I’d like to thank Pam G. for inviting me to speak tonight. You know, this is the first time that I have publicly spoken about a class that had become a news cycle item and that resulted in my dismissal from South Windsor Public Schools. It’s difficult to revisit, but silence in the face of cruelty costs far less than the advocacy for educators faced with challenges to the most important civic duty: fostering citizenship for democratic communities.
Have you ever played Jenga? This is the game where wooden blocks are stacked neatly and firmly in a rectangular tower to begin. Then, each player takes a turn by removing one of the blocks and placing it on top. As each player pulls a block, the tower becomes increasingly unstable. At some points in the game, the tower teeters, looking as if it will fall, but the players always pick a next block to pull with the goal of keeping the tower from tumbling into a scattered mess on the table. Until, at one point, a player pulls a block that does topple the tower.
I’d like to offer the game of Jenga to you as a metaphor tonight for teaching and learning to help tell my story and communicate the challenges that your educators are facing: here in East Hampton, here in our state, and in our country—in fact, one of my main goals tonight is to encourage you to support your educators in doing the work that is so important to our democracy: educating all students so they may exercise their civic duties. My story is about a daunting environment facing teachers and students who work toward that goal. I’ll come back to the Jenga metaphor as we go.
First, for those who are unfamiliar with my case, please let me offer some basics: On February 25, 2015, from 9:00 to 10:40 m I taught my period 3 AP/ECE Literature and Composition class at South Windsor High School. Now, this class comprised seniors who signed up either for Advanced Placement credit, earned by passing an exam and/or University of Connecticut, Early College Experience, credit, earned by a C or better for the year. For students who signed up for UConn credit, they were officially enrolled in a college class, which results in a college transcript: 149 schools in CT offer ECE credit. In fact, East Hampton is part of the dual enrollment program. Both the AP curriculum description written by College Board (who runs the PSATs, SATs, and AP programs/exams) and the University of Connecticut curricular documents expressly state that the perfect Jenga tower shape at the beginning of the game is imagined. Instead Literature and language offers a full range of human experience that is not stable, consistent, or predictable. Readers, writers, and thinkers in these programs are required to develop habits of mind that seek out the inherent contradictions and ambiguities in language and in life. In other words, education in these courses looks like a teetering Jenga tower. In fact, The University of Chicago expresses this shaking Jenga tower as necessary. Students are actively to seek out those perspectives that decenter, destabilize, or otherwise challenge their own points of view, to complicate and then negotiate new ideas: engaging in scholarship does not imagine a world of a perfect Jenga tower where people have or agree upon the same values, beliefs, ideas, etc.
In order to engage in the inquiry that is at the heart of civic life—asking questions of each other—we can not expect the imagined, steady Jenga tower. But that’s what happened after my period 3 AP/ECE class. You see, we were finishing a unit on poetry. Students had selected a poet to study after I had brought them to the HS library to browse and choose from over 100 books of poetry. They would read that entire book, select four poems representative of the poet’s language, style and themes, research the work, and then present their reactions, analyses and thinking in small groups. I designed the presentations so that students rotated through each group and presented to every other student. Students would have heard 19 different presentations. One student, Steven, had been inspired by Trish’s presentation (I use their real names as they have given me permission.) She had selected Allen Ginsberg’s Howl, a book of poetry that landed City Lights store owner Shig Murao in jail for selling an obscene book in ’57—during an era when many people tended to believe in the perfect Jenga tower—you can see and hear that imagined steady world, for example represented in old shows like “Leave it to Beaver” or “Father Knows Best.” Now, the case went to the Supreme Court, which ruled the poem is not obscene, but in fact has “redeeming social importance.” Well, Steven was so inspired by the work in her presentation that he went and read another of Ginsberg’s books—the mark of a great student. He then had brought that book with his many question from his house to class, and, with about 12 minutes left, when we were looking for a poem to finally process as a class, he offered the book in charged excitement. Specifically, he had questions about this one specific poem. I looked at it, and we had a brief conversation about the phrase “gratuitous language”— unjustified, using language without purpose—and then agreed to read and examine the poem. The student had engaged in a high order of scholarship, for reading on our own and then asking questions fosters deep learning.
Steven found not only the poem online on poetry.com but also a YouTube recorded version of Ginsberg reading the poem. We then had an academic discussion about the poem: its use of narrator, use of anaphora—or the repetition of a single phrase–, pronouns and considered Ginsberg’s anti-institutional work Patricia had presented as a quality of work. We discussed the use of language, and we talked about Ginsberg and the age’s rebellion against militaristic, gendered and sexual norms of the 1950’s, and students made connections to today, to Fifty Shades of Grey, for example. In short, we had an academic conversation—and wrestled with a difficult poem. The bell rang, students submitted their work and left for their next class. No one had expressed any discomfort, either physically or verbally, and that afternoon after school, while conferencing with four of these students about their 30-page senior thesis papers, one student came by to say he would not be in the next class, as he was going to visit Virginia Tech and potentially commit. He asked, “Mr. Olio, had you read that poem before?”
“No,” I shook my head.
“Wow. That was incredible what you did with it.”
“Thanks,” I nodded.
And he left the room with his excitement of going to Virginia Tech spilling off him.
Students face a complex world, with Jenga blocks sticking out all over the tower. It wobbles. In fact, an increased shift in American life in the 21st century undeniably pulls Jenga blocks at a seemingly quicker pace. And that shift is deeper and wider than even Lake Pocatapaug—
Really, though, I’m sure you know that new technologies have dramatically shifted almost every aspect of American life. From calendars, contacts, cameras, on your phone and computers that hold more and more of our memories to Twitter, SnapChat, and blogging that channels our civic conversation. Our very way of communicating and even thinking about ourselves and the world is shifting. That’s uncomfortable for many. But, educators are striving to help students succeed in Jenga.
