The Cobbler took a break from hammering on the importance of openness and trust within a department to consider again that teacher I outed, anonymously, as believing in the bullshitness of BTSA.
Nobody likes BTSA.
The Cobbler didn’t elaborate why, either.
Of course he thinks it’s bullshit. He’s in the middle of it. When he finishes, then he can judge it. He can’t have perspective on it until he finished.
But you have to be open to ideas. I’ve been doing this for 20-odd years, and every day I learn something new. Every day, I learn something from my students.
In reading your blog, I saw you had some ideas about assessment …
I was open until he said this, because then he lost all credibility. As a student teacher, I shouldn’t make judgements or reflect on assessment? I shouldn’t tell others what I think about assessment, or other subjects of high educational theory?
I didn’t have a problem with anything else he said before or after “I saw you had some ideas.” I am, indeed, open to contrary perspectives, and I welcome any and all not-spam comments. If I didn’t, I’d edit and delete them to my heart’s content, a la the douchenozzle Mr. Fillmore linked to.
I’m willing to bet that all teachers and student teachers make these judgments, even if they don’t take the time to write it down and share it on the Intertubes.
His “some ideas” comment is the precise moment I stopped paying attention. After this, I nodded, laughed and joked at the appropriate moments. Yet “Some ideas” continued to bother me.
As we made our way back to the classroom, away from that table at the end of our second-floor hallway, I told him why I blogged, and how it addresses all his concerns on trust, collaboration and openness to new ideas:
I blog because I want to be more receptive to ideas, so I can put them down in writing and see how ridiculous they are, and so I can collaborate with teachers all over the place. I’ve already managed to do this.
Moreover, I blog to reflect. It’s kinda the point.
He responded.
O.K.
I’m not sure whether or not he was receptive to this idea. I didn’t get an impression either way.
The Cobbler looked me over, and, with apocalyptic undertones, said:
My lungs but collapsed, even though I had no earthly reason to be worried. What had I written that could get anyone in trouble? If I ever write about the department, here, I’m complimentary more often than not. Then, I remembered.
Earlier that day, another teacher told me he had found my blog — how did you like it? What did you think of it? — and had recognized himself in one of the entries. How ’bout that?
Apparently, there was trouble. Months ago, I had quoted him on mentioning how much bullshit BTSA is, and he could tell who he was. I agreed to change every recognizable feature mentioned in the blog except his gender — I’m not that good, whatever “Mr.” Mercer has to say about it — and I agreed to do so without banter or argument. I’d rather not make enemies out of these people, if only out of self-preservation.
There’s a lot more to it than that, of course, though it should without saying.
That I had a blog shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone — I told my master teacher often enough and early enough this semester. It should have been no secret around the department, either. Multiple teachers had seen me log on to the blog during lunch or my prep periods.
Moreover: Everything is anonymous. No Internet third party without a first-hand knowledge of both me and my school could figure out which teacher is which. Naturally, that assumes that the third party could figure out which district or even region of California I blog from.
The Cobbler returned me to reality, having continued talking during that interlude.
… now we’re not telling you to stop, because First-Amendment freedom of speech and all of that.
I interjected: But I kept it anonymous.
But I could tell who it was. Everyone who read it could tell who it was. That doesn’t matter. Now, I don’t know if he’s beyond the firing date or not …
He said, to emphasize that he had, in fact, read the entry in question.
… and that’s not the point, either.
He went on to hit the same notes of collaboration, trust and openness in my textbooks, the same notes to which I’ve heard every adminstrator at least pays lip service. The Cobbler added that I shouldn’t be burning bridges by writing about anything that someone had told me in confidence — for the record, I didn’t have that impression — and that this would count as a betrayal of trust within the department.
His chiding then made a sharp left turn, back into “what this is really about” territory.
More tomorrow.
