Nine Eleven, UPDATED

I guess this is a day of reminiscence.

On 9/10 I had a melanoma removed from my side. It wasn't a serious operation. It was at Northshore hospital, with anesthesia that put me out, but I walked out around noon, woozy but standing. The surgeon, a Korean woman who looked to be around 12 years old, told me to stay home the rest of the week. But at that point I was working out of an the District 14 Multimedia office at PS 84 in Williamsburg and didn't have to teach, so I went in, still a little spacey, on that beautiful Tuesday. My partner, Maria, suggested we go to breakfast at a place on Bedford Ave.

We were just finishing breakfast when the waiter came over with the check and said a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I figured it was something like a small plane that lost its way. Soon after he told us a second plane had hit the building. My first reaction was that they had collided with each other first. "No. It's terrorists," said Maria. I laughed.

We walked the two blocks to the East River and watched the smoke stream out of the buildings. "My God, I think people are jumping," Maria said. I didn't believe her. I don't know how she saw that because I didn't. Of course, she was right.

We watched for a while and she suggested I go back to the office and grab a video camera. It took me some time to get it set up. On the way back to the river, people on the roofs started screaming, "It fell down." When I got there a few minutes later, there was only a puff of smoke where the building had been.

I shot about 5 minutes of video but just couldn't go on. (I still have it somewhere, but have never looked at it.) We went back to the office to watch it on TV. One of the teachers' husbands worked around there and she hadn't heard from him directly, though one of his co-workers told her (before the building came down) he was all right but had gone down to watch. Of course she was extremely upset, but had to try to hide it with a group of special ed kids in front of her.

It was clear the other one was going to come down too. I couldn't watch and went back to my office. About 1PM I was out in the hall when I saw the teacher's husband, who had walked all the way over the bridge, come down the hall. She ran out of her room and they just hugged and hugged.

I drove home that afternoon. The Belt Parkway was empty. And I mean empty. It seemed that it was closed as I saw no cars. And this was around 4pm. I was flipping the radio dial to get as much information as I could, but still spent the most time on my favorite station, WFAN, where Mike Francesa did as good a coverage as was possible for hours. I was feeling real tired and woozy from the operation and hit the sheets when I got home in a semi dreamlike state, still not sure if I had come out of my operation yet.

Update:

Francesa is talking about it now. I forgot that Dog wasn't there. Mike was on the air until later in the evening, with Charles McCord there with him most of the time. Now my memory is coming back about why that coverage was so good between the two of them. They both brought so much to the table, with Mike making many guesses about what was going on using his intuition and intelligence. He also talked about his trip home where he didn't see one car on the road.

I remember meeting a first year teaching fellow a few months later. Her school faced the city and when moving her class they could see the towers burning. Having recently gone through a traumatic personal experience, that sight froze her and she freaked and panicked. This was the first few days of the school year. The administration at her school was always notoriously oppressive and came down on her. Hard. They took away her class and gave it to another fellow and it just about ended her career as a teacher, though she hung on at the school as a sub for the rest of the year.

While I'm updating, I want to make a point about the relevance of that day to our history in comparison to other events in history. I was moved in recent trips to London at what it must have been like in the blitz in WWII. This went on for a long time, sometimes every night with lots of people dying, mostly civilian. How does that play compared to nine eleven?

There are lots of factors in why that one day had such an impact. Maybe it was because it was one day. Imagine if there were a 9/11 every day for years? No one day would stick out. Or maybe just the nature of the act and what was behind it, though the terror of Hitler's war machine was not light stuff. But every time 9/11 comes up I can't help reviewing walking the streets of London trying to imagine the terror of the bombers coming every night. America has never experienced anything like it and should try to keep things in perspective.

A Yankee Memory - and a Parade

In 1978 when the Yanks won the series I had a trip scheduled to the Museum of Natural History that week. It was not easy to change trips on short notice. I tried to think of a place to go in the financial district and came up with the American Indian Museum and pulled all the strings needed to get the change.

Naturally, I didn't include the fact that the main purpose was to attend the Yankee parade. So I took my 6th grade class to the parade route where we waited for the Yankees to pass. We had to wait for about 2 hours. The kids interacted with the people around us (which weren't enormous) as paper came down from the buildings.

Managing a class of almost 30 kids as the lone adult in those conditions is a good test of certain teaching skills. (They should give merit pay for this.) Especially since this was early October. But this was pretty much the same class I had in the 5th grade the year before and we were very comfortable with each other.

