I was innovative and daring as a teacher. The teachers of every other class were advocates of structure and iron-clad discipline. I was not. Trouble with my peers started early, while we were setting up our classes in late August, getting ready for the school year.
This was the era of new-age approaches when whole language and discovery learning was being introduced in teacher training programs at university. I was encouraged to involve my students in their own learning. The classroom, I was told, should be a welcoming place where kids would spend a minimum of their day listening to the teacher drone on about classroom rules and procedures and deliver lessons from the front of the room. They would spend much of their time, it was hoped, exploring the interesting materials provided and interacting with each other.
This involved a casual approach—no desks in rows, no reaching up to the sky with hands raised, trying to get the teachers’ attention. No formal lessons. So where would they sit? Where would they keep their things? What would my role be?
The answer was simple. I provided a teaching space for my Grade Two class with a chair for me, and a carpet for the children. Each child would have a basket for their things, stored in a carry-all in a corner of the room. Instead of sitting at desks, they would choose a place at a table, usually with their friends. It was all very clear to me.
But not to my peers. They watched me bring the carpet into my classroom, they witnessed the installation of the carry-all on wheels, the tables, and small chairs. They saw me push the teachers’ desk against the wall. They weren’t happy.
As the first few days unfolded, and classes progressed, I could tell that the kids loved learning this way. It cemented my belief that children learn naturally, and they do, in fact, spend their entire childhood learning.
I could see that the children liked being responsible for what they would do during the day. The parents could see that their children would rush in the morning to get to school. The kids could see that school was where they had fun and wanted to be.
But there was another person who saw my methods in an entirely different way. He was Sam Brill, the man who wielded a broom and dustpan, a mop and bucket. He saw it as an infringement on his janitorial position, and a challenge to be overcome. He joined my fellow primary teachers in sniping at me and my teaching methods. However, they only watched and made scornful faces, Mr. Brill took action.
He was a large man, over six feet tall, well built and muscular. He had a physical handicap—one arm was withered. Surprisingly this did not affect his work. He used this left arm to support the broom or mop he was handling, and the right arm to do the work of lifting or pushing. People marveled at how he managed. His reputation was impeccable.
Each morning, when I arrived, the desks I had pushed to one side of the room the previous day were placed back in neat rows. The tables were stacked in the corner, the small chairs on top. Determinedly, I pushed the desks back to the side of the room and positioned the tables and chairs where I wanted them. After a couple of days of this, the battle lines, it was evident, were clearly drawn. Out of the blue, a colleague shared that Mr. Brill was referring to me as “Queenie” behind my back. I viewed that as name calling and offensive.
As the struggle waged, I did my best to remain faithful to my agenda of involving kids and giving them the materials, they needed to touch, manipulate, and learn. My background in art provided me with plenty of ammunition. I raided the supply room regularly, choosing colored paper, crepe paper, pastel sticks, wax crayons, and clay to use during the day. As the children worked, the classroom became a show piece of their creativity and ability. It took on the atmosphere and the appearance of a workshop. I displayed everything— on the walls, hanging from the ceiling and extending into the hallways. The administration and parents were impressed, and the children were delighted.
But the battle carried on, and I grew disheartened with it. I toned down my displays, I carefully cleaned everything up before leaving every day. Mr. Brill became a little less hostile to me. He even spoke nicely to me once or twice, instead of sarcastically. He stopped referring to me as “Queenie”. He clearly felt he had won.
But as the months passed, my rancor increased. I gritted my teeth and tried to tolerate the situation. But I saw it as a lose/lose case, and requested a transfer to another school, I could hardly wait for July.
Attempting to end the year on a positive note, I planned an interesting and enjoyable activity for the last day—making paper mâché masks. The children would construct the masks in the morning, letting them dry over lunch hour, then paint them with poster paint before taking them home. The classroom was buzzing with excitement as they worked.
Finally, at the end of the day, after having snacks of cake, cookies, and drinks, they said goodbye, cradling their precious masks and lining up at the door. But just before the final bell, one of the class monitors, who liked to help, turned around and looked at the mess in the classroom.
“Aren’t we going to clean up?” she asked.
“Oh, no, “I said cheerfully, Mr. Brill will be happy to do it.”
A great way to leave it for him to do his job! I hope you didn’t have similar problems elsewhere. Mr Brill is what we call a ‘jobsworth,’ their favourite phrase being ‘it’s more than my job’s worth to do that.’
Happy Birthday, by the way!
No, I’ve always been able to establish good rapport with the janitorial staff. Mr. Brill was an unhappy exception! I’ve never come across the phrase you mention, but it says it all!
Haha! I love it!
Thank you, Anneli. Remembering it made me chuckle.
Diane, I LOVED this. I taught around the same time you’re talking about, first grade, same methods, pedagogical philosophies. Kids at tables, active participation. They wrote plays and acted them out for another first-grade class. We made tectonic plates out of paper mache and pushed them together to discover how mountains are made. It was great. But I got the kind of backlash you described from my old-school teaching peers. One of my parents said (in a positive way), “The kids are getting things in here they don’t get in the other classes.” But then I got on the bad side of one of the specialists when my kids made family trees that celebrated everybody’s family, whatever the structure, whoever that contained. It was something my own children had done in their (more progressive) school. Well, the specialist thought this was just plain wrong, celebrating single-parent or gay-parent families. She made it her crusade to get rid of me and she kept it going. Didn’t happen the first year (I had support from the reading specialist because my kids were making rapid progress in literacy), but we had a statewide budget crunch at the end of my second year and I got the axe. My “sweet revenge” was later hearing that some parents complained to the principal about my dismissal, and then a year later I was told the principal was let go for spending her days shopping at the mall instead of being at the school. Thanks for sharing your tale.
So glad you shared this, alhenry! Makes me realize I wasn’t alone. It’s true that parents could see the benefits of some innovative practices, since they knew what their children needed and liked. Small mindedness and narrow attitudes did prevail among teachers, and possibly still do. You were brave to pursue a different path!
I like your attitude
A few months ago, I got annoyed at my small round table that had to do double duty for both art, dining and other. I decided to make a “floor space” – but first I needed to move the 2 seater couch, which I rarely sat on anyway. I did shift it to the back wall.
I was left with a huge clear space and I took an old sheet I use for messy making and laid it on the floor – it’s my new work table! And I can place other materials around the edges… if I need a hard surface for anything, I’ve got a couple of hard boards that only raises the surface up an inch or so.
I’m on sitting/sprawling on the floor and I’ve got all this extra space! I haven’t painted there yet, I’d probably need more surface coverings but it’s be liberating…
It’s a good thing that you are creative! You made an irritating situation work. As all people who are artistic know, art can take a lot of space. It paid off to look at your work area with new eyes!
Hi Diane,
I haven’t checked your website for a while, but I’m very happy I did today, what an interesting story! I’ve always enjoyed your stories at Scriveners and have come to realize you are very much your own person, what a quality feature to possess. Much respect!
John Ianson
Thank you for the email and this comment on my blog. I’m looking forward to the Friday meeting at Scriveners, which, by the way, I think is a rare and valuable support for writers. Each time I attend, I feel inspired and rejuvenated!
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