If you had stayed in my classroom, I know you could have made significant gains in reading. Instead, I let your time go to waste. I don’t know how your first year in college went, or even whether you were able to finish it, but I have thought many times since you graduated that I didn’t do everything I could have to prepare you for the demands of your first college year. If I had it to do over again, I would have simply kept you all in class. You are one of the important reasons I joined the MAP test boycott at Garfield last year, Brandon.
In the years after your class, I quietly failed to interrupt the learning in my classroom by refusing to take students to the testing lab. By that time, the district had informed us the MAP was invalid at the high school level, anyway. Remember Kris McBride? She was a math teacher, and then she became the testing coordinator. Last fall, she informed me that, given the new reporting procedures for the MAP test, I couldn’t just quietly boycott the test anymore. I realized to continue my nonparticipation I’d have to do so publicly. Kris knew of one other teacher who had similar opinions, Adam Gish, in the LA department, and I hoped we could find at least one more to stand up with us. As stalwart as Adam was, I didn’t want us to stand alone. I had heard stories of other teachers in the district taking similar solitary stands in the past, and they suffered bitter outcomes. Kris and I split the names of “tested subjects” teachers who would be required to administer the MAP and went off to contact our lists. Every teacher we talked to agreed to boycott with us—some enthusiastically, some reluctantly, and some only after serious reflection. We were surprised and gratified. Each teacher we spoke with told multiple stories of students harmed, indignities endured, and precious time wasted.
Many of us had voiced our opposition and been ignored. Our beloved librarian Janet Woodward had a disciplinary letter in her personnel file for talking to students about the test and posting videos of their varied opinions. The district conducted a survey of teacher views of the MAP, but results had been suppressed. Staff agreed we faced few choices if we wanted to be heard. By Friday before winter break, all twenty-four “tested subjects” teachers had agreed to boycott the test. I’ll tell you, Brandon, I was so nervous and scared, but I was also excited and hopeful. Next I contacted Jesse Hagopian, one of our union reps (a Bulldog from the Garfield class of 1997 himself), to report what we were doing. I was pleased to see his enthusiastic response when I asked for his support. By the faculty meeting the following Wednesday, nearly 100 percent of the staff voted to support the boycott.
Then things began to happen. There was no more kidding around; this was serious. Were our jobs in jeopardy? Would this damage our careers? We had a new superintendent, and no one knew how he might respond.
We decided we needed a steering committee to lead the boycott, and I agreed to run. I had been stifling a growing feeling of frustration and helplessness in the face of a slow-motion tsunami of education policy that was hurting my students and my work life. Corporations and conservative foundations were creating policy that just didn’t make any sense if you were a teacher or a parent. Did you know my daughter attended Garfield, too? Each time I was faced with one of their changes in our school, puzzling out the logic of it led me to discover that private individuals or companies were getting an awful lot of public money shifted to their bank accounts. The MAP test was the last straw for me.
For lack of funds, the district had just canceled summer school and night school—the only ways for struggling students to get a second chance to make up lost credits. Somehow, there were millions of dollars available for a test to evaluate teachers that even the test makers said we weren’t supposed to use for that purpose. On top of all this, my profession seemed to be the popular spot to place blame for everything from lowered lifetime income to high crime statistics. I am very proud of the job I do in my classroom for students like you, Brandon. I think the results I get are impressive. My reading program can move students who come in reading at fourth-grade level or below to grade-level reading within a year or less. Yet every time I opened a newspaper or clicked on a link, someone was maligning my colleagues and me as lazy and incompetent. I’m not stupid, so I can figure out teacher-bashing serves the purpose of undermining our ability to protect schools from the incursion of profit motives. What might be even worse, though, is that the teacher blaming seemed to be distracting our attention from the real work of closing the achievement gap. Unfortunately, knowing it was a purposeful strategy didn’t make it any less personally insulting.
The collected heat from all these insults created a steam engine effect inside my chest. I had to do something or explode. I joined the steering committee and then helped to start the citywide Scrap the MAP committee.
Jess Griffin, a math teacher on the steering committee, spearheaded creating a subgroup of all the teachers in “tested subjects”: math, special education, English language development, and language arts. These were the teachers who faced losing our jobs or other disciplinary action. She dubbed us “The Necks” since we were the ones sticking our necks out. We met to talk over options and to decide the question of whether or not to continue the boycott at each turn of events. Some of us were older, more experienced teachers who mostly felt confident about keeping our jobs. We cracked jokes, traded wild ideas for boycott strategies, and kept our spirits up. I relied on Kit McCormick in particular. She was brilliant and hilarious. Some Necks were younger first-year teachers supporting young families. These families were living closer to the edge and felt the potential loss more sharply. Part of the job of the Necks group was to talk things through when we got nervous, listen to the younger teachers, and bolster our collective resolve.
