As I near the first anniversary of retiring from teaching, I find myself reflecting on the wisdom of moving from a 45-year career—the only real career I’ve had. If I had had any doubts—and I have NOT—the confluence of two front page stories in my local newspaper last week confirmed just how wise I was to “get out of Dodge.”
One dealt with the surprise firing of a winning high school
basketball coach. I’ll return to that in
a moment. The other dealt with the
recently signed Kansas education law, which trades K-12 teacher tenure for
court-mandated funding for education.
“Tenure” in K-12 is a misnomer; it confuses continuing contracts with
the higher education tenure, which seeks to protect academic freedom. The Gov’s signature deleted the due process
policy for K-12 educators, including those who had been on a continuing
contract. Unfortunately, teachers and
their professional organizations have tended to emphasize the damage the loss
could do to teachers themselves.
Consequently, the argument sounds self-serving. As my business friend asked, “Why should
teachers have any more protections that I do?”
Actually, the abolition of K-12 tenure has far-reaching
ramifications for students, especially, administrators, and even the
community. But, to begin, my business
friend’s question deserves an answer. Teachers
are professionals, and, thus, deserving, after a probationary period, of
protections and review of the sort afforded other professionals. In addition, at a practical level teachers
have to negotiate myriad stakeholders, and, thus, they need special protections
in order to do their jobs. Why are there
so many stakeholders? Simply put, because
everyone has been a student and a child, there is a tendency for nearly everyone
to consider themselves education experts.
Everyone feels invested in education, and that’s good; however, that
blanket investment also means that teachers find themselves answering to many
people with multiple agendas—some of which may collide with professional
standards. Besides the board of
education and multiple school supervisors and administrators (e.g., department
chairs, principals, superintendent) other stakeholders include students, parents,
community members, and various organizations such as churches and businesses. And that is before we get to political
constituencies.
A personal example:
One afternoon when my high school juniors were discussing satire (one
objective in the district outline), my principal called me into the hall. “Meez MacKwekneee,” he drawled, “ I just
finished visiting with Mrs.____, who objects to yous (he loved that sub-standard
form) teaching killing babies.” Now, I
knew that his use of “visit” meant “having an altercation,” and that this
influential woman enjoyed wielding power.
It seems that she had perused her daughter’s English text after her
favorite televangelist trumpeted the dangers of public schools indoctrinating
students to anti-Christian thinking. And
there in her daughter’s English book she found proof positive that I was advocating
murder.
“What’s the story?”
he asked. I explained that we
were studying how Jonathan Swift used satire in “A Modest Proposal” to convey
what would be too volatile to state directly.
I showed him the book, aptly named Satiric
Voice, and, fortunately for me, one the board had approved. Also, fortunately for me, the principal was
familiar with the concept of satire. After
looking at the bright red book with the huge title imprinted in black, though, it
was clear to him that Mrs. ___ did not understand the concept. “How are we going to deal with this?” was his
last question.
“Looks like a teachable moment to me. Why don’t we let the daughter teach Mom about
satire?” Both the principal and daughter
agreed, in her case to vent her frustration, no doubt, at her over-zealous
parent. “I’ll take care of it,” she assured me, eyes snapping as she spoke. And she did.
What I want to emphasize here is that, though I was doing
exactly what I was hired to do—teach one of the objectives listed on the course
outline using an approved text—my work was being affected by the preaching of a
televangelist 1000 miles away and a parent who elected to object to her
daughter’s studies not by coming to me, but by approaching my superior for
additional leverage and, potentially, the board. What would have happened, I wonder, had my
principal and I not had rapport? What
would have happened had I been a first year teacher instead of an established
veteran with continuing contract protections—the ones that are now removed in
Kansas?
These musings return me to the first article—the one about
the coach being fired after winning 78% of his games, with the only public
explanation being, “We decided to go in a new direction.” Let me emphasize that because I know nothing
about the details of this case I am not making judgment about the firing. Instead, I want to use this to illustrate
what termination could look like for teaching veterans under this new education
act, when “new direction” becomes sufficient cause for dismissal and when
absence of cause makes defense impossible.
For people who haven’t been through the abrupt termination
of a teacher, it is important to think about the stakeholders and the impact
that an unexplained termination has on them.
In the case of this coach, students, parents, sports alums, and local
sports pundits are vocal in their criticism of the powers that be. Learning of this coach’s firing returned my
thoughts to that same high school where I was accused of teaching the killing
of babies. In fact, it may have been the
same year—I don’t remember. But I do
remember my feelings as I watched my students struggle with the possibility
that they had done something to destroy the career of one of their favorite
teachers.
Mr. M, the band director, had a rocky start his first year
at the school—mainly because he expected the marching band to march in unison
and to make sounds that were identifiable as music. Band members complained that they spent more
time on the football field than did the football team. And they complained loudly—until they started
getting compliments from parents and strangers alike for their music and
formations. In addition, Mr. M’s newly
formed jazz band started making waves at school and contests. By March, students were speaking of
themselves as musicians and talking about college scholarships in music. That was until Mr. M was informed his contract
was not being renewed. And because he
was a first year teacher, no cause was given.
It is this absence of cause—just as could result from the
new Kansas law—that is important not only for the teacher but also for the
students and the community affected by the termination. And, I would argue, for the school district
as well. First, the students. As any parent or person who works with kids
knows, they need explanations for everything, often taking responsibility onto
themselves for events out of their control.
And so it was in this case. Had
their grousing to a parent led to a conversation with a board member that ended
with this termination? If they weren’t
responsible, which student or faculty member was? They seemed to flow through the initial
stages of grief at warp speed, with their anger/guilt/sadness culminating in statements
at a school board meeting attended by some 200 students, parents, teachers, and
community (in a 7-12 school with a total enrollment under 250). School board members’ children spoke, band
members tearfully apologized for their past comments, and parents spoke of
their children’s new enthusiasm for music.
It was obvious from the attendance that every segment of this community
was affected by this unexplained ouster.
In the end, the pleading and sobbing and eloquence were to no
avail. He was fired—without cause.
I have thought of that night at the school board often as I
have read of the loss of tenure of Kansas teachers and the powerful statements
by sports writers and students on behalf of the local coach. That night at the board meeting it wasn’t the
teacher who needed protection as much as did the school board. As they watched their own children argue on
their teacher’s behalf, I’m convinced that they would have welcomed a policy
that would have given them an escape.
But that night, they didn’t have a procedure to amend their decision
without risking litigation.
I’m sure life in the community was difficult for the board
members for the rest of the year, but it was the students who suffered most, as
I’m sure the coach’s team is suffering now.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the players and the other coaches
at the school: all of them have to be
wondering what it takes for a coach to keep his job if a winning season,
support of students, players, and the public, and a positive evaluation isn’t
enough. I know I witnessed the students
at my former high school in agony the rest of the year. Those involved with the band remained
convinced they had sealed his fate, while the failure to sway the board
disillusioned the rest of the student body and the community as well.
That end of year stands out as one of the worst in my career
because it is difficult to watch students so troubled—in so much pain. And, worse, education lost an excellent,
dedicated teacher, for another ramification of termination without cause is
that it is difficult—impossible in Mr. M’s case—to get another job in the same
field. That experience causes me to feel
badly for our local coach and especially for his players, and I agonize for all
my K-12 colleagues who will find themselves looking over their shoulders in a
manner that they never had to before.
As I said, I’m glad I got out of Dodge.
