Lily Tang Williams...Thank You!

Lily Tang Williams is a Chinese immigrant who has three children attending public school here in America. Lily grew up in Communist China. This brave, strong, and very admirable woman decided to speak out when she noticed very striking and disturbing similarities between her education as a child under Communist rule, and the education her children are exposed to under the Communist Core. Oops. Did I say that? Um, I mean, Common Core.

What a beautiful little girl she was. But look at her face. Although a little smile plays on her lips, if you cover her mouth and look into her eyes, what do you see? 

I see a person who is deep in thought. I see an old soul. But most of all, I see scrutiny. I may be wrong. It appears to me that she is aware, maybe subconsciously, that she is a prisoner in her own country. She managed to escape. 

I'm sure you remember Tienanmen Square back in 1989. Do not, for one second, think it's impossible for something similar to occur on American soil.

This was my reaction when I saw Tienanmen Square on the news as a child, and this was also my reaction when I watched Lily's video:

Just shock. As in, holy moly. 

The lady really has a point. You can also see how emotionally painful it is for her to talk about.

This goes so much deeper than a controversial education issue that Americans can't agree on. 

Even some of the most leftist Liberals and Right -Wing Conservatives can find common ground and admit that the implementation of CCSS is a blatant move on the part of our government (and The Gates...remember, they fund CCSS) to suppress our children's ability to question authority, think independently, and grow to be creative and progressive adults. 

I can't see any other reason why that is occuring other than to slowly strip us of our freedom. If you study any communist/facist society, you will see that indoctrination begins in schools and the first people to be silenced are teachers.

The imposition of Common Core on schools, children, families, teachers, on our entire society, is an issue that crosses political boundaries. I know of Democrats, Republicans, Liberals, and Independents who all feel Common Core needs to go. Now, before it's too late. As a collective unit of citizens who value everything America stands for, the obliteration of CCSS is absolutely imperative. Now that you've watched the entire video (I hope :P..it's only 9 minutes of your day ) I'm sure you can see why.

Many of you may have already seen this video, but it's news to me. I found it, I believe, on the facebook page of my new, and very intelligent friends, The Badass Teachers (otherwise known as BATs). They post, several times a day, very insightful and progressive information regarding the scary turn Education has taken in beautiful America. Check them out.

Have a great day and enjoy your FREEDOM!

Full Disclosure: What Ever Happend to Chalkduster?

So yes, 2012 was the year it all changed. To help it make sense to you, I have to back up a little further. A little foundation never hurt anyone. Besides, my life is interesting. Why not share? We can only learn from each other's experiences.

The very start of my career as an educator was on the cusp of NCLB .(No Child Left Behind...George W. Bush's brain fart that led to corporate education reform...) It was also right before 9/11 and everything else that static time in our history flew at us. I began teaching in a Bronx kindergarten classroom in 2000. In the very school where I attended kindergarten! Those wonderful ladies who taught me how to read were suddenly teaching me how to teach how to read. I was ecstatic. Those little ones stole my heart! So loving! Like puppies! They loved me, no matter what mood I was in, what I was wearing, who was in trouble, or what was for lunch. Little-kid unconditional love...nothing like it in the world. 

A reminder that humanity actually has a chance, that automatic love and kindness did exist, at least at one time, in all of us. That, I basked in every day, it was my warm sunshine. 

But even back then, almost fifteen years ago, I sensed something was amiss when I was instructed to perform academic assessments on four and five year old babies. My mentors themselves rolled their eyes and sadly shook their heads when playtime and other developmentally appropriate activities were replaced with phonics and sight word drills. By the onset of the 2001 school year, the blocks and toys were collecting dust, and the dramatic-play area was gone. Sure, we made learning fun anyway, as teachers will do under most circumstances. We read tons of quality children's literature. Clifford, Curious George, Harry The Dirty Dog, The Rainbow Fish, Caps for Sale...in my nostalgia, I could go on and on.  To be honest,, it did feel pretty satisfying when the assessments showed tangible growth at the end of the year. So, with a gritted-teeth smile, I did what I was told.

Although I truly loved my job then,  (I'd give up my right arm for it now...) I could see the dark cloud of testing and profiteering approaching. Very metaphorical when I remember seeing on television the gray cloud of debris engulfing the city like an angry monster when our Towers fell. 

