Thoughts on Education

A new teacher at my school quit this week. At the staff meeting last Friday, we REJOICED because he was actually fully certified to teach AND had years of experience...then this week, he quit.

I'm sure we could all speculate as to why he left (maybe he was already burned out, maybe he held unrealistic expectations, maybe he was dealing with extraneous issues that bled into his work life...) but this teacher's departure is just ONE symptom of a much larger issue.

Teachers are exiting the profession in droves, leaving students in classrooms with a different sub every day, under-qualified long term substitutes ill equipped to teach algebra or biology, or emergency or intern certified teachers trying to find their footing while balancing graduate school or certification courses.

Granted, I have very few reserves against throwing an emergency certified teacher or intern certified teacher in a classroom when the only other option is a substitute teacher. (Full disclosure, I am an intern certified teacher.) However, in the long run, putting untrained and in-training teachers in the classroom is a band-aid solution for the gaping wound that is the teacher shortage faced in America, let alone Arizona.


Alternate preparation programs like Teach for America, New York City Teaching Fellows and TNTP Teaching Fellows are great, but teachers don't always stay in the classroom after their commitment expires. Many find the pay unacceptable and leave. Many see bigger and brighter things in their future (like med or law school) and leave. Many face burnout within two years due to a lack of school support--and they leave.

So what is the answer? That's a trick question.

There isn't one answer. There is a slew of answers. The real question is "Which solutions work best together and get at the true root of the issue?

For starters...

Pay us. Pay public school teachers more. We shouldn't have to find a second or summer job to help us pay a $1200/month mortgage payment when school isn't in session.

Support us. Have our backs when it comes to finicky parents. Do what it takes to sustain a positive workplace environment--be that monthly potlucks, staff spirit weeks, or exciting professional developments. Better yet, allow public school teachers to grow by sending us to intriguing professional developments and providing subs for our classes.

Stock our classrooms. Make sure the Senior English teachers don't have to arm wrestle over who gets to borrow and read the class set of The Bell Jar with their kids. Make sure there are enough textbooks to go around. Better yet, stock public schools with textbooks that are up to date and include Obama's presidency--not the textbooks I used in high school.

Granted, a lot of this goes back to money. In fact, all of this--teacher pay, professional development, classroom supplies--is linked to money. So perhaps the issue truly stems back to, you guessed it, politics.

In Arizona, I'm sure teachers would be elated to receive the same pay raise Governor Doug Ducey gave to many of his staff in 2017, while teachers received approximately a 1% raise.

I am so blessed to say that my district is supportive. We have an education association representative who relentlessly requests raises for teachers. Through my district, I have received training, room and board for the Advanced Placement class I teach, and we have more than a modest amount of books available to read with our students, either on campus or via inter-district loan system. I'm not saying my district is perfect, but I am certainly grateful Teach for America placed me here. I intend to stay much longer than my two year commitment--but what about all of the teachers who don't feel as blessed as I do?

I am one teacher who plans to stay in the classroom for a long time. What can be done to replicate me?

Election Day

My shirt says "Vote or we're sending you somewhere you don't get the right to."

I'm that nerdy, nerdy kid who wanted to vote from the time she was in second grade.

I remember walking from the playground to Mrs. Rexall's classroom with my friend Alicia in the year 2000, when President George W. Bush was up for his first presidential election. Alicia said she would vote for him because his last name was Bush, and squirrels are cute with bushy tails.

General second-grader logic.

As I grew older, I loved learning about the political system--how America is a representative democracy, how the President is chosen by the electoral college (not directly by the voters). The words "suffrage movement" and "political efficacy" give me happy, giddy, butterfly-in-the-pit-of-my-stomach chills, and I know I'm probably alone in that.

But, as you've probably guessed, I want you to feel that way.

I want you to want to vote.

I will not accept "my vote won't matter" or "my vote will be wasted and cancelled out by everyone else who votes" as an excuse. There's no room for pettiness like that in my generation.

Political cartoon by Nick Anderson, because 2/3 of eligible Texans don't vote.

I vote because I believe it indicates I am a responsible, thoughtful citizen who appreciates having the privilege of voting. I desire to see my country succeed, so I research the candidates who will potentially run it at a state and federal level, research the facts candidates share, and vote when the time comes--and I'm telling you to do it, too.

