Students, their parents, and teachers—our educational establishment’s greatest stakeholders—seem to be speaking out more this year than in recent memory about “corporate reforms” and standardized tests being hoisted upon them primarily by politicians, think tanks, and others who have no long-term stake in schools.
Their voices are clear, and they’re getting louder. We transcribe below a video resignation letter from a teacher in north-suburban Chicago, who says she is quitting “with a sad, heavy heart,” since everything she “loved about teaching is extinct.” Although extinction implies no possibility for rebirth, that event may occur if new teachers are barred from the profession on account of being treated like what this teacher calls a “cog in a wheel” that’s not turning properly right now.
The teacher’s YouTube name is “I quit you cant fire me” without the spaces, but the Chicago Tribune has identified her as Ellie Rubenstein, a fourth-grade teacher at Lincoln Elementary School in Lake County’s North Shore School District 112.
The transcription here represents our best effort to replay her words for readers who are hearing-impaired or for others who may prefer a written format, and we are reproducing them here because they reflect the careful thoughts of teachers in many American schools right now. And so, with a sad, heavy heart, as Dr Seuss wrote, we present the resignation of Ellie Rubenstein:
By ELLIE RUBENSTEIN
Lincoln Elementary School, Highland Park, Ill.
For most of my adult life, I had a career in advertising and public relations. It was exciting and creative, and I learned many things. But after 20 years in that field, I had a traditional “midlife crisis.” And I felt it was time to do something meaningful with my life. So, at age 45, with two 10-year-old daughters, I worked full-time and went to school part-time at night for three years to obtain my master’s degree in education.
My first few years of teaching were incredibly exhausting but also extremely exciting and rewarding. Ten-hour workdays felt worth it: I was making a difference in children’s and their families’ lives. I was actively helping students love learning and forming unforgettable connections with students who would come back to visit me year after year to recall their time in my classroom and just chat.
Also at that time, teachers were respected and highly regarded as hard-working professionals who dedicated their lives—yes, lives—to children. I was proud to say, “I am a teacher.”
But over the past 15 years, I’ve experienced the depressing, gradual downfall and misdirection of education that has slowly eaten away at my love of teaching. The emphasis in education has shifted from fostering academic and personal growth, in both students and teachers, to demanding uniformity and conformity. Raising students’ test scores on standardized tests is now the only goal, and in order to achieve it, the creativity, flexibility, and spontaneity that create authentic learning environments have been eliminated.
Everything I loved about teaching is extinct.
Curriculum is mandated. Minutes spent teaching subjects are audited. Schedules are dictated by administrators. The classroom teacher is no longer trusted or in control of what, when, or how she teaches. Research indicates that employees are most productive and happy when given autonomy over time, technique, task, and teammates. But we now have no control over any of that. No wonder teacher burnout and turnover are at an all-time high.
Many exciting learning opportunities have been cut by our district: field trips, guest speakers, exciting events. And in-class simulations are no longer allowed. Even everybody’s favorite—the chickens hatching in kindergarten—has been prohibited. Why? So that the district can spend that money instead on computerized testing programs and training teachers to raise those students’ test scores.
But I care more about the people my students become than about the scores on the tests they take. Our mission is to create “lifelong learners,” which means getting children excited about—and engaged in—their learning. But how can this happen when teachers are discouraged from teaching creatively? More and more, we are being asked to administer paper-and-pencil tasks, multiple-choice tests that can be graded by a computer, and skill-and-drill assignments that don’t require or reflect higher-level thinking. Authentic literature has been replaced by dry, uninteresting reading text, and teachers are being forced to do away with constructive projects in order to fit in all those mandated instructional minutes and assessments.
Our district states that part of its mission is to “do what’s best for children.” But this is pretense and disingenuous. Administrators consistently make decisions that indicate they have no true understanding of what is best for children at all:
- No recess or breaks for students during the day
- Less classroom support for students with special needs
- More tracking of students
- Less understanding of student differences
- More emphasis on data
- No room for innovative teaching or engaged learning
- No opportunities for teachers to establish that which is critical to a student’s success: the teacher-student connection
How can this possibly be what is “best for children”?
