Hammers and Nails

“I don’t want to be a COVID cop,” wrote a substitute teacher. She envisioned the job of a sub this fall as focused on enforcing facemask wearing and social distancing, taking temperatures, and a host of other activities which she saw as unrelated to teaching and perhaps a bit degrading.

In my reply, I observed that we’ve always had several challenges, many of which we (subs) share with regular teachers. One of them is the myriad and range of what we are required to teach. Add the reality that we do not have a lot of choice in the what and sometimes in the how and it is easy to conclude this is not an easy job.

My teaching philosophy is that I teach students, not topics or curriculum. The curriculum is a tool–not some holy grail worthy of unquestionable worship. After many years of teaching, I’ve also figured out that sometimes teaching (or learning) is unintentional–both in a good and not so good way. I’ve had students occasionally tell me, “I’ll never forget what you taught me,” and when they describe it, I honestly don’t remember teaching it.

One of my favorite “cage rattlers” years ago asked me if it wasn’t a bit arrogant to assume I had the right to decide what students will learn under my direction.

There’s also the challenge of enforcing school policy–particularly in an environment where students do not see the policy as important. “Mrs. Regular Teacher lets us…” puts the sub in the position of deciding whether or not we will reinforce the lesson that the rules don’t matter.

Beyond the obsession and hysteria, I’m not–at the moment–seeing COVID-19 as being much different. Given the uncertainties, I suspect there will be some unrealistic expectations of teachers and subs–but that’s also not anything new. I also suspect the students are going to need a lot of support in learning new policies and practices.

I wouldn’t be thrilled with being a “COVID cop” if it meant just standing in the hall and making sure everyone was wearing a mask. Although it would be an excellent opportunity to interact with students. One of my best days subbing was the day we had a bit of a school crisis. I was told to roam the halls and be available to teachers who needed a break or students who seemed upset. I did a lot of teaching that day without a curriculum or plan.

Yet another challenge I’m finding is that many see online teaching as a panacea. Management (admin) is attracted to it because they see it as an opportunity to reduce costs and risks. The old “nothing is difficult for the person who doesn’t have to do it” thing rears its head again. Even most of the public adult ed programs I work with are on the verge of insisting I teach online.

I recently had an adult class of about 12 running online using Zoom. One student was a public school teacher. We ran into some problems with everyone trying to talk at the same time, then no one wanting to speak for fear of stepping on somebody else. I joked that if 12 adults were finding it difficult, could he well-imagine how difficult it was going to be with 25 seven-year-olds?

Some of the private training companies are using 2-3 people for online training sessions. The roles vary, but one “teaches,” a second manages material and production, bringing things in as the instructor needs them. A third manages student participation using the chat feature and feeds comments and questions to the instructor. That allows for reasonably large groups, but those same challenges exist with smaller groups. Online teaching is a production. Creating engagement and interaction requires planning and effort.

My colleague may not look forward to being a COVID cop. I would hate to see us oversimplify online teaching and learning. Like a curriculum, it’s a tool. We can use it, and we can abuse it.

Lowering the risk from COVID is an admirable goal, but we need to guard against one-dimensional thinking. Or, as Maslow said, “When the only tool you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.”

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