Research the candidates.

I'm not going to tell you, the internet, who* to vote for. I don't think that's proper to do in an online forum such as this--but I will tell you to check out all of the candidates. Watch debates on both sides of the aisle. Google their names and stances, and check out their websites. If you're overwhelmed, you can find out which politicians you side closely with using the I Side With quiz (which grossly simplifies politics, but hey--it's better than nothing.)

*and while I said I'm not telling you who to vote for, I am going to tell you to please back a politician who is decent, exhibits a loving character, and has experience in politics on some level. I feel this all ~should~ go without saying but probably needs to be said anyway.

Research the facts.

Did you know that President Obama has deported more undocumented immigrants than any other president, ever? Or that net migration from Mexico to the US is below zero? Ok, one more: Did you know that the unemployment rate is hovering below 4.9%? It's been continually dropping since February 2014--which is a good sign for the economy.

Maybe these are statistics you don't care too much about. That's okay. But in order to be a well-informed voter, you need to know if what the politicians are saying is true. My favorite tools for fact-checking are PolitiFact, which live-checks debates; and the AZ Central fact check, which looks at local news. If you live outside Arizona, your local news organization probably has something similar.

Get registered and join PEVL.

This is probably the gosh darn easiest part of voting. If you live in Arizona, you can do it online. And look, I even gave you the link. And here's the link again. Go ahead, just click here and do it. It takes an incredibly short amount of time to register to vote, and you can even join the Permanent Early Voting List or "PEVL." PEVL is great because you'll receive your ballot in the mail before elections so you can fill it out and send it right on back to the ballot counters without even putting pants on.

Get your friends to register.

Once you've caught the bug and understand how important it is to vote, don't shut up about it. Keep talking. Explain to your friends how awesome you feel now that you're making at least a small difference in the way your country operates.

Get your friends to register. And if that's not enough and you want to really make waves, get complete strangers to register.

Vote.

When the time comes--be it the Presidential Preference Election or the Presidential election on the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November--go out and vote. Cast your ballot! Let your voice be heard!

This can pretty much all be summed up by a quote from one of my favorite script writers (Aaron Sorkin) and fictional Presidents (Jed Bartlet): Decisions are made by those who show up. So do your civic duty and show up.

Salir/Irse/Dejar

A photo posted by A M A N D A 🌵 (@mandalyn93) on Sep 1, 2015 at 6:14pm PDT

When I was a chubby, long-haired sixth grader, I swore I was moving to Alaska. I couldn't take any more of the darn Arizona heat. I wanted snow! Husky dogs! Polar bears! Ice fishing!

At least, I wanted all those things until my mom told me about giant mosquitoes living in Alaska. After that, I was content with the sunshine.

Come seventh grade, I wanted to go to California. I did a report on Pepperdine University in seventh grade. I toured Biola, California Baptist University and some other California college during the spring break of my sophomore year of high school.

Junior year, I started dating a boy and suddenly didn't want to leave anymore. He captured my heart and my focus shifted away from Biola and over to Northern Arizona University and Grand Canyon University. Relationships and feelings foiled my plans of escape!

Seriously, if I could go back and mentor eleventh grade Amanda, I would tell her "Don't change your plans for a boy. Go where you want to go, do what you want to do. Don't stay here for him," because that's life advice every high school student needs to hear.

And that's the story of how I ended up in Arizona and haven't left yet--but I've always wanted to leave. Deep down, I've always wanted to leave.

The reasons have changed. When I was young, I hated the sun and heat. When I was a little bit older, I wanted to get away from my parents and establish my independence by putting a few hundred miles between us.

Now that I enjoy the sunshine and have established independence from my parents (with only sixteen miles between us) I'm grappling with this question:

Why do I still want to leave?

I've actually, oddly, fallen in love with this city and state.

Phoenix is full of kind and quirky characters, from the owners of coffee shops to the managers of plant and oddity stores, to the kids who live and work in at an urban farmhouse down the street from my friends.

The art district has eaten me alive, but in the best way possible. It gobbled me up and spat me back out, covered in paint string glitter photographs guitars video footage ceramics and every other medium you could think of.