When the existence of the Necks group was announced to the entire faculty, Wayne Miller, our Latin teacher, suggested nontested-subject teachers and staff would form a group called “The Backs” because they had our backs. I almost wept. Until that meeting, I had been seriously considering an offer of work in another school. Now I felt a part of something genuinely irreplaceable. Over the course of the next few months the support of the Backs was smart and unwavering. Jerry Neufield-Kaiser and Mario Shaunette, among many others, willingly jumped to the microphone at press conferences and wrote eloquently in the press. Brandon, I can’t tell you how proud I was to be a part of the Garfield community.
When we first made the decision to not participate in this truly stupid test, Jesse suggested we write a press release to let the world know what we were doing. I was pleased, but frankly, I thought little would come of it. It felt as if we were huddled in the dark trying to start a small fire just to keep our students and ourselves warm. We expected a simple two-sided dialogue with our district administrators. Who knew we were kneeling next to a pile of kindling that stretched from Seattle all the way across the nation? Turns out, even teachers and policy makers in other countries noticed us! Within days of the public announcement of the boycott, letters, emails, and gifts started pouring in.
Teachers and families just about everywhere were fed up with being tested to death and wanted something to do to show their displeasure. We received drawings from small children, dozens of roses, boxes of chocolate, gift baskets, popcorn, and almost daily messages from teachers or parents from thousands of miles away who had found a random teacher’s email address on our website. Teachers in Florida sent pizza for the entire staff! Those messages of encouragement made a huge difference for us. Whenever things got scary or hard, we would look at each other and say, “We have to keep going. We can’t give the pizza back.”
Those gifts and messages changed how I view the world. I began to see parents and teachers all over the country were feeling the same anguish I was and wanted to do something big about it. The sense that it was “me against the world” faded away. Brandon, we teachers often feel we are isolated in our classrooms battling against an unseen “corporate ed reform agenda.” This boycott changed that.
Nowadays, I send letters of support to people all over the United States who are doin
g things I believe in and who might find themselves in hot water for it. It had never occurred to me to do that before the Garfield boycott. Now I know: simple letters of encouragement and praise are worth everything. The more I educate myself on the series of “reforms” being forced on our classrooms by foundations and corporations, the more I need my community. All during the boycott, the solidarity of teachers at Garfield and nationwide served that purpose for me.
When the district threatened us with ten days’ suspension without pay, our first response was a bit of internal quaking and reassessment. On top of the damage to our careers and incomes, our ten-day absence would be a larger disruption to our students’ education than even the MAP had been. We weren’t sure we wanted to defend maintaining the boycott in the face of that. Within a few hours, Rachel Eells, another language arts teacher and I had simultaneously come up with the idea that we would volunteer in our own classrooms for those ten days. Someone mentioned we could be arrested for trespassing if we did that. That was a temporary wet blanket until we realized what a great photo op that would make if we were to be arrested trying to teach in our own classrooms. Fantasy actions like these boosted our morale.
But there were dark moments. I remember late one evening receiving word by email of a threatened act of retribution against Kris. I guess the district decided it wanted to make an example of one teacher whom they could label as responsible for what was clearly a collective action. My initial response at reading the email was to roll my eyes at the pettiness of it all and go back to reading my book. About an hour later, I noticed my stomach ached and my hands were shaking. I put the book down to take stock. Was I coming down with the flu? Nope. I was frightened. I was frightened for her, and I was frightened for myself. It struck me, in those moments, how powerful our opposition was and what we were risking to take this stand. I called Jesse and asked him to talk me down. Ten minutes later, I could go back to my book. Many times during the boycott, the perspective of someone else saved me. I can only hope I provided that service for other Necks, as well.
Toward the end of the testing “window,” the district issued an ultimatum to our administrators: Make that test happen tomorrow or lose your jobs! The administration called us together and explained their situation. They were willing to come to our classes and get the students. That way, none of us would be asked to directly support the testing and our boycott could be maintained. The steering committee met, emails flew, and dozens of water fountain debates took place. Late that evening, after proposing and discarding a hundred ideas (blockading the testing lab, walking out, deprogramming the testing computers, you get the idea) we had to admit that there was nothing we could do to stop the test without also stopping instruction. We weren’t willing to do that, since our main objection to the test was that it obstructed learning for so many hours. We left for home, sad and defeated.
The next morning, however, parents and students greeted us at the doors, leafleting in front of the school. In front of every tested-subject classroom, a pair of students stood with armfuls of leaflets. Students knew about the test and their right to refuse it. Students realized they could respond to administrators’ requests to walk to the testing lab by simply sitting quietly and respectfully and refusing to leave the room. I have never felt so thoroughly a part of an education community as I did that day. Hour after hour, administrators entered my room to invite students to the test, and students responded by looking at walls and holding perfectly still. Some English language learners felt that respect required doing as educators asked, and they were more likely to take the test. Students were just as good as teachers had been at ensuring that everyone, no matter their position on the boycott, was still a part of our community. Even so, only about one in eight students actually took the test.
