Give me a teacher who speaks the lingo any day

Fri, 24 Oct 2008 08:10:24 -0400

In the world of a typical high school student beastie means sweeeeet or cooool. Trippin' means acting crazy or losing your anger.Real talk is when someone is speaking from the heart.

Educators, as well, have their terminology: literacy initiative,scaffolding, differentiated instruction.

Having spent the last four years writing about teachers undergoing small school reform what I can tell you is that the best ones speak both languages.

Eric Pilcher, now in his fifth year of teaching at Libbey High School, is one of them.

One cold January morning a student who has been expelled due to poor attendance appears and asks Pilcher for a job reference.

“Are you dropping clean?” Pilcher says quickly, catching the kid off guard.

The student assures Pilcher he would pass a drug test.

“You know what I’m going to tell them. I’m going to say that you’re a bright kid who can do whatever you set you mind to. But if you don’t set your mind to doing it, it’s all over.”

They continue to talk about the kid’s options. The young man is not sure he wants to return to school. “Go talk to the counselor about that,” Pilcher advises. “But only if your head is in it. Otherwise, you might consider the Phoenix (an on-line academy).”

He hands the kid his address and phone number and wishes him luck.

Giving a kid a phone number is not unusual for Pilcher.

Part of the small school reformation sponsored by KnowledgeWorks Foundation and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, Pilcher and the other teachers on campus have adopted the small school philosophy of building relationships between teachers and students.

For Pilcher this comes naturally.

Yet while some teachers will take a student under the wings, Pilcher feels his role is to tell them the right thing to do.

In spite of what may appear to be a casual attitude--Pilcher's street talk, his propensity to recite rap lyrics in the classroom, the samurai knot in the back of his head--this teacher demands strict adherence to the rules and regulations of the school. He takes tardy and dress code violations seriously, and he’s a stickler on cursing.

But being a role model can demand a lot. One day it can mean talking straight about a kids’ choices. Another it can mean letting a smart alec save face.

In Sophomore English, Pilcher’s recites a poem in a Scottish accent. A student fusses at his desk.

Do you need anything? Pilcher asks calmly.

I need money, the student replies.

I can give you an education, which will lead to so much money you won’t know what to do with it.

I don’t need no f…ing education, the student says casually. He leans back at his desk, his long legs outstretched.

That’s 25 cents. Pilcher indicates the can where he collects fines for cursing.

Twenty-five cents! Oh s..t! The kid takes out a dollar.

That’s .50.

OK. M…fer, he taunts.

The game is on.

That’s .75, retorts Pilcher.

Son of a b…ch.

That’s $1.00.

Smirking, the student gets up and saunters to the front desk to stuff a crumpled dollar in the tin can. Pilcher smirks as well.

I’m a notorious curser at home playing the Play Station, he tells the students, circulating the room. But not at school. And not on the job. I’m trying to “train” us to respond appropriately to situations.

Later Pilcher says, “I try to be a role model. I think many students are missing structure and discipline at home. If I let the little things go, then the rules that do matter lose their emphasis.”

So far it seems to cement his relationship with his students. The kids take him seriously, and few dare to curse. Pilcher is careful that his hard-line approach doesn't set off students with anger issues.

“I’m kind of grimy,” admits Pilcher. “I would never seriously attempt to resolve a conflict in the classroom. The student would be showing off for his friends: it would reflect him trying to save face and he might make a bad decision. I’ll allow them to appear to have won. When the bell rings, I’ll make sure they spend the next class in the BIC (in-school suspension). I point out at the next day’s class that there’s an empty seat. I let them know that I’m the Grime King—I don’t have to play fair.”

The cursing game ends and the class turns to the Langston Hughes.

This time, as is appropriate to the theme of the poem, Pilcher reads in the voice of a rambling drunk.

pegcypher's Open Salon Blog

Give me a teacher who speaks the lingo any day