In-Service & Karaoke: An Analogy

School years start and end the same way – with in-service. At the end of the year, exhausted teachers are informed that, no matter how good a year they thought they had, they could have been better if only.... And in the beginning, refreshed and recharged teachers have their enthusiasm numbed out of them, first with data that, no matter how positive, ends up emphasizing their failures to reach some magic number, followed by instructions that imply while they’re really not that good, they can become great if only they become disciples of the latest educational Jesus.

   Can following the strict catechism of the latest savior (Madeline Hunter, Marzano, etc.) really make anyone a great teacher? I’m a skeptic, but administrators fall all over themselves to create a conformist culture based on those faddish “new” religions. Where are the administrators with the courage to trust their teachers to do the job the right way, to make creative decisions with their students’ various needs in mind, and to not bog their staff down with mindless workshops of data and dicta that are either ignored or perfunctorily followed.

   I know lots of great teachers. I don’t know any that think they need more large-group in-service time. One of my favorite articles of all-time (see link) compares teacher in-service to the artificial insemination of cattle: it’s only marginally effective and not all that much fun for the cow.

   Virtually all the good teachers I know spent those endless in-service hours (and days!) with their minds elsewhere. Do teachers need time to plan? Of course. Do they need training? Absolutely. Do they need to have the same training as every other teacher in the building or district? Ummm, have we heard of differentiation? Of course we have. We all took the same damn workshop! And those in charge failed to see the irony.

    Logically, if you believe you can create great teachers by giving them more training, then you also ought to believe that I can become a great singer by doing more karaoke or a great dancer with enough Dance Dance Revolution! Never mind that I’m worse than a monotone: I may have more than one note, but they're ALL bad, or that I share the rhythmic abilities of the aforementioned cow during the artificial insemination process! But herd me often enough into a room with other bad to mediocre singers and dancers and the latest, greatest, up-to-datest training in either of those areas and I, too, can become great.

   No, I can’t (and I half-heartedly apologize for my defeatist attitude, but I am a pragmatist). My best possible outcome in either of those areas is a bored and controlled, but less than embarrassing technician. I know it’s cynical, but I really think that’s the ultimate goal: controlled technicians. 

   I contend that the art of teaching is similar to any other art. You must be born to greatness, you must possess something innate that will allow you to excel. In the same way that there are styles of music and art, there will be styles of teaching, great teaching; your great teaching won’t look like your colleagues down the hall or in a different grade/department.

   Great teachers (even good teachers) are always looking to improve themselves, but regimented in-service workshops have never been, and will never be, the answer. In the same way every great artist had mentors and instructors, every great teacher has also had inspiration, both formal and informal, but the greatness was already there, waiting to burst forth. Yes, administrators will also have to deal with the artistic temperament; great teachers have never been easily controlled. Too bad. If administrators really care about the kids as much as they claim, they’ll cope.