What I believe

I believe that children deserve that I hold the highest expectations for them. As a teacher, you need to believe in their ability to learn, and you need the keys to unlock the doors to that learning. Too often, as Lisa Delpit points out, teachers particularly expect less of low-income students and students of color. We must give more and aim higher. We have learned the language of Lev Vygotsky and will keep scaffolding so our students can bridge the gap created by their zone of proximal development. But in more human terms, it's simply about believing in children and striving to lift them to heights they can't even imagine. What does that look like in the classroom, as Zalika likes to ask? It looks like writing assignments, books and math problems that stretch the minds and abilities of my students. It looks like peer-to-peer work that pushes one child higher one day, and another one higher the next. It looks like science explorations that ask the big questions. It looks like art and physical activities that enable all the multiple intelligences in the room to blossom. It looks like focusing, not on theories or methodology, but on who my students are and what exactly they need - and then delivering it.

I believe a classroom needs to be a community. That community should be a safe haven where students treat each other with respect and the teacher and students treat one another with respect. But beyond respect are the essential elements of trust, caring and love. I want my students to trust that I always, always will look out for their best interests. And I need to trust that they want to learn and that they can learn. Within our community, I want my students to care as much about the learning and needs of their classmates as they do about themselves. I want them to reach out to help and to accept help. I want my students to have compassion for one another and an appreciation for their differences. I also want that community to grow beyond the classroom walls, building bridges with parents and families and finding ways to offer the gifts of our community to the broader one. What does that look like in the classroom? It looks like circle time, when students can talk about their concerns, hopes and problems. It looks like icebreakers and games that build teams and self-esteem. It looks like group and peer-to-peer work that requires cooperation and coordination among students. It sounds like laughter because we're having fun. It looks like my students with photos, stories, food, music, memories and traditions that don't just stay at home but land on our classroom walls or in "Me Pockets" or in our sharing. It looks like "Persona Dolls" or "Let's Talk About Skin" so we can talk about and celebrate our differences. It looks like me, the teacher, learning from my students, because they bring experiences and insights I've never had. It looks like parents in the classroom, bringing their strengths and uniqueness to share. It looks like service learning, where our students reach out to give to others. And some days it might simply look like a hug.

I believe teachers can change the world. We have recently read so many articles about the grim state of education. We know that funding is inadequate and unequal. We know that the system is designed to serve the interests of corporate America, and not necessarily democracy and students. We know that socioeconomic conditions send children to school hungry and homeless, and make the work of schools extremely difficult. We know that test-driven curriculum is threatening to dumb down students and inhibit teachers. But I hew to the words we've heard now from both Zalika and Bekah: When you close that door, it's your classroom. It's your world. When I close that door, I refuse to lean on any of those grim pronouncements as excuses to limit my hopes and dreams for my students. They certainly will inform my teaching, but I don't have to let them limit it. I find inspiration from Jonathan Kozol's "Letters to a Young Teacher:" "But teachers, and especially teachers of young children, are not servants of the global corporations or drill sergeants for the state and should never be compelled to view themselves that way. I think they have a higher destiny than that. The best of teachers are not merely the technicians of proficiency; they are also ministers of innocence, practitioners of tender expectations. They stalwartly refuse to see their pupils as so many future economic units for a corporate society, little pint-sized deficits or assets for America's economy, into whom they are expected to pump added value, as the pundits of the education policy arena now declaim. Teachers like these believe that every child who has been entrusted to their care comes into their classroom with inherent value to begin with." I want them to find joy and fulfillment simply in learning. I want to raise critical thinkers who see their own potential, even in the most dire of circumstances. I want to challenge my students to believe in themselves and to empower their future learning. I want them to see hope in their ability to change the world, even against the greatest of odds. What does that look like in the classroom? When I say I believe teachers can change the world, that doesn't mean I think it looks like me bringing all the answers. Rather, it's a journey we are on together in the classroom. It looks like truly knowing my students and making sure that I'm serving them and not an ideology or a policy. It looks like light bulbs bursting on all around me. It looks like critical thinking that, at times, will rock me. It looks like growing self-confidence within my students, who give voice to that confidence through performing writing, reading, math, art, science and community services. It looks like high expectations. It looks like community. And it looks like students seeing beyond the classroom and seeing hope and opportunities they believe they can act on because of what they've learned about themselves.