The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

I felt strongly about a recent election. In my judgment, Candidate A* was the better man. Candidate B had his good points, certainly, but Candidate A had my unqualified support. I was so thoroughly convinced that Candidate A would be a more effective leader that I went downtown to his campaign headquarters to make a small monetary contribution and to pick up a sign to put in my yard.

After thanking the young campaign workers who graciously accepted my check and gave me a campaign poster, I started toward my car, concerned about the time on the meter and about getting back to the office. Before I could take a step however, the campaign manager approached me and started telling me about the policies and opinions of the candidate whom we both supported. As it happened, I agreed with all the policies being espoused, so I didn’t mind listening and nodding my head. But as the lecture turned into a harangue, my desire to make sure I didn’t get a parking ticket increased. It became clear that I wasn’t part of a discussion about ideas. Indeed, I wasn’t sure that my presence was even a necessary part of the endless stream of verbiage. I glanced repeatedly at my watch as the minutes and the arguments crawled by. On and on the vitriolic stream of information roared: “Candidate A has good policies! Candidate B is a bad man!” Finally, I interrupted the diatribe and excused myself.

“Candidate B will ruin our country,” the campaign manager yelled after my rapidly retreating back. “Don’t forget to vote for Candidate A!”

For the first time in my life, I considered changing political parties.

I have never missed an election since I started voting in 1968. I have never voted for the political party of Candidate B, but I was sufficiently annoyed, after being incessantly yelled at, to consider it.

What was so visceral about being lectured to–even about positions with which I was in complete agreement–that I was annoyed enough to consider voting for the other guy?

And what does an insensitive campaign manager have to do with my usual topics of education and parenting?

I thought you’d never ask.

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Teachers and parents are in the convincing business. Think about it. From potty training to the Pythagorean Theorem, our sacred duty is to transmit our values to our children. The question, of course, is how to go about convincing our kids that what we have to say is valid and worthy of emulation.

Our motivation is critical. Even a stray dog knows whether he has been tripped over or kicked. A hidden agenda of “learn this because I said so” is less cogent than “Here’s something I think is worth knowing and you might too.”

That’s why we remember our enthusiastic teachers more fondly than our fascistic ones.

And “Do as I say, not as I do” doesn’t get much traction. Dads who smoke cigarettes are more likely to have kids who smoke. Dads who read are more likely to have kids who read. Modeling behavior is more likely to be effective than talking about it.

Sometimes the agenda of those in power is only too clear. Imagine a classroom of engaged students discussing a book that they have all read and loved. The teacher gently guides the interaction, involving each child in an deep examination of character, tone, style, and irony, Students are seamlessly learning literary terms and a love of literature.

When an announcement comes over the public address system: “Beat Killian High! Come on out on Friday night to support your school. Buy “Kill the Cougars” buttons!

Not to put too fine a point on it, but the message here is clear: Nothing that goes on in the classroom is as important as an Orwellian emphasis on beating some other school at an endeavor involving an ovoid object.

Once again, students (who, in many regards, are just like people! 🙂 don’t respond well to being TOLD. If an obnoxious campaign manager can almost convince me to vote for the other guy, can’t an overbearing administration work contrary to the interests of students? Similarly, can’t a school system that emphasizes testing over learning turn off a generation of students? Most kids can grow to love reading; few will grow to love being tested.

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Tell me about your best teacher. Who was the one who got through to you? Who was the one who helped you love reading, who helped you love learning?

I eagerly await your comments. (But no politics, please!)

* I promise not to bore you with the specifics of my political beliefs if you agree not to tell me about yours.