Public education; maybe it’s time to suspend Socrates

Have you read about Natalie Munroe, the Philadelphia high school teacher suspended for posting unflattering blogs about her students? Ms. Munroe identifies neither herself nor her school in her blog, but a couple students recognized themselves and went whining to school administrators, who did as school administrators always do: they wilted like salt-covered garden slugs.

According to Munroe, she was only telling it like it is.

“My students are out of control,” Munroe wrote. “They are rude, disengaged, lazy whiners. They curse, discuss drugs, talk back, argue for grades, complain about everything, fancy themselves entitled to whatever they desire, and are just generally annoying.”

How dare Ms. Munroe say such dreadful (and undoubtedly accurate and applicable) things about the blameless angels she must contend with every day?

And how typical that the school’s administrators should penalize her for her words, rather than consider the possibility she’s right and that it is virtually impossible to actually teach in many modern classrooms, owing in large part to the fact that students really are “rude, disengaged, lazy whiners.”

It’s so much easier to simply shoot the messenger.

Besides, shooting the messenger makes parents happy, the same parents who created and coddled the rude, disengaged, lazy whiners in the first place.

If the ‘80s really were the “Me Generation,” today’s youth are the “Me Me Me Now Now Now and Nobody Else, Ever!” crowd. The chimps are in charge of the zoo.

I blame it on the death of Sister Sulpischia, about whom I’ve written before, and other teachers like her. Sister Sulpischia (known to her students and fellow faculty members as “The Moose”) was 200 pounds of black-robed, rosary-thumping fury who ruled over her fourth-grade charges with a ferocity rarely seen outside rabid wolverine attacks.

I was one of her students and like most kids my age, I was by nature a rude, disengaged, lazy whiner. But not in the Moose’s class. Sitting only two rows from the good sister’s watchful eye, I was attentive, polite, engaged and determined to live to see fifth grade.

Sure, there were some kids, even back then, who had the guts to smart off to Sister Sulpischia. We all missed them during their protracted convalescences.

Do I really wish teachers were still allowed to clobber students? Well, no, I guess not. I mean, I do still remember the perve-o gym teacher I had in ninth grade who should have been in A) therapy, B) prison, or C) the Ninth Circle of Hell.

But I do wish there were at least a few administrators willing to back their teachers, stand up to the sort of parents who think their innocent babies can do no wrong, and insist that students who prevent other kids from learning be sent packing.

One of the greatest teachers of all time, Socrates, is credited with saying, “The children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority, they show disrespect to their elders. They no longer rise when elders enter the room. They contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up dainties at the table, cross their legs, and are tyrants over their teachers.”

Good thing he didn’t post this on his blog; he’d have been suspended.

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com. BUY MY BOOK!! at www.mtrealitycheck.com.

I’ve finally found my target audience: second graders

The second grade classroom wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I had imagined.

As regular readers of this column (both of you) may recall, I was invited a few weeks back to speak at Collins Elementary School. They are, apparently, hard up for speakers there.

I hemmed and hawed and tried vigorously to get out of it, even though the teacher who did the inviting promised me free chocolate and introductions to some of the school’s attractive, single teachers. She came through with the chocolate, but I’m still waiting for those introductions.

At any rate, the kids were wonderful. The teacher, principal and other staffers all made me feel very welcome; so much so, in fact, that they eventually had to ask me to leave so they could work on math.

But the best part came a few days later, when the envelope containing the kids’ thank you notes arrived in the mail. I’ve never had such uniformly positive reviews. If their parents would give ‘em up, I’d personally adopt the entire class, assuming the parents would take them back when they hit their teens. Once was enough for that.

“Dear Mike Taylor,” wrote Alise. “No newspaper writer is better than you! I really like your articles. Sometimes, I wish they would never end.” (I’m going to get Alise to accompany me to the boss’ office next time I go begging for a raise. Unlike Alise, my boss seems to think there are better writers than me and that if he threw a stone into a crowd of chimpanzees, he’d probably hit one of them. Alise, bless her, knows better. It would take at least two stones.)

“Thanks for coming to our classroom!” wrote Gabriela. “You are awesome!” Maybe I should take both Alise and Gabriela when I talk with the boss.

Then there’s Gavan. Gavan is a really cool kid, but for some reason, he can’t stop talking about spinach. He even gave me a lecture about the dangers of eating all the chocolate the teacher gave me. Someday, Gavan will own a gym, I’m sure of it. Gavan says I’m a “nice author, for a grownup.” He’s not as big a fan as is Alise. Maybe if I ate more spinach.

Willis, on the other hand, hinted in his letter that if I didn’t like chocolate, he would be happy to take some of it off my hands. Sorry Willis; that chocolate was gone twenty minutes after I got back to the car! (Yes, even the big box of fancy chocolates that I was supposed to give to a girlfriend.)

Sam’s letter I’m not so sure about: “Thank you for visiting our class,” Sam writes. “I really wanted to meet a real author … before you came.” I guess meeting me cured him of that desire.

Bill and Gracie were concerned about my kid-o-phobia. “Are you really afraid of second graders?” they wrote. Well, Bill, Gracie, I was, but not so much any more, thanks to you guys.

Some of the other kids sent pictures; Marisa, for one, is as brilliant with a crayon as she is with a pencil. I’m sure she’s going to have my job someday, but that’s cool; I’ll be done with it by then. Regan also sent me a lovely drawing. And Brody sent a portrait (of me) that looks far better than I do in real life. I’m thinking of swapping Brody’s drawing with the mug shot that usually runs with this column.

At any rate, I’d like to publicly thank the kids for helping me get over my fear of second graders. Also, I should mention their teacher, Ms. TenCate. She is one of those rare educators that seems born to the job. She deserves a raise and I’m not just saying that because she gave me chocolate.

I’m saying it because I’m still hoping she’ll introduce me to those cute, single teachers.

Missed a week? More “Reality Check” online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.milive.com. E-mail Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.