Of course, like everyone else, 9/11 shook me to my core. I was twenty-four. After work, I had lots and lots of fun, too much fun, adapting an I-can-die-at-any-time mentality. It was a time of, let's say, self-exploration.

 As a result of my very wonderful time, I found myself pregnant with my (now twelve-year-old) son, and temporarily left teaching in 2004 to attend to my own family matters, which included ending an extremely painful relationship and becoming a single mom. For the next five or so years, I stayed away from NYC, attempted to find a position in the suburbs, but to no avail. So back to The Big Apple I headed, in 2008, this time to a middle school with a student body of over fifteen hundred. 

Unconditional love? Puppies? Barely. Still lovable, but more like angry, gum-snapping, sagging-pants wearing little souls who indignantly flopped their way into my classroom. Not all of them. There were a few puppies left, generally those who were not tainted, at the ages of eleven or twelve, by abuse, hunger, gang violence or homelessness. Teachers, am I remiss to say we always love them anyways? And the ones who give us the most trouble and annoy us to our very core are the ones we love the most?

When I began this blog in 2011, it was my third year teaching 6th grade in The Bronx, Language Arts and Social Studies. Standardized testing had found its home in our classrooms. Pre-Common Core, but paving the path for Pearson Publishing, those years were very telling. High-stakes tests weren't going anywhere. They were too profitable. Teach to that test, OR ELSE.  

In my school, bubble-testing was in full swing. Obama was elected into office my first year teaching the sixth grade. Arne Duncan, the gangly basketball player with not one minute of public school teaching experience, was appointed Commissioner of Education, meaning, an ignorant doofus was placed in charge of public education for the entire country. I swear, he and Obama were (and still are) like Dumb and Dumber. Or Laurel and Hardy. 

To my dismay, they insisted on high-stakes testing as a means of asessment to determine funding, evaluating, and labeling schools. Such hypocrisy coming from a black man who claimed to understand the plight of the "underclass". I mean, duh. How did he think angry, hungry city (or impoverished rural) kids would perform on tests that were not only tortuously boring, but a poor-quality means of assessment? Did he think they would jump for joy and beg to prepare for them? Did he think their failing scores, being labeled as a number between one and four would INSPIRE them? LOLOLOLOL!

It became a race. A race to the top. A race between the privileged who had support at home, and the poor, who were stuck in the cycle of living for survival. Naturally, the privileged were winning the race. And the funding. And now it continues, still funded by tax dollars, Pearson Publishing's profits and the Common Core Curriculum that has lately sent parents and teachers spinning. See this post of mine from 2012. I saw it coming, and it was ugly.

If you'd like to read about what it was like for me teaching Middle School in The Bronx, I strongly suggest these previous posts of mine:  A Day in The Life,  My Famous Death Glare, and When the shy one completely baffles me..... There are plenty more, but in reading back, these three entries give an authentic and colorful depiction of the amazing experience. The blog is apparently so old that it exists but I can't edit or continue it. I had to begin this one, under a new address, instead. If any of my readers can help me figure out how to just continue that previous blog, your guidance would be much appreciated. I miss my old blog. It truly kept me going in 2011.

This was all a lot for me. At the time, in 2011, my (now ex) husband  was unemployed, money was tight, and my teaching job was consuming me to the point that my own boy started to fade into the background. I could not allow that. So after much careful consideration, I decided it was time to go back to teaching Kindergarten. It made sense. I loved it, I had experience.

At that time, there was no standardized testing in Kindergarten, Formal Assessments, yes. But bubble tests had not yet infiltrated the early childhood classroom. I requested and was granted a transfer to an elementary school in the South Bronx. A new start. In retrospect, one of the many huge mistakes of the year 2012 that I am still reeling from.

So, here I was in a new school, after three years in a middle school, excited to finally be teaching the Lovable Kindergarten Puppies again. 

My new school had undergone a change over the summer: deadly toxins were found in the building. I'm quite tempted to include a link on THAT topic here, but I'm too nice to do that. No need to make too many waves. If you're internet savvy, you can probably find that information out on your own. People died because of the toxins in that school.