In fact, the world has rapidly expanded as a result of the changes in technology. Your car insurance claim rep may initiate your claim from India. Employers may likely collaborate with others, say, in Oregon, who work from home, in an on-line meeting to plan a product release. Still, manufacturers may have to travel to China to oversee the production of parts they will use in their own manufacturing here in East Hampton. And, new customers may emerge in, oh Montreal—one of the worlds most diverse cities. This means, of course, that our experiences in our civic and economic lives are increasingly among people from whom we are different. This summer, I’ve been writing for a law firm in Montana, an Orthopedic office in Missouri and a real estate company in LA. All I need is an internet connection and my laptop, and I can write for anyone in the world. But, that means technologies are increasingly engaging us with varied cultural habits and beliefs. Indeed, people in the United States are finding they must interact with new cultural practices, and habits, and linguistic traits. Unusual accents and word usages underscore communication. All this may be uncomfortable for many.
Most important for my story, our nation’s demographics are changing. And here’s where I believe the abandonment of an educator can topple the Jenga tower. With the shifts that began with the United State’s inception, as immigrants from Holland and England began, we have always had waves of immigrants, such as those from Scandinavians in the 1860’s, the Irish and Italians in the 1890’s, Latinos in the 1960’s, and now people from the Middle east and the Pacific rim… new cultures bring new beliefs and values. More, changes in our understanding about gendered identities increase the differences. And here’s the rub: a person’s identity is connected with their values and beliefs. We imagine our selves as a result. We create our selves—we create our identities. And, little else makes some people more nervous than an attack on their identity. And some see these differences as an attack on their way of life.
Okay, that’s some heavy stuff, but imagine, then, working in a classroom, with new technologies, new means to communicate, new physical environments, new occupations for students that have yet to even be invented, and access to new, almost unfettered ideas. Add, now, changes in demographics, where even more diverse citizens are part of our social fabric. More families moving into our towns from outside the United States. They look different. Have different habits. Eat different foods. Dress differently. And speak differently. All this difference can make some uncomfortable. But educators must embrace those differences. We must embrace all students, no matter their creed, their histories, their values, their gender, their race, their sexual orientation.
But, in some areas, some folks respond to that uncomfortableness by saying that we should have a straight, perfect Jenga tower. They imagine that controlled tower is the way the world is supposed to be. The two parents who complained, the principal of South Windsor, the assistant superintendent, and superintendent, all imagine this perfect town—an image of their own agreement and an image rooted in an imagined past. The superintendent would release a public statement condemning the poem and move to terminate me in three business days without even speaking to me first.
Certainly, many people disagreed, and rushed to support the work of educators—to support me. Colleagues, former students, leaders in town, members from my church all wrote letters. One colleague wrote a letter to the Editor in the Courant supporting my work. Helen Vendler of Harvard University, a leading scholar on poetry wrote in my defense, as did other university professors. Indeed, five students from that class had the courage to speak to the Board of Education in my defense. The other people who spoke to board that night, who wrote letters, and who generally came out in support –all understand the complexities of human experience that a senior English classroom addresses—and the honest work educators do in those classrooms. They also recognized the homophobia that underscored the claims against me and against Ginsberg’s work. Now, these supporters didn’t need to “like” the poem while supporting me, but, two national journalists, one CNN and from Daily Beast, and a parent of as student in the class, fundamentally questioned the education that would result from such treatment of a poem and teacher.
In short, it was a cruel betrayal. Both my wife Teresa and I were crushed. We simply could not believe my administrators had abandoned and sacrificed me. I had taught English at SWHS for almost twenty years, teaching more than 19,000 lessons, working with over 2,000 students. I chaired district committees, wrote curriculum, advised the Culture and Diversity Fair where students presented to 1000 students and community members a year. Exemplary evaluations year after year. No demerits in my file, whatsoever. I was late once, in 2005, after a flat tire on my van. But other than that… No, I believe the administrators succumbed to a fear associated with difference. I had worked with wonderfully difficult literature for my twenty-two years in the English classroom. Believe me. Educators work tirelessly. I see it on a daily basis. They believe in learning. They believe in the freedom associated with an excellent education. Unfortunately, those people who imagine the perfect Jenga tower and expect others to keep it that way undermine rather than support educators. That includes silencing ideas. It includes censoring books, responding with silence to instances of prejudice, when, for example, students who are not Jewish go to West Hartford for a soccer game and sing the Dreidel Song, knowing many Jewish people go to school there. Of course, disciplining teachers for fostering student inquiry and working with the content of their discipline ultimately undermines an academic environment.
I share my story with you today because, while it’s too late for my professional career in South Windsor, it’s not too late for organizations such as The East Hampton Rotary to advocate for educators to do the difficult work that helps shape citizens capable of thoughtful, open, and democratic conversation. It’s not too late to support your educators in your town who invariably are dealing with rapid changes in students’ and families’ lives by questioning and having conversation. I hope this organization serves ALL of its citizens—no matter their creed, their histories, their values, their gender, their race, their sexual orientation. I hope you strengthen your civic fabric by supporting the work your educators do each year, and I believe your economic lives will benefit and grow from an egalitarian society—the great democratic experiment that does not embrace one perfect Jenga Tower but the diverse, complex and beautiful world we inhabit. Thank you for listening.
Dance Like a Wave Upon the Sea 