As I was walking down
my street the other day, a car pulled up beside me, and the driver
leaned across to speak to me. It was the mother of a child I had
taught in my kindergarten class, ten years ago. The woman had
spotted me on my morning hike, and stopped me to tell me that
she and her husband had just reviewed her daughter's school records.
She wanted me to know how pleased she was that my anecdotal report
had captured her daughter's personality so well, those many years
ago, and she noted that what I had observed had, to a remarkable
extent, held true.
"...and it was so well-written,"
she said in a surprised voice.
I am sure that she
meant only to give a nice moment to an old teacher, so I thanked
her politely, but I found myself wanting to snap: "And why shouldn't
it be well-written?"
I am a graduate of
an excellent college; I was reared in a family of readers and
writers; and before I was a kindergarten teacher, I had earned
a decent living as a writer and editorial functionary at a good
magazine and two major motion picture studios. (Decent = far more
money than kindergarten teachers make).
The above incident
wasn't the only or even the first time I had come up against other
people's expectations concerning kindergarten teachers. It's ludicrous
to think that writing well seemed an anomaly to her, but then,
there was also the parent who had swooped down on me after a Parents'
Night and enthused: "That was very interesting, and you are so
well-spoken!" My
fellow teachers never allowed me to live that one down.
Condescension is condescension,
even if it comes out of an impulse to be nice.
Teaching kindergarten
was something I chose to do after I had three children of my own.
We had moved to a small, southern city where there weren't any
jobs of the kind I'd held before the children were born. After
a disastrous experience with the public school system, we enrolled
our children in a remarkable private school, which meant that
I needed a job to cover their tuition. The chance to teach kindergarten
at that same school gave me work with hours that corresponded
to their needs.
So I came to kindergarten
teaching through the back door, so to speak. It seemed like an
easy answer to our situation. In fact, I soon discovered that
it is anything but easy. I had to scramble to catch up on many
things I didn't know. I enrolled in classes at a local college,
seeking to change my teaching certificate from "English A" (permission
to teach high school English, which I had never done but was granted
by the state in light of my college record) to a classification
called "Early Childhood." Despite many hours of classes, I never
completed that changeover in all the 25 years that I taught, nor
did I learn much from the classes. They simply left me with a
distaste for Education Departments.
I was, however, blessed
with a colleague who was a master teacher, and she was my guide.
By observing her I developed classroom techniques and interests
that opened a whole new world for me. I fell in love with teaching
kindergarten, and in fact stayed with it for the next twenty-five
years, long after my children had grown and left home. I am quite
sure that during that time, I learned far more than I taught.
I have developed a
firm belief that teaching small children is a vastly underrated
profession. I am sure that the first five years of school are
the most important of anyone's educational journey. If you turn
off a child's natural thirst for learning during those early years,
it's highly unlikely that he or she will have success in school
later on.
Our very best teachers
should be teaching the youngest children, and they should be properly
compensated for their expertise. Teachers who create the kind
of atmosphere that makes children long to come to school (and
cry when they get sick and must miss a day) lay the groundwork
for success all through our educational system. Children who have
absorbed the earliest lessons of how to get along with peers,
and think logically, and express themselves well, will as they
mature become the kind of highly motivated self-starters who love
the process of learning for its own sake.
What happens instead,
in our schools? In the earliest years, we shove little children
into classes staffed by underpaid, undereducated people who work
for minimum wage.
Standards and pay are
a bit higher for certified elementary school teachers, but they
still suffer in comparison to what is spent on high school or
college needs. Lots of money is supplied for sports teams and
band uniforms and stadiums for older children, at the expense
of music and art and physical development specialists and equipment
for young children.
Elementary school teachers
are probably the most underpaid, overworked professionals in America.
Many of them are creative, patient, and caring people who deserve
respect and better pay.
What can senior
women do about all this?
Lobby your school boards.
Demand to see their budgets. Question their priorities.
Volunteer at a local
school.
If you have grandchildren, get to know their teachers.
If you have a talent, share it.
If you like to build or paint or garden, offer your services to
improve the campus of an elementary school.
If you know of an exceptional teacher, make others aware of him
or her.
Write a letter to the newspaper.
Nominate him or her for an award.
Write a letter to the principal.
Above all, look deep
into your own heart and root out any preconceived notions about
what makes a good teacher. Don't make assumptions. And don't be
surprised if kindergarten teachers know how to speak or write
well.
Some of us can even
read.
