Too Short

I went to the funeral of my student today. Her young life – twenty-three, the same age as

my daughter – was cut off by another because of his poor driving and a rain-slick road. As I

watched her husband hold their nine-month-old while trying to comfort their two-year-old who

was crying for mommy, I was reminded once again how short life is. It’s too short to be afraid to

stand up for yourself or your ideas. It’s too short to be embarrassed about not being accepted or

not fitting in. It’s too short to worry about going against the consensus. It’s too short not to

question the way things are.

I was looking forward to attending a conference where I could recharge my mental

batteries. With budget cuts and a slow economy, I was not getting any help from my school to

attend the conference and paying my own way was a burden, but I was glad to put up with the

financial strain because I felt I was mentally and emotionally drowning, suffocating, stagnating –

not a good position for a teacher to be in. I desperately needed to mingle with the literati of the

educational culture, hear new ideas, and be reminded that real research and investigation and real

teaching were happening somewhere. I needed to be refreshed and energized, and I was not

disappointed for the most part; however, one session shook me, embarrassed me, made me

question my work and my methods, and lowered my self-esteem to rock bottom. The presenter

in question – I’m sure – did not mean to do this, and I’m also sure is not aware that the

presentation had such an impact on me. The session haunted me all during the conference, and

continued to haunt me until today when I went to the funeral of my student.

The presentation that I attended and that has stayed with me so long lasted about fifteen

minutes. It was written like a journalism article and read to us by the presenter. I was already

disappointed – reading to educated peers is just lazy. I wanted to attend the session because some
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of the information in the presentation had come from an interview the presenter conducted over

the telephone with me, and I wanted to see what he had learned from me and the other people he

said he had interviewed. I was especially interested because less than a week before the

conference the presenter was just gathering the information by telephone survey and typing the

presentation into a computer as we spoke. I was astonished that such a task so close to the

conference could be pulled off. I was also curious to see how the interview would be connected

to research. But I was astonished when I actually heard what the presenter had to say. His work

was completely anecdotal – no real research of any kind – and was more of a personal editorial.

The session topic concerned a state mandated test that Georgia requires of its students.

The presenter gave a quick lamentable review of the woes of the exam and its construction – all

based on his personal opinion instead of research. Next he offered a few pointed jabs about the

lack of educational quality behind the test, as well as grumbling about poor teacher involvement

in preparations for the test. Then there appeared to be derision of those interviewed who teach

students how to pass the test. Many of the interviewees had conflicting emotions about the whole

process. A quote even came from my interview where I changed my mind about something as

we spoke – it was presented as one of several jokes about how those of us teaching this test

couldn’t even decide where we stood on the issue.

The presenter went on to disparage those teachers who use direct tutoring as a method to

help students understand how to write for the test – my method of choice. Also, the presenter

scorned the formula method of writing – my style of teaching this test. Finally, the presenter

cajoled the audience to lift students to loftier, more creative heights, and even urged us to rally

against the exam – somewhat tongue-in-cheek, of course. The topic generated several minutes of
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lively discussion afterwards – it seems Georgia is not the only state to have such a test as many

educators groused about similar instruments they had experienced in other states.

I left that session mortified. According to the presenter, who is well liked and looked up

to by others in the field, and to some audience members, what I was doing in my job was wrong,

wrong, wrong! First, I couldn’t make up my mind about where I stood on the state exam issue.

And, I seemed to be using the wrong method of teaching! And, I seemed to be teaching writing

by the wrong method! I was an idiot! I was out of it! I had been in southwest Georgia far too

long! These feelings persisted throughout the conference and followed me home. But then

something happened that changed my whole perspective. Test scores for all the schools in the

state of Georgia were released – and my school did very well, again. And the presenter’s school

did not, again.

Now, I knew this - I knew that my school typically did well on the test scores – but in my

mortification, I had forgotten. For whatever reason, I was so wrapped up in my own failings that

I did not see any achievements. But what makes our students’ achievements even more

remarkable is that my school is a little, rural school with relatively little money compared to the

other schools in the state. The presenter’s school is bigger, with more prestige and more money.

Also, there are major community differences between our two schools. His community has

money and diverse resources while my community has one of the highest jobless rates in the

state, one of the highest high school drop out rates in the state, one of the highest teen pregnancy

rates in the state, one of the highest infant death rates in the state – yet my school still manages to

take these almost hopeless individuals and get them through that test equal to or better than the

other schools in the state.

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I kicked myself. I brought all this grief on myself by not believing in what I do with and

for my students! No, I don’t have a Ph.D. like the presenter, but I do have a degree, and I have

twenty-five years experience teaching mostly “in the trenches” of public education – and the

presenter is only a few years older than that. And no, I don’t like the state exam, but I recognize

the fact that I don’t have a choice here. The employer demands it. The state provides it. And it is

my responsibility to help my students get through the test successfully in any honest way

possible be it creative writing or formula writing, direct teaching or non-direct teaching.

The conference changed my life in a variety of ways. This session, in particular, changed

my life - eventually for the better, and for that I thank the presenter. But I should have said

something then, at the conference, when I had a chance. But I was afraid. I wanted to fit in. And

time passed, and I did nothing about it, until today. Life is too short not to stand up for what I

believe in and what I do because I know that I am helping my students meet their dreams. And

today I went to the funeral of my student, a young mother of two with so many dreams.