Finally, we saw the floats. "Reggie, Reggie," as the kids saw their hero (not mine, as Reggie was not one of my favorites.) They went by quickly - not many trucks. They were gone in about 30 seconds. The crowds disappeared quickly. The streets were loaded with paper that had been thrown from the buildings. The kids were rolling around in it and having a blast. They kept playing for a while and then we went to Battery Park for lunch and those great views of the harbor.

We never did get to that Indian Museum.

In 1998 when the Yankees won the Series, I was no longer at the school and working for the district. I took the day off and went to the parade - alone. The size and intensity of the crowds were enormous compared to 20 years before.

On the way into the city, I stopped to visit my old school. Ironically, one of the students on that trip had just completed a 7 year prison term and came to visit me just as I was leaving. I told him I was going to the parade. "Just like you took us," he said. Holy Cow! I had forgotten all about it.

"Mr. Scott, that was one of the best experiences of my life," he said. "I'll never forget it."

Memories and Tragedies

About 10 years ago I go a call on Thanksgiving night from a former student from a correctional institution upstate. He was serving life (and is still in the system). After chatting for a few minutes, he said "Wait! Some people want to talk to you." And there were two more of my students. Six or seven from my school were in the same cell block. My fault, I guess. You see what happens when you have under performing schools? What was missing from their lives was probably a charter school.

One of the things about teaching in certain neighborhoods, and a reason some teachers eventually must leave, are the all too many dismal stories – more of the above than successful college graduates. If you stay in one place, you see generations of devastation – drugs, prison, you know the drill. Probably due to the low quality teachers according to the Joel Kleins of this world.

You could have feast or famine in alternate years - if the contract, which gave you the right to move from bottom of the grade to top, was followed, which it often wasn't. The favorites of the principals got the top every year unless you grieved – which I had to do twice. Oh, that darn union contract, which was so weak even in this obvious area (my principal declared a heterogeneous "experiment" for my grade only that year only.) Some teachers would knife you in the back to stay on the top and do all sorts of favors for the principal. Now I hear they have supposedly eliminated tracking.

How are teachers affected by so many stories of death and destruction? Some get worn out; for others it's like water off their backs. That was why the UFT's willingness to remove the ability to transfer, often the only way out, was such a sell-out. I mean, there comes a time when people need to see some success stories.

Here is something I wrote in my chapter leader report in November, 1996. I was teaching computers, so A... wasn't in my class, but over a few years we got to hang out together, go to basketball games and my wife and I even had him and a friend stay over at at the house a few times. One of the major hoodlums in my school, feared by students and even some teachers, despised by the principal, my wife couldn't believe the stories, he was so unfailingly polite - and made his bed, which was a major point for my wife. I had had many members of A...'s family in my classes over the years, his uncle and even his mom (I won't even go there) for a time when she was in the 4th grade and knew his grandmother well. She was raising him, as were many other grandmothers in the neighborhood, one of the serious issues that lead to worn out older women having to do it all over again and just not having the energy to keep tight control over the kids.

When he was 12 or 13 I took him to Gleason's boxing gym in downtown Brooklyn to introduce him to a trainer a friend was working out with. We got him a locker and he worked out. Everyone treated him great and I thought this could save him. We went once or twice and I urged him to keep going. But he didn't. A major lost chance.

When A... was arrested in Pennsylvania when he was around 14, I received a call from the social worker there. "We don't know what to do with him," she said. "His grandmother says it is too far to visit and wants us to send him home." "Keep him there as long as you can," was my advice. They didn't listen. Within a year he had shot up the door to an apartment in his building, got a 24 year old woman pregnant and was sent away for 3 years.

When he got out he called and we made plans to get together. It never happened. One November morning his little sister tapped me on the shoulder as the classes were lining up. As calm as she could be, she said, "A... was shot 5 times in the head in Pennsylvania." What makes it all so tragic is that no one was surprised at the news - like watching someone standing in the middle of the road with a truck coming and you're helpless to stop it.

PS XXX Chapter Report, Nov. 1996

A..., a graduate of P.S. xxx, was shot to death on November 8, 1996. He was 18 years old. Our condolences go out to A...’s grandmother, his mother (also a former student), his sister, (currently a 4th grade student at P.S. xxx) and the rest of the family.

Some people were not surprised that A..’s life ended at such an early age, given the hard life he led. No matter how often we read similar stories in the paper, there’s no accounting for how people will react when they see a young man they’ve known since the 3rd grade laid out in a coffin; especially a young man who died such a seemingly senseless death. But as one of his relatives said after the funeral, A... was willing to risk danger because the life he was destined for seemed so bleak.