Anyways, of course, to prevent any further sickness, death, or lawsuits, the entire school had to move to a new building on the other side of The Bronx. As a result, enrollment dropped. So when two weeks into the school year, my kindergarten class of 15 students was dismantled and distributed among the other two kindergarten classes, (therefore raising the class size of those classes to about 25-30) I was upset. But I smiled and did what I was instructed to do, which was whatever the administration told me to. I no longer had a title, a position. I was....whatever. 

My identity as a teacher had become lost. I started to really, really regret leaving the middle school. Then, I began to get the sinking feeling I was being targeted. The next red flag was when I was formally observed by the Assistant Principal, who rated my first-grade math lesson Unsatisfactory. It wasn't my class....remember, I didn't have one....I was Ms. Nobody. I always found constructive criticism helpful, but this lesson was failed by The Powers That Be for no reason that I could possibly understand. 

I'd never received an Unsatisfactory rating for an observation. Formal or informal, any lesson. Ever. So I met with The Assistant Principal and asked what he thought I could do to improve my practice, and although I disagreed with his advice, I took it. My confidence was at an all-time low. Even though I knew, intellectually, that I had not failed, I felt differently. I believe that was the goal of the administration.

I had no choice. I now had an Unsatisfactory rating in my file for teaching practice, and this would follow me everywhere. No way was I going to let that happen again. No WAY. One failing lesson could be construed as a bad day. Two would be a mark on my record forever that said, "she consistently can't teach." I took my practice very seriously and the thought of that stigma was horrifying.

Finally, I was given a position, in January of 2012. I was the K-5 Science teacher. Not my area of expertise, but it did fall under my certification. I love a challenge. I embraced it.

 My classroom was in the same room where teachers ate lunch, so there was constant noise and traffic. There were not enough chairs or tables for all the students, and my schedule was a nightmare. Although I was drowning in incredible levels of stress and regret, optimistic little me still LOVED teaching science. The kids loved coming to my science class. So despite the fact I was clearly being set up for failure, I put my entire Teacher Soul into teaching science in that school.

Observation time came around again. I worked for hours and hours at home on the lesson while my own fourth-grade child competed with my work for attention, and my ex husband worked part time for minimum wage, sat on the couch, watched TV, and cleaned nothing. I completed the lesson with a flourish, proud of my work. 

This time, the Principal was observing. And, you guessed it, he failed me again. Miserably. He told me, rather publicly,  the Friday before February break. Our post-observation meeting was scheduled for after the break, but he made it a point to ruin mine by telling me I failed then and there, right in front of everyone in the main office.

I refused accept this failure. With angry determination, I constructed a data chart based on the results of the lesson. Meaning, I looked at each student's work and determined what percentage of my class had understood the new concept I had taught. The data showed that about two-thirds of my class had understood the concept. Any teacher knows that's pretty good, especially when introducing a new concept. I would not be bullied.

That Monday morning, after break, I came to school armed with my data chart, and I met with the Principal for my post-observation meeting. Without batting an eyelash, I pushed my data chart in front of him and politely told him I disagreed with his interpretation of my lesson, and here was the evidence to back up my claim. Without even looking at it, he pushed it back at me and told me nothing was going to change his mind. Because he was The Principal, that's why.

That cold February morning, I walked away. In the middle of the day, on a Monday, in the middle of the year. I remember throwing the doors of the school open, stepping out into the streets of the South Bronx, the freezing air meeting and biting my tear-stained face. I knew it was a pivotal moment. I left and did not look back. I refused to go back. I was broken. I'd reached my limit, had enough.

The financial and emotional repercussions of that decision are still affecting my life to this very day. But that's the story. That's why I stopped blogging. I gave up. I was ashamed. I couldn't write. How would I, how could I keep a blog about teaching if I wasn't really teaching? 

Now I'm back, because I can't NOT write. The content, I'll figure it out. My message is the same.

The past three years of bouncing from teaching job to teaching job, from home to home, from county to county, is a formidable journey worth recording.

So here I am, in a teeny tiny town in farm-country in Upstate New York, where it's literally -8 degrees outside, where I am a single mom, a substitute teacher for two local districts and a private school, and loving it. The ever-laborious task of searching and searching for a regular teaching job, or ANY steady work that involves helping children in ANY way, is constant. I don't give up.

