Rafe Esquith will be at the Seattle Central Library (1000 Fourth Ave in downtown Seattle) on Monday evening at 7 p.m. This free event is co-presented by Elliott Bay Book Company and the Washington Center for the Book at Seattle Public Library.
14 years ago, I was assigned to a 4th-grade public school classroom in Greenwich Village for my first student-teaching gig in the first year of my master’s degree program. My supervisor was a veteran teacher named Johanna. I will never forget her first words to me: “Welcome. You can look forward to constipation and lots of urinary tract infections.”
Rafe Esquith’s fourth book on teaching, Real Talk for Real Teachers, isn’t quite so dark, but his forced enthusiasm barely masks the weight of 30 years spent in classrooms that are the canaries in the mine of our national class stratification.
Pitched as a book of practical tips for teachers from newbies to experienced professionals, Mr. Esquith (“Rafe” to his students) lards each of the twenty-five chapters with winsome anecdotes from his own classroom. Each of the twenty-five chapters ends with a bullet-pointed section called “For Your Consideration,” which captures the gist of the preceding pages and offers pithy advice.
The number of the times the word “I” is used in this book is indicative of the egocentric stance Mr. Esquith takes throughout, however. The author is less interested in guiding fellow professionals than he is sharing endless stories about the wonders that take place in Room 56, his “Hobart Shakespeareans” and the times he, Rafe Esquith, has helped other teachers.
Every student is “highly intelligent,” “very bright,” or “very pretty.” Every teacher is “terrific” or “the best sort of teacher” (those who aren’t he urges readers to avoid: “These teachers are of no good to you and certainly of no benefit to the students.”) His lessons are interesting. He uses Shakespeare with 5th graders in central L.A.! So innovative! So creative! He can barely keep up with the national reporters and celebrities and what-not wanting to experience the magic of Room 56 for themselves.
And herein lies the secret truth about teachers (Shhhh….): We love attention. Cloistered in emotionally-charged, vulnerable buildings with becoming-people who hold no power in society, teachers are powerless in the world, but gods in our classrooms. And teachers have the sole right to bless or curse those with far fewer means — our students.
“Honor those heroic veteran teachers who fight on and achieve true excellence, even when our society treats them shabbily,” heroic veteran teacher Mr. Esquith writes. Needless to say, administrations are evil (They took away his keys to the building and he still hasn’t gotten them back!), testing is evil, disengaged parents are evil, Shakespeare is magical, and Mr. Esquith is a hero for enduring poverty and prejudice through it all.
I taught K-4th grades for six years before becoming one of the slacker teachers Mr. Esquith dismisses. I left the classroom eight years ago, my sense of self in shreds after one incredibly dysfunctional school administration experience. In Chapter One (“Badlands”), Mr. Esquith sadly warns, “You will pick up the newspaper and get no love from society either.” In the epilogue (“No Retreat, No Surrender!”) he picks up the theme again: “… some things do not change. We will never be given our due. It’s the sad reality all of us must come to accept.” I now wonder if the martyr thing is given to teachers by society or if some teachers perpetuate the stereotype because it fits their own needs.
I read this book remembering how hungrily I sought advice before I started teaching. I wanted to know how I could enter this incredibly powerful role of teacher and not fail my students. I would have picked up this book hopefully — and set it down quickly. It’s like looking through someone’s vacation slides. You’re aching for practical advice that will allow you to structure your own way of doing things. And, indeed, the bullet points at the ends of the chapters are the most helpful part of the book, but even those have an aura of condescension and bitterness.
“No Retreat, No Surrender!” the subtitle cries and this battle-weary mentality infuses every page. At 316 pages, this book wanders through a veteran teacher’s war stories without much of a sense of joy or purpose.
Whether you’re preparing for your first year of teaching, or you’re a returning teacher with a few years under your belt, here’s my advice: Put your students first; communicate with everyone involved in their success; ask for help when you need it; assume that everyone has the best intentions; and trust that wine and your favorite colleagues will get you through grading periods and rough days. You’ll be fine. Leave when you are no longer able to teach joyfully or when you start to lose perspective. Do not, however, waste any of your precious free time on this book.
