rant about the kids' complete lack of political awareness and general apathy. Well, there was some of that. Quite a bit of it really. I'm not going to pretend they were particularly up on things. Still, all of them knew the names of the two primary political parties. They were aware that there was some kind of debate going on about the budget, and a few of them knew what the NRA and AARP were generally about.

These monster organizations came up because the day's topic was interest groups and whether or not students felt they endangered our rights or were an essential bridge between the populace and its representatives.

Of course, the answer depends on one's perspective, which came out slowly as we moved through some basic questions and discussed the nature of rights and how people in general perceive their own arguments versus those of people with whom they disagree.

If Bohemian Ear Spoons are outlawed . . .

It seemed most kids supported liberalization of gun laws. The bulk of each class agreed that people should be allowed to carry around firearms. One girl said, "You can kill someone with a spoon. A gun is no different." Very few students, in fact only one out of all five classes, attempted to support more restrictive firearms policies for civilians. She vaguely indicated that "Yeah,but if I had a gun I could, like shoot you from over here and I couldn't do that with a spoon."

I thought, well, maybe with a Bohemian Ear Spoon.

In general, kids who jumped in proffered the same basic arguments we've heard in the firearms debate. Curiously, not too many really seemed to care about abortion. In one class, marijuana legalization was a hot topic.

Hey, it's cheaper than Earl Scheib

Without taking a position on any of the specific arguments, I used it as a lesson not only in the lobbying process, but also in how people argue. I pointed out that most people go straight into "what a fucking dumbass" mode when offered a view alternative to their own. This, I explained, is why bumper stickers do nothing but wreck your paint job.

I also demonstrated that if we disallowed lobbying by groups we philosophically oppose, we also risk having our group shut down. This seemed to strike a chord in some students.

It was great to listen and hear them try to work out ideas. I'm not sure how often this happens in schools. I mean, the teacher for whom I was subbing dropped me a note and asked me to try to get them engage in exploratory, open discussion, because he said it is difficult to get them to open up. I think I succeeded.

And as I wandered off the campus, I thought about the use of discussion in high school classrooms. It can be highly effective while at the same time can be an excuse for many kids to check out.

Unfortunately, it's hard to tell the difference between an introverted kid who is just quietly listening and absorbing what is going on around her and a bored slacker just spacing out and waiting for the bell to ring.

However, I am more convinced every day that if I am allowed to do my job without worrying about headphones or texting or dropping an occasional piece of taboo language or dress code or trips to the Deans' office, I could probably get most of the space cadets to come around. It is a matter of speaking to them as equals who are early in their experiential journey.  You know, like you have something to share that's pretty cool, and they are welcome to chill for a bit. Whatever.

http://sprinklebrigade.blogspot.com/

True, some will act like fresh sidewalk turds on a summer's day, but I find teachers who skip being condescending and arbitrarily controlling tend to have students who are more inclined to listen to the teacher and to each other. Scooping the turds can come later.

In the end,  I worked hard for my chickens , but my reward came from at least one kid at the end of every class, who on the way out thanked me for making the topic interesting and told me they learned more in my hour than they often learn in weeks of note taking.

I'll take that.

Watch Out for SASI, Sarah Connor

At 0600 this morning, I set the Civic on autopilot and blasted NPR for a thumpin' ride to Spring Valley High School. I'm back on the "guest teacher" circuit and today I took some classes for a colleague. Striding the halls and jawing with so many of my former students made me feel like I might want to get back into the full-time high school teaching biz again. But not for long.

SASI?

Today was "count day" (say it like a camel), a ritual fraught with danger. Asses in chairs are important, because all those ass cheeks get ground into an algorithm up at the "Ed Shed" where they are then packaged into staffing and funding sausages.

This makes administrators anxious. If counts are too low, principals get less sausage, and despite what they say about watching it being made, sausage is pretty damn yummy.

Now, you might think counting would be a pretty easy deal. Each high school has a dedicated registrar and all the kids are counted from the moment their parents drag them in to the day they move to that new matrix of D.R. Horton fabs next to the half-empty strip mall. They are counted like convicts, every school day, every school hour. In fact, CCSD runs a Cyclopean piece of software called SASI to take care of this ass-counting business. To be fair, this monstrosity does way more than just take attendance. It tracks test data, stores transcripts, and yes, provides an interface for teachers to take roll at the beginning of every class. So you might think SASI would make count day button-push simple.

Nuke'em til they fund

Not so fast, overworked teacher. SASI's powers must be limited or need some sort of oversight because on "count day" (say it like a camel), every teacher in every room at every period must have every student sign a class roster.

In third period, teachers must note the number of students present, the number absent, add the two together, note this information on a slip of paper and wait for another adult to come in to double check the teacher's numbers and manually count each ass in each seat and then co-sign the slip of paper. At no time were any asses to be moved from seats during this process. This reminded me of loading B-61s on F-111s. Two-man concept, double check the switches, get ready to centrally heat the Warsaw Pact.

I can't explain why SASI can't be trusted. Perhaps it is really SkyNet.

Pedagogical Resurrection

I gave my last high school semester exam in June of 2012, pulled the student projects from the walls, picking staples like nits from the orange peel drywall. I started this project in 2007 and its end came in a shrugging anticlimax of last-day checklists and whiteboard cleaner..

I knew I would miss the classroom, miss the students, miss the energy. The room echoed my emptiness. Cast adrift, I walked out, unlocked my car, and drove home. the reasons I left were varied, but they had nothing to do with the relationships I formed with my students. In fact, those relationships kept me tethered to a job that gradually seemed an exercise in futility.

Fortunately, I had picked up a job in 2010 as a freelance writer for Vegas Seven and Greg Miller, the managing editor, asked me to put together an essay on why, on that warming June day, I walked out of my classroom for the last time. Here it is.

http://vegasseven.com/latest/2012/08/23/back-school-not-me

Now it seems I can get back to building relationships and teaching again. I have missed the classroom more than I ever thought I would. I assumed my estrangement wouldn't be painful for long. My wife and I rolled across country in September and hopped around Europe in October. When we returned, I picked up a short gig filling in for Virtual High School and kicked up the output for Seven. Still, something was missing. And I'm not talking Jesus.

It looks like I've found a fix for my jones. Due to happy blend of synchronicity and networking, I picked up an adjunct teaching position at Nevada State College. Now I'm in my fourth week teaching English composition to 15 college freshmen. So far, so fucking awesome.