Abstract:

Bill Ferriter describes how he grapples with why he's not teaching in a high-needs school--and says the answer is that accomplished eachers want an empowering professional environment and resources to do their jobs effectively.

Ferriter, B. (2005).  Why I don't teach in a high poverty school. Teacher Leaders Network diaries. Retrieved from the Teacher Leaders Network 8 Apr 2008. Link: http://www.teacherleaders.org/old_site/diaries04_05/other/BF07_04_05.htm...

Full Text:

Why I Don't Teach in a High Poverty School

It has been an interesting few years for me to say the least. I've had great professional success, having served as a Senior Fellow in the Teacher Leaders Network, the Teacher in Residence at the Center for Teaching Quality (based in Chapel Hill NC), and having been recognized as my county's Teacher of the Year (Wake County NC). I was one of the first 1,000 teachers in the nation and first 100 in my state to earn National Board Certification. I've been a role model for my peers in many ways and a catalyst for changes everywhere that I have worked. I've written for journals, reviewed literature, made presentations to state and national policymakers, and been recognized as a true "teacher leader."

But through it all, I've felt a sense of shame because I have chosen to work in a suburban school with less than 10% of my students living in poverty. My classes are full of children who are fortunate in nearly every way. They tend to come to school well prepared because they have been exposed to extensive enrichment opportunities for their entire lives. They have access to the best medical care and the latest technologies. Their parents are supportive and engaged, and they provide for their children in ways that many of our poorest families can only dream of.

While I firmly believe that every child, including those from wealthy families, deserves a highly accomplished teacher, I often wonder, "Don't children of poverty need me more?"

That sense of shame is only made worse when I read about other accomplished teachers who work for children of poverty every single day. Just recently, I've had the opportunity to get to know Betsy Rogers, the 2003 National Teacher of the Year, who returned to one of the most challenging schools in her district after her term as National TOY expired.

In her writing about this work, Betsy has asked: "Am I the right person to work at this school? Can I really have impact? Do I have what it takes? I do not know the answers to these questions; I just know that I want to be in this school. I want to help create a positive culture that will enable the students and teachers to overcome this label of failure."

So why haven't I moved to a hard-to-staff school? Why do I continue to wrestle with feelings of guilt because I don't volunteer to work with the students who many say need me the most?

Here's where my thinking is today: The answer to the challenge of staffing our most difficult schools is far more complex than simply expecting (or requiring, as some states have done) accomplished teachers to accept demanding assignments.

You see, I look to work in buildings where motivated, energetic colleagues who are deeply invested in teaching and learning surround me. I also look for strong administrators that empower educators to use their expertise to make professional decisions. These are probably two of the most significant reasons that I have chosen to work in my current school. I didn't choose this building because our students were "easy." Instead, I chose it because I knew that motivated peers and an amazing principal would engage me in some of the most exciting professional work of my career.

I also recognize that children living in poverty face a set of challenges that must be addressed in unique ways, and yet hard-to-staff schools generally function just like "schools always have." Class sizes remain high, needed resources are in short supply, the social challenges of poverty like chronic absenteeism and lack of enrichment experiences are ignored, and no additional time or training is made available to support teachers or staff members. Despite these realities, hard-to-staff schools often end up labeled as "failures" in the eyes of the community. It would be difficult to imagine a more adverse set of circumstances in which to choose to work.

Finally, I'm not sure that I would even know how to work with or be accepted by children living in poverty. Throughout my career, I haven't had any opportunities to learn about poverty and its impact on families. I didn't grow up poor, didn't student teach in struggling communities and have never worked in classrooms where children are plagued by poverty. Without this essential background knowledge—this cultural competence—I'm not sure that I could possibly be effective. I worry that despite good intentions, I would quickly be overwhelmed by challenges that I am unprepared for.

Mark Warner, Governor of Virginia and former chair of the National Governors Association has said, "I believe a nation that has planted its flag on the moon and sent robotic scouts to Mars can figure out how to get good teachers into the schools that need them the most."

To accomplish this ambitious goal, I believe broad school-based reforms are necessary. We must begin by recruiting our most accomplished administrators to our most challenging schools, as they will serve as magnets for good teachers. We must also work to develop teams of accomplished teachers working together who thrive on one another's energy and ideas. These administrators and teachers must be empowered to make critical decisions about instruction—their work should become less restricted instead of heavily scripted, feeding the professional creativity so often found in our best educators.

We must also restructure our hardest-to-staff schools, allowing significant opportunities for on-the-job professional development and reflection. Significant investments should be made to ensure that class sizes are kept small and resources are abundant. A concerted community-wide effort must be made to address the social challenges that children of poverty experience every day. Health and wellness services should be offered in-house, and enrichment experiences should be provided for every student.

Finally, we must develop partnerships with local universities to provide pre-service teachers with the training and experiences necessary to understand the challenges of students living in poverty. Specialized degree programs should be developed, offering certification that is recognized and respected in this area. No longer can we ignore the fact that teaching in our most difficult schools requires unique skills and abilities that most teachers are rarely prepared for.

So do all of my thoughts make me selfish? Should I be ashamed of myself for working in a school where my students face fewer challenges?

I'm not sure.

But I do think that policymakers who continue to look for "quick-fix" solutions to incredibly complex problems should be ashamed. Attracting teachers to hard-to-staff schools—and keeping them there—requires more than just a reliance on my own guilty conscience and sense of public service.

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