Add Teaching to High-Risk Jobs : Education: When teachers and students feel constantly threatened, no one can excel.
I read Thursday’s news of the assault on a Pasadena teacher in the light of two images that haunt me: a frantic colleague being gathered up and taken to the school nurse’s office after being attacked by one of her failing students, and the anguish on my own students’ faces at the announcement of a killing at the school’s football bleachers during class time.
These images remain with me not only because of the horror of those moments, but because they are encountered daily by teachers across the country.
The debate rages on as to why violence has invaded our schools: too much television, provocative lyrics in music, the availability of guns. The experts argue--correctly, I feel--that living in this climate of violence desensitizes young people to the reality of pain and death. I am still waiting, however, for these experts to evaluate how this violence affects teachers and the way we do our jobs.
When I started teaching, at Crenshaw High School in South-Central Los Angeles, I could not imagine a more fulfilling profession. I eagerly planned lessons and looked forward to getting my own classroom. I discovered that if I took the time to attend school functions, such as football and basketball games, my students would be more responsive in class. So I didn’t mind driving to away games and getting home late--it was part of my job. Many of my colleagues felt the same, and our social lives revolved around the school. I was transferred to Washington Preparatory High School, where the situation was the same. I found dedicated teachers happy to make the extra commitment.
That was eight years ago. I am not quite sure what has happened but I do know this: Teachers are frightened. Part of attending extracurricular activities includes supervising students. Naturally, their safety comes first. I have “hit the deck” more than once at football games when the bleachers became targets for drive-bys. Consoling frazzled cheerleaders after crawling around in the sand and mud of the track loses its appeal quickly. Traveling on the school bus after the game with our heads buried in our laps until it is safe to come up for air is no joy ride, either. School dances often are one or two hours of fun squeezed in between the brawls that erupt for no real reason. As teachers, we are obligated to break up these fights, and the angry students often turn on us.
The classroom is no better. Even though high schools in Los Angeles have metal detectors, students still carry weapons--and we know that in some cases, they plan to use them. In the teachers’ lounge, we joke and say of students these days, “Hey, you can have an A, just don’t shoot me!” I laugh, too. It is a way of releasing the immense stress that chips away at our professionalism. My colleagues complain of having nightmares about someone bursting in their classrooms and just “blowing everyone away.” With this in mind, the old “duck and cover” earthquake drills we practiced when we were students weren’t as silly as we thought. We hear students say that they will “cap” somebody if they are crossed, and while it may seem that they are kidding, we have to wonder.
All of this has to affect the way we teach. Maintaining classroom order takes on a different meaning when the scales are tipped so against us. We aren’t as willing to challenge a potentially violent teen any more, opting to call security and pray that the student is taken away, thus risking our credibility with other students because, to them, we appear sheepish. They don’t want us to be afraid. They need us to be fearless. How else can they cope? It is a burden. Also, taking that extra interest in students by attending their concert or cheering them on at the game--interest that is crucial to their overall success--becomes a luxury we are too afraid to enjoy. Ultimately, the students lose.
I do not know the answers. I do know, however, that this trend cannot continue. It is a strain to keep up a front of not being afraid. But why should students feel safe when we do not? How can they excel when we are too traumatized to do our jobs completely? My colleague who was attacked by her student has moved on to what she believes is a safer job: teaching English at a nearby prison. What does that say?