In spite of all this, he was still one of our kids. P.S. xxx provided A... with a nurturing environment in spite of the fact he was never easy to deal with. He had a certain stubborness that often drove teachers crazy. But many of us developed a rapport with A... that went beyond the normal teacher-student relationship. He had a hard reputation on the street, but he could be extremely responsible and trustworthy when he respected you and his situation moved many of us. We saw the road he was on. At times he reached out for help, but there was no stopping this train.

A...’s last months were spent at home in Brooklyn getting to know his three year old daughter (who had just started calling him “daddy.”) He started school and had a nighttime job. This was not the kind of life he was used to. We urged him to hang on. Maybe the routine would break him of bad habits. He knew his weaknesses. He had hoped to find a sports program to keep him occupied until he could play baseball in the spring. But the temptations must have been too great. He went back to Pennsylvania where he had been in trouble before. That was where he died.

His short life left something to be desired. He was a 7th grade dropout (his school career lasted about 2 months after he left us); he had multiple problems with the law (he just finished serving 3 years in prison); there were ugly rumors about some of his street activities.

A...’s funeral was attended by many parents and former students from the P.S.xxx community. His cousin N... (another former student at P.S. xxx) read a moving eulogy, which expressed the all too common and disturbing attitude ("A..., you did what you had to do as a man"). Many of his friends wrote poems in his memory. A... clearly had the respect and admiration of many of his contemporaries.

Postscript: N..., a cousin who made the eulogy, was attending college at the time of the funeral. We hope she made it out. But even if she did, the needs of the family would have always pulled her back.

A teacher at PS xxx told me a few years ago that A...'s daughter was a student at the school, most probably being raised by that same grandmother. I guess she would be about 14 now. We can only hope she also breaks the pattern.

Memories: Teachers in Charge

As teachers have been shunted aside and de-skilled in the corporate takeover of school systems I still cling to the increasingly unlikely thought that if teachers controlled schools, they would do a much better job of addressing the issue of colleagues who don't carry their share of the water (defined as potentially capable teachers who are lazy or don't give a shit) and the just plain incompetent (those who just can't do the job - based on my years of observation, a fairly small % – they either leave or work their way up the ladder to principal.

Back in the 70's we had a milquetoast principal – not a bad guy, a real educator of the old style – many years as a classroom teacher followed by over a decade as an AP, all in the same school – who believed in trying to teach teachers good pedagogy and promoted some good ideas – "Nothing learned, nothing taught" was a favorite expression of his. But in terms of leadership, it was the AP's who carried the load. (I'll leave the details for another time as to how the district destroyed him in order to install a political appointee, a younger, stronger, ambitious leader who had "zero" teaching experience, installed a test prep system, and took away the rights of teachers to decide anything - in 1979 - sound familiar?)

Mr. A, our AP in the upper grades, was also a lifer - classroom teacher for many years – a man who taught in an elementary school in the 50's was rare and many ended up on the supervisor track – the war babies like me invaded in the late 60's and changed the landscape. Good leader, great personality, (also a lawyer), let us pretty much do what we wanted.

Now, he didn't have a lot to worry about – the school was under pretty good control – the massive special ed influx hadn't begun yet. They put the men in the 5th and 6th grades and by the time I got there in 1971, the guys had all been there for a few years and not only had good control, but where pretty good teachers.

Well, there was one guy who could have been good but didn't give a shit about teaching, planning to get out as soon as he could – but it would take 10 years 'till he left - and used his time to work on his law school stuff while maintaining absolute control – he became a chapter leader, a good one in that he intimidated the principal, but no one thought he was a good teacher, something he was actually proud of. (One of the knocks on the Mr. A was that he let this go on, and years later, he came under attack for this.) Mr. T was also very smart and very funny to boot. So the kids actually liked him. Of course when I got his class the year after him and found they knew very little math and had lower level reading than they should have had despite being the bottom class, I had a bit of resentment. Actually, they did know how to look up words in the dictionary, which is what they did for hours while he studied. (For new teachers - great idea when you need to take a breather for a few minutes - but I bet they don't let you do this (take breathers or have them look up words) anymore - probably don't even have dictionaries.) He finally left to go into the law and became very successful I hear.

All the hysteria about "quality teachers" would line Mr. T up squarely in the gun sights. But schools can tolerate Mr. T's. He brought leadership, humor and kids were not running wild. However, if we had real power as teachers, we would have found an out of classroom position for Mr. T (which eventually happened) to make use of his talents or would have treid to pressure him to do a better job.