The disrespect for teachers is painfully evident in the new teacher evaluation system. It’s designed to allow administrators to fire at will. An excellent, tenured teacher can be dismissed if she receives just one “needs improvement” on an evaluation. Teacher Concern Forms are given for the most trivial, insignificant reasons just so that principals can dismiss a staff member. Teachers can lose their jobs because their students were too loud in the halls, or they were teaching social studies when their schedule said they were going to teach math, or because they were two minutes late to a meeting.
This year alone, I have been a helpless witness as half a dozen dedicated, hard-working teachers were reduced to tears, shame, and desperation because an administrator decided they disliked them for some arbitrary reason. These devoted employees were handed concern forms filled with false accusations, and no opportunity for discussion was provided. They then received a less-than-glowing evaluation with no recourse or opportunity for appeal or dialog. They were told that their contracts were not being renewed.
Educators must now use a new behavior system that focuses on the positives in praising children. This makes perfect sense: everyone likes to be recognized for doing something well. But once again, administrators adhere to a double standard and do not practice what they preach.
During my teaching career, I have received numerous letters, notes, emails, phone calls, and even videos from parents and students, thanking me for making a difference in their lives, for having a deep impact on their learning and their personal growth. My efforts have even been recognized in the newspaper. However, I can count on one hand the number of times an administrator has said to me, “Good job!” or, “Thank you.”
Teachers work incredibly hard to build a strong, caring classroom community. The district promotes this, and they encourage us to establish respect and equality in our classes, which we do. Yet they don’t allow us the same courtesy and rule as dictators through fear and intimidation.
This past year has been particularly distressing, as I have become painfully aware that neither my principal, administrator, not even my union, will protect my rights or stand by me. There is nowhere to turn for support, and unless you are a yes-man, you will soon find out that your only choice is to become one or leave.
In the last few days of school, when we’re usually focusing on wrapping up the year for our students, reaching out to them one more time more than ever to solidify those personal connections and relay those life lessons, make our final positive impact on them, myself and three of my colleagues were abruptly handed letters of involuntary transfer. We were called to the office, one by one, over the loudspeaker, so that everyone in the whole school knew which lamb was being led to the slaughter. According to the letter, I was being moved to another school because of the poor climate in my building. The erroneous, incorrect, ridiculous assumption was made that I, and the other teachers who were being stripped of their jobs with no warning or explanation, was partly responsible for the negative environment in our school.
But the truth is, I’m just not a yes-man. I advocate for my students, their families, and my colleagues. I speak up when a decision is being made that I feel is not in the best interest of the kids, their education, or social-emotional growth. This inhumane, insensitive transfer is an attempt to silence my voice. But I cannot and will not remain mute where my students and fellow colleagues are concerned.
I thought I would be a teacher for the rest of my life, but I no longer feel that I’m doing anything meaningful. I’m not being allowed to spark enthusiasm for learning in children in my own way. Rather, I’m being forced to function as a cog in a wheel, and this wheel is not turning in the right direction. My sense of humor, personality, creativity, self-expression, passion, opinion, my voice—all are being stepped on, crushed, and ground down. And I have to get out before my sense of self and self-worth are completely obliterated.
Sadly, there are many others who feel as I do.
In Dr Seuss’s lovely book Horton Hatches the Egg, there’s a sentence that made my daughter cry every time I read it out loud to her when she was young. When the hunters arrive and see Horton the elephant defending his egg in a tree, they decide to sell him to a circus. They force him to leave his branch so that they can put him on display in a cage. Dr Seuss writes, “Horton backed down with a sad, heavy heart.”
And like clockwork, whenever I read this, Alison [ph] would tear up. Somehow, even my 4-year-old knew that this was a moment of defeat and loss, and her empathy and sorrow for Horton were palpable.
Today I am Horton. I am being forced from my protective branch. They want to take away my freedom to nurture my students and help them grow. But I won’t go into their cage, so I’m leaving my post. And I, too, am backing down with a sad, heavy heart. I hereby submit my resignation, effective beginning the school year 2013-2014.