Although it is difficult to discuss, I feel compelled to write about the role our union, the Seattle Education Association (SEA), played in the boycott. There was a clear division between the wonderful support we received from rank-and-file SEA members and the lackluster support from the elected leadership. The union representatives from buildings across Seattle voted to host a rally for the boycott. Our SEA president spoke at that rally and at a teach-in on assessment sponsored by the citywide Scrap the MAP committee. Union officials met with us to answer questions about possible steps in a disciplinary process. The president of SEA accompanied us when we met with the district administration. These were welcome demonstrations of support.
On the other hand, the SEA president also moved to block donations for supporting the boycott, out of fear that the organizing effort would move beyond his control. Twice he inexplicably took credit for starting the boycott. Moreover, union officials blocked access to contact information for union reps from other buildings by promising to deliver them but never getting around to it—no matter how many times I asked. Further, SEA officials met with the Necks to suggest we back down. They wanted us to declare victory in response to the national attention the issue received, and the district’s decision to create a boondoggle “Task Force on Assessment,” counseling that with these “wins” we should consider resuming administration of the MAP test until the task force made its recommendations. We fumed in private over this kind of obstruction, and personally, I still want a different leadership in our union.
Wonderful union members all over the district supported the boycott, however, and even took the boycott to their schools. Jesse was an amazing representative for us, fielding press requests and writing for publications. His wise counsel to resist being divided in any way, including from our union, saved the unity of the school, and made it possible for other schools to join us. I’ll take that lesson with me forever, wherever I go. These union members deserve a stronger and less conflicted representative voice. So do I.
In June, the district caved, at least as far as the high schools were concerned. We never had to give the MAP again! But our victory was only partial, because elementary schools still have to administer it. It had been my job on the citywide team to tell other schools about the boycott and ask if they would join. I had met the staff at the boycotting elementary schools and at schools where a boycott vote didn’t win, but many teachers supported us and despised the MAP. I had come to feel connected to them and had seen what stellar teachers they were. I was elated we won this much, but couldn’t really celebrate until these people I cared about and their poor students were out from under the same suffocating weight of testing mania I had suffered under. Winning the MAP boycott is just the first battle. Next we’re going to be faced with the Common Core exam, and it, from all reports, has many of the same flaws as the MAP.
Brandon, you and the rest of the students needing a little boost in high school are not a priority for the “reformers.” They do their dirty business in your name and then the outcomes make things worse for you. Really, the only thing standing between you and schools seemingly designed to make you drop out are teachers and families who are willing to resist the nonsense. After this experience at Garfield, I feel almost no inclination to put up with the long list of policies that threaten my school: defunding; elimination of music, science, art and PE; gutting of teacher professionalism; even more testing; outsourcing curriculum and teacher education to businesses. These are just the first ones I think of, and they make me want to yell words not appropriate for school. The whole list is much longer. No one else is there to stand up for your little brothers and sisters, so I guess, as unprepared as we are, it has to be us.
“Well, How Did I Get Here?”
The Many Paths to “No”
Introduction
In the spring of 2012, I supported student teachers when they demanded the right to choose whether or not to participate in the field test, led by Pearson, Inc., of a national assessment of student teaching, the Teacher Performance Assessment (TPA). When, after months of wrangling and obfuscation, the administration of the school of education finally conceded that students be given informed consent, sixty-seven of six
ty-eight student teachers refused to send their work to Pearson, Inc. This act of resistance to a national push for Pearson, Inc., to oversee student teacher evaluation garnered attention from the New York Times and led to my receiving a letter of nonrenewal.
In the months after the student resistance, during the battle for my job and since, I have met many people who say they admire my actions but that they cannot do the same because they see “what happened” to me. I feel so disconnected from the speaker each time these words are spoken. Others look at me and see a story of job loss, of pain, and isolation. But my internal experience is much more complicated, as rich with joy and freedom as it is fraught with anxiety and fear. It is confusing that the story of my resistance gets interpreted as a cautionary tale, when for me it is a story of the power and solidarity of activism. I realize that I need to not only tell the story of the action and its direct outcomes but also the history of its development and the fullness of what followed. If we are going to win this struggle for public education, economic and racial justice, and the flowering of the democratic project, we need to tell our stories of how we came to act in resistance.
When do we become the person who says no? From the outside looking in, acts of resistance can seem to emerge out of nowhere or from some trait of character akin to superhuman powers. “You are so courageous,” I am told. But the words do not sit with my experience of myself. I am often frightened and uncertain. I know that I do not act alone, that others stand by me, that courage is not an individual attribute. Within the narratives of capitalism, which foster individualism and competition, activism is individualistic. The “hero” is the person who acts alone. This narrative not only denies the facts of organizing, but, even more perniciously, conceals the power of solidarity that fuels our courage and brings joy to the struggle. In joining with students to resist Pearson, Inc., I learned profound lessons of solidarity and hope. These were a culmination of years of building alliances and learning from the activists around me.
More Than a Score Page 7
