My time at Carver High is winding down, and not just for the summer.
Tomorrow will be the last day of final exams. Friday is exam makeup day. Tuesday is officially the last day of school, not that we'll have any kids since exams will have been finished. And, after a few maudlin moments and some of my typically-lousy picture taking, I'll shake off the dust of the city school system for good.
I'm moving to the County.
When most people in Baltimore say that, they mean that they're shifting their residential zip code into the vast reaches of Baltimore County, or possibly Anne Arundel, Carroll or Howard. Since nothing short of an Act of Congress could get me to live outside city limits (barring, of course, a move back to Richmond in which case I'd still live within that city's limits), I refer to my employment.
Come September, I'll be teaching in one of the older suburban high schools. Am I selling out? Well, just maybe. I'm leaving eighty-one years of history behind; I suppose that I'm abandoning a school that needs me, too. I love the city and I'm glad to have had a chance to work at Carver.
But: After three years, I don't think I can take any more kids who, at eighteen, use "in" when they mean "and." I know that I can't take school administrators who say "He have..." And, I certainly can't take a "curriculum specialist" who, at the esteemed age of twenty-six, has no teaching experience but who feels qualified to select reading material for the children of a city that he's never really seen. I'm not sure what to make of a person who is ostensibly an expert in the English language, yet believes that this sentence is correct: "We need to give the kids stuff they can get into." The same person created a city-wide final examination that includes a reading selection involving "pimps and hos."
If the grass is greener in Baltimore County, it's probably only because there are more lawns out there. When I embarked upon my teaching career, with the City, I held no illusions that involved saving the world; thus, I cherish no new illusions about the Promised Land of Suburbia. (In this case, the suburban enclave is rather ancient; most of the houses were built between 1920 and 1960.) I know that I won't save the world--but, just as it was in the city, there might be that one kid who will "get into" Shakespeare. If I can do that, I'll feel that I've really done something.
Unfortunately, for the students of Baltimore City, the current operating powers won't allow Shakespeare in the classroom.
Tomorrow will be the last day of final exams. Friday is exam makeup day. Tuesday is officially the last day of school, not that we'll have any kids since exams will have been finished. And, after a few maudlin moments and some of my typically-lousy picture taking, I'll shake off the dust of the city school system for good.
I'm moving to the County.
When most people in Baltimore say that, they mean that they're shifting their residential zip code into the vast reaches of Baltimore County, or possibly Anne Arundel, Carroll or Howard. Since nothing short of an Act of Congress could get me to live outside city limits (barring, of course, a move back to Richmond in which case I'd still live within that city's limits), I refer to my employment.
Come September, I'll be teaching in one of the older suburban high schools. Am I selling out? Well, just maybe. I'm leaving eighty-one years of history behind; I suppose that I'm abandoning a school that needs me, too. I love the city and I'm glad to have had a chance to work at Carver.
But: After three years, I don't think I can take any more kids who, at eighteen, use "in" when they mean "and." I know that I can't take school administrators who say "He have..." And, I certainly can't take a "curriculum specialist" who, at the esteemed age of twenty-six, has no teaching experience but who feels qualified to select reading material for the children of a city that he's never really seen. I'm not sure what to make of a person who is ostensibly an expert in the English language, yet believes that this sentence is correct: "We need to give the kids stuff they can get into." The same person created a city-wide final examination that includes a reading selection involving "pimps and hos."
If the grass is greener in Baltimore County, it's probably only because there are more lawns out there. When I embarked upon my teaching career, with the City, I held no illusions that involved saving the world; thus, I cherish no new illusions about the Promised Land of Suburbia. (In this case, the suburban enclave is rather ancient; most of the houses were built between 1920 and 1960.) I know that I won't save the world--but, just as it was in the city, there might be that one kid who will "get into" Shakespeare. If I can do that, I'll feel that I've really done something.
Unfortunately, for the students of Baltimore City, the current operating powers won't allow Shakespeare in the classroom.
posted by Daniel | 12:04 AM
5 Comments:
To which school are you transferring? Just curious.
My heart is still racing because I got stuck on the sentence "I'm moving to the County," and wondered how I had missed the Congressional vote! Don't be scarin people like that at breakfast time, Mr. G.! ;)
Lisa: If I were to actually move my residence to the county, it would only be because I somehow fell heir to one of the Colonial plantation houses. (If the owners of Clynmalira, Melrose, or Ballestone are reading this and are interested in adopting, please feel free to contact.)
Anonymous: I'll tell you, if you tell me who you are.
It's the long-lost G, who hopes to have a chance to see you at Zanner's wedding in July...
Just wondering if you'll be anywhere near my old stomping grounds, by Loch Raven.
Ji, you reject. Stop being anonymouse. Yes, I'll be pretty close by there...Parkville HS, actually. But we'll discuss further in the near future...
Post a Comment
<< Home