AdvanceBlog

I knew Mr. Teacher was a bad fit for our school by his answer to “where do you see yourself in five years?” His response was “I’m going to be doing your job.” It is not that administrative ambition is a bad attribute for beginning teachers, yet there was something about the emphasis he placed on “your job”.  My intuition said “no.”  My fatigued optimism said “okay.”  Beware of fatigued optimism, it clouds the accuracy of intuition.  Regarding intuition or gut feelings, I continue to learn just how valuably accurate those notions are.

We had been through a demanding amount of interviews.  Reverend Harris (the community activist who founded the school) and I were very deliberate and meticulous in our efforts to assemble a family instead a collection of staff members.  Our approach was very painstaking and tiring; which by the end of days and days of interviews, our senses weren’t as acute as they had been. In our fatigue, we were missing things that we would have caught during the first interviews.

The next mistakes (or learning opportunities) were my own.  First, I projected my values onto Mr. Teacher. Because I know firsthand the potential value of having a male teacher in early elementary classrooms, I assumed he would approach the job with the same vigor I did as a first year teacher.  Second, I sought to give him the benefit of the doubt regarding his interview answer and chose to mentor his ambition.  Finally, even as Mr. Teacher consistently demonstrated that he was our weakest instructor and that he did not have the patient firmness to develop classroom management strategies – I assisted, coached and hoped that things would turn around.  I continued to choose to proceed along the course set by fatigued optimism.  If only there were signs along the way that read: DEAD END AHEAD.  Then again, maybe they were there all along.

There is an African Proverb that says:

A traveler came across a wounded, dying snake on the road.  The gracious traveler picked up the snake, nursed it, feed it and made provisions for it while the snake regained its’ health. As he continued in his travels, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side – the poisonous snake had bitten him.  As he dropped to the road, dying, he called out to the snake – “why did you hurt me after all I did to help you?” The snake replied, “I thank you for all your help, but I’m still a snake.”

Mr. Teacher, the perennial substitute whom I gave his first teaching job, the one for whom I went extra miles so that he can participate in professional development, and the one for whom I taught lessons in his class to “model” effective instruction – was the one who bit me.  He was the one who shared his venom.  He chose to deliberately distort my counsel to cover his own mistakes.  However, how can I be mad?  He was a snake …right?

I’m not angry with Mr. Teacher.  The biggest disappointment from that experience is what happened to Trevon.  Trevon will forever be linked to my professional growth because when I did my first teacher evaluation, Trevon was in the small group being instructed by our pre-school teacher.  He was so eagerly engaged, he was nearly answering questions before she could ask.  He flourished in pre-school, kindergarten and first grade.  Trevon was a jewel of student and a well-mannered child.

Because his grandmother believed in me, she transferred Trevon to our new school.  We only had one second grade class; thus, Trevon was in Mr. Teacher’s class.

For third grade, Trevon returned to his original school.  His third grade teacher, about whom I trusted my intuition, had hired against the advice of others and had proven to be a splendid asset to that school, told me how Trevon had begun the year behind his classmates.  However, his natural intellect and committed grandparents helped him make up lost ground by the end of the first semester.

Trevon was impaired and uplifted by choices I made.  I apologize to Trevon and his second grade classmates – I thought that I had made a respectable hire.  I was wrong.  I failed to trust my intuitive voice and that disregard had repercussions on others.

The ultimate irony is that Mr. Teacher, the least effective instructor I ever hired, indirectly taught me a whole heap of things. The experience with Mr. Teacher has profoundly enhanced my discernment. Moreover, despite his venom, despite the snakebite, I am still growing as I travel along this path of helping others.