The day I lost everything (or so I thought)
November 11th 2016. It was a Friday. Donald Trump just got elected as the 45th president of the United States. My boyfriend and I had just broken up. A close friend of mine had just been hospitalized in the ICU after someone unloaded a gun on him attempting to end his life. It was not the best week of my life, and it was just about to get better. I was called into the principal's office for a "routine" coaching meeting. This meeting seemed unroutine since we never held these meetings in the presence of the principal, let alone in his office.
Within minutes of sitting down across from my principal and adjacent to my coach, I knew something terrible was in the air. Their looks were very serious and in front of me on a table laid a document. They asked me how my day was and before I could answer I was told to review the document. Upon reading through it my blood began to race, my hands began to shake, and sweat poured over me. On the document were a list of three goals that had been designated to make me a more effective teacher. Next to each goal were my abysmal results. Some of the results were not even written in as to show that my performance was so appalling that my coach couldn't even keep up with my train wreck of a performance.
I was given a moment to glance at the results and asked to explain what I had seen. Of course I felt terrible, here it was documented in front of me, how I managed to fail time and time again. I responded, "Well, it's all here on the paper, I guess I can't argue with it. It seems you have already come to your own conclusions." I would hope that I was as articulate at that, it probably came out as, "bleggh". I was told to pack my classroom up and to leave the premises that afternoon.
As I stepped outside of the office I was enraged, and slammed the document into the trash muttering "bullshit!" As the gravity of what had just happened began to catch up with me I entered my classroom, I collapsed to the ground my knees too weak to hold my body and I sobbed and sobbed. I was so mad, so betrayed, so devastated, so scared so everything. I was shaking as I tried to figure out what things to take home with me, half the classroom was decorated with things I had made, bought or brought from home. I couldn't believe this had happened. I was heartbroken for all the students that would have to endure the next weeks without their teacher, the parents that would receive no explanation as to why their child's teacher suddenly disappeared. All I could do was make sure to leave a note for my students on the white board "Ms. Aleshaiker loves you all!" But deep deep deep down inside I was relieved.
It was my third year teaching as KIPP, the McDonald's of charter schools. My first two years had their share of ups and downs mostly downs, as I was assigned as a new teacher to work with the "lowest" and sometimes "most difficult" students, the logic still baffles me. But I had done well, in KIPP standards, I was committed, arrived on time and kept my mouth shut. My third year, I had finally gotten my own classroom and I was thrilled, finally I would be in charge of how this classroom is run, I would think. Finally I can make sure that all my students get to be treated like individuals instead of an en masse of unfortunate souls. Finally I would be able to integrate my love for art and creativity into the mundane lessons we were employed to teach. However, the joy was short-lived as I quickly began to realize that that was exactly what the KIPP administration did not want me to do. I learned this through the realization that not only does KIPP tell you what to teach, how to teach and when to teach, but they also suck up any iota of spare planning time, and "free" time (before and after school hours) to continuously indoctrinate their teachers with KIPPisms. KIPPisms are basically what I will call anything that they tell you or make you do that further enhances their goal, of being the McDonald's of charter schools. Many of these meetings pushed us to be relentlessly in pursuit of success, to aggressively monitor student achievement, to create an atmosphere of urgency, and to instil resilience and grit by any means necessary.
By my fourth month of lead teaching a kindergarten classroom of 4 and 5 years olds without assistance, I was exhausted. Physically and mentally drained. I had lost my zest and passion for teaching since I was made to teach within a rigid schedule, overloaded with work, and my moral so downtrodden by "expert" coaches who all had ways in which I could achieve more, and do better which always meant more outside work to accomplish. My downfall wasn't that I was losing control of my students in the classroom daily, or that occasionally I'd have to shout and scream at my students for order. No, that was very normal in this school. My downfall was that I decided I would say something, "I need help."
When I said this, I didn't mean, I need more coaching, or I need more professional development seminars. When I said, "I need help", I added "my classroom needs another adult". I knew I was not speaking for only my classroom, because the other kindergarten teachers desperately needed another adult in the classroom too. I was told that my request was too grand and that would never happen, That it was normal for a lead teacher to work with 25+ students, some with special needs, some not yet potty trained, some who didn't speak English, and some that were so not ready to be in such a setting that they would start fights every few minutes. All this on top of staying on schedule and meeting all the required teaching standards and while keeping a smile on my face. Something struck me as very odd. Why would this be ok? Why would anyone in their right mind allow this many children with such high needs in one classroom where their needs aren't being met? Would our principal ever place his students in this classroom? No, definitely not. Why? Oh yes, this is an urban school for urban students of color, not for white middle class families or children of a white middle class principal. Also, not to mention the eight grand each pupil brought to the school. So more students didn't mean more teachers, it meant more money.
When I did a little research into what the state of Louisiana mandates for the maximum number of kindergarteners in one classroom, it states: 20 students to 1 teacher ratio. Meaning that after 20 students a school is mandated to have an assistant or co-teacher. This I brought up to the principal himself. This was my downfall.
After I was fired, I was relieved, no longer a slave to this school that trained us to enslave a new generation of students to the drudgery of forced schooling under the guise of education. We didn't educate at that school, in fact everyday we were systematically training our students to be obedient, to comply with orders from above, not to think critically and not to ask questions. That day will remain to be the day I thought I lost everything, the job, the prestige, the salary, the stability. That was also the day I got one step closer to gaining my freedom, my voice, my passion and my creativity.
I hope to use this blog to shed light on what happens after being kicked out of the job market and off of the totem pole. This blog is about how I, everyday must remind myself of the sacrifice I made and the sacrifices I will continue to make in order to live a life that's fully mine. A life where I am no longer peddling anyone else's agenda. A life where I no longer feel compelled to claim expertise or higher knowledge. A life that is truly mine, albeit much rockier than a smooth sailing life guided by corporate ladders, pension schemes, and guaranteed health benefits. Instead opting for the road less traveled.
