I love my University. Maybe that’s somewhat hypocritical to say considering that at the same time I say I love Drexel, I hate it with a passion. I hate the way its run, which seems more and more to be that of a business instead of an institution of learning. I hate all the departments a person must see and all the paperwork you must fill out to simply transfer from class to class. I hate how the classes themselves are designed and organized; it makes little sense to start entering Information Systems majors who already are MCSE certified in a course that teaches the basics of computer systems. Most of all I hate the way Drexel forces upon us a service learning project, wherein we go to a public school in Philadelphia and teach a class there for an hour, six times in a semester. I’ve never liked community service, never liked being forced to do something, so I hated it from the start.
For weeks we’ve been trained and taught and spoken too about how great this project is, how much good it will do us as individuals. Yet, to the person, not a single student looked forward to it. To give a little background on the class, which is collectively known as University 101, requires me to back track a bit. When you are accepted to Drexel one of the highlights that they point out of your freshmen year is the “University 101 experience.” They bring in speakers saying how great it is, the friendships you will make, and how much fun it is to teach inner-city kids. They carefully gloss over the fact that the class itself is horrible, forcing required reading of a 6th grade level upon the students, a constant stream of papers and events that do nothing for the students, and generally just waste our time. Then there’s the fact of the actually teaching position itself. Yes they give us the choice of a grade level if you consider being allowed two ranges, first through fourth and fifth through eight, a choice. Yet otherwise we’re thrown into whatever happens. The schools range from being very supportive and happy to see you to utterly downright hostile.
Last week we were treated with our first real, honest to goodness observation visits where we visited the schools, met our classes and our teachers for the first time. It was an interesting experience to say the least, but instead of relating to you that experience I’ll tell you about today’s, the first real teaching day.
A word of warning though that I feel is fitting to give. As open minded as I consider myself I know I am not. I know within myself there lies a pool of racism that I think exists within all people, its something we cannot avoid. A feeling of superiority and power that comes to us from our environment, and while my mom taught in inner-city schools and I grew up with a fairly diverse environment, I’m still not immune to. So my account will be colored by this, and for that I apologize. It is who I am though, and if you disagree with something I say please relate it to me.
I already knew the environment I was stepping into as I had viewed the school and neighborhood from my previous visit but I feel I should relate some of it to give you an idea of what it was like. The neighborhood was unlike anything I’ve ever been through before; it was the type of neighborhood that a person would think twice of walking alone through on a dark night. The houses were all run down, in desperate need of new carpentry and a fresh coat of paint. Every window, the few that weren’t broken or boarded over was finely meshed behind wrought iron bars and heavy fencing. In short, close your eyes, envision a ghetto, and you’d get a good picture of the neighborhood. Our first view of the elementary school was colored not by the neighborhood so much as the pathetic sight of a Santa Claus doll hanging by its throat from a lamp post, a chilling reminder that I was no longer in my quiet, predominantly white suburb known as Camp Hill.
The school itself had the façade more like that of a prison than a school. Massively built it truly looked like a fortress, with no windows on the ground floor and the windows on the upper floors covered over again by heavy wrought iron fencing. There was but one section of grass around the entire building and that was heavily overgrown, amazingly green in the winter air yet sad because of the desolation surrounding it. Honestly, none of us were impressed; we feared what we were walking into.
Since I had seen my class on the observation visit I knew where I was to go, and here is where it gets somewhat confusing. As some of you may have been aware the Philadelphia public school system was taken over by the state due to how poorly it was managed and run. Many schools have changed ownership with some even becoming private, while others have looked towards other ways for financing and general management. The elementary school I was placed into had largely outgrown its building; there were trailers for extra classrooms – at least four of them. Even with that, there still was not enough space. Across the street there was a catholic school which had faced steadily decreasing numbers of students and revenue (due to the poor surrounding community) and was almost forced to close down. In a bid for extra classrooms, the public school paid for a percentage of their students to be moved across the street into this building.
The contrasts between the Catholic school and the public school buildings were immense. The former were beautifully kept, well maintained inside and out. When you walked into the public school it was a walk into chaos, of children running around screaming and teachers barely restraining the students or themselves. When one walked into the Catholic school it was like walking into a pool of calm. The students were quiet and well behaved, everything was orderly and clean. The contrast was remarkable.
On the first day I was allotted a total time of an hour to teach the students and I was given an assignment from which to teach; it was titled simply “Our City.” The guidebook laid out simple lessons and things I could do but none of them would have taken an hour, let alone the half hour the guide stated. So aware of this I walked into the classroom, thrown to the wolves without a safety net.
The children were taking a test as I walked in, a math test as I would later find out. They were all silent and focused on their material yet as I entered the silence deepened and all focus were disappeared only to be transferred upon me. The teacher asked for all the tests back and presented me with the floor. That’s it, no introduction, no prep, nothing. Granted I was already somewhat known to the students, at least two of them had remembered that my name was Chris (very surprising)
Honestly, I figured it was going to be extremely difficult, that none of the students would participate. I asked the first question, what was the job of the mayor and who was it and suddenly every hand in the class was raised. Let me repeat that, every single hand. The teacher was in shock, I could see that in her eyes, she had never even gotten that kind of response. Suddenly I wasn’t intimidated anymore, it wasn’t so bad. Oh yes I’d heard the horror stories, I’d expected them. Yet, for me, the entire class opened up and participated on every single question. I taught them a little about the city and the organization that runs it, I even through in some things about saying in school to go to college to become something. The students actually asked me to stay at the end of the class, and some jumped up and down when I said I was coming back the next week.
Was I surprised? Yes, very much so. I never expected that kind of a response especially considering how the school had given me the impression that no one wanted me there. Even the teacher had opened up and talked to me as a person, treated me as another teacher. It was refreshing, to be treated as an adult and actually respected. As to why the lead-in to all this was so long and the actual detail of the visit was so short…well honestly I don’t remember the visit. I was so scared and anxious that the entire time became a blur.
So was it a positive experience? For a first visit yes, I would say so. As much as I dreaded the experience I actually enjoyed it. I look forward to going back and trying some different things like drawing the students into a game instead of just talking from the front of the class room. I still don’t feel that we should be forced into doing the service project but for once, I actually understand and can accept why we are being made to do it. Next week I’ll post a response about week two, and so on.