Dear Michigan,

You owe me.  Big time.  This year, in the midst of our nation-wide budget crisis, you presented one solution to local school districts who are scrambling to balance their budgets: a retirement incentive for teachers.  The hope was that with enough retirements and expen$ive teachers gone, layoffs could be avoided.  An additional benefit was that these older, burned-out, wizened teachers would be replaced by more affordable, younger, enthusiastic teachers.  How could a district lose?

I'll tell you how they lose.

They lose a career's worth of experience.  They lose 30 years of having learned what works well in a classroom. They lose years of having learned to read each student and the knowledge of how to respond to that student.  They lose  understanding of how to go around red-tape to find help for a student.  They lose the courage experience gives in how to communicate confidently with an administrator, angry or frightened parent, defiant student, and more.

There will always be teachers who need to go - teachers whose attitudes and abilities are better-served elsewhere.  But the teachers who are retiring this year?  Well, some of them are dearly loved by our family.

We'll miss the way she helped our child gain confidence and discover talent.














We'll miss the way she taught our child that the best effort is the only effort worth giving in any task.

We'll miss her even-temperament and how our child's face lit up when he saw her in the audience of his musical.

We'll miss the way she got to know our child who didn't think he wanted anyone to know him, and the dream he had of one day marrying her.

So, Michigan, you owe me.  Let's do the math:  approximately $75,000 per year times the 27 cumulative years my children have left in school, less the $35,000 per year the newer teachers might earn. That leaves $1,080,000 of career experience your incentive owes my family.

We'll gladly take our incentive in the form of a check or cash.

Happiness Project: More than the picture

This progress report arrived in the email last Friday:

 73.6%!?  This boy of ours who has earned all A's this year was going to close the school year with a C.  It's not that he has done poorly on assignments, but that there are assignments that are missing (which may well be due to his increasing extracurricular pursuits named Rianna, Julia, Rachel, and so on.).   So we were disappointed in the grade drop.  But knowing  that one non-A in 6th grade is not the end of happiness, we put it aside.

Our boy assured us that his socializing had shown more self-discipline and that he couldn't imagine how he had missing assignments.We smiled benignly and didn't believe a word he said.

Then, on Friday long after school was dismissed, the phone rang and "Middle School" came up in the caller id.   Knowing that nothing good ever comes from a school call, I answered with my best practiced weary voice.

And here FINALLY is the end of the story: the teacher explained that those missing assignments weren't missing anymore and that his course grade was actually an A.  While that was good news, how does this really qualify for the happiness project?  That teacher, tired at the end of her work week, surely didn't have to stay late to reconfigure his grade and she surely didn't have to call me...but she did. I just wish I had a picture of that call and that teacher to post here.

For more happiness, go here: 

A Happy Ending

It is a gift from the Lord himself when a teacher uses humor, compassion, and creativity to show that he or she cares not only about academics, but about the quality of students' lives. How precious to know that this year my children were shown that they are of great worth and tremendous potential.

Thank-you, Mr. Andrews, Mrs. Sonntag, Mrs. Saverino, and Mrs. Locklear.

It's Like Picking at a Scab

At what point

should the mother say to the teacher,

"My child is playing you like a Stradivarius"
???

When a Good Teacher Retires

So this is it - your last year at the neighborhood school. We've been expecting it, but now you're making it official. You say that it's time for you to retire. That means a new teacher will live in your classroom next year, and we'll get along well with her. At least we'll get along for the first week or two.


Then she will give too much/too little homework, will smile too much/not enough, will grade too stringently/not stringently enough, and will over/under emphasize any given subject. And we will be left with memories of the teacher we USED to have. We'll remember your quick mind and your high standards. We'll certainly remember how you incorporated all those hobbies and interests into your teaching. We'll be reminded of how our child loved you and how easy and fun you made learning. And we'll remember how you made it cool to be smart.


We'll miss your years of experience. We'll miss knowing that you've seen it all and there's nothing that can rattle you. We'll miss your formal theories tempered with realistic application. We'll miss your compassion, your creativity, your confidence. We will surely miss your understanding of kids with their dreams, their fears, and their uniqueness.


You say that you know it's time for you to retire: extracurricular activities dominate your students' evenings and week-ends now.


You say it's time: parents no longer partner with their child's teacher and school.


You say it's time: the government now tells you what to teach, when to teach, and when to test.


You say this is the right time for you to go, but we are left wishing you weren't so very adept at telling time.