Where Failure Leaves Us

I wholeheartedly believe in the premise of Angel L. Harris’s recent publication “Kids Don't Want to Fail.” [i] I mean, honestly?  Who does want to fail?

Within Tough’s (2011) “What if the Secret to Success Is Failure?” a particular reformer from a KIPP school works with an interesting yet commonly held premise: Students need the changing. This is not altogether unfamiliar territory for the discourse of most teachers.

“If they could only try harder,” “…do their homework,” or “…focus more.”  

Oddly enough, all I ever hear from the other side, the students, is the converse: “That such and such teacher is completely out of touch.”  This particular reformer, however, maintains that we need to foster a sense of grit in our students, a sort of performance based model which maintains we need to focus on building character that leads to success rather than your typical “feel good” sort of character traits. A KIPP colleague supports this notion in that for students who are generally from minority and/lower socio-economic backgrounds, the performance based model demystifies what it takes to be successful whereas others already walk in the shadows of success, which seemingly affords the luxury of striving for niceties (Tough, 2011).

I don’t think I dare argue that teachers should avoid preparing their students to have a certain degree of tenacity, but I do think that students aren’t the only ones in need of changing--not to say that those at KIPP are only bent on changing students. I’d simply like to highlight that there’s much more to understanding student success and failure, as Childress (2006) maintains, than simply hardening our students for battle.

Palmer (1998) believes that “The way we diagnose our students' condition will determine the kind of remedy we offer." And, while I believe, like Randolph from Riverdale Country School , that failure is a necessary part of our education, we also must carefully consider the ways in which we speak about failure. Ultimately, the ways in which we see and perceive our students profoundly impacts the ways in which we teach them.

Furthermore, Palmer (1998) seems to express that fear guides and defines the interactions of teachers and students alike, rendering us incapable of reform. Fear is then the source of the failings in school, and the fear in greatest need of confrontation is that which resides in the instructors. Palmer believes, and I tend to agree, that "when we [teachers] deny our own conditions, we resist seeing anything in others that might remind us of who, and how, we really are.”

I, however, believe more strongly that the very structures are the source of our lack of reform, not necessarily our fear of said structures. Because without many structures or fixtures within schools, fear is reduced and, as such, instructors, students, and administrators alike are no longer at loss for agency in a larger, more powerful system.

Of what structures do I speak? Well, Palmer (1998) refers to a sort of disconnectedness and from the onset points to the obvious solutions: “That we are distanced by a grading system that separates teachers from students, by departments that fragment fields of knowledge, by competition that makes students and teachers alike wary of their peers, and by a bureaucracy that puts faculty and administration at odds.”  I think these are the very fixtures which bind us in what Palmer refers to as “fear.” Yet, I would argue such fixtures are the source of said fear. And, in order to make changes we should reduce these structures to our core aims rather than introduce initiative after initiative which only adds to our flawed systems. We could thereby exercise what Childress (2006)  refers to as a "subtractive education."

One example of my frustrations with current fixtures is found in my unstated job description. I, like many in my particular content area stumbled upon my profession (I’m an English teacher) because story and writing bring me great joy. Now, we could even debate the presence of content areas as being a hurtful structure but will refrain in doing so because I’m unfortunately all too loyal to my field to risk inconveniencing my way of teaching and daily validation and consequently my students’ way of knowing. Such evaluation is too much for my ego to take. Yet, drawn to story and the creation/expression of culture or emotion or knowing through writing, I remain a teacher minimized to a formula comprised of the teaching of critical analysis and response through the format of a well-polished commentary or essay. I am no longer a writer or even a lover of stories. I am someone who sucks the lifeblood out of story. Teaching critical reading is often far divorced from the beauty of a captivating narrative. And so, my life is divided, yet it’s the only sort of life I know as an English teacher because it’s been prescribed.

That which is hopelessly compartmentalized, yet that which inevitably, conveniently, and inconveniently bleeds and blends what makes sense into what truly does define and baffle me.  I can’t help but be alienated. I teach namely because I can’t be a writer, but I bleed in that I’m inevitably writing and blend in that I teach writing. And, the structures seem to be the most pointed source of my frustration rather than my fear as Palmer (1998) seemingly suggests.

One who rather darkly expresses similar frustrations in his work as a professor of English is Lionel Basney (2002) in his essay, “Teacher: Eleven Notes.”

The landscape of our failures is not all gloom and doom however. We have much to be hopeful about. And, I think a sense of hopefulness amidst the unavoidable backdrop of our failures is what must propel us towards change. In his evaluation of gaming, Gee (2005) has, in my opinion found the crux of learning, which is something we may build upon. Additionally, Mitra (2011) reveals that mere access to education could give millions a true sense of knowing. And, through his “hole in the wall” inquiry methods he proves that "A teacher that can be replaced by a machine, should be." To me, this tells us that with even small changes to our current structures and fixtures, we may in fact no longer squelch the natural curiosity within the students we teach.

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[i] For more on Harris’s work see my Don't Fail Co-Review on Glogster. His work is an interesting addition and at times direct counter to the comparative cultural, historical, or anthropological work and premises of Ogbu.