Having no children of my own, the subject of education shouldn’t be of any importance to me, but it is. I know little about how the process works these days except from what I see on Saved By The Bell and Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide. But education is of paramount importance to all of us. The generation of rug-rats watching Spongebob Squarepants while they eat their peanut butter sandwiches have a world of work ahead of them cleaning up the mess we made. They’ll have to do it or they’ll die trying. Or not trying.
The Worst Teacher In The World
What I have experienced in the educational system came at the hands of the New Orleans Public Schools, probably one of the worst school systems in America, and I will always believe that my eighth grade science teacher, Mrs. Grace Watson at Edward Livingston Middle School, was the Worst Teacher in the World. She was even worse than Mr. Crocker on Fairly Oddparents, and the only good thing I can say about her is that thank the gods she wasn’t a nun in a parochial school. Often mistaking attitude for intellect, she once spent an entire class period not teaching us anything about science, but lecturing me (in front of the rest of the class) on how worthless I was and how I was never going to amount to anything. I probably should have told my mom about this, but I was so screwed-up by all the abuse that I thought she’d take their side.
To validate my opinion, it should be pointed out that immediately after eighth grade, at the recommendation of a sympathetic school counselor, I was put into group therapy. When I arrived for my first session, half of the kids in the group were also in her class. I should have had my parents send the bill for my therapy to her.
That’s not education; it’s child abuse. Teachers need to realize that these smiling little faces — and the scowling ones — are the ones going to be running the world in a few decades. I don’t see how it helps the future to scar a child like that, unless you’re an evil, malicious bitch who wants to make the ones she looks down on kill themselves.
… And The Best
It’s hard to pick a Best Teacher from the ones I’ve had. Most of them were pretty pathetic. But if I had to pick one, I’d have to pick Mr. Joe Scorsone, my senior year chemistry teacher. He was a nerdy little guy, the kind I would try to pick up if I met him in the bar today. It’s not that he taught me that much — my bad, since I just didn’t have the mind for science back then — but he was amusing (a die hard Trekkie, he patterned his life after Mister Spock) and there was one incident where he showed a lot of courage. One morning a kid named Derek was late for class. He was a big, dumb ox who probably didn’t grasp the first notion on chemistry. But he needed to pay for his workbook. Since he was late, Mr. Scorsone told him that he’d have to wait until tomorrow. He got up and stormed out, and the teacher continued the lesson for a few minutes, then Derek came storming into the room, grabbed the teacher, threw him against the blackboard (his glasses went flying). Then he stormed back out, only to be arrested a short time later. Poor Mr. Scorsone just wandered the halls in a daze the rest of the day, but he recovered. He didn’t let this trauma prevent him from doing his job.
The State of the Art
When I was a kid (groan, there’s another of those phrases that makes me feel old) they were just starting to happen on the idea that maybe if they made learning fun, kids might actually do it. The best idea in education I have ever seen was Schoolhouse Rock. Somebody at the network noticed that his kid couldn’t memorize his multiplication tables, but could sure sing all the words to “American Pie.” So he set them to music with cute little cartoons. The kids watched and, despite themselves, they learned. (Many a time on a math test I would hum “Three Is A Magic Number” or “Zero My Hero” while taking a math test.) Now I don’t bother, since the computer does all of my math for me. It’s still important to know how. I mean, what if the power blows and your batteries are dead and dammit, you need to calculate the square root of a hypotenuse? Eventually Schoolhouse Rock went on to teach me my conjunctions and the Preamble to the Constitution.
Science
It may come as a surprise to Mrs. Watson that I strongly believe in science. One of those things that sets us apart from the lower species is our curiosity to know as much as we can about the universe we live in. Sure, Brody sits in the window all the time watching the snow fall, but does he give much thought to what’s making it fall? No, more likely he’s wondering when’s the next time I’m going to feed him.
But no, we as humans have an innate desire to learn about what goes on around us. We want to know why it’s so cold. We want to know when Betelgeuse is going to go nova and explode. We want to know what is so significant about December 21, 2012 because that’s when the Mayan calendar ends. We want to know why men have nipples.
Science is what seeks out and finds the answers to these questions, or at least explains to us that they’re silly questions.
Science belongs in our schools. We need teachers who will teach accepted scientific fact and theory in the classroom, presented for what it is. That includes the theory of Evolution.
Creationism
I’m not saying that Creationism has no place in the classroom; just not in the science classroom. History can teach them that this is another viewpoint on the subject of where we come from, and we can let the kids (gasp!) decide for themselves. Presented with the unbiased facts on each, this could also be used as a tool for students to learn debating skills. It’s a recipe for the future that will work.
Most important, we need to teach them that for some questions, there really are no answers. But that doesn’t mean they should stop looking.
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