I am still struggling, again, with my son, to survive. Full disclosure...we live under the threat of eviction, my internet being shut off from time to time, and car insurance payments sending me into panic attacks. My pension is gone. I've stood on line for countless hours at The Department of Social Services, and am the proud carrier of a blue-and-white NY State Benefit Card.  My boy is old enough to be aware of these suffocating problems, and I am filled with regret, because my rash descision to walk away from NYC Schools has affected the stability of his future. There is no turning back.

Tears are falling as I write.

I put us here, and now we are living with it. I'm trying to make lemonade, but my lemon supply is limited.

Who we are is ultimately a result of our choices. Those choices then affect those we love, either directly, or they feel the backlash. I've lost many friends. I'm living with that. These are the cards I have dealt myself. Let's hope the next hand is a little better. Oh, and of course. My son and I REFUSE THE TESTS!! You should, too if you haven't joined the ever-growing movement already.

Chalkduster is BACK...all fired up...and ready to blog!

Three years ago, almost exactly to the day, I published my last blog entry on www.americasfutureinsidestory.blogspot.com.  If you are a new member of my audience, or want to catch up, I suggest you view my previous blog to get an idea of why I had decided to share my experiences as an educator for New York City Public Schools. 

I am no longer teaching in NYC. The year 2012 was a difficult time for many reasons, a year of change for my family, a year of awakening for me, a year of grieving. It was a precious time of learning to appreciate the very basic aspects of survival, and most of all, a year of change. Still three years later, this time of transition continues. I have gained, and lost, many connections. In my next post, I will recap the past three years. In short, I disappeared into my family's struggle for survival. I'm still struggling, but I refuse to let that inhibit me. The truth must be spoken. If not, I'll burst.

America's Future: The Inside Story  will be a place where, as a Citizen of the United States, I will practice my First Amendment Right to express my thoughts publicly regarding the twists and turns of today's policies on education, social services, and the rights of those impacted. 

Reflecting the exact nature of its broad title, my blog will explore the challenges that the future of our country faces behind the closed doors of various institutions. In this time of struggle for so many people, students are reduced to test-score numbers. Teachers are--almost literally-- gagged.  The amount of any type of public assistance (food, heat, electric, medical, housing, you know, basic needs) --if any--a family receives depends on ambiguous formulas based on "income, family size, and expenses". All numbers.

The relationship between poverty and education will continue to be explored as well as the impact of Standardized Testing and The Common Core Curriculum. Any form of enlightenment, unique expression, or independent thought is being completely squelched, and that's horrifying.

It's all so closely intertwined. For the life of me, I still am trying to make sense of why those in power who create policies upon which the success and survival of America's Future depends refuse to address the relationship between poverty and academic success.

The connection between hunger and the ability to focus in school.

The direct link between homelessness, abuse and violence in schools and on the streets.

The school-to-prison pipeline.

It doesn't take a genius to see these obvious problems, but it takes a greedy politician to not just ignore them, but actually perpetuate them. The darkness of greed has driven the politics regarding the "business" of our children and families. It's a glaring fact at this point.

It is understood that many of us have become fearful and apathetic adults, because almost half of us are solely focused on survival and nothing else, which weakens our resolve to plant the seeds of progression. How can we, as struggling parents and teachers, affect any change if all of our energy and time is dominated by "taking care of our own"? That's no accident.

My promise to my readers is that absolutely no names, places, or otherwise identifying information will be disclosed unless granted permission. I will stay as raw and honest as I have always been. I will describe my personal experiences colorfully, with or without fear of judgement.

If you're not interested in the truth, stop reading and retreat back into your ignorance, but don't complain about your child failing school or your empty bank account. 

I've never known of a great writer to tiptoe around the idea of controversy. Ducking under a blanket of literary safety, which I have done for the past three years, has gotten me nowhere. A true writer never ceases to express themselves based on shame or fear.

Great writing is brave writing. Great learning happens when the mind is open to that which may be intimidating to understand...and act upon. So I'm gonna jump back into the Blogosphere...despite my fears. Thank you for reading, and I hope you decide to continue, comment, and share.