There's always good and bad in these situations and the good was that the AP, Mr. A let us run our own deal as long as we checked it out with him. Mr. A was totally open to suggestions. When I wanted to try an open classroom, he not only gave me the OK but gave me a double sized room to make it more feasible (it turned into a disaster.)
We had input in everything, especially the four 6th grade teachers, who were all so good and learned a lot from each other.

Next time I'll tell you how we all (Mr. A included) pulled a practical joke - punk'd someone in today's parlance - on Mr. Z, one of our weak, always trying to get over, loser teachers. We could tolerate Mr. T, but just the mention of Mr. Z as a teacher made you laugh. Oh yes, in the "shit rises to the top" category – years later we heard that Mr. Z became a supervisor. We're still laughing.

Teacher Certification

There's a good debate going on at NYC Educator's blog about teacher certification. The issue of alternative certification programs like the Teaching Fellows and Teach for America has come up. I won't repeat the arguments made. Go on over and check it out. Many teachers coming out of traditional programs also say they were not prepared for the reality of teaching in NYC. I have generally disparaged traditional programs because I have felt on the job training was more important than coursework. But when the guinea pigs are kids....

Someone commented that you wouldn't want a pilot who wasn't certified. But pilot certification is not all about studying flying in classrooms but mostly about spending many hours in the air with an experienced pilot. I would apply the same to teaching. Pay people a decent salary to assist in classrooms and really teach, not observe for at least a year and ask them to perform before getting certified to go solo instead of that stupid video tape system that you send in after many years of teaching.

Practically, the only way to fill classrooms is with non-traditional programs given the realities of the system. In a rational system, teachers would spend a year or two as interns or assistant teachers. That is what goes in in may of the private schools in NYC.

I came into teaching through a non-traditional route -- The Intensive Teacher Training Program (ITTP) an early version of the Teaching Fellows in the mid-late 60's. I wish I had a little more of a traditional background but I'm not sure how much difference it would have made. I was part of a group of about 15 new teachers in my elementary school, PS 16 in Williamsburg. That was after the 1967 contract which increased preps and reduced class size. I learned on the job. There was a full-time teacher trainer in my school named Elaine Troll who was an immense help and I learned a lot from her. Most of my colleagues resented the hell out of her (I saw the pettiness of teachers very early) but I saw her as a lifeline to a drowning man.

Ironically, because we had extra teachers I lucked out in that I was an ATR in my school for a year and a half by subbing in a different class every day. It was hell. But I also saw how all the teachers organized their classes and began to develop techniques for control. I also had days where they assigned me to assist other teachers and I got to see them at work. Coming to teaching with little respect for "ed" majors - which elementary school training required - I developed tremendous respect for their skills. Whether these skills were due to their training or practical experience, I couldn't tell but my instinct even as a new teacher was that it was due to the latter.

Grad school draft deferments were still not being honored so I had to teach a 2nd year and I was still a sub - the administration had no confidence in me and I don't blame them. But in the middle of that 2nd year a teacher left and I asked to take over because I was bored subbing and wanted more of a challenge. A new principal (a political appointee who proved to be incompetent) had come in a month before so I sort of had a new start (one of his first incompetent acts) even though the AP - Dr. Norman Jehrenberg- did not care for me and was against my getting the class.

After the first week Dr. Jehrenberg stopped me in the hall suggested I go back to subbing. I asked for another week. If I had accepted his offer I would have probably left teaching after that year. But something clicked with the kids that 2nd week and I became a real teacher. Elaine Troll was often in my class assisting and giving positive criticism, not writing me up. Jehrenberg became a big supporter. I remember once telling him I was having trouble getting a math concept across. He showed up shortly after and did the lesson for me. When I needed a child removed he was there within 10 minutes. It got to the point that I just had to take out the paper to write the note and the kid giving me trouble behaved. That was support.

Gaining the respect of this tough, hard-bitten (much despised by some teachers, but also incredibly supportive - to teachers he respected) guy was one of the greatest achievements of my professional life. Unfortunately he transferred after the school year because he rightly felt he should have been made the principal. (I hear he went on to become a principal in Queens somewhere and I bet there are teachers out there who either loved or hated him.) Not having him around (Troll left soon after too) was instrumental in my decision to transfer at the end of my 3rd year and that turned out to be a wise choice. Following the subsequent history of the school right up to today, I can say that since the political decision around Jan. 1969 not to make Jehrenberg principal, PS 16 has still not recovered.

I learned more between Feb. and June 1969 than in any course. But there are few Norman Jehrenbergs and Elaine Trolls around today, if any.