Anne Jolly's Diary

I walked through the office area with a bounce in my step - the holiday spirit everywhere! Student-made Christmas cards glittered on bulletin boards, a lighted tree sparkled in the office, and smiles issued from office personnel, administrators, and teachers alike.

My eyes rested on a figure huddled in a corner chair, as far away from the festive atmosphere as he could get. Head down. Red-faced. Anger, frustration, and depression spilling out over the waiting area. I paused as I recognized William (not his real name). I taught William last year, or at least, I tried to teach William. He failed to pass his eighth grade work - primarily because he failed to do any work, and now he's joined the list of repeaters.

As I considered his six-foot frame, hunched over the beat-up trombone case on which he rested his head, I was hit with a fresh sense of failure as well. William has an IQ of 140 plus. His major interest seems to be in proving to everyone - parents, teachers, and administrators, that he doesn't have to do anything. He's developed "passive resistance" into to a finely tuned art. William's interests also extend to creating frequent class disruptions and alienating everyone around him, including peers.

I've never tried to teach a student who was any more out of place than William. He doesn't fit the mold. With 160 other students a day to teach, tailoring a program for a young person as atypical and as emotionally needy as William proved a "mission impossible" for me.

I walked over to William. He didn't look up, even when I asked "What's going on, Will?" He just mumbled bitterly, "I've been suspended."

Suspended. Again. A sense of heaviness settled over my lighthearted mood. William's transfer to this school is already in jeopardy. I sat down by William and talked quietly with him. I learned that he likes to begin novels, but doesn't finish them. He feels out of place at school. He's frequently at odds with his family.

William finally glanced up when I told him that I shared his sense of failure. I failed to find the "engage" button for him last year. Failed to help him through the stuff churning around inside him. I acknowledged my sadness that he was struggling in a system that demands too much conformity from divergent types of students. His head dropped again, but his body language said: "Go on. I'm listening."

"Work with us, Will," I appealed, "For yourself and for the sake of other kids like you. Help us find some "on" buttons. Help us figure out what the ideal school for kids like you would look like."

He never answered. When William comes back he'll probably behave in the same manner - the same way he's behaved since kindergarten. And his teachers will probably respond in the same way. No shift in anyone's modus operandi.

Sometimes, looking at kids like William, the reality of what teachers face in helping students learn every day seems overwhelming These Impact Teams have to work - really work. Teachers must start talking together and working together to develop strategies for the students we teach. "Going it alone" doesn't work anymore - if it ever did.

Interestingly, one Impact Team has already decided to address the needs of students like William. The teachers are rewriting their action plan to focus on strategies that meet the needs of exceptional students at both ends of the spectrum. They figure that in doing so, they will raise the standard of teaching/learning for all of their students. I wish William were on their team.

What would effective education and schooling look in a new century/ millennium? What would teachers need to do differently? Change is so hard. How can I build full, enthusiastic teacher participation into the Impact Team process? My personal challenge for the year 2000 is to find a way to establish a sustained change process that results in quality teacher professional growth.

If that resolution seems idealistic, I make no apologies for that. But at least it's less idealistic than my usual resolution to exercise and lose weight! Happy 2000!