The roles are reversed when it comes to the food scene--I've gobbled it up, and nary have spat it back out. I've stuffed my face with doughnuts, drank plenty of $5 pitchers, and cried when Paz Taqueria's building was torn down.

Maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome. 

I've spent so much time living in Phoenix--captive--I grew to love the place. I had no choice but to make the best of what I had, where I was--and I can't help but think this dusty sprawl town has done the same.

If you know me, you know I love mail...and I got a lot of exciting stuff today 😁

A photo posted by A M A N D A 🌵 (@mandalyn93) on Feb 19, 2016 at 4:34pm PST

Now, as I look into routes of escape (aka grad school plans for 2017; see the giant white envelopes in the photo above), I can't help but notice all of the little signs telling me to stay in state.

Up until today, I was looking into two different graduate schools--University of San Francisco and St Mary's College of California. Both offer a Masters' of Art in Teaching with single-subject credentials and an emphasis in social justice. USF goes a step further and is participating in a program called the San Francisco Teachers Residency, where program participants attend a year of graduate school and are then employed in the San Francisco School System for three years. Living and working with schools in the Bay Area sounds like a dream to me--I love it. I've only visited once extensively but I love it.

But there are so many tiny reminders pushing me to stay here, stay home, devote myself to a life in Phoenix. 

I had coffee with my friend Claire a few weeks ago. She's graduating soon and is also looking at becoming a teacher after graduation. Neither of us majored in education, so we're looking at alternate routes together.

While I expressed my passion and desire to move out of state, she shared her desire to do the exact opposite--she wants to stay in state and work here because of how badly Phoenix schools need help.

Example: Program to funnel kids out of the public school system and into private schools rather than improving public schools. 

And as Claire was saying this, my heart went ~boom~

Who else wants to invest in her community? Me.
Who know the needs of her community? Me.
Who loves this dusty little city with most of her heart? Me.

So why would I want to leave?

Wendell

I wish I had asked to take his photo, but here's a photo of the light rail I shot a while ago instead.

I moved to uptown Phoenix on Wednesday, and Friday night I was reminded why I love the area so much.

My friend walked me to the Central and Van Buren light rail station after attending a show at Valley Bar. Right after I hugged her goodbye, I saw him.

He was sitting on the bench, propping his bicycle up with one hand as I stood nearby.

"Good evening!" he said eagerly and energetically, the way many homeless people do in the hopes of being acknowledged and thus validated.

"Hello! How are you?" I replied.

I like talking to strangers and nobody likes being ignored.

He said something along the lines of "I'm doing well," and quickly began telling me about his exciting day dumpster diving.

He was of average height, average build, was missing his front teeth and looked relatively cohesive. I try not to judge people but I also keep my safety in mind when engaging with someone on the light rail.

I sat next to him on the bench, enamored by the story he began telling.

Dumpster diving is his passion, he said. He continued talking about the amazing things he had found in the past, from laptops to a clean title to a car that was disposed of after the owner died with no family to receive her possessions.

I was skeptical of it all, and even more so when he said he found an original Ted DeGrazia in a dumpster that very day.

"Really? That's so awesome!" I chirped in, smiling probably a little bit too much to hide my skepticism.

"Yeah," he responded, "Do you want to see it?"

He proceeded to reach for a bag tied to the handlebars of his bicycle, and I shrugged and said "Sure."

Thoughts raced through my head. Could it be real? Is he pulling my leg? Maybe he found a print, but not an original.

"I've been thinking about donating it. I usually do that when I find art in dumpsters," he continued.

Usually donate? Does this happen that often?

He unzipped the outer bag and removed a small, black plastic bag with a canvas in it.

Okay. So he had a painting. Maybe not a DeGrazia, but definitely a painting.

His rough, darkened fingers gingerly untied the bag and removed an 8 by 10 canvas painting of a boy holding flowers. It was a darn good painting, too.

I stared--eyes wide, jaw dropped--as he flipped the painting over to reveal an authentic DeGrazia signature and note.

So it was real. So I was amazed.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked.

"Wendell," he said.

We shook hands as the light rail came to the station and I spent the ensuing ride listening as he imparted 54 years of wisdom upon me. We ended our time together when he disembarked at the Thomas and Central station and agreed to hopefully run into each other another time.