Poet and teacher, Bill Evans, was one of the readers last night at the Poetry Punch. I loved his poetry and wanted to read more online. Then I found this blog post he wrote for Lesson Plans, Learning to Teach in a Complicated World, a New York Times education blog. Bill teaches 8th grade English at Trevor Day School. That won my heart. The Trevor Day School is in the same building where my high school, Walden, used to be. Bill sounds like one heck of a teacher.

I’m supposed to come back to school
with a goal for the year written on an index card. I think the card
itself may even be included in one of these inspirational end-of-summer
packets that have been piling up around my writing table. This is the
kind of thing teachers do when there aren’t any kids around, and though
I’m totally a team player, teacher-training activities tend to fill me
with, shall we say, dread. Even after almost 20 years of teaching, I
hate the thought of going public with my strengths and weaknesses.
Well, actually, I don’t mind a bit of praise for the good stuff, but
I’m truly leery of excess honesty when it comes to the bad. But there is no “bad,” as teachers are aware, only “challenges” and “areas for growth.”

So I need to come up with an intellectually sound and educationally
relevant goal that doesn’t blow my cover and expose me as whatever it
is I’m afraid I am in secret (fraud? misanthropic iconoclast? big
loser?). This is pretty much what it feels like to be a kid in school
as well, as far as I can tell, and perhaps my goal should be simply to
remember that. Does that count? I just found the index card; it was included with a letter!  Already I’m making progress on this assignment.

A few days ago I went up to school — from the East Village to the
corner of West 88th Street and Central Park West — to pick up some TransitCheks,
and as I suspected the place was packed. One week before we even had to
report for teacher training and the place was already filled to the
brim with teachers skittering about. And I’m not counting
administrators; they never leave.

All the earnestness and energy left me feeling a bit stunned. What are all these people doing
here already? And am I supposed to be here doing it with them? No kids,
though. The kids are still off like Mr. Evans – poeting, swimming laps,
going to yoga class, writing blogs for The New York Times — all the
myriad social and private niceties that make up the backbone of a
Living Culture. But my teacher colleagues are serious. And
that goes for my public school colleagues, too. I happen to know
because I am in the unique position of being both an eighth grade
English teacher in a private school and the parent of an
eighth grade student in a New York City public school, so I’m rather
intimately connected to both worlds. And I tell you, both are loaded
with excellent, hard-working true believers. They’re out there, ladies
and gentlemen. The real problem is keeping them there and into it
across Time — because energy is wonderful, but being present is
everything, and truly it takes ten years to hit your stride and begin
teach really well.

The secret weapon in this business is consistent, long-term human
connection. That’s where values come from, and that’s where context and
meaning are imparted. Ideas and ambition are great, but absolutely
nothing beats experience, and sadly, or gladly, no one stays 24 years
old for very long. We need grownup teachers who are in it for the
duration, and to become that one has to be able to survive the job. So
we should all add survival to our personal goal anthologies. I’d like
to do my job this year with some amount of grace, skill, tact, and yes,
even joy. Oh yeah, joy is good. That definitely goes on the card.