Within minutes of sitting down across from my principal and adjacent to my coach, I knew something terrible was in the air. Their looks were very serious and in front of me on a table laid a document. They asked me how my day was and before I could answer I was told to review the document. Upon reading through it my blood began to race, my hands began to shake, and sweat poured over me. On the document were a list of three goals that had been designated to make me a more effective teacher. Next to each goal were my abysmal results. Some of the results were not even written in as to show that my performance was so appalling that my coach couldn't even keep up with my train wreck of a performance.
I was given a moment to glance at the results and asked to explain what I had seen. Of course I felt terrible, here it was documented in front of me, how I managed to fail time and time again. I responded, "Well, it's all here on the paper, I guess I can't argue with it. It seems you have already come to your own conclusions." I would hope that I was as articulate at that, it probably came out as, "bleggh". I was told to pack my classroom up and to leave the premises that afternoon.
As I stepped outside of the office I was enraged, and slammed the document into the trash muttering "bullshit!" As the gravity of what had just happened began to catch up with me I entered my classroom, I collapsed to the ground my knees too weak to hold my body and I sobbed and sobbed. I was so mad, so betrayed, so devastated, so scared so everything. I was shaking as I tried to figure out what things to take home with me, half the classroom was decorated with things I had made, bought or brought from home. I couldn't believe this had happened. I was heartbroken for all the students that would have to endure the next weeks without their teacher, the parents that would receive no explanation as to why their child's teacher suddenly disappeared. All I could do was make sure to leave a note for my students on the white board "Ms. Aleshaiker loves you all!" But deep deep deep down inside I was relieved.
It was my third year teaching as KIPP, the McDonald's of charter schools. My first two years had their share of ups and downs mostly downs, as I was assigned as a new teacher to work with the "lowest" and sometimes "most difficult" students, the logic still baffles me. But I had done well, in KIPP standards, I was committed, arrived on time and kept my mouth shut. My third year, I had finally gotten my own classroom and I was thrilled, finally I would be in charge of how this classroom is run, I would think. Finally I can make sure that all my students get to be treated like individuals instead of an en masse of unfortunate souls. Finally I would be able to integrate my love for art and creativity into the mundane lessons we were employed to teach. However, the joy was short-lived as I quickly began to realize that that was exactly what the KIPP administration did not want me to do. I learned this through the realization that not only does KIPP tell you what to teach, how to teach and when to teach, but they also suck up any iota of spare planning time, and "free" time (before and after school hours) to continuously indoctrinate their teachers with KIPPisms. KIPPisms are basically what I will call anything that they tell you or make you do that further enhances their goal, of being the McDonald's of charter schools. Many of these meetings pushed us to be relentlessly in pursuit of success, to aggressively monitor student achievement, to create an atmosphere of urgency, and to instil resilience and grit by any means necessary.
By my fourth month of lead teaching a kindergarten classroom of 4 and 5 years olds without assistance, I was exhausted. Physically and mentally drained. I had lost my zest and passion for teaching since I was made to teach within a rigid schedule, overloaded with work, and my moral so downtrodden by "expert" coaches who all had ways in which I could achieve more, and do better which always meant more outside work to accomplish. My downfall wasn't that I was losing control of my students in the classroom daily, or that occasionally I'd have to shout and scream at my students for order. No, that was very normal in this school. My downfall was that I decided I would say something, "I need help."
When I said this, I didn't mean, I need more coaching, or I need more professional development seminars. When I said, "I need help", I added "my classroom needs another adult". I knew I was not speaking for only my classroom, because the other kindergarten teachers desperately needed another adult in the classroom too. I was told that my request was too grand and that would never happen, That it was normal for a lead teacher to work with 25+ students, some with special needs, some not yet potty trained, some who didn't speak English, and some that were so not ready to be in such a setting that they would start fights every few minutes. All this on top of staying on schedule and meeting all the required teaching standards and while keeping a smile on my face. Something struck me as very odd. Why would this be ok? Why would anyone in their right mind allow this many children with such high needs in one classroom where their needs aren't being met? Would our principal ever place his students in this classroom? No, definitely not. Why? Oh yes, this is an urban school for urban students of color, not for white middle class families or children of a white middle class principal. Also, not to mention the eight grand each pupil brought to the school. So more students didn't mean more teachers, it meant more money.
When I did a little research into what the state of Louisiana mandates for the maximum number of kindergarteners in one classroom, it states: 20 students to 1 teacher ratio. Meaning that after 20 students a school is mandated to have an assistant or co-teacher. This I brought up to the principal himself. This was my downfall.
After I was fired, I was relieved, no longer a slave to this school that trained us to enslave a new generation of students to the drudgery of forced schooling under the guise of education. We didn't educate at that school, in fact everyday we were systematically training our students to be obedient, to comply with orders from above, not to think critically and not to ask questions. That day will remain to be the day I thought I lost everything, the job, the prestige, the salary, the stability. That was also the day I got one step closer to gaining my freedom, my voice, my passion and my creativity.
I hope to use this blog to shed light on what happens after being kicked out of the job market and off of the totem pole. This blog is about how I, everyday must remind myself of the sacrifice I made and the sacrifices I will continue to make in order to live a life that's fully mine. A life where I am no longer peddling anyone else's agenda. A life where I no longer feel compelled to claim expertise or higher knowledge. A life that is truly mine, albeit much rockier than a smooth sailing life guided by corporate ladders, pension schemes, and guaranteed health benefits. Instead opting for the road less traveled.
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