More ethics

Hello everyone,

I want to return to some questions of ethics in education.

Some big questions that have been floating around Garfield lately pertain to teacher professionalism, the law, school governance, academic freedom, scheduling, and curriculum.

I think many of the ethical problems that swirl around these themes have much to do with the very personal nature of so much of our profession. Many of us became teachers because we love kids and have a passion for the subjects we teach. Some of us may have had life changing experiences in classes similar to the ones we are teaching, and we want to give others the same sorts of experiences. We refer to our students as "my kids," and our dreams and expectations are fulfilled through them much as many parents' dreams and expectations are fulfilled through their own children. This, of course, doesn't even begin to address the issues of ego or competition among teachers.

Think about that paragraph I just wrote. I think that it should be obvious that powerful forces are at work in us and around us when we have to use words like "love," "passion," "life changing," "my kids," and "fulfilled." To throw "ego" and "competition" in is like throwing phosphorus in water.

Garfield is certainly subject to these volatile feelings. During my time here, I have personally witnessed arguments, shouting matches, grudges, and fights. There is one-upmanship and backstabbing; there are backroom deals and shady agreements; there is open defiance and fomented rebellion. And I am speaking of the professionals, not the students.

I am certainly not above it all, either. There are teachers on campus who could tell stories about how I have personally lost my temper and yelled at colleagues; there are those who know of my lingering disagreements about curriculum; and many have heard my tirades about any number of subjects good or bad.

I confess to these things mostly because I want my trench credentials to be valid. I've been there, and I know how it is. I'm removed from it to a certain extent because I'm out of the classroom, and I have "clients" instead of "kids" now, but the passion still swirls within me, and I frequently can't escape a visceral reaction to some things that bring the old battles back.

The late Val Aguilera, with whom I worked in theater and in an SLC, frequently took me aside--when he was alive--and chided me for losing my temper or forgetting my overall purpose. (Val wasn't perfect; I sometimes chided him for the same things. We got along because we could be brutally honest with each other, and we got accustomed to forgiving each other.) Sometimes after long chiding--and a good night's sleep--, I was persuaded that Val was right, and I would calm down and refocus myself.

Val's death has sealed his testimony in my mind, and I can look at myself and my career more objectively now. I understand better how the contract binds us and protects us at the same time. I see how state and federal laws do the same. I realize that many of my problems at Garfield were not so much how I was governed, but that I wasn't governed and I didn't really want to be.

Better than ever before, though, I see that most of our ethical problems arise when we forget that we are here to serve students and parents, and not ourselves.

I don't mean to say--nor do I believe--that we ought to be the sorts of teachers who sacrifice everything (including our own families or our health) for our students. Nor do I think that bureaucrats and politicians know best. I mean that, within the context of our professional lives, and under the watchful eye of our students' parents, our primary focus must be on what is best for the students we teach--both in the immediate and in the long term--and we must direct our classroom and out-of-classroom decisions along those ends.

What's best for our students requires collaboration, self-examination, and adaptation. Believe it or not, it requires adherence to contracts and the law as well. It may mean that we give up something we are personally passionate for in order to achieve a greater goal.

Maybe I've just thrown some more phosphorus.

Jeff Combe