Yes, I know it's not April 20th, but I've been reading David Cullen's book Columbine, kindly provided to me by the publisher, TWELVE. (My Review on Girls Just Reading) Whether it had been sent to me for review or not, I would have gone out of my way to seek this book, because Columbine had a profound impact on me.
Lots of people remember where they were when a tragedy occurs. But I wonder how many of you remember where you were during Columbine? Yes, it was a national tragedy, but unless you were a teacher or a parent at that time, I don't know how much of it stuck with you. I was about to be a teacher. I was in my second and final assignment as a student teacher, working in a high school with a sprawling campus not unlike Columbine's. The teachers I was working with had the television on in the classroom all day and we watched as the story unfolded in the media. I don't think I ever looked at a classroom full of students the same way again.
I will never forget the image of Patrick Ireland dangling out a second floor window.
I have vague recollections of the sign in the window, 1 Bleeding to Death, but that may have been from the day after, as the media didn't broadcast much live in an attempt at keeping the killers from knowing who was where and what was going on, if they were watching. But the scared, bloody, half paralyzed child trying to crawl out a second story window? That image is forever etched in my mind.
It was a media circus. I cringed when the media started throwing around the term "Trench Coat Mafia". I understand the motivation; having a name for something helps reduce fear of the object. News outlets are in the business of giving us labels. To be fair, it wasn't a term they created, there was a group at school who had called themselves that, but the killers, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold weren't part of it. They happened to be wearing trench coats when the massacre started as a way to walk into the building hiding their guns and ammo. Some students, naturally made a connection between killers in trench coats and the "Trench Coat Mafia." The reporters took it and ran with it, forgetful or oblivious to the fact that terrified victims rarely make reliable witnesses.
Then the media labeled them loners and "Goths" and my stomach turned. I knew that didn't make sense. You didn't major in the arts without interacting with Goths in the 90's. Not that it was impossible for it to be true, but it sounded like an easy scapegoat theory. It was.
Columbine changed my philosophy of teaching. It got me thinking about the way we label our students as if each one can fit into a box, good student, poor student, trouble maker... the essence is still the student. Yes, some labeling is necessary, especially for the gifted and the learning disabled so that they may receive services, but if we are only invested in teaching the subject matter to the labels, we're doing everyone a disservice.
As a soon to be music teacher studying at a conservatory, a lot of emphasis is placed on educating every student to the highest calibre musical standard, but let's face it. How many students are conservatory bound? Most of them are there for a love of music. And while it's important to open their horizons, forcing them into a mold that doesn't fit them is poor teaching. I didn't sacrifice my subject, but I choose a different approach and a different standard. You can always enrich a program for those who need it. But if you win the battle and loose the war, everyone suffers.
As a teacher, I became known for collecting students. I believed in reaching out. I didn't reach everyone, but I knew I wouldn't. I just wanted to make sure someone was listening to these kids. This bothered a lot of seasoned teachers. Some shook their heads and told me I was too invested. Some didn't understand. I remember it enraged one math teacher in particular. Her student was failing math. He shouldn't be coming to me during his study hall. I explained to the teacher that he was bringing me his math for help, but that just made her more angry. That was her job. I remember telling the teacher, maybe he just needs it explained in a different manner, and reminded her that it was her prerogative to hold the student from leaving her study hall.
The principal understood, and he supported me. I was not so lucky in my next job. The school was a poor fit for me. The principal was obsessed with autonomous control of his teachers as well as his students. I wish I could excuse this behavior by saying it was an 'opposite' reaction to Columbine, but I'd interacted with him before. It was just his personality. Though I taught music theory to a higher calibre than it had ever been taught in the district, I was less intense with my choirs. My interest in the kids was perceived as a weakness and the principal made it his mission to get rid of me. Needless to say, he was successful.
Eleven years later, I view Columbine on a new level, as a mother and a wife of a teacher. My husband works in a suburban school we jokingly refer to as "Degrassi", but we are aware that doesn't make it less susceptible to school violence. He also listens to his students, and for that I'm glad. Procedures and drills have changed, but every once in a while I remind him not to get himself shot. We need him. This year, as I send my daughter to school for the first time, I know that I won't be able to protect her from everything... I can just be invested in her, her friends, and her education. Hopefully that will be enough.
Lots of people remember where they were when a tragedy occurs. But I wonder how many of you remember where you were during Columbine? Yes, it was a national tragedy, but unless you were a teacher or a parent at that time, I don't know how much of it stuck with you. I was about to be a teacher. I was in my second and final assignment as a student teacher, working in a high school with a sprawling campus not unlike Columbine's. The teachers I was working with had the television on in the classroom all day and we watched as the story unfolded in the media. I don't think I ever looked at a classroom full of students the same way again. I will never forget the image of Patrick Ireland dangling out a second floor window.
I have vague recollections of the sign in the window, 1 Bleeding to Death, but that may have been from the day after, as the media didn't broadcast much live in an attempt at keeping the killers from knowing who was where and what was going on, if they were watching. But the scared, bloody, half paralyzed child trying to crawl out a second story window? That image is forever etched in my mind.
It was a media circus. I cringed when the media started throwing around the term "Trench Coat Mafia". I understand the motivation; having a name for something helps reduce fear of the object. News outlets are in the business of giving us labels. To be fair, it wasn't a term they created, there was a group at school who had called themselves that, but the killers, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold weren't part of it. They happened to be wearing trench coats when the massacre started as a way to walk into the building hiding their guns and ammo. Some students, naturally made a connection between killers in trench coats and the "Trench Coat Mafia." The reporters took it and ran with it, forgetful or oblivious to the fact that terrified victims rarely make reliable witnesses.
Then the media labeled them loners and "Goths" and my stomach turned. I knew that didn't make sense. You didn't major in the arts without interacting with Goths in the 90's. Not that it was impossible for it to be true, but it sounded like an easy scapegoat theory. It was.
Columbine changed my philosophy of teaching. It got me thinking about the way we label our students as if each one can fit into a box, good student, poor student, trouble maker... the essence is still the student. Yes, some labeling is necessary, especially for the gifted and the learning disabled so that they may receive services, but if we are only invested in teaching the subject matter to the labels, we're doing everyone a disservice.
As a soon to be music teacher studying at a conservatory, a lot of emphasis is placed on educating every student to the highest calibre musical standard, but let's face it. How many students are conservatory bound? Most of them are there for a love of music. And while it's important to open their horizons, forcing them into a mold that doesn't fit them is poor teaching. I didn't sacrifice my subject, but I choose a different approach and a different standard. You can always enrich a program for those who need it. But if you win the battle and loose the war, everyone suffers.
As a teacher, I became known for collecting students. I believed in reaching out. I didn't reach everyone, but I knew I wouldn't. I just wanted to make sure someone was listening to these kids. This bothered a lot of seasoned teachers. Some shook their heads and told me I was too invested. Some didn't understand. I remember it enraged one math teacher in particular. Her student was failing math. He shouldn't be coming to me during his study hall. I explained to the teacher that he was bringing me his math for help, but that just made her more angry. That was her job. I remember telling the teacher, maybe he just needs it explained in a different manner, and reminded her that it was her prerogative to hold the student from leaving her study hall.
The principal understood, and he supported me. I was not so lucky in my next job. The school was a poor fit for me. The principal was obsessed with autonomous control of his teachers as well as his students. I wish I could excuse this behavior by saying it was an 'opposite' reaction to Columbine, but I'd interacted with him before. It was just his personality. Though I taught music theory to a higher calibre than it had ever been taught in the district, I was less intense with my choirs. My interest in the kids was perceived as a weakness and the principal made it his mission to get rid of me. Needless to say, he was successful.
Eleven years later, I view Columbine on a new level, as a mother and a wife of a teacher. My husband works in a suburban school we jokingly refer to as "Degrassi", but we are aware that doesn't make it less susceptible to school violence. He also listens to his students, and for that I'm glad. Procedures and drills have changed, but every once in a while I remind him not to get himself shot. We need him. This year, as I send my daughter to school for the first time, I know that I won't be able to protect her from everything... I can just be invested in her, her friends, and her education. Hopefully